Chapter 76

The Mind-Spirit Lodges in the House and the Demon Returns to Nature; Wood-Mother Joins the Subduing and the Monster's Form Shows True

The story tells how the Great Sage Sun held out a while inside the old demon's belly; the demon king lay in the dust, without sound or breath. If he did not speak, he seemed dead; but when the Pilgrim gave his hand a few shakes, the demon king got his breath back and cried: “Great Bodhisattva, Great Sage Equal to Heaven, of boundless mercy!” The Pilgrim heard and said: “Son, spare yourself the trouble; cut the words short and just call me Grandfather Sun.” The demon, clinging to his life, truly did call: “Grandfather, Grandfather, the fault is mine. Through one slip and another mistake I swallowed you, and now you turn and plague me. I beg the Great Sage's mercy: pity the ant's love of life, spare me, and I will carry your master over the mountain.” The Great Sage, hero though he was, had much at heart for Tripitaka's progress. He heard the demon pleading, and he was a man who softened under fair words; his thought turned kind, and he called: “Demon, I spare you. But how will you carry my master?” The old demon said: “I have here no gold or silver, no pearls or kingfisher plumes, no agate, coral, glass, amber, or tortoiseshell treasures to send you with. My brothers three will carry a sedan of fragrant rattan and bear your master over this mountain.” The Pilgrim laughed: “Since you will bear the sedan, that beats sending treasure. Open your mouth, and I will come out.” And the demon king truly opened his mouth. The third demon came up close and whispered to the old demon: “Elder brother, the moment he comes out, snap your jaws down, chew the monkey to mince, swallow him—and he will plague you no more.”

Now the Pilgrim inside had heard; he did not come out first, but thrust the gold-banded staff out to try him. The monster truly snapped down, and with a crack his front teeth burst to pieces. The Pilgrim drew back the staff: “Fine demon! I was sparing your life and coming out, and you bite at me, meaning to take my life. Then I will not come out—I will simply worry you to death. I will not come out, I will not come out.” The old demon reproached the third: “Brother, you have set our own household against itself. I was ready to ask him out nicely, and you told me to bite him. I never got a bite of him; you burst my gums to aching. How did this come about?”

The third demon, blamed by the old demon, played instead the goading art, and called aloud: “Pilgrim Sun! Your name rang in my ears like rolling thunder. They say you showed your might outside the South Heaven Gate and flaunted yourself beneath the Numinous Sky Hall; that now on the western road you quell demons and bind monsters. And you turn out to be a small-fry monkey.” The Pilgrim said: “How am I small fry?” The third said: “‘A pleasant guest is worth a thousand li; his name travels ten thousand.’ Come out and fight me, and be a hero. What hero works his trade inside a man's belly? If that is not small fry, what is?” The Pilgrim heard and thought: “Yes, yes, yes. If I chose to tear his gut, squash his liver, and kill this monster now, what difficulty would there be? But it would truly blacken my name. Well then, well then: open your mouth, and I will come out and match you. Only your cave mouth is cramped—no room to swing one's tools; we must go somewhere open.” The third demon heard and picked out his demons great and small, front and back, more than thirty thousand sprites, every one with a keen weapon in hand, and deployed outside the cave in a formation of the Three Powers, waiting for the Pilgrim to come out, to fall on him together. The second demon helped the old demon out to the gate and called: “Pilgrim Sun, come out, hero; here is a battlefield—a fine place to fight.”

The Great Sage, in his belly, heard outside the cawing of crows and chattering of magpies, the crane's cry and the sound of wind, and knew it was open ground. And he thought: “If I do not come out, I break faith with him; but if I do, this demon has a man's face and a beast's heart: first he promised to carry my master, to coax me out and bite me; now he has mustered troops here. Well then, well then—let me have it both ways at once: out I come, but I leave a root behind in his belly.” He turned his hand, plucked a hair from his tail, blew on it a breath of immortal air, and cried, “Change!” It became a cord, thin as a hair of the head, forty zhang long. The cord, paid out, thickened as it met the wind. He knotted one end about the demon's heart and liver, tying a slipknot—a knot that held slack till pulled, and once pulled, pained. He took the other end and laughed: “Once out, if he carries my master, well and good; but if he does not, and meddles with blade and spear, I have no time to fight him—I need only pull this cord, and it will be as if I were in his belly still.” Then he made his body small and crawled outward. He crawled to below the throat, and saw the demon's great mouth gaping, the steel teeth above and below ranked like keen blades, and thought suddenly: “Bad, bad. If I go out by the mouth pulling this cord, he will fear the pain and bite down—and would he not bite it through? I will go out where he has no teeth.” Good Great Sage! Paying out the cord, he crawled forward over the upper palate, up into the demon's nostrils. The old demon's nose tickled: with a great ah-choo he sneezed, and out shot the Pilgrim.

The Pilgrim, feeling the wind, bent at the waist and grew three zhang long, one hand on the cord, one hand on the iron staff. The demon king, knowing no better, saw him out and raised his steel blade to hack at his face. The Great Sage met him with the iron staff in one hand. Then he saw the second demon with his spear and the third with his halberd coming on wildly, head and face together. The Great Sage slackened the cord, put up the staff, and sprang away on his cloud. He feared being ringed by that host of little demons, where no work could be done; he leaped out beyond the camp, to a bare hilltop, set his cloud down, and with both hands hauled the cord with all his might. The old demon's heart began to ache. He writhed upward with the pain; the Great Sage hauled down again. The little demons, watching from afar, called out together: “Your Majesty, do not provoke him—let him go. This monkey keeps no calendar: it is not yet Qingming, and there he is flying a kite.” The Great Sage heard, and set his feet and gave a great yank. The old demon came flapping down out of the air like a spinning wheel, and fell in the dust, denting the hard yellow earth of the slope into a pit two feet deep.

The second and third demons, panicked, pressed their clouds down together, ran up, took hold of the cord, knelt below the slope, and pleaded: “Great Sage! We took you for an immortal of broad bosom and sea-wide heart; who knew you were a mouse-bellied, snail-gutted soul? In truth we coaxed you out to meet you in the field—no thought that you had knotted a cord about our elder brother's heart.” The Pilgrim laughed: “You brazen demons, past all manners! Last time you coaxed me out to bite me; this time you coax me out and draw up ranks against me. Tens of thousands of demon soldiers against one of me—by no reason of man. Haul him along—haul him along to see my master.” The demons knocked their heads together: “Great Sage, be merciful; spare our lives, and we will carry the old master over the mountain.” The Pilgrim laughed: “You want your lives? Then take a knife and cut the cord.” The old demon said: “Sire! Cut the outside end, but the other is knotted at my heart—and at my throat there is a creeping nausea. What am I to do?” The Pilgrim said: “In that case, open your mouth, and I will go in again and untie the cord.” The old demon panicked: “Once you are in, you may never come out—hard, hard.” The Pilgrim said: “I have the power to untie the inside knot from the outside. And once untied, will you truly carry my master?” The old demon said: “Untied, I carry him; I would not dare speak a lying word.” The Great Sage, satisfied it was true, shook his body and gathered back his hair—and the demon's heart stopped aching. This was the Great Sage Sun's masking art: the hair was knotted to his heart; the hair withdrawn, the pain went with it. The three demons leaped up, thanking him: “Great Sage, go back; tell the Tang monk to pack up his baggage, and we will bring the sedan to carry him.” The demons sheathed their arms and all returned to the cave.

The Great Sage coiled the cord and went back east over the mountain, and saw from afar the Tang monk lying on the ground rolling and weeping, while Zhu Bajie and Sha Monk had untied the bundles and were dividing the baggage. The Pilgrim sighed in himself: “No need to ask: Bajie must have told the master I was eaten by the demon; the master, unable to bear losing me, weeps; and the Idiot divides the goods and scatters the household. Ah! Can that be it? Let me call once and see.” He dropped his cloud and called: “Master.” Sha Monk heard and rounded on Bajie: “You are a coffin-lid board—born to wreck other men. Senior brother was not dead, and you said he was; at this business of yours—what call is that coming?” Bajie said: “I saw him swallowed at one gulp with my own eyes. The day must be unlucky; the monkey has come back a ghost.” The Pilgrim came up, seized Bajie's face, and slapped him staggering: “You clod! What ghost would I be?” The Idiot, covering his face, said: “Brother, the monster truly ate you—how, how do you live again?” The Pilgrim said: “For a pudding of a fellow like you? When he ate me, I clawed his gut, squeezed his lungs, threaded this cord through his heart, and hauled till the pain was past bearing, till they all knelt begging; then I spared his life. Now they bring a sedan to carry my master over the mountain.” Tripitaka heard, scrambled up, and bowed to the Pilgrim: “Disciple, you have been worked to death for me. Had I believed Wuneng's talk, I would have been ended.” The Pilgrim swung his fist at Bajie, cursing: “This bran-belly Idiot, how lazy, how little of a man! Master, do not fret; the demon comes presently to carry you.” Sha Monk too was sore ashamed, covered it up quickly, packed the baggage, saddled the horse, and they waited by the road—no more of that.

Now the three demon kings led their sprites back to the cave. The second said: “Brother, I thought the Pilgrim Sun was some nine-headed, eight-tailed prodigy—and he is only a little monkey like this. You should not have swallowed him. In a bout of arms, when could he stand against you and me? With these tens of thousands of demons in the cave, our spittle alone could drown him. But you swallowed him into your belly, and he raised his arts inside and made you suffer. How dare you match with him? That talk of carrying the Tang monk over was all pretense; the truth is that our elder brother's life hung on it. We will never carry him.” The old demon said: “Good brother, why will you not carry him?” The second said: “Give me three thousand little demons drawn up in ranks, and I have the power to take this monkey.” The old demon said: “Never mind three thousand—take the whole main camp if you like. Only take him, and we all share the credit.”

The second demon picked three thousand little demons, drew them up beside the highway, and sent a blue-flag runner back and forth crying: “Pilgrim Sun, come out early and give battle to His Majesty the Second King!” Bajie heard and laughed: “Brother, the saying goes: ‘A lie will not fool a home-born man.’ Here comes the fancy-work and the devilry again. You said the demons were subdued and would bring a sedan to carry the master; and now they call for battle—why?” The Pilgrim said: “The old monster is subdued by me; he dares not show his head—the very word ‘Sun’ gives him the headache. This must be the second demon loath to carry us, and so he calls for battle. I say, brother: that demon has three brothers, so full of brotherly loyalty; we are three brothers too—shall we have none? I have subdued the eldest; the second is out—why should you not fight him?” Bajie said: “What is there to fear? Let me go strike him a battle.” The Pilgrim said: “If you are going, go.” Bajie laughed: “Brother, going I will go—but lend me that cord to use.” The Pilgrim said: “What do you want with it? You have no art to get inside a belly, no art to knot it at a heart—what use is it to you?” Bajie said: “I will buckle it at my waist for a life-rope. You and Sha Monk hold the rear end and pay me out to fight him. Judge me winning, and you slacken, and I take him; if I am losing, haul me back, and let him not drag me off.” And truly the Pilgrim laughed in himself: “A fine chance to make a game of the Idiot.” He buckled the cord at his waist and shoved him out to battle.

The Idiot hoisted his muckrake and ran up the crag, calling: “Come out, demon, and fight your pig ancestor!” The blue-flag runner hurried in: “Your Majesty, a monk with a long mouth and big ears is coming.” The second demon came out of the camp, saw Bajie, and without one word of parley drove his spear full at his face; the Idiot raised his rake and met him. The two locked grips before the slope; before seven or eight rounds the Idiot's hands went weak, he could not hold the demon, and turned crying: “Brother, it is bad—haul the life-rope, haul the life-rope.” The Great Sage on that side heard—and slacked the cord instead, and let it fly. The Idiot, beaten, ran backward. Dragging a cord is nothing going forward; but coming back, it being slack, it caught his feet: he tripped himself into one fall, got up, and fell again. First he staggered; then he went down flat on his face. The demon caught him, flipped out that trunk, like a flood dragon, and wound it about Bajie's waist, and went back to the cave with his victory, all the demons singing triumph together, crowding home.

Below the slope Tripitaka saw it, and was angry with the Pilgrim: “Wukong, no wonder Wuneng cursed you to die: your brotherhood has no love in it at all—nothing but jealousy and envy. He begged you to haul the life-rope—why would you not haul it, but throw the rope away instead? Now he is taken—what of that?” The Pilgrim laughed: “Master, you are very partial, very doting. Enough: when Old Sun was taken, you never fretted—he was only a fellow ready to spend his life; this Idiot is taken once, and you blame me. Let him taste some trouble, and see how hard the scriptures are to fetch.” Tripitaka said: “Disciple, when you went, was I not anxious? I thought: he can change his shape; surely he will not be hurt. This Idiot is built like a clod, and cannot leap and dodge; on such a trip, little luck and much harm. Go save him after all.” The Pilgrim said: “Master, do not blame me—let me go save him.”

He sprang away and hurried up the mountain, hating in the dark: “This Idiot cursed me dead; let him have no joy of it yet. Let me follow and see how the demon handles him—let him take his pains, and then I will save him.” He pinched the spell-sign, murmured the true words, shook himself once, changed into a tiny cicada, flew after, and stuck at the root of Bajie's ear, and so came with the demon into the cave. The second demon led his three thousand sprites, with a great blowing of horns and beating of drums, and made camp at the cave mouth. He brought Bajie inside: “Brother, I have taken one.” The old monster said: “Bring him; let me see.” He slackened his trunk and dropped Bajie: “Is this not he?” The old monster said: “This fellow is of no use.” Bajie heard: “Your Majesty, put out the useless one and go catch you a useful one.” The third said: “Useless he may be, but he is the Tang monk's disciple, Zhu Bajie. Bind him and steep him in the pond at the back. When the water has loosened his bristles, we will slit his belly, salt him, dry him in the sun, and save him for a cloudy day to go with wine.” Bajie was horrified: “It is over, it is over—I have fallen in with pickling demons!” The demons all set to, bound the Idiot hog-tied, four limbs together, shouldered and carried him to the pond, shoved him into the middle, and all turned away.

The Great Sage flew up and watched: the Idiot lay belly-up, snout poking, half floating, half sinking, snorting and blowing—a truly laughable sight: like a great black lotus seedpod of the eighth or ninth month, frost-nipped, gone to seed. The Great Sage, seeing that face of his, hated him and pitied him too. He said: “What is to be done with him? He too is one of the Dragon-Flower Assembly. Yet I hate it in him: at every turn he divides the baggage and scatters the household, and he eggs the master on to recite the Tight-Fillet Spell at me. I heard Sha Monk say once he has hoarded private savings of his own—has he or no? Let me frighten him a little and see.”

Good Great Sage! He flew close to his ear and faked a voice, crying: “Zhu Wuneng! Zhu Wuneng!” Bajie panicked: “Ill luck! This Wuneng was given me by the Bodhisattva Guanyin; since I followed the Tang monk I am called Bajie besides. How does anyone here know I am called Wuneng?” The Idiot could not help asking: “Who calls my religious name?” The Pilgrim said: “I do.” The Idiot said: “Who are you?” The Pilgrim said: “I am the Summoner of souls.” The Idiot panicked: “Officer, where do you come from?” The Pilgrim said: “The Fifth King of Hell has sent me to call in your name.” The Idiot said: “Officer, go back, I beg you, and tell the Fifth King of Hell: he and my senior brother Sun Wukong are very good friends; let him put me off one day, and call tomorrow.” The Pilgrim said: “Nonsense. ‘When Yama fixes death at the third watch, who dares keep a man to the fourth?’ Come along now, and spare yourself the rope.” The Idiot said: “Officer, is there no corner of grace? Look at this face of mine—I still think of living. Dead I certainly am, but grant one day: this demon will have brought in my master and the rest; let us meet, and all be squared at once.” The Pilgrim laughed in himself: “Well then. My warrant carries thirty names, all about here before and behind. If I summon them to wait on you, you will have your day's delay. Have you traveling money? Give me a little.” Bajie said: “Pity, pity—where would a monk out of the world get traveling money?” The Pilgrim said: “No money? Then into the rope, and come along.” The Idiot panicked: “Officer, not the rope. I know that rope of yours—the Life-Chasing Rope: once it nooses, the breath stops. I have, I have—I have a little, only not much.” The Pilgrim said: “Where? Out with it, quick.” Bajie said: “Pity, pity. From the day I became a monk to now, some pious households fed monks; seeing what a feed-bag I am, they gave me a little more alms than the rest. I took it and saved it: odds and ends, five mace of silver in all. It was awkward to keep, so in the city I begged a silversmith to melt it into one piece, and the rogue—no fear of heaven in him—skimmed a few candareens off; only four mace six left, one lump. Take it and go.” The Pilgrim laughed in himself: “The Idiot has not a pair of trousers to wear—where would he keep it? Eh! Where is your silver?” Bajie said: “Stuffed in the hole of my left ear. I am bound and cannot reach it—take it out yourself.”

The Pilgrim heard, reached into the ear hole, and drew it out: truly a saddle-shaped piece of silver, four mace five or six candareens in weight. He held it in his hand and burst out laughing. The Idiot, knowing the voice for the Pilgrim's, cursed in the water: “Plague take that Keeper of Heavenly Horses—come to swindle my property in such a strait as this!” The Pilgrim laughed again: “You pickled rascal! Old Sun has borne untold hardships guarding the master—and you have hoarded a private purse.” Bajie said: “A face for you! What private purse? It is all scraped off my teeth; I could not bear to spend it on my mouth, and kept it to buy a bolt of cloth and make a garment—and you frightened it out of me. Share me some back.” The Pilgrim said: “Not half a share for you.” Bajie cursed: “Keep it for my ransom, then—it may buy me out of here.” The Pilgrim said: “Do not fret; I will save you.” He hid the silver, showed his true form, drew the iron staff, waded in, took the Idiot by the feet, hauled him up, and untied the cords. Bajie jumped up, stripped off his clothes, wrung out the water, gave a shake, and draped the dripping things back on: “Brother, let us slip out the back gate.” The Pilgrim said: “Slipping out the back—is that your notion of growing up? We fight our way out the front.” Bajie said: “My legs are bound numb; I cannot run.” The Pilgrim said: “Then keep up with me.”

Good Great Sage! He flung the iron staff through its whole repertoire, fighting his way out. The Idiot, bearing his numbness, kept close at his heels. At the second gate he saw his own muckrake leaning, pushed the little demons aside, grabbed it, and struck wildly ahead, fighting out three or four gates of doors with the Pilgrim—no telling how many little demons they killed. The old demon heard and said to the second: “Fine prisoners you take, fine prisoners! Look: the Pilgrim Sun has robbed you of Zhu Bajie and is beating our little demons at the gates.” The second demon sprang up, seized his spear, and rushed out the door, cursing aloud: “Brazen ape, such insolence—how dare you slight us so?” The Great Sage heard and stopped where he stood to meet him. The monster would have no parley: spear out at once; but the Pilgrim, a master hand, was never flurried: iron staff drawn, he met him face to face. The two of them before the cave gate—a fine slaughter:

The yellow-tusked old elephant took human form and swore brotherhood with the lion king.Because the eldest demon was the go-between, with one heart they schemed to eat the Tang monk.The Great Sage Equal to Heaven, whose powers are vast, upholds the right and roots out evil, set on destroying the sprites.Bajie, powerless, fell into the cruel hand; Wukong came to the rescue and broke from the gate.The demon king pursued, showing his might; spear and staff crossed as each displayed his art.That one's spear came like a python threading the wood; this one's staff rose like a dragon issuing from the sea.The dragon from the sea gate—clouds thick on thick; the python through the forest trees—mist rising on rising.In the end all for the Tang monk: in bitter hate they locked, with no love between.

Bajie, seeing the Great Sage and the demon at it, planted his muckrake on the spur of the hill and stood gaping, coming to no one's help. The demon, finding the Pilgrim's staff so heavy, his repertoire complete without one gap, caught the staff on his spear, flipped out his trunk, and made to wind him up. The Pilgrim knew his trade: both hands he raised the gold-banded staff high overhead. The demon's trunk wound round his waist and haunches, but missed his hands—and look at him, both hands free, spinning the staff above the demon's snout for play. Bajie saw and beat his breast: “Ah! What luck the monster has! He wound me up, the clod, hands and all, so I could not stir; he winds that slippery one and takes no hands. Those two hands of his hold the staff—one poke up the nostril and that hole would smart and run—how could he hold him then?”

The Pilgrim had had no such thought—Bajie taught it him. He shook the staff small as a hen's egg, a zhang and more long, and truly poked it up the demon's nostril. The monster, terrified, with a hiss let go his trunk. The Pilgrim's hand turned, seized the trunk, and hauled forward with his strength. The demon, guarding his pain, came hopping after his hand. Bajie now dared come near, striking wildly at the demon's haunch with his rake. The Pilgrim said: “No, no—those rake teeth are sharp; you may break the skin and draw blood, and the master will see and say we relish slaughter. Turn it about and beat him with the haft.”

And truly the Idiot took the rake by its handle, a step and a blow; the Pilgrim led the trunk: like two elephant drivers they brought him down the slope. There stood Tripitaka, eyes fixed, watching the road; seeing the two of them come brawling and roaring along, he called: “Wujing—look what Wukong is leading!” Sha Monk saw and laughed: “Master, senior brother has the demon by the nose, hauling him along—it is a joy to see.” Tripitaka said: “Blessed, blessed! So big a monster, so long a trunk. Ask him: if he will gladly carry us over the mountain, spare him—do not take his life.” Sha Monk sprang ahead and called: “The master says: if the monster will truly carry him over the mountain, he is not to be hurt.” The monster heard and knelt down at once, answering with wuffled moans—his nose, pinched tight by the Pilgrim, was stuffed like a man in the worst of head colds. He said: “Lord Tang, if you will spare my life, the sedan comes at once to carry you.” The Pilgrim said: “My master and disciples are all merciful in victory: as you say, we spare your life. Bring the sedan quickly—and if you turn coat again, once taken, you will be spared no more.” The monster, his trunk released, knocked his head and went. The Pilgrim and Bajie came to the Tang monk and told the whole affair. Bajie, abashed past bearing, spread his clothes to dry on the slope and waited—no more of that.

The second demon went trembling back to the cave. Before he arrived, the little demons had carried word to the old demon and the third that the second had been taken by the nose and hauled away. The old demon quaked, and with the third had led out his host, when they saw the second coming back alone, took him in again, and asked why he was freed. The second told them all the Tang monk's words of mercy in victory. One looked at another, and none dared speak. The second said: “Brother, do we carry the Tang monk or no?” The old demon said: “Brother, what talk is this? The Pilgrim Sun is a monkey that deals in broad justice. He was inside my belly: had he meant to take my life, a thousand of me had died by his handling. And just now, holding your nose—if he had hauled and never given back, a pinch would have burst your snout—and even that would have been shameful for us. Make ready quickly and carry him over.” The third laughed: “Carry, carry, carry.” The old demon said: “Good brother, you speak like a man out of temper. If you will not carry, we two will carry him.”

The third laughed again: “Elder brothers, hear me: if the monk does not want our carrying, and we let it slip by so, that is his good fortune; but if he wants carrying, then—why, he walks straight into my plan of luring the tiger from his hill.” The old monster said: “What is ‘luring the tiger from his hill’?” The third said: “Now we muster every demon in the cave and choose: out of ten thousand, a thousand; out of a thousand, a hundred; out of the hundred, sixteen; and thirty besides.” The old monster said: “Why sixteen, and thirty too?” The third said: “Thirty who can boil and stew. Give them fine rice, white flour, bamboo shoots, tea buds, fragrant mushrooms, toadstools, bean curd, and gluten, and send them twenty or thirty li out to pitch a camp and lay out tea and rice to entertain the Tang monk.” The old monster said: “And what are the sixteen for?” The third said: “Eight to carry, eight to clear the road with their cries. We three brothers attend at his side and see him part of the way. Four hundred li and more west of here lies my city; I have men and horses there to meet us. When we come near the walls—so and so and so—master and disciples, head and tail, shall not see each other. To take the Tang monk, the whole success hangs on those sixteen.” The old monster heard and rejoiced without measure—truly like a wakened drunk, a man out of a dream. “Good, good, good!” He mustered his demons, chose the thirty first and gave them their goods; then chose the sixteen to carry a sedan of fragrant rattan, and they came out the gates together. He charged the rest of the demons: “None of you is to stroll up the mountain. The Pilgrim Sun is a monkey of many thoughts: see you coming and going, he will grow suspicious and see through the plan.”

The old monster led them out to the highway and called aloud: “Lord Tang! Today no baleful star crosses your path; come over the mountain early, my lord.” Tripitaka heard: “Wukong, who calls me?” The Pilgrim pointed: “Over there are the demons Old Sun subdued, come with the sedan to carry you.” Tripitaka pressed his palms together toward heaven: “Blessed, blessed! Without a disciple of such powers, how should I ever get through?” He walked straight up and bowed to the demons: “Much obliged for your kindness. When I have fetched the scriptures and returned east to Chang'an, I will publish your good deed.” The demons knocked their heads: “Pray mount the sedan, my lord.” Now Tripitaka had mortal eyes and mortal flesh, and knew no trickery; and the Great Sage Sun, being an immortal of the highest rank, upright and true of nature, thought only of the work of taking and letting go—he had subdued the demons; how could he look for plots in them? He did not examine closely, but followed the master's wishes: he ordered Bajie to sling the baggage on the horse and keep close with Sha Monk; he himself went ahead with the iron staff to open the road, watching for good and ill. Eight raised the sedan, eight cried the road in relays, the three demons steadied the shafts; and the master sat the sedan glad and gay. Up the high mountain, along the great road, they went.

Who could know that in the midst of joy sorrow was coming? The scripture says: “When peace reaches its height, decline is born.” His hour had met a true Year Star of bale, and the Mourning and Visiting stars besides. That troop of demons waited on them, of one heart and mind, left and right, obsequious morning and night. At thirty li they offered a meal, at fifty li a meal again; before dusk they asked for lodging—all in order along the way. Three meals a day, to their heart's content; a night's good lodging, well placed to rest.

Westward they had four hundred li and more to go when the city came in sight. The Great Sage raised his iron staff; one li only from the sedan he saw the city—and it frightened him into a fall, from which he could not scramble up. You think him so bold—why should the sight so terrify him? Because he saw in that city a host of evil airs. They were:

Thronging and clustering, demons and monsters; at all four gates wolf sprites.A brindled tiger as steward-in-chief; a white-faced tiger-cat as commander-in-chief.Fork-horned deer carried the passes and papers; clever foxes strutted the highways.A thousand-foot python patrolled the walls; a ten-thousand-foot serpent held the roads.Under the towers gray wolves called the messengers; before the terraces spotted leopards spoke with human voices.Flag-wavers and drum-beaters all were demons; the night patrol and the watch posts all mountain sprites.Crafty hares kept shop and drove their trades; wild boars shouldered loads and made their livings.In years past it was a kingdom of the heavenly court; now it is turned a city of tigers and wolves.

The Great Sage was at his most frightened when he heard wind behind his ear. He turned sharply: it was the third demon, both hands raising a painted-shaft halberd, bringing it down at the Great Sage's head. The Great Sage tumbled up in haste and met it face to face with the gold-banded staff. The two, each nursing fury, panting, without one word; teeth set, each set on the other. Then the old demon king passed the word, raised his steel blade, and hacked at Bajie; Bajie, panicked, dropped the horse, swung his rake, and struck wildly ahead. The second demon twirled his long spear and stabbed at Sha Monk; Sha Monk's demon-quelling staff warded and held him. Three demon kings against three monks, one to one, on the hilltop, flinging away their lives in bitter fight.

The sixteen little demons kept to their orders, each at his best: they seized the white horse and the bags, crowded round Tripitaka, hoisted the sedan, and ran straight for the city, calling aloud: “By His Majesty's plan the Tang monk is taken!” Big and little demons on the walls came running down and flung the gates wide. Word was passed to every camp: furl the flags, muffle the drums, no shouting, no gong. “The king's order stands from before: the Tang monk must not be frightened. The Tang monk cannot bear a fright—one fright and his flesh sours, and is no good to eat.” All the demons in their joy welcomed Tripitaka, bowing low, bending their backs to receive their master monk. They carried the Tang monk in his sedan up the golden throne hall, set him in the middle, offered tea and rice on this side and that, circling about him. The elder lay dazed and dim, among them and alone.

But whether his life would stand—listen to the next chapter to find out.

The Mind's Spirit Dwells in the House and the Demon Returns to His Nature; Wood and Mother Together Subdue the Monster and Touch the Truth

The story tells how the Great Sage Sun put it off a while inside the old demon's belly, and the demon king lay in the dust, without sound or breath. If he did not speak, he must be dead — and yet he moved his hand. The demon got his breath back and cried: "Great Compassionate One, Great Sage Equal to Heaven, Bodhisattva!" Pilgrim heard and said: "Son, do not waste the effort; save a few words and just call me 'outside grandfather.'" The demon, clinging to life, truly called: "Grandfather, grandfather, the fault is mine. Through some slip or other I swallowed you, and now you are the one who torments me. I beg the Great Sage in his mercy to pity the love of life in an ant like me, spare my life, and I will carry your master over the mountain." The Great Sage, hero though he was, had a soft spot where the Tang monk's progress was concerned. Seeing the demon beg so piteously — and he was one who liked a little flattery — he turned back to kindly thoughts and called: "Monster, I will spare you. But how will you carry my master over?" The old demon said: "I have no gold or silver, pearls or kingfisher plumes, agates or coral, glass or amber, tortoiseshell or other rare treasures to send you with. My three brothers will carry a sedan of sweet rattan and bear your master over this mountain." Pilgrim laughed: "A sedan to carry him is better than treasure. Open your mouth, and I will come out." And the demon truly opened his mouth. The third demon came close and whispered to the old demon: "Elder brother, the moment he comes out, snap your jaws down, chew the monkey to bits, and swallow him — and he will never trouble you again."

Now Pilgrim, hearing this inside, did not come out first; he reached the gold-banded staff out instead, to test him. The monster truly snapped his jaws down; with a crunch his front teeth shattered to bits. Pilgrim drew back the staff: "A fine monster! I meant to spare your life and come out, and you bite at me and try to kill me. I will not come out — I will simply wear you to death. I will not come out, I will not come out." The old demon reproached the third demon: "Brother, you have set your own folk against your own folk. If we had only asked him out nicely — but you told me to bite him. He was not bitten, but my gums ache with the blow. How did this come about?"

The third demon, scolded by the old demon, played his goading trick and called in a loud voice: "Pilgrim Sun! They say your name is like a thunderclap in the ear — that you showed your might outside the South Heaven Gate and flaunted your power beneath the Hall of Numinous Sky, and now you subdue and bind demons on the western road. And all the while you are nothing but a small-timer of a monkey." Pilgrim said: "Why am I a small-timer?" The third demon said: "'A fine guest worth seeing is talked of ten thousand li away.' Come out and duel with me, and you are a hero. How can a man do his work inside another's belly? What are you, if not a small-timer?" Pilgrim heard, and thought to himself: "Yes, yes, yes. If I chose now to wrench his gut and crush his liver and kill this monster, how hard would that be? But it would truly ruin my name. Very well, very well — open your mouth, and I will come out and match you. Only, the mouth of your cave is cramped, no place to swing a weapon; we must go where there is room." The third demon heard and mustered the monsters, big and little — more than thirty thousand fiends front and back — all with fine sharp weapons, and arrayed them outside the cave in the battle formation of the Three Powers, waiting only for Pilgrim to come out to fall on him all together. The second demon helped the old demon out to the gate and called: "Pilgrim Sun, hero, come out! Here is a battlefield, a fine place to fight."

The Great Sage, inside his belly, heard the cawing of crows and the chattering of magpies, the cry of cranes and the sound of wind, and knew this was an open place. Yet he thought: "If I do not go out, I break faith with him; but if I go out — this demon has a man's face and a beast's heart. First he said he would carry my master over, to coax me out and bite me; now he has drawn up his troops here. Very well, very well — let me serve him a two-sided kindness: out I go, but I will leave a root behind in his belly." He turned his hand, plucked one hair from his tail, blew on it a mouthful of magic breath, and cried: "Change!" It became a cord, thin as a hair of the head but forty zhang long. The cord, paid out into the air, thickened as the wind took it. He tied one end about the monster's heart and liver and knotted it in a running noose — a noose that did not bite unless pulled, and once pulled, it pained. Then, taking the other end, he laughed: "When I am out, if he carries my master over, well and good; but if he does not, and meddles with blades and battle — I will have no time to fight him. I need only pull this cord, and it will be just as if I were in his belly." He made his body small and crawled out. When he had crawled to just below the throat, he saw the demon's great square mouth gaping, the steel teeth above and below ranked like keen blades, and he thought: "Bad, bad! If I go out by the mouth and pull this cord, he will feel the pain and chew down — would he not bite it through? I will go out where he has no teeth." The good Great Sage, paying out the cord, crawled forward along the roof of the palate, and crawled into the demon's nostril. The old demon's nose itched; with a mighty "ha-chi" he sneezed, and out shot Pilgrim like a bolt.

Pilgrim, feeling the wind, bowed himself at the waist and grew to some three zhang tall, one hand holding the cord, the other gripping the iron staff. The demon king, knowing no better, saw him come out, raised his steel blade, and hacked at his face. The Great Sage met him with the staff in one hand; then the second demon came with his spear and the third with his halberd, striking blindly at head and face. The Great Sage let the cord slack, put up his staff, sprang onto his cloud, and was gone — for he feared being hemmed in by the crowd of little demons, where he could do nothing. He jumped beyond the camp, to a bare hilltop, let down his cloud, and with both hands pulled the cord with all his might, and the old demon's heart pained him. He writhed with the pain and struggled upward; the Great Sage pulled down again. The little demons, watching from far off, shouted as one: "Great king, do not provoke him — let him go! This monkey has lost all count of the season: the Qingming festival is not yet here, and he is flying a kite already." The Great Sage heard, and stamped with all his strength. The old demon came down from the air with a crash, spinning like a spinning wheel, and fell in the dust, beating out of the hard yellow earth at the hill foot a pit two feet deep.

The second and third demons, in a panic, pressed down their clouds together, ran up, seized the cord, and knelt on the slope below, pleading: "Great Sage, we took you for an immortal of vast heart and boundless bosom — who knew you were a fellow of mouse guts and snail bowels? Truly we coaxed you out to meet you in battle; who thought you would tie a cord about our elder brother's heart?" Pilgrim laughed: "You pack of brazen monsters, how insolent you are! Just now you coaxed me out to bite me; now you coax me out and draw up ranks against me. Tens of thousands of demon soldiers against me alone — there is no sense in it even on the face of it. Pull away — pull away, and come see my master." The monsters knocked their heads together: "Great Sage, in your mercy spare our lives, and we will carry the old master over the mountain." Pilgrim laughed: "You want your lives? There is an easy way: take a knife and cut the cord." The old demon said: "Grandfather! Cut the outside, and the inside end is tied about my heart; and my throat is still queasy and heaving — what am I to do?" Pilgrim said: "If it is so, open your mouth and let me go in again and untie the cord." The old demon panicked: "If he goes in again, he will never come out — this is a hard pass, a hard pass." Pilgrim said: "I have the skill to untie the inner end from outside. And if I untie it, will you truly carry my master over?" The old demon said: "Untie it, and I will carry him; I would never dare speak a false word." The Great Sage, satisfied that it was so, shook his body and took back the hair, and the monster's heart no longer pained him. This was one of the Great Sage Sun's veiled tricks: the hair had been tied about his heart, and once the hair was called back, the pain stopped. The three demons leaped up and thanked him: "Great Sage, go back, and tell the Tang monk to pack up his baggage; we will bring the sedan to carry him." The monsters laid aside their arms and every one returned to the cave.

The Great Sage coiled his cord and went straight back over the mountain, and from far off saw the Tang monk rolling on the ground weeping in pain, while Zhu Bajie and Sha Monk had undone the bundle and were splitting the baggage between them. Pilgrim sighed to himself: "No need to ask. This must be Bajie telling Master I was eaten by the demon; Master cannot bear to lose me, and weeps; and the Idiot is dividing the goods and breaking up housekeeping. Ah! But is that really it? Let me call out once and see." He let down his cloud and called: "Master." Sha Monk heard, and reproached Bajie: "You are the footboard of a coffin — made for nothing but to harm people. Our brother is not dead, and you said he was, and here you are at this business. And look, he is called back already." Bajie said: "I saw him swallowed at one gulp with my own eyes. It must be an unlucky day — the monkey has come back to walk as a ghost." Pilgrim came up, seized Bajie by the face, and sent him staggering with a slap: "Clod! What ghost do you see?" The Idiot, holding his cheek, said: "Brother, you were truly eaten by the monster. You — how is it you are alive?" Pilgrim said: "A soft-boiled noodle like you is no use at all. When he ate me, I grabbed his gut and pinched his lung, and ran this cord through his heart, and pulled till the pain was past bearing, till they all knocked their heads begging, and only then did I spare his life. Now they are bringing the sedan to carry my master over the mountain." The Tripitaka heard, scrambled up in one roll, and bowed to Pilgrim: "Disciple, you have been worn to death for me. Had I believed Wuneng's talk, I would be gone already." Pilgrim swung his fist at Bajie and cursed: "This chaff-stuffed blockhead — lazy past all bearing, not fit to be called a man. Master, do not fret; the monster is coming to carry you over." Sha Monk too was deeply ashamed, hurried to cover it up, packed the baggage, saddled the horse, and all waited on the road — but no more of that.

Now the three demon kings led the crowd of fiends back to the cave, and the second demon said: "Brother, I thought Pilgrim Sun was some nine-headed, eight-tailed wonder — and he is only such a little monkey. You should never have swallowed him. In a fair fight, how could he stand against you and me? With these tens of thousands of demons in the cave, we could drown him in our spittle. But you swallowed him, and he set his arts to work and made you suffer. How could you compare with him? The talk of carrying the Tang monk over was all pretense; in truth it was to save your life that we coaxed him out. We will never carry him." The old demon said: "Worthy brother, why will you not carry him?" The second demon said: "Give me three thousand little demons and let me draw up my ranks; I have the skill to take that monkey." The old demon said: "Never mind three thousand — take the whole camp if you like. Only take him, and the glory is shared by all."

The second demon chose three thousand little demons and arrayed them by the great road, and sent a blue-flag runner back and forth with the word: "Pilgrim Sun, come out quickly and do battle with your Second King." Bajie heard and laughed: "Brother, there is a saying: 'A lie will not fool the local man.' Here come the tricks and the devilry again. What is this — first the demons are subdued, and the sedan comes to carry Master over, and now they call us to battle?" Pilgrim said: "The old demon is subdued by me and dare not show his head; at the very sound of the word 'Sun' his head aches. This must be the second demon, unwilling to carry us, and so calling to battle. Look, brother: these demons are three brothers, and such for their loyalty; we are three brothers too — have we no loyalty at all? I have subdued the eldest; when the second comes out, you fight him — there is no harm in that." Bajie said: "What is there to fear? Let me go and give him a battle." Pilgrim said: "Go, then, if you will." Bajie laughed: "Brother, I will go — but lend me that cord to use." Pilgrim said: "What do you want with it? You have no art to burrow into a belly, no art to tie it about a heart — what use is it to you?" Bajie said: "I will buckle it about my waist for a life-saving line. You and Sha Monk hold the far end and pay me out to the fight. If I judge I am winning, you slacken it, and I will take him prisoner; if I am losing, you pull me back, so he cannot drag me off." And truly the Great Sage laughed to himself: "A fine way to make game of the Idiot once more." He buckled the cord about his waist and pushed him out to battle.

The Idiot raised his nail rake and ran up the cliff, calling: "Come out, monster, and fight your ancestor the Pig!" The blue-flag runner ran to report: "Great king, a monk with a long mouth and big ears is coming." The second demon came out of the camp, saw Bajie, and without a word thrust his spear straight at his face; the Idiot raised his rake and met him. The two closed before the hillside, and before seven or eight rounds the Idiot's hands went weak; he could not hold off the monster, and turned to cry: "Brother, it is bad — pull the life-saving cord, pull the life-saving cord!" But on that side the Great Sage heard and, far from pulling, let the cord slack and tossed it out. The Idiot, beaten, turned and ran. Dragging the cord he did not feel it; but coming back, with it so slack, it caught at his feet: he tripped and fell, got up and fell again. First he pitched sideways; then he went down flat on his face. The monster overtook him, flung out his trunk, and, like a flood dragon, wound it about Bajie, and carried him off in triumph back to the cave. The demons sang their victory song with one voice and swarmed home.

The Tripitaka, watching from the slope, turned on Pilgrim in anger: "Wukong, no wonder Wuneng cursed you! So you brothers have none of the love of kin, but harbor nothing but jealousy and spite. He begged you again and again to pull the life-saving cord — why would you not pull it, but throw the cord away? Now he is taken — what is to be done?" Pilgrim laughed: "Master, you are too quick to take a side, too partial. Very well: when old Sun was taken, you gave him not a thought — he was only a fellow with one life to lose; but the Idiot is caught a moment, and you blame me. Let him taste some trouble too, and see how hard it is to win the scriptures." The Tripitaka said: "Disciple, when you were taken, did I not fear for you? I told myself you know the arts of change, and would surely not come to harm. That Idiot is lumbering and clumsy, and cannot dodge and wheel; this once out, his chances are little luck and much harm. Go and save him once more." Pilgrim said: "Master, do not scold; I will go and save him."

He sprang up at once and hastened up the mountain, hating in secret: "This Idiot cursed me dead. He shall have no pleasure of it yet. Let me follow and see how the demon deals with him; let him taste some suffering, and then I will save him." He pinched a sign, murmured the true word, shook himself, changed into a tiny cicada, flew off, and stuck on the root of Bajie's ear, and so went with the demon into the cave. The second demon led his three thousand, with a great blowing of horns and beating of gongs, and pitched camp at the cave mouth. He took Bajie inside himself and said: "Brother, I have taken one." The old demon said: "Bring him and let me see." He slackened his trunk and dropped Bajie: "Is this not he?" The old demon said: "This fellow is of no use." Bajie heard and said: "Great king, put the useless one out, and go catch a useful one." The third demon said: "Useless or no, he is the Tang monk's disciple, Zhu Bajie. Truss him up for now, and sink him in the pond at the back to soak. When the soaking has loosened his bristles, we will open his belly, salt him down, dry him in the sun, and keep him for wine on a wet day." Bajie was greatly startled: "It is over, it is over — I have run into demons who trade in salt pork!" The monsters all set hands at once, trussed the Idiot hands and feet together, shouldered and carried him to the edge of the pond, shoved him into the middle, and all turned away.

The Great Sage flew up and watched: the Idiot lay belly up, snout in the air, half floating, half sinking, snorting and wheezing — a comical sight indeed: just like a great black lotus seedpod gone to seed after the frosts of the eighth and ninth months. The Great Sage, seeing his face, hated him and pitied him at once, and said: "What is to be done with him? He too is a soul of the Dragon-Flower Assembly. Yet I hate it that at every turn he divides the baggage and breaks up housekeeping, and eggs Master on to recite the Tight-Fillet Spell and curse me. I heard Sha Monk say once that he has been hoarding private money. Has he, I wonder? Let me frighten him a little and see."

The good Great Sage flew close to his ear and, faking a voice, called: "Zhu Wuneng, Zhu Wuneng." Bajie panicked: "Bad luck! Wuneng is the name the Bodhisattva Guanshiyin gave me; since I followed the Tang monk I am called Bajie. How does anyone here know me as Wuneng?" The Idiot could not help asking: "Who calls my religious name?" Pilgrim said: "I do." The Idiot said: "Who are you?" Pilgrim said: "I am a clerk of the summoning." The Idiot panicked: "Commander, where do you come from?" Pilgrim said: "I am sent by the Fifth King of Hell to summon you." The Idiot said: "Commander, go back first, and tell the Fifth King of Hell that he and my brother Sun Wukong are on the very best of terms; tell him to let me off one day, and come to summon me tomorrow." Pilgrim said: "Talk! 'King Yama has fixed your death at the third watch; who dares keep a man to the fourth?' Come along with me now, and spare yourself the rope and the dragging." The Idiot said: "Commander, is there no way to make it easy? Look at the state of me — I would still like to live. Dead I surely am, only put it off one day: this demon will bring my master and the rest here too, and when we have all met, the account can be settled all at once." Pilgrim laughed to himself: "Very well. My warrant has thirty names on it, here and there, before and behind; if I go and summon them to you first, that is one day's grace. Have you any traveling money? Give me a little." Bajie said: "Poor me — where would a monk get traveling money?" Pilgrim said: "If you have none, I put the rope on you, and you come along." The Idiot panicked: "Commander, do not put on the rope. I know that rope of yours — it is the life-chasing cord; once it is on, the breath stops. I have some, I have some — only not much." Pilgrim said: "Where? Bring it out quickly." Bajie said: "Pity me, pity me! Since I became a monk, whenever some good family fed the monks, seeing what a big belly I have, they gave me a little more in alms than the rest. I saved it up here and there — five mace of silver in bits and scraps. It was awkward to keep so, and once in town I begged a silversmith to melt it into one piece; but he had no conscience and stole a few candareens, and it came to one piece of four mace six. Take it and go." Pilgrim laughed to himself: "This Idiot has not even trousers to wear — where would he hide it? Hey! Where is your silver?" Bajie said: "It is stuffed in my left ear hole. I am tied up and cannot reach it; fetch it out yourself."

Pilgrim heard, reached into the hollow of the ear, and drew it out: truly a saddle-shaped piece of silver, a good four mace five or six in weight. He held it in his hand and could not help a loud laugh. The Idiot knew the voice for Pilgrim's, and cursed and splashed in the water: "You plague-struck Bimawen! To come fish for my money in a place like this!" Pilgrim laughed again: "You chaff-stuffed wretch! Old Sun has borne who knows how many hardships guarding Master, and you have been hoarding private money." Bajie said: "What a face! What private money is this? It was all scraped off my teeth. I could not bear to spend it on my mouth, and was keeping it to buy a bolt of cloth and make a garment — and you have frightened it out of me. Share some back with me, then." Pilgrim said: "Not half a share for you." Bajie cursed: "Take it as the price of my life, then — only get me out!" Pilgrim said: "Do not fret; I will save you." He stowed the silver, showed his true form, pulled out the iron staff, drew the Idiot in, took him by the feet, hauled him up, and untied the cords. Bajie jumped up, stripped off his clothes, wrung out the water, shook them, and draped them dripping on his body: "Brother, let us slip out by the back gate." Pilgrim said: "Out by the back gate — is that the way you get better? We will go in at the front gate and fight." Bajie said: "My legs are numb from the tying; I cannot run." Pilgrim said: "Come along quickly, then."

The good Great Sage threw loose his art at every step with the iron staff and fought his way out. The Idiot, bearing the numbness, could only keep at his heels. At the second gate he saw his own nail rake leaning, ran up, shoved the little demons aside, snatched it, and struck out wildly ahead, fighting with Pilgrim through three or four gates, killing who knows how many little demons. The old demon heard, and said to the second demon: "A fine capture, a fine capture! See — Pilgrim Sun has rescued Zhu Bajie and is wounding the little demons at the gates." The second demon sprang up at once, snatched his spear, rushed out the gate, and swore: "That brazen ape — such insolence! How dare you make light of us?" The Great Sage heard, and stopped where he stood to answer. The monster would have no talk; he thrust with his spear, but Pilgrim, a master at home, was never flustered: he pulled out the iron staff and met him face to face. Before the cave gate the two of them fought a fine fight:

The Yellow-Tusked Old Elephant took man's form and swore brotherhood with the lion king. Because the eldest demon came to make the match, with one heart they plotted the eating of the Tang monk. The Great Sage Equal to Heaven, whose magic is broad, stands by the right and roots out evil, meaning to end the fiends. Bajie, helpless, fell into the deadly snare; Wukong saves him and brings him out the gate. The demon king chases with all his fierce courage; spear and staff cross, and each shows his art. That one's spear comes on like a python threading the woods; this one's staff rises like a dragon bursting from the sea. The dragon leaves the sea gate, and the clouds hang gray; the python threads the forest trees, and the mist rolls thick. All for the Tang monk, in the reckoning — in bitter grapple joined, without a shred of feeling.

Bajie, seeing the Great Sage at grips with the monster, planted his nail rake on the point of the hill and did not come to help, but only stood staring, dull as a post. The monster, finding Pilgrim's staff heavy and his art without a single gap, caught the staff on his spear, flung out his trunk, and made to wind it about him. Pilgrim knew his trick: he raised the gold-banded staff crosswise in both hands and lifted it high. The monster's trunk wound about his waist and hips, but not his hands — and look, there were his two hands playing the flowered staff about on the monster's trunk for fun. Bajie saw it and beat his breast: "Ah! What luck the monster has! He wound up this clumsy one, hands and all, so I could not move; and winds that slippery one, and does not catch his hands. Those two hands of his hold the staff — one poke up into that trunk, the hole would pain and run, and how would he hold him then?"

Pilgrim had had no such thought — it was Bajie who taught it him. He waved the staff, made it small as a hen's egg and a zhang and more long, and truly poked it up into the monster's nostril. The monster, in terror, with a hiss let go his trunk. Pilgrim turned his hand, seized the trunk end, and hauled forward with all his strength. The monster, guarding his pain, came stumbling after his hand, step by step. Only then did Bajie dare come near, striking wildly at the monster's haunches with his nail rake. Pilgrim said: "No, no! Those rake teeth are sharp; you may break the skin and draw blood, and Master will see it and say we have taken life. Strike with the handle only."

And truly the Idiot raised the rake by the handle, a blow at every step, while Pilgrim led the beast by the trunk: like two elephant drivers they brought him down the slope. The Tripitaka was straining his eyes in hope, and seeing the two of them come clattering along, called: "Wujing, look — what is Wukong leading?" Sha Monk saw and laughed: "Master, big brother has the monster by the nose, hauling him along — it is a delight to see." The Tripitaka said: "How good, how good! So big a monster, so long a trunk. Go and ask him: if he will gladly carry us over the mountain, you may spare him; do not take his life." Sha Monk hurried forward and called out: "Master says: if the monster truly carries him over the mountain, he is not to be harmed in his life." The monster heard, sank to his knees at once, and answered with woeful grunts — for his nose, gripped so long by Pilgrim, was stopped up like a man with a bad head cold. He called: "Lord Tang, if you will spare my life, I will bring the sedan this very hour and carry you over." Pilgrim said: "My master and we disciples are all of the winning-side that is kind. We take you at your word and spare your life. Bring the sedan quickly; and if you change your tale again, once taken, you will never be spared again." The monster, freed, knocked his head and went. Pilgrim and Bajie came to the Tang monk and told him the whole story. Bajie, more ashamed than he could bear, hung his clothes out to dry on the slope and waited — but no more of that.

The second demon went back trembling to the cave. Before he arrived, the little demons had already told the old demon and the third demon that the second demon had been taken by the nose and led off by Pilgrim. The old demon was alarmed, and he and the third demon had led their host out; seeing the second demon come back alone, they took him in, and asked why he had been released. The second demon told them all the Tang monk's words of mercy and gentle victory. One and all they looked at one another, and did not dare speak. The second demon said: "Brother, will you carry the Tang monk over?" The old demon said: "Brother, what talk is that? Pilgrim Sun is a monkey of wide kindness and honor. He was inside my belly; had he meant to take my life, a thousand of me would be dead by now. And just now he had you by the trunk: had he hauled you off and never brought you back — well, he might have crushed your nostril, but he let you go, and it would be shameful in us to do less. Make ready quickly and carry him over." The third demon laughed: "Carry him, carry him, carry him." The old demon said: "Worthy brother, that word of yours sounds like sulking. If you will not carry him, the two of us will carry him."

The third demon laughed again: "Elder brothers, hear me. If the monk does not want our carrying, and we slip him by so, it is his own good luck; but if he wants to be carried, then, who knows, he falls square into my plan of luring the tiger from his hill." The old demon said: "What is this 'luring the tiger from his hill'?" The third demon said: "Now we muster the whole cave and choose: from ten thousand choose a thousand, from a thousand choose a hundred, from the hundred choose sixteen, and again choose thirty." The old demon said: "Why thirty, and why also sixteen?" The third demon said: "The thirty will be them that can cook and boil. Give them fine rice, good flour, bamboo shoots, tea buds, fragrant mushrooms, toadstools, bean curd, and gluten cakes, and send them twenty or thirty li on, to pitch the camp kitchens and lay out tea and meals to serve the Tang monk." The old demon said: "And what are the sixteen for?" The third demon said: "Eight to carry, and eight to clear the road with their cries. We brothers will attend at his sides and see him part of the way. Four hundred li and more west of here is my city; there I have men and horses of my own to receive us. When we come near the city — then, so and so, and so and so — we will have master and disciples, head and tail, unable to turn to one another. To take the Tang monk, everything hangs on those sixteen." The old demon heard, and was delighted past measure; truly like a man waking from drink, waking from a dream. He cried: "Good, good, good!" He mustered the demons, chose the thirty first and gave them their goods, then chose the sixteen to carry a sedan of sweet rattan, and they all came out the gate. And he charged the rest of the demons: "Not one of you is to come sauntering up the mountain. Pilgrim Sun is a monkey with too many thoughts: if he sees you coming and going, he will smell a rat and see through this plan."

The old demon then led his men to the great road and called out: "Lord Tang, today no red sand crosses your path; we beg you to cross the mountain early." The Tripitaka heard: "Wukong, who calls me?" Pilgrim pointed: "Over there are the demons old Sun subdued, bringing the sedan to carry you." The Tripitaka put his palms together toward heaven: "How good, how good! Had my worthy disciples not such powers, how should I ever get across?" He went straight forward and bowed to the demons: "I am much beholden to you all. When your monk has won the scriptures and returned east to Chang'an, your kindness will be told abroad." The demons knocked their heads: "We beg the Lord into the sedan." The Tripitaka, with the eyes of flesh and the body of a common man, did not know it was a trick. And the Great Sage Sun, an immortal of the highest order, true and loyal by nature, thought only of his work of taking and letting go, of subduing the demons — how could he guess that they all harbored other plots? He did not examine closely, but let Master have his will. He told Bajie to strap the baggage on the horse and keep close with Sha Monk, and he himself went ahead with the iron staff, clearing the road, watching for good or ill. Eight carried up the sedan, and eight called the way, cry upon cry; the three demons steadied the sedan poles. The master sat happily upright in the sedan, went up the high mountain, and took the great road.

On this journey, who knew that sorrow would come in the midst of joy? The scripture says: "When peace reaches its height, ruin is born again." His hour had met a true baleful star; the star of mourning and the guest of grief were in the sky. That pack of demons, with one heart and one mind, attended at his side, attentive morning and evening. At thirty li they offered a meal, at fifty li another; before dark they asked him to rest, and all along the road all was neat and in order. Three meals a day, to his heart's content; a whole night's lodging, good quarters for his rest.

They had gone west four hundred li and more when suddenly the city came in sight. The Great Sage raised his iron staff; only one li from the sedan, he saw the city — and it frightened him into a fall, so that he could not struggle up. Now you think him bold past measure — why should he be so scared by the sight? Because he saw that in the city there were many evil vapors. It was this:

Crowd upon crowd of demons and monsters; at all four gates wolf spirits stand.The striped tiger is the steward of all; the white-faced fierce leopard is the commander-in-chief.Fork-horned deer pass the papers and passes; nimble foxes walk in the very road.A thousand-foot python coils about the walls; a serpent ten thousand zhang long holds the highway.Under the towers gray wolves cry the summons; before the terrace the flower leopard speaks with a man's voice.They that wave flags and beat the drums are all demons; they that walk the night watch and man the posts are all mountain spirits.Cunning rabbits open shops and drive their trades; wild boars shoulder carrying poles and ply their business.In years gone by it was a kingdom of the heavenly court; today it is turned a city of tigers and wolves.

The Great Sage stood aghast when he heard the wind behind his ear. He turned quickly to look: it was the third demon, raising with both hands a painted-haft square halberd, striking down at the Great Sage's head. The Great Sage scrambled up in a flash and met him face to face with the gold-banded staff. The two, each boiling with rage, panting, with never a word; gnashing their teeth, each set to destroy the other. Then the old demon king passed his order, raised his steel blade, and hacked at Bajie; Bajie, in a panic, dropped the horse, whirled his rake, and struck out wildly. The second demon wheeled his long spear and thrust at Sha Monk; Sha Monk swung his subduing-demon staff, opened his stance, and held him. Three demon kings and three monks, one against one, fought on the hilltop for dear life, forgetting life and death.

The sixteen little demons kept to their orders, each doing his part: they seized the white horse and the baggage, swarmed the Tripitaka, hoisted the sedan, and made straight for the city, calling out: "By the great king's plan the Tang monk is taken!" On the walls the demons big and small came running down and flung the gates wide. Orders went to every camp to furl the flags and silence the drums; no shouting, no gongs. "The great king's standing order is: do not frighten the Tang monk. The Tang monk cannot bear fright — one fright and his flesh turns sour, and he is not fit to eat." The demons, wild with joy, welcomed the Tripitaka, bowing low, humbly receiving their master-monk. They carried the Tang monk up in his sedan to the golden throne hall, set him in the seat at the center, brought tea and brought food at one side, and turned about him left and right. The elder lay dazed and heavy, and when he raised his eyes, there was no kin to be seen.

Whether his life is safe or no — listen to the next chapter to find out.