One thought stirs, and a hundred demons rise— Cultivation is the hardest work, and who can help it? Only by washing clean of dust and grime, And binding and training with constant refining. Sweep back the ten thousand causes, return to stillness; Clear away a thousand demons, don't waste time. Rest assured, you'll leap free of the cage— When practice is complete, you'll ascend to the Great Purity.
The story continues: The Great Sage Sun, having used every resource to invite the Tathagata and subdue the demons, freed the Tang Priest and his disciples from their ordeal. They left the Lion Camel Kingdom and traveled west. After several months, winter was upon them. See how:
Mountain plums were about to crack their jade; Pool water was slowly turning to ice. Red leaves had all drifted down; Green pines had taken on a fresher hue. Pale clouds flew as if about to snow; Withered grass lay flat along the hillsides. Everywhere the eye turned, cold light glinted; A gloomy chill crept to the bone.
Master and disciples braved the cold, sleeping in the rain and dining in the wind. As they traveled, they saw another city ahead.
The Tang Priest asked: "Wukong, what place is that over there?"
The Pilgrim said: "We'll know when we get there. If it's a royal capital, we'll have to exchange our travel documents. If it's a prefecture, city, or county, we'll just pass through."
Before master and disciples had finished talking, they reached the city gate. The Tang Priest dismounted, and the four of them entered the outer gate. They saw an old soldier, sleeping against the sun-facing wall, sheltering from the wind.
The Pilgrim went up, gave him a shake, and called: "Officer!"
The old soldier startled awake, opened his eyes in a blur, and when he saw the Pilgrim, he dropped to his knees and kowtowed: "Grandpa!"
The Pilgrim said: "Don't be alarmed. I'm no fierce god. Why call me Grandpa?"
The old soldier kowtowed: "You're the Thunder God Grandpa!"
"Nonsense!" said the Pilgrim. "I am a monk from the Eastern Lands, going to the Western Heaven to fetch scriptures. I've just arrived and don't know the name of this place, so I'm asking you."
When the old soldier heard this, he composed himself, yawned, climbed to his feet, and stretched his back: "Elder, Elder, forgive my offense. This place was originally called the Kingdom of Bhiksou, but now it's been renamed Little Children City."
The Pilgrim said: "Is there a king in this country?"
"There is! There is! There is!"
The Pilgrim turned to the Tang Priest: "Master, this place was originally the Kingdom of Bhiksou, now renamed Little Children City. But I don't know the reason for the name change."
The Tang Priest was puzzled: "If it's called Bhiksou, why also call it Little Children?"
Bajie said: "I suppose the Bhiksou king died, and the new king is a little child, so they call it Little Children City."
The Tang Priest said: "That makes no sense! That makes no sense! Let's go inside and ask in the streets."
The Sha Monk said: "Exactly. That old soldier either doesn't know, or he was too scared by Eldest Brother to talk sense. Let's go into the city and inquire."
They entered through the third gate and reached the great market street. The people were well-dressed and handsome. See how:
Wine houses and singing halls, voices clamoring; Brocade shops and tea rooms, curtains hung high. Ten thousand households, a thousand doors, business booming; Six streets and three markets, broad streams of wealth. Buyers of gold and silk, thick as ants; Fighting for profit, contending for fame, all for money. Dignified manners, splendid sights— Rivers clear, seas calm, a year of peace.
The four of them, leading the horse and carrying the baggage, walked along the market street for a good while, taking in all the bustle and prosperity. But they noticed that at every household, there was a goose cage by the door.
The Tang Priest said: "Disciples, every household here has a goose cage at the door. Why?"
Bajie looked left and right—sure enough, they were goose cages, draped with curtains of five-colored silk.
The idiot laughed: "Master, today must be an auspicious day for weddings and gatherings. They're all celebrating."
The Pilgrim said: "Nonsense! How could every household be celebrating? There must be a reason. Let me go have a look."
The Tang Priest held him back: "Don't go. Your face is ugly—you might offend someone."
The Pilgrim said: "I'll change and go." Marvelous Great Sage! He pinched the sign, recited a spell, shook his body, and turned into a bee. He spread his wings, flew up close, slipped under the curtain, and looked inside—there sat a child.
He went to the second house and looked in the cage—another child. He looked at eight or nine houses in a row, and every one had a child—always a boy, never a girl. Some were playing in the cage, some were crying, some were eating fruit, some were sleeping or sitting.
The Pilgrim returned to his true form and reported to the Tang Priest: "Inside those cages are children—the oldest no more than seven, the youngest only five. I don't know why."
When the Tang Priest heard this, his mind was full of doubt and unease. Then, turning a corner, they saw a government office—the Golden Pavilion Post Station.
The elder was pleased: "Disciples, let's go into this station. First, we can ask about the place; second, we can feed the horse; third, it's getting late and we need lodging."
The Sha Monk said: "Exactly, exactly. Let's hurry in."
The four entered cheerfully. The officials on duty reported to the station superintendent, who came out to receive them. They exchanged greetings and sat down.
The superintendent asked: "Elder, where do you come from?"
The Tang Priest said: "This poor monk has been dispatched by the Great Tang of the Eastern Lands to fetch scriptures from the Western Heaven. I have now arrived at your honorable place and have travel documents to be verified. I would borrow your honorable station for a brief rest."
The superintendent ordered tea served, and after tea, arranged provisions, ordering the attendants to prepare a meal.
The Tang Priest thanked him, then asked: "May I enter the court today to see His Majesty and have my documents verified?"
The superintendent said: "Not tonight. You must wait for the morning audience tomorrow. Tonight, please rest at our humble station."
Shortly, the arrangements were made. The superintendent invited the four to share a vegetarian meal, then had his staff show them to guest rooms to rest. The Tang Priest thanked him without end.
Once seated, the elder said: "This poor monk has one matter he does not understand, and would like to ask your guidance. In your honorable place, how do you treat and raise children?"
The superintendent said: "There is but one sun in the sky, and but one principle among men. The begetting of children—from the father's essence and the mother's blood, ten months in the womb, and born when the time comes—nursed for three years, gradually taking shape. How could there be anything we don't know?"
The Tang Priest said: "By your words, it is no different from our own land. But when this poor monk entered the city, I saw that every household on the street had a goose cage by the door, and in each cage was a child. This I do not understand, and so I venture to ask."
The superintendent leaned close and whispered: "Elder, don't meddle in it, don't ask about it, don't pay it any mind, and don't speak of it. Please rest now, and tomorrow morning be on your way."
When the elder heard this, he seized the superintendent by the arm and insisted on knowing. The superintendent shook his head and waved his hands, saying only: "Speak carefully! Speak carefully!"
The Tang Priest would not let go, insisting on a full explanation.
The superintendent, having no choice, sent away all the attendants and officials. Alone under the lamplight, he whispered: "What you asked about—the goose cages—that is a matter of the present king's misrule. Why do you keep asking about it?"
The Tang Priest said: "What do you mean by misrule? I must be told clearly, or my heart will not be at ease."
The superintendent said: "This country was originally the Kingdom of Bhiksou. Recently a folk rhyme has renamed it Little Children City. Three years ago, an old man dressed as a Daoist brought a young girl of sixteen years. She was beautiful and charming, her face like Guanyin's. He presented her to His Majesty, and the king, loving her beauty, favored her in the palace, calling her the Beautiful Consort. Since then he has ignored all the ladies of the three palaces and the consorts of the six courts, day and night indulging his lust without cease. Now his spirit is worn, his body emaciated, he can barely eat, and his life hangs by a thread. The Imperial Medical Academy has tried every good prescription, and none can cure him.
"The Daoist who brought the girl was given a royal patent by our king and titled the State Father. The State Father has a secret formula from overseas that can greatly extend life. Some time ago he went to the Ten Continents and Three Islands to gather the medicinal ingredients, and all is ready. But the guiding ingredient is a terrible one: he needs exactly one thousand one hundred and eleven children's hearts and livers, to be decocted in a soup and taken with the medicine. After taking it, one will not age for a thousand years. Those children in the goose cages have all been selected and are being raised inside them. The parents, fearing the king's law, dare not weep, and so the rumor spread, and the city is called Little Children City. If this is not misrule, what is? Elder, when you go to court tomorrow, only exchange your travel documents—do not speak of this."
Having said this, he withdrew.
The elder was so horrified that his bones turned soft and his sinews numb. Tears rolled down his cheeks, and he cried out: "What a foolish king! What a foolish king! For your own lust and love of beauty, you've made yourself ill, and now you would cruelly take the lives of all these children! Oh, the bitterness! The bitterness! This breaks my heart!"
There is a poem in testimony:
A benighted ruler, ignorant, lost the true and right, Lusting after pleasure, unknowing, he injured his own body. Seeking eternal life, he slaughters children's lives, To avert heaven's disasters, he kills his own people. The monk's compassion cannot bear to let them go; The official's words of harm are past endurance to hear. Before the lamp, he sheds tears with long sighs— A meditating Buddha-worshipper, struck down with grief.
Bajie came forward: "Master, what's the matter with you? You're always bringing other people's coffins into your own house to cry over! Don't worry! As the saying goes, 'If the king orders his minister to die, the minister who doesn't die is disloyal. If the father orders his son to die, the son who doesn't die is unfilial.' He's harming his own subjects—what's it to you? Come on, loosen your clothes and go to sleep. Don't borrow other people's troubles."
The Tang Priest, shedding tears, said: "Disciple, you have no compassion! We monks, accumulating merit and practicing good deeds, must above all practice convenience and kindness. How can this foolish king act so recklessly! Never have I heard of eating human hearts and livers to extend one's life. This is all the work of misrule—how can I not grieve!"
The Sha Monk said: "Master, don't grieve yet. Tomorrow morning, when we go to exchange the travel documents, speak to the king face to face. If he won't listen, let's see what this State Father looks like. Perhaps this State Father is a demon who wants to eat human hearts and livers, and so he has devised this scheme. We can't know for certain."
The Pilgrim said: "Wujing speaks reason. Master, you go to sleep. Tomorrow, let old Sun go with you to court and see what kind of man this State Father is. If he's human, I fear he's gone down a side path and doesn't know the true Way, mistaking the gathering of herbs for truth. Old Sun will expound the essentials of the Primal Heaven and convert him to the right. If he's a demon, I'll seize him and show the king, persuading him to curb his lust and nourish his body, and I will never let him harm those children."
When the Tang Priest heard this, he rose and bowed to the Pilgrim: "Disciple, this plan is excellent! Excellent! But when you see the foolish king, don't ask about this matter right away. I fear that the foolish king, not distinguishing right from wrong, might take it as rumor and hold it against us. What then?"
The Pilgrim laughed: "Old Sun has his own magic. I'll first move the children in the goose cages out of this city, so that tomorrow they'll have nothing to take hearts from. The local officials will surely submit a report. The foolish king will issue orders, or discuss with the State Father, or perhaps select new children. At that point, I'll bring up the matter, and we'll certainly not be blamed."
The Tang Priest was delighted: "But how will you get the children out of the city? If you can really get them out, it will be a deed of heaven-sized virtue for you, my worthy disciple! Do it quickly—even a moment's delay might be too late."
The Pilgrim roused his spirit, rose, and instructed Bajie and the Sha Monk: "Sit here with Master. Watch for me—when you feel a yin wind blow, that's the children leaving the city."
The three of them all began to chant: "Namo the Healing Buddha Who Saves Lives! Namo the Healing Buddha Who Saves Lives!"
The Great Sage went out the door, gave a whistle, rose into midair, pinched the sign, recited the true words, and cried: "Om—Pure Dharma Realm!" He summoned the city god, the local earth deity, the shrine gods, the true officials, the Guardians of the Five Quarters, the Duty Officers of the Four Seasons, the Six Dings and Six Jias, and the Protectors of the Faith. They all arrived in the sky and bowed: "Great Sage, you summon us at night—what urgent business?"
The Pilgrim said: "I am passing through the Kingdom of Bhiksou. The king is benighted, listening to a demon who wants to take children's hearts and livers as a medicinal guide, hoping for long life. My master cannot bear it, and wishes to save the children and destroy the demon. And so old Sun has called upon all of you: each use your divine powers, and take the children in the goose cages on every street and lane in this city—cages and all—out beyond the city walls, into mountain hollows or deep in the woods. Keep them hidden for a day or two. Give them fruit to eat—don't let them go hungry. Guard them secretly—don't let them be frightened or cry. When I've destroyed the demon, set the kingdom right, and persuaded the king, I'll send for them to be returned."
The gods received their orders and each used his divine power. They brought their clouds down, and across the city, yin winds rolled and dreary fogs spread:
The yin wind blew dark the stars in the sky; The dreary fog veiled the moon across a thousand li. At first it was gentle, wafting and drifting; Then it grew mighty, roaring and raging. Drifting and wafting, they sought each house to save the children; Roaring and raging, they found every goose cage to rescue flesh and blood. The cold pierced to the bone—how could one show one's face? The frost pierced the body, clothes stiff as iron. Parents panicked in vain; Brothers and sisters-in-law all grieved. Across the ground the yin wind swirled; The cages were taken by the gods. Though this night was sorrowful, At dawn, all would be joy.
There is a poem in testimony:
The Buddhist gate has had compassion since ancient times; True goodness and success speak of the Great Vehicle. Ten thousand sages and a thousand worthies all amassed merit; The Three Refuges and Five Precepts require harmony. The Kingdom of Bhiksou was not thrown into chaos by its king; A thousand children's names were doomed in error. The Pilgrim, for his master's sake, together saved them— This deed of hidden merit surpassed the paramitas.
That night, at the third watch, the gods and spirits carried the goose cages to various hiding places and kept them safe.
The Pilgrim brought his auspicious light down to the post station courtyard. He could hear the three of them still chanting "Namo the Healing Buddha Who Saves Lives!" Inwardly pleased, he came forward and called: "Master, I'm here. How was the yin wind?"
Bajie said: "Some yin wind!"
The Tang Priest said: "And the rescue of the children—how did it go?"
The Pilgrim said: "I've taken them all out, one by one. When we leave, I'll send them back."
The elder thanked him again and again, and only then did they retire for the night.
At dawn, the Tang Priest woke, dressed, and prepared: "Wukong, I'll go to the morning audience and exchange our travel documents."
The Pilgrim said: "Master, if you go alone, I fear it won't go well. Let old Sun go with you and see whether this State Father is upright or evil."
The Tang Priest said: "If you go, you won't perform the proper courtesies. I fear the king will take offense."
The Pilgrim said: "I won't show myself. I'll follow you in secret and serve as your protector."
The Tang Priest was pleased. He instructed Bajie and the Sha Monk to watch the luggage and horse, then set out. The station superintendent came to see him off.
See how the elder was dressed today—different from yesterday:
On his body, a brocade cassock of rare treasures, On his head, a Vairocana cap with a golden peak. In his hand, a nine-ring tin staff; In his chest, a wondrous point of divine light. Travel documents close by his side; In his wrapping bag, brocade cases wound round. He walked like an arhat descended to the world— Truly like a living Buddha's real face.
The superintendent bowed, leaned close, and whispered, cautioning him not to meddle in other people's affairs. The Tang Priest nodded in assent.
The Great Sage slipped to the side of the door, recited a spell, shook his body, and turned into a tiny gnat. With a hum, he flew onto the Tang Priest's cap. They left the station and made straight for the court.
When they reached the palace gate, they saw the Yellow Gate Official. The elder bowed: "This poor monk is sent by the Great Tang of the Eastern Lands to fetch scriptures from the Western Heaven. I have now arrived at your honorable place and must exchange my travel documents. I wish to see His Majesty. I beg you to announce me, to announce me."
The Yellow Gate Official duly reported. The king was pleased: "A monk from afar must have spiritual attainment. Invite him in." The Yellow Gate Official, following the decree, led the elder inside. The elder paid his respects at the foot of the steps, and the king invited him up to the hall and offered him a seat.
The elder thanked him for the grace and sat down. He saw that the king was emaciated and haggard, spirit weary and spent: when he raised his hands to bow, the gesture was clumsy; when he spoke, his voice was broken and halting. The elder presented his travel documents. The king's eyes were dim and bleary. He looked and looked, then took the royal seal, affixed his signature, and handed it back. The elder received it.
The king was about to ask the reason for the scripture quest when the Court Herald announced: "The State Father has arrived."
The king, leaning on the arm of a young eunuch, scrambled down from the dragon throne and bowed to receive him. The elder hastily rose and stood to one side. He turned to look—and saw an old Daoist, swaying and mincing up from the jade steps.
Just look at him:
On his head, a pale goose-yellow cloud-brocade gauze cap; On his body, a crane-down cloak of aloeswood-scented silk floss. Around his waist, a three-strand cord belt of indigo floss; On his feet, a pair of cloud-toed shoes of hemp and ko-hemp weave. In his hand, a nine-jointed withered-vine dragon-coiled staff; At his chest, a brocade pouch embroidered with dragons and phoenixes. His jade face was sleek and glowing; His gray beard drifted beneath his chin. His golden eyes flashed fire; His long eyes reached past his brow-tips. As he walked, clouds followed his steps; At ease, wreathed in fragrant mist. Below the steps, all the officials bowed, All calling: "The State Father enters the court!"
The State Father came to the front of the throne hall and did not even bow. Proud and erect, he walked straight up to the throne.
The king inclined his body: "State Father's immortal footsteps—I am glad you have come early." He invited him to sit on the left-hand embroidered stool.
The Tang Priest took a step forward, bowed, and said: "Lord State Father, this poor monk greets you."
The State Father sat high and did not return the courtesy. He turned to the king and asked: "Where does this monk come from?"
The king said: "He is sent by the Great Tang of the Eastern Lands to fetch scriptures from the Western Heaven. He has come to exchange his travel documents."
The State Father laughed: "The road to the Western Heaven—dark and dismal, what good is there?"
The Tang Priest said: "Since ancient times, the West has been the supreme realm of ultimate bliss. How can it not be good?"
The king asked: "I have heard it said since ancient times that monks are disciples of the Buddha. I would truly like to know: can a monk achieve immortality? Can one who turns to the Buddha attain long life?"
When the Tang Priest heard this, he pressed his palms together and replied: "He who is a monk renounces the ten thousand causes; he who understands his nature finds all dharmas empty. Great wisdom is at ease, tranquil in the realm of the unborn. The true mechanism is silent, free in the midst of stillness. The three realms are empty and all things are governed; the six roots are pure and a thousand things are understood. If you would be firm in awareness and perception, you must first know the mind: when the mind is pure, a single light shines alone; when the mind is sustained, all realms are clear. The true form lacks nothing and has nothing extra—it can be seen in this life. Illusory forms have shape and will ultimately perish—why seek beyond your lot? Sitting in meditation is the source of entering samadhi; giving charity and showing kindness is the root of cultivation. Great skill seems clumsy—know that all things are non-action; good strategy needs no calculation—you must put everything down. Only let one mind not act, and ten thousand practices are complete. As for gathering yin to nourish yang, those are false words; taking elixirs for long life is truly a vain claim. Only let every dusty bond be abandoned, every form and color be empty. Pure and simple, with few desires, you will naturally enjoy endless years."
When the State Father heard this, he laughed it off. Pointing at the Tang Priest, he said:
"Ha! Ha! Ha! You monk, what a load of nonsense you spout! In the gate of stillness, you must know your nature—but you don't know where that nature comes from or where it ends! Sitting in meditation is all blind cultivation and foolish practice. As the saying goes: 'Sit, sit, sit—your backside will split!' The fire burns and grinds you—what good does it do? You don't know that we cultivators of immortality have bones that are firm and fine; those who attain the Way have spirits that are most divine. We carry basket and gourd into the mountains to visit friends, gather a hundred herbs and come to the world to save people. We pluck fairy flowers to weave our hats, break fragrant iris to spread our beds. We sing and clap our hands, we dance and then sleep on the clouds. We expound the Dao, spreading the true teaching of the Most High; we apply talismanic water, ridding the world of demonic miasma. We seize the finest essence of Heaven and Earth, gather the radiant精华 of sun and moon. We work yin and yang until the elixir forms, regulate water and fire until the embryo congeals. When the two-eight yin wanes, it is as if in a trance; when the three-nine yang waxes, it is dim and obscure. We gather herbs according to the four seasons, and cultivate the nine-turn elixir until it is done. We ride the blue luan bird and ascend to the Purple Court; we mount the white crane and go up to the Jasper Capital. We take part in the splendor that fills the heavens, displaying the devotion of the wondrous Way. Compared to your silent Zen of the Buddhist teaching—stillness, dark spirits, nirvana leaving a stinking husk—you don't even escape the mortal dust! Among the Three Teachings there is no higher rank—from ancient times, only the Dao is called supreme!"
The king was delighted to hear it, and all the court officials cheered: "Only the Dao is supreme! Only the Dao is supreme!" The elder, seeing everyone praising him, was overcome with shame.
The king ordered the Court of Imperial Entertainments to prepare a vegetarian meal and send the visiting monk on his way west.
The Tang Priest thanked the king for his grace and withdrew. He had just stepped down from the hall and was walking out when the Pilgrim flew down from his cap, came to his ear, and said: "Master, that State Father is a demon. The king has been corrupted by his demonic aura. You go back to the station and wait for your meal. Old Sun will stay here and gather news."
The Tang Priest understood and went out the palace gate alone. Let us leave him for now.
See the Pilgrim—he flew onto the emerald screen of the Golden Throne Hall and perched. From the ranks of officials, the Commander of the Five Cities' Troops stepped forward and reported: "Your Majesty, last night a blast of cold wind blew away the children in the goose cages on every street and in every household—the cages and all—without a trace."
When the king heard this, he was both shocked and angered. He said to the State Father: "This matter is Heaven destroying me! For months I've been gravely ill, and the imperial physicians have been useless. By good fortune, the State Father provided an immortal prescription, and I was waiting for today at noon to take the children's hearts and livers as the guide. And now the cold wind has blown them away. If this is not Heaven wanting to destroy me, what is?"
The State Father laughed: "Your Majesty, don't be troubled. The children being blown away—this is Heaven sending you long life!"
The king said: "The children in the cages have been blown away, and you say this is Heaven sending long life?"
The State Father said: "When I came to court just now, I saw an even better medicinal guide—far better than the hearts of one thousand one hundred and eleven children. Those children's hearts could only extend Your Majesty's life by a thousand years. But this guide, taken with my immortal medicine, can extend your life for ten thousand myriad years."
The king, not knowing what guide he meant, pressed him again and again. At last the State Father said: "That monk sent by the Eastern Lands to fetch scriptures—I observed that his bearing is pure, his appearance refined. He is a true body cultivated through ten lifetimes. A monk from childhood, his primal yang has never been discharged—he is ten thousand times better than those children. If you can obtain his heart and liver, decoct them in a soup, and take them with my immortal medicine, you will be guaranteed ten thousand years of life."
The foolish king, hearing this, was utterly convinced. He said to the State Father: "Why didn't you say so sooner? If it's truly this effective, I should not have let him go just now."
The State Father said: "What difficulty is there? I just ordered the Court of Imperial Entertainments to prepare a meal for him. He must be eating before he leaves the city. Now, hurry and issue an edict: lock every gate, and send troops to surround the Golden Pavilion Post Station. Bring that monk here. We must politely ask for his heart. If he consents, cut it out at once, give his body a royal burial, and build a temple in his honor. If he refuses, then use force—tie him down and cut it out. What difficulty is there!"
The foolish king followed his words and immediately issued the edict: every gate was shut. He also dispatched the Feathered Forest Guard, officers and soldiers, to surround the post station.
When the Pilgrim heard this news, he flew back to the station on the wing, returned to his true form, and said to the Tang Priest: "Master, disaster! Disaster!"
The Tang Priest, who had just received the imperial vegetarian meal with Bajie and the Sha Monk, was so horrified at these words that his Three Corpses scattered and smoke rose from his seven apertures. He collapsed to the ground, drenched in sweat, eyes staring, unable to speak.
The Sha Monk rushed forward, holding him up: "Master, wake up! Master, wake up!"
Bajie said: "What disaster? What disaster? If you'd spoken slower, it might not have been so bad—but you've scared Master out of his wits!"
The Pilgrim said: "After Master left the court, old Sun stayed behind to watch. That State Father is a demon. Presently, the Commander of the Five Cities' Troops reported the matter of the children being blown away by the cold wind. The king was upset, but the State Father turned it to joy, saying this was Heaven sending you long life. He wants to take Master's heart and liver as a medicinal guide, saying it can give ten thousand years of life. The foolish king believed the false words, and so he's dispatched troops to surround the station and sent a brocade-clad official to summon Master and ask for your heart."
Bajie laughed: "What a fine compassion! What a fine rescue of children! What a fine yin wind you raised—and now it's brought disaster on us!"
The Tang Priest, trembling, climbed to his feet, seized the Pilgrim, and pleaded: "Worthy disciple, what are we to do?"
The Pilgrim said: "If you want to come out right, the great must become the small."
The Sha Monk said: "What do you mean, the great becomes the small?"
The Pilgrim said: "If you want to save your life, the master becomes the disciple and the disciple becomes the master. Only then can we preserve you."
The Tang Priest said: "If you can save my life, I'm willing to be your disciple and grand-disciple!"
The Pilgrim said: "Since that's the case, no more hesitation." He called: "Bajie, quick—mix some mud."
The idiot took his rake, dug up some earth, and—since he didn't dare go outside for water—hiked up his robe and contributed his own water, mixing up a ball of foul-smelling mud, which he handed to the Pilgrim.
The Pilgrim, having no choice, spread the mud into a flat piece, pressed it onto his own face, and made a monkey-face mask. He told the Tang Priest to stand still and not speak, then pressed the mask onto the Tang Priest's face, recited the true words, blew on it with immortal breath, and cried "Change!" The elder was transformed into the likeness of the Pilgrim. He took off the elder's robes and put on the Pilgrim's clothes.
The Pilgrim then put on his master's robes, pinched the sign, recited a spell, and shook his body, transforming into the Tang Priest's face and figure—even Bajie and the Sha Monk could hardly tell them apart.
Just as they finished their disguise, they heard drums and gongs and saw spears and swords massing. The Feathered Forest Guard had arrived with three thousand soldiers and surrounded the station.
A brocade-clad official strode into the courtyard and asked: "Where is the Elder from the Great Tang of the Eastern Lands?"
The station superintendent, trembling, knelt and pointed: "In the guest room below."
The brocade-clad official went to the guest room and said: "Elder Tang, His Majesty summons you."
Bajie and the Sha Monk flanked the fake Pilgrim on either side. The fake Tang Priest came out, bowed, and said: "Brocade-Clad Lord, His Majesty summons this poor monk—what is it about?"
The brocade-clad official stepped forward, seized him by the arm: "Come with me to court. There must be a use for you."
Ah! This was truly:
The demon's slander triumphs over compassion; Compassion, in turn, invites disaster.
Whether on this journey he would live or die—listen to the explanation in the next chapter.