Chapter 35

The Heterodox Powers Wield Their Might Against the True Nature; the Mind-Ape Gains the Treasures and Subdues the Evil Fiends

His nature perfect and bright, the Way is open of itself; he turns in the air and leaps free of the net.Such transformations are not won with ease; long life so refined—is it granted as to common men?Through clear and turbid, turning with the wheel of fate; through many a kalpa breaking free, east or west at will.Free beyond all reckoning for billions of years—yet one point of spirit-light is poured forever into emptiness.

That poem secretly matches the mystery of the Great Sage Sun's way. Since he had gotten the demon's true treasures and stowed them in his sleeve, he said, delighted: "That brazen demon racked his wits to take me—truly like scooping the moon from the water; if Old Sun sets out to catch you, it will be like playing with ice on a fire." Hiding the gourd, he slipped stealthily out the door, showed his true form, and cried out loudly: "Demons, open the gate!" An imp beside the gate said: "Who are you now, to come bawling here?" Pilgrim said: "Report quickly to that brazen old demon of yours: Xingzhesun has come!"

The imp hurried inside to report: "Great King, outside the gate there is some Xingzhesun or other come." The old demon was alarmed: "Worthy brother, this is bad—we have stirred up his whole nest. The gold-swaying rope has Pilgrim Sun tied fast; the gourd has Zhexingsun packed inside; how comes there to be some Xingzhesun besides? I warrant his brothers have all come." The second demon said: "Ease your heart, elder brother. This gourd of mine packs a thousand men; I have packed but one, Zhexingsun—what is there to fear in some Xingzhesun? Wait while I go out and look, and pack him in with the rest." "Be careful, brother," said the old demon.

See the second demon, false gourd in hand, just as before, strutting and valiant, march out the gate and call loudly: "Where are you from, to come bawling here?" Pilgrim said: "You do not know me:

My home is Mount Flower-Fruit, my ancestral seat Water Curtain Cave.And for that wrecking of the Heavenly Palace, for long I left off strife.Now happily freed of that calamity, I left the Dao to serve a monk.Holding the teaching, bound for Thunderclap, seeking scriptures to return to the awakening true.Meeting wild brazen demons, I play my powers upon them.Give back my Tang monk of the great Tang, to go west and worship the Buddha sage.Let both sides end the war, each keeping to its own peaceful ground.Do not provoke Old Sun to fury, and lose your old lives for it."

The demon said: "Come here a moment. I will not fight you; I shall only call your name once—do you dare answer?" Pilgrim laughed: "If you call me, I will answer; and if I call you, will you answer?" The demon said: "When I call you, it is because I have a precious gourd that can pack a man; if you call me, what have you?" Pilgrim said: "I also have a gourd." The demon said: "If you have, take it out for me to see." Pilgrim drew the gourd from his sleeve: "Look, brazen demon." He swayed it once, then hid it in his sleeve again, fearing he would snatch it.

At the sight the demon was astonished: "Where did his gourd come from? How is it the very image of mine? Even gourds off one vine differ in size, one this way, one that—how is this one utterly the same?" Then he called out in earnest: "Xingzhesun, where did that gourd of yours come from?" Pilgrim truly did not know its origin; catching up the question, he asked in turn: "And where did your gourd come from?" The demon, not seeing the ruse, took it for an honest question and told the whole story from the beginning: "This gourd of mine dates from the first cleaving of chaos, when heaven opened and earth spread wide. There was then the Supreme Ancient Lord, who under the transformed name of Nüwa smelted stones to mend the sky and save all the world of Jambudvipa. While mending, he came to a gap of earth by the Qian palace and saw at the foot of Mount Kunlun a strand of immortal vine, on which grew this purple-gold red gourd—it is what Lord Lao left behind, come down to this day." At this the Great Sage caught the tone of his speech: "My gourd came from there too." "How so?" said the demon chief. The Great Sage said: "Since the first parting of clear and turbid, the sky has wanted its northwest and the earth its southeast. The Supreme Ancestor of the Way, transformed as Nüwa, mended the breach of heaven and, passing the foot of Mount Kunlun, found a strand of immortal vine bearing two gourds. I got the male; yours is the female." The monster said: "Never mind male and female. A treasure that can pack a man is a good treasure, that is all." The Great Sage said: "Well said. I yield you the first packing."

The monster, delighted, sprang up in haste into the air, held the gourd, and called: "Xingzhesun!" The Great Sage heard and, unflagging, answered eight or nine times in a row—but it could not pack him. The demon dropped back down, stamping and beating his breast: "Heavens! They say the ways of the world never change—even this treasure fears its husband; the female, seeing the male, dare not pack him." Pilgrim laughed: "Put it away; now it is Old Sun's turn to call you." He turned a quick somersault and leapt up, held the gourd bottom to the sky and mouth to the ground, took aim at the demon, and called: "Great King Silver Horn!" The monster dared not keep his mouth shut, and answered. In a flash he was packed inside, and Pilgrim pasted on the slip reading "By the urgent command of the Supreme Lord Lao, as the law prescribes, by imperial edict." He rejoiced inwardly: "My child, today it is your turn to taste something new."

He pressed down his cloud, gourd in hand, his heart and mind set on nothing but saving his master, and made for the mouth of Lotus Cave again. The paths on that mountain were all hollow and uneven, and he, being bandy-legged to begin with, went clumping along, shaking the gourd till it rustled and rattled without pause. And why did it rattle, do you think? Well, the Great Sage Sun's body was tempered through and through; it would not dissolve in haste. That monster, though he could ride the clouds and mists, did it by mere spells; his mortal flesh was not yet shed, and inside the treasure he melted. Pilgrim, not crediting that he had melted already, laughed: "My child—is that you passing water, or rinsing your mouth? Old Sun has done that trade myself. I shall not lift the lid to look before seven or eight days, when you have melted into thin broth. What is the hurry? What is the rush? Considering how easily I got out, a thousand years without looking would serve you right." Gourd in hand, talking as he went, he found himself at the cave mouth; he shook the gourd, and it rattled the louder. "It rattles like a diviner's tube," he said. "Good for casting a lot. Let Old Sun cast one, and see when my master will get out of doors." See him shaking it without pause, reciting without pause: "King Wen of the Changes, Master Kong the sage, Master Peach-Blossom Maid, Master Guigu."

An imp in the cave saw it and cried: "Great King, disaster! Xingzhesun has packed our Second Great King in the gourd and is casting lots with him!" At this the old demon's soul flew and his spirit scattered; his bones went soft and his sinews slack, and he fell flat on the ground, weeping aloud: "Worthy brother! You and I left the upper realm without leave and were reborn in the dust, hoping to share splendor together and be masters of these hills and caves forever. Who would have thought that for this monk you should lose your life, and I be severed from a brother's love?" The whole cave of demons wept aloud together.

Zhu Bajie, hanging from the beam, heard the whole family weeping together and could not help calling out: "Demons, do not weep yet; hear an old pig out. The first to come was Pilgrim Sun; next came Zhexingsun; then came Xingzhesun—turn those three names about and about: they are my one brother. He has his seventy-two transformations; he slipped in by his arts, stole the treasures, and packed your brother inside. Your brother is dead already; there is no need for all this mourning. Scrub the pots and stove clean quickly, lay in fragrant mushrooms, button mushrooms, tea buds, bamboo shoots, tofu, gluten, wood-ear, and greens, and invite my master and disciples down, to chant a scroll of the Scripture of Rebirth for your late brother." At this the old demon raged in his heart: "And they say Zhu Bajie is honest! He is nothing of the sort—he makes a joke of mocking me!" He called: "Imps, put off the mourning. Take Zhu Bajie down, steam him to a pulp; when I have eaten my fill I will go take Pilgrim Sun and have my revenge." Sha Monk reproached Bajie: "A fine business! I told you not to talk so much—the talker is first to be steamed and eaten." The Idiot himself was rather frightened. An imp nearby said: "Great King, Zhu Bajie is hard to steam." "Amida Buddha!" cried Bajie. "Which good brother has laid up this secret merit? Hard to steam indeed!" Another demon said: "Flay him, and he will steam well enough." Bajie panicked: "Easy to steam, easy to steam! Skin and bone may be coarse, I grant, but once the broth boils all goes soft—easy enough, easy enough."

While they were at this uproar an imp from the front gate reported: "Xingzhesun has come cursing at our gate again!" The old demon was alarmed again: "This fellow thinks there is no one in me." He called: "Lads, hang Zhu Bajie up again as before, and take count of what treasures remain." The imp steward said: "Three treasures yet remain in the cave." "Which three?" asked the old demon. "The Seven-Star Sword, the banana-leaf fan, and the vase," said the steward. The old demon said: "That vase is no use: it is made to call a man, and once he answers it packs him—but the formula has been taught to that Pilgrim Sun, and it packed our own brother instead. Have no use for it; keep it at home. Bring the sword and the fan quickly." The steward at once presented the two treasures to the old demon. The old demon stuck the banana-leaf fan in the collar behind his neck, took the Seven-Star Sword in hand, and mustered more than three hundred demons, great and small, each with spear or staff in hand, ropes coiled, blades whirled. The old demon himself set helmet on head and armor on body, mantled in a robe of blazing crimson silk; the demon host was drawn up in array to take the Great Sage Sun.

The Great Sage Sun, knowing long since that the second demon had melted in the gourd, made the knots fast and firm and slung it at his waist; the gold-banded staff was in his hand, ready for the fray. The old demon came leaping out the gate with crimson banners streaming. And how was he accoutered?

On his head the helmet plume blazed like flame; at his waist the belt was bound with fresh rosy cloud.His body cased in armor built of dragon scales; over it a red robe burning like fierce fire.His round eyes opened, flashing like lightning; his steel whiskers floated, wild as drifting smoke.The Seven-Star precious sword held lightly in hand; the banana-leaf fan half shading his shoulder.He moved like drifting cloud leaving sea and mountains; his voice was thunder cracking over stream and hill.His martial bearing, stern and dread, outshone the generals of heaven; in wrath he led his demon host out before the cave.

The old demon hastily ordered his imps to deploy, and cursed: "You monkey, utterly without manners! You have destroyed my brother, wounded my own flesh—truly detestable!" Pilgrim cursed back: "You death-seeking monster—one demon's life you cannot bear to lose! My master and my brother-disciples, four living souls with the horse, hang for nothing in your cave—how could my heart bear it? Where is the right in it? Hand them out quickly and give them back to me, throw in generous travel money, see Old Sun off with a light heart—and I may spare that mangy old life of yours." The monster brooked no parley: the precious sword rose and hacked at his crown; the Great Sage met it with raised iron staff. That was the battle before the cave gate. Ah!

The gold-banded staff and the Seven-Star Sword met, and rosy light burst out like lightning.A chill crept over all, cold to the bone; vast murky cloud buried the ridges and dikes.One fought for a brother's love, yielding never an inch of grace;this one only for the scripture-seeking monk, allowing not a hair's delay.Both sides nursed a like hatred; each heart bred its wrath and grudge.They fought till heaven darkened and earth blackened, startling ghosts and gods, the sun grown pale, the smoke grown thick—a battle of dragon and tiger.This one ground his teeth like jade nails filed; that one's glaring eyes flew golden sparks.Back and forth they played the hero, staff and sword wheeling without rest.

The old demon and the Great Sage fought twenty rounds without decision. He pointed with the sword's tip and called: "Imps, all of you, come!" The three hundred-odd spirits swarmed in together and ringed the Pilgrim round. Brave Great Sage! Utterly without fear he plied his staff, thrusting left, charging right, warding behind, screening before. The imps had their arts too: the more they were beaten the closer they pressed, like cotton wadding winding about him, hugging his waist, tugging his legs, refusing to fall back. The Great Sage, pressed hard, worked the art of the Body Outside the Body: he plucked a handful of hairs from under his left arm, chewed them fine, spat them out, and cried: "Change!" Every hair became a Pilgrim. See them: the tall ones plied staffs, the short ones swung fists, and the smallest, with no place to strike, hugged an ankle-bone and gnawed a sinew—until the imps were scattered like stars falling and clouds breaking, all crying with one voice: "Great King, all is lost, lost past mending! The whole ground, the whole mountain, is Pilgrim Sun!" The art of the body outside the body drove the demon host back, leaving the old demon alone in the middle of the rout, harried east and west, with no door of escape.

The demon, desperate, held the precious sword in his left hand, reached back behind his neck with his right, drew out the banana-leaf fan, and—aiming at the fire of Bing and Ding in the southeast, square against the Li palace—swished it down once: and on the very ground there sprang up flames blazing. For such a treasure as this fans fire out of nothing at all. And the monster was merciless indeed: seven or eight strokes in a row, scorching heaven and baking earth, fierce fire leaping. What a fire:

That fire was no fire of heaven, no fire of the furnace, no fire of the hilltop, no fire under the cooking pot, but a point of spirit-fire drawn naturally from the Five Elements.That fan was no common thing of the mortal world, no work of human hands, but a true treasure begotten since chaos first was cleft.With this fan fanning this fire, blazing and gleaming, it was like lightning rippling through red silk; glowing and glittering, it was like sunset clouds flung over crimson gauze.Not one wisp of smoke went up; the whole mountain was red flame.It burned till the pines on the ridge turned to trees of fire and the cypresses before the crag became lanterns.The beasts of their lairs, covetous of life, charged west and fled east; the birds of the woods, mindful of their feathers, flew high and far.That divine fire, drifting as it burned, scorched the stones to rottenness, dried the streams, and turned all the ground red.

At this wicked fire even the Great Sage's heart quailed and his gall trembled: "This is bad. My own body could endure it, but the hairs would not; once fallen into such a fire, would they not singe away as easily as hair?" He shook himself and drew the hairs back into his body. Only one he left changed into a false body of himself, to shun the fire and escape the calamity. His true body, twisting the sign for escaping fire, turned a somersault, leapt up, broke free of the great blaze, and made straight for Lotus Cave, bent on saving his master. Reaching the gate in haste, he pressed down his cloud and saw a hundred or more imps outside the cave door, all with broken heads and twisted limbs, flesh burst and skin torn. They were the ones his art of the divided body had wounded, standing there moaning, bearing their pain. At the sight the Great Sage could not curb his fierce and unruly temper; he whirled the iron staff and battered his way in. Pity them—the fruit of their bitter cultivation of human form was extinguished; they went back to being common hides and pelts.

The Great Sage, having finished off the imps, dashed into the cave to unbind his master. Then he saw flame blazing within, and his hands and feet went wild with fright: "It is over, it is over! The fire is burning up from the back gate—Old Sun will hardly save his master now." In the very middle of his dread he looked hard: ah! It was no firelight at all, but a beam of golden light. He steadied himself and looked within: it was the mutton-fat jade vase shining. His heart leapt: "A treasure indeed! That vase was the one the imps carried glowing on the mountain, and Old Sun got it—only to have the demon search it off me again. Hidden here today, and shining all the same." See him purloin the vase, gleeful, and—his master still unrescued—slip hastily out of the cave. Scarcely was he out the door when the demon came from the south, sword in one hand, fan in the other. The Great Sage Sun could not dodge in time; the old demon raised the sword and hacked at his crown. The Great Sage turned a swift somersault cloud and leapt away, gone without shadow or trace—but of that no more.

Now the monster came to the gate and found the ground strewn with corpses—all the spirits of his own following. He looked up to heaven with a long groan of dismay and wept aloud: "Bitter! Bitter loss!" There is a poem to prove it. The poem says:

Hateful, that unruly ape, that stubborn horse: souls entrusted to a turn of birth come down to the dusty world.Only because of one thought astray did they leave the gates of heaven, and, self forgotten, fall upon this mountain.The wild goose parted from its flock grieves keenly; the demon host cut off, its race ended, weeps in streams.When will their iniquity be full, the lock of guilt spring open, and, returned to root and source, they mount the imperial pass?

The old demon, shame and dread without end, wept his way into the cave, a cry at every step. Everything was there, pots and gear and all—only it had come to this: silence everywhere, never a figure to be seen; grief on grief, the desolation deeper still. Alone he sat in the cave, sank down upon the stone table, laid the precious sword aslant against its edge, stuck the fan behind his shoulder, and dropped into a dull and dreamless sleep. As the saying is: "In joy a man's spirits are bright; when gloom comes upon the heart, sleep comes thick."

The story goes that the Great Sage Sun wheeled his somersault cloud about, stood before the mountain, bent on saving his master, buckled the vase fast at his waist, and came to the cave mouth to scout. The two leaves of the door stood open; all was silent; not a sound within. He stole forward softly and slipped inside. There was the demon slumped against the stone table, snoring. The banana-leaf fan had slipped from his collar and half covered the back of his head; the Seven-Star Sword still leaned aslant by the table. Pilgrim walked up softly, drew out the fan, swung round, and—with a whoosh—ran out. But the fan's handle had scraped the demon's hair, and the touch had waked him. He raised his head, saw Pilgrim Sun thieving, and snatched up his sword in hot pursuit. The Great Sage was already out before the gate; he stowed the fan at his waist, whirled the iron staff two-handed, and stood against the demon. A fine battle it was:

Furious, that brazen demon king; his wrath lifted his crest.He could not seize him and swallow him whole, and so his spleen would not be still.With foul mouth he cursed the monkey: "Old as you are, you make a jest of men! You have slain so many of my folk, and now you come to steal my treasures. This I will by no means let pass; here we settle who lives and who dies."The Great Sage shouted the demon down: "How little you know your place! A disciple would contend with Old Sun? Can a heap of eggs shatter stone?"The precious sword came, the iron staff went; neither side kept back any kindness.Turn and return they staked the issue; three turns, four rounds, they spent their arts.All for the scripture-seeking monk, bound for Vulture Peak and the Buddha's seat.Hence metal and fire at odds, the Five Elements thrown into disorder, and harmony wounded; they flaunted might and made their powers shine, sent stones rolling and sand flying, each playing his stock of skill.As the blades crossed, the day wore toward late afternoon; the demon's strength failed first, and he drew away.

The old demon and the Great Sage fought thirty or forty rounds; the day was failing, he could hold out no longer, and he broke off the battle and fled straight away to the southwest, to seek refuge in Squeeze-Dragon Cave—but of that no more.

The Great Sage pressed down his cloud, burst into Lotus Cave, and unbound the Tang monk and Bajie and Sha Monk. The three, out of peril, thanked Pilgrim and asked: "Where have the demons gone?" Pilgrim said: "The second demon is packed in the gourd; no doubt he has melted by now. The eldest was just beaten in battle and has gone off to Press-Dragon Mountain to the southwest. Half the imps of this cave my art of the divided body battered to death, and those who crept back defeated Old Sun finished too. Only then could I get in here and free you." Tripitaka thanked him without end: "Disciple, it is your toil that has spared us." Pilgrim laughed: "Toil indeed! You hung and smarted in one place, but Old Sun never once stood still—worse off than a courier of the express post, in and out and round and round, running without end. Only by stealing his treasures could I level the demons and drive them off." Bajie said: "Brother, take that gourd out and let us have a look. I only fear the second demon has melted already." The Great Sage first unbuckled the vase, then brought out the gold rope and the fan, and last took the gourd in hand: "Do not look, do not look. It packed Old Sun once, and by rinsing my mouth I tricked him into lifting the lid, and only so did I get away. Let none of us lift the lid—I only fear he might play the same trick and slip out." Master and disciples, in high good humor, searched out the rice and flour and vegetables of the cave, fired and scrubbed the stove, and made do with a vegetarian meal. They ate their fill, slept soundly in the cave, passed a night with nothing to tell, and dawn came again.

Now the old demon went straight to Press-Dragon Mountain, gathered the she-demons great and small, and told the whole story: his mother beaten to death, his brother packed away, his demon host wiped out, his treasures stolen by trickery. The she-demons wept aloud together and mourned a long while; then he said: "Mourn no more. I have here this Seven-Star Sword, and I mean to muster your she-soldiers and go behind Press-Dragon Mountain, borrow kin of the mother's side—take that Pilgrim Sun we must, and have our revenge." He had scarcely finished when an imp from the gate reported: "Great King, the old uncle is at the head of a body of troops, coming from behind the mountain!" At this the old demon hastily changed into white mourning and bowed low to receive him. The old uncle was his mother's brother, called the Great King Fox the Seventh. For the demon scouts of the mountain had brought word that his elder sister had been beaten to death by Pilgrim Sun, who had taken her shape and stolen his nephews' treasures, and had been holding Flat-Top Mountain against assault for days; so he had brought more than two hundred demon soldiers of his own cave expressly to join the fight, and had stopped first at his sister's house for news. He was hardly inside when he saw the old demon in mourning, and the two wept together. After long weeping the old demon bowed low and told the whole affair. The Seventh flew into a rage, ordered the old demon out of his mourning and his sword into his hand; every she-demon was mustered into one body, and up they rose on wind and cloud, making straight for the northeast.

The Great Sage had told Sha Monk to get the morning meal ready, that they might eat and be gone. Suddenly he heard the sound of wind, went out the door to look, and saw a troop of demon soldiers coming up from the southwest. Pilgrim was startled, drew back quickly, and called to Bajie: "Brother, the demons have sent for reinforcements again." Tripitaka, hearing it, turned pale with dread: "Disciple, what now?" Pilgrim laughed: "Set your heart at ease, set it at ease. Bring me all those treasures." The Great Sage buckled the gourd and the vase at his waist, stowed the gold rope in his sleeve, stuck the banana-leaf fan behind his shoulder, and whirled the iron staff two-handed. He told Sha Monk to guard the master and keep steady in the cave, and ordered Bajie to take up the muckrake and go out with him to meet the foe.

The demons drew up their battle line, and at its head was the Great King the Seventh. He was jade-faced and long-whiskered, with brows of steel and ears like blades; on his head a gold-woven helmet, on his body chain mail, in his hand a halberd. He cursed aloud: "You bold brazen ape! How dare you use us so? Stolen the treasures, wounded our kin, slain our demon soldiers—and now you dare squat in our cave. Stretch your necks for death one and all, and quickly, to wipe out the wrong done my sister's house." Pilgrim cursed back: "You pack of death-seeking furballs, you do not know your grandfather Sun's arts. Stand still and take my staff." The monster twisted aside and met him face to face with the halberd. The two of them came and went upon the mountaintop three or four rounds; the monster's strength ebbed and he broke off and fled. Pilgrim pursued, but the old demon took his blow. They fought three rounds more, and the Fox the Seventh turned again to the attack. Bajie, seeing it, swiftly brought up his nine-toothed rake and barred his way. One against one they fought a long while, no victor yet, till the old demon gave a shout and the demon host closed in from every side.

Now Tripitaka, sitting in Lotus Cave, heard the shouting shake the ground and said: "Sha Monk, go out and see how your brother fares." Sha Monk took up his demon-subduing staff, gave a shout, drove out, and beat the demon host back. The Seventh, seeing the day going against him, turned to run; Bajie caught him and drove the rake into his back—nine points of fresh red welled out—and poor soul, his one true spirit sped on ahead. They dragged him over, stripped off his clothes, and looked: he too was a fox spirit.

When the old demon saw his old uncle struck down he abandoned the Pilgrim, raised his precious sword, and hacked at Bajie; Bajie caught it on his rake. As they fought, Sha Monk closed in, staff raised, and struck. The demon could not withstand them both; up on wind and cloud he fled south. Bajie and Sha Monk pressed hard after him. The Great Sage saw it, sprang up on his cloud into the air, unslung the vase, covered the old demon with it, and called: "Great King Golden Horn!" The monster, taking it for one of his own beaten imps calling, turned his head and answered. Whoosh—into the vase he went, and Pilgrim pasted on the slip reading "By the urgent command of the Supreme Lord Lao, as the law prescribes, by imperial edict." The Seven-Star Sword dropped to the dust, and it too went to Pilgrim. Bajie met him: "Brother, you have the precious sword—where is the monster?" Pilgrim laughed: "Done and done—packed inside this vase of mine." Hearing this, Sha Monk and Bajie rejoiced exceedingly.

With every fiend thus swept clean away they returned to the cave and brought the good news to Tripitaka: "The mountain is clear, the demons are no more; mount, Master, and let us take the road." Tripitaka could not contain his joy. Master and disciples ate their morning meal, packed the luggage, saddled the horse, and made westward for the road.

They had gone only a little way when a blind man sprang out from beside the road, came up, and caught the Tang monk's horse: "Monk, where are you going? Give me back my treasures." Bajie was startled: "It is over—the old demon has come for his treasures." Pilgrim looked carefully: it was the Supreme Old Lord Li himself. In a flurry he came close and made his salutation: "Old gentleman, where are you going?" The Ancient Lord mounted at once his jade throne and stood poised in the ninth heaven, calling: "Pilgrim Sun, give me back my treasures." The Great Sage rose into the air: "What treasures?" Lord Lao said: "The gourd held my elixir, the vase my water, the sword refined my demons, the fan tended my fire, and the rope was the belt that girded my robe. Those two monsters were my furnace boys—one who kept the gold furnace, one who kept the silver furnace. They stole my treasures and slipped down into the world; I had nowhere to seek them, and now you have caught them, and earned merit." The Great Sage said: "You old gentleman, you are without manners entirely. To let your household run wild into wickedness—you deserve to be charged with slack discipline." Lord Lao said: "It is no doing of mine; lay the blame where it belongs. It was the Bodhisattva over the sea who asked the loan of them of me three times, and set them here, transformed into demons, to test whether you master and disciples had the true will to go west." At this the Great Sage muttered in his heart: "That Bodhisattva is a lazy one indeed. When she freed Old Sun and set him to guard the Tang monk westward to the scriptures, I said the road was rough and hard, and she promised me that in desperate straits she would come herself to the rescue; and now she turns fiends loose to do me mischief. A promise not kept—she shall never have a husband all her days. Had the old gentleman not come himself, I would never have given them up. Since that is how it is—take them."

Lord Lao took up all five treasures, lifted the lids of gourd and vase, and poured out two streams of immortal vapor. With a point of his finger they became again the two boys, Gold and Silver, attending at his side. And then rose rosy light in ten thousand rays. Ah!

Dim and distant, all return together to the Tushita court; free and untroubled, straight up to the Great Canopy Heaven.

But what would happen after this, how the Great Sage Sun would guard the Tang monk, and when they would reach the Western Heaven—who could say? Listen to the next chapter to find out.

The false way throws its might against the true nature; the mind-monkey wins the treasures and tames the demons

With a nature whole and bright, the Way runs through of itself; one turn, and he leaps out of the net.Changes like these are not won cheaply; long life refined—is it like the common lot?Clear and turbid turn with the wheel time after time; burst through kalpa after kalpa, free to go east or west.No counting the carefree years by tens of millions; one point of spirit-light forever poured into the void.

This poem fits the hidden truth of the Great Sage Sun's way. Since he had won the demons' true treasures and tucked them in his sleeve, he rejoiced: "The brazen demon racked his brains to catch me—truly fishing for the moon in the water. If Old Sun means to seize you, it's like playing with ice over a fire." He hid the gourd, slipped quietly out the door, showed his true form, and shouted: "Spirit monsters, open the gate!" A little demon beside the gate said, "Who are you, yelling like that?" Pilgrim said, "Hurry and report to that old brazen demon of yours: I am Xingzhesun, and I have come."

The little demon hurried in: "Your Majesty, some Xingzhesun or other is outside the gate." The old demon was startled: "Worthy brother, this is bad. We've stirred up a whole nest of them. The gold-swaying rope has Pilgrim Sun tied up right now; the gourd has Zhexingsun packed inside. How is there a Xingzhesun too? I suppose all his brothers have come." The second demon said, "Calm yourself, elder brother. This gourd holds a thousand men. I've packed only one Zhexingsun so far—what is a Xingzhesun to fear? Wait while I go out, look, and pack him up as well." The old demon said, "Careful, brother."

See the second demon, fake gourd in hand, as bold and puffed up as before, marching out the door and shouting: "Where are you from, that you dare yell here?" Pilgrim said, "You don't know me:

My home is Flower-Fruit Mountain; my ancestral place, Water Curtain Cave.For wrecking the Heavenly Palace, I gave up my brawling for a long time.Now, lucky to escape disaster, I left the Dao to serve a monk.Carrying the precepts, bound for Thunderclap, to seek the scriptures and come back to waking truth.I meet a wild brazen demon, showing off his magic arts.Give back my Tang monk of the great Tang, going west to worship the holy Buddha.Let both sides end this war; let each keep his own quiet ground.Do not vex Old Sun, or you'll shorten that old life of yours."

The demon said, "Come here a moment. I won't fight you. I'll just call your name once—do you dare answer?" Pilgrim laughed: "If you call me, I'll answer. If I call you, will you answer?" The demon said, "When I call you, I have a treasure gourd that can pack a man up. When you call me, what have you?" Pilgrim said, "I have a gourd too." The demon said, "If you have one, take it out and let me see." Pilgrim drew the gourd from his sleeve: "Brazen demon, look." He waved it once, then hid it back in his sleeve, fearing a snatch.

The demon saw it and was shocked: "Where did his gourd come from? How is it just like mine? Even off one vine, gourds differ in size and none matches another. How can the two be exactly the same?" He called out sternly: "Xingzhesun, where did that gourd of yours come from?" Pilgrim truly did not know its history, so he caught up the question and asked him in turn: "And where did that gourd of yours come from?" The demon, not seeing the trick, took it for an honest question and told the whole story from the beginning: "When chaos first split, when heaven opened and earth spread, there was a Supreme Ancient Lord who, in the transformed name of Nüwa, smelted stones to mend the sky and rescue the whole world. Mending on to where the northwest lacked its earth, he saw at the foot of Mount Kunlun a strand of immortal vine, and on it grew this purple-gold red gourd. Lord Lao left it behind, and it has lasted to this day." Hearing this, the Great Sage caught up his very words: "My gourd comes from there too." The demon king said, "How do you make that out?" The Great Sage said, "Since the clear and the turbid first parted, heaven has lacked its northwest and earth its southeast. The Supreme Ancestor of the Way, in the transformed name of Nüwa, mended the sky's gap, and walking below Mount Kunlun found an immortal vine, and on the vine grew two gourds. Mine is the male one. Yours is the female." The monster said, "Never mind male and female. The one that can pack up a man is the good treasure." The Great Sage said, "Well said. You may pack first."

The monster was delighted. He leaped up quickly into the air, gourd in hand, and called: "Xingzhesun!" The Great Sage heard and, never pausing for breath, answered eight or nine times in a row—and it just would not pack him. The demon dropped down to earth, stamping his feet and beating his chest: "Heavens! And they say the world never changes. Even a treasure like this fears its husband. The female sees the male and dares not pack." Pilgrim laughed: "Put it away. Now it's Old Sun's turn to call you." He flipped a somersault, jumped up, held the gourd bottom to the sky and mouth to the ground, took aim at the demon, and called: "King Silver Horn!" The monster dared not keep his mouth shut; he had to answer once. In a flash he was packed inside, and Pilgrim pasted on the label "By urgent decree of the Supreme Lord Lao, quick quick, as the law commands." He rejoiced inside: "My child, so today it's your turn to try something new."

He brought his cloud down, gourd in hand, his every thought set on saving his master, and made for the mouth of Lotus Cave again. The mountain paths were hollow and uneven, and he walked on his bandy bowlegs, clump after clump—and the gourd in his hand swayed with a sloshing, rattling sound that never stopped. Why did it rattle? Because the Great Sage Sun's body had been tempered in the furnace and could not be melted in a hurry. That monster, though he could ride clouds and mist, had only tricks and spells; at bottom his mortal frame was not shed, and inside the treasure he melted away. Pilgrim did not take it that he had already melted. He laughed: "My son, is that you passing water, or swilling your mouth? That's a trade Old Sun has worked himself. I won't lift the lid before seven or eight days, when you've melted into thin juice. What's the rush? What's the hurry? Since I got out so easily, it would serve me right to wait a thousand years before looking." Gourd in hand, talking to himself, he reached the cave mouth without noticing, and shook the gourd; it rattled louder. He said: "It rattles like a fortune-teller's bamboo tubes. Good for casting a fortune. Let Old Sun cast one, and see when Master will get out of this place." See him shake it without stop, calling without stop: "King Wen of the Changes, Master Kong the sage, Master Peach-Blossom Maid, Master Guigu."

The little demons inside the cave saw and cried: "Your Majesty, disaster! Xingzhesun has packed our Second Majesty in the gourd and is telling fortunes with him." Hearing this, the old demon's soul flew and his spirit scattered; his bones went soft and his sinews numb, and he fell flat to the ground, weeping aloud: "Worthy brother! You and I slipped away from the upper world together and took flesh in the dust, hoping to share splendor forever as lords of our mountain cave. Who knew this monk would cost you your life and cut off our brotherly bond?" The demons of the whole cave wailed together.

Zhu Bajie, hanging from the beam, heard the whole family crying together and could not help calling: "Demons, stop crying. Listen to this old pig. The Pilgrim Sun who came first, the Zhexingsun who came next, the Xingzhesun who came after—those three names, turned this way and that, are my one big brother. He has seventy-two changes. He shifted himself inside, stole the treasures, and packed up your younger brother. Your brother is dead already; there's no use in all this mourning. Hurry, scrub the pots and stoves clean, lay in fragrant mushrooms, button mushrooms, tea buds, bamboo shoots, tofu, wheat gluten, wood ears, and vegetables, ask my master and us disciples down, and recite a scroll of the Sutra of Rebirth for your brother." Hearing this, the old demon raged inside: "And they call Zhu Bajie honest—he's not honest at all! He makes a joke of me." He called: "Little demons, stop the mourning. Take Zhu Bajie down and steam him to a pulp. When I've eaten my fill, I'll go catch Pilgrim Sun and pay him back." Sha Monk scolded Bajie: "Fine work. I told you not to talk so much. The one who talks so much gets steamed and eaten first." The Idiot felt a good share of dread too. A little demon nearby said, "Your Majesty, Zhu Bajie doesn't steam well." Bajie said, "Amitabha Buddha! Which good brother is storing up this hidden virtue? Truly I don't steam well." Another demon said, "Skin him, and he'll steam fine." Bajie panicked: "I steam fine, I steam fine! Skin and bone may be coarse, but in boiling soup I go soft in no time. No need, no need."

While they were shouting, a little demon from the front gate reported: "Xingzhesun is cursing at the gate again." The old demon was shocked again: "This fellow thinks I have no one." He called: "Boys, hang Zhu Bajie back up as before, and count what treasures remain." The steward demon said, "Three treasures are still in the cave." The old demon asked, "Which three?" The steward said, "The seven-star sword, the banana-leaf fan, and the jade vase." The old demon said, "The vase is no use. It works by calling a name: if the man answers, he's packed. But we went and taught the formula to that Pilgrim Sun, and he packed our own brother instead. Leave the vase at home. Bring the sword and the fan quickly." The steward brought the two treasures and presented them to the old demon. The old demon stuck the banana-leaf fan into the collar at the back of his neck, took the seven-star sword in hand, and called up more than three hundred demons, big and small, each one ordered to grab spear or club, coil rope or swing blade. The old demon himself donned helmet and armor and threw over all a flame-red silk robe. The demons marched out in battle array to seize the Great Sage.

The Great Sage Sun had known all along that the second demon was melting in the gourd. He had it buckled tight at his waist, took the gold-banded staff in hand, and readied for battle. The old demon came leaping out the door, red banner flying. How was he dressed?

On his head a helmet tassel blazing bright; at his waist a belt fresh as rosy clouds.Armor plated like dragon scales; over it a red robe burning like fire.Round eyes open, flashing lightning; steel whiskers flying, a swirl of smoke.The seven-star sword held lightly in hand; the banana-leaf fan half shading his shoulder.He moves like drifting cloud leaving sea and mountains; his voice, a thunderclap shaking rivers and hills.His menace outdoes the generals of heaven; in rage he leads his demons out before the cave.

The old demon hastily ordered his demons into battle array and cursed: "You monkey, utterly without manners. You have killed my brother, maimed my own flesh. Hateful past bearing!" Pilgrim cursed back: "You monster begging for death. You can't spare one demon's life, while my master, my brothers, and the horse—four living souls—hang in your cave for nothing. How could I bear it? Where is the sense or justice in that? Hand them out quickly, give them back, throw in plenty of travel money, send Old Sun off happy—and I may still spare the life of an old demon cur like you." The monster allowed no explanation. He raised the precious sword and chopped at his head; the Great Sage raised the iron staff and met him. What a fight outside the cave door. Ah!

Gold-banded staff against seven-star sword, colliding, glowing like lightning.A cold breath sweeps over men and chills them; dark clouds roll and bury the ridge.That one fights for the bond of brothers, yielding not a hair of ground in kindness; this one fights only for the sutra-seeking monk, allowing not a hair's delay.Both sides hate the same kind of foe; both hearts churn with rage and grudge.They fight till heaven darkens and earth blackens, ghosts and spirits startled, the sun pale and the smoke thick, dragon warring with tiger.This one grinds his teeth like biting a jade spike; that one's furious eyes spit golden flame.Stroke answers stroke in a show of heroics; staff and sword tumble on without rest.

The old demon and the Great Sage fought twenty rounds with no winner. He pointed the sword tip and called: "Little demons, all of you, come!" The three hundred–odd spirits swarmed in together and ringed Pilgrim at the center. The Great Sage feared nothing at all. One staff: thrusting left, ramming right, blocking behind, covering front. But the little demons all had skill. The more they were beaten, the more they pressed in, like cotton wadding wrapping him body and limb, hugging his waist, pulling his legs, refusing to fall back. The Great Sage grew uneasy and used his bodies-outside-the-body art: he pulled a fistful of hairs from under his left arm, chewed them fine, spat them out, and shouted "Change!"—and hair by hair they all became Pilgrims. See them: the tall ones swinging staffs, the short ones throwing punches, the smallest with nowhere to strike hugging shins and gnawing sinews—until the little demons were scattered like falling stars, like blown-apart clouds, all crying with one voice: "Your Majesty, it's going badly, it's hopeless! The whole ground, the whole mountain, is Pilgrim Suns." This bodies-outside art drove the demon crowd back, leaving only the old demon penned in the middle, chased this way and that, with no way out.

The demon panicked. Left hand holding the sword high, he reached his right hand behind his neck, brought out the banana-leaf fan, aimed it toward the southeast, toward the fire of Bing and Ding, straight at the Li trigram, and with a whoosh swept it down—and there on the very ground, fire blazed. For this treasure fans fire out of empty air. The monster, pitiless, fanned seven or eight strokes in a row, scorching heaven and baking earth, fierce fire leaping. What a fire:

That fire is no fire of heaven, no furnace fire, no mountain-crest fire, no stove-bottom fire: it is a point of spirit-fire drawn naturally from the five elements.This fan is no common thing of the mortal world, no work of human hands: it is a true treasure formed since chaos first opened.Fan in hand, fire alight—blazing, flaring, like lightning tearing red silk; glowing, gleaming, like rosy clouds flying crimson gauze.Not one thread of blue smoke—nothing but red flame filling the mountain.It burns till the pines on the ridge turn to trees of fire and the cypresses by the cliff become lanterns.The beasts in their dens, clinging to life, dash west and bolt east; the birds in this wood, sparing their feathers, fly high and far.This divine fire drifts and burns through the air, till stones rot, streams dry up, and the whole ground is red.

At this wicked fire even the Great Sage's heart jumped and his gall trembled: "This is bad. My own body could manage, but not the hairs. Once they fall into this fire, wouldn't they burn away like singeing fur?" He shook himself and gathered the hairs back onto his body. One hair he left as a fake body, to dodge the fire and slip the calamity. His true body, pinching the fire-avoiding sign, somersaulted up and out of the great fire and made straight for Lotus Cave, bent on saving his master. Reaching the gate in haste, he brought his cloud down and saw outside the cave door a hundred or more little demons, all with broken heads and twisted limbs, flesh split, skin torn. Every one had been wounded by his own multiplied bodies; they stood there moaning, bearing the pain. Seeing them, the Great Sage could not curb his fierce, wild temper. He swung the iron staff and beat his way straight in. Poor things: all their hard discipline toward human shape came to nothing—they were only beasts in old skins after all.

The Great Sage finished off the little demons and charged into the cave to free his master. Then he saw flames blazing deeper inside, and his hands and feet went wild with fright: "It's over, it's over. The fire has caught from the back entrance, and Old Sun can hardly save Master now." Just as he was quaking, he looked carefully: ah! It was no firelight, but a beam of golden light. He steadied himself and looked in: it was the mutton-fat jade vase shining. His heart leaped with joy: "What a treasure! That vase once shone on the mountain when the little demon carried it; Old Sun got it—and then the monster searched it back off me. Hidden in here today, it shines all the same." See him steal the vase, happy as could be, and—putting off the rescue of his master—hurry out of the cave. Just outside the door the demon came from the south, sword in one hand and fan in the other. The Great Sage Sun could not get clear: the old demon raised the sword and chopped at his head. The Great Sage flipped up on his somersault cloud and fled without a trace. No more of that.

Now the monster reached his gate and saw corpses lying everywhere—his own crowd of spirits. He looked up to heaven and sighed long, then wept aloud and could not stop: "Bitter! Painful!" There is a poem to prove it. The poem says:

Hateful: the unruly ape, the stubborn horse—a spirit seed transformed, come down to the common dust.One stray thought, and he left the gates of heaven; losing his form, he fell upon this mountain.The wild goose parted from its flock, the feeling sharp; the demon host cut off, the tears stream down.When will the sins be full and the lock of guilt spring open, when will he return to his root and climb the imperial pass?

The old demon, shame and fright without end, wept his way into the cave, a cry at every step. There stood all the household things and gear, but all was quiet, not one figure left—sorrowful, more wretched still. Alone he sat in the cave, slumped over the stone table, the sword leaning against its edge, the fan stuck behind his shoulder—and sank into a dull, silent sleep. Truly: joy puts spirit in a man; when gloom comes over the heart, the naps come thick.

Now the Great Sage Sun wheeled his somersault cloud about and stood before the mountain. Set on saving his master, he buckled the vase tight at his waist and came straight to the cave mouth to scout. He found both doors open, all quiet, not a sound within. He stepped in softly and slipped inside. There was the demon slumped over the stone table, snoring. The banana-leaf fan had slipped from his collar and half covered the back of his head; the seven-star sword still leaned by the table. Pilgrim walked up softly, pulled out the fan, whipped around, and whoosh—ran out. But the fan's handle had scraped the demon's hair and wakened him. He looked up: Pilgrim Sun had stolen it. Snatching up his sword, he gave chase in a panic. But the Great Sage was already out the door, the fan tucked at his waist, the iron staff whirling in both hands to meet the demon. What a fight:

The brazen demon king, enraged past bearing, his fury lifting his crown.He wished he could grab him and swallow him whole—still the anger in his heart would not ease.He cursed the monkey with a foul mouth: "You play with men too much. You have killed so many lives of mine, and now you come stealing treasures. This time there will be no quarter; we will see who lives and dies."The Great Sage shouted back: "How little you know your place. A pupil like you picking a fight with Old Sun—an egg stacking itself against a stone, hoping to crack it?"The precious sword came; the iron staff went; neither side kept any mercy now.Once over, twice back, they gambled on the win; three turns, four rounds, they showed their craft.All for the sutra-seeking monk, bound for the Buddha's throne on Vulture Peak.So metal and fire would not mix; the five elements thrown into disorder, and good feeling hurt.Each flaunted his powers, awe and arms on display; stones flew, sand whirled, each showing his art.The fight wore on till day leaned toward dusk; the demon king's strength failed, and he was first to give ground.

The old demon and the Great Sage fought thirty or forty rounds. Dusk was coming on; he could hold out no longer, lost the field, and fled straight southwest to Dragon-Pressing Cave. No more of that.

The Great Sage brought his cloud down, burst into Lotus Cave, and cut down the Tang monk and Bajie and Sha Monk. The three, out of danger, thanked Pilgrim and asked: "Where have the demons gone?" Pilgrim said, "The second demon is packed in the gourd; by now he must have melted. The old demon lost the fight just now and has fled southwest to Dragon-Pressing Mountain. My divided bodies beat half the cave's little demons to death, and the ragged few who crept back, Old Sun finished off. That's how I got in here to free you." Tripitaka thanked him over and over: "Disciple, it is all your toil and trouble." Pilgrim laughed: "Toil and trouble it truly was. You've only been hanging there in pain, while Old Sun hasn't stopped his feet once—worse than a courier of the relay post, in and out, back and forth, no rest at all. Only by stealing their treasures could I beat the demons off." Zhu Bajie said, "Big brother, show us that gourd. I bet the second demon has melted by now." The Great Sage first unhooked the vase, then brought out the gold rope and the fan, and finally took the gourd in hand: "Don't look, don't look. He packed Old Sun in it once, and I fooled him into lifting the lid by swilling my mouth, and that's how I got out. We must not lift the lid—who is to say he wouldn't play the same trick and slip away." Master and disciples, in high good humor, found the rice, flour, and vegetables in the cave, fired and scrubbed the stove, and made a vegetarian meal. They ate their fill, slept soundly in the cave, passed a night with nothing to tell, and day broke again.

Now the old demon went straight to Dragon-Pressing Mountain, gathered the she-demons, big and small, and told them everything: his mother beaten to death, his brother packed away, the demon soldiers wiped out, the treasures stolen by trickery. The she-demons wailed together and mourned a long while. He said: "Stop your grieving. I still have this seven-star sword. I mean to gather you women soldiers, go behind Dragon-Pressing Mountain, call on our relatives by marriage, and certainly catch that Pilgrim Sun and have my revenge." Before he finished, a little demon from the gate reported: "Your Majesty, old Uncle is leading a body of soldiers around the back of the mountain." The old demon hurriedly changed into white mourning clothes and bowed to receive him. This old Uncle was his mother's brother, called King Fox Aqi. He had heard from his demon scouts that his sister had been beaten to death by Pilgrim Sun, who had taken her shape and stolen his nephews' treasures, and had been holding out on Flat-Top Mountain for days. So he led more than two hundred demon soldiers of his own cave to help, and stopped first at his sister's house for news. He had hardly entered, seen the old demon in mourning, when the two wept together. After weeping long, the old demon bowed low and told the whole story. Aqi was furious. He had the old demon change out of his mourning clothes, take up his sword, muster all the she-demons, join forces in one body, and ride wind and cloud straight northeast.

The Great Sage had Sha Monk get the morning meal ready; they would eat and move on. Suddenly he heard the sound of wind, stepped out the door, and saw a troop of demon soldiers coming up from the southwest. Pilgrim was startled, drew back quickly, and called to Bajie: "Brother, the demons have fetched reinforcements." Tripitaka heard it and went pale with fright: "Disciple, what now?" Pilgrim laughed: "Rest easy, rest easy. Bring me all those treasures." The Great Sage tied gourd and vase at his waist, coiled the gold rope in his sleeve, stuck the banana-leaf fan behind his shoulder, and took the iron staff in both hands. He told Sha Monk to guard Master and sit tight in the cave, and had Bajie take up the nail rake and go out with him to meet the enemy.

The monsters formed their battle array; at their head was King Fox Aqi. He had a jade-white face and a long beard, steel brows and blade-like ears; on his head a gold-link helmet, on his body chain-mail armor, in his hand a square-sky halberd. He cursed at the top of his voice: "You bold, brazen monkey! How dare you bully us like this? You stole the treasures, wounded our kin, killed our demon soldiers, and now you dare squat in our cave home. Stick out your necks one by one and die quickly, and wipe out the wrong done to my sister's house." Pilgrim cursed back: "You fuzzy little death-seekers, you don't know your grandfather Sun's skill. Stand still and take one blow of my staff." The monster twisted aside and met him face to face with the square-sky halberd. The two went back and forth on the mountaintop three or four rounds, and the monster's strength failed; he lost the field and turned to run. Pilgrim gave chase, but the old demon stepped in to block him. They fought another three rounds, and Fox Aqi turned back to attack. On this side Bajie saw it, quickly drew his nine-toothed rake, and blocked him. One against one, they fought a long while with no winner—until the old demon gave a shout, and the demon soldiers all closed in.

Now Tripitaka, sitting in Lotus Cave, heard the shouting shake the ground and said: "Sha Monk, go out and see how your big brother fares." Sha Monk took up his monster-quelling staff, gave a shout, charged out, and drove back the demon crowd. Seeing the day going against him, Aqi turned to flee; Bajie caught up and drove the rake into his back: nine points of bright red bubbled out—and poor soul, his one true spirit went on down the road ahead. They dragged the body over and stripped off its clothes: it was a fox spirit after all.

Seeing his old uncle killed, the old demon left Pilgrim, raised his precious sword, and chopped at Bajie; Bajie caught it with the rake. As they fought, Sha Monk charged up close and swung his staff. The demon could hold out no longer; he rode wind and cloud and fled south. Bajie and Sha Monk pressed hard after him. Seeing it, the Great Sage leaped up into the air on a cloud, unhooked the vase, covered the old demon with its mouth, and called: "Gold-Horned King!" The monster, thinking it was only one of his own beaten little demons calling, turned his head and answered once. Whoosh: he was sucked inside, and Pilgrim pasted on the label "By urgent decree of the Supreme Lord Lao, quick quick, as the law commands." The seven-star sword dropped to the dust—and went to Pilgrim too. Bajie came up: "Brother, you've won the precious sword. Where's the monster?" Pilgrim laughed: "All done. He's packed inside this vase of mine." Hearing it, Sha Monk and Bajie were overjoyed.

Then they swept every demon clean away, returned to the cave, and brought the good news to Tripitaka: "The mountain is clear, the demons are gone. Please mount, Master, and let's be on the road." Tripitaka could not contain his joy. Master and disciples ate their morning meal, gathered the luggage and the horse, and struck west to find the road.

As they went, suddenly a blind man stepped from the roadside, came up, took hold of Tripitaka's horse, and said: "Monk, where are you going? Give me back my treasures." Bajie was startled: "It's over. The old demon has come for his treasures." Pilgrim looked carefully: it was the Supreme Old Lord Li. He hurried up and saluted: "Old sir, where are you going?" The ancient lord rose at once on his jade throne seat and stood poised in the ninth heaven, calling: "Pilgrim Sun, give me back my treasures." The Great Sage rose into the air: "What treasures?" Lord Lao said, "The gourd held my elixir; the vase held my water; the sword I used to subdue demons; the fan I used to stir fire; the rope was a band for girding my robe. Those two monsters were the boys who minded my gold furnace and my silver furnace. They stole my treasures and ran down to the world below, and I could not find them anywhere. Today you caught them: that is real merit." The Great Sage said, "You old sir, you are truly without manners. You let your household run off and do evil. You should be charged with keeping bad watch." Lord Lao said, "It is not my doing. Don't blame the wrong one. It was the Bodhisattva of the Sea who asked to borrow them of me three times, and she placed them here, turned into demons, to test whether you master and disciples had a true heart for the west." Hearing this, the Great Sage said to himself: "This Bodhisattva is a sly one indeed. When she freed Old Sun and had me protect the Tang monk west to fetch the scriptures, I said the road was hard going. She promised that at any desperate pass she would come herself to the rescue. And now she sets demons on me to work me harm. Her word is no word—may she go husbandless all her days. If you, old sir, hadn't come yourself, I would never give them up. Since you put it that way, take them."

Lord Lao gathered the five treasures, lifted the lids of gourd and vase, and poured out two streams of immortal breath. He pointed with his finger, and they became once more the two boys, Gold and Silver, attending at his side. Rose-light shone in ten thousand beams. Ah!

Misty, they return together to the Tushita court; carefree, they rise straight to the Daluo Heaven.

But what happened after this, how would the Great Sage Sun guard the Tang monk, and when would they reach the Western Heaven? Listen to the next chapter to find out.