Though, technically, Bodhisattva Guanyin had only told him to protect Tripitaka from demon attacks—she hadn't mentioned other threats.
If Tripitaka happened to be killed by someone else while Monkey King wasn't around, it wouldn't be his responsibility, would it?
Eyes gleaming with mischief, Monkey King looked at Tripitaka as though he were a walking treasure trove. His path to wealth lay in this monk!
The next trial would involve a group of bandits—ordinary humans, not demons. Letting them kill Tripitaka would be too absurd; it would be hard to justify failing to protect him from mere mortals.
Monkey King reluctantly discarded the idea, recognizing the potential difficulties. Besides, killing those bandits would give Bodhisattva Guanyin an excuse to impose the Golden Headband, which he was determined to avoid at all costs.
Yet… as he eyed Tripitaka's bald head, he thought the headband would look quite fitting on him. He just hoped that if Bodhisattva Guanyin did chant the sutra, Tripitaka wouldn't turn the curse back on him.
With a malicious grin, Monkey King watched Tripitaka, who woke up shivering under the intense gaze.
"Um… what happened to me?" Tripitaka asked, still disoriented.
"Master, you must have been worn out from the journey," Monkey King explained.
"Master? Why are you calling me Master?" Tripitaka asked, even more bewildered. He had only just awoken, feeling groggy, when this strange, furry-faced figure started calling him "Master."
"Huh?" Monkey King's eyes widened. Bodhisattva Guanyin's memory wipe was more thorough than he'd realized. Tripitaka had forgotten everything, even who he was.
Perhaps he should take this chance to run. It was tempting; without him, the pilgrimage team would be incomplete, which was a significant karmic disruption.
However, Monkey King dismissed the thought. His strength was insufficient to make such a move. He knew that if he fled, Buddhist forces would hunt him down and force him back onto the path to the West, laden with restraints.
It was better to lay low and gradually grow stronger.
After sorting through his thoughts, Monkey King patiently explained the situation to Tripitaka, carefully omitting the part where he'd smashed him to death.
"Then let us continue westward, Wukong!" Tripitaka said, hastily mounting his horse. At Monkey King's mention of Bodhisattva Guanyin's instructions to get moving, he eagerly prodded him to press on.
As night began to fall, they spotted a farmhouse in the distance, the very one where they'd soon encounter the bandits.
"Master, there's a farmhouse up ahead. Let's ask to stay for the night," Monkey King suggested.
"Wukong, go knock on the door," Tripitaka nodded in agreement.
Monkey King nodded, using his transformations to become a handsome, refined young man.
"Wukong, what are you doing?" Tripitaka asked, puzzled.
"Master, my usual appearance is rather frightening. If I scare these people, it would be my fault!" Monkey King explained with a grin.
"Amitabha! I never expected such compassion from you, Wukong," Tripitaka said, impressed, though something felt slightly off.
He quickly realized what it was: the transformed Monkey King was undeniably handsome—more handsome than he was, in fact! This made Tripitaka slightly bitter. Monkey King looked like a jade-like noble with a presence unmatched by any.
After all, wasn't he supposed to be the one with the good looks? Tripitaka felt a bit envious.
The most irritating part was Monkey King's hair. How did he even have hair? Weren't they monks on a pilgrimage to the West? Where did this hair come from?
Before he could protest, Monkey King had already knocked on the farmhouse door.
"Good evening! We are monks journeying from Eastern Tang to the Western Paradise for the scriptures. May we stay for the night?" Monkey King asked courteously.
"Monks?"
The old farmer and his wife, who had answered the door, eyed the hair on Monkey King's head, looking bewildered. Didn't monks have shaved heads?
Though suspicious, the old couple found Monkey King's handsome face reassuring, and the refined young man riding a horse behind him also seemed harmless.
"You… um, honorable monks, look kind enough. Please come in; I'll prepare a simple meal for you," the farmer said, still unsure but kindly inviting them in.
Indeed, in this society where looks mattered, a good appearance opened doors more easily than anything else.
Soon, the hospitable couple had prepared a meal. Rice, greens, tofu, and radishes. Nothing but vegetables.
Tripitaka ate happily, but Monkey King was unimpressed. Though he didn't need to eat, he'd been craving meat after five hundred years.
Still, as his first proper meal in centuries, he refrained from complaining. But as he watched Tripitaka eating so contentedly, he grew frustrated.
Monks shouldn't be so content with bland food, he thought. This was an unhealthy habit that needed correcting!
As the saying goes: "Meat and wine may pass through the intestines, but the Tathagata's presence remains in the heart." Though he wasn't quite sure who'd said it.
This book is provided by FunNovel Novel Book | Fan Fiction Novel [Beautiful Free Novel Book]