Chapter 46

Chapter 46

The king, seeing that Sun Wukong possessed the power to summon dragons and command sages, immediately affixed his imperial seal to the travel pass and was about to hand it to Tang Sanzang, allowing them to proceed westward. The three Taoist priests, in a panic, prostrated themselves in the golden throne hall and submitted a memorial. The emperor descended from his dragon throne and hastily raised them up with his own hands, saying, "National Preceptor, why do you perform such a great ceremony today?" The priests said, "Your Majesty, we have been here to support the state and protect the people, enduring twenty years of hardship. Today this monk has used his magic powers to humiliate us and ruin our reputation. If Your Majesty pardons a crime of murder simply because of a single rain, does that not belittle us? We beg Your Majesty to hold back his travel pass and allow my brothers and me to wager with him once more and see how it goes." The king was truly malleable—turn east if told east, turn west if told west. He actually took back the pass and said, "National Preceptor, how will you wager with him?" The Tiger Power Great Immortal said, "I will wager with him at sitting in meditation." The king said, "National Preceptor, you are mistaken. That monk comes from a Chan Buddhist background; he must already understand Chan principles before he dared to receive an imperial commission to seek the scriptures. How can you wager with him at this?" The Great Immortal said, "My meditation is different from the ordinary kind. It has a special name: 'Cloud Ladder Manifesting Holiness.'" The king said, "What is 'Cloud Ladder Manifesting Holiness'?" The Great Immortal said, "We need one hundred tables. Fifty tables are used to make one meditation platform, stacked one upon another. One must not climb up by hand, nor use ladders or stools. Each of us will mount a cloud, ascend the platform, and sit down, agreeing not to move for a set number of hours."

The king saw this presented some difficulty and issued an edict asking, "That monk, my National Preceptor wishes to wager with you at 'Cloud Ladder Manifesting Holiness' meditation. Can you do it?" Wukong heard this and fell silent, not answering. Zhu Bajie said, "Brother, why don't you say something?" Wukong said, "Brother, I won't hide it from you. If it's kicking at the sky and digging wells, stirring the seas and overturning rivers, carrying mountains and chasing the moon, shifting stars and moving constellations—I can do all of that. Even having my head chopped off, my brains scooped out, my belly cut open and my heart gutted, or all manner of strange transformations—I'm not afraid of those either. But when it comes to sitting in meditation, I lose. Where would I get the patience to sit still? Even if you locked me to an iron pillar, I'd be crawling up and down—no way could I sit still." Sanzang suddenly spoke up: "I can sit in meditation." Wukong was delighted. "Splendid, splendid! How long can you sit?" Sanzang said, "When I was young, I met a Chan monk from the regions who taught me the Way. On the fundamental root of life-nature, I stabilized my nature and preserved my spirit. At the threshold of life and death, I could sit for two or three years." Wukong said, "Master, if you sit for two or three years, we won't be getting the scriptures. At most it won't be more than two or three hours before you come down." Sanzang said, "Disciple, the problem is I cannot get up there." Wukong said, "You step forward and accept. I'll send you up."

The elder indeed folded his palms before his chest and said, "This poor monk can sit in meditation." The king ordered the edict to be proclaimed and the meditation platforms to be erected. The nation had the strength to topple mountains; in less than half an hour, two platforms had been set up, one on each side of the golden throne hall.

The Tiger Power Great Immortal descended from the hall, stood at the foot of the steps, and with a leap mounted a cloud of woven mats, ascending directly to the western platform and sitting down. Wukong plucked a hair and transformed it into a decoy, which stood below with Bajie and Sha Wujing. He himself made a five-colored auspicious cloud, lifted Tang Sanzang into the air, and brought him directly to the eastern platform to sit down. He then gathered his auspicious light and transformed into a tiny cicada, flying to Bajie's ear. "Brother, watch our Master carefully. Don't speak to old Sun's substitute." The fool laughed and said, "Understood, understood."

Now the Deer Power Great Immortal had been watching from his embroidered cushion for quite some time. The two on the high platforms were evenly matched, so the priest decided to help his senior brother: he plucked a short hair from behind his head, rolled it into a ball, flicked it upward, and it flew directly to the top of Sanzang's head, transforming into a large stinging bug that bit the elder. At first the elder felt itchy, then it began to hurt. Now, one who sits in meditation is not permitted to move his hands—if he does, he loses. The pain soon became unbearable. He scrunched his head and rubbed the itch against his robe. Bajie said, "This is bad—Master has an epileptic fit!" Sha Wujing said, "No, it's a headache." Wukong heard this and said, "My Master is a man of sincere integrity. If he says he can sit in meditation, he certainly can. If he said he couldn't, then he couldn't. A gentleman would never speak falsely. You two stop talking. Let me go up and take a look."

The fine Wukong buzzed and flew to the top of Sanzang's head. He saw a bug the size of a bean biting his Master. Hastily he plucked it off and rubbed and patted the spot for his Master. The elder felt no more pain or itchiness and sat upright. Wukong thought to himself: "A monk's head is bare—not even a louse can take hold. How could there be a stinging bug? That must be some trick of the priest's, harming my Master. Ha! They can't even tell who's winning—let old Sun go give him a taste!" The Pilgrim flew up, landed on the beast-head ornament of the golden hall, and transformed into a seven-inch-long centipede. He flew straight to the priest's nostril and stung him. The priest could not sit steady and tumbled head over heels, nearly losing his life. Fortunately, the many officials large and small rescued him. The king was greatly alarmed and ordered the Grand Marshal of the Imperial Carriage to take him to the Hall of Literary Splendor to wash and refresh himself. Wukong then mounted his auspicious cloud and carried the Master down to the foot of the steps. The elder had already won the victory.

The king only ordered them to be released. The Deer Power Immortal again memorialized: "Your Majesty, my senior brother has always suffered from a hidden wind ailment. Having reached a high place and encountered the heavenly wind, his old affliction flared up, which allowed the monk to win. Let him remain here and allow me to challenge him to a guessing game behind a partition." The king asked, "What is this 'guessing game behind a partition'?" Deer Power said, "This poor monk has the method of knowing objects through a partition. Let us see if that monk can match it. If he can guess correctly, let him leave; if he cannot, let Your Majesty determine his crime to avenge my brothers and not taint the twenty years of service in protecting the kingdom." Truly, that king was utterly muddle-headed and followed these slanderous words. He immediately issued an edict: a vermillion-lacquered cabinet was to be carried into the palace by the inner officials. He ordered the imperial consort to place a precious item inside. Shortly after, it was carried out and placed before the jade-white steps, and the monk and the Taoist were told: "You two shall each test your divine powers and guess what treasure is inside the cabinet."

Tripitaka said, "Disciple, how can we know what is inside the cabinet?" Wukong gathered his auspicious light and transformed back into a cicada, landing on Tang Monk's head. "Master, rest assured, let me go and have a look." The great sage flew lightly to the cabinet, crawled beneath it, and found a crack in the board. He slipped inside and saw a red-lacquered cinnabar tray containing a set of imperial garments—the Robe of Mountains and Rivers and the Skirt of the Universe. He picked them up, disarranged them, bit his tongue, and spat a mouthful of blood upon them, crying out: "Transform!" They immediately became a tattered, ragged, worthless coat. Before leaving, he also splashed a puddle of foul urine. Then he slipped back through the crack, flew to Tang Monk's ear, and said, "Master, just guess that it is a tattered, ragged, worthless coat." Tripitaka said, "He told us to guess a treasure. What kind of treasure is a worthless coat?" Wukong said, "Never mind that—just guess it."

Tripitaka stepped forward and was about to guess when the Deer Power Immortal said, "I will guess first. Inside the cabinet are the Robe of Mountains and Rivers and the Skirt of the Universe." Tripitaka said, "No, no. Inside the cabinet is a tattered, ragged, worthless coat." The king said, "This monk is insolent, daring to mock our kingdom as having no treasures, guessing something like a worthless coat." He ordered: "Seize him!" The guards from both ranks moved to act. In his alarm, Tripitaka pressed his palms together and cried out: "Your Majesty, spare this poor monk for a moment and wait until the cabinet is opened. If it truly is a treasure, this monk will accept his punishment; but if it is not a treasure, would you not wrong this poor monk?" The king ordered the cabinet opened. The attending official opened it and brought out the cinnabar tray to look—and indeed it was a tattered, ragged, worthless coat. The king flew into a rage: "Who placed this object here?" From behind the dragon throne, the Three Palaces Empress stepped forward and said: "My lord, it was I who personally placed the Robe of Mountains and Rivers and the Skirt of the Universe inside. I do not know how it became this." The king said, "My consort, please withdraw. I understand. The items used in the palace are nothing but satins, silks, and brocades—there is no such thing as a worthless coat." He ordered: "Bring the cabinet up. I will personally place a treasure inside and test them again." The emperor then went to the rear palace, picked a large peach—the size of a bowl—from the peach tree in the imperial garden, placed it inside the cabinet, and had it carried down for them to guess.

Tripitaka said, "Disciple, we must guess again." Wukong said, "Rest assured, let me go and look once more." With a buzz, he flew off, slipped in through the crack again, and saw a peach—exactly to his liking. He immediately resumed his true form, sat inside the cabinet, and devoured the peach clean in one go, even gnawing the hollows on both cheeks clean, then placed the pit inside. He transformed back into a cicada, flew out, and landed on Tripitaka's ear. "Master, just guess that it is a peach pit." The elder said, "Disciple, do not play tricks on me. Last time, my quick tongue nearly cost me my life. This time I must guess a treasure. What kind of treasure is a peach pit?" Wukong said, "Have no fear. Just win."

Tripitaka was about to speak when he heard the Goat Power Immortal say, "This poor monk will guess first. It is an immortal peach." Tripitaka guessed: "It is not a peach. It is a bare peach pit." The king shouted: "It is the immortal peach that I placed. How can it be a pit? The three kingdom masters have guessed correctly." Tripitaka said: "Your Majesty, open it and see." The attending official carried it up again and opened it, bringing out the cinnabar tray—and indeed it was a pit, with no flesh or skin remaining. The king was alarmed and said: "Kingdom Master, stop competing with him and let him go. The immortal peach that I personally placed is now just a pit. Who could have eaten it? It must be that spirits and gods are secretly helping him." Upon hearing this, Bajie and Sha Seng smiled faintly and said: "They don't even know he's an old hand at eating peaches."

While they were speaking, the Tiger Power Immortal, having freshened up at the Literary Glory Hall, walked up to the hall and said: "Your Majesty, this monk has the art of transporting and substituting objects. Bring the cabinet up. I will break his sorcery and guess with him again." The king said: "What more does the Kingdom Master wish to guess?" Tiger Power said: "His sorcery can only substitute objects, not a person. Let us hide this young acolyte inside—he will not be able to substitute him." The young boy was indeed hidden inside, the cabinet lid was closed, and it was carried down. They told the monk: "Guess again—what treasure is this for the third round?"

Sanzang said, "Here it comes again!" Wukong said, "Let me go take another look." With a buzz he flew off again, slipped inside, and found it was a young boy. Ah, the Great Sage—he was truly perceptive! Indeed, such cunning was rare under heaven, and such cleverness was scarce in the world. He transformed himself, taking on the appearance of an old Taoist priest, entered the cabinet, and called out, "Disciple!"

The boy said, "Master, where have you come from?"

Wukong said, "I came by the art of concealment."

The boy said, "What instructions do you have for me?"

Wukong said, "That monk saw you enter the cabinet. If he guesses a Taoist boy, won't he lose again? I've come specially to discuss this with you: shave your head, and let us guess he's a monk instead."

The boy said, "I'll follow your arrangements, Master, as long as we win. If we lose to him again, not only will our reputation suffer, but I fear the court will no longer hold us in esteem."

Wukong said, "Well said. Come here, my child. Beat him, and I'll reward you handsomely." He transformed his golden-banded staff into a razor, embraced the boy, and called out, "There, there, bear the pain, don't make a sound, and let me shave your head." In an instant, he shaved off the hair, gathered it into a ball, and stuffed it into a corner of the cabinet. He put the razor away, stroked the boy's bald head, and said, "My child, your head now looks like a monk's, but your clothes don't match. Take them off, and I'll transform them for you."

The boy was wearing a crane-feather cloak of pale greenish-white cloud-patterned silk with embroidered brocade trim. He took it off. Wukong blew a breath of immortal qi and cried, "Transform!" It instantly became a plain brown monk's robe, which he made the boy put on. Then he plucked two hairs and transformed them into a wooden fish, which he placed in the boy's hands, saying, "Disciple, listen carefully: if they call for a Taoist boy, by no means come out. But if they call for a monk, you are to push open the lid, strike the wooden fish, recite a scroll of Buddhist scripture, and climb out—only then will we succeed."

The boy said, "I only know how to recite the Scripture of the Three Officials, the Scripture of the Northern Dipper, and the Scripture for Dispelling Calamities. I don't know any Buddhist scriptures."

Wukong said, "Can you recite Buddha's name?"

The boy said, "Amitabha Buddha—who can't recite that?"

Wukong said, "Very well, very well, then recite Buddha's name. That saves me from having to teach you. Remember this—I'm off." He transformed again into a cicada, flew out, and landed on the rim of Tang Sanzang's ear, saying, "Master, just guess that it's a monk."

Sanzang said, "This time he's sure to win."

Wukong said, "How can you be so certain?"

Sanzang said, "The scriptures say: 'The Three Jewels are the Buddha, the Dharma, and the Sangha.' A monk is also one of the jewels."

Just as they were speaking, the Tiger Power Great Immortal said, "Your Majesty, the third round is a Taoist boy." He kept calling, but the boy would not come out. Sanzang pressed his palms together and said, "It's a monk." Bajie shouted at the top of his lungs, "There's a monk in the cabinet!" The boy suddenly pushed open the lid, struck the wooden fish, chanted Buddha's name, and climbed out. The two rows of civil and military officials cheered in delight. The three Taoist priests were struck dumb with fright.

The king said, "This monk has spirits and gods aiding him. How could a Taoist priest enter the cabinet and turn into a monk? Even if a court attendant followed him in, he could only have shaved his head—how could the clothes also fit perfectly, and how could he recite Buddhist prayers? National Master, let them go."

The Tiger Power Great Immortal said, "Your Majesty, it's simply a case of meeting one's match, a general meeting a worthy foe. I learned certain martial arts in my youth on Zhongnan Mountain—let me wager them against him."

The king said, "What martial arts?"

Tiger Power said, "My two brothers and I all possess certain supernatural powers: we can have our heads cut off and put them back on; we can cut open our bellies and remove our hearts, and they will grow back whole; we can bathe in a cauldron of boiling oil."

The king said in alarm, "These three things are all paths to death!"

Tiger Power said, "It is precisely because we possess such powers that we dare make this bold claim. We must wager with him before we stop."

The king cried out, "Monk from the Eastern Lands, our National Master refuses to let you go. He wants to wager with you on head-cutting, belly-opening, and bathing in a cauldron of boiling oil!"

Wukong had been transforming into a cicada to carry messages back and forth. When he heard this, he retracted his hairs and revealed his true form, laughing heartily: "What fortune, what fortune—business has come to our door!"

Bajie said, "These three things are all matters of life and death. How can you say business has come to our door?"

Wukong said, "You still don't know my abilities."

Bajie said, "Brother, your transformations and tricks are already enough—how can you have abilities like these too?"

Wukong said, "As for me:

Cut off my head and I can still speak,

Chop off my arms and I can still fight.

Sever my legs and I can still walk,

Open my belly and my insides mend—marvelous beyond compare!

It's just like a man making dumplings—

Pinch once and one comes out whole.

Bathing in boiling oil is even easier—

It's just like washing off dirt in warm water."

Bajie and Sha Wujing heard this and laughed heartily.

Wukong stepped forward and said, "Your Majesty, this little monk knows how to have his head cut off."

The king said, "How can you have your head cut off?"

Wukong said, "When I was cultivating in a temple in my youth, I met a wandering monk from afar who taught me a head-cutting technique. I don't know whether it's any good or not, but let's try it out now."

The king laughed and said, "That monk is young and doesn't understand—how can having one's head cut off be something to try out? The head is the chief of the six yang organs. Once cut off, one dies immediately."

Tiger Power said, "Your Majesty, this is exactly what we want—only then can we vent our anger."

That muddled king believed his words and immediately issued an edict ordering the execution ground to be set up.

The king issued an edict, and immediately three thousand Imperial Guards took up positions outside the palace gates. The king commanded, "Let the monk go first to have his head cut off." The Pilgrim cheerfully replied, "Let me go first, let me go first." He cupped his hands in salute and called out loudly, "National Preacher, forgive my boldness—I'm taking the lead." He turned and strode out. Tang Sanzang grabbed him and said, "Disciple, be careful! This is no place for games." The Pilgrim said, "What's there to fear? Let go of me—wait while I go and have a try."

The Great Sage went straight to the execution ground, where the executioners seized him, bound him up, and pinned him on a high mound of earth. They heard a shout: "Strike!" With a swish, his head was cut off. Then one of the executioners kicked it, and it rolled away like a watermelon for thirty or forty paces. No blood flowed from the Pilgrim's neck. From inside his belly came a cry: "Head, come here!" The panicked Deer Power Immortal, seeing such powers, immediately recited an incantation and commanded the local earth god and deities of the district, "Hold that head fast. When I've defeated the monk and reported to the king, I'll have your small shrines rebuilt as great temples and your clay images recast in true gold." The earth god and deities, because the Immortal possessed the Five Thunder Arts, obeyed his summons and secretly held the Pilgrim's head firmly in place. The Pilgrim called again, "Head, come here!" But the head seemed rooted to the spot and would not budge. The Pilgrim grew anxious, clenched his fists, and gave a mighty heave—the ropes binding him snapped. He shouted, "Grow!" and with a swish, a new head sprouted from his neck. The executioners were all terrified, and the Imperial Guards trembled with fear. The supervising officer rushed into the palace and reported, "Your Majesty, that young monk had his head cut off, and another one has grown back." Zhu Bajie said with a cold laugh, "Sha Wujing, who knew our brother had such abilities?" Sha Wujing said, "He has seventy-two transformations—that means he has seventy-two heads!"

Before he had finished speaking, the Pilgrim walked over and called, "Master." Sanzang was overjoyed and said, "Disciple, was it hard?" The Pilgrim said, "Not hard at all—it was rather fun." Bajie said, "Brother, do you need any wound medicine?" The Pilgrim said, "Feel for yourself—are there any cuts?" The idiot reached out and felt, then laughed in amazement, "Marvelous, marvelous! It's completely healed—not even a scar!"

The brothers were all rejoicing when they heard the king call for them to receive the travel pass: "You are pardoned of all charges. Go quickly, go quickly." The Pilgrim said, "I'll take the pass, but the National Preacher must also go to the execution ground and have his head cut off—let him try it too." The king said, "Great National Preacher, that monk won't let you off either. You made the wager with him—don't frighten your sovereign." Tiger Power had no choice but to go. The executioners bound him, and with a flash, his head was cut off and kicked away, rolling more than thirty paces. No blood flowed from his neck either. He called out, "Head, come here!" The Pilgrim quickly plucked a hair, blew on it with immortal breath, and shouted, "Change!" It turned into a yellow dog that ran onto the field, seized the Taoist's head in its mouth, and raced to the imperial moat, where it dropped it—but no more of that.

The Taoist called three times, but his head did not return. He had no powers like the Pilgrim's and could not grow a new one. From his neck, red blood gushed forth. Pitiful—though he had the arts of summoning wind and rain, how could he compare to an immortal who had eaten the Fruit of Immortality? In a moment he fell to the dust. The crowd looked closely and saw a headless yellow-furred tiger.

The supervising officer came again to report, "Your Majesty, the Great National Preacher's head was cut off and could not grow back. He has died in the dust—he is a headless yellow-furred tiger." The king was greatly alarmed and stared fixedly at the two remaining Taoists. Deer Power rose and said, "My senior brother's life and fortune are finished—how can he be a yellow tiger? This is all the monk's lazy trickery, using a disguise spell to turn my senior brother into a beast. I will not let him go—I must wager with him on cutting open the belly and carving out the heart."

Only then did the king calm himself and recover his senses. He called out, "Young monk, the Second National Preacher still wants to wager with you." The Pilgrim said, "This young monk hasn't eaten cooked food for a long time. The other day, on our journey west, we happened upon a devotee's home where I was urged to eat, and I had several extra steamed buns. These past few days my stomach has been hurting—I think worms have grown inside. I was just about to borrow Your Majesty's knife to cut open my belly, take out my organs, wash my stomach and intestines clean, and then be on my way west to see the Buddha." The king commanded, "Take him to the execution ground." Many people dragged and pulled him. The Pilgrim shook them off and said, "No need to drag me—I'll walk there myself. But one condition: don't bind my hands, so I can use them to wash my organs." The king issued an edict: "Do not bind his hands."

The Pilgrim swaggered to the execution ground, leaned against a large post, loosened his robe, and exposed his belly. The executioners put a rope around his neck and another around his legs, then flashed a short ox-ear knife and sliced downward across his belly, opening a hole. The Pilgrim pulled open his belly with both hands, took out his intestines and organs, and sorted them one by one for quite some time. Then he put them back inside, coiled them as before, pressed his belly together, blew on it with immortal breath, and shouted, "Grow!" It healed as before.

The king was greatly startled and held the travel pass in his hands, saying, "Holy monk, do not delay your journey west—take your pass and go." The Pilgrim laughed and said, "The pass is a small matter. How about asking the Second National Preacher to also have his belly cut open and his heart carved out?" The king said to Deer Power, "This has nothing to do with me—you're the one who made an enemy of him. Go ahead, go ahead." Deer Power said, "Rest assured—I will definitely not lose to him."

You see, he too resembled the Great Sage, swaggering as he made his way straight into the execution ground. The executioner slipped the rope over him, and with a flash of the short ox-ear knife, slit open his belly with a single stroke. He then drew out his liver and intestines and began to arrange them with his hands. The Pilgrim plucked a single hair from his body, blew on it with immortal breath, and cried, "Transform!" It immediately became a starving eagle, which spread its wings and talons and swooped down, seizing all the five viscera and heart and liver, carrying them off to enjoy them no one knew where. This Taoist priest became a ghost with an empty cavity, a dripping, torn-open belly—a wandering soul without organs or intestines.

The executioner kicked over the great post and dragged the body over to examine it. Ah! It turned out to be a white-furred horned deer.

The supervising official, thoroughly shaken, came forward again to report: "The Second State Tutor has met with foul luck. Just as he was being disemboweled, a starving eagle snatched away all his organs and intestines and flew off. He is dead on the spot. His true form was a white-furred horned deer."

The king was alarmed. "How could it be a horned deer?"

The Immortal of Sheep Power then stepped forward and reported: "Now that my senior brother is dead, how could his beastly form be revealed? It must be that these monks used their sorcery to destroy us. Allow me to avenge my senior brother."

The king asked, "What magic power do you have to defeat him?"

The Immortal of Sheep Power said, "I will compete with him in bathing in a cauldron of boiling oil."

The king then ordered a large cauldron to be brought, filled with sesame oil, and told the two of them to go ahead and compete.

The Pilgrim said, "I am most honored. This little monk hasn't bathed in a long while, and these past two days his skin has been dry and itchy—I might as well go and have a good soak."

The court officials duly set up the oil cauldron, piled on dry firewood, lit a fierce fire, and brought the oil to a rolling boil, telling the monk to go in first.

The Pilgrim pressed his palms together and asked, "I wonder—do you mean a civil wash or a martial wash?"

The king asked, "What is a civil wash? What is a martial wash?"

The Pilgrim said, "A civil wash means not removing one's clothes—you simply fold your hands, go in, roll around once, and come back up, without allowing the clothes to be soiled. If there is even a trace of oil on them, you lose. A martial wash requires a clothes rack and a towel. You remove your clothes, leap in, and do whatever you please—turning somersaults, standing on your head, amusing yourself as you bathe."

The king said to the Immortal of Sheep Power, "Do you want a civil wash or a martial wash with him?"

The Immortal of Sheep Power said, "A civil wash—I'm afraid his clothes may have been treated with some drug to repel oil. Let's do a martial wash."

The Pilgrim stepped forward again and said, "Forgive my boldness—I keep taking the lead."

Watch him then: he stripped off his straight-cut cloth robe, pulled down his tiger-skin skirt, gave a leap, and jumped into the cauldron, churning the waves and riding the swells, playing about as if he were carrying water.

Eight Rules saw this, bit his finger, and said to Sha Monk, "We've misjudged this monkey! All this time he's been cutting us with his sharp tongue, competing with us for sport—who knew he had such real ability?"

The two of them whispered and murmured to each other, praising him without end.

The Pilgrim caught sight of them and suspected in his heart: "That idiot is laughing at me. Truly, 'the clever toil while the idle rest.' Old Sun performs all this, and he sits there at ease. Let me trick him into getting tied up and see if he panics."

Just as he was bathing, he sent a splash of water down to the bottom of the oil cauldron and transformed into a date-pit nail, never to rise again.

The supervising official came forward again and reported: "Your Majesty, the little monk has been cooked to death in the boiling oil."

The king was overjoyed and ordered the bones to be fished out for examination. The executioner took a large iron strainer and fished around in the oil cauldron. But the holes in the strainer were wide, and the Pilgrim had transformed into a tiny nail, slipping in and out through the holes—how could he be caught?

The official reported again: "The monk's body was so small and his bones so tender—they've all been fried to nothing."

The king ordered, "Throw the three monks in." The guards on either side, seeing Eight Rules' fierce-looking face, seized him first, threw him to the ground, and bound his arms behind his back.

In desperation, Tripitaka cried out: "Your Majesty, pardon this poor monk for a moment! That disciple of mine, ever since he converted to the faith, has rendered meritorious service time and again. Today he offended the State Tutor and died in the oil cauldron. But the dead become gods first—how dare this poor monk cling to life? Indeed, the officials of the world govern the people of the world. If Your Majesty orders your subject to die, how dare he not die? I only beg the gracious favor of half a bowl of cool rice water and three paper horses, so that I may go before the oil cauldron, burn this offering of paper, and express the bond between master and disciples. Then I will accept my punishment."

The king, hearing these words, said, "That is true. Those men of the Middle Kingdom are full of loyalty and honor."

He ordered some rice water and yellow paper money to be brought. It was duly fetched and handed over to Tripitaka.

Tripitaka told Sha Monk to go with him. When they reached the foot of the steps, several guards seized Eight Rules by the ear and dragged him to the side of the cauldron.

Tripitaka prayed before the cauldron: "My disciple Sun Wukong—

Since you received your vows and bowed at the grove of meditation,

You have protected me on my journey west with deep kindness.

We hoped together to achieve the Great Way,

Who expected that today you would return to the shades?

In life you sought only the meaning of the scriptures,

In death your heart of Buddha-recitation remains.

Your heroic spirit must wait ten thousand miles away,

To rise as a ghost from the underworld and ascend to Thunderclap Monastery."

Eight Rules heard this and said, "Master, that's not how you should pray.—Sha Monk, you offer the rice water for me—let me pray."

That idiot, bound on the ground, said furiously: "Troublemaking rascally monkey, ignorant Protector of the Horse! Damn you, rascally monkey, Protector of the Horse fried in oil! The monkey's account is settled, the Protector of the Horse's line is cut off."

Sun the Pilgrim, at the bottom of the oil cauldron, heard the idiot's ravings and could not restrain himself. He revealed his true form and stood, dripping wet, at the bottom of the oil cauldron. "You starving, worthless fool!" he shouted. "Who are you cursing?"

Tripitaka saw him and cried, "Disciple, you've scared me to death!"

Sha Monk said, "Elder Brother has gotten quite used to pretending to die."

The two rows of civil and military officials rushed forward in alarm and reported to the emperor: "Your Majesty, that monk hasn't died—he's climbed out of the oil cauldron again!" The executioner, fearing he might be deceiving the court, submitted another report: "He is dead, but the date is inauspicious, and the little monk's spirit has come to manifest itself." Upon hearing this, the Great Sage flew into a rage. He leaped from the cauldron, wiped off the grease, put on his clothes, drew his staff, struck the executioner across the head, and smashed him into a ball of flesh. "What spirit am I supposed to be manifesting?" he roared. The terror-stricken officials hastily released Bajie from his bonds and fell to their knees, wailing: "Mercy, mercy!" The king descended from his dragon throne, and the Great Sage strode up to the hall and seized him. "Your Majesty, don't run off. Let me have your three national masters go down into the oil cauldron as well." The emperor trembled with fear and said, "Three National Masters, save my life! Quick, go down into the cauldron—don't let that monk beat me!"

Yangli descended from the hall, and following the Great Sage's example, he stripped off his clothes and leaped into the oil cauldron, splashing and bathing just as the others had done. The Great Sage released the king and approached the side of the cauldron, telling the stoker to add more firewood. He reached in and felt the oil—ah! The boiling oil was ice-cold. He thought to himself: "When I bathed in it, the oil was scalding hot, but when he bathes in it, it's cold. I understand now—some Dragon King must be down there protecting him!" He quickly leaped into the air and recited the "Om" mantra, summoning the Dragon King of the Northern Sea. "You horned earthworm, you scaled loach! How dare you help that Taoist—using a cold dragon to shield the bottom of his cauldron so he can display his holy power and defeat me?" The Dragon King stammered in terror: "Ao Shun would not dare to help him. Great Sage, you don't know—this creature underwent bitter cultivation and shed his original shell, but he only truly mastered the Five Thunder Method; the rest are all heterodox side-paths, and he can hardly return to the Way of the Immortals. This technique he learned at Little Mount Mao—it's called the 'Great Flaying.' The other two had their methods broken by the Great Sage and revealed their true forms. This one is a cold dragon he refined himself, good enough to fool ordinary people for sport, but how could it fool the Great Sage? This little dragon will now seize his cold dragon and see to it that his bones are crushed and his skin scorched." The Great Sage said, "Seize it at once, and I'll spare you a beating." The Dragon King transformed into a whirlwind, went to the side of the cauldron, and carried the cold dragon down to the sea—but no more of that.

The Great Sage came down and stood before the hall with Tripitaka, Bajie, and Sha Seng, watching the Taoist struggle in the boiling oil cauldron, unable to climb out. He slipped and fell, and in an instant his bones were loosened, his skin scorched, and his flesh dissolved.

The executioner came forward again to report: "Your Majesty, the Third National Master has been deep-fried to nothing." The king's eyes brimmed with tears. He struck the imperial desk with both hands and cried aloud:

"The human body is indeed hard to obtain—

Without true transmission, do not attempt the elixir.

You may have spells to summon gods and command water,

But no pill to prolong life or preserve the body.

How can you achieve perfect illumination and return to nirvana?

All your scheming brings no peace to your fate.

Had you known such a swift and bitter defeat,

Better to have kept to your secret diet and dwelt in peace upon the mountain!"

Truly it is said:

What good is transmuting gold and refining mercury?

Summoning rain and calling the wind—all in vain!

But how the master and his disciples carried on, that you must hear in the next chapter.