The rain passed, the sky cleared, and the first light of dawn emerged.
Ao Lie withdrew his divine power, transformed back into the young man in silver armor, and descended into the courtyard. Though he had used no killing move, his summoning of the rain had revealed the majesty of a dragon prince.
Xuanzang stepped out of his room and nodded slightly to Ao Lie. "Thank you for your compassion, benefactor."
The courtyard was a wreck. Charred timbers gave off blue smoke. Though the main structure had not collapsed, it had been blackened by the flames, and broken walls and ruins lay everywhere, trailing wisps of smoke.
Xuanzang paid no heed to the monks kneeling and begging for mercy. He walked straight toward the rear hall.
Ao Lie had regained his human form. Though somewhat weary, he held his back perfectly straight, and there was now a measure of genuine respect in his gaze as he looked at Xuanzang.
With the Golden Cudgel slung over his shoulder, Sun Wukong leaped onto a fire-cracked stone tablet. His Fiery Golden Eyes swept the surroundings, and he gave a cold laugh. "What a lively night this has been."
In the courtyard, the surviving monks were all grimy and disheveled, looking as though they had lost their parents.
Before the ruins of the rear hall, Elder Jinchi was clawing through the muddy water like a madman.
His brocade-and-velvet monk's robe had become a rag, his staff inlaid with luminous pearls had snapped in two, and his hands were torn and bloody. With soot covering his face, he bore not the slightest resemblance to an enlightened monk.
"My kasaya... my treasure..."
"Where is it? Where on earth is it?!"
Elder Jinchi's voice was hoarse. His ten fingers dug through the scorching ashes, his nails splitting, yet he felt no pain.
He had lived for two hundred and seventy years. The wealth he had amassed over a lifetime and the roomful of splendid robes he had collected had gone up in flames in a single night.
But he cared nothing for those.
All he cared about was the Brocade Kasaya, which did not belong to him and which he had not even had the chance to wear for a single night.
A pair of clean monk's shoes stopped before him.
Elder Jinchi's hands froze, and he slowly raised his head. He saw the spotless Xuanzang, still so calm, so dignified, as though the scorched earth filling the courtyard had nothing to do with him.
"It was you... you hid it, didn't you?!"
Elder Jinchi lunged forward, trying to seize the hem of Xuanzang's robe, but a low growl from A-Hu drove him back. He could only slump to the ground, pointing at Xuanzang and wailing:
"You set this trap! You said you were giving it to me, but you meant to destroy me! Now that my monastery has burned down, don't think you'll get off lightly! Give me back the kasaya! Give it back!"
Xuanzang looked down at the old monk in the grip of madness. There was no anger in his eyes, only profound compassion.
He did not argue. Instead, he bent down and picked up a half-charred Buddhist statue from a heap of rubble beside Elder Jinchi.
It had once been a gilded wooden Arhat that Elder Jinchi kept on his altar table. Now the gold coating had melted away and the wood was blackened, leaving only a broken shape.
"Venerable abbot, look."
Xuanzang held the charred wooden statue before Jin Chi and spoke gently:
"Yesterday, this statue shone with brilliant gold and received the prostrations of countless worshippers. Now, after a single fire, its gold coating has melted away, and it is no more than a piece of rotten wood."
Xuanzang looked at Elder Jinchi, his gaze warm and gentle.
"Venerable abbot, throughout your life, you amassed seven or eight hundred kasayas and built this splendid Guanyin Monastery. You believed this was merit, but it was merely the gold coating on that statue."
"Whether it was the Brocade Kasaya or all the splendor of this courtyard, once fire came, the gold melted away, like oil seething over fierce flames. What had you truly cultivated?"
Elder Jinchi shuddered.
He looked down at his hands, covered in black ash and fresh blood, then at the ugly, charred Buddhist statue.
"The gold peels away... only rotten wood remains..."
"Then I... what am I?"
Xuanzang said softly:
"If the Buddha dwells in your heart, even clothed in coarse hemp, you are as one seated upon a lotus throne. Venerable abbot, you have practiced for many years. Surely you know the Buddha's parable of the sewn-in jewel."
Jin Chi remained wooden-faced and unresponsive. Sun Wukong, however, grew interested and asked, "What story is that?"
Looking at Jin Chi, Xuanzang spoke slowly. "A poor man went to stay for a while at the home of a dear friend. This friend was very wealthy and entertained him with all manner of delicious dishes, while also fastening a priceless jewel inside the poor man's clothes. Then the friend went away on business."
"At the time, the poor man was fast asleep from drinking and knew nothing of the treasure his friend had given him. Later, he traveled to other countries, seeking food and clothing to keep himself alive. His days were full of hardship, and he dared not hope for anything better."
A trace of compassion entered Xuanzang's voice:
"Many years later, that friend happened to meet him. Seeing his plight, the friend said, 'Alas, how have you fallen so low just to feed and clothe yourself!'"
"'Back then, so that you could live in peace and plenty, free to enjoy yourself, I sewed a priceless jewel inside your clothes.'"
"'That jewel should still be there, yet you know nothing of it. You toil all day, burdened with worry and distress, merely to scrape together a living. How foolish you are!'"
At that moment, dawn broke, shining upon the charred wooden statue in Xuanzang's hand and upon Elder Jinchi's deeply furrowed face.
"Venerable abbot."
Xuanzang gently set the charred wood on the muddy ground before Jin Chi.
"You have taken the tonsure and donned a monk's robe. Why, then, are you like that drunken man with a jewel hidden in his clothes, unaware that the Buddha-nature already within you is a priceless treasure, begging instead for fine robes, gold, silver, and empty fame?"
"You traded two hundred and seventy years for a roomful of tattered cloth and shabby robes, and built a burning house that imprisoned your mind."
"Now the burning house is destroyed, and the rags have turned to ash."
Xuanzang bent down, looked into Jin Chi's clouded eyes, and asked, each word distinct:
"Is the shining jewel inside your robe still there?"
Boom-!
Those words were like a thunderbolt, cleaving fiercely through Elder Jinchi's muddled sea of consciousness.
He stared blankly at the charred wood on the ground, then at the brocade-and-velvet robe he had once taken such pride in, now torn beyond repair.
"Inside my robe... a shining jewel..."
"I guarded a priceless treasure... yet spent my whole life begging..."
Elder Jinchi's lips trembled violently, and two streams of cloudy tears slowly flowed down his aged face.
"I was wrong... so wrong..."
"In the end... it was all emptiness."
"Two hundred and seventy years... and I never cultivated even a trace of true understanding..."
The old monk prostrated himself on the ground, pressing his forehead hard against the charred wooden statue. He wept until his voice broke, as though he meant to cry away all the folly of those two hundred and seventy years.
Watching this, the monks around him all bowed their heads and shed tears, overwhelmed with shame.
Xuanzang straightened and sighed softly.
"It is enough that you have awakened."
Elder Jinchi shakily crossed his legs. Though his body had deteriorated to its very limits, he struggled to assume a meditation posture.
"I no longer want the Brocade Kasaya. Here I return it to you, holy monk. May you recover it."
He pressed his palms together and bowed deeply to Xuanzang. His voice was weak, yet held a clarity it had never possessed before:
"My thanks... holy monk, for showing me the way."
After that bow, he never raised his head again.
There amid the ruins, the old monk who had lived for two hundred and seventy years passed into nirvana with his head bowed.
Sun Wukong frowned. "That old fellow certainly died without fuss!"
Looking at Jin Chi's body, Xuanzang pressed his palms together, lowered his eyes, and softly recited:
"All conditioned things are like dreams, illusions, bubbles, and shadows, like dew and like lightning. Thus should they be regarded."
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