Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Now it must be told that the Pilgrim attended the Tang Monk as they journeyed west. After traveling for several days, they found themselves in the cold of the twelfth month, with the north wind blowing bitterly and ice forming everywhere. They traversed rugged roads along sheer cliff faces and crossed perilous mountains of layered peaks and folded ridges. From atop his horse, Tripitaka heard in the distance the loud roaring of water and called back, "Wukong, where is that sound of water coming from?" The Pilgrim said, "I recall this place is called Coiled Serpent Mountain and Eagle-Grieving Stream. The sound must be coming from the stream." Before he had finished speaking, they reached the stream's edge, and Tripitaka reined in his horse to look. He saw:

A thread of cold current piercing through the passing clouds,

Clear ripples reflecting the crimson sun.

Its voice like night rain heard in deep valleys,

Its colors like morning radiance dazzling the vast sky.

A thousand-foot cascade spraying shattered jade,

A single deep pool roaring with the clear wind.

The waters flowed away into boundless misty waves,

Where gulls and herons forgot themselves and no fisherman was found.

As master and disciple stood watching, there came a great crash from the middle of the stream, and a dragon burst forth, churning waves and surging out of the cliffside, lunging straight for the elder monk. In his haste, the Pilgrim dropped his luggage, lifted the Master down from his horse, and fled. The dragon could not catch up, but it swallowed the white horse, saddle and all, in a single gulp, then submerged itself back beneath the waters. The Pilgrim set the Master down upon a high mound, then went to fetch the horse and carry the load, but found only the luggage—the horse had vanished. He brought the load before the Master and said, "Master, that wicked dragon has disappeared, but it has frightened away my horse." Tripitaka said, "Disciple, how shall we ever find the horse?" The Pilgrim said, "Don't worry, don't worry—let me go and look."

He gave a whistle and leaped into the air. With his fiery golden eyes, he shaded his gaze with his hand and looked in every direction, but nowhere could he see any trace of the horse. He descended from the clouds and reported, "Master, our horse has certainly been eaten by that dragon. I cannot see it anywhere." Tripitaka said, "Disciple, how big could that creature's mouth be, to swallow such a large horse, saddle and all? Perhaps it was startled and broke its reins, and wandered off into some mountain hollow. Look again more carefully." The Pilgrim said, "You don't know my abilities. With these eyes, I can see a thousand li in broad daylight and discern good fortune and ill. If a dragonfly spread its wings within a thousand li, I would see it—how could I fail to see a whole horse?" Tripitaka said, "Since it has been eaten, how can I go forward? Alas, how can I cross these thousand mountains and ten thousand waters?" As he spoke, his tears fell like rain. The Pilgrim saw him beginning to weep and could not restrain his temper. He shouted, "Master, don't be such a weakling! Sit there, sit there—let old Sun find that creature and make him return our horse." Tripitaka seized him and said, "Disciple, where will you go to find him? What if he leaps out from hiding and harms me as well? Then both man and horse would be lost—what would we do?" Hearing these words, the Pilgrim grew even more furious and roared like thunder, "You are utterly useless, utterly useless! You want to ride a horse, yet you won't let me go. If we go on like this, guarding the luggage and sitting here till we die, that will be the end of it!"

He was growling and shouting, his anger still unappeased, when a voice spoke from the sky, calling out, "Great Sage Sun, do not be angry! Brother of the Tang Emperor, do not weep! We are a company of deities sent by the Bodhisattva Guanyin, assigned to protect the scripture-seeker in secret." Upon hearing this, the elder monk hastily bowed in reverence. The Pilgrim said, "Who are you? Name yourselves so I can take roll." The deities said, "We are the Six Ding and Six Jia, the Five Directional Yaksas, the Four Duty Spirits, and the Eighteen Protective Sangharama Deities, each taking turns on watch." The Pilgrim said, "Who is on duty today?" The Yaksas said, "The Ding-Jia, Duty Spirits, and Sangharama Deities rotate in turn. We Five Directional Yaksas, with the Golden-Headed Yaksa, never leave your side day or night." The Pilgrim said, "Very well then. Those not on duty may withdraw. Leave the Six Ding Generals, the Duty Spirit of the day, and the Yaksas to guard my Master. Let old Sun go and find that wicked dragon in the stream and make him return our horse." The deities obeyed the order. Only then did Tripitaka set his mind at ease. He sat upon a rocky ledge and told the Pilgrim to be careful. The Pilgrim said, "Just rest easy." The fine Monkey King tightened his cotton robe, hitched up his tiger-skin skirt, gripped his iron staff, braced his spirit, and went straight to the stream. Half in cloud and half in mist, he stood above the water and shouted at the top of his lungs, "Muddy loach! Return my horse! Return my horse!"

Now it must be told that after the dragon had eaten Tripitaka's white horse, it had hidden itself at the bottom of the stream, nurturing its spirit and biding its time. When it heard someone shouting and demanding the horse, it could not suppress the fire in its heart. It leaped up in a surge of waves and broke the surface, crying, "Who is this, daring to insult me here?" The Pilgrim saw him and bellowed, "Don't run! Return my horse!" He swung his staff and struck at the dragon's head. The dragon bared its fangs and claws to seize him. The two of them fought a fierce battle by the stream, and indeed they were evenly matched. Observe:

The dragon stretched its sharp claws; the monkey raised the golden-banded staff.

One had whiskers hanging like white jade threads; the other's eyes flashed like crimson-gold lamps.

One's whiskers sent forth bright mist from its pearl-like glands; the other's staff whirled with wild wind in its hand.

One was the wayward son who had wronged his father; the other was a demon spirit who had defied the heavenly generals.

Both had suffered hardship and tribulation, and now each strove to prove his power.

Back and forth they fought for a long while, circling and grappling, until the dragon's strength failed and its sinews went limp. It could no longer resist. It turned and plunged back into the water, sinking deep to the bottom of the stream and never showing its head again. The Monkey King cursed and reviled without cease, but the dragon simply pretended to be deaf.

Finding no alternative, Pilgrim returned to report to Tripitaka. "Master, that monster came out after I cursed him. He fought me for quite a while, but then lost his nerve and fled. He's hiding in the water now and won't come out again."

Tripitaka said, "But is it really true that he ate my horse?"

Pilgrim said, "Listen to what you're saying! If he hadn't eaten it, would he have come out to answer me and match himself against old Monkey?"

Tripitaka said, "When you killed that tiger the other day, you claimed you had the power to subdue dragons and tigers. Why can't you subdue this one now?"

Now the Monkey King could not bear to be pressed by anyone. When Tripitaka flung this taunt at him, he summoned up his divine might and said, "Say no more, say no more! Let me have another go at him!"

The Monkey King strode forward, leaped to the edge of the gorge, and unleashed his magic power to overturn rivers and stir up seas. The Eagle-Grief Steep Gorge, whose waters had been crystal clear, was churned into waves resembling those of the Yellow River's Nine Bends in full flood. The wicked dragon, sitting in the deep gorge, could find no peace. He thought to himself, "This is a case of fortune never coming twice and misfortune never traveling alone. I had barely escaped the death penalty under Heaven's laws, and before a year has passed, living here as best I could, I run into this fiend who wants to harm me." The more he thought, the angrier he became. Unable to swallow the insult, he gritted his teeth and leaped out, shouting, "Where do you come from, you fiend? How dare you bully me like this?"

Pilgrim said, "Never mind where I come from. Just return my horse and I'll spare your life."

The dragon said, "Your horse is inside my belly. How can I spit it out? And if I don't, what will you do about it?"

Pilgrim said, "If you don't return the horse, look at this staff! I'll beat you to death, and that will settle the account for my horse."

The two of them then fought bitterly again at the foot of the cliff. After only a few rounds, the young dragon found he truly could not withstand the assault. He shook his body and transformed into a water snake, then slipped into the grass.

The Monkey King seized his staff and rushed forward, parting the grass to search for the snake, but there was not the slightest trace of it. In his fury his three corpse spirits leapt and smoke poured from his seven orifices. He intoned the syllable "Om" and summoned the local tutelary god and the mountain deity of that place. They came at once and knelt before him. "Mountain God and Tutelary God, come to see me," said Pilgrim.

Pilgrim said, "Stretch out your shins and let me give you five strokes each, to cheer me up a bit."

The two gods kowtowed and pleaded piteously, "We beg the Great Sage to be merciful and allow us to explain."

Pilgrim said, "What is it?"

The two gods said, "The Great Sage has been imprisoned for a long time. We did not know when you were released, so we failed to welcome you. We beg you to forgive us."

Pilgrim said, "Very well, I won't hit you then. Let me ask you: where did that dragon monster in Eagle-Grief Gorge come from? How did he seize and eat my master's white horse?"

The two gods said, "The Great Sage never had a teacher before. You are a Primordial Supreme True One who defies both Heaven and Earth. How could you have a teacher with a horse?"

Pilgrim said, "You don't know about this either. I was punished for my rebellion and suffered five hundred years of hardship. Now Guanyin, the Goddess of Mercy, persuaded me to do good, and a true monk from the Tang Emperor's court rescued me. He told me to become his disciple and travel west to worship Buddha and seek scriptures. When we passed through this place, we lost my master's white horse."

The two gods said, "So that's how it is. This gorge has never harbored evil before. It is only that the water is deep, steep, and wide, so crystal clear that even crows and magpies dare not fly over it—for the water reflects their own shadows, which they mistake for fellow birds, and they often plunge into the water. That is why it is called 'Eagle-Grief Steep Gorge.' Some years ago, the Goddess of Mercy, while searching for someone to fetch the scriptures, rescued a jade dragon and sent him here. She told him to wait for the scripture-seeker and not to do wrong. When he was hungry, he would come ashore to catch birds or deer to eat. I don't know how he could be so ignorant as to offend the Great Sage today."

Pilgrim said, "The first time, he even shook hands with old Monkey and sparred a few rounds. The second time, after I cursed and called him, he wouldn't come out. So I used my river-overturning, sea-stirring trick and churned up his gorge water. Then he rushed up and wanted to keep fighting. He didn't know how heavy my staff was—he couldn't fend it off, so he transformed into a water snake and hid in the grass. I came looking for him, but there's no trace."

The Tutelary God said, "The Great Sage doesn't know. This gorge has thousands of holes connected to one another, which is why the waters run so deep and far. He must have found a hole here and slipped down through it. There's no need for the Great Sage to lose his temper and search here. To catch this creature, you need only invite the Goddess of Mercy to come, and he will naturally submit."

When Pilgrim heard this, he summoned the Mountain God and the Tutelary God to accompany him to see Tripitaka and told him everything that had happened. Tripitaka said, "If we have to go invite the Goddess, how long will it take her to return? How can this poor monk endure hunger and cold?" Before he could finish speaking, a golden-headed kinnara in the dark sky called out, "Great Sage, you need not stir yourself. This humble deity will go invite the Goddess of Mercy."

Pilgrim was overjoyed. "Much obliged, much obliged! Go quickly, go quickly!" The kinnara swiftly mounted a cloud and headed straight for the Southern Sea. Pilgrim instructed the Mountain God and the Tutelary God to guard the Master, and the daily-worth steward god to search for food offerings. He himself went back to patrol the gorge—but of this, no more.

Now the Golden-Headed Khadir had ridden his clouds and arrived early at the Southern Sea. Following the auspicious light, he went straight to the Purple Bamboo Grove on Mount Luotuo, where he asked the Golden-apped Devas and the attendants Muzha and Hui'an to convey his message, and thus obtained an audience with the Bodhisattva. The Bodhisattva said, "Why have you come?"

Khadir said, "The Tang Monk lost his horse at Serpent-Coiling Mountain in the Eagle's-Grief Steep Ravine, and the Great Sage Sun is in a terrible quandary. When he asked the local earth god, he was told that the wicked dragon you placed in the ravine swallowed it. The Great Sage sent this minor deity to beg you to subdue this wicked dragon and return the horse."

When the Bodhisattva heard this, she said, "This creature is the son of Ao Run of the Western Sea. He was accused of unfilial conduct by his father for setting fire to the pearl on the palace hall, and he was sentenced to death in the Heavenly Court. I personally appeared before the Jade Emperor and begged for his release, then assigned him to serve as a mount for the Tang Monk. How dare he go and eat the Tang Monk's horse? Very well, then—I shall go myself."

The Bodhisattva descended from her lotus throne, left her immortal cave directly, and rode the auspicious light with Khadir across the Southern Sea. There is a poem as testimony, which says:

The Buddha spoke the Prajñāpāramitā in three canons of scripture,

The Bodhisattva spread goodness throughout the great land.

The Mahā wondrous words penetrated heaven and earth,

The Prajñā true sayings saved the spirits of the dead.

Thus causing the Golden Cicada to shed his shell once more,

And enabling Xuanzang to cultivate again.

Only because the road was blocked at Eagle's-Grief Ravine,

Did the dragon-prince return to truth and transform into horse-form.

The Bodhisattva and Khadir arrived at Serpent-Coiling Mountain before long. They halted their auspicious clouds in midair and looked down, seeing Sun Xingzhe shouting and cursing by the ravine. The Bodhisattva told Khadir to call him over. Khadir descended on his clouds, bypassing the Tripitaka entirely, and went straight to the ravine's edge. He said to Xingzhe, "The Bodhisattva is here."

Xingzhe heard this and hastily leaped into the clouds, shouting at her, "You, the Teacher of the Seven Buddhas, the Merciful One—how could you devise a way to harm me?"

The Bodhisattva said, "You insolent horse-monkey, you foolish red-buttocked ape! I went to great lengths to find a scripture-seeker for you, and I specifically told him to save your life. Why haven't you come to thank me for the grace of preserving your life, instead of coming here to quarrel with me?"

Xingzhe said, "You've put me in a fine fix! Since you released me, you should have let me roam free and enjoy myself. The other day you met me at sea, said a few harsh words, and told me to serve the Tang Monk with all my heart and strength—fine, I accepted that. But then why did you give him that flowered cap to trick me into wearing it and suffering? You put this band on old Sun's head and taught him to recite some 'Tightening-Crown Incantation,' and that old monk has recited it over and over, making my head ache again and again. Isn't this you harming me?"

The Bodhisattva laughed and said, "You monkey! You refuse to follow instructions and won't accept the proper reward. If I hadn't restrained you this way, you'd go back to deceiving those above and bullying those below—how would you know good from bad? If you caused another disaster like before, who would take responsibility for you? It was necessary to subdue this demonic head of yours before you'd be willing to enter the gate of my Yoga teachings."

Xingzhe said, "Very well, consider this matter my demonic affliction. But why did you also send that guilty dragon here to become a demon and let him eat my master's horse? This is another case of letting wicked people do evil—most unkind!"

The Bodhisattva said, "That dragon—I personally petitioned the Jade Emperor to assign him here, specifically to serve as a mount for the scripture-seeker. Think about it: how could an ordinary horse from the Eastern Lands endure ten thousand rivers and a thousand mountains? How could it reach the Vulture Peak, the Buddha's holy land? It was necessary to have this dragon-horse to make the journey."

Xingzhe said, "But since he's so terrified of old Sun and hides away, what can be done?"

The Bodhisattva called to Khadir, "Go to the edge of the ravine and call out: 'Third Prince Jade Dragon, son of Dragon King Ao Run—come forth, the Bodhisattva of the Southern Sea is here.' He will come out."

Khadir indeed went to the ravine's edge and called twice. The little dragon churned the waves, leaped out of the water, transformed into human form, stepped onto a cloud, and bowed to the Bodhisattva in midair. He said, "I have long been grateful to the Bodhisattva for the grace of saving my life. I have been waiting here for a long time, but I have heard no news of the scripture-seeker."

The Bodhisattva pointed at Xingzhe and said, "Is this not the scripture-seeker's senior disciple?"

The little dragon saw him and said, "Bodhisattva, this is my adversary. Yesterday I was hungry in my belly, and indeed I ate his horse. He relied on his strength and fought me until I was exhausted and retreated. He cursed me so fiercely that I dared not come out of my gate. He never once mentioned the word 'scripture-seeking.'"

Xingzhe said, "You never asked me who I was or where I came from—how was I supposed to tell you?"

The little dragon said, "I never asked where this demon came from. You shouted, 'Never mind where from or where not—just give me my horse back!' You never uttered a single word of 'Tang.'"

The Bodhisattva said, "That monkey relies solely on his own strength and would never praise anyone. On this journey ahead, there will still be those who submit. When you ask, first mention the word 'scripture-seeking,' and without any further effort, they will naturally yield."

The Sage happily accepted her instructions. The Bodhisattva stepped forward, removed the pearl from beneath the young dragon's chin, dipped her willow branch in sweet dew, and flicked it across his body. Then she breathed an immortal breath upon him and cried, "Change!" The dragon immediately transformed into a horse, identical in coat to the one they had lost. She then gave him these words: "You must devote yourself to clearing your karmic debts. When the task is accomplished, you shall transcend the ordinary dragons and be rewarded with a golden body and true enlightenment." The little dragon, his mouth biting the crossbeam of obedience, accepted her words wholeheartedly. The Bodhisattva told Wukong to lead him to Tripitaka. "I shall return to my sea."

Wukong seized the Bodhisattva and would not let go. "I'm not going. I'm not going. The road to the West is so treacherous—how long will it take to protect this ordinary monk? With all these trials and tribulations, even my own life is in doubt. How can I achieve any merit? I'm not going, I'm not going."

The Bodhisattva said, "When you had not yet attained human form, you were willing to devote yourself wholeheartedly to cultivation and enlightenment. Now that you have escaped the heavenly calamity, how can you have become lazy? In our school, stillness leads to true realization, and one must have the right faith to achieve true merit. If you come to a place where your body suffers and your spirit is tested, I grant that when you call to Heaven, Heaven will answer; when you call to Earth, Earth will respond. And if you reach a point where you truly cannot extricate yourself, I will come personally to save you. Come here—I will bestow upon you one more ability."

The Bodhisattva plucked three willow leaves and placed them behind Wukong's head. She cried, "Change!" and they instantly transformed into three life-saving hairs. She instructed him: "When you reach a moment of utter helplessness and no one to turn to, you can adapt to the situation as needed and save yourself from dire calamity."

Only after hearing all these words of grace did Wukong thank the great compassionate Bodhisattva. The Bodhisattva departed for Putuo, surrounded by fragrant breeze and swirling colored mist.

Only then did Wukong descend from the clouds, seize the dragon-horse by the mane, and come before Tripitaka. "Master, we have a horse!" Tripitaka was overjoyed at the sight. "Disciple, why does this horse look even stouter than the last one? Where did you find him?" Wukong said, "Master, are you still dreaming? It was the Golden-Headed Jiedi who invited the Bodhisattva here. She transformed the dragon from the stream into our white horse—the coat is the same, but it lacks a saddle and bridle. I had to drag it here myself."

Tripitaka was greatly alarmed. "Where is the Bodhisattva? Let me go and bow in thanks." Wukong said, "The Bodhisattva has already reached the South Sea and has no patience for ceremony." Tripitaka thereupon gathered earth, lit incense, and bowed toward the south. After he had finished, he rose and set out with Wukong. Wukong drove away the Mountain God and the local Earth Spirit, gave instructions to Jiedi and the guardian deities, and then asked his master to mount. Tripitaka said, "How can I ride a horse with no saddle or bridle? Let us find a boat to cross the stream first and deal with the matter afterward."

Wukong said, "This Master has no sense of what's practical! In this vast wilderness, where would a boat come from? This horse has lived here long enough to know the currents—let us ride him across as though he were a boat."

With no alternative, Tripitaka had no choice but to obey. He mounted the bare-backed horse. Wukong shouldered the luggage. They reached the edge of the stream, where they saw an old fisherman upstream, poling a raft of dead wood downstream. Wukong beckoned to him with his hand. "Old fisherman, come here, come here. I am from the Eastern Land on a scripture pilgrimage. My master has arrived and cannot cross—come and ferry him over."

Upon hearing this, the fisherman quickly poled his raft to shore. Wukong asked his master to dismount and helped him on either side. Tripitaka boarded the raft, pulled the horse aboard, and secured the luggage. The old fisherman pushed off, and swift as wind and arrow, they soon crossed the Eagle's Sorrow Steep Stream and reached the western bank.

Tripitask told Wukong to open the pack and bring out a few coins of the Great Tang to give to the fisherman. The fisherman pushed his raft away with a single stroke of his pole. "No money, no money," he said, and drifted off into the vast, misty middle of the stream. Tripitaka was most uneasy and kept pressing his palms together in gratitude. Wukong said, "Master, stop worrying about him. Don't you recognize him? He is the water spirit of this stream. He failed to come and receive me—I ought to beat him for it! The fact that I've spared him a beating is already enough for him—how would he dare accept money!"

The Master was half-convinced, half-doubtful. He mounted the bare-backed horse once more and followed Wukong as they set out on the main road heading west. And indeed:

The vast truth reaches the farther shore,

The sincere heart ascends the Spirit Mountain.

Together master and disciple advanced, and before they knew it, the red sun sank in the west and the light of day grew dim. They saw only:

Wild clouds drifting in confusion, the mountain moon shrouded in haze.

Frosty hues spread cold across the sky; winds pierced the body on all four sides.

A lone bird departed over the vast gray islets; where the setting glow was bright, distant mountains lay low.

A thousand trees in the sparse forest howled; a single gibbon cried on the empty ridge.

On the long road no trace of travelers; a boat returning home at night across ten thousand miles.

From horseback, Tripitaka gazed into the distance and suddenly saw a manor beside the road. Tripitaka said, "Wukong, there is a household ahead where we can ask for lodging and continue tomorrow morning." Wukong looked up and said, "Master, that is not a household." Tripitaka said, "Why not?" Wukong said, "A household would not have roof ridges carved with flying fish and crouching beasts. This is certainly a temple or nunnery."

The master and his disciple had reached the gate while still in conversation. Tripitaka dismounted and saw three large characters above the gate: "Li-She Temple." He entered. Inside was an old man wearing a string of prayer beads, who came forward with palms pressed together and called out, "Teacher, please sit down." Tripitaka quickly returned the bow and went up to the hall to pay his respects to the holy image. The old man then called for a boy to serve tea. After tea, Tripitaka asked, "Why is this temple called 'Li-She'?"

The old man replied, "This is the border of the Western territory of the Kingdom of Habi. Behind the temple is a village whose households, moved by devout hearts, jointly established this temple. 'Li' means a neighborhood; 'she' means a local earth god. On the occasions of spring plowing, summer weeding, autumn harvesting, and winter storing, they each prepare offerings of the three sacrificial animals and fruits and flowers to worship here, praying for peace and safety in all four seasons, abundant harvests of the five grains, and thriving livestock."

On hearing this, Tripitaka nodded and praised him. "Truly, 'three miles from home, and the customs are different.' In my homeland, people are not so virtuous."

The old man asked, "Where is your native place, Teacher?"

Tripitaka said, "This poor monk is from the Great Tang Kingdom in the East, sent by imperial decree to worship the Buddha and seek scriptures in the West. Passing by your noble place and finding the evening drawing near, I have come to your holy temple to ask for lodging for one night. I will leave at first light."

The old man was greatly pleased and said several times, "Forgive my lack of welcome," then called the boy to prepare a meal. Tripitaka ate, and thanked him.

Wukong had sharp eyes. He noticed a clothesline under the eaves of the room, went over, snapped it in two, and tied the horse's legs with it. The old man laughed and said, "Where did you steal that horse?"

Wukong flared up: "You old man, you don't know what you're saying! We are holy monks who worship the Buddha. Would we steal a horse?"

The old man laughed and said, "If it wasn't stolen, why does it have no saddle, bridle, or reins, and why did you have to break my clothesline?"

Tripitaka apologized: "This mischievous fellow is simply too impatient. — If you wanted to tie the horse, you should have politely asked the old gentleman for a rope. Why break his clothesline? — Sir, please forgive us, please forgive us. As for this horse, to tell you honestly, it was not stolen. Coming from the east yesterday, we reached the Eagle's Sorrow Ravine, where I originally had a white horse to ride, fully equipped with saddle and bridle. Unexpectedly, a wicked dragon in that ravine had become a spirit and swallowed my horse, saddle and bridle, in one gulp. Fortunately, my disciple has some ability, and the Bodhisattva Guanyin was moved to come to the ravine and capture the dragon. She ordered him to transform into the white horse I originally rode, identical in every hair, to carry me west to worship the Buddha. We have not yet been a day past the ravine, and we have arrived at your holy temple. I simply have not had time to acquire a saddle and bridle."

The old man said, "Forgive me, Teacher. I was only joking, but I didn't expect your esteemed disciple to take it so seriously. In my youth I had a few coins and liked to ride a fine horse. But through years of misfortune and loss by fire, I came to ruin and ended up as a temple keeper, attending to the incense. Fortunately, the patron families in the village behind provide for me. I do still have a set of saddle and bridle, which have always been my treasured possessions. Even in such poverty, I could not bear to sell them. Just now I heard you say that even the Bodhisattva protected a divine dragon and had him transform into a horse to carry you. I, an old man, should certainly be able to offer some small help. Tomorrow I will bring the saddle and bridle and present them to you, Teacher, to equip your horse and send you on your way. I humbly ask you to accept them with a smile."

On hearing this, Tripitaka thanked him profusely. Soon the boy brought out the evening meal. After the meal, lamps were lit, beds were arranged, and each retired for the night.

Early the next morning, Wukong got up and said, "Master, that temple keeper promised us a saddle and bridle last night. Demand it from him — don't let him off."

Before he had finished speaking, the old man appeared carrying a complete set of saddle and bridle, saddle pads, and reins — everything needed for a horse — and placed them in the corridor, saying, "Teacher, the saddle and bridle are respectfully presented."

Tripitaka was delighted and accepted them. He told Wukong to take them and put them on the horse to see if they fit. Wukong went forward and examined each piece one by one. They were indeed fine items. A poem testifies to this:

The carved saddle gleams, studded with silver stars;

The precious stirrups shine, golden threads aglow.

The saddle pads are layered, folded fleece piled high;

The reins are three-purple silk cords braided tight.

The headstall is studded, clustered flowers resplendent;

The cloud-shaped flaps are traced with gold, dancing beasts adorning.

The bit is forged from tempered iron;

The two tassels are knotted dripping with horsehair.

Wukong was secretly pleased. He put the saddle and bridle on the horse, and it fit as though it had been made to measure. Tripitaka bowed and thanked the old man, who hastily helped him up, saying, "I am unworthy, I am unworthy. There is no need for thanks."

The old man urged Tripitaka to mount. The elder came out, climbed into the saddle, and mounted. Wukong shouldered the luggage. The old man then drew a whip from his sleeve — a handle of fragrant rattan an inch thick, plaited with tiger-sinew for the tip — and presented it with clasped hands at the roadside. "Holy monk, I still have a riding whip. Let me give it to you as well."

Tripitaka received it from horseback, saying, "I am most grateful for your generosity, most grateful."

Just as he was making his inquiry, the old man had already vanished. When they looked back at the village shrine, it was nothing but bare ground. Then a voice spoke from midair: "Holy monk, I have been remiss in my courtesy. I am the mountain god and the earth god of Luojia Mountain, sent by the Bodhisattva to deliver the saddle and bridle to you. Press onward with diligence to the west, and do not slacken for a moment." The terrified Tripitaka slid down from his saddle and bowed toward the sky: "This disciple is but a mortal of fleshly eyes and cannot recognize Your Honor's divine face. I beg your forgiveness. Please convey my thanks to the Bodhisattva for her boundless kindness and protection." And there he was, prostrating himself to the heavens without counting how many times. By the roadside, the Great Sage Equal to Heaven was doubled over in laughter, and the Handsome Monkey King was beside himself with glee. He came forward and tugged at Tang Seng's sleeve: "Master, get up. He's already far off—he can't hear your prayers or see your bowing. What's the point of carrying on like that?" The elder said, "Disciple, while I am bowing like this, you don't bow a single bow yourself—you just stand there grinning. What kind of reasoning is that?" The Pilgrim said: "You don't understand. A fellow who hides his head and shows his tail like that deserves a good thrashing. Out of respect for the Bodhisattva, I let him off and spared him the beating—that's already more than generous. And he dares to accept a bow from old Sun? I've been a hero since I was young and never learned to bow to anyone. Even when I meet the Jade Emperor or the Supreme Lord Lao Zi, I simply give a 'yo' and that's the end of it." Tripitaka said: "Don't talk such wicked nonsense. Get up quickly, and don't delay our journey." Only then did the master rise, gathered his things, and they set off westward.

From this point they traveled for two months on peaceful roads, encountering only Luoluo tribesmen, Huihui tribesmen, wolves, tigers, and leopards. Time flew swiftly, and soon it was early spring. The mountain forests were draped in brocade green, and the grass and trees were putting forth new buds; the plum blossoms had all fallen, and the willows were just opening their eyes. As the master and his disciples enjoyed the spring scenery, they saw the sun sinking in the west. Tripitaka reined in his horse and gazed into the distance—there in the mountain hollow were the faint outlines of towers and the dim shapes of halls. Tripitaka said: "Wukong, what do you think that place is?" The Pilgrim raised his head and looked: "If it's not a palace, it must be a monastery. Let's hurry along and find lodging there." Tripitaka gladly agreed, gave his dragon-horse free rein, and they made straight for the place.

What exactly this place turned out to be, you will hear told in the next chapter.