Chapter 86

Chapter 86

The Great Sage Sun led the horse and carried the load, searching for his master all over the mountain. Suddenly Zhu Bajie came running up, panting furiously. "Brother, what are you shouting about?" The Pilgrim said, "Master has vanished. Have you seen him?" Bajie replied, "I originally became a monk just to follow Tang Seng, and yet you made a fool of me, telling me to play the general. I risked my life fighting that demon for a while, and barely made it back alive. You and Sha Seng were supposed to be watching Master—why come asking me?" The Pilgrim said, "Brother, I'm not blaming you. But somehow your eyes have been deceived—you let the demon come back and take Master. I went to fight that demon and told Sha Monk to watch over Master, and now even Sha Monk has vanished." Bajie laughed and said, "I suppose Sha Monk took Master off somewhere to relieve himself." Before he could finish speaking, Sha Seng arrived. The Pilgrim asked, "Sha Seng, where has Master gone?" Sha Seng said, "You two are both blind—you let the demon come back and take Master. Old Sha went to fight the demon, and Master was sitting on the horse by himself." The Pilgrim jumped up in fury. "We've fallen for his trick! We've fallen for his trick!" Sha Seng asked, "What trick?" The Pilgrim said, "This is the 'Plucking Petals from a Plum Blossom' scheme—he's separated the lot of us and snatched Master right from our hearts. Oh heavens, oh heavens, oh heavens—what are we to do?" Tears streamed down his cheeks without stopping. Bajie said, "Don't cry—crying makes you look like a weakling. In any case, it can't be far. He's somewhere on this mountain. Let's go find him."

The three of them, having no other plan, had no choice but to enter the mountain to search. After traveling some twenty li or so, they saw beneath a cliff a cave dwelling:

Sheer peaks rose around it, with strange rocks towering tall. Exotic flowers and fragrant herbs gave off sweet perfumes; red apricots and green peaches bloomed in gorgeous splendor. Before the cliff stood an ancient tree, its frost-scaled trunk forty spans around; outside the gate rose dark-green pines, their indigo hues reaching two thousand feet into the sky. Pairs of wild cranes often came to dance in the clear wind before the cave mouth; couples of mountain birds sang from the branches throughout the bright day. Clusters of yellow vines hung like ropes; rows of misty willows trailed like golden threads. A square pond held deep water; a dark cave nestled against the mountain. In the square pond's deep water hid a dragon not yet transformed; in the dark cave against the mountain dwelt an old monster who had eaten men for many years. Truly it rivaled an immortal's realm—indeed a nest that gathered wind and concentrated vital force.

The Pilgrim saw it and leaped two or three steps to the gate to look. The stone door was tightly shut, and across the top of the door lay a stone slab bearing eight large characters: "Hidden Mist Mountain, Folded Peak Linked Rings Cave." The Pilgrim said, "Bajie, get to work! This is where the demon lives—Master must be inside." That fool, relying on his strength to do violence, raised his rake and struck the stone door with all his might, smashing a great hole through it. "Demon!" he shouted. "Quickly send my master out, or I'll smash down your door with this rake and finish off your whole household!"

The little demon guarding the gate rushed in hurriedly to report, "Great King, disaster has struck!" The old demon asked, "What disaster?" The little demon said, "Someone at the front gate has smashed it down, shouting that he wants his master!" The old demon said in alarm, "I wonder who has come looking for us?" The vanguard said, "Don't be afraid—let me go out and have a look." That little demon ran to the front gate and poked his head through the broken hole, peering outward. Seeing a long snout and big ears, he turned and shouted back, "Great King, don't be afraid of him. This is Zhu Bajie—he has no real abilities and wouldn't dare act recklessly. If he does act recklessly, open the gate, bring him in, and add him to the steamer. The one to fear is that hairy-faced, thunder-god-mouthed monk." Bajie, hearing this from outside, called out, "Brother, he's not afraid of me—he's afraid of you. Master must be inside. Hurry forward!" The Pilgrim cursed, "You damned creature! Your Grandfather Sun is here. Send my master out, and I'll spare your life." The vanguard said, "Great King, it's bad—Sun Wukong has also come looking for us." The old demon complained, "It's all because of your 'plucking petals, plucking petals' scheme that trouble has come to our door. How are we to deal with this?" The vanguard said, "Great King, rest easy and stop complaining. I recall that Sun Wukong is a monkey with a magnanimous disposition—though his powers are vast, he loves to be flattered. Let us take out a fake human head to deceive him, flatter him a few times, and tell him that we've already eaten his master. If we can fool him into leaving, Tang Seng is still ours for the enjoying. If we can't fool him, we'll deal with it then." The old demon said, "Where can we get a fake human head?" The vanguard said, "Let me make one."

The clever demon took a pure steel blade and chopped a willow root into the shape of a human head. He sprayed it with human blood, smeared it all over, and sent a little fiend to carry it on a lacquered tray to the gate, where he called out: "Great Sage Grandfather, hold your anger and hear me out!"

Sun Wukong was indeed fond of flattery. Upon hearing himself called "Great Sage Grandfather," he stopped Zhu Bajie: "Hold off for now. Let's see what he has to say."

The little fiend carrying the tray said: "Your master was captured by our great king and brought into the cave. The little imps inside are country bumpkins who know no better—this one tried to swallow him, that one tried to gnaw him, some clawed at him, some bit him. They ate your master, and only his head remains here."

Wukong said: "If he's been eaten, so be it. Just bring out the head so I can see whether it's real or fake."

The little fiend tossed the head out through the gap in the gate. Zhu Bajie saw it and began to weep: "How pitiful! That master who went in—and this is the master who comes out!"

Wukong said: "You fool, first check whether it's real or fake before you cry."

Bajie said: "Shame on you—how can a human head be real or fake?"

Wukong said: "This is a fake head."

Bajie said: "How can you tell it's fake?"

Wukong said: "A real head, when thrown, lands with a dull thud and makes no ringing sound. A fake head makes a sound like a wooden clapper. If you don't believe me, let me throw it so you can listen." He picked it up and hurled it against a rock—it struck with a loud *clang*.

Sha Wujing said: "Elder Brother, it rang!"

Wukong said: "If it rang, it's fake. Let me force it to show its true form." He swiftly drew his golden-banded cudgel and with one blow smashed it to pieces. When Bajie looked, it was nothing but a willow root.

The fool could not restrain himself and began cursing: "I'll show you, you pack of furballs! You've hidden our master in the cave and used a willly root to fool your Pig Ancestor. You don't think our master was transformed from a willow spirit, do you?"

The little fiend who had carried the tray trembled with fright and ran back to report: "A disaster, a disaster, a disaster!"

The old demon asked: "Why so many disasters?"

The little fiend said: "Zhu Bajie and Sha Wujing were easy enough to fool, but Sun Wukong is a dealer in antiques—he knows his goods, he knows his goods. He recognized it as a fake head. Now we need to give him a real human head, and perhaps then he'll leave."

The old demon said: "How can we get a real human head? In our Skinning Pavilion there are uneaten human heads—pick one of them."

The demons went to the pavilion and selected a fresh head. They had the scalp gnawed clean, making it slick and smooth, then had it carried out on a tray. They called: "Great Sage Grandfather, the one before was indeed a fake. This one is truly the head of old Master Tang. Our great king had kept it to guard the household, but now we specially present it to you."

With a *thud*, they tossed the head out through the gap in the gate, and it rolled about, dripping with blood.

Sun Wukong recognized it as a real human head. He had no choice but to weep. Bajie and Sha Seng also burst into loud sobs together.

Bajie, choking back tears, said: "Brother, don't cry just yet. The weather isn't good weather—if we wait, the head might start to rot. Let me take it and bury it while it still has life's breath, and then we can cry."

Wukong said: "That makes sense."

The fool, not minding the filth, cradled the head in his arms and ran up the sunny side of the mountain cliff. He found a spot sheltered from the wind and full of vital energy, then used his rake to dig a pit. He buried the head and built a mound over it.

Then he called to Sha Seng: "You and Elder Brother stay and weep. I'm going to find something to make an offering." He walked to the stream, gathered some large willow branches and picked up several cobblestones. Returning to the grave, he planted the willow branches on either side and piled the cobblestones in front.

Wukong asked: "What's the meaning of this?"

Bajie said: "These willow branches will serve as pine and cypress to shade our master's grave; these stones will serve as sweet cakes to make an offering to our master."

Wukong scolded: "You blockhead! The man is already dead—why offer him stones?"

Bajie said: "It expresses the sentiments of the living and serves as a token of filial devotion."

Wukong said: "Stop this nonsense. Sha Seng, stay here: first, to tend the grave, and second, to watch over the luggage and the horse. Bajie and I are going to smash their cave, capture the demons, tear them to pieces, and avenge our master."

Sha Wujing said through tears: "Elder Brother speaks most fittingly. You two go with all your might—I will keep watch here."

Thereupon Bajie took off his dark brocade robe, tucked in his close-fitting undergarment, and raised his rake to follow Wukong. The two of them pressed forward with all their strength, giving no quarter. They smashed straight through the stone gate, their shouts shaking the heavens: "Give us back our living Tang Seng!"

Inside the cave, the host of demons, great and small, were all terrified out of their wits and began blaming the vanguard for his mistakes.

The old demon asked the vanguard: "These monks have broken through our gate—what shall we do?"

The vanguard said: "The ancients said well: 'Once your hand is in the fish basket, you cannot avoid the smell.' What's done is done—let us lead our household troops and kill those monks!"

The old demon, hearing these words, could find no other plan. He truly gave the order: "Little ones, all of you be of one mind! Take your finest weapons and follow me to battle!"

And so with one great shout, they charged out of the cave gate.

The Great Sage and Bajie hastily retreated several steps to the level ground of that mountain field, where they held off the horde of demons and shouted, "Who is the chief among you? Which demon is it that took our master?" The horde of demons pitched their camp. They unfurled a brocade flower-banner with a flash, and the old monster, grasping his iron mace, answered with a loud cry: "You wild monk, don't you recognize me? I am the Great King of South Mountain, who have roamed free here for several hundred years. Your Tang Monk has already been captured and eaten by me. What dare you do about it?"

The Pilgrim cursed, "You bold ball of fur! How many years could you possibly have lived, that you dare take the name 'South Mountain'? Lord Lao, the ancestor who opened heaven and earth, still sits on the right of the Highest Purity; the Tathagata Buddha, the honored one who governs the world, still sits beneath the great Peng bird; and Confucius, the sage of the Confucian teaching, was merely called 'Master.' You wretch, how dare you call yourself the Great King of South Mountain, roaming free for several hundred years? Don't run—take a staff-blow from your old granddaddy!"

The demon sidestepped, parried the iron staff with his mace, and with wide-open eyes demanded, "You look like a monkey—how dare you hurl so many words at me? What abilities do you have, to run wild at my gates?"

The Pilgrim laughed. "You nameless wretch! You don't even know old Sun. Stand firm, steel your nerve, and listen to what I say:

My ancestral home was the Great Eastern Land,

Where heaven and earth contained ten thousand autumns.

On Flower-Fruit Mountain's peak, a stone egg,

Which cracked and hatched—that became my root and seed.

I was not born of mortal flesh and blood,

My sacred form was matched with sun and moon.

Self-cultivated, my nature was no small thing,

Heavenly gifted, great elixir was my essence.

I was appointed Great Sage and dwelt in the cloud halls,

Relying on my power, I fought the stars and constellations.

A hundred thousand divine troops could not come near me,

The hosts of stars were easily brought to heel.

My fame spread through the universe, known in every corner,

My wisdom pervaded the world, leaving its mark everywhere.

Now by good fortune I have taken refuge in the Buddhist faith,

Supporting the elder on his journey to the West.

I open roads through mountains—no one blocks my way,

I build bridges over waters—demons tremble in sorrow.

In the forests I display my might, capturing tigers and leopards,

Before the cliffs I seize the great beasts with ease.

I have come from the Eastern Land of Fruits to the Western Region—

Which demon dares show its head?

That a wretch would harm my master is truly hateful—

I will see that your life ends right now."

When the demon heard these words, he was both startled and enraged. Gnashing his teeth, he leaped forward and swung his iron mace at the Pilgrim. The Pilgrim lightly parried with his staff and was still trying to speak with him, but Bajie could hold back no longer. He raised his rake and wildly struck at the demon's vanguard. The vanguard led the horde in charging forward all at once. This battle fought on the level ground of the mountain was truly a fierce one:

Monks from the great Eastern Land of the Middle Kingdom,

Journeying to the Western Paradise to fetch the true scriptures.

The Great Leopard of South Mountain spewed wind and fog,

Blocking the road in the deep mountains, alone showing his cunning.

He laid clever schemes and played his tricks,

In ignorance he mistakenly captured the Tang monk.

He met the Pilgrim whose divine powers were vast,

And also Bajie, whose reputation was renowned.

The horde of demons fought on the mountain's flat ground,

Dust and earth flew—the sky was unclear.

On the demon side, the little fiends howled and roared,

Raising spears and swords in wild disorder.

On this side, the divine monks shouted in rebuke,

Rake and staff rose together in force.

The Great Sage was a hero with no match,

Wukong the sturdy was glad to come crashing in.

The old demon of Nanyu and his vanguard,

All fought for a single piece of the Tang monk's flesh,

Causing them to risk death and forget life.

These two, for their master's life, nursed hatred and enmity,

Those two, for the sake of the Tang monk, burned with fierce passion.

Back and forth they fought many rounds,

Clashing and crashing—neither side winning or losing.

The Great Sage saw that the little demons were so fierce they would not retreat despite his blows. He at once performed his body-splitting magic, plucked a handful of his hairs, chewed them in his mouth, and blew them out, crying, "Transform!" They all transformed into copies of himself, each wielding a golden-banded iron staff, striking inward from the front. Those one or two hundred little demons could not guard their front and rear at once, could not cover both left and right. Each and every one fled for his life, retreating in defeat back to the cave.

The Pilgrim and Bajie fought outward from the formation. Pitiful were those foolish demons: those who met the rake had blood flowing from their nine orifices; those struck by the staff were reduced to mashed flesh and bones. The Great King of South Mountain was so terrified that he rolled up wind and fog and fled back with his life. The vanguard could not transform and was struck down by a single blow from the Pilgrim's staff, revealing his true form—he was an Iron-backed Grey Wolf demon. Bajie stepped forward, grabbed him by the foot, and turned him over to look. "This fellow," he said, "since he was young, who knows how many piglets and lambs he's stolen and eaten from people's homes!" The Pilgrim shook his body and gathered back the hairs. "You fool," he said, "don't delay. Quickly chase the old monster and demand our master's life back!" Bajie turned around and no longer saw those little Pilgrims. "Brother, your transformations have all vanished," he said. "I've already recalled them," said the Pilgrim. "Splendid! Splendid!" cried Bajie. The two returned in high spirits, victorious.

Now the old monster, having escaped with his life, returned to the cave and ordered the little demons to carry stones and pile earth to block the front gate. Those little demons who had escaped with their lives, trembling with fear, blocked the gate and dared not show their heads again. The Pilgrim led Bajie to the gate and shouted, but no one answered inside. When Bajie struck with his rake, it could not budge the gate at all. The Pilgrim understood. "Bajie," he said, "don't waste your strength. They've blocked the gate." "If the gate is blocked," said Bajie, "how can we avenge our master?" "For now," said the Pilgrim, "let us go back to the grave and check on Shaseng."

The two returned to the original spot and found Shaseng still weeping. Bajie was moved to even greater grief. He threw down his rake, prostrated himself on the grave, and beating the earth with his hands, he cried, "My poor master! My master from a distant land! Where shall I ever see you again?"

"Brother," said the Pilgrim, "do not grieve so. This demon has blocked the front gate, but he must have a back gate for coming and going. You two stay here while I go look for it."

Bajie shed tears and said, "Brother, be careful—don't let them catch you too. It would be terrible for us to have to cry: cry once for our master, cry once for our senior brother, and end up weeping in confusion!"

"It's fine," said the Pilgrim. "I have my own methods."

Great Sage, having sheathed his staff, gathered his robe, and strode with purpose, turned the hillside when he suddenly heard the gurgling sound of flowing water. Turning back, he saw it was the sound of a mountain stream, its waters rushing down from above. On the other side of the stream stood a gate, and to the left of the gate was a hidden drainage ditch through which water flowed out out. He said to himself, "Needless to say—that must be the back gate! If I go in my original form, some little demon opening the door might recognize me. Let me transform into a water snake and slip through. But wait—if I become a water snake, perhaps the departed soul of my master might know and blame me, a monk, for taking the form of a serpent and growing long. Better become a little crab and cross that way. No, that won't do either—the master might blame me, a monk, for having too many legs." So he transformed into a water rat, and with a whoosh he leaped across, slipping through the drainage ditch and emerging in the courtyard inside. He poked his head out and looked around: there, in the sunlit spot, a little demon was arranging pieces of human flesh on a rack to dry in the sun. The Pilgrim said, "My little devils! I suppose that's the master's flesh—more than they could eat, so they're drying it to keep for rainy days. If I reveal my true form and rush forward to smash them with one blow of my staff, it would only show that I'm all courage and no cunning. Better transform again, slip inside, and find the old demon to see what can be done."

He leaped out of the ditch, shook his body, and transformed into a winged ant. Truly it was:

Feeble in strength, small in body, named the Dark Foal,

After long seclusion, it grew wings and could fly.

At leisure it lines up in formation by the bridge,

With delight it contends beneath the bed in immortal sport.

It knows well when rain is coming and often seals its nest,

Piling up dust until it turns to ash.

Cleverly, lightly, and deftly it moves,

Passing several times unheard through the brushwood gate.

He spread his wings and, without sound or shadow, flew straight into the main hall. There he found the old demon sitting in vexation and distress, when a little demon came leaping in from behind and announced, "Great King, boundless joy!" The old demon asked, "What joy is there?" The little demon replied, "I was keeping watch at the stream by the back gate when suddenly I heard someone weeping loudly. I climbed to the peak and looked—it was Zhu Bajie, Sun Wukong, and Sha Wujing, kneeling before a grave and wailing. They must have taken that human head for the head of the Tang Monk, buried it, raised a mound over it, and are weeping over it."

The Pilgrim, listening in the dark, was inwardly delighted. "If that is so, my master is still hidden somewhere and has not been eaten yet. Let me search further and see whether he is alive or dead, then speak with him."

So the Great Sage flew through the main hall, looking this way and that, and saw a small door nearby, tightly shut. He slipped through the crack in the door and found himself in a large garden, where faintly he could hear sounds of grief. He flew deeper in and came upon a thick grove of trees, beneath which two people were tied up—one of them was indeed the Tang Monk. The Pilgrim, seeing him, was so agitated he could bear it no longer. He revealed his true form and stepped forward, calling out, "Master!" The Elder recognized him and wept, "Wukong, you've come? Save me quickly! Wukong, Wukong!" The Pilgrim said, "Master, don't just keep calling my name—there are people here, and I fear word might leak. Since you are still alive, I can save you. The demon only says he has already eaten you and showed me a false human head to deceive me—that is why we have fought so bitterly. Master, rest assured, hold on a little longer. Wait until I have brought down that demon, then I can come to rescue you."

The Great Sage recited a spell, then shook his body and transformed back into an ant. He re-entered the main hall and alighted on the main beam. There he saw the little demons who had not been killed clustering together and chattering loudly. Suddenly one of them jumped forward and reported, "Great King, since they found the gate blocked and could not break through, they have given up in despair, abandoned the Tang Monk, and made a grave from the false human head. Today they wept, tomorrow they will weep again, and the day after the mourning will be over—then they will go back. I hear they have dispersed. We can take out the Tang Monk, chop him into fine pieces, fry him with spices, and when it is fragrant and delicious, we can all have a share—and thereby gain long life and longevity." Another little demon clapped his hands and said, "Don't mention it—mention it! It would be tastier steamed!" Another said, "Boiled—that would save firewood." Another said, "He is a rare creature—better salt him and pickle him, so he can be eaten for a long time."

The Pilgrim, hearing this from the beam, was filled with rage. "What deep grudge does my master have against you, that you scheme to eat him this way?" He pulled out a handful of his hairs, chewed them in his mouth, blew them gently out, and silently recited a spell, commanding them all to transform into sleep bugs, which he threw at the demons' faces. Each one crawled into a nostril, and the little demons gradually grew drowsy; in no time they had all fallen asleep. Only the old demon slept fitfully—he rubbed his face with both hands, kept sneezing, and pinched his nose. The Pilgrim said, "Could he have caught on? Let me give him a double lamp." He pulled out another hair, made it the same way, and threw it onto the demon's face, where it crawled into his nostril. The two bugs—one entered from the left, the other from the right. The old demon sat up, stretched his waist, yawned twice, and fell soundly asleep.

Sanzang rejoiced and dismounted. The woodcutter said, “Sir, it's not far southwest to my humble home. Please come and meet my old mother, thank you for giving us our lives, and let us see you on your way.”

Sanzang agreed happily. He did not mount his horse again, but walked with the woodcutter and his four disciples. They meandered southwest. Before long they came to:

A stone path covered with moss,

A wicker gate tangled with flowering vines.

Mountain light on all sides,

A forest noisy with chattering birds.

Dense and dark the pines and bamboos intertwined,

A riot of rare and exotic flowers.

Deep in the clouds, a remote spot—

A thatched cottage behind a bamboo fence.

Far off, they could see an old woman leaning against a brushwood gate, tears streaming down her face, wailing piteously to heaven and earth. The woodcutter, catching sight of his own mother, abandoned the elder in haste and rushed to the gate, kneeling and calling out, "Mother, your son is here!" The old woman embraced him and said, "My son, you have not come home these past few days. I feared the Mountain Lord had seized you and taken your life, and my heart has been breaking with grief. Since you were not harmed, why have you only come today? Where are your carrying pole and your axe?"

The woodcutter kowtowed and said, "Mother, your son was indeed seized by the Mountain Lord and tied to a tree. Truly it was hard to escape with my life, but I was saved by these venerable masters. This master is an arhat from the Eastern Land of Tang, journeying to the West to obtain the scriptures. That master was also seized by the Mountain Lord and tied to a tree. But his three disciple-masters possess great supernatural powers and beat the Mountain Lord to death. He turned out to be a spirit—a leopard demon with skin like the leaves of the mugwort plant. All the lesser demons were burned to death, and that old master was untied and rescued, along with your child. This is truly a kindness as high as heaven and as deep as earth. Had it not been for them, your son would certainly have died. Now the mountain is at peace, and even if I travel all night, I am safe."

When the old woman heard this, she advanced step by step, bowing as she came, and welcomed the elder and his three companions into her thatched cottage to sit down. Mother and son kowtowed and gave thanks without end, then busily prepared a vegetarian meal to express their gratitude.

Zhu Bajie said, "Woodcutter brother, I know your household is humble. A simple meal will do—please do not go to any great trouble."

The woodcutter said, "To speak plainly, venerable sir, our mountain home is indeed humble. We have no mushrooms, fungi, Sichuan pepper, or other spices—only a few wild vegetables to offer, as a small token of our hearts."

Zhu Bajie laughed and said, "Enough talk, enough talk. Just hurry up—our stomachs are empty."

The woodcutter said, "Coming right away, coming right away." Before long, the table was wiped clean and the dishes were set out—indeed, several plates of wild vegetables. And they were:

Tender blanched daylily shoots, sour pickled cat's tongue. Floating purslane, purslane with horse-teeth leaves, water-sown shepherd's-purse and wild goose intestines. Swallowwort, fragrant and tender, with shoots as small as a fist, crisp and green. Thoroughly boiled horse-blue, steamed dog's-foot. Cat's ears, wild amaranth, ash-tree shoots cooked soft enough to eat; scissor-shaped herbs, ox-pond greens, and spoon-leaven shepherd's-purse; broken-rice shepherd's-purse, lettuce-leaf shepherd's-purse—several kinds, fragrant and smooth. Oil-fried black-sweet flowers, water-caltrops worth praising. Reed-root shoots and wild-rice shoots, four kinds from the water, truly pure and elegant. Wheat-maidens, delicate and fine; torn cloth, not worn. Bitter hemp under the fence frame. Sparrow's-down, monkey's-foot, oil-fried, good enough to eat. Oblique wormwood, green wormwood, mother-hugging wormwood, moths flying up to buckwheat. Sheep's-ear bald, wolfberry shoots, and black-blue, needing no oil. Several kinds of wild vegetables for one meal—the woodcutter's devout heart, offering thanks.

The master and disciples ate their fill, then packed and set out. The woodcutter did not dare detain them long. He asked his mother to come out once more to bow and give thanks. The woodcutter kowtowed, took up a jade-wood staff, straightened his clothes, and went out to see them off.

Sha Wujing led the horse, Zhu Bajie carried the load, Sun Wukong walked close by on either side, and the elder, from atop his horse, clasped his hands and said, "Woodcutter brother, please lead us first to the main road, where we shall part." Together they climbed heights and descended slopes, crossed streams and sought paths.

The elder, riding on horseback, mused:

"Since leaving our sovereign and coming to the Western lands,

Step by step, the road stretches far and wide.

Through streams and mountains, disaster cannot be escaped;

Among demons and monsters, life is hard to preserve.

With all my heart I seek the Tripitaka's three collections,

With every thought I strive to ascend to the highest heavens.

When will this weary toil come to an end?

When shall our journey be fulfilled and we return to Tang?"

The woodcutter, hearing these words, said, "Venerable sir, do not grieve. This great road leads west—less than a thousand miles and you will reach the Kingdom of Tianzhu, the Land of Ultimate Bliss."

Hearing this, the elder dismounted from his horse and said, "I am grateful for your traveling so far. Since this is the main road, please return home, woodcutter brother, and convey my respects to your venerable mother. We have imposed greatly on your generous hospitality, and this poor monk has nothing to offer in return. I can only recite sutras morning and evening, praying for the peace and long life of you both."

The woodcutter respectfully took his leave and returned along his own path. The master and disciples proceeded straight west. And so it was:

Having subdued the monster and resolved the grievance, they departed from suffering and strife;

Having received kindness, they set forth on the road with devoted hearts.

How many more days it would take to reach the Western Heaven—of that, let us listen to the next chapter.