Wukong rested one hand on the Golden Cudgel, his Fiery Golden Eyes fixed intently on the woman weeping on the ground.
The golden light in his eyes flickered like a candle flame battered by the wind, betraying his inner struggle.
He tilted his head slightly, looking toward Xuanzang, who sat cross-legged on the bluestone.
"Master."
A soft call.
Gone was his usual unruly swagger. In its place were confusion and a plea for help, rarely seen in the Great Sage.
Upon the bluestone, the sound of prayer beads slipping through fingers briefly paused.
Xuanzang slowly opened his eyes.
There was neither anger nor pity in them, neither surprise nor disgust. They were only a cold pool of unfathomable depth, reflecting his bewildered eldest disciple and the pitiful human figure on the ground alike.
"Wukong."
Xuanzang's voice was quiet, yet it reached every ear clearly through the wind:
"I have already said that this ordeal is entirely yours to decide."
"You have seen through her demon body and ghostly aura, and you have heard her cries of suffering and injustice."
"What will you do? What should you do? Let your own heart decide."
Xuanzang looked at Wukong, his gaze settling on the hand gripping the cudgel:
"This is your cultivation. This time, I cannot help you."
With that, Xuanzang closed his eyes again and said no more.
Wukong's grip tightened and loosened, revealing still more of his turmoil.
Yet from atop the bluestone came another low, solemn recitation:
"Cognitive obstruction means clinging to the conceived and clung-to nature as truly existing phenomena. With the view of a self foremost among them, views, doubt, ignorance, craving, anger, pride, and the like obscure the undistorted nature of what is known. Because they obstruct Bodhi, they are called cognitive obstruction."
"These two obstructions arise