At those words.
"A Daoist name?"
Sanzang raised his eyes to him.
The Blood-Red Mole between his brows glimmered faintly.
"Venerable One, since you are a disciple of the World-Honored One, why did you take another Daoist name?"
Wukong also leaned halfway out from behind Xuanzang.
"Master."
"Could you have abandoned Buddhism for Daoism?"
Subhuti glanced at him.
Wukong immediately shrank back half a step.
Subhuti shook his head.
"Of course I have not abandoned Buddhism."
"Golden Cicada Child was the name the World-Honored One gave me."
Wukong looked puzzled. "Buddha gives people Daoist names? I've never seen the Old Lord give anyone a Buddhist name!"
Xuanzang gently patted the monkey's head as he deliberately made mischief.
"Listen properly. Don't cause trouble."
Wukong ducked his head. "Got it."
Sanzang's expression, however, kept shifting.
Subhuti shook his head, then raised his hand.
The dust-light changed again.
Deep within the mountain rock, a cave appeared.
Its entrance was narrow.
Vine roots hung down.
Water droplets clung to the rock walls.
Subhuti sat upright inside.
He wore plain, spotless monk's robes.
Before him, there was no incense burner, no scripture table, and no meditation cushion.
The mountain wind swept fallen leaves into the cave entrance; they spun twice, then stopped three feet before his knees.
The cave was very quiet.
So quiet that every drop falling from the rock could be heard clearly.
Drip.
A water droplet shattered in a crack in the stone.
Subhuti remained motionless, his eyes closed.
Suddenly, flowers fell from the air.
One petal.
Two petals.
Countless tiny blossoms showered down from the void.
Their color was exceedingly pale, as though formed from moonlight.
Yet they did not touch his robes.
When they fell within three inches of him, they gently dissolved.
Subhuti slowly opened his eyes.
"Who is