"When inborn nature is round and bright, the Way flows free of its own accord; Turn yourself about and leap clear of the net. To perfect a thousand changes is no easy thing; To refine the elixir of long life—is that the common lot? Through many turns of pure and turbid, riding the wheel of change, Cleaving through kalpas past counting, bound east or west as one pleases. Free and unfettered beyond all tally of a trillion years, One point of divine radiance rests forever in the Void."
This poem secretly fits the wondrous Way of the Great Sage Sun.
Having won the demon's true treasure, he tucked it in his sleeve and chuckled: "That wretched demon wore himself out trying to catch me—truly it was scooping the moon from the water. But for old Sun to seize him—that would be playing with ice over a fire."
Hiding the gourd, he slipped quietly out the door, resumed his true form, and cried aloud: "Monster-spirits! Open up!" A little demon at the side said: "And who are you this time, that you dare come bawling?" The Pilgrim said: "Go quickly and report to that old wretched demon of yours: 'Pilgrim Sun is here.'" [Translator's note: yet another shuffling of the same three characters—Sun the Pilgrim, Pilgrim the Sun, Pilgrim Sun.] The little demon hurried in and reported: "Great Kings, there's a somebody called Pilgrim Sun at the gate." The old demon was greatly alarmed: "Worthy brother, this is bad! We've stirred up a whole swarm of them! The gold rope is tied around Sun the Pilgrim, the gourd holds Pilgrim the Sun—and now a Pilgrim Sun as well?
It must be that all his brothers have come." The Second Demon said: "Easy, Elder Brother. This gourd of mine holds a thousand men. I've only got one Pilgrim the Sun in it—why fear some Pilgrim Sun? Let me go out and see, and bottle him into the bargain." The old demon said: "Careful, brother."
Watch the Second Demon take up the sham gourd and march out the gate as boldly and loftily as before, calling: "Where are you from, to dare bawl at this gate?"
The Pilgrim said: "Don't you know me? My home is the Mountain of Flowers and Fruit; my ancestral house, the Water Curtain Cave.
For wreaking havoc in Heaven, I long gave up all strife; Now, happily escaped from tribulation, I left the Way and turned to monkhood's use. Received into the teaching, I climb to the Thunderclap, To seek the scriptures and return to true enlightenment. But by the way I've met a wild and wretched demon, And so I've brought my magic into play. Return my Tang monk of the Great Tang, That he may go west and worship the Buddha-sage. Then both our houses end this war, And each keeps to his own realm of peace. Don't rouse old Sun to fury— It'll cost you your old life!"
The demon said: "Come here then. I'll not cross blows with you—I'll only call your name. Do you dare answer?" The Pilgrim laughed: "Call me and I'll answer. But if I called you, would you answer?" The demon said: "When I call you, I have a treasure-gourd that can bottle a man. If you called me, what would you have?" The Pilgrim said: "I have a gourd too." The demon said: "If you have, show it to me." The Pilgrim drew the gourd from his sleeve: "Wretched demon, look!" He flashed it once and hid it back in his sleeve, fearing he might grab for it.
The demon stared, greatly startled: "Where did his gourd come from? How can it be just like mine? Even if both grew on one vine, there'd be some difference of size, some slant of shape—how can it be identical in every part?"
Putting on a solemn face, he called: "Pilgrim Sun! Where did that gourd of yours come from?" The Pilgrim truly did not know its origin, so he caught the demon's own words and tossed the question back: "Where did your gourd come from?" The demon, not knowing it was a stratagem, took it for honest speech and told the whole story from the root: "This gourd came from when chaos first divided, when Heaven opened and Earth was set. There was a Supreme Old Ancestor, Lord Lao Zi, who took on the name of Nüwa, smelted stone to mend Heaven, and saved the whole world of Jambudvipa. Mending his way to the Palace of Qian, at the foot of Mount Kunlun he saw a single stem of immortal vine, and on it grew this purple gold red gourd—it is the very one Lord Lao Zi left behind to this day." Hearing this, the Great Sage picked up his cue: "And that's where my gourd came from too."
"How do you make that out?" said the demon chief. The Great Sage said: "When the pure and turbid first parted, Heaven was not full in the northwest, and Earth was not full in the southeast. The Supreme Dao Ancestor, Lord Lao Zi, took on Nüwa, finished mending the breach of Heaven, and traveled to the foot of Mount Kunlun, where there was a root of immortal vine—and on that vine grew two gourds. The one I got is the male; the one you have is the female." The demon said: "Never mind male and female—so long as it bottles a man, it's a good treasure." The Great Sage said: "Well said. Then I'll let you bottle first."
The demon, mightily pleased, sprang at once into the air, held the gourd up, and called: "Pilgrim Sun!" The Great Sage heard it—and answered eight or nine times without pausing for breath; but he could not be bottled.
The demon came crashing down, stamping his feet and beating his breast: "Heavens! And they said the ways of the world never change! So even a treasure fears its husband—see the female, meet the male, and she dare not bottle him!"
The Pilgrim laughed: "Put yours away—now it's old Sun's turn to call you." He sprang at once on the somersault cloud, leapt up, held his gourd bottom-up and mouth-down, took steady aim at the demon, and called: "Silver Horn King!"
The demon dared not keep his mouth shut; he could only answer—and whisk! he was inside. The Pilgrim pasted on the seal, "By the urgent command of Lord Lao Zi, as decreed," rejoicing inwardly: "My son! Today it's your turn to try the goods!"
He brought down his cloud and, gourd in hand, his heart and mind set on nothing but saving his master, came again to the mouth of Lotus Cave. The paths up that mountain were all rutted and uneven, and he with his bandy legs went hobbling and lurching along, so that the gourd jiggled and swished inside, rattling without stop. And why should it rattle?
Because the body of the Great Sage Sun had been through the fire of refinement—it could not be melted in a hurry. The demon, though he could ride cloud and mist, had nothing but spells; at bottom he had never shed his mortal mold, and inside the treasure he simply melted.
The Pilgrim, still not supposing him fully melted, laughed: "My son—is that making water, or gargling? It's an old trade of old Sun's. Short of seven or eight days, when you're thin gravy, I'll not lift the lid to look. What's the hurry? What's the odds? Remembering how easy I got out myself, better I not look for a thousand years!"
Gourd in hand, talking to himself, he arrived unawares at the cave mouth. He gave the gourd a shake—it rattled the more. "Why, it sounds just like a diviner's box. Let old Sun cast a reading, and see what hour my master will get out the door." Watch him, shaking it without stop in his hand, mumbling without stop in his mouth: "King Wen of the Changes, sage Confucius, Master Peach-Blossom Girl, Master Guiguzi." [Translator's note: legendary masters of divination, invoked like patron saints.] The little demons in the cave saw him and cried: "Great King, disaster! Pilgrim Sun has got our Second Great King bottled in the gourd, and he's casting divinations over him!" At these words the old demon's
soul flew and scattered, his bones went soft and his sinews numb; he flopped to the ground and wailed aloud: "Worthy brother! You and I slipped away from the upper world together, to take our lot in the dust below, hoping to share glory forever as masters of a mountain cave. Who knew that for the sake of one monk your life would be lost, and the bond of brotherhood between us broken!"
The whole cave of demons wept aloud together.
Zhu Bajie, hanging from the beam, heard the whole family bawling, and couldn't help calling out: "Demons, stop your crying and let the old hog explain it to you. The Sun the Pilgrim who came first, the Pilgrim the Sun who came second, the Pilgrim Sun who came after—the same three characters shuffled back and forth, all one man, my elder brother. He has seventy-two transformations; he's been slipping in and out, stole the treasures, and bottled your brother. Your brother is dead already. No use keening over a corpse. Hurry up and scrub the pots and stoves, lay in mushrooms, cloud-ears, tea shoots, bamboo shoots, tofu, wheat gluten, fungus, and greens, invite my master and us brothers down, and we'll recite a scroll of the Rebirth Sutra for your brother."
At this the old demon's rage boiled over: "And they called Zhu Bajie honest—he's the most dishonest of the lot! Making jests to mock me!" He called the little demons: "Hold your mourning. Take Zhu Bajie down and steam him to a pulp. When I've eaten my fill, I'll go settle with Sun the Pilgrim." Sha Monk grumbled at Bajie: "Fine going! I told you not to talk so much—first to be steamed and eaten is the one who talks too much!" Even the idiot felt a few shivers of dread.
A little demon at the side said: "Great King, Zhu Bajie won't steam well."
Bajie said: "Amida Buddha! Which dear brother is piling up hidden virtue? Right—won't steam well at all." Another demon said: "Skin him, and he'll steam fine." Bajie panicked: "Steams fine! Steams fine! Hide and bones may be coarse, but once the water boils, he falls apart—pen him! Pen him!" [Translator's note: a shout to the kitchen-hands to pen the animal up.] In the midst of the uproar, a little demon came in from the front gate to report:
"Pilgrim Sun is back at the gate, cursing!" The old demon was startled again: "This wretch makes light of us—thinks we have no men!"
He called: "Little ones, hang Zhu Bajie back up as before. And count up—how many treasures remain?"
The little demon in charge of stores said: "There are still three treasures in the cave." The old demon asked: "Which three?" The steward said: "The seven-star sword, the plantain-leaf fan, and the vase." The old demon said: "That vase is worthless. It was meant for calling a man—once he answers, he's bottled. Instead we taught the very spell to that Sun the Pilgrim, and got our own brother bottled. No use for it; leave it at home. Bring me the sword and the fan, quick."
The steward presented the two treasures to the old demon at once. The old demon stuck the plantain-leaf fan down the back of his collar, gripped the seven-star sword in his hand, and mustered the demons great and small, three hundred-odd, every one of them ordered to take up spear, twirl staff, coil rope, or wheel blade. The old demon himself donned helmet and armor, threw over all a flame-red silk robe. The demons spread out their battle array, ready to seize the Great Sage Sun.
Now the Great Sage Sun already knew the Second Demon had melted inside the gourd; he had it fastened snug and tight at his waist, and stood gripping his gold-banded cudgel, ready for battle. Then out leapt the old demon, red banners streaming at the gate. And how was he dressed? See him:
The plume on his helmet blazes bright; The belt at his waist gleams with fresh rainbow hues. His armor is scaled like a dragon's hide, Over it a red gown that burns like fire. His round eyes fly open, light flashing like lightning; His steel bristles rise and toss like scattering smoke. Lightly he lifts the seven-star sword; The plantain fan half shadows his shoulder. He moves like running cloud off the mountains and seas; His voice like thunderclap shakes the hills and streams. His dread majesty outfaces Heaven's generals— In wrath he leads his demon host out before the cave.
The old demon hastily ordered the little demons to spread their array, and cursed:
"You ape! Utterly without manners! You have done my brother to death and wounded my own flesh and blood—hateful past bearing!" The Pilgrim cursed back: "You monster begging for death! One demon's life you cannot bear to lose—yet my master, my brother-disciples, and the horse make four living souls, strung up for nothing inside your cave. How can my heart endure it! How can right and reason allow it!
Bring them out quickly and return them, add a generous sum for the road, and see old Sun off with a smile—then I'll yet spare your old demon's dog's life!" The demon would hear no argument; he raised the precious sword and hacked at the Pilgrim's head, and the Great Sage lifted his iron staff to meet him. What a battle, before the cave gate!
The gold-banded cudgel and the seven-star sword— Clashing, their rosy light flashes like lightning. Cold breath rolls chill upon the fighters; Sallow clouds wall off the mountain ridges. That one, for brotherhood's sake, will grant no mercy; This one, for the scripture-seeking monk, no instant's delay. Both houses nurse a single grudge; Two sides each nurse a living wrath. They fight till sky grows dark and earth dims and ghosts and gods are startled, Till the sun pales, the smoke thickens, dragon and tiger war. This one grinds his teeth, filing his jade nails; That one's glaring eyes fling golden flame. Back and forth they flaunt their heroism, Unceasing the whirl of staff and sword.
The old demon and the Great Sage fought twenty rounds without a victor. Then he pointed with the tip of his sword and shouted: "Little demons, all together!" The three hundred-odd spirits surged up as one and ringed the Pilgrim in the center. What a Great Sage! Not a whit afraid, with his one staff he charged left and right, warded behind and covered before.
But the little demons all had their skills; the harder he beat them, the closer they pressed, like cotton wadding wrapping him round—clasping his waist, dragging his legs, none willing to fall back. The Great Sage grew hard pressed and used the Body-Beyond-Body magic: from beneath his left arm he plucked a fistful of hairs, chewed them fine, sprayed them out, and shouted "Change!"—and every hair changed into a Pilgrim.
Watch them: the tall ones wielded staves, the short ones swung fists, and the smallest, with no room to strike, hugged the little demons' ankles and gnawed their sinews—till the little demons were beaten scattered like stars and clouds, all howling in one voice: "Great King, it's no use!
Hopeless! Past hope! The whole mountain, all the ground, is covered with Sun the Pilgrims!" With this Body-Beyond-Body magic the demon host was beaten back, and only the old demon was left, hemmed in the middle, chased east and west with no gate of escape.
In panic the demon raised the precious sword in his left hand, reached his right hand behind his neck, drew out the plantain-leaf fan, faced the southeast, the quarter of Fire, squarely toward the Palace of Li—and with one whump of the fan, fanned downward. And look: flames leapt up from the very ground. For that treasure could fan fire out of plain nothing. The monster was merciless past all pity: seven or eight fans in a row, and the sky scorched and the earth blazed, wild fire soaring. What fire!
That fire was no fire of Heaven, no fire of a furnace, no fire on a hilltop, no fire beneath a stove—it was a point of numinous light-fire drawn forth from the Five Elements themselves. And the fan was no common thing of the mortal world, no work of human hands, but a treasure born of nature since the opening of chaos. With this fan, fanning this fire—blazing, blazing bright, like red silk ripped by lightning;
glowing, gleaming, like crimson gauze streaming from rosy clouds. Not one thread of gray smoke—all the mountain one sheet of red flame, till the pines on the ridge turned to trees of fire and the cypresses before the cliff became rows of lanterns. The beasts in their dens, greedy for life, bolted west and east; the birds in the woods, sparing their plumage, soared high and flew far. This divine fire drifted through the air and seared—till stone cracked and streams ran dry, and the whole earth turned red!
At sight of this wicked fire even the Great Sage's heart quaked and his gall trembled. "Bad! Bad!" he cried. "Myself I could manage—but my hairs are no use; once they fall into this fire, wouldn't they burn away as easily as singeing hair?"
He gave his body a shake, drew all the hairs back onto himself, left just one changed into a sham body to dodge the fire and escape the calamity, while his true body, fingers locked in the fire-avoiding spell, sprang up on the somersault cloud, slipped clear of the great fire, and made straight for Lotus Cave, minded to save his master.
Reaching the gate in haste, he brought down his cloud—and saw before the cave door a hundred-odd little demons, every one broken-headed and crippled, flesh split and skin torn: all of them wounded by his Body-Beyond-Body magic, standing there moaning and groaning, biting back the pain. At the sight, the Great Sage could not hold in his fierce wicked temper; he whirled up his iron staff and fought his way in, one stroke after another. Pitiful—the long labor of their human bodies' refinement was ended; they were nothing but old hides and bristles again!
Having beaten the little demons out of existence, the Great Sage charged into the cave to free his master—and saw within a glare of flame. It frightened his hands and feet into confusion: "Done for! Done for! The fire has caught at the back gate—old Sun will never save his master now!"
But as he stood trembling he looked closely—and ah! It was no firelight at all, but a shaft of golden light.
He steadied his spirit and peered within: it was the mutton-fat jade vase giving off its glow. His heart leapt for joy: "What a treasure! That vase was the one the little demons carried shining up the mountain, and old Sun won it—then that monster searched it away again. Today it lies hidden here—and it glows as well."
See him steal away with the vase, joyful beyond words—and before even saving his master, he turned and slipped hurriedly out of the cave. Scarcely was he through the gate when he saw the demon chief coming from the south, sword in hand, fan in the other.
The Great Sage Sun had no time to dodge; the old demon raised his sword and hacked at his head. The Great Sage sprang at once onto the somersault cloud, leapt away, and vanished without shadow or trace—but of that, no more.
Now tell of the demon, who came to the gate and found corpses strewn over all the ground—his own host of spirits. He looked up to Heaven and sighed long, then burst into loud weeping that would not stop: "Bitter! Bitter beyond words!" There is a poem in witness:
Hateful, that ape so wild, that horse so wicked and perverse, Their numinous wombs turned down to lodge within the dust of men. One wrong thought, and they left the gates of Heaven; Beside themselves, they tumbled fallen to this mountain. Wild geese that lose the flock—their grief is keen; A demon race cut root and branch—the tears run streaming. When shall the evil be worked out, the lock of sin unfastened, And they return to root, to source, and climb the Pass of Heaven?
The old demon, shame-stricken and distraught beyond measure, wept into the cave, one sob at every step. There stood every household thing and utensil as before—but all hushed and still, without one human form; and the stillness made his grief but the more desolate. Alone he sat in the cave, slumped over the stone table, the precious sword leaning at the table's edge, the fan stuck behind his shoulder—and sank into a dark and dreamless sleep. Truly: joy in the heart makes the spirit brisk; sorrow on the mind brings heavy slumber.
The story turns to the Great Sage Sun, who wheeled his somersault cloud around and stood before the mountain, minded to save his master. He fastened the vase firmly at his waist and went straight to the cave gate to scout.
He saw the two door-leaves open, all quiet within, not a sound of life. Softly stepping, he stole inside—and there was the demon slumped against the stone table, snoring away. The plantain fan had slipped out from his collar and half covered the back of his head; the seven-star sword still leaned at the table's edge. On tiptoe the Pilgrim stole up, drew the fan away, whirled round, and—with a whir—ran out. But the fan's handle had snagged the demon's hair and startled him awake.
He raised his head—Sun the Pilgrim had robbed him! In a frantic flurry he seized his sword and gave chase. But the Great Sage was already out the gate; he stuck the fan at his waist, whirled up his iron staff with both hands, and gave the demon battle. What a fight!
The wretched Demon King, wrath all molten, rage surging past his crown; He could have swallowed the ape down whole and still not eased his heart. With wicked mouth he curses the macaque: "You make your game of me too far! You've done to death so many of my kin, And still come stealing treasures! This day there'll be no quarter— Today we settle who shall live and who shall die!"
The Great Sage shouts back at the demon: "How little wit you have! A pupil battling with his master— Can eggs stacked high hope to shatter stone?"
The precious sword comes, the iron staff goes; The two sides spare no courtesy. Once and again they gamble win and loss; Three turns, four rounds, they show their art. All for the scripture-seeking monk, Who seeks his Buddha-throne on Vulture Peak, Metal and Fire are thrown at odds, The Five Elements disordered, all accord destroyed. They flaunt their might, display their powers; Stones fly and sand swirls—each shows his skill. The battle slowly wears toward the hour of Shen; The demon chief's strength falters first, and he gives ground.
The old demon fought the Great Sage three or four tens of rounds; the day was failing, he could not hold out, broke off the fight, and fled straight to the southwest, bound for Dragon-Press Cave—but of that, no more.
Only then did the Great Sage bring down his cloud, charge into Lotus Cave, and untie Tang Sanzang, Bajie, and the Sha Monk. The three of them, freed from peril, thanked the Pilgrim, then asked: "Where have the demons gone?"
The Pilgrim said: "The Second Demon is bottled in the gourd—by now, I should think, melted. The First Demon was just beaten in a round and has gone off to Dragon-Press Mountain in the southwest. Of the whole cave of little demons, old Sun's Body-Beyond-Body magic killed half, and the broken remnants that straggled back were finished off too—that's how I got in here to free you." Tang Sanzang thanked him without end: "Disciple, how much toil you have borne for us!" The Pilgrim laughed:
"Toil indeed! But you only hung there and hurt—old Sun never once stopped his feet. I outdid the couriers of the express relay stations, dashing out and in, back and forth, without rest. It was stealing their treasures that won the demons off."
Zhu Bajie said: "Elder brother, bring out that gourd and let us see it. I expect the Second Demon has melted by now." The Great Sage first untied the vase, then brought out the gold rope and the fan, and only then took the gourd in hand: "Don't look, don't look! He bottled old Sun first, and old Sun had to gargle to trick him into lifting the lid before I got away. Let none of us lift that lid—I'm afraid he too might play some trick and slip out." Master and disciples, joyful and content, hunted out the rice, flour, and vegetables of the cave,
scrubbed and fired the stoves, laid a vegetarian meal, ate their fill, and settled down to sleep in the cave. The night passed without event, and dawn came again.
Now the old demon went straight to Dragon-Press Mountain, gathered the female demons great and small, and told the whole of it: his mother beaten to death, his brother bottled, the demon soldiery wiped out, the treasures stolen and cheated away. The female demons all wept together.
After a long while of mourning he said: "Hold your grief a little. I still have this seven-star sword at my side. Let us muster your women-soldiers, all of you, and go behind Dragon-Press Mountain to borrow the kin on Mother's side—we are determined to seize that Sun the Pilgrim and be avenged."
Before he finished, a little demon at the gate reported: "Great King, the Old Uncle from behind the mountain is coming, leading a goodly troop of soldiers." The old demon heard, hastily changed into mourning white, and went out bowing to receive him. This Old Uncle was his mother's younger brother, known as the Great King Fox-Seven. Hearing from the scout-demons how his elder sister had been beaten to death by Sun the Pilgrim, who then took her form and stole his nephew's treasures, and had been holding off all comers on Flat-Top Mountain for days,
he had mustered two hundred-odd demon soldiers of his own cave and come especially to swell the battle, stopping first at his sister's house for news. The moment he entered and saw the old demon in mourning, the two wept aloud together. When the weeping had gone on long enough, the old demon bowed down and told the whole story. Fox-Seven's fury blazed; he bade the old demon at once change out of mourning, take up the precious sword, and muster every female demon, join forces all in one, and ride wind and cloud straight for the northeast.
Now the Great Sage had just told the Sha Monk to get breakfast ready, intending to eat and be on the road, when he heard the sound of wind, stepped out the gate to look—and there was a horde of demon soldiers coming up from the southwest.
The Pilgrim was startled, drew back quickly, and called Bajie in haste: "Brother, the demons have fetched reinforcements!"
Tang Sanzang heard, and went pale with fear: "Disciples, what are we to do?" The Pilgrim laughed: "Easy minds! Easy minds! Give me all the treasures here." The Great Sage tied gourd and vase at his waist, tucked the gold rope in his sleeve, stuck the plantain fan behind his shoulder, and gripped his iron staff in both hands. He told the Sha Monk to guard the master and sit fast in the cave, and bade Bajie take his nail-rake and come out with him to meet the enemy.
The monsters spread their array, and there at the head was Great King Fox-Seven.
He had a jade-fair face and a long beard, steel brows and knife-blade ears; on his head a chain-mail helmet, on his body linked armor, in his hand a square-heaven halberd. He bawled his curses: "You reckless wild ape! How dare you bully us so! Stole the treasures, slaughtered our kin, killed our divine soldiers—and now squat in our very cave! Quick now, stretch your necks one by one to receive death, and wipe clean the grudge of my sister's house!"
The Pilgrim cursed back: "You pack of fur-balls courting death—you don't know your Grandpa Sun's skill! Don't run! Take a stroke of my staff!" The monster swerved aside and met him halberd to face. The two of them, on the mountaintop, passed back and forth three or four rounds—then the monster's strength gave, and he broke and fled. The Pilgrim chased him, but the old demon caught him up and fought him three more rounds, and then Fox-Seven came wheeling back to attack.
On this side Bajie saw it, whipped out his nine-tooth rake, and blocked him. One against one, they fought a long while with no victor. The old demon gave one shout, and the demon soldiers closed in from every side.
Now Tang Sanzang, sitting in Lotus Cave and hearing the battle-cries shake the earth, called: "Sha Monk, go out and see how your brothers fare."
The Sha Monk indeed raised his demon-quelling staff, gave a shout, charged out, and beat back the demon horde. Fox-Seven, seeing the tide turn against him, turned to flee—and Bajie caught up with him and brought the rake down across his back: nine bright-red fountains spurted out. Pitiful—one numinous true nature sped upon its way. They dragged him over, stripped his clothes, and looked: he too was a fox spirit. The old demon, seeing his old uncle done to death, dropped the Pilgrim, gripped his precious sword, and hacked at Bajie; Bajie held him off with the rake.
In the thick of that duel the Sha Monk charged up close, raised his staff, and struck. The demon could not withstand the two; he fled southward on wind and cloud, with Bajie and the Sha Monk in hot pursuit.
The Great Sage saw it, sprang at once into the air, untied the vase, aimed it down at the old demon, and called: "Golden Horn King!" The demon, thinking it was one of his own scattered soldiers calling, turned his head and answered—and whisk! he was drawn inside. The Pilgrim pasted on the seal, "By the urgent command of Lord Lao Zi, as decreed." The seven-star sword fell to the dust—and that too went to the Pilgrim.
Bajie came to meet him: "Brother, you've got the sword—but where's the monster?"
The Pilgrim laughed: "Done! He's bottled in this vase of mine." The Sha Monk and Bajie, hearing it, were overjoyed.
Then and there they swept the place clean of every fiend, returned to the cave, and brought the good news to Sanzang: "The mountain is clean, the demons are no more. Pray, Master, mount the horse and let us be on our way." Sanzang's joy knew no bounds. Master and disciples ate their breakfast, packed the luggage and the horse, and pressed westward to find the road.
Just as they were walking, suddenly a blind man stepped out from the roadside, came forward, clutched Sanzang's horse, and cried: "Monk, where are you going? Give me back my treasures!"
Bajie was greatly alarmed: "Done for! The old demon's come dun for the treasures!" But the Pilgrim looked closely—it was the Supreme Old Master, Lord Lao Zi. He hurried forward in dismay and saluted: "Old Sir, where are you bound?" The Old Master mounted at once his throne of the jade bench, standing high in the ninefold empyrean, and called: "Sun the Pilgrim! Give me back my treasures." The Great Sage rose into the air: "What treasures?" Lao Zi said: "The gourd was mine for holding elixirs; the vase, for holding water; the sword, for subduing demons; the fan, for fanning fire; the rope was a sash-belt from my own robe.
"As for those two monsters: one was the boy who watched my golden censer, the other the boy who watched my silver censer. They stole my treasures and fled down to the world below. I could find them nowhere—and now it was you who caught them, and won the merit."
The Great Sage said: "Old Sir, this is truly past all manners—letting your household run wild as fiends. You deserve a charge of failing to keep proper discipline over your staff."
Lao Zi said: "It was no doing of mine; don't wrongly blame the wrong man. It was the Bodhisattva from the sea who asked to borrow them of me three times, and set them here to incarnate as demons—to test whether you master and disciples had the true heart to go on west." At this the Great Sage thought to himself: "This Bodhisattva is a wicked old baggage after all!
When she freed old Sun and bade him escort Tang Sanzang west for the scriptures, I said the road was hard and bitter going, and she promised to come herself to my rescue in every dire pass. And now she's sent fiends to throttle and waylay us instead. A woman who breaks her word—she deserves to go husbandless all her life! If the Old Sir hadn't come in person, I'd never have handed them over. But since you put it that way—take them."
The Old Master received the five treasures, lifted the mouths of gourd and vase, poured out two streams of immortal breath, pointed with his hand—and there stood the two boys of gold and silver again, attending at his left and right. See the ten thousand rays of rosy light!
Ah! Mist-veiled, they return together to the Tushita courtyard; Free and unfettered, they mount straight to the Great Cloud Heaven.
But as for what happened after this—how the Great Sage Sun protected Tang Sanzang, and when they reached the Western Heaven—listen to the explanation in the next chapter.