Chapter 420: I Give You This Book

"You say I can't become a monk, but old Sun still isn't willing to do it!"

"Let's go!"

Sun Wukong tossed aside the angry remark, leapt up, his somersault cloud obeying his will, lifted him with a whoosh and turned into a streak of Golden Light, soaring straight into the heavens, and in the blink of an eye vanished at the southern horizon.

Above the clouds, Sun Wukong still fumed, cursing, "If I don't kill them, they'll have to kill you! What does a mortal‑eyed monk like you understand?"

"Those villains have taken countless lives under their hands; sparing them is merely enabling them to keep harming people! If you choose to be that indiscriminate good fellow, forgiving even murderous thieves… old Sun will never be that aggrieved monk!"

The more he thought, the angrier he became, so he simply turned his cloud around: "Perfect! Perfect, I'll go back to be my Handsome Monkey King of Flower‑Fruit Mountain, carefree and at ease—how joyful! Hmph!"

On the ground, only Xuanzang remained, facing the six silent robber corpses.

A faint scent of blood lingered in the air. Xuanzang's face turned pallid; he closed his eyes, pressed his palms together, and continuously chanted, "Amitabha, sin, sin…"

He forced himself to endure the discomfort, searched the forest for broad leaves and broken branches, hastily covered the six bodies, treating it as a burial for peace.

After finishing, he knelt on the spot, facing the crude "grave mound," and repeatedly recited the Rebirth Mantra and transference sutras.

This chanting lasted the entire night.

When the east turned bright and dawn's light barely appeared, forest birds began chirping; Xuanzang slowly ceased his chanting, and when he opened his eyes, deep fatigue lay within them.

He stood, feeling his legs numb and his steps unsteady.

Silently leading the white horse grazing nearby, man and horse continued on the westward journey.

His steps were far heavier than yesterday, stumbling and swaying, not merely from physical fatigue but from a heavy heart.

After walking a while, feeling he could no longer endure, he found a clear stream and sat on a large stone beside it.

The stream babbled merrily eastward, as if unaware of human sorrow.

Xuanzang stared at the water, dazed, replaying yesterday's dispute with Sun Wukong over and over in his mind.

"Perhaps… my words were too harsh?" he muttered to himself. "Though Sun Wukong's methods are fierce, his intention was to protect me fully… Humans and demons, their actions and viewpoints perhaps cannot be judged uniformly."

"He was enlightened by a Bodhisattva, willing to guard my westward journey; that is a rare good fate, yet I…"

He began to deeply regret, sitting alone in this desolate wilderness, the road ahead vague, unable to hide his sorrow.

At that moment, a light footstep sounded behind him, followed by a clear question:

"Dharma Master, why are you sitting alone by this stream? Have you encountered some difficulty?"

Xuanzang turned at the sound and saw a young Daoist walking toward him.

The Daoist wore a half‑worn, fresh green robe, his hair tied in a Daoist knot, his face handsome with smiling eyes, steps light, appearing carefree and unrestrained.

Though a stranger, monastic etiquette cannot be ignored; Xuanzang quickly rose, pressed his palms together, and bowed:

"Amitabha, I am the humble monk Xuanzang, honored to meet this Daoist. My respects."

"Dharma Master, no need for formalities." The young Daoist stepped a few paces forward, his smile warm, tone teasing:

"I just saw from afar your gloomy expression, sitting alone by the water, but… has some young lady broken your heart? Are you wallowing in self‑pity here?"

Xuanzang was taken aback, then gave a wry smile and shook his head: "Alas, Daoist, do not speak recklessly. I am a monk, my six senses are pure."

"It's just… just a lingering regret; yesterday, for some reason, my words were too harsh, and I… drove away my newly taken disciple."

"Oh?" the young Daoist raised an eyebrow, then sat on a nearby stone, looking eager to hear details: "Such a thing happened? If you don't mind, could you tell me more?"

"Though my cultivation is shallow, perhaps I can help the Dharma Master analyze a bit and relieve your worries."

Xuanzang, troubled and with no one to confide in, found the Daoist's easygoing attitude, and did not hide anything: he recounted in full how he intended to retrieve the scriptures in the West, how six bandits blocked the way, how Sun Wukong fought and killed, how he rebuked Sun for killing and said he could not be a monk, and how Sun left in anger.

After speaking, guilt on his face, he looked at the young Daoist: "Daoist, tell me… did I act wrongly yesterday? Was I too pedantic, unable to discern right from wrong, freezing a compassionate heart?"

"Of course not!" the young Daoist replied, nodding without hesitation, his tone crisp: "Dharma Master, you've read so many sutras that your mind has become obtuse!"

"I ask you, if you had no disciple to protect you, at that moment yesterday, how could you still be alive to speak with me? You would have become a dead soul under those thieves' knives, your belongings plundered, your corpse left in the wilderness for wolves to gnaw."

Seeing Xuanzang's pallor, he continued: "Those who block the road and cut paths, which of them doesn't have a few innocent lives on their hands?"

"They commit countless evils, deserving death! If it were me, and they dared to rob me, humph, I would annihilate them body and soul, leaving no chance for rebirth!"

"Killing a villain is an act of benevolence, that is heavenly principle! Why keep villains alive to let them harm other innocents?"

"Dharma Master, do you agree?"

He patted Xuanzang's shoulder: "Dharma Master, your nature is too soft, also too naive."

"Traveling in this treacherous world, especially on a thousand‑mile westward journey, if you constantly cling to compassion and forgive villains, you may never reach Ling Shan, and become a meal for some demon or a wrongful ghost of a villain!"

Speaking, he pulled an old‑looking book from his chest and thrust it into Xuanzang's hand without further explanation:

"Come, come, I happen to have a genuine interpretive treasure passed down from the supreme sage Kongzi; today I give it to you, Dharma Master, so you may study and comprehend, perhaps gaining insight and wisdom, greatly benefiting your westward journey!"

Xuanzang instinctively took the book, lowered his head, and saw the cover bearing two ancient, sturdy characters—'Lunyu'.

Is this Lunyu? How did he remember it wasn't this Lun…?

Right? It seems not quite right.........

He hadn't had time to ponder the odd title when the young Daoist patted his shoulder, laughed heartily, turned, and strode westward, his back carefree:

"Dharma Master, take good care! May we meet again if fate allows!"

Xuanzang cradled the 'Lunyu', watching the Daoist's swiftly receding back, his heart a mixture of many feelings.

He lowered his head, murmuring the title: "Lunyu…"

After a moment's hesitation, he opened the pages.

The first annotated line that met his eyes made his pupils contract:

"The Master said: A gentleman without weight lacks authority."

Side note, small print: "Meaning: If a gentleman does not exert heavy hand, he cannot establish prestige."

Turning another page:

"If the Dao differs, we shall not plot together."

Side note: "Meaning: If the paths differ, then do not reason with him; let actions reveal the truth."

Xuanzang: "…………"

Is this really the Holy Confucius's true interpretation? Why does it feel… bristling with killing intent, so completely opposite to the Confucian classics he usually reads??

This can't be right, can it? Yet it seems somewhat reasonable, let's take a closer look!

Just as his mind was shaken and he wanted to examine it more closely, an elderly voice came from upstream of the creek:

"Which elder comes from there? Why so lonely and desolate, walking alone in this barren wilderness?"