Stand Back and Let the Poor Monk Come

In the troubled times of the dynasty, demons were rampant in the world, and a monk walked out of a dilapidated ancient temple. "Namo Amitabha, the poor monk Tripitaka, will save you and others to go to the eighteenth level of hell." Why don't you want to be transcended? Sanzang utters Buddhist mantras, wears a blood-red cassock, sits upright as a treasure, has a mercy knife in his left hand, and a devil-conquering knife in his right hand. "The mighty heavenly dragon, the World-Honored Ksitigarbha, the Great Law Mantra, the Prajna Buddhas, the Prajna Parmakong. Ten thousand Buddhas worship the sect." "Ah, monk, why is salvation not the bliss of the Western Heaven, but the eighteen levels of hell? How dare you disobey the Lord Buddha's decree! Beware of eternal catastrophe!" Sanzang was sitting on the lotus platform, with thousands of Buddha lights emitting from his body. He gently raised the mercy knife in his hand and said, "Donor, you are wrong. I am the Buddha, and the Buddha is me. The poor monk does not believe in the Buddha, but he believes in me, because I am the Buddha." "Ding, congratulations to the host, you have saved the ten thousand year tree demon and gained 10,000 salvation points." "Ding, congratulations to the host, you have saved the thousand-year-old vixen and gained 1,000 points of salvation." "Ding, congratulations to the host, you have saved Bai Wuchang and gained 1,000 points of salvation." Facing the troubled times, Tripitaka made a great wish: there is evil in the world, and he will never become a Buddha. "Amitabha!"