Chapter 78

Chapter 78

A single thought arises and a hundred demons stir;

Cultivation is hardest—how can one subdue them?

Only through washing, cleansed of dust and grime,

And through restraint, polished and refined.

Sweep away the myriad ties and return to stillness;

Raze the thousand monsters—do not let them linger.

Be assured you will leap free from the cage of bondage,

And when your deeds are complete, ascend in flight to the Great Luo.

Sun Wukong had exhausted every stratagem to persuade the Tathāgata to subdue the monsters and deliver Tang Sanzang and his disciples from their ordeal. They left the city of Lion Camel and journeyed westward. Several months passed, and early winter arrived. Behold:

Plum blossoms on the ridge were about to crack through their jade;

The pond water was slowly turning to ice.

All the red leaves had fallen;

The green pines grew fresh and new.

Pale clouds flew as if bringing snow;

Dry grasses lay flat across the mountains.

A chill light stretched endlessly in every gaze;

The gloom pierced cold to the bone.

The master and his disciples braved the cold and endured the frost, lodging in the rain and dining on the wind. As they pressed on, they came upon another city. Sanzang asked, "Wukong, what place is that over there?" Wukong replied, "We shall know when we arrive. If it is a western kingdom, we must present our travel documents for the seal. If it is merely a prefecture or county, we shall pass straight through."

Before their conversation ended, they had already reached the city gate. Sanzang dismounted, and the four of them entered the outer city. There they saw an old soldier sleeping against a sun-warmed wall, nestling in the breeze. Wukong approached, shook him once, and called out, "Officer!" The old soldier started awake, opened his eyes in a daze, and seeing Wukong, immediately knelt and kowtowed, crying, "Grandfather!" Wukong said, "Don't panic and make such a fuss. I'm no evil spirit. Why do you call me Grandfather?" The old soldier kowtowed again, "You are the Grandfather of Thunder!" Wukong said, "Nonsense! I am a monk from the Eastern Lands traveling to the West to obtain the scriptures. I just arrived here and, not knowing the place, asked you a question." Hearing this, the old soldier finally composed himself, gave a yawn, scrambled to his feet, and stretched his waist. "Elder, Elder, forgive my offense. This place was originally called the Kingdom of Bhikṣu, but it has been renamed Little Boy City." Wukong asked, "Is there a king in the kingdom?" The old soldier said, "Yes, yes, there is." Wukong turned to Tang Sanzang and said, "Master, this was originally the Kingdom of Bhikṣu, now renamed Little Boy City. I don't know why the name was changed." Sanzang was puzzled, "Since it is called Bhikṣu, why is it also called Little Boy?" Bajie said, "Perhaps the King of Bhikṣu has died, and the one who ascended the throne is a young lad, hence the name Little Boy City." Sanzang said, "That makes no sense, no sense. Let us go in and ask further in the streets." Shaseng said, "Exactly. That old soldier didn't know, and besides, he was so frightened by Big Brother that he was talking nonsense. Let us go into the city and inquire."

They passed through three more gates and came to a great thoroughfare and bustling marketplace. The people were well-dressed and refined in appearance. Behold:

Wine houses and song halls rang with clamorous voices;

Colorful shops and teahouses hung their curtains high.

Ten thousand households and a thousand gates—business thrived;

Six streets and three markets—wealth flowed abundantly.

Men buying gold and trading brocade swarmed like ants;

Contending for profit and fighting for fame, all for the sake of money.

With courteous dignity and solemn bearing, the scenery flourished;

The river was clear and the sea tranquil—a year of peace.

The four disciples led the horse and carried the pole, walking through the marketplace for quite some time, unable to take in all the bustling grandeur. They noticed that every household had a goose cage at its door. Sanzang said, "Disciples, why do the people here all place goose cages at their doorways?" Bajie looked around and indeed saw goose cages, arranged with curtains of five-colored brocade draped over them. The fool laughed and said, "Master, today must be a lucky day on the almanac, suitable for marriages and gatherings of friends—everyone is performing ceremonies!" Wukong said, "Nonsense—how could every household be holding ceremonies at once? There must be a reason. Let me go take a look." Sanzang pulled him back, "Don't go. Your face is ugly—people might take offense." Wukong said, "I'll change my form and go."

The Great Sage pinched his fingers, recited an incantation, shook his body, and transformed into a bee. He spread his wings, flew close, and slipped through the curtain to look inside. There he saw a child sitting within. He went to the second household's cage and looked—another child. He inspected eight or nine houses in succession, and all contained children. They were all boys, with no girls among them. Some sat in the cages playing, some sat inside crying, some were eating fruit, and some were sleeping. After Wukong had seen enough, he resumed his true form and reported to Tang Sanzang, "Those cages contain children. The oldest are no more than seven, the youngest only five. I don't know why." Upon hearing this, Sanzang was lost in uncertain thought.

Suddenly, turning a corner, they saw a government office—the Jinting Post House. The Elder was delighted. "Disciples, let us go into this post house: first, to ask about the locality; second, to feed and rest the horse; and third, it is growing late—we shall stay the night." Shaseng said, "Exactly, exactly. Let us go in quickly." The four entered cheerfully. The officials on duty reported to the postmaster, who came out to receive them. After they had exchanged greetings and sat down, the postmaster asked, "Elder, where do you come from?" Sanzang said, "I am a monk from the Great Tang of the East, sent to the West to obtain the scriptures. Now that I have arrived at your honorable district, I have travel documents that should be inspected. I humble request the use of your esteemed office to rest." The postmaster immediately ordered tea. After tea, he arranged provisions and instructed his staff to prepare hospitality. Sanzang thanked him and asked, "Can we enter the court and have the travel documents inspected today?" The postmaster said, "Not tonight—it must wait until the morning audience tomorrow. Tonight you are welcome to rest in our humble office."

Presently, the arrangements were completed, and the postmaster invited the four pilgrims to partake of the vegetarian meal. He then ordered his men to clean the guest rooms for their lodging. The Tang Monk was profuse in his gratitude. Once seated, the elder said, "This poor monk has a matter he does not understand and begs you to enlighten him. In your district, how are children raised?"

The postmaster replied, "There are not two suns in the sky, nor two principles for men. In raising a child, it is the father's essence and the mother's blood; after ten months in the womb, the child is born in due time. Then it is suckled for three years, and gradually takes on its form. How could one not know this?"

The Tang Monk said, "According to your words, it is no different from our land. But when this monk entered the city, he saw that every household on the streets had set up a goose cage, in which small children were hidden. Not understanding this matter, he ventures to inquire."

The postmaster leaned close and whispered, "Venerable Elder, do not concern yourself with it, do not ask about it, do not pay it any mind, do not speak of it. Please rest, and set out early tomorrow."

Hearing this, the elder seized the postmaster by the sleeve and insisted on having a clear explanation. The postmaster shook his head and wagged his finger, saying only, "Be discreet." The Tang Monk held on all the more firmly and would not let go until he had a full account. The postmaster had no choice but to dismiss all the officials present. Alone by the lamp, he spoke softly: "What you just asked about—the goose cages—is the work of the present king, who has strayed from the Way. Why do you insist on asking about it?"

The Tang Monk said, "What do you mean, 'strayed from the Way'? You must explain clearly before this monk can set his mind at ease."

The postmaster said, "This country was originally called the Kingdom of Bhikṣu, but recently a popular rhyme changed its name to 'City of Little Boys.' Three years ago, an old man, dressed in the guise of a Daoist, brought a young girl of sixteen. Her features were delicate and lovely, her face like Guanyin. She was presented as tribute to the present sovereign. The king, enamored of her beauty, favored her in the palace and called her the 'Beautiful Queen.' Lately he has not so much as cast a proper glance at the three palace consorts or the six harem ladies. Day and night he pursues pleasure without cease. Now he has been reduced to spiritual exhaustion and physical emaciation. He eats little, and his life hangs by a thread. The Imperial Medical Bureau has exhausted every good prescription, but none can effect a cure. The Daoist who presented the girl has been enfeoffed by our sovereign and is called the 'State Preceptor.' The State Preceptor possesses a secret formula from beyond the seas that can greatly prolong life. He went to the Ten Continents and Three Islands to gather the ingredients, and all are now ready. But the catalyst is fearsome: it requires the hearts and livers of one thousand, one hundred, and eleven children, decocted into a medicine. After taking it, one gains the merit of a thousand years without aging. The children in those goose cages have all been selected and are being kept inside. Their parents, fearing the king's law, dare not let them cry, and so the rumor has spread, calling this the City of Little Boys. Venerable Elder, when you go to court tomorrow, attend only to the exchange of travel documents—speak of nothing else." With this, he withdrew.

The Tang Monk was so terrified that his bones went soft and his sinews slack; tears streamed unceasingly down his cheeks. Suddenly he cried out in anguish, "Benighted king! Benighted king! Because of your lustful pursuit of beauty, you have fallen ill—how can you wrongfully take the lives of so many children? How bitter! How bitter! It pains me to the core!"

There is a poem as proof. It says:

The wicked ruler, ignorant, has lost what is true,

In lust and pleasure he unwittingly harms himself.

Seeking endless life, he slays the lives of children;

To avert heaven's calamities, he kills his common folk.

The monk, moved by compassion, cannot bear to part with them;

The official speaks of gain and loss—too dreadful to hear.

By the lamp he sheds tears and heaves long sighs,

This pain prostrates the man who meditates toward the Buddha.

Bajie stepped forward and said, "Master, what has come over you? You're carrying other people's coffins into your own house to weep over. Don't trouble yourself. As the saying goes: 'If the sovereign commands his minister to die, and the minister does not die, he is disloyal. If the father commands his son to perish, and the son does not perish, he is unfilial.' He is harming his own subjects—what does it have to do with you? Come, take off your clothes and go to sleep. Do not worry on account of the ancients."

The Tang Monk shed tears and said, "Disciple, you are utterly devoid of compassion. We who have left home accumulate merit and practice virtue; above all, we must act with convenience and kindness. How can this benighted king behave so wantonly? I have never in all my life heard that eating the hearts and livers of men can prolong life. Such a thing—how can I not grieve?"

Sha Wujing said, "Master, do not grieve for now. Wait until tomorrow, when you exchange the travel documents, and speak to the king face to face. If he does not listen, we shall see what sort of State Preceptor he is. Perhaps the State Preceptor is a demon who wishes to eat human hearts and livers, and has devised this scheme—that cannot be ruled out."

Wukong said, "Wujing speaks sensibly. Master, you go to sleep. Tomorrow this old Sun will go with you to court and see what the State Preceptor is really like. If he is a man, then he has probably strayed into heterodox ways and does not understand the true Way, vainly seeking to gather medicines. This old Sun will teach him the essential principles of the primordial and convert him to what is right. If he is a demon, I shall seize him and show him to this king, and teach the king to moderate his desires and nurture his body. I will not let him harm those children's lives."

Hearing this, the Tang Monk hastily bowed and returned the gesture of reverence to Wukong. "Disciple, this plan is excellent, excellent! But when we see the benighted king, we must not raise this matter directly. I fear that the king, unable to distinguish near from far, may take it as slander and bring punishment upon us. How then shall we manage?"

Wukong laughed and said, "This old Sun has his own powers. For now, I shall first spirit the children in the goose cages away from this city, so that tomorrow there will be nothing from which to take hearts. The local officials will naturally submit a memorial. The benighted king will certainly issue an edict, either to consult with the State Preceptor or to make a fresh selection. At that point, we can use this affair to present our case, and I will certainly not be found guilty."

The Tang Monk was overjoyed. He added, "But how can you get the children out of the city? If you can truly rescue them, it would be the greatest merit of a worthy disciple. Do it quickly—if you delay even slightly, it may be too late."

Wukong summoned his divine might and rose at once. He instructed Bajie and Sha Wujing, "Sit with the Master. Wait while I work my art. If you feel a dark wind blowing, that will mean the children have left the city."

The three of them together recited: "Homage to the Bhaisajyaguru Buddha of Saving Lives! Homage to the Bhaisajyaguru Buddha of Saving Lives!"

The Great Sage stepped out the door, gave a loud whistle, rose into midair, formed the mudra, and spoke the true incantation. Calling out "Oṃ, purify the Dharma realm," he summoned the City God, the Local Deities, the Earth Gods, the True Officials, together with the Five Directional Vajra Deities, the Four Time-Keeping Merit Officers, the Six Ding and Six Jia Spirits, and the Guardian Samantapāsikā Sangha, all of whom arrived in midair and bowed to him, saying, "Great Sage, you have called us at night—what urgent matter brings this about?"

The Pilgrim said, "We are now passing through the Kingdom of Biqiu. That king has lost the Way; he listens to evil spirits and wants to use the hearts of young children as medicine ingredients, hoping to gain immortality. My master cannot bear to witness this and wishes to save lives and destroy the demons. Therefore, I, Old Sun, have specially invited you all. Each of you, use your divine powers to take the children from the goose-feather cages in every household of the city, along with the cages themselves, and transport them outside the city to the mountain hollows or deep in the forests. Keep them hidden for a day or two, give them fruit to eat so they do not starve, and secretly protect them so they do not become frightened and cry out. Once I have eliminated the evil, set the kingdom in order, and persuaded the king to return to the right path, I will send them back to me when we depart."

The host of gods received their orders and immediately employed each his divine power, lowering their cloud-tops. Throughout the city, dark winds rolled and baleful mists spread:

The dark winds blew dark across the stars of heaven; the baleful mists obscured the moon for a thousand leagues. At first the winds drifted gently and unhurriedly, but later they grew thunderous and fierce. Drifting gently, they sought out doorways to rescue children; thundering fiercely, they looked to the goose-feather cages to save flesh and blood. The chill invaded—how could anyone brave it? The cold pierced through the body, and clothing felt like iron. Parents were frantic in vain; elder brothers and sisters-in-law all grieved bitterly. Dark winds swept the ground; the cages were seized by the gods. Though this night was lonely and desolate, by dawn there would be joy and gladness.

There is a poem as proof, which says:

The Gate of Śākya has long shown compassion;

Righteousness and goodness achieve the great fruit, as the Mahāyāna teaches.

Ten thousand saints and a thousand true ones all accumulate merit;

The three refuges and five precepts must be observed in harmony.

The single kingdom of Biqiu is thrown into chaos not by the ruler alone;

A thousand children's lives are wrongly imperiled.

The Pilgrim, together with his master, came to their rescue—

This act of hidden virtue surpasses even the Pāramitā.

That night, at the third watch, the host of gods transported the goose-feather cages to various places for safekeeping.

The Pilgrim lowered his auspicious light and went straight to the post station, where he heard the three of them still chanting "Homage to the Medicine Buddha, Savior of Lives." He was secretly pleased in his heart. Approaching them, he called out, "Master, I am here. How was the dark wind?" Bajie said, "A fine dark wind!" Tripitaka said, "And the matter of saving the children—what has become of it?" The Pilgrim said, "I have rescued them one and all. They will be returned when we set out." The elder thanked him again and again before retiring.

At dawn, Tripitaka woke, dressed himself properly, and said, "Wukong, I will go to the morning court to exchange the travel documents." The Pilgrim said, "Master, if you go alone it may not succeed. Let Old Sun go with you, so I can observe whether the Royal Sire is wicked or upright." Tripitaka said, "But if you go, you will not bow in courtesy, and I fear the king will take offense." The Pilgrim said, "I will not show myself. I will follow you invisibly and protect you." Tripitaka was greatly pleased. He instructed Bajie and Sha Seng to watch the luggage and horses, and then they set out. The postmaster came again to pay his respects, and seeing how the elder was dressed, he appeared even more striking than the day before. Observe:

He wore on his body a precious brocade kasāya robe of rare treasure, and on his head a golden-topped Vairocana hat. In his hand he carried the nine-ringed tin staff, and in his breast dwelt a wondrous divine radiance. The travel documents were kept close at hand; his wrapping bundles were tied in brocade covers. He walked like an Arhat descended to the world; truly he had the true countenance of a living Buddha.

When the postmaster had finished his salutation, he whispered in the elder's ear, simply advising him not to meddle in other people's affairs. Tripitaka nodded and assented. The Great Sage slipped beside the door, spoke an incantation, shook his body, and transformed into a tiny cicada. With a buzz, he flew up and perched on Tripitaka's hat. They left the post station and made straight for the palace.

When they reached the gate of the court, they saw a palace eunuch, to whom Tripitana bowed and said, "This poor monk has been sent from the Great Tang in the East to the West to obtain scriptures. Now that we have arrived in your honorable land, it is proper that we exchange our travel documents. I wish to have an audience with His Majesty and humbly beg that you convey my request." The palace eunuch indeed transmitted the request. The king said with pleasure, "A monk who has come from so far must surely possess the Way." He commanded that he be invited in. The palace eunuch, receiving the edict, invited the elder inside. The elder had his audience at the foot of the steps, and was then invited up to the throne to be seated. The elder thanked the favor and sat down. He observed that the king was emaciated and weary in spirit: when he raised his hands, his salutations were clumsy; when he spoke, his voice broke and faltered. The elder presented the travel documents. The king's eyes were clouded; he looked them over and over again, then finally took the imperial seal, affixed his signature, and handed them back to the elder. The elder received them.

Just as the king was about to ask the reason for the scripture-seeking journey, an attending official announced, "His Honor the Royal Sire has arrived." The king, leaning on his attendant eunuchs, struggled down from the dragon throne and bowed to greet him. The elder was so startled that he hastily rose and stood to one side. Turning to look, he saw that it was an old Daoist, swaying and swaggering as he approached from the jade steps. Observe:

On his head he wore a pale yellow nine-tasseled cloud-patterned gauze kerchief; on his body he wore a plum-topped, aloeswood-scented silk crane-feather robe. Around his waist he tied a three-strand indigo woven belt; on his feet he wore a pair of hemp-woven, kudzu-thread cloud-head shoes. In his hand he leaned on a nine-section withered-vine coiling-dragon staff; on his chest he hung an embroidered satin bag painted with dragons and embroidered with phoenixes. His jade-like face was lustrous and smooth; his gray whiskers floated beneath his chin. His golden eyes darted flames; his long brows extended past his temples. When he moved, clouds followed his steps; in his ease, fragrant mists surrounded him. The officials below the steps all bowed to receive him, calling out in unison, "The Royal Sire approaches the court!"

When the Royal Sire reached the front of the treasure hall, he did not bow at all. Striding proudly, he went straight up to the throne. The king leaned forward and said, "The immortal traces of our Royal Sire—we are pleased by your early descent this day." He invited him to sit on the embroidered cushion at his left.

Tang Seng rose and bowed, saying, “Great State Tutor, this humble monk greets you.”

The State Tutor sat upright and high, and did not return the greeting. Turning to the king, he said, “Where does this monk come from?”

The king said, “He is sent by the Tang Dynasty in the East to fetch Buddhist scriptures from the West. He has come to have his travel documents verified.”

The State Tutor smiled and said, “The road to the West is dark and gloomy—what good is there in it?”

Tang Seng said, “Since ancient times, the West has been the supreme realm of ultimate bliss. How could it be bad?”

The king asked, “I have heard that in ancient times it was said: ‘Monks are disciples of the Buddha.’ But truly, I do not know—can one who becomes a monk avoid death? Can one who turns to the Buddha attain eternal life?”

Hearing these words, Tang Seng quickly pressed his palms together and replied:

“One who becomes a monk cuts off all worldly attachments; one who realizes his nature sees all phenomena as emptiness. Great wisdom rests at ease, tranquil within the realm of non‑birth; true activity moves silently, wandering freely within extinction and stillness. When the three realms are empty, all matters are governed; when the six senses are pure, a thousand pursuits come to an end. If one is firm and sincere in understanding, one must recognize the mind: when the mind is pure, it shines alone and illuminates; when the mind is present, ten thousand realms are clear. True appearance lacks nothing and has nothing extra—it can be seen before birth; illusory forms, having shape, must eventually decay—why seek beyond that? Practicing virtue and sitting in meditation are the source of entering concentration; bestowing kindness and granting favors are truly the foundation of cultivation. The greatest skill appears clumsy—know that in all things, non‑action prevails; good calculation is no calculation—one must let go of everything. If only the single mind remains unmoved, ten thousand practices are complete; as for ‘gathering yin to supplement yang,’ that is indeed false talk. ‘Swallowing elixirs to prolong life’ is truly empty words. One need only abandon all worldly attachments and see all phenomena as empty. Pure, simple, free of desire and craving—then naturally one enjoys long life without end.”

Hearing these words, the State Tutor merely smiled. Pointing at Tang Seng, he said:

“Ha ha ha, this monk talks nothing but nonsense. In the school of extinction and stillness, one must recognize nature. You do not know from what nature arises or perishes—sitting in meditation and practicing Chan are nothing but blind cultivation. As the common saying goes: ‘Sit, sit, sit—your bottom will break. Fire will stew you, and instead bring disaster.’ You do not even know my way:

“Those who cultivate immortality rely on the firmness and elegance of the bones; those who attain the Way rely on the supreme spirituality of the spirit. Carrying a basket and gourd, they enter the mountains to visit friends; gathering a hundred herbs, they come into the world to save people. They pick immortal flowers to weave hats, and plait fragrant orchids to make mats. They clap their hands and sing, and when the dance is done, they sleep upon the clouds. They expound the Way and spread the orthodox teachings of the Supreme One; they dispense talismanic water to remove the demonic miasma of the human world. They seize the vital essence of heaven and earth, and gather the splendorous essence of the sun and moon. They circulate yin and yang to form the elixir, and regulate water and fire to congeal the embryo. When the two‑times‑eight yin fades away, it is hazy and indistinct; when the three‑times‑nine yang grows, it is dim and obscure. They gather medicinal substances according to the four seasons, and nurture the nine‑fold transformation to complete the elixir. They stride on blue cranes and ascend to the Purple Prefecture; they ride white cranes and rise to the Jade Capital. They partake of the splendorous colors of the whole sky, and express the earnest devotion of the wondrous Way. Compared with your still meditation and Buddhist teaching, extinguishing the yin spirit, leaving a stinking shell in nirvana, yet still not escaping the mortal world—among the three teachings there is no superior; since ancient times, only the Way has been honored as supreme.”

The king, hearing this, was overjoyed. The whole court applauded, saying, “Well said—‘only the Way is honored as supreme’! ‘Only the Way is honored as supreme’!”

The elder saw everyone praising him and was filled with shame. The king then ordered the Imperial Catering Office to prepare a vegetarian feast for the monk who had come from afar, so that he might depart west of the city. Tang Seng thanked the favor and withdrew. Just as he left the hall and was walking out, Wukong flew down from the top of his hat and came to his ear, calling out, “Master, this State Tutor is a demon, and the king has been infected with demonic energy. You go first to the post house and wait for the feast. Old Sun will stay here and listen to what happens.”

Tang Seng understood and left the palace gate alone.

Now look at Wukong: he flew with one wing and landed on the jade screen in the Golden Palace Hall. He saw a military officer from the Five Garrisons step forward from the ranks and report, “Your Majesty, tonight a cold wind blew, and the little children from the goose coops of every district and household, coops and all, were swept away without a trace.”

The king, hearing the report, was both alarmed and angered. He said to the State Tutor, “This is Heaven destroying me! I have been gravely ill for months, and the imperial physicians were of no use. Fortunately, the State Tutor bestowed a divine prescription, and I was only waiting for today at noon to perform the operation and take the hearts and livers of these children as the medicine’s guide. Who would have expected a cold wind to sweep them away? If not Heaven’s wish to destroy me, then what?”

The State Tutor smiled and said, “Your Majesty, do not be troubled. The fact that these children were swept away is precisely Heaven sending long life to Your Majesty.”

The king said, “The children in the coops have been swept away—how can you then say Heaven is sending long life?”

The State Tutor said, “When I entered the court just now, I saw an incomparably wonderful medicine guide, far superior to the hearts of those one thousand, one hundred and eleven children. The hearts of those children could only extend Your Majesty’s life for a thousand years; but with this guide, after taking my divine medicine, Your Majesty’s life could be extended for ten thousand times ten thousand years.”

The foolish king, not knowing what this medicine guide could be, asked again and again. Only then did the State Tutor say, “The monk sent by the Eastern Land to fetch scriptures—I observed that his bearing is pure and his appearance is flawless. He is a true body of ten lifetimes of cultivation, a monk since childhood, whose primal yang has never been dissipated. He is ten thousand times superior to those children. If I can obtain his heart and liver to make a decoction, and Your Majesty takes it with my divine medicine, it will surely guarantee a life of ten thousand years.”

The dim‑witted king, hearing these words, believed him completely. He said to the State Tutor, “Why did you not say so earlier? If it is indeed so effective, I should have detained him just now and not let him leave.”

The State Tutor said, “What difficulty is there in that? I just now ordered the Imperial Catering Office to prepare a feast for him. He will certainly eat the feast before leaving the city. Now quickly issue an edict: close all the gates tightly, deploy troops to surround the Gold Pavilion Post House, and seize that monk. You must politely request his heart. If he agrees, cut him open at once and take it out, then give him a royal burial and build a temple where he may be honored with sacrifices. If if he refuses, then we shall have a martial confrontation—bind him immediately and cut him open to take it. What difficulty is there?”

The dim‑witted king followed his words and at once issued an edict to close all the gates. He also dispatched officers and men of the Imperial Guard to surround the post house.

Upon hearing this news, Pilgrim flew back to the post-house in a flurry of wings, resumed his true form, and said to Tripitaka, "Master, disaster! Disaster!" Tripitaka had just been receiving the imperial feast with Eight Rules and Friar Sand. When he suddenly heard these words, his three corpse-spirits scattered and smoke issued from his seven apertures. He collapsed to the ground, drenched in sweat, his eyes staring blankly, unable to speak. In a panic, Friar Sand rushed forward and supported him, crying, "Master, wake up! Master, wake up!" Eight Rules said, "What disaster? What disaster? You could have spoken more slowly, but instead you've terrified Master like this." Pilgrim said, "After you left the court, Old Sun took another look—the Royal Father-in-Law is a demon. Shortly afterward, officers from five garrisons arrived to report that a cold wind had swept away the children. The king was furious, but the Royal Father-in-law turned sorrow into joy, saying, 'This is Heaven sending you long life.' He wants to take your heart and liver to use as medicine, which would extend the king's life ten thousand years. That muddle-headed monarch believed his slanderous words, so he has mobilized elite troops to surround the post-house and sent an imperial guard to invite you, Master, to have your heart extracted." Eight Rules laughed and said, "Well done with the mercy, well done rescuing the children, well done that yin wind—and now disaster comes crashing down!"

Trembling, Tripitaka struggled to his feet, seized Pilgrim, and pleaded piteously, "My worthy disciple, what are we to do?" Pilgrim said, "If we want things to go well, the great must become small." Friar Sand asked, "What do you mean, 'the great must become small'?" Pilgrim said, "If we want to save our lives, the master must become the disciple and the disciple must become the master—only then can we survive." Tripitaka said, "If you can save my life, I am willing to become your disciple or even your disciple's disciple!" Pilgrim said, "Since that's settled, we must not delay. Eight Rules, hurry and mix some mud!" That fool at once used his rake to scoop up some earth. Afraid to fetch water from outside, he simply lifted his robe, urinated on the ground, and kneaded it into a stinking ball of mud, which he handed to Pilgrim. Pilgrim had no choice. He patted the mud flat, pressed it against his own face, and fashioned it into a monkey's face. He told Tripitaka to stand up, not to move, and on no account to speak. He pressed the mask onto Tripintaka's face, recited a true spell, and blew immortal breath onto it, crying, "Transform!" The elder immediately took on Pilgrim's appearance. They removed his robes and dressed him in Pilgrim's clothes, while Pilgrim put on the master's robes. He made a hand gesture, recited an incantation, and with a shake of his body transformed himself into Tripitaka's likeness. Even Eight Rules and Friar Sand could no longer tell them apart.

Just as they had finished the transformation and were making themselves ready, the sound of gongs and drums was heard, and the glint of spears and swords appeared. It was the commander of the Imperial Guard, who had led three thousand soldiers to surround the post-house. An imperial guard then entered the courtyard of the post-house and asked, "Where is the elder from the Tang of the Eastern Land?" The terrified postmaster knelt trembling and pointed, saying, "In the guest room below." The imperial guard went at once to the guest room and said, "Elder Tang, His Majesty requests your presence." Eight Rules and Friar Sand flanked and supported the false Pilgrim. The false Tripitaka came out and asked with a bow, "Honored imperial guard, what message does His Majesty have for this monk?" The imperial guard seized him at once and said, "I am taking you into the court—no doubt there is some use for you." Ah! Truly:

The demon's slander surpasses kindness and mercy,

And mercy and kindness bring disaster in return.

What became of his fate once he went—that, indeed, is told in the next chapter.