No one spoke in the hall for a long time.
Rain spilled from the palace eaves, striking the blue bricks and shattering into a thin veil of white mist.
The Ruler of Chechi Kingdom remained on his knees. His ocher robe had grown heavy, soaked through with either sweat or damp air.
He looked like a length of old timber struck by lightning and sunk into the mud.
He opened his mouth several times, but his throat seemed stuffed with dry straw. He could not force out a single sound.
Xuanzang stood quietly. He did not press him.
Wukong, meanwhile, leaned against a pillar and picked his ear with the Golden Cudgel.
Then he said irritably:
"What, have you all gone mute? How can you be so muddleheaded? My master has broken it all down and ground it fine for you, and you still don't understand?"
"Is it that hard?"
"Those who ought to confess should confess. What needs dealing with should be dealt with. The canals that need digging should be dug."
"My master wants you to bring the three teachings together, honor monks and Daoists alike, and nurture people of talent."
"Stop worrying about those empty fears that haven't come to pass."
"Do what ought to be done. Accomplish what you can."
"Don't keep counting on some god or immortal to work a miracle. If you keep acting recklessly and believing blindly..."
Wukong chuckled twice.
His laughter fell into the hall, bitterly cold.
"Before any demons or Vengeful Ghosts even descend upon the world, with what little fortune Chechi Kingdom has left, not one of you will escape in another two years!"
The Golden Cudgel tapped lightly against his hand.
Tap.
Tap.
The Ruler of Chechi Kingdom slowly raised his eyes.
He swept his gaze around the