Chapter 79

Hunting the Cave and Taking the Demon, They Meet the Old Star of Longevity; Before the Court the True Lord Is Restored and the Infants Saved

Now the officer of the Embroidered Guard dragged the false Tang monk out of the lodge; ringed round by the Feathered Forest Guards, they came to the court gate and told the Yellow Gate officer: “We have brought the Tang monk here; trouble yourself to present it.” The Yellow Gate officer hurried into the court, reported it word for word to the benighted king, and had him brought in. The officers knelt bowing beneath the steps; only the false Tang monk stood erect in the middle of the stair, calling aloud: “King of Piqiu—why have you asked this poor monk here?” The king laughed: “I have an illness that has clung to me day upon day without healing. Happily the Imperial Father-in-Law bestowed a prescription; drug and medicine are complete, and only one guide is lacking. So I have asked the elder here, to beg a little of the medicine's guide. If my illness heals, I will build you a shrine, sacrifice through the four seasons, and make it an everlasting altar-fire of the state.” The false Tang monk said: “I am a monk out of the world, come here alone; I do not know what thing your Majesty would beg of the Father-in-Law for a guide.” The benighted king said: “We beg the elder's heart and liver.” The false Tang monk said: “I will not hide it from your Majesty: hearts I have several—but what color and shape do you want?” The Father-in-Law beside pointed: “That monk—we want your black heart.” The false Tang monk said: “In that case, bring the knife quickly; cut open chest and belly: if there is a black heart, I obey your command.” The benighted king rejoiced and thanked him, and had the officer of the carriage fetch a short ear-cropping knife and hand it to the false monk. The false monk took the knife, loosened his clothes, thrust out his chest, ran his left hand over his belly, held the knife in his right, and with a ripping sound slit open the belly; and out of it rolled a heap of hearts, tumbling and tumbling. The civil officers turned pale; the generals' bodies went numb. The Father-in-Law, seeing it from the hall, said: “Here is a monk of many hearts.” The false monk picked those hearts apart, one by one, dripping blood, and showed them to all—and they were red hearts, white hearts, yellow hearts; grudging hearts and greedy hearts, hearts of profit and name, envious hearts, scheming hearts, competitive hearts, ambitious hearts, contemptuous hearts, murderous hearts, vicious hearts, craven hearts, over-careful hearts, crooked and false hearts, nameless and hidden hearts, every kind of bad heart—but not one black heart. The benighted king stood gaping, mouth gone, trembling: “Take them away, take them away.” The false Tang monk could contain himself no longer: he gathered in the feigned hearts, showed his true form, and said to the benighted king: “Your Majesty, you have no eyes at all. We of the monkhood are all of us one good heart; only this Father-in-Law of yours has a black heart, a fine one for a medicine guide. Do not believe me? Wait while I take his out and show you.”

The Father-in-Law heard, opened his eyes wide, and looked carefully: the monk's face had changed—it was not that shape at all. Ah!

He knew the Great Sage Sun of the old days—his name famous five hundred years since.

He turned to flee, mounted his cloud, and rose; but the Pilgrim turned a somersault, leaped into the air, and shouted: “Where now? Take my staff!” The Father-in-Law met him with the dragon-coiled crook. The two of them fought it out in mid-air—a fine slaughter:

The as-you-will staff, the dragon-coiled crook; in the void a sheet of cloud, dark on dark.So the Father-in-Law was a demon all along, and that was why he named the monster girl his beauty.The king, craving pleasure, had taken sickness into his body; the fiend meant to slaughter the children.They met the Great Sage, who showed his powers: to catch the monster, save the people, and untie the calamity.The iron staff at the head, truly vicious; the crook coming to meet it, worth a cheer.They fought till fog filled all the sky and darkened the city, and every household in the city lost color.The officers, civil and military, felt their souls fly; the concubines and palace girls changed countenance.The benighted lord of Piqiu was so frightened he ran to hide anywhere, trembling, with no plan at all.The staff rose like a tiger out of the hills; the crook swung like a dragon leaving the sea.This day the Kingdom of Piqiu is thrown into uproar, and evil and right stand plainly told apart.

The demon fought the Pilgrim twenty bitter rounds and more; the dragon-coiled crook could not hold against the gold-banded staff. He feinted one blow of the crook, turned his body into a streak of cold light, dropped into the inner palace, brought the monster queen presented to the king out through the palace gate, and the two went off as one cold light, gone who knows where.

The Great Sage pressed his cloud down and came beneath the palace hall, saying to the officers: “A fine Father-in-Law you keep!” The officers bowed together, thanking the holy monk. The Pilgrim said: “Spare the bowing; go see where your benighted lord is.” The officers said: “When the fighting began, our lord hid in terror; which palace he is in, we do not know.” The Pilgrim ordered: “Search quickly—let him not be stolen away by the Beautiful Queen.” The officers heard, and, sparing nothing inner or outer, they ran first to the Beautiful Queen's palace: nothing, no trace—and the Beautiful Queen too was seen no more. From the chief palace, the eastern and western palaces, and the six courts, all the consorts and concubines came to bow and thank the Great Sage. The Great Sage said: “Rise, all of you—thanks are not yet in season. Go find your lord.” In a little while they saw four or five eunuchs helping the benighted king along from behind the Hall of Watchful Reverence. The ministers flung themselves on the ground and cried with one voice: “Sovereign, Sovereign! The holy monk has come, and told true from false: that Father-in-Law was a demon—and the Beautiful Queen too is seen no more.” The king heard, begged the Pilgrim out of the inner palace to the jeweled hall, bowed his thanks, and said: “Elder, this morning the one who came was so noble a figure—how has he changed his shape now?” The Pilgrim laughed: “I will not hide it from your Majesty: the one who came this morning was my master, the imperial brother of the Tang, Tripitaka. I am his disciple Sun Wukong; and I have two more brothers, Zhu Wuneng and Sha Wujing, now at the Gold Pavilion Lodge. Knowing you had believed a demon's word and meant to take my master's heart and liver for a medicine guide, Old Sun changed into my master's shape and came specially to quell the demon.” The king heard, sent the decree at once, and ordered the chief steward of the grand secretariat to hurry to the lodge and invite the master and his disciples to court.

Now Tripitaka, hearing that the Pilgrim had shown himself and was fighting the demon in the air, was frightened out of his wits—happily Bajie and Sha Monk stood guard, and he still wore the sheet of stinking mud on his face. In his dull discomfort he heard a man call: “Master of the Law! We are the chief steward sent by the king of Piqiu, come specially to invite you to court to give thanks.” Bajie laughed: “Master, do not fear, do not fear. This is not to take your heart again—senior brother has won, and they invite you to be thanked.” Tripitaka said: “Won or no, invited or no—with this stinking face, how do I meet people?” Bajie said: “There is nothing for it; let us go see senior brother—he will have his way of settling it.” And truly the elder, out of devices, could only follow Bajie and Sha Monk, shouldering the loads, leading the horse, back to the lodge court. The chief steward saw and was alarmed: “Heavens! They all look like demon heads and monster skulls!” Sha Monk said: “Gentleman of the court, do not mind our ugliness: it is the body our parents gave us. As for our master—once he has seen our senior brother, he will be handsome again.”

The three of them came to court with the rest and, without waiting to be summoned, went straight to the foot of the hall. The Pilgrim saw, turned, and came down the hall to meet them, snatched the mud face from his master, blew a breath of immortal air, and cried, “Change!”—and the Tang monk was himself again at once, his spirit the brisker. The king came down from the hall to welcome him in person, calling him “Master of the Law, old Buddha.” Master and disciples tied the horse and came up into the hall together. The Pilgrim said: “Does your Majesty know where that monster came from? Let Old Sun go take him too, and root out the evil to come.” Behind the kingfisher screen sat the ladies of the three palaces and six courts, all the concubines and consorts; hearing the Pilgrim speak of rooting out the evil to come, they did not stand on the separation of men and women, inner and outer, but came out together, bowing and begging: “We beg the holy monk, the old Buddha, to spread his powers wide, cut the grass and tear out the root, and destroy him past rising—it would be a grace past all measure, and we would repay it heavily.” The Pilgrim returned their bows in haste, and asked only the king where the demon lived. The king said, abashed: “When he came three years ago I questioned him. He said it was not far from the city: seventy li south lay the Clear Splendor Manor on Willow Grove Slope. The Father-in-Law, old and childless, had only one daughter by his second wife, sixteen and unwed, and he wished to present her to me. Because I loved the girl I took her, and kept her doted upon in the palace. Unexpectedly I fell ill; the physicians medicated again and again without effect. He said: ‘I have an immortal prescription: it needs only the hearts of little children simmered into a broth for its guide.’ I, without talent, lightly believed him, chose children from among the people, and fixed this day at the hour of the horse to open the blade and take the hearts. Who could know the holy monk would come down, and just then the cage children all vanish? Then he said the holy monk was a true body of ten lifetimes, the primal yang never spent, and that his heart was ten thousand times beyond the children's. In a moment's error I affronted him, not knowing the holy monk saw through the demons. I dare hope you will spread your great powers wide and cut off the evil to come; the wealth of my whole kingdom is yours to thank you.” The Pilgrim laughed: “I will not hide it from you: the children in the cages—my master's mercy had me hide them. Say nothing of wealth to thank me; let me take the demons, and that is my work and my merit.” He called: “Bajie, come with me.” Bajie said: “I obey my brother's word—only my belly is empty, and I cannot put my strength into it.” The king sent the decree at once, ordering the Court of Entertainments to hurry with a meal. In a moment the meal came; Bajie ate his fill, roused his might, and rose on the cloud with the Pilgrim—leaving the king, consorts, and ministers great and small bowing to the empty sky, every one crying: “True immortals, true Buddhas, come down among men!”

The Great Sage took Bajie with him straight to the place seventy li south, checked the wind and cloud, and hunted for the demon's haunt. There was only a creek of clear water with banks on either side, and on the banks thousands upon thousands of willows—and where the Clear Splendor Manor lay, no one could say. It was just as the verse has it:

Ten thousand acres of open field the eye could not exhaust; on a thousand dikes the misty willows hid all trace.

The Great Sage Sun, finding nothing, pinched the spell-sign, murmured the true word “om,” and summoned the local earth god, who came trembling, knelt near, and cried: “Great Sage—the earth god of Willow Grove Slope knocks his head.” The Pilgrim said: “Do not be afraid; I will not beat you. Answer me: on Willow Grove Slope there is a Clear Splendor Manor—where does it lie?” The earth god said: “There is a Clear Splendor Cave here, but no Clear Splendor Manor. This small god knows: Great Sage, you come from the Kingdom of Piqiu?” The Pilgrim said: “Just so, just so. The king of Piqiu was fooled by a demon; Old Sun went there, knew the monster for what he was, beat him back at once, and he turned into a streak of cold light and vanished. Questioning the king of Piqiu, I learned that three years ago, when the beauty was presented, he asked how it came about, and the monster said he lived seventy li south of the city, at the Clear Splendor Manor on Willow Grove Slope. I have searched to this spot and see only the wooded slope, no Clear Splendor Manor; so I ask you.” The earth god knocked his head: “I beg the Great Sage's pardon. The king of Piqiu is my lord too, and this small god ought to have watched; but the demon's might and dharma are great: had I leaked word of him, he would have come to bully me, and so he was never taken. Great Sage, now that you are here: go to the nine-forked poplar root on the southern bank; turn three turns to the left and three to the right, strike the tree with both hands together, and cry ‘Open the gate!’ three times, and the Clear Splendor cave mansion will appear.”

The Great Sage heard, sent the earth god back, and with Bajie leaped the creek to look for the poplar. Truly it had nine forked branches all out of one root. The Pilgrim charged Bajie: “Stand off at a distance; when I have called the gate open and routed the monster out, you close in.” Bajie took the order and stood half a li from the tree. The Great Sage, following the earth god's words, walked around the root, three turns to the left, three to the right, struck the tree with both hands together, and cried: “Open the gate! Open the gate!” In a moment, with a great boom, two leaves of the gate swung crashing open, and not a trace of the tree was left. Within was light and glowing color, and no soul in sight. The Great Sage, borne on by his might, pushed in—and behold, what a place:

Mist and haze shimmered bright; sun and moon stole their light within.White clouds forever leaving the cave; kingfisher moss running wild across the court.Along one path strange flowers vied in splendor; over every step jasper grasses strove in fragrant pride.Warm was the air, the scene forever spring—wholly like the fairy gardens, no less than Penglai and Yingzhou.Sleek benches climbed with long creepers; the level bridge hung with tangled vines.Bees carried red stamens to the crag-hollows; butterflies played among hidden orchids and crossed the stone screen.

The Pilgrim hurried his steps, came up close, and looked: on the stone screen were four great characters: “Immortal Mansion of Clear Splendor.” He could not contain himself, jumped past the screen, and looked: the old monster held a beauty in his arms, panting and blowing, just talking over the business of the Kingdom of Piqiu. Together they cried: “What a chance! Three years' work, and today it was to be complete—and that monkey wrecked it.” The Pilgrim ran up close, drew the staff, and called aloud: “You pack of hairy vermin! What ‘chance’? Take my staff!” The old monster dropped the beauty, swung the dragon-coiled crook, and met him in haste. The two of them fought before the cave—a slaughter unlike the last:

The staff lifted spat golden light; the crook swung and its killing air broke out.The monster said: “Ignorant fool, to dare enter my gate!” The Pilgrim said: “With set intent I come to quell demons.”The monster said: “I dally with the kingdom's lord—it is nothing to you; why come with hate in your heart to sweep me away?” The Pilgrim said: “The monk's rule and teaching are mercy at the root; we cannot bear to see children slaughtered alive.”Word answering word, each nursing hate; staff meeting crook, thrusting at the heart.Fine jasper flowers crushed in the struggle for life; kingfisher moss trod through in the grasping for footing.They fought till the glow and splendor in the cave lost its light, and every fragrance on the crag lay crushed and buried.The clangor startled the birds from flight; the shouting frightened the beauty away.Only the old monster and the Monkey King were left, the wild wind howling and sweeping the ground.Bit by bit they fought their way out the cave gate—and met Wuneng's blockhead temper breaking loose.

Now Bajie outside, hearing the uproar within, was so teased his heart itched past scratching. Rake out, he knocked over the nine-forked poplar, and struck the trunk a few blows with the rake, till fresh blood gushed out, and a faint whimpering came, as if of a voice. He said: “This tree has become a spirit! This tree has become a spirit!” Bajie, rake aloft, was in the very middle of striking when he saw the Pilgrim driving the monster out. The Idiot wasted no words: he charged up, rake high, and struck. The old monster could hardly hold his own against the Pilgrim; seeing Bajie's rake coming, he panicked the more, lost the field, gave his body a shake, turned into a streak of cold light, and fled straight east. The two of them would not slacken one whit, and gave chase east.

In the midst of the shouting and slaying they heard the cry of luan birds and cranes, and an auspicious light shimmering. They looked up: it was the Old Star of the South Pole. The old man netted the cold light and called: “Great Sage, slow a moment; Marshal Tianpeng, give over the chase—this old Taoist salutes you.” The Pilgrim returned the courtesy at once: “Brother Star of Longevity—from where do you come?” Bajie laughed: “The bald old pate has netted the cold light—he must have the monster caught.” The Star of Longevity said, smiling deprecatingly: “Here he is, here he is. I beg you gentlemen to spare his life.” The Pilgrim said: “The old monster is no kin of yours, brother. Why come pleading for him?” The Star of Longevity laughed: “He is a beast of mine. Who knew he would run off and become a monster here?” The Pilgrim said: “If he is yours, brother, make him show his true form and let us see.” The Star of Longevity heard, let the cold light out, and shouted: “Wicked beast! Show your true form quickly, and be spared the death.” The monster turned himself about: it was a white deer. The Star of Longevity took up his crooked staff: “You wicked beast—you have stolen my very staff too!” The deer groveled on the ground, voiceless, only knocking its head and dropping tears. Behold him:

A body like jade slips, spotted and dappled; two antlers uneven, seven tines bent.Ofttimes in hunger it sought the drug gardens; some mornings in thirst it drank the trailing cloud-streams.Years deep it learned the art of soaring flight; days long it refined its face of many changes.Now, hearing its master call, it shows itself, ears flattened, crouched to the dust of the world.

The Star of Longevity thanked the Pilgrim and made to bestride the deer and go. The Pilgrim caught his arm: “Brother, not so fast—two matters yet unfinished.” The Star said: “What matters yet unfinished?” The Pilgrim said: “The beauty is not yet taken, and who knows what monster she is? And we must go with you to the city of Piqiu, show your forms to the benighted king, and close the matter before him.” The Star said: “If it must be so, I will bear with it. You and Tianpeng go down into the cave, seize that beauty, and bring her, and we will show them together.” The Pilgrim said: “Wait for us a little, brother; we go and come.”

The Idiot roused his might and went with the Pilgrim straight into the Immortal Mansion of Clear Splendor, shouting: “Take the demon! Take the demon!” The beauty, trembling, saw no way of escape; hearing the shout ring out again, she turned within the stone screen—and there was no back door out. Bajie shouted: “Where now? You stinking sprite that beguile a man—look at my rake!” The beauty had no weapon in her hand and could not give battle; she dodged her body aside, turned into a streak of cold light, and made to slip out. The Great Sage met the cold light and dealt it one great blow of the staff. The monster could not keep her feet and fell in the dust, showing her true form: a white-faced fox. The Idiot could not stay his hand: rake aloft, one blow on the head. Poor thing—all that beauty that could overturn a city, all those thousand smiles, beaten into a hairy fox shape. The Pilgrim called: “Do not beat her to bits; keep the body whole, to show the benighted king.”

The Idiot, scorning neither filth nor stench, seized her by the tail and dragged her this way and that, following the Pilgrim out the gate. There stood the old Star of Longevity, hand on the deer's head, cursing: “Wicked beast! Why did you forsake your master and run off to become a sprite here? Had I not come, the Great Sage Sun had surely beaten you to death.” The Pilgrim sprang out: “What do you say, brother?” The Star said: “I am lecturing my deer, lecturing my deer.” Bajie flopped the dead fox before the deer: “Is this your daughter, then?” The deer nodded and swayed his head, stretched out his muzzle and sniffed her once and again, crying yo-yo, as if with longing he could not give up. The Star of Longevity slapped him across the head: “Wicked beast! Your life is more than you deserved—what are you sniffing her for?” He loosed the sash from his robe, buckled it about the deer's neck, and led him up: “Great Sage, let us meet in the Kingdom of Piqiu.” The Pilgrim said: “Wait. Let us sweep this side clean as well, so no demon breeds here in another year.”

Bajie heard and swung his rake, striking wildly at the willows. The Pilgrim murmured the true word “om” again, summoned the local earth god as before, and said: “Find some dry wood and kindle a fierce fire, and rid this country of its demon plague, that none be bullied hereafter.” The earth god turned at once; a dark wind soughing, he led up his shadowy soldiers, fetching frost-welcoming grass, autumn-green grass, smartweed-joint grass, mountain-anthers, wormwood faggots, dragonbone faggots, reed faggots—all year-old stuff, dried through and charred, catching fire like grease. The Pilgrim called: “Bajie, no need to strike the trees. Stuff these into the cave, light them, and burn the place clean.” The fire caught, and truly it burned the demon house of Clear Splendor into a pit of embers.

There they dismissed the earth god, and with the Star of Longevity, leading the deer and dragging the fox, they came all together before the hall, saying to the king: “This is your Beautiful Queen—will you play with her?” The king's gall trembled and his heart quaked. And when the Great Sage Sun came in with the Star of Longevity, leading the white deer, up to the hall, the king, consorts, and ministers of the whole kingdom fell down together in worship. The Pilgrim came up, raised the king, and laughed: “Do not bow to me. This deer is your Father-in-Law—bow to him.” The king, shame and remorse leaving him nowhere to stand, could only say: “We thank the holy monk for saving a whole kingdom's children—a grace truly of heaven.” He sent the decree at once, ordered the Court of Entertainments to prepare a vegetarian feast, threw open the east pavilion, and asked the Old Man of the South Pole and the four of the Tang to sit together and receive his thanks. Tripitaka bowed to the Star of Longevity, and Sha Monk saluted him with courtesy. All asked: “If the white deer is the old Star of Longevity's, how did it come here to work mischief?” The Star of Longevity laughed: “A while ago the God-King of the Eastern Flower passed my poor mountain, and I kept him to a game of chess. Before the first game was done, this wicked beast ran off. When my guest left I hunted for him and could not find him; I counted on my fingers, knew he had run here, and came specially to find him—just in time for the Great Sage Sun's display of might. Had I come later, the beast was done for.”

While they talked, word came: “The feast is ready.” A fine vegetarian feast:

Five colors filled the gates; strange perfumes filled the seats.The tables hung with embroidered weavings gleaming like brocade; the floor spread with red carpets flashing sunset light.In the treasure braziers aloes and sandalwood curled their smoke; before the royal board the vegetable dishes breathed fragrance.On the show-plates high fruits were piled into towers and terraces; dragons coiled about the molded sugar, beasts of prey ranged round.Mandarin-duck loaves and lion-immortal sugar, each in its mold and shape; parrot cups and cormorant ladles, each true to its likeness.Before the seats the fruits were splendid one and all; on the tables the vegetarian dishes exquisite every one.Chestnuts round as fists and small as cocoons; fresh lychees and peaches.Dates and dried persimmons, sweet to the taste; pine nuts and grapes, fragrant, mellow wine.Several kinds of honeyed dishes; a number of steamed pastries.Fried in oil, drizzled with sugar, built up like clusters of flowers and brocade.On gold plates great steamed loaves stacked high; in silver bowls fragrant rice heaped full.Sharp and biting the soup with its long threads of vermicelli; fragrant and steaming, course upon course added and changed in beauty.Past telling: mushrooms and wood-ears, tender shoots and Solomon's seal—ten-fragrance vegetarian dishes, a hundred flavors of delicate fare.Coming and going, reaching and serving, never a pause; advancing and retiring, every thing set out in splendor.

Then the seats were taken in order: the Star of Longevity at the head, the elder next, the king before them, the Pilgrim, Bajie, and Sha Monk at the side, with two or three abbots attending to left and right. The Music Office was ordered to play. The king raised cups of purple-glow glass and offered wine to each; only the Tang monk did not drink. Bajie said to the Pilgrim: “Brother, the fruit I yield to you—but the soup and rice, pray yield to me to enjoy.” And the Idiot, no distinguishing of good from bad, fell on all together, eating clean whatever came.

When the feast was done the Star of Longevity took his leave. The king knelt before him and begged the art of driving off sickness and lengthening years. The Star of Longevity laughed: “I came hunting my deer and brought no elixir. I would transmit to you the art of self-cultivation, but your sinews are spent and your spirit broken—you could not return the elixir. In my sleeve I have only three dates, meant for offering tea to the God-King of the Eastern Flower; I never ate them—take them now.” The king swallowed them, and little by little felt his body lighten and his sickness recede; the long life he afterward enjoyed all sprang from this. Bajie saw and called: “Old Longevity! You have fire dates—throw me a few to eat.” The Star of Longevity said: “I brought none; another day I will send you a few catties.” He left the east pavilion, gave his thanks, shouted the white deer up, swung astride his back, and rode away on the clouds. The king, consorts, and ladies of the court, and the common folk of the city, burned incense and bowed every one—no more of that.

Tripitaka called: “Disciples, pack up; we take leave of the king.” The king pressed them sorely to stay and begged instruction. The Pilgrim said: “Your Majesty: from now on crave beauty's pleasure less, heap up hidden merit more, and in all things make the long supply the short; that is enough to drive off sickness and lengthen years—and that is the teaching.” He brought out two dishes of loose gold and broken silver as traveling money. The Tang monk refused flatly, not taking one cash. The king, helpless, ordered the imperial carriage drawn up, seated the Tang monk at ease in the phoenix carriage and dragon coach, and with the consorts and ladies pushed the wheels and turned the hubs to see them out of court. In the six streets and three markets the common people too added cups of clean water and burned true incense on their burners, and saw them out of the city.

Suddenly a rush of wind sounded in mid-air, and down on either side of the road fell one thousand one hundred and eleven goose cages, with the little children crying within. The city god, earth god, local gods, true officers, guardians of the five quarters, duty officers of the four watches, six Ding and six Jia, and sangha-guardians who had guarded them in hiding called aloud together: “Great Sage, we took your charge and carried off the cage children; now we know the Great Sage's work is done and he takes the road, and we bring them back one and all.” The king and consorts, and all the ministers and people, bowed down again. The Pilgrim said toward the empty sky: “I trouble you, gentlemen; return each to your shrine, and I will have the people sacrifice to you in thanks.” With a sough and a rustle the dark wind rose again and was gone.

The Pilgrim called the households of the city to come and claim their children. The word spread, and they came, found their own children out of the cages, and in their joy snatched them up, crying “Brother!” and “Flesh of my flesh!”—leaping and laughing, all crying: “Hold the grandfather of the Tang fast, and come to our houses to receive our thanks for saving our children.” Great and small, men and women, none fearing their ugly faces, they shouldered Zhu Bajie, carried Sha Monk, bore the Great Sage Sun aloft, hoisted Tripitaka Tang, led the horse, shouldered the loads, and swept back into the city—and the king himself could not restrain them. This house gave a feast, that house spread a board. Those who could not beg a visit made monk's caps, monk's shoes, monk's gowns, cloth stockings—clothes within and without, great and small—and brought them as gifts. So they lingered almost a month before they could leave the city. Others had portraits made of them, set up tablets, bowed their heads, burned incense, and made offerings. And it is truly said:

Hidden merit heaped high, a mountain of grace: thousands upon thousands of living souls saved.

But what befell them after, who could tell? Listen to the next chapter to find out.

Hunting the Cave to Seize the Demon, He Meets the Old Star of Long Life; At Court the True King Is Set Right and the Children Saved

The brocade official hauled the false Tang monk out of the post, ringed about by the Feathered Forest Guard, straight to the court gate, and told the gate official of the yellow door: "We have fetched the Tang monk here; be good enough to report it." The official hurried into the court, and reported as told to the blind king, who had him brought in. The officers all knelt and bowed below the steps, but the false Tang monk stood tall in the middle of the steps and called out: "King of Bhikshu, why have you invited this poor monk?" The king laughed: "I have an illness that has hung on me for days without healing. Happily the National Father-in-Law bestowed a prescription; drugs and doses are all prepared, and only one ingredient, the messenger, is wanting. We invited the elder specially to beg this messenger. If my sickness is cured, we will build you a shrine and offer sacrifice in all four seasons, a sacred flame of state forever." The false Tang monk said: "I am a man gone from home and have come here alone. What thing would Your Majesty ask of the Father-in-Law for the messenger?" The blind king said: "We ask the elder's own heart and liver." The false Tang monk said: "I will not hide it from Your Majesty: I have several hearts, and I do not know what color and shape you want." The Father-in-Law beside him pointed: "Monk, it is your black heart we want." The false Tang monk said: "If it is so, bring a knife quickly, cut open my chest and belly; if there is a black heart, your order shall be obeyed." The blind king rejoiced and thanked him, and had the officer of the car fetch a short ox-ear knife and hand it to the false monk. The false monk took the knife, undid his clothes, thrust out his chest, smoothed his belly with his left hand, held the knife in his right, and with a tearing rip split open his belly; and out of it tumbled and rolled a whole heap of hearts. The civil officers turned pale with fright and the generals went numb. The Father-in-Law, watching from the hall, said: "Here is a many-hearted monk." The false monk picked those hearts apart one by one, dripping blood, and showed them to the crowd: they were all red hearts, white hearts, yellow hearts, stingy and grasping hearts, hearts of fame and gain, jealous hearts, scheming hearts, hearts set on winning, hearts reaching too high, scornful hearts, murderous hearts, cruel and venomous hearts, fearful hearts, over-careful hearts, crooked and false hearts, nameless dark and hidden hearts — hearts of every kind of ill, and not one black heart. The blind king stood gaping, his mouth unable to speak, and tremblingly cried: "Put them away, put them away." The false Tang monk could hold in no longer; he gathered up the magical hearts, showed his true form, and said to the blind king: "Your Majesty has no eye at all. We monk folk are all one honest heart; only this Father-in-Law of yours has a black heart, fit for a drug's messenger. If you do not believe it, wait while I fetch his out for you to see."

The Father-in-Law heard, and snapped his eyes open to look closely, and saw that the monk's face had changed and was not the face it had been. Ah!

He knew the Great Sage Sun of the old days, his name well known five hundred years ago.

He turned to flee, mounted his cloud, and rose; but Pilgrim turned a somersault, jumped into the air, and roared: "Where are you going? Taste my staff!" The Father-in-Law swung his coiling-dragon staff and met him. High in mid-air the two fought a fine battle:

The As-You-Will staff against the coiling-dragon staff, in an empty sky of heaped gray cloud. The Father-in-Law, it turns out, is a demon spirit, and so he dubbed his monster girl a beauty. The king doted, and the sickness entered his body; the demon meant to slaughter the children. He met the Great Sage showing his magic, seizing the monster, saving men, untying trouble. The iron staff comes down on the head, terrible indeed; the staff swings up in answer, worth a cheer. They fight till fog fills the sky and darkens the city, and every household in the city turns pale. The souls of the civil and military officers fly; the ladies and palace girls' faces change. The blind king of Bhikshu, terrified, scurries into hiding, trembling, at a loss where to turn. The staff rises like a tiger bounding from the mountain; the staff sweeps round like a dragon leaving the sea. Today the Kingdom of Bhikshu is thrown into uproar, and evil and good are parted clear.

The demon fought bitterly with Pilgrim twenty rounds and more; the coiling-dragon staff could not stand against the gold-banded staff. He made a feint with one swing of the staff, turned his body into a streak of cold light, dropped into the inner palace, swept up the demon queen who had been presented, and shot out the palace gate, cold light and all, and was gone no one knew where.

The Great Sage let down his cloud, came to the foot of the palace hall, and said to the officers: "A fine Father-in-Law you have!" The officers bowed together and thanked the holy monk. Pilgrim said: "Do not bow yet; go and see where your blind lord is." The officers said: "When the fighting began, our lord hid in his fright, and into which palace he went we do not know." Pilgrim ordered: "Search quickly; see that the Beautiful Queen does not carry him off." At this the officers, heeding neither inside nor outside, ran first to the Beautiful Queen's palace: nothing, not a trace — and the Beautiful Queen herself was gone too. From the chief palace, the east palace, the west palace, and the six courts, all the queens and consorts came to thank the Great Sage. The Great Sage said: "Rise, please; this is no time for thanks. Go find your lord." Soon four or five eunuchs were seen helping the blind king along from behind the Hall of Guarded Body. The ministers flung themselves on the ground and cried with one voice: "My lord, my lord! The holy monk has come, and parted true from false. That Father-in-Law is a demon — and the Beautiful Queen is gone too." The king heard, and begged Pilgrim out of the palace to the great hall, bowed his thanks, and said: "Elder, the figure that came this morning was so tall and fine — how have you changed your face?" Pilgrim laughed: "I will not hide it from Your Majesty. The one who came this morning was my master, the Tang Tripitaka, the honored brother of the Emperor of the Tang. I am his disciple Sun Wukong, and I have two younger brothers, Zhu Wuneng and Sha Wujing, at the Gold Pavilion Post. Knowing you had listened to a demon's talk and meant to take my master's heart and liver for a drug's messenger, old Sun changed into my master's shape and came specially to subdue the demon." The king heard, and sent word to the chief steward of the court to hurry to the post and invite the master and his disciples to court.

The Tripitaka, hearing that Pilgrim had shown himself and was subduing the demon in the air, was frightened out of his wits. Happily Bajie and Sha Monk stood by him; and he still had that sheet of rank mud on his face. He sat dull and uneasy when he heard the call: "Master, we are the chief steward sent by the king of Bhikshu, come specially to beg you to court to receive thanks." Bajie laughed: "Master, do not be afraid, do not be afraid. This is not another call for your heart; it must be that our brother has won, and they beg you to court to thank you." The Tripitaka said: "Won or no, with this rank-smelling face of mine, how am I to show myself?" Bajie said: "There is no help for it; let us go and see our brother — he will find a way." And truly the elder, having no plan, could only follow Bajie and Sha Monk, carrying the load and leading the horse, and come to the post courtyard. The chief steward saw them and was afraid: "Grandfather in heaven! They all look like demon heads and monster skulls." Sha Monk said: "Court officer, do not mind our ugliness; we are as we were born. But when my master sees our brother, he will be handsome again."

The three came with the steward to the court, and, without waiting for the summons, went straight below the hall. Pilgrim saw them, turned, came down from the hall to meet them, clawed the mud face off his master, blew a mouthful of magic breath, and cried: "Change!" And the Tang monk was himself again at once, his spirit all the fresher. The king came down from the hall to meet them, calling: "Master, old living Buddha!" Master and disciples tied the horse and all came up into the hall. Pilgrim said: "Does Your Majesty know where that monster came from? Let old Sun take him too, and cut off future trouble." Behind the kingfisher screen sat the three palaces and six courts, all the consorts and concubines; hearing Pilgrim speak of cutting off future trouble, they paid no heed to the proprieties of men and women, inside and outside, but came out together and pleaded: "We beg the holy monk, the old living Buddha, to use his great magic, to cut the grass and tear out the root, and destroy them all — the greatest of kindnesses, and we will repay it richly." Pilgrim hurried to return their bows, and only asked the king where they lived. The king, in his shame, told him: "When he came three years ago, I asked him. He said, not far from the city, seventy li to the south, at Clear Splendor Farm on Poplar Grove Slope. The Father-in-Law, old and childless, had only one daughter by his second wife, sixteen and never given in marriage, and offered her to me. Because I loved the girl I took her, and doted on her in the palace. Then I fell sick, and the imperial physicians' medicines never worked. He said: 'I have an immortal prescription; it wants only children's hearts boiled for its broth.' It was my folly to trust his word lightly; I chose children from among the people, and fixed today at the hour of the Horse to open the blade and take the hearts. Who knew the holy monk would come down, and just then the cages would all vanish! Then he said the holy monk is a truth refined through ten lifetimes, his first yang unspent, and his heart worth ten thousand times the children's. In one blind hour I offended, not knowing the holy monk could see through the demon. I beg your great magic to cut off future trouble, and I will repay you with the wealth of my kingdom." Pilgrim laughed: "I will hide nothing: the children in the cages — my master's mercy bid me hide them. Speak no more of wealth for thanks; catching the monster is my own work and practice." He called: "Bajie, come with me." Bajie said: "Your brother's word is law. Only my belly is empty, and I cannot strike well hollow." The king sent word at once for the Court of Entertainments to prepare a meal quickly. In a little while it came, and Bajie ate his fill, stirred up his might, and rode the cloud up with Pilgrim. The king and consorts and all the officers, big and small, bowed toward the sky, one and all crying: "A true immortal, a true Buddha, has come down among men!"

The Great Sage, with Bajie, went straight seventy li south, checked wind and cloud, and hunted for the demon's place. There was nothing but a clear stream with banks on either side, and on the banks thousands upon thousands of poplars and willows; where Clear Splendor Farm was, who could say? Truly:

Ten thousand acres of open fields, past all gazing; a thousand dikes of misty willows, hiding without a trace.

The Great Sage Sun, finding nothing, pinched a sign, murmured the true word "om," and summoned the local earth god, who came trembling, knelt, and called: "Great Sage, the earth god of Poplar Grove Slope knocks his head." Pilgrim said: "Do not be afraid; I will not strike you. Answer me: on Poplar Grove Slope there is a Clear Splendor Farm — where is it?" The earth god said: "Hereabouts there is a Clear Splendor Cave, but never a Clear Splendor Farm. This little god knows: the Great Sage must come from the Kingdom of Bhikshu?" Pilgrim said: "Just so, just so. The king of Bhikshu was fooled by a demon. Old Sun went there, saw through the monster, beat him back at once, and he turned into a streak of cold light and vanished. I asked the king of Bhikshu, and he said that when the beauty was presented three years ago he asked where they lived, and the demon said, seventy li south of the city, Clear Splendor Farm on Poplar Grove Slope. I have searched here, and there is the wooded slope, but no Clear Splendor Farm — so I ask you." The earth god knocked his head: "I beg the Great Sage's pardon. The king of Bhikshu is lord of this ground of mine too, and it was this little god's duty to watch. But the demon's might and magic are great, and if I ever let his affairs slip, he comes and bullies me; so I never caught him. Now the Great Sage is come: go to the roots of the poplar with nine forks on the south bank; turn three turns to the left and three to the right, strike the tree with both hands together, and cry 'Open the door' three times, and the Clear Splendor grotto will show itself."

The Great Sage heard, sent the earth god back, jumped the stream with Bajie, and looked for the poplar: truly it had nine forked branches on one root. Pilgrim told Bajie: "Stand off there at a distance; when I have called the door open and found the monster and chased him out, then you close in." Bajie took the order and stood half a li from the tree. The Great Sage did as the earth god said: round the root of the tree he turned three turns to the left and three to the right, struck the tree with both hands together, and cried: "Open the door, open the door!" In an instant there was a great crash; with a rending the two leaves of a gate swung open, and the tree was gone without a trace. Within was bright and glowing, with no man about. The Great Sage, riding his might, pushed inside, and a fine place he found it:

Mist and rose-light glowing; sun and moon lending their light. White clouds ever issuing from the grotto; kingfisher moss run wild over the court. A path of rare flowers vying in beauty; jasper grasses all up the steps contending in fragrance. Warm the air, the season ever spring — wholly like the immortal gardens, not beneath Penglai and Yingzhou. Slippery seats overgrown with long vines; the level bridge hung with tangled creepers. Bees carry red petals to the rocky hollows; butterflies toy with hidden orchids past the stone screen.

Pilgrim strode quickly forward to look closely, and saw on the stone screen four great characters: "Immortal Mansion of Clear Splendor." He could not hold back, jumped past the stone screen, and looked: the old monster had a beauty clasped in his arms and was panting out the story of the kingdom of Bhikshu, when they cried out together: "What a chance! Three years' work, finished today — and that monkey head has spoiled it." Pilgrim ran up, pulled out his staff, and shouted: "You pack of hairy things! What 'chance'? Taste my staff!" The old monster dropped the beauty, swung his coiling-dragon staff, and hurriedly caught the blow. Before the cave the two fought, a different fight from any before:

The staff leaps up, bursting golden light; the staff sweeps round, and murderous air breaks out. The monster says: "Ignorant one, how dare you enter my gate?" Pilgrim says: "I have a mind to subdue the demon." The monster says: "I dote upon the king; what is that to you, that you come with a bully's heart to meddle?" Pilgrim says: "The monk mends men's government, and mercy is his root; he cannot bear to see children killed alive." Word for word, hate on hate; staff meets staff, thrust at the very heart. The rare flowers are bruised for very life; the kingfisher moss is trodden through for footing. They fight till the rose-light in the cave pales before the glow, and the sweets of the cliff are all crushed under. Clang and clash frighten the birds from flying; shouts and cries scare the beauties away. Only the old monster and the Monkey King are left, and the wild wind howls and sweeps the ground. They fight their way out of the cave gate — and run into Wuneng and his blockheaded fury awake.

Now Bajie outside, hearing the uproar within, was tickled past scratching; he pulled out his nail rake and felled the nine-forked poplar with it, then struck it a few blows, and fresh blood gushed out, whining as if with a voice. He said: "This tree has become a spirit! This tree has become a spirit!" Bajie had his rake raised and was striking again when he saw Pilgrim bring the monster out. The Idiot wasted no words but ran up and struck with his rake. The old monster could barely stand against Pilgrim; seeing Bajie's rake come, his heart fluttered the more. Beaten from the field, he shook his body into a streak of cold light and fled straight east. The two gave him no slack and chased him east.

In the very thick of the shouting and killing there came the cry of luan birds and cranes, and auspicious light floating; they looked up: it was the Old Man of the Southern Pole. The Old Man threw his cold light over the demon and called: "Great Sage, come slowly; Marshal Tianpeng, chase no farther; this old Daoist is here to salute you." Pilgrim returned the salute: "Brother Long-Life Star, where do you come from?" Bajie laughed: "The bald old pate has thrown his light over the demon — he must have him caught." The Long-Life Star smiled apologetically: "Here he is, here he is. I beg you gentlemen to spare his life." Pilgrim said: "The old monster is no affair of yours, brother; why do you plead for him?" The Long-Life Star laughed: "He is a mount of mine. Who would have thought he would run away and grow into a monster here?" Pilgrim said: "If he is yours, brother, then make him show his true form and let us see." The Long-Life Star heard, let out the cold light, and cried: "Wicked beast! Show your true form quickly, and I will pardon you your death." The monster turned over: it was a white deer. The Long-Life Star took up his staff: "This wicked beast has stolen my own staff to run away with." The deer lay flat on the ground, unable to speak, knocking its head and dropping tears. See him:

A body like bars of white jade, one above another; two antlers uneven, seven-tined and curved.Many a hungry hour he hunted the drug gardens; some thirsty day he drank of the cloud-brooks.Years deep he learned the art of flying; days long he refined his face of many changes.Now, hearing his master call, he shows himself, ears flattened, and lies humbled in the dust.

The Long-Life Star thanked Pilgrim and made to bestride the deer; but Pilgrim seized him: "Brother, not so fast; two matters are still unfinished." The Long-Life Star said: "What is unfinished?" Pilgrim said: "The beauty is not yet taken, and who knows what monster she is? And we must go back to the city of Bhikshu, see the blind king, show the true forms, and give answer." The Long-Life Star said: "If it is so, I will wait patiently. You and Tianpeng go down to the cave and catch the beauty, and we will all go show the forms together." Pilgrim said: "Brother, wait a moment for us; we go and come."

Bajie stirred up his might, followed Pilgrim straight into the Immortal Mansion of Clear Splendor, raised a shout, and cried: "Take the demon! Take the demon!" The beauty trembled, at her wits' end to escape; hearing the shout roll louder, she slipped behind the stone screen — and there was no back door out. Bajie roared: "Where are you going? You rank little seducer of men — look at my rake!" The beauty had no weapon in her hand and could not fight; she flashed her body into a streak of cold light and made for the door. The Great Sage barred the cold light, and down came the staff with a crash. The monster could not keep her feet, fell in the dust, and showed her true form: a white-faced fox. The Idiot could not hold his hand; he raised the rake and smashed her head. And so, poor thing, she who could turn a city and a kingdom with a thousand smiles became a hairy lump of fox. Pilgrim called: "Do not beat her to bits; keep her body whole to show the blind king."

The Idiot, no sharer of squeamishness, seized the tail in one fist, dragged and hauled, and followed Pilgrim out the gate. The Old Long-Life Star was stroking the deer's head and scolding: "Wicked beast! Why did you desert your master and run off, and grow into a spirit here? Had I not come, the Great Sage Sun would surely have beaten you to death." Pilgrim jumped out: "What are you saying, brother?" The Long-Life Star said: "I am lecturing my deer, lecturing my deer." Bajie swung the dead fox down before the deer: "Is this your daughter, then?" The deer bobbed head and brain, stretched out its muzzle, and sniffed at her several times, crying yo-yo, as if it could not bear to part. The Long-Life Star slapped its head: "Wicked beast! To have your life is enough; what do you mean by sniffing her?" He undid the sash from his robe, buckled it about the deer's neck, and led it up: "Great Sage, let us go and meet in the kingdom of Bhikshu." Pilgrim said: "Wait. Let us sweep this place clean to the last, so that in no year to come it breeds monsters again."

Bajie heard, and struck about wildly at the willows with his rake. Pilgrim murmured the true word "om" again, summoned the local earth god as before, and said: "Find some withered brush and light a hot fire, and rid this quarter of its demon plague, so it bullies no one more." The earth god turned, the dark wind whistling, and led up his dark soldiers, who fetched frost-enduring grass, autumn-green grass, knotweed grass, mountain-bloom grass, wormwood faggots, dragon-bone faggots, reed and rush faggots — all dry year-old stuff, scorched through, that catches fire like grease. Pilgrim called: "Bajie, no more striking the tree. Stuff this into the cave, and light it — it will burn clean." The fire was lit, and truly it burned the whole demon house of Clear Splendor into a pit of embers.

Then they dismissed the earth god, and with the Long-Life Star leading the deer and dragging the fox, they came back together before the hall, and said to the king: "Here is your Beautiful Queen — will you play with her a while?" The king's gall shook and his heart trembled. And see: the Great Sage Sun led up the Long-Life Star, leading the white deer, all before the hall, and the king and ministers and consorts of the whole kingdom fell down together in worship. Pilgrim came near, raised the king, and laughed: "Do not bow to me. This deer is your Father-in-Law — bow to him." The king was ashamed, and had no ground to stand on; he could only say: "I thank the holy monk who saved the little children of a whole kingdom — truly the grace of heaven." He sent word at once for the Court of Entertainments to spread a vegetarian feast, threw open the eastern pavilion, and asked the Old Man of the Southern Pole and the four of the Tang monk's party to sit together and receive his thanks. The Tripitaka greeted the Long-Life Star with bows, and Sha Monk saluted him with courtesy. All asked: "If the white deer is the Old Long-Life Star's, how did it come here to work mischief?" The Long-Life Star laughed: "Some time ago the Emperor of the Eastern Flower passed my poor mountain, and I kept him sitting over a game of chess; one game was not finished when this wicked beast slipped away. When my guest was gone I hunted and could not find him; I counted on my fingers and reckoned he had run here, and came specially to look for him — and so met the Great Sage Sun showing his might. Had I come later, the beast was done for."

While they yet talked, word came: "The feast is ready." A fine vegetarian feast:

Five colors at the doors, strange perfumes over the seats. The tables hung with embroidered screens glow like brocade; the floor spread with red carpets flashes rose-light. In the jeweled duck censor, aloes and sandal smoke; before the royal board, the fragrance of vegetable dishes. High plates of fruit piled like towers and terraces; dragons coiled in sugar, beasts and birds set out. Mandarin-duck cakes and lion-immortal sugar, true to shape; parrot cups and cormorant ladles, true to form. Before the seats the fruits stand thick on thick; on the tables every dish of the fast is fine. Longans and chestnuts, fresh lychees and peaches. Dates and dried persimmons, sweet to the taste; pine nuts and grapes, fragrant with mellow wine. Several kinds of honeyed things, a number of steamed crisps. Fried and sugar-glazed, flowered and brocade-laid. On gold plates, stacks of great steamed loaves; in silver bowls, heaped fragrant rice. Long threads of starch in biting hot broth; dish after dish coming, fragrant and fine. No telling of the mushrooms, wood ears, tender shoots, and yellow root, the ten-fragrance dishes of the fast, the hundred flavors of the rare. Serving and clearing never stopped; coming and going, all was set in plenty.

Then they took their seats: the Long-Life Star at the head, the elder next, the king before them, and Pilgrim, Bajie, and Sha Monk at the sides; two or three great abbots sat attending on either hand. The king told the music office to strike up. Raising a cup of purple rose-light, he poured for each in turn; only the Tang monk did not drink. Bajie said to Pilgrim: "Brother, the fruit is yours; the broth and rice, I beg you, leave to me." And the Idiot, making no choices, fell on it all together, and everything that came he ate clean up.

The feast done, the Long-Life Star took his leave. The king came near, knelt to the Long-Life Star, and begged the art of curing sickness and stretching life. The Long-Life Star laughed: "Hunting my deer, I brought no elixir. I would teach you the art of self-culture, but your sinews are worn and your spirit spent; you cannot give back the cinnabar. In my sleeve I have only three dates, meant for offering tea to the Emperor of the Eastern Flower; I never ate them — take them now." The king swallowed them, and little by little felt his body lighten and his sickness ebb. The long life he afterward enjoyed was all rooted here. Bajie saw, and called: "Old Long-Life, you have fire dates — toss me a few to eat." The Long-Life Star said: "I brought none; another day I will send you a few catties." So he left the eastern pavilion, gave his thanks, shouted the white deer up, flew onto its back, and rode off on the clouds. The king and consorts of the court, and the common folk of the city, every one burned incense and bowed — but no more of that.

The Tripitaka called: "Disciples, pack up, and take leave of the king." The king pressed them hard to stay, begging instruction. Pilgrim said: "Your Majesty: from now on, dabble less in lust, heap up more hidden merit; in all things mend what is short with what is long — that is enough to cure sickness and stretch your years. That is the teaching." Then he brought out two plates of loose gold and broken silver as traveling money; the Tang monk refused flatly, and would not take a coin. The king, having no other way, ordered out the royal carriages, asked the Tang monk to sit at ease in the phoenix carriage drawn by the dragon car, and the king and consorts took hold of hub and wheel and pushed them out of the court. Through the six streets and three markets the common folk too added pure water to their cups and burned true incense on their burners, and saw them out of the city.

Suddenly a rush of wind was heard in mid-air, and down on either side of the road fell one thousand one hundred and eleven goose cages, with the crying of little children in them. Secretly there attended the city god, earth gods, local spirits, true officers, guardians of the five quarters, duty officers of the four watches, the Six Dings and Six Jias, and the Sangharama guardians of the faith, who called out: "Great Sage, we were honored with your order and spirited away the children and their cages; now we know your work is done and you are setting out, and we bring them back, every one." The king and consorts and all the ministers and people bowed again. Pilgrim called toward the sky: "I trouble you gentlemen; return each to your shrine, and I will have the people sacrifice in thanks to you." With a whish and a patter, the dark wind rose again and they were gone.

Pilgrim called the households of the city to come and claim their children. The word spread, and all came to claim the children from the cages, glad and merry, hugging them out and calling "Brother!" and "Little lamb!" — leaping and laughing together, all crying: "Hold the grandfather from the Tang, and come to our houses, and let us thank him for saving our children." Big and little, men and women alike, not caring how ugly his face was, they hoisted Zhu Bajie, shouldered Sha Monk, bore the Great Sage Sun on their hands, carried the Tang Tripitaka, led the horse, and shouldered the load, and in one swarm went back into the city. The king could not hold them in. This house spread a feast, that house set a table. Those who could not get the guests made monk's caps, monk's sandals, monk's gowns, and cloth stockings — clothes within and without, large and small — and brought them as gifts. So they lingered a full month before they could leave the city. Some had their likenesses painted, set up tablets, and worshipped them with bows and incense. And so it was:

Hidden merit heaped mountain-high in its grace; a thousand times ten thousand living souls saved alive.

What befell them after, who can say? Listen to the next chapter to find out.