I just became the Pirate King, and you're telling me I also time-traveled at the same time.

Chapter 1058 Daily Recitation of Scriptures

Tang Sanzang adjusted his cassock and looked up at the sky. The sun was already setting, and the clouds on the horizon were tinged with a pale orange, as if someone had diluted water on a canvas and was slowly spreading it.

"Now that we've settled Miss Su in, it's not appropriate for us to linger here any longer," Tang Sanzang said. "Since Benefactor Bai said he doesn't allow outsiders to stay overnight, let's head down the mountain and find a place to stay."

"Where to stay?" Sun Wukong slung his golden cudgel over his shoulder. "Master, there's no village or shop in sight. Where can we find a place to stay?"

"It will happen eventually." Tang Sanzang said this with great certainty, as if he were reciting a sutra.

Chu Yang glanced at him but didn't expose him.

He led the donkey back along the path he had come from. After walking for about the time it takes for an incense stick to burn, he crossed a low slope, and his view suddenly opened up. Below the slope was a narrow dirt road that wound its way along the foot of the mountain, and in the distance, he could vaguely see wisps of smoke rising from chimneys.

"There are houses there," Chu Yang said.

Sun Wukong jumped onto a large rock by the roadside, shading his eyes with his hand as he looked around: "It's not just houses, there seems to be a town ahead. It's not big, but it looks quite lively."

Tang Sanzang's eyes lit up: "A town?"

"Yes, there are flags, shops, and people driving donkey carts out." Sun Wukong said, then suddenly grinned, "Master, is your mouth blessed? You say where to stay, and there it is."

Tang Sanzang clasped his hands together, his face calm: "Amitabha, well done, well done."

Chu Yang led the donkey forward, casually remarking, "Master wouldn't have said such things before."

Tang Sanzang paused, glanced at him, and gave him a subtle look.

Sun Wukong chuckled from behind.

The town was indeed small, but from the outside, it had everything one would expect. A main street ran from east to west, with shops crammed together on both sides, selling cloth, blacksmiths, and food. Banners hung haphazardly, all tangled together in the wind, creating a lively scene.

At the entrance of town stood an old locust tree, under which sat an old man weaving grasshoppers with straw rope. Seeing the group approaching from the road, he first stared at the white dragon horse several times, then glanced at Sun Wukong's hairy face. Surprisingly, he wasn't particularly afraid; he just looked at it a couple more times before lowering his head to continue weaving his grasshoppers.

Chu Yang walked over and asked, "Old man, what's the name of this town?"

"Ping'an Market." The old man didn't even look up. "You're just passing through, aren't you? Are you heading west or north?"

"Rest for the night."

"Go straight ahead, there's an inn at the end of the street. The innkeeper's surname is Liu, and he seems like a decent person." As the old man spoke, he suddenly looked up at Sun Wukong and said, "Your monkey... is quite well taken care of."

Sun Wukong's lips twitched: "...Thanks."

Chu Yang suppressed a laugh and led the donkey into the street.

The inn was indeed at the end of the street, with two red lanterns hanging at the entrance. The lantern paper was a bit old and rustled in the wind. Above the door hung a plaque with the four characters "Ping An Inn" written on it. The handwriting was so-so, but it was outlined in gold, so it looked quite respectable.

Chu Yang pushed open the door and went in. Behind the counter, someone was dozing off. Hearing the noise, the person suddenly looked up. He was a middle-aged man in his forties, with a round face and small eyes, and he looked kind.

"How many people are staying here?" The innkeeper wiped the drool from the corner of his mouth, his eyes quickly scanning over them, from the white dragon horse to the white donkey, from the white donkey to Sun Wukong, from Sun Wukong to Tang Sanzang, and finally landing on Chu Yang—he probably realized that this person was in charge of the money.

"Three rooms," Chu Yang said.

"Yes, yes, yes." The innkeeper flipped through the ledger. "Superior or ordinary rooms?"

"Upstairs room."

"Alright. Three superior rooms, sixty coins per night, tea is free, hot water is an extra five coins."

As Chu Yang took out his money, the shopkeeper glanced at Sun Wukong again, hesitated for a moment, and asked in a low voice, "This gentleman... won't need an extra bed tonight, will he?"

Sun Wukong, who had been picking at his nails, looked up upon hearing this and asked, "What do you mean by adding a bed?"

"Well...wouldn't it be necessary to have a bigger bed? Or...a crossbeam would be fine too?"

Sun Wukong: "..."

Tang Sanzang coughed lightly from behind.

Chu Yang slapped the money on the counter: "A regular bed is fine. He won't sleep under the beam."

"Alright, alright." The innkeeper nodded quickly and handed over the keys. "The backyard has three rooms, A, B, and C, in the 'Heaven' section. The food is served in the main hall on the first floor. Tonight, we'll have mutton soup and flatbread, as well as vegetarian dishes."

They each went back to their rooms to put their things away, and then ate a fairly warm meal in the main hall. The mutton soup was thick and white, with a thin layer of oil floating on top, sprinkled with scallions and cilantro, and it was very refreshing. The flatbread was freshly made, crispy on the outside and soft on the inside, steaming hot when torn apart. Sun Wukong ate seven flatbreads, while the white donkey, tied outside, kept braying at the aroma. Chu Yang brought it a bowl of mutton soup with flatbread, which it drank before finally calming down.

Halfway through the meal, the innkeeper came over, carrying a pot of tea, and poured a cup for everyone with a smile: "Gentlemen, what are your plans for tonight?"

Chu Yang looked up: "What do you mean?"

"Hehe, our Ping'an Market may be small, but it has everything you need." The shopkeeper lowered his voice, his eyes sparkling. "Go down that alley ahead, there's a place called 'Yunlaiju.' They have foot massages, back massages, bone-setting, everything. The therapists are skilled, and the prices are fair."

Sun Wukong, holding a teacup, asked curiously, "A foot massage?"

"I was just tired from walking, so I had someone massage me. It feels so good." The shopkeeper gestured dramatically. "You all look like you've traveled a lot, your legs must be tired. Go try it, I guarantee you'll feel better."

Tang Sanzang was drinking soup with his head down when he heard this. He looked up at the innkeeper, then at Chu Yang, and hesitated before speaking.

Chu Yang, holding his teacup, asked with a half-smile, "Master, would you like to go?"

"Amitabha." Tang Sanzang put down his bowl. "This humble monk doesn't feel tired at all..."

"I'm tired." Sun Wukong immediately exposed him, "Master, when you came out of the crevice this afternoon, you were holding your back as you walked. I saw it."

Tang Sanzang blushed: "That...that was blown by the wind."

"Can the wind specifically target your waist?"

Tang Sanzang fell silent.

Chu Yang put down his teacup and stood up: "Let's go take a look."

Tang Sanzang looked up: "Yang'er, this..."

"Master, didn't you say that we would experience all aspects of human life on the journey to the West?" Chu Yang said matter-of-factly, "This foot massage and back massage is one of those aspects."

Tang Sanzang opened his mouth, as if to say something, but swallowed the words back. Because those were indeed his own words. Since being spiritually transformed by Chu Yang, he was no longer the rigid Tang Sanzang who wouldn't even pick wild fruit by the roadside. Now he could eat roasted meat, drink fruit wine, curse the weather on rainy days, and even occasionally banter with Sun Wukong. But massage…

"Let's go, let's go." Sun Wukong had already stood up, pulling on Tang Sanzang's sleeve with one hand and pushing his back with the other. "Master, stop dawdling, they'll be closed if we're late."

Tang Sanzang was half-pushed and half-carried out of the inn.

The shopkeeper called out from behind, "Turn left, it's the second alleyway, the one with the red lanterns!"

Yunlaiju's location isn't exactly secluded, but its facade is very simple—just a wooden door with a red lantern hanging above it, the words "Yunlai" written on the lantern's paper. The door is ajar, letting in a warm yellow light, and the faint strains of zither music drift out, unhurried and so soothing it makes you sleepy.

Chu Yang pushed open the door and went in.

Facing us was a screen painted with landscapes; the painting skills were average, but the artistic conception was its strength. Behind the screen was a small hall with a few low tables and cushions, and a few oil lamps lit in the corners, casting a soft light as if veiled.

Behind the counter stood a woman in her thirties, wearing a light purple traditional Chinese jacket, her hair styled in a bun with a silver hairpin, looking neat and tidy. As soon as she saw people enter, she immediately greeted them with a smile: "Gentlemen, is this your first time here?"

"Hmm." Chu Yang looked around. "Are there still seats available?"

"Yes, yes, yes," the woman said with a smile. "There aren't many people today. Would you like a foot massage or a back massage? Our therapists here are very skilled; you'll be satisfied."

Chu Yang turned and glanced at Tang Sanzang: "Master, you choose."

Tang Sanzang stood beside the screen, unsure what to do with his hands, his face bearing an expression that seemed to say, "Who am I? Where am I? What am I doing here?" He tugged at the collar of his cassock and said in a low voice, "This humble monk... is at ease."

"Then let's give her a back massage," Chu Yang said to the woman. "My back is stiff from walking all day."

The woman smiled and nodded, then called out loudly, "Guests have arrived! Three of you, time for a massage!"

A voice responded from inside, followed by footsteps and the rustling of curtains.

Three people came out from inside.

Two men and one woman.

The two men, one tall and thin, the other short and stout, both wore gray short-sleeved jackets and looked honest and simple. The woman, however, was different. She walked at the very back, and when she lifted the curtain to emerge, the lights in the hall seemed to brighten slightly.

The girl looked no more than eighteen or nineteen years old. She was fair-skinned, with an oval face, and her eyebrows and eyes curved upwards when she smiled, like a cat that had just stolen some cream. She wore a light pink short-sleeved shirt with the cuffs rolled up twice, revealing a section of her slender white wrist. Her hair was braided into a long braid that hung down to her chest, with a red string tied to the end, which swayed as she walked.

Tang Sanzang's gaze had barely touched her when he quickly looked away, lowered his head, clasped his hands together, and chanted Buddhist mantras.

The woman smiled and said, "This is Xiao Cui, the best cook we have here. Which of you gentlemen would like her?"

Chu Yang glanced at Tang Sanzang, a smirk playing on his lips: "Give it to my master."

Tang Sanzang suddenly looked up: "What?"

"Master, isn't your back bothering you?" Chu Yang asked innocently. "Let Miss Xiao Cui give you a good massage."

"This humble monk...this humble monk is actually quite alright..."

"Master, don't be so polite." Sun Wukong grabbed Tang Sanzang's arm and pushed him inside. "That girl is very skilled; it would be a shame if you didn't try."

Tang Sanzang staggered a couple of steps after being pushed by him, his face already red.

Xiao Cui, however, was not shy at all. She walked over with a smile and curtsied to Tang Sanzang: "Master, this way please."

Her voice was soft and sweet, with a slight southern accent, sounding like sugar melting in water.

Tang Sanzang forced himself to follow her inside, his ears already burning red.

Chu Yang and Sun Wukong were led to the next room by their two male masters. The room was small, containing three narrow couches covered with blue cloth mattresses and faded pillowcases. Several herbal illustrations were pasted on the wall, looking quite plausible.

Chu Yang took off his outer robe and lay face down on the couch. The tall, thin master applied some medicinal oil to his hands, pressed it on Chu Yang's shoulders twice, and immediately exclaimed, "Eh, sir, your shoulders are so stiff!"

"Yeah, from rushing around."

"You need to massage this properly, otherwise you'll end up with a stiff neck."

The tall, thin master had a strong grip; Chu Yang groaned as he pressed down, but didn't flinch. He was familiar with this soreness; he used to feel this way when he practiced martial arts intensely, and it actually felt better when the pressure was released.

On the next couch, Sun Wukong was lying down, being massaged by the short, fat master.

The short, stout master froze as soon as he touched Sun Wukong's shoulder.

"This...sir?"

"Um?"

"Why is your body...as stiff as a stone?"

Sun Wukong tilted his head to look at him: "You can't press it?"

The short, stout master wiped the sweat from his forehead, then exerted even more force, pressing his fingers hard on Sun Wukong's shoulder blades twice, until his own face turned red, but Sun Wukong remained unmoved.

"...Sir, have you practiced martial arts before?"

"I've practiced a little," Sun Wukong said sullenly, burying his face in the pillow. "Just massage me casually, no need to use too much force, I don't feel any soreness anyway."

The short, stout driver took a deep breath, decided to ignore the self-reference "I," and continued pressing the buttons.

In the other room, Tang Sanzang was experiencing the most agonizing moment of his journey to the West.

The room was a bit larger than the one next door, with only two couches. The one by the window was empty, while the one against the wall was covered with a clean mattress. Xiao Cui lowered the curtain, and the light in the room immediately softened considerably, leaving only an oil lamp burning quietly in the corner.

"Master, please lie down here." Xiao Cui patted the edge of the couch.

Tang Sanzang stood by the couch, hesitated for three seconds, and then slowly took off his cassock, draped it over the shelf next to him, and then lay down on the couch. He was wearing a plain-colored monk's robe underneath, which was made of cotton and had been washed until it was faded, with a section of his neck showing at the collar.

Xiao Cui poured some medicinal oil onto her hands, rubbed them together to warm them, and then gently placed them on Tang Seng's shoulders.

Tang Sanzang froze.

Xiao Cui's hands were very soft, but her fingertips had some thin calluses, probably from years of hard work. Her technique was indeed good, neither too light nor too heavy. She first pressed the Jianjing acupoint twice, and then slowly pushed it outward with the heel of her palm.

"Master chef, your shoulders look so tight," Xiao Cui said softly. "Do you always have your head down?"

Tang Sanzang's voice tightened: "This humble monk... usually recites scriptures."

"You can't keep your head down while chanting scriptures," Xiao Cui said, sliding her hand from his shoulder to his back, gently pressing down along the muscles on both sides of his spine. "Your back is stiff too. You must have traveled a lot, right?"

Tang Sanzang did not answer.

He was as taut as a fully drawn bow.

Every time Xiao Cui's hand landed on him, he wanted to dodge to the side. It wasn't pain, but that... unfamiliar touch. In all the years he had been a monk, apart from being held by his mother when he was a child, he had almost never had any physical contact with any woman. Now a young girl's hand was touching his back—no, pressing it, but he felt it was just touching.

"Master, please relax a bit." Xiao Cui noticed his stiffness and couldn't help but laugh. "If you're so tense, I can't press you down."

Tang Sanzang took a deep breath, trying to relax. (End of Chapter)