Tang Monk nodded.
He knew Chu Yang was telling the truth.
This time, Mount Ling had clearly wrapped things up as swiftly and cleanly as possible. If they dragged it out any longer and the real Daoists of Xuanyun Temple woke up and ran into that bunch of "actors," things would only become more chaotic.
After taking a brief look around and confirming that the real Daoists were merely asleep and otherwise unharmed, the group did not linger.
Su Wanwan stood at the entrance to the main hall, looking at the young Daoist boy sleeping soundly, slumped over a cushion before the incense table. A strange, indescribable feeling suddenly welled up in her heart.
Just two days ago, this place had been the stage for a Human Heart scheme rife with undercurrents.
Now, all that remained was an ordinary old Daoist temple, several genuine Daoists, a few mountain birds not yet fully awake, and a thin wash of morning light across the ground.
It was as if all the absurdity had been gathered into a dream by last night's moonlight.
She turned to Chu Yang. "We're just leaving like this?"
"What else?" Chu Yang said. "Wait for them to wake up and invite us to a farewell meal?"
"You're still thinking about food."
"What else should I be thinking about?"
"I thought you'd at least say something like—" Su Wanwan paused, imitating his lazy tone. "'Sure enough, Tathagata and Guanyin are nothing special after all.'"
After hearing that, Chu Yang actually gave it some thought.
Then he chuckled.
"That would be no fun," he said. "They're miserable enough already. No need to rub salt in their wounds."
Sun Wukong snickered beside him. "That's not holding back on the salt. That's switching to cumin."
Su Wanwan burst out laughing.
Tang Monk