Chapter 45

At the Temple of the Three Pure Ones the Great Sage Leaves His Name; in the Kingdom of Cart-Slow the Monkey King Displays His Art

Now the Great Sage Sun pinched Sha Monk with his left hand and Zhu Bajie with his right, and the two came to themselves. They sat there on high, faces blank, neither speaking nor moving; let the Daoists light lamps and torches and search before and behind — the three of them sat like clay images plated with gold. The Great Immortal Tiger Strength said: “There is no villain here — how have the offerings been eaten?” The Great Immortal Deer Strength said: “It looks like the work of eaters: what had skins has been peeled, what had stones has spat them out — but where is the person to be seen?” The Great Immortal Goat Strength said: “Brother, do not doubt. Doubtless our own devotion — chanting scripture day and night, sending up petitions time after time, and bearing the court's own title — has startled the Celestial Worthies. It must be the sacred visitation of the Three Pure Ones, come down to enjoy these offerings. Now, before the immortal retinue returns and the crane-carriage departs, let us bow and beseech the Celestial Worthy for some holy water and golden elixir, to present to His Majesty — would that not be long life and endless years, and a proof of our merit besides?” The Great Immortal Tiger Strength said: “Well said.” He called: “Disciples, make music and chant the scriptures. On the other side, bring my vestments; I will pace the stars and make my prayer.” The little Daoists obeyed, and the two companies drew up in fine order. With one clash of the chime they chanted a scroll of the True Scripture of the Yellow Court and the Way and Its Power. The Great Immortal Tiger Strength robed himself in his vestments, raised the jade tablet, danced before the altar raising the dust, cast himself on the ground, and made his petition upward:

“With dread and with trembling, we bow the head and take refuge. Your servants have raised this teaching, looking up to the Clear Void. We crushed the monks as vulgar, and exalted the Way's bright splendor. By decree the jeweled hall was raised; the sovereign's own hand built these courts. Offerings spread out in abundance; the dragon banner hangs on high. Candles kept through the night; incense burned all day long. One sincere heart reaches above; an inch of reverence offered with devotion. Now, vouchsafed your descent, your immortal carriage has not yet turned home. We beg some golden elixir and holy water, to present to the court, that our span may outlast the southern hills.”

Bajie, hearing, felt his stomach turn, and said under his breath to Pilgrim: “This is our fault: we have eaten the things and stayed to boot, only to wait through prayers like this. How are we to answer?” Pilgrim pinched him again, and suddenly spoke out: “Junior immortals, hold your prayers. We have come from the Peach Banquet and brought no golden elixir nor holy water; another day we will come and bestow them.” The Daoists, great and small, hearing speech, shivered in their clothes, every one: “Grandpas! Living Celestial Worthies come down among men — by no means let them go; beg of them at any cost the art of long life!” The Great Immortal Deer Strength came forward and bowed again:

“Raising the dust, we knock our heads, and offer with whole heart our sincerity. Your humble servants yield their lives, bowing and rising before the Three Pure Ones. Since we came to this land we have exalted the Way and cast out the monks. The king's heart rejoices and honors the dark profound. The great offering of the gods, the scriptures read through the night. Blessed that the Celestial Worthy has not disdained us, but let his sacred carriage grace our court. We look up and beg your remembrance; we look for your grace and glory. Leave us but some holy water, that your disciples may lengthen their days and live forever.”

Sha Monk pinched Pilgrim and said under his breath: “Brother, they are in earnest — here come more prayers.” Pilgrim said: “Give them some, then.” Bajie said softly: “Where would we get any?” Pilgrim said: “Just watch me. When I have mine, you will have yours.” The Daoists' music was done; Pilgrim spoke: “Junior immortals, no more bowing. If I do not leave you some holy water, I fear it would extinguish your posterity; yet to give it you were too easy.” The Daoists, hearing, threw themselves down and knocked their heads together: “We beg the Celestial Worthy to remember your disciples' reverence and kindly bestow a little. We your disciples will spread abroad the Way and Virtue, and tell the king to honor the dark gate throughout.” Pilgrim said: “So be it — bring vessels.” The Daoists bowed their heads in thanks. The Great Immortal Tiger Strength, loving a show, had a great vat carried and set in the hall; the Great Immortal Deer Strength fetched an earthen basin and set it on the altar table; the Great Immortal Goat Strength stripped the flowers from a vase and set it in the middle. Pilgrim said: “You all go out before the hall and shut the lattice: no leaking of heaven's secrets, and I will leave you some holy water.” The Daoists knelt in a body below the crimson steps, and the hall door was shut.

Pilgrim stood up, lifted his tiger-skin kilt, and filled the vase with a getting of stale water. Zhu Bajie, seeing, rejoiced: “Brother, we have been brothers these many years, and this one trick we have never played. I did just eat something — this is the very job for it.” The Idiot threw open his clothes, and with a rush — like the Lüliang rapids pouring down its flood-boards — he splashed a whole basinful. Sha Monk likewise filled half the vat. Then they righted their clothes and sat in state above, saying: “Junior immortals, receive the holy water.”

The Daoists pushed open the lattice, knocked their heads in thanks, carried the vat out, and brought vase and basin together in one place, saying: “Disciple, fetch a cup, and let us taste.” A little Daoist brought a tea cup and handed it to the old Daoist. The old Daoist ladled out a cup, drank, and went on smacking his lips and working his mouth. The Great Immortal Deer Strength said: “Brother, is it good?” The old Daoist, working his mouth, said: “Not very. There is a sour, winey taste to it.” The Great Immortal Goat Strength said: “Let me taste.” He too took a mouthful and said: “It has a hog-piss tang about it.” Pilgrim, seated above, heard these words and knew he was found out: “I will play one more trick — and leave my name behind while I am at it.” He called out at the top of his voice:

“Daoists, Daoists, what fools you are! What Three Pure Ones would come down to a mortal floor? I will tell you my true name, and let you know it. We are the monks of the Great Tang, sent out by decree to the west. The night being quiet, and nothing afoot, we came down to your halls. We ate your offerings and sat playing at ease; you bowed to us — and how should we repay you? Holy water indeed! What you have drunk is all a draught of my own piss.”

At this the Daoists blocked the door and fell on them pell-mell with pitchforks, rakes, brooms, tiles and stones, battering blindly at heads and faces. Good Pilgrim: he tucked Sha Monk under his left arm and Bajie under his right, burst out the door, rode the light of cloud straight back to the abbot's room of the Temple of the Abyss of Wisdom, and, not daring to wake their master, the three lay down to sleep again.

It was the third point of the fifth watch. The king held his court, and the two wings of civil and military officials gathered, four hundred court officers — crimson gauze lanterns bright, jeweled censers clouding sweet smoke.

Now the Tang monk Tripitaka woke and called: “Disciples, disciples — attend me, and let us go have the travel rescript stamped.” Pilgrim and Sha Monk and Bajie rose at once, dressed, and stood attending at his side: “We make bold to tell you, Master: the king of this country trusts those Daoists and exalts the Way to crush the monks. Should a word slip, he may refuse to stamp the rescript. Let us escort you — all of us into court together.” Tang monk, greatly pleased, put on his brocade cassock. Pilgrim carried the rescript, told Wujing to carry the alms bowl, and Wuneng to take the tin staff; the luggage and the horse they gave into the keeping of the monks of the Temple of the Abyss of Wisdom. They came to the Tower of the Five Phoenixes, saluted the gate official, gave their names, said they were monks of the Great Tang in the Land of the East, come for scriptures and to have the rescript stamped here, and begged him to report it. The chamberlain of the gate went into court, cast himself on the golden steps, and reported: “Outside there are four monks who say they are of the Great Tang in the Land of the East, come for scriptures, asking to have the rescript stamped; they wait your pleasure before the Tower of the Five Phoenixes.” The king, hearing, said: “The monk could find no place to die, so he comes here to die. Why have the constables not seized him and hauled him in?” The Grand Tutor in attendance stepped out and said: “The Great Tang in the Land of the East is of the southern continent Jambudvipa, called the great realm of Zhonghua. From there to here is ten thousand li, and the roads are full of monsters. Such monks must have some powers, or they would never dare come west. Let Your Majesty, in view of the monks' long journey from Zhonghua, and lest we spoil a good karmic bond, summon them, examine the rescript, and let them pass.” The king approved, and had the Tang monk and his party summoned before the Hall of Golden Chimes. Master and disciples drew up before the steps and handed the rescript up to the king.

The king had just opened it to read when the gate official came again to report: “The three state preceptors have arrived.” In his fright the king put up the rescript, came hurriedly down from the dragon throne, had embroidered cushions set for them by his attendants, and bowed to welcome them. Tripitaka and his party turned and saw the great immortals swaying along, a pair of shock-headed page boys with double buns behind them, walking straight in. The two wings of officials bowed low, not daring to look up. They mounted the Hall of Golden Chimes and made the king no reverence at all. The king said: “Preceptors, I had not invited you — why are you pleased to come down today?” The old Daoist said: “There is a matter to report — that is why. Those four monks: what country are they from?” The king said: “They are sent by the Great Tang in the Land of the East to the Western Heaven for scriptures, and have come to have the rescript stamped here.” The three Daoists clapped their hands and laughed: “We said they had fled — and here they are still.” The king said, alarmed: “What have you to say, preceptors? They only just gave in their names, and I was minded to seize them for your service; but the Grand Tutor's plea was reasonable, and because I would respect their long journey and not extinguish the good bond of Zhonghua, I summoned them to examine the rescript — I did not look for this question of yours. Perhaps they have affronted your honor and given offense?” The Daoist said, laughing: “You do not know, Majesty. They came yesterday: outside the east gate they beat two of our disciples to death, released the five hundred imprisoned monks, and smashed the carts to pieces. In the night they broke into our temple, wrecked the sacred images of the Three Pure Ones, and stole the food bestowed by the throne. We were gulled by them: we took them for Celestial Worthies descended, and begged some holy water and golden elixir, meaning to present them to Your Majesty for long life; and instead the wretches left us some of their piss and fooled us. Each of us drank a mouthful and tasted what it was; we were on the point of seizing them, and off they went. And today they are still here — truly, ‘the enemy's road is a narrow one.’” The king, hearing, fell into a rage, and would have put the four to death.

The Great Sage Sun put his palms together and cried out at the top of his voice: “Your Majesty, stay your thunder-bolt anger a moment, and let these monks speak.” The king said: “You have affronted the state preceptors: can the preceptors' word be wrong?” Pilgrim said: “He says that yesterday, outside the city, I beat two of his disciples to death. Who witnessed it? Let us concede it: let two monks pay with their lives, and let the other two go on for the scriptures. He says further that I smashed the carts and released the imprisoned monks; there is no witness to that either, and it is not a capital matter — let one more monk answer for it and be done. But he says I wrecked the Three Pure Ones and made an uproar in the temple — that is a frame-up.” The king said: “How is it a frame-up?” Pilgrim said: “We monks are men of the Land of the East, newly come here; we do not know our way about the streets — how should we know by night what passes in his temple? And if we had left our piss behind, they should have caught us on the spot — instead of which, at this hour of the morning they name us to our faces to ruin us. In this world there are countless impostors traveling under borrowed names: why must it be us? I beg Your Majesty to put away your anger and look into it.” The king, muddled as he was, heard Pilgrim out and could not make up his mind.

While he was still in doubt the gate official came again to report: “Your Majesty, many village elders wait outside for your summons.” The king said: “What is their business?” and ordered them in. Brought before the hall, some thirty or forty elders knocked their heads: “Ten thousand years! All spring there has been no rain; we fear a dry summer. We have come to beg that one of the state preceptors pray down a sweet rain to succor the people.” The king said: “Elders, withdraw: there will be rain presently.” The elders thanked him and withdrew. The king said: “Monks of the Tang: why do you suppose I honor the Way and crush the monks? Because in the year we prayed for rain, the monks of my court never wrung a single drop; and it was heaven's mercy that sent the state preceptors to rescue us from misery. Now you have come from far off and affronted the preceptors: you should be called to account this instant. I spare you for the present — do you dare to wager against my preceptor at praying down rain? If he prays down a sweet rain to relieve the ten thousand people, I will pardon your offense, stamp your rescript, and let you go west. If you lose the wager and no rain falls, you shall be dragged to the place of execution and put to death as an example.” Pilgrim laughed: “This little monk knows a little something about praying too.”

The king ordered the altar ground swept and made ready. On the other side he gave the word: “Bring my carriage — I will go up the Tower of the Five Phoenixes myself to watch.” The officers brought the carriage, and in a moment he was seated above. The Tang monk Tripitaka, with Pilgrim, Sha Monk and Bajie, stood waiting below the tower. The three Daoists sat beside the king above. Presently an officer came at the gallop to report: “The altar is ready in all its colors: the state preceptors are asked to mount.”

The Great Immortal Tiger Strength bowed with folded hands, took leave of the king, and came down the tower. Pilgrim stepped forward and barred the way: “Where away, sir?” The great immortal said: “To mount the altar and pray for rain.” Pilgrim said: “You carry yourself high indeed — you would not yield place to a monk from far countries. Very well: as they say, ‘The strong dragon does not crush the local snake.’ Go first, sir — only let us have it out before the king.” The great immortal said: “Have what out?” Pilgrim said: “You and I go up the altar together to pray for rain: how will anyone know whose rain it is? There would be no proving whose merit it was.” The king above heard, and rejoiced inwardly: “The little monk's talk has some sinew to it.” Sha Monk heard, and chuckled to himself: “And that is not the half of the sinew in his belly — it is still to come.” The great immortal said: “No need to settle it: His Majesty will know of himself.” Pilgrim said: “Known it may be — but I am a monk from far away and have never met you. Then we should only fall to laying the blame on one another, and that is no way to do business. Let it be settled first, and then we work.” The great immortal said: “Once on the altar, you have only to watch my signal-clapper. One clap of the clapper — the wind comes. Two claps — the clouds rise. Three claps — thunder and lightning sound together. Four claps — the rain falls. Five claps — the clouds scatter and the rain is gathered in.” Pilgrim laughed: “A marvel! We monks have never seen the like. Please — please go first.”

The great immortal swung into his stride and went on ahead, the Tang monk and his party following, straight to the altar gate. They looked up: there stood a high platform, three zhang and more tall. On this side and that stood the banners of the twenty-eight constellations. At the top was a table, on the table a censer, and from the censer incense smoked in banks; on either side stood two candlesticks, and the candles on the platform blazed in the wind. Against the censer leaned a golden tablet, engraved with the names of the thunder gods. Below were five great vats, all brimming with clear water, willow sprigs floating on the water, and on the willow sprigs rested an iron plate inscribed with the talismans of the Court of Thunders; to left and right stood five great posts, each inscribed with the roll of the savage thunder messengers of the five quarters; by each post stood two Daoists, each with an iron mace, waiting to strike the posts. Behind the platform were many Daoists writing out documents; in the very middle was a paper stove, and several paper figures: the talisman-bearing officers, and the local earth god and the gods who praise the teaching.

The great immortal walked in and, wasting no ceremony, took his stand on the high platform. A little Daoist at his side brought several talismans written on yellow paper and a precious sword and handed them to him. The great immortal gripped the sword, recited a spell, and burned one talisman at the candle. Below, two or three Daoists took one of the talisman-bearing figures and a document and set fire to them too. On high the signal-clapper cracked once — and look: out of mid-air a soft breath of wind came drifting. Zhu Bajie muttered: “Bad, bad! This Daoist has real powers. The clapper cracked once, and there is the wind already.” Pilgrim said: “Brothers, quiet. Not another word to me: just look after Master. I have business to do.”

The good Great Sage plucked a hair, blew on it a breath of magic air, cried “Change!”, and made a sham Pilgrim to stand at the Tang monk's side. His true body left its shell and sped into mid-air, calling at the top of his voice: “Who has charge of the wind?” In a panic the Wind Grandmother pinched shut her cloth bag, and the Second Lad of Xun tied down the mouth-rope, and they came up making their bows. Pilgrim said: “I guard the holy monk of the Tang going west for scriptures; we pass through the Kingdom of Cart-Slow and wager against that fox of a Daoist at praying down rain. Why do you not help old Sun, and help the Daoist instead? This once I pardon you: gather in your wind. If so much as a breath stirs and blows that Daoist's whiskers, I will deal each of you twenty blows of the iron staff.” The Wind Grandmother said: “We dare not, we dare not.” And there was not a breath of wind left. Bajie could not contain himself and bawled: “Sir, step back! The clapper has cracked — where is your wind? Come down and let us go up.”

The Daoist gripped the clapper again, burned the writ, and cracked it once more — and look: the sky filled up with cloud and fog. The Great Sage Sun hailed from above: “Who spreads the clouds?” And in a fright the Cloud-Pushing Page and the Fog-Spreading Lad made their bows before him. Pilgrim told the story over again; and the cloud page and fog lad too drew in their cloud and fog, and out came the sun star blazing, and the whole ten-thousand-li sky was clear of cloud. Bajie laughed: “This fellow is good for fooling the emperor and shuffling off the common people — no real skill in him at all. The clapper has cracked twice: where are his clouds now?”

The Daoist, fretting, gripped his precious sword, unbound his hair, recited his spell, burned his talisman, and cracked the clapper a third time. And out of the South Gate of Heaven came Lord Deng at the head of the Thunder Lord and the Lightning Mother, into mid-air, where they made their bows to Pilgrim. Pilgrim told the story once more and asked: “How is it you come so faithfully? Whose dharma-writ is this?” The heavenly lord said: “That Daoist's Five Thunder art is genuine. He filed his document and burned his writ, and it startled the Jade Emperor; the Jade Emperor cast down his decree, which went straight to the court of the Celestial Worthy Universally Transformed, the Thunder-Voice of the Nine Heavens. We come in obedience to the decree, to help with thunder, lightning and rain.” Pilgrim said: “If that is so, stop where you are, all of you, and await old Sun's orders.” And in truth the thunder did not roll, nor the lightning flash.

The Daoist, in greater haste, added incense, burned talismans, recited spells, and cracked the clapper a fourth time. And in mid-air the Dragon Kings of the Four Seas came thronging. Pilgrim hailed them from in front: “Ao Guang — where away?” Ao Guang and Ao Shun and Ao Qin and Ao Run came up making their bows. Pilgrim told the story over again, and said: “I troubled you the other day and won nothing. Today, I beg your help.” The Dragon Kings said: “We obey, we obey.” Pilgrim thanked Ao Shun besides: “The other day I was beholden to your son for binding that monster and saving my master.” The Dragon King said: “The rascal lies chained in the sea: we dared not act alone, and were on the point of asking the Great Sage to pass his sentence.” Pilgrim said: “Dispose of him as you see fit. Now help me in this work. The Daoist's four claps are done, and it is old Sun's turn to go up and do business. I know nothing of filing documents and burning writs and cracking signal-clappers — so you must all help me along.” Lord Deng said: “At the Great Sage's word, who would not obey? Only give us one set of signals, and we will act on them; otherwise thunder and rain would tangle, and it would look as if the Great Sage had no system.” Pilgrim said: “Then let my staff be the signal.” The Thunder Lord, aghast, said: “Grandpa! How should we survive that staff?” Pilgrim said: “No beating you. When my staff points once upward, the wind must blow.” The Wind Grandmother and the Second Lad of Xun answered with a will: “Wind it is.” “When my staff points a second time, the clouds must spread.” The Cloud-Pushing Page and the Fog-Spreading Lad said: “We spread them, we spread them.” “At the third pointing, thunder must roll and lightning flash.” The Thunder Lord and the Lightning Mother said: “At your service, at your service.” “At the fourth pointing, the rain must fall.” The Dragon Kings said: “We obey, we obey.” “And at the fifth pointing, great sun and clear sky. Do not fail me.”

His instructions done, he pressed down his cloud, shook the hair back onto his body, and returned. Mortal stock with fleshy eyes — how would they know? Pilgrim, standing by, called out: “Sir, your turn is done. All four claps of your clapper have sounded, and there is neither wind nor cloud, thunder nor rain: you should yield to me.” The Daoist could do nothing, dared not hold the stage longer, came down off the platform and gave way, and went working his mouth straight up the tower to see the king. Pilgrim said: “Let me follow and hear what he says.” He heard the king ask: “I am all ears, and truly listening. Your four claps sounded — where is wind or rain?” The Daoist said: “Today the dragon spirits are not at home.” Pilgrim said sharply: “Your Majesty, the dragon spirits are all at home: only this state preceptor's art has no virtue in it, and he cannot fetch them. Let the monk fetch them, for you to see.” The king said: “Go up the altar, then. I will wait here for the rain.”

Pilgrim, having his word, hastened back to the altar, took the Tang monk by the hand, and said: “Master, mount the platform.” The Tang monk said: “Disciple, I do not know how to pray for rain.” Bajie laughed: “He has trapped you: if there is no rain, they will pile the firewood and make an end of you with one blaze.” Pilgrim said: “You cannot pray for rain, but you can chant scripture finely. Let me help you.” The elder then stepped up onto the altar, sat above in composure, stilled his nature and gathered his spirit, and recited silently the Heart Sutra. As he sat, an officer came at the gallop to ask: “Monk — why do you not crack the signal-clapper, not burn talismans and writs?” Pilgrim answered at the top of his voice: “Not needed, not needed! We pray by the power of stillness.” The officer went back to report — no more of that.

Pilgrim, hearing that his master had chanted the scripture through, drew the iron staff from his ear, flourished it against the wind — a dozen feet long and thick as a bowl — and pointed it at the sky. The Wind Grandmother, seeing, made haste to unlash her leather bag, and the Second Lad of Xun loosed the mouth-rope. Then came the rush and roar of wind: through the whole city tiles ripped and bricks tumbled, sand flew and stones ran. And truly it was a wind unlike common winds. Behold:

It broke the willows and bruised the flowers; it splintered groves and felled trees. In the palace of ninefold walls, walls cracked and partitions fell; in the Tower of the Five Phoenixes, beams shook and pillars rocked. The red sun at heaven's rim lost its light; the yellow sand on the ground sprouted wings. Before the martial drill hall the generals started; within the literary pavilion the ministers quaked. The powder and paint of the three palaces tangled their black hair; the consorts of the six courts roughed up their jeweled buns. The marquises' golden caps dropped their embroidered tassels; the chancellor's black gauze streamed out its wings. The carriage officers had words and dared not speak them; the gate secretaries held their memorials and had no way to hand them in. Goldfish pouches and jade girdles fell out of their ranks; ivory tablets and silken gowns lost all their gradations. Painted galleries and kingfisher screens were damaged every one; green lattices and vermilion doors were left in wreck. In the Hall of Golden Chimes, tiles ran and bricks flew; at the Hall of Brocade Clouds, doors warped and lattices splintered. Fierce indeed was this wild gale: it blew till king and son could not find each other; the six avenues and three markets were emptied of people, and ten thousand households, a thousand gates, were shut fast.

And so the wild wind blew its hardest.

Pilgrim Sun showed his power again: he ground the gold-banded staff about and pointed once more at the sky. And look:

The Cloud-Pushing Page, the Fog-Spreading Lad. The Cloud-Pushing Page showed his might: gout upon gout, the clouds struck the rocks and hung from heaven; the Fog-Spreading Lad put forth his art: dense and dim, the mist flew and covered the earth. The three markets sank into a blur; the six avenues dimmed by degrees. Riding the wind, they left the sea; following the rain, they came out of Kunlun. In a moment they flooded heaven and earth; in a trice they veiled the world's dust. It was chaos over again: you could not see the phoenix tower's gate.

Now all was hazy dusk and fog, with clouds banked thick.

Pilgrim Sun ground the gold-banded staff about and pointed a third time at the sky. And in a fright:

The Thunder Lord flew into a fury; the Lightning Mother flared in wrath. The Thunder Lord flew into a fury: bestriding his fire beast backward, he came down heaven's gate; the Lightning Mother flared in wrath: striking the golden serpent this way and that, she left the mansion of the Dipper. With crash and rattle they hurled their bolts and shook Mount Iron-Fork to pieces; in glitter and sparkle the red silk of lightning flew from the Eastern Ocean. With roar and rumble it rolled like cartwheels; in blaze and brilliance it showered like winnowed rice. Ten thousand sprouts, ten thousand things, changed all their spirit; how many insects threw off their torpor. King and ministers on the tower were terrified at heart; the merchants, hearing the sound, went white and hurried.

The rolling thunder and the guarding lightning went bang and boom, like the earth splitting and the mountains falling. The whole city, terrified, burned incense at every door and burned paper at every house. Pilgrim Sun called out loud: “Old Deng — look sharp for me, and strike dead a few more of the thieving, law-breaking officials and the unfilial sons, to make an example of them.” And the thunder rolled louder than ever.

Pilgrim pointed the iron staff upward once more. And look:

The dragons gave their signal, and rain flooded heaven and earth. Its force was like the Silver River pouring down heaven's moat; its speed like cloud-streams racing past the sea gate. At the tower-head it dripped and dropped; at the window it murmured and rushed. The Silver River of heaven poured; white billows raged before the streets. It gushed as from upset urns; it rolled as from overturned basins. The lone farmstead was near swamped to its eaves; the wild banks all but drowned the bridge. Truly the mulberry fields turned to sea, and in a flash dry land rolled in billows. The spirit dragons lent their aid to this, and heaved up the Long River to pour it down.

This rain began at the hour of the dragon and fell until about noon; it fell so that the city of Cart-Slow, inside and out, was water over the streets.

The king sent down the word: “Rain enough, rain enough! Any more and it will drown the seedling rice — that were no kindness.” The officer below the Tower of the Five Phoenixes spurred through the rain to report: “Holy monk, the rain is enough.” Pilgrim, hearing, pointed the gold-banded staff upward once more: in a flash the thunder was gathered in, the wind laid, the rain scattered, the clouds rolled up. The king was delighted through and through, and the officers vied in praise: “What a monk! Truly, ‘the strong hand finds a stronger still.’ Our own state preceptors' rain, for all its virtue: ask for clearing, and the drizzle keeps up half the day and never dries. But this monk — ask for clear, and clear it is: in a moment the bright sun blazed and ten thousand li were without a cloud!”

The king ordered the carriage turned, the rescript stamped, and the Tang monk sent on his way. But just as the royal seal was about to be used, the three Daoists stepped up and blocked it: “Your Majesty, this rain is in no wise the monk's doing — it is the working of our gate.” The king said: “You said just now the Dragon Kings were not at home and there would be no rain; he walked up, prayed in stillness, and the rain came down. Why contest the credit now?” The Great Immortal Tiger Strength said: “I mounted the altar, filed the document, burned the writ, cracked the clapper: what dragon would dare not come? I suppose the summons went out elsewhere and none of the five offices — wind, cloud, thunder, rain — was at home; hearing my order they came posthaste, and met me coming down as he went up: chancing on that moment, it rained. Cast it up from the root: it was I who summoned the dragon and sent down the rain — how does the merit fall to him?” The king, muddled, heard this and was in doubt again.

Pilgrim stepped forward a pace, put his palms together, and said: “Your Majesty, these side-alley arts make no true merit, and cannot be reckoned to one or the other. Now the Dragon Kings of the Four Seas are still in the sky: we monks have not dismissed them, and they dare not withdraw unbidden. If the state preceptors can call the Dragon Kings to show themselves, let the merit be theirs.” The king rejoiced: “I have been emperor three and twenty years and never seen what a live dragon looks like. Let the two sides show their powers — monk or Daoist, it makes no difference: whoever calls them out has the merit; whoever cannot, has the guilt.” And how should the Daoists have such a power? They called — but the Dragon Kings, seeing the Great Sage there, dared not show. The Daoists said: “We cannot. Do you call them.”

The Great Sage tipped his face to the sky and called out sharp and loud: “Ao Guang — where are you? Brothers, show your true forms and come look!” At the call the Dragon Kings showed themselves at once, four dragons. In mid-air they threaded the fog and pierced the cloud and came wheeling and dancing toward the Hall of Golden Chimes. And this is what was seen:

Soaring and changing, wreathing fog and coiling cloud. Jade claws hanging white as hooks; silver scales dancing bright as mirrors. Whiskers streaming like white silk, every strand at ease; horns rearing proud, every one clean and upright. Brows beetling and grand; round eyes flashing bright. Now hidden, now seen, past all guessing; sweeping and soaring, past all praising. Prayed to for rain, they spread the rain in season; asked for clearing, the sky is clear at once. These are the true dragons indeed, spirits with souls in them; auspicious signs in showers ringed the palace court.

The king burned incense in the hall, and the ministers bowed before the steps. The king said: “We are honored by your coming. Return, we beg; another day we will offer a rite of thanks.” Pilgrim said: “Honored spirits, each to your place; this king will offer his rite of thanks another day.” The Dragon Kings went straight home to the sea, and the spirits each returned to heaven. And so it was:

Vast beyond all bounds, the true and wondrous dharma; the nature seen to its truth splits the side gates wide.

But how the demons would be rooted out? Listen to the next chapter to find out.

The Great Sage Leaves His Name in the Hall of the Three Pure Ones; the Monkey King Shows His Powers in the Country of Cart Slow.

Now the Great Sage Sun pinched Sha Monk with his left hand and Bajie with his right, and the two came to themselves. They sat up high, faces drawn, saying nothing. Let the Daoists light lamps and candles and search front and back—the three of them sat like clay figures done in gold. The Great Immortal Tiger Strength said: "There is no villain here—so who ate all the offerings?" The Great Immortal Deer Strength said: "It looks like the work of people. Everything with a skin has been peeled, and everything with a pit has had the pit spat out. But why is no one to be seen?" The Great Immortal Goat Strength said: "Brother, do not doubt. It must be that our devout hearts, reciting the scriptures day and night, sending up our reports again and again, and the name of the court besides, have surely stirred the Honored Ones. It must be that the Three Pure Ones have come down in their sacred persons and enjoyed these offerings. While the immortal train has not yet returned and the crane carriage is still here, let us bow and beg the Honored Ones for some holy water and golden elixir to present to His Majesty. Would that not mean long life forever, and show our merit too?" The Great Immortal Tiger Strength said: "Well said." He gave the order: "Disciples, make music and recite the scriptures. Bring the ritual robes, and I will pace the Dipper and pray." The young Daoists all obeyed, drawn up in two neat rows. A chime rang out, and together they recited a scroll of the True Classic of the Yellow Court and the Way and Its Power. The Great Immortal Tiger Strength put on his robes, raised the jade tablet, danced before the altar, raised the dust with his bowing, threw himself on the ground, and offered up his prayer:

"With fear and with trembling, I bow my head and take refuge. We your servants have raised up the teaching, looking toward the clear void. We have put down the monks as vulgar and honored the glory of the Way. The jeweled hall was built by edict, and the courts by the emperor's own hand. Offerings are spread out wide, and dragon flags fly high. Candles burn all night long; incense smokes all day through. One sincere thought goes up to you; our small reverence comes home to you. Now that your sacred carriage has come down and the immortal car has not yet gone, we beg you to grant some golden elixir and holy water to present to the court, that our life may be long as the southern hills."

Bajie heard, and his heart knocked. He said quietly to Pilgrim: "This is our own fault: we have eaten, and then stayed instead of going, and now they are praying like this. How do we answer?" Pilgrim pinched him again, then suddenly spoke up: "Young immortal of the lower ranks, stop your praying. We have come from the Peach Banquet and brought no golden elixir or holy water. Come another day, and we will deign to grant it." The Daoists, great and small, hearing words spoken, shook in their clothes: "Grandpa! A living Honored One has come down to earth. We must not let him go—by fair means or foul we must beg the secret of long life." The Great Immortal Deer Strength came forward and bowed again:

"Raising the dust, I knock my head, and prepare my loyal heart. Your small servant offers his life, bowing before the Three Pure Ones. Since coming to this land we have raised the Dao and put down the monks. The king's heart is glad, and he honors the mystery. The great offering of the whole heavens has run through the night with scripture. Happily the Honored One has not disdained us, but has sent his sacred person into our court. We beg you to remember us; we look up for the glory of your grace. Be sure to leave some holy water, that your disciples may lengthen their years and live forever."

Sha Monk pinched Pilgrim and said under his breath: "Brother, they are in a hurry—they are praying again." Pilgrim said: "Give them something." Bajie whispered: "What is there to give?" Pilgrim said: "Just watch me. When I have it, you will have it too." The Daoists finished their music, and Pilgrim spoke: "Young immortal of the lower ranks, you need not bow and grovel. If I leave you no holy water, I fear it would cut off your line; but if I give it, that is too easily come by." The Daoists heard and all bowed and kowtowed: "We beg the Honored One to remember your disciples' respect and kindly grant us a little. We will spread the Way abroad and tell the king to honor the mystery gate everywhere." Pilgrim said: "So be it. Bring vessels." The Daoists knocked their heads together and thanked him. The Great Immortal Tiger Strength, who loved to outdo the rest, had a great vat carried up and set in the hall; the Great Immortal Deer Strength brought an earthen basin and set it on the offering table; the Great Immortal Goat Strength picked the flowers out of a vase and moved it to the middle. Pilgrim said: "All of you, out in front of the hall. Close the lattice. No leaking of heaven's secrets, and I will leave you some holy water." The Daoists knelt together below the crimson steps and shut the hall door.

Pilgrim stood up, lifted his tiger-skin kilt, and filled the flower vase with sharp urine. Zhu Bajie saw and rejoiced: "Brother, all these years as brothers, and this is the one thing we have never done together. I have just eaten, and here is a job I am ready for." The Idiot lifted his clothes, and with a rush—like the Lüliang rapids pouring through a sluice—he splashed out a full basin. Sha Monk too filled half the vat. Then they straightened their clothes and sat in state above, saying: "Young immortal, receive the holy water."

The Daoists pushed open the lattice, kowtowed and gave thanks, carried out the vat, and put the vase and the basin together. The old Daoist said: "Disciple, fetch a cup, and let us taste it." A young Daoist brought a tea cup and handed it to the old Daoist. He dipped out a cup and drank it down, wiping his lips and smacking his mouth. The Great Immortal Deer Strength asked: "Brother, is it good?" The old Daoist pouted: "Not very. It has a sour tang." The Great Immortal Goat Strength said: "Let me taste." He too drank a mouthful: "It has a pigsty smell." Pilgrim, sitting above, heard this and knew he was found out. "I will play one more trick—let me leave my name." He called out:

Daoist titles, Daoist titles—what fools you are! Which of the Three Pure Ones would come down to a common floor? I will tell you my true name. Monks of the great Tang, sent by edict to the West. On this fine quiet night we came down to your hall. We ate your offerings and sat at ease. You bowed to us—how should we repay? That was no holy water you drank: it was a puddle of my own piss.

The Daoists heard this, blocked the door, and hurled in pitchforks, rakes, brooms, tiles, and stones, striking every which way, without head or face to spare. Good Pilgrim—he tucked Sha Monk under his left arm and Bajie under his right, burst out the door, rode the cloud light, and went straight back to the abbot's room of the Zhiyuan Temple. Not daring to wake Master, the three lay down again and slept.

It was the third tap of the fifth watch. The king held court, and the civil and military officials of both rows were gathered, four hundred court officers in all, with crimson gauze lanterns burning bright and sweet-cloud incense curling from the jeweled burners.

Just then the Tang Tripitaka woke: "Disciples, disciples, attend me—we go to have the travel papers stamped." Pilgrim and Sha Monk and Bajie rose quickly, dressed, and stood at attention: "We tell you, Master: this king trusts those Daoists and has raised the Dao and crushed the monks. For fear a word goes wrong and he refuses to stamp the papers, we will escort you—all of us will go into court." The Tang monk was delighted and put on his brocade cassock. Pilgrim carried the travel rescript, Wujing carried the alms bowl, and Wuneng the tin staff; the baggage and the horse were left with the monks of the Zhiyuan Temple to watch. They went straight to the Tower of Five Phoenixes, bowed to the yellow-gate officer, gave their names, and said they were monks of the great Tang in the Land of the East, come to fetch scriptures and to have their travel papers stamped here, and begged him to report it. The chamberlain of the gate went into court, threw himself on the golden steps, and reported: "Outside there are four monks who say they are from the great Tang in the Land of the East, fetching scriptures, and wish to have their travel papers stamped; they wait for your word before the Tower of Five Phoenixes." The king heard and said: "The monk could not find death anywhere else, so he comes here to find it. Why have the patrol officers not seized him and brought him in?" The Grand Tutor in attendance stepped out and said: "The great Tang in the Land of the East lies in the southern continent, the great middle country. It is ten thousand li from here, and the roads are full of monsters. These monks must have some powers, or they would not dare come west. Let Your Majesty, for the sake of these far-traveled monks of China, summon them, check their papers, and let them pass—so we lose no good karma." The king approved, and the Tang monk and his party were summoned to the foot of the Golden Chime Hall. Master and disciples lined up on the steps and handed the papers up to the king.

The king opened the papers to read, when the yellow-gate officer came again to report: "The three state preceptors have come." The king, in a fluster, put away the papers, hurried down from the dragon seat, had attendants set out embroidered cushions, and bowed to welcome them. Tripitaka and the rest turned and watched: the Great Immortals came swaying along, a pair of small boys with tangled topknots behind them, marching straight in. The officials of both rows hunched their backs and bowed, not daring to look up. On the Golden Chime Hall they made no bow to the king at all. The king said: "Preceptors, I had not sent for you. Why have you deigned to come today?" The old Daoist said: "There is a matter to report; that is why we have come. Where are those four monks from?" The king said: "They were sent by the great Tang in the Land of the East to the Western Heaven for scriptures; they have come to have their papers stamped." The three Daoists clapped their hands and laughed: "I said they had gone—and here they still are." The king, startled: "What does the Preceptor mean? He only just reported his name. I was about to seize him for the preceptors' service, but the Grand Tutor's advice was sound, and out of regard for travelers from afar, and not to crush the good karma of China, I summoned them to check their papers. I had not looked for such a question from you, Preceptor. Can they have offended your honor?" The Daoist laughed: "Your Majesty does not know. They came yesterday, killed two of my disciples outside the east gate, freed five hundred imprisoned monks, and smashed the carts. In the night they broke into our hall, wrecked the sacred images of the Three Pure Ones, and ate the offerings bestowed by the crown. We were deceived: we thought the Honored Ones had come down, and we begged some holy water and golden elixir to present to Your Majesty, hoping for long life; but the rascal left a puddle of his own piss and fooled us. Each of us drank a mouthful and tasted it, and we were just moving to seize him when he ran. Today he is still here—just as they say, 'enemies meet on a narrow road.'" The king, hearing this, flew into a rage and wanted to execute the four.

The Great Sage Sun joined his palms and cried out in a loud voice: "Your Majesty, cool your thunderous anger, and let these monks speak." The king said: "You have offended the state preceptors. Could the preceptors' word be wrong?" Pilgrim said: "He says I killed two of his disciples outside the city yesterday—who witnessed it? Let us admit it wrongly if we must: two monks can pay with their lives, and you may let the other two go on for the scriptures. He says I smashed the carts and freed the imprisoned monks; there is no witness to that either, and it is surely not a capital crime—one more monk can answer for it. But he says I wrecked the Three Pure Ones and raised a riot in his hall—that is a frame-up." The king said: "How is it a frame-up?" Pilgrim said: "We monks are men of the Land of the East, newly come here. By daylight we can hardly find our way down the streets—how would we know in the night what goes on in his hall? If urine was left behind, why were we not caught on the spot, instead of being named for harm at this hour? In this world there are endless people who borrow other men's names; how do you know it was us? I beg Your Majesty to put away your anger and look into it." The king, muddled as he was, heard Pilgrim out and could not make up his mind.

While he doubted, the yellow-gate officer came again: "Your Majesty, many village elders wait outside for your word." The king said: "What do they want?" and ordered them brought in. Thirty or forty elders came before the hall, kowtowing: "Ten thousand years! There has been no rain all spring, and we fear a dry summer. We have come to beg the honored state preceptor to pray down a sweet rain and relieve the people." The king said: "Elders, withdraw; rain is coming." The elders thanked him and left. The king said: "Monks of the Tang—why do I honor the Dao and crush the monks? Because in that year of praying for rain, the monks of my court never got one drop. Happily Heaven sent down the state preceptors and pulled the people out of the mire. Now you come from afar and offend the preceptors. You should be punished at once, but I will forgive you for now. Dare you wager with my state preceptor for the rain? If you pray down a sweet rain and save the people, I will pardon your crimes, stamp your papers, and let you go west. If you lose the wager and no rain falls, you will all be dragged to the execution ground and put to death as an example." Pilgrim laughed: "This little monk knows a thing or two about praying."

The king heard and ordered the altar ground swept. Meanwhile he gave the word: "Ready the carriage. I will go up the Tower of Five Phoenixes myself and watch." The officers readied the carriage, and in a moment he sat above. The Tang Tripitaka, with Pilgrim, Sha Monk, and Bajie, stood below the tower. The three Daoists sat with the king above. Before long an officer came at a gallop to report: "All is ready at the altar. We beg the honored preceptor to ascend."

The Great Immortal Tiger Strength bowed with folded hands, took leave of the king, and came down the stairs. Pilgrim stepped up and blocked him: "Master, where are you going?" The Great Immortal said: "To the altar, to pray for rain." Pilgrim said: "You hold yourself high—you would not yield to a monk from a far country. Very well. As they say, 'a strong dragon does not crush the snake at home.' Go first, Master—but the terms must be settled before the king." The Great Immortal said: "Settle what?" Pilgrim said: "You and I both go up and pray for rain. Who is to know whose rain it is, yours or mine? There would be no telling whose work it was." The king heard from above and was secretly pleased: "This little monk's talk has some spine to it." Sha Monk heard and laughed to himself: "Who knows how much more spine is still in his belly, not yet brought out." The Great Immortal said: "No need to settle it; His Majesty will know." Pilgrim said: "He may know, but I am a monk from far away, and we have never met. Then we would each be claiming the other's rain—no way to run a business. The terms must be settled first, or nothing can be done." The Great Immortal said: "Once on the altar, watch my command tablet for the signal. One clap of the tablet: the wind comes. Two: clouds rise. Three: thunder and lightning sound together. Four: rain falls. Five: clouds scatter and the rain stops." Pilgrim laughed: "Wonderful! We monks have never seen the like. Please, please."

The Great Immortal swung his stride forward, with the Tripitaka party following, and they came to the altar gate. Looking up, they saw a high platform, over three zhang tall. On its left and right stood the banners of the twenty-eight constellations. At the top was a table, on the table a censer, and in the censer a soft haze of incense. Two candlesticks stood at the sides, their votive flames blazing. Beside the censer leaned a gold tablet, engraved with the names of the thunder gods. Below stood five great vats filled with clear water; willow branches floated on the water, and on the willow branches rested an iron plate inscribed with the talisman of the Office of Thunder. To left and right stood five great posts, each inscribed with the names of the barbarian thunder messengers of the five quarters. Two Daoists stood by each post with iron mallets, waiting to strike the posts. Behind the platform many Daoists were writing out documents. In the middle stood a paper furnace, and several lifelike figures—the talisman-bearing messengers and the local gods who praise the teaching.

The Great Immortal walked in, made no ceremony, went straight up the platform, and stood. A small Daoist handed him several sheets of yellow paper with written talismans and a precious sword. The Great Immortal took the sword, said a spell, and burned one talisman at the candle. Below, two or three Daoists took up a figure of a talisman-bearing messenger and a document and burned them too. There was a snap of the command tablet above, and a soft breath of wind came drifting through the air. Zhu Bajie muttered: "Bad, bad! This Daoist really has powers. One clap of the tablet, and wind really does blow." Pilgrim said: "Quiet, brothers. Do not speak to me now. Just guard Master. I have business to do."

Good Great Sage—he plucked a hair, blew on it a breath of magic air, called "Change!" and made a fake Pilgrim to stand in attendance on the Tang monk. His true body left its shell and rushed into midair, calling loudly: "Who has charge of the wind?" The Old Woman of the Wind, in a panic, gripped her cloth bag shut, and the Second Lad of Xun cinched his mouth-cord, and both came forward bowing. Pilgrim said: "I guard the holy monk of the Tang on his way to the Western Heaven for scriptures. We pass through the country of Cart Slow and have wagered with that demon Daoist for the rain. Why did you not help old Sun—why help the Daoist? This once I will forgive you. Gather in the wind. If so much as a breath stirs—if it so much as moves that Daoist's beard—twenty strokes of the iron staff apiece." The Old Woman of the Wind said: "We dare not, we dare not." And not a breath of wind was left. Bajie could not help shouting: "Master Daoist, stand down. The tablet has clapped—where is your wind? Come down and let us go up."

The Daoist took up the command tablet again, burned another talisman, and struck a second clap; and the sky filled with cloud and mist. The Great Sage Sun hailed from overhead: "Who spreads the clouds?" The Cloud-Boy and the Mist-Gentleman, startled, bowed before him. Pilgrim told the story again. The cloud boy and the mist lad drew in the clouds and mists, and out blazed the Sun, a sky of ten thousand li with no cloud at all. Bajie laughed: "This master is only good for fooling the emperor and putting off the common folk—not a grain of real skill. Two claps of the tablet, and still no clouds."

The Daoist chafed with vexation. He brandished the precious sword, let down his hair, said his spell, burned his talisman, and struck the tablet a third time. From the South Heaven Gate came the Heavenly Lord Deng, leading the Thunder Lord and the Lightning Mother, and they met Pilgrim in midair and bowed. He told them the story again and asked: "How did you come so faithfully? Whose decree is it?" The Heavenly Lord said: "That Daoist's Five Thunders art is a real one. He sent up his document and burned his dispatch, and it stirred the Jade Emperor. The Emperor threw down his edict, straight to the court of the Heavenly Honored One of the Nine Heavens, Universal Transformer of the Thunder's Voice. We came by edict to help with thunder, lightning, and rain." Pilgrim said: "So be it. All of you stand fast and wait for old Sun's word." And indeed the thunder did not roll, nor the lightning flash.

The Daoist grew more frantic: more incense, more talismans burned, more spells, another clap of the tablet. In midair the Dragon Kings of the four seas crowded in together. Pilgrim hailed: "Ao Guang, where away?" And Ao Guang, Ao Shun, Ao Qin, and Ao Run came forward bowing. He told the story again and said: "Last time you took the trouble and gained nothing. This time, pray, give me your strength." The Dragon King said: "We obey, we obey." Pilgrim thanked Ao Shun besides: "The other day your worthy son bound the monster and saved my master." The Dragon King said: "The creature is still locked up in the sea. We dared not act on our own; we meant to ask the Great Sage's sentence." Pilgrim said: "Deal with him as you please. Just now, help me to a success. That Daoist's four claps are done, and it is old Sun's turn to work. I do not know how to send up documents, burn dispatches, or clap command tablets—so you must all help me along." The Heavenly Lord Deng said: "At the Great Sage's word, who would not obey? Only give us a signal to act by, or the thunder and rain will tangle, and it will look as if the Great Sage has no style." Pilgrim said: "My staff shall be the signal." The Thunder Lord was alarmed: "Grandpa! How could we survive that staff?" Pilgrim said: "I am not going to beat you. When this staff points up once, the wind blows." The Old Woman of the Wind and the Second Lad of Xun answered without pausing: "We will loose the wind." "When the staff points a second time, clouds spread." The Cloud-Boy and the Mist-Gentleman said: "We will spread clouds, we will spread clouds." "When the staff points a third time, thunder rolls and lightning flashes." The Thunder Lord and the Lightning Mother said: "At your service, at your service." "When the staff points a fourth time, rain falls." The Dragon King said: "We obey, we obey." "When the staff points a fifth time, bright sun and clear sky. No delays, now."

The orders given, he pressed down his cloud, shook the hair, and took it back into his body. Those people had mortal eyes and common flesh and knew nothing of it. Pilgrim called out from the side: "Master, your pardon. The four claps of your tablet are done, and no wind, cloud, thunder, or rain has come. It is my turn." The Daoist, helpless, dared not hold the altar any longer; he came down and gave way, pouting, and went straight up to see the king. Pilgrim said: "Let me follow and hear what he says." He heard the king ask: "I have listened with both ears. Your four claps have sounded, and there is no wind or rain—why?" The Daoist said: "Today the dragon gods are not at home." Pilgrim said sharply: "Your Majesty, the dragon gods are all at home. Only the state preceptor's art does not work—he cannot fetch them. Let the monk fetch them, and you will see." The king said: "Go up to the altar, then. I will wait here for the rain."

Pilgrim had his word, hurried to the altar, and took the Tang monk by the hand: "Master, up on the platform." The Tang monk said: "Disciple, I do not know how to pray for rain." Bajie laughed: "He has done for you. If there is no rain, they will pile up firewood, set it alight, and that will be the end of you." Pilgrim said: "You cannot pray for rain, but you can recite the sutra. I will do the rest." The elder stepped up onto the altar, sat down composed, steadied his nature and gathered his spirit, and silently recited the Heart Sutra of Meditation. As he sat, an officer came at a gallop to ask: "Monk, why do you not clap the command tablet and burn your talismans?" Pilgrim answered loudly: "No need! No need! We pray by stillness." The officer rode back to report. No more of that for now.

When Pilgrim heard his old master finish the scripture, he drew the iron staff from his ear, waved it toward the wind to its full length of a zhang and two, thick as a bowl, and pointed it at the sky. The Old Woman of the Wind saw it and quickly opened her leather bag; the Second Lad of Xun untied his mouth-cord. A great rushing of wind was heard; tiles flew off roofs and bricks turned over all through the city; sand rose and stones rolled. A fine wind indeed, unlike any common wind. Look:

It broke the willows and bruised the flowers, crushed the groves and felled the trees. In the ninefold palace the walls cracked and gave way; the Tower of Five Phoenixes shook on beam and pillar. The red sun at the sky's edge lost its light; the yellow sand on the ground grew wings. Before the martial drill hall the officers trembled; inside the literary pavilion the civil officials feared. The painted ladies of the three palaces had their black hair in tangles; the consorts of the six courts had their jeweled buns shaken loose. Dukes and marquises lost the tassels of their gold caps; the chief minister's black gauze cap flapped like a bird's wings. Those in attendance had words but dared not speak them; the yellow-gate clerks held their memorials with no way to pass them in. Goldfish badges and jade belts fell out of their ranks; ivory tablets and silk gowns could keep no order. Painted galleries and kingfisher screens were all damaged; green windows and crimson doors were all in ruin. On the Golden Chime Hall tiles rolled and bricks flew; the doors of the brocade cloud hall went askew and the lattices shattered. This wild gale was truly fierce—it blew so hard that the king and his son could hardly meet; the six streets and three markets emptied of all footsteps, and ten thousand households shut their thousand gates tight.

Such was the wild wind at its height.

Sun the Pilgrim showed his power again: he twirled the gold-banded staff and pointed at the sky once more. And there:

The Cloud-Boy and the Mist-Gentleman. The Cloud-Boy showed his might—bubbling and boiling, he touched the rocks and hung from heaven; the Mist-Gentleman worked his power—a thick, hazy smoke covered the earth. Vast and dim, the three markets darkened; slowly the six streets went gray. On the wind they left the sea; with the rain they came out of Kunlun. In a moment they flooded heaven and earth; in an instant they veiled the world's dust. It was sheer chaos again—no gate of the Phoenix Tower could be seen.

Now the dim mist swam thick, and the heavy clouds hung low.

Sun the Pilgrim twirled the gold-banded staff again and pointed at the sky once more. In alarm:

The Thunder Lord raged in wrath, and the Lightning Mother flashed in anger. The Thunder Lord, in wrath, rode backward on his fire beast down the gate of heaven; the Lightning Mother, in anger, whipped her golden serpents out of the Dipper's mansion. With a rending crash she hurled her bolts and shook Iron Fork Mountain apart; in a hiss of red silk the lightning flew, straight out of the Eastern Sea. A hidden rumble like cartwheels went rolling; a flash and glitter, like husked rice flying. Ten thousand sprouts and all things changed their spirit, and how many insects woke from their winter sleep. Lord and ministers on the tower were heartsore with fright; the merchants, hearing the sound, went pale and hurried.

The deep thunder crashed with the lightning, bang and boom, like the earth splitting and mountains falling. The whole city was so frightened that every household burned incense and every family burned paper money. Pilgrim shouted: "Old Deng, keep a sharp eye out for me—officials who take bribes and break the law, sons who defy their parents: strike down a few more of them for an example!" And the thunder rolled louder still.

Pilgrim pointed the iron staff up once more. And there:

The dragon gave his word, and rain flooded heaven and earth. It fell with the force of the Silver River tipping over the sky's dyke, swift as clouds streaming past the sea gate. On the tower roof it drummed drop by drop; outside the window it hissed and swept. The Silver River of heaven poured down; white waves raged before the streets. It gushed like water from tipped urns and rolled like basins emptied out. The lone farmstead was all but drowned; on the wild banks the flood all but buried the bridges. Truly the mulberry fields turned to sea, and in a moment the dry land rolled with billows. The divine dragons lent their help—they lifted the Long River and poured it down.

The rain began at the hour of the Dragon and fell until about the hour of the Horse, until the city of Cart Slow, inside and out, had its streets under water.

The king sent down the word: "Enough rain, enough rain! Much more and it would drown the seedlings—that would be no good." The hearing officer below the Tower of Five Phoenixes spurred through the rain to report: "Holy monk, there is rain enough." Pilgrim heard and pointed the gold-banded staff up once more. In a moment the thunder gathered in, the wind fell, the rain scattered, and the clouds drew off. The king was delighted through and through, and all the civil and military officials praised it: "What a monk! Truly, 'stronger hands than the strong.' Our own preceptor's rain-praying works, true enough—but when he wants it clear, a drizzle keeps falling half the day, and it never quite clears. But this monk: when he wants it clear, it clears. In a moment the bright sun comes out, and ten thousand li without a cloud."

The king ordered the carriage turned and the papers stamped, to send the Tang monk on. Just as he was about to press the royal seal, the three Daoists stepped up and blocked: "Your Majesty, this rain is no work of the monk's—it is the power of our Daoist gate." The king said: "But you said the Dragon King was not at home and there would be no rain. He walked up, prayed in stillness, and the rain came down. Why do you contest the credit now?" The Great Immortal Tiger Strength said: "I went up the altar, sent up the document, burned the talismans, clapped the command tablet—which dragon god would dare not come? I suppose they had been summoned elsewhere, and the five offices of wind, cloud, thunder, and rain were all away; at my first word they came hurrying after, and just then I came down as he went up—we crossed paths at that moment, and so it rained. Reckoning from the root, it was my summons and my rain. How can it be set to his credit?" The king, muddled as he was, heard this and doubted again.

Pilgrim stepped forward, joined his palms, and said: "Your Majesty, such side-gate arts make no true merit, and there is no saying whose it is. Now the Dragon Kings of the four seas are still in the air; we monks have not dismissed them, so they dare not withdraw yet. If the state preceptor can make the Dragon Kings show themselves, the credit is his." The king was delighted: "I have been emperor twenty-three years and never saw what a living dragon looks like. Both parties show your powers—monk or Daoist does not matter. Whoever can call them out has the merit; whoever cannot has the guilt." How could the Daoist manage such a thing? He called, and called, but the Dragon Kings, seeing the Great Sage there, dared not show themselves. The Daoist said: "We cannot. You call them out."

The Great Sage lifted his face to the sky and called out at the top of his voice: "Ao Guang, where are you? Brothers, show your true forms and come out." The Dragon Kings heard the call and showed themselves at once: four dragons. In midair they threaded the mist and wound through the clouds, flying and dancing toward the Golden Chime Hall. Look:

Soaring and changing, winding through the mist, circling in the clouds. Jade claws hung white as hooks; silver scales danced bright as mirrors. Whiskers streamed like white silk, every strand crisp; horns rose high, proud and clean. Knotted brows, massive; round eyes, flashing bright. Hidden or shown, none could fathom them; soaring aloft, none could measure them. Prayed to for rain, they spread the rain in season; asked for clear skies, the skies cleared at once. Here truly was the image of true dragons, full of spirit and holiness, with lucky omens swirling thick about the court.

The king burned incense in the hall, and the ministers bowed on the steps. The king said: "We are honored by your coming. Please return; I will hold a service of thanks another day." Pilgrim said: "Honored gods, each of you go home. This king will thank you another day with a service." The Dragon Kings went straight back to the sea, and the gods each returned to Heaven. This is truly:

A law vast and boundless, wondrous and true; the utmost truth that opens the nature and splits the side gates.

How he would cast out the false—listen to the next chapter to find out.