Chapter 91

At Jinping Prefecture They Watch the Lanterns on the Night of the First Full Moon; In the Cave of Dark Mystery the Tang monk Gives His Deposition

Where does one apply the work of cultivating meditation? The unruly horse and the tumbling ape must be cut away at speed.Hold them fast, bind them fast, and the five colors come to life; pause but a moment, stand still, and you sink into the three lower paths.Let the divine elixir leak away in idle freedom, and the instant you loosen your composure the jade nature dries and withers.Joy, anger, grief, and longing must all be swept clean; to win the mystery, to win the marvel, is to be just as if you had won nothing.

The tale now tells how the Tang monk and his disciples, four travelers in all, took leave of Jade Flower City and journeyed on over smooth and level roads—truly, one might say, a land of perfect bliss. After five or six days on the way they saw another walled city before them. The Tang monk asked Pilgrim: “What place is this?” “A city,” said Pilgrim. “But there are poles on the wall with no banners on them, so I cannot tell whose city it is. We will ask when we draw near.” When they reached the eastern outskirts they found tea houses and taverns clamoring on either side, rice markets and oil presses all bustle. In the streets a few idle young loafers, out strolling with nothing to do, caught sight of Zhu Bajie’s long mouth, Sha Monk’s black face, and Pilgrim Sun’s red eyes, and came crowding up in knots, jostling for a look, though none dared come close and put questions. The Tang monk sweated with dread, fearing they would stir up trouble. They had passed the mouths of several more lanes and were still short of the city when suddenly they saw a mountain gate, over which were written the three characters “Monastery of Compassionate Clouds.” The Tang monk said: “Suppose we step in here, rest the horses a while, and take a meal?” “Good, good,” said Pilgrim, and all four entered together. And here is what they saw within:

Towers of treasure, stately and splendid; jeweled seats, lofty and imposing. The Buddha pavilions rise higher than the clouds; the monks’ cells lie quiet in the moonlight. In drifting crimson haze the pagoda stands; in the deep shade of emerald trees the scripture wheels are still. A true Pure Land—a dragon palace feigned! Over the Great Hero Hall the purple clouds hang gathered. Along both cloisters idle visitors never cease their strolling; the one pagoda is ever open, with guests climbing it. In the censer, incense burns hour after hour; on the altar, lamp flowers glimmer night after night. Suddenly they heard, from the abbot’s court, the tolling of a golden bell, and monks in answer to the Buddha chanting the sutras aloud.

While the four were looking about, a monk came walking out from under the cloister, saluted the Tang monk, and said: “Venerable teacher, where do you come from?” The Tang monk said: “This disciple comes from China, the land of the great Tang.” The monk bowed his whole body to the ground in homage. Alarmed, the Tang monk raised him up, saying: “Prior, why do you perform such a great ceremony?” The monk pressed his palms together and said: “Here in this place, all of us who turn to the good, reciting the scriptures and calling on the Buddha’s name, hope for nothing more than to be reborn into your land of China. The moment I saw your bearing, teacher, and your robes and cap, I knew you had indeed cultivated this in former lives, and so earned such enjoyment—therefore I bowed.” The Tang monk smiled and said: “You shame me, you shame me. I am a wandering monk—what enjoyment have I? If you, Prior, live here at ease and untroubled, that is truly enjoying blessings.” The monk led the Tang monk into the main hall, where he paid homage to the image of the Buddha, and only then did the Tang monk call his disciples in. As it happened, when Pilgrim and the other two had seen that monk talking with their master, they had turned their backs, holding the horse and guarding the load, standing off in one spot, and the monk had paid them no heed. Suddenly they heard the Tang monk call “Disciples,” and only then did the three turn their faces around. When the monk saw them he cried out in alarm: “Gracious heavens! How can your noble disciples be so ugly?” The Tang monk said: “Ugly they may be, but they have real powers of magic; all this way I have owed them much protection.”

He was still speaking when several more monks came out from inside and made their salutations. The first monk told the others: “This teacher is a man come from the great Tang of China, and those three are his noble disciples.” The monks, half delighted and half afraid, said: “Teacher, from the mighty land of China—what have you come here for?” The Tang monk said: “I bear a sacred edict of the Tang emperor and am bound for Vulture Peak to worship the Buddha and seek the scriptures. Passing through your precious region, I came straight to this monastery: first to ask my way, and second to take one meal before going on.” Every monk beamed with delight and invited them into the abbot’s quarters. There were several more monks there who performed rites in lay households. The ones who had gone in first called out: “Come and see these men from China! So China has its handsome and its ugly. The handsome are truly past painting or describing; the ugly are marvelously strange.” All those monks, with the donor of the meal, came to make their greetings, and when the greetings were done, each took a seat. When tea was finished, the Tang monk asked: “What is this place called?” The monks said: “This is an outlying prefecture of the land of India, called Jinping Prefecture.” The Tang monk asked: “How far is it from your prefecture to Vulture Peak?” The monks said: “From here to the capital is two thousand li—that we have walked ourselves. Westward to Vulture Peak we have never gone, and we do not know how much farther it may be; we dare not answer carelessly.” The Tang monk thanked them.

Before long the meal was set out. When it was done, the Tang monk wanted to be on his way, but the monks and the donor pressed him to stay, saying: “Teacher, stay a day or two at your ease, pass the Lantern Festival, go off and enjoy yourselves—it does no harm.” The Tang monk asked in astonishment: “On the road this disciple knows nothing but mountains and rivers; what I fear is meeting monsters and demons, and I have let the days slip by uncounted. When is the festival of the first full moon?” The monks laughed and said: “Teacher, your heart is so set on worshiping the Buddha and awakening to meditation that you take no count of such things. Today is the thirteenth of the first month; this evening the lanterns are tried out. The day after tomorrow, the fifteenth, is the feast of Shangyuan, and not until the eighteenth or nineteenth are the lanterns dismissed. The people here love a spectacle, and the governor of this prefecture loves his people, so every district hangs its lanterns high, with pipes and flutes all night long. There is also the Golden Lantern Bridge, handed down from high antiquity and flourishing still. Stay a few days, gentlemen; our humble mountain monastery can well afford to entertain you.” The Tang monk, having no choice, stayed with all of them. That evening they could hear bells and drums ringing to the heavens from the Buddha hall: the faithful of the streets and quarters were bringing lanterns to offer to the Buddha. The Tang monk and the rest all came out from the abbot’s quarters to look at the lanterns, then went off to their rooms to sleep.

The next day the monks of the monastery again offered a meal. When they had eaten, they strolled together in the back garden for amusement. Truly it was a fine retreat, and rightly described:

It was now the first month, and the year had turned to new spring. The garden was secluded and graceful, its scenery lush and lovely. Flowers and trees vied in splendor through all four seasons; ridge upon ridge of peaks was folded in layers of green. Fragrant grasses stirred into life before the steps; on the old plum branches fragrance budded. Red suffused the tender peach blossoms; green settled on the willows’ fresh color. Do not boast the riches of Gold Valley Garden, nor idly tell of the flowing manner of the Wangchuan scroll. A stream of water ran past, where wild teal now surfaced, now plunged from sight; a thousand stems of bamboo stood planted, where poets still weighed and balanced their lines, undecided. Peonies, tree peonies, crape myrtle, michelia—the season’s own secret waking; camellias, red plum, winter jasmine, daphne—their brilliant blossoms opening first. On the shady cliff the piled snow still held its frost; the distant trees, adrift in mist, already carried spring. And there were deer coming to the pond to study their reflections, cranes coming beneath the pines to listen to the zither. East a few halls, west a few pavilions, where guests could lodge; south a few chambers, north a few pagodas, where monks sat still in meditation. Among the flowers stood one or two towers for the nurture of the nature, with double eaves and high arches; within the hills and waters were three or four rooms for the taming of demons, with quiet desks and bright windows. Truly a place nature made for retreat—why seek Penglai or Yingzhou anywhere else?

The master and his disciples enjoyed the sights for a whole day; after looking at the lanterns in the hall, they all went out again to stroll and sport among the festival lights. And this is what they saw:

Cities of agate flowers, immortal grottoes of glass, palaces of crystal and mica: like fold upon fold of brocade, range upon range of openwork jade. The star bridge trembled in light, and heaven and earth seemed to sway; see the fire trees—here a few boughs—tossing their red. Six streets of flutes and drums, a thousand gates beneath a moon of jade, ten thousand households breathing fragrant air. Here and there turtle-hill lantern peaks towered aloft, with fish and dragons coming out of the sea, luan birds and phoenixes rising into the void. How lovely the lantern light and the moonlight, mild and melting in harmony. In the ranks of the silk-clad strollers everyone delighted to hear the pipes and the singing; carriages and horses rumbled past: you could never see to the end of it—flower faces and jade looks, dashing men and bold knights, lovely scenes without end.

Tripitaka and the monks watched the lanterns at the monastery and then went to roam the various streets of the eastern outskirts. Not until the second watch did they return and settle for the night.

The next day the Tang monk said to the monks: “This disciple once made a vow to sweep a pagoda. Since today is the festival of the first full moon, I beg the prior to open the pagoda gate and let this disciple fulfill that vow.” The monks opened the door at once. Sha Monk took up the cassock and followed the Tang monk; on reaching a story he would put on the cassock, bow to the Buddha and finish his prayers, sweep that story with the broom, take off the cassock, and hand it back to Sha Monk. … Then he swept the second story, story after story, all the way to the very top. On every story of the pagoda there were Buddhas, and windows opening on every side; he swept a story, and admired and marveled at a story. When the sweeping was done and he came down, it was already dusk, and lamps were lit everywhere.

This night was the fifteenth itself, the Lantern Festival. The monks said: “Elder teacher, the other evening we looked at lanterns only here at our humble monastery and in the outskirts. Tonight is the very night of the festival—what if we go into the city and see the golden lanterns?” The Tang monk gladly agreed, and with Pilgrim and the other two, and all the many monks of the monastery, they went into the city to see the lanterns. And the verse goes:

Five times five, a night of the lovely festival; at Shangyuan the spring colors are mild.Flower lanterns hang in the bustling streets; all sing together the songs of peace.Then they saw the six streets and three markets bright with lanterns, and in mid-sky the first moon rising like a mirror. The moon was like a great plate of shining silver pushed up by the river god Fengyi; the lanterns were like brocade woven by fairy maidens and spread upon the ground. Lantern reflected moon, doubling the radiance; moon shone on lantern, adding ten parts of brilliance. You could not see to the end of the star bridge with its iron chains, nor finish watching the lantern flowers and the fire trees. Snowflake lanterns and plum-blossom lanterns, cut from shards of spring ice; embroidered-screen lanterns and painted-screen lanterns, clustered from five colors. Walnut lanterns and lotus lanterns hung high on the lantern towers; blue lion lanterns and white elephant lanterns raised high on their frames. Shrimp lanterns and turtle lanterns sported before the sheds; sheep lanterns and rabbit lanterns were all spirit beneath the eaves. Hawk lanterns and phoenix lanterns flew wing to wing; tiger lanterns and horse lanterns walked together, ran together. Immortal crane lanterns and white deer lanterns carried the Star God of Longevity on their backs; goldfish lanterns and great whale lanterns bore Li Bai riding high. The Ao-mountain lantern, where immortals gather; the revolving lantern, where generals cross spears. Lantern fires lit towers and terraces through ten thousand households; a world of cloud and mist ran a dozen li and more. On that side, with a silvery jingling, jade saddle-curtains went flying past; on this side, with a rumble of wheels, perfumed carriages rolled by. Look at the red-painted towers, where leaning on the railing, behind the curtain, shoulder to shoulder, hand in hand, pairs of lovely women craved their pleasure; by the green-water bridge, in noisy crowds, in bright knots of color, tipsy and laughing, pairs of revelers played among the lantern hues. Through the whole city flutes and drums clamored, and all night the songs of pipes never ceased.

There is a poem to prove it. The poem says:

In the field of brocade and splendor they sing the song of gathering lotus; within this realm of peace the hearth fires of the people gather thick.The lanterns bright, the moon luminous, the night of the first full moon; rain in season, wind in season—a year of great plenty.

By this time the night curfew was lifted, and in the din and tumult there was a countless throng of people. There were those who danced, those who trod the stilts, those costumed as ghosts, those riding elephants—knots in the east, clusters in the west, more than the eye could take in.

Just then they came up onto the Golden Lantern Bridge, where the Tang monk and the monks drew near to look: they were three golden lanterns. Each was as big as a vat, and on top it shone upon a two-story pavilion, delicate and translucent through and through, all woven of fine golden wire, with thin plates of glass held inside; its light outshone the moon, and its oil breathed fragrance. The Tang monk turned and asked the monks: “What oil is in these lanterns? How is it that such a strange fragrance strikes the nose?” The monks said: “Teacher, you do not know. Behind our prefecture lies a county called Mintian, two hundred forty li across. Every year, when the levies and corvée are assessed, there are in all two hundred forty great households charged with providing the lantern oil. The various levies of prefecture and county can be borne, but this one weighs heavily on those great households: each household serves one year and must spend more than two hundred taels of silver. This is no ordinary oil, but the suhe butter-oil. One tael of it is worth two taels of silver, and one catty is worth thirty-two taels of silver. There are three lanterns, and each vat holds five hundred catties; three vats together are one thousand five hundred catties, which comes to forty-eight thousand taels of silver. Add the sundry other charges and expenses, and it comes near fifty thousand taels—all for three nights of burning.” Pilgrim said: “So much oil—how can it be burned away in three nights?” The monks said: “In each vat are forty-nine great lantern wicks, bundles of rush pith bound up and wrapped in silk floss, each as thick as a hen’s egg. Once tonight’s burning is done and the Buddha shows himself, the next night the oil is gone and the lanterns dim.” Bajie laughed at their side: “I suppose the Buddha takes the oil away with him.” The monks said: “That is just the story. From of old until now every household in the city has handed it down this way: when the oil dries up, everyone says the Buddha has taken in the lantern, and the year is naturally one of abundant harvest; but if in any year it does not dry up, then the harvest fails, and wind and rain fall out of season. That is why every household will have this offering.”

While they were speaking, they heard a whistling of wind in mid-air that put the lantern-watchers to flight in every direction. The monks too could not keep their feet, saying: “Elder teacher, let us go back. The wind is coming—it is the Buddha sending down an omen, come to see the lanterns.” The Tang monk said: “How do you know it is the Buddha come to see the lanterns?” The monks said: “It is like this every year: before the third watch a wind always arises, and we know the Buddhas are sending down an omen, so everyone keeps clear.” The Tang monk said: “This disciple is one who from the first has thought of the Buddha, recited the Buddha’s name, worshiped the Buddha. Meeting such a splendid scene, if the Buddhas are truly descending, then let me bow to them here—what could be better?” The monks begged him again and again, but could not bring him back. In a moment, in the wind, there truly appeared the bodies of three Buddhas, drawing near the lanterns. Alarmed, the Tang monk ran to the top of the bridge and bowed his body to the ground. Pilgrim hurriedly pulled him up: “Master, they are no good ones—they must be demons.” Before the words were done, the lantern light went dim, and with a whoosh they snatched the Tang monk up and rode away on the wind. Ah! Who could have known they were true demons of some mountain cave, who for years had feigned to be Buddhas watching the golden lanterns? Bajie was left searching this way and that, and Sha Monk calling right and left. Pilgrim cried: “Brothers, there is no need to shout here. In our master’s utmost joy a sorrow was born: the demon has carried him off.” The monks said in terror: “Gracious sirs, how can you tell a demon carried him off?” Pilgrim laughed: “So you plain folk, never knowing year after year, have been fooled by these devils, saying a true Buddha sent down an omen and received the offering of these lanterns. Just now, where the wind passed, those who showed Buddha bodies were three demon spirits. My master could not tell either, and went to the top of the bridge and bowed; they darkened the lantern light, filled their vessels with oil, and made off with my master too. I was a little slow, and so the three of them escaped on the wind.” Sha Monk said: “Elder brother, what is to be done now?” Pilgrim said: “No hesitation. You two go back with the others to the monastery, guard the horse and the luggage, and let old Monkey ride this wind in pursuit.”

A Great Sage indeed! He swiftly somersaulted up on his cloud, rose into mid-air, caught the scent of the fishy wind, and made straight in pursuit to the northeast. He chased until daybreak, when suddenly the wind died. He saw a great mountain, perilously steep, truly craggy. What a mountain:

Fold upon fold of ravines and hills; bend upon bend of gushing springs.Rattan and wisteria hung from sheer cliffs; pines and cypresses stood firm on hollow crags.Cranes cried within the morning mists; wild geese called among the dawn clouds.Peak upon stark peak stood ranked like halberds; crag on glinting crag was paved like whetstone.The summit rose ten thousand fathoms high; the steep ridges folded a thousand bends.Wildflowers and fine trees, knowing spring, burst forth; the cuckoo and the yellow oriole answered the scene’s beauty.How lofty, how sheer—grotesque, rugged, perilous and hard.He paused to gaze a long while, saying never a word; he heard only the snoring growl of tigers and leopards.Fragrant musk deer and white deer came and went; the jade hare and the gray wolf went and returned.In the deep ravine the stream ran ten thousand li; the swirling current struck the rocks, ringing and rippling.

Standing on a crag of the mountain, the Great Sage was still searching out a path when he saw four men driving three sheep down from the western slope, all crying out: “Peace be opened!” The Great Sage flashed his fire eyes and gold pupils, looked carefully, and recognized the messengers of the four duty officers of year, month, day, and hour, come in borrowed shapes and transformed forms. The Great Sage at once drew out his iron staff and gave it a shake—thick as a bowl rim, some twelve feet long—leaped down from the crag, and shouted: “Hiding your heads and shrinking your necks—where do you think you are going?” The four duty officers, found out, scattered the three sheep in alarm, revealed their true forms, and slipped to the side of the road, bowing: “Great Sage, forgive us, forgive us.” Pilgrim said: “All this while you have not been needed, and seeing old Monkey go easy, you have grown slack, every one of you—not one of you comes to see me. What do you say to that? Why have you not been guarding my master in secret? Where have you all gone?” The officers said: “Your master let his meditative nature grow slack, lingering in pleasure at the Compassionate Clouds Monastery in Jinping Prefecture; so when peace reached its height misfortune arose, and when joy reached its full it turned to sorrow, and he has been taken by a demon. The guardian spirits of the monastery are at his side protecting him. We knew the Great Sage would be pursuing through the night, and feared he might not know these mountains and forests, so we came to bring word.” Pilgrim said: “If you came to bring word, why hide your names and drive three sheep along, shouting and hallooing? What is the meaning of it?” The officers said: “We arranged these three sheep to answer to the words ‘peace be opened’—the sign called Three Yangs Opening Peace—to break the blockage that has fallen on your master.” Pilgrim, in a black temper, wanted to strike them; but seeing the good intent behind it, he let it go, put up his staff, turned wrath to joy, and asked: “Is this mountain where the demons live?” The officers said: “It is, it is. This mountain is called Green Dragon Mountain, and within it is a cave called the Cave of Dark Mystery. In the cave are three demon spirits: the eldest is named the Great King Who Banishes Cold, the second is titled the Great King Who Banishes Heat, and the third is titled the Great King Who Banishes Dust. These demons have been here a thousand years. From their earliest days they loved to drink the suhe butter-oil; when they became spirits, they came here, feigned to be images of the Buddha, and cheated the officials and people of Jinping Prefecture into setting up the golden lanterns, whose oil is suhe butter-oil. Every year, at the middle of the first month, they transform into Buddhas and take in the oil. This year they saw your master, knew him for the body of a holy monk, and carried your master into the cave as well; before many days they mean to carve up his flesh, fry it in suhe butter-oil, and eat it. Make haste and use your powers—go to the rescue.”

Hearing this, Pilgrim dismissed the four officers, rounded the shoulder of the mountain, and searched for the cave. He had gone no more than a few li when he saw a stone cliff beside a ravine. Under the cliff was a stone house with two stone doors, half open, half shut. Beside the door stood a stone tablet bearing six characters: “Green Dragon Mountain, Cave of Dark Mystery.” Pilgrim dared not barge straight in; he planted his feet and called out: “Demons! Hand over my master at once!” With a rattling crash the doors flew wide open, and out ran a band of ox-headed fiends, who gaped and asked: “Who are you, to come bawling here!” Pilgrim said: “I am the eldest disciple of the holy monk Tripitaka Tang, come from the Tang of the Eastern Land to fetch the scriptures. Passing Jinping Prefecture to see the lanterns, my master was carried off by your demon lords. Return him quickly and I will spare your lives; if not, I will overturn your den and turn the whole pack of you to pus and blood.”

Hearing this, the little demons hurried inside to report: “Your Majesty, disaster, disaster!” The three old demons were holding the Tang monk in the deepest part of the cave, asking nothing of right or wrong: they had the little ones strip off his clothes, wash him clean in the rushing stream, and were planning to mince and shred him fine, fry him in suhe butter-oil, and eat him. Hearing the cry of “disaster,” they were greatly startled and asked the cause. The little demon said: “At the main gate there is a monk with a hairy face and a thunder-god’s beak, shouting that Your Majesties carried off his master, and demanding that you send him out at once and spare our lives; otherwise he will overturn the den and turn us all to pus and blood.” Hearing this, the old demons’ hearts all quaked: “We only just seized the fellow and have not yet asked his name or origins. Little ones, give him back his clothes, bring him before us, and let us question him—just who is he, and from where does he come?”

The demons swarmed forward, untied the Tang monk’s bonds, dressed him in his clothes, and pushed him before the seats. Terrified, the Tang monk knelt below, trembling, crying only: “Great kings, spare my life, spare my life!” The three demon kings spoke with one voice: “From what quarter have you come, monk? Why did you not hide from the image of the Buddha, but crash into my cloud-path instead?” The Tang monk knocked his head on the ground: “This poor monk was sent by the throne of the great Tang of the Eastern Land, bound for the Great Thunderclap Monastery in the land of India, to worship the Buddha and fetch the scriptures. Because I stopped at the Compassionate Clouds Monastery in Jinping Prefecture for a meal, the monks there kept me past the Lantern Festival to see the lanterns. Just as I stood on the Golden Lantern Bridge, I saw Your Majesties manifest as images of the Buddha; this poor monk has eyes of flesh and a mortal frame, and worships whatever Buddha he sees—so I crashed into Your Majesties’ cloud-path.” The demon said: “From that Eastern Land of yours to here is a very long road. How many are in your company, and what are your names? Confess it truly and quickly, and I will spare your life.” The Tang monk said: “This poor monk’s secular name is Chen Xuanzang; from childhood I was a monk at Gold Mountain Monastery. Later, by gracious decree of the Tang emperor, I was made a monk-official at Hongfu Monastery in Chang’an. Then, because the prime minister Wei Zheng beheaded the old dragon of the Jing River in a dream, and the Tang emperor toured the dark underworld and returned to life in the world of light, he held the Grand Mass to ferry the souls of the dead, and graciously chose and bestowed on this poor monk the post of master of the altar, director of the whole rite. Happily the Bodhisattva Guanyin appeared, pointed the way to this poor monk, and said that in the Great Thunderclap Monastery of the Western Heaven are the true scriptures of the three stores, which can deliver the dead up to heaven, and sent this poor monk to fetch them, bestowing the religious name Tripitaka, and taking Tang from the dynasty as a surname; so everyone calls me Tripitaka Tang, Tripitaka Tang. I have three disciples. The first is surnamed Sun, named Wukong, called Pilgrim, once the Great Sage Equal to Heaven, now returned to the right way.” At this name the whole pack of demons gave a start: “This Great Sage Equal to Heaven—is he the one who wrecked the Heavenly Palace five hundred years ago?” The Tang monk said: “The very same, the very same. The second is surnamed Zhu, named Wuneng, called Bajie, the great Marshal Tianpeng reborn in the world. The third is surnamed Sha, the monk Wujing, called Sha Monk, the Curtain-Raising General come down to the mortal world.”

When the three demon kings heard this, every heart quaked: “A good thing we did not eat him already. Little ones, lock the Tang monk in the back with an iron chain, and wait till we seize his three disciples to make the meal complete.” They mustered a troop of wild-ox fiends, water-buffalo fiends, and yellow-ox fiends, each armed with a weapon, and marched out the gate, sounded the horn, waved banners, and beat drums. The three demons put on their armor in fine order and all came outside the gate shouting: “Who dares come bawling here?” Pilgrim dodged onto the stone crag and looked carefully. The demons looked like this:

Bright-patterned faces, ringed eyes, a pair of horns rising stark and stern.Four ears sharp and pointed; keen nostrils flashing light.Bodies patterned like painted color; hides brocaded like flying blossom.The first wore on his head a flowered cap of fox fur for warmth, his bristling mane steaming with heat.The second had light gauze about his body, flickering like flame, his four hooves gleaming, patterned jade.The third roared with a mighty voice like rolling thunder, his tusks sharp as silver needles.Every one of them brave and fierce, each grasping one of three weapons: one swung a battle-axe, one wielded a great sword; but look at the third—across his shoulders lay a knotted rattan staff.

Behind came demons long and short, fat and lean, big and little, all of them ox-headed fiends, each holding spear or staff. Before them were three great banners, on which were plainly written: “Great King Who Banishes Cold,” “Great King Who Banishes Heat,” “Great King Who Banishes Dust.”

Sun Pilgrim watched a while and could not contain himself; he stepped forward and called out loudly: “Brazen thieving fiends! Do you know old Monkey?” The demon shouted back: “Are you that Sun Wukong who wrecked the Heavenly Palace? Truly, your name was heard but your face never seen—and the face, once seen, would put the very gods of heaven to shame. So you are nothing but a little monkey after all.” Pilgrim flew into a rage and cursed: “You oil-thieving wretch, you smooth-tongued demon, stop your prattle and return my master to me at once!” He rushed close and whirled the iron staff to strike; the three old demons raised their three weapons and hastily parried him. That contest in the mountain hollow was a fine one:

Axe of battle, steel blade, and knotted rattan—the Monkey King advanced to meet them with one staff.Demons Banishing Cold, Banishing Heat, and Banishing Dust—do you know the name of the Great Sage Equal to Heaven?The staff rose and struck awe into gods and ghosts; the axe came, the blade hacked, all flying and leaping.A true image, lawful, of the primal void, stood fast against three demons in sham Buddha form.Those three oil-thieves, whose noses this year spell their fall, were bent on seizing the monk sent out beneath the throne.This one, for his master, feared no length of mountain road; that one, for his belly, had year after year set up the offered lanterns.Clang and clash—one heard only axe and blade; whack and thump—only the staff had its voice.Charging and crashing, three closed in on one; parry upon parry, each man showed his power.They fought until the sky grew late, and no one knew who lost and who won.

Sun Pilgrim fought a hundred and fifty rounds with the three demon kings, one staff against the three, until the sky grew dark, with victory still undecided. Then the Great King Who Banishes Dust flashed his rattan staff, leaped out before the line, and gave his banner a wave. The band of ox-headed fiends surged up and ringed Pilgrim round in the center, all whirling their weapons and striking in wild swings. Seeing things going badly, Pilgrim somersaulted up on his cloud with a whoosh and fled the field. The demons did not pursue; they called back their fiends, laid out an evening meal, and all ate their fill. They even had a little demon carry a bowl of it to the Tang monk, meaning to prepare their feast only when Sun Pilgrim and the others were taken. As for the master, first because he kept a strict fast, second because of his grief, he wept and wailed and dared not touch the food—but no more of that.

Now Pilgrim rode his cloud back to the Compassionate Clouds Monastery and called: “Brother disciples!” Bajie and Sha Monk, who were waiting in anguish and taking counsel together, heard the call and hurried out to meet him: “Elder brother, why are you back only after a whole day? What news of master, truly?” Pilgrim laughed: “Last night I followed the wind in pursuit, and by dawn reached a mountain, but he was nowhere to be seen. Fortunately the four duty officers brought word: the mountain is called Green Dragon Mountain, and in it is the Cave of Dark Mystery, and in the cave are three demon spirits called the Great King Who Banishes Cold, the Great King Who Banishes Heat, and the Great King Who Banishes Dust. It seems they have stolen oil here for years, feigning images of the Buddha and cheating the officials and people of Jinping Prefecture. This year they met us, and not knowing good from bad, they carried master off as well. When old Monkey had learned all this, I charged the officers and their company to guard master in secret, and went up to their gate myself to shout insults. The three demons came out together—ox-headed fiend shapes all of them. The first swung a battle-axe, the second a great sword, the third a rattan club; behind them came a whole den of ox-headed fiends, waving banners and beating drums, and they fought me a whole day to a standstill. When the demon king waved his banner, the little demons all came swarming. I saw it growing late and feared I could not win, so I somersaulted back on my cloud.” Bajie said: “Could it be the ghost kings of Fengdu playing tricks?” Sha Monk said: “Why do you guess it is the ghost kings of Fengdu playing tricks?” Bajie laughed: “Elder brother says they were ox-headed fiends, so I knew it.” Pilgrim said: “No, no. By old Monkey’s eye, those fiends are spirits formed from three rhinoceroses.” Bajie said: “If they are rhinoceroses, catch them and saw off their horns—they would fetch a good few taels of silver.”

While they were speaking, the monks asked: “Master Sun, will you take the evening meal?” Pilgrim said: “A little, for convenience’ sake—or none at all, it makes no matter.” The monks said: “Master, you have been fighting all day—are you not hungry?” Pilgrim laughed: “A mere day of it—how would that make me hungry? Old Monkey once went five hundred years without food or drink.” The monks, not knowing it was the plain truth, took it for a joke. Soon the food was brought, and Pilgrim ate as well. He said: “Let us tidy up and sleep. Tomorrow we will all go out and hold the line together; when we take the demon kings, we can rescue master.” Sha Monk said at his side: “Elder brother, what talk is this? The common saying goes: ‘In delay, cunning grows.’ If the demons do not sleep tonight and do master some harm, what then? Better to go now and fall on them before they can ready themselves—only so can we save master. Any later, and something may go wrong.” Bajie, hearing this, shook out his mighty powers: “Brother Sha is right. Let us take this moonlight and go quell the demons.” Pilgrim agreed, and instructed the monastery monks: “Guard the luggage and the horses. When we have caught the demons and brought them back, we will prove before the prefect’s court that they are false Buddhas, and have the lantern oil struck off—would that not ease the straits of all the humble folk of the county?” The monks obeyed. The three raised auspicious clouds and left the city. And this was it:

Ease and want of discipline had thrown the meditative nature into disorder; calamity, allotted by fate, had veiled the mind set on the Way.

But whether that foray would end in victory or defeat? Listen to the next chapter to find out.

At Jinping Prefecture They Watch Lanterns on the First Full-Moon Night; At Xuanying Cave the Tang monk Gives His Account

Where should one work to practice meditation? Quickly cut off the unruly horse and restless ape.Hold them fast and tie them down, and five colors appear; stop and linger, and you fall into the three paths of suffering.If you let the spirit medicine leak out at will, your jade-like nature withers when you let it relax.Sweep away joy, anger, worry, and thought; when you reach the mysterious and wonderful, it is as if nothing remains.

The Tang monk and his three disciples left Yuhua City and traveled safely on what truly seemed a road to paradise. Five or six days later they saw another city. Tripitaka asked Pilgrim, “What place is this?” “A city,” he replied. “But its walls have a flagpole with no flag, so I don't know its name. We'll ask when we get closer.” At the eastern suburb, teahouses and wine shops bustled on both sides, along with rice markets and oil mills. Several idle young men in the street saw Zhu Bajie's long snout, Sha Monk's black face, and Pilgrim Sun's red eyes. They crowded together to stare but dared not approach them. Tripitaka was anxious, afraid his disciples might cause trouble. They passed several lanes but had not reached the city when they came upon a temple gate marked “Compassionate Cloud Monastery.” Tripitaka said, “Shall we stop here to rest the horse and ask for a vegetarian meal?” “Good idea,” said Pilgrim. The four went in together. Inside they saw:

Fine buildings stood splendidly, and precious seats towered high. A Buddha hall rose above the clouds; monks' rooms were quiet in the moonlight. Red clouds drifted around the pagoda; green trees shaded the revolving scripture library. It was a true pure land, like a dragon's underwater palace. Purple clouds covered the Great Hero Hall. Visitors played along both corridors; guests could always climb the pagoda. Incense burned constantly in the furnace, and lamps shone on the platforms each night. Suddenly the abbot's bell rang out, and monks serving the Buddha recited scripture clearly.

As the four looked around, a monk came out from the corridor and bowed to Tripitaka. “Where have you come from, teacher?” “From the Tang dynasty in China,” Tripitaka replied. The monk bowed to the ground. Tripitaka hurried to raise him. “Why such a deep bow, head of the monastery?” The monk joined his palms. “Good people here read scripture and pray to the Buddha, hoping to be reborn in China. Seeing your appearance and clothes, teacher, I can tell you earned such good fortune in a former life. That's why I bow.” Tripitaka smiled. “You embarrass me. I'm a traveling monk. What comforts do I enjoy? You live here peacefully and at ease; you're the fortunate one.” The monk took him into the main hall to pay respects before the Buddha images. Only then did Tripitaka call his disciples inside. While the monk had been speaking to their master, the three had kept their backs turned, holding the horse and watching the baggage, so he had not noticed them. When Tripitaka called, they turned around. The monk exclaimed in fright, “Good heavens! Why are your fine disciples so ugly?” “They may be ugly,” Tripitaka said, “but they have remarkable powers. I owe them a great deal for protecting me along the road.”

As they spoke, several more monks came out and bowed. The first told them, “This teacher has come from Tang China. These three are his disciples.” Both delighted and afraid, the others asked, “Teacher, what brings you here from mighty China?” Tripitaka explained, “By order of the Tang emperor, I'm going to Vulture Peak to worship the Buddha and seek scriptures. We passed your monastery and came to ask what place this is and have a meal before leaving.” Delighted, the monks invited them into the abbot's quarters. Several monks who prepared religious meals for lay households were there. The first monk called out, “Come and see people from China! Some are handsome and some ugly. The handsome one is beyond any artist's skill, while the ugly ones look very strange.” The monks and their lay patrons came to meet the travelers. They sat down, drank tea, and Tripitaka asked the name of the place. “This is Jinping Prefecture, an outlying district of Tianzhu,” they answered. “How far is it from here to Vulture Peak?” “It's two thousand li to the capital; we've traveled that much ourselves. We haven't gone farther west to Vulture Peak, so we don't dare guess the remaining distance.” Tripitaka thanked them.

Soon they served a vegetarian meal. After eating, Tripitaka wanted to leave, but the monks and their patrons urged him to stay. “Spend a day or two here, teacher, and enjoy the Lantern Festival before you go.” Surprised, Tripitaka asked, “On the road I've only noticed mountains and rivers and worried about meeting monsters and demons. I've lost track of the days. When is the Lantern Festival?” The monks laughed. “You're so intent on worshiping Buddha and learning meditation that you've forgotten it. Today is the thirteenth day of the first month. We test the lanterns tonight. The full-moon festival is on the fifteenth, and the display isn't taken down until the eighteenth or nineteenth. Our people love celebrations, and our prefect cares for the people. Everywhere lanterns are hung high, and flutes and mouth organs play all night. We also have the Golden Lantern Bridge, a tradition handed down from ancient times and still thriving. Stay a few days; our modest monastery can certainly feed you.” Tripitaka had little choice, so they stayed. That night bells and drums filled the Buddha hall as local worshipers brought lanterns as offerings. Tripitaka and his disciples left the abbot's rooms to see them, then went to bed.

The next day the monks provided another meal. Afterward they all took a walk in the garden behind the monastery. It was a lovely place:

The first month had come, and spring had begun. The garden was peaceful and its scenery beautiful. Flowers and trees of every season competed in beauty; green peaks rose in layers. Grass sprouted before the steps, and old plum branches gave off fragrance. Peach blossoms were turning red, and willows were newly green. No need to boast of the splendor of Gold Valley Garden or dwell on the beauty of the painting of Wangchuan. Wild ducks appeared and disappeared in a stream; among a thousand bamboo stalks poets struggled to find the right words. Peonies, tree peonies, crape myrtles, and smiling flowers were just waking to the season; camellias, red plums, winter jasmine, and daphnes had already opened their bright blossoms. Snow still lay frozen on shaded cliffs, while distant trees rose through a mist that already felt like spring. Deer looked at their reflections beside the pond; cranes listened to music beneath the pines. Buildings to east and pavilions to west offered guests a place to stay; halls to south and pagodas to north offered monks quiet places to meditate. Among the flowers stood one or two tall, double-roofed buildings for tending one's nature; amid hills and water were three or four quiet rooms for overcoming inner demons, with bright windows and clean desks. It was a natural place to live in seclusion. Why look elsewhere for the paradise of Penglai and Yingzhou?

The master and disciples enjoyed the garden all day, saw the lanterns in the hall, and went out to enjoy the displays. They saw:

Flowerlike towns of agate, immortal caves of colored glass, palaces of crystal and mica, one layer of gorgeous color and delicate detail after another. Reflections from the starry bridge danced as though heaven and earth were moving; several trees of fire swayed red. Music of flutes and drums filled the six streets. A beautiful moon shone over a thousand gates, and fragrant breezes passed through ten thousand homes. Some great lantern mountains rose high, with fish and dragons emerging from the sea and mythical birds flying into the sky. Lantern light and moonlight blended in the warm, peaceful air. People in fine clothes enjoyed songs and music, while carriages and horses rumbled by. There was no end to the lovely faces, handsome figures, stylish heroes, and beautiful sights.

Tripitaka and the monks watched the lanterns at the monastery, then wandered through the streets of the eastern suburb. At the second watch of the night, they returned to rest.

The next day Tripitaka told the monks, “I've long wanted to sweep a pagoda. Since today is the Lantern Festival, please open its gate so I can fulfill my wish.” They opened it. Sha Monk carried Tripitaka's robe and accompanied him. On the first floor Tripitaka put on the robe, bowed to the Buddha, and offered a prayer. Then he swept the floor, took off the robe, and gave it back to Sha Monk. He swept the second floor and continued floor by floor all the way to the top. Each floor had Buddha images and windows. As he swept each floor he stopped to admire it. By the time he came back down, evening had arrived and the lanterns were lit again.

This was the night of the full moon, the fifteenth. The monks said, “Teacher, so far we've only seen the lanterns at our monastery and in the suburb. Tonight is the festival itself. Shall we go into the city and see the golden lanterns?” Tripitaka agreed gladly. He went into the city with his three disciples and many monks from the monastery. This is what they saw:

On the fine night of the fifteenth, the first full moon of spring brought gentle weather. Flower lanterns hung over the busy market, and everyone sang songs of peace. Lanterns shone in six streets and three markets, and a round moon rose in the sky. The moon looked like a great shining silver plate pushed up by the river god Feng Yi; the lanterns were like a brocade carpet woven by immortal women. Lanterns reflected in the moonlight and shone twice as bright; the moon reflected in the lanterns and became more brilliant still. There were endless starry bridges hung with chains of lights and trees covered in glowing lanterns. Snowflake and plum-blossom lanterns looked cut from spring ice. Embroidered-screen and painted-screen lanterns combined five bright colors. Walnut and lotus lanterns hung high from towers; blue-lion and white-elephant lanterns stood high on their frames. Shrimp and turtle lanterns were lifted high before stalls; sheep and rabbit lanterns sparkled under the eaves. Eagle and phoenix lanterns stood side by side; tiger and horse lanterns seemed to walk together. The Star of Longevity rode amid crane and white deer lanterns; Li Bai rode among goldfish and huge whale lanterns. Immortals gathered on mountain-shaped lantern displays; warriors battled in revolving lanterns. Thousands of homes and towers blazed with light, and for more than ten li the city seemed a world of glowing clouds. From one side came the sound of jeweled horse gear; on the other, fragrant carriages rolled past. Beautiful women stood on decorated balconies, leaning on railings, looking through curtains, shoulder to shoulder and hand in hand, enjoying themselves in pairs. Beside the bridges over green water, crowds of brightly dressed visitors laughed, chatted, and wandered in pairs, some drunk and some delighted. Flutes and drums sounded throughout the city; songs and music continued all night.

There is a poem to prove it. The poem says:

Amid rich decorations people sing the lotus song; crowds gather in this peaceful land.Lanterns shine and the moon is bright on festival night; timely rain and wind promise a rich harvest.

The night curfew was lifted, and countless people thronged the noisy streets. Here were dancers and stilt walkers, people dressed as ghosts and others riding elephants, gathered in groups on every side. There was more than one could take in.

They had just reached the Golden Lantern Bridge. Tripitaka and the monks went closer and saw three golden lamps, each with a vat as its base. Above each vat rose a two-story openwork structure woven from fine gold wire and lined with thin glass panes. The light rivaled the moon, and the oil smelled wonderful. Tripitaka asked the monks, “What oil is this? Why does it smell so good?” They answered, “Teacher, behind our prefecture there's a county called Mintian, two hundred and forty li across. Every year its people are assessed for labor service, and there are two hundred and forty households assigned to provide lamp oil. Ordinary prefectural and county duties are bearable, but this duty is terribly burdensome. Each household must spend more than two hundred taels of silver in its assigned year. The oil isn't ordinary oil: it's fragrant suhe oil. An ounce costs two taels of silver, and a catty costs thirty-two taels. Each of the three vats holds five hundred catties, making fifteen hundred catties altogether, worth forty-eight thousand taels. With other expenses the total is over fifty thousand taels, just to burn the lamps for three nights.” Pilgrim asked, “How can they burn so much oil in three nights?” “Each vat holds forty-nine large wicks, bundled from rushes and wrapped in silk floss, each as thick as an egg. After tonight the Buddha appears; tomorrow night the oil will be gone and the lamps will go out.” Bajie laughed. “I suppose the Buddha takes the oil too.” “That's exactly what everyone in the city has said for generations,” the monks replied. “If the oil runs out, people say the Buddha accepted the lamps, and the grain harvest will be good. If it doesn't run out one year, there'll be drought, a poor harvest, and bad weather. That's why everyone insists on making this offering.”

As they spoke, a rushing wind sounded above them. The spectators scattered in fright. Even the monks could hardly stand still. “Teacher, let's go back. The wind means the Buddha is coming to bless the festival and see the lanterns.” “How do you know it's the Buddha?” Tripitaka asked. “It happens every year before the third watch. Everyone knows the Buddhas are coming and gets out of their way.” Tripitaka said, “I've always longed to worship the Buddha. If the Buddhas truly arrive tonight, I would be glad to bow to them here.” The monks could not persuade him to leave. Soon three figures resembling Buddhas appeared in the wind and approached the lamps. Tripitaka rushed to the top of the bridge and bowed down. Pilgrim pulled at him at once. “Master, those aren't good people. They must be monsters!” Before he finished speaking, the lanterns dimmed. With a whoosh, the creatures seized Tripitaka and flew off on the wind. Alas, no one knew from which mountain and cave these real monsters had come to pose as Buddhas at the golden lamps year after year. Bajie ran around looking for the master, while Sha Monk called for him. Pilgrim said, “Brothers, there's no point shouting here. Our master has been taken by monsters. His joy has turned to grief.” The frightened monks asked, “How do you know they were monsters?” Pilgrim laughed. “You ordinary people have been fooled by them for years. You thought real Buddhas came to receive your lamp offerings. The three figures you saw in the wind were monsters. Our master couldn't tell either and bowed on the bridge. They darkened the lamps, collected the oil in containers, and carried him off as well. I reacted a little too slowly, and they escaped as wind.” Sha Monk asked what they should do. Pilgrim said, “Don't waste time. Go back to the monastery with the monks, both of you, and guard the horse and baggage. I'll follow the wind.”

The Great Sage sprang onto his somersault cloud and raced northeast, following the smell of the foul wind. At dawn the wind suddenly stopped. Before him stood a steep and rugged mountain:

Hills and ravines rose one behind another, with winding streams between them. Vines hung from sheer cliffs, and pines and cypresses stood on bare rocks. Cranes called in the morning fog; geese cried among the dawn clouds. High peaks stood like rows of spears, and jagged rocks were piled like slabs. The summits rose ten thousand fathoms, and steep ridges twisted through a thousand bends. Wildflowers and fine trees showed the arrival of spring; cuckoos and orioles sang in the beautiful season. It was vast, rocky, strange, uneven, dangerous, and hard to cross. Stop and listen: no human voice, only the growls of tigers and leopards. Fragrant musk deer and white deer came and went; white rabbits and gray wolves passed by and returned. Water flowed through deep gorges for countless li, and churning currents splashed against stones with a constant murmur.

As the Great Sage searched the mountainside for a path, he saw four men driving three sheep down the western slope, calling, “Good fortune is beginning!” His fiery eyes and golden pupils showed him that these were the four officials in charge of the year, month, day, and hour, disguised as men. He pulled out his iron staff and made it as thick as a bowl and twelve feet long. Jumping down from the cliff, he shouted, “Where are you going, hiding yourselves like that?” The four officials realized he had seen through them, scattered the sheep, took their true forms, and bowed beside the road. “Forgive us, Great Sage!” Pilgrim said, “I haven't needed you recently, and because I've been lenient you've become lazy. You don't even come to see me. Why haven't you protected my master secretly? Where have you been?” They answered, “Your master let his discipline slip and stayed at Compassionate Cloud Monastery in Jinping Prefecture for pleasure. Good fortune has turned to misfortune, and joy to sorrow. Monsters have caught him, though guardian temple spirits are with him. We knew you followed them all night, and we came to tell you about this mountain in case you couldn't find the way.” “Then why hide your identities and shout while driving three sheep?” “The three sheep represent the three yang forces that open the way to good fortune. They will break the bad luck blocking your master.” Pilgrim had wanted to strike them, but when he heard this, he put away his staff and smiled instead. “Is this the monsters' mountain?” “Yes. It's called Azure Dragon Mountain, and its cave is called Xuanying Cave. Three monsters live there: King Cold-Repeller, King Heat-Repeller, and King Dust-Repeller. They have been here for a thousand years. Ever since they were young they have loved eating fragrant suhe oil. After becoming spirits, they came here disguised as Buddhas and tricked the officials and people of Jinping into setting up golden lamps filled with it. Every fifteenth of the first month they come as Buddhas to take the oil. This year they saw that your master was a holy monk, so they carried him into their cave as well. Soon they mean to cut up his flesh and fry it in the oil. Hurry and save him.”

Pilgrim dismissed the four officials, went around a cliff, and looked for the cave. A few li on, beside a stream, he found a stone building under a cliff. Its double stone doors stood half open. On a tablet beside them were six characters: “Azure Dragon Mountain, Xuanying Cave.” He did not go in, but stood outside and shouted, “Monsters! Bring my master out at once!” The doors opened with a crash, and a group of ox-headed demons rushed out. They stared stupidly and asked, “Who dares shout outside our home?” “I'm the eldest disciple of Tripitaka Tang, the holy monk traveling from the Tang lands in the east to seek scriptures. Your masters abducted my teacher while we were watching the lanterns in Jinping Prefecture. Give him back now, and I'll spare your lives. Otherwise I'll tear down your den and turn every monster here into blood and pus.”

The lesser demons ran inside shouting, “Disaster, kings, disaster!” Deep in the cave, the three old monsters had seized Tripitaka without asking any questions. They told their servants to strip him, wash him clean in water drawn from the stream, cut him into fine pieces, and fry him in fragrant suhe oil. Alarmed at the report, the eldest asked what had happened. “There's a monk outside with a hairy face and a mouth like a thunder god's. He says you took his master and demands you return him or he'll tear down our den and turn us all to blood and pus.” The three were startled. “We've only just caught him and haven't even asked his name or where he's from. Put his clothes back on and bring him here. We'll find out who he is.”

The demons untied Tripitaka, dressed him, and pushed him before their thrones. Trembling, he knelt and cried, “Spare my life, kings!” The three spoke together. “Where did you come from, monk? When you saw the Buddha images, why didn't you get out of the way instead of blocking our path through the clouds?” Tripitaka bowed his head. “The Tang emperor sent me from the eastern lands to the Great Thunderclap Monastery in Tianzhu to worship the Buddha and obtain scriptures. At Jinping Prefecture I went to Compassionate Cloud Monastery for a meal. The monks there invited me to stay for the Lantern Festival. On the Golden Lantern Bridge I saw you in the form of Buddhas. I'm only a mortal who cannot see beyond appearances, so I bowed when I saw Buddhas. That's how I got in your way.” The monsters said, “You've traveled a long way. How many are in your party, and what are their names? Tell us the truth quickly and we'll spare you.” Tripitaka replied, “My lay name is Chen Xuanzang. I became a monk at Gold Mountain Monastery when I was a child. Later the Tang emperor appointed me a senior monk at Hongfu Monastery in Chang'an. Then Minister Wei Zheng killed the old Dragon King of the Jing River in a dream, and the Tang emperor visited the underworld and returned to life. He held a great assembly to release the souls of the dead and chose me to lead its altar and oversee its rites. Guanyin appeared and told me that the Great Thunderclap Monastery in the Western Heaven held three collections of true scriptures that could help the dead ascend to heaven. The emperor sent me to fetch them, gave me the name Tripitaka, and allowed me to take Tang as my surname. That's why people call me Tripitaka Tang. I have three disciples. The first is named Sun Wukong, called Pilgrim Sun. He was once the Great Sage Equal to Heaven and has returned to the right path.” The demons started at the name. “Is this Great Sage the one who made havoc in the Heavenly Palace five hundred years ago?” “Yes. The second is Zhu Wuneng, called Bajie, the former Marshal Tianpeng reborn. The third is Sha Wujing, called Sha Monk, formerly the Curtain-Raising General, who came down to the mortal world.”

The three demon kings were frightened. “Luckily we haven't eaten him yet! Lock the Tang monk in chains in the back. We'll catch his three disciples and eat them together.” They assembled a crowd of mountain ox, water buffalo, and yellow ox demons. Armed, the demons came outside with banners flying and drums beating. The three kings put on their armor and called, “Who's making that noise outside our cave?” From his rocky ledge, Pilgrim looked carefully at them:

Their faces were brightly colored, their round eyes fierce, and their two horns prominent. Their four ears were pointed and their bright eyes alert. Patterns covered their bodies like painted pictures; their hides were like rich embroidered cloth. The first wore a warm, spotted fox-fur hat, and hot breath rose from his hairy face. The second wore light gauze that waved like flame; his four bright hooves gleamed like polished jade. The third roared as loudly as thunder and had sharp tusks like silver needles. All were strong and fierce and carried three kinds of weapons: one an axe, one a great sword, and the third a heavy vine club across his shoulder.

The other demons, tall and short, fat and thin, young and old, all had ox heads and carried spears and clubs. Three large banners clearly read “King Cold-Repeller,” “King Heat-Repeller,” and “King Dust-Repeller.”

Pilgrim Sun watched for a moment, then could bear it no longer. “You thieving monsters! Do you recognize me?” One king answered, “Are you Sun Wukong, who caused trouble in heaven? We've heard your name but never seen you. Now we've seen you, the gods of heaven must be ashamed. You're just a little monkey!” Furious, Pilgrim shouted, “You lamp-oil thieves! Stop that oily talk and give me back my master!” He rushed forward and swung his iron staff. The three raised their weapons to meet him. Their fight in the mountain hollow was fierce:

Against axe, steel sword, and heavy vine club, the Monkey King raised his single staff. Cold-Repeller, Heat-Repeller, and Dust-Repeller all knew the Great Sage Equal to Heaven's name. His staff frightened gods and ghosts; their axes and blades struck amid flying sparks. The true form of emptiness with its powers fought the three monsters in false Buddha forms. This year the three oil thieves had captured a monk sent by the emperor; year after year they had arranged lamp offerings to feed their craving. Pilgrim fought for his master without fearing the long mountain road; the others fought for their appetites. Clang went axes and blades; crash went the staff. Three attacked one, and each side blocked the other's blows and displayed its skill. They fought until nightfall, with no sign of who would win.

Pilgrim fought the three monsters for a hundred and fifty rounds without a decision as the daylight faded. King Dust-Repeller waved his vine club, leaped past the front line, and shook a flag. The ox-headed demons crowded in and surrounded Pilgrim, striking wildly with their weapons. Seeing that things had gone badly, he sprang onto his somersault cloud and retreated. The monsters did not pursue him. They called back their followers, prepared dinner, and ate. They sent a bowl to Tripitaka too, intending to deal with him only after catching Pilgrim Sun and the others. But their master followed a strict vegetarian diet and was miserable with worry. He wept and did not dare touch the food.

Pilgrim flew back to Compassionate Cloud Monastery and called for his brothers. Bajie and Sha Monk had been waiting and discussing what to do. They came out together. “Brother, why did it take you all day? Where is Master?” Pilgrim smiled. “I followed the wind all night and arrived at a mountain at dawn, but couldn't see where it had gone. Luckily the four officials of the year, month, day, and hour told me it was Azure Dragon Mountain, and that Xuanying Cave was inside it. Three monsters live there, called King Cold-Repeller, King Heat-Repeller, and King Dust-Repeller. They've been stealing oil here for years, posing as Buddhas and fooling the people and officials of Jinping. This year they met us and foolishly carried off Master too. After I learned this, I told the officials to protect him secretly and went to the cave to challenge the monsters. The three came out looking like ox-headed demons. The first wielded an axe, the second a great sword, and the third a vine club. They brought a crowd of ox-headed creatures, beating drums and waving flags. We fought to a draw all day. Then one king waved a flag, and all his lesser demons attacked me. Since it was getting dark, I was afraid I couldn't win and came back on my somersault cloud.” Bajie said, “Perhaps those were ghost kings from the city of Fengdu?” Sha Monk asked, “Why do you think that?” Bajie laughed. “Brother called them ox-headed demons.” Pilgrim said, “No. As far as I can tell, those monsters are three rhinoceroses.” “If so,” Bajie said, “once we catch them, we can saw off their horns. They'll be worth several taels of silver.”

The monks asked, “Master Sun, would you like an evening meal?” “I'll eat a little if it's convenient, but I can do without.” “You must be hungry after fighting all day!” Pilgrim laughed. “A day or so wouldn't make me hungry. Once I went five hundred years without food or drink.” The monks thought he was joking. They brought food, and he ate. “Let's go to sleep,” he said. “Tomorrow we can all fight the demon kings and rescue Master.” Sha Monk objected. “Brother, what are you saying? As they say, delay gives your enemy time to plan. What if they stay awake and hurt Master tonight? We should go right now and catch them unprepared. If we wait, something may happen to him.” Bajie roused himself. “Sha Monk is right. Let's use the moonlight to defeat the monsters.” Pilgrim agreed and told the monks, “Look after our horse and baggage. Once we've caught the demons, we'll show the prefect that they posed as Buddhas. Then the people of the county will be spared the cost of lamp oil. Wouldn't that be good?” The monks agreed, and the three disciples flew out of the city on clouds. Truly:

Unrestrained pleasure throws the mind's discipline into disorder;Trouble and danger cloud the heart's commitment to the Way.

Would they win or lose on this journey? Listen to the next chapter to find out.