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墨書 Inktalez
The two of them walked for a while and arrived at an open area. Not far ahead, they saw hundreds of young women gathered together, dressed in colorful skirts and adorned with bright flower crowns. They were playing and laughing, their joyful voices ringing out.
Upon seeing this, Tang Seng furrowed his brows slightly and said to Wu Kong, “Wu Kong, let’s take a detour. These people are different from the peonies; we should avoid trouble.”
Wu Kong followed Tang Seng’s gaze and noticed that the women were all young and beautiful, exuding grace and charm. Curiosity bubbled up within him, and he asked, “Master, who are they? Why should we avoid them?”
“They are merely worldly women. As monks, we should keep our distance from such places of conflict,” Tang Seng replied calmly.
“Master, you always think too much and get caught up in trivial matters! If you didn’t have these two flaws, our journey for the scriptures would surely be much quicker,” Wu Kong said dismissively. “They belong to their families while we are monks; they go east while we go west. What does it matter?”
Tang Seng was momentarily speechless. He wanted to say more but was interrupted by a clear child’s voice.
“Look, look! What is that?”
“It’s a monk! A monk riding a white horse!”
“Wow, his clothes are so strange! They’re colorful like a beggar’s!”
Before long, eight or nine children from the group of women ran out and surrounded Tang Seng, pointing and chattering excitedly.
Tang Seng disliked being disturbed at all, especially by these mischievous children. He suppressed his anger and patiently advised them, “Amitabha, dear children, I am a monk from the Eastern Tang Dynasty on my way to the Western Paradise to worship Buddha and seek scriptures…”
“Monk, can you give me the clothes you’re wearing?” a little girl with horned braids looked up at him with big blinking eyes.
“Yeah! I want one too!” the other children chimed in.
Tang Seng was momentarily at a loss for words. He couldn’t possibly say that this patchwork robe held great significance for him as one of the symbols of his quest for enlightenment.
“If you don’t want to part with it, just tell my mother to make me one!” another little boy shouted like a storyteller. “I want it in apple green, heartbroken grass color, willow green, winged bird color, sunset color, swallow feather color, soy sauce color, sky blue, peach blossom color, jade stone color, lotus petal color, blue lotus color, silver white, fish belly white, ink color, slate color, reed flower color, grass green, all colors of the rainbow, brocade color, lychee color, coral color, duck head green color, palindromic brocade pattern color, and lovebird feather color! By then I won’t even want your shabby clothes!”
Hearing such innocent yet outrageous demands from the children left Tang Seng both amused and exasperated. He never imagined he would find himself in such a predicament because of a group of kids.
Tang Seng closed his eyes as if in meditation, ignoring everything around him. Only his tightly furrowed brows seemed to silently express something. Zhu Bajie lacked his master’s composure; he was still immersed in the joy of “family ties,” hugging one child who called him “godfather” and another who called him “wet father,” making the flower girls laugh uncontrollably while completely unaware that danger was approaching.
Wu Kong watched from the side, his anger burning hotter by the moment. He had long found these little brats unbearable, each one spoiled and unaware of the world around them! His master, filled with compassion, was unwilling to hold them accountable, but Lao Sun was not one to be trifled with; he could not tolerate such humiliation! With a fierce glare, the Ruyi Jingu Bang shot out from his ear with a whoosh, resembling an angry dragon rolling and roaring through the air. “Get lost!” Wu Kong bellowed, his voice echoing through the valley. The children were so frightened that they wet themselves, dropping their flower baskets and scrambling away in a panic.
“Trying to run? Too late!” Wu Kong, blinded by rage, paid no heed to whether they were human or demon, swinging the Ruyi Jingu Bang in a wild frenzy. Poor children, who had yet to grasp what was happening, were turned into a rain of blood that scattered with the wind. Among the peony flowers, those beautiful maidens who had been laughing and playing froze in terror at the sight of this human tragedy; their faces paled as they screamed and fled in all directions.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Wu Kong’s murderous intent surged as he swung the Ruyi Jingu Bang, harvesting fresh lives. The maidens had never witnessed such chaos; they cried out and begged for mercy but could not escape the relentless onslaught of the Ruyi Jingu Bang. In an instant, they vanished like fragrant petals blown away by the wind, leaving behind a ground strewn with fallen flowers and broken branches that silently bore witness to this tragedy.
Standing amidst a sea of corpses and blood, Wu Kong held the Ruyi Jingu Bang dripping with blood like a god of death returned from hell. He gazed at the scattered limbs and severed arms, a wave of inexplicable sorrow suddenly washing over him. This sorrow surged like a flood breaking through a dam, engulfing him completely. He tossed aside the Ruyi Jingu Bang, cradled his head in his hands, knelt on the ground, and howled at the sky: “Why has Lao Sun unleashed this slaughter again?”
Tears streamed down his face as he recalled five hundred years ago when he had wreaked havoc in Heaven—what joy it had been to settle scores back then; it was merely “causing a ruckus,” wasn’t it? Had he ever slaughtered indiscriminately in Heaven?
“No! This is not what I wanted!” Wu Kong suddenly stood up, his eyes filled with rage mixed with confusion and desolation. He realized that he had seemingly wandered onto a wrong path—a path with no return. He could only force himself to continue down this road, even if it led to an abyss; he could not turn back.
“Enough, enough!” Wu Kong shook his head bitterly with a wry smile as he returned the Ruyi Jingu Bang to his ear and turned towards Tang Seng. As he walked, he contemplated how to explain everything to Tang Seng. He knew his master all too well; that stubborn old monk would surely recite the Tightening Spell until it killed him if he found out about all these deaths.
He needed to do something for these innocent souls.
Looking around, he spotted a flat stone by the roadside and walked over to pick up a sharp rock to begin carving on it.
“Your names—I will make sure everyone knows you existed in this world!” Wu Kong shouted at the lifeless bodies scattered around.
He carved slowly and deliberately as if pouring all his anger and sorrow into this cold stone for all eternity. One name after another was etched into the stone—thickly packed and heart-wrenching.
After finishing this task, Wu Kong felt as if he had exhausted every ounce of strength within him and collapsed onto the ground.
“Not enough… not enough…” he murmured to himself as his gaze fell upon a wooden board not far away. He approached it, picked up a stone to use as an inkstone, broke off a branch from a plum tree for a pen, and dug up dirt and mud for ink before starting to write fervently on the board.
He wrote an Eulogy for these souls as well as for his own redemption.
“By decree of the Tang Emperor: The blessed robe of treasures and five-bead staff is conferred upon my Imperial Brother Tang Seng’s greatest disciple—Water Curtain Cave’s Lord of Heaven—Great Sage—poor monk Sun Wu Kong. I humbly offer thin wine and vegetarian food in honor of those unjustly perished souls here and present this eulogy to comfort their spirits.
Alas! You were once safe at home; now you are separated between realms—where is justice? Why must you suffer such misfortune in your youth?
Pity these children who should have been riding bamboo horses in play; they never got to enjoy life’s splendor before vanishing like peach blossoms carried away by March winds or like white cranes obscured by clouds—leaving only emptiness behind! My heart aches for you!
The woman, who should have been learning the arts of womanhood in her boudoir, has now perished, leaving only sorrow behind! Why does youth, so vibrant, vanish like spring grass, fleeting and ephemeral? My heart aches for you!
The child, once the apple of their parents' eye, is now forever separated from them, leaving only grief! Why did you not heed the teachings of the Sage and honor your parents well, leading to such a tragic fate? My heart aches for you!
Alas! Now that everything has dissipated like smoke, I am powerless to turn back time! All I can do is offer this eulogy for you, may you rest in peace! My heart aches for you!”
Having finished writing, he flicked his sleeves and imitated the demeanor of a scholar, shaking his head as he recited aloud. His voice was mournful, echoing across the desolate fields, lingering long after.
Wu Kong completed the eulogy and felt a dryness in his throat; yet his heart bore no relief. Each word on that wooden board weighed heavily upon him like a stone. He walked under the Peony Tree and was taken aback to find his master and junior brother sprawled out soundly asleep, even the White Dragon Horse snorting in its dreams. A surge of inexplicable anger flared up within Wu Kong. His master’s usually transcendent appearance now seemed hypocritical; the faint sound of snoring struck Wu Kong's ears like thunder.
He grabbed a wildflower from the ground and crushed it into a ball before forcefully stuffing it into Ba Jie's large ear, shouting, “You fool! Are you still sleeping peacefully?! Do you not know that those wronged souls are suffering below right now? How can you have the face to sleep like this?!”
Ba Jie was startled awake by this sudden attack. Groggily sitting up and rubbing his ear, he saw Wu Kong glaring at him and thought he was still dreaming. He mumbled, “Master, could it be that you are reciting that tightening curse again…”
Wu Kong sneered and lowered his voice, mimicking Tang Seng’s tone as he said, “I just had a dream where Guanyin Bodhisattva passed by here and specifically instructed me to expel you from the sect!”
Upon hearing this, Ba Jie immediately lost all drowsiness. He jumped up in alarm and trembled as he asked, “Why would the Bodhisattva want to drive me away? Did that scoundrel Wu Kong say something bad about me again?”
Wu Kong looked at him coldly and continued in Tang Seng's tone with deliberate slowness, “The Bodhisattva said that you spend all day eating, drinking, sleeping lazily without any ambition; you are unworthy to be a pilgrim. She also said that your worldly ties are not yet severed and instructed you to quickly return to Gao Village so as not to waste Lady Cui Lan’s youth any longer!”
Ba Jie was nearly in tears upon hearing this. He grabbed Wu Kong's hand desperately and pleaded, “Brother, please save me! I have long seen through worldly affairs and wish only to follow Master to the Western Paradise for scriptures, seeking true enlightenment so I can achieve my goals soon! You must speak to the Bodhisattva and ask her not to expel me!”
Wu Kong shook off his hand with a cold laugh. “The Bodhisattva’s words are not for us to question. You might as well give up on this pilgrimage!”
With that, he ignored Ba Jie’s desperate pleas and turned westward. He walked away with grace and determination, leaving Ba Jie standing there dazedly with despair etched across his face as if he had yet to awaken from a dream.
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