Chapter Thirty: You Are Not Enough

As soon as Lang Sheng finished speaking, he clapped his hands. A professional female secretary appeared, holding a fragrant incense burner, which she placed before him. Another person handed him a box of sandalwood incense.

Lang Sheng delicately selected three fine sticks of incense. His eyes narrowed slightly; the three sticks ignited spontaneously, without a flame, sending wisps of blue smoke curling into the air. He placed the incense into the burner, murmuring softly as if chanting an incantation.

“Great Sage Equal to Heaven, boundless compassion, manifest before all, deliver the ignorant and stubborn.”

While he recited aloud for all to hear, his mind was elsewhere, thinking, “Mr. Sun, the 500 points of mental energy you requested have been credited. Please come out and finish the performance.”

About three minutes later, under the anxious and expectant gaze of the crowd, a monkey draped in a yellow kasaya rose from the swirling smoke. The creature's eyes were closed, palms pressed together, its demeanor solemn and dignified.

“Isn’t this… isn’t this exactly Sun Wukong from ‘Journey to the West’ I watched as a child?” someone exclaimed in astonishment.

“It really is! Has mythology truly come back to life?” another echoed.

“No way, is this an illusion?” a skeptic muttered.

“Ahem, everyone, please quiet down,” Lang Sheng cleared his throat and began his performance. “At first, I thought as you all did, but only later learned of Mr. Sun’s true origins. As we’ve previously discussed, he originally came from the evil tides as a kind of spiritual being. Unlike those chaotic malevolent spirits, he is rational, noble by nature.”

“After learning of our culture and being moved by its beauty, he resolved to become a benevolent and compassionate higher spirit, joining us humans to build a better world. Thus, he chose to rename himself ‘Sun Wukong’ and to adopt the appearance of this legendary figure, emulating the deeds of the mythic hero—transforming from evil to good, from chaos to compassion.”

“And moreover, his powers are enough to rival those of his mythological predecessor!”

At these words, the monkey suddenly opened its eyes.

“With Buddha’s compassion, I deliver all beings; lay down your blade, and attain enlightenment…”

Its voice rang out as a flash of silvery-white light swept through the room. Instantly, everyone felt the shadows weighing on their hearts—fear, anxiety, all manner of negative emotions—vanish without a trace.

Truly, this was a being of immense power!

The crowd immediately pressed their palms together, paying their respects—some even fell to their knees on the spot.

To tell the truth, if Lang Sheng had tried to declare this unknown entity as the genuine deity from legend, they would not have believed it. After all, this was not ancient times; everyone knew the current context. You could not simply invoke a legendary name and expect anyone but a fool to believe it—but such fools would never appear in this meeting room.

This explanation, however, seemed reasonable. When in Rome, do as the Romans do; even foreigners visiting the country often took common names like “Zhang San” or “Li Si.” For such a powerful foreign spirit, it was natural to disdain ordinary names and adopt that of a mythic hero. Although it sounded a bit forced, that was the entity’s own preference, and none could object.

(Page 1/3)

So long as it brought them benefit, they would not hesitate to address it as “Great Sage Equal to Heaven”—even “Buddha Tathagata” or “Hongjun Pangu” could be up for discussion if needed.

After paying their respects, many in the crowd began to speak up.

“Great Sage, please enlighten me…”

“Great Sage, I wish to serve as your attendant.”

“Grandfather Great Sage, please teach me your divine skills—even just one of the seventy-two transformations would suffice.”

No sooner had they finished their reverence than their mercenary nature surfaced. If not now, then when would they ask for favors? Who could say when this benevolent, compassionate, and noble higher spirit might appear again? Since the being was kind, it would not be angered by their pleas. Had it been a malevolent unknown, they would never have dared to ask for favors at a first meeting.

The monkey replied coolly, “The teachings cannot be lightly passed on…”

With that, it vanished once more into the blue smoke.

Seeing this, Lang Sheng felt a weight lifted from his heart. He smiled at the crowd, thinking, “Well done, Mr. Sun, I’d give you a 9 out of 10 for that performance—if I gave you a 10, you’d just raise your price next time.”

At last, everyone understood why Lang Sheng insisted on being a good person, and was so obvious about it. With such a powerful figure as his patron, only by being virtuous could one hope to be granted divine teachings—why not be a good person? Even if they could not become a Buddha or ancestor, merely sheltering under such a name brought a sense of security in this wasteland that was more precious than gold.

Compared to that, what was a little wealth to sacrifice, or a little hardship to endure?

After all, the true Monkey King had endured eighty-one tribulations before attaining his final reward—eternal life and prosperity. And now, all they had to do was be good people for a chance at the same; the boss had become strong just by hearing a bronze-level meditation technique and seizing this fortress.

Now, they too had such an opportunity!

The meeting soon resumed, everyone excitedly discussing what it meant to be a good person, and how best to become one…

For a time, no one opposed Lang Sheng’s decision to lower the rent. Instead, they all apologized, praising his farsightedness—sacrificing minor gains for greater good, no, for the highest principle.

Lang Sheng smiled modestly and said, “If only I’d let you all know about Mr. Sun earlier, none of those tragedies would have occurred!”

Many comforted him, saying such things were only human, and that the traitors had brought ruin upon themselves.

For a while, unprecedented unity reigned in the Copper Fortress Chamber of Commerce.

“By the way, from now on, everyone must show the utmost respect to this noble presence. Remember, never address him by his full name—instead, use ‘Mr. Sun’ or ‘Great Sage Equal to Heaven’ as an honorific.”

At the end of the meeting, Lang Sheng casually reminded them.

(Page 2/3)

…

After the meeting, Lang Sheng’s confidant, a thin man named Erzi, hurried home to his three-bedroom apartment—a luxury compared to the crowded ten-person dwellings of others. Unlike many, he lived alone, keeping no concubines.

Upon returning, he could not even bother to eat. As he had in the meeting, he prepared sandalwood incense and a burner, ready to offer his own devotion.

He had been seated closest during the meeting, had heard every word, and now he began to recite, “Great Sage Equal to Heaven, boundless compassion, manifest before all, deliver the ignorant and stubborn.”

But a long while passed with no effect.

Unwilling to give up, he continued to chant.

Who knew how much time had passed before he finally received a response. Had he known the outcome, he would never have dared!

“You… will… not… succeed…”

A long, harsh, and rending voice echoed slowly through his mind.

At the first syllable, he collapsed to the ground, clutching his head, blood streaming from his seven orifices as he writhed in agony.

After a while, he forced himself to his feet, his face filled with terror.

Indeed, this sacred name was not one that just anyone could invoke! Fortunately, the benevolent being borrowing the Great Sage’s name had shown him a shred of mercy—otherwise, his head would have exploded by now!

He had read and heard of many such incidents in recent years, people driven mad or killed by contact with unknown beings.

And it made sense—what right did ordinary people have to commune directly with the divine? That was blasphemy!

It was only the overabundance of miraculous encounters in Eastern myth that had dulled their sense of awe; in feudal society, even looking a king in the eye could mean death, and the divine stood far above any king.

Myths were just stories; when made real, the etiquette was that of a subject before a monarch.

Suddenly, he was grateful he had followed the boss’s advice and not called out the name “Sun Wukong” directly—otherwise, he would have died on the spot!

With this in mind, he quickly called several people—those he’d met in the basement earlier.

Three of the numbers, however, did not connect…

(Page 3/3)