Chapter 85

The Mind-Ape Jealous of the Wood-Mother; The Demon Lord Plots to Swallow the Chan Monk

The king held morning court, and the ministers, civil and military, all came forward with memorials: "My lord, we beg pardon for our breach of etiquette." The king said: "Your courtesies are as ever—what breach?" The ministers said: "My lord, we know not why: in one night every hair of our heads was gone." The king, holding this hairless memorial, came down from the dragon bed to his ministers: "Truly we know not why; in my palace too, great and small, every head was shorn in one night." King and ministers, all with brimming eyes, said: "From this day we dare kill no more monks." The king went back up the dragon seat, and the officials stood to their ranks. The king said again: "If there is business, step from the ranks and memorialize; if none, roll up the blinds and court is dismissed." Then from the military ranks stepped forward the general of the city patrol, and from the civil ranks the commandant of horse and chariots of the east city, and they knocked their heads at the steps: "Your servants, bearing the sacred decree to patrol the city, took last night one chest of thieves' plunder and one white horse. We dare not decide alone; we beg the decree." The king rejoiced: "Bring it, chest and all."

The two ministers went back to their yamen, mustered soldiers in good order, and had the chest carried out. Tripitaka inside, his soul not with his body, said: "Disciples, when we stand before the king, how do we plead?" The Pilgrim laughed: "No shouting; I have it all arranged. When the chest is opened, he will take us for his teachers. Only let Bajie not wrangle over merits." Bajie said: "If we escape the knife, it is blessing past measure—much less dare I wrangle." Scarcely had he spoken when the chest came to the palace, in through the Tower of the Five Phoenixes, and was set below the vermilion steps.

The two ministers begged the king to open and see; the king bade them open it. The lid was barely off when Zhu Bajie could not contain himself but sprang out, and the ministers' galls shook, and their tongues failed them. Then they saw Sun the Pilgrim helping out Tripitaka Tang, and Sha Monk carrying out the luggage. Bajie, seeing the general leading the horse, stepped up and gave a bark: "The horse is mine; hand it over." The officer, frightened, tumbled head over heels to the ground. The four stood together on the steps. The king, seeing four monks, hurried down from the dragon bed, summoned the queens and consorts of the three palaces down into the golden chime hall, and with all his ministers bowed and asked: "Elders, where do you come from?" Tripitaka said: "We are sent by the court of Great Tang in the Land of the East, bound for the Great Thunderclap Monastery in India in the Western Heaven, to worship the living Buddha and fetch the true scriptures." The king said: "Teacher, you have come from afar—why rest inside a chest?" Tripitaka said: "Your poor monk knew that Your Majesty had made a vow to kill monks, and dared not present ourselves openly in your sovereign country; we dressed as laymen and came by night to beg lodging at an eating house in your precious land. Fearing our true shapes would be known, we rested inside the chest. Unhappily thieves stole the chest out, the general seized it, and it was carried here. Today we behold Your Majesty's dragon countenance—truly pushing the clouds aside to see the sun. I beg Your Majesty to pardon and release your poor monk; it will be a kindness deep as the sea." The king said: "Teacher, you are high monks of a sovereign court above; I failed to receive you. I have long had a vow to kill monks, for monks once slandered me; I vowed to heaven to kill ten thousand monks and round out the vow. But this very night I have taken refuge, and you bid me and mine become monks: now king and ministers, queens and consorts, our hair is all shaved away. I beg you, teacher, do not begrudge your lofty wisdom; be willing to take us for your disciples." Bajie heard and burst out laughing: "If you will take us for masters, what gift of introduction do you bring?" The king said: "If the teachers will take us, I will lay before you the treasures of the kingdom." The Pilgrim said: "Speak not of treasures. We are monks of the Way. Only countersign and stamp our travel rescript, and send us out of the city, and I promise you your royal line stands firm forever, and happiness and long life keep coming." The king heard, and at once bade the Court of Imperial Entertainments lay a great banquet. King and ministers joined as one and bowed in unity. The rescript was countersigned at once, and the teachers were asked to rename the country. The Pilgrim said: "Your Majesty, the name 'Law Kingdom' is a fine one; only the word 'Destroying' will not do. Now that I have passed through, change it to 'Law-Honoring Kingdom,' and I promise you calm seas and clear rivers for a thousand generations, and seasonable rains and peace in all quarters." The king thanked him for the grace. The royal equipage was drawn up in full, and Tripitaka Tang and his four were escorted out of the city westward. King and ministers returned to the truth by way of goodness—no more of that.

The elder, having taken leave of the king of the Law-Honoring Kingdom, said gaily in the saddle: "Wukong, this contrivance is excellent; it has done great work." Sha Monk said: "Brother, where did you find so many barber-artisans, to shave so many heads overnight?" The Pilgrim told the whole story of his changes and his powers. Master and disciples laughed without stopping.

In the very midst of their joy a high mountain barred the road. Tripitaka Tang reined in: "Disciples, look how the hills rise sheer before us; be careful." The Pilgrim laughed: "Be at ease, be at ease; I will keep you from all harm." Tripitaka said: "Say not 'no harm.' I see the peaks standing upright, and from far off a certain fierce air; storm clouds fly out of them; I feel alarm creeping on, my whole body numb, my spirit uneasy." The Pilgrim laughed: "Have you forgotten the Heart Sutra of the Chan Master of Crow's Nest?" Tripitaka said: "I remember it." The Pilgrim said: "Though you remember it, there are four lines of the gatha you have forgotten." Tripitaka said: "Which four?" The Pilgrim said:

Buddha is on Vulture Peak—seek him not afar; Vulture Peak is only in your heart.Every one has the pagoda of Vulture Peak; go beneath that pagoda and cultivate.

Tripitaka said: "Disciple, do I not know? By these four lines, the thousand sutras and ten thousand classics are only the cultivating of the mind." The Pilgrim said: "Say no more. When the mind is clean, the lone light shines alone; when the mind is kept, the ten thousand states are all clear. One little slip, and sloth creeps in; a thousand years, ten thousand, and nothing is done. Only be wholeheartedly sincere, and Thunderclap is before your eyes. Frightened and dismayed as you are, your spirit uneasy, the great Way is far indeed, and Thunderclap far indeed. Doubt no more; come with me." At this the elder's heart and spirit cleared at once, and every care fell away.

The four went on together, and in a few steps were on the mountain. They looked up, and this is what they saw:

A mountain of mountains truly, and seen close, colors all checkered.Over the crown, clouds drift and tumble; before the cliffs, tree shadows lie cold.Birds flit and rattle; beasts run fierce and sullen.In the wood, a thousand trunks of pine; on the ridge, a few stems of bamboo.The howling is gray wolves fighting for food; the roaring is hungry tigers contending for a meal.Wild gibbons cry long, hunting fresh fruit; elk climb the flowering slopes up into the green haze.Wind sifting, water purling, and ever and anon the chatter of hidden birds.Here vines pull and tug; the whole brook is jade grass mixed with fragrant orchid.Strange stones glittering; peak-rocks sliced sheer.Foxes and wild cats run in packs; apes and gibbons troop in mischief.The traveler already sorrows at the perils and the steepness—and the old road, for all that, winds and turns again.

Master and disciples, fearful and trembling, were going along when they heard a rushing wind rise. Tripitaka, frightened, said: "The wind has risen." The Pilgrim said: "Spring has its mild wind, summer its warm wind, autumn its golden wind, winter its north wind. Every season has its winds—why fear a rising wind?" Tripitaka said: "This wind comes very sudden; it is certainly no wind of heaven." The Pilgrim said: "From of old, wind rises from the ground and clouds come out of mountains—when was there ever a wind of heaven?"

Before he had done, a fog rose too. And truly the fog was this:

Broad and dim, it darkens heaven; thick and heavy, it grays the ground.The sun gives never a shadow; nowhere a bird's cry heard.Like chaos come again; like a cloud of flying dust.The trees on the hilltop cannot be seen; where would you meet the herb gatherer?

Tripitaka's fear redoubled: "Wukong, the wind has not settled, and now this fog—what is it?" The Pilgrim said: "No hurry. Let the master dismount; you two brothers keep guard here, and I will go see what luck or ill this is."

The Great Sage bowed his waist and was halfway up the sky. He put his hand above his brow, rounded his fiery eyes, and looked down: there, on the edge of a hanging crag, sat a demon. And what did he look like:

Blazing his patterned coat, many-colored and bright; lofty his heroic bearing, mettlesome to the bone.Tusks out of his mouth like steel awls; sharp claws hidden in his hoofs like hooks of jade.Golden eyes, round-pupiled, frighten birds and beasts; silver whiskers bristling backward trouble ghosts and gods.Wild he roars and rages, flaunting his might; breathing fog and spouting wind, he works his wiles.

He saw too that thirty or forty little demons were drawn up on either hand, and the demon was busily spouting wind and breathing fog. The Pilgrim laughed in the dark: "My master had some foreboding after all: he said it was no wind of heaven, and sure enough the wind is a demon's flourish here. If your old Sun takes the iron staff and smashes down from above, that is called the garlic-pounding blow—it would smash him dead, but it would spoil your old Sun's name." Now the Pilgrim was a hero all his life and never learned to strike from ambush. He said: "I will go back and look after Zhu Bajie a bit, and send him to give this demon the first bout. If Bajie has the power and beats him down, so much the better; if he has no art and the demon takes him, I will go rescue him, and the credit will be mine. Besides, he is one for airs, somewhat lazy, unwilling to step forward—but he has a loose mouth and loves to eat. Let me coax him a little and see what he says."

At once he dropped the cloud down before Tripitaka. Tripitaka asked: "Wukong, what luck or ill at the wind and fog?" The Pilgrim said: "All is clear now; no wind, no fog." Tripitaka said: "True, it seems to have drawn off." The Pilgrim laughed: "Master, I generally see well enough, but this time I saw wrong. I thought there might be a demon in the wind and fog; there is none." Tripitaka said: "Then what is it?" The Pilgrim said: "Not far ahead is a village. The households there are generous: they steam white rice and white-flour buns and feed monks. This fog must be the steam of their steamers—a token of gathered goodness." Bajie heard, and took it for gospel. He drew the Pilgrim aside and whispered: "Brother, did you eat their alms on the way?" The Pilgrim said: "I ate only a little; the greens were rather too salt for my liking." Bajie said: "Pah! Salt or no salt, I'd fill my belly to the brim. If I am very thirsty, I'll come back and drink water." The Pilgrim said: "You want to go?" Bajie said: "I do; I feel a bit of hunger; let me go eat something first—what do you say?" The Pilgrim said: "Brother, not a word of it. The old book says: 'While the father lives, the son may not act alone.' The master is here too—who dares go first?" Bajie laughed: "If you say nothing, I will go." The Pilgrim said: "I say nothing—see how you get there." The glutton Idiot had his wits ready enough: he stepped up, bowed very deep, and said: "Master, senior brother just said there are households in the village ahead feeding monks. Look at this horse—it will soon be troubling some house for grass and provender, and that is bother. Happily the wind and fog are clear: sit you here a moment, and let me go find some tender grass and feed the horse a bit, and then go on to that house for alms." Tripitaka Tang was delighted: "Good! How willing and diligent you are today! Go quickly, come back quickly."

The Idiot went off, laughing in his sleeve. The Pilgrim caught him up and held him: "Brother, their alms there is for the handsome, not the ugly." Bajie said: "In that case, change I must." The Pilgrim said: "Just so—go changed." Good Idiot: he too had thirty-six changes. He went into a mountain fold, pinched the spell, pronounced the charm, shook himself, and changed into a small, spare monk. In his hand he tapped a wooden fish; out of his mouth he hummed and droned—not knowing any sutra, only droning his hornbook letters.

Now the monster, gathering in his wind and fog, gave his orders to the goblin host and drew up a ring of ambush at the crossroads, waiting for travelers. The Idiot's luck was out: in no time he walked into the middle of it, and the goblins closed round him—this one seizing his robe, that one his silk sash—shoving and pressing, and all falling on together. Bajie said: "Don't pull; let me go house by house eating my way." The goblins said: "Monk, what is it you want to eat?" Bajie said: "You feed monks here; I have come for the meal." The goblins said: "You thought this place fed monks—you did not know this place chiefly eats them. We are demon immortals attained in the mountains, and we make a trade of carrying off monks like you to our homes, steaming you in the steamer and eating you. And you came thinking to eat alms." At this Bajie's heart went faint, and he blamed the Pilgrim: "That Bimawen is a truly hateful creature! He gulled me that this village fed monks—and where is any village here? Where are monks fed? It is a demon's den, no more." The Idiot, pulled too hard, showed his true body on the spot, pulled the rake from his waist, and dug away at random, digging back the little demons.

The little demons ran in haste to tell the old demon: "Great King, calamity!" The old monster said: "What calamity?" The little demon said: "A monk came before the mountain, and a tidy monk at that. I said let us take him home and steam him, and what we could not eat, keep against a wet day. Who knew he could change shapes?" The old monster said: "Changed into what shape?" The little demon said: "Nothing like a man at all: a long snout, big ears, and a bristly mane behind; with both hands he swings a toothed rake, digging without head or face, and in our fright we ran back to tell the Great King." The old monster said: "Be not afraid; let me go see." Whirling an iron pestle, he came near and looked: the Idiot was ugly indeed. He was built:

Mortar-mouth new grown three feet and more; tusks jutting out past silver nails.A pair of round eyes glittering like lightning; two ears fanning the wind with a whish and whirr.Behind his skull the bristles stand like iron arrows; all over, hide rough, scabby, and green.In his hand he swings a curious thing—the nine-toothed rake at which every creature starts.

The demon, hardening his gall, shouted: "Where do you come from? What are you called? Speak quickly, and I spare your life." Bajie laughed: "My child, do you not know your ancestor Pig? Come up close, and I will tell you:

Great mouth, jutting tusks, strength of a god—the Jade Emperor made me Marshal Tianpeng.I held command of eighty thousand troops of the Milky Way, happy and free in the Heavenly Palace.Only, wine-muddled, I toyed with the moon palace maid—and that day sold my hero's name cheap.One snout-butt overthrew the Palace of the Dipper and the Bull, and I ate the Queen Mother's lingzhi greens.The Jade Emperor beat me two thousand strokes himself, and banished me below the three heavens.He bade me firm my will and nurse the primal spirit; but down below I turned a demon again.Just as I made a happy marriage at Gao Village, my luck ran low and I met brother Sun.Under the gold-banded staff I took my beating, and only then bowed my head and joined the gate of Law.Leading the horse, shouldering the pack, a drudge at labor—my former life owed Tripitaka Tang a debt.Iron-footed Tianpeng, Pig my surname; my law name is Zhu Bajie."

At this the demon shouted: "So you are Tripitaka Tang's disciple. I have long heard that Tripitaka Tang's flesh is good eating, and was just after you—and you walk into my hands; shall I spare you? Stand still! Look at the pestle." Bajie said: "You evil beast—so you were a dyer by trade." The demon said: "How am I a dyer?" Bajie said: "If not a dyer, how come you wield a dyeing beetle?" The monster brooked no more argument and fell on him. The two of them fought a fine battle in the mountain fold:

The nine-toothed rake, one iron pestle. The rake flung in its figures rolls like a wild gale; the pestle plying its wiles flies like sheets of rain.One, a nameless vicious monster barring the mountain road; one, a guilty Tianpeng guarding his nature's lord.If the nature stand upright, why fear monster or demon? However high the mountain, metal cannot be shut out by earth.That one's pestle guard is like a python out of the pool; this one's rake comes like a dragon leaving its cove.Their shouts shake hills and rivers; their roars of might startle the courts of the dead.Two heroes, each showing his powers, staking their lives upon the match.

Bajie's mettle rose as he fought the demon; and the monster shouted to the little demons to close round Bajie all together—no more of that.

Now the Pilgrim, behind Tripitaka Tang, suddenly laughed aloud in cold. Sha Monk said: "Brother laughs—why?" The Pilgrim said: "Zhu Bajie is truly an idiot: he hears of monks fed, and I gulled him off. And no sign of him by this hour. If one round of the rake beats the demon back, look for him coming home in triumph, clamoring for his merit; if he cannot stand against him and is taken, then it is my bad luck—he will be cursing Bimawen behind my back and before my face, who knows how many times. Wujing, say nothing; let me go look."

The Great Sage, without letting the elder know, quietly plucked a hair from behind his own head, blew on it a breath of immortal air, and cried: "Change!"—it took his own likeness, and kept company with Sha Monk, attending the elder. His true body went out of itself in spirit, leaped into the air, and looked: there was the Idiot hemmed round by the monster, his rake figures all awry, harder and harder pressed. The Pilgrim could not bear it; he brought down his cloud and cried in a stern, loud voice: "Bajie, no fear—your old Sun is here!" The Idiot, knowing the Pilgrim's voice, leaned on his support, and his mettle rose the higher; one burst of the rake, and he dug ahead at random. The demon could no longer stand against him, and said: "This monk was feeble enough before—how does he turn so fierce all at once?" Bajie said: "My child, do not bully me—my household is come!" And he dug on, without head or face. The monster could hold no longer, and led his goblins off in defeat. The Pilgrim, seeing the demon routed, did not come up at all: he wheeled his cloud, went straight back, shook the hair, and took it home again. The elder's mortal fleshly eyes could not tell.

In no time the Idiot, victorious, came back too, all strings of drivel and rheum, white foam working. He came up panting and called: "Master." The elder, seeing him, was astonished: "Bajie, you went to cut horse grass—why come back in such a state? Could it be the mountain households have watchers who would not let you cut grass?" The Idiot put down his rake, beat his breast, and stamped: "Master, ask nothing; the telling of it would shame me to death." The elder said: "Why shame?" Bajie said: "Senior brother made a fool of me. First he said there was no demon in the wind and fog, no ill omen—only a generous village, steaming white rice and white-flour buns to feed monks. I took it for truth, and being hungry, went to beg a bit, on pretense of cutting grass; and who knew but a pack of demons would ring me round? I fought bitterly this long while; and if brother's mourning staff had not come to help me, I would never have got out of the net alive." The Pilgrim laughed at his side: "The Idiot babbles. A thief once caught blames the whole jail. I was here watching the master—when did I ever step away?" The elder said: "True, Wukong never left me." The Idiot, hopping and bawling: "Master, you do not know—he has a double!" The elder said: "Wukong, was there truly a demon?"

The Pilgrim could not hide it; he bowed and laughed: "There was a demon or two of the smaller sort; they dare not meddle with us.—Bajie, come here; I will look after you once more. Since we guard the master over steep mountain roads, we must go like an army on the march." Bajie said: "On the march—then what?" The Pilgrim said: "You be the general who opens the road, and cut a path in front. If the demon does not come, well and good; if he comes, you fight him; beat him, and the merit is yours." Bajie reckoned the demon's art about his own equal, and said: "I'll die on his hand if I must—let me go first." The Pilgrim laughed: "The Idiot begins with words of ill omen—how will he ever improve?" Bajie said: "Brother, you know the saying: 'A lord at the banquet, if not drunk, is filled; a warrior at the line, if not slain, is wounded.' Say the unlucky word first, and the valor comes after." The Pilgrim was pleased; he swiftly shouldered the horse, begged the master to mount, Sha Monk took the load, and they followed Bajie up into the mountain—no more of that.

Now the demon, leading back a few battered little demons, went straight to his own cave and sat high on the stone crag, silent and dark. In the cave were many little demons keeping house, who came up asking: "The Great King goes out and comes home merry as a rule—why so troubled today?" The old demon said: "Little ones, when I patrol the mountains I always net a few men or beasts from somewhere, to keep you all fed. Today my luck sank low, and I met a match." The little demons asked: "What match?" The old demon said: "A monk, a disciple of Tripitaka Tang of the Land of the East who goes for scriptures, named Zhu Bajie. He dug me down off my feet with his rake, and I lost the field. Vexation! Of late I have often heard it said that Tripitaka Tang is an arhat perfected through ten lifetimes: whoever eats one piece of his flesh may lengthen his years and live forever. And today he comes into my mountain—just right to catch and steam and eat; who knew he had such disciples under him."

Scarcely had he spoken when out of the rank of demons stepped a little one, who sobbed three sobs before the old demon and laughed three laughs. The old demon shouted: "Weeping and laughing both—why?" The little demon knelt: "Great King, you say you will eat Tripitaka Tang; Tripitaka Tang's flesh is not fit to eat." The old demon said: "All men say that one piece of his flesh gives life without end, years equal to heaven's—how do you say he is not fit to eat?" The little demon said: "If he were fit to eat, he would never have got this far; the demons elsewhere would have eaten him long since. He has three disciples." The old demon said: "Do you know the three?" The little demon said: "His eldest disciple is Sun the Pilgrim, his third is Sha Monk, and this one is his second, Zhu Bajie." The old demon said: "How does Sha Monk compare with Zhu Bajie?" The little demon said: "Much of a muchness." "And that Sun the Pilgram beside them—how?" The little demon put out his tongue: "I dare not say. That Sun the Pilgrim's powers are vast and his changes without number. Five hundred years ago he threw the Heavenly Palace into an uproar: the twenty-eight mansions above, the nine luminous star officials, the twelve watch-stars of the year, the five ministers and four counselors, the starry hosts of east and west, the two gods of south and north, the five peaks and four streams, all the god generals of heaven could not get the better of him—how dare you talk of eating Tripitaka Tang?" The old demon said: "How do you know him so exactly?" The little demon said: "I lived once at Lion-Camel Ridge, in the Lion-Camel Cave, with that Great King. He did not know his own measure and wanted to eat Tripitaka Tang; Sun the Pilgrim came through the door with his gold-banded staff and beat us, poor creatures, clean off the dice board—ones and sixes all gone. I had some wit, slipped out the back door, came here, and was taken in by the Great King; so I know his art." At this the old demon went white with fright. Truly it is said: "The great general dreads the ominous word." Hearing it from his own household, how should he not be startled.

While all stood in dread, another little demon came up: "Great King, no grieving, no fearing. The old saying goes: 'Let the business take its time.' If you want Tripitaka Tang, leave it to me to lay a plan and catch him." The old demon said: "What plan have you?" The little demon said: "I have a plan called Split-Petal Plum Blossom." The old demon said: "What is this 'Split-Petal Plum Blossom'?" The little demon said: "Muster the whole goblin host, great and small, at the cave mouth; from a thousand choose a hundred, from a hundred choose ten, from ten choose but three. They must be able ones, skilled in changes; let all three take the Great King's likeness, wearing the Great King's helmet, belted in the Great King's armor, swinging the Great King's pestle, and lie in ambush in three places. Set one to fight Zhu Bajie, another to fight Sun the Pilgrim, another to fight Sha Monk: spend three little demons, and draw off the three brothers. Then the Great King, from mid-air, reaches down the cloud-grasping hand, takes this Tripitaka Tang as easily as drawing a thing from one's own sleeve, as nipping a fly out of a basin of water—what difficulty in it?" At this the old demon's heart danced: "A perfect plan, perfect! If this going out fails to catch Tripitaka Tang, well and good; but if Tripitaka Tang is caught, you shall not go unrewarded: I will make you vanguard of the van." The little demon knocked his head and thanked him for the grace, and called the muster. So the demons of the cave, great and small, were drawn up, and three able little demons truly chosen; all three took the old demon's shape, each with an iron pestle, and lay in ambush awaiting Tripitaka Tang—no more of that.

Now Tang the elder, free of care, went up the great road with Bajie. They had gone a long while when by the roadside, with a thump and crash, out leaped a little demon, dashing forward to seize the elder. Sun the Pilgrim called: "Bajie, a demon comes—why not strike?" The Idiot, not asking true or false, pulled his rake and dug after him. The demon met him with his iron pestle. The two of them, coming and going, were locked in battle below the slope when a rustle came from the grass, and out sprang another monster, making straight for Tripitaka Tang. The Pilgrim said: "Master, this is bad: Bajie's eyes are dull, and he has let a demon through to seize you. Wait; your old Sun will beat him off." He swiftly pulled his staff, came forward, and roared: "Where go you? Look at the staff!" The demon, without a word, raised his pestle to meet him. The two of them, bump and charge on the grassy slope, were at their grip when behind the mountain came a rush of wind, and out leaped a third demon, straight at Tripitaka Tang. Sha Monk, seeing, cried in alarm: "Master, big brother's and second brother's eyes are both bleared; they have let a demon through to take you. Sit you on the horse; your old Sha will take him." This monk, too, made no distinction but pulled his staff and blocked that demon's iron pestle face to face; bitterly they grappled, shouting and roaring, brawling farther and farther off. The old monster, in mid-air, saw Tripitaka Tang sitting alone on the horse; down reached the five-clawed steel hook, and at one grab he had Tripitaka Tang. The master let go the horse, slipped the stirrups, and the demon, on a gust of wind, carried him straight off. Alas! And this was truly:

The nature of Chan meets the demon, and the true fruit is hard to win;River Float again meets his bitter baleful star.

The old demon, leveling his wind, brought Tripitaka Tang into the cave and called: "Vanguard!" The little demon who had planned it came forward and knelt, saying: "I dare not, I dare not." The old demon said: "Why these words? A great general's word, once out, is like white dipped in black. It was agreed: fail to catch Tripitaka Tang, well and good; catch him, and you are vanguard of the van. Today your clever plan has succeeded—shall I break faith with you? Bring Tripitaka Tang here; bid the little ones carry water and scrub the pot, pile firewood and light the fire, and steam him. You and I will each eat a piece of his flesh, to lengthen our years and live forever." The vanguard said: "Great King, not yet." The old monster said: "Now that we have him, why not eat?" The vanguard said: "That the Great King eats him is no great matter; Zhu Bajie would make his peace, Sha Monk would make his peace—but I fear that master Sun the Pilgrim is venomous past all. If he learns we have eaten him, he will not come to fence with us at all: he will only punch that gold-banded staff into the mountain's waist, punch a hole through, and scoop the whole mountain over; and we shall have no place left to dwell in." The old monster said: "Vanguard, what high counsel have you?" The vanguard said: "Do as I say: carry Tripitaka Tang to the back garden, tie him to a tree, and give him no food for two or three days. For one thing, we want him clean inside; for another, we wait till the three do not come searching at our gate, till word comes that they have gone home; then we take him out and enjoy him at our ease—is that not well?" The old monster laughed: "Right, right; the vanguard speaks reason." At one word of command they carried Tripitaka Tang into the back garden, bound him to a tree with one rope, and all the little demons went to the front to wait orders.

See the elder, gall enduring rope and cord, bound tight and pinned fast, tears running down his cheeks, crying: "Disciples! In what bypath of that mountain are you chasing demons? I am taken by the shameless fiend and suffer here—when shall we meet? It kills me!" And as his two tears ran together, a voice from a tree opposite called: "Elder, have you come in too?" The elder steadied his spirit: "Who are you?" The man said: "I am a woodcutter of this mountain. The mountain's lord took me the day before yesterday and tied me here; it is three days now, and they mean to eat me." The elder, tears dropping: "Woodcutter, if you die, it is one body only, no encumbrance; but my death would not be clean." The woodcutter said: "Elder, you have left home: no parents above, no wife and children below—die and be done; what is unclean in it?" The elder said: "I was bound for the Western Heaven from the Land of the East to fetch scriptures, by the imperial decree of Emperor Taizong of Tang, to worship the living Buddha and bring back the true scriptures, to deliver those masterless lonely souls in the dark world. If I lose my life now, shall I not ache that sovereign's heart to death, and fail the ministers' hopes? The countless wronged souls in the City of Wrongful Death would be sorely disappointed, never to be delivered world without end; a work of merit all turned to wind and dust—how should that be clean?" At this the woodcutter's eyes fell with tears: "Elder, if you die, it is so much; but my death cuts deeper. I lost my father young and have lived on alone with my mother, without any estate, living only by cutting wood. My mother is eighty-three this year, and I am her only support. If I lose my life, who will bury her body and see her old age through? Bitter, bitter! It kills me!" At this the elder broke into loud weeping: "Pity, pity! The mountain man still has his thought of his mother, and your poor monk only knows to chant sutras. To serve a sovereign and to serve a parent are one and the same reason: your debt is to a mother's love, mine to a sovereign's grace." And it was just this:

Eyes that weep look on eyes that weep; the heartbroken see off the heartbroken.

To say no more of Tripitaka caught in trouble. Sun the Pilgrim, having beaten off the little demon on the grassy slope, hurried back to the roadside: no master; only the white horse and the bags. In dismay he led the horse, shouldered the load, and searched toward the mountain top. Ah! And it was just this:

River Float, in trouble, meets trouble still;the Great Sage who subdues demons too meets a demon now.

What would become of the search for the master? Listen to the next chapter to find out.

The Mind-Ape Grudges Wood-Mother; The Demon Lord's Scheme Swallows the Chan Monk

The story tells how at morning court all the civil and military officials held up their memorials and said: "Sire, we beg pardon for our breach of etiquette." The king said: "Your manners are as ever, gentlemen. What breach of etiquette?" They said: "Sire, we cannot tell why, but in one night every one of us lost the hair of his head." The king, holding the memorials about the lost hair, came down from the dragon bed and said to the ministers: "It is truly beyond telling — everyone in my palace, great and small, lost their hair in one night too." King and ministers, all with brimming eyes and falling tears, said: "Never again shall we dare to kill a monk." The king resumed the dragon throne and the officials stood in their ranks. The king said: "If there is business, step from your ranks and report; if none, the curtain rolls down and court is dismissed." From the military ranks stepped forward the commanding general who patrols the city, and from the civil ranks the commissioner of the Eastern City garrison. At the steps they knocked their heads: "Your servants, charged by sacred decree to patrol the city, last night recovered stolen goods — one chest — and one white horse. We dared not decide on our own and beg the throne's ruling." The king was overjoyed: "Bring it in, chest and all."

The two officials went back to their posts, mustered their trim soldiers, and had the chest carried out. Inside, Tripitaka's soul had left his body. He said: "Disciples, once we are before the king, how do we explain?" Pilgrim laughed: "No shouting. I've made everything ready. When the chest opens, he'll bow to us as teachers. Only see that Bajie doesn't squabble over rank." Bajie said: "Just to be spared the knife is blessing without measure — I'd dare squabble?" Before the words were done, the chest was carried up to court, through the Tower of Five Phoenixes, and set below the vermilion steps.

The two officials asked the king to open it, and the king ordered it opened. Just as the lid came off, Zhu Bajie could not contain himself and jumped out, scaring the assembled officials out of their wits, speechless. Then they saw Sun the Pilgrim help out the Tang monk, and Sha Monk carry out the luggage. Bajie, seeing the commanding general leading the horse, strode up and barked: "That's my horse! Hand it over." The official tumbled head over heels and fell to the ground. The four stood in the middle of the steps. The king, seeing four monks, hurried down from the dragon bed, summoned the consorts and empress of the three palaces down into the golden throne hall, and with all his ministers bowed and asked: "Elder, from where do you come?" Tripitaka said: "Sent from the throne of Great Tang in the Land of the East, to the Great Thunderclap Monastery in the Western land of India, to worship the living Buddha and fetch the true scriptures." The king said: "Master, you have come from afar — why were you resting in a chest?" Tripitaka said: "This humble monk knew Your Majesty had made a vow to kill monks and dared not come openly into your great country. Dressed as laymen, we came by night to lodge at an inn in your honored land. Fearing someone would see through our true shapes, we slept in the chest. Unhappily thieves carried it off, and the general's men took it and brought it here. Now that we have seen Your Majesty's dragon countenance, it is as they say: push aside the clouds and see the sun. I beg Your Majesty to pardon and release this humble monk — a kindness deep as the sea." The king said: "Master, you are a high monk of the great court above, and I failed to receive you. I have long held my vow to kill monks — because monks once slandered me, I made a vow to heaven to kill ten thousand and complete the count. Who knew that this very night I would take refuge and be made a monk myself! Now king and ministers, empress and consorts, are all shorn of their hair. I beg you, Master, do not withhold your lofty wisdom — I wish to be your disciple." Hearing this, Bajie laughed out loud: "If you want to be enrolled as a disciple, what gift of introduction will you bring?" The king said: "If the master will take me, I will offer up the treasures of my kingdom." Pilgrim said: "Speak not of treasure. We are monks who hold the Way. Simply stamp our travel papers and send us out of the city, and I promise your royal line shall stand forever, and blessings and long life come ever nearer." The king, hearing this, at once ordered the Court of Imperial Entertainments to lay a grand feast. Prince and ministers joined as one and bowed to a single master. At once he stamped the travel papers and asked the master to rename his country. Pilgrim said: "Your Majesty, the name 'Law Country' is fine — only the word 'destroying' won't do. Now that we have passed through, you may rename it 'Honoring-the-Law Country,' and I promise you calm seas and clear rivers for a thousand generations, timely winds and rains, and peace in every quarter." The king thanked him for the grace. He laid out his full court carriages and escort and sent the four of the Tang monk's band out of the city to the west. King and ministers returned to the truth by goodness. Of that no more.

The elder took leave of the king of the Honoring-the-Law Country and said happily in the saddle: "Wukong, this device was excellent — a great work." Sha Monk said: "Brother, where did you find so many barbers overnight, to shave so many heads?" Pilgrim told the whole tale of his transformations and magic. Master and disciples laughed without stopping.

In the midst of their joy a high mountain suddenly barred the road. The Tang monk reined in and said: "Disciples, look how towering that mountain ahead is. We must be careful." Pilgrim laughed: "Rest easy, rest easy — I'll see no harm comes to you." Tripitaka said: "Don't say 'no harm.' I see those peaks standing up, with a look of danger even from here. Fierce clouds fly out of them, and I feel a growing dread, my whole body going numb, my mind uneasy." Pilgrim laughed: "Have you already forgotten the Patriarch Wuchao's Sutra of Many Hearts?" Tripitaka said: "I remember it." Pilgrim said: "You remember it, but there are four lines of verse you have forgotten." Tripitaka said: "Which four?" Pilgrim said:

"Buddha is on Vulture Peak — do not seek him far away; Vulture Peak is only in your heart and head.Every person has a pagoda on Vulture Peak; beneath the Vulture Peak pagoda is the place to practice."

Tripitaka said: "Disciple, do I not know it? By those four lines, the thousand scriptures and ten thousand classics are all just the cultivation of the mind." Pilgrim said: "No need to say more. When the mind is clean, the lone light shines by itself; when the mind is kept, all the ten thousand scenes are clear. Slip a little and you grow slack, and for a thousand years and ten thousand you will not succeed. You need only one truly earnest heart, and Thunderclap is right before your eyes. With fear and dread like yours, the mind uneasy, the great Way is far — and Thunderclap far too. Doubt no more, and come with me." Hearing this, the elder's spirits suddenly brightened, and all his cares were set down.

The four went forward together. In a few steps they were up on the mountain. When they raised their eyes:

Truly a mountain among mountains: look close, and the colors stripe and spot.Clouds drift over the crown; before the cliffs the tree shadows are cold.Birds dart and rustle; beasts of prey, fierce and sly.In the woods a thousand pine trunks; on the ridges a few bamboo stems.The howling is gray wolves fighting over food; the roaring is hungry tigers contending for a meal.Wild gibbons wail long as they hunt fresh fruit; elk climb the flowering slopes into the green mist.The wind sifts down; the water babbles by; now and then a hidden bird chatters and calls.Vines and creepers tug and pull in several places; jade grasses and fragrant orchids crowd the streams.Odd rocks glare and gleam; peak crags stand sharp and sheer.Foxes and wild cats go by in packs; monkeys and gibbons frolic in troops.The traveler is already fretting at so many steep and dangerous places — and now the old road twists and turns again.

Master and disciples, nervous and fearful, were on their way when a rushing wind suddenly rose. Tripitaka said in fear: "The wind is rising." Pilgrim said: "Spring has its mild winds, summer its warm winds, autumn its golden winds, winter its north winds. There are winds in all four seasons — what is there to fear from a wind?" Tripitaka said: "This wind comes very fast. It is surely no wind of the sky." Pilgrim said: "From of old, winds rise from the ground and clouds come off the mountains. Where would a wind of the sky come from?"

Before the words were done, a fog began to rise. That fog truly was:

Vast and dim it joins the darkened sky; hazy it spreads its gloom across the ground.The sun has lost all shadow; the birds are heard nowhere.It is truly like primal chaos; it seems like flying dust.You cannot see the trees on the mountaintop — where would you meet an herb gatherer?

Tripitaka's fear deepened: "Wukong, the wind has not yet settled — why does a fog rise like this?" Pilgrim said: "No hurry. Let the master dismount, and you two brothers keep watch here while I go see whether this bodes good or ill."

That great Sage bent at the waist and was up in mid-air. He laid a hand over his brow, rounded his fiery eyes, and looked down — and there, sure enough, sat a demon beside the hanging cliff. See what he looked like:

His blazing striped coat glows with many a bright color; his head held high, his bold bearing full of fight.Tusk fangs jut from his mouth like steel augers; sharp claws hide in his paws like jade hooks.His golden eyes, round and staring, frighten beasts and birds; his silver bristles standing on end trouble ghosts and gods.With wild roaring he deals out his might; breathing fog and spouting wind, he works his cunning plans.

He also saw thirty or forty little demons drawn up on either side, while the creature went on deliberately spouting wind and fog. Pilgrim laughed to himself: "My master has a bit of the prophet in him. He said it was no sky wind, and sure enough the wind is a demon here making a show. If old Sun simply smashed down with his iron staff — the pounding-garlic blow — I might kill him, but it would sully old Sun's name." Pilgrim was a hero all his life and knew nothing of striking from ambush. He thought: "I'll go back and tend to Zhu Bajie a little — have him come and try this demon first. If Bajie has the skill and fells the demon, that's his luck. If he has no means and gets taken, I'll go save him — that's the way to make a name. Besides, he always puts on airs, shirks a bit, won't step forward — but he does run at the mouth and loves his food. Let me play him along and see what he says."

He dropped his cloud and came before Tripitaka, who asked: "Wukong, what did you find — good or ill, in that wind and fog?" Pilgrim said: "It's all clear now — no wind or fog to speak of." Tripitaka said: "True — it does seem to have drawn back." Pilgrim laughed: "Master, I usually read things well, but this time I read them wrong. I feared there might be a demon in the wind and fog — and there isn't." Tripitaka said: "What is it, then?" Pilgrim said: "Not far ahead is a village. The households there are pious and generous, steaming white rice and white-flour buns to feed monks. That fog must be the steam from their steaming pots — a fitting sign of stored-up goodness." Bajie took it all as gospel. He pulled Pilgrim aside and whispered: "Brother — did you eat your share of their alms before you came back?" Pilgrim said: "Not much. The vegetables were too salty; I didn't care to eat much." Bajie said: "Pah! Salty or not, I'll fill my belly all the same. If I'm very thirsty, I'll come back and drink water." Pilgrim said: "You want to eat?" Bajie said: "I do. My belly's a bit empty, and I'd like to go eat first — is that all right?" Pilgrim said: "Brother, don't bring it up. The old books say: 'While the father lives, the son may not act on his own.' The master is right here. Who would dare go first?" Bajie laughed: "If you keep quiet, I'll go." Pilgrim said: "I'll keep quiet — let's see how you manage it." The Idiot's appetite had its own wits. He stepped forward, made a deep bow, and said: "Master, our brother was just saying that in the village ahead some households feed monks. Look at this horse — he'll be a bother to the household, wanting hay and feed, and isn't that a nuisance? Luckily the wind and fog have cleared. You all sit a while. Let me go find some tender grass and feed the horse first, and then go beg alms at those houses." The Tang monk was pleased: "Good! What has made you so diligent today? Go quickly, and come back quickly."

The Idiot walked off with a hidden smile. Pilgrim caught up and grabbed him: "Brother, their alms for monks feed the handsome only, not the ugly." Bajie said: "In that case, I'd better change, right?" Pilgrim said: "Right — change and go." That fine Idiot — he too had thirty-six transformations. He went into the hollow of the hill, pinched the spell, spoke the charm, shook his body, and changed into a short, scrawny monk. A wooden fish in his hand, he hummed and mumbled — not knowing how to chant scripture, he hummed only the letters of his old primer.

Now the creature gathered in his wind and fog, gave his demons their orders, and ranged them in a ring formation at the crossroads on the main road, waiting for travelers. The Idiot's luck was out: before long he walked right into the middle and was surrounded by the demon band — one grabbing his robe, another his sash, pushing and jostling, all setting on him at once. Bajie said: "Stop pulling! Let me go from house to house eating my fill." The demons said: "Monk, what is it you want to eat?" Bajie said: "You feed monks here. I've come for the alms." The demons said: "You thought this place fed monks — you didn't know this place eats monks especially. We are demon immortals who found the Way in these mountains, and our special work is to carry you monks home and steam you in the steamer and eat you. And here you come thinking of alms!" Bajie's heart went cold with fear, and he turned on Pilgrim in complaint: "That Bimawen! What a sneaky wretch. He tricked me — said this village fed monks. What village, what households are here? What monks do they feed? Nothing but demons after all!" Tugged too hard, the Idiot showed his true form, pulled the rake from his waist, and laid about him until the little demons fell back.

The little demons raced back to report to the old demon: "Great King, disaster!" The old demon said: "What disaster?" A little demon said: "A monk came before the mountain, and a clean-looking one too. I said let's take him home and steam him, and if we can't eat him all, keep some against rainy days. We didn't know he could change his shape." The old demon said: "Changed into what?" The little demon said: "There was nothing human about it! Long snout, big ears, a mane on his back. Swinging a nail rake in both hands, whacking away without head or face — that's why we ran back to tell you, Great King!" The old demon said: "Don't be afraid. Wait while I go look." Swinging an iron pestle, he came up close and saw the Idiot was ugly indeed. He was built:

A snout like a pestle just over three feet long; tusk fangs thrust out, outshining silver nails.A pair of round eyes flashing like lightning; two great ears fanning the wind, whoosh and whoosh again.The mane down his neck's back ranks like iron arrows; his hide all over rough, scabby, and greenish.In his hand he swings a strange device — a nine-toothed nail rake that startles every soul.

The demon, stiffening his courage, roared: "Where do you come from? What is your name? Speak quickly, and I'll spare your life." Bajie laughed: "My child, don't you know your ancestor Pig? Come closer and I'll tell you:

Huge mouth and tusk fangs, and strength divine; the Jade Emperor made me Marshal Tianpeng.I commanded eighty thousand soldiers of the River of Heaven, happy and free in the Heavenly Palace.But I got drunk and teased a palace maid, and there I sold my hero's name short.With one snout I butted down the Dipper-and-Ox Palace, and ate the Queen Mother's magic mushrooms.The Jade Emperor beat me two thousand blows with his own hand and banished me below the three heavens.Told to steady my will and nurture my primal spirit, I came down to the world and turned demon again.Just as I was happily wedding a bride at Gao Village, my mean fate ran me into Brother Sun.Under his gold-banded staff I took my defeat and bowed my head to join the Buddha's gate.Carrying bags and leading horses at heavy work, I was paying a debt to the Tang monk from a former life.Iron-footed Tianpeng, born surname Zhu; my religious name is Zhu Bajie."

Hearing this, the demon roared: "So you are the Tang monk's disciple. I have long heard that Tang monk's flesh is tasty, and I was just hoping to catch you — and here you walk into my hands. Would I spare you? Stand still — look at my pestle!" Bajie said: "Evil beast — so you began life as a laundryman." The demon said: "How am I a laundryman?" Bajie said: "If you were not a laundryman, how do you come by your pounding beetle?" The creature would hear no argument and closed in, striking wildly. The two of them fought a fine battle in the hillside hollow:

A nine-toothed nail rake; an iron pestle.The rake whirls through its changes like a rolling gale; the pestle moves with cunning like a flying squall of rain.One is a nameless wicked creature blocking the mountain road; one is a guilty Tianpeng guarding his true lord.When the nature is upright, why fear goblins and demons? However high the mountain, metal does not yield to earth.The one thrusts up his pestle like a python rising from a pool; the other sweeps his rake like a dragon leaving its sandbar.Their battle cries shake rivers and hills; their roars of power startle the underworld.Two heroes, each showing his skill, staking their lives on the play of magic powers.

Bajie's power mounted as he grappled with the demon; the creature called his little demons to surround Bajie all together. Of that no more.

Now Pilgrim, behind the Tang monk, suddenly gave a cold laugh. Sha Monk said: "Brother, why the cold laugh?" Pilgrim said: "Zhu Bajie truly is an idiot. He hears the word 'alms for monks' and lets himself be sent off by me. By this hour he hasn't come back. If one burst of the rake drove off the demon, just watch him come home in triumph, clamoring for credit. If he couldn't beat her and got taken, that's my bad luck — behind my back and before my face he's called me Bimawen a hundred times by now. Wujing, say nothing. Wait while I go look."

That great Sage — without letting the elder know, he quietly plucked a hair from the back of his head, blew a breath of magic air, and cried: "Change!" It took his own likeness to keep Sha Monk company and attend the elder. His true body left its double in spirit, jumped into the air, and looked down. He saw the Idiot hemmed in by the demon, his rake going wild, losing ground by degrees. Pilgrim could not bear it. He dropped his cloud and shouted: "Bajie, don't worry — old Sun is here!" The Idiot, knowing Pilgrim's voice, leaned on the new backing, and his power grew. One burst of the rake, whacking forward wildly. The demon could not hold out and thought: "This monk was no great shakes before — where does this burst of fury come from now?" Bajie said: "My child, don't you bully me — my family has come!" He pressed on, whacking without head or face. The demon truly could not parry, and led his demons off in defeat. Seeing the demon routed, Pilgrim did not go closer. He wheeled his cloud, went straight back, shook the hair, and took it into his body. With mortal fleshly eyes, how could the elder have known?

Before long the Idiot, victorious, came back too — worn out, mucus at his nose, froth on his lips. Puffing and blowing he came up, calling: "Master." The elder was astonished: "Bajie, you went to cut grass for the horse. Why come back in such a state? Maybe the mountain households have watchmen who wouldn't let you cut grass?" The Idiot dropped his rake, beat his chest, and stamped: "Master, don't ask. The very telling of it shames me to death." The elder said: "Why shame?" Bajie said: "Our brother played a trick on me. He said the wind and fog held no demon, nothing ill — just a village of kindly households steaming white rice and white-flour buns to feed monks. I took it as gospel, thought of my empty belly, and went to beg a bite under cover of cutting grass. Who knew a pack of demons would ring me in? I fought bitterly all that while. If our brother's mourning staff hadn't come to help, I'd never have slipped their net and come back." Pilgrim laughed beside them: "The Idiot babbles. Get caught thieving and you drag in a whole cellful of accomplices. I was right here watching the master — when did I ever step away?" The elder said: "That's so. Wukong never left me." The Idiot hopped about shouting: "Master, you don't know — he has a double!" The elder said: "Wukong — was there really a demon or not?"

Pilgrim, unable to hide it, bowed with a laugh: "There were a few little demons, and they didn't dare touch us. — Bajie, come here; let me take care of you once more. Since we guard the master over steep mountain roads, we'll go like soldiers on the march." Bajie said: "On the march — what then?" Pilgrim said: "You'll be the general who opens the road, cutting the path ahead. If no demon comes, fine; if one comes, you fight it. Fell the demon, and the credit is yours." Bajie reckoned the demon's skill was about even with his own, and said: "Even if I die at her hands, so be it — let me lead." Pilgrim laughed: "This Idiot starts with unlucky talk — how will he ever improve?" Bajie said: "Brother, you know the saying: 'A gentleman at the feast is drunk or full; a warrior in the field is dead or wounded.' Say the wrong words first, and the power comes after." Pilgrim was pleased. He quickly saddled the horse, set the master on it, Sha Monk shouldered the luggage, and they followed Bajie up into the mountains. Of that no more.

Now the demon led his handful of beaten little demons straight back to his cave and sat high on the stone ledge, silent and without a word. The many little demons who kept the cave came up and asked: "Great King, when you go out you always come home merry and glad. Why the trouble today?" The old demon said: "Little ones, when I patrol the mountain I always net a few men or beasts, wherever they are from, and bring them home to feed you all. Today my luck was low, and I ran into an even match." A little demon asked: "Which even match?" The old demon said: "A monk — a disciple of the Tang monk from the Land of the East out seeking scriptures, named Zhu Bajie. One burst of his nail rake beat me off the field. It burns me! All this while I've heard it said that the Tang monk is an arhat of ten lives of cultivation, and that whoever eats one piece of his flesh will stretch his years and live forever. Who knew he would come into my mountain today, ready to be caught and steamed and eaten — or that he had such disciples under him."

As he spoke, a little demon stepped out of the ranks, sobbed three times at the old demon, then laughed three times, hee and ha. The old demon snapped: "Crying and laughing both — what's this?" The little demon knelt: "Great King, you said just now you would eat the Tang monk — but the Tang monk's flesh is not for eating." The old demon said: "Everyone says one piece of his flesh brings deathlessness and a life as long as heaven's — how can you say it's not for eating?" The little demon said: "If it were for eating, he'd never have got this far — demons elsewhere would have eaten him long ago. He has three disciples." The old demon said: "You know the three?" The little demon said: "His eldest disciple is Sun the Pilgrim, his third is Sha Monk, and this one is the second, Zhu Bajie." The old demon said: "How does Sha Monk compare with Zhu Bajie?" The little demon said: "Much the same." "And that Sun the Pilgrim compared with him?" The little demon put out his tongue: "I dare not say. That Sun the Pilgrim has vast magic and endless transformations. Five hundred years ago he wrecked the Heavenly Palace. The twenty-eight mansions of the sky, the star officials of the nine lights, the twelve hour-spirits, the five ministers and four ministers of state, the stars of east and west, the two gods of south and north, the five peaks and four great rivers, the gods of all the heavens — none of them could get the better of him. And you dare to want to eat the Tang monk?" The old demon said: "How do you know him in such detail?" The little demon said: "I used to live at Lion-Camel Ridge, in the Lion-Camel Cave, with that Great King. He didn't know good from bad — he wanted to eat the Tang monk, and Sun the Pilgrim came battering in the door with his gold-banded staff and beat us till, poor souls, we matched the dice term: ones cut off and sixes wiped out. Only because I had some sense did I slip out the back door and come here, where the Great King kindly took me in. So I know his powers." At these words the old demon turned pale with fright. It is just as they say: "The great general fears the oracle." Hearing his own household speak so, how could he not be alarmed?

While they all trembled, another little demon came forward: "Great King, don't fret, don't fear. As the common saying goes: 'Slow and steady wins the business.' If you want to eat the Tang monk, let me devise a plan to take him." The old demon said: "What plan have you?" The little demon said: "I have a Split-Petal Plum Blossom plan." The old demon said: "What is this 'Split-Petal Plum Blossom plan'?" The little demon said: "Muster all the demons of the cave, great and small: from a thousand choose a hundred, from a hundred choose ten, from ten choose only three. They must be capable ones who know how to change their shapes. They all turn into the Great King's likeness, put on the Great King's helmet, buckle on the Great King's armor, take up the Great King's pestle, and lie in ambush in three places. Send one first to fight Zhu Bajie, then one to fight Sun the Pilgrim, then one to fight Sha Monk: sacrifice three little demons to draw away the three brothers. Meanwhile the Great King, from mid-air, reaches down his cloud-grasping hand and takes the Tang monk — as easy as picking a thing from a bag, as easy as pinching a fly out of a basin of water. What difficulty is there?" The old demon was delighted through and through: "What a plan, what a plan! This time, if you fail to take the Tang monk, very well; but if you take him, I will not treat you lightly — I'll make you my vanguard of the front." The little demon knocked his head in thanks and called for the muster. Demons great and small were called out of the cave, and three capable little demons were indeed chosen. They all changed into the old demon's shape, each with an iron pestle, and lay in ambush waiting for the Tang monk. Of that no more.

Now the Tang elder rode along the high road behind Bajie, free of care. After a good long stretch, beside the road came a sudden thudding crash: a little demon leaped out and rushed ahead to seize the elder. Sun the Pilgrim called: "Bajie, a demon! Why don't you strike?" The Idiot, unable to tell true from false, pulled his rake and gave chase, whacking wildly. The demon met him with his iron pestle. The two of them were locked in battle below the hillside when the grass rustled and a second creature jumped out and made straight for the Tang monk. Pilgrim said: "Master, trouble! Bajie's eyes are poor — he's let a demon through to take you. Wait while old Sun drives it off." He hastily drew his staff, sprang forward, and shouted: "Where do you think you're going? Look at my staff!" The demon wasted no words but raised his pestle against him. The two collided and charged on the grassy slope; just as they were locked, a whoosh of wind came from behind the mountain and a third demon leaped out, making straight for the Tang monk. Sha Monk saw it and cried in alarm: "Master, big brother and second brother's eyes have failed them — they've let a demon through to take you! Sit on your horse; let old Sha take him." This monk too made no distinctions. He drew his staff and met the demon's iron pestle head-on, holding grimly, shouting and roaring, fighting wild — and little by little they were drawn farther off. The old demon in mid-air saw the Tang monk sitting alone on his horse, reached down a five-clawed steel hook, and seized the Tang monk in one grab. The master dropped from the horse, out of the stirrups, and the demon carried him off in a rush of wind. Poor soul! And this was truly:

The Chan nature meets the demon, and its true fruit is hard won; River Float meets his bitter ill star again.

The old demon checked his wind and brought the Tang monk into the cave, calling: "Vanguard!" The little demon who had devised the plan came forward and knelt, saying: "I dare not, I dare not." The old demon said: "Why say that? A great general's word, once out, is like dyeing white cloth black. I said: if you fail to take the Tang monk, very well; if you take him, I make you vanguard of the front. Today your clever plan has truly succeeded — how could I break faith with you? Bring the Tang monk here. Have the little ones carry water and scour the pot, gather wood and light the fire, and steam him. You and I will each eat a piece of his flesh, to stretch our years and live forever." The vanguard said: "Great King, not yet." The old demon said: "Now that we have him, why not eat?" The vanguard said: "If you eat him, Great King, Zhu Bajie will swallow the loss and Sha Monk will swallow the loss — but I fear that master Sun the Pilgrim is vicious past all. If he learns we ate his master, he won't even come fight us. He'll just drive that gold-banded staff into the mountainside, punch out a hole, and dig the whole mountain down. We wouldn't have a place left to stand." The old demon said: "Vanguard, what is your lofty advice?" The vanguard said: "As I see it: keep the Tang monk in the back garden, tied to a tree, and give him no food for two or three days. First, to keep his inside clean; second, to wait till the three of them stop hunting at our gate. Once we learn they've gone, we bring him out and enjoy him at our ease — isn't that better?" The old demon laughed: "Just so, just so — the vanguard talks sense." At one order they carried the Tang monk into the back garden, tied him to a tree with one rope, and all the little demons went to the front to stand by.

See the elder enduring the ropes wound round him, bound tight and tied fast, tears running down his cheeks despite himself. He cried: "Disciples, in what mountain are you seizing demons, on what road chasing them? I have been caught by a shameless fiend and suffer here — what day will we meet again? It breaks my heart!" As his two streams of tears flowed, someone on the tree opposite called: "Elder, so they've brought you in too?" The elder collected himself: "Who are you?" The man said: "I am a woodcutter of this mountain. The mountain's lord caught me the day before yesterday and tied me here. It's three days now, and they mean to eat me." The elder said, with falling tears: "Woodcutter, when you die you die alone, with nothing to encumber you. My death would not be clean." The woodcutter said: "Elder, you are one who left home. No parents above, no wife and children below. Die and be done — how is it not clean?" The elder said: "I set out from the Land of the East to fetch scriptures in the Western Heaven, by the sacred decree of Emperor Taizong of Tang, to worship the living Buddha and fetch the true scriptures, so as to release the masterless lonely souls of the dark world. If I lose my life now, would that not break that sovereign's heart and betray the minister who sent me? The countless wronged souls in the City of Wrongful Death would be mightily disappointed, never to be reborn — a whole work of merit turned to wind and dust. How could that be clean?" Hearing this, the woodcutter's eyes dropped tears: "Elder, your death is sorrow enough, but my death is harder still. I lost my father young and have lived alone with my mother, with no property at all, living by cutting firewood. My old mother is eighty-three this year, and I am her only support. If I lose my life, who will bury her body and see her to her end? Bitter, bitter! It breaks my heart!" Hearing this, the elder wept aloud: "Poor man, poor man! The mountain man still has thoughts of kin, and the humble monk's chanting is all in vain. Serving a ruler and serving a parent are one and the same truth: your debt is a parent's love, mine a sovereign's." And it was just as the couplet says:

A weeping eye looks on a weeping eye; a heartbroken one keeps company with a heartbroken one.

To say no more of Tripitaka in his bonds and trouble. Now Sun the Pilgrim, having beaten off the little demon on the grassy slope, hurried back to the roadside — the master was gone; only the white horse and the bags remained. In a panic he led the horse, shouldered the load, and searched toward the mountaintops. Ah! Truly:

River Float, born to trouble, meets trouble again; the demon-subduing Great Sage himself meets a demon.

What came of the search for the master, who can say? Listen to the next chapter to find out.