After hearing this, Wukong raised a hand, seized the Green-Robed Daoist's sleeve, and abruptly leaned close. His eyes reddened, and his voice trembled:
"Then this poor Daoist has no blessings, no destined connection at all, and will never behold those three great immortals!"
Startled by his sudden behavior, the Green-Robed Daoist pulled his sleeve free:
"Why are you so jumpy, sir? Why should you be unable to meet them?"
Wukong took the opportunity to wipe his face and explained with a woeful expression:
"I wander far from home, wander far from home, first to cultivate my nature and life and comprehend the Great Dao, and second to search for a relative who vanished many years ago."
As he spoke, he pretended to sob:
"I have an uncle who left home in his youth, renounced the world, and shaved his head to become a monk."
"Years ago, famine struck our homeland, and he went out begging far and wide to survive. Yet all these years, he has never returned. Mindful of our ancestral bloodline, I have been searching for him along the way."
Wukong raised his hand and pointed at the wretched crowd of monks below, beating his chest and stamping his feet as he wailed:
"I just heard you two Daoist masters speak of what has happened in this city."
"My poor old uncle must surely be detained here, forced into the backbreaking labor of hauling carts, with no way to get free!"
"As his nephew, if I cannot find him, see him once, and learn whether he lives or dies, how could I have the heart to enter the city with you, pay my respects to the great immortals, and cultivate the Dao?"
The two Daoists exchanged a glance.
Then the Blue-Robed Daoist smiled unconcernedly:
"I thought it was