Little Journey to the West (Lingjizi Chapter) 029

Lingjizi flipped to another similar world and saw Tang Sanzang and his companions on their journey to fetch scriptures.

He understood now—no wonder this reincarnator seemed so familiar with the procedure.

So when Fang Zhiyi asked him how to rescue Sun Wukong, Lingjizi didn't refuse. That talisman carried the power of Buddha, but he wasn't afraid—as long as Buddha himself didn't show up in person, he could always find a way. He simply needed to lend his power to Fang Zhiyi.

Things went as he expected, and Sun Wukong was freed.

But Lingjizi didn't bother to remind Fang Zhiyi that Sun Wukong's heart was still crushed beneath the mountain—he wasn't one to meddle in others' affairs.

Just as he was leaving, however, he spotted a wisp of green smoke spiriting away Sun Wukong's heart.

Probably some immortal's doing.

But never mind that—the plot was what mattered most now. Lingjizi had already become deeply engrossed in Fang Zhiyi's past stories. He had never imagined reincarnation could be this entertaining.

To him, Little Hei was a book—a book recording the life and history of Fang Zhiyi.

He watched as Fang Zhiyi led a band of monsters around bullying others, searching everywhere for tribulations.

Lingjizi felt a pang of guilt—he had lied, actually. The so-called tribulations were things he'd read from these stories. He merely spouted them off the top of his head, also to buy himself some time to keep reading.

It shouldn't cause any major problems, he figured.

Too bad this Fang Zhiyi didn't know how to use the power of reincarnation—all that strong mental strength and no way to wield it. A pity.

If he just walked all the way to Mount Lingshan like this, wouldn't he not even get through the door?

Lingjizi began his manipulations. He pulled out Those trapped reincarnation cycles within Little Hei, unfolded them like a picture album, and then channeled them all into Fang Zhiyi's body.

That way, things were much safer.

He understood and approved of Fang Zhiyi's methods—if a monster had eaten innocent people, it deserved to be dealt with.

Watching Fang Zhiyi's story, Lingjizi began to grasp his master's meaning: enter the mortal world, enter secular life, rather than being a monk who shut the door and isolated himself from human suffering.

But his master had been wrong too. People were complicated—some were a tangle of good and evil, some were entirely devoted to wickedness, some were naive and ignorant. A person like his master who simply practiced unconditional kindness would ultimately suffer backlash.

Be kind to the kind, be crueler than the wicked when facing the wicked, guide those who are ignorant, and strike down the violent with thunderous force. What past lives and future lives? Settling this life's debts in this life—that's what truly matters!

Having realized this, Lingjizi was bursting with excitement.

This was the Great Way he had awakened to.

When Fang Zhiyi crushed that goldfish to death right in front of Guanyin, Lingjizi felt a surge of satisfaction. He knew that goldfish—every time he passed by the pond, it would spit water at him.

But Lingjizi also knew his own whereabouts had been exposed.

Those bald monks—if they knew he was lingering in the mortal world, would they stir up more trouble? Yet nothing happened. Buddha made no move. Buddha was always like that, as if nothing truly mattered to him.

When Fang Zhiyi incorporated the lesser demons, Lingjizi was reading.

When Fang Zhiyi killed the Yellow Wind Monster, Lingjizi was still reading.

It wasn't until Fang Zhiyi fought his way into Lion Camel Ridge that Lingjizi finally finished the book.

What a thrill!

He looked up and instantly knew—that Golden-Winged Roc had clearly been infused with cultivation power by someone. Far stronger than before.

Even Fang Zhiyi was showing signs of exhaustion. Lingjizi knew it was time for him to repay his karmic debt.

If he ever got the chance, he wanted to go out into the vast world beyond, just like Fang Zhiyi.

If ever there was a chance...

Gazing at that oppressive demonic deity form before him, Lingjizi suddenly recalled a saying he'd learned from Fang Zhiyi's story.

"One who hears the Way in the morning may die content in the evening."

"Ah, so that's what it means!" He laughed out loud. "This Fang Zhiyi—he was talking nonsense the whole time! What kind of foolishness is 'knowing the way to your house in the morning, and being dead by nightfall'? Hahaha..."

The Formless Dharma Aspect collided with that heavenly demon, erupting in colossal energy.

This was the power of a local native.

You should feel this properly.

"My disciple... you've finally come around."

A familiar voice sounded by his ear, and everything around him erupted in white light.

Lingjizi opened his eyes and saw a vague, blurry figure.

"Master?"

"Go on. This great fortune is yours—you're not meant to be here."

With Jingfan's soft words, a massive hand slowly waved, and Lingjizi felt himself flying away.

When he opened his eyes again, a woman was gazing at him with unbridled joy.

"Husband, look, look—he's smiling!"

"Ha ha, just like you."

"Look at those eyes and brows—so like yours. Oh, husband, what should we name him?"

"How about... Liu Wenzhi?"

From a young age, Liu Wenzhi was bursting with energy—climbing trees, jumping in rivers, rallying gangs to bully others, yet utterly uninterested in books.

His parents were at their wits' end over his wildness.

Then a wandering monk passed by, saw Liu Wenzhi, and simply touched the top of his head, saying one phrase: "Remember."

Liu Wenzhi collapsed on the spot, unconscious for days, nearly scaring his parents to death.

When he recovered, he seemed a changed person—quiet, no longer roaming about, instead devoting himself to the study of commerce and trade. For his parents, it was better than before.

With the wars now settled, aristocratic families still held a stranglehold over all upward mobility, but Liu Wenzhi used his innate talent to carve out a sizeable business empire. Yet he never married.

Until his father and mother both passed away from illness—they never got to see their son settle down.

But right after the funeral, Liu Wenzhi sold off all his assets and vanished from the region.

The great merchant Liu Wenzhi disappeared without a trace, but word spread through the streets of a wandering monk calling himself Wutian. No one knew where he came from or where he was going.

All that was known was that this monk didn't follow the rules. He bought wine and meat openly, meddled in others' affairs, and local bullies and thugs all suffered losses at his hands.

The key point was—they couldn't beat him. This monk could sweep through a crowd bare-fisted.

And after beating them senseless, he'd force them to recite scriptures.

Some bullies were indignant at first, until they saw even powerful demons being pummeled into submission by the monk. After that, they minded their manners.

"Um... Master Wutian, uh... can those demons actually understand the scriptures?" a trembling bully asked.

The monk recalled something and let out a derisive chuckle: "Doesn't matter if they don't understand—what matters is they know pain."

He had his own code: those who hadn't eaten people but only scared them—beat them until they submitted. Those who had eaten people—beat them half to death and judge their attitude afterward. Those who had eaten people and still tried to eat him—kill them outright.

His signature technique was famous across the land.

Which demon didn't know of the "Buddha's Palm Strike"? Those slaps came flying like they were free!

Because of this fearsome monk's reputation, crowds of people flocked to temples. Somehow a rumor spread that as long as you took refuge in Buddhism, the vicious monk wouldn't come after you.

But that rumor was soon shattered.

That wicked monk appeared in a temple in broad daylight and shouted at the worshippers kowtowing before the altar: "Get up! No kneeling! What use is praying to gods and Buddhas? Do you really expect celestial beings to bless your own lives?"

Most of the crowd fled in fear, while a few lingered in thought.

When the Tang King heard of this, he sent men to seek out Liu Wenzhi, hoping to entrust him with escorting Tang Sanzang on his westward journey. But when Liu Wenzhi heard of it, he scoffed and said:

"What scriptures are there to seek? The scriptures are the Way, and the Way is the scriptures. What they call seeking scriptures is merely seeking the goodness already in men's hearts—that has always lived within every mortal. If you want to relieve the suffering of the people, pinning your hopes on pilgrimage and prayer is far worse than simply being a good emperor!"

The officers who heard this moved to arrest him, but Liu Wenzhi burst into laughter. In an instant, thunder rolled, gale winds howled, and several demon beasts burst forth and carried him away on their backs.

Meanwhile, at Lion Camel Ridge.

Sun Wukong stroked his chin: "Wutian? Now that's an interesting name."

He probably had no idea that the name was borrowed by Lingjizi from Fang Zhiyi's stories.

After all, when it comes to monks, can you really call it stealing?

"That Buddha's Lingshan seems to have quite a reputation," Sun Wukong mused. "How about I set up a New Lingshan of my own?"