What a charlatan!
Uchiha Madara sneered inwardly.
All this talk of karmic ties and spiritual affinity sounded impressive, but the boy was merely putting on an act to mystify him.
Yet just as he was about to speak, the young monk before him spoke first, as though he had seen through his thoughts.
"I imagine you don't believe me either, senior brother."
Tripitaka smiled faintly. "That is hardly surprising. Though you wear a monk's robe, observe a monk's courtesies, and call yourself a humble monk, you merely borrow another's cassock to conceal your true face. Without the Buddha in your heart, the cassock on your back is nothing more than cloth to keep out the wind. However long you wear it, it cannot make you a true renunciant. Viewing karmic ties through such a mask is like viewing flowers through mist, always separated by a veil. How could you possibly believe?"
Uchiha Madara froze for a moment. He had not fully understood those words on first hearing them. Only after pondering them for a while did he realize that the young monk was calling him a fake monk.
For some reason, looking at that almost excessively handsome face and its composed smile stirred a long-forgotten sense of defiance within Uchiha Madara.
He folded his arms across his chest and said coldly, "A fake monk? We've never met before today. What gives you the right to call me a fake monk? If anything, with that outfit and a face even more refined than a nobleman's son, you hardly look like someone devoted to spiritual cultivation. You look more like a fake monk than I do, junior brother."
The faint smile remained on Tripitaka's lips. He nodded gently and replied without hesitation, "Well said, senior brother. Naturally, I am a fake monk