Chapter 44

Chapter 44

The poem reads:

Seeking scriptures, freed from perils, they journey west,

Through countless famous mountains, never resting, pressed.

The hare flies, the crow races, hastening day and night;

Birds cry, flowers fall, as spring and autumn take flight.

Within the eye's fine dust lie three thousand realms,

Beside the mendicant's staff, four hundred states overwhelm.

They sleep on water, dine on wind, climbing the purple road—

When, I wonder, will they turn their heads homeward?

Now it is said that Tripitaka, thanks to the dragon prince subduing the demon and the Black River deity clearing the way, passed the Black River with his disciples and followed the great road ever westward. Truly they faced the wind and braved the snow, traveled by moonlight and under the stars. After journeying for a long time, they arrived once more at the season of early spring. And this they saw:

The three yang energies revolve, and all things shine with glory. The three yang energies revolve—the whole sky is bright and beautiful, opening like a painted scroll. All things shine with glory—the ground is everywhere fragrant and lush, spread like an embroidered carpet. The plum blossoms have faded, leaving only a few traces of snow; the wheat rises like clouds over a whole river valley. The ice gradually melts and the mountain springs begin to trickle; everywhere new shoots sprout, covering the traces of old burns. It was precisely this: the Great Hao rides the thunder, the Gou Mang governs the season. The flowers are fragrant, the breeze is warm; the clouds are pale, the sunlight fresh. Along the road, the willows unfold their green eyes; the nourishing rain brings forth the spring of ten thousand things.

As the disciples traveled along the road, enjoying the scenery and riding their horses at a leisurely pace, they suddenly heard a great shout—it sounded like the roar of ten thousand men crying out at once. Tripitaka's heart was filled with fear. He reined in his horse and could not advance. Turning his head quickly, he said, "Wukong, where is that tremendous noise coming from?" Bajie said, "It sounds like the earth splitting and mountains crumbling." Sha Wujing said, "It's like thunder and lightning." Tripitaka said, "It must be men shouting and horses neighing." Sun Wukong laughed and said, "None of you have guessed right. Wait here—let this old Sun go and see what it is."

The fine Pilgrim leaped up, treading on the clouds, and rose into the air. Opening his eyes to look, he saw in the distance a city wall. Looking more closely, he observed that it had a hidden aura of auspicious light and showed no signs of baleful energy. The Pilgrim thought to himself: "This is a fine place—why should there be such a deafening noise? The city has no banners or weapons, and it's not the sound of cannon fire. Why does it sound like the clamor of men and horses?" As he was wondering, he noticed that outside the city gate there was a sandy open space where a great many monks had gathered, pulling carts. It turned out they were all exerting themselves together, shouting in unison, "Great Mighty King Bodhisattva!"—and this was what had startled Tripitaka.

The Pilgrim gradually lowered his cloud to observe more closely. Ah! The carts were loaded with bricks, timber, clay blocks, and the like. The beach rose to a high slope, and there was a narrow ridge path with two great gates. The road below the gates was all sheer, steep cliff walls—how could those carts be hauled up? Although the weather was mild, those people were dressed in ragged clothes, and their appearance was one of great hardship. The Pilgrim thought with suspicion: "I suppose they are repairing a temple. Here the five grains are abundant, and they cannot find any laborers, so the monks must do the work themselves." While he was still guessing, he saw two young Daoist priests swaggering out of the city gate. Observe how they were dressed:

They wore star crowns and were wrapped in brocade.

Their star crowns shone brilliantly;

Their brocade robes floated like rosy clouds.

They trod on cloud-head shoes,

And girded their waists with braided silk sashes.

Their faces were full moons, handsome and clever;

Their forms were like immortal guests from Jasper Terrace.

When the monks saw the Daoist priests coming, each one's heart trembled with fear. They redoubled their efforts, straining painfully to pull the carts. The Pilgrim understood at once: "Aha! These monks must fear the Daoist priests. Otherwise, why would they pull so desperately? I have heard people say that on the Western road there is a place that reveres Daoism and destroys Buddhism—this must be it. I ought to report back to the Master, but the matter is not yet clear, and if I speak rashly he will blame me, saying that a clever fellow like me cannot even find out the truth. Let me go down and ask for a clear explanation, then I can report properly to the Master."

Now, whom did you suppose he went to ask? The great Sage lowered his cloud and went to the foot of the city. He shook his body and changed into a wandering Daoist priest of the Complete Perfection school. On his left arm he hung a water-and-fire basket, with his hand he struck the wooden fish, and with his mouth he sang Daoist songs. Approaching the city gate, he met the two Daoist priests face to face, bowed, and said, "Elder Daoists, this humble monk greets you." The priests returned the bow and said, "Where do you come from, sir?" The Pilgrim said, "This disciple has wandered to the edge of the sea and roamed to the ends of the sky. Today I have come here, wishing to seek out a good family for alms. May I ask the two Elder Daoists: which street in this city is devoted to the Way? Which alley is home to the worthy? This humble monk would like to go there and beg for some food to eat." The Daoist priests laughed and said, "Why do you, sir, speak such discouraging words?" The Pilgrim said, "What do you mean by discouraging?" The priests said, "You want to beg for food to eat—isn't that discouraging?" The Pilgrim said: "A monk lives by begging for alms. If he doesn't beg for food, how can he have money to buy it?" The priests laughed and said: "You have come from far away and do not know the affairs of this city. In this city, to say nothing of the civil and military officials who love the Way, or the wealthy and elderly who cherish the worthy, or the men and women, young and old, who bow to us and invite us to receive offerings—all these are not worth mentioning. The very first and foremost thing is that the Ten Thousand Years Sovereign himself loves the Way and cherishes the worthy."

The Pilgrim said, "This poor Daoist is young, and besides, I've only just arrived from a distant place—I truly know nothing of the situation. I beg you, two senior Daoists, to tell me in detail the name of this place and the story of its ruler's love of the Dao and esteem for the worthy. Such kindness would truly show the bond between fellow seekers of the Way."

The Daoist said, "This city is called the Kingdom of Chichi. The sovereign in his treasure hall is kin to us."

The Pilgrim laughed and said, "So the Daoists have become emperors?"

He said, "Not so. It's just that twenty years ago, the people suffered a terrible drought. The heavens sent not a drop of rain, and the earth yielded no grain. From the emperor and his ministers down to the common folk, every household bathed and burned incense, every family bowed to Heaven and prayed for rain. They were all in desperate straits, barely clinging to life, when three immortal elders descended from the heavens to save the living souls."

The Pilgrim asked, "Who were those three immortal elders?"

The Daoist said, "They are our masters."

The Pilgrim said, "What are your honored masters' titles?"

The Daoist said, "My senior master is called the Tiger Power Great Immortal, my second master the Deer Power Great Immortal, and my third master the Sheep Power Great Immortal."

The Pilgrim asked, "How much spiritual power do your three honored masters possess?"

The Daoist said, "My masters can summon wind and call for rain with merely a flip of the hand. They can turn water into oil and transmute stone into gold as easily as turning their bodies around. With such power, they can seize the creative force of Heaven and Earth and alter the mysterious workings of the stars. For this reason the ruler and his ministers honor them and have become kin to us."

The Pilgrim said, "This emperor is truly blessed. As the saying goes, 'Skill moves the high officials.' Since your masters possess such abilities, becoming their kin is no loss to him. Ah! I wonder if this poor Daoist has even the slightest karmic connection to be granted an audience with those masters?"

The Daoist laughed and said, "What difficulty is there in seeing my masters? We two are their most trusted disciples. And our masters love the Dao and cherish the worthy—the moment they hear the word 'Dao,' they come out to the main gate to welcome you. If we two introduce you, it would be as easy as blowing away dust."

The Pilgrim bowed deeply and said, "I am most grateful for your recommendation. Let us go in at once."

The Daoist said, "Wait a moment. Sit here for now. Let us two finish our business, and then we'll go in with you."

The Pilgrim said, "We who have left home are free and unfettered—what business could there be?"

The Daoist pointed toward the monks on the sandy shore: "They do our household work. We fear they may be slacking off, so we go to check the roll and return shortly."

The Pilgrim laughed and said, "Senior Daoist, you are mistaken. Monks and Daoists alike have left home—why should they do our labor while we check their roll?"

The Daoist said, "You don't know the story. When prayers for rain were offered years ago, the monks chanted sutras on one side while the Daoists recited prayers to the Dipper on the other, and both requested provisions from the court. But those monks were useless—they chanted empty sutras and accomplished nothing. Later, when our masters arrived, they called the wind and summoned the rain, delivering the people from their suffering. Only then did the court grow angry at the monks for their uselessness. They tore down the monks' mountain gates, destroyed their Buddha images, confiscated their ordination certificates, and would not let them return to their hometowns. The emperor bestowed them upon our household to do labor, just like servants. In our household, they are the ones who tend the fire, sweep the doors, and prop up the gates. Since the living quarters in the back are not yet complete, we have set these monks to haul bricks and tiles, drag timber, and build the houses. We feared they might be lazy and unwilling to pull the carts, so we two have been sent to check on them."

When the Pilgrim heard this, he seized the Daoist and wept. "I said I had no karmic connection—truly I have no connection! I cannot see the honored face of your masters."

The Daoist said, "Why can't you see them?"

The Pilgrim said, "This poor Daoist wanders the world for two reasons: first, to cultivate my nature and destiny, and second, to seek a relative."

The Daoist asked, "What relative do you have?"

The Pilgrim said, "I have an uncle who left home and shaved his head to become a monk when he was young. In years of famine in the past, he also went out to beg for food. These past few years he has not returned home. Remembering the kindness of my ancestors, I have come especially to look for him along the way. He must be detained somewhere like this, unable to free himself—who can say? I must find him and see his face before I can enter the city with you."

The Daoist said, "That is actually quite simple. Let us two sit here, and we would trouble you to go to the sandy shore and check for us. Just count to make sure there are five hundred in number, and see if among them is your uncle. If he is there, out of consideration for our bond as fellow Daoists, we will release him. Then we can enter the city together—how about that?"

The Pilgrim thanked them profusely, made a long bow, and bidding the Taoist priest farewell, he struck his fish-drum and made his way straight to the sandy shore. He passed through the Double Pass and descended the Spine Ridge, where all the monks fell to their knees and kowtowed, saying, "Grandfather, we haven't been lazy. All five hundred of us, not one missing, are here pulling the cart." The Pilgrim watched and laughed to himself, "These monks have been beaten and terrorized by the Taoist priests. They're so frightened of me, a fake Taoist priest, that they tremble at the sight of me. If I were a real Taoist priest, they'd probably be dead by now."

The Pilgrim then waved his hands and said, "Don't kneel, don't be afraid. I'm not the overseer. I've come here to find relatives." When the monks heard he was looking to recognize relatives, they surrounded him in a circle, each one pushing forward, clearing their throats and making noise, all hoping desperately to be recognized and taken away. They said, "We don't know which of us is his relative."

The Pilgrim looked them over for a while and burst out laughing. The monks said, "Old Master, if you're not recognizing relatives, why are you laughing?" The Pilgrim said, "Do you know what I'm laughing at? I'm laughing at you monks for being so utterly foolish. When your parents gave birth to you, it was because your fate was overshadowed by the Canopy Star, bringing harm to your father or mother, or failing to attract siblings, so they abandoned you to become monks. Why don't you follow the Three Treasures, revere the Buddha's law, read sutras and perform penance? Instead, you work as laborers for the Taoist priests, treated like slaves!"

The monks said, "Old Master, you're mocking us. I suppose you've come from elsewhere and don't know the troubles here." The Pilgrim said, "Indeed I've come from outside, and truly I don't know what troubles you have here."

The monks wept and said, "The king of our country is prejudiced and unjust. He favors only your sort, Old Masters, and is enraged with us Buddhist disciples." The Pilgrim said, "Why is that?" The monks said, "Because three Immortal Lords who could summon wind and rain came here and destroyed us, deceiving the king into believing them. They tore down our monasteries, revoked our ordination certificates, would not let us return to our hometowns, nor would they allow us to serve in corvée labor. Instead, they gave us to the Immortal Lords' households to use as servants, and the suffering is unbearable. Whenever a wandering Taoist arrives here, he is invited to pay homage to the king and receive rewards. But if a monk comes, no matter from how far or near, he is seized and put to work for the Immortal Lords' households."

The Pilgrim said, "I suppose those Taoist priests must have some cunning magical arts to beguile the king. If all they can do is summon wind and rain, that's merely a minor heretical art—how could it move the king's heart?" The monks said, "They can refine cinnabar into mercury, sit in meditation and preserve their spirits, turn water into oil, and transmute stones into gold. Now they are building the Temple of the Three Pure Ones, performing sutra recitations and penances day and night before Heaven and Earth, praying for the king to live ten thousand years without aging. That is how they have bewitched the king's heart."

The Pilgrim said, "So that's how it is. Why don't you all just leave?" The monks said, "Old Master, we can't escape. The Immortal Lords memorialized the king, and our portraits have been painted and posted everywhere throughout the four corners of the land. This Kingdom of Chiche is vast in territory, and in every prefecture, subprefecture, county, village, and market town, there is a picture of monks, inscribed with the royal brush itself. If an official captures a monk, he is promoted three ranks. If a commoner captures a monk, he is rewarded with fifty taels of silver. That is why we cannot escape. And it's not just monks—even those with cropped hair, bald heads, or thin hair can hardly get away. There are many runners everywhere and the network of informers is extensive. No matter what you do, it's nearly impossible to escape. We have no choice but to endure our suffering here."

The Pilgrim said, "If that's the case, then why don't you just die?" The monks said, "Old Master, some have died. From all the monks captured and brought here, there were altogether over two thousand. Unable to endure the suffering, the roasting torment, the cold, and unable to adjust to the local water and soil, some six or seven hundred died, and seven or eight hundred took their own lives. Only we five hundred cannot die."

The Pilgrim said, "How is it that you cannot die?" The monks said, "Ropes for hanging break, knives for cutting bring no pain. Those who throw themselves into the river float and do not sink. Those who take poison suffer no harm to their bodies."

The Pilgrim said, "You are indeed blessed—Heaven has granted you long life!" The monks said, "Old Master, you missed a word. It's 'long suffering.' We eat three meals a day, nothing but thin gruel made from coarse rice. At night we sleep exposed to the dew on the sandy shore. The moment we close our eyes, divine beings come to protect us."

The Pilgrim said, "Perhaps you are so exhausted that you are seeing ghosts?" The monks said, "They are not ghosts. They are the Six Ding and Six Jia spirits and the Sangharama Guardian Deities. Every night they come to protect us. Whenever any of us is about to die, they preserve us and will not let us die."

The Pilgrim said, "These deities have no sense at all. They should let you die early and ascend to heaven sooner. Why do they protect you instead?" The monks said, "They admonish us in our dreams, telling us not to seek death, but to endure our suffering and wait for the Holy Monk of the Great Tang in the East who is traveling to the West to scriptures—an arhat. He has a disciple called the Great Sage Equal to Heaven, of vast magical power, who upholds loyalty and goodness in his heart, rights the wrongs of the world, rescues the distressed, helps the needy, and cares for the orphaned and the destitute. We are only waiting for him to display his divine powers, destroy the Taoist priests, and restore respect for the Buddhist teachings."

When Pilgrim heard these words, he secretly laughed in his heart and said, "Don't say old Sun has no means—the holy ones have already spread my name beforehand." He hastily withdrew, knocked on his fisherman's drum, took leave of the monks, and went straight to the city gate, where he saw the Daoists. One of them came forward and said, "Sir, which one is your relative?" Pilgrim said, "All five hundred are related to me." The two Daoists laughed and said, "How can you have so many relatives?" Pilgrim said, "A hundred are my neighbors on the left, a hundred are my neighbors on the right, a hundred are my father's kin, a hundred are my mother's kin, and a hundred are my sworn friends. If you are willing to release all five hundred of these people, then I will go in with you; if not, I won't go." The Daoist said, "You must be somewhat touched in the wind—you're babbling nonsense for the moment. Those monks were bestowed by the king himself. If we were to release even one or two, we would still have to submit a sickness report to our master, and then file a death report before the matter could be settled. How can you say release them all? This makes no sense, no sense. And don't say our household lacks servants—even the court would take issue with it. The local magistrate would send officials to investigate, or at times the emperor himself might come to inspect. How would we dare to release them?" Pilgrim said, "You won't release them?" The Daoist said, "We won't!" Pilgrim asked three times in a row, and then flew into a rage. He took the iron rod from his ear, rubbed it against the wind once, and it became as thick as a bowl. He shook it once and swept it across the Daoist's face. Pitiful—he was struck until his head was broken and his blood flowed, his body fell to the ground, his skin split and his neck snapped, and his brains poured out.

The monks on the riverbank, seeing from afar that he had beaten the two Daoists to death, abandoned their carts and ran up, saying, "It's terrible, terrible—he's killed the royal relatives!" Pilgrim said, "Which one is a royal relative?" The monks surrounded him in a winnowing-fan formation and said, "Their master, when he ascends the hall, does not pay homage to the king; when he descends the hall, he does not take leave of his lord. The court always calls him 'the Imperial Preceptor's elder brother, the Master.' How could you come here and cause trouble? His disciples came out to supervise the work—what concern was it of yours? How could you beat them to death? That immortal elder won't say you killed them—he'll only say that we were supervising the work here and that we took their lives. What are we to do? Come with us into the city, and we'll settle this matter of human lives." Pilgrim laughed and said, "Gentlemen, don't shout. I am not a wandering Daoist of the Complete Perfection school—I have come to save you." The monks said, "You've gone and killed people, harmed us, and added to our burden—how is this saving us?" Pilgrim said, "I am Sun Wukong, Pilgrim, disciple of the Great Tang Holy Monk. I have come here specially to save your lives." The monks said, "No, no—we recognize that old master." Pilgrim said, "I've never even met him—how could you recognize him?" The monks said, "We have often seen an old man in our dreams who said he was Taibai Jinxing. He always instructed us, telling us what Sun the Pilgrim looks like, so that we would not mistake him." Pilgrim said, "What did he tell you?" The monks said, "He said the Great Sage:

A磕 forehead with bright golden eyes,

A round head, a hairy face with no cheeks.

Fangs and a sharp mouth, a stubborn nature.

His looks are stranger than Lei Gong's.

He is accustomed to wielding the iron-banded rod,

And once stormed open the celestial gates.

Now he has returned to the true path and comes to protect monks,

Devoted to saving the calamities of the mortal world."

When Pilgrim heard these words, he was both angry and pleased. Pleased, he said, "He's spreading old Sun's name!" Angry, he said, "That old rascal is so lazy—he told my original form to all these ordinary people." Suddenly he cried out, "Gentlemen, you truly do not recognize me as Sun the Pilgrim. I am Sun the Pilgrim's disciple, come here to learn how to cause trouble and play tricks. Isn't that Sun the Pilgrim coming over there?" He pointed with his hand to the east, tricking the monks to turn their heads, and then revealed his true form. Only then did the monks recognize him, and one and all they prostrated themselves and bowed, saying, "Grandfather, we are but mortal flesh and mortal eyes—we did not know it was Grandfather manifesting himself. We beg Grandfather to avenge our grievances and dispel our calamities for us, and to enter the city early to subdue the evil and restore the right." Pilgrim said, "Come with me, all of you." The monks followed closely on his left and right.

The Great Sage made his way straight to the sandbank, employed his supernatural power, and dragged the carts past the two barriers, through the spinal pass, then lifted them up and dashed them to pieces. He flung all the bricks, tiles, and timber down the slope. He shouted to the monks, "Scatter! Don't stay near me. Wait until tomorrow when I see this emperor and destroy those Daoist priests." The monks said, "Grandfather! We dare not go far, for fear that the officials will arrest us and send us back, and then we'll be beaten and forced to pay ransoms, bringing fresh disaster upon ourselves." The Pilgrim said, "In that case, I'll give you a method to protect yourselves." The splendid Great Sage plucked a handful of his hairs, chewed them to bits, and gave each monk a piece. He told them all, "Tuck it under your fingernail on your ring finger, make a fist, and walk wherever you please. If no one dares seize you, well and good. But if someone tries to grab you, clench your fist tightly and cry out 'Great Sage Equal to Heaven,' and I'll come to protect you." The monks said, "Grandfather, what if we go so far that we can't see you and you don't answer when we call?" The Pilgrim said, "You can rest assured. Even if you're ten thousand miles away, you'll be perfectly safe." The bolder monks tucked the hairs away, made their fists, and quietly called out, "Great Sage Equal to Heaven!" Instantly a thunder god stood before them, iron staff in hand—even a thousand troops and ten thousand horses could not get near. At that moment some hundred or so monks called out together, and there were some hundred Great Sages standing guard over them. The monks kowtowed and said, "Grandfather, it truly works!" The Pilgrim further instructed them: "Say the word 'Silence,' and it will be withdrawn." Sure enough, when they said "Silence," the hairs were once more tucked under their fingernails. Only then did the monks rejoice and flee for their lives, scattering in all directions. The Pilgrim said, "Don't go too far away. Listen for news from the city. If a proclamation is posted summoning monks, come back into the city and return my hairs to me." The five hundred monks went east and west, some walking, some standing, scattering in all directions—no more to be said of them.

Now Tang Sanzang, waiting by the road for the Pilgrim to return with news, told Zhu Bajie to lead the horse westward. They encountered some monks hurrying along. As they approached the city wall, they saw the Pilgrim still there with some ten or so monks who had not yet dispersed. Sanzang reined in his horse and said, "Wukong, how is it that you went to find out what was happening and took so long to return?" The Pilgrim led the ten or so monks forward and bowed before Sanzang's horse, telling him everything that had happened. Sanzang was greatly alarmed and said, "If that's the case, what are we to do?" The ten or so monks said, "Your Reverence, rest assured. Grandfather Sun the Great Sage has descended from heaven with vast supernatural powers—he will certainly keep your Reverence safe. We are monks from the Zhiyuan Temple in this city, built by imperial decree. Since this temple was originally constructed by the former king and first emperor, and the statues of the former king and first emperor are still inside, it has not yet been demolished. The monasteries and temples throughout the city, great and small, have all been torn down. We invite Your Reverence to enter the city early and rest in our humble mountain temple. Tomorrow at the morning court, Grandfather Sun the Great Sage will surely set things right." The Pilgrim said, "You speak well. Very well, let's enter the city at once."

The elder then dismounted and walked to the gate. By now the sun was sinking in the west. They crossed the drawbridge and passed through three gates into the city. The people in the street, seeing the monks of Zhiyuan Temple leading the horse and carrying the packs, all stepped aside. As they proceeded, they arrived at the temple gate. Above the gate hung a large plaque with gold characters, reading "Zhiyuan Temple, Built by Imperial Decree." The monks pushed open the gate, passed through the Hall of the Heavenly Kings, and opened the main hall door. Sanzang took out his kasaya, put it on, bowed before the golden image, and then entered. The monks called out, "The caretaker!" An old monk came out, saw the Pilgrim, and bowed, saying, "Grandfather, you've come?" The Pilgrim said, "How do you know which grandfather I am, to greet me like that?" The old monk said, "I know you are Grandfather Sun, the Great Sage Equal to Heaven. We see you every night in our dreams. the Old Man of the White Planet often comes in our dreams to tell us that only when you arrive will we be saved. Today we see your honored face, and it is exactly as in our dreams. Grandfather! It is well that you came early—another day or two and we would all be ghosts." The Pilgrim laughed and said, "Rise, rise. Tomorrow there will be a resolution." The monks prepared a vegetarian meal, and the master and disciples ate. They swept the abbot's quarters clean and settled in for the night.

At the second watch, the Great Sun Sage had something on his mind and could not sleep. He heard music and drumming somewhere. He quietly got up, put on his clothes, and leaped into the air to look. It was a brilliant display of lanterns and candles to the due south. He lowered his cloud and looked more carefully—it was Daoist priests of the Three Pure Ones Temple performing a star-propitiation ritual. He saw:

A sacred lofty hall, a blessed true abode. The sacred lofty hall, majestic as the scenery of Penglai; the blessed true abode, serenely pure as the palace of Huaile. On both sides Daoist priests played pipes and organs; in the center a high official held a jade tablet. They recited litanies to avert disaster, expounded the Dao De Jing. They swept the ground several times and transmitted talismans; the officiants all prostrated themselves. They chanted spells and issued proclamations; candle flames flickered upward to the heavens. They inspected the celestial pole and arranged the Dipper; the fragrant smoke of incense wafted through the clear sky. On the table were fresh offerings; on the altar was a sumptuous vegetarian feast.

Before the hall door hung a couplet on yellow silk brocade, embroidered with twenty-two large characters reading: "May the rains and winds be timely, and we pray for the boundless Dharma of the Celestial Honored One; may the rivers be clear and the seas calm, and we beseech the Ten-Thousand-Year Reign for years of abundance." The Pilgrim saw three old Daoist priests wearing their vestments—they must be the Great Immortals of Tiger Power, Deer Power, and Goat Power. Below them were some seven or eight hundred lesser priests managing the drums and bells, the incense and the proclamations, all standing in attendance on both sides. The Pilgrim thought to himself with secret delight, "I'd like to go down and mix in with them, but a single thread doesn't make a line, and one hand can't clap alone. I'll go back and get Bajie and Shaseng, and we'll all go have some fun together."

He descended from his auspicious cloud and went straight to the abbot's quarters. It turned out that Bajie and Sha Wujing had fallen asleep with their legs tangled together. The Pilgrim first called out "Wujing," and Sha Monk woke up, saying, "Elder Brother, aren't you asleep yet?" The Pilgrim said, "Get up now, and come with me to enjoy ourselves." Sha Monk said, "It's the middle of the night—our mouths are dry and our eyes are bleary. What enjoyment is there?" The Pilgrim said, "There really is a Three Pure Ones Temple in this city, and the Taoist priests there are performing a ritual. In the Hall of the Three Pure Ones there are many offerings: steamed buns as big as bushels, roasted fruits weighing fifty or sixty catties each, countless bowls of rice, and fresh fruits. Come with me and enjoy them." That idiot Zhu Bajie, hearing in his sleep that there was good food to eat, woke up and said, "Elder Brother, won't you take me along too?" The Pilgrim said, "Brother, if you want to eat, don't make a racket and wake up the Master. Everyone, follow me."

The two of them put on their clothes, slipped quietly out the door, and followed the Pilgrim as he mounted a cloud and leaped into the air. The fool, seeing the lights, was about to make his move. The Pilgrim held him back, saying, "Not yet—wait until they've dispersed, then we can go down." Bajie said, "They're just getting into the spirit of their chanting. How could they possibly disperse?" The Pilgrim said, "Let me work a trick, and they'll disperse." The great Sage pinched his fingers, recited an incantation, drew a breath from the southeast, and blew it out. At once a violent wind swept directly into the Hall of the Three Pure Ones, toppling all the vases, candlesticks, and merit tablets hanging on the four walls, so that the lamps and candles were extinguished. The Taoist priests were terrified. The Tiger Power Great Immortal said, "Disciples, disperse for now. This divine wind has blown out the candles and incense flowers. Everyone go back to your quarters. Tomorrow morning rise early and recite extra sutras to make up for it." The Taoist priests indeed each withdrew.

The Pilgrim then led Bajie and Sha Monk down on their cloud and burst into the Hall of the Three Pure Ones. The fool, without caring whether they were raw or cooked, grabbed a roasted fruit and bit into it. The Pilgrim struck out with his iron staff. Bajie pulled his hand back and dodged, saying, "I haven't even tasted it yet, and you hit me." The Pilgrim said, "Don't be so petty. Sit down properly and enjoy it." Bajie said, "What a joke—we're stealing food, and you want to sit in proper order. If it had been properly offered, what then?" The Pilgrim said, "What bodhisattvas are those sitting up there?" Bajie laughed and said, "You can't even recognize the Three Pure Ones, and you call them bodhisattvas." The Pilgrim said, "Which are the Three Pure Ones?" Bajie said, "The one in the middle is the Celestial Worthy of Primordial Beginning, the one on the left is the Lord of Numinous Treasure, and the one on the right is the Supreme Venerable Lord." The Pilgrim said, "We must all change into their appearances before we can eat in peace." The fool, growing impatient at the smell of the delicious offerings he longed to eat, climbed up onto the high platform and with his snout shoved the Supreme Venerable Lord down, saying, "Old fellow, you've sat long enough—let old Zhu have a seat." Bajie transformed into the Supreme Venerable Lord, the Pilgrim into the Celestial Worthy of Primordial Beginning, and Sha Monk into the Lord of Numinous Treasure. They pushed the original statues down.

Once seated, Bajie snatched up a large steamed bun and began eating. The Pilgrim said, "Not so fast." Bajie said, "Elder Brother, we've transformed into them—why not eat?" The Pilgrim said, "Brother, eating is a small matter, but revealing heavenly secrets is a great one. These sacred images have been pushed to the floor. If an early-rising Taoist priest comes to ring the bell or sweep the floor and trips over one, won't the secret be discovered? You should hide them off to one side." Bajie said, "I don't know my way around here—I can't find the door. Where would I hide them?" The Pilgrim said, "When I first came in, there was a small door on the right-hand side. The stench coming from inside was foul—it must be the place where the five grains are cycled through. Take them there."

The fool had a good deal of brute strength. He jumped down, hoisted the three sacred images onto his shoulders, and carried them out. When he reached that side and kicked the door open with his foot, he saw that it was a large privy. He laughed and said: "This Horse-Groom indeed knows how to talk fancy—he even gives a dignified name to a latrine, calling it the 'Place Where the Five Grains Are Cycled Through.'" The fool, still carrying them on his shoulders, did not throw them down yet, but muttered and mumbled a prayer:

"Three Pure Ones, Three Pure Ones, listen to me: I have come from afar, accustomed to destroying fiends. I wished to enjoy your offerings, but had nowhere to rest. I borrow your seats for a brief while. You have sat long enough—come down to the latrine for a moment. You who daily enjoy endless blessings, living as pure Taoist priests—today you shall partake of something foul and become Celestial Worthies who endure the stench!"

Having finished his prayer, he flung them inside with a splash, splattering half his robe with filthy water, and walked back to the hall.

The Pilgrim said, "Are they well hidden?" Bajie said, "Hidden well enough, but I splashed some water on myself and dirtied my clothes. There's a bit of a foul, stinking smell—don't you find it disgusting?" The Pilgrim laughed and said, "Very well, come and enjoy the offerings. But I wonder if we'll be clean enough to leave." The fool still kept his transformation as the Supreme Venerable Lord. The three sat down and ate their fill. First they ate the large steamed buns, then the clustered plates, the rice, the pastries, the hanging oven treats, the cakes, the deep-fried and steamed delicacies—paying no mind to whether things were hot or cold, they ate as they pleased. Now Sun the Pilgrim did not eat cooked food much; he only ate a few fruits to keep the other two company. That meal went like shooting stars chasing the moon, like a wind sweeping away the clouds—they ate everything until there was nothing left. Still they did not leave, but sat there chatting idly, digesting and amusing themselves.

Ah! Such a strange business. It so happened that in the east corridor there was a young Taoist priest who had just lain down to sleep when suddenly he got up and said, "I left my hand-bell in the main hall. If I lose it, my master will scold me tomorrow." He said to his sleeping companion, "You stay asleep. I'll go find it." In his haste he did not put on his under-robe, but simply threw on his gown and went straight to the main hall to look for the bell. He groped here and there until at last he found it. Just as he was about to turn back, he heard the sound of breathing. The priest was terrified and hurried to leave, but—he could not say how—he stepped on a lychee pit and slipped, falling with a crash. The bell shattered into pieces with a loud clang. Zhu Bajie could not help bursting out laughing. The young priest was so frightened that his three hun souls fled and his seven po souls returned in panic; stumbling at every step, he ran into the abbot's quarters, pounded on the door, and cried, "Master, something terrible has happened! A disaster!" The three old Taoist priests had not yet gone to sleep, so they opened the door and asked, "What disaster?" Trembling all over, he replied, "I forgot my hand-bell and went to the hall to look for it. I heard someone burst out laughing—it nearly scared me to death!" On hearing this, the old priest at once called out, "Bring lanterns! Let us see what evil creature this is!" At this order, the priests in both corridors were roused; old and young alike scrambled to their feet, lit lamps and torches, and went to the main hall to investigate.

What exactly they found there will be told in the next chapter.