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31 The Kingdom of Biqiu

But the Preceptor said with a smile, "Do not trouble yourself, Majesty. I see that this scripture-seeking monk has a true body, cultivated through ten lives. Take his heart and liver to brew the medicine, and you will live ten thousand years, ten thousand times better than with children." The king believed him at once. "Why did you not say so sooner?" he said. "We should have kept him here." "What is so hard about that?" said the Preceptor. "Shut the gates at once, send soldiers to surround the post house, and seize the monk." The king was overjoyed, and gave the order straightaway to take the Tang Monk. Wukong heard every word and flew back to tell the Tang Monk, who trembled with fright. "Good disciple," he pleaded, "what is to be done?" Wukong said, "Only if the disciple becomes the master and the master becomes the disciple can your life be saved." Wukong mixed a lump of clay, shaped it into a monkey's face, and pressed it over his master's own. He breathed a magic breath on him and cried, "Change!" At once the Tang Monk wore the likeness of Wukong. Then Wukong shook himself and became the Tang Monk. When the two stood side by side, even Bajie and Sandy could not tell which was which. All at once gongs and drums sounded outside, and the imperial guard surrounded the post house. An officer in brocade came in and asked, "Which is the holy father of Tang? His Majesty summons him." The false Tang Monk stepped forward and bowed. "This poor monk is he. Why should His Majesty send for me?" The officer seized him by the arm. "If His Majesty summons you," he said, "he has his uses for you!" And without another word he dragged him out. When the false Tang Monk was hustled into the golden hall, he stood straight in the midst of the steps and cried, "King of Biqiu, why have you sent for this poor monk?" The king said with a smile, "I have been long ill, and now the medicine is all but mixed; only your heart and liver are wanting. Give them to me, and I will build you a shrine and honour you with yearly sacrifices." "Hearts I have, and several of them," answered the false monk. "But what colour does Your Majesty desire?" The Preceptor said savagely, "Your black one!" "Then bring a knife at once," said the false monk. "If I have a black heart, you shall have it." The king was delighted and had a short knife handed to him. He took the knife, opened his robe, and with one rip cut his belly open. A heap of hearts came tumbling out of it. The hearts were bloody, some red and some white, but there was not one black heart among them. The king shook like a sieve and cried, "Put them away! Put them away!" The false monk ended his magic and showed his true shape. "Monks have only good hearts," he cried. "It is your State Preceptor who has a black one. Let me cut his out, to brew your medicine!" The Preceptor looked closely and knew the Great Sage who had wrecked the heavenly palace. He rose at once and fled upon a cloud. One somersault carried Wukong after him. "Where do you think you are going? Take a blow from old Sun!" The Preceptor swung his dragon-coiled staff to fight back, and the two clashed fiercely in the air. After some twenty bouts the Preceptor knew he was no match for Wukong. He feinted, broke away, and dropped down into the inner palace.

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