The story tells how Sun Pilgrim leapt up with a single somersault, frightening the monks of the Guanyin Monastery, great and small, novices, acolytes, and serving brothers, until one and all bowed to the sky in worship, crying: "Grandpa! So it is a divine sage come down to earth, riding cloud and mist! No wonder the fire could not harm you! Curse that old flayed hide of ours who could not tell a man—he schemed and schemed, and today has done himself in!"
Sanzang said: "Gentlemen, rise; there's no need for hatred. If we go now and find the cassock, all is at an end. But I fear that if it can't be found—my disciple has something of a temper, and I know not what will become of your lives; I doubt a single one of you would escape." At these words every monk's heart leapt into his throat. They prayed to Heaven and vowed their vows: if only the cassock could be found, each would keep his life entire—and of them we say no more.
Now the story tells how the Great Sage Sun reached the void, gave his waist one twist, and arrived at once on Black Wind Mountain. He brought his cloud to a stop and looked carefully: it was indeed a fine mountain. And it was just the season of spring. Just see:
Ten thousand ravines racing streams, a thousand cliffs vying in beauty. Birds called unseen; flowers fell, yet the trees kept their fragrance. The rain gone by, the sky joined the green cliffs, glistening; the wind came, and the pines unrolled their screens of jade. Mountain grasses sprouting, wild flowers opening on sheer precipices and beetling crags; fig-vines climbing, fine trees fair on steep ridges and level banks. If you meet no hermit here, where will you find a woodcutter? By the stream two cranes drink; on the rocks wild gibbons romp. Piled high as whorled shells, ranged in eyebrow-black; towering grandly, embracing green, playing with mountain mist.
As Pilgrim was admiring the scenery, he suddenly heard voices on the fragrant-grass slope. Treading lightly, concealing his tracks, he slipped beneath the rock cliff and stole a look. It was three demons, sitting on the ground: at the head a black fellow; at his left, below, a Daoist; at his right, below, a white-robed scholar. All were holding forth in lofty discourse. Their talk was of setting up the tripod and installing the furnace, of kneading cinnabar and refining mercury—snow-white and yellow-sprout, sidetrack arts and heresy.
In the midst of the talk the black fellow laughed: "The day after tomorrow is the day of my mother's suffering. Will you two gentlemen do me the honor of attending?"
The white-robed scholar said: "Every year we come to wish the Great King long life. How could this year be an exception?" The black fellow said: "Last night I obtained a treasure, called the brocade Buddha-robe, truly a thing of rare delight. Tomorrow I shall celebrate my birthday with it: I'll open a grand banquet and invite the Daoist officials of every mountain to rejoice over the Buddha-robe. We'll call it the 'Buddha-Robe Banquet'—what say you?" The Daoist laughed: "Marvelous! Marvelous! Tomorrow I'll come first to offer birthday greetings, and the day after I'll come again for the feast."
When Pilgrim heard talk of the Buddha-robe, he knew at once it must be his treasure.
He could no longer hold back his wrath. He sprang out from the rock cliff, raised the gold-banded cudgel in both hands, and shouted: "Damn you thieving monsters! You've stolen my cassock, and now you'd hold a 'Buddha-Robe Banquet'! Bring it back here this instant!"
With a cry of "Stand not!" he swung the staff and struck at the head. In terror the black fellow fled as a gust of wind and the Daoist escaped on a cloud; only the white-robed scholar did he fell with one blow. Dragging him over to look, he found it was a white flower-speckled snake demon. So, seizing him outright, he dashed him into five or seven pieces and went straight into the deep mountains to hunt for that black fellow.
Rounding a sharp peak, skirting steep ridges, he saw before a sheer cliff a cave dwelling towering out. Just see it:
Mists and rosy haze far-drifting, pines and cypresses dense and deep. Mists and rosy haze far-drifting—gathered splendor fills the gate; pines and cypresses dense and deep—green encircles the door. The bridge is trodden wood of withered branch; on the peak's summit fig-vines wind. Birds carry red petals to the cloudy ravine; deer tread fragrant thickets up the stone terrace. Before that gate the seasons haste the flowers to bloom; the wind bears fragrance of flowers. Along the dike, green willows and orioles warbling; beside the bank, young peach trees and pink butterflies fluttering. Though a wild waste that none would praise, it rivals the scenery below Mount Penglai.
When Pilgrim came to the front, he saw two stone doors shut fast. Above them was a horizontal stone tablet plainly inscribed with six great characters: "Black Wind Mountain, Black Wind Cave."
He swung his staff and called: "Open up!" A junior demon who kept the gate opened the doors and came out, asking: "Who are you, that dare come beat upon our immortal cave?" Pilgrim cursed: "You beast courting death! What sort of place is this, to call itself an immortal cave! Is the word 'immortal' for the likes of you? Get inside quick and report to that black fellow of yours: tell him to send your Grandpa's cassock out at once, and I'll spare the whole nest of you your lives!"
The junior demon scurried inside and reported: "Great King! The 'Buddha-Robe Banquet' is off! There's a hairy-faced, thunder-god-beaked monk outside, come to demand the cassock!"
That black fellow had been chased by Pilgrim from the fragrant-grass slope; he had barely shut his door and sat down, and was not yet settled.
Hearing this, he thought to himself: "Where in the world can this fellow have come from, to be so unmannerly—daring to bawl at my very gate!"
He called: "Bring my armor." When he was duly accoutered, he gripped a black-tasseled spear and walked out the door. Pilgrim slipped to one side outside, staff in hand, and stared. The monster was truly a fearsome sight:
An iron helmet like a bowl, lacquered with fire-bright gloss; dark-gold armor gleaming brilliant. A black gauze robe covers sleeves that bell in the wind; a black-green silk sash trails its tassels long. In his hand a black-tasseled spear; on his feet a pair of black leather boots. His eyes flash, golden orbs like lightning—he is the Black Wind King of the mountains.
Pilgrim laughed to himself: "This wretch is truly like a kiln-burner's brother, a coal-hewer's twin! He must make his living here scrubbing charcoal—how else could he be so black from head to foot?"
The monster shouted in a harsh voice: "What sort of monk are you, to dare behave so boldly on my ground?" Pilgrim strode up to him, staff in hand, and thundered: "None of your chatter! Hand back your Grandpa's cassock, and quick!" The monster said: "Which monastery's monk are you? Where did you lose this cassock of yours, that you dare come here demanding it?" Pilgrim said: "My cassock was kept in the abbot's quarters behind the Guanyin Monastery due north of here. When the fire broke out in that place, you wretch, you plundered in the confusion, stole it away, and now would hold a 'Buddha-Robe Banquet' to celebrate your birthday. How dare you deny it? Return it at once, and I'll spare your life! If one half of the word 'no' crosses your teeth, I'll topple Black Wind Mountain, flatten Black Wind Cave, and grind this whole den of fiends of yours into powder!"
At this the monster laughed coldly: "You reckless thing! So it was you who set that fire last night! Up on the roof of the abbot's quarters, working your violence and stirring up the wind—it was I who carried off a cassock. What are you going to do about it? Where do you come from? What's your surname, your name? What powers have you, to dare spout such wild boasts?"
Pilgrim said: "So you don't know your old Grandpa! Your old Grandpa is the disciple of the Tripitaka Master, Sanzang, the sworn brother of the Tang emperor of the great superior kingdom. My surname is Sun; my name, Wukong, Pilgrim. If you ask after old Sun's powers—once told, they'll send your soul flying and your spirit scattering, and you'll drop dead on the spot!" The monster said: "I've never met you. What powers—tell them, and I'll listen." Pilgrim laughed: "My son, stand steady and hear me out!
From boyhood, my magic powers were high; I lorded it in transformations with the wind. I nurtured my nature, refined the true, through days and months, Leapt from the wheel of rebirth and fled my doom. With one true heart I once went seeking the Way, On the Numinous Terrace Mountain gathering drug sprouts. On that mountain lived an ancient immortal, A hundred and eight thousand years of age. Old Sun bowed to him and made him master; He pointed me a single road of long life. He said: within the body lies the elixir; To seek it outside is toil thrown away. He passed me down the Great Recipe of heaven's immortals— Without the root, it truly is hard going.
Turn the light inward, still the heart, and sit; Within the body, sun and moon, Kan and Li, unite. Brood on nothing, be wholly free of desire; The six roots cleansed, the body stands fast. To turn from old age back to youth is easy won; The road from common clay to sage is not far. Three years without leak, an immortal body made, Unlike the vulgar brood that seethes in woe. I roamed and sported through the Ten Continents and Three Isles; I made the round of ocean's corners and sky's ends. A full three hundred years and more I lived, Yet could not wing aloft into the ninefold heavens. First came the treasure true that tames the dragons— The single gold-banded staff in hand.
Before the Mountain of Flowers and Fruit I stood as chief; In the Water Curtain Cave I gathered demon hosts. The Jade Emperor grandly issued his decree: I was made Great Sage, of highest peerless rank. Time and again I wrecked the Hall of Divine Mists; Oft I stole the Queen Mother's peaches too. A hundred thousand heavenly soldiers came to subdue me, Layer upon layer, dense with spears and blades. I beat back the Heavenly Kings to the upper world; Nezha, smarting, fled at the head of his troops. The True Lord who shows forth his sagehood masters transformation— Old Sun matched him trick for trick, and fought to a draw. The Patriarch of the Way, Guanyin, and the Jade Emperor Watched from the South Gate as the demon was subdued.
Then the Old Lord lent a hand in the fight, And Erlang seized me and brought me to Heaven's court. They bound my body to the Demon-Subduing Pillar And ordered the divine troops to take my head. Blades hacked and hammers pounded—no harm at all; Then thunder was called to strike me, fire to burn. Old Sun indeed has means of his own, And never feared them half a hair. They threw me into Lord Lao Zi's furnace, The divine fire of the Six Ding slow-simmering me. The days complete, the furnace opened—I leapt out, Iron staff in hand, and ran wild through the heavens. Unhindered, unchecked, wherever I went, I raised an uproar through the Thirty-Three Heavens.
Then my Buddha, the Tathagata, worked his magic power: Five Elements Mountain pressed old Sun by the waist. A full five hundred years it held me down, Till, blessed by fortune, Sanzang came forth from Tang. Today I've turned to the true faith and go west, To climb to the Thunderclap and behold the Jade Hare. Go ask through all the seas and the world of things: I am the most notorious demon of every age!"
At this the monster laughed: "So you're the Protector of Horses who wrecked Heaven's palace!" Nothing stung Pilgrim more than being called Protector of Horses; hearing it, his heart flared with wrath. He cursed: "You thieving monster! You steal the cassock and won't return it, and you insult your Grandpa on top of it! Don't run! Taste my staff!" The black fellow swayed aside to dodge, gripped his long spear, and met him hand to hand. What a battle the two of them fought:
The As-You-Will staff, the black-tasseled spear: Two champions flaunt their might before the cave. Thrust at the heart, slash at the face; Strike at the arm, smite upon the head. This one sweeps a low and crooked blow; That one thrusts quick, three spears in a breath. The White Tiger climbs the hill, its claws outreaching; The Yellow Dragon couches on the road, wheeling round. They spew colored mist, they spit portentous light: Two demon immortals past all reckoning— One, a Great Sage made perfect, matched with Heaven; One, a Black Great King become a spirit. This strife upon the mountain, rank against rank, All for a cassock, and neither one in the right.
The monster fought Pilgrim a dozen rounds and more, with neither victor nor vanquished.
Slowly the red sun climbed to noon. The black fellow raised his spear to lock the iron staff and said: "Sun Pilgrim! Let us two withdraw for now. Wait till I've had my meal, then I'll have it out with you again."
Pilgrim said: "You beast—do you call yourself a man? A fine man, wanting dinner after half a day? Old Sun was pinned at the foot of a mountain a full five hundred years and more, and never tasted broth or water—how could I be hungry? No excuses! Don't run! Give back my cassock, and then you may go eat!" The monster feinted with his spear, slipped away into the cave, shut the stone doors, called in his junior fiends, and set about arranging the banquet and writing invitations to the demon kings of every mountain for the feast—and of that we say no more.
Pilgrim battered at the doors without opening them, and had no choice but to return to the Guanyin Monastery. The monks of the place had by now buried the old monk and were all in the abbot's quarters waiting on the Tang monk. Breakfast was over, and the noon meal already laid. As they were ladling broth and changing the water, Pilgrim dropped out of the sky. The monks bowed and led him into the abbot's quarters to see Sanzang.
Sanzang said: "Wukong, you're back? What of the cassock?"
Pilgrim said: "The trail is found. It was no injustice to those monks after all. It was the demon of Black Wind Mountain stole it. Old Sun went hunting for him quietly, and there he was with a white-robed scholar and an old Daoist, sitting and talking on the fragrant-grass slope. He too was a monster who confesses unprompted: he suddenly let out that the day after tomorrow is his birthday, and he's inviting all the fiends to celebrate; that last night he got a brocade Buddha-robe, and means to make it his birthday show, hold a grand banquet called the 'Buddha-Robe Feast of Celebration.' Old Sun rushed at him and struck a blow; the black fellow fled as wind, the Daoist too was gone, and only the white-robed scholar did I kill—and he was a white flower-speckled snake turned spirit. Then I hurried to his cave doors and called him out to fight me. He's already confessed that he carried it home. We fought half the day without a victor. The monster went back into his cave saying he wanted dinner, shut the stone doors, and won't come out for fear of battle. Old Sun came back to look in on you, Master, and report the news first. The cassock's whereabouts are known—never fear he won't return it."
At these words the monks pressed their palms, kowtowed, and all intoned: "Namo Amitabha Buddha! Today the trail is found, and our lives at least are saved!"
Pilgrim said: "Now don't go celebrating too soon. It's not in my hands yet, and my master hasn't set out the gate. Only when the cassock is had and my master is sent safely out the door will your ease begin. If there's the least mischance, old Sun is not a master to be trifled with! Have you fed my master good tea and rice? Have you fed the horse good hay?" The monks answered with full mouths: "We have! We have! We have! Never once have we dared slight the honored master in the least." Sanzang said: "In the half day since you left, I've already had tea three times and two meals. They haven't dared be slow with me. Only—do you still go all-out to fetch the cassock back?" Pilgrim said: "No hurry. The trail is found; I guarantee I'll collar that wretch and return your property whole. Set your mind at ease!" As they talked, the abbot of the upper quarters prepared vegetarian fare and invited Master Sun to eat.
Pilgrim ate a little, mounted his auspicious cloud again, and went off hunting once more.
On the way he saw a junior demon coming along the high road, a rosewood box tucked under his left arm. Pilgrim reckoned there must be some letter or card inside. He raised his staff, brought it down on the head, and—the pity of it—he couldn't stand the blow: he was smashed flat as a meat patty. Pilgrim dragged him to the roadside, opened the box, and looked: sure enough, an invitation. It read:
"Your humble servant the Bear humbly bows and presents this to the Dan Chamber of the Venerable Elder Golden Pool, Great Expounder: Many times have I received your kind bounty, for which my gratitude is deep as the sea. Last night I witnessed the calamity of Huilu, and failed to bring rescue; yet I trust that by immortal foresight you have come to no harm. Your servant has lately obtained a Buddha-robe, and would make of it an elegant gathering. I have modestly prepared a flowered feast and presume to invite your discerning enjoyment. On the day, a thousand prayers that your immortal carriage grace us with a visit for a talk together. Herewith my thanks. Written two days before."
When Pilgrim saw it he roared with laughter: "That old flayed hide didn't die a hair too soon! So he was in league with demons! No wonder he lived to two hundred and seventy. That monster must have passed him some little breath-cultivating tricks, and that's how he lasted so long. Old Sun still remembers his looks. Wait—I'll change into that old monk, stroll into his cave, and see where my cassock is kept. If I can lay hands on it, I'll carry it straight home, and save a deal of labor."
A fine Great Sage! He muttered the spell, faced the wind, changed—and indeed he looked exactly like that old monk. He hid his iron staff, strode off, came straight to the cave doors, and called: "Open up!"
The junior demon opened the doors, saw the figure, and hurried back to report: "Great King, Elder Golden Pool is here."
The monster was greatly startled: "I just sent a little one with the invitation; he couldn't have gotten there yet. How could he come so fast? The little one must have missed him on the road—no, it must be Sun Pilgrim who called him up to demand the cassock. Steward! Hide the Buddha-robe—don't let him see it!"
Pilgrim entered the front gate and saw the courtyard: pine and bamboo mingling their green, peach and plum vying in beauty, flowers blooming in clusters, orchid fragrance in clumps—truly a place of cave-heaven charm. On the second gate he saw a couplet written: "Still hidden in deep mountains, no vulgar cares; dwelling at ease in the immortal cave, delighting in innocence."
Pilgrim thought: "This wretch is a monster too that has shed the filth and left the dust, one who knows his fate."
He entered the gate, pressed on forward, and in the third court within found painted beams and carved rafters, bright windows and decorated doors. He saw that the black fellow wore a black-green ramie jacket covered by a crow-flower blue silk cloak, a black-horned soft cap on his head, and a pair of black suede boots.
Seeing Pilgrim come in, he straightened his cap and robe and came down the steps to greet him: "Old friend Golden Pool—days on end without the pleasure of your company! Be seated, be seated."
Pilgrim returned his courtesy. The greetings done, they sat; seated, they took tea.
Tea over, the demon rose slightly from his seat: "I have just sent a little note announcing a gathering the day after tomorrow. How is it, old friend, that you favor me with a visit today?"
Pilgrim said: "I was coming precisely to pay my respects, when unexpectedly I met your elegant letter on the road and read of a 'Buddha-Robe Eleganth Gathering.' That is why I hastened here—may I beg a look at it?" The monster laughed: "Old friend, you're mistaken. The cassock belongs to the Tang monk. He lodged in your place—how could you not have seen it? Why come to me to look at it?" Pilgrim said: "This humble monk borrowed it, but night had fallen and I never unrolled it to view, when, who'd have thought it, the Great King took it away. Then the fire burned my poor mountain and destroyed my household goods. The Tang monk's disciple is rather bold and fierce besides, and in all the hurly-burly we hunted for it high and low and could not find it. Now I learn it was gathered in by the Great King's vast fortune, and so I have come especially for a look."
Just as they were talking, a little demon who patrolled the mountain came in and reported: "Great King! Disaster! The junior who carried the invitation was beaten to death by Sun Pilgrim by the side of the high road! And that Pilgrim has taken advantage of the errand, changed himself into Elder Golden Pool, and come to swindle the Buddha-robe!"
Hearing this, the monster thought: "I wondered how that Elder could come today, and come so fast—it is indeed he!" He sprang up, seized his spear, and stabbed at Pilgrim. Pilgrim whipped the staff out of his ear, resumed his true form, caught the spear-point on it, and leapt out of that central hall; from the courtyard they fought their way out past the front gate, frightening every fiend in the cave out of its wits, and all the household, old and young, clean out of their souls.
This battle on the mountain top was a finer bout than the last. What a fight:
The Monkey King, bold-hearted, played the monk; The black fellow, cunning, hid the Buddha-robe. Word for word the openings came by luck; Each turned with the occasion, nothing missed. The cassock wished-for might by no means be seen— The treasure's subtle mystery, truly wondrous fine. The little demon, scanning hills, brought news of woe; The old fiend, flaring into rage, showed forth his might. He wheeled and fought his way from Black Wind Cave; Spear against cudgel, they contended, right and wrong. The staff met the long spear with ringing clash; The spear met the iron staff with flashing light. Wukong's transformations few are found on earth; Such demon magic's rare in all the world.
This one would celebrate his birthday with the Buddha-robe; That one would never leave in peace without the cassock. This bitter war could find no parting blow— A living Buddha, come to earth, could not have solved the knot.
The two of them fought from the cave mouth up to the mountain top, from the mountain top out beyond the clouds, breathing fog and spouting wind, flying sand and rolling stones, and they fought until the red sun sank west, still with neither victor nor vanquished.
The monster said: "Sun! Hold your hand. The day is late—ill suited for carrying on. Go! Go! Come at first light tomorrow, and we'll settle it, life or death."
Pilgrim shouted: "Don't run, son! If you mean to fight, fight like a man—you can't plead the lateness of the day!" But see him lay on with the staff, blow after blow at head and face—and the black fellow turned again into a cool breeze and slipped back to his own cave, bolted the stone doors, and would not come out.
Pilgrim had no stratagem to best him, and had no choice but to return to the Guanyin Monastery too. He brought down his cloud and hailed his master. Sanzang had been watching for him with longing eyes. Suddenly seeing him there, he was overjoyed; then he saw there was no cassock in his hands, and was afraid again.
He asked: "How is it you still haven't the cassock this time?"
Pilgrim drew the invitation from his sleeve, handed it to Sanzang, and said: "Master, that monster and the dead old flayed hide were friends from the first. He sent a little demon with this card, inviting him to the 'Buddha-Robe Banquet.' Old Sun did the little demon to death, changed into that old monk, went into his cave, and swindled a cup of tea. I meant to ask for a look at the cassock, but he wouldn't bring it out. As we were sitting there, some wind-patrol creature or other leaked the word, and he fell upon me fighting. We fought until this hour without winner or loser. He saw the day was late, dodged back into his cave, and barred the stone doors. Old Sun, helpless, came back for the moment." Sanzang said: "How do your powers compare with his?" Pilgrim said: "I'm not a whit the better—we fought to a stand-off."
Only then did Sanzang read the invitation, and he handed it to the abbot: "Could your master have been a demon too?"
The abbot hurriedly fell to his knees: "Honored master, my master was a man. It was only that the Great Black King had cultivated human form and often came to the monastery to discuss scripture with my master; he passed on to him some arts of nourishing the spirit and swallowing the breath, and so they called each other friends." Pilgrim said: "These monks have no demon smell about them: each of them has a round head holding up the sky and square feet treading the earth—only they're a bit fatter and taller than old Sun. Not demons. Look at the card: it's signed 'your humble servant the Bear.' The thing must be a black bear turned spirit." Sanzang said: "I've heard the ancients say: 'Bears are akin to the ape.' Both are beasts—how could it become a spirit?" Pilgrim laughed: "Old Sun is of the beast kind himself, and look—Great Sage Equal to Heaven! What's the difference? In general, of all the things in this world, whatever has nine apertures can cultivate the Way and become an immortal." Sanzang said again: "You said just now his skill was even with yours. How then will you win, and fetch my cassock back?" Pilgrim said: "Never mind, never mind. I have ways to deal with him."
As they were conferring, the monks laid the evening meal and invited master and disciple to eat. Sanzang had lamps brought and went again to rest in the meditation hall in front. The monks all huddled against the walls, propped up their makeshift shelters, and lay down each where he could, yielding the rear abbot's quarters to the abbots of the upper and lower houses. At that still hour of night, just see:
The Silver River showing its shadow, the jade firmament without dust. The whole sky's stars in splendor, the river's waves folding away their traces. The myriad sounds stilled, the thousand mountains birdless. The fisher's fire by the stream gone out, the Buddha lamp on the pagoda burned dim. Last night the precentor's bell and drum resounded; tonight, on every side, the sound of weeping.
That night they lodged in the meditation hall. But Sanzang, brooding on the cassock, how could he sleep soundly?
Suddenly he rolled over, saw the window whitening, rose in haste and called: "Wukong, it's day! Go quickly and find the cassock."
Pilgrim sprang up with a roll.
The monks were already standing in attendance, offering hot water. Pilgrim said: "You lot, wait on my master with all your hearts. Old Sun is off."
Sanzang got down from the couch and caught hold of him: "Where are you going?" Pilgrim said: "I've been thinking: this whole business is the Bodhisattva Guanyin's fault. She has this monastery here, enjoys the incense and offerings of these people's households—and then lets a demon spirit live next door! I'm off to the Southern Sea to find her and have a word or three with her—make her come in person and make the demon hand back my cassock." Sanzang said: "And when will you be back?" Pilgrim said: "Soon, right after the meal; late, by midday—it will be done. Monks, serve my master well. Old Sun is off."
The word "off" was scarcely out before he was gone without a trace. In a moment he reached the Southern Sea. He stopped his cloud and looked. Just see:
The vast ocean stretching far, the waters joining the sky. Auspicious light envelops the universe; propitious vapor shines upon hills and streams. A thousand tiers of snowy waves roar against the blue heavens; ten thousand folds of misty billows roll beneath the day. Water flying across the four wilds, waves churning all around. Water flying across the four wilds, shaking with rolling thunder; waves churning all around, crashing with bolts of lightning. Say nothing of the water's power—look only at the middle: five colors blur upon the piled jewel of a mountain, red, yellow, purple, black, green, and blue. Here you see Guanyin's true and matchless realm—behold Mount Potalaka of the Southern Sea. What a place! The mountain peak towers high, its summit piercing the void.
In the midst, a thousand kinds of rare flowers, a hundred sorts of auspicious grasses. Wind sways the jeweled trees, sun gilds the golden lotus. The tiles of Guanyin's hall are laid with glazed glass; the doors of the Tide-Sound Cave are paved with tortoiseshell. In the shade of green willows parrots chatter; in the purple bamboo grove peacocks cry. On the mottle-veined stone, guardians stern and majestical; before the agate shore, Muzha stalwart and grand.
Pilgrim could not see the end of that extraordinary scenery. He brought his cloud straight down beneath the bamboo grove. The Guardians of Heaven came out to meet him at once: "The Bodhisattva told us all before this that the Great Sage had turned to the good, and spoke most highly of it. Now that you protect the Tang monk, how do you find leisure to come here?" Pilgrim said: "In protecting the Tang monk I've met with a matter on the road. I've come especially to see the Bodhisattva—pray announce me." The Guardians went to the cave mouth and reported. The Bodhisattva bade him enter.
Pilgrim went in as the Law prescribed and bowed beneath the lotus throne.
The Bodhisattva asked: "What brings you here?" Pilgrim said: "My master came upon your monastery on his road. You accept the incense of the world of men, yet you let a black bear spirit live there as neighbor, and he has stolen my master's cassock. Repeatedly I've demanded it, and he won't give it up—so now I've come to demand it of you." The Bodhisattva said: "How unmannerly this monkey's talk is! If a bear spirit stole your cassock, why come demanding it of me? It is all your doing, you sinful ape, you daredevil—flaunting the treasure, showing it to small-minded men! Then you turned violent besides: you called the wind and raised the fire, burned down my Cloud-Resting Branch Monastery, and now you come to my place to play your tricks!" When Pilgrim heard the Bodhisattva speak so, he knew she was aware of things past and things to come, and he hurriedly bowed: "Bodhisattva, I beg forgiveness for your disciple's fault—truly it was as you say. But that hateful monster will not give me the cassock, and my master is all for reciting that little spell of his. Old Sun couldn't bear the headache, and so I came to trouble the Bodhisattva. I pray the Bodhisattva, in her heart of mercy, help me seize that demon and recover the cassock, that we may go on west." The Bodhisattva said: "That monster has considerable magic—not one whit less than yours. Still and all, for the Tang monk's sake I'll go with you a round." Pilgrim thanked her, bowing again and again.
He begged the Bodhisattva come out, and together they mounted the auspicious cloud and soon reached Black Wind Mountain. They brought the cloud down and followed the path to find the cave.
As they walked, a Daoist came out from the hillside before them, carrying a glass tray in his hand, two pills of immortality laid upon it, walking straight ahead. Pilgrim ran full into him, whipped out his staff, and with one blow to the head smashed the brains flowing out and the blood spouting from the cavity.
The Bodhisattva cried out in alarm: "You monkey—still so wanton! He never stole your cassock, he's no acquaintance of yours, there's no feud between you—how could you strike him dead?"
Pilgrim said: "Bodhisattva, you wouldn't know him. He's the black bear spirit's friend. Yesterday he was sitting and holding forth with a white-robed scholar on the fragrant-grass slope. The day after tomorrow is the black bear spirit's birthday, and he's invited them to celebrate the 'Buddha-Robe Banquet.' Today he comes first to offer birthday greetings, tomorrow for the feast—that's how I know him. He must be on his way to offer birthday felicitations for the demon today." The Bodhisattva said: "If that's how it stands, so be it." Pilgrim then went and lifted the Daoist to look at him: he was a gray wolf.
On the underside of that tray there were characters engraved: "Made by Lingxu Zi."
When Pilgrim saw this, he laughed: "Luck! Luck! Old Sun profits, and the Bodhisattva saves her strength. This monster may be called a self-confessing one—and that little message settles the other's account today."
The Bodhisattva said: "Wukong, what does this mean?" Pilgrim said: "Bodhisattva, your Wukong has a little saying: 'turn their own trick against them.' I wonder if the Bodhisattva will consent to follow me?" The Bodhisattva said: "Speak." Pilgrim said: "Bodhisattva, look: in this tray are two pills of the elixir—those will be our gift of introduction to the demon. And the four characters engraved on the back of the tray, 'Made by Lingxu Zi,' will be our token of appointment with the demon. If the Bodhisattva will consent to my way, I can devise a plan for you: no need to move weapon or spear, no need for the labor of battle—the demon will meet his plague this very hour, and the Buddha-robe appear this very hour. But if the Bodhisattva won't follow me, then the Bodhisattva may go west and Wukong will go east, the Buddha-robe may count as a gift given away, and the Tang Sanzang may count as a man left empty-handed." The Bodhisattva laughed: "You glib-tongued monkey!" Pilgrim said: "Not glib—a genuine plan." The Bodhisattva said: "And what is this plan of yours?" Pilgrim said: "The tray is engraved 'Made by Lingxu Zi'—this Daoist, I take it, is called Lingxu Zi. If the Bodhisattva will follow me, then you change into this Daoist. I'll swallow one of the pills and change myself into another, just a little bigger. The Bodhisattva carries this tray, with the two elixir pills, and goes to offer birthday greetings to the demon, letting him have the bigger of the two pills. The moment the demon swallows it down in one gulp, old Sun will work my business inside him; and if he won't hand over the Buddha-robe, old Sun will weave him one out of his own guts!"
The Bodhisattva had no way around it, and could only nod and follow him. Pilgrim laughed: "Well?" Then the Bodhisattva, with her vast mercy and boundless magic, her million million transformed bodies, met thought with mind and mind with body, and in a flash became the Immortal Lingxu:
A crane-plume cape, immortal wind a-rustle, Drifting and swaying, as one who treads the void. A face grown old as pine and cypress, A beauty such as old and now never knew. Going, going, yet nowhere dwelling; Thus and thus, yet set apart from all. All told, both come back to the single Law— Only a fiendish frame divides the two.
Pilgrim looked and said: "Marvelous! Marvelous! Is this a demon who is a Bodhisattva, or a Bodhisattva who is a demon?"
The Bodhisattva laughed: "Wukong, Bodhisattva and demon are both a single thought. Speak of the original nature, and neither has being." At this Pilgrim's mind suddenly woke; he turned about and changed himself into a pill of the elixir:
Rolling on the tray, never once at rest, Round and bright, of no fixed square. Three and three, the Goulou count completed; Six and six, the Shaoweng reckoning summed. A glittering golden flame, a mote of tile; The mani-pearl gives light at noon of day. Its outer lead and mercury, without— Not lightly may their measure be discussed.
When Pilgrim had changed into that pill, it was, as ever, a little the bigger. The Bodhisattva fixed it in mind, took the glass tray, and came straight to the demon's cave door. Looking, she saw truly:
Cliffs deep and caverns perilous, cloud born upon the ridge; cypresses gray-green and pines emerald, wind soughing in the woods. Cliffs deep and caverns perilous—truly a place where demons roam and human smoke is scant; cypresses gray-green and pines emerald—fit for immortals and true men to hide and cultivate, with much savor of the Way. The mountain has ravines, the ravines have springs, the murmuring flowing water sobbing like a zither—good for washing the ears; the cliffs have deer, the woods have cranes, the faint immortal music stirring the quiet peaks—also a delight to the heart. Here a demon-immortal had the fortune to meet Bodhi; a vow vast and boundless extends its pity.
When the Bodhisattva had looked, she was secretly pleased at heart: "This sinful beast has occupied this mountain cave—yet he has some portion of the Way." And so a compassion was already born in her heart.
She walked to the cave mouth, and the little demons who kept the gate knew her at once: "The Immortal Lingxu has come." One side passed the word within; the other led her in.
The demon had already come out to the second gate: "Lingxu! You do me the honor of so precious a visit—my humble hut shines with it."
The Bodhisattva said: "This humble Daoist reverently presents a pill of the elixir, and presumes to wish you a thousand birthdays." The two bowed; only then were they seated, and they fell to talking of the previous day's affair.
The Bodhisattva did not answer, but quickly took up the tray of pills: "Great King, first deign to see this humble Daoist's small offering."
She picked out the larger pill and pushed it toward the demon: "May the Great King live a thousand years!" The demon also pushed a pill across to the Bodhisattva: "May you share it with Lingxu Zi!" The courtesies done, the demon was just about to swallow—when the pill rolled straight down his throat of itself. There it resumed its true form and set itself square and level within; the demon rolled over on the ground. The Bodhisattva showed her true form and demanded the Buddha-robe of the demon. Pilgrim had already gone out through his nostrils.
The Bodhisattva, fearing the demon might prove unruly, tossed a fillet down upon his head. The demon rose, grabbed his spear to stab—but Pilgrim and the Bodhisattva were already aloft in the sky, and the Bodhisattva began to recite the true words. The monster's head ached as before; he dropped the spear and rolled all over the ground. In mid-air the Handsome Monkey King laughed himself sore; on the flat earth the black bear monster rolled himself half dead.
The Bodhisattva said: "Sinful beast! Will you now submit?"
The monster poured out his words: "I submit with all my heart—only spare my life!" Pilgrim, fearing the time would be wasted, was for beating him to death on the spot.
The Bodhisattva hastily stopped him: "Harm him not. I have a use for him."
Pilgrim said: "A monster like that! Not beating him dead—what use is there keeping him?" The Bodhisattva said: "Behind my Mount Potalaka there is no one to keep watch. I'll take him back and make him a Great God Guarding the Mountain." Pilgrim laughed: "Truly the compassionate Lord who saves from suffering—not a single spirit destroyed! If old Sun had such a spell as that, I'd recite the thing a thousand times over! And every black bear in the world would be settled this very hour!"
Now the monster had come to after a long while; justice was hard to deny and the pain past bearing, and he could only kneel upon the ground and plead: "Only spare my life—I vow to seek the true fruit!" [Translator's note: "true fruit" (zhengguo) means enlightenment's attainment, the orthodox result of Buddhist practice.]
Then the Bodhisattva let fall her auspicious light, laid her hand on his crown to receive the precepts, bade him take up his long spear, and follow at her side. Only then did the black bear's wild heart settle once for all that day, his boundless stubborn nature subside that very hour.
The Bodhisattva gave her charge: "Wukong, go back now. Serve the Tang monk well, and don't turn lazy or stir up trouble."
Pilgrim said: "Deep thanks that the Bodhisattva came so far—your disciple should escort you back a little way." The Bodhisattva said: "No need." Only then did Pilgrim, holding the cassock in both hands, kowtow and take his leave. The Bodhisattva, taking the black bear with her, went straight back to the great sea. There is a poem in witness:
Auspicious light, mist upon mist, congeals upon the golden image; Ten thousand rays in riotous splendor, worthy of all praise. She succors all the world and shows her pity; She scans the whole realm of Law, the golden lotus manifests. She came this time for the sake of carrying scriptures; She goes from here without the least flaw left behind. The monster conquered, made true, returns to the great sea; The gate of Emptiness recovers the brocade cassock.
But what happened after, and how things went—listen to the explanation in the next chapter.