In all twelve hours1 you must never forget
To reap the fruit of night and day.2
For five years—one hundred and eight thousand rounds—3
Let not spirit water run dry,
Nor let fire-light cause you distress.
There’s no harm where fire and water blend well;
Five Phases would join as if enchained.
Yin and yang at peace raise you up cloudy tower:4
Ride the phoenix to reach Heaven;
Mount the crane to head for Yingzhou.
The tune of this lyric is “Immortal by the River,” which we use solely to depict Tripitaka and his three disciples. Since they attained the condition wherein water and fire were in perfect equilibrium, their own natures became pure and cool. Successful in their endeavor to borrow the treasure fan of pure yin, they managed to extinguish the large mountain of torrid flames; and in less than a day, they traversed the distance of eight hundred. Leisurely and carefree, master and disciples proceeded toward the West. As it was the time of late autumn and early winter, this was what they saw:
Wild chrysanthemum drop their blooms;
Tender buds emerge from new plums.
At each village they harvest grains;
Every where they eat fragrant fare.
The woods shed their leaves and distant hills are seen;
By brookside frost thickens, cleansing the ravine.
Moved by the wintry breeze,
The insects stop their work.
Pure yin now becomes yang,
The month’s ruled by Yuanming.5
Water virtue’s strong,
For peace reigns in bright, clear days.
Earth’s aura descends;
Heaven’s aura rises;
The rainbow leaves without a trace;
Ice slowly forms in pools and ponds.
Dangling by the ridges, wisteria flowers fade;
Absorbing cold, pines and bamboos grow more green.
After they traveled for quite awhile, the four of them again found themselves approaching a moated city. Reining in his horse, the Tang Monk called out to his disciple: “Wukong, look at those tall, towering buildings over there. What kind of a place do you think it is?” Pilgrim raised his head to look and saw that it was indeed a moated city. Truly it has
The shape of a coiled dragon,
This crouched-tigerlike strong city.
On all sides bright canopies overhang it;
With many turns royal plains level out.
Beasts of jade and stone form the bridges’ railings;
Statues of worthies stand on golden mounts.
Truly it seems like a capital of China,
A metropolis of Heaven;
A secure domain of ten thousand miles,
A prosperous empire of a thousand years.
Barbarians yield to the ruler’s far-reaching grace;
Mountains and seas pay tribute to the sages’ court.
The royal steps are clean;
The royal path’s serene;
The taverns bustle with songs;
Flowered towers are full of joy.
Evergreens outside the Weiyang Palace6
Should let the phoenix sing to greet the dawn.
“Master,” said Pilgrim, “that moated city has to be the domain of a ruler or king.” “In this world,” said Eight Rules with a laugh, “there are cities that belong to a prefecture, and there are cities that belong to a district. How do you know that this is the domain of a ruler or a king?”
“Don’t you know,” said Pilgrim, “that the domain of a king or a ruler is quite different from a prefecture or a district? Just look at those gates on all four sides of the city: there must be over ten of them. The circumference around it has to be over a hundred miles. The buildings are so tall that there are clouds and fog hovering over them. If this is not a royal capital of some sort, how could it have so grand and noble an appearance?” “You have good eyes, Elder Brother,” said Sha Monk, “and you may recognize that it’s a royal city. Do you know it’s name?” Pilgrim replied, “There are neither banners nor plaques. How could I know its name? We have to make inquiries inside the city, and then we’ll know.”
Urging his horse on, the elder soon arrived at the gate, where he dismounted to walk across the moat-bridge. As he looked around after he entered the gate, he discovered flourishing trades in all three markets and the six boulevards; and he saw, moreover, that in their elegant attire, the people looked most distinguished. As they walked along, they suddenly caught sight of a score of monks begging from door to door, everyone carrying the cangue and wearing a lock. They looked most destitute indeed!
“When the hare dies,” sighed Tripitaka, “the fox will grieve, for a creature will mourn its kind.” Then he called out:
“Wukong, go up there and question them. Why are they so condemned?” Obeying his master’s words, Pilgrim said, “Hey, monks! Which monastery do you belong to? Why are you carrying the cangue and wearing the lock?” Going to their knees, the monks said, “Father, we are monks of the Golden Light Monastery who have been grievously wronged.” “Where is this Golden Light Monastery?” asked Pilgrim. “Just around the corner there,” said one of the monks.
Pilgrim brought them before the Tang Monk before he asked them again, “What do you mean by grievously wronged? Tell me.” “Father,” said the monks, “we don’t know where you came from, though you seem quite familiar to us. We dare not tell you here. Please come to our humble residence, and we will disclose
our woes.” “That is more appropriate,” said the elder. “Let’s go to their
monastery, and we can then question them carefully.” They went together up to the monastery gate, where they found in gold letters this horizontal inscription: Golden Light Monastery Built by Imperial Command. As master and disciples entered the gate, they saw
Cold scented lamps in aged halls;
Windswept leaves in vacant corridors.
Atop the clouds, a thousand-foot pagoda;
To nourish one’s nature, a few pine trees.
The ground’s flower-strewn, but no guests pass by;
The eaves are amply screened by spider webs.
Drums mounted in vain;
Bells hung up unused;
The walls are dust-covered, the murals blurred.
The lectern’s so quiet for no monk is seen;
The Chan Hall’s silent, only birds you’ll meet.
Such lamentable plight!
Such endless, lonely pain!
Though incense urns are before the Buddhas placed,
The ashes cool, the petals wilt, and all are vain.
Grief-stricken, Tripitaka could not restrain the tears welling up in his eyes. Wearing the cangues and locks, the monks pushed open the door to the main hall and invited our elder to worship the Buddha. After he entered the hall, the elder could only offer the incense of his heart, though he touched his face to the ground three times. Then they went to the back, where they found another six or seven young priests chained to the pillar before the abbot’s hall, an intolerable sight for Tripitaka. When they reached the abbot’s hall, the monks leading the way all came to kowtow, and one of them asked, “The features of our Venerable Fathers are not all the same. Do you happen to be those who have come from the Great Tang in the Land of the East?”
“You monks must know the magic of foreknowledge without divination,” said Pilgrim, laughing. “We’re indeed such persons. But how did you recognize us?” “Father,” said the monk, “what sort of foreknowledge without divination do you think we really possess? It’s just that we’ve been grievously wronged, and there’s nowhere for us to turn for justice except to call on Heaven and Earth day in and day out. We must have disturbed the gods, I suppose, for each of us had a dream last night, where we were told that a holy monk arriving from the Great Tang in the Land of the East would be able to save our lives. Our grievances, too, would be rectified. When we came upon the strange appearances of you Venerable Fathers today, we were thus able to recognize you.”
Highly pleased by these words, Tripitaka said, “What is the name of your region here? What sort of grievances do you have?” The monks all knelt down again, and one of them said, “Holy Father, this city is called the Sacrifice Kingdom, and it is a major city in the Western Territories. In years past, barbaric tribes of all four quarters came to pay us tribute: to the south, the Yuetuo Kingdom, to the north, the Qoco Kingdom; to the east, the State of Western Liang; and to the west, the Benbo Kingdom. They brought annually fine jade and lustrous pearls, beautiful girls, and spirited horses. Without our use of arms or expeditionary forces, all of them would of their own accord venerate us as the superior state.” “If they do that,” said Tripitaka, “it must be because you have an upright king, worthy civil officers, and noble military officers.”
“Holy Father,” said the monk, “neither our civil officers are worthy, nor our military officers noble. And the king is not upright either. It has to do with this Golden Light Monastery of ours, which from the beginning had auspicious clouds covering our treasure pagoda and hallowed mists rising from our whole edifice. At night beams of light flashed from the building and people as far away as ten thousand miles had seen them; by day, colored airs sprouted and all four of our surrounding nations had witnessed them. This is why we have been regarded as the divine capital of a Heavenly prefecture, and why we have enjoyed the tributes of the four barbaric tribes. But three years ago, during the first day of the first month of winter, a rainstorm of blood descended upon us at the hour of midnight. By morning every household was fearful; every home was grief-stricken. The various ministers made haste to memorialize to the king, with all sorts of speculation on why such chastisement was sent by the Heavenly Lord. At the time, Daoists were summoned to say their mass and Buddhists their scriptures in order to pacify Heaven and Earth. Who would have suspected, however, that, since our treasure pagoda of gold had been defiled by that rainstorm, the foreign nations would stop coming to pay tribute these last two years? Our king wanted to send out expeditionary forces, but he was restrained by the ministers, who accused the monks of this monastery of stealing the treasure in the pagoda. That was the reason they gave for the disappearance of the auspicious clouds and hallowed mists and for the cessation of tribute on the part of the foreign nations. The dim-witted ruler never gave the matter another thought; at once those venal officials had us monks arrested and inflicted on us endless tortures and interrogations. There were altogether three generations of monks in this monastery; two of them, unable to withstand such terrible treatments, died. The rest of us are now locked up in cangues and locks, still accused of this crime. Think of it, Venerable Father—how could we dare be so bold as to steal the treasure in the pagoda? We beg you in your great compassion to have regard for the special affinity of our kind. Vouchsafe your great mercy and exercise your mighty dharma power to save our lives.”
When Tripitaka heard this, he nodded his head and sighed, saying, “There are certainly hidden aspects to this matter that have not yet come to light. For one thing, the court has been remiss in its rule, and for another, all of you may be faced with a fated calamity. But if it was the shower of blood sent by Heaven that had defiled the treasure pagoda, why didn’t you people at the time prepare a memorial to present to your ruler, so that you would be spared such affliction?” “Holy Father,” said the monk, “we are only common folks. How could we know the will of Heaven? Moreover, if our senior colleagues could not determine what to do, how would we be able to settle the matter?”
“Wukong,” said Tripitaka, “what time is it now?” “About the hour of shen,”7
replied Pilgrim. “I would like to have an audience with the ruler,” said Tripitaka, “so that our travel rescript may be certified. But we have not yet fully understood what has happened to the monks here, and it’s hard for me to speak to the ruler about this matter. After I left Chang’an, I made a vow in the Temple of the Law Gate that on my journey to the West, I would burn incense in every temple, I would bow to Buddha in every monastery, and I would sweep a pagoda whenever I came across a pagoda.8 Today we have met you monks who have been grievously wronged because of a treasure pagoda. Why don’t you people fetch me a new broom? Let me bathe first, and then I’ll go up there to sweep it clean. Let me see if I can discover exactly what has caused the defilement and the loss of the pagoda’s brilliance. Once we determine that, we can memorialize to their ruler and deliver them from this affliction.”
When they heard this, some of those monks carrying the cangues and locks dashed into the kitchen and picked up a kitchen knife to hand over to Eight Rules, saying, “Father, please take the knife and see if you can sever the chains on the pillar over there, so that those young priests can be freed. They can then go to prepare a meal and a scented bath for the holy fathers here. We’ll go to the streets to beg a new broom for him to use to sweep the pagoda.” “It’s so easy to open locks!” said Eight Rules, chuckling. “There’s no need for a knife or an ax. Ask that hairy-faced father. He’s a seasoned lock-picker.”
Pilgrim indeed went forward and, using the lock-opening magic, gave the shackles a wipe with his hand. Immediately, all the chains and locks fell to the ground. Those young priests ran into the kitchen to scrub the pots and pans and prepare a meal. After Tripitaka and his disciples ate, it was gradually turning dark when some of these monks still cangued and locked came in with two brooms. Tripitaka was very pleased.
As he spoke with them, another young priest came in with a lamp to invite him to go take his bath. By then, the moon and the stars were shining brilliantly outside as the sound of bamboo drums started from the watchtowers. Truly
At four walls the cold wind arose;
In every house the lamps burned bright.
Shutters in all six lanes went up;
Doors of three markets were shut tight.
Fishing boats retired to the woods;
Ploughmen their short ropes forsook.
The woodcutter’s ax now rested;
A student recited his book.
After he finished bathing, Tripitaka put on a short-sleeve undershirt, which he tied with a sash. He changed into a pair of soft-soled shoes and picked up a new broom. “You should all go to sleep,” he said to the monks, “and let me go sweep the pagoda.” “If the pagoda had been defiled by a bloody rainstorm,” said Pilgrim, “and if it had grown dark for such a long time already, some vicious things might have been bred up there. If you go up all by yourself in this cold, windy night, you may run into something unexpected. How about letting old Monkey be your companion?” “Very good! Very good!” replied Tripitaka.
Each of them thus took up a broom. They went first to the main hall and lit the glass chalice and burned fresh incense. Tripitaka went to his knees before the Buddha image and prayed, saying, “Your disciple, Chen Xuanzang, by the decree of the Great Tang in the Land of the East, was sent to worship our Buddha Tathāgata in the Spirit Mountain and to ask for scriptures. Arriving here at the Golden Light Monastery of the Sacrifice Kingdom, I was told by the monks of this monastery that the treasure pagoda had been defiled. The king suspected that the monks had stolen the treasure, and they were wrongly charged with a crime, the cause of which no one, in fact, had knowledge. In all earnestness, therefore, your disciple has decided to sweep this pagoda. I beg our Buddha to reveal quickly by his mighty spirit the true source of the pagoda’s defilement, so that the innocence of these mortal men can be established.” After his prayer, he and Pilgrim opened the door of the pagoda and began to sweep it, beginning with the lowest tier. Truly this pagoda
Leans ruggedly toward the sky
And rises, towering, in the air.
It’s justly called a pagoda of five-colored glass,
A śārī-peak of a thousand gold;
Its stairs winding like a tunnel;
An open cage when its doors unfold.
Its treasure vase reflects the moon in the sky;
Its golden bells ring with the wind of the sea.
You can see the empty eave saluting the stars
And the lofty top detaining the clouds.
The empty eave saluting the stars
Creates a phoenix piercing strange rocks and flowers;
The lofty top detaining the clouds
Brings forth a pagoda-dragon fog-entwined.
Your gaze on top will reach a thousand miles;
Up there it’ll feel like the Ninefold Heaven.
In glass lamp at the door of each tier,
There’s dust but no fire;
On white-jade railings before every eave
Gather dirt and flying insects.
Inside the pagoda,
Above the votive tables,
Smoke and incense all extinguished;
Outside the windows,
Or before the images,
Cobwebs opaque and widespread.
There’s more rat dung in the urns
Than there’s oil in the chalice.
Because a treasure was in secret lost,
Priests have been killed, their lot made bitter and vain.
Since Tripitaka wills to sweep it clean,
The pagoda’s old form will, of course, be seen.
The Tang Monk used his broom to sweep clean one tier before going up to another tier. By the time he reached the seventh tier, it was already the hour of the second watch, and the elder began to tire. “You’re getting tired,” said Pilgrim. “Sit down, and let old Monkey do the sweeping for you.”
“How many tiers are there on this pagoda?” asked Tripitaka. Pilgrim replied, “I’m afraid there are at least thirteen tiers.” Attempting to endure his fatigue, the elder said, “I must finish sweeping it to fulfill my vow.” He swept three more tiers, and his torso and legs ached so badly that he had to sit down on the tenth tier. “Wukong,” he said, “you sweep clean the rest of the three tiers for me and then come back down.”
Rousing his energy, Pilgrim went up to the eleventh tier, and in a moment, he ascended to the twelfth tier. As he swept the floor, he heard someone speaking on the top of the pagoda. “That’s strange! That’s strange!” said Pilgrim. “It has to be about the hour of the third watch now. How could there be anyone speaking on the pagoda top? This has to be some sort of deviant creature. Let me go and have a look.”
Dear Monkey King! Stealthily he picked up the broom and put it under his arm; hitching up his clothes, he crawled out of the door and rose into the clouds to look around. There in the middle of the thirteenth tier of the pagoda were seated two monster-spirits, and before them were placed a basin of coarse rice, a bowl, and a wine pot. They were drinking and playing the finger-guessing game.9 Using his magic, Pilgrim abandoned the broom and whipped out the
golden-hooped rod. He stood at the doorway and shouted, “Dear fiends! So you
stole the treasure on the pagoda!” Terrified, the two fiendish creatures quickly got up and pelted Pilgrim with the pot and the bowl, but he blocked the blows with his iron rod and said, “If I slay you, there’ll be no one to make the confession.” With the rod, he backed them against the wall until they could not move at all, and all they could say was, “Spare us! Spare us! It has nothing to do with us. Someone else took the treasure.”
Using the magic of seizure, Pilgrim grabbed them with one hand and went back to the tenth tier. “Master,” he announced, “I have caught the thieves who stole the treasure.” Tripitaka was just dozing: when he heard this, he was both startled and pleased. “Where did you catch them?” he asked. Pilgrim pulled the two fiends forward and made them kneel down. “They were having fun on top of the pagoda,” he said, “drinking and playing the finger-guessing game. When old Monkey heard all that noise, I mounted the cloud to leap up there and block their escape with no effort at all. But I feared that if I killed them with one blow of the rod, no one would make the confession. That’s why I brought them here. Master, you can take their testimony and see where they came from and where they have stashed the treasure.”
Trembling all over, the two fiends could only utter, “Spare us!” Then one of them made this honest confession: “We have been sent here to patrol the pagoda by the All Saints Dragon King of the Green Wave Lagoon in the Scattered-Rock Mountain. He is called Busy Bubble, and I am called Bubble Busy. He’s a sheatfish spirit, and I’m a black fish spirit. This all came about because our All Saints Old Dragon once gave birth to a daughter by the name of Princess All Saints, who was blessed with the loveliest features and the most extraordinary talents. She took in a husband by the name of Nine-Heads, who also had vast magic powers. Year before last, he came here with the Dragon King and, exerting great divine strength, sent down a rainstorm of blood to have the treasure pagoda defiled. Then he stole the śarīra Buddhist treasure10 from the building. Thereafter the princess also went up to the great Heaven where she stole the nine-leaved agaric, which the Lady Queen Mother planted before the Hall of Divine Mists. The plant and the Buddhist treasure are both kept now at the bottom of the lagoon, lighting up the place with their golden beams and colored hues night and day. Recently we received the news that there was one Sun Wukong on his way to the Western Heaven to acquire scriptures. We are told not only that he has vast magic powers, but also that he loves to meddle with the faults of others. That’s why we’ve been sent here frequently to patrol the area, so that we’ll be prepared when that Sun Wukong arrives.”
Laughing scornfully at what he heard, Pilgrim said, “How audacious are these cursed beasts! No wonder he sent for the Bull Demon King the other day to attend their banquet! So, he was in league with this bunch of brazen demons who specialize in evil deeds!”
Hardly had he finished speaking when Eight Rules and a few young priests holding two lanterns walked up from below. “Master,” he said, “why haven’t you gone to bed after you finished sweeping the pagoda? Why are you still sitting here and talking?” “Brother,” said Pilgrim, “it’s a good thing you’ve come, The treasure on the pagoda was stolen by the All Saints Old Dragon. He was the one who sent two little fiends to patrol the pagoda here and to spy on our movements, but they were caught by me just now.” “What are their names,” asked Eight Rules, “and what sort of monster-spirits are they?”
“They just gave us a confession,” said Pilgrim. “One of them is called Busy Bubble, and the other is called Bubble Busy. One is a sheat fish spirit, and the other is a black fish spirit.” Whipping out his rake, Eight Rules wanted to strike at them, saying, “If they are monster-spirits who have made their confession, why not beat them to death? What are we waiting for?” Pilgrim said, “You haven’t thought about this. If we keep them alive, it’ll be easier for us to go speak to the king about this matter, and they can be used as informants too, for catching the thieves and recovering the treasure.”
Dear Idiot! He indeed put away the rake; he and Pilgrim then each picked up a fiend and pulled him down the pagoda. All the fiends could say was “Spare us!” Eight Rules said to them, “We were just looking for some sheat fish and black fish like you, so that we could make some soup for those wronged priests.”
The several young priests, in great delight, held their lanterns high to lead the elder down the pagoda. One of them ran ahead to report to the other monks, crying, “It’s great! It’s great! We’ve finally seen the day! The fiends who stole our treasure have been caught by the fathers.” Pilgrim gave this order: “Bring us some iron chains, pierce their lute bones, and lock them up here. You people stand guard over them and we’ll go to sleep. We’ll dispose of them tomorrow.” Those monks indeed watched over the fiends with great care while Tripitaka and his disciples rested.
Soon it was dawn, and the elder said, “I’ll go into the court with Wukong to have our travel rescript certified.” Whereupon he changed into his brocaded cassock and put on his Vairocana hat. In full clerical attire, he strode forward, accompanied by Pilgrim, who also tightened his tiger-skin kilt and straightened out his silk shirt after he took out the travel rescript. “Why aren’t you bringing along the two fiendish thieves?” asked Eight Rules. “Let us inform the king first,” said Pilgrim, “and there will be royal summoners sent here to fetch them.”
They walked before the gate of the court, and there were endless scenes of scarlet birds and yellow dragons, of divine capitals and celestial arches. Approaching the East Flower Gate, Tripitaka saluted the grand official of the gate and said, “I beg Your Honor to make this announcement for us: this humble cleric has been sent by the Great Tang in the Land of the East to go acquire scriptures in the Western Heaven. We seek an audience with your ruler in order to have our travel rescript certified.” Willing, indeed, to grant this request, the Custodian of the Yellow Gate went before the steps to memorialize: “There are two monks of strange features and attire outside who claim to have been sent by the Tang court in the Land of the East of the South Jambūdvīpa Continent to go seek scriptures from Buddha in the West. They wish to have an audience with our king in order to have their travel rescript certified.”
On hearing this, the king gave the order to have the visitors summoned, and the elder thus led Pilgrim to walk into court. When the civil and military officials caught sight of Pilgrim, they all became frightened, some saying that this was a monkey priest while others observing that he was a monk with a thunder-god beak. All of them were so alarmed that they dared not stare at him for long. While the elder went through elaborate ritual before the steps to salute the throne, Pilgrim stood with hands folded before him and remained unmoved. Then the elder spoke: “Your priestly subject has been sent as a scripture pilgrim by the Great Tang nation in the Land of the East of the South Jambūdvīpa Continent to worship Buddha at the Great Thunderclap Monastery in the India of the West. Our journey takes us to your noble region, and we dare not pass through without permission. We have with us a travel rescript, which we beg you to certify before we leave.”
Greatly pleased by what he heard, the king gave the order for the sage monk of the Tang court to ascend the Hall of Golden Chimes. A cushion of embroidered silk was granted him as his seat. Going up the hall by himself, the elder first presented the rescript before he took the seat. After the king had read carefully the rescript from beginning to end, he was delighted. He said to Tripitaka, “Though the Great Tang Emperor was indisposed, he was fortunate to have been able to select a noble priest who was willing to seek scriptures from Buddha without any fear of the lengthy distance. But the priests of our region are good only for stealing, for bringing ruin upon our nation and ruler.” When he heard this, Tripitaka folded his hands before his chest and said, “In what way do they bring ruin upon your nation and ruler?”
“This kingdom of ours,” said the king, “is a superior state of the Western Territories. In the past, the four barbaric tribes frequently came to us to pay tribute, all on account of the Golden Light Monastery within our kingdom. In that monastery was a treasure pagoda of yellow gold, the luster and brilliance of which filled the sky. Recently, however, the larcenous monks of the monastery secretly have stolen the treasure, and for the last three years, there was no brilliance at all. The foreign nations during this time also stopped their tributes, and this matter has aroused our deepest hatred.”
“Your Majesty,” said Tripitaka with a smile, his hands still folded,
“To err by a hair’s breadth
Is to miss by a thousand miles!
When this humble priest arrived at your Heavenly domain last evening, I caught sight of some ten priests, all carrying cangues and wearing locks, the moment I entered the city gate. I questioned them on their crime, and they told me that they were innocent victims from the Golden Light Monastery. An even more thorough investigation I made after my arrival at their monastery disclosed that the priests there had nothing to do with this, for when I swept the pagoda at night, I caught the fiendish thieves who stole the treasure.” “Where are these fiendish thieves?” asked the king, highly pleased. Tripitaka said, “They have been locked up by my humble disciple in the Golden Light Monastery.”
Hurriedly issuing a golden tablet, the king gave this decree: “Let the Embroidered-Uniform Guard11 bring back the fiendish thieves from the Golden Light Monastery. We ourselves will then interrogate them.” “Your Majesty,” said Tripitaka, “though you may want to send the Imperial Guard, it is better that my humble disciple accompany him.” “Where is your noble disciple?” asked the king.
Pointing with his finger, Tripitaka said, “He’s the one standing by the jade steps.” When the king saw Pilgrim, he was astounded, saying, “The sage monk has such elegant features! How is it that your noble disciple has that sort of appearance?” When the Great Sage Sun heard this, he spoke up in a loud voice, “Your Majesty,
Do not judge a man by his face,
Nor measure the sea by a vase.
If you only cared for men of good appearance, how could you seize the fiendish thieves?” These words of Pilgrim turned the king’s astonishment to delight, and he said, “What the sage monk says is true indeed. We shall not select talents according to their appearances. All we want is to catch the thieves and return the treasure back to the pagoda.” He then gave the order for the court attendant to prepare a canopied carriage, and for the Imperial Guard to wait on the sage monk in all diligence when he went to fetch the fiendish thieves.
The court attendant at once sent for a huge carriage and a yellow umbrella. The Embroidered-Uniform Guard also summoned the guardsmen; Pilgrim was placed in the carriage that was borne by four people in front and four behind, while four outriders shouted to clear the way as they headed toward the Golden Light Monastery. This entourage soon disturbed the populace of the whole city, and not one failed to show up to try to see the sage monk and the fiendish thieves.
When Eight Rules and Sha Monk heard the shouts for clearing the way, they thought that some official sent by the king had arrived, and they hurried out of the monastery to receive him. Pilgrim, they discovered, was the one sitting in the carriage. Facing him, our Idiot said, giggling, “Elder Brother, you’ve acquired your true form!” Pilgrim descended from the carriage and took hold of Eight Rules, asking, “What do you mean?” Eight Rules replied, “You have a yellow umbrella above you, and your carriage is borne by eight carriers. Don’t these betoken the office of Monkey King? That’s why I said you’ve acquired your true form.” “Don’t make fun of me!” said Pilgrim. He untied the two fiendish creatures so that they could be taken to see the king. “Elder Brother,” said Sha Monk, “please take us along.” “But you should stay here to guard the luggage and the horse,” said Pilgrim. One of the priests who were still cangued and locked said, “Let the fathers go to enjoy imperial favor. We will remain here to watch your things.” “In that case,” said Pilgrim, “let us go report to the king first. Then we’ll come to free you.” Eight Rules grabbed one of the fiendish thieves, while Sha Monk took hold of the other; the Great Sage Sun climbed into the carriage as before. The entire entourage returned to court with the fiendish thieves in custody.
In a moment, they arrived before the white jade steps to address the king: “We’ve brought the fiendish thieves here.” Coming down from his dragon couch, the king led the Tang Monk and the various officials, both civil and military, to look at the fiends: one had pouchy jowls and black scales, a pointed mouth and sharp teeth, while the other had smooth skin and a huge belly, a large mouth and long whiskers. Though they had legs that could walk, they barely looked human. “Where are you from, monster-spirits,” asked the king, “and in what year did you invade our domain to steal our treasure? How many thieves are there altogether, and what are their names? Make your confession, in truth and in detail.”
The two fiends went to their knees before him (though their necks were dripping with blood, they did not seem to mind the pain), and made this confession:
Three years ago,
On the first of the seventh month,
There was one All Saints Dragon King,
Who led many of his kindred
To settle southeast of this state
From here miles some one hundred.
His lagoon’s called Green Wave;
His mountain, Scattered-Rock.
To him was born a daughter
Most pretty and seductive,
Who took a husband named Nine-Heads
Of magic powers matchless.
Learning of your pagoda’s treasure,
He joined the Dragon King as bandits.
First they sent down a bloody rainstorm;
Then the pagoda’s śāri they lifted.
Now it lights up the dragon palace,
Making bright days out of darkness.
As well the princess plotted
In deep and silent secret;
She stole the Queen Mother’s agaric,
With which the lagoon’s treasure she nourished.
We two are no bandit leaders:
The Dragon King sent only privates.
Tonight we’ve been captured;
Our confession’s most honest.
“If you have made your confession,” said the king, “why don’t you reveal your names?” One of the fiends said, “I’m called Busy Bubble, and he’s called Bubble Busy. I’m a sheat fish spirit, and he’s a black fish spirit.” The king instructed the Embroidered-Uniform Guard to jail them, after which he issued this decree: “The monks of the Golden Light Monastery will be freed at once from their cangues and locks. Let the Court of Imperial Entertainments prepare a banquet quickly, and we will thank the sage monks in the Unicorn Hall for capturing these thieves. We will also discuss the matter of asking the sage monks to arrest the bandit chief.”
The Court of Imperial Entertainments at once prepared a banquet composed of both vegetarian and meat dishes. After the king invited the Tang Monk and his three disciples to take their seats in the Unicorn Hall, he asked, “Sage Monk, what is your honored style?” “The secular family of this humble cleric,” replied the Tang Monk with folded hands, “goes by the name of Chen, and my religious name is Xuanzang. I also had bestowed on me the surname of Tang by my emperor, and my humble style is Tripitaka.” “And what are the honored styles of your noble disciples?” asked the king.
“My disciples are without styles,” said Tripitaka. “The first one is called Sun Wukong; the second, Zhu Wuneng; and the third, Sha Wujing. These names were given by the Bodhisattva Guanshiyin of the South Sea. Since they made submission to this humble cleric and addressed me as master, I have also named Wukong Pilgrim. Wuneng I have named Eight Rules, and Wujing is now called Monk.” When he finished speaking, the king asked Tripitaka to take the head table, Pilgrim Sun to take the side table to his left, and Zhu Eight Rules with Sha Monk to take the side table to his right. Spread upon the tables were all vegetarian foods, fruits, teas, and rice. Facing them, the king took the table that had on it meat dishes, while the rest of the civil and military officials occupied over a hundred tables down below, all with meat dishes. After the officials thanked the king and the disciples excused themselves to their master, they were all seated. The king lifted his cup, but Tripitaka dared not drink; only the three disciples accepted the seat-taking toast. From down below came the harmonious strains of pipes and strings provided by the Office of Music. Look at the appetite of Eight Rules! It did not matter whether fruits or vegetables were set on the table; he wolfed them down and finished them all. A little while later, additional soup and rice were brought to him, and these he also cleaned up completely. When the wine stewards came by, he never once refused the cup. And so, this banquet lasted well past the hour of noon before it ended.
As Tripitaka gave thanks for this lavish banquet, the king tugged at him to say, “This is merely to thank you for capturing the fiends. Let’s change the banquet quickly to Jianzhang Palace,12 where we shall ask the sage monk for the plan to arrest the bandit chief and return the treasure to the pagoda.” “If you want us to do that,” said Tripitaka, “there is no need for another banquet. All of us humble clerics will take leave of you, Your Majesty, and we shall go to capture the fiends.”
The king, however, would have none of it, and he insisted that they proceed to the Jianzhang Palace, where they were fêted once more. Raising a cup of wine, the king said, “Which one of you sage monks will lead the troops to go arrest the fiends?” “We’ll send Sun Wukong our eldest disciple,” said Tripitaka, and the Great Sage saluted him with folded hands to signify his obedience. “If Elder Sun is willing to go,” said the king, “how many men and horses do you need? When do you want to leave the city?”
No longer able to restrain himself, Eight Rules said in a loud voice, “Who needs men and horses! Who cares what time it is! While we are still full of wine and rice, let me go with Elder Brother. We’ll just stretch our hands and bring them back at once.”
Highly pleased, Tripitaka said, “You’re quite diligent nowadays, Eight Rules!” “In that case,” said Pilgrim, “let Brother Sha Monk protect Master. We two will go.” “If the two elders do not need men or horses,” said the king, “do you want any weapons?” “The weapons that you have,” said Eight Rules, chuckling, “are of no use to us. We brothers have our own weapons that accompany us wherever we go.” On hearing this, the king asked for a large goblet of wine with which he wanted to send them off. “We won’t drink wine now,” said the Great Sage Sun, “but ask the Embroidered-Uniform Guard to bring out the two little fiends. We’ll take them along as informants.” The king ordered them brought out at once; taking hold of the two fiends and mounting the wind, the two disciples employed the magic of traction to head for the southeast. Lo!
When Ruler and subjects saw them mounting wind and fog,
They knew master and disciples to be sage monks.
We do not know how they will capture the other monsters; let’s listen to the explanation in the next chapter.