After Xuanzang finished speaking, he closed his eyes.
The lamplight flickered across his face.
The room was utterly still.
Wukong crouched before him, deep in thought.
Bajie opened his mouth to say something, but in the end, he merely scratched his belly.
Little White Dragon lowered his eyes, his fingers tapping lightly against his arm.
Sha Wujing's eyes were red, as though he had been deeply moved.
A-Hu lay beside the door, stretched, then settled down in a different position.
The next moment.
That voice sounded in Xuanzang's mind again.
[The Tribulation Master refuses to heed counsel.] [The great tribulation will change.] [This body's old memories will no longer be suppressed.] [The Tribulation Master must bear it himself.]
The voice fell silent.
The flame in the room's oil lamp suddenly leaped.
"Pfft."
The lamp went out.
The room plunged into darkness.
Xuanzang's brow suddenly furrowed. He pressed a hand to his temple, and his body swayed.
Wukong's expression changed sharply.
He lunged forward and caught Xuanzang.
"Master!"
Xuanzang did not answer. He merely clutched Wukong's arm with both hands.
His grip was tight.
"Master!"
Bajie rolled off the bed.
Sha Wujing rushed straight over.
Little White Dragon was already at Xuanzang's other side, reaching out to support his back.
A-Hu sprang to the bedside, bracing both forepaws against the wooden edge as urgent growls rumbled in his throat.
Xuanzang's breathing caught, and his lashes trembled.
Sweat slid from his temple down past his sideburn.
His fingers suddenly tightened.
Wukong's brows knitted tightly.
River water.
A woman.
A wooden plank.
A pale face, blood seeping from fingertips.
Wind whistled past his ears.
Someone was weeping, their cries churned to pieces by the river.
An old monk.
A temple.
"Jiang Liuer..."
Someone called from far away.
"Jiang Liuer."
**"Jiang