Chapter 62

Sweep the Pagoda to Wash the Heart Clean of Stains; Bind the Demon and Return It to Its Master to Cultivate the Self

Forget it not through the twelve hours of day;Gather the work of every hundred beats entire.Five years, a hundred and eight thousand circuits:Do not let the divine water run dry,Nor let the blaze bring grief.When water and fire are balanced, neither suffers harm;The five elements link together like hooks.Yin and yang unite and climb the cloud tower;Ride a phoenix to the purple palace,Mount a crane and travel to Yingzhou.

This lyric, to the tune “Immortal by the River,” tells how Tripitaka Tang and his three disciples had brought water and fire into harmony and cooled their native dispositions. Borrowing the treasure fan of pure yin, they fanned out the searing fire and crossed the mountains. Before long they had covered all eight hundred li and were traveling west in carefree ease. It was late autumn, at the beginning of winter, and they saw:

Last wild chrysanthemums shedding their petals,Tender buds rising on the new plum trees.Every village stores its harvest;Everywhere people eat fragrant stews.Leaves fall from level woods, revealing distant hills;Frost thickens beside winding streams, and hidden valleys grow clear.The season's breath answers the bell; creatures seal their winter dens.Pure yin prevails; the moon rules the dark waters.The power of water waxes; under Shun's sun, clear skies are cherished.The earth's breath sinks; the breath of heaven rises.The rainbow hides and leaves no trace;Ice begins to form on pools and marshes.Rope-like vines droop from cliffs, their flowers dead;Pines and bamboo, gripped by cold, grow greener still.

After traveling some time, the four came near another city. The Tang monk reined in his horse. “Wukong, what is that place with its towering pavilions?” Pilgrim looked up and saw a city. Truly:

Its ground coils like a dragon; its golden walls crouch like a tiger.Splendid canopies hang near on every side;Purple precincts spread level through a hundred turns.Carved beasts line the railings of jade and stone bridges;Illustrious worthies stand beside golden platforms.Truly a capital of the divine continent, a jeweled city of Heaven:Its realm is secure for ten thousand li,Its imperial house flourishes for a thousand years.Foreign peoples bow to a sovereign whose favor travels far;Mountains and seas pay homage at the crowded holy court.The imperial stairs are spotless, the carriage ways serene.Songs ring out from wine shops; joy fills the flowered towers.Beyond Weiyang Palace grow trees of endless spring:A bright phoenix might sing there to the morning sun.

“Master, that city is a king's capital,” said Pilgrim. Bajie laughed. “Every prefecture has a city and every county a town. How do you know it's a royal seat?” “A king's residence differs from a prefectural or county town. Look at its dozen or more gates, its circuit of over a hundred li, its lofty towers amid banks of cloud and mist. Only an imperial capital could be so splendid.” Sha Monk said, “Brother, your sharp eyes recognize a royal city, but what is it called?” “There's no sign or banner to tell us. We'll have to ask inside.”

The elder urged on his horse and soon reached the gate. He dismounted, crossed the bridge, and entered. Six broad streets and three markets bustled with trade and wealth; finely dressed people thronged them. Then he saw a dozen monks in cangues and chains, begging from door to door, their clothes in tatters. “When the hare dies, the fox mourns; creatures grieve for their own kind,” Tripitaka sighed. “Wukong, ask why they must suffer so.” Pilgrim called, “Monks, what temple are you from, and why do you wear chains and cangues?” They knelt. “Sirs, we are monks of Golden Light Monastery, unjustly accused.” “Where is it?” “Just around the corner.” Pilgrim led them to Tripitaka and asked them to explain their grievance. “Sirs, we don't know where you have come from, but your faces seem somehow familiar. We cannot tell you here. Please come to our poor temple, where we can speak of our suffering.” “Yes,” said the elder. “Let us go there and learn the whole cause.”

At the monastery gate seven golden characters read: “Golden Light Monastery for the Protection of the Realm, Established by Imperial Edict.” The disciples entered with their master and saw:

In the ancient hall the incense lamps are cold;Wind sweeps leaves through empty galleries.A thousand-foot pagoda rises to the clouds;A few pines stand to nurture inner nature.Fallen blossoms cover the ground, untouched by visitors;Spiders spread their webs unchecked beneath the eaves.A drum stands idle on its frame; a bell hangs there in vain;Dust clouds the colors of painted figures on the walls.No monks appear at the lonely teaching seat;Only birds visit the silent meditation hall.Its desolation draws a sigh, its solitude knows no end.Before the Buddha stands an incense burner still,But the ashes are cold, the flowers withered; everything is empty.

Tripitaka's heart ached, and tears filled his eyes. Wearing their cangues and chains, the monks pushed open the main hall and invited him in to worship the Buddha. He offered the incense of his devotion and clicked his teeth three times. Behind the hall he saw another six or seven young monks chained to the pillars outside the abbot's quarters; the sight was unbearable.

At the abbot's quarters all the monks bowed. “My lords, your appearances are unusual. Have you come from the Great Tang in the Land of the East?” Pilgrim laughed. “Have you the gift of foreknowledge? We have indeed. How did you know?” “Sirs, we have no such gift. We suffer a cruel wrong and can find no one to hear our case. Day after day we appeal to heaven and earth. Perhaps the heavenly gods heard us: last night we each dreamed that a holy monk from the Great Tang in the east would save our lives and right our wrong. Today your remarkable faces have appeared, and so we knew.”

Delighted, Tripitaka asked, “What place is this? What wrong have you suffered?” Kneeling, the monks replied, “Sir, this is the Kingdom of Jisai, a great land of the west. In former years four neighboring nations sent tribute: Yuetuo to the south, Gaochang to the north, Western Liang to the east, and Benbo to the west. Each year they sent fine jade, bright pearls, beautiful consorts, and swift horses. We never raised armies or invaded them; they acknowledged us as their superior of their own accord.” “Then your king must rule wisely, with worthy civil and military officers,” Tripitaka said. “Sir, neither the civil nor the military officers are worthy, and the king is not wise. The precious pagoda at our Golden Light Monastery was once surrounded by auspicious clouds and rising mists. At night its radiant light was visible ten thousand li away; by day its colored glow could be seen from all four kingdoms. They took our realm for a heavenly capital and sent their tribute. But three years ago, on the first day of early autumn, a rain of blood fell at midnight. At dawn every household was frightened and grieving. The ministers reported it to the king, wondering what had provoked Heaven's rebuke. Daoist priests were invited to perform rites and monks to recite sutras in answer to heaven and earth. But the golden pagoda here had been defiled, and for the last two years the foreign kingdoms have sent no tribute. Our king wanted to invade them. His ministers told him the monks of this monastery had stolen the pagoda's treasure, ending the auspicious clouds and foreign homage. The foolish king never investigated. His corrupt officials seized and tortured us in a thousand ways, demanding the treasure. There were three generations of monks here. The first two died under torture. Now it is our turn to be charged and locked in cangues. Sirs, how could we have stolen the pagoda's treasure? We beg you, since like gathers with like, to show us great mercy, use your powers, and save our lives.”

“This is a dark affair, hard to understand,” Tripitaka said with a sigh. “The court has governed badly, and you have suffered a calamity. When blood rained down and defiled the pagoda, why did you not report it to the king and spare yourselves this suffering?” “Sir, we are ordinary men. How could we know Heaven's intentions? Our elders could not explain it; how could we?” “Wukong, what time is it?” “Around the hour of the monkey.” “I would have an audience with the king to renew our travel papers, but until this business is clear I cannot speak to him on the monks' behalf. When I left Chang'an I made a vow at Dharma Gate Monastery: wherever I came upon a shrine on my journey west, I would offer incense; wherever I found a monastery, I would worship the Buddha; wherever I saw a pagoda, I would sweep it. Today I find monks unjustly condemned on account of a pagoda. Find me a new broom. I will bathe, then sweep it, look for the cause of its defilement and its lost light, and uncover the truth. Only then can I speak to the king and free them from their suffering.”

The shackled monks hurried to the kitchen and handed Bajie a kitchen knife. “Sir, cut the locks that bind the young monks to the pillars, so they can prepare food and hot water for your master. Meanwhile we'll beg for a new broom for him to sweep the pagoda.” Bajie laughed. “What difficulty is there in opening locks? No need for a knife. That hairy-faced lord of ours has years of practice at it.” Pilgrim stepped up and employed a lock-opening spell. At the sweep of his hand, every lock fell away. The young monks ran to the kitchen, scrubbed the stoves and pots, and prepared tea and food. Tripitaka and his disciples ate; darkness began to fall. The chained monks returned with two brooms, to Tripitaka's great delight.

As they spoke, a young monk brought a lamp and invited him to bathe. Stars and moon shone across the sky, and the watch drums sounded from the towers. It was a time when:

Cold winds rise against the four walls;Ten thousand households kindle their lamps.The six streets shut their doors and windows;The three markets close their gates.Fishing boats return beneath deep trees;The plows rest, their short ropes untied.Woodcutters lay down their axe handles;Students' voices recite their books.

After his bath Tripitaka donned a close-sleeved short robe, fastened his sash, put on soft shoes, and took a new broom. “Go to sleep,” he told the monks. “I shall sweep the pagoda.” “Blood rain has defiled it,” Pilgrim said. “It has been dark for years; evil creatures might dwell there. And the night is cold and windy. You should not go alone. Shall I come with you?” “Gladly.” Each took a broom. In the main hall they lit a glass lamp, burned incense, and bowed before the Buddha. Tripitaka prayed, “Your disciple Chen Xuanzang has been sent by the Great Tang in the Land of the East to Vulture Peak to seek scriptures from the Tathagata Buddha. Here at Golden Light Monastery in the Kingdom of Jisai, the monks say their pagoda was defiled and their king has unjustly charged them with stealing its treasure. The truth remains hidden. I shall sweep it with all sincerity. May the Buddha's power reveal why it was defiled, so these innocent men suffer no further wrong.” Then he and Pilgrim opened the pagoda door and began sweeping upward from the bottom. The pagoda was truly:

Towering against the River of Stars, rising sheer into the sky:A five-colored glass pagoda, a thousand-gold reliquary peak.Its winding stair is like a tunnel; its open doors, the way from a cage.The precious finial reflects the moon at heaven's edge;Golden bells ring in the wind from the sea.Brackets support its projecting eaves; clouds rest on its crown.Beneath the projecting eaves, carved stone phoenixes thread through flowers;On its mist-wreathed crown, crafted dragons coil about the pagoda.From afar it can be seen a thousand li away;From its height one seems to stand amid the nine heavens.Glass lamps above the doors of every story are dusty and unlit;White jade railings along each eave are fouled by insects.No incense rises from the Buddha's seat at the pagoda's heart;Webs veil the holy faces beside its windows.Mouse droppings fill its burners; its lamps hold scarcely any oil.Because its central treasure secretly vanished,The monks suffer cruelly, their lives destroyed for nothing.Tripitaka resolves to sweep the pagodaAnd restore its old appearance at last.

The Tang monk swept the first floor, then the next, and went on until he reached the seventh at the second watch of the night. Growing tired, the elder heard Pilgrim say, “Sit down if you're tired. I will finish it.” “How many stories are there?” “Thirteen, I should think.” Bearing his exhaustion, the elder said, “I must sweep it to fulfill my vow.” He swept three more floors until his back and legs ached, then sat down on the tenth. “Wukong, sweep the last three floors for me.” Pilgrim roused himself and reached the eleventh, then the twelfth in a moment. As he swept, he heard voices at the top. “Strange! It is nearly the third watch. Who could be talking up there? Surely some evil creatures. I will look.”

The Monkey King tucked his broom under his arm, gathered his robe, slipped through the doorway, and stood upon a cloud to look. Two demons were sitting in the center of the thirteenth floor, playing a drinking game beside a plate of food, a bowl, and a wine pot. Pilgrim dropped the broom, drew his gold-banded staff, and blocked the doorway. “So you're the monsters who stole the pagoda's treasure!” Startled, the two flung the pot and bowl at him. He checked them with his staff. “If I kill you, who will testify?” He merely advanced the staff, pinning them to the wall so they could not move. “Spare us! We didn't do it! The thieves are elsewhere!” they cried. Pilgrim seized them with a spell, carried them down to the tenth floor, and announced, “Master, I've caught the thieves!” Roused from a doze, Tripitaka asked in startled delight where he had found them. Pilgrim dragged the creatures before him to kneel. “They were drinking and playing at the top. I heard them, leaped up on a cloud, and blocked their escape. I caught them gently, for one blow would have killed them and left us without their account. Ask who they are and where the stolen treasure has gone.”

Trembling and begging for mercy, one creature confessed: “We were sent to patrol the pagoda by the Dragon King of All Saints in Green-Wave Pool on Rocky Mountain. He is Benbo'erba and I am Babo'erben. He is a catfish demon; I am a blackfish spirit. The old Dragon King of All Saints has a daughter, Princess All Saints, a beauty twenty times beyond the ordinary. She married Prince Nine-Heads, whose powers are vast. Two years ago the prince and the Dragon King came here, worked their magic to bring down a rain of blood that defiled the pagoda, and stole the Buddha's precious relic from it. The princess went to the Great Luo Heaven, to the Palace of Divine Mists, and stole the Queen Mother's nine-leaf lingzhi herb. In the pool below they nourish the treasure with it, making it shine day and night with golden and rosy light. Lately they heard that Sun Wukong, traveling west for scriptures, has great powers and makes a habit of finding fault along the road. That is why they send us to patrol and watch for his arrival, so they can be prepared.” Pilgrim gave a cold laugh. “What insolent creatures! No wonder they entertained the Bull Demon King there the other day. He keeps company with wicked demons like these, bent on mischief.”

At that moment Bajie and two or three young monks climbed the pagoda with lanterns. “Master, why are you talking up here instead of going to bed after sweeping?” “Brother, you came at the right time,” said Pilgrim. “The old Dragon King of All Saints stole the pagoda's treasure and sent these two little demons to keep watch and report if we came. I have caught them.” “What are they called? What kind of demons?” “One is Benbo'erba, the other Babo'erben; one a catfish demon, the other a blackfish spirit. They have confessed.” Bajie raised his rake. “Then why not kill them?” “Keep them alive to testify before the king and lead us to the thieves and the treasure.” The Idiot lowered his rake. Each brother seized a demon and brought him down the pagoda, while the creatures cried for mercy. “We could make a good fresh soup of catfish and blackfish for the monks you've wronged,” Bajie told them.

Joyfully the young monks guided Tripitaka down by lantern light. One ran ahead: “Good news! Justice is coming at last! Our lords have caught the monsters who stole the treasure!” Pilgrim said, “Bring iron chains. Pierce their collarbones and bind them here. Watch them while we sleep; we'll deal with them tomorrow.” The monks kept careful guard and let Tripitaka's party rest.

At daybreak the elder said, “Wukong and I will go to court to renew our travel papers.” He dressed in his brocade cassock and Vairocana hat, set his attire in order, and went out with measured steps. Pilgrim straightened his tiger-skin kilt and cotton robe, took the papers, and followed. “Why not bring the thieves?” Bajie asked. “After we report them, the king will send an order to fetch them.” At the palace gate they saw splendid vermilion bird and yellow dragon emblems, clear courts and crimson towers. Tripitaka bowed to the officer at the East Splendor Gate. “Please report that I am a monk sent by the Great Tang in the east to seek scriptures in the west. I ask an audience to renew my travel papers.” The gate official duly reported before the throne: “Two monks of unusual appearance and dress stand outside. They say they come from the Tang empire in the east of Southern Jambudvipa, sent to seek the Buddha and his scriptures in the west. They ask to pay homage to Your Majesty and renew their papers.”

The king had them admitted. He and his civil and military officers were frightened by Pilgrim; some called him a monkey monk, others a thunder-god-faced monk. None dared look for long. The elder bowed at the foot of the stairs with the formal shouts of homage, while the Great Sage stood beside him with his hands clasped, not moving. “Your monk-servant,” Tripitaka said, “was sent from the Great Tang in Southern Jambudvipa to the Great Thunderclap Monastery in western India to worship the Buddha and obtain the true scriptures. I dare not cross your honorable realm without permission. Please inspect and renew the travel papers I carry.” Delighted, the king invited the holy monk of Tang to the golden throne hall and had an embroidered stool set out. Tripitaka went up alone, presented his papers, thanked the king, and sat down.

The king read the papers and said with pleasure, “When your Tang king fell ill, he chose a worthy monk to seek scriptures from the Buddha despite the great distance. But our own monks think only of stealing, bringing ruin upon king and country.” “How have they ruined the king and country?” Tripitaka asked. “Ours is a leading kingdom of the Western Regions, once receiving tribute from all four neighbors, because the golden pagoda at Golden Light Monastery shone to the heavens. The thieving monks there secretly stole its treasure. Its light has vanished for three years, and the foreign lands have ceased their tribute. It pains me deeply.” Tripitaka smiled. “Your Majesty, an error of an inch can lead you a thousand li astray. When I entered your capital last night, I saw a dozen monks in cangues. They told me they had been wronged. I went to their monastery and investigated: its monks are innocent. I swept the pagoda last night and caught the demonic thieves who stole the treasure.” “Where are they?” the delighted king asked. “My disciple has chained them at Golden Light Monastery.”

The king immediately issued a golden order for his embroidered-uniform guards to bring the demons so he might question them himself. “Your Majesty,” said Tripitaka, “the guards will need my disciple's help.” “Where is he?” “By the jade stairs.” The king stared in alarm. “Holy monk, you have a fine bearing. Why does your disciple look like that?” Hearing him, the Great Sage Sun called, “Your Majesty, you cannot judge a man by his face or measure the sea with a pint pot. If you prized fine looks alone, how could the thieves have been caught?” The king's alarm gave way to delight. “The holy monk speaks truly. We do not choose servants by their appearance; what matters is catching the thieves and restoring the treasure.” He ordered the court officers to prepare a carriage and the guards to attend Pilgrim. They carried him in an eight-bearer sedan beneath a yellow parasol, with heralds clearing the road, to Golden Light Monastery. The whole city stirred; crowds came to see the holy monk and the demons.

Hearing the calls to clear the road, Bajie and Sha Monk thought royal officers were coming and hurried out. It was Pilgrim in the sedan. “Brother, you've regained your proper station,” the Idiot laughed. “How so?” Pilgrim asked as he stepped down, taking Bajie's arm. “A yellow parasol, an eight-bearer sedan: what could better suit the Monkey King?” “Enough jokes.” Pilgrim ordered the two demons brought out for the king. “Take me with you, brother,” said Sha Monk. “Stay and mind the baggage and horse.” The chained monks offered to watch them while all the travelers received the king's favor. “Then I shall ask the king to release you,” Pilgrim said. Bajie and Sha Monk each seized a demon, and the Great Sage returned to his sedan. In procession they took both creatures to court.

At the white jade stairs Pilgrim announced, “I have brought the thieves.” The king descended from his dragon throne and looked with Tripitaka and his officials. One monster had flared gills, black scales, a pointed mouth, and sharp teeth; the other had slippery skin, a swollen belly, an enormous mouth, and long whiskers. They had legs to walk on but were only roughly human in shape. “Where are you from, thieves? How many years have you invaded my realm, and when did you steal my treasure? How many are in your gang, and what are your names? Confess everything.” The two knelt, blood streaming from their pierced necks, seemingly without pain. “Over three years ago, on the first of the seventh month, the Dragon King of All Saints came with many kin to live some hundred li southeast of here, at Green-Wave Pool on Rocky Mountain. He has a lovely daughter of enchanting beauty. She married the invincible Prince Nine-Heads. When he learned of the treasure in your pagoda, he and the Dragon King plotted to steal it. They first brought down a rain of blood, then took the relic. It lights the dragon palace so that even at night it is bright as day. The princess secretly stole the Queen Mother's lingzhi herb and uses it to nourish the treasure in the pool. We are not the ringleaders, only soldiers sent by the Dragon King. We have been caught tonight; all we say is true.” “And your names?” the king asked. “I am Benbo'erba and he is Babo'erben. Benbo'erba is a catfish demon; Babo'erben is a blackfish spirit.” The king ordered the guards to imprison them securely, then proclaimed, “Release the monks of Golden Light Monastery from their cangues! Have the royal kitchens prepare a banquet in the Hall of the Qilin to thank the holy monks for catching the thieves and discuss how to capture their leaders.”

The kitchens prepared both meat and vegetarian feasts. In the Hall of the Qilin the king asked Tripitaka and his three disciples to sit, then asked the holy monk's name. “My family name is Chen, and my religious name is Xuanzang. My sovereign gave me the name Tang; I am also called Tripitaka.” “And your disciples?” “They have no titles. The first is Sun Wukong, the second Zhu Wuneng, and the third Sha Wujing. The Bodhisattva Guanyin of the Southern Sea named them. When they became my disciples, I also called Wukong Pilgrim, Wuneng Bajie, and Wujing Monk.” The king seated Tripitaka in the place of honor, Pilgrim Sun to his left, and Zhu Bajie and Sha Monk to his right. They had vegetarian fruit, vegetables, tea, and rice. The king sat before a meat banquet, with a hundred more such places below for his officials. After thanking the king, and the disciples obtaining their master's leave, they sat. The king offered wine. Tripitaka would not drink; his three disciples accepted a welcoming cup each. Musicians of the court began to play. Bajie let loose his appetite, wolfing down every fruit and vegetable at his table. Another serving of soup and rice came, and he ate every morsel; when the cupbearer arrived, he refused no cup. The feast continued merrily until after noon.

Tripitaka thanked the king for his splendid hospitality. “That feast was but a small token of thanks for catching the monsters,” the king replied. He ordered another in Jianzhang Palace, to discuss catching the ringleaders and restoring the treasure. “If we are to pursue them, we need no further feast,” Tripitaka said. “Let us take our leave and catch them.” The king insisted, and they ate another meal at Jianzhang Palace. Raising his cup, he asked, “Which holy monk will lead the force to subdue the monsters?” “My first disciple, Sun Wukong,” said Tripitaka, and the Great Sage agreed. “How many soldiers will Elder Sun need, and when will he leave?” the king asked. Bajie cried out, “What soldiers? Why wait for any particular hour? Well fed and warmed by wine, my brother and I can catch them at once!” “Bajie has been diligent lately,” said the delighted Tripitaka. “Let Sha Monk guard Master,” said Pilgrim, “while we go.” “Do you need weapons?” asked the king. “We cannot use yours,” Bajie laughed. “We brothers carry our own.” The king brought a great cup for their farewell. “No more wine,” said the Great Sage. “Have the guards bring out the little demons to guide us.” At the king's command they were brought out. Each brother took one, raised a wind, and whisked them away by magic to the southeast. Ah!

When king and court saw them rise into the wind and clouds,They knew the master and his disciples were holy monks.

How would they catch the thieves? Listen to the next chapter to find out.

To Wash Off Filth and Cleanse the Heart, There Is Nothing Like Sweeping the Pagoda; to Bind the Demon and Give It Back to Its Master, Is to Cultivate the Self

Never lost through the twelve hours of the day; the work of a hundred marks gathered whole.Five years, a hundred and eight thousand turns—let the spirit-water never run dry, and let no grief rise from the fire's light.Water and fire tempered together, nothing harmed; the five elements linked like hooks.Yin and yang joined as one, up the cloud tower they go; riding the luan bird to the Purple Palace, straddling the crane to Yingzhou.

This lyric is to the tune "Immortal at the River," and it tells only of how the Tang monk Tripitaka and his three disciples, water and fire now joined, had their basic natures cool and clear. With the fan of pure yin in hand, they fanned out the parching fire and crossed the mountain. In a few days they had traveled the full eight hundred stages, and master and disciples went on at their ease toward the West. It was just the turn from late autumn to early winter, and they saw sights like these:

Wild chrysanthemums shed their last petals; new plum trees put out tender buds.Every village takes in the harvest; everywhere people eat fragrant stews.Leaves fall from the level woods, and the far hills stand out; frost lies thick in the winding streams, and the deep valleys are clear.The season answers the yingzhong pitch; the sleeping creatures lie shut in their dens.Pure yin prevails, and the moon's emperor is dark and deep; the virtue of water stands high, and under Shun's sun the sky loves to stay clear.The breath of earth sinks down; the breath of heaven rises up.The rainbow hides and shows no shape; ice slowly forms on the pools.On the hanging cliffs the vine flowers wither; pine and bamboo, stiff with cold, grow only greener.

The four of them traveled a long time, and another city drew near. The Tang monk reined in his horse and called to his disciples: "Wukong, look there—lofty towers and terraces. What sort of place is that?" Pilgrim raised his head and looked; it was a city. Truly it was:

A dragon coils in its ground-plan; a tiger crouches on its golden walls.Canopies hang near on every side; the purple suburbs lie level through a hundred windings.Jade and stone bridge rails are lined with cunning beasts; golden terraces hold rows of the wise.Truly a capital of the divine lands, a precious city, heaven's own storehouse.Its royal domain is solid for ten thousand li; its imperial work flourishes for a thousand years.The outer tribes bow in submission, the sovereign's grace reaching far; seas and mountains pay homage, and the sacred gatherings are full.The palace steps are clean; the carriage roads are quiet.Taverns ring with song; pleasure towers breathe joy.By the Weiyang Palace grow the evergreen trees, where the painted phoenix should be crying to the morning sun.

Pilgrim said: "Master, that city is the seat of a king." Bajie laughed: "Every prefecture has a walled town, every county a walled town—how can you tell this is a king's seat?" Pilgrim said: "You don't know that a king's dwelling differs from prefecture and county. Look: more than ten gates on its four sides, and walls running a hundred-odd li around, towers and terraces rising high, clouds and mist swirling about. If it were not an imperial capital, how could it be so grand?" Sha Monk said: "Brother, your eyes are sharp. You can tell it is a royal place, but what is its name?" Pilgrim said: "There is no tablet or banner to tell by. We must go into the city and ask."

The elder whipped on his horse and in a moment reached the gate. He dismounted, crossed the bridge, and went in to look. In the six streets and three markets goods changed hands and money flowed; gowns and caps were splendid, and the people lived in style. As they went, they suddenly saw a dozen or more monks, each in cangue and chains, begging from door to door, ragged past bearing. Tripitaka sighed: "When the rabbit dies, the fox grieves; each kind mourns its own." He called: "Wukong, go and ask them why they suffer like this." Pilgrim did as he was told and called: "You monks, which monastery are you from? For what crime do you wear cangue and chains?" The monks knelt down: "Sirs, we are the wronged monks of the Golden Light Monastery." Pilgrim said: "Where does the Golden Light Monastery stand?" The monks said: "Just around that corner." Pilgrim led them before the Tang monk and asked: "Tell me how you were wronged." The monks said: "Sirs, we do not know where you come from, though your faces seem familiar. We dare not tell it here in the street. Come to our poor monastery and hear the whole of our misery." The elder said: "That is fair. Let us go to their monastery and ask the whole story."

They came together to the monastery gate; across the top ran seven golden characters: "Golden Light Monastery, Built by Imperial Decree to Protect the Realm." Master and disciples went in and looked, and saw this:

In the old halls the lamps of incense are cold; through the empty corridors the wind sweeps the leaves.A tower of a thousand feet that pierces the clouds; a few pines that feed the spirit.Fallen flowers cover the ground, and no visitor passes; spiderwebs hang at the eaves and creep as they please.The drum stands empty; the bell hangs in vain; dust dulls the painted walls and blurs the sacred images.In the silent lecture hall no monk is seen; in the still meditation rooms only birds are met.Desolate, fit only for sighing; forlorn, with misery without end.Before the Buddha the censer is still set, but the ash is cold and the flowers withered, and all things are empty.

Tripitaka's heart ached, and the tears would not stay in his eyes. The monks bore their cangues and chains, pushed open the main hall, and asked the elder to come up and bow to the Buddha. The elder entered the hall, offered the incense of his heart, and knocked his teeth three times. Going around to the back, he saw six or seven little monks locked to the posts under the abbot's eaves, and Tripitaka could hardly bear to look.

When they reached the abbot's quarters, all the monks came and knocked their heads: "Sirs, your faces are not all alike—could you be the ones from the Tang of the Eastern Land?" Pilgrim laughed: "What art of foretelling has this monk got? That is just who we are. How did you know?" The monks said: "Sirs, we have no art of foretelling. We only bear our wrong with no way to prove it, and day after day we cry to heaven and earth. I think we stirred the gods: last night every one of us had a dream that a holy monk from the Tang of the Eastern Land would come and save our lives, so that our grievance might be cleared. Today we really saw your strange appearance, and so we knew you."

Tripitaka heard this with great joy: "What place is this? What wrong have you suffered?" The monks knelt and told him: "Sirs, this city is the Kingdom of Jisai, a great country of the Western regions. In the old days four tribes paid it tribute: to the south, the Kingdom of Yuetuo; to the north, the Kingdom of Gaochang; to the east, the Kingdom of Xiliang; to the west, the Kingdom of Benbo. Year after year they sent fine jade, bright pearls, lovely women, and fine horses. Without ever taking up arms or marching out, we were honored as the sovereign state." Tripitaka said: "If they honor it as sovereign, your king must be a man of the Way and his ministers wise." The monks said: "Sirs, the civil officials are not wise, the military men are not good, and the king himself is not a man of the Way. Our Golden Light Monastery always had a treasure pagoda wrapped in auspicious clouds, with lucky mists rising high: at night it cast a glow that people saw for ten thousand li; by day it breathed colored air that all four kingdoms gazed upon. That is why we were counted a divine capital, and why the four tribes brought tribute. But three years ago, on the first day of early autumn, at midnight, a rain of blood fell. At dawn every household was afraid, and every house grieved. The whole court reported to the king, who could not tell what fault Heaven was punishing. They hired Daoists to hold rites and monks to read scriptures, to answer Heaven and thank Earth. Who could have known that the golden treasure pagoda in our monastery had been defiled? For these two years the foreign lands have sent no tribute. Our king wanted to march out and punish them, but his ministers warned him: the monks of that monastery must have stolen the treasure from the pagoda—that is why the auspicious clouds and lucky mists are gone and the foreigners no longer come. The muddled ruler never examined the matter. Those corrupt officials seized us monks and tortured us a thousand ways, pressing us ten thousand ways to confess. There were three generations of monks here: the first two generations could not stand the torture, and died. Now they have seized our generation too and chained us to await judgment. Sirs, how would we dare turn thief and steal the treasure in the pagoda! We beg you, in your mercy—for like gathers to like, and kind to kind—spend your great compassion, spread your powers wide, and save our lives."

Tripitaka heard this, nodded, and sighed: "This affair is murky and hard to see. Partly the court has lost its way, and partly you had this calamity in your fate. Since Heaven sent the rain of blood and defiled the pagoda, why did you not then send up a memorial to the king, instead of letting yourselves be tormented?" The monks said: "Sirs, we are common men—how could we know Heaven's will? And since those before us could not clear themselves, what could we do?" Tripitaka said: "Wukong, what hour is it now?" Pilgrim said: "About mid-afternoon." Tripitaka said: "I mean to see the king and have our travel papers changed. But until this business of the monks is made clear, I can hardly speak of it before the throne. When I left Chang'an I made a vow in the Famen Monastery: going west, at every temple I would burn incense, at every monastery bow to the Buddha, and at every pagoda sweep the pagoda. Here I have found wronged monks, suffering for the pagoda's sake. Get me a new broom. When I have bathed I will go up and sweep, and see how this defilement stands and why the light is gone. Once we find the truth of it, I can face the king and speak, and free them from this suffering."

At this the chained monks hurried to the kitchen, fetched a kitchen knife, and handed it to Bajie: "Sir, use this knife to break the iron locks on the little monks chained to the posts, and let them get a meal and hot bathwater ready to serve the gentlemen. We will go out on the street and beg a new broom for the elder to sweep the pagoda." Bajie laughed: "What is hard about opening locks? No need for knives or axes—my hairy-faced brother here has opened locks all his life." Pilgrim really did step forward, used his lock-opening art, passed his hand over them, and all the locks fell away. The little monks ran to the kitchen, scoured the pots and the stove, and set out tea and food. Master and disciples ate their meal, and the sky slowly darkened. Then the chained monks came in carrying two new brooms, and Tripitaka was very glad.

As they talked, a little monk lit a lamp and came to invite him to bathe. The sky shone with stars and moonlight, and on the watchtower the watch drums sounded together. It was just as the poem says:

Cold wind rises on every wall; the lamps of ten thousand homes shine.In the six streets the windows are shut; in the three markets the doors are closed.Fishing boats moor under deep trees; the plows are loosed from their short ropes.Woodcutters rest their axes; students hum their lessons aloud.

Tripitaka bathed, put on his narrow-sleeved robe, cinched his sash, changed into a pair of soft-soled shoes, and took a new broom in his hand. To the monks he said: "Rest and sleep. I will go and sweep the pagoda." Pilgrim said: "The pagoda is defiled with the rain of blood, and it has been long without light—who knows what vile things breed there? The night is still and the wind is cold, and you would have no companion: if you go alone, something may go wrong. What if old Sun goes up with you?" Tripitaka said: "Very good, very good." Each took a broom. First they went to the main hall, lit the glass lamps, burned incense, and bowed before the Buddha: "Your disciple Chen Xuanzang, sent by the Tang of the Eastern Land to call on our Buddha the Tathagata at Vulture Peak for scriptures, has now come to the Golden Light Monastery in Jisai. The monks here tell him the treasure pagoda has been defiled, and the king suspects the monks of stealing the treasure, so that innocent men are punished and truth cannot come out. Your disciple sweeps the pagoda with all his heart. May our Buddha's awesome spirit soon reveal the cause of the defilement, and let no innocent men suffer wrong." With the prayer said, he and Pilgrim opened the pagoda door and began sweeping from the bottom up. And that pagoda, truly—

It towered against the Milky Way; it thrust up sheer into the sky.Rightly it is named the Five-Colored Glass Pagoda, the Peak of a Thousand Gold's holy relic.The stairs wound like a tunnel through a cave; every opened door was like a bird let from a cage.The precious vases threw back the moon at the sky's edge; the golden bells carried the sea wind's voice.Its bare eaves arched to the Dipper, and clouds lingered on its crown.The eaves that arched to the Dipper shaped cunning stone phoenixes threading the flowers; the clouds that crowned the top carved dragons wreathed in mist about the pagoda.From it one could gaze a thousand li away; to climb it was to stand in the ninth heaven.On door after door, glass lamps with dust and no flame; at every landing, rails of white jade caked with grime and dead insects.In the pagoda's heart, on the Buddha's seat, not a wisp of incense; outside the lattices, before the gods, cobwebs stretched and blurred.The censers held mouse droppings; the lamps were nearly out of oil.All because the treasure at its heart was lost in the dark, the monks' lives were ground down to nothing.Tripitaka set his heart on sweeping the pagoda, and it was sure to wear its old face again.

The Tang monk swept one story, then climbed to the next. He swept on this way till the seventh story, and it was already the second watch. The elder began to feel worn out, and Pilgrim said: "You're tired. Sit down and let old Sun sweep for you." Tripitaka said: "How many stories does this pagoda have?" Pilgrim said: "Thirteen, I should think." The elder, bearing his weariness, said: "It must all be swept, or the vow is not kept." He swept three more stories, till his back ached and his legs throbbed, and then sat down on the tenth story: "Wukong, sweep those last three clean and come down." Pilgrim braced himself, went up to the eleventh story, and in a moment was on the twelfth. As he swept, he heard voices at the top of the pagoda. Pilgrim said: "Strange! Strange! It is the third watch by now—who could be talking up on the roof? It must be something evil. Let me go and look."

A fine Monkey King! Quietly tucking his broom under his arm and pulling up his robe, he slipped out the front door and stood on a cloud to look. In the heart of the thirteenth story sat two demon spirits, with a plate of food, a bowl, and a pot before them, playing at finger-guessing and drinking. Pilgrim used his magic, dropped the broom, pulled out the gold-banded staff, barred the pagoda door, and roared: "Fine monsters! So you are the ones who stole the pagoda's treasure." The two panicked, sprang up, and hurled pot and bowl about wildly. Pilgrim barred the way with his staff held crosswise: "If I kill you, there is no one left to confess," and drove them back with the staff. The monsters flattened themselves against the wall, unable to stir, crying only: "Spare us! Spare us! It is not our doing; the ones who stole the treasure are others." Pilgrim used his gripping art, caught one in each hand, carried them straight down to the tenth story, and reported: "Master, I have caught the thieves who took the treasure." Tripitaka was dozing; at these words he woke, startled and glad: "Where were they caught?" Pilgrim dragged the monsters before him and made them kneel: "They were up on the roof drinking and playing at finger-guessing. Old Sun heard the noise, made a leap of cloud, jumped to the top, and barred their way. I never used force—if my staff had killed them, there would have been no one to confess, so I brought them down gently. Master, take their statement, and learn what kind of demons they are and where the stolen treasure lies."

The monsters, trembling all over, cried "Spare us!" and confessed the truth: "We two were sent by the Dragon King Wansheng of the Blue Waves Pool on Heaped Rocks Mountain to patrol the pagoda. He is called Benbo'er Ba and I am called Boben'er Ba; he is a catfish demon and I a black-fish spirit. Our old Dragon King Wansheng had a daughter, called Princess Wansheng, with a face like a flower and the moon—a beauty to the fullest degree. She married one called the Nine-Headed Prince-in-law, whose powers are vast. The year before last he came here with the Dragon King, showed his great magic, sent down a rain of blood, defiled the pagoda, and stole the sharira holy relic inside it. The princess then went up to the Great Luo Heaven, before the Lingxiao Hall, and stole the Queen Mother's nine-leaf magic lingzhi grass, and they keep it under the pool, glowing gold, bright day and night. Lately word came that a Sun Wukong is going to the Western Heaven for scriptures; they say his powers are vast, and that on the road he hunts out other people's faults. So all this while they have kept sending us here to watch, so that if that Sun Wukong shows up they can be ready." Pilgrim heard this and chuckled coldly: "Those cursed beasts were rude enough already. No wonder they had the Bull Demon King out to a feast the other day. So he keeps company with this pack of brazen demons, doing nothing but wicked work."

Before he finished, Bajie and two or three little monks came up from below carrying two lanterns: "Master, you have swept the pagoda—why aren't you asleep? What are you all talking about here?" Pilgrim said: "Brother, you have come at the right time. The pagoda's treasure was stolen by the old Dragon King Wansheng. These two little demons were set to patrol the pagoda and spy out news of us, and I have just caught them." Bajie said: "What are they called? What kind of demons?" Pilgrim said: "They have just confessed. One is called Benbo'er Ba and the other Boben'er Ba; one is a catfish demon and the other a black-fish spirit." Bajie raised his rake to strike: "Demons, are they? We have their statement—what are we waiting for, if not to kill them?" Pilgrim said: "You don't understand. Keep them alive: they are useful for speaking to the emperor, and useful as a lever for hunting the thieves and tracking down the treasure." A fine Idiot—he really did put up the rake, seized one in each hand, and dragged them both down the pagoda. The monsters only cried: "Spare us!" Bajie said: "Just what I wanted: catfish and black fish will make fresh soup for those wronged monks."

The two or three little monks, happy as could be, carried lanterns and led the elder down the pagoda. One ran ahead to tell the rest: "Good news, good news! We shall see blue sky again—the demons who stole the treasure have been caught by these gentlemen!" Pilgrim ordered: "Bring an iron chain, run it through their shoulder blades, and lock them here. You keep watch; we will go to sleep and settle it tomorrow." The monks kept close watch, and let Tripitaka and the others sleep in peace.

Day came before they knew it. The elder said: "Wukong and I will go to court and have the travel papers changed." He put on his brocade kasaya and his Vairocana cap, set his bearing in order, and strode ahead. Pilgrim cinched his tiger-skin skirt, straightened his cotton robe, took the papers, and went with him. Bajie said: "Why not take those two demon thieves along?" Pilgrim said: "Once we have reported to the throne, a warrant will be issued and men will be sent for them." They walked to the palace gates—vermilion birds and yellow dragons without end, azure palaces and crimson towers. At the Donghua Gate the Tang monk bowed to the gate officer: "Please report for me, sir: I am a poor monk sent by the Tang of the Eastern Land to fetch scriptures in the Western Heaven, and I beg to see the king and have my papers changed." The yellow-gate officer went in and reported at the steps: "Outside are two monks of strange face and strange dress, saying they were sent by the Tang of the Eastern Land in South Jambudvipa to worship the Buddha in the West and seek scriptures; they wish to have an audience with our king and have their papers changed."

The king sent word to admit them. The elder led Pilgrim into court. When the civil and military officials saw Pilgrim, all were alarmed. Some said "a monkey monk," some "a monk with the thundergod's beak." Every man shivered and did not dare look long. The elder, before the steps, went through the dance and the cry of "Long live" in his obeisance; the Great Sage stood with his hands folded, leaning sideways, quite unmoved. The elder stated his business: "This monk was sent by the Tang of the Eastern Land in South Jambudvipa to worship the Buddha of the Great Thunderclap Monastery in India in the West and seek the true scriptures. Passing through your precious land, I dared not cross it unannounced; I carry my travel papers with me and beg to have them examined and stamped before I go on." The king rejoiced and sent word to admit the holy monk of Tang up to the Golden Luan Hall, with an embroidered cushion for a seat. The elder went up alone, first offering the papers with both hands, and then, thanking the king for the favor, took the seat.

The king read the papers through and said with pleasure: "A king like yours of Tang had the wisdom to choose a holy monk and send him without fear of the long road, to worship the Buddha and fetch the scriptures. The monks in my kingdom give their whole minds to stealing, ruining the state and shaming their sovereign." Tripitaka, hands together, said: "How do they ruin the state and shame the sovereign?" The king said: "My kingdom is a sovereign state of the Western regions, and the four tribes pay it tribute—all because of the Golden Light Monastery in our land, with its golden treasure pagoda whose radiance pierced the sky. Lately thieving monks of that very monastery stole the treasure inside it, and for three years there has been no radiance, and for three years the foreign lands have sent no tribute; my heart aches with hatred of it." Tripitaka, hands together, laughed: "Your Majesty, an error of a hair's breadth loses you a thousand li. Last night this poor monk reached your capital; the moment I entered the gate I saw a dozen or more monks in cangues. Asked their crime, they said they were the wronged men of the Golden Light Monastery. I went to the monastery and examined the matter closely, and it has nothing to do with the monastery's monks at all. This poor monk swept the pagoda in the night and has already caught the demon thieves who stole the treasure." The king rejoiced: "Where are the demon thieves?" Tripitaka said: "My small disciple has them locked in the Golden Light Monastery."

The king quickly issued a gold tablet: "Let the Embroidered Uniform Guard hurry to the Golden Light Monastery and fetch the demon thieves; I will question them myself." Tripitaka again addressed the throne: "Your Majesty, though the Embroidered Uniform Guard is at hand, it must be my small disciple who goes." The king said: "Where is this worthy disciple?" Tripitaka pointed with his finger: "There, standing by the jade steps." The king looked and was shocked: "Holy monk, you have such a dignified presence—how can your disciple look like that?" The Great Sage Sun heard and called out sharply: "Your Majesty, a man is not known by his face, and the sea is not measured with a pint cup. If you go by handsome looks, how will you ever catch the demon thieves?" The king turned his shock to delight: "The holy monk is right. Here we do not pick men for their looks—catching the thieves and getting the treasure back to the pagoda is all we ask." He ordered the master of carriages to see to canopies, and told the Embroidered Uniform Guard to serve the holy monk well and fetch the demon thieves. The officer prepared a great sedan and a yellow canopy, the Embroidered Uniform Guard mustered its men, and Pilgrim was carried off in state by eight bearers, with loud cries clearing the road, straight to the Golden Light Monastery. The whole city was stirred: there was no one anywhere who did not come out to look at the holy monk and the demon thieves.

Bajie and Sha Monk heard the road-clearing cries and thought some officer had come from the king; they hurried out to meet them, and it was Pilgrim sitting in the sedan. The Idiot laughed in his face: "Brother, you have your old job back." Pilgrim stepped down from the sedan and said: "What old job have I got back?" Bajie said: "A yellow canopy over you and an eight-man sedan under you—isn't that the Monkey King's old office? That is why I say you have your own place back." Pilgrim said: "None of your jokes." They untied the two demon creatures and took them before the king. Sha Monk said: "Brother, take me along too—do me that favor." Pilgrim said: "You stay here and watch the baggage and the horse." The chained monks said: "You sirs all go and receive the imperial grace; leave us here to keep watch." Pilgrim said: "So be it. When I have reported to the king I will come back and free you." Bajie dragged one demon thief and Sha Monk the other, the Great Sage Sun took his sedan again, the canopy was spread out before, and the two monsters were escorted to the court.

In a moment they stood on the white jade steps: "The demon thieves are fetched." The king came down from the dragon bed, and with the Tang monk and the whole civil and military court looked them over. One monster had jutting cheeks and a black shell, a pointed mouth and sharp teeth; the other had slick skin and a big belly, a huge mouth and long whiskers. Though they had feet and could walk, they were plainly a changed likeness of men. The king asked: "What thieving monsters are you, what demons from where? How many years have you invaded our land? In what year did you steal our treasure? How many thieves are in your band, and what are you all called? Confess it all, one item at a time." The two monsters knelt facing up, blood dripping from their pierced necks, yet feeling no pain, and confessed: "Three years ago, on the first day of the seventh month, a Dragon King named Wansheng came with many of his kin and settled in this kingdom's southeast, a hundred-odd li from here; the pool is called Blue Waves and the mountain Heaped Rocks. His daughter is very fair, a beauty among demons. He took in a prince-in-law, the Nine-Headed Prince-in-law, whose powers have no match. He knew the rarities on your pagoda and plotted thievery with the Dragon King: first he sent down a rain of blood, and then he stole the sharira. Even now it lights the dragon palace, so that the darkest night is bright as day. The princess used her art and stole, quiet and secret, the Queen Mother's magic lingzhi as well, and they nurse their treasures in the pool. We two are not the ringleaders, only small soldiers the Dragon King sent. Caught tonight, we confess the truth." The king said: "You have made your statement—why not give your own names?" The monsters said: "I am called Benbo'er Ba and he is called Boben'er Ba. Benbo'er Ba is a catfish demon and Boben'er Ba is a black-fish spirit." The king ordered the Embroidered Uniform Guard to hold them safely in jail, and sent down his decree: "Free the monks of the Golden Light Monastery from their cangues and chains. Let the Court of Imperial Entertainments set a feast at once, in the Qilin Hall, to thank the holy monk for catching the thieves, and to consult with him on seizing the ringleader."

The Court of Imperial Entertainments laid out both a meat feast and a meatless one. The king asked the Tang monk and his three disciples to sit in order in the Qilin Hall, and asked: "What is the holy monk's honored name?" The Tang monk, hands together, said: "This poor monk's family name is Chen, and my religious name is Xuanzang. The emperor of Tang graciously gave me his own surname, and I am called Tripitaka." The king asked again: "And what are your worthy disciples called?" Tripitaka said: "My small disciples had no names of their own. The first is named Sun Wukong, the second Zhu Wuneng, and the third Sha Wujing—these are the names the Bodhisattva Guanyin of the South Sea gave them. When they took me as master, I called Wukong 'Pilgrim,' Wuneng 'Bajie,' and Wujing 'Monk.'" The king, having heard this, seated Tripitaka at the head, Sun the Pilgrim at the left side, and Zhu Bajie and Sha Monk at the right. All before them was fruit, vegetables, tea, and rice without meat; at a table in front sat the king, and below, a hundred-odd tables of meat served the civil and military officers. The ministers thanked the sovereign's grace, the disciples begged their master's pardon, and all took their places. The king raised his cup; Tripitaka dared not drink wine, but the other three each accepted the cup of welcome. Below, strings and pipes played together—the Court of Music was at work. See Bajie let loose his throat: truly a tiger's gulp and a wolf's swallow, and he ate the whole table of fruit and dishes clean. In a while more soup and rice came, and again he left nothing at all. When the cup-filling men went round, he turned away no cup. The feast went on merrily till past noon before it broke up.

Tripitaka thanked him for the grand feast. The king held them back: "This feast is a small token for the holy monk's deed in taking the monster." He told the entertainments office: "Change the feast quickly to the Jianzhang Palace; we will ask the holy monk again for his plan to catch the ringleader and get the treasure back to the pagoda." Tripitaka said: "If we must catch the thief and fetch the treasure, there is no need for another banquet. This poor monk and his party will take leave of the king now and go catch the demon." The king would not allow it and pressed them to the Jianzhang Palace, where they ate yet another feast. The king raised his wine: "Which holy monk will lead out his men and subdue and catch the monsters?" Tripitaka said: "Let my eldest disciple, Sun Wukong, go." The Great Sage folded his hands and accepted the task. The king said: "Since Elder Sun will go, how many men and horses does he need, and when will he leave the city?" Bajie could not hold back and called out: "What men and horses do we need? What do we care about hours? While the wine is in and the food is down, my brother and I will go, and he will be in our hands the moment we reach out." Tripitaka was delighted: "Bajie has been diligent lately!" Pilgrim said: "So be it. Let Brother Sha guard Master, and we two will go." The king said: "If you two elders need no men or horses, do you need weapons?" Bajie laughed: "Your weapons are no use to us. We brothers carry our own." The king, hearing this, brought a great goblet to send the two elders off. The Great Sage Sun said: "We will take no more wine. Just have the Embroidered Uniform Guard fetch out the two little demons; we will take them along as our lever." The king sent his decree and they were brought out at once. The two of them took a demon by the collar each, rode the wind, used their carrying magic, and flew straight off to the southeast. Ah! Then:

King and ministers, seeing them rise on wind and mist, knew at last that this master and his disciples were holy monks.

But how the capture would be made on this journey—who could tell? Listen to the next chapter to find out.