The Monk Will Salvage Your Whole Family-Who's First?

His gaze swept over someone, and that person's blade lowered an inch. When it passed over the wall, the crossbows in the hands of those archers drooped at once, their bolts pointing at the ground.

Tang Sanzang nodded in satisfaction, then drew a deep breath. As he inhaled, his two pectorals swelled and stretched his monk's robe even tighter, the fabric creaking under the strain.

He slowly exhaled. As the breath left his nostrils, it carried a low sigh, like the lingering resonance of a temple's morning bell.

"This monk's Dharma name is Sanzang. I come from the Great Tang of the Eastern Lands, bearing the King of Tang's decree to travel to Spirit Mountain in the Western Heaven to worship Buddha and seek the scriptures."

His voice was exceptionally clear in the silent courtyard, every word crisply enunciated. "Today, I passed by your precious temple. I had intended to stay the night, discuss Buddhist teachings with my fellow brothers, and together attain enlightenment.

"Yet I never expected my fellow brothers to seek this monk's life the moment we met. This truly grieves this monk deeply."

When he spoke the words "grieves deeply," his right hand unconsciously clenched into a fist. The veins on its back bulged like earthworms writhing beneath his skin.

His knuckles cracked sharply as he tightened his fist. The sound was not loud, but it was especially piercing in the deathly silent courtyard.

The monks stirred again. Someone muttered softly, "What's he grieving over? He's not the one who died."

Tang Sanzang ignored the murmur and continued, "This monk has renounced the world for many years and has always held compassion in his heart. I am not easily willing to harm another's life. But what my fellow brothers have done today is truly not the conduct