Journey to the West: Please Call Me the White Bone Demon

When the Buddha led the thousand-plus monks through the last layer of clouds and landed outside the capital city of Ying in the State of Chu, the sky was perfectly clear.

Sunlight streamed down from the eastern horizon, casting a soft, silvery-blue glow on the bricks and stones of the city wall inlaid with luminous copper wires.

Most of the people in the group had their heads down and their steps were heavy, as if they were walking a path they had no choice but to take.

Their robes fluttered in the wind.

When the first few monks stopped, those behind them also stopped. They looked up at the unfamiliar city and couldn't look away.

The city gate was open, and a group of guards dressed in Chu national flag armor stood at the entrance. However, the guards' eyes were neither fierce and greedy like in some other places, nor were they completely indifferent.

Instead, he nodded slightly to them, as if welcoming a group of guests who had come from afar.

The guards had long received the highest instructions from the Imperial Preceptor that a group of monks would soon join the new Buddhist order.

They did not know the monk's origins, nor why he had joined the new Buddhist order.

But this is the will of the Imperial Advisor, and they will resolutely carry it out.

A huge projection screen stood at the city gate, displaying footage of a border area of ​​the Chu Kingdom.

A golden wave of rice rippled in the wind, and several children chased and played barefoot on the ridges of the field. A flying boat slowly flew overhead, leaving a long white trail behind it.

Those scenes were vivid and heartwarming, quite different from the solemn and dignified Lingshan Mountain, which was shrouded in golden light.

One of the monks instinctively gasped.

Someone whispered, "What...what is this?"

No one answered him, because no one had ever seen such a sight.

Even the Buddha, a great supernatural being who had ruled Mount Sumeru for countless eons, had never seen such a scene before.

The moment they stepped through the city gate, the wide and flat street came into view. The ground was paved with smooth, mirror-like bluestone slabs, and fine copper wires, as thin as hair, were embedded in the gaps between the slabs. A spiritual light flowed slowly in the copper wires, like a river of light flowing silently under their feet.

Above, on the crisscrossing and spiraling railway tracks, dark green light rail cars glide silently by, their glass screens scrolling with text and images, the light and shadow constantly shifting.

Several young novices looked up, their eyes unable to look away.

They had seen the flying eaves and brackets of Lingshan, and the golden statues of Buddhas shining with boundless light, but those things were meant to be looked up to and revered.

These things in front of us are not high above; they move around just a few feet above our heads, serving the ordinary people walking on the street.

The unique aura that belonged to each individual stirred a strange and unfamiliar feeling in these monks who had been practicing on Mount Ling for countless years.

An elderly monk stood by the roadside, staring blankly at a magical street lamp.

A fist-sized sphere was embedded in the lamppost, and the sphere was broadcasting the day's weather and important events in the city in a clear and gentle female voice.

He couldn't help but wonder, since he couldn't sense any fluctuations in spiritual energy, what was the principle behind how this thing operated?

An old farmer from Chu who was passing by saw this and assumed that he was like other people who were entering Yingdu for the first time, curious yet fearful. So he smiled and waved his hand at him: "It's alright, you won't break it. That's a spirit lamp pillar, it's very sturdy."

"You must be from out of town. This kind of thing is very common in the Chu Kingdom."

The old monk opened his mouth, wanting to say that he came from Mount Ling, but when the words reached his lips, he felt that saying Mount Ling was meaningless.

He finally just nodded and said in a low voice, "Yes, we came from the west."

The old farmer glanced at the long line of monks in robes behind him, as if he understood something. He didn't ask any further questions, but simply patted him on the shoulder and said, "It's alright, don't be nervous. You'll understand once you've lived in Chu for a while; you can find enjoyment in life here."

The old monk stared blankly at the old farmer's back as he disappeared around the street corner, and it took him a long time to come back to his senses.

A young novice monk beside him tugged at his sleeve and whispered, "Uncle-Master, look over there..."

He looked in the direction he was pointing and saw a few children dressed in Chu uniforms chatting and discussing something around a bronze magical device in a Lingji Academy with its doors open on the street corner. One of them, a little girl with deer antlers on her head, stood on tiptoe and reached out to reach a knob on the device. A human boy next to her quickly brought a stool to stand on for her.

The two children cooperated so naturally, as if there had never been a chasm between humans and demons in the world.

Another monk's gaze fell on a pharmacy across the street, where a Zen disciple dressed in a gray robe was squatting at the door bandaging the knee of a lame old man. Beside him squatted a half-transformed cat demon, holding a small bowl of ointment and helping to pass things.

The monk's robe was faded from washing, and the cuffs were frayed, but the look in his eyes when he looked up and smiled at the old man was something that the monk had never seen in his decades at Mount Ling.

The monk was stunned for a long time until his companion pulled him back to his senses.

People in the group began to talk in hushed tones, and the initial somberness and repression in their voices gradually faded away.

Some people pointed to a tall tower in the distance and asked what it was. Others said that the light rail looked really stable. Some noticed the expressions on the faces of the people on the roadside. Those expressions were neither fearful nor numb, but rather a sense of security, stability, and confidence.

They walked through street after street, each street bringing new sights into their view. These sights lacked the golden brilliance of Mount Ling and the solemn majesty of Buddhism, but they carried a more real and down-to-earth warmth.

Unbeknownst to them, the initial conflict gradually dissipated.

There was even a hint of relief in their eyes; if they hadn't come to the State of Chu, how could they have seen such a sight?

When the procession finally stopped in front of the New Leiyin Temple, Guanyin was already standing at the door waiting.

Looking at his former capable assistant, Buddha smiled and said, "Venerable Guanyin, we meet again."

Guanyin blinked, no longer as reserved as she had been at Mount Ling, and jokingly remarked, "The former World Honored One has now entered the new Buddhist order; isn't his status now below mine?"

The Buddha chuckled to himself.

Guanyin ignored them and turned to the others, saying, "You must be tired from your journey. Come in and rest for a while."

The thousand or so monks then followed Guanyin and stepped into the threshold of the new Leiyin Temple.

There are no golden Buddha statues or swirling incense in the temple. There is only a plain white jade wall with the character "Zen" engraved on it and rows of neatly arranged prayer cushions. The sunlight from outside shines through the plain white window paper and falls on the blue brick floor, warm and gentle as water.