The Pilgrim and the Sha Monk took leave of the Bodhisattva, rose on two streams of auspicious light, and left the Southern Sea. Now the Pilgrim's somersault cloud was swift, while the Sha Monk's immortal cloud was slow, and the Pilgrim would have gone on ahead. But the Sha Monk caught hold of him: "Elder Brother, none of this hiding your head and showing your tail—getting there first to plant your man! Let your little brother go along with you."
The Great Sage's heart was honest; it was the Sha Monk who had his doubts. So the two of them truly rode the clouds together. Before long they saw the Mountain of Flowers and Fruit; they brought their cloud down, and outside the cave the two looked carefully—sure enough, there was a Pilgrim sitting high on the stone terrace, drinking and making merry with a crowd of monkeys. His appearance differed in nothing from the Great Sage: the same yellow hair and golden band, the same golden eyes and fiery orbs; the same brocade-cloth tunic, the same tiger-skin skirt at his waist; in his hand, likewise, an iron cudgel with golden bands, on his feet likewise a pair of deer-hide boots; the same hairy face and Thunder-God beak, the same hollow cheeks and crooked earth-star, the same prominent ears and broad forehead, fangs growing outward.
The Great Sage's fury burst forth. With one fling he cast off the Sha Monk, whipped out his iron staff, strode up, and cursed: "What manner of demon are you, that you dare take on my appearance, dare seize my children and grandchildren, dare occupy my immortal cave and play the tyrant here!"
At the sight of him the other made no answer at all, but raised his own iron staff to meet him. The two Pilgrims together—truly no telling the false from the true. What a fight!
Two staffs, two monkey spirits— This battle of rivals was no light affair. Each would protect the emperor's sworn brother, Each striving for merit and a hero's name. The true monkey truly received the Buddha's teaching; The false fiend falsely claims the Buddha-child's part. Because their magic powers take a thousand forms, Neither true nor false prevails—one level they remain.
One is the Great Sage Equal to Heaven, wrought of primal chaos's single breath; the other a long-refined thousand-spirit demon who shrinks the earth. This one bears the As-You-Will gold-banded cudgel; that one the heart-obeying iron staff. Parry and block bring no defeat; brace and hold bring no defeat. First they crossed hands outside the cave; soon the struggle mounted into mid-air. The two of them, each treading cloud-light, leapt battling up into the clouds of the ninefold heaven.
The Sha Monk stood by, not daring to strike. Watching them wage this battle, he truly could not tell true from false; he longed to draw his knife and help, but feared to wound the true one. Long he held back, then leapt down the cliff, swung his precious demon-quelling staff, and fought his way up to the mouth of the Water Curtain Cave, scattering the fiends in terror, overturning the stone benches, smashing every vessel of the feasting and drinking—and searched for his green felt bundles, but in every direction there was nothing to be found.
The truth was that his Water Curtain Cave had originally a waterfall of flying spring water veiling the cave gate; from afar it looked like a white cloth curtain, close up it was a single vein of water—hence the name Water Curtain Cave. Not knowing the way in or its origin, the Sha Monk could not find it. So he rose onto his cloud, caught up with them into the clouds of the ninefold heaven, staff in hand—but again could not well strike.
The Great Sage said: "Sha Monk, since you cannot lend your strength, go back and report to Master—tell him such-and-such has happened, and that old Sun will fight this fiend to the Southern Sea, to Mount Potalaka before the Bodhisattva, and there we'll tell the true from the false."
No sooner said than the other Pilgrim said the very same. The Sha Monk, seeing the two identical in face and voice without a hair of difference, black and white past all telling, could only obey, turn his cloud around, and go report to the Tang monk. Of that no more.
Watch the two Pilgrims, fighting as they went, brawling straight to the Southern Sea, straight to Mount Potalaka, beating and cursing, their clamor never ceasing.
They soon startled the Dharma-protecting gods, who reported into the Tide-Sound Cave: "Bodhisattva—sure enough, two Sun Wukongs are fighting their way here!"
The Bodhisattva, with Pilgrim Muzha, the Goodwealth Boy, and the Dragon Girl, came down from the lotus throne and out the gate, crying: "Wicked beasts! Where do you flee!" The two seized each other by turns and cried: "Bodhisattva, this fellow is truly the spitting image of your disciple. We fought from the Water Curtain Cave, battling a long time with neither victory nor defeat. Sha Wujing's fleshly eyes are dim and cannot tell us apart; he had strength but could not help, and your disciple sent him back west to report to Master. I have fought this wretch to your precious mountain to borrow the Bodhisattva's eye of wisdom—to tell true from false for your disciple, and sort evil from right." No sooner said than the other Pilgrim said the same.
The assembled gods and the Bodhisattva looked a long while, and not one could tell them apart.
The Bodhisattva said: "Let go of each other, stand on either side, and let me look again."
Truly they let go and stood to either side. This one said: "I am the true one!" That one said: "He is the false one!"
The Bodhisattva called Muzha and Sudhana forward and quietly instructed them: "Each of you hold one of them fast. I will silently recite the Band-Tightening Spell, and see which one feels the pain—that is the true one; the one who feels nothing is false."
The two of them each took hold of one. The Bodhisattva silently recited the spell—and the two cried out in pain together, both clutching their heads, rolling on the ground, both crying: "Don't recite! Don't recite!" When the Bodhisattva stopped, the two seized each other again and brawled as before. The Bodhisattva had no plan that would serve, so she ordered the gods and Muzha forward to help. But the host of spirits, fearing to wound the true one, dared not strike. The Bodhisattva called "Sun Wukong!"—and both answered together.
The Bodhisattva said: "In years past you held office as Protector of Horses, and when you made havoc in Heaven every one of the divine generals knew you. Go up to the Heaven above and have them tell you apart and report back."
The Great Sage gave thanks for the grace, and the other Pilgrim gave thanks too.
The two of them, tugging and hauling, quarreling without cease, went straight to the South Gate of Heaven—where the Broad-Eyed Heavenly King, in alarm, led the four great generals Ma, Zhao, Wen, and Guan, with all the gate-keeping gods great and small, to bar the way with their weapons: "Where are you going! Is this any place for brawling?"
The Great Sage said: "I was protecting the Tang monk to the Western Heaven for scriptures. On the road I beat some robbers to death, and Sanzang sent me home. I went straight to Potalaka Cliff to pour out my troubles to the Bodhisattva Guanyin—and this fiend, who knows when, took my shape, knocked the Tang monk down, and robbed the bundles. When the Sha Monk went to the Mountain of Flowers and Fruit to demand them, he found this fiend occupying my lair. Later he went to Potalaka Cliff to appeal to the Bodhisattva, and found me standing in attendance below her throne, and wrongly said I had ridden my somersault cloud and got to the Bodhisattva first to gloss things over. But the Bodhisattva sees all things clear and true; she would not listen to the Sha Monk's words, and ordered me to go with him to the Mountain of Flowers and Fruit to verify. This fiend is indeed the very image of old Sun; we have fought from the Water Curtain Cave to Mount Potalaka before the Bodhisattva, and even the Bodhisattva could hardly tell us apart. So we have fought our way here, and I trouble the heavenly eyes to tell true from false for me." When he finished, the other Pilgrim said the very same, word for word.
The host of heavenly gods looked a long, long while and could not tell either. The two of them shouted: "Since you cannot tell us apart, clear the road, and let us go see the Jade Emperor!"
The gods could not withstand them; the Gate of Heaven opened, and they went straight to the Hall of Divine Mists, where Marshal Ma and the four Heavenly Masters Zhang, Ge, Xu, and Qiu memorialized: "From the lower world have come two Sun Wukongs, fighting their way in through the Gate of Heaven, crying that they seek audience with the sovereign." Before the words were done, the two came roaring in, and the Jade Emperor, alarmed, descended to stand in his precious hall and demanded: "You two—why do you presume to riot in Heaven and clamor before Our throne, courting death?"
The Great Sage cried: "Ten thousand years! Ten thousand years! Your subject has surrendered himself and entered the school of the Buddha, and would never again deceive his sovereign heart. It is only because this fiend has taken on your subject's appearance—" and he recounted the whole affair, first to last, "—hoping to have true sorted from false for your subject!" The other Pilgrim recited the same.
The Jade Emperor then issued a decree summoning Pagoda-Bearing Heavenly King Li: "Bring the demon-revealing mirror and shine it on these two—who is true, who false? Let the false be destroyed and the true preserved."
The Heavenly King brought the mirror and held it on them, inviting the Jade Emperor and the host of gods to look. In the mirror were the reflections of two Sun Wukongs—bands, robes, not a hair of difference. The Jade Emperor could not tell them apart either, and had them driven from the hall.
The Great Sage gave a cold, cold laugh; the other Pilgrim laughed heartily too. Seizing each other by the head and throttling each other by the neck, they fought their way out of the Gate of Heaven again, tumbling down toward the western road, crying: "Let's go see our master! Let's go see our master!"
Now the Sha Monk, after leaving the two of them at the Mountain of Flowers and Fruit, traveled another three days and nights, returned to the farmstead, and told the Tang monk the whole affair.
The Tang monk repented on his own account: "I thought it was Sun Wukong who struck me and stole the bundles—who could know it was a fiend masquerading as the Pilgrim!"
The Sha Monk reported further: "The fiend had also falsely made an elder and a white horse, and another Bajie carrying our bundles, and another changed into me. I could not hold back my fury; one blow of my staff killed him—and he was a monkey spirit. That scattered them in panic, and I went to pour out my troubles to the Bodhisattva. The Bodhisattva ordered me to go with Elder Brother to identify him, and the fiend was indeed Elder Brother's very image. I could not lend my strength, so I came back first to report to Master."
At these words Sanzang turned pale with shock.
Bajie roared with laughter: "Fine, fine, fine! It's come true—what the old patron's wife said! She asked how many parties of scripture-fetchers there were—isn't this another party?"
The whole household, old and young, came asking the Sha Monk: "Where did you go these days past, begging your travel money?"
The Sha Monk laughed: "I went to the Mountain of Flowers and Fruit in the Eastern Continent of Superior Body to find my eldest brother and demand the luggage, then to Mount Potalaka in the Southern Sea to pay my respects to the Bodhisattva Guanyin, then back to the Mountain of Flowers and Fruit, and only then turned back here."
The old man asked again: "How far is the round trip?"
"Two hundred thousand li and more, more or less," said the Sha Monk.
"Heavens!" cried the old man. "In these few days, to cover so much road—you must have been riding clouds to manage it!"
"If not riding clouds, how would we cross the sea?" said Bajie.
"That's nothing—we hardly count as traveling," said the Sha Monk. "If it were my eldest brother, one day or two would suffice for the whole round trip."
At this, the whole household declared them immortals; and Bajie said: "We may not be immortals—but immortals are our juniors!"
Just as they were talking, they heard a clamor of voices in mid-air, and in a panic all rushed out to look: the two Pilgrims, fighting their way toward them.
At the sight, Bajie could not hold back his itching hands: "Let me go try to tell them apart!" What a blockhead—he leapt up into the air and called out loudly: "Brothers, stop your brawling! Old Pig is here!" The two answered together: "Brother, come beat the fiend! Come beat the fiend!"
The household cried, half in fright, half in delight: "We have cloud-riding, mist-treading arhats resting in our house! Even those who vow to feed monks could never feed such good men as these!" They no longer counted the cost of tea and rice, but redoubled their attendance, saying only: "But if these two Pilgrims fight to a bad end, heaven and earth may turn over—and the ruin will land on us!"
Seeing the old man glad to their faces and worried behind their backs, Sanzang spoke up: "Old Patron, set your mind at rest and grieve no more. When this poor monk has subdued his disciple and brought him back from evil to good, we shall naturally thank you."
The old man answered with all his mouth: "We wouldn't presume! We wouldn't presume!"
"Patron, say no more," said the Sha Monk. "Master, sit here; let me and Second Brother go, each take one of them by the arm and bring them before you; then you recite that little spell of yours, and see which one feels the pain—that is the true one; the one who feels nothing is the false."
"Well said indeed," said Sanzang.
The Sha Monk truly rose into mid-air: "You two, stay your hands! Let me take you before Master to tell the true from the false." The Great Sage let go, and the other Pilgrim let go too.
The Sha Monk took one of them by the arm and called: "Second Brother, you take the other."
Truly they each held one, brought down their cloud, and came straight to the gate of the farmhouse.
At the sight of them, Sanzang recited the Band-Tightening Spell—and the two cried out in bitterness together: "We've fought ourselves half dead, and you spell us too? Don't recite! Don't recite!"
The elder's heart was kindly by nature; he stopped his mouth and recited no more—but still he could not tell the false from the true. The two wriggled free of their holders' hands and fell to fighting again.
The Great Sage said: "Brothers, guard Master well—old Sun will fight this out before King Yama!"
The other Pilgrim said the same; and the two of them, grappling and clutching, were gone in a moment.
"Sha Monk," said Bajie, "since you were at the Water Curtain Cave and saw the false Bajie carrying the luggage, why didn't you snatch it back?"
"When the fiend saw me strike his false Sha Monk with my precious staff," said the Sha Monk, "he swarmed up with his whole crowd to seize me, and I made off with my life. By the time I had appealed to the Bodhisattva and came back to the cave mouth with the Pilgrim, the two of them were fighting in mid-air, and I went and overturned his stone benches and scattered his little fiends—all I saw was a waterfall and flowing spring, and I never knew where the cave gate opened. I couldn't find the luggage, and that's why I returned empty-handed to answer Master's command."
"So you didn't know," said Bajie. "The year before last, when I went to invite him, I first met him outside the cave gate. Later, when my talk had stirred him, he jumped down, went into the cave to change his clothes—and I watched him dive straight into the water. That waterfall is the gate of the cave! No doubt the fiend stowed our bundles inside it."
Sanzang said: "Since you know this gate, go now while neither of them is home, get into his cave, fetch out the bundles, and we'll be off to the Western Heaven. If he comes after us, I'll have no more use for him anyway."
"I'll go," said Bajie.
"Second Brother," said the Sha Monk, "there are a thousand little monkeys before his cave. Alone, you may not get the better of them—and that would be worse than nothing."
Bajie laughed: "Never fear! Never fear!" He hurried out the gate, rose on cloud and mist, and sped straight to the Mountain of Flowers and Fruit to fetch the luggage. Of that no more.
Now the two Pilgrims brawled their way to the back of the Yin Mountains, frightening every ghost on the mountain into trembling and hiding. Some of the first to flee burst in through the gates of the underworld and reported at the Hall of the Dark Court: "Great Kings—on the Shade Mountain, two Great Sages Equal to Heaven are fighting this way!"
In alarm, King Qinguang of the First Court sent word to King Chujiang of the Second Court, King Songdi of the Third, King Biancheng of the Fourth, King Yama of the Fifth, King Pingdeng of the Sixth, King Taishan of the Seventh, King Dushi of the Eighth, King Wuguan of the Ninth, and King Zhuanlun of the Tenth—from court to court the word ran, until in a moment the Ten Kings were assembled, and they sent someone flying to report to Ksitigarbha as well. All mustered in the Hall of the Dark Court, drafting ranks of shadow soldiers to await the capture of the true and the false.
They heard a fierce wind rolling, grisly fog spreading—and the two Pilgrims came tumbling and rolling, fighting their way beneath the Hall of the Dark Court.
The lords of darkness came forward to bar the way: "Great Sages, what business brings you to riot in our nether world?"
The Great Sage said: "I was protecting the Tang monk to the Western Heaven for scriptures. Passing through the land of the Western Liang, we came to a mountain where robbers waylaid my master, and old Sun beat a few of them to death. Master blamed me and drove me away. I went at once to the Bodhisattva in the Southern Sea to lodge my grievance—and who knows how, but that fiend caught the tone of my words, falsely took on my appearance, waylaid and knocked down Master on the road, and robbed the luggage. My brother-in-Law Sha Wujing went to my own mountain to demand the bundles, and the fiend falsely set up a master's name, meaning to go fetch scriptures in the Western Heaven himself. The Sha Monk fled to the Southern Sea and saw the Bodhisattva; I was standing beside her, and he told the whole cause of it, and the Bodhisattva ordered me to go with him to the Mountain of Flowers and Fruit to see—and sure enough, this wretch had occupied my lair. I fought the matter out with him before the Bodhisattva, but in face and voice and everything else we are just alike, and even the Bodhisattva could hardly tell the false from the true. Then we fought our way up to the court of Heaven, and the gods too could truly not tell; we went before my master, my master tested us with the Band-Tightening Spell, and we felt the pain alike. So we have rioted our way to the nether world, hoping the lords of darkness will check the registers of life and death for us, learn the false Pilgrim's origin, and quickly seize his soul, before the two minds can confound the world." The fiend recited the same.
Hearing this, the lords of darkness summoned the registering judges to examine the ledgers from the very beginning—but there was no such name as the false Pilgrim anywhere. They looked again in the registers of the hairy beasts: the monkey's 1,350 names had all been struck out with one stroke of the pen long ago, when the Great Sage Sun attained the Way in his youth and made havoc in the underworld; and from that time on, no monkey of any kind bore a registered name.
The examination done, they reported before the hall, and the lords of darkness, tablets of office in hand, told the Pilgrims: "Great Sage, since no name in the nether world can be found for checking, you had best go back to the world of light and argue it out there."
Just as they spoke, they heard the Bodhisattva Ksitigarbha say: "Wait! Wait! Let me have the Truthful Listener listen, and tell the true from the false for you."
Now this Truthful Listener was the name of the beast that crouched beneath the Bodhisattva Ksitigarbha's desk. When it lay pressed to the ground, in a moment it could survey all the mountains and rivers, lands and altars of grain, caves of heaven and lands of blessing throughout the four great continents—creatures naked and scaled, hairy and feathered and shelled, and the heavenly immortals, earthly immortals, divined immortals, human immortals, and ghost immortals—discerning their good and evil, listening out their wise and foolish.
The beast, obeying Ksitigarbha's decree, crouched flat in the courtyard of the Dark Hall; in a moment it raised its head and said to Ksitigarbha: "The fiend has a name indeed—but it must not be spoken to his face, nor can I lend my strength to seize him."
"And if it were spoken to his face, what then?" asked Ksitigarbha.
"Spoken to his face, I fear the fiend's evil temper would burst forth, he would riot through this precious hall, and the courts of darkness would know no peace."
"And why can you not lend your strength to seize him?"
"The fiend's magic power is not a whit less than the Great Sage Sun's. How much power have the gods of the nether world? That is why he cannot be seized."
"Then how is he to be driven out?"
"The Buddha's Law is boundless," said the Truthful Listener.
Ksitigarbha understood at once, and said to the Pilgrims: "You two are one in appearance, without difference in magic power. If the truth must be told apart, you must go to the Thunderclap Monastery, to the Tathagata Shakyamuni himself—only there will it be made plain."
The two cried out together: "Well said! Well said! Let's go argue it out before the Buddha of the Western Heaven!" The Ten Kings of the dark courts saw them out; they gave thanks to Ksitigarbha, returned to the Azure Cloud Palace, and ordered the ghost officers to shut the passes of the nether world. Of that no more.
Watch the two Pilgrims fly cloud and rush mist, fighting their way up to the Western Heaven. There is a poem in witness. It says:
When a man breeds a second mind, disaster is born; To the ends of the earth and the corners of the sea, suspicion spreads. He longs for the fine steed and the seat among the Three Dukes, And yearns besides for the golden court and the rank of first degree. South he campaigns, north he chastises, without rest or pause; East he blocks, west he sweeps away—still nothing is settled. The gate of Zen must learn the secret of no-mind, Still-nurturing the infant, to knot the sacred embryo.
The two of them through mid-air, tugging and hauling, grappling and clutching, fighting as they went, brawled straight to the outer gates of the Thunderclap Monastery on the immortal Vulture Peak of the Great Western Heaven. There before them stood the four great Bodhisattvas, the eight Vajra Kings, five hundred arhats, three thousand revealers, nuns and monks, laymen and laywomen, the great host of the assembly, all gathered below the seven-jeweled lotus throne listening to the Tathagata expound the Law. The Tathagata was just then discoursing on this:
There is being in non-being; there is nothing in no-nothing. There is form in the formless; there is emptiness in the non-empty. Not-being is taken for being; not-nothing is taken for nothing. Not-form is taken for form; not-emptiness is taken for emptiness. Emptiness is just emptiness; form is just form. Form has no fixed form; form is just emptiness. Emptiness has no fixed emptiness; emptiness is just form. Know that emptiness is not empty; know that form is not form— This is called shining insight; only thus reach the wondrous voice.
The whole assembly had bowed their heads in surrender, receiving and reciting the doctrine, when the Tathagata let fall heavenly flowers scattering in profusion, rose from his precious throne, and said to the assembly: "You are all of you of one mind—now watch: here come two minds, contending in battle."
The assembly lifted their eyes and looked—sure enough, two Pilgrims, shouting heaven and bawling earth, fighting their way to the Thunderclap's blessed realm. In alarm, the eight Vajra Kings stepped forward to bar the way: "Where are you two bound?"
The Great Sage said: "A fiend has taken on my appearance. We would come before the precious lotus throne, and trouble the Tathagata to tell the false from the true for us."
The Vajra Kings could not hold them back; the two brawled straight up before the throne, knelt before the Patriarch Buddha, and pleaded: "Your disciple was protecting the Tang monk, coming to this precious mountain to seek the true scriptures, refining demons and binding monsters on the road—no telling how much spirit was spent. On the way, midway, we met with robbers plundering us; in truth your disciple twice over struck down a few men; Master blamed me, drove me back, and would not let me come worship the Tathagata's golden body. Your disciple had no choice but to flee to the Southern Sea and pour out his grief to Guanyin. Who could know this fiend would falsely take on your disciple's voice and face, knock my master down, and rob the luggage? My brother-in-Law Wujing sought him to my mountain, and the fiend falsely framed clever words, saying there was a true monk to fetch the scriptures. Wujing escaped to the Southern Sea and told the whole in detail. Guanyin, knowing it, ordered your disciple to go with Wujing back to my mountain. Thus the two of us wrestled over true and false, fighting to the Southern Sea, then fighting to the court of Heaven, then fighting before the Tang monk, then before the courts of darkness—and none could tell us apart. So we have presumed to come lightly to this gate, begging a thousand times that you open wide the door of skillful means, cast abroad the thought of mercy, and sort the evil from the right for your disciple—so that I may protect the Tang monk to come worship your golden body in person, carry the scriptures back to the Eastern Land, and spread the great teaching forever." The assembly heard the two mouths speak the same words in the same voice, and still no one could tell—but the Tathagata knew.
Just as he was about to speak it out, suddenly out of the rosy clouds to the south came Guanyin, come to pay homage to the Buddha.
The Buddha pressed his palms together: "Venerable Guanyin—look at these two Pilgrims: which is true, and which false?"
The Bodhisattva said: "The other day in my poor realm, truly I could not tell. They went on to the court of Heaven and the courts of earth, and there too none could recognize them; so I have come to appeal to the Tathagata—by all means, tell them apart, tell them apart."
The Tathagata laughed: "Your powers are vast, but you can only read all the affairs of the circling heavens—you cannot know every creature within the circling heavens, nor meet every kind within the circling heavens."
The Bodhisattva begged to be taught the kinds of the circling heavens, and only then the Tathagata said: "Within the circling heavens there are five kinds of immortals—heavenly, earthly, divine, human, and ghostly; and five kinds of creatures—the naked, the scaled, the hairy, the feathered, and the shelled. But this wretch is neither heavenly, earthly, divine, human, nor ghostly, neither naked, scaled, hairy, feathered, nor shelled. Besides these, there are four monkeys of the world who do not enter into the ten kinds."
The Bodhisattva asked: "May I be told—which four monkeys?"
The Tathagata said: "The first is the Numinous Stone Monkey, who knows transformation, discerns the seasons of Heaven, knows the advantages of Earth, and shifts the stars and swaps the Dipper. The second is the Red-Bottomed Horse Monkey, who understands yin and yang, is versed in human affairs, skilled at coming and going, and avoids death and extends life. The third is the Through-Armed Gibbon, who can seize the sun and moon, shrink a thousand mountains, tell fortune from misfortune, and tumble heaven and earth in his hands. The fourth is the Six-Eared Macaque, who is skilled at hearing sounds, able to fathom reason, knowing what went before and what comes after, and clear about all things. These four monkeys do not enter into the ten kinds, nor bear names in the two realms. As I see it, this false Wukong is the Six-Eared Macaque. Standing in one place, this monkey can know affairs a thousand li away; whatever men say, he can also know it—hence he is skilled at hearing sounds, able to fathom reason, knowing before and after, clear about all things. The one who matches the true Wukong in image and voice alike is the Six-Eared Macaque."
When the macaque heard the Tathagata speak his true form, his courage quaked and his heart pounded; he sprang up at once and made to run.
Seeing him flee, the Tathagata ordered the assembly to lay hands on him—at once the four Bodhisattvas, the eight Vajra Kings, five hundred arhats, three thousand revealers, monks and nuns, laymen and laywomen, Guanyin and Muzha all closed around him.
The Great Sage Sun would have pressed forward too, but the Tathagata said: "Wukong, stay your hand. Let me seize him for you."
The macaque's hair stood on end and his bones went cold; he saw no way to escape, and hurriedly shook his body and changed into a bee, flying straight upward. The Tathagata tossed up his golden alms bowl, and it came down covering the bee exactly.
The assembly knew nothing of this and supposed the fiend had escaped; but the Tathagata said with a smile: "Assembly, say no more—the fiend has not escaped. He is here beneath my alms bowl."
The whole assembly pressed forward and lifted the bowl—and there in truth was his proper form: a Six-Eared Macaque. The Great Sage Sun could not hold back; he swung up his iron staff and with one blow to the head beat him dead—since then, that breed has been extinct.
The Tathagata could not bear it, and cried: "Alas! Alas!"
"Tathagata, you should not pity him," said the Great Sage. "He wounded my master and robbed my bundles. By the law, indict him for taking goods and hurting men, for robbery in broad daylight—he has earned a beheading!"
"Go you now," said the Tathagata, "and protect the Tang monk here to seek the scriptures."
The Great Sage knocked his head in thanks: "I report to the Tathagata: that master of mine is determined to have me no more. If I go and he will not take me back, will that not be another labor of heart and mind for nothing? I beg the Tathagata to show a little skillful means—recite the Band-Loosening Spell for me, slip off this golden band, hand it back to the Tathagata, and let me return to the world of the ordinary."
"Put away such fancies—no playing the rogue," said the Tathagata. "I will have Guanyin take you back; have no fear that he will not take you. Protect him well, and when the work is done and you return to the bliss supreme, you too shall sit upon a lotus throne."
Hearing this, Guanyin at his side pressed her palms together in thanks for the holy grace, took charge of Wukong, rose on her cloud, and departed—with Pilgrim Muzha and the white parrot following after. Before long they came to the farmhouse on the midroad; the Sha Monk saw them and hurriedly asked Master to come bow at the gate in welcome.
The Bodhisattva said: "Tang monk, the one who struck you the other day was the false Pilgrim, the Six-Eared Macaque. Thanks to the Tathagata's discernment, Wukong has beaten him to death. Now you must take Wukong back: the demonic ordeals on the road are not yet over, and only with his protection will you reach Vulture Peak, see the Buddha, and fetch the scriptures. Cherish resentment no more."
Sanzang knocked his head: "I respectfully obey the teaching." Just as they were bowing their thanks, they heard a wild wind rolling up out of the due east. All eyes turned—and there was Zhu Bajie, two bundles on his back, riding the wind in.
At the sight of the Bodhisattva, the blockhead flung himself down in worship: "Your disciple parted from Master the other day and went to the Water Curtain Cave on the Mountain of Flowers and Fruit to find the bundles—and sure enough, there was a false Tang monk and a false Bajie, both of them beaten to death by your disciple; they were two monkey bodies. Then I went inside and found the bundles. I checked them over at the time—not one thing missing. Riding the wind back here, I knew nothing of what became of the two Pilgrims."
The Bodhisattva told the story of the Tathagata's unmasking of the fiend. The blockhead was overjoyed and gave thanks without end. Master and disciples bowed their thanks, and the Bodhisattva returned to the sea; and all of them, as before of one mind and one purpose, washed clean their grievances and dissolved their angers. They thanked the farmhouse household once more, packed and saddled, and found the main road west. Truly:
Parting in mid-road had thrown the five elements into chaos; The demon subdued, reunion restores the primal light. The spirit returns to the heart's home, and Zen is fixed; The six senses driven out, the elixir completes itself.
But as for when Sanzang would at last behold the Buddha's face and beg the scriptures—listen to the explanation in the next chapter.