[This book is not a cool novel, it is slow-burning, and overall dark. The whole book is the beginning and end of a tragedy]
Journey to the West is a scam.
There are no monsters on this road.
Traveling hundreds of thousands of miles, not to obtain scriptures, but to escort five dying people to the final execution ground.
Five hundred years ago, something indescribable from the sky descended on the Three Realms. Distortion spreads like a plague, sneaking into the spiritual platforms of immortals and Buddhas, turning old friends and relatives into monsters with square eyes. There was no winner in that battle of massacre - heaven won the battlefield, Lingshan won luck, and the underworld won the souls.
But the curse itself, won all.
It cannot kill, crush, or burn. It will only transfer from one host to another, like a debt that can never be repaid, circulating in the three realms, waiting for the next container.
Going west is not salvation. It was to escort five death row prisoners to the final execution ground.
Learning lessons is not the purpose. It is to find out the doors they left in this world one by one, and then pretend to close them one by one.
Becoming a Buddha is not the end.
It was the moment when Sun Wukong took off the golden hoop and said to the gods in the sky:
"My debt is paid off."
"Where's yours?"
