Wukong laughed. "Oh? How shall we debate it? How shall we compete?"
Mao Ying's smile slowly faded, his gaze deep and unfathomable. His voice was calm, as though discussing everyday matters:
"Heaven and earth have their constants; birth and death have their order."
"When living beings are born, their lifespans, fortunes, and misfortunes should all be recorded in the Book of Life and Death, following the cycles of the Heavenly Dao."
"Even those who have attained the Dao should have the waxing and waning of their lifespans, their passage through life and death, recorded by the South Dipper and North Dipper, under the jurisdiction of the Eastern Peak."
Mao Ying looked at Wukong and asked softly:
"But if someone forcibly erased those records, what would become of those living beings?"
"Great Sage, do you still remember how you wreaked havoc in the underworld, forcibly expunging the death records and crossing out the names of all monkey-kind in the Book of Life and Death?"
"Afterward, you were imprisoned beneath a mountain for five hundred years, then accompanied the Holy Monk on the Journey to the West."
"Do you know what has become of your monkeys and their descendants after those five hundred years?"
He raised his hand, palm upward, and a mass of grayish-white mist slowly gathered above it.
Countless tiny shadows seemed to churn within the mist. They were impossible to make out clearly, yet they sent an inexplicable chill into the heart.
"With their names gone, the underworld truly cannot find them, nor can it seize their souls."
"That does indeed grant them ageless longevity."
"But they can still feel pain, fall ill, go hungry, suffer injuries, bleed, and be killed."
"They can die!"
"If they cannot be found or seized, there is no one to guide their souls