Chapter 39

A Single Pellet of Cinnabar Elixir Is Won in Heaven; a Sovereign Dead Three Years Comes Back to Life on Earth

The story goes that the Great Sage Sun, his head bursting past bearing, begged piteously: "Master, recite no more, no more; let me do the curing." "How?" asked the elder. "Only by going to the dark jurisdiction, searching out which house of King Yama holds his soul, and begging it back to save him," said Pilgrim. "Master, do not believe him," said Bajie. "He said just now he would not cross to the dark jurisdiction but bring him back to life in the world of the living—that is where his skill would show." The elder gave ear to the wicked whisper and began the Tight-Fillet Spell again. Pilgrim in a panic agreed to anything: "Cure him in the living world, cure him in the living world!" "Do not stop," said Bajie. "Keep on, keep on!" Pilgrim cursed: "You senseless beast of misdeeds, setting Master to curse me!" Bajie laughed till he staggered: "Brother, brother! You know how to make game of me—you never knew I could make game of you." "Master, recite no more, no more; let Old Sun cure him in the world of the living," said Pilgrim. "How, in the world of the living?" said Tripitaka. "On my somersault cloud I will dart in the South Gate of Heaven, past the Dipper-and-Ox Palace, past the Numinous Mists Hall, straight up to the thirty-third heaven, to the Tushita court in the Heaven of Parted Sorrows, and see the Supreme Lord Lao, and beg from him one pellet of his Nine-Turn Soul-Returning Elixir. That, I warrant, will bring him back to life."

At this Tripitaka rejoiced: "Go—and come back quickly." Pilgrim said: "It is about the third watch now; by the time I return it will be near dawn. Only, the man lying here cold and neglected—it is not fitting. He needs mourners about him, weeping over him; then it will be proper." "No need to ask," said Bajie. "The monkey means me to do the weeping." "Afraid you will not weep?" said Pilgrim. "If you do not weep, the cure fails." "Brother, you go your way; I will weep mine," said Bajie. "Weeping has its kinds," said Pilgrim. "To bawl with a dry mouth is called howling; to wring out a few tears is called sobbing; but to weep with tears and with heart together—that is true loud lamentation." "Then let me weep you a pattern of it," said Bajie. From who knows where he pulled a strip of paper, twisted it into a spill, ran it up his nostrils twice, and sneezed and sniffled; and see him, eyes brimming, slaver hanging, fall to weeping. His mouth ran on without pause, one thing after another, this complaint and that—just as if a man had truly died. And when his weeping reached its most grieving passage, Elder Tang himself had tears dropping and a heart gone sore. Pilgrim laughed: "That is the mournfulness—no stopping now. You Idiot, the moment you trick me out the door you will stop crying. I shall be listening still: weep on like this and all is well; let the sound so much as slacken, and twenty blows land on your ankle-bones." Bajie laughed: "Go, go. This weeping of mine is only warming up—there are two days' weeping in it." Sha Monk, seeing the scolding, went and found a few sticks of incense to burn in offering. Pilgrim laughed: "Good, good, good—the whole house shows its devotion; now Old Sun can get to work."

Brave Great Sage! It was now about midnight. He took leave of the master and his two brothers, rose on his somersault cloud, and in at the South Gate of Heaven. And truly he did not call at the Numinous Mists Hall nor climb to the Dipper-and-Ox Palace, but on a stream of cloud-light came straight to the Tushita Palace in the thirty-third heaven, the Heaven of Parted Sorrows. Scarcely had he entered when he saw the Supreme Lord Lao sitting in the elixir chamber with the immortal boys, fanning the fire with banana-leaf fans and refining cinnabar. At the sight of Pilgrim he instructed the elixir-watching boys: "Every one be on your guard: the elixir-thieving thief is here again." Pilgrim made his bow and laughed: "Old gentleman, what lack of trust is this—why guard against me? I am done with that line of work." Lord Lao said: "You monkey: five hundred years ago you wrecked the Heavenly Palace and stole and ate my elixir without number, till the Illustrious Sage Erlang took you prisoner up to heaven and I was given you to refine in my elixir furnace nine and forty days—who knows how much charcoal that cost. Now you have happily gotten free, taken the Buddha's fruit, and gone escorting the Tang monk west for the scriptures. Lately on Flat-Top Mountain, when you subdued those demons, you played your tricks and would not give me back my treasures. What do you come for today?" "That business of the other day: Old Sun was not a moment behindhand—your five treasures were handed back on the spot. And you still suspect me and blame me?" said Pilgrim.

"You are not on the road—why steal into my palace?" said Lord Lao. Pilgrim said: "Since we parted, westward we came upon a country called Black Rooster. Its king was done to death by a monster fiend disguised as a Daoist, who called wind and rain and killed the king by stealth, then took the king's very shape and now sits on the Golden Chime throne. My master was sitting up at the Treasure Grove Monastery reading scriptures by night when the king's ghost came and worshiped him, and begged Old Sun earnestly to subdue the demon for him and make the false and true plain. Old Sun, having nothing to prove the matter by, went with my brother Bajie into the park by night, broke the garden open, found where the body lay hidden—in an octagonal glazed-tile well. We fished the body up, its face unchanged. At the temple my master saw it, and in his mercy charged Old Sun to cure and save him—forbidding me to go into the dark jurisdiction to seek the soul, and allowing only that I heal him in the world of the living. I could think of nowhere else for raising the dead, and so I have come to pay you homage. A hundred thousand times, Ancestor of the Way, let down your pity: lend me a thousand pills of the Nine-Turn Soul-Returning Elixir for Old Sun, and let him save the king." "Monkey, what talk—a thousand pills, two thousand pills! Do you take them for rice? Are they kneaded of mud clods somewhere, so easy to come by? Out with you! There are none!" said Lord Lao. Pilgrim laughed: "A hundred or so would do." "None of those either," said Lord Lao. "A dozen or so, then," said Pilgrim. Lord Lao said in wrath: "This brazen ape is a clingy one. None, none—out, out!" Pilgrim laughed: "Truly none, then? I shall try my begging elsewhere." "Go, go, go!" shouted Lord Lao. The Great Sage swung about and made to go.

Suddenly Lord Lao bethought himself: "This monkey is a sly one—go at a word, but who knows but he will slip back in and steal." He ordered the immortal boys to call him back: "You monkey, with those light fingers of yours—here, I will make you a gift of one Soul-Returning Pill." "Old gentleman, since you know Old Sun's arts, bring out your golden elixir quickly and split it with me four to six—that were your good fortune; otherwise I shall make you a present of a leather ladle—one scoop and it is all gone," said Pilgrim. The Ancient Lord took his gourd, upended it, and shook out one golden pill, handing it to Pilgrim: "This is all there is. Take it, take it. I make you a gift of this one; cure the emperor with it and set the merit to your own account." Pilgrim took it: "No hurry. Let me taste it first—these things are sometimes counterfeit; I would not be cozened." And pop—it went into his mouth. In a fright the Ancient Lord sprang forward and caught him, seizing the skin of his crown, fist doubled, cursing: "If you swallow that, brazen ape, I will beat you to death outright." Pilgrim laughed: "What a face—what a small soul! Who would eat it? What is it worth—a thing more show than substance? It is here, is it not?" For the monkey had a pouch under his chin, and the golden pill was stowed in it. The Ancient Lord gave it a pinch: "Go, go—and do not come pestering here again." Then the Great Sage thanked the Ancient Lord and left the Tushita Palace of heaven.

See him: on a thousand streams of rosy haze leaving the jade gates; on ten thousand rays of auspicious cloud descending to the dusty world. In a moment he was down the South Gate of Heaven, back to gaze east, and the sun was already climbing. He pressed down his cloud, came straight to the gate of the Treasure Grove Monastery—and heard Bajie still weeping. Coming near he called: "Master." Tripitaka was delighted: "Wukong is back! Do you have the elixir?" "I have," said Pilgrim. "How could he not?" said Bajie. "If need be he would steal it off somebody." Pilgrim laughed: "Brother, you are dismissed—no more use for you. Wipe your eyes and go weep somewhere else." He told Sha Monk: "Bring me some water." Sha Monk hurried to the well behind, where a draw-bucket stood handy, and passed Pilgrim half a bowl of water. Pilgrim took the water, spat the pill from his mouth, and laid it between the emperor's lips. Prizing the teeth open with both hands, he washed the golden pill down with a mouthful of clear water. For half a watch there was rushing and rumbling in his belly, but the body would not stir. "Master—if my golden elixir cannot bring him back, Old Sun is done for indeed," said Pilgrim. "How should he not revive?" said Tripitaka. "A body so long dead—how could it swallow water down? It is the elixir's immortal power at work. Since the golden pill entered the belly the bowels have rumbled; the rumbling is the blood's channels moving in accord—only the breath, being spent, cannot yet return and stretch. Never mind a man soaked three years in a well: raw iron itself would have rusted. Only the primal breath is wholly spent; he wants someone to breathe one breath into him, and he is whole." Bajie stepped up to give the breath, but Tripitaka caught his sleeve: "Not you—let Wukong do it." The master knew his mind: Zhu Bajie from childhood had slain living things and done wickedness and eaten men—his breath was turbid. Pilgrim alone had cultivated himself from youth, gnawing pine and chewing cypress, living on peaches and fruit—his was a pure breath. The Great Sage stepped forward, set his thunder-god beak to the emperor's lips, and blew one long breath down his throat, past the tower of the throat, around the bright hall, straight to the elixir field, and back from the gushing springs to the palace of the muddy pill. With a great rush the king's breath gathered and his spirit returned; he turned over, swung his arms, bent his legs, and cried: "Master." On both knees in the dust he said: "Last night, remember, my ghost came calling; who could have thought that at this morning's dawn my yang spirit would return?" Tripitaka hastened to raise him: "Your Majesty, it is none of my doing; thank my disciple." Pilgrim laughed: "Master, what talk! As the saying goes, 'A house has but one master.' Take his bow—you lose nothing by it."

Tripitaka, greatly abashed, helped the emperor up, and together they entered the meditation hall. He bowed in greeting to Bajie, Pilgrim, and Sha Monk, and then took his seat. Then the monks of the temple, having made the morning meal ready and coming to serve it, caught sight of that water-soaked emperor: every one started, every one murmured in doubt. Pilgrim Sun sprang out: "Monks, do not startle. This is the king of Black Rooster, your lawful sovereign. Three years ago a monster took his life; last night Old Sun brought him back. We go now into his city, to make the false and true plain. Have you a meal? Set it out, that we may eat and be gone." The monks at once brought water, washed his face, and changed his clothes. The ochre-yellow imperial robe came off, and the temple's monk official dressed him in two cloth cassocks; the Lantian belt was unbuckled and a yellow silk sash knotted in its place; the carefree shoes were drawn off and a pair of old monk's sandals given him instead. Then they all ate the morning meal and saddled and packed the horses.

Pilgrim asked: "Bajie, how heavy is your load?" "Brother, I shoulder it day by day and truly never knew what it weighs," said Bajie. "Divide that one load into two: one you carry, one the emperor carries. We go into the city early, on business," said Pilgrim. Bajie was delighted: "Luck, luck! Carrying him here cost me who knows what pains—and now he is cured, and turns out to be a porter for the pair of it." The Idiot played his little craft: he split the luggage, borrowed a carrying-pole from the temple, took the lighter half for himself, and gave the emperor the heavier. Pilgrim laughed: "Your Majesty, dressed in those rags, a load on your pole, trudging along with the likes of us—am I doing you a wrong?" The king knelt in haste: "Master, you are father and mother of my second life. Speak not of carrying loads: I would gladly hold your whip and drop your stirrup, and serve you my lords all the way to the Western Heaven." "We do not want you for the Western Heaven—there are reasons of our own," said Pilgrim. "You need only carry your load these forty li into the city. Once the monster is taken, you go back to being emperor, and we to fetching scriptures." Hearing this Bajie said: "So—he carries forty li, and this old pig stays on as the hired hand for the long haul." "Brother, no nonsense," said Pilgrim. "Out front and lead the way, quickly."

And truly Bajie went ahead leading the emperor, Sha Monk helped the master to horse, and Pilgrim followed behind. There were the temple's five hundred monks, drawn up trim and orderly, pipes and percussion playing softly, seeing them out beyond the gate. Pilgrim laughed: "Monks, do not see us far. Only I fear some man of the government might learn of it and let my secret slip, and turn all ill. Turn back, turn back. Only clean and press the emperor's robes and regalia, and bring them into the city tonight or tomorrow morning, and I will beg you titles and rewards for your pains." The monks obeyed the order and each returned. Pilgrim lengthened his stride, caught up his master, and straight on they went. And so it was:

In the west a secret lies, for seeking what is true: Metal and Wood in concord refine the spirit anew.The cinnabar mother vainly nursed her muddled dream; the young son long rued a body of useless wood.One must seek the rightful lord at a well's dark bottom; one must climb to heaven and bow to Ancient Lord Lao.Awakened that form is emptiness and nature restored—truly the Buddha ferries across the man of destiny.

Master and disciples had gone barely half a day before the city was in sight, close at hand. Tripitaka said: "Wukong, that must be Black Rooster ahead." "It is. Let us hurry in and get to work," said Pilgrim. Entering the city, master and disciples found the streets full of well-ordered folk, the scene brisk and bustling. And soon phoenix towers and dragon halls rose before them, magnificent past telling. There is a poem to prove it. The poem says:

Palaces and towers beyond the seas like a sovereign realm; songs and dances in the world of men as in the early Tang.Flowers greet the jeweled fans, red clouds wreathing; sunlight on bright robes, an emerald mist of light.Peacock screens unfolded, wafting fragrant haze; pearl curtains rolled up, bright banners flying.A scene of perfect peace worth all congratulation: the officials stand in still array, no memorials to present.

Tripitaka dismounted: "Disciples, let us go straight into the palace and have the travel rescripts exchanged here, and save the trouble of another yamen." "Well said," said Pilgrim. "Let all of us brothers go in—many mouths make matters easier." "Let all go in," said Tang monk, "but no rustic manners: first the courtesies of lord and minister, then business." "The courtesies of lord and minister mean kneeling," said Pilgrim. "Just so—the great rite of five bows and three knockings of the head," said Tripitaka. Pilgrim laughed: "Master, that will not do. To bow to him were no wisdom at all. Let me step in ahead of you; I have my arrangements. If he says anything, leave the answering to me. If I bow, you bow; if I squat, you squat." See the trouble-making Monkey King, leading them to the palace gate, saying to the officer of the gate: "We are sent from the court of the great Tang of the eastern lands to worship the Buddha in the Western Heaven and seek scriptures. We have come to have our travel rescripts exchanged; be so good, my lord, as to convey our request—so no good work is hindered." The official of the vermilion gate went in at once, knelt below the vermilion steps, and reported: "Outside the gate are five monks, saying they are the imperial envoys of Tang in the eastern lands, bound west to worship the Buddha and seek scriptures, and are come to have their rescripts exchanged. Not presuming to enter unbidden, they wait outside for the summons." The demon king ordered them summoned in.

Tang monk entered within the palace gate, the king come back to life following in the train. As he went he could not hold back the tears at his cheeks, thinking to himself: "Pity! My kingdom fitted like a copper measure, my altars fenced with iron—who knew he would steal it from me in the dark?" Pilgrim said: "Your Majesty, do not give way—it might let the secret slip. This staff of mine is itching in my ear: it is ripe for deeds today, and I promise you the monster dies and the wicked thing is swept away. This kingdom will soon be yours again." The king dared not cross him; wiping his eyes with his sleeve, he followed at the hazard of his life, and they came straight beneath the Golden Chime Hall. There too stood the two ranks of civil and military, four hundred officers of court, every one awful and composed, of a commanding presence.

Pilgrim led Tang monk to stand before the white-jade steps, upright and unmoving. The officials below the steps were all taken aback: "These monks are utterly witless—why do they not kneel at the sight of our king? Not one word of greeting? Not a single salutation? What boldness, what rudeness!" Scarcely was this said when the demon king's voice was heard: "And where do these monks come from?" Pilgrim answered with head high: "I come of the southern land of Jambudvipa, of the great Tang of the eastern lands, an imperial envoy bound for the Thunderclap Monastery of India in the western regions, to worship the living Buddha and seek the true scriptures. Having reached this country, I would not pass through empty-handed; I am come expressly to have the travel rescripts exchanged." At this the demon king's wrath rose: "And what of your eastern lands? I pay no tribute to your court and hold no traffic with your state: how dare you stand before me as an equal, and refuse the knee?" Pilgrim laughed: "Our eastern lands were of old a court of heaven, long styled the sovereign state; you are a border land, a petty realm. The old saying runs: 'The emperor of the sovereign state is father and lord; the emperor of the vassal state is minister and son.' You did not so much as rise to receive me—and you dispute that I should bow?" The demon king flew into a rage and commanded his civil and military: "Seize this wild monk!" At the word "seize"—see the assembled officials spring forward as one. Pilgrim gave a shout, pointed with his finger, and cried: "Stand back!" That pointing was the Fixing Spell: not one of the officials could move hand or foot. Truly: the guardsmen before the steps like wooden figures; the generals on the dais like men of clay.

Seeing the civil and military fixed where they stood, the demon king made to leap down from the dragon couch and seize him himself. The Monkey King rejoiced within: "Good—just as Old Sun would have it. Let him come: though his skull were cast of raw iron, my staff would punch a hole in it." He had scarcely stirred when, from beside, there stepped forth an unexpected star of rescue. And who, do you think? The prince of Black Rooster. He came hurriedly up, caught the demon king's court robe, and knelt before him: "Father King, calm your wrath." "What does the child say?" asked the fiend. The prince said: "Let your son inform you: three years ago we heard tell of a holy monk, imperial envoy of the court of Tang in the eastern lands, going west to worship the Buddha and seek scriptures; today at last he reaches our realm. Your Majesty's nature is stern and quick: if these monks are seized and beheaded, I fear that when word of it reaches the great Tang one day, wrath will surely rise. Consider: Li Shimin holds the royal seat and has united all rivers and mountains, yet his heart is not satisfied, and he has crossed the seas on campaigns; did he learn that our king had done his imperial brother, the holy monk, to death, he would raise his armies and launch his horsemen to give battle to our king. But our soldiers are few and our generals slight; repentance would come too late. Let my father follow his son's counsel: question these four monks closely as to their origins, first fix on them the charge of failing to honor the royal presence, and only then proceed to their sentence."

All this was the prince's careful prudence, fearing harm might come to Tang monk: he spoke thus to hold the demon fast—never dreaming that Pilgrim was angling for a fight. The demon king did credit it: standing before the dragon couch he cried out: "When did you monks leave the eastern lands? And for what cause did the Tang king send you for scriptures?" Pilgrim answered head high: "My master is the imperial brother of the Tang king, styled Tripitaka. In the Tang king's service was a chancellor, Wei Zheng by name, who, executing a mandate of heaven in his dreams, beheaded the old dragon of the Jing River. The Tang king, having in dream journeyed to the dark jurisdiction and returned to life, then opened a great altar of services by land and water, to ferry across all wronged souls and sinful ghosts. Because my master expounded the scriptures and dispensed mercy far and wide, the Bodhisattva Guanyin of the Southern Sea suddenly instructed him to come west. My master made his great vow with gladdened and willing heart, to repay his country with his utmost loyalty, and the Tang king granted him his rescripts. It was then the third day before the full moon of the ninth month, in the thirteenth year of Zhenguan of the great Tang, that we left the eastern lands. Coming to Two-Bounds Mountain, he took me for eldest disciple, surnamed Sun, named Wukong, called Pilgrim; then at Gao Village within the bounds of Wusi he took his second disciple, surnamed Zhu, named Wuneng, called Bajie; at the bounds of the Flowing Sand River he took his third disciple, surnamed Sha, the monk Wujing; and only yesterday at the Treasure Grove Monastery, built by imperial decree, he newly took on a Daoist servant boy to carry the loads." Hearing this, and having no means to search Tang monk's person, the demon king fell to artful cross-questioning of Pilgrim, asking with angry eyes: "Monk, you left the eastern lands one man and took on a company of four. The three monks we might pass over; this Daoist we cannot suffer. That servant boy was surely abducted. What is he called? Has he ordination papers or not? Bring him up and take his confession." The king, terrified, trembled and quaked: "Master—what am I to confess?" Pilgrim Sun gave him a pinch: "Do not be afraid; I will confess for you."

Brave Great Sage! He stepped briskly forward and cried out loudly to the monster: "Your Majesty, this old Daoist is dumb and besides a little deaf. Only in his youth he traveled the western road once and knows the way. The whole of his story, rise and fall, I know to the last particular; I beg Your Majesty's indulgence to let me confess for him." "Then confess for him plainly, and quickly, and spare yourself trouble," said the demon king. Pilgrim said:

Let the confession tell: a boy in years but aged in looks, bedraughted, deaf, and dumb, his fortunes ruined.His ancestral home was here; five years ago ruin overtook him.No rain from heaven, the people parched to ruin; king and commoner alike kept fast.Incense burned and bodies bathed, they called on Heaven—and over ten thousand li not a cloud showed.The people hungered as if hanging head-down; then from Zhongnan suddenly descended a monster of a Perfect Truth adept.He summoned wind, called down rain, showed his powers—and then in secret took the king's life.He pushed him down the garden's well; in darkness he usurped the dragon seat, and none could tell.Happily I came, and the work is great: the dead raised to life, nothing to hinder.He gladly takes the vows as servant boy, and goes with the monks to worship at the western bounds.The false-shaped sovereign is the Daoist; and the Daoist, it turns out, stands in for the true king.

On the Golden Chime Hall, at this recital, the demon king's heart pounded like a startled fawn and a red cloud rose on his face. He made to slip away at once—but there was not a weapon in his hand. He turned his head and saw a general of the palace guard, a precious sword at his waist, fixed by Pilgrim's Fixing Spell, dazed and mute, standing where he stood. He stepped up, snatched the sword, mounted a cloud, and was away into the sky. Sha Monk fumed like thunder, and Bajie bawled aloud, blaming Pilgrim for a monkey in too great a hurry: "Could you not have drawn the tale out a little, and held him fast? Now he is off on his cloud—where will you ever track him?" Pilgrim laughed: "Brothers, no clamor. We shall have the prince come down and bow to his father, the queen out to bow to her husband"—and he pronounced a spell that released the Fixing Spell—"and the officials wake and bow to their sovereign, and know him for the true emperor. Let the whole story be told and the truth appear; then I go after him." Brave Great Sage! He charged Bajie and Sha Monk: "Guard well that company—sovereign and ministers, father and son, queen and consorts—and my master." At the word "go" he was gone from sight.

He had leapt into the clouds of the ninth heaven, eyes straining every way, on the lookout for the demon king. There was the beast indeed, fleeing for his life, making off to the northeast. As Pilgrim pressed close he shouted: "Monster! Where away? Old Sun is upon you." The demon king swung round in haste, drew his precious sword, and cried: "Pilgrim Sun, you are past bearing! I usurp another's throne—what is that to you? Why come playing the redresser and letting out my secrets?" Pilgrim laughed: "You bold, brazen monster! Who said you might be emperor? Knowing me for Old Sun, you should have fled afar—yet you harass my master and demand a confession! That confession just now—was it true or not? Stand and do not run, if you are any kind of man, and take this stroke of Old Sun's staff." The demon twisted aside and met him blade to face in answer. The two closed—and what a battle it was. Truly:

The Monkey King fierce, the demon king strong: blade meets staff, and neither yields.Cloud and fog fill the whole sky and blind the three realms—all for deciding who shall sit as sovereign of the realm.

After a few rounds the demon could no longer stand against the Monkey King; wheeling about, he leapt back into the city the way he had come, burst into the crowd of officials before the white-jade steps, shook himself, and took on the very likeness of Tripitaka Tang, standing arm in arm with him before the steps. The Great Sage caught up, staff raised to strike. The monster said: "Disciple, do not strike—it is I." He whipped round to strike the other Tang monk—and again came the words: "Disciple, do not strike—it is I." Two Tang Monks exactly alike, past telling apart: "If my staff kills the monster's Tang monk, so much the better, the work is done; but if it kills my true master, what then?" He could only stop his hand and call Bajie and Sha Monk: "Which of them is truly the monster, and which my master? Point him out, that I may strike." "You were brawling and bawling in midair," said Bajie. "I glanced up and saw two masters—and who is true and who false, I could not say."

At this Pilgrim twisted the sign and pronounced a spell, calling on the guardian devas of the Law, the Six Dings and Six Jias, the guardians of the five quarters, the Duty Officers of the Four Watches, the eighteen Sangharama guardians, the local earth god, and the mountain god of the place: "Old Sun has come here to subdue a monster, and the fiend has changed into my master's very shape, the same to eye and breath, past telling apart. Let those of you who know, signal in the dark: bring my master up onto the hall, and leave me the monster to take." Now that monster was quick at riding cloud and mist: hearing Pilgrim's words he loosed his hold and leapt up onto the Golden Chime Hall at once. Pilgrim raised his staff and made to strike at Tang monk. Pity! Had he not summoned those gods, that one blow would have pounded twenty Tang Monks into meat paste! Thank heaven the gods caught the iron staff: "Great Sage, that monster rides the clouds—he is already up on the hall." Pilgrim hurried up the hall, and the monster leapt down again, seized Tang monk, and muddled himself into the crowd once more—still past telling.

Pilgrim's temper soured—and then he saw Bajie smirking at his side, and he flared: "What are you grinning at, you lumbering fool? Two masters now: one to hail and one to answer, one to wait upon—so that is what delights you!" Bajie laughed: "Brother, they call me the Idiot—but you are the bigger Idiot. If the masters cannot be told apart, why waste the labor? Bear a little headache: have Master recite that spell of his, while Sha Monk and I each take an arm, and we listen. Whichever cannot recite it is the monster—where is the difficulty?" "Brother, that is the thought," said Pilgrim. "True: only three know that spell. It came first from the heart of our Buddha the Tathagata, who gave it to the Bodhisattva Guanyin, and she to my master, and no one else knows it. Very well—Master, recite." And in truth that Tang monk began to recite. How should the demon king know it? His mouth mumbled and droned at random. "Then the mumbling one is the monster," said Bajie. He let go his arm and swung the rake to strike. The demon king sprang into the air, set foot on a cloud, and was off.

Brave Bajie! With a shout he too mounted a cloud in pursuit. Sha Monk, in a flurry, left Tang monk and drew his precious staff to strike. Tang monk stopped the spell. The Great Sage Sun, bearing his aching head, gripped the iron staff and gave chase into the air. Ah! What a bout: three fierce monks ringing in one brazen monster. The demon king was beset left and right by Bajie's muckrake and Sha Monk's precious staff. Pilgrim laughed: "If I go at him face to face he half fears me, and may slip away again. Let Old Sun leap higher and give him the garlic-pounding stroke, and finish him."

The Great Sage rose on auspicious light into the ninth heaven, on the point of dealing the final stroke—when from a bright cloud to the northeast a stern voice called: "Wukong, stay your hand!" Pilgrim turned to look: it was the Bodhisattva Manjusri. He drew back the staff at once and came forward in salute: "Bodhisattva, where bound?" "I have come to take this monster off your hands," said Manjusri. "My thanks for the trouble," said Pilgrim. The Bodhisattva drew the Demon-Revealing Mirror from her sleeve and pinned the monster's true body in its light. Then Pilgrim called Bajie and Sha Monk to come together and do obeisance to the Bodhisattva. And looking into the mirror, how fierce and dreadful was the monster king's true shape:

Eyes like glazed saucers of glass; a head like a firing-pan of the furnace.His body indigo-dyed as of the dog days; his four claws frosted as of deep autumn.Two lolling ears; a tail like a long-handled broom.Blue fur bristling with ferocity; red eyes flashing golden light.Flat teeth ranked like slabs of jade; round whiskers bristling like hard spears.Seen true in the mirror: none other than Manjusri's own lion king.

Pilgrim said: "Bodhisattva, this is one of your own blue-furred lions. How did he slip off to become a fiend, and you never subdue him?" "Wukong, he did not slip off," said the Bodhisattva. "He came by the Buddha's own mandate." "A beast turned fiend, usurping an emperor's throne—and sent by the Buddha's mandate!" said Pilgrim. "Old Sun, suffering through thick and thin to guard the Tang monk, should have a few edicts of his own." "You do not know the matter," said the Bodhisattva. "Long ago this king of Black Rooster loved goodness and fed the monks, and the Buddha sent me to ferry him westward, that he might soon attain the golden body of an arhat. Since it was not permitted me to meet him in my true form, I changed into a common monk and begged alms of him. A few words of mine displeased him; not knowing a good soul when he saw one, he had me bound with cords and thrown into the imperial river, where I was soaked three days and three nights. Only the Golden Body of the Six Jias rescued me and brought me back west, and it was reported to the Tathagata. The Tathagata then ordered this monster to come here, push the king down his well, and soak him three years—to repay the three days of my water calamity. 'Every sip and every peck was fixed beforehand.' Now that you have come, the work is done." "Your private debt of 'every sip and every peck' is repaid," said Pilgrim, "but who knows how many people that monster has harmed besides?" "He has harmed no one," said the Bodhisattva. "In the three years since he came, the winds have blown fair and the rains in season, the realm at peace and the people content. Where is the harm to anyone?" "Be it so," said Pilgrim. "But the consorts of the three palaces have slept and risen beside him: his body defiled, the fabric of duty and kinship broken—do you call that harming no one?" "He could not defile them," said the Bodhisattva. "He is a gelded lion." Hearing this, Bajie came close and gave him a feel. He laughed: "So this monster is the blotchy nose that never touches wine—a name carried for nothing!" "Then take him away," said Pilgrim. "Had the Bodhisattva not come herself, I would never have spared his life."

Then the Bodhisattva pronounced a spell, calling: "Beast! Return to the right—what are you waiting for?" Only then did the monster king show his true form. The Bodhisattva cast down a lotus flower that enmeshed the fiend, seated herself on his back, and, treading auspicious light, took leave of Pilgrim. Ah!

At once she turned for Mount Wutai's heights, to sit beneath the jeweled lotus throne and hear the scriptures expounded.

But how the Tang monk and his disciples would get out of the city—who could say? Listen to the next chapter to find out.

A grain of cinnabar won in heaven; a lord of three years comes back to life on earth

Now the Great Sage Sun's head ached past bearing, and he pleaded: "Master, stop the spell, stop it. Let me heal him." The elder asked, "How?" Pilgrim said, "Only by going to the land below, searching which court of King Yama holds his soul, fetching it back, and saving him." Bajie said, "Master, don't believe him. He said just now he could heal him in this world without any trip below—that would show real skill." The elder was carried by the ill wind and recited the Tight-Fillet Spell again. Pilgrim, in a panic, agreed to everything: "In this world, in this world I'll heal him!" Bajie said, "Don't stop. Keep reciting, keep reciting." Pilgrim cursed: "You idiot beast, egging Master on to curse me!" Bajie laughed till he tottered: "Brother, brother, you only know how to make a fool of me. You never knew I could make a fool of you." Pilgrim said, "Master, stop, stop. Let Old Sun heal him in this world." Tripitaka said, "How, in this world?" Pilgrim said, "On my somersault cloud I'll dash in the South Gate of Heaven—not into the Dipper-and-Ox Palace, not into the Lingxiao Hall—straight up past the thirty-three heavens, to the Tushita court in the Heaven of Parted Sorrow, and see the Supreme Lord Lao. I'll beg one grain of his Nine-Turn Soul-Returning Elixir, and I promise you the man will live."

Hearing this, Tripitaka rejoiced: "Go then, and come back quick." Pilgrim said, "It is the third watch now; by the time I'm back it will be nearly dawn. Only this man lying here, cold and neglected—it does not look right. Someone in mourning ought to sit by him weeping. That would be better." Bajie said, "No need to say it: this monkey wants me to do the weeping." Pilgrim said, "Afraid you won't weep? If you don't weep, I cannot heal him." Bajie said, "Brother, go your way. I'll weep." Pilgrim said, "Weeping has several kinds. Dry-mouthed yelling is howling. Wrung-out tears are sobbing. You must have tears and heart together—that is what counts as loud grieving." Bajie said, "Let me show you a sample." He pulled a scrap of paper from who knows where, twisted it into a spill, poked it up his nostrils twice, sneezed a few times—and see him, eyes brimming, drool hanging, start to wail. His mouth ran on and on, scolding this and blaming that, exactly like a man bereaved. By the time he reached the rawest grief, the Tang elder's own eyes were wet and his heart sore. Pilgrim laughed: "That is the grieving. Now no stopping. You Idiot—once I'm gone you'll quit. I'll be listening. If you weep like this, well and good. If your voice drops even a little, twenty strokes on the shins, guaranteed." Bajie laughed: "Go on, go on. Once I get going, I have two days of weeping in me." Seeing him scolded, Sha Monk went and found a few sticks of incense to burn in offering. Pilgrim laughed: "Good, good, good. The whole house showing respect—now Old Sun can do his work."

The Great Sage—it was about midnight—took leave of his master and brothers, rode his somersault cloud, and went straight in the South Gate of Heaven. Truly he paid no call at the Lingxiao treasure hall, did not mount the Dipper-and-Ox palace; on his road of cloud-light he came straight to the Tushita Palace in the Heaven of Parted Sorrow, the thirty-third heaven. He had hardly entered when he saw the Supreme Lord Lao sitting in the elixir room with the immortal boys, fanning the fire with banana-leaf fans, refining elixir. Seeing Pilgrim come, he told the elixir-watching boys at once: "All of you, be careful. The elixir thief is here again." Pilgrim saluted, laughing: "Old sir, what a cold welcome. Why guard against me? I have given up that line of work." Lord Lao said, "You monkey—five hundred years ago you wrecked the Heavenly Palace and stole and ate numberless elixir pills of mine. The Illustrious Sage Erlang took you up to heaven, and I refined you forty-nine days in my elixir furnace—no telling how much charcoal it cost. Now you have luckily slipped free, taken the Buddhist fruit, and escort the Tang monk west for the scriptures. Not long ago on Flat-Top Mountain you beat down the demons, haggled and cheated, and would not give me back my treasures. What have you come for today?" Pilgrim said, "That matter is settled. Old Sun was not a day late: I handed back your five treasures on the spot. And you still suspect me?"

Lord Lao said, "You are not on the road. Why sneak into my palace?" Pilgrim said, "Since we parted we have come west to a country called Black-Rooster. A demon there, disguised as a Daoist, calling wind and rain, secretly murdered the king, then took the king's shape—and now sits on the throne in the Golden Chime Hall. My master was reading scriptures by night at Baolin Monastery when the king's ghost came and worshiped him, and begged Old Sun to subdue the demon and tell false from true. Old Sun, wanting proof in hand, went with my brother Bajie into the garden by night, broke it open, found the burial place—an eight-sided glazed well—and fished up the body, its face unchanged. Back at the temple I showed it to my master. Out of mercy he ordered Old Sun to heal him—no going to the land below to beg back the soul; it must be done in the world above. With nowhere else to turn for life, I have come to call on you. I beg the Ancestor of the Way a thousand times: lend me a thousand pills of the Nine-Turn Soul-Returning Elixir, and let Old Sun save him." Lord Lao said, "Monkey, what talk! A thousand pills, two thousand—as if they were rice balls? Are they kneaded from mud somewhere, that it is so easy? Out with you! There are none!" Pilgrim laughed: "A hundred or so would do." Lord Lao said, "None." Pilgrim said, "A dozen or so, then." Lord Lao raged: "This brazen monkey nags and nags. None, none! Out, out!" Pilgrim laughed: "If you truly have none, I'll go beg somewhere else." Lord Lao shouted: "Go, go, go!" The Great Sage turned on his heel and started off.

Lord Lao suddenly thought: "This monkey is a sly one. So ready to go—too ready. I am afraid he will slip back in and steal." He told the immortal boys to call him back: "You monkey, your hands are not to be trusted. I will make you a gift of one Soul-Returning Pill." Pilgrim said, "Old sir, since you know Old Sun's skill, bring out the golden pills quickly and split them with me four and six—that is your good fortune. Otherwise I will leave you a leather strainer: one dip and not a pill is left." The Ancient One took his gourd, turned it bottom up, shook out one golden pill, and handed it over: "This is all. Take it, take it. With this one pill, heal that emperor—it will count as your merit." Pilgrim took it: "Not so fast. Let me taste it first—it may be a fake, and I won't be tricked." And pop, into his mouth it went. The Ancient One hurried up and caught him, seized him by the crown of the head, shook his fist, and cursed: "Brazen monkey—if you swallow it, I'll beat you dead on the spot." Pilgrim laughed: "What a face! What pettiness. Who is swallowing your pill? What is it worth—a few coppers? More show than substance. Isn't it here?" For the monkey had a pouch under his chin, and the golden pill sat in the pouch. The Ancient One pinched it through and said: "Go, go. And never come pestering here again." The Great Sage thanked him and left the Tushita Palace.

See him: on a thousand beams of rosy haze he left the jade palaces; on ten thousand rays of lucky cloud he came down to the dusty world. In a moment he was down the South Gate of Heaven and back east—and there already was the sun. He brought his cloud down and went straight to the gate of Baolin Monastery—and heard Bajie still wailing. He came up quickly: "Master." Tripitaka rejoiced: "Wukong is back. Did you get the elixir?" Pilgrim said, "I did." Bajie said, "How could he not? If nothing else, he'd have stolen some from somebody." Pilgrim laughed: "Brother, you're dismissed. You're not needed. Wipe your tears and go weep somewhere else." He told Sha Monk: "Fetch me some water." Sha Monk hurried to the well at the back, where a handy well-bucket hung, and handed Pilgrim half a bowl of water. Pilgrim took the water, spat out the pill, set it in the emperor's mouth, and, prizing the teeth apart with both hands, washed the golden pill down his throat with a mouthful of clear water. For half a watch there was a rushing and rumbling in his belly, but the body would not stir. Pilgrim said, "Master, even my golden pill will not bring him round. Are you trying to squeeze Old Sun to death?" Tripitaka said, "How could he fail to live? A corpse so long dead—how could he swallow water? That is the elixir's immortal power at work. Since the pill entered his belly, his bowels have rumbled; the rumbling is the blood moving in harmony again. Only the breath, once gone, cannot stretch back of itself. Never mind a man soaked in a well three years—raw iron would have rusted. His primal breath is spent, that is all. Someone must breathe into him one breath, and he will mend." Bajie stepped up to give the breath, but Tripitaka held him: "Not you. Let Wukong do it." The master knew his mind: Zhu Bajie had sinned from childhood, killing and eating men—his breath was thick and foul. Only Pilgrim had cultivated himself from youth, gnawing pine nuts and chewing cypress, living on peaches and fruit—his breath was pure and clear. The Great Sage stepped up, set his thunder god's snout to the emperor's lips, and blew one long breath down his throat—down through the twelve-storied tower, around the Hall of Light, straight to the cinnabar field, and back up from the Bubbling Spring to the Mud-Palace in the skull. With a great rush the king's breath gathered and his spirit returned. He rolled over, flexed his fists and bent his legs, and cried: "Master!" On both knees in the dust he said: "Last night, a ghost, I came to call. Who knew that at dawn today my yang spirit would return?" Tripitaka hurried to raise him: "Your Majesty, none of this is my doing. Thank my disciples." Pilgrim laughed: "Master, what talk. The saying goes: 'A house has no second master.' Accepting one bow from him costs you nothing."

Tripitaka, much embarrassed, raised the emperor, and they went into the meditation hall together. The emperor bowed to Bajie, Pilgrim, and Sha Monk as well, and only then took his seat. The temple's monks had got the morning meal ready and were coming in to serve it—and saw the emperor in his dripping clothes. Every one gaped; every one whispered. Pilgrim Sun jumped out: "Monks, no gaping. This is the King of Black-Rooster, your true sovereign. Three years ago a monster took his life; last night Old Sun brought him back. We are going into his city now to tell the false from the true. If the meal is ready, set it out. We'll eat and be gone." The monks brought water, washed his face, and changed his clothes. They stripped off the emperor's ochre-yellow robe; the temple's priest-official dressed him in two cotton robes; they untied the Lantian sash and girt him with a yellow silk cord; they pulled off the carefree shoes and swapped in a pair of old monk's slippers. Then all ate the morning meal, and the horses were saddled.

Pilgrim asked, "Bajie, how heavy is the luggage?" Bajie said, "Brother, I shoulder it every day and never thought to weigh it." Pilgrim said, "Split the one load in two. You carry one load; give the other to this emperor. We are going into the city early, on business." Bajie was delighted: "Luck, luck! Carrying him here cost me no end of effort—and now that he's alive, it turns out he's a stand-in." The Idiot worked his little scheme: he split the luggage, got a carrying pole from the temple, took the lighter half himself, and gave the heavier half to the emperor. Pilgrim laughed: "Your Majesty, dressed like that, shouldering a load, walking with us—does that wrong you?" The king knelt in haste: "Master, you are father and mother reborn to me. Never mind carrying a load: I would willingly hold your whip and drop your stirrup, serve you gentlemen, and go with you all the way to the Western Heaven." Pilgrim said, "We don't want you in the Western Heaven. There is a reason inside it. You need only carry the load forty li into the city. Once the monster is caught, you go back to being emperor, and we go back to fetching scriptures." Hearing this, Bajie said, "So he carries only forty li, and this old pig is the hired hand for life." Pilgrim said, "Brother, no nonsense. Out front and lead the way, quickly."

Truly, Bajie led the emperor ahead; Sha Monk helped his master into the saddle; Pilgrim followed behind. The temple's five hundred monks, in fine order, playing soft music, all saw them out beyond the mountain gate. Pilgrim laughed: "Monks, no need to see us far. If any official gets wind, my plans may leak, and that would spoil things. Back quickly, back quickly. Only—get the emperor's robes and regalia cleaned and ready, and bring them into the city tonight or at dawn. I will beg you some titles and rewards to thank you." The monks did as ordered and went back. Pilgrim stretched out his stride, caught up his master, and they pushed straight on. And so it is:

The west keeps its formula for finding the true; Metal and Wood in accord refine the spirit.The mother of elixir vainly hugs her muddled dream; the young one long mourns a stunted frame.The true lord must be sought at the bottom of a well; the Old Lord of heaven must be bowed to on high.Wake to form and emptiness, return to your nature: this truly is the Buddha's saving of those with the fate for it.

On the road, not half a day, and the city walls were near in view. Tripitaka said, "Wukong, that ahead must be Black-Rooster." Pilgrim said, "It is. Hurry into the city; there is business." Master and disciples entered the city: the streets neat with well-dressed people, the scene bustling; phoenix towers and dragon halls, splendid past telling. There is a poem to prove it. The poem says:

Palaces and towers past the seas like a sovereign land; songs and dances in the streets like the early Tang.Flowers greet the jeweled fans, red clouds wheeling; sunlight on bright robes, an emerald mist of light.The peacock screen spreads, incense haze pouring out; pearl curtains rolled, colored banners flying.A scene of true peace, worth all congratulation: the officials stand in silent ranks with no memorial to read.

Tripitaka dismounted: "Disciples, let us go into the palace now and have our travel papers stamped—no need to trouble another office." Pilgrim said, "Well said. We brothers all go in—the more of us, the better the talking." The Tang monk said, "All go in, then. No rustic manners. Do the sovereign's courtesy first, and talk after." Pilgrim said, "The sovereign's courtesy means bowing to the ground, then." Tripitaka said, "Yes—the full rite: five bows and three knockings of the head." Pilgrim laughed: "Master, that will not do. Bowing to him would be plain folly. Let me walk in front and manage it. If he has words, let me answer. If I bow, you bow; if I squat, you squat." See the trouble-stirring Monkey King lead them to the palace gate and tell the gate commissioner: "We are sent under the throne of the great Tang in the Land of the East to worship the Buddha in the west and seek the scriptures. We have come to have our travel papers stamped. Please convey this, sir, so no good work is delayed." The gate official went in through the Upright Gate, knelt on the crimson steps, and reported: "Outside the palace gate are five monks who say they are the imperial envoys of the Tang of the Land of the East, bound west to worship the Buddha and seek the scriptures. They have come to have their papers stamped. Not daring to enter unbidden, they wait outside for the summons." The demon king ordered them summoned in.

The Tang monk entered the palace with the rest, the restored king following. Walking along, he could not keep the tears from his cheeks, and thought in his heart: "Pitiable! My bronze-peck measure of rivers and mountains, my iron-walled state—and who knew he would steal it in the dark?" Pilgrim said, "Your Majesty, no grieving—it may leak the secret. This staff is twitching in my ear; today it is sure to earn its merit. I will beat the demon down and sweep the evil away, and these rivers and mountains will be yours again before long." The king dared not dispute it: he tugged his sleeve across his tears and followed, ready to die if need be, straight to the foot of the Golden Chime Hall. There stood the two ranks of civil and military, the four hundred court officials, every one imposing and grave, every face proud.

Pilgrim led the Tang monk to stand before the white jade steps, straight and unmoving. The officials below the steps were all taken aback: "What fools these monks are! Why don't they bow to our king? Not one word of greeting? Not one salute? What boldness, what rudeness!" Before the words were done, the demon king spoke: "Where do those monks come from?" Pilgrim answered with head high: "I am of the southern continent, of the great Tang in the Land of the East, sent by imperial commission to the Western Regions, to the great Thunderclap Monastery in India, to worship the living Buddha and seek the true scriptures. Come to this country, I would not pass through empty-handed: I have come to have my travel papers stamped." Hearing this, the demon king grew angry inside: "So it is the Land of the East. I send no tribute to your court and hold no traffic with your country. How dare you stand on terms with me and refuse the obeisance?" Pilgrim laughed: "My Land of the East founded the celestial court of old and has long been called the sovereign state. You are a border land of the lower earth. The old saying goes: 'The emperor of the sovereign state is father and lord; the emperor of a lower state is vassal and son.' And you have not even received me—yet you dispute my not bowing?" The demon king raged and told his civil and military officers: "Seize that wild monk!" At the word "seize," see the officials all surging forward together. Pilgrim gave a shout and pointed with his finger: "Hold!" That one point fixed them all with the body-fixing spell, and not an officer could move. Truly: the guards before the steps like wooden puppets, the generals in the hall like men of clay.

Seeing the civil and military all fixed where they stood, the demon king leaped up, jumped from the dragon bed, and came to seize them himself. The Monkey King rejoiced inside: "Good—just what Old Sun wanted. Now, cast-iron head or no, one touch of my staff punches a hole in it." Just as he moved, out from the side, unexpected, stepped a star of rescue. Who? The prince of the King of Black-Rooster. He hurried up, caught the demon king's court robes, knelt before him, and said: "Father, calm your anger." The monster asked, "What is it, child?" The prince said, "Let your son report: three years ago we heard of a holy monk sent under the Tang throne of the Land of the East to worship the Buddha in the west and seek the scriptures—and who knew he would only reach our country today. Your august temper is fierce. If you seize these monks and behead them, I fear that some day the great Tang will hear of it and kindle in wrath. Consider: Li Shimin calls himself king, has united the rivers and mountains, and is not satisfied even so—he has crossed the seas on campaigns. If he learned our king had harmed his sworn-brother monk, he would surely raise armies and mount horses to make war on us. Our soldiers are few, our generals slight—regret would come too late. I beg Father to follow your son's counsel: question those four monks first, learn their history plainly, establish their offense of failing to greet the royal carriage—and only then press charges."

All this, in truth, was the prince's careful heart, afraid harm would come to the Tang monk: he held the demon in place on purpose. He had no idea Pilgrim was spoiling for a fight. The demon king believed him, stood before the dragon bed, and roared: "Monk, when did you leave the Land of the East? On what errand did the Tang king send you for scriptures?" Pilgrim answered with head high: "My master is the Tang king's sworn brother, styled Tripitaka. One of the Tang king's chief ministers, Wei Zheng by name, in obedience to heaven's writ beheaded the old dragon of the Jing River in a dream. The Tang king, having dreamed his way through the courts of the dead and come back to life, then opened a great mass for land and water, to ferry all wronged souls and sinful ghosts. Because my master expounded the scriptures and showed mercy wide, he was taught by the Bodhisattva Guanyin of the Southern Sea to come west. My master made his great vow gladly and with all his heart, faithful to his country, and the Tang king granted him his travel papers. That was the third day before the full moon of the ninth month, the thirteenth year of Zhenguan of the great Tang, when he left the Land of the East. At Two-Bounds Mountain he took me as eldest disciple: surname Sun, named Wukong, called Pilgrim. At Gao Village on the edge of the country of Wusi he took his second disciple: surname Zhu, named Wuneng, called Bajie. At the Flowing Sand River he took his third disciple: the monk surnamed Sha, named Wujing. And only yesterday at Baolin Monastery, Built by Imperial Decree, he newly took a carrying-boy, a servant of the road." Hearing this, and having no way to search the Tang monk, the demon king turned clever words on Pilgrim, asking with angry eyes: "Monk, you left the Land of the East one man, and took on four. The three monks we might let pass—but a Daoist boy is hard to suffer. That carrying-boy was surely abducted. What is his name? Has he ordination papers or not? Bring him up and take his confession." The king trembled head to foot: "Master! How am I to make a confession?" Pilgrim Sun pinched him: "Don't be afraid. I'll confess for you."

The Great Sage hurried forward and called out to the monster: "Your Majesty, this old Daoist is dumb, and hard of hearing too. Only as a boy he traveled the western road once, so he knows the way. I know the whole root and branch of his story. I beg Your Majesty's indulgence: let me confess for him." The demon king said, "Then confess for him, and truthfully, and quickly—spare yourself trouble." Pilgrim said:

The one confessing: a boy of the road, old in years; dull, deaf, and dumb, his fortune spent.His ancestors dwelt here, of this very place; five years ago came ruin.No rain fell; the people dried and withered; king and commoner kept the fast alike.Incense burned, bodies bathed, prayers to heaven—and for ten thousand li, not a cloud.The people famine-struck, hanging as if by the heels—when from Zhongnan suddenly dropped a perfected master, a monster.Calling wind, summoning rain, he showed his powers—and then in the dark took the king's life.He pushed him down the courtyard well in the garden, and in the dark usurped the dragon's seat—no man could tell.Happily I came; the work was great; the dead raised to life, nothing barred.He gladly takes the vows, a carrying-boy, going west with the monks to worship at the western border.The one shaped like the king is the Daoist; and the Daoist has taken the true king's place.

Hearing this speech in the Golden Chime Hall, the demon king's heart knocked like a startled fawn, and red clouds rose on his face. He made to slip away at once—but he held no weapon in his hand. Turning, he saw a palace-guard general with a precious sword at his waist, fixed by Pilgrim's spell, standing there dazed and dumb. He stepped near, snatched the sword, mounted a cloud, and made off into the sky. Sha Monk fumed like thunder; Zhu Bajie shouted aloud, blaming Pilgrim for an over-hasty monkey: "If you had just talked a little slower, wouldn't you have held him steady? Now he has fled on a cloud—where do you chase him?" Pilgrim laughed: "Brothers, no shouting. We'll have the prince come down and bow to his father, the consorts and queen come out and bow to their husband"—and he spoke a spell, releasing the body-fixing spell—"and the officials wake and bow to their king, and learn he is the emperor in truth. Let the whole story be told, and all will be clear. Then I'll go after him." The Great Sage told Bajie and Sha Monk: "Guard them well—king and ministers, father and son, consorts and queen, and my master." At the word "gone" he was gone from sight.

He had leaped into the ninth-heaven clouds, eyes sweeping every quarter after the demon king. The beast had indeed fled for his life, making off to the northeast. Pilgrim gained on him and shouted: "Monster, where to? Old Sun is here!" The demon king whirled about, drew his precious sword, and shouted: "Pilgrim Sun, what a meddler you are! I took another man's throne—what business is it of yours, coming to even scores and leaking my secrets?" Pilgrim laughed: "You bold, brazen beast! Who said you might be emperor? If you knew it was Old Sun, you should have fled far. Why trouble my master, demanding a confession? That confession just now—true words, were they not? Stand your ground, if you are a man, and take Old Sun's staff." The demon twisted aside, and his precious sword flashed back at Pilgrim's face. They closed with each other—what a fight. Truly:

The Monkey King fierce, the demon king strong; blade meets staff, and neither gives an inch.Cloud and mist fill the sky and blind the three worlds—all for the setting up of a false king.

They fought some rounds, and the monster could no longer hold against the Monkey King. He turned and leaped back into the city by his old road, dashed into the crowd of officials before the white jade steps, shook himself, and changed into the very likeness of the Tang monk—and stood there hand in hand with him before the steps. The Great Sage caught up, staff rising to strike. The monster said, "Disciple, don't strike—it is I." Pilgrim whipped round to strike the other Tang monk—and that one said, "Disciple, don't strike—it is I." Two Tang monks exactly alike, past telling apart. "If one stroke killed the monster's copy, that would be merit done. But if one stroke killed my true master—what then?" He could only stop his hand and call Bajie and Sha Monk: "Which is the monster, which my master? Point him out to me, and I'll strike him." Bajie said, "You two were fighting and shouting up in the air. I glanced up and there were two masters already—and I cannot tell true from false."

Hearing this, Pilgrim pinched the sign and spoke a spell, calling on the guardian devas, the six Dings and six Jias, the guardians of the five quarters, the duty officers of the four watches, the eighteen sangha-guardians of the train, the local earth god, and the mountain god of the place: "Old Sun has come here to beat a demon, and the demon has taken my master's shape—same flesh, same air, past telling. Let those of you who know the truth in secret bring my master up the hall steps, and leave the monster for me to take." The monster, a deft hand at clouds and mist, heard Pilgrim's words and jumped quickly up onto the jeweled hall. And Pilgrim raised his staff and struck at the Tang monk. Pitiful! Had those gods not come at his call, that one blow would have pounded twenty Tang monks to meat paste! Happily the gods caught the iron staff: "Great Sage, the monster rides clouds—he is already gone up into the hall." Pilgrim hurried up the hall steps, and the monster jumped back down, seized the Tang monk, and melted into the crowd again—still past telling.

Pilgrim was out of humor—and seeing Bajie smirking beside him, he raged: "What are you smirking at, you clod? Two masters now—two to call, two to answer, two to wait on! You are delighted with yourself!" Bajie laughed: "Brother, you call me the Idiot, but you are the greater fool. If you cannot tell the masters apart, why wear yourself out? Put up with a little headache, have my master recite that spell of his, and Sha Monk and I will take one each and listen. The one who cannot recite is the monster, sure enough. What is hard about that?" Pilgrim said, "Brother, that is it. True: only three know that spell. It came first from the very heart of our Buddha the Tathagata, was passed to the Bodhisattva Guanyin, and from her to my master—no one else alive knows it. Very well: Master, recite it." And the Tang monk truly began to recite. How could the demon king know it? He hummed and hawed at random. Bajie said, "The one humming there is the monster." He let go, raised his rake, and struck. The demon king leaped up, took to the clouds, and fled.

Fine Bajie: one shout, and he too was up on a cloud in pursuit. Sha Monk, startled, left the Tang monk, drew his precious staff, and struck after. The Tang monk stopped reciting. The Great Sage Sun, bearing the ache in his head, gripped the iron staff and gave chase in the air. Ah! Now: three fierce monks ringed round one brazen demon. Bajie and Sha Monk pressed him from either side with rake and staff. Pilgrim laughed: "If I go at him face to face again, he fears me a little—he will slip away. Let Old Sun leap high and come down with a garlic-crusher blow, and finish him."

The Great Sage rode his lucky light up into the ninth heaven, hand raised for the killing stroke—when from a colored cloud to the northeast a stern voice called: "Wukong Sun, hold your hand." Pilgrim turned to look: it was the Bodhisattva Manjushri. He quickly drew back the staff and saluted: "Bodhisattva, where are you bound?" Manjushri said, "I have come to take this monster off your hands." Pilgrim thanked him: "Sorry for the trouble." The Bodhisattva drew the demon-revealing mirror from her sleeve and fixed the monster's true form in its light. Pilgrim called Bajie and Sha Monk over to see her, and in the mirror they looked: how fierce the demon king's true shape:

Eyes like glazed bowls; a head like a roasting pan.Body the indigo of high summer; four paws the frost of late autumn.Two ears hanging limp; a tail like a long broom.Blue fur bristling with fierce spirit; red eyes flashing golden light.Flat teeth ranked like jade tablets; round whiskers bristling like hard spears.Seen true in the mirror: Manjushri's own lion king.

Pilgrim said, "Bodhisattva, this is a blue-maned lion of your own seat. How did it slip off and become a spirit—and you never called it home?" The Bodhisattva said, "Wukong, it did not slip away. It came by the Buddha's edict." Pilgrim said, "A beast turns spirit, usurps a throne—and all by the Buddha's edict. Old Sun suffers beatings guarding the Tang monk, and not one writ of commission has he been given." The Bodhisattva said, "You do not know the story. This king of Black-Rooster loved goodness and fed monks, so the Buddha sent me to ferry him west, to become soon a golden-bodied arhat. As I could not meet him in my own form, I became a common monk and asked him for alms. He was nettled by a few words of mine. Not knowing me for a good spirit, he bound me with a rope and threw me into the Royal Water River, where I soaked three days and three nights. Only the Golden-Bodied One of the Six Jias freed me and saw me back west, and told the Tathagata. The Tathagata sent this monster to shove the king down a well and soak him three years—to pay my three days' water calamity. 'Every sip and every peck is settled beforehand.' Now that you have come, the account is closed." Pilgrim said, "You have settled your private 'sip and peck' grudge—but who knows how many people that monster harmed?" The Bodhisattva said, "He harmed no one. In the three years since he came, rains fell in season, the state was at peace, the people secure. Where is the harm?" Pilgrim said, "So be it. But the queens of the three palaces slept and rose with him. He fouled their bodies and wrecked every bond of duty and kin. And that is called harming no one?" The Bodhisattva said, "He could foul no one. He is a gelded lion." Hearing this, Bajie stepped up and gave him a feel, laughing: "Then this monster is the drinker with the blotchy nose who never touches wine—carrying the name for nothing." Pilgrim said, "So be it. Take him away, then. If the Bodhisattva had not come herself, I would never have spared his life."

The Bodhisattva spoke a spell and cried: "Beast! How long before you return to the right?" Then the demon king showed his true form. The Bodhisattva cast a lotus flower to hold the monster fast, seated herself on his back, and rode her lucky light, taking leave of Pilgrim. Ah!

Straight back to Mount Wutai she turned, to hear the scriptures beneath the jeweled lotus seat.

But how would the Tang monk and his disciples leave the city? Listen to the next chapter to find out.