A ci-poem says:
Sweep the heart's ground again and again; Brush away the dust of passions, thread by thread. Let no pitfall trap the Vairocana. The primal body, ever pure— Only then may one speak of the Origin. The lamp of the mind must be trimmed and tuned; At Cao Xi, let the breathing be natural— Suffer not the monkey and the horse to breathe so loud. By day and night, the breath unbroken flows— That is the proof of mastery.
This poem, to the tune of "Nan Ke Zi," speaks only of how the Tang monk had escaped the disaster of the cold ice at the Heaven-Reaching River and, riding the white turtle, reached the farther shore. The four travelers pressed west, and it was deep winter. Just look:
The forest light, dim through the mist; The mountain bones, stark and clear beyond the water.
Master and disciples were walking when they suddenly came upon a great mountain blocking the way. The road was narrow, the cliffs high, the rocks many, the ridges steep—hard going for man and horse.
Sanzang reined in his horse and called: "Disciples." The Pilgrim Sun, with Bajie and the Sha Monk, came forward and stood at attention: "Master, what is your command?"
Sanzang said: "Look at that high mountain ahead. I fear there may be tigers and wolves making trouble, or demonic beasts harming people. This time, you must be careful!"
The Pilgrim said: "Master, set your heart at ease. We three brothers are of one mind and one will, devoted to the true Way. With our methods of sweeping demons and subduing monsters, what do we fear from tigers, wolves, or demon beasts?"
Sanzang heard this and could only set his worries aside and press on. They reached the mouth of the valley, spurred the horse up the cliff, and looked up. What a mountain!
Towering and soaring, peak after peak cut sheer. Towering and soaring, piercing the vault of heaven; Peak after peak cut sheer, blocking the azure sky. Strange rocks heaped like crouching tigers; Dark pines hanging like flying dragons. On the ridge, birds cry—sweet the melody; By the cliff, plum blossoms breathe a wondrous scent. The stream babbles cold from the ravine; The clouds on the peak come dark and ominous. And see—snowflakes drifting, winds cutting keen; A hungry tiger roars among the hills. The winter crow seeks a tree and finds no roost; The wild deer searches for a den with no fixed track. Alas, the traveler can hardly make his way— Brow furrowed, face gloomy, he pulls his hood down low.
Master and disciples braved the snow and the cold, shivering as they crossed the peaks and ridges. Far off, they spied in a mountain hollow a lofty tower and quiet buildings.
The Tang monk, from his horse, said with pleasure: "Disciples, I am hungry and cold this day. Fortunately, there are towers and houses in that hollow. It must be a farmstead or a monastery. Let's go beg some food, eat, and then go on."
The Pilgrim heard this and opened his eyes to look. He saw faint ominous clouds and evil mist on that side. He turned and said: "Master, that place is not safe."
Sanzang said: "There are towers and pavilions right there—how is it not safe?"
The Pilgrim laughed: "Master, how would you know? On the Western road there are many demons and fiends, skilled in conjuring up houses and estates. Any tower, hall, or pavilion can be pointed into being to fool people. Haven't you heard that the dragon has nine sons, and one of them is called the Clam? When the Clam breathes out its vapor, it forms the image of pavilions and ponds. On a great river, when the fog grows thick and the Clam shows itself, birds and magpies flying past will come to rest their wings—and no matter if they number in their thousands or ten thousands, all are swallowed in one breath. This thing is most deadly to people. The vapor over there is evil—we absolutely cannot go in."
Sanzang said: "If we can't go in, I am truly hungry."
The Pilgrim said: "If the master is truly hungry, please dismount. Sit here on this flat ground, and let me go elsewhere and beg some food for you."
Sanzang agreed and dismounted. Bajie held the reins; the Sha Monk set down the luggage, opened the bundle, took out the alms bowl, and handed it to the Pilgrim.
The Pilgrim took the bowl and instructed the Sha Monk: "Brother, do not go forward. Guard the master and keep him seated steadily here. When I return with the food, we'll go on west."
The Sha Monk agreed.
The Pilgrim turned to Sanzang: "Master, this place has more bad luck than good. Don't go wandering off. Old Sun is going to beg for food."
The Tang monk said: "No need to say more—just go quickly and come back. I'll wait for you here." The Pilgrim turned to go, then came back: "Master, I know you haven't much patience for sitting. Let me give you a method of keeping safe." He took his gold-banded cudgel, gave it a flourish, and drew a circle on the flat ground around them. He invited the Tang monk to sit in the center, with Bajie and the Sha Monk standing on either side, and the horse and luggage close by. He pressed his palms together and said to Sanzang: "This circle that old Sun has drawn is stronger than walls of copper and iron. No tiger, panther, wolf, insect, demon, or monster will dare come near. Only—you must not step outside the circle. Sit steadily inside, and you'll be safe. But if you step out of the circle, you will fall into evil hands. A thousand times, be careful! I charge you most earnestly!"
Sanzang agreed. Master and disciples sat down properly.
The Pilgrim then rose on a cloud and went to find a village to beg for food. He headed south and saw ancient trees touching the sky—a village of houses. He brought down his cloud and looked carefully. Just look:
Snow oppresssing the fading willow; ice sealing the square pond. Sparse tall bamboo swaying green; Dense tall pines holding their green. A few thatched cottages, half dressed in silver; A little bridge, slanting, plastered with white. By the fence, water-flowers just peeping out; Under the eaves, long icicles hanging down. The soughing cold wind carries a strange fragrance; The snow is so thick you can't see where the plum blossoms open.
The Pilgrim walked along, admiring the village scene, when he heard a creak—a brushwood gate opened, and an old man stepped out. He held a walking stick of wood, wore a sheepskin coat on his head, a patched robe on his body, and straw sandals on his feet. He leaned on his stick and looked up at the sky: "The northwest wind's risen. Tomorrow will be clear."
Before he'd finished, a little pug-dog ran out from behind him, saw the Pilgrim, and began barking furiously.
The old man turned his head and saw the Pilgrim standing with his alms bowl. The Pilgrim bowed and said: "Old benefactor, I am a monk sent by imperial decree from the Great Tang empire of the Eastern Land to the Western Heaven to bow before the Buddha and seek the scriptures. Passing by your precious region, my master is hungry. I have come to your honored house to beg a meal."
The old man heard this, nodded, and tapped his stick: "Reverend, stop begging for a moment. You've gone the wrong way."
The Pilgrim said: "I haven't."
The old man said: "The great road to the Western Heaven lies due north of here. From here to there is a thousand li. Why don't you go find the main road and travel on it?"
The Pilgrim laughed: "It is due north of here. My master is sitting right now on the main road, waiting for me to bring food."
The old man said: "This monk is talking nonsense. Your master is on the main road waiting for your food—a thousand li away. Even if he could walk, it would take six or seven days, and six or seven days back—wouldn't he starve to death?"
The Pilgrim laughed: "I won't deceive you, old benefactor. I just left my master less than the time it takes to drink a cup of hot tea, and I've already arrived here. Once I've begged the food, I'll be back in time for the noon meal."
The old man was frightened: "This monk is a ghost! A ghost!" He turned to go inside.
The Pilgrim caught hold of him: "Benefactor, where are you going? If you have food, quickly give me some."
The old man said: "Not convenient! Not convenient! Try another house!"
The Pilgrim said: "Benefactor, what a way to do business! You say I'm a thousand li away, and if I try another house, won't that be another thousand li? My master will truly starve to death."
The old man said: "To tell you the truth, my family of six or seven has just washed three sheng of rice and put it in the pot, and it's not cooked yet. You go try somewhere else and come back."
The Pilgrim said: "The ancients said: visiting three houses is worse than sitting at one. I'll wait here, poor monk that I am."
The old man, seeing him so persistent, lost his temper and raised his stick to strike. The Pilgrim stood his ground, not the least afraid. The old man struck him on the shining head seven or eight times—it felt like nothing more than a scratch.
The old man said: "This monk's head is made for butting!"
The Pilgrim laughed: "Old fellow, hit me as much as you like—just remember to count the strokes clearly. One stroke, one sheng of rice. Measure it out slowly."
Hearing this, the old man threw down his stick, ran inside, shut the door, and shouted: "A ghost! A ghost!" His whole family was terrified, and they locked every door, front and back.
Seeing the door shut, the Pilgrim thought: "That old scoundrel said he'd washed rice and put it in the pot. I don't know if it's true or not. As the saying goes: the Dao converts the worthy, the Buddha converts the foolish. Let old Sun go in and take a look."
The Great Sage pinched the spell, used the art of invisibility, and walked right into the kitchen. Sure enough, the pot was steaming with half a pot of dry rice. He plunged his alms bowl in, scooped it full to the brim, and rode his cloud back—of that no more.
Now the Tang monk sat in the circle, waiting a long time. The Pilgrim didn't return. He leaned forward, gazing anxiously: "Where has that monkey gone to beg for food?"
Bajie, standing beside him, laughed: "Who knows where he's gone to play! Begging for food indeed—and making us sit here in prison!"
Sanzang said: "How is it prison?"
Bajie said: "Master, you don't know. The ancients drew a line on the ground to make a prison. He drew a circle with his cudgel—says it's stronger than copper walls and iron gates. But if a tiger or wolf or demon beast comes, how would it keep them out? We'd just be handed over to them to eat."
Sanzang said: "Wuneng, what do you think we should do?"
Bajie said: "This place has no shelter from the wind, no respite from the cold. If you ask old Pig, we should just follow the road west. When Brother comes back with the food, he can ride his cloud and catch up in no time. If he has food, we eat and then go. We've been sitting here a while, and my feet are freezing!"
Sanzang heard this—and it was the star of ill fortune entering his palace.
[Translator's note: a reference to the astrological belief that when an evil star enters one of the Nine Palaces, misfortune follows.]
He took the idiot's advice, and all of them stepped out of the circle.
The Sha Monk led the horse, Bajie shouldered the load, and the elder walked along the road. Before long they reached the towers and pavilions. It was a house facing south, with a plastered wall at the gate and a gate-tower with an inverted-lotus ornament, painted in five colors. The door was half open, half shut. Bajie tied the horse to the drum-shaped door-stone, the Sha Monk set down his load, and Sanzang, who feared the wind, sat on the threshold.
Bajie said: "Master, this must be the house of some marquis or prime minister. No one's out front—probably all inside warming themselves by the fire. You sit here; let me go in and look."
The Tang monk said: "Be careful! Don't go disturbing anyone."
The idiot said: "I know. Since I joined the Zen gate, I've learned a thing or two about manners. I'm not like some country bumpkin."
The idiot tucked his rake into his belt, straightened his dark brocade robe, and walked in, refined and proper. He saw a three-room hall with the blinds rolled high—silent and empty, no soul in sight, no tables, chairs, or furniture. He went around the screen door and walked further in to a passage hall, and behind it stood a tall tower. The window lattices were half open, and through them he could faintly see a curtain of yellow silk.
The idiot said: "Someone must be afraid of the cold, still sleeping." He went upstairs without ceremony, pulled open the curtain, and had the fright of his life. On the ivory bed, under the curtain, lay a white, gleaming pile of bones. The skull was as big as a bushel basket, the leg bones four or five feet long.
The idiot steadied himself. He couldn't stop the tears from rolling down his cheeks. He nodded at the skull and sighed:
"I know not from what dynasty or age you came, Nor what kingdom or land you served. A marshal's body, perhaps, or a great general's frame. In your day, a hero striving for victory and might; Today, so desolate—nothing but bone and sinew exposed. No wife or child to attend you; No soldier to burn incense before you. Truly, a sight to make one sigh and weep— Alas, for the man who sought to build a kingdom and an empire!"
As Bajie was sighing, he saw a flicker of firelight behind the curtain. "Someone must be tending the incense in the back," he said. He hurried around the curtain to look—but it was only the light coming through the tower window.
On the other side was a lacquered table, with several brocade garments tossed carelessly across it. The idiot picked them up and saw they were three quilted brocade vests. Not caring whether it was right or wrong, he took them downstairs, out through the hall, and to the door. "Master," he said, "there's no one living here. It's a dead man's house. Old Pig went all the way to the top of the tower, and inside the yellow silk curtain there was a pile of bones. By the window were three quilted vests, and I've brought them. It's our luck for this stretch of road. The weather's cold, and they're just the thing. Master, take off your tunic and wear one underneath. It'll keep you warm."
Sanzang said: "No, no! The law says: whether taken openly or stolen, both are theft. If someone finds out and catches us, and we're taken to court, it's a crime of theft. Take them right back and put them where they were! We'll sit here out of the wind and wait for Wukong to come, then be on our way. We who have left the world should not be so fond of petty gains."
Bajie said: "There's no one in sight—even chickens and dogs know nothing of it. Only we know. Who's going to tell? What evidence is there? It's like picking something up off the ground—what does it matter if it was taken openly or stolen?"
Sanzang said: "You're behaving like a fool! Even if people don't know, Heaven covers all! The Dark Emperor left this teaching: 'In a dark room, a guilty heart—the gods' eyes are like lightning.' Hurry up and take them back. Don't covet what is not yours."
The idiot wouldn't listen. He laughed at the Tang monk: "Master, I've worn quite a few vests in my life as a man, but I've never seen quilting like this. You won't wear it? Then let old Pig try it on—test the new, warm up my back. When Brother comes, I'll take it off and we'll return it and be on our way."
The Sha Monk said: "If that's how it is, I'll wear one too."
The two of them stripped off their outer robes and pulled the vests on. They had barely tightened the sashes when, somehow, they couldn't keep their footing—down they went with a crash. Those vests were better than bondage ropes—in an instant, their arms were pinned behind their backs, bound tight against their bodies.
Sanzang stamped his feet in dismay and rushed forward to untie them—but how could he? The three of them raised a great clamor—and that was what roused the demon.
The story goes that the tower and house were indeed conjured up by a demon, who used them day after day to catch people. He was sitting in his cave when he heard the sounds of distress. He hurried out and saw that several people had indeed been bound. The demon called his little demons, went to the spot, dissolved the tower and house, seized the Tang monk, led the white horse, shouldered the luggage, and dragged Bajie and the Sha Monk back to the cave, all together.
The old demon took his seat on the high dais. The little demons pushed the Tang monk to the foot of the dais, and he knelt. The demon asked: "Where are you monks from? How dare you steal my clothes in broad daylight?"
Sanzang, tears dripping, pleaded: "Poor monk that I am, I am sent by imperial decree from the Great Tang empire of the Eastern Land to the Western Heaven for scriptures. I was hungry and sent my senior disciple to beg for food. He hasn't returned. I did not heed his words and mistakenly entered your immortal hall to escape the wind. My two disciples are fond of petty gains and took out the garments. I, poor monk, had no part in it and meant to have them returned. They wouldn't listen to me and wanted to wear them to warm their backs. I never expected to fall into the Great King's trap and be seized. I beg your mercy—spare my life, that I may seek the true scriptures, and I shall forever remember the Great King's kindness, and proclaim it through the ages in the Eastern Land!"
The demon laughed: "I've often heard it said that whoever eats a piece of the Tang monk's flesh will turn white hair to black and grow new teeth. And today you've come uninvited—and you still hope I'll spare you! What is your senior disciple called, and which way did he go to beg for food?"
Bajie heard this and at once spoke up: "My brother is none other than the Great Sage Equal to Heaven, Sun Wukong, who made havoc in the Heavenly Palace five hundred years ago!"
When the demon heard "the Great Sage Equal to Heaven, Sun Wukong," he was quite taken aback. He said nothing, but thought to himself: "I've long heard that fellow's magic is vast. Now we meet without expecting it." He ordered: "Little ones, tie up the Tang monk. Untie those two from their precious garments, bind them with rope as well, and haul them to the rear. When I've caught the senior disciple, I'll wash them all together and steam them in one batch."
The little demons obeyed, bound all three, hauled them to the rear, tied the white horse to the trough, and brought the luggage inside. The demons all sharpened their weapons, preparing to capture the Pilgrim—of that no more.
Now the Pilgrim Sun, having snatched a bowl of food from the southern village, rode his cloud back the way he came. He reached the flat ground on the mountainside, brought down his cloud—and the Tang monk was gone. The circle drawn with the cudgel was still there, but the people and the horse were nowhere to be seen. He looked back toward the tower and house—they too were gone, nothing left but strange rocks at the mountain's base.
The Pilgrim's heart sank: "No need to say it—they've fallen into evil hands!" He followed the trail, reading the horse's hoofprints, and headed west in pursuit. After five or six li, still grieving and anxious, he heard voices on the north slope. He looked and saw an old man—felt cloak over his body, warm hat on his head, a pair of half-new half-old oiled boots on his feet, a dragon-head walking stick in his hand, followed by a young page boy carrying a spray of winter plum blossoms, walking and singing from the foot of the slope.
The Pilgrim set down his bowl, went face-to-face with the old man, and bowed: "Venerable sir, this poor monk salutes you."
The old man returned the bow: "Reverend, where do you come from?"
The Pilgrim said: "We come from the Eastern Land, going to the Western Heaven to bow before the Buddha and seek the scriptures. Four of us, master and disciples. My master was hungry, and I went to beg for food, telling the three of them to sit on the flat ground and wait. When I came back, they were gone. I don't know which road they took. I ask you, sir—did you see them?"
The old man heard this and gave a cold laugh: "Your three companions—was one of them a long-snouted, big-eared fellow?"
The Pilgrim said: "Yes, yes, yes!"
"And another with a sallow, unlucky face, leading a white horse and accompanying a white-faced, plump monk?"
The Pilgrim said: "Yes, yes, yes!"
The old man said: "You've gone the wrong way. Don't bother looking for them—each of you had better look to his own life."
The Pilgrim said: "The white-faced one is my master; the strange-looking ones are my brothers. I and they have sworn a devout heart to go to the Western Heaven for scriptures. How can I not seek them?"
The old man said: "I just passed by and saw them take a wrong path—straight into a demon's maw."
The Pilgrim said: "I beg you, sir, to instruct me—what demon is it, and where does he dwell? I'll go to his gate and demand my people back, and we'll go on to the Western Heaven."
The old man said: "This mountain is called Jindou Mountain. In front of it is Jindou Cave, and in the cave lives the Single-Horned Rhinoceros King. His magic is vast and his might is fearsome. Those three have no hope left—you may be sure of it. If you go looking, I fear you'll not be safe either. Better not to go. I won't stop you, and I won't keep you—judge for yourself."
The Pilgrim bowed twice in thanks: "Many thanks for your instruction, sir. How could I not go and look?" He handed the food to the old man, and put away the empty bowl.
The old man set down his stick, took the bowl, handed it to the page boy, and showed his true form. The two of them knelt and kowtowed: "Great Sage, we little spirits dared not hide it from you. We two are the mountain god and the local deity of this place, sent here to receive the Great Sage. We'll keep the food and bowl for the Great Sage, so that he may be light of body and free to use his magic power. When the Tang monk is saved from his peril, the food can be offered to him—this will show the Great Sage's utmost devotion and filial piety."
The Pilgrim barked: "You hairy little spirits, begging for a beating! You knew I was coming—why didn't you welcome me at once? Instead you hid your heads and tails like this—what's the meaning of it?"
The local deity said: "The Great Sage is impatient. We little spirits didn't dare act hastily, fearing to offend your august presence, so we hid our forms and told you this way."
The Pilgrim cooled his temper: "I'll let the beating go for now! Guard the bowl well! I'm going to catch that demon!" The mountain god and the local deity obeyed.
The Great Sage then tightened his tiger-sinew sash, hiked up his tiger-skin kilt, gripped his gold-banded cudgel, and strode to the front of the mountain to find the demon's cave. He rounded the cliff and saw, among the tumbled rocks on the emerald slope, two stone doors. Outside, many little demons were whirling spears and brandishing swords. Truly:
Mist and clouds gathered in auspicious lines; Moss and lichen piled up in green. Jagged strange rocks arrayed; Winding, crooked paths entwined. Apes howl and birds cry—the scenery fair; Phoenixes fly and simurghs dance—as though in Penglai. On the sunny slope, a few plum trees newly bloomed; In the warming air, a thousand stalks of bamboo green. Beneath the sheer cliff, snow heaped white as powder; In the deep ravine, water frozen to ice. Two groves of pine and cypress, lovely through a thousand years; A few clusters of mountain camellia, all the same red.
The Great Sage looked his fill, then strode to the gate and called in a loud voice: "You little demons! Go in and tell your master: I am the disciple of the holy monk of the Tang empire, the Great Sage Equal to Heaven, Sun Wukong. Tell him to hand my master back at once, or I'll teach every one of you to lose your lives!"
The little demons scurried inside and reported: "Great King, outside there's a hairy-faced, beak-mouthed monk calling himself the Great Sage Equal to Heaven, Sun Wukong. He's come for his master."
The demon king heard this and rejoiced: "Just what I wanted! Since I left my palace and came down to the mortal world, I've never had a chance to test my martial skill. Today he comes—he'll be a worthy opponent." He ordered: "Little ones, bring out the weapons!" The demons of the cave, great and small, all buckled up. They brought out a twelve-foot steel-tipped spear and handed it to the old demon.
The old demon gave the command: "Little ones, fall in! Those who press forward will be rewarded; those who fall back will be executed!" The demons fell in, following the old demon, and surged out the gate. He called: "Which one is Sun Wukong?"
The Pilgrim stepped out from the side. He saw the demon king—what a fierce and ugly sight!
One horn, jagged and awry; twin eyes flashing bright. On his crown, thick hide jutting in lumps; At his ear-roots, black hide gleaming slick and smooth. His tongue, long, kept flicking to his nose; His mouth, wide, with slab-like yellow teeth. Hide and hair, blue as indigo; Sinews and muscles, hard as steel. Lesser than a rhino—he can't mirror himself in water; Bigger than an ox—but he's no plowman. He has no gift for gazing at the moon and breathing clouds; He has all the might to shake the earth and bully the sky. Two sinewy, indigo-blue hands; A proud and upright steel-tipped spear. Look well upon this fearsome form— Well worthy of the name: the Rhinoceros King!
The Great Sage Sun stepped forward: "Your Grandfather Sun is right here! Hand back my master at once, and neither side need suffer harm! One word of no, and I'll see you dead without a burial place!"
The demon barked: "You brazen monkey-fiend! What powers do you have, to make such boasts?"
The Pilgrim said: "You wretch, you've never seen old Sun's powers!"
The demon said: "Your master stole my garments, and I caught him. Now I'm about to steam and eat him. What kind of hero are you, to dare come to my gate and demand him back?"
The Pilgrim said: "My master is a loyal, righteous, and honest monk. How could he have stolen any demon's thing?"
The demon said: "I conjured up an immortal manor by the mountain road. Your master sneaked inside and, his heart stirred by desire, stole three of my quilted brocade vests and put them on. I have the evidence in hand—that's why I seized him. If you truly have skill, then fight me. If you can stand three rounds, I'll spare your master's life. If you can't, I'll send you down the road to join the dead!"
The Pilgrim laughed: "You wretch! No more talk! You say 'fight'—that's just what old Sun likes. Come up and take my cudgel!"
The monster feared no contest. He leveled his steel spear and thrust at the Pilgrim's face. What a battle! Just look:
Gold-banded cudgel raised; long-shafted spear meets it. The gold-banded cudgel raised, bright as lightning, a golden serpent flashing; The long-shafted spear meets it, gleaming like a dragon rising from the black sea. The little demons at the gate beat drums, forming ranks to add their wind of menace; On this side, the Great Sage puts forth his power, flaunting his prowess with every stroke. Over there, one spear, spirit high and proud; Over here, one cudgel, martial arts strong and great. Truly, a hero meeting a hero; Indeed, a rival meeting a rival. The demon king breathes out purple mist, coiling in smoke; The Great Sage's eyes shoot forth radiance, gathering in brocade clouds. Only because the Tang monk was in peril Did the two strive, ruthless, round on round.
The two fought thirty rounds with no victor. The demon king, seeing Sun Wukong's cudgel-work so precise—every thrust and parry without a single gap—cried out in admiration: "Good monkey! Good monkey! Truly the skill of the one who made havoc in Heaven!"
The Great Sage, for his part, admired the demon's spear-work—not a flaw, covering left and right with true skill—and he too called out: "Good demon! Good demon! Truly a demon who's stolen the elixir!"
The two fought another ten or twenty rounds. The demon pointed his spear-tip at the ground and shouted for the little demons to join in. Those wretches, one and all, took up swords and staves, spears and swords, and ringed the Great Sage Sun in the center.
The Pilgrim, not the least afraid, cried: "Good! Good! Just what I wanted!" He swung his gold-banded cudgel, parrying in front and blocking behind, fending left and fending right. But the mob of demons wouldn't retreat. The Pilgrim lost patience. He tossed the gold-banded cudgel into the air and shouted: "Change!"—and it became a thousand, a hundred iron cudgels, flying through the air like serpents and dragons, raining down everywhere. The demons saw this and scattered in terror, clutching their heads, tucking their necks, every one fleeing back into the cave for his life.
The old demon king laughed coldly: "That monkey—don't be rude! Watch this!" He hastily drew from his sleeve a bright, white, gleaming ring, tossed it into the air, and cried: "Catch!" With a whoosh, the gold-banded cudgel was gathered into a single rod and snatched away—leaving the Great Sage Sun bare-handed. He somersaulted away and fled for his life.
The demon, victorious, returned to his cave. The Pilgrim, dazed, had lost his chief treasure. Truly:
The Way rises a foot, the Demon rises ten; The heart in turmoil, the spirit dim, they mistook the way home. A pity—the Dharma body had no settled seat; The instant the thought goes wrong, disaster follows.
But how this affair turned out in the end—listen to the explanation in the next chapter.