Journey to the West: Starting with the True Lord of the Pure Land

Chapter 431 Petty theft of gold and silver, grand theft of heaven and earth

As dusk settled, the setting sun shone like blood.

The thin young man left the earth god temple, glanced back in the direction of the dilapidated temple, and a lingering smile remained on his lips.

He looked westward, where the fiery clouds reflected a golden-red hue in his eyes.

The young man immediately lightened his body and gathered his energy, his figure as swift as a swallow, his toes barely touching the eaves before he silently glided across several streets and alleys.

His agility, honed since childhood, may not be comparable to the legendary immortals who could fly through the clouds, but it was already quite remarkable in the mundane world.

After a few leaps and bounds, they arrived near a secluded stone bridge in the west of the city.

The water flows gently under the bridge, and the surrounding area is sparsely populated, with most people having already gone home and locked their doors.

Smoke curls from between the roof tiles, and the occasional bark of a dog adds to the tranquility of the evening.

The thin young man quietly approached the bridge, intending to return to his usual spot, but suddenly stopped in his tracks.

A person stands on the stone bridge.

The man was dressed in a black and gold crane-patterned robe, with a moon-white long robe underneath. He stood with his hands behind his back, facing the flowing water and the setting sun.

Although only his back was visible, his posture was upright, his demeanor refined and extraordinary, setting him apart from ordinary people.

The young man turned and hid in the shadows behind the wall, only revealing half an eye to scrutinize the scene.

He had been a thief for twenty years, and had seen more people than he had crossed bridges—wealthy merchants, officials, and spoiled brats, all sorts of people, before his very eyes.

But he couldn't fathom the depths of the person before him.

His gaze swept over the crane-feather cloak; the fabric shimmered faintly in the twilight, clearly indicating its high value.

The hem of the cloak fluttered gently in the wind, and a jade pendant hung at the waist, its warm luster shimmering and its precious light faintly emanating even in the twilight.

The young man's breath hitched.

He recalled how diligently the children were practicing calligraphy at the temple, and he had promised to bring them more rare and interesting things the next day.

The money in his purse was enough to buy food, but it would be a bit tight to buy other things.

If we could get our hands on that jade pendant—

Such a person, such adornments, are probably worth far more than any wealthy household he has ever borrowed from.

Once we get our hands on them, not only will the children have toys for tomorrow, but we'll also be able to make a living for the next few months.

They could even find some cloth to make new clothes for the children. The tattered rags they wore were already beyond repair.

His eyelashes drooped, and in that brief moment of hesitation, greed had already spread like wildfire.

His gaze swept across the bridge, the water, the man's location, and his escape route; in a flash, he decided on his course of action.

Holding her breath silently, her figure, like a withered leaf swept up by the evening breeze, drifted out from the shadows and stealthily approached the pale-faced figure.

The young man, resembling an ordinary late-night pedestrian, walked with light, yet rhythmic steps, quickly closing the distance to just a few steps behind the other person.

He raised an eyebrow, waiting for an opportunity to get closer.

Fang Wen heard the man in the crane-feather cloak facing the fading sunset in the west, reciting softly in a clear and melodious voice, as if he were contemplating the vastness of heaven and earth and the profound mystery of the Great Dao, completely oblivious to his surroundings: "The setting sun melts gold, the twilight sinks, the long river winds and turns into the deep smoke. The dark sky is vast and contains stars, the bustling world is left to the past and present."

The Way lies hidden in a sliver, a mere crack in the heart of the universe; my body, like a mustard seed, rests on a solitary peak. A long wind blows across ten thousand miles, whipping my sleeves; who understands the meaning of this fleeting life, this aimless lament?

The young man raised an eyebrow slightly, his steps unwavering, his peripheral vision fixed on the warm jade pendant that swayed gently with the chanting, and he thought to himself:

What a rich, idle man, oblivious to the hardships of life, spouting pretentious nonsense. It's only right that I distribute more good fortune today.

He steadied himself and continued forward, his right hand hidden in his sleeve, two fingers already subtly joined together like a hook.

He began practicing this skill at the age of four, and in the past twenty years, he has never made a mistake. He can do it with his eyes closed, as fast as lightning and without making a sound, and he has never missed a shot.

Three steps, two steps, one step—

Immediately, his two fingers shot out like a snake's tongue, reaching out to grab the swaying jade pendant under the hem of the cloak!

however.

Just before that swift, lightning-fast wrist touched the jade pendant, it was gently grasped by another long, steady hand.

The young man looked up in surprise.

The last rays of the setting sun shone down from behind the man carrying the crane, casting a hazy golden edge around him.

The man had turned to the side, looking down at him with clear, calm eyes, neither surprised nor angry, as if he were merely holding a fallen autumn leaf.

Eyes facing each other.

The water murmured beneath the bridge, and a gentle evening breeze stirred the wide sleeves of the crane-feather cloak.

The young man felt that the hand on his wrist was warm and cool like jade, with a force that was neither too strong nor too weak, but like an iron hoop. No matter how hard he tried, it did not budge.

The sliver of hope and sarcasm in my heart vanished in an instant, leaving only a blank, chilling emptiness.

The young man was stunned for a moment, a chill ran down his spine, and he tried to muster his strength, but he felt weak all over, like a child being held by a strong man, unable to move.

He forced a smile, his throat dry, and asked, "Young... what does this mean, sir?"

Chen Jiao's deep gaze fell upon his face, and he uttered only two words, which made the young man's ears ring.

"Catch the thief!"

The young man's last shred of hope vanished, and his eyes darted around as he racked his brains for a way to escape.

But then the man in the crane-cloak, holding his wrist with a calm gaze, suddenly asked a completely unrelated question: "On the long street this morning, you already had the jade slip that the armored soldier carried. Why didn't you take it, and only took the money pouch?"

These words were like a thunderclap.

The young man's face turned pale. His attempt to take advantage of the situation that morning, which he thought was foolproof, had been seen through by this person!

He knew he had encountered a true master and dared not try to evade responsibility again. He replied in a hoarse voice, "If I were to take such an important item, it would be a path to disaster, and I would be killed in an instant. The money bag is merely an external possession."

"The money, once taken, is taken."

Upon hearing this, Chen Jiao nodded slightly. Before the young man could speak again, he gently trembled the hand holding his wrist.

In an instant, the surrounding scenery shattered like a reflection on the water!

The young man suddenly felt dizzy, and the stone bridge, flowing water, twilight, and pedestrians around him all vanished.

Instead, a gloomy, blood-red world was revealed.

Beneath their feet lay the scorching, millstone-like earth, where countless blurry figures struggled and wailed between the millstones, their flesh and bones turning to mud, only to coalesce again, forever suffering the torment of being ground.

Among them were many figures with blurred features and auras similar to this young man. They were all people who had committed theft, cunning, and selfish acts in their previous lives, and had fallen into this world to pay for their sins.

Even more terrifying were the blue-faced, fanged ghost messengers patrolling, each over ten feet tall, with eyes like copper bells, an indigo complexion, and flames spewing from their mouths.

With a clang, the iron chains in his hands dragged trembling souls deeper into the abyss of knives and fire, leaving a trail of bloody footprints in their wake.

This is the Stone Mill Hell, specifically for punishing those who steal, plunder, or rob by trickery.

Young people in this place feel an overwhelming sense of fear and pain coming from all directions, almost suffocating them.

Just then, Chen Jiao's voice rang out again, calm and undisturbed, yet it pierced through the wailing of hell and reached his very soul: "What I see here are nothing but mortal thieves, harming others for their own benefit, who will ultimately fall into the Abyss."

As soon as the words were spoken, the scene of hell suddenly changed.

In the vast void, the stars revolve, and a blurry figure sits in the universe, slowly absorbing the essence of the stars and the spirit of the sun and moon with each breath.

In the blink of an eye, the yin and yang energies converged, transforming into a chaotic vortex, which was swallowed whole.

That's stealing the very essence of heaven and earth, robbing the universe of creation!

Chen Jiao's voice was deep and resonant as he continued, "Cultivators refine their Qi, stealing the spiritual energy of heaven and earth to nourish themselves; those who comprehend the Dao observe the heavens and the earth, stealing the creation of the universe to understand profound principles."

This is also a theft, but his ambition is to transcend, and his actions are in accordance with the Great Way.

This is the thief of cultivation. He seizes the spiritual essence of heaven and earth, invades the mysteries of the sun and moon, reverses death to become life, and transforms the mortal into an immortal.

The young man was deeply shaken, and the scene before him changed again.

Hell and the void vanished, and the stone bridge returned to the twilight, with the water flowing gently, as if everything just now was a dream.

Only the cool touch on his wrist and the still-shocking scene in his mind reminded him that it was not an illusion.

Chen Jiao released his grip, stood with his hands behind his back by the railing, and gazed at the last rays of the setting sun disappearing into the mountains. His voice was calm: "Even thieves have their code of honor. Petty thieves steal gold and silver, medium thieves steal the fate of the nation, and grand thieves steal heaven and earth."

Your theft harms others but may not benefit yourself; you are obsessed with petty tricks, trapped by worldly desires, and run counter to the great way.

Even with some cleverness and a sliver of lingering good intentions, it's all ultimately a mirage, unable to withstand the erosion of karma.

The young man stood motionless at the bridgehead, the evening breeze ruffling his thin clothes, cold sweat dripping down his forehead.

The horrific scenes of hell and the vast, magnificent atmosphere that seized the creation of heaven and earth alternated in his mind, and his heart was filled with turmoil, so he was speechless for a moment.