Volume 4: The Revelation Unveiled Chapter 558: Letting Go of Attachments

“What have you figured out?” Wukong asked.
Creation replied, “I’ve been thinking of a way for you to leave.”
“Is there a way?” Wukong asked.
“Yes, but I’m not sure if it will work.”
“Why say that?” Wukong asked.
“You’re different from others. Since you say you want to leave, it means you shouldn’t belong to this world. Yet your body was clearly born here, right?”
Wukong nodded. He didn’t have the ability to bring his original body along. When he crossed over, he merely implanted the memories of his past life into the Spirit Ape.
“Those who should go go, and those who should stay stay—that’s proper,” said Creation.
What did “those who should go” and “those who should stay” mean? Did it refer to his own divine consciousness? And “those who should stay”… naturally, they were things belonging to this world. Did that mean he just needed to release his divine consciousness while leaving his body behind? Was it that simple? If so, where would his divine consciousness go?
He remembered someone saying that with a second form and the power to transcend the universe, one could leave. But leaving in such a hasty manner made Wukong reluctant. He had also read many time-travel novels, where traveling between worlds was like visiting friends, with few explanations for why such changes occurred. Since he had finally made it through the transition once, it would be a great pity not to understand it.
Creation continued, “All things in the world are either virtual or real. Do you know that?”
Wukong replied, “I’ve heard of it. All things arise from existence, and existence arises from non-existence. Is that the principle?”
Creation seemed pleased and said, “Not bad—more or less correct.”
Wukong added, “What’s difficult about that? Put simply, it’s like playing chess. Before any pieces are placed, the board is virtual, while the pieces are real. When black and white aren’t distinguished yet, no one knows where the first move will be made. The anticipation at that moment is like the chaos before the creation of the world. Once the pieces are placed, black and white intermingle, just like yin and yang merging, like the Taiji giving rise to the two extremes, like something emerging from nothing. At that point, the places with pieces are ‘real,’ while the empty spaces remain ‘virtual.’ But ‘virtual’ doesn’t mean completely empty—since the pieces have momentum, one can roughly deduce where the next move will be…”
As he spoke, Wukong seemed to understand some principles, and he was also a bit surprised. He had never known about these theories of virtuality and reality before. They were remnants of the teachings of the Master of Mount Sumeru, which he had merely expressed using the analogy of chess… But after all this talk, where exactly should the next move be made?

Creation sighed and said, “What brilliance! You truly are not ordinary—how could this world confine you?”
Wukong thought to himself, “What good is your praise? I just blurted out nonsense; I don’t even know how to act.” “Then tell me,” he said, “where should my next move be?”
Creation remained silent for a long time before saying, “For ordinary people, what they see is real, and what they hear is illusory. For ordinary immortals, supernatural powers are real, while the forces of creation are illusory. For sages, the forces of creation are real, while their mental energies are illusory. As for you…”
“What’s known is real, and what’s unknown is illusory!” Wukong replied.
“Wrong! It should be that the world is real, and the Void is illusory!” Creation declared loudly.
“Oh? What does that mean? And what is the Void?”
“You only want to leave this world, yet all you can see is it—doesn’t that show attachment? Those who are obsessed with gain and loss will surely lose! To leave this world, you must forget it.”
Wukong nodded and said, “Well said! So what is the Void?”
Creation replied, “It is said, ‘Reach the extreme of emptiness and uphold stillness. As all things arise, I observe their cycles.’ It is also said, ‘In emptiness, one understands the truth of reality; in stillness, one grasps the essence of movement.’ And yet, ‘Only in emptiness can the true landscape be seen; only in void can all things be contained.’ The Void is boundless and without barriers; it embodies the wonders of nature and is a realm of profound emptiness and mystery!”
Wukong was stunned after listening. Creation—knowing both the scriptures and poetry—was truly remarkable. The more he talked with Creation, the more he realized it wasn’t the heartless being others described, but rather a master of the Way.
He understood some of what Creation said, yet it seemed veiled behind a thin curtain, leaving the full picture unclear. It sounded like he needed to wander in the Void, but could he truly find it if he forgot this world?
Then Creation said, “After saying so much, let me give you one last piece of advice.”
Wukong blurted out, “The last one?” After saying that, he couldn’t help but laugh silently—those words reminded him of a line from a skit. Skits… how distant that was from his world.
Creation said, “The true realm is beyond reach; the divine realm emerges. The Void exists within the heart!”
“The true realm is beyond reach; the divine realm emerges…” Wukong repeated those words several times. Gradually, a glow appeared in his eyes. If it existed within the heart, then he would search within it!
“You… why help me?” Wukong couldn’t suppress his curiosity. Creation was supposed to be impartial, but after inheriting the mind of the Great Sumera Mountain’s deity, Creation’s actions clearly favored him greatly. Now, it even wanted to help him leave this place—this was beyond his expectations.

“What am I in your eyes?” The voice of Creation carried a hint of desolation, sounding like that of a disappointed person who could not find a kindred spirit.
Wukong thought for a moment and said, “You are Creation, the true master of this world. All good and evil, fortune and misfortune in the world stem from you.”
Creation remained silent for a long time. Wukong thought he might have said something wrong and added, “You are the most fair in the world, aren’t you?”
After a while, Creation sighed and said, “Go now. All discussions about Creation are neither right nor wrong. I think about it constantly anyway.”
Wukong was stunned but then understood. People were preoccupied with right and wrong, while Creation had no one to discuss with, so they could only focus on themselves. Yet this feeling always seemed strange. Wukong smiled and said, “You needn’t think about it. Creation has an inherent form. If you keep thinking, and suddenly something changes, how will people know what to do?”
Creation replied, “Your tone suggests you are already above Creation. I only think about it today and forget it by tomorrow. Don’t worry too much.”
Wukong nodded and said, “Then, I’m going.”
Creation said, “Go. After you leave, there will be no more interesting people in the world.”
Wukong replied, “Everyone is interesting; it just takes careful observation.”
Creation laughed and said, “That’s not bad either.” His voice faded away, its echoes lingering in Wukong’s mind. Wukong knew that Creation had truly left him. On this path, no one could help him—he could only explore on his own.
“Meditating in the void, the true realm disappears; a divine realm emerges!”
Thinking of these words, Wukong held his breath, cleared his mind of all distractions, and began… to forget.
Forget the Journey to the West, forget Creation, forget the peak of Flower-Fruit Mountain, forget the Seven Divine Apes, Buddha, the Three Pure Ones, Pangu, Laozi, and Zhuangzi… Forget it all.
Forget this sky, this earth, this Mount Sumeru, this Hall of Enlightenment, this Furnace of Heaven and Earth…
Forget the Thirty-Six Transformations of the Heavenly Stars, the secrets of the Mysterious Sky Arts, all magical powers—whatever belongs here, leave it behind. All that remains are his memories from before his journey.
Gradually, Wukong truly forgot. All these things were deeply engraved in his heart—how could he forget them easily? Yet, wasn’t forgetting the deepest form of longing?
He took off, silently and swiftly from the peak of Mount Sumeru, covering millions of miles in an instant—faster than any magical power in the world. What took off was not Wukong, nor Lingming, nor the master of Mount Sumeru, but—time itself!
Time clearly saw that Wukong’s body had reverted to its ape form, sitting motionless on the peak of Mount Sumeru. It was still Lingming, but this Lingming no longer had any other forms.

As time flew higher and farther, unimpeded by space or time, strangely enough, he could still see everything happening in this world—even the tiniest grass and dust within the Cosmic Furnace was clearly visible to him.
This is the realm of ultimate truth and divine transcendence—such is this mysterious state? Time left no room for reflection. He saw clearly as Laozi and Zhuangzi carried the realm that trapped Buddha to the four continents ruled by the Human King, where they met Fuxi. Laozi and Zhuangzi whispered a few words, and Fuxi smiled and nodded. Then, Yin and Yang rushed out of a room and headed straight for the summit of Mount Sumeru without hesitation.
Inside the Lingming Hall, around the Cosmic Furnace, there were extremely powerful restrictions. Yet, a path was left for Yin and Yang. Wukong knew that though the world was vast, what Yin and Yang could not abandon were still the people inside the Furnace. This concern from Yin and Yang was their true heart, and with a true heart, nothing could stop them.
Inside the Furnace, Yin and Yang returned. As Wukong had predicted, they first sought Pangu and recounted everything that had happened beyond the heavens to him. Pangu showed no joy, seemingly expecting all this already. Then, Pangu used his divine powers to seal the only exit from the heavens, and from then on, no one could leave that realm again.
Inside the Cosmic Furnace, it was now the most peaceful place. Whether immortals or demons, everyone was happy. There was no more killing in the world, and the separation between immortals and mortals was orderly.
On Qitian Ridge, everyone rejoiced upon learning that Buddha was held in check by Wukong. But Yin and Yang kept things in check, not revealing too much about the affairs beyond the heavens to avoid causing resentment among them. If figures like the Three Pure Ones, Xuan Nu, and the Qilin learned that they were merely a trace of a sage from beyond the heavens, what would they think? But if they never knew, then everything would remain as it was.
Human hearts are fickle, and the hardest thing to resist is temptation. Those who practice cultivation revere their spiritual beliefs, and such matters are the most important things for them. How could Yin and Yang take such a risk? In the ways of the world, hiding sometimes isn’t deception.
Qitian Ridge, the Western Heaven’s Spiritual Mountain, the Netherworld, the Hall of the Earth Goddess in the Eastern Sea, the residence of Erlang Shen at Guanjiangkou… Yin and Yang the Divine Ape became the busiest beings in the world. After his journey, he was surprised to find that no one asked where Wukong had gone. Yet, the sad look in everyone’s eyes was an undeniable fact. Choosing to forget wasn’t an attempt to cover up the truth; wise people knew that it was better to forget than to long for something unattainable.
Time continued to fly, ever farther into infinity, while that world remained vivid in his mind.
It was unknown how long he had flown—perhaps a year, perhaps millions of years, or even billions of years…
One day, something strange happened in the world.

This change came from the realm left behind by Wukong in the hands of Laozi and Zhuangzi.
Tathagata could no longer bear it; he finally emerged. Human hearts, no matter how much they endure, cannot withstand time. What’s worse, there is no hope…
Tathagata gave up the evil thoughts in his heart and his invincible physical body, releasing only good thoughts. The moment those good thoughts appeared, that realm vanished like a soap bubble—silently and without a trace—along with Tathagata’s body and all evil thoughts.
To everyone’s surprise, those good thoughts turned out to be the evil thoughts of the Great Sun Tathagata. Yet, those very evil thoughts became Tathagata’s sole remaining good thoughts!
It’s not surprising—since the Great Sun Tathagata’s hatred was entirely within him, now that hatred vanished along with the realm left by Wukong, only his true heart remained.
To hear the truth in the morning and die in peace is enough; once good thoughts arise, all other thoughts fade away.
Laozi and Zhuangzi held onto those good thoughts, troubled. When Lingming left, they had promised to find a proper place for them. Though they spoke earnestly, they truly didn’t know where to send them.
The carefree Laozi and Zhuangzi suddenly let go and murmured, “Let it find its own way!”
Those good thoughts spun in the air and headed straight for Mount Sumeru. Finding this strange, Laozi and Zhuangzi followed. When they reached the summit, they saw the good thoughts dive straight into the Cosmic Furnace and vanish completely.
Laozi and Zhuangzi were astonished. Even they found it hard to break through the restrictions left by Wukong—how could these good thoughts pass through unimpeded? Only the true heart knows the way of the true heart.
Twenty years later, within the Cosmic Furnace, atop the Sacred Mountain in the West, the scene was far more splendid than before. A poem praised it: “Trees surround the land of the Three Jewels; mountains encircle the palace of the Brahman King. Serene and peaceful, it’s perfect for meditation; every Zen hall is tranquil. Lotus flowers fall from the high platforms; sacred scriptures grow from the shell leaves.”
Sitting on the altar was none other than the Ancient Buddha Dipankara. With subtle intent, he spoke from a lotus flower for days on end. The monks below listened with joy and delight, developing reverence for the Buddha.
After finishing his speech, Dipankara stepped down from the altar and suddenly saw a young boy standing below, whose face seemed very familiar. He approached and asked, “Who are you?” The boy bowed several times in respect and replied, “I was once the prince of Kapilavastu, named Siddhartha Gautama. Having joined Buddha, I now have no name.”
Dipankara was overjoyed. “What a good boy! In your next life, you will surely become a Buddha, named Sakyamuni!”

A thousand miles east of Ling Mountain, a beautiful maiden appeared as if a fairy had descended to the mortal world. She walked on a desolate path without touching the ground. Though she was extremely beautiful, her expression was dull, as if she held no interest in anything in the world. This maiden was the Dragon Girl who served Avalokiteshvara. She had been meditating on Mount Luojia, but that day she could not calm her mind at all, so she bid farewell to Avalokiteshvara and decided to travel among mortals. Avalokiteshvara, knowing that the Dragon Girl was heartbroken by love and that the world was peaceful enough for her to go anywhere, granted her permission.

The Dragon Girl wandered the roads aimlessly, with no purpose or mood. As she walked, she arrived at a temple where many people gathered in front of it, seemingly engaged in a debate about scriptures. Having nothing else to do, she watched more closely. And what she saw was none other than the Bodhisattva Nagarjuna, the one she had longed for day and night!

Ignoring propriety, the Dragon Girl squeezed through the crowd and stood nearby to listen. Nagarjuna was passionately expounding the scriptures when he suddenly felt a pair of beautiful eyes fixed on him. He glanced over, and once their eyes met, they could no longer be separated.

Noticing the unusual reaction, Nagarjuna teased, “What a great sage, how can you be distracted by beauty?” Ignoring his words, Nagarjuna stepped forward, took the Dragon Girl’s hands, and though his lips moved, no words came out.

Tears streamed down the Dragon Girl’s face, and all she could say was, “It’s me, it’s me…”