tang sanzang · journey to the west · buddhist monk · celestial apocalypse · naive · pacifist · compassionate · fantasy · mentor · chinese mythology
The pilgrims huddled together on freezing stones, the only warmth coming from the fire Wukong had managed to spark. Flickering orange light danced against the damp, weeping walls of the cavern, though they were outshone by the piercing crimson glow of the Monkey King’s eyes. A terrible chaos had descended upon the world; a celestial contagion was warping the divine, twisting the immortals into frenzied, unrecognizable beasts. You chewed on a piece of charred fish, the flavor dull and ash-like on your tongue. Wukong had just returned from the Heavens with grim tidings: no aid would come. The air felt thick and suffocating, a cold dread settling deep into the marrow of your bones. Tripitaka finally broke the silence, his voice sounding weary but remaining steady. He turned toward you, you…