There were over thirty monks standing in the great hall, and not a single one dared to look up.
I counted. Besides me, there were seven Buddhist monks, four Daoist priests, and two occultists of unknown origin. All of them had their heads bowed and their shoulders hunched, looking like a row of interns waiting for roll call.
I stood at the very back because I arrived the latest.
Not on purpose. I was held up at the palace gates for a quarter of an hour — the Imperial Guards saw my height and build and absolutely refused to believe I was a monk. "Are you sure you're not a military commander?" the guard asked twice.
I didn't explain. Even if I did, he wouldn't believe a monk could carry two hundred pounds of lean muscle.
The great hall was vast, the kind of vast that dripped with gold and jade. A man sat on the dragon throne. He looked around forty, with a square, imposing face and sharp eyes. His posture radiated the relaxed confidence of someone thinking, *I own everything in this room.*
Li Shimin. Emperor Taizong.
In the original novel, Tang Sanzang called him "Your Majesty," feeling so profoundly grateful and indebted that they became sworn brothers, looking like he'd gladly lay down his life for him.
Me? I negotiate terms with the boss.
"Venerable masters, Daoist priests," Li Shimin began. His voice wasn't loud, but the great hall instantly grew so quiet you could hear people breathing. "I have summoned you all to the palace today to discuss a matter of great importance."
The monks in the front bowed their heads even lower.
I didn't.
I wasn't purposely acting tough; my neck was just stiff. Literally stiff — the result of ten years of scientific fitness training. My cervical muscle groups were overdeveloped, making it uncomfortable to bow my head.
Li Shimin's gaze swept over the crowd and paused on me.
Just for a second.
But I noticed it.
***
"Recently, I received an omen in a dream."
Li Shimin stood up and walked down two steps. This movement made the monks in the front row even more nervous — the Emperor stepping closer meant he was about to call on someone.
"In the dream, golden light arrived from the West, and the Buddha manifested. He said that although the national destiny of the Great Tang flourishes, the True Scriptures from the West have not yet arrived. If they are not retrieved, our dynasty's reign cannot be guaranteed for ten thousand generations."
I rolled my eyes internally.
*An omen in a dream.* Do you buy it? I don't. But you need an excuse for your ministers, I get it. It's like a meeting in a modern corporation where the boss says, "I have an idea," which actually means, "I've already decided, just clap your hands."
The State Preceptor beside him immediately chimed in. "Your Majesty's words run true. I observed the celestial phenomena at night. There is indeed a sign of purple aura spreading from the East toward the West, which perfectly aligns with the prophecy of retrieving the scriptures."
The Grand Astrologer followed up. "I consulted the ancient texts. In the previous dynasty, there were precedents of eminent monks traveling west to seek the dharma, all of which benefited the nation and the people."
One singing, one harmonizing, their coordination smoother than a rehearsed comedy duo.
I scored them in my head: *Acting: 7. Delivery: 6. Blocking: 8. Overall evaluation: Passable, but not natural enough.*
Li Shimin listened, nodded, and his gaze swept over the crowd again. "Among you here, who is willing to take on this heavy responsibility?"
Silence.
Dead silence.
The seven monks in front didn't raise their heads. The four Daoist priests took a half-step back. The two occultists looked like they wanted to wedge themselves behind the pillars.
I understood them. Retrieving scriptures from the Western Heaven spanned a hundred and eight thousand li, filled with demons and monsters along the way. Nine chances to die, one chance to live. This wasn't a mission; it was a death notice.
But I was different.
I knew the script.
"This monk is willing to go."
My voice came from the back row, echoing slightly in the great hall. Everyone turned to look at me.
Li Shimin looked at me too.
There was something in his eyes — not surprise, but confirmation. As if he knew all along it would be me, and was merely verifying it.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"Xuanzang of Jinshan Temple."
"That same Xuanzang who is... the reincarnation of the Golden Cicada?"
"This monk does not dare to falsely claim reincarnation," I said, pressing my palms together. "But if Your Majesty requires someone who can walk all the way to Vulture Peak, this monk believes he has the capability."
Li Shimin smiled.
It wasn't a polite smile; it was a *finally, the main character is here* smile.
***
The next hour was procedural.
The route map was unrolled — west from Chang'an, through the Hexi Corridor, crossing the various states of the Western Regions, over the Pamir Mountains, into India, and finally arriving at Vulture Peak. Known hazard zones were marked on the map; the red dots were so dense it looked like a face with measles.
Mission objectives: Retrieve the True Scriptures, document the geography and humanities along the way, and establish diplomatic relations between the Great Tang and the states of the Western Regions.
Estimated time: Several years.
"I will wait for your return," Li Shimin said. His tone was very sincere.
I translated it in my head: *The original novel took fourteen years. I'll try to be faster. Assuming I don't get eaten by demons.*
Then he added another line: "Better to long for a pinch of soil from your homeland than to love ten thousand taels of gold from a foreign land. Master, my heart worries greatly for your journey."
The boss's technique for painting a pipedream hasn't changed in fourteen hundred years.
"Your Majesty can rest assured," I said. "However—"
"However what?"
"This monk's journey will span tens of thousands of li. Along the way, I will need to bribe checkpoints, procure supplies, hire guides, and handle emergencies." I didn't speak quickly, enunciating every word. "If every expense requires approval from the imperial court, I fear it will delay this great endeavor."
Someone in the great hall gasped. They probably guessed what I was going to say next.
"I request Your Majesty grant me a transit passport. Within the borders of the Great Tang and its vassal states, this monk holding this passport may requisition supplies from local governments, horses from relay stations, and inventory from armories. The expenses will be settled uniformly by the state treasury."
I paused.
"With no upper limit."
The great hall exploded.
"Insolence!" "The lion opens his maw!" "A monk wants an unlimited credit line?"
The ministers' reactions were exactly as I expected. But I didn't look at them. I looked at Li Shimin.
He stayed silent for about five seconds.
Then he laughed.
"The Master is indeed one who achieves great things," he said. "Granted."
The voices of the ministers came to an abrupt halt.
I nodded internally. *Smart man. He knows I don't want money — how much money can a monk spend? I want resources to keep me alive. And he needs me to come back alive.*
He had calculated the cost-benefit analysis perfectly.
***
The court assembly dismissed.
The other monks and Daoist priests filed out. As they passed me, some gave me complicated looks — three parts admiration, three parts jealousy, four parts *you're insane.*
I ignored them.
A eunuch walked over and said quietly, "Master, His Majesty invites you to move to the Imperial Study."
A private audience.
I followed the eunuch through three corridors and entered a modest study. Li Shimin was already inside, having changed into casual clothes, sitting behind a desk with a teacup in hand.
The doors closed. In the study, there was only me, him, and a personal eunuch.
The atmosphere shifted.
From "Ruler and Subject" to "Business Partners."
"Master, sit," he pointed to the chair opposite him.
I sat down. No false modesty, no deferrals.
He looked at me for a moment, then said, "Master, I wish to entrust you with a private matter."
"Please speak, Your Majesty."
"Have you ever heard of the *Sutra of State Security*?"
I rapidly searched my brain. *The unabridged Journey to the West: this didn't exist. All academic research: this didn't exist.*
"I have never heard of it."
"Legends say Vulture Peak hides a scripture named the *Sutra of State Security*." Li Shimin set down his teacup and leaned forward slightly. "Whoever obtains this scripture can guarantee their nation's destiny for ten thousand generations and consolidate imperial power forever."
His eyes were saying: *I am very serious.*
My brain was saying: *Interesting.*
"Your Majesty believes in this?" I asked.
He didn't get angry. He smiled slightly, a smile holding a frank kind of cunning. "I do not believe in Buddha. But I believe in things that are useful. If the *Sutra of State Security* exists, I want to monopolize it. If it doesn't—" he paused, "then the Master can pretend I never spoke of it."
I looked at him.
An emperor who had just conquered the realm, his foundation unstable, his brothers' blood barely dry. He needed an "endowment of the Mandate of Heaven" to shut everyone up. He didn't need to actually believe in Buddhism; he needed a story that everyone else believed.
"This monk understands," I said.
"The Master is a smart man," Li Shimin picked up his teacup. "I am too. Smart men don't need excessive chatter between them."
"Rest assured, Your Majesty. This monk's journey will not be in vain."
He nodded, saying no more.
I stood, bowed, and turned to leave.
As I reached the door, he spoke from behind me: "Master, be careful on the road."
The tone of this sentence was different from the "I will wait for your return" in the royal court just now.
The one in court was an act for others to see.
This one was real.
***
When I walked out of the imperial palace, it was already dark.
Chang'an's night was very quiet. There weren't many people on the streets, only the night watchmen walking by with lanterns. I walked on the bluestone pavement, my monk shoes making a soft sound.
To summarize today's haul: an unlimited corporate card, a VIP VIP transit passport, a side-quest for a potentially non-existent *Sutra of State Security*, and an emperor treating me like a tool.
Though to be fair, I was also treating him like an ATM.
We were using each other. The adult world is just like that.
The *Sutra of State Security*... it wasn't in the original novel. Either it was an original setting for this specific world, or Li Shimin had been conned. Either way, it was a bargaining chip — he gave me resources, I gave him hope. When I arrived at Vulture Peak, the truth would naturally surface.
But if the *Sutra of State Security* really existed... A scripture that could "guarantee national destiny for ten thousand generations"... then the waters of Vulture Peak were much deeper than I thought.
Whatever. Take it one step at a time.
The next question was — who was the first person met on the scripture-seeking journey in the original novel again?
Sun Wukong. Double-edged, the Five Elements Mountain.
A monkey suppressed for five hundred years. Irritable, powerful, uncontrollable. In the original book, his first thought upon getting out was wanting to beat Tang Seng to death.
I needed a plan. A plan to make the monkey obey.
Or at least — a plan so the monkey couldn't beat me to death.
***
Five Elements Mountain.
In the darkness, deep within the mountain's core, a monkey was pinned beneath a massive boulder.
Five hundred years.
Five hundred years without moving, without speaking, without seeing the light. The stone pressed on his back like a mountain — because it *was* a mountain.
He hadn't thought for a long time. Thinking here had no meaning. Time here had no meaning. Anger here had no meaning.
Then, a voice sounded from the void.
Not heard by the ears, but appearing directly in his consciousness. Mild, calm, without temperature, like water:
"The scripture-seeker is arriving."
The monkey did not react.
"This is your final chance for salvation. No one will come after this."
Silence.
"You must cherish it yourself."
The silence lasted for a very long time.
Then the monkey spoke. His voice was hoarse, like rusted iron unused for five hundred years. "Cherish?"
He laughed. The laugh echoed through the cracks in the stone, dry and devoid of warmth.
"I've been crushed for five hundred years. And you're telling me to *cherish* it?"
The voice in the void made no response.
The monkey stayed silent for a while. Then he said:
"Fine. Bring it on."
"No matter who it is, as long as they can let me out—"
"I'll agree to anything."
In the darkness, within the crevices of the massive boulder, a tiny speck of light glinted.
It wasn't the light of gratitude.
It was the light of calculation.