Volume 3: A Long Journey, Chapter 314: Not the Path of Buddha

Laojun had confirmed that his past life was that of Bodhisattva Nagarjuna. Since he knew, why hadn’t he told him first? He had deceived Laojun once to get the truth out of him, but Laojun clearly seemed more shocked than pleased. Could waking up early bring some harm?
Was Laojun hiding the fact that he was Bodhisattva Nagarjuna out of concern that he might awaken too early and be discovered, which could be detrimental to him? If Laojun knew he now had a divine form, why still worry?
Sure enough, Laojun said, “Wukong, since you know you are Nagarjuna, you must not let others find out. I will also keep quiet, informing only my two senior brothers. This matter is extremely important. If others discover the truth, it will be very harmful to you.”
Wukong pretended to be indifferent and said, “At most, I’ll give up the quest for the scriptures, take on a divine form, and return to Qitianling to live in leisure.”
Laojun said solemnly, “Under no circumstances should you act so rashly. Do you think your divine form makes you invincible? Even the Qilin was forced into a corner once—how much more so can you? Besides, the body of the Spiritual Intelligent Monkey must have great uses; how can you give it up so easily?”
Wukong asked, “What exactly did Nagarjuna do to make Laojun so wary?”
Laojun replied, “I don’t know much about Nagarjuna. It’s of no use telling you.”
Wukong said, “Laojun, you’re really driving me crazy.”
Laojun said, “If it were useful, I would tell you. Now is certainly not the right time.”
Wukong asked, “What was it that Nagarjuna took from the Dragon Palace? Why did Randeng put this treasure with Zhenwu?”
Laojun was stunned. “You already know this?”
Wukong nodded. “Even if Laojun doesn’t say anything, I can guess most of it. Is it true that Buddhism spreading throughout the world has a lot to do with Nagarjuna?”
Laojun’s expression darkened as he nodded. “Exactly!”
Wukong had some suspicions. In his dream by the South Sea, Nagarjuna had aspired to spread Buddhism worldwide. It seemed he must have succeeded. If so, it would be highly beneficial to Buddhism. Buddhism surely wouldn’t mistreat Nagarjuna—he would live well. Even if he didn’t become a Buddha, he would still be a Bodhisattva, worthy of worship by believers.
Since the Stone Monkey was born on Flower-Fruit Mountain, Nagarjuna must have died. Since Nagarjuna had spread Buddhism widely, the biggest victim was undoubtedly Taoism. Could it be that the Three Pure Ones were the ones who killed him? Seeing Laojun’s unnatural expression, Wukong grew even more convinced. No wonder Laojun avoided talking—perhaps he was afraid Wukong might misunderstand.

But don’t the Three Pure Ones believe in following the way of nature, acting in accordance with the flow of things? How could they act so directly? It’s not at all like the way of the Three Pure Ones.
Wukong thought again about Zhenwu. He had once been the Great Dragon King Bodhisattva in Buddhism, then turned to Taoism, and was later pursued by the Phoenix and the Serpent… There must have been a turning point somewhere in between. Zhenwu had always taken good care of him and secretly instructed the Four Sea Dragon Kings to give him magical treasures. Could it be that Longshu, like Zhenwu, discovered some conspiracy in Buddhism and was silenced by the Tathagata?
After thinking for a long time, Wukong finally came to a conclusion: the one who killed him must be either a Buddhist or a Taoist. Thinking further, he realized his efforts had been in vain—all the powerful figures in the world belonged to Buddhism or Taoism, making this conclusion utterly meaningless.
Laozi pondered for a moment before suddenly saying, “Do you know why Zhenwu abandoned Buddhism?”
Wukong’s heart stirred. Laozi used the word “abandoned”—so Zhenwu must have done it voluntarily. Wukong replied, “How could I possibly know?”
Laozi said, “You should know. Buddhism first showed kindness to Zhenwu, but later demanded the blood of the ancestral dragon. Since the blood of the ancestral dragon was extraordinary, Zhenwu refused to give even a drop. The Tathagata tried to force it from him, and then Zhenwu turned against them.”
Wukong said, “Well, that’s quite simple.”
Laozi said, “That’s why I say you should know.”
Wukong laughed, “Is that all you have to say? Zhenwu’s affairs are none of my concern—whether I know or not doesn’t matter. But you won’t tell me about my own affairs.”
Laozi asked, “What exactly do you want to know?”
Wukong asked, “Who killed Bodhisattva Longshu?”
Without hesitation, Laozi replied, “I can only say that the one who killed you is neither a Buddhist nor a Taoist.”
Wukong was stunned. Neither Buddhist nor Taoist? It seemed he had guessed wrong earlier. Just as he was about to ask more, Laozi waved his hand and said, “That’s all I’ll say. Go now!”
Wukong laughed, “You pulled me in, but now you’re pushing me away.”
Laozi glared and said, “Don’t mention Longshu to anyone else, and don’t make random guesses either!”
The more Laozi said this, the more curious Wukong became, but since Laozi refused to speak, he had no choice.
The two left the gourd and headed straight for Golden Horn Mountain. Laozi called out from the clouds, and the Green Ox Spirit came out of its cave. It bowed several times at the top of the mountain before revealing its true form and flying up.
Laozi pretended to scold it a bit before riding the Green Ox back to the Pure Land Palace.

Laojun had left, but Wukong’s thoughts were still unsettled. If Laojun didn’t speak, who else could know about this? In Buddhism, many people might be aware of it, but he didn’t know anyone there—how could he ask? Hey, he was really foolish; with the person involved right in front of him, he was still beating around the bush. Zhenwu must surely know about this—why not ask him?

Thinking of Zhenwu, Wukong remembered what Laojun had said earlier. The reason for Zhenwu’s turning against them seemed logical—Buddha wanted the blood of the ancestral dragon, which likely offended Zhenwu. But was the truth really as simple as Laojun said?

Upon further reflection, Zhenwu was guarding treasures in the Dragon Palace, treasures given to him by Randeng. Yet it was Buddha who later turned against him. Zhenwu had experienced two generations of rulers—past and present—and their attitudes toward him were completely different. Even now, Randeng was involved in a secret struggle between the future Buddha Donglai and Buddha. Could this mean that Randeng and Maitreya weren’t part of Buddha’s scheme?

In this case, internal strife within Buddhism might work in his favor—Buddha would surely be distracted. He had no chance to connect with Randeng or Maitreya, and even Laojun’s guidance had dampened Maitreya’s momentum several times.

Enough. One shouldn’t force things; it’s all about following nature’s way… Pah! Without scheming, there’s no way to survive. Nature’s way? The Three Pure Ones might say that, but he shouldn’t pretend. Wukong thought to himself that he must find an opportunity to meet Zhenwu—the more he knew, the clearer his path would be.

Wukong landed and saw Tang Seng and the others kneeling on the ground to bid farewell to Laojun. He laughed, “Laojun failed to take care of his own cattle, causing such a big problem. Why worship him?”

Tang Seng said, “Wukong, don’t be rude and speak nonsense.”

Wukong replied, “Master, since the demons are gone, let’s continue our journey westward.”

Tang Seng asked, “Weren’t there two groups of demons? Only one group has left. How can we move on now?”

Wukong said, “Since the Buddha promised to help, there should be no danger. At the very least, we should try to test the situation.”

Tang Seng turned and went back to the small hut, sitting by the fire, warming himself while saying, “Go and test it first. If everything’s fine, come back and call me.”

Wukong and the others exchanged glances. What was wrong with Tang Seng? Once they reached Jinpao Mountain, he seemed unwilling to move forward.

Wukong patiently said, “Master, it’s you who wants to obtain the scriptures. We can cross in just one step—who would stop us?”

Tang Seng thought for a moment, sighed, and said, “Alright, alright. It’s really troublesome.”

They got on the white horse and continued westward along the mountain valley. After less than two miles, a tall, thin figure appeared ahead—it was the Wood God, Jumang.

Wukong thought to himself that Buddha wasn’t reliable either—since he wouldn’t come to help, who among those ancient figures from Qitianling could subdue them? With no other choice, Wukong stepped forward and asked, “Are you from Qitianling?”
Jumang replied indifferently, “Qitianling, the Wood God Jumang.”
Wukong asked, “Why are you blocking the way?”
Jumang said, “Everything to the west is under Qitianling’s jurisdiction. Strangers are not allowed to enter!”
Wukong said, “We’re going to the Western Heaven to worship Buddha and obtain scriptures. We’re just passing through and won’t stay long. Could you be flexible?”
Jumang didn’t answer, only shook his head.
Wukong thought, Good, quite determined. I really want to see how the Western Heaven will clear the way.
Although Buddha bowed to Laojun, that didn’t mean he would also pay tribute to Qitianling. Buddhism and Taoism had been in conflict for a long time, with deep roots and frequent interactions, so they somewhat understood each other’s temperaments. That’s why Buddha knew Laojun’s limits and easily made him subdue the Green Ox Spirit.
But Qitianling was different. Among Buddhism and Taoism, Qitianling was just a newcomer—its territory wasn’t large enough, its heritage wasn’t deep enough. Most importantly, Qitianling lacked beliefs similar to those of Buddhism and Taoism. No matter how much it expanded, it would remain a castle in the air, without a long-term development strategy.
If Buddha showed weakness to Qitianling, it would indirectly place Qitianling on equal footing with the Western Heaven and the Heavenly Court, turning a two-sided situation into a three-sided one. How could Buddha be happy with that? Moreover, Qitianling was currently competing with the Western Heaven for control of Xiniuhezhou. At this critical moment, it was like two sides clashing, neither willing to yield.
Thus, Wukong concluded that Jinpao Mountain was likely to face a fierce battle. Though this battle would take place east of Qitianling, it would inevitably have an immeasurable impact on Qitianling’s westward expansion. Tang Seng and his companions had to go west, so the outcome was already determined. It only remained to see how much effort the Western Heaven would need to overcome this obstacle. The longer Jumang and the others stalled, the more advantageous it would be for Dayu and the others in the future.
Wukong picked up his iron rod and shouted, “If you don’t make way, I’ll have to use force!”
Jumang stretched out his right hand, signaling to Wukong, “Come.”
Wukong swung his rod at him, but Jumang stood firm, unmoved. With his left hand, he drew a circle, and Wukong saw nothing, only felt his iron rod being obstructed, as if it had sunk into mud.
Knowing Jumang’s binding techniques were extremely powerful, Wukong quickly pulled out his rod, switching from smashing to stabbing, and thrust it forward. Jumang drew out a green, soft whip from his bosom and swished it, wrapping Wukong’s rod around it.
Wukong looked closely and realized it wasn’t some soft whip at all—it was clearly that Immortal Tree.

Wukong pulled hard to go back, and Jumang showed a hint of a smile, saying, “Competing in strength is also good.” The two then struggled against each other. Wukong was quite surprised; Jumang usually won by using cunning tactics, but in this struggle, he couldn’t gain even the slightest advantage. Seeing Jumang’s calm demeanor, Wukong feared he was only using 60% of his strength. Unaware of the wonders of the Tree of Immortality, Jumang’s vital energy circulated back and forth within the soft whip, allowing him to conserve much of his magical power. Wukong shouted, “Hurry up and leave!” Wu Ping regained his senses and quickly urged his horse forward to pass by the two, while Jumang did not stop them and let them go ahead. After traveling less than a mile, another figure appeared ahead—it was the Golden God Rushou.