Chapter 32

Chapter 32

Tang Seng had recovered his disciple Sun Wukong, and master and disciples now shared one heart and mind, pressing on together toward the West. After rescuing the princess of the Kingdom of Precious Elephant, they had been escorted out of the city by the ruler and his ministers. They endured hunger and thirst along the road, lodging at night and traveling by day. It was now the season of late spring, and at that time:

Soft breezes brushed the willows, green as silk;

The splendid scenery was most worthy of a verse.

The season urged on the birdsong, warmth coaxed the flowers to bloom, and fragrance spread across the land. Twin swallows came to the courtyard of begonia trees—truly it was the season to enjoy spring. Amid the red dust of the roads and purple lanes, silken robes and stringed flutes, grass-guessing games and passing of cups.

As master and disciples were traveling and enjoying the scenery, they saw yet another mountain blocking their path. Tang Seng said, "Disciples, be careful. Ahead we meet a high mountain—I fear tigers and wolves may bar our way." Wukong said, "Master, a monk should not speak like a layman. Do you not remember what the monk Wuchao taught us in the Heart Sutra: 'When the mind has no hindrances, there is no fear, and one is far from deluded dreams'? But the truth is this: 'Sweep away the filth of the mind, wash clean the dust of the ears. One who cannot endure suffering among sufferers can hardly be a person above others.' Do not give way to worry. As old Sun is here, even if the sky were to collapse, I can guarantee nothing will happen. Why fear tigers and wolves?" The Elder reined in his horse and said:

"In years past I left Chang'an bearing an imperial decree,

My only thought to journey west and pay homage to the Buddha's face.

In the Land of Sarira, golden images gleam with color;

In the pagoda towers, jade-white tufts shine with radiance.

I have searched to the ends of the world for nameless waters,

I have traversed every mountain under heaven.

Wave upon wave of misty billows I have crossed—

When shall this body know peace?"

When Wukong heard this, he laughed cheerfully and said, "If the Master wishes for peace, what difficulty is there? Once merit is accomplished, all worldly ties will cease and all dharmas will be empty. At that time, naturally and of itself, will you not know peace?" Hearing these words, the Elder could only let joy drive away his worries. He loosened the reins and urged on Silver Mane, tightened the bit and hastened the Jade Dragon.

Master and disciples ascended the mountain, which was exceedingly perilous and truly towering. A fine mountain indeed:

Lofty, rugged ridges; sheer, knife-sharp peaks.

Winding around, deep ravines below; solitary, steep cliffs at the edge.

In the winding deep ravines below, one could only hear the splashing of pythons turning over in the water; on the solitary steep cliffs at the edge, one could see the jagged tails of tigers emerging from the forest. Looking upward, the mountain summits pierced abruptly into the blue sky; glancing back, the chasms below plunged deep, bordering on the azure vault of heaven. Going up was like climbing ladders and steps; going down was like crossing trenches and pits. Truly it was a strange and towering peak ridge, indeed a sheer and knife-cut cliff wall. On the towering peak ridge, herb-gatherers hesitated to walk; before the sheer cliff wall, woodcutters could scarcely take a step. Wild sheep and wild horses darted about in confusion; cunning rabbits and mountain cattle were arrayed like soldiers. The mountain's height blotted out the sun and hid the stars; one might encounter demonic beasts and gray wolves at any time. The grassy paths were tangled and confused, hard for horses to traverse—how could one reach Thunder Sound to see the Buddha King?

The Elder reined in his horse to gaze upon the mountain, and just where the path was most difficult, he saw a woodcutter standing on a green slope of sedge. Now observe how he was dressed:

On his head he wore an old blue felt hat; on his body he wore a black patched robe of rough cloth. The old blue felt hat, shielding from smoke and covering from the sun, was truly remarkable; the black patched robe, bringing joy that made one forget sorrow, was rarely seen. In his hand he held a bright-honed steel axe; he had cut dry firewood and bound it tightly. At his eaves, the colors of spring; in quietude, the four seasons were warm and harmonious. Beyond his person, a leisurely spirit; always the three stars shone calm and serene. In old age he simply followed his lot in life—what honor or disgrace could concern him for long?

The woodcutter:

Was cutting dead wood on the slope

When suddenly he met the Elder coming from the east.

He stopped his axe and left the forest,

Hastening up the stone cliff.

He called out in a loud, stern voice to the Elder: "O Elder traveling west, pause a moment, for I have a word to tell you: in this mountain there is a band of venomous fiends and fierce monsters who specialize in devouring people who travel east and west!" When the Elder heard this, his soul fled and his spirit scattered. Trembling, he could not sit steady in his carved saddle. He turned his head quickly and called urgently to his disciples: "Did you hear that woodcutter report: 'This mountain has venomous fiends and fierce monsters'? Who dares go and question him further?" Wukong said, "Master, rest assured. Let old Sun go and get to the bottom of this."

The fine Wukong strode up the mountain and called out "Elder Brother" to the woodcutter, making a greeting. The woodcutter returned the greeting and said, "Elder, what business brings you here?" Wukong said, "To be frank with you, Elder Brother, we have been sent from the East to the West to obtain the scriptures. That on the horse is my Master, and he is somewhat timid. Just now you kindly informed us that there are venomous fiends and fierce monsters. So I have come to ask: how many years has this fiend been a fiend, and how many years has that monster been a monster? Are they seasoned veterans or mere novices? Please tell me plainly, Elder Brother, so that I can have the Mountain God and the Local Deity escort them away." When the woodcutter heard this, he threw his head back and laughed loudly to the sky. "So you are a crazy monk!" Wukong said, "I am not crazy. These are honest words." The woodcutter said, "If you call this honest, how dare you say you will have them escorted away?" Wukong said, "You speak as if to swell their reputation, babbling nonsense to block the road and give warning—are you perhaps related to them? If not related, then surely neighbors; if not neighbors, then surely friends." The woodcutter laughed and said, "You crazy, impudent monk, you have no sense of reason. I meant well, coming specially to inform you so that you would be on guard as you travel. Yet you turn around and blame me. Even if I did not know where these fiends come from—and suppose I did—how would you have them escorted away? Where would you escort them?" Wukong said, "If they are heavenly fiends, I would escort them to the Jade Emperor; if earthly fiends, to the Earth Bureau. Those from the West I would deliver to the Buddha; those from the East to the Sage; those from the North to the True Warrior; those from the South to the Fire Virtue. Water dragons I would deliver to the Sea Lord; ghosts and specters to King Yama. Each has its proper jurisdiction. Old Sun knows people everywhere. I would issue a warrant and have them escorted away in a rush through the night."

The woodcutter could not stop himself from laughing coldly and saying, "You mad monk, I suppose you've been wandering about in the world, learning some spells and magic arts—enough to drive off evil spirits and bind ghosts, but you've never run into a monster as vicious as this one!"

The Pilgrim said, "How is he vicious?"

The woodcutter said, "This mountain stretches for some six hundred li in all; it's called Flat-Top Mountain. On the mountain there's a cave called the Lotus Cave. Inside the cave are two demon chiefs. They've drawn an image of you and are looking for monks; they've copied down names and are searching for persons, wanting to eat the Tang monk. If you'd come from somewhere else it would still be all right, but if you've got the word 'Tang' in your name, don't even think of getting through—you won't make it."

The Pilgrim said, "We are indeed from the Tang dynasty."

The woodcutter said, "Then he wants to eat you!"

The Pilgrim said, "Good fortune, good fortune! But I don't know how he plans to eat us."

The woodcutter said, "How does he plan to eat you?"

The Pilgrim said, "If he eats the head first, that would be all right for some fun. If he eats the feet first, that would be hard to bear."

The woodcutter said, "What do you mean by eating the head first? What do you mean by eating the feet first?"

The Pilgrim said, "You've never experienced it. If he eats the head first, he'll bite it off in one mouthful, and I'll already be dead—no matter how he fries, stir-fries, boils, or stews me, I won't feel any pain. If he eats the feet first, he'll gnaw the ankles, chew the shins, and eat all the way up to the waistbone—and I still won't die right away. Wouldn't that mean suffering piece by piece? That's why it's hard to bear."

The woodcutter said, "Monk, he doesn't have all that much time. He'll just grab you, tie you up in a cage, and steam you whole."

The Pilgrim laughed and said, "That's even better, even better! The pain won't be unbearable—I'll just suffer a bit of stuffy air, that's all."

The woodcutter said, "Monk, stop talking nonsense. That monster has five precious treasures on his person, and his magic powers are tremendous and vast. Even a pillar that holds up the sky or a golden beam that spans the sea couldn't guarantee getting the Tang monk through. You'd have to be a bit crazy to try."

The Pilgrim said, "How many fits of craziness?"

The woodcutter said, "Three or four fits."

The Pilgrim said, "No problem, no problem. We have seven or eight hundred fits a year. Three or four fits are easy to manage—we'll just have a few and get through."

The Great Sage, showing no fear whatsoever, was single-mindedly determined to protect Tripitaka. He shook off the woodcutter, strode back, and went straight to the horse on the hillside. "Master," he said, "there's nothing to worry about. There may be a demon or two, but the people here are timid and let it weigh on their minds. I'm here—what is there to fear? Let's go, let's go."

The Elder, hearing this, had no choice but to set his mind at ease and follow along. As they proceeded, the woodcutter suddenly disappeared.

The Elder said, "How did that woodcutter who brought the warning just vanish?"

Eight Rules said, "We must have bad luck—we ran into a daytime ghost."

The Pilgrim said, "He probably darted into the woods to gather firewood. Let me take a look."

The Great Sage opened his fiery eyes and gazed across the mountains and ridges, but there could find no trace. Suddenly he looked up into the clouds and saw the Duty Spirit of the Day. He leaped into the clouds and caught up with him, cursing him as a "hairy ghost." "Why didn't you come and tell me straight?" he said. "Instead you transformed yourself and put on an act to fool old Monkey!"

The Duty Spirit, thoroughly alarmed, bowed and said, "Great Sage, forgive me for bringing the news late, forgive me. That monster truly has tremendous magic powers and can transform himself in countless ways. It all depends on your cleverness and your divine resourcefulness to protect your master carefully. If you slacken even a little, you'll never reach the road to the West."

Hearing these words, the Pilgrim drove the Duty Spirit away. He kept the warning firmly in mind, brought his cloud down, and came straight back to the mountain. He saw only the Elder, Eight Rules, and Sha Monk pressing forward together. He thought to himself, "If I tell my master what the Duty Spirit said, he's so useless that he'll certainly start crying. But if I don't tell him the truth and just lead him along blindly, as the saying goes, 'When you first enter the reeds, you don't know how deep or shallow it is.' If he gets snatched by some demon, won't that mean more trouble for old Monkey? Let me keep an eye on Eight Rules first and send him out to fight the monster. If he can beat him, I'll credit him with a merit. If he's no match and the monster captures him, I can always go rescue him later—and that will give me a chance to show off my skills and make a name for myself." As he was calculating all this, debating with himself, he thought, "I'm only afraid that Eight Rules will shirk and refuse to go out, and the Master will be a bit partial to him. Let me put some pressure on him."

Great Sage! Watch him now—he put on a false show, rubbed his eyes a bit, and rubbed out some tears. Then he walked straight toward his master. Pigsy saw him and immediately called out: "Sandy, put down the pack! Let's divide our luggage between the two of us." Sandy said, "Second Brother, divide what?" Pigsy said, "Let's divide it! You go back to the Flowing Sands River and be a monster again. Old Pig will go back to Old Gao Village and visit his wife. We'll sell the white horse, buy a coffin, and bury our master for his old age. Everyone go their separate ways—who's still going to the Western Heaven?" The Elder, hearing this from horseback, said: "You blockhead! We're right in the middle of the road, and you start babbling nonsense again?" Pigsy said: "Your son is the one babbling! Don't you see Brother Gongsun crying over there? He's a hero who can pierce the sky and burrow into the earth, who fears no axe or fire, who isn't even afraid of being lowered into a boiling oil cauldron! Now he's wearing a sorrowful face and coming toward us in tears. It must be that the mountain is treacherous and the monsters are ferocious. People as soft and weak as us—how could we ever get through?" The Elder said: "Stop your nonsense. Let me ask him what's going on." He asked: "Wukong, if you have something to say, discuss it openly. Why are you making yourself miserable? With that tearful face, are you trying to frighten me?" The Pilgrim said: "Master, the one who just brought the message was the Duty Day Spirit. He said the monster is ferocious and this place is hard to pass. And indeed the mountain is high and the road is steep—we cannot advance. Let's try again another day." When the Elder heard this, he trembled with fear and grabbed hold of Wukong's tiger-skin skirt: "Disciple, we've already traveled three parts of our journey in two parts. Why do you speak of turning back?" The Pilgrim said: "It's not that I'm not giving my all, but I fear there are too many demons and not enough strength—that we're isolated and alone. 'Even a lump of iron put in a furnace can only produce so many nails.'" The Elder said: "Disciple, you have a point. Indeed, one person alone would find it difficult. The military classics say: 'The few cannot overcome the many.' I still have Pigsy and Sandy here—they are also your disciples. Use them as you see fit, whether as guards or helpers. If we work together with one heart to clear the mountain path and lead me across, won't we all still achieve the Great Enlightenment?"

All this affected posturing by the Pilgrim was simply to draw these very words out of the Elder. He wiped away his tears and said: "Master, if we are to cross this mountain, Pigsy must agree to two things I ask of him—only then will we have a three-in-ten chance of getting through. If he doesn't agree to my words and can't substitute for my hands, then don't even think of making it halfway." Pigsy said: "Brother, if we're not going, then let's all split up. Don't drag me into this." The Elder said: "Disciple, go ask your brother what he wants you to do." The idiot then said to the Pilgrim: "Brother, what do you want me to do?" The Pilgrim said: "The first thing is to look after our Master. The second thing is to scout the mountain." Pigsy said: "Looking after Master means sitting still. Scouting the mountain means walking. You're not telling me to sit for a while and then walk, walk for a while and then sit? How can I manage both at once?" The Pilgrim said: "I'm not telling you to do both at the same time. Just take one of them." Pigsy laughed again: "Well, that's more reasonable. But how exactly do I look after Master, and how do I scout the mountain? Explain it to me first, so I can pick the one I'm better suited for." The Pilgrim said: "Looking after Master—when Master goes to relieve himself, you attend to him. When Master wants to walk, you support him. When Master wants a vegetarian meal, you go and beg for alms. If he gets a little hungry, you deserve a beating. If his face turns a little yellow, you deserve a beatings. If his body grows a little thin, you deserve a beating." Pigsy panicked: "That's hard, hard, hard! Attending to him and supporting him isn't so bad—even carrying him around all the time would still be manageable. But if you send me to beg for alms in the countryside, out here on the Western road, they won't know I'm a monk on a scripture pilgrimage. They'll just think I'm a half-grown pig wandering out of the mountains. A whole crowd of them with pitchforks and brooms will surround old Pig, take me home, slaughter me, and salt me away for New Year's. Won't that be a disaster?" The Pilgrim said: "Then go scout the mountain." Pigsy said: "What does scouting the mountain involve?" The Pilgrim said: "Go into this mountain, find out how many monsters there are, what mountain it is, what cave they're in—then we can figure out how to get past." Pigsy said: "That's easy enough. Old Pig will go scout the mountain." The idiot hitched up his robes, raised his rake, strode with manly vigor straight into the deep mountain, and charged up the main road with swaggering pride.

Standing to the side, the Pilgrim couldn't help but chuckle with a sneering smile. The Elder scolded him: "You wretched monkey! The other brothers have no love or sympathy in their hearts—you're always full of jealousy. You come up with these crafty schemes, using fine words and a honeyed tongue to trick him into scouting the mountain, and then you stand there laughing at him." The Pilgrim said: "I'm not laughing at him—there's meaning in my laugh. Watch: once Pigsy goes, he definitely won't scout the mountain. He won't dare see any monsters either. He'll just find some place to hide for a while, then come back with some lie to fool us." The Elder said: "How do you know he'll do that?" The Pilgrim said: "I can tell he's that sort. If you don't believe me, let me follow him and have a listen. First, I can help him if he encounters a demon. Second, I can see whether he has any sincere heart for worshipping the Buddha." The Elder said: "Very well, very well, very well—but don't go tormenting him." The Pilgrim agreed and went straight up the hillside. He shook his body and transformed into a tiny cicada. Truly the transformation was exquisite. Behold:

His wings are thin—they need no strength to dance upon the waist. His waist is pointed and slender as a needle. He passes through rushes and brushes, gliding beneath flower shadows, swift and even faster than a shooting star. His eyes shine brilliantly, his voice is faint and barely audible. Among all insects, he is the smallest—graceful, poised, and full of cunning. On many a leisurely day he rests hidden in the deep woods; his whole body is invisible, no thousand eyes could find him.

With a buzz, he flew up and caught up with Eight Rules, alighting on the root of the hair behind the fool's ear. The idiot just kept on walking, never knowing there was someone on his body. After they had covered seven or eight li, he laid down his rake, turned around, and pointed at the Tang Monk, cursing and gesticulating: "That spineless old monk, that pinch-arsed Stable Master, that weak-faced Friar Sha—they're all lounging around at ease, making me, your old Pig, tramp over the mountains. We're all on this scripture pilgrimage to seek the fruits of the Buddha, and yet I'm the one sent to patrol the mountains. Ha! Ha! Ha! If they knew there were demons around, they'd at least avoid them on the way, but no—they send me out to look for them. What rotten luck. I'm going to find a place to sleep. I'll have a nap, then go back and muddle through some answer—just say I've patrolled the mountain and that'll be that." The fool, taking his chance in a moment of wishful thinking, hoisted his rake and set off again. Presently he came upon a slope of red grass in a hollow of the mountain. He plunged right in, used his rake to sweep out a sleeping spot, and rolled himself down onto it. He stretched his waist and sighed with pleasure: "Bliss! Even that Stable Master couldn't be as carefree as me."

Now Pilgrim had been behind his ear the whole time, listening to every word. Unable to hold back, he flew up and decided to have more fun with the fool. He shook his body and transformed into a woodpecker. Observe:

A beak of iron, sharp and red,

Bright feathers of emerald green.

A pair of steel claws sharp as nails—

What matter an empty belly when the forest is still?

He loves rotten stumps and decaying logs,

And scorns old trees left standing alone.

Round eyes, a decisive tail, a nimble nature—

The sound of his pecking is a delight to hear.

This bird, neither large nor small, weighed only two or three taels on a scale. He had a red copper mouth and black iron feet. With a whir, he flew down. Eight Rules had just flopped over and fallen asleep when the bird gave him a sharp peck right on his lips.

The fool scrambled up in a panic, shouting wildly: "A demon! A demon! He's stabbed me with a spear! My mouth hurts terribly!" He reached up to feel it and found blood. "What bad luck! I haven't had any happy event—why is there blood on my mouth, like I've put on rouge?" He stared at his bloody hand, muttering to himself as he looked around on all sides, but saw nothing moving. "If there's no demon, why did he stab me with a spear?" Then he looked up and saw a woodpecker flying in midair. The fool gnashed his teeth and cursed: "You wretched creature! The Stable Master bullies me, and now you bully me too. I know what's going on. He doesn't recognize me as a person—he's taken my mouth for a piece of black, rotten, decayed wood with a bug inside, looking for something to eat, and that's why he pecked me. I'll tuck my mouth into my chest and sleep." The fool rolled over and went right back to sleep. Pilgrim flew up again and pecked him behind the ear. The fool jumped up frantically: "This miserable creature is really giving me a hard time. This must be his nest, where he's laying eggs and raising his chicks, and he's afraid I'll take it over, so he keeps pestering me. Fine, fine, fine—I won't sleep here anymore." He hoisted his rake, strode out of the red grass slope, and found the road again. What a pity for Pilgrim—but what a joy for the Handsome Monkey King! Pilgrim said: "This blockhead has two big eyes wide open, and he can't even recognize his own people."

The great Sage shook his body, transformed once more, and became a small cicada, fastening himself behind Eight Rules' ear, never leaving the fool's body. The idiot entered the deep mountains and walked another four or five li until he came upon three square slabs of blue stone, each the size of a tabletop, in a hollow of the mountain. The fool set down his rake and bowed deeply to the stones. Pilgrim laughed to himself: "This idiot—the stones aren't people, they can't speak, and they can't return a bow. Why bow to them? Isn't that a waste of effort?" In fact, the fool was treating the stones as Tripitaka, Friar Sha, and Pilgrim himself, rehearsing his story before them. "When I get back and see the Master, if he asks whether there are demons, I'll say yes. If he asks what kind of mountain, and I say it's made of mud, or clay, or tin, or copper, or steamed dough, or paper, or painted—they'll say I'm a fool. If I tell them that, it'll sound even more foolish. I'll just say it's a Stone Mountain. If he asks what kind of cave, I'll say a Stone Cave. If he asks what kind of door, I'll say a door of nailed iron plates. If he asks how far inside, I'll say there are three levels. If he searches me further and asks how many nails are on the door, I'll say old Pig was too flustered to remember clearly. I'll have it all made up by then, and I can fool the Stable Master." The fool had it all worked out. He dragged his rake and headed straight back the way he came.

How could he know that Pilgrim, behind his ear, had heard everything clearly? When Pilgrim saw him returning, he spread his two wings and flew back ahead of him, resuming his original form to see the Master. The Master said, "Wukong, you're back—but where is Wuneng?" Pilgrim smiled and said: "He's back there cooking up a lie. He'll be here soon." The Elder said, "Those two have ears covering their eyes—they're foolish men. What kind of lie could he cook up? You're probably making up some ghost story to blame him." Pilgrim said, "Master, you always take his side like that. These are things that can be checked against each other." And he told him in advance everything about how Eight Rules had slept in the grass, been woken by the woodpecker, bowed to the stones, and made up his story about the Stone Mountain, the Stone Cave, the iron-plated door, and the demons.

Before long, the idiot came along. Afraid he might have forgotten the lie, he kept his head down, rehearsing it under his breath. Tripitaka Monk shouted at him, "Idiot, what are you muttering?" Bajie pricked up his ears and said, "Have I reached my destination?" The idiot stepped forward and knelt. The Elder helped him up and said, "My disciple, you've had a hard time." Bajie said, "That's right. For someone who walks and climbs mountains, the hard work is the hardest." The Elder asked, "Are there any demons?" Bajie said, "There are demons, there are demons—a whole pile of demons!" The Elder asked, "Why did they send you back?" Bajie said, "They called me Pig Ancestor and Pig Grandfather, prepared some flour soup and vegetarian food, fed me a meal, and said they'd drum and horn us across the mountain." Tripitaka Monk said, "You must have fallen asleep in the grass and were talking in your sleep." When the idiot heard this, he shrunk a couple of inches in fright. "Lord! How did he know I was sleeping?" Tripitaka Monk stepped forward and seized him by the collar. "Come here, let me question you." The idiot panicked and said, trembling, "Ask away, but why grab me?" Tripitaka Monk said, "What mountain is it?" Bajie said, "It's Stone Mountain." "What cave?" "It's Stone Cave." "What gate?" "It's a nailed iron-plated gate." "How far in?" "Inside, it's three levels deep." Tripitaka Monk said, "You needn't go on. I remember the second half clearly. I feared our master wouldn't believe you, so I'll tell it for you." Bajie said, "You ridiculous face—you weren't even there! How could you know enough to tell it for me?" Tripitaka Monk laughed and said, "'How many nails on the gate? Just say old Pig was too flustered to remember clearly.' Isn't that right?" The idiot immediately knelt in a panic. Tripitaka Monk said, "You bowed to the stones, pretending they were the three of us, and asked and answered questions with yourself, didn't you? And you said, 'Let me cook up a proper lie to fool that Stable Keeper.' Isn't that right?" The idiot kowtowed frantically and said, "Brother, when I went to patrol the mountain, could it be that you followed me and listened?"

Tripitaka Monk cursed him: "You worthless sack of chaff! Such an important mission—I sent you to patrol the mountain, and you went to sleep. If the woodpecker hadn't pecked you awake, you'd still be sleeping there. And once you woke up, you made up such a big lie—haven't you nearly ruined everything? Stretch out your ankle here and take five strokes to remember it."

Bajie panicked and said, "That mourning staff is so heavy—a scrape and the skin tears, a twist and the tendons are injured. Five blows and I'm a dead man." Tripitaka Monk said, "If you're afraid to be beaten, why did you lie?" Bajie said, "Brother, this is the only time—I won't do it again." Tripitaka Monk said, "For one offense, three strokes." Bajie said, "Lord! I couldn't even take half a stroke." The idiot was at his wits' end and grabbed the master. "Please put in a good word for me." The Elder said, "Wukong said you were making up lies, and I didn't believe it. Now it turns out to be true—you really deserve a beating. But we need all the help we can get to cross this mountain. Wukong, let him off for now. We'll deal with him after we've crossed." Tripitaka Monk said, "The ancients said, 'He who obeys his parents' words is called truly filial.' Since the master says not to beat him, I'll spare you. Go back and patrol the mountain with him. If you lie again and cause trouble, I won't let you off with a single stroke."

The idiot had no choice but to get up and go again. Watch him—he charged up the main road, suspicion breeding ghosts in his heart. At every step he suspected that Tripitaka Monk had transformed himself and was following him. So whenever he saw anything, he suspected it was Tripitaka Monk. After walking seven or eight miles, he saw a tiger running down the slope. He wasn't afraid—he raised his rake and said, "So you've come to catch me in a lie? I won't make one up this time." Further along, a fierce mountain wind came howling, blowing over a dead tree that rolled to his feet. He stamped his feet and beat his chest, saying, "Brother, what's this about? I just said I wouldn't dare make up lies anymore, and now you've turned into a tree to hit me?" He walked on and saw a white-necked old crow calling "caw caw" above his head. He said again, "Brother, have you no shame? I said I wouldn't make up lies, and I won't. Why keep changing into a crow? Have you come to eavesdrop?" As it happened, Tripitaka Monk had not followed him at all. The idiot was simply startling himself with his own suspicions and guessing wildly, so everywhere he went he suspected Tripitaka Monk was right behind him. But enough of the idiot's panicked suspicions.

Now, that mountain was called Flat-Top Mountain, and that cave was called the Lotus Flower Cave. Inside the cave were two demons: one was called the Golden Horned King, and the other the Silver Horned King. Golden Horned was seated when he said to Silver Horned, "Brother, how long has it been since we went out to patrol the mountain?" Silver Horned said, "Half a month." Golden Horned said, "Brother, go out and patrol with me today." Silver Horned said, "Why patrol today?" Golden Horned said, "You don't know. I've heard recently that the Tang dynasty in the Eastern Lands has sent an Imperial Brother, Tang Sanzang, to worship Buddha in the West. He has four companions in his party—Sun Wukong, Zhu Bajie, and Sha Wujing—making five mouths counting the horse. Find out where they are and bring them to me." Silver Horned said, "If we want to eat people, why can't we catch a few somewhere else? Let that monk go where he pleases." Golden Horned said, "You don't understand. When I left the Heavenly Realm, I once heard it said that Tang Sanzang is the Golden Cicada Elder reborn, a good man who has cultivated for ten lifetimes, and whose primal yang has not been dissipated. Anyone who eats his flesh will live forever." Silver Horned said, "If eating his flesh can grant us long life, then why meditate, why practice, why refine the dragon and the tiger, why pair the female and the male? We should just go and eat him. Let me go fetch him." Golden Horned said, "Brother, you're a bit too hasty—don't rush. If you go out there and grab any monk you see regardless, and it turns out not to be Tang Sanzang, that won't do at all. I remember their appearances. I once drew a portrait of the master and his disciples, capturing their likenesses. You can take this with you, and whenever you encounter a monk, use it to verify." He then told him each person's name. Silver Horned took the portrait, learned the names, and left the cave. He mustered thirty little demons and went to patrol the mountain.

Now, Bajie had the misfortune to run right into the demons while he was on the road. They blocked his way and demanded, "Who goes there?" The idiot raised his head, flipped up his ears, and saw they were demons. He panicked and thought to himself, "If I say I'm a monk on a scripture pilgrimage, they'll catch me." So he just said he was a traveler. The little demons reported back, "Your Majesty, he's just a traveler." Among the thirty little demons, some recognized him and some did not. One standing nearby, listening to the others, pointed and said, "Your Majesty, this monk looks like the Zhu Bajie in this portrait." They were told to hang up the spirit portrait. Bajie saw it and was shocked. "So that's why I've been feeling so low these days—they've brought my spirit portrait here!" A demon propped it up with a spear, and Silver Horned pointed at it, saying, "The one on the white horse is Tang Sanzang, and the one with the hairy face is Sun Wukong..." Bajie heard this and said, "City God, leaving me out would have been fine, but you could at least have left the pig head among the three sacrificial animals and the twenty-four offerings for the purification rite!" He grumbled on, making vows under his breath. The demon then said, "The tall dark one is Sha Wujing, and the one with the long snout and big ears is Zhu Bajie." The idiot, hearing himself described, was so frightened he tucked his snout into his chest to hide it. The demon shouted, "Monk, stick out your mouth!" Bajie said, "Congenital defect—can't stick it out." The demon ordered a little demon to hook it out with a grappling hook. Bajie panicked and stuck out his mouth, saying, "It's a small mouth, isn't it? You wanted to look, so look—why hook it?"

Having identified Bajie, the demon drew his precious sword and rushed forward to strike. The idiot raised his rake to block him. "My child, don't be rude—look at the rake!" The demon laughed and said, "This monk became a monk halfway along the road." Bajie said, "Good boy, you've got some wit. How did you know Old Father became a monk halfway along the road?" The demon said, "You can use this rake, so you must have been digging in someone's garden and stole it from there." Bajie said, "My child, you don't know this rake of Old Father's. It's not like a digging rake. Listen:

Forged with great fangs like dragon's claws,

Inlaid with gold, shaped like a tiger.

When meeting an enemy, cold wind blows,

When locked in battle, flames arise.

It can remove obstacles for Tang Sanzang,

And capture demons on the road to the West.

When swung, its smoke and mist block the sun and moon,

When raised, its dark clouds dim the stars.

Knock down Mount Tai and tigers are afraid,

Overturn the sea and old dragons are shocked.

No matter what tricks you have,

One rake makes nine bloody holes."

When the demon heard this, he would not yield. He wielded the Seven-Star Sword and unleashed his full skill. Back and forth he fought with Bajie, battling for twenty rounds in the mountain without either side winning. Bajie grew fierce and fought desperately. The demon saw him shaking his ears, spraying sticky slobber, waving his rake, and shouting and bellowing, and felt somewhat frightened. He turned and called to the little demons to join in. One on one, it might have been fine. But when he saw all the little demons charging at once, Bajie panicked, could not defend himself, broke ranks, and turned to flee. The road was uneven, and he hadn't looked carefully—he suddenly stumbled over a gourd vine. He scrambled to his feet and was just walking away when a little demon lay down on the ground and grabbed his heels, causing him to fall flat on his face in a dog-eating-dirt tumble. The mob caught up with him, pinned him down, grabbed his mane, pulled his ears, dragged his feet, hauled his tail, and carried him into the cave, hoisted on their shoulders. Ah!

A body of demonic energy is hard to destroy,

A myriad of calamities cannot be easily dispelled.

What became of Zhu Bajie's life? Listen to the next chapter to find out.