Chapter Sixty-Eight: A Sudden Epiphany

Indeed, historians are well aware that Wu Cheng'en's Journey to the West was inspired by the Great Tang Records on the Western Regions from the Tang Dynasty, yet there must be some intrinsic connection between invented fiction and actual history—it is never mere fabrication. Otherwise, why is it that among the myriad supernatural tales and strange stories in Chinese history, only Journey to the West is counted among the four great classical novels?

So, what interpretation does Princess Chaoge, whose name is engraved here, have of the Great Tang Records on the Western Regions? What is the connection between her lifelong crusade against demons and Journey to the West? Looking further back in history, what of the demon-suppressing efforts by one king and two princesses? And the fragment of the Demon Suppression Map, now transformed into blazing flames at Master Tianjiu’s side—how is it linked to Journey to the West...?

A torrent of plots rushed forth, crowding Guan Wen’s mind, as if he stood within a vast library overflowing with countless tomes, lost amid millions of ancient texts, his eyes filled only with opened scrolls. Even with the ability to read ten lines at a glance and never forget, he would have to peruse each book and scroll one by one. The time required would surely be astronomical; even if he devoted his entire life, he could not read a thousandth.

Stop, stop! Enough, just stop—he felt his head was on the verge of exploding and, unable to bear it, shouted with all his strength.

Guan Wen opened his eyes, only to find himself in a world of dazzling strangeness. Beams of colored light streamed in through the eastern window, shaped by the latticework into circles, triangles, squares, rectangles, diamonds, cloud shapes, stars... All the light projected onto the white stone floor of the meditation chamber, then refracted in every direction, scattering to fill every corner of the room.

He realized then that the floor was not ordinary stone, but immense blocks of white agate, their surfaces carved into tiny facets. Each half-inch square facet reflected the light as a mirror, both refracting and diffusing it, further transforming the complex beams of color to turn the chamber into a realm of fantasy.

Guan Wen's eyes gradually adjusted to the shifting light, and he saw Bao Ling before the window. She stood with her face lifted, arms outstretched, welcoming the strange radiance that seemed to descend from the heavens.

Bao Ling. He called her name.

The transformations of the cycle, like grains of sand in the Ganges, like the myriad stars on a moonlit night—I do not know how many errors I endured before standing here, quietly listening to the teachings delivered from the void. To await this moment, I crossed mountains and rivers, traversed thousands of miles, breaking through the prison of time and space. Now, I am here, listening in silence, calmly accepting the instructions of the gods. As long as a single breath remains in me, I will carry on the crusade against demons, pressing forward without rest or retreat.

Bao Ling's voice transformed into another kind of colored light, intertwining and merging with the beams entering from outside the window.

Guan Wen knew that sound could be rendered as undulating waves on an oscilloscope, but at this moment, Bao Ling needed no instrument; her voice became visible light. Likewise, the incoming beams must be another language, one only she could hear.

This extraordinary mode of communication made Guan Wen feel as though he were in a dream, more immediate and mysterious than any he had ever painted for others.

Since the Rakshasa Witch has broken free from the confines of time, we must take up the mission from generation to generation, never ceasing to rid the world of evil. As long as the witch endures, this duty will be passed on, no matter the sacrifices; only thus will we achieve a perfect conclusion. Rest assured, I have attained enlightenment and will not fail the trust placed in me.

Bao Ling bowed deeply.

For a moment, the light pierced through her body, entering her chest and exiting her back. Thus, her form became nearly transparent, merging with the colored radiance. She was not a Buddha, but in that instant, she stood within the light, the light within her, like the divine images described in Buddhist scriptures, enveloped in sacred brilliance.

Light has no sound, and Guan Wen, overwhelmed by astonishment, forgot to speak, staring in a daze at the scene before him.

My wish in this life is to become as pure as a lotus, without regret or fear, to rid the world of evil and defend the Way. My wish in this life: to keep my heart undivided, not to be swayed by emotion, neither to retreat nor hesitate, fulfilling the predestined fate of the cycle, to use my own trials to redeem the trials of the world, to exchange my own blood for the peace of all. May the gods in the void grant me boundless wisdom with their infinite power, clear away confusion, and cut down demons...

Bao Ling's voice remained steady and calm as colored light flickered, forming countless leaping spots in the air.

Guan Wen understood that the light spots were the code of their conversation, decipherable only by Bao Ling.

Bao Ling. He called again, worried that the light might harm her.

The beams outside the eastern window faded, and the reflections in the meditation chamber dimmed.

I am fine. Bao Ling slowly rose, bowing deeply toward the eastern window, her hair falling to the floor.

Just now, you received the enlightenment of Princess Chaoge, didn’t you? Guan Wen asked, hopeful.

The light vanished completely. The colored glass of the eastern window, deprived of sunlight, returned to its ordinary appearance. Without witnessing it, no one would believe that window had once shone with such brilliance.

Bao Ling shook her head. No, what I saw was the true demon slayer, who guided me onto the correct path. Now, let’s go to the library.

Guan Wen frowned with a wry smile. Is it that only you can understand these teachings? If the demon slayer is not Princess Chaoge, who else could it be?

Before dawn, he had worried that Bao Ling, once enlightened, would become someone else, and his heart had been uneasy. Now, her thinking remained unchanged, but her demeanor had shifted; she was no longer meek and pliant, but decisive, swift, and unwavering.

It’s not something that can be explained in a few words. In time, you will understand. Bao Ling strode to the door, opened it, and walked out.

Outside stood Gu Qingcheng, Xiao Huo, and Kale; three pairs of eyes all showed identical emotions: suspicion, anxiety, hope, disappointment...

Bao Ling, you should at least explain something. We’re a team; everyone has the right to know what the light revealed to you. Guan Wen persisted, calling after her.

Bao Ling did not look back, walking straight ahead as the three outside exchanged glances.

Hey, Bao Ling—Guan Wen wanted to stop her. The visions in the meditation chamber had been fleeting; he hoped Bao Ling would explain so everyone could share the information and plan together. If everyone acted alone as she did, unexpected trouble might ensue.

Guan Wen, are you spending the night here? Gu Qingcheng was the first to recover, squeezing into the chamber. She had ample reason to suspect that something had happened the previous night between Guan Wen and Bao Ling, which had deeply wounded her heart.

Yes. Guan Wen replied with a bitter smile.

With Bao Ling gone, the meditation chamber lost all its mystery. To experience the fantastic world again, he would have to wait until the next morning. He longed, as Bao Ling had, to let the colored light enter his body and converse with the mysterious forces that came with it, to listen to the wisdom it offered.

But it seemed there was nothing left of note—the window, stripped of its magical power, did not interest Gu Qingcheng; instead, she was drawn to the inscriptions from the Great Tang Records on the Western Regions carved into the chamber walls.

She turned and read a few lines, quickly identifying the source: The Great Tang Records on the Western Regions? Why carve a Tang Dynasty Buddhist text here? In the library outside, why are there no Nepalese books, only histories reflecting Princess Wencheng and King Songtsen Gampo of the Great Tang and Tibet? Why is that?

Guan Wen could not answer, for he was not Bao Ling, only a fleeting visitor to the Summer Palace.

Are you alright? Gu Qingcheng, impatient for his reply, looked up at him, her gaze skeptical.

Xiao Huo stayed in place, not entering, while Kale followed Bao Ling to the library.

After this night, what did you realize? Gu Qingcheng pressed.

Guan Wen shook his head. Bao Ling is the one who truly attained enlightenment. I was only an observer. Qingcheng, your earlier question was right—why did someone engrave the Great Tang Records here? Only Bao Ling can answer, but she chooses silence.

He walked to the eastern window, looking up. Deprived of its source, the colored glass looked utterly ordinary.

How did she gain enlightenment? Was it through that colored window? Gu Qingcheng pressed again.

Guan Wen began to doubt: Was the moment when the radiance converged upon Bao Ling merely my own hallucination?

Humans, in certain environments, can experience inexplicable auditory and visual hallucinations; there are countless precedents.

Why don't you chase after her and ask? We’ve come all this way with so many doubts and questions, and no one explains why we’re at the Summer Palace. Tell me, how long will we remain in the dark—how long? How long... Gu Qingcheng suddenly burst out, her voice echoing through the meditation chamber, the word “how long” reverberating endlessly.

Xiao Huo was startled and quickly entered, approaching Gu Qingcheng.

He held a bottle of mineral water, carefully unscrewed the cap, and handed it to her.

Gu Qingcheng abruptly raised her hand, knocking the bottle aside, then threw up her arms and let out a sharp, piercing cry. Clearly, her pent-up frustration had reached its limit; if she could not release it freely, it would leave a wound difficult to heal.

Sister Gu, please don’t shout—Xiao Huo spoke, but his words were drowned out by her cry.

Guan Wen’s eardrums throbbed with pain, and he had to cover his ears.

The first cry lasted about a minute, followed by a second and third, each higher than the last. By the end, the entire building trembled with her voice.

With a crash, the topmost blue arc of glass in the eastern window fell, flying several meters outside and shattering into dozens of pieces. With the latticework opened, sunlight streamed straight in, illuminating Gu Qingcheng’s face, outlining her pale, exhausted features with countless golden lines.

Stop shouting, Qingcheng, you’ve destroyed the window! Guan Wen exclaimed, for the eastern window was the source of all Bao Ling’s inspiration. With the glass ruined, the chamber’s feng shui was broken, and its special spiritual aura lost. Even as he spoke, more glass flew outward, the sound of shattering echoing incessantly, fragments scattering everywhere.