Chapter 75

The Mind-Monkey Drills Through the Body of Yin and Yang; the Demon Lord Is Returned to the Truth of the Great Way

Now the Great Sage Sun came to the mouth of the cave and looked on either side. He saw:

Skulls like ridges; bones like a forest. Human hair felted into mats; human skin and flesh rotted to mud and dust.Human tendons wound about the trees, dried and glistening like silver.Truly mountains of corpses and seas of blood; truly a stench of gore past bearing.On the east little demons seized living men and carved their flesh; on the west brazen demons boiled and stewed human meat, fresh from the kill.Had the Handsome Monkey King not such a hero's gall, no second mortal could ever have passed his gate.

In a moment he had walked in through the second gate and looked—and ah! here all was different from outside: quiet and elegant, secluded and refined; graceful, spacious, level; to left and right jasper grasses and immortal flowers; before and behind tall pines and kingfisher bamboo. He walked another seven or eight li before reaching the third gate. Slipping aside, he stole a look: there on high sat three old demons, savage to see. The one in the middle was made like this:

Chiseled teeth, saw-jagged fangs; a round head, a square face. A roar like thunder; eyes flashing like lightning.Nostrils tilted toward the sky; red brows streaming flame.Where he walks, the hundred beasts panic in their hearts; when he sits, the demon host trembles with fear.This was the blue-maned lion demon, king of beasts.

On the left hand sat one made like this:

Phoenix eyes, gold-pupiled; yellow tusks, thick legs. A long trunk and silver hair, his head looking like his tail.A round brow, knitted brows; a massive, towering frame.A thin voice like a graceful beauty; a jade face like an ox-headed devil.This was the yellow-tusked old elephant, who had hidden his tusks and cultivated himself for years.

At the right hand sat one made like this:

Gold wings and a kun-fish head; star pupils and leopard eyes. He shakes the north and plots toward the south, hardy and bold.His transformations wheel in soaring flight; the quail mocks, the dragon grieves.He beats the wind with his wings, and a hundred birds hide their heads; he spreads his sharp claws, and all the feathered kind lose heart.This was the great peng roc of the cloud road of ninety thousand li.

Below them, on either side, stood a hundred or more officers, great and small, every one in full armor, harness in good order, awful in their splendor, their killing air mounting like smoke.

The Pilgrim saw and his heart leapt—not a whit afraid—and he strode straight in through the gate, put down the watchboard and bell, and called up: “Your Majesty.” The three old demons asked, chuckling: “Little Wind-Darter, you are back?” The Pilgrim answered: “Back.” “You went to patrol the mountain—what of your search for the Pilgrim Sun's whereabouts?” The Pilgrim said: “Your Majesty, I dare hardly speak of it.” The old demon said: “Why dare you not speak?” The Pilgrim said: “Carrying out Your Majesty's orders, I was clattering the watchboard and swinging the bell, going along, when suddenly I looked up and saw a man crouching there whetting a great club, like an open-road god; stood up, he would be ten zhang and more. He scooped water from the rock of the ravine, whetted it, and muttered that his club had never yet shown its powers, and that once whetted bright he would come and beat Your Majesty. So I knew him for the Pilgrim Sun, and came specially to report.”

The old demon heard, and sweat bathed his body; trembling he cried: “Brothers! Did I not say: do not touch the Tang monk? His disciple's powers are vast; he has made his preparations, and is whetting his staff to beat us—what are we to do?” He ordered: “Little ones, call in all our demons great and small from outside the cave, shut the gates, and let him pass.” Among the officers one who knew reported: “Your Majesty, the little demons outside have already scattered.” The old demon said: “How have they all scattered? No doubt they smelled the wind was bad. Shut the gates quickly, shut the gates quickly!” And the demons, with a clatter, barred and bolted the front and back gates fast.

The Pilgrim's heart jumped: “Once the gates are shut, if he questions me about household matters and I cannot answer, will I not have leaked the business and be taken? Better scare him once more, and have him leave the gates open, so I can run.” He stepped forward: “Your Majesty, he said more.” The old demon said: “What more?” The Pilgrim said: “He said he would take Your Majesty and strip your skin, take the second king and carve his bones, take the third king and draw his sinews. If you shut your gates and stay inside—he can change his shape; in a moment he can turn into a little fly, fly in through the crack of the door, and carry us all off. What then?” The old demon said: “Brothers, be careful. In this cave of mine, year after year, there has never been a fly; if a fly comes in, it is the Pilgrim Sun.” The Pilgrim laughed in himself: “Then I will turn into a fly and scare him, and get the gates open.” The Great Sage slipped aside, reached behind his head, plucked one hair, blew on it a breath of immortal air, and cried, “Change!” It became a golden fly, which flew and dashed itself full in the old demon's face. The old monster panicked: “Brothers, it is bad—the thing has entered the gate!” And the demons great and small were so alarmed that every one snatched up rakes and brooms and pelted forward swatting at the fly.

The Great Sage could not contain himself and burst out laughing. It was just his luck that he was the one man who should not laugh: this laugh laughed his old face back. The third old demon sprang forward, seized him, and cried: “Brother, he all but fooled us.” The old demon said: “Good brother—who is fooling whom?” The third said: “That little demon who just reported is no Little Wind-Darter: he is the Pilgrim Sun. He must have met Little Wind-Darter, killed him somehow, and changed himself to fool us.” The Pilgrim panicked: “He knows me.” He felt his face with his hand and said to the old monster: “How am I the Pilgrim Sun? I am Little Wind-Darter; Your Majesty mistakes me.” The old demon laughed: “Brother, he is Little Wind-Darter. He reports three times a day before me; I know him.” He asked again: “Have you your tag?” The Pilgrim said: “I have.” He gathered up his clothes and brought out the tag. The old monster was all the more certain: “Brother, do not wrong him.” The third said: “Brother, did you not see him? Just now he slipped aside and laughed, and I saw the Thunder God's beak show through. When I seized him, he changed into this shape again.” He called: “Little ones, bring ropes!” The officers brought cords.

The third demon threw the Pilgrim down and bound him hog-tied, four limbs together. They lifted his clothes and looked: a true Keeper of Heavenly Horses. Now the Pilgrim had seventy-two transformations: when he changed into birds, beasts, flowers, trees, vessels, or insects, his whole body rolled into it; but when he changed into a person, only the head and face changed, and the body would not. And so: a body all yellow hair, two red haunches, and a tail. The old demon looked and said: “The Pilgrim Sun's body with Little Wind-Darter's face—it is he.” He ordered: “Little ones, set out wine first, and drink a victor's cup with your third king. With the Pilgrim Sun taken, the Tang monk is food in our mouths, certain.” The third said: “Let the wine wait. The Pilgrim Sun is quick and slippery, and knows the art of escape—no telling when he may slip away. Have the little ones bring out the vase and seal the Pilgrim Sun inside it; then we can drink at ease.”

The old demon laughed aloud: “Just so, just so.” He picked thirty-six little demons to go inside, open the storeroom, and carry out the vase. How big do you suppose it was? Only two feet four inches high. Why would it take thirty-six men to carry? The vase was the treasure of the twin breaths of yin and yang, holding within it the seven treasures, the eight trigrams, and the twenty-four airs; it took thirty-six men, the number of the heavenly gang, to move it. In a moment the treasure vase was carried out and set beyond the third gate, wiped clean, its lid raised. They loosed the Pilgrim's cords, stripped off his clothes, and at the breath of immortal air from the vase—whish!—he was sucked inside; the lid was clapped on and sealed with paper. They went off to their wine, saying: “Monkey, now you are inside my treasure vase—think no more of the road west. If you are ever to worship the Buddha and seek scriptures, you must first turn your back, rock a cradle, and go cast yourself into a new womb.” And look at the demons great and small, every one chuckling as they went to offer congratulations—no more of that.

Now the Great Sage, inside the vase, was shrunk small by the treasure; he changed at will and squatted in the middle. After a while, finding it cool and shady, he laughed out suddenly: “This demon has an empty name and nothing inside. Why tell men that whoever is put in this vase melts to pus and blood in a watch and three quarters? As cool as this, I could lodge here seven or eight years and come to no harm.” Ah! The Great Sage did not know the treasure's secret: once a man was inside, a year of silence meant a year of coolness; but at the sound of a human voice, fire came to burn him. The Great Sage had not finished speaking when flame filled the vase. Happily he had his arts: sitting in the middle, he pinched the fire-avoiding sign and was not afraid at all. He bore it half a watch, and around the walls forty snakes bored out to bite him. The Pilgrim swung his hands, grabbed them in, and squeezed with all his might, squeezing them into eighty lengths. In a little while three fire dragons came out and wound about him, up and down—hard past bearing. He felt himself at a loss: “Other things can be managed; these three fire dragons are the trouble. If I do not get out soon and the fire attacks my heart, what then?” He thought: “Let me make my body long and burst the thing.” Good Great Sage! He pinched the spell-sign, murmured a charm, and cried, “Long!”—and grew some ten feet tall. But the vase, pressed to his body, grew with him. He made his body small again, and the vase shrank too. The Pilgrim's heart sank: “Hard, hard, hard. I grow and it grows; I shrink and it shrinks. What now?” Before the words were done, his ankle bones began to hurt. He felt them hastily: the fire had scorched them soft. He burned with anxiety: “What now? My ankle bones scorched soft—I am a crippled man.” Tears fell despite him. And it is truly said:

In demon-plight and bitterness he thought of Tripitaka; in peril and distress he feared for the holy monk.

He said: “Master! In those years I took the true refuge, won by the Bodhisattva Guanyin's good counsel, and escaped heaven's calamity. With you I have toiled over mountain after mountain, destroyed many monsters, won over Bajie and gained Sha Monk, through a thousand hardships and ten thousand pains, hoping to witness the West together and win the true fruit side by side. Who thought today I would meet so vile a demon—Old Sun straying in here, losing his life, leaving you on the flank of the mountain, unable to go on. I suppose my name stood too high in the old days, and so today's calamity has come.”

In the midst of his grief he suddenly remembered: “The Bodhisattva, that year at Snake-Coil Mountain, gave me three life-saving hairs. Are they on me or no? Let me search.” He reached out and felt over his whole body, and there behind his head were three hairs, standing out stiff and hard. He cried out gladly: “All the hairs of my body are soft and tame; only these three stand so hard and bristling—they must be the ones to save my life.” Gritting his teeth, bearing the pain, he plucked them out, blew on them a breath of immortal air, and cried, “Change!” One became a diamond drill, one a strip of bamboo, one a cotton cord. He bent the slat of bamboo into a bow, strung the drill on the cord, and drilled at the base of the vase, whish after whish, until he had bored a hole, and light shone through. He rejoiced: “Fortune, fortune! Now I can be out.” The moment his changed body slipped out, the vase turned cool again. How so? His drilling had let the breaths of yin and yang escape, and so it cooled.

Good Great Sage! He gathered back his hairs, made his body small, changed into a tiny cicada, light and nimble, fine as beard-hair, long as an eyebrow, and bored out through the hole. He did not leave, but flew straight and stuck on the old demon king's head. The old demon was at his wine; suddenly he set down his cup: “Third brother—has the Pilgrim Sun melted by now?” The third laughed: “By this hour? Surely!” The old demon ordered the word passed to bring up the vase. The thirty-six little demons below took hold to lift it—and the vase was far lighter. Alarmed, they reported: “Your Majesty, the vase is lighter.” The old demon shouted: “Nonsense! The treasure is the perfect work of the twin breaths of yin and yang—how could it be lighter?” One straining little demon hoisted it up: “Look—is this not lighter?” The old demon raised the lid and looked: light shone through from inside, and he could not help crying out: “The vase is empty—empty means hollow!” The Great Sage overhead could not help saying too: “My child—whish means gone!” The demons heard: “He is out, he is out!” and passed the word: “Shut the gates, shut the gates.”

The Pilgrim shook his body, took in his stripped clothes, showed his true form, leaped out beyond the cave, and looked back cursing: “Demon, none of your manners. The vase is drilled through and will hold no one now—it will serve for a privy.” Glad and boisterous, treading the clouds, he went straight back to the Tang monk. The elder was there scooping earth for incense, praying toward the empty sky. The Pilgrim held his cloud and listened to what he prayed. The elder, palms together toward heaven, said:

“I pray to the immortals of cloud and haze, to the six Ding and six Jia, and all the heavens:Guard well my worthy disciple Sun Wukong, whose powers are vast and whose dharma has no bounds.”

Hearing this, the Great Sage strove the harder, gathered in his cloud-light, came close, and called: “Master, I am here.” The elder caught at him: “Wukong, what labors! You went far to scout the high mountain and long did not return; I was anxious. What good or ill is truly in this mountain?” The Pilgrim laughed: “Master, this trip of mine: first, the souls of the eastern lands have their lot and their share; second, your merit, Master, is boundless; third, your disciple's arts did their part.” Then he told in detail the whole affair—playing the Wind-Darter, falling into the vase, and getting out. “To see your face again, I have lived two lives.” The elder thanked him without end: “This time you did not try a match with the demon?” The Pilgrim said: “I did not.” The elder said: “Then you cannot get me over the mountain?” The Pilgrim was a man who must win: he shouted: “How could I not get you over the mountain?” The elder said: “You have not tried a fall with them; you speak only in fogs—how dare I go forward?” The Great Sage laughed: “Master, you are very set in your ways. The saying goes: ‘A single thread makes no line; one palm cannot clap.’ Their demon kings are three; their little demons are myriads. How is Old Sun alone to match them?” The elder said: “The few cannot stand against the many; for you alone it is hard. Bajie and Sha Monk have arts of their own too. Let them all go with you, of one heart and one strength, sweep the mountain road clean, and get me across.” The Pilgrim pondered: “Your words are wisest. Let Sha Monk guard you; Bajie shall come with me.” The Idiot panicked: “Brother, you have no eye. I am a lout, with no arts to speak of; I walk winded and slow—what good am I to you?” The Pilgrim said: “Brother, arts or no, you are at least a man. As the saying goes: ‘A fart adds to the wind.’ You can put some heart in me.” Bajie said: “Well then, well then—I hope you will carry me along. Only, wherever it is slippery and fast, do not make a game of me.” The elder said: “Bajie, take care; I and Sha Monk stay here.”

The Idiot roused his godlike might, and with the Pilgrim rode a wild wind, mounted cloud and fog, leaped up the high mountain, and came to the cave mouth. The cave gate stood shut fast; all around, no one. The Pilgrim stepped up, iron staff in hand, and called in a hard, loud voice: “Demons, open the gate! Come out and fight Old Sun!” The little demons inside carried the word in. The old demon's heart quaked: “For years they have said the monkey is fierce—the word was no lie, but true.” The second old demon asked beside: “Brother, what do you say?” The old demon said: “This morning that Pilgrim changed into Little Wind-Darter and slipped in among us, and we could not know him; happily our worthy third brother knew him, and we sealed him in the vase. He worked his tricks, drilled the vase through, spirited away his clothes, and escaped. Now he shouts for battle outside. Who dares give him the first fight?” Not a soul answered. He asked again; again none answered: they all played deaf and dumb. The old demon flew into a rage: “We hold an ugly name on the great western road; today the Pilgrim Sun flouts us so. If we do not go out and meet him in the field, our name sinks. Let me fling away this old life and fight him three rounds. Three rounds won, and the Tang monk is still food in our mouths; three rounds lost—then shut the gates and let him pass.” He took up his armor, buckled it on, opened the gate, and went out front.

The Pilgrim and Bajie watched at the gate—what a monster, to be sure:

An iron brow, a bronze head, a jeweled helmet; the helmet tassels streaming, brilliant past telling.Bright, bright as lightning flash, his two eyes gleaming; gleaming, gleaming like spread sunset, his temples flying.Hooked claws like silver, pointed and keen; saw teeth like chisels, close set and even.Over his body a golden mail without one seam; at his waist a dragon-silk sash, ready for any turn.In his hand a steel blade flashing bright; a hero's bold bearing, rare in the world.One shout like a burst of thunder, asking: “Who is it knocks at the gate?”

The Great Sage turned: “It is your old lord Sun, the Great Sage Equal to Heaven.” The old demon laughed: “You are the Pilgrim Sun? Bold brazen ape—I did not court you; why do you shout for battle at my gate?” The Pilgrim said: “‘Where there is wind the waves rise; where there is no tide the water lies flat.’ If you had not courted me, would I have sought you? Only because you and your fox packs and dog gangs banded together to scheme to eat my master do I come here to do my work.” The old demon said: “You come brawling so boldly at my gate—do you mean to fight?” The Pilgrim said: “I do.” The old demon said: “Do not run wild. If I called out my demon soldiers, drew up my lines, waved flags and beat drums to fight you, it would show me a stay-at-home tiger, bullying you. I will meet you one to one, with no helpers allowed.” The Pilgrim heard and called: “Zhu Bajie, stand aside, and see what he makes of Old Sun.” The Idiot truly slipped to one side. The old demon said: “Come over here. First be my chopping block, and let me spend my strength to lay three blows of the blade on your bare pate; then I let your Tang monk pass. If you cannot bear it, hand over your Tang monk quick, to be my mess of rice.” The Pilgrim heard and laughed: “Demon, if there is paper and brush in your cave, bring them out, and we will draw up a contract. From today on, hack till next year—I will not take it in earnest.”

The old demon roused his fierceness, planted his feet in the T-stance, raised the blade in both hands, and hacked down at the Great Sage's crown. The Great Sage met it with his head; there was a crack—and the skin of his head did not so much as redden. The old demon was greatly startled: “What a hard head this monkey has!” The Great Sage laughed: “You do not know. Old Sun is—

Born with a bronze head and an iron crown of skull—no such thing else on earth beneath heaven.Axes hack, hammers pound, and cannot break it; as a child I went into the Lord Lao's furnace.The star officers of the four dipper oversaw its forging; the twenty-eight mansions labored on the work.Soaked many a time in water, it is none the worse; around about it is plated with sinew and board.And the Tang monk, fearing it not firm enough, clapped on beforehand the purple-gold fillet.”

The old demon said: “Monkey, none of your boasting. Look to this second stroke—it will by no means spare your life.” The Pilgrim said: “Hack away; it will come to the same.” The old demon said: “Monkey, you do not know this blade of mine—

Wrought in a furnace of metal and fire, refined through a hundred smeltings by divine craft.Its edge follows the Three Strategies; its hardness squares with the Six Secret Teachings.It is like a fly's tail; it is like a white python's waist.Entering mountains, it sweeps the clouds; going to sea, it piles the waves.Ground and polished past counting; tempered hundreds of times.Kept in an old cave of the deep mountains; on the field it has won its glory.Set against your monkish crown of skull, one slice makes two gourd ladles.”

The Great Sage laughed: “The demon has no eye—he takes Old Sun for a gourd ladle. Well then: a miss for a miss—I will let you hack once more and see what comes of it.”

The old demon raised the blade and hacked again; the Great Sage met it with his head, and crack—it split in two halves. The Great Sage rolled on the ground and became two bodies. The demon saw and panicked, pressing the steel blade down. Zhu Bajie, watching from afar, laughed: “The old demon cuts so well he makes two—soon we shall have four!” The old demon pointed at the Pilgrim: “I have heard you can work the divided-body art. Why show that art before my face?” The Great Sage said: “What divided-body art?” The old demon said: “Why did one stroke leave you unmoved, and now one stroke makes two of you?” The Great Sage laughed: “Demon, do not be afraid. Hack ten thousand strokes and I will give you back twenty thousand men.” The old demon said: “You monkey, you can only divide your body, not gather it. If you have the power to gather into one, then give me one stroke of your staff.” The Great Sage said: “No lying now. You were to hack three strokes and have hacked but two. Let me give one stroke of the staff—and if it strikes but half a staff's worth, I will not be surnamed Sun.” The old demon said: “Just so, just so.”

Good Great Sage! He gathered his bodies up, rolled once, was one body again, drew the staff, and struck head-first. The old demon caught it on his blade: “Brazen ape, no manners! What sort of mourning staff is that, to come beat at my gate?” The Great Sage shouted: “If you ask after this staff of mine, it has a name in heaven and on earth.” The old demon said: “What name?” And he said:

“The staff is wrought of nine-times-refined steel, smelted in the Lord Lao's own furnace.King Yu sought it and named it the Divine Treasure; the four seas and eight rivers were measured by it as their proof.Within, stars and constellations are darkly set; at both ends it is banded with plates of gold.Its dense figures startle ghosts and gods; cut on it dragon patterns and phoenix seals.Its name is the Luminous Yang Staff; hidden deep in the sea-vault, hard for men to see.Its formed body changes and will soar, trailing five-colored cloud-light.Old Sun, winning the Way, bore it home to his mountain; its changes are endless and well tried.When he will, it is thick as a great urn; or so fine as an iron wire.Thick as the Southern Peak, fine as a needle; its length changes as my mind wills.Lifted lightly, colored clouds rise; flashing bright it soars like lightning.Its cold breath presses deadly chill; killing mists unroll in the air.Subduing dragons, taming tigers, it stays faithful at my side; to the sky's edge and the sea's corner it has roamed.With this staff I wrecked the Heavenly Palace, and with all my pomp scattered the Peach Banquet.Heavenly King Li fought me and never won; Nezha met me and could not close battle.The staff beat the gods till none could hide; a hundred thousand celestial troops fled scattering.The thunder generals guarded the Numinous Sky; I flew at them and battered up the Hall of Bright Penetration.The heralds of the court were all in a flutter; the immortal guards of the train all thrown in disarray.One heave of the staff overturned the palace of the Northern Dipper; looking back, I shook open the court of the Southern Pole.The Emperor of the Golden Gates saw the staff's fury and specially begged the Tathagata to meet me.For soldiers, win or lose as it may fall; in distress and peril there is no telling.A full five hundred years I lay pressed down, till the Bodhisattva of the South Sea interceded.In the Great Tang there is a monk gone forth from home, who vowed a mighty vow to heaven.To free the ghosts in the City of Wrongful Death, to seek the scriptures at the assembly on Vulture Peak.On the western road demons stand thick, and going is hard beyond telling.They knew my iron staff has no peer in the world, and begged me to be companion on the way.Evil demons that touch it go to the dark world; flesh turns to red dust, bones to meal.Everywhere demons die beneath the staff, by thousands and myriads, past reckoning.Above, it has battered the palace of Dipper and Ox; below, crushed and damaged the Hall of Darkness.Heavenly generals it has chased past the nine luminaries; in the netherworld it has wounded the Life-Summoning Judge.Dropped from mid-air it shakes hills and rivers, better than the new bright sword of the Year Star.All by this staff I guard the Tang monk; the demons of the world are beaten one by all.”

At this the demon, trembling, flung his life into the scale, raised his blade and hacked; the Monkey King, smiling, met him with the iron staff. First the two held their ground before the cave; then they leaped up and fought it out in mid-air. It was a fine slaughter:

The Divine Treasure that fixed the bed of the Sky River—the staff named As-You-Will, highest in the world.He bragged his art and the demon king raged; the great sword raised, his magic proud.At the gate their struggle could still be watched; fighting in the air, how could either spare the other?One changed his face at will; one stood and stretched his body tall.They fought till cloud hung heavy over all the sky and mist drifted over the wilds.That one set his heart, time and again, on eating Tripitaka; this one spread his powers wide to guard the Tang.All because the Buddha sends the scriptures down: evil and right locked clear in bitter strife.

The old demon and the Great Sage fought twenty rounds and more with no fall either way.

Now Bajie below, seeing the two of them fight at their finest, could not contain himself: rake up, he rode the wind, leaped into the air, and struck at the demon's face. The demon panicked. He did not know that Bajie's temper was a tiger-head temper, headlong and startling; he saw only a long mouth, big ears, hard hands, and a fierce rake—lost the field, dropped his blade, and turned to run. The Great Sage shouted: “Chase him, chase him.” The Idiot, riding his new prestige, rake aloft, hurried after the demon. The old demon, seeing him close, planted himself before the slope, faced the wind's head, gave a shake, and showed his original shape, opening his great mouth to swallow Bajie. Bajie, terrified, whipped aside and burrowed into the grass, caring nothing for thorn and briar, nor for a scratched and aching head, and lay trembling in the grass, listening to the clatter. The Pilgrim came on behind; the demon opened his mouth to swallow him too—and fell into the snare laid for him: the Pilgrim put up his iron staff and came on to meet him, and the old demon swallowed him at one gulp. The Idiot in the grass grumbled and groused: “That Keeper of Heavenly Horses knows neither forward nor back. The demon comes to eat you—why do you not run, and go meet him instead! Gulped down into the belly: today a monk, tomorrow a mound of dung.” The demon went off with his victory; the Idiot crawled out of the grass and slunk back by the old road.

Now Tripitaka, on the lower slope, was watching the road with Sha Monk, when Bajie came running, gasping and blowing. Tripitaka was startled: “Bajie, why are you in such a state? Where is Wukong?” The Idiot, blubbering, said: “Senior brother—the demon swallowed him at one gulp.” Tripitaka heard and fell to the ground; after a while he stamped his feet and beat his breast: “Disciple! They said you were so fine at quelling demons, leading me west to see the Buddha—who knew you would die today at that monster's hand. Bitter, bitter! The merit of us all is turned to dust this day.” The master grieved bitterly. And look at the Idiot: instead of comforting the master he called: “Sha Monk, bring the baggage here, and let us two divide it.” Sha Monk said: “Second brother, divide it for what?” Bajie said: “Divided, we each scatter and light our own fire: you to the Flowing Sand River, to eat men again; I to Gao Village, to see my wife. We will sell the white horse and buy the master a coffin for his end.” The elder, hearing this, choked with rage, cried to high heaven, and wept aloud—no more of that.

Now the old demon, having swallowed the Pilgrim, thought his plan made, and went straight back to his cave, where the demons met him asking the day's gain. The old demon said: “I have taken one.” The second demon rejoiced: “Brother, whom have you taken?” The old demon said: “The Pilgrim Sun.” The second said: “Taken where?” The old demon said: “Swallowed at one gulp into my belly.” The third demon king was horrified: “Elder brother! Did I not charge you: the Pilgrim Sun is not good eating?” And the Great Sage inside said: “Very good eating indeed—and it keeps off hunger too; I shall never be starved.” The little demons panicked: “Your Majesty, it is bad—the Pilgrim Sun is talking in your belly!” The old demon said: “What if he talks? If I had the power to eat him, have I not the power to handle him? Run quickly and boil some salt broth; I will pour it down and vomit him out, then stew him at leisure and drink his health.” The little demons truly scalded half a basin of salt broth. The old monster drank it off, bent his mouth, and heaved a great heave; but the Great Sage had taken root inside, and stirred not at all. He stopped up his throat and heaved again, till his head spun and his eyes swam and his gall was like to burst; the Pilgrim stirred less than ever. The old demon, gasping, called: “Pilgrim Sun, will you not come out?” The Pilgrim said: “Too soon—it is just the time not to come out.” The old demon said: “Why will you not come out?” The Pilgrim said: “You demon, how set in your ways. Since I became a monk I have known great poverty; now the autumn chills are here and I still wear a single thin robe. In here it is warm, and no wind gets through; let me lodge out the winter before I come out.”

The demons heard and all said: “Your Majesty, the Pilgrim Sun means to winter in your belly.” The old demon said: “Let him winter! I will sit in meditation and work the transport art, eat nothing all winter, and starve that Keeper of Heavenly Horses to death.” The Great Sage said: “My son, you know nothing. Old Sun, guarding the Tang monk to fetch the scriptures, came prepared: I brought along a folding pot, to come in and cook a dish of odds and ends. Your liver, your gullet, your maw, and your lungs in here, savored slowly, will keep me in traveling money till the Qingming feast.” The second demon was horrified: “Brother, this monkey could do it.” The third said: “Brother, let him eat the odds and ends—but where would he set up his pot?” The Pilgrim said: “On the three-forked bone, a fine place for a pot.” The third said: “It is bad—suppose the pot is set up and the smoke of the fire drifts up into your nostrils—will you not sneeze?” The Pilgrim laughed: “No matter. Old Sun will poke the gold-banded staff up through the crown of the head and bore a hole: a skylight, and a chimney too.”

The old demon heard; though he would not own his fear, his heart quaked. He could only set his teeth and call: “Brothers, do not be afraid. Bring my medicated wine; let me drink a few cups and drug the monkey dead.” The Pilgrim laughed in himself: “Five hundred years ago, when Old Sun wrought havoc in the Heavenly Palace, I ate the Lord Lao's elixir, the Jade Emperor's wine, the Queen Mother's peaches, phoenix marrow and dragon liver—what have I not eaten? What medicated wine dares come to drug me?” The little demons truly strained two pots of the medicated wine, filled a brimming cup, and handed it to the old demon. The old demon took it in his hands, and the Great Sage inside smelled the wine's fragrance: “None of that for him.” Good Great Sage! He twisted his head into the mouth of a trumpet, set open beneath the demon's gullet. The monster gulped it down, and the Pilgrim gulped and took it. The second cup went down, and the Pilgrim took that too. Seven or eight cups in a row, and every one he took. The old demon set down his cup: “No more. Two cups of this wine and my belly is afire; I have drunk seven or eight, and my face is not so much as red!”

Now the Great Sage was no great drinker; having taken the demon's seven or eight cups, he threw a drunken rampage inside the belly: never ceasing to brace his legs, sprawl flat, kick flying kicks, seize the liver and swing on it like a swing, stand on his head, turn somersaults, and flail about. The monster's pain was past bearing, and he fell to the ground.

But whether he would live or die—listen to the next chapter to find out.

The Mind-Monkey Bores Through the Body of Yin and Yang; the Demon Kings Are Returned to the Truth of the Great Way

Now the Great Sage Sun came up to the mouth of the cave and looked to either side. He saw:

Skulls in ridges; bones in forests. Human hair trodden into felt mats; human flesh and skin rotted to mud and dust. Human sinews wound about the trees, dried and scorched, gleaming like silver. Truly a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood; truly the stench was past bearing. On the east side little demons took living men and carved off their flesh; on the west brazen monsters boiled and stewed the fresh meat of men. Were it not for the Handsome Monkey King and such a hero's gall, no second common mortal could ever pass that gate.

In a little while he walked in through the second gate and looked — ah! Here it was different from outside: clean and strange, quiet and elegant; fair, broad, and level; on left and right jasper grasses and immortal flowers, before and behind tall pines and kingfisher bamboo. He went on seven or eight li more before he reached the third gate. Slipping sideways, peeking in, he saw the three old demons seated high, terribly fierce. The one in the middle was made like this:

Chiseled fangs and saw teeth; round head and square face. A voice that roared like thunder; eyes that flashed like lightning. Nostrils turned up to the sky; red brows streaming flame. Wherever he walked, the hearts of a hundred beasts panicked; when he sat down, the crowd of demons trembled. This one was the blue-furred lion monster, king of beasts.

The one at his left hand was made like this:

Phoenix eyes and golden pupils; yellow tusks and thick legs. A long trunk and silver hair; he watched his head like his tail. Round brow and knitted brows; a body massive and mighty. A voice thin as a dainty maiden's; a jade face like the evil ghost with the ox's head. This one was the Yellow-Tusked Old Elephant, who had hidden his tusks and kept himself for many years.

The one at his right hand was made like this:

A kun-fish head with golden wings; star pupils and leopard eyes. He wheels from the north to plan the south, hard, strong, and bold. In his changes he soars aloft; quails mock, and dragons grieve. He beats the wind, and a hundred birds hide their heads; he spreads his keen claws, and every bird loses heart. This one is the great Peng roc of the cloud road, ninety thousand li.

In two rows below were ranked a hundred and ten or so captains, big and little, each in full armor and trappings, corselet and helmet in good order, awful in bearing, steaming with the fumes of slaughter.

Pilgrim saw, and rejoiced in his heart, not a bit afraid. He strode straight in the gate, took off clapper and bell, called up to them: "Great kings." The three old demons asked, chuckling: "Little Wind-Drill, you are back?" Pilgrim answered: "Back." "You went to patrol the mountain — what news of Pilgrim Sun's whereabouts?" Pilgrim said: "Great kings, I dare not even speak of it." The old demon said: "Why dare you not speak?" Pilgrim said: "Carrying out the great king's order, I was beating my clapper and bell and walking along, when I suddenly looked up and saw a man squatting there grinding a great club, like a road-opening god; standing up, he would be a dozen zhang tall. He scooped water from the rock by the ravine, ground away, and murmured as he ground that his club had never yet shown its stuff on this journey; once it was ground bright, he would come and beat the great kings. So I knew him for Pilgrim Sun, and came specially to report."

The old demon heard, and the sweat poured from his body; he shook and stammered: "Brothers, did I not say we should not meddle with the Tang monk? His disciple's magic is so broad — he has already made ready, grinding his staff to beat us. What are we to do?" He ordered: "Boys, call everyone in from outside the cave, big and little; shut the gates and let him pass." Among the captains one who knew called: "Great king, the little demons outside have all scattered already." The old demon said: "How have they all scattered? No doubt they heard which way the wind blew. Shut the gates quickly, shut the gates quickly!" The demons, with a clatter, bolted the front and back gates fast and tight.

Pilgrim thought to himself, startled: "Once they shut the gate, if they ask me the ins and outs of family matters, I cannot answer — and would I not give the show away and be taken? Let me scare him once more, and make him keep the gate open, so I can run." He came up again: "Great king, there is worse that he said." The old demon said: "What else did he say?" Pilgrim said: "He said he would flay the eldest king, carve the flesh from the second king's bones, and pull the sinews of the third king. If you shut your gates and do not go out — well, he can change his shape; in a moment he could become a little fly, slip in through a crack in the gate, and carry every one of us off. What then?" The old demon said: "Brothers, be careful. In this cave of mine there is never a fly, year in, year out; if a fly comes in, it is Pilgrim Sun." Pilgrim laughed to himself: "Then I will become a fly and scare him, and get the gate open." The Great Sage slipped aside, reached back, plucked one hair from behind his head, blew on it a mouthful of magic breath, and cried: "Change!" It became a golden fly, and he flew and dashed himself full in the old demon's face. The old monster panicked: "Brothers, it is bad — that fellow is in the gate!" The demons big and small were thrown into such fright that, rakes and brooms in hand, they all rushed up swatting at the fly.

The Great Sage could not help laughing out loud. But laughing was the very thing he should not have done: that one laugh laughed out his old face. The third old demon leaped forward, seized him, and cried: "Brother, we came within a hair of being fooled!" The old demon said: "Worthy brother, who was fooling whom?" The third demon said: "That little demon who just gave his report was no Little Wind-Drill — he is Pilgrim Sun. He must have run into Little Wind-Drill, killed him somehow, and changed himself to fool us." Pilgrim panicked: "He knows me." He felt his face with his hand and said to the old monster: "How am I Pilgrim Sun? I am Little Wind-Drill; the great king is mistaken." The old demon laughed: "Brothers, he is Little Wind-Drill. He comes before me three times a day to answer roll; I know him." He asked: "Have you your tag?" Pilgrim said: "I have." He gathered up his clothes and produced the tag. The old monster was all the more certain: "Brothers, do not wrong the fellow." The third demon said: "Brother, did you not see him? Just now, when he turned aside and laughed, I saw him show a Thunder-God beak. And when I seized him, he changed back into this shape." He called: "Boys, bring ropes!" The captains hurried to fetch cords.

The third demon threw Pilgrim over and trussed him, hands and feet drawn together like a beast at four points. They lifted his clothes and looked: it was Bimawen (Keeper of the Heavenly Horses) to the life. For Pilgrim had seventy-two transformations: when he changed into birds and beasts, flowers and trees, vessels and insects, the whole body rolled into the new shape; but when he changed into a person, only the head and face changed, and the body would not. So there was the body all covered with yellow hair, two red haunches, and one tail. The old demon looked and said: "It is Pilgrim Sun's body with Little Wind-Drill's face. It is he." He ordered: "Boys, first set out wine, and offer the third king a cup for his merit. Now that Pilgrim Sun is taken, the Tang monk is meat in our mouths for certain." The third demon said: "Let us not drink yet. Pilgrim Sun is slippery and knows the arts of escape; he may get away. Tell the boys to bring out the vase, and put Pilgrim Sun in the vase; then we can drink at our ease."

The old demon laughed aloud: "Just so, just so!" He chose thirty-six little demons, who went inside, opened the storeroom door, and carried out the vase. And how big do you think the vase was? Only two chi and four cun high. Why did it take thirty-six men to carry it? The vase was the treasure of the two breaths, Yin and Yang; within it were the seven treasures, the eight trigrams, and the twenty-four seasonal airs, and thirty-six men were needed, answering the number of the heavenly powers, to lift it. In a little while they carried out the treasure vase, set it outside the third gate, wiped it clean, and lifted the lid. They untied Pilgrim's cords, stripped off his clothes, and with a whoosh at the immortal breath of the vase he was sucked inside; they put on the lid, sealed it with the strip, and went off to drink, saying: "Monkey, now that you are inside my treasure vase, think no more of the road west. If you are ever to worship Buddha and seek the scriptures, you must first turn your back, shake a cart, and go be born into another body." And see: the demons big and small, one and all chuckling, went off to offer their congratulations — but no more of that.

Now the Great Sage, inside the vase, found the treasure had squeezed his body small; he made himself small indeed and squatted in the middle. After a while, it was shady and cool there, and he suddenly laughed out: "This demon has a fine name outside and nothing to show inside. Why tell people that whoever is put in this vase turns to pus and blood in an hour and three quarters? At this rate of coolness I could live here seven or eight years and come to no harm." Ah! But the Great Sage did not know the nature of the treasure: if one who is shut in keeps silent for a year, the year is shady and cool; but the moment it hears a human voice, fire comes out to burn him. The Great Sage had not finished speaking when the whole vase was filled with flames. Happily he had the skill: sitting in the middle, he pinched the fire-avoiding sign, and was not afraid at all. He bore it half an hour, and then forty snakes came boring out of the walls all around to bite him. Pilgrim whirled his hands, grabbed them in, and squeezed with all his might, squeezing them into eighty pieces. A little later three fire dragons came out and coiled about him, up and down — very hard to bear. He felt himself panicking, at a loss: "Other things I can manage, but these three fire dragons are a bad business. If I do not get out soon, and the fire-heat attacks my heart, what then?" He thought: "Let me make my body longer and split it open." The good Great Sage pinched a sign, murmured a spell, and called: "Long!" He grew to a zhang or so tall; but the vase, hugging his body, grew up with him. He made his body small again, and the vase made itself small again. Pilgrim's heart sank: "Hard, hard, hard! When I grow, it grows; when I shrink, it shrinks. What am I to do?" As he spoke, his ankle bones began to ache. He reached down and felt: the fire had scorched them soft. He fretted: "What now? My ankle bones scorched soft — I shall be a cripple." He could not help dropping tears. This was truly:

In the demon's power, in pain, he thought of the Tripitaka; in danger, at the brink, he thought of the holy monk.

"Master! That year I turned to the true faith, thanks to the Bodhisattva Guanyin, who urged me to goodness and freed me from Heaven's punishment. With you I have climbed mountain after mountain in hardship, destroyed many monsters, won over Bajie, gained Sha Monk — through a thousand toils and ten thousand pains, hoping to reach the West together and win the true fruit side by side. Who would have thought that today I should meet this venomous demon, that old Sun, blundering in here, should lose his life and leave you on the mid-slope, unable to go forward? I suppose my name was too high in the old days, and so I meet this trouble today."

In the midst of his grief he suddenly remembered: "That year at Coiled Snake Mountain the Bodhisattva gave me three life-saving hairs. Do I have them or no? Let me search and see." He reached out and felt all over his body, and behind his head there were three hairs, standing very stiff and hard. He rejoiced: "All the hair on my body is soft as down; only these three are hard as spikes. They must be the ones to save my life." Through his teeth, bearing the pain, he pulled them out, blew on them a mouthful of magic breath, and cried: "Change!" One became a diamond drill, one a strip of bamboo, one a cord of cotton. He bent the bamboo strip into a little bow, strung the drill on it, and drilled away whirring at the bottom of the vase, until he had drilled a hole, and light came through. He rejoiced: "Luck, luck! Now I can get out." The moment he changed himself out of the vase, it turned cool again. How did it turn cool? Because the drilling had let the breaths of Yin and Yang escape, and so it cooled.

The good Great Sage took back his hairs, made his body small, and changed into a tiny cicada, neat and nimble, thin as a hair of the head, long as an eyebrow; out through the hole he bored — but he did not go away; he flew straight to the old demon's head and stuck there. The old demon was drinking when he suddenly set down his cup: "Third brother — has Pilgrim Sun melted by now?" The third demon laughed: "By this hour? Not yet." The old demon ordered the vase brought up. The thirty-six little demons below lifted it, and the vase was much lighter. Alarmed, they reported: "Great king, the vase has gone light." The old demon barked: "Nonsense! The treasure is the perfected work of the two breaths, Yin and Yang — how could it go light?" One unwilling little demon hoisted the vase up: "Look — is it not light?" The old demon lifted the lid and looked: inside, all was light. He could not help crying out: "The vase is empty — and 'empty,' as the old books say, means holed through!" The Great Sage, on his head, could not help adding: "My son — and 'whoosh' means flown away!" The monsters heard: "He has escaped, he has escaped!" and passed the order: "Shut the gates, shut the gates!"

Pilgrim shook his body, took back his stripped clothes, showed his true form, jumped out of the cave, and turned to curse: "Demons, none of your manners! Your vase is drilled through; it will hold no one now — you may keep it for a privy." Glad and merry, clattering and shouting, he stepped on his cloud and went straight back to the Tang monk. The elder was there scooping up earth for incense, praying toward the sky. Pilgrim stopped his cloud to hear what he prayed. The elder, palms joined toward heaven, said:

"He prays to the immortals of the clouds, all together, to the Six Dings and Six Jias and all the heavens:Guard his worthy disciple Pilgrim Sun, whose magic power is broad and whose law is without bound."

The Great Sage heard such words and redoubled his efforts; he drew in his cloud's light, came near, and called: "Master, I am here." The elder seized him: "Wukong, you have labored. You went far to scout the high mountain and were long in returning, and I was so anxious. What good or ill truly lies in this mountain?" Pilgrim laughed: "Master, this trip went well: first, the living souls of the East had fate and lot; second, Master's merit and virtue are without measure or bound; third, your disciple's own magic helped." Then he told in detail the whole affair: how he had played Wind-Drill, how he fell into the vase, and how he got out. "Now that I see your face again, master, I am truly a man of two lives." The elder thanked him without end: "This time you did not wager a fight with the demons?" Pilgrim said: "I did not." The elder said: "Then you cannot get me over the mountain?" Now Pilgrim was one who loved to win, and he shouted: "Why should I be unable to get you over?" The elder said: "You never settled victory or defeat with them; you come back with such vague talk — how dare I go forward?" The Great Sage laughed: "Master, you are too stiff to bend. There is a saying: 'One thread alone makes no line; one palm alone claps no sound.' Those demons are three, the little demons ten thousand; how is old Sun alone to fight them?" The elder said: "The few cannot stand against the many; it is hard for you alone. But Bajie and Sha Monk have arts too; let them all go, and with hearts and strength united sweep the mountain road clean and get me across." Pilgrim pondered: "Master's word is best. Let Sha Monk guard you, and Bajie come with me." The Idiot panicked: "Brother, you have no eye. I am coarse and clumsy, with no art at all; on the road I do nothing but drag the wind — what good am I to you?" Pilgrim said: "Brother, though you have no art, you are after all a man. The common saying goes: 'Even a fart adds wind.' You can put some heart into me." Bajie said: "Very well, very well — I hope you will pull me along. Only, where it is tricky, do not make game of me." The elder said: "Bajie, take care; I stay here with Sha Monk."

The Idiot stirred up his might, and with Pilgrim rode a wild wind, riding cloud and fog, jumped up the high mountain, and reached the cave mouth. The cave gate was shut tight, and no one was to be seen around. Pilgrim came up, gripped his iron staff, and shouted: "Demons, open the gate! Come out and fight old Sun!" The little demons within carried the report in. The old demon's heart jumped and his gall shook: "For years they have said the monkey was fierce — the word was no lie, but true." The second old monster asked beside him: "What do you say, brother?" The old demon said: "This morning the Pilgrim changed into Little Wind-Drill and slipped in among us, and we could not know him; happily our worthy third brother knew him, and we put him in the vase. But he worked his art, drilled through the vase, snatched up his clothes, and went. Now he is outside calling to battle. Who dares take the first round with him?" Not one answered. He asked again; still no one answered — all playing deaf and dumb. The old demon flared: "We hold an ugly name on the great western road; today Pilgrim Sun slights us so. If we do not go out and meet him in battle, our name will sink. Let me throw away this old life and fight him three rounds. If I stand three rounds, the Tang monk is still meat in our mouths; if not, we shut the gates then and let him pass." He took up his armor, dressed for battle, opened the gate, and marched out.

Pilgrim and Bajie watched at the side of the gate. A fine monster indeed:

Iron brow and bronze head under a jeweled helmet; the helmet's plume streams and dances, all shining.Shining, flashing like lightning, his two eyes bright; bright as spread rose-cloud, the hair at his temples flying.Hooked claws like silver, sharp and keen; saw teeth like chisels, close and even.His body cased in golden armor without one seam; at his waist a dragon-silk sash, his eye quick to mark his chance.In his hand a steel blade flashing bright; a hero's might rare in the world.One shout of his was like a clap of thunder, asking: "Who is it knocks at my gate?"

The Great Sage turned: "It is your old master Sun, the Great Sage Equal to Heaven." The old demon laughed: "You are Pilgrim Sun, that brazen ape! I never sought you out — why do you come shouting at my gate?" Pilgrim said: "'Wind, and the waves rise; no tide, and the water lies flat of itself.' You never sought me — did I go looking for you? It is because you and your pack of foxes and curs have banded together to plot the eating of my master that I am here to do my work." The old demon said: "You come bawling so fiercely at my gate — do you mean to fight?" Pilgrim said: "Just so." The old demon said: "None of your swagger. If I called out my demon host, arrayed my lines, waved flags and beat drums to fight you, it would look as if I were a housebound tiger bullying you. I will meet you one to one, with no helper." Pilgrim heard, and called: "Zhu Bajie, step back, and watch what he does with old Sun." The Idiot truly slipped aside. The old demon said: "Come here. First be a post for me: let me bring all my strength down on your bare head three blows with this blade, and then your Tang monk may pass. But if you cannot bear it, hand over your Tang monk quickly, to make me a dinner with my rice." Pilgrim heard, and laughed: "Monster, if there is paper and brush in your cave, bring them, and let us draw up a contract: from today you may hack away till next year, and I will never take it in earnest."

The old demon roused his might, took his stance with feet like the character for "ding," raised the blade in both hands, and hacked down at the Great Sage's crown. The Great Sage met it head on; there was a sound of crunching, and not even the scalp reddened. The old demon was greatly startled: "What a hard head this monkey has!" The Great Sage laughed: "You do not know. Old Sun was —

Born with a bronze head and an iron skullcap; such a one the world has never seen.Axes hack, hammers pound, and cannot break it; in childhood I sat in the Lord Lao's furnace.The star officers of the four dipper-halls oversaw its making; the twenty-eight mansions labored at it.Soaked many times in water, it never spoils; all around it is plated and seamed with sinew.The Tang monk, fearing it was not strong enough, crowned it beforehand with a purple-gold fillet."

The old demon said: "Monkey, none of your boasting. Watch my second blow: this one will not spare your life." Pilgrim said: "Hack away — it will come to the same thing." The old demon said: "Monkey, you do not know this blade:

Forged in the furnace of metal and fire, brewed in divine skill through a hundred smeltings.Its edge follows the Three Strategies; its strength squares with the Six Secret Teachings.It is like a fly's tail; it is like a white python's waist.It enters the mountains, and the clouds billow; it goes down to the sea, and the waves roar.Ground and honed past all counting, simmered over the fire some hundred times.Kept in an old cave in the deep hills, it has won its glory in battle.Set against your monk's crown of the skull, one stroke would split it like two ladles."

The Great Sage laughed: "The monster has no eye, taking old Sun for the head of a ladle. Very well — your stroke errs, I step aside; I will let you hack one more and see how it goes."

The old demon raised the blade and hacked again; the Great Sage met it head on, and with a crack he was split into two halves. The Great Sage rolled on the ground and became two bodies. The demon saw it and panicked, pressing the steel blade down. Bajie, watching from far off, laughed: "The old demon is good for two cuts, it seems — but are there not four of them now?" The old demon pointed at Pilgrim: "They say you can use the art of divided bodies — why bring out that trick before me?" The Great Sage said: "What is the art of divided bodies?" The old demon said: "Why did one blow not move you, and now one blow makes two of you?" The Great Sage laughed: "Monster, do not be afraid. Hack ten thousand blows, and I will owe you twenty thousand men." The old demon said: "You monkey, you can only divide your body, not gather it. If you have the skill to gather into one, then give me one blow of your staff." The Great Sage said: "No lying, now. You were to hack three blows and have hacked but two. Let me give one blow of the staff; if I do not strike you half through, I will not be surnamed Sun." The old demon said: "Just so, just so."

The good Great Sage drew his body together, rolled once, and was one body again; he pulled out his staff and struck straight at the head. The old demon caught it on his blade: "That brazen ape, no manners! What kind of mourning staff is that, to come beating at my gate?" The Great Sage roared: "You ask after this staff of mine? In heaven above and earth below it has a name." The old demon said: "How so, a name?" And he said:

"The staff is smelted of nine-times-refined wrought iron, tempered in the Lord Lao's own furnace.King Yu sought it and named it the Divine Treasure; the four seas and eight rivers prove its settling.Within it the stars and the Dipper lie darkly inlaid; at both ends are clasped plates of yellow gold.Its patterns, thickly spread, startle ghosts and gods; on it are wrought dragon marks and phoenix seals.Its name is the one staff, the Numinous Yang; deep hidden in the sea-vault, men could hardly see it.Formed and changed, it will fly and soar, drifting in five-colored rose-cloud light.Old Sun, winning the Way, bore it back to his mountain; its endless changes I have proved full often.Now great, it is thick as a vat; now small, it is fine as an iron wire.Thick as the Southern Peak, thin as a needle; long or short, it turns with my heart's wish.Lightly lifted, it begets colored clouds; brightly it flies like a flash of lightning.Its cool breath, drift on drift, presses chill on men; its killing mists, strand on strand, appear in the sky.It tames dragons and subdues tigers, faithful at my side; it has wandered the sky's rim and the sea's corner.Once with this staff I wrecked the Heavenly Palace and scattered with my might the Peach Banquet.Heavenly King Li wagered his fight and never won; Nezha met it and could not come to blows.The staff struck the gods, and none could hide; a hundred thousand heavenly soldiers fled.The thunder captains guarded the Hall of Numinous Sky; I flew up and battered the Hall of Pass-Bright.The angel ushers of the court were all in a bustle; the immortal guards of the car were all in an uproar.I raised the staff and tipped over the palace of the Northern Dipper; turning, I shook open the court of the Southern Pole.The Heavenly Sovereign of the golden gates saw the staff's fierceness and begged the Buddha specially to meet me.Victory and defeat among armies come as they come; in hardship and peril there is no choosing.For five hundred whole years I lay in rank and file; the Bodhisattva of the Southern Sea pleaded for me.In the Great Tang there is a monk gone from home who swore a great vow to heaven:to ferry the ghosts in the City of Wrongful Death and seek the scriptures at the assembly on Vulture Peak.On the western road there are demons, and going is most inconvenient.He knew this iron staff has no match in the world, and begged me to be his companion on the road.Evil demons that touch it go down to the dark world; flesh turns to red dust and bone to flour.Everywhere demons die beneath the staff — by tens of thousands, past all counting.Above, it has battered the palace of the Dipper and the Ox; below, crushed the Hall of Darkness.Heaven's generals it has chased with the Nine Luminaries; in the dark courts it wounded the judges who hasten death.Dropped from mid-sky, it shakes mountains and rivers, better than the new flowered sword of Tai Sui.All by this staff I guard the Tang monk; all the demons of the world I have beaten everywhere."

The demon heard, and trembling, threw his life on the stake; he raised his blade and hacked, and the Monkey King, smiling, met him with the iron staff. First they held their ground before the cave, then leaped up and fought in mid-air. It was a fine fight:

The Divine Treasure staff that settled the bed of the Sky River — the staff named As-You-Will, high in the world. Boasting of his arts enraged the demon king; the great blade lifted, his magic power bold. Holding the field outside the gate was near work still; but dueling in the air, how could either spare the other? One changed his face at will; the other lengthened his body on the spot. They fought till the clouds lay heavy over the whole sky and mist drifted over every field. The one was bent again and again on eating the Tripitaka; the other spread his magic far to guard the Tang. All because the Buddha gave the scriptures to the world; evil and true drawn clear, in bitter grapple joined.

The old demon and the Great Sage fought twenty rounds and more, with no victory to either.

Now Bajie below, seeing the two of them at the height of their fight, could not hold back; he raised his rake, caught the wind, jumped up, and struck at the demon's face. The demon panicked. He did not know that Bajie had a tiger's head for a temper, foolhardy and made to scare people. He only saw the long mouth and the big ears, the hard hands and the fierce rake, lost the field, dropped his blade, and turned and ran. The Great Sage shouted: "Chase him, chase him!" The Idiot, emboldened, raised his nail rake and hurried in chase of the monster. The old demon, seeing him close upon him, stopped short before the slope, faced the wind, shook himself, showed his original form, opened his great mouth, and made to swallow Bajie. Bajie, terrified, whipped aside and burrowed into the grass, caring neither for thorn nor briar, neither for a scraped head nor an aching crown, and lay trembling in the grass listening. Pilgrim came up close behind; the monster opened his mouth to swallow him too — and fell into the trap laid for him. Pilgrim put up his iron staff, went forward to meet him, and was swallowed at one gulp by the old demon. The Idiot, in the grass, muttered and grumbled: "That Bimawen has no sense of advance or retreat! The monster came to eat him — why did he not run, but go forward to meet him? One gulp down his belly: today he is a monk, and by tomorrow he is nothing but a pile of dung." The demon, victor, went back; the Idiot crawled out of the grass and slunk off along the old road.

Now the Tripitaka, on the slope below, was watching and hoping with Sha Monk, when Bajie came running, panting hard. The Tripitaka was startled: "Bajie, why are you in such a state? Where is Wukong?" Weeping, the Idiot said: "Our brother was swallowed down in one gulp by the demon." The Tripitaka heard, and fell to the ground in a faint; after a while he stamped his feet and beat his breast: "Disciple, I thought you were clever at subduing demons and would lead me to the Western Heaven to see Buddha — who knew you would die today at that monster's hand? Bitter, bitter! The merit won by my disciples together is now all turned to dust." The master grieved most bitterly. And see the Idiot: instead of comforting his master, he called: "Sha Monk, bring the baggage, and let us two divide it." Sha Monk said: "Second brother, divide it why?" Bajie said: "Divide it, and we each break up housekeeping: you go back to the Flowing Sand River and eat men again; I go back to Gao Village and see my wife. We will sell the white horse and buy Master a coffin for his burial." The elder heard this, gasping with rage, cried to high heaven, and burst into loud weeping — but no more of that.

Now the old demon, having swallowed Pilgrim, thought himself clever, and went straight back to his cave. The demons came to meet him and ask the merit of the battle. The old demon said: "I have taken one." The second demon rejoiced: "Brother, whom have you taken?" The old demon said: "Pilgrim Sun." The second demon said: "Where have you taken him?" The old demon said: "I swallowed him at one gulp into my belly." The third demon king was greatly startled: "Elder brother! I never instructed you — Pilgrim Sun is not good eating." The Great Sage said from inside: "Very good eating indeed! It keeps off hunger too; I shall never be hungry again." The little demons panicked: "Great king, this is bad — Pilgrim Sun is talking in your belly!" The old demon said: "Never mind his talking. If I had the skill to eat him, have I not the skill to deal with him? Go quickly and boil some salt brine, and let me pour it down; I will gag him up, then simmer him at leisure and eat him with my wine." The little demons truly ladled up half a basin of salt brine. The old monster drank it dry, bent his mouth down, and heaved with all his might to vomit; but the Great Sage had taken root inside, and did not stir. Then he blocked his own throat and retched outward again, till his head spun and his eyes dazzled and his gall broke; and Pilgrim stirred less than ever. The old demon, panting for breath, called: "Pilgrim Sun, will you not come out?" Pilgrim said: "Too soon — a fine place not to come out of!" The old demon said: "Why will you not come out?" Pilgrim said: "You monster, how stiff you are! Since I became a monk I have known great poverty; now with autumn's chill I still wear only a single unlined robe. In here it is warm, and the wind does not cut; let me lodge here through the winter, and then come out."

The demons heard, and all said: "Great king, Pilgrim Sun means to winter inside your belly." The old demon said: "Let him winter there; I will sit in meditation and work the art of transport, eat nothing all winter, and starve that Bimawen to death." The Great Sage said: "My son, you know nothing. Old Sun, guarding the Tang monk on his way for the scriptures, traveled light, and brought along a folding pot; I came in to boil offal for my dinner. Your liver, guts, stomach, and lungs in here will serve me finely, small morsel by small morsel, and there will be enough to keep me in traveling money till the Qingming festival." The second demon was alarmed: "Brother, this monkey could do it." The third demon said: "Brother, let him eat the offal; but where would he set up his pot?" Pilgrim said: "On the three-forked bone — a fine place to set a pot." The third demon said: "This is bad. If he sets up his pot and the fire smokes, the smoke will drift up into your nostrils, and will you not sneeze?" Pilgrim laughed: "No matter. Old Sun will poke the gold-banded staff up through the crown of your head and bore a hole — one, for a skylight; two, for a chimney."

The old demon heard, and though he said he was not afraid, his heart shook. He could only harden his gall and call: "Brothers, do not be afraid. Bring me my medicinal wine; let me drink a few cups, and drug the monkey dead." Pilgrim laughed to himself: "Five hundred years ago, when old Sun wrecked the Heavenly Palace, I ate the Lord Lao's elixir, the Jade Emperor's wine, the Queen Mother's peaches, phoenix marrow and dragon liver — what dainty have I not eaten? What medicinal wine dares come to drug me?" The little demons truly strained two pots of the medicinal wine and filled a cup brimful, handing it to the old demon. The old demon took it in his hands; the Great Sage smelled the wine's fragrance inside, and said: "He shall not drink it." The good Great Sage twisted his head into a trumpet mouth and set it under his throat. The monster gulped the wine down, and Pilgrim gulped and took it. The second cup was gulped down, and Pilgrim gulped and took that too. Seven or eight cups one after another — he took them all. The old demon set down the cup: "No more. At ordinary times two cups of this wine set my belly on fire; now I have drunk seven or eight, and not a touch of red on my face!"

Now the Great Sage was no great drinker; having taken the seven or eight cups, he raised a drunken riot inside: without cease he braced his feet against the ribs, sprawled flat, kicked flying kicks, caught the liver and swung on it like a swing, stood on his head, turned somersaults, and thrashed about. The monster could not bear the pain, and fell to the ground.

Whether he lives or dies — listen to the next chapter to find out.