The story goes that the Great Sage Sun pinched the Sha Monk with his left hand and Zhu Bajie with his right. The two of them caught on at once. They sat up high with wooden faces, not saying a word, letting the Daoists light lamps and torches and search high and low. The three of them sat there as still as clay idols painted with gold.
The Immortal Tiger Power said: "If there's no intruder, how could the offerings all have been eaten?"
The Immortal Deer Power said: "It looks like the work of a human—everything with a skin has been peeled, every pit spat out—but where's the person?"
The Immortal Antelope Power said: "Brothers, don't doubt it. I think it must be that our devotion and reverence, reciting the scriptures day and night, sending up our memorials to Heaven—and with the court's name behind us—have surely moved the Heavenly Venerables. The Three Pure Ones' Grandfathers' chariots have descended, and they have enjoyed these offerings. Now while the immortals haven't yet returned and the crane-chariots are still here, let us pray to the Heavenly Venerables and beg for some holy water and golden elixir, to present to His Majesty. Wouldn't that be agelessness and long life—and show our merit too?"
The Immortal Tiger Power said: "Well said." He ordered: "Disciples, play the music and recite the scriptures! And bring out the ceremonial robes—I'll tread the Dipper and pray." The little Daoists obeyed, and the two rows of them lined up in neat order. The chime rang with a clear note, and they all recited a scroll of the "True Scripture of the Yellow Court and the Dao De."
The Immortal Tiger Power put on his ceremonial robe, took up his jade tablet, danced and scattered dust before the images, and prostrated himself, facing upward to make his petition:
"In sincere awe and trembling, we bow and take refuge. We, your ministers, have raised the teaching, gazing up to the pure void. We crushed the monks, coarse and low, and honored the Dao, bright and glorious. By decree we built the precious hall; by royal command we set the courts. Broadly we display our offerings; high we hang the dragon banners. All night we keep the candles burning; all day the incense breathes its fragrance. With one whole heart we reach above; with every inch of reverence we return. Now you have deigned to descend and not yet returned your chariot. We pray you grant us golden elixir and holy water, to present to the court, That His Majesty's life may equal the Southern Mountain."
Bajie heard this and grew nervous. He muttered to the Pilgrim: "This is our fault. We ate the food and didn't leave, and now they're praying—how do we answer?"
The Pilgrim pinched him again, then suddenly opened his mouth and called: "You junior lesser immortals—stop your praying! We've come from the Peach Banquet and didn't bring any golden elixir or holy water. Wait for another day, and we'll bestow some then."
When the Daoists, great and small, heard a voice come from above, they trembled in their robes: "Grandfathers! Living Heavenly Venerables descended to earth—don't let them go! By any means, beg a method of long life!"
The Immortal Deer Power stepped forward and again prayed: "Scattering dust, we bow our heads, with sincere hearts preparing our devotion. We, your humble ministers, give our lives, bowing to the Three Pure Ones. Since coming to this realm, we've raised the Dao and crushed the monks. The King's heart rejoices, revering the mystic years. We hold the Great Rite of the Heaven of Luo, reading the scriptures through the night. Fortunate that the Heavenly Venerables did not forsake us, but descended in your chariots to this court. We bow and beg your mercy, gazing up for your grace and glory. You must leave some holy water for your disciples, to extend our years and grant us long life."
The Sha Monk pinched the Pilgrim and muttered: "Brother, they're pressing hard—praying again."
The Pilgrim said: "Give them some, then."
Bajie whispered: "Where is there any to give?"
The Pilgrim said: "Just watch me. When I have some, you'll all have some too."
The Daoists finished their music. The Pilgrim spoke: "You lesser immortals need not keep bowing. I would not leave you any holy water, but I fear it would extinguish your lineage. If I give you some, it would be too easy."
All the Daoists heard and bowed to the ground, kowtowing: "We beg the Heavenly Venerables, by their mercy, to bestow a little. We disciples will proclaim the Dao far and wide, and tell the King to honor the Mystic Gate."
The Pilgrim said: "Very well—bring vessels."
The Daoists all kowtowed and gave thanks. The Immortal Tiger Power, eager to be first, brought out a great vat and set it in the hall. The Immortal Deer Power carried a sand basin and placed it on the offering table. The Immortal Antelope Power plucked the flowers from a vase and moved it to the center.
The Pilgrim said: "All of you go outside the hall and shut the lattice door. Don't let the Heaven's secret leak—I'll leave you some holy water."
The Daoists all knelt in the courtyard below and shut the hall door.
The Pilgrim stood up, lifted his tiger-skin kilt, and relieved himself into the flower vase—filling it to the brim.
Zhu Bajie saw this and rejoiced: "Brother! In all these years as your brother, this is the one thing you haven't done to me. I just ate some things, and now I need to do the same!"
The idiot lifted his clothes, and with a rush like the cataracts of Lu Liang pouring down a hillside, he filled the sand basin to the brim. The Sha Monk filled half the vat. Then they straightened their clothes and sat properly up above, saying: "Little immortals, come receive the holy water."
The Daoists pushed open the lattice, kowtowed and gave thanks, hauled the vat out, gathered the vase and basin together, and said: "Disciple, bring a cup to taste."
A little Daoist brought a teacup and handed it to the old priest. The priest dipped a cup, took a sip, and kept smacking his lips and wiping his mouth.
The Immortal Deer Power said: "Brother, is it good?"
The old priest worked his mouth and said: "Not very good. It has a sour, rancid taste."
The Immortal Antelope Power said: "Let me taste." He drank a mouthful and said: "It has the stink of pig urine."
The Pilgrim, sitting up above, heard this and knew the game was up. He said: "Let me work a little magic and leave my name, at least." He called out:
"Daoist, Daoist, what wild thoughts you think! Which of the Three Pure Ones would descend to this mortal place? I'll tell you my true name: Monks of the Great Tang, sent by decree to the West. A fair night with nothing to do, we came down to your hall, Ate your offerings, sat and played. You bow to us—how should we answer? There is no holy water here! What you drank was all our piss!"
When the Daoists heard this, they blocked the door, and one and all they launched pitchforks, rakes, brooms, tiles, and stones—beating at the hall, head and face, without mercy.
The Pilgrim, with the Sha Monk under his left arm and Bajie under his right, dashed out the door, mounted an auspicious cloud, and flew straight back to the abbot's quarters of Zhiyuan Monastery. Not daring to wake the master, the three of them went back to sleep.
By the fifth watch, the third drum, the King held court. The two ranks of civil and military officials, four hundred courtiers, gathered. Red-gauze lamps blazed bright; precious incense-breath curled like clouds.
Tang Sanzang woke and called: "Disciples! Disciples! Attend me—I must go exchange my travel passport."
The Pilgrim, the Sha Monk, and Bajie rose quickly, dressed, and stood at attendance: "We tell the master: this muddled King trusts those Daoists and has raised the Dao and crushed the monks. I fear that if there's the least slip in our speech, he won't stamp the passport. We'll all go to court and protect the master."
The Tang monk was pleased. He put on his brocade-bordered cassock.
The Pilgrim carried the travel passport, the Sha Monk bore the alms bowl, and Bajie took the monk's staff. They left the luggage and horse in the care of the monks of Zhiyuan Monastery, went straight to the Phoenix Tower, bowed to the Yellow Gate officer, and reported their names: monks from the Great Tang empire, seeking the scriptures, come to exchange their travel passport—please transmit the request.
The gate officer went in, prostrated himself on the golden steps, and reported: "Outside are four monks who say they are scripture-seekers from the Great Tang empire of the Eastern Land, come to exchange their travel passport. They now wait before the Phoenix Tower for Your Majesty's command."
The King heard this and said: "These monks have nowhere else to seek death—they come here to seek it! Patrol officers, why haven't you seized them and hauled them here?"
From the side stepped the Grand Preceptor of the Imperial Escort, who reported: "The Eastern Land of the Great Tang lies in the Southern Continent of Jambudvipa, known as the Great Central Nation. To come here is a journey of ten thousand li, and the road is full of monsters. These monks must have some magic power to dare come west. I beg Your Majesty, for the sake of a far-traveling monk of the Central Nation, to summon them, inspect their passport, and let them pass—so as not to lose the spirit of good affinity."
The King approved. The Tang monk and his disciples were summoned to the Golden Hall. Master and disciples lined up before the steps and presented the passport. The King had just opened it and begun to read when the Yellow Gate officer came again to report: "The three State Preceptors have arrived!"
The King hastily rolled up the passport, descended the dragon throne, ordered the attendants to set out embroidered stools, and bowed to greet them.
Sanzang and his disciples turned to look. They saw the three immortals swaggering in, followed by a pair of top-knotted, disheveled little boys. They walked straight in, and the two ranks of officials bowed their backs and bent their bodies, not daring to look up. The three immortals mounted to the Golden Hall and did not so much as bow to the King.
The King said: "State Preceptors, I did not invite you. What brings you to condescend today?"
The old Daoist said: "We have one matter to report, and so we came. Those four monks—from what land do they come?"
The King said: "They are from the Great Tang empire of the Eastern Land, sent to the Western Heaven for scriptures, come here to exchange their passport."
The three Daoists clapped their hands and laughed: "We said he'd run off, but here he still is!"
The King was startled: "What do you mean, State Preceptors? They just reported their names. We were about to have them sent to you for your use, but the Grand Preceptor's words had merit, and for the sake of their long journey and the good affinity of the Central Nation, we summoned them to inspect their passport. We didn't expect you to ask about them. Have they offended your venerable presence in some way?"
The Daoists laughed: "Your Majesty doesn't know. They arrived yesterday. Outside the East Gate they killed two of our disciples, freed five hundred captive monks, smashed the carts, and at night broke into our temple, destroyed the sacred images of the Three Pure Ones, and stole the imperial offerings. We were taken in—we thought the Heavenly Venerables had descended, and we begged for holy water and golden elixir to present to Your Majesty, hoping for long life. But instead they left some urine to fool us. Each of us drank a mouthful, tasted it, and was about to seize them when they fled. And today they're still here—truly, the enemies' road is narrow!"
The King heard this and flew into a rage, meaning to execute the four.
The Great Sage Sun pressed his palms together and spoke in a loud voice: "Your Majesty, stay your thunderous wrath for a moment, and let these monks speak."
The King said: "You have offended the State Preceptors—the Preceptors' words could not be wrong!"
The Pilgrim said: "He says we went outside the city yesterday and killed two of his disciples. Who saw it? Who can testify? Let's say, for the sake of argument, that we did—send two monks to pay with their lives, and let the other two go on to seek the scriptures. He says we smashed the carts and freed the captive monks—again, no witness. At most that's not a capital crime; one monk can answer for it. He says we destroyed the Three Pure Ones and rioted in the temple—that's framing us."
The King said: "How is it framing you?"
The Pilgrim said: "We monks are from the Eastern Land, newly arrived here. We don't even know the streets yet—how would we know the affairs of his temple at night? If someone left urine, they should have been caught at once. Instead, he waits till now to name us. The world is full of people using false names—how does he know it was us? I beg Your Majesty to set aside anger and investigate."
The King, who was muddled to begin with, heard the Pilgrim's account and could not make up his mind.
While he was still doubting, the Yellow Gate officer came again to report: "Your Majesty, outside are many village elders, waiting to be summoned."
The King said: "What do they want?" He ordered them brought in.
They came before the hall—three or four dozen elders, who kowtowed and said: "Ten Thousand Years, there has been no rain this spring. We fear drought in the summer months. We have come to beg whichever State Preceptor Grandfather to pray for a sweet rain, to save the common people."
The King said: "Elders, withdraw. Rain will come." The elders thanked him and withdrew.
The King said: "Monks of the Tang, why do I honor the Dao and crush the monks? Because when we prayed for rain that year, the monks of our court could not get a single drop. It was the Heaven-sent State Preceptors who saved us from torment. You come from afar and have offended the Preceptors. I should have punished you at once, but I will let it pass for now. Dare you compete with my State Preceptors in a rain-making contest? If you can pray down a sweet rain to save the people, I will pardon your crime, stamp your passport, and let you go west. If you cannot match them and no rain falls, I'll have you taken to the execution ground and beheaded as a warning to all."
The Pilgrim laughed: "This little monk knows a thing or two about praying."
The King ordered the altar ground prepared, and said: "Set out the royal carriage. I will go up to the Phoenix Tower and watch." The officials arranged the carriage, and the King mounted the tower and took his seat. Tang Sanzang stood below with the Pilgrim, the Sha Monk, and Bajie. The three Daoists sat with the King on the tower.
Presently, an officer galloped up on horseback: "The altar is fully prepared. We invite the State Preceptor Grandfather to mount the platform."
The Immortal Tiger Power rose, clasped his hands, took leave of the King, and came down from the tower.
The Pilgrim stepped forward and blocked his way: "Where are you going, sir?"
The immortal said: "To mount the altar and pray for rain."
The Pilgrim said: "You're too full of yourself—not giving way to a monk from afar. Well, as they say: a strong dragon doesn't oppress the local snake. You go first. But we must make the terms clear before the King."
The immortal said: "Make what clear?"
The Pilgrim said: "You and I both go up to pray for rain. When the rain comes, is it yours or mine? How do we know whose merit it is?"
The King, hearing this from above, was secretly pleased: "That little monk speaks with some backbone."
The Sha Monk heard and laughed inwardly: "He doesn't know what backbone this one has—he hasn't even shown it yet!"
The immortal said: "No need to say it—His Majesty will naturally know."
The Pilgrim said: "He may know, but I'm a monk from afar, and we've never met. If we start disputing afterward, each claiming the credit, that won't do. We must make it clear first."
The immortal said: "When I mount the altar, just watch my command tablet. One strike of the tablet—wind comes; two strikes—clouds rise; three strikes—thunder and lightning together; four strikes—rain falls; five strikes—clouds scatter, rain stops."
The Pilgrim laughed: "Excellent! This monk has never seen such a thing. Please! Please!"
The immortal strode forward, with Sanzang and the others following, to the gate of the altar. They looked up: there stood a high platform, about three zhang and more tall. On the left and right were planted the twenty-eight constellation banners. On top was a table bearing an incense burner; from the incense, smoke curled thick. On either side were two candle stands, the candles blazing. Beside the burner leaned a golden tablet, engraved with the names of the Thunder Gods.
Below were five great vats, all filled to the brim with clear water, on which floated willow twigs. On the willow twigs rested an iron tablet, inscribed with the talisman-characters of the Thunder Bureau. On either side were five great stakes, inscribed with the names of the Barbaric Thunder Envoys of the Five Quarters. By each stake stood two Daoists, each holding an iron hammer, ready to strike the stakes. Behind the platform, many Daoists were writing up memorials and writs.
In the very center was a paper furnace, and there were several papier-mâché figures—the Talisman-Bearing Envoys and the Teaching-Assistant Deities of the Land.
The immortal walked in. Without the least modesty, he mounted the platform and took his stand. A little Daoist beside him brought several yellow-paper talismans and a precious sword, and handed them to the immortal. The immortal took the sword, recited a spell, and burned a talisman over a candle. Below, two or three Daoists took a talisman-bearing papier-mâché figure and a written memorial, and burned them as well.
From above came the crack of the command tablet—and in midair, a gentle wind came drifting in.
Zhu Bajie muttered: "Oh no! Oh no! That Daoist really does have skill! The tablet cracked once, and the wind blew!"
The Pilgrim said: "Brother, keep quiet. Don't any of you speak to me. Just protect the master. Let me go do my work."
The Great Sage plucked a single hair, blew on it with immortal breath, and cried: "Change!" It became a false Pilgrim, standing beside the Tang monk.
His true spirit left his body, darted into midair, and called out: "Who's in charge of the wind?"
The Wind Granny hastily clutched her wind-bag, and the Wind Lord Xun Erlang tied the mouth-rope, and both came forward to bow.
The Pilgrim said: "I am protecting the holy monk of the Great Tang on his way to the Western Heaven for scriptures. We are passing through the Kingdom of Chechi and having a rain-making contest with that Daoist fiend. Why do you help the Daoist instead of old Sun? I'll let you off this time. Gather the wind. If there is the least breath of wind—if even the Daoist's beard stirs—I'll give each of you twenty strokes of the iron rod!"
The Wind Granny said: "We wouldn't dare! We wouldn't dare!" And there was not a breath of wind.
Bajie couldn't hold back: "Hey, mister! Your tablet cracked, and where's the wind? Come down and let us go up!"
The Daoist burned another talisman and writ, and struck the tablet again. The sky filled with clouds and mist. The Great Sage called out from above: "Who's in charge of the clouds?"
The Cloud-Pushing Boy and the Mist-Spreading Gentleman hurried forward and bowed. The Pilgrim told them the same as before, and the Cloud Boy and the Mist Gentleman gathered the clouds and mist away. The sun blazed out, and the whole sky was clear for ten thousand li, without a wisp of cloud.
Bajie laughed: "This fellow is only good for fooling the King and putting off the people. No real skill at all! The tablet cracked twice, and not a cloud in sight!"
The Daoist grew agitated. He gripped the sword, loosened his hair, recited a spell, burned a talisman, and struck the tablet once more. From the South Gate of Heaven, the Heavenly Lord Deng led the Thunder Duke and the Lightning Mother into the sky, and they bowed to the Pilgrim.
The Pilgrim again told the whole story and said: "How did you come so eagerly? Whose command is this?"
The Heavenly Lord said: "That Daoist's Five-Thunder Magic is genuine. He sent up the memorials, burned the writs, and alarmed the Jade Emperor. The Jade Emperor issued a decree straight to the hall of the Nine-Heaven Primal Thunder Response. We came by decree to assist with lightning, thunder, and rain."
The Pilgrim said: "In that case, hold everything. Wait for old Sun to act." And indeed, the thunder did not clap, the lightning did not flash.
The Daoist grew ever more frantic. He added incense, burned talismans, recited spells, and struck the tablet again. In midair, the Dragon Kings of the Four Seas arrived in a body. The Pilgrim called out from above: "Ao Guang! Where are you going?"
Ao Guang, Ao Shun, Ao Qin, and Ao Run came forward and bowed. The Pilgrim again told the whole story and said: "I am grateful for your past help, though we didn't succeed then. Today's business—I hope for your assistance."
The Dragon Kings said: "We obey! We obey!"
The Pilgrim also thanked Ao Shun: "The other day I was grateful to your prince for binding the monster and saving my master."
The Dragon King said: "That wretch is still locked up in the sea. I didn't dare dispose of him on my own. I was just about to ask the Great Sage for his ruling."
The Pilgrim said: "Do with him as you see fit. For now, lend me your aid. The Daoist has struck his tablet four times—now it's old Sun's turn to go down and work. But I don't send up memorials or burn writs or strike command tablets. You gentlemen must help me out."
The Heavenly Lord Deng said: "Great Sage, who would dare disobey your command? But we need a signal to act on; otherwise, if thunder and rain come in confusion, it would make the Great Sage look bad."
The Pilgrim said: "I'll use my cudgel as the signal."
The Thunder Duke was startled: "Grandfather! We couldn't survive that cudgel!"
The Pilgrim said: "I'm not going to hit you. But when my cudgel points upward, you bring the wind." The Wind Granny and the Wind Lord agreed with one voice: "We'll send the wind!"
"When the cudgel points a second time, you spread the clouds." The Cloud-Pushing Boy and the Mist-Spreading Gentleman said: "We'll spread the clouds! We'll spread the clouds!"
"When the cudgel points a third time, you thunder and lightning." The Thunder Duke and the Lightning Mother said: "With pleasure! With pleasure!"
"When the cudgel points a fourth time, you rain." The Dragon Kings said: "We obey! We obey!"
"When the cudgel points a fifth time, you clear the sky to bright sun. Don't be late."
His orders given, the Pilgrim brought down his cloud, shook himself, and pulled the hair back into his body. Those mortals with their fleshly eyes—how could they tell?
The Pilgrim called out from the side: "Sir, you've had your four strikes of the tablet, and no wind, cloud, thunder, or rain. It's my turn now."
The Daoist, helpless, dared not linger, and came down from the platform to let him up. He went up to the tower with pursed lips to see the King.
The Pilgrim said: "Let me follow him and hear what he says."
They heard the King ask: "I listened with ready ear. You struck your tablet four times, and no wind or rain. Why?"
The Daoist said: "Today the dragon gods are all away from home."
The Pilgrim called out sharply: "Your Majesty, the dragon gods are all at home. It's only this State Preceptor's magic that doesn't work—he can't summon them. Let the monk summon them, and you'll see."
The King said: "Go mount the altar. I'll wait here for the rain."
The Pilgrim received the command, hurried back to the altar, and pulled the Tang monk forward: "Master, please mount the platform."
The Tang monk said: "Disciple, I don't know how to pray for rain."
Bajie laughed: "He's setting you up! If there's no rain, they'll pile firewood around you and burn you to cinders!"
The Pilgrim said: "You may not know how to pray for rain, but you do know how to recite sutras. Let me help you." The elder then stepped up onto the platform, sat upright, settled his nature and gathered his spirit, and silently recited the Heart Sutra.
As he sat, an officer galloped up on horseback: "You monk, why don't you strike the tablet or burn the writs?"
The Pilgrim called out in a loud voice: "No need! No need! We pray with quiet meditation." The officer went back to report—of that no more.
The Pilgrim heard his old master finish reciting the sutra, then drew the iron cudgel from his ear, gave it a flourish in the wind, and it grew to twelve feet long and bowl-thick. He pointed it at the sky. The Wind Granny saw it and hastily opened her leather bag; the Wind Lord Xun Erlang untied the mouth-rope. A howling wind rose, tearing tiles from the rooftops and hurling sand and stones through every street of the city.
What a wind! Truly different from the common kind. Just look:
It snaps willows, wounds flowers, fells forests, topples trees. In the ninefold palace, walls crack and crumble; On the Phoenix Tower, beams shake and pillars sway. The red sun at the sky's edge loses all its light; Yellow sand on the ground grows wings and flies. At the Drill Hall, the generals start; In the Writing Pavilion, the ministers quake. The ladies of the three palaces let fall their hair; The consorts of the six courts toss their topknots loose. Marquises' golden crowns lose their embroidered tassels; The Prime Minister's black hat spreads its wings and flies. The Imperial Escort would speak but dare not; The Yellow Gate officer holds his memorials with nowhere to present them. Golden fish and jade belts fall out of rank; Jade tablets and silk robes lose all precedence. Painted pavilions and emerald screens are all damaged; Green windows and red doors are battered and torn. Roof tiles fly, bricks scatter from the Golden Hall; The gate of the Brocade Cloud Hall tilts and shatters. This gale is fierce indeed— It blows so hard the King and his sons cannot meet; In every market and street, not a soul in sight; Ten thousand doors and a thousand gates—every one is shut tight!
As the great wind raged, the Pilgrim Sun again showed his power. He twirled his gold-banded cudgel and pointed it a second time at the sky. And there:
The Cloud-Pushing Boy, the Mist-Spreading Gentleman. The Cloud-Pushing Boy flaunts his might; Boulders of cloud boil up and hide the heavens. The Mist-Spreading Gentleman works his magic; Thick banks of mist fly and shroud the earth. The three markets grow dim and hazy; The six streets turn slowly dark. Born of the wind upon the sea, Following the rain from Mount Kunlun. In an instant it fills the sky; In a trice it veils the world of dust. Like chaos come again— You cannot see the Phoenix Tower's gate.
Now the mist hung thick and the clouds pressed heavy. The Pilgrim Sun twirled his gold-banded cudgel a third time and pointed it at the sky. And there:
The Thunder Duke in fury, the Lightning Mother in wrath. The Thunder Duke in fury rides his beast of fire backward down the heavenly gate; The Lightning Mother in wrath whips golden serpents loose from the Dipper's hall. With a crash, the thunderbolt shatters Iron-Fork Mountain; In sizzling flashes, red silk flies from the Eastern Sea. Rumble, rumble—like chariots rolling, unseen; Blaze on blaze—like rice grains scattering, bright. Ten thousand sprouts, ten thousand creatures, change their spirit; How many dormant insects have now awakened! On the tower above, the King and ministers quake; Merchants hear the sound and cower in fright. That deep thunder and flashing lightning, crashing and banging, seemed like the earth splitting and mountains collapsing. It frightened every household in the city into burning incense and paper money.
The Pilgrim Sun called out from below: "Old Deng! Watch carefully! Any officer who takes bribes and perverts the law, any son who is unfilial—strike a few extra dead, as a warning!"
The thunder crashed all the louder. The Pilgrim pointed his cudgel upward a fourth time. And there:
The dragons issue commands; rain floods the universe. Pouring like the Silver River spilling from the heavenly moat; Swift as clouds streaming past the ocean gate. At the tower, the sound of drip upon drip; Outside the window, the patter of rain upon rain. The Milky Way pours from the sky above; White waves roll through the streets below. Gurgling like water caught in a jar; Rolling like a basin poured out. A lonely hamlet is nearly flooded to the roof; The wild banks are almost level with the bridge. Truly, the mulberry fields become a sea; In an instant, the dry land rolls with waves. The dragon gods come to our aid, Lifting the Yangtze and pouring it down.
This rain began at the hour of Chen and fell until the hour of Wu, flooding the streets of Chechi City inside and out, the water covering every road.
The King issued a decree: "Enough rain! Enough! Any more and it will drown the crops—that would be worse."
An officer below the Phoenix Tower rode through the rain to report: "Holy Monk, enough rain."
The Pilgrim heard, and pointed his gold-banded cudgel upward once more. In an instant, the thunder ceased, the wind died, the rain scattered, and the clouds drew off.
The King was overjoyed. The civil and military officials all praised: "What a monk! Truly, there's always a stronger hand among the strong! Even our State Preceptor, when he prays for rain and it comes, if he wants it to clear, there's still a drizzle for half a day. But this monk clears the sky at will—bright sun in an instant, and not a cloud in ten thousand li!"
The King ordered the carriage brought round, to stamp the passport and send the Tang monk on his way. But just as he was applying the royal seal, the three Daoists stepped forward and blocked it: "Your Majesty, this rain was not the monk's doing at all. It was the power of our Daoist school."
The King said: "You just said the dragon gods were away from home and there was no rain. He went up, prayed in quiet meditation, and the rain fell. How can you dispute the credit now? Why?"
The Immortal Tiger Power said: "When I mounted the altar, I sent up the memorials, burned the writs, and struck the command tablet. How could the dragon gods not come? I think that in some other quarter, the five Bureaus of Wind, Cloud, Thunder, and Rain were all away. When they heard my command, they rushed to answer—just as I was coming down and he was going up, our paths crossed, and the rain fell then. Counting from the root, it's still the dragons I summoned who made the rain. How can it be counted as his merit?"
The King, muddled as ever, heard this and was again unsure.
The Pilgrim stepped forward, pressed his palms together, and reported: "Your Majesty, such side-door magic tricks don't count for merit—neither his nor mine. Right now, the four Dragon Kings of the Seas are still in the sky. I, the monk, haven't dismissed them yet, so they don't dare leave. If the State Preceptor can call them out and make them show themselves, then let the credit be his."
The King was overjoyed: "I have been emperor for twenty-three years and have never seen a living dragon. Let both of you show your power—monk or Daoist, whoever can call them out has the merit. Whoever cannot—the crime."
But how could the Daoist have such skill? He called and called, but the dragon gods, seeing the Great Sage present, dared not show their faces.
The Daoists said: "We cannot. You call them."
The Great Sage looked up at the sky and called in a loud voice: "Ao Guang! Where are you? Brothers, all of you—show your true forms and come see!"
The Dragon Kings heard the summons and at once showed their true bodies. Four dragons, in midair, wove through the mist and clouds, flying and dancing toward the Golden Hall. Just look:
Flying, transforming, coiling through mist and cloud. Jade claws curled white as hooks; Silver scales dance bright as mirrors. Beards float like white silk, every strand crisp; Horns rise proud and high, every inch clear. Brow jutting, towering; Round eyes flashing bright. Now seen, now hidden, beyond all guessing; Soaring, flying—beyond all praise. When prayer calls for rain, they bring the rain; When prayer calls for clear sky, the sky clears. These are the true dragon forms, numinous and holy; Auspicious light surrounds the hall.
The King burned incense on the tower. The officials bowed in the courtyard below.
The King said: "We thank your noble forms for descending. Please return. We shall hold a rite of thanks another day."
The Pilgrim said: "All you gods, return to your places. This King will hold a thanksgiving rite another day."
The Dragon Kings returned to the sea. The other gods all went back to Heaven. Truly:
Vast, boundless, the true wondrous Dharma— Perfect and real, it shatters the side-door sects.
But how they were to rid the evil—listen to the explanation in the next chapter.