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08 The Stolen Cassock

The monks heard the news and wailed. "Our grandmaster has dashed out his brains, and the cassock is nowhere to be found. What are we to do?" Wukong grew angry. "Then you must have hidden it!" He raised the golden-hooped rod to strike them. The monks begged piteously for their lives. "Mercy, sir, we truly never saw it." The Tang Monk held him back. "Hurt no one. Ask them again." Wukong asked, "Are there demons in these parts?" "To the southeast lies Black Wind Mountain," they said, "and in it a Black King, and he is very terrible indeed." "Enough," said Wukong. "The black brute must have stolen it." He turned to the monks. "Old Sun is going after the demon. You stay here and attend my master — and if the least thing goes amiss, watch out!" He swung the golden-hooped rod and smashed a brick wall to powder. The monks' bones turned to water; they fell on their knees. "Go with an easy heart, sir. We will serve the reverend sir with all our might." Only then did Wukong mount his somersault cloud and speed for Black Wind Mountain. In a moment Wukong alighted on Black Wind Mountain. It was spring, and birds sang and flowers were fragrant; the scenery was lovely — a fine place indeed. As he was admiring the view he heard voices on the grassy slope ahead. He slipped behind a cliff to spy, and saw three demons sitting on the ground: at the head a great dark fellow, below him a Taoist and a young scholar in white, deep in loud conversation. He heard the dark fellow say with a laugh, "The day after tomorrow is my birthday — and last night, as luck would have it, I came by a treasure: a cassock. I mean to hold a great feast and invite the Taoists of every mountain to celebrate. We might call it the 'Buddha Robe Gathering'." "Splendid," said the Taoist with a laugh. "I shall certainly be there." Wukong could contain himself no longer. He sprang out from the cliff, raised his staff and roared, "A fine pack of demons! You steal my cassock and then hold a 'Buddha Robe Gathering'. Give it back this instant!" The dark fellow panicked and fled in a gust of wind. The Taoist rode off on a cloud. Only the young scholar in white was too slow; Wukong struck him dead with one blow — and he was a white-spotted serpent spirit. Wukong chased after the dark fellow over peak and ridge until he came to a cliff face. There was a cave dwelling, its two stone gates tightly shut, and on the lintel above them six great characters: Black Wind Mountain, Black Wind Cave. Wukong brandished his staff and shouted, "Open up!" The stone gates parted and a small demon came out. "Who is it that dares make trouble before my immortal cave?" Wukong cursed him. "You wretched beast, bent on dying — who gave you the right to the word 'immortal'? Go in and tell that black fellow to hand over the cassock at once, and I will spare every life in your nest!" The little demon took fright and ran in to report. The dark fellow was the black bear spirit. Knowing he could not hide, he armed himself from head to foot, took up his black-tasselled spear, and prepared to fight. The bear spirit came out of the cave. "Who are you, to talk so wildly?" "Your grandsire is Sun Wukong, who wreaked havoc in the heavenly palace," said Wukong. "Hand over the cassock, or I will raze this Black Wind Cave to the ground." The bear laughed. "And who might that be? Bimawen, the Keeper of the Heavenly Horses!" Nothing angered Wukong more than hearing that name. His face changed at once. "Thieving demon! You steal my cassock and still dare insult your grandsire. Take this!" He brought the staff down on the bear's head; the bear twisted aside. The bear levelled his long spear and thrust. The two fought a dozen rounds and more without either gaining the advantage.

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