The ci says:
For a moment good and evil are forgotten; Prosper and wither, he heeds them no more. Dim or bright, now hidden, now shown, he drifts along as it comes, Taking his food and drink as his lot befalls. When the spirit is still, deep and ever serene, Then demons invade but the dark and the dull. The Five Elements stumble, and the Chan grove is broken— When the wind stirs, the cold surely follows.
The story continues: the Great Sage Sun led Bajie away from the Sha Monk, and the two leapt over the Withered Pine Ravine and went straight to the foot of the strange rock cliff, where indeed there stood a cave dwelling of no ordinary splendor. See it:
The old road returning to the cave is secluded and still; Wind and moon attend the black crane's play. White clouds break through and flood the stream with light; Water flows past the bridge in an immortal mood. Apes cry and birds call amid wondrous flowers and trees; Vines and ivy climb stone steps where orchid and iris prevail. Blue haze sways over cliff and ravine, scattering rosy mists; Green stains pine and bamboo, beckoning the painted phoenix. Far off the ranged summits stand like a screen of inlaid towers; Mountains bow before, ravines wind about—a cave of true immortals. From the dragon-vein of Kunlun's earth-line it springs— Only the fated and the destined may enjoy it.
As they drew near the gate, they saw a stone tablet engraved with eight great characters: "Hao Mountain, Withered Pine Ravine, Fire Cloud Cave." On that side a pack of little imps was disporting itself, leaping in midair with spear and sword.
The Great Sage Sun called out in a mighty voice: "You little ones! Be quick and report to the master of this cave. Tell him to hand over my master the Tang monk, and the lives of every spirit in this cave shall be spared! If one word of refusal passes your teeth, I'll overturn your mountain and trample your cave flat!"
At these words the little imps spun round in a flurry, scurried back inside, shut the two stone doors, and came in to report: "Great King, disaster!"
Now ever since that monster had carried Sanzang into his cave, he had stripped off his clothes, trussed him hog-tied, four hooves to the beam, and hung him in the rear courtyard, ordering little imps to fetch clean water and scrub him, meaning to steam him in a basket and eat him. Hearing the cry of disaster, he put the scrubbing off for the moment and came out to the front court to ask: "What disaster?"
"A hairy-faced, thunder-beaked monk," said the imps, "with a long-snouted, great-eared monk beside him, is at the gate demanding their master the Tang monk. If one word of refusal crosses our teeth, they say, they'll overturn the mountain and trample the cave flat."
The demon king gave a cold little laugh. "So it's the Pilgrim Sun and Zhu Bajie—they do know how to hunt a man down. From the halfway point of the mountain where they took their master to this place is a hundred and fifty li—how did they find their way to my very gate?" He ordered: "Little ones, you who tend the carts—wheel the carts out!"
That crew of little imps pushed out five small carts and opened the front gate.
Bajie saw them coming. "Brother," said he, "this demon must be scared of us—he's wheeling out carts to move house somewhere else."
"No," said the Pilgrim. "Wait and see where he sets them." They watched the little imps set the carts down in the order of Metal, Wood, Water, Fire, and Earth, and post five imps to watch them while five more went in to announce. The demon king asked: "All in order?" "In order," came the answer. "Bring the spear," he commanded.
Then a crew of weapon-keeping imps had two of their number carry out a fire-tipped spear a zhang and eight chi long, and hand it to the demon king.
The demon king shouldered his spear and strode out; he wore no armor, only an embroidered war-skirt bound at his waist, and his feet were bare. The Pilgrim and Bajie looked up and beheld the monster:
Face like powder, three parts white; Lips like vermilion—a fine young talent. Temples coiled in black clouds that shamed the darkest indigo; Brows like new moons, as if cut by a knife. A war-skirt cunningly embroidered with coiling dragon and phoenix; In build more plump than Nezha himself. Both hands gripping his spear, awesome and dread, Bathed in auspicious light he comes out at the gate. His shout rings like spring thunder rolling; His glaring eyes flash like lightning swift. Would you know this demon's true name and line? Renowned a thousand ages: they call him the Red Boy.
The Red Boy monster came out of the gate and shouted: "Who is it that dares bawl at my gate?"
The Pilgrim came forward, laughing. "My worthy nephew, drop your tricks! This very morning, on the mountainside, hung high at the tip of a pine—weren't you that scrawny, sickly-looking child who duped my master? I kindly carried you on my back, and you raised a wind and whisked my master away. And now you put on this shape—do you think I don't know you? Hand my master over at once, and spare us both a loss of face and family feeling. For if your honored father were to hear of it, he'd blame old Sun for bullying his juniors—no way for an elder to behave."
At this the monster's heart filled with rage, and he barked: "You impudent ape! What family is there between you and me? A pack of addle-brained nonsense! Who's your worthy nephew?"
"Brother," said the Pilgrim, "you don't know your own history. When I was sworn brothers with your honored father, you were nowhere yet born."
"All the more monkey gabble!" said the monster. "Where are you from, and where am I from? How could you ever have been my father's sworn brother?"
"You don't know," said the Pilgrim. "I am Sun Wukong, the Great Sage Equal to Heaven, who five hundred years ago made havoc in the Heavenly Palace. Before ever I did, I roamed the ends of the earth and the corners of the sea, to all Four Great Continents, leaving no region unvisited. In those days I admired nothing but heroes of the day. Your honored father is called the Bull Demon King, styled the Great Sage Who Pacifies Heaven; with old Sun he swore brotherhood—we were seven brothers all told, and I let him be eldest. There was the Dragon Demon King, styled the Great Sage Who Restores the Seas, my second brother; the Roc Demon King, styled the Great Sage Who Mixes Heaven, my third; the Lion-Cub King, styled the Great Sage Who Moves Mountains, my fourth; the Macaque King, styled the Great Sage Who Ventilates the Winds, my fifth; and the Gibbon King, styled the Great Sage Who Drives Away Gods, my sixth. Only old Sun, small of body, was styled the Great Sage Equal to Heaven and ranked seventh. When we old brothers were at our games together, you were not yet born!"
The monster would hear none of it. He raised his fire-tipped spear and thrust.
The Pilgrim, an old hand never hurried, slipped aside with a feint of his body, dodged the spearpoint, swung up his iron cudgel, and cursed: "You little beast, you don't know your betters! Taste my cudgel!"
The demon too played a trick of the body, letting the cudgel pass. "Impudent macaque! You don't know the times! Taste my spear!"
The two of them threw family feeling to the winds; both turned foe, each deployed his magic, and they leapt up into the clouds—a fine battle:
The Pilgrim's fame is vast, the demon king's skill is great. One swings the gold-banded cudgel athwart; one levels the fire-tipped spear straight. Breathing fog, they shroud the Three Worlds; puffing clouds, they darken all four quarters. A day's killing fury roars aloud; sun, moon, and stars give forth no light. No yielding word is spoken; all kindness turns to spite. One's rebellious heart has cast off rite; one's changed face has lost all constant way. The cudgel's parry swells his might; the spear's thrust rages wild. One is the true Great Sage of primal chaos; One the Boy of Wealth, a fruit of the true Way. The two strain, matching strength for strength, All for the Tang monk come to worship the Dharma King.
The demon and the Great Sage Sun fought twenty rounds without victory for either.
Zhu Bajie watched from the side and saw it plainly: the demon, though not yet beaten, did nothing but parry and block—there was no thrust in his attack; and the Pilgrim, though not winning, wielded his cudgel with masterly skill, always above the demon's head, never leaving his right or left.
Bajie thought to himself: "This is bad. The Pilgrim is nimble; one of these moments he'll leave a gap open, lure the demon to plunge in, fell him with a single stroke of the cudgel—and there goes all the credit, none of it mine."
Watch him rouse his spirits, raise his nine-toothed rake, and strike at the demon's head in midair. The monster saw it coming and panicked; he dragged his spear and fled from the field. The Pilgrim shouted to Bajie: "After him! After him!"
The two chased him to the mouth of his cave, and there they saw the demon standing on the middle cart of the five, one hand holding up his fire-tipped spear, the other clenched in a fist—and he bashed himself twice on the nose.
Bajie laughed. "Shameless bluster! What's this—mean to smash your nose and let the blood run, smear your face red, and go somewhere to bring charges against us?"
The demon king, having bashed himself twice, recited a spell, and fire spewed from his mouth; thick smoke burst from his nostrils; he blinked his eyes and flames leapt up on every side. From the five carts firelight welled out. He spewed several more mouthfuls, and then it was a red blaze, a great fire burning the very sky; the whole Fire Cloud Cave was lost in smoke and flame—truly a fire that scorched Heaven and roasted earth.
Bajie panicked: "Brother, this is bad! If we dive into that fire, there's no hope of life—they'll have old Pig roasted done, spiced and seasoned, and served up for his pleasure! Run! Run!"
The word "run" was barely out before he bolted across the ravine, caring nothing for the Pilgrim. The Pilgrim, whose magic was vast, pinched the fire-avoiding spell, plunged into the flames, and hunted for the monster. The monster saw him coming and spewed several more mouthfuls, and the fire burned fiercer than before. What a fire!
Blazing and roaring, it fills the sky and scorches; Glorious and awful, it reddens all the earth. Like wheels of fire whirling up and down; Like sparks of charcoal dancing east and west. This fire is not the fire of Suiren drilling wood, Nor the fire of Lao Zi refining his elixir; Not heavenly fire, nor wildfire, But the true samadhi fire the demon refined to perfection. The five carts compose the Five Elements; The Five Elements beget and transform to breed this flame. Liver-wood engenders heart-fire blazing; Heart-fire sets the spleen-earth in balance. Spleen-earth begets metal, and metal turns to water; Water can beget wood, penetrating to the numinous. All birth and transformation here are born of fire; Fire fills the endless sky and all things flourish. The demon-fiend, long awakened, commands the samadhi— First and foremost, forever, of all the Western Heaven.
Beaten about by smoke and flame, the Pilgrim could not find the monster, nor see the path before the cave door; he pulled out of the fire and leapt free. The demon saw it clearly from his gate; and when he saw the Pilgrim go, he gathered in his fire apparatus, led his imps back into the cave, and shut the stone doors, counting it a victory. He ordered the little ones to lay a feast and strike up music—of their merriment no more.
The Pilgrim leapt back over the Withered Pine Ravine, brought his cloud down, and heard Bajie and the Sha Monk talking loudly among the pines. He stepped up and bawled at Bajie: "You blockhead, no more feeling than a stone! Afraid of the demon fire, were you? Fleeing for your life, and leaving old Sun behind—lucky for you old Sun has a trick or two!"
Bajie laughed: "Brother, that demon spoke true about you: you truly don't know the times. As the ancients said: he who knows the times is called a hero. That demon owns no kinship with you, yet you insist on claiming kin; and once he'd fought you and let loose that heartless fire, you wouldn't leave—you had to keep on battling him!"
"How does that monster's skill compare with mine?" asked the Pilgrim.
"Far beneath it," said Bajie.
"And his spear work?"
"Also no match. Old Pig saw he couldn't hold out, so I came to help you with a rake-stroke—little thinking he couldn't take a joke, but turned tail, and then, past all reason, let out his fire."
"It was just you who should not have come," said the Pilgrim. "If I'd fought him a few more rounds and snatched a clever stroke at him, wouldn't that have done?"
The two of them went on discussing the monster's skill and the virulence of his fire, while the Sha Monk leaned against a pine root, laughing himself silly.
The Pilgrim saw him. "Brother, what are you laughing at? Have you some skill, then, to seize that demon and break through his fire array? This business would profit all of us. As the common saying goes, a ball is felted from many hairs. If you captured the monster and saved the master, that would be a great deed of merit for you."
"I've no skill," said the Sha Monk, "and I can't subdue demons. I'm laughing because you two have both lost your heads."
"How have I lost my head?" demanded the Pilgrim.
"That demon's skill is no match for yours, and his spear work no match either; he only has the advantage of fire—that's all that keeps you from beating him. If you'll take your brother's advice, overcome him by the mutual begetting and conquest of the Elements—what's hard in that?"
At this the Pilgrim laughed aloud: "Brother, you speak reason. Truly we lost our heads and forgot it. Judging by the doctrine of begetting and conquering, water conquers fire—so where shall we find some water to drown this demon fire and save the master?"
"Just so," said the Sha Monk. "No need to hesitate."
"You two stay right here," said the Pilgrim. "Don't go challenging him. Old Sun will go to the Eastern Ocean to borrow dragon troops, fetch water here, drown the demon fire, and catch that impudent monster."
"Brother, go with an easy mind," said Bajie. "We understand."
What a Great Sage! He rose on his cloud and left the place; in an instant he reached the Eastern Ocean, with no heart to admire the sea sights. He used the water-parting magic and parted the waves. As he went along, a night patrol yaksha of the sea met him face to face; seeing it was the Great Sage Sun, he hastened back to the Crystal Palace to report to the old Dragon King. Ao Guang at once led dragon sons and grandsons, shrimp soldiers and crab warriors, all out together to welcome him, and invited him in to sit. When they were seated and the courtesies done, tea was offered, but the Pilgrim said:
"No need for tea. I've a matter to trouble you with. My master the Tang monk is journeying to the Western Heaven to worship the Buddha and fetch scriptures, and passing through the Fire Cloud Cave in the Withered Pine Ravine of Hao Mountain, he was seized by a demon called the Red Boy, who styles himself the Great King Holy Infant. Old Sun hunted him to his cave and fought him, but he let out his fire. We could not withstand him; and bethinking ourselves that water conquers fire, I've come to ask you for water—to rain a good downpour on the place, drown the demon fire, and save the Tang monk from this ordeal."
The Dragon King said: "Great Sage, you're mistaken. If it's rain you want, you should not come asking me."
"You are the Dragon Kings of the Four Seas," said the Pilgrim, "charged with the dispensing of rain. If I don't ask you, whom should I ask?"
"Though I am charged with rain," said the Dragon King, "I dare not act on my own authority. There must be a decree from the Jade Emperor, instructing what place shall have how many chi and how many cun of rain, and at what hours it shall begin and end; the Officers of the Three Powers must set their brushes to it, and Taiyi must move his documents; only when Thunder Father and Lightning Mother, the Earl of Wind and the Cloud Boys have all been summoned in council may it be. As the common saying goes: without clouds, a dragon goes nowhere."
"I need no wind, cloud, thunder, or lightning," said the Pilgrim. "I only want some water to put out fire."
"Though you need no wind, cloud, thunder, or lightning," said the Dragon King, "I alone cannot help you. What say my younger brothers join in and help the Great Sage win this merit?"
"Where are your brothers?" asked the Pilgrim.
"Ao Qin, Dragon King of the Southern Sea; Ao Run, Dragon King of the Northern Sea; and Ao Shun, Dragon King of the Western Sea."
The Pilgrim laughed: "If I must sail round three more seas, I'd sooner go up to Heaven and ask the Jade Emperor for a decree."
"No need for the Great Sage to go," said the Dragon King. "I need only sound the iron drum and golden bell here, and they will come in an instant."
At his words the Pilgrim said: "Old Dragon King, quick—sound the drum and bell!"
In a moment the Dragon Kings of the three seas arrived in a crowd, asking: "Elder brother, what matter commands us brothers?"
"Ao Guang said: "The Great Sage Sun is here, borrowing rain to help him subdue a demon."
The three brothers were brought in and presented. The Pilgrim told the whole story of borrowing water, and every god gladly consented. At once they mustered:
The shark, valiant and bold, leads the van; The sheatfish, great of mouth, rides as vanguard. Marshal Carp leaps the waves and rolls the billows; Commander Bream puffs fog and blows the wind. Captain Mackerel whistles signals on the east; Major Whitefish hastens the march on the west. Red-eyed Horse-Lad dances in the south; The Black-Scale General charges down from the north. The Yellow Carp commander sounds the call at the center; On every quarter heroes in their ranks. The soft-shelled Adjutant, crafty and versatile, plots the lines; The Tortoise Premier's subtle reckonings divide the plans. Minister Alligator, full of guile; Commander Soft-Shell, manifold in arts. The side-walking Crab Warriors wheel their long swords; The straight-leaping Shrimp Soldiers draw their stiff bows. The Catfish clerk examines the registers and rolls— And the dragon troops are drawn up and leave the waves.
The poem says:
The Dragon Kings of the Four Seas delight to lend their aid; The Great Sage Equal to Heaven has asked, and they comply. Only because the Tang monk met his trial upon the road, They borrow water and come to quench the demon fire.
The Pilgrim led the dragon troops, and before long they came to the Withered Pine Ravine of Hao Mountain. The Pilgrim said: "Brothers of the house of Ao, I have troubled you with a long journey. This is the demon's ground; pray halt in midair and keep out of sight. Let old Sun fight him. If I beat him, none of you need lay hands on him; if he beats me, you need not join the battle either. Only when he lets out his fire, then at my call, let all of you spew rain together." The Dragon Kings obeyed his orders to the letter.
The Pilgrim then brought down his cloud, went into the pine wood, and hailed Bajie and the Sha Monk: "Brothers!"
"Brother, that was quick!" said Bajie. "Did you get the Dragon Kings to come?"
"They're all here. You two be careful—there may be heavy rain; don't let the luggage get soaked. Wait while old Sun goes to fight him."
"Brother, go with an easy mind," said the Sha Monk. "We understand."
The Pilgrim leapt across the ravine, came to the gate, and shouted: "Open up!" The little imps ran in again to report: "The Pilgrim Sun has come again!"
The Red Boy lifted his face and laughed: "That monkey must think the fire didn't cook him, and so he's back. This time show him no mercy—roast him crisp outside and tender within before we're done!" He leapt up at once, grasped his long spear, and called: "Little ones, wheel out the fire carts!"
He came out at the gate and said to the Pilgrim: "What are you here for this time?"
"Give me back my master!"
"You ape! You've no sense of give and take. That Tang monk may serve you as a master, but he'll serve me as a relish to my wine—and still you think to want him back! Never! Never!"
At this the Pilgrim's fury blazed; he whipped out his gold-banded cudgel and struck at the monster's head. The demon raised his fire-tipped spear and swiftly parried. This battle was unlike the last—a fine fight:
Rage fills the impudent demon; Wrath burns the Monkey King's general. One labors only to save the sutra-seeking monk; One intends to eat the Tang Sanzang. The heart turned false knows no family bond; Kindness gone, there's no yielding word. One would fain catch his foe and flay him alive; One would gladly seize him and dip him raw in sauce. Truly they are mighty men, mighty and fierce indeed. Cudgel comes, spear parries, wagering victory; Spear goes, cudgel meets, contending for the upper hand. Twenty rounds their hands have wheeled— The skill of both is of one measure.
The demon king fought the Pilgrim twenty rounds, saw that he could not win, flourished his spear in feint, pulled away, clenched his fist, bashed his nose twice more, and spewed out fire.
From the carts before the gate smoke and flame burst up; from mouth and eyes red fire streamed. The Great Sage Sun turned his head and called: "Where are the Dragon Kings?" The dragon brothers led their host of water tribes and spewed rain down into the very light of the demon's fire. What rain! Truly:
Pattering and sprinkling, dense and heavy. Pattering and sprinkling, like stars dropping from the sky's edge; Dense and heavy, like waves rolled back over the estuary's mouth. At first the drops are big as fists; Later on, it's jars poured and basins upturned. The flooded ground runs duck-head green; The high hills are washed to Buddha-head blue. In gully and ravine water flies a thousand zhang of jade; In stream and spring the billows swell in ten thousand threads of silver. The triple-forked crossing brims before your eyes; The nine-turning brook runs level, bit by bit. This is the Tang monk in his hour of trial, aided by the dragon gods— The River of Heaven tipped over and poured straight down.
But great or small, the rain went plashing down and could not quench the demon's fire. For a private rain of the Dragon Kings can only put out common fire; how could it put out the demon's samadhi true fire? It was exactly like pouring oil on flames—the more they poured, the fiercer it burned.
The Great Sage said: "Let me pinch the spell and dive into the fire!"
He wheeled his iron cudgel, hunting the demon to strike him. The demon saw him coming and spewed a mouthful of smoke full in his face. The Pilgrim whipped his head aside—but his eyes smarted and danced with sparks, and he could not hold back his tears, falling like rain. For the Great Sage fears no fire—only smoke.
Long ago, when he made havoc in the Heavenly Palace, Lord Lao Zi had set him in the Eight Trigrams furnace to be smelted; he had the luck to take refuge in the position of Xun, the wind trigram, and was not burned—only the wind churned the smoke about, until it smoked him into his fiery eyes and golden pupils. To this day, then, he fears only smoke. The demon spewed another mouthful; the Pilgrim could not bear it, and rose on his cloud and fled. The demon king gathered his fire apparatus once more and went back into his cave.
The Great Sage, his whole body scorched with fire and smoke, burning and baking past all bearing, plunged straight into the ravine stream to quench the fire. Who could know that the shock of cold water would drive the fire-qi inward upon his heart, until his three souls left their house? Alas—breath blocked in his chest, throat and tongue cold: soul scattered, spirit dispersed, his very life spent!
The Dragon Kings of the Four Seas, alarmed, gathered in their rain in midair and called out at the top of their voices: "Marshal Tianpeng! General of the Curtain! Come out of hiding in the wood and find your elder brother!"
Bajie and the Sha Monk heard their sacred titles called, hastily untied the horse, shouldered the load, and rushed out of the wood; careless of mud and mire, they searched along the ravine—and there, in the upper stream, where waves rolled and tumbled, a body came drifting down on the rushing current. The Sha Monk saw it and plunged into the water in his clothes, and carried him ashore: it was the Great Sage Sun's body. Alas! See him: limbs crumpled and unable to stretch, cold as ice from crown to heel.
The Sha Monk's eyes brimmed with tears. "Elder Brother! Alas for you—ageless guest of a million years—now turned a short-lived man dead halfway on the road!"
Bajie laughed: "Don't cry, brother. This monkey is shamming death to frighten us. Feel him—is there a bit of warmth left at his chest?"
"He's cold all over," said the Sha Monk. "Even if there were one spark of warmth, how would that bring him back?"
"He has seventy-two transformations," said Bajie, "and so seventy-two lives. Hold his feet, and let me work on him." Indeed the Sha Monk held his feet, Bajie cradled his head, they pulled him straight, sat him up, and crossed his knees.
Bajie rubbed his two hands warm, covered the seven apertures of his head, and worked upon him the meditation art of massage.
Now the Pilgrim, shocked by the cold water, had his breath dammed in the Field of Cinnabar and could not cry out; but happily, by Bajie's kneading and rubbing, in a little while the breath passed through the three barriers, turned in the Hall of Light, and burst open the apertures—and he cried out: "Master!"
"Elder Brother," said the Sha Monk, "born for your master, and dying you still have him on your lips. Come back to us—we're here."
The Pilgrim opened his eyes. "Brothers, you're here? Old Sun has taken his lumps!"
Bajie laughed: "You were raving just now. If old Pig hadn't saved you, you'd have settled your account for good—and you still won't thank me!"
The Pilgrim rose, lifted his face, and called: "Brothers of the house of Ao—where are you?"
The Dragon Kings of the Four Seas answered from midair: "We little dragons are here attending you."
"I've wearied you with a long toil and won no merit. Pray return—I shall thank you another day." The Dragon Kings led their tribes of the water and surged away homeward—of them no more.
The Sha Monk supported the Pilgrim, and together they went and sat down beneath the pines. After a while he gathered his spirit and steadied his breath, but the tears would not stop rolling down his cheeks, and again he cried: "Master! I remember when first I left the Tang empire, how before the cliff you saved me from my doom. Three mountains, six rivers, all beset by demons; ten thousand sufferings, a thousand hardships, cut me to the heart. Alms-bowl breakfasts, according as the offering was thick or thin; Chan sleep at dusk, now in the woods, now at a farm. My one heart set its hope upon the fruit of merit—how could I know that today I'd lie in pain and hurt!"
"Elder Brother, grieve no more," said the Sha Monk. "Let us rather take counsel: where shall we go to invite troops and help, and rescue the master?"
"And where should we seek rescue?" asked the Pilgrim.
"When the Bodhisattva first instructed us," said the Sha Monk, "charging us to protect the Tang monk, she promised us: call on Heaven and Heaven shall answer, call on Earth and Earth shall respond. Where should we seek rescue?"
"When old Sun made havoc in the Heavenly Palace," said the Pilgrim, "all those celestial soldiers could not stand against me. This demon's magic is no small thing; only one whose powers are greater than old Sun's can subdue him. The gods of Heaven won't do, nor the spirits of Earth. To catch this monster, we must go and ask the Bodhisattva Guanyin—that would serve. But alas, my flesh is numb and aching, my waist and knees are in pain; I cannot mount the somersault cloud. How am I to go and ask?"
"Whatever must be said, say it," said Bajie, "and let me go ask."
The Pilgrim laughed: "So be it—you can go. But when you see the Bodhisattva, never look up at her; bow low and worship only. When she questions you, tell her the name of the place and the name of the demon, and then ask about the master's case. If she will come, she will surely catch the monster."
At these words Bajie rose on his cloud and mist and headed south.
Now the demon king in his cave was rejoicing. "Little ones," he said, "the Pilgrim Sun has taken his beating and gone. This round may not have killed him, but at least it must have knocked him into a deep faint. Eh—only fear he'll go and invite rescue. Open the gate quick; let me watch whom he goes to fetch."
The imps opened the gate, the demon leapt into the sky to watch, and he saw Bajie heading south.
The demon reflected: "Southward there is nowhere else to go—it must be the Bodhisattva Guanyin he's off to invite." He dropped his cloud in haste and called: "Little ones, fetch out that leather bag of mine. It's long unused; the mouth-cord may not hold. Change it for a new one, and set the bag inside the second gate. I'll go trick Bajie back and bag him, and steam him to a pulp as a treat for you all."
Now that demon had a wish-fulfilling leather bag. The little imps fetched it out, changed the mouth-cord, and set it just inside the cave gate—of that no more.
The demon king had long lived in these parts; every path was familiar ground. He knew which road to the Southern Sea was shorter and which was longer; he took the shorter way, rose one bound on his cloud, overtook Bajie, seated himself bolt upright on a wall of cliff, and changed himself into the likeness of a "false Guanyin," waiting for Bajie. The blockhead was speeding along on his cloud when he suddenly spied the Bodhisattva—how could he tell true from false? This is what is called: seeing a shape, one makes a Buddha of it.
The blockhead halted his cloud and bowed low. "Bodhisattva, your disciple Zhu Wuneng knocks his head."
"Why are you not protecting the Tang monk on the scripture journey," said the demon, "that you come to see me?"
"Your disciple and my master were traveling along," said Bajie, "when we came to the Fire Cloud Cave in the Withered Pine Ravine of Hao Mountain, where a demon called the Red Boy carried off my master. Your disciple and my elder brother hunted him to his gate and fought him—but he knows how to breathe fire. In the first bout we could not win; in the second we asked the Dragon Kings for helping rain, and even that could not quench his fire. My elder brother was burned so badly he cannot move, and sent your disciple to beg the Bodhisattva: look down in mercy and save my master from this ordeal!"
"The master of the Fire Cloud Cave," said the demon, "is no destroyer of life. No doubt it was you who gave him offense."
"I gave him no offense," said Bajie. "It was my elder brother Wukong who offended him. He changed into a little child and hung in a tree to test my master. My master, tender-hearted, bade me take him down and my elder brother carry him a stretch. My elder brother gave him a fling—and then he raised a wind and carried my master off."
"Rise," said the demon, "and follow me into that cave to see its master. I will speak a word of favor for you; you make your apology, and beg your master out."
"Bodhisattva," said Bajie, "if he'll but give me back my master, I'll knock him a kowtow too!"
"Follow me," said the demon king.
The blockhead, no judge of good or ill, followed him straight back along the old road—not toward the Southern Ocean, but toward the gate of Fire Cloud. In an instant they stood before it.
The demon went in and said: "Have no fear—this is an old friend of mine. Come in."
The blockhead could only lift his foot across the threshold. All the imps raised a great shout, threw Bajie down, stuffed him into the bag, cinched tight the mouth-cord, and hung the bag high on the ridgepole.
The demon showed his true form and sat down in the midst. "Zhu Bajie! What powers have you, that you dare protect the Tang monk on his scripture journey, dare invite the Bodhisattva to subdue me? Staring with both great eyes, you still didn't know me—the Great King Holy Infant! Now I've caught you: hang you three days or five, steam you done, and bestow you on my little imps as a relish to go with the wine!"
Hearing this, Bajie cursed from inside the bag: "You impudent monster! Utterly shameless! With all your hundred schemes and thousand tricks you've tricked me into being eaten—mark my words, may every one of you catch the plague and swell up till your heads burst!" The blockhead cursed and cursed, bawled and bawled—of that no more.
Now the Great Sage Sun and the Sha Monk were sitting together when a raw, fishy wind swept past their faces, and the Pilgrim sneezed. "Bad! Bad! A wind like this bodes more ill than good. I fear Bajie has taken the wrong road."
"If he took the wrong road," said the Sha Monk, "couldn't he ask somebody?"
"I fear he's run into the demon."
"If he ran into the demon, couldn't he run back?"
"Not well. You sit here and stand guard; let old Sun go over the ravine and find out."
"Elder Brother, your waist is in pain—what if the monster gets his hands on you too? Let your little brother go."
"You won't do—let me go." What a Pilgrim! Gritting his teeth against the pain, gripping his iron cudgel, he crossed the ravine and came before the Fire Cloud Cave, shouting: "Impudent monster!"
The gate-keeping imps ran in again to report: "The Pilgrim Sun is shouting at the gate again!"
The demon king gave orders to seize him. The crew of imps, clustered round with spear and blade, bawled in unison, flung open the gate, all crying: "Catch him! Catch him!"
The Pilgrim, truly spent, dared not meet them; he slipped to the roadside, recited a spell, cried "Change!"—and turned into a gold-threaded bundle-wrapped parcel.
The imps saw it and reported: "Great King, the Pilgrim Sun is frightened! One shout of 'catch him' and he dropped his bundle and ran."
The demon king laughed: "There's nothing valuable in a bundle like that—nothing but a monk's tattered shirt and old cap. Carry it in and take it apart for washing; it'll do for patches and linings."
One little imp indeed picked up the bundle and carried it in—never knowing it was the Pilgrim transformed.
The Pilgrim thought: "Well done! This gold-threaded parcel—carried in!"
The demon paid it no mind and tossed it inside the gate.
What a Pilgrim—false within the false, empty within the empty! He plucked one hair, blew on it a magic breath, and changed it into another parcel just like the first; his true body then changed into a little fly, and he settled on the doorpost. He heard Bajie grunting and groaning somewhere, his voice thick and muffled, just like a pig with the plague. The Pilgrim zipped off in a buzz to find him—and there he was, hung up in the leather bag.
The Pilgrim clung to the bag and heard him cursing the demon up and down—monster this and monster that: "How dare you change into a false Guanyin to lure me back, hang me up here, and still you talk of eating me! Wait—one day my elder brother will spread his boundless Dharma of Equaling Heaven, and in one sweep he'll seize every monster on this mountain! He'll undo this bag and let me out, and then a thousand rakes on your skull will ease my heart!"
Hearing this, the Pilgrim laughed to himself: "The blockhead, suffocating in there, still keeps his flag flying. Old Sun must have this monster—if not, how ever shall I wash this grudge clean?" He was just plotting how to save Bajie out when he heard the demon king call: "Where are my Six Mighty Generals?"
Now there were six little imps, his trusted and familiar spirits, whom he had enfeoffed as Mighty Generals, each with a name: one was called Cloud-in-Mist, one Mist-in-Cloud, one Swift-as-Fire, one Quick-as-Wind, one Rising-Heat, one Heat-Arising.
The Six Mighty Generals came forward and knelt. The demon king said: "Do you know the Old Great King's home?"
"We do," said the six.
"Go this very night, under the stars, and invite the Old Great King here. Tell him I have caught a Tang monk to steam for him to eat, and add a thousand spans to his years."
The six monsters received the order, dragging and hauling one another along, and went straight out the gate. With a buzz the Pilgrim flew down from the bag, followed and fixed his eye upon the six monsters, slipping out of the cave.
But what came of their errand—whom they fetched—listen to the explanation in the next chapter.