The story continues: The Tang monk took leave of the prefect in high delight and, from horseback, said to the Pilgrim: "Worthy disciple, this fruit of goodness truly surpasses even the rescue of the children in the Kingdom of Bhikkhu—it is all your doing."
"At Bhikkhu you saved only one thousand one hundred and eleven little children," said the Sha Monk. "How can that compare with this great rain, soaking and drenching, bringing back to life lives past all counting! Your disciple too has been silently applauding Elder Brother's magic power, which reaches to Heaven, and his mercy, which covers the earth."
Bajie laughed. "Brother's kindness is real, and his goodness is real—but he wears righteousness on the outside and wraps a wicked heart within. Anyone who travels with old Pig gets tormented."
"Where have I ever tormented you?" said the Pilgrim.
"Enough! Enough! Always taking care to have me tied up, taking care to have me hung up, taking care to have me boiled, taking care to have me steamed! Today in Fengxian County you did kindness to thousands upon thousands—and you might have stayed half a year and let old Pig eat his fill of a few comfortable meals! Instead, nothing but hurrying us along the road!"
Hearing this, the elder barked: "This idiot! Why is it he thinks of nothing but stuffing his mouth! Quick, on the road—and no more squabbling!"
Bajie dared say no more. He thrust out his snout, shouldered the luggage, gave a great chuckle, and master and disciples hurried onto the highway.
Time flew like a shuttle, and it was deep autumn once more. Just look:
The water marks recede; the mountain bones grow lean. Red leaves fly whirling—it is the season of yellow flowers. After frosty, clear days the nights feel long; The white moonlight streams through the lattice. In every house, hearth smoke against the setting sun; On every lake, the cold waters slipping by. The white duckweed breathes fragrance; the red smartweed runs rank. Oranges green, tangerines yellow; willows fading, grain heading. On the desolate village, wild geese alight among the shattered reed flowers; At the rustic inn, a cockcrow, and the beans are gathered in.
The four of them traveled a good long while, and again the shadowy outline of a city wall appeared. The elder raised his whip and pointed at it from afar, calling: "Wukong, look—there is another city yonder. I know not what place it may be."
"You and I have never been here before—how would I know?" said the Pilgrim. "Let's walk to its edge and ask somebody."
Before the words were out, they saw an old man come walking out of a grove of trees, a bamboo staff in his hand, light clothes on his body, a pair of palm-fiber sandals on his feet, a flat sash round his waist. In a flurry the Tang monk rolled out of the saddle and went forward with a greeting.
The old man leaned on his staff and returned the courtesy. "Elder, whence do you come?"
The Tang monk pressed his palms together. "This humble monk was sent by the Tang court of the East to worship the Buddha at the Thunderclap and seek the scriptures. Today we have come into your honorable region, and gazing afar at the city walls, we know not what place it is. I have taken the liberty of asking the old benefactor for instruction."
Hearing this, the old man said: "Reverend master of the Way, this humble place of ours is a subordinate county of the Land of India, called the County of Yuhua. The lord of the county city is of the imperial clan of the Indian emperor, invested as the Prince of Yuhua. This prince is a most worthy man, who honors monks and Daoists with all his heart and dearly loves the common people. If you, reverend master, go to see him, you will surely be received with deep respect."
Sanzang gave thanks, and the old man went off straight through the trees. Sanzang then turned and told his disciples the whole of it. The three of them were delighted, and helped their master onto the horse.
"It is not far—no need to ride," said Sanzang.
So the four of them walked to the streets by the city wall and looked about. In the gate-quarter the households plied their trades; people gathered thick, and business was brisk. In their voices and faces they were no different from the people of China.
Sanzang gave his instructions: "Disciples, be careful—no wild behavior." Bajie lowered his head, the Sha Monk covered his face, and only Sun the Pilgrim walked supporting the master. But the people on both sides came crowding to look at them, all crying out together: "Here we have only ever heard of high monks who subdue dragons and tame tigers—never have we seen monks who tame pigs and subdue monkeys!"
Bajie could not hold back. He thrust out his snout and bellowed: "Have any of you ever seen the monk who is the Pig-Quelling King?" At that, the whole street's people stumbled and staggered in terror, all scattering to the two sides.
The Pilgrim laughed. "Idiot, hide that snout—no more of your playacting. Watch your feet crossing the bridge."
The idiot went with lowered head, only laughing. They crossed the drawbridge and entered the city gate, and there on the great street were wine towers and singing houses, bustling and prosperous—truly a capital city of the divine land. There is a poem in witness:
A brocade city in an iron jar, firm ten thousand years, By waters and leaning on hills, every hue fresh and bright. A hundred goods reach the lake-boats entering the markets; A thousand houses sell wine, the tavern curtains hanging low. Towers and terraces everywhere, the throngs of people wide; Lanes and alleys every morning loud with traveling merchants. No whit inferior to the fine scenery of Chang'an— Even cocks crowing and dogs barking are alike in every way.
Sanzang rejoiced in his heart: "They say that of all the foreign lands of the Western Regions, none has come to this. Look closely at this scene—how does it differ from our Great Tang? What men call the World of Utmost Bliss—truly this is what they mean!"
They heard people say besides that white rice was four coppers the picul and sesame oil eight cash the catty—truly a land where the five grains flourished. After walking a good while, they came to the prince's mansion of Yuhua. To left and right of the mansion gate stood the Office of the Chief Secretary, the Hall of Judicature, the Bureau of the Royal Table, and the Guest House.
"Disciples," said Sanzang, "this is the mansion. Let me go in and pay my respects to the prince and have our travel permit inspected, and then we shall proceed."
"Master goes in—and are we to stand about before the yamen gates?" asked Bajie.
"Don't you see the three characters 'Guest House' over that gate?" said Sanzang. "Go and sit down there. If there is fodder to be had, buy some and feed the horse. If the prince, when I see him, should grant a meal, I'll come call you to share it."
"Master, go with an easy mind," said the Pilgrim. "Old Sun will see to everything." The Sha Monk carried the luggage into the Guest House.
The house had keepers in attendance, but at the sight of their hideous faces they dared ask them nothing, and dared not turn them out either; they could only let them sit down—and of that we say no more.
Now the venerable master changed his clothes and cap, took the travel permit, and went straight to the front of the prince's mansion, where the Master of Ceremonies came out to greet him and asked: "Whence comes the elder?"
"I am a monk sent by the Great Tang of the East to worship the Buddha Patriarch at the Great Thunderclap and seek the scriptures," said Sanzang. "Now come into your honored land, I wish to have my travel permit exchanged, and have come especially to pay court to His Highness."
The Master of Ceremonies announced him at once, and the prince, a truly wise and discerning man, gave orders to summon him in. Sanzang performed his courtesy below the hall, and the prince invited him up onto the hall and gave him a seat. Sanzang presented the travel permit. The prince read it, saw upon it the seals and signatures of all the kingdoms passed through, and gladly stamped it with his own precious seal, signed it in flowered characters, and folded it away on the desk.
He asked: "Reverend preceptor, from your Great Tang to this place, through all the kingdoms—how long is the journey in all?"
"This humble monk kept no count of the miles," said Sanzang. "But years ago, when the Bodhisattva Guanyin showed herself before my sovereign's throne, she left lines of verse saying that the West is 108,000 li away. On the road, this humble monk has now passed through fourteen rounds of winter and summer."
"Fourteen rounds of cold and heat—that is fourteen years," said the prince with a smile. "There must have been delays along the way."
"It would take long telling! Ten thousand monsters, a thousand demons—I know not how much suffering was endured before I reached your honored land!"
The prince was greatly pleased, and ordered the Steward of the Royal Table to prepare a vegetarian meal to entertain him.
"Reporting to Your Highness," said Sanzang, "this humble monk has three humble disciples waiting outside; I dare not accept the meal alone, for fear of delaying our journey."
The prince instructed the Hall Attendant: "Go quickly and invite the elder's three disciples into the mansion to share the meal."
The Hall Attendant went out at once to invite them, but everyone said: "Never saw them—never saw them." Some of the attendants said: "There are three ill-favored monks sitting in the Guest House—those must be the ones."
The Hall Attendant went with the others to the Guest House and asked the keepers: "Which are the worthy disciples of the scripture-seeking monk of Great Tang? My prince has a decree: he invites them to eat!"
Bajie was sitting there dozing, and the moment he heard the word "meal" he could not help leaping up and answering: "That's us! That's us!" One look, and the Hall Attendant's soul flew and scattered; all of them trembling, they cried: "A pig-ogre! A pig-ogre!"
The Pilgrim heard it and grabbed Bajie by the arm. "Brother, show some refinement—none of your rustic carryings-on."
When the officials saw the Pilgrim, they cried again: "A monkey spirit! A monkey spirit!"
The Sha Monk pressed his palms together. "Gentlemen, be not alarmed. The three of us are all disciples of the Tang monk."
When the officials saw him, they cried out again: "A Kitchen God! A Kitchen God!"
Sun the Pilgrim then had Bajie lead the horse and the Sha Monk carry the luggage, and they all entered the prince's mansion of Yuhua together.
The Hall Attendant went in first to announce, and the prince, lifting his eyes and seeing such ugliness, felt fear stir in his heart as well.
Sanzang pressed his palms together. "Your Highness, set your mind at ease. My unruly disciples, ugly as they are, all have good hearts."
Bajie faced the throne and made a bow with his clasped hands: "This humble monk greets Your Highness." The prince's alarm only deepened.
"My unruly disciples were all taken in among the mountains and wilds," said Sanzang. "They know nothing of ceremony. I beg ten thousand pardons for them."
The prince mastered his terror and bade the Steward of the Royal Table invite the monks to the Gauze-Drying Pavilion to eat. Sanzang gave thanks for the favor, took leave of the prince, and descended from the hall. Going with them to the pavilion, he scolded Bajie: "You lout—you understand nothing at all of manners! If you simply kept your mouth shut, that would be one thing; but such rudeness! One word of yours was enough to topple Mount Tai!"
"It's a good thing I didn't bow," said the Pilgrim with a laugh. "It saved me some effort."
"He bows out of turn, too," said the Sha Monk. "Before anyone's ready, he's already thrust out his snout, hollering."
"What a live nuisance! What a live nuisance!" said Bajie. "The other day Master taught me that greeting people with a bow is good manners. Today I greet with a bow, and that's wrong too! What would you have me do?"
"I taught you to greet people with a bow when you meet them," said Sanzang, "not to carry on like that before a prince! As the common saying goes: there are ranks of things, and ranks of men—how can you not tell the noble from the base?"
Even as they spoke, the Steward of the Royal Table came with his men, set out the tables and chairs, and spread the vegetarian meal; master and disciples said nothing more, and each fell to eating.
Now the prince left the hall and went into the palace. In the palace were the three young princes, and seeing their father's face changed in color, they asked at once: "Father King, why were you so alarmed today?"
"Just now a monk arrived, sent from the Great Tang of the East to worship the Buddha and seek scriptures, come to exchange his travel permit—and a man of no common appearance. I kept him for a vegetarian meal, and he said his disciples were waiting before the mansion, so I ordered them invited. Presently they came in, and instead of the full ceremony they only made a bow—that already displeased me. But when I raised my head and looked, one was uglier than the next, like very demons, and my heart was seized with alarm unawares. That is why my face changed color."
Now these three young princes were not like other men: every one of them loved the martial arts and prized his strength. They thrust out their fists and bared their arms: "Could they be demons come out of the mountains, wearing false human shapes? Let's take our weapons and go see!" A fine set of princes! The eldest took a brow-level staff; the second swung a nine-toothed rake; the third wielded a crow-black, oil-lacquered rod; and out of the prince's mansion they strode, fierce and martial, shouting: "What scripture-seeking monks! Where are they?"
The Steward of the Royal Table and the officials knelt down at once: "Young princes, they are in the Gauze-Drying Pavilion eating their meal."
The young princes, no stopping to ask rights or wrongs, charged right in and bellowed: "Are you men or monsters? Speak quickly—spare your lives!"
San was so frightened that his face lost its color; he set down his rice bowl and bowed with his body: "This humble monk is one come from the Tang court to seek scriptures—a man, not a monster."
"You still look something like a man," said the young prince. "Those three ugly ones—monsters beyond doubt!"
Bajie only went on eating, paying no heed.
The Sha Monk and the Pilgrim rose from their seats. "We are all men—faces ugly, but hearts good; bodies coarse, but natures kind. And you three—whence come you, to give yourselves such wild, boasting airs?"
Beside them the Steward of the Royal Table and the other officials said: "These three are the sons of our prince—the young highnesses."
Bajie set down his bowl. "Little highnesses—what are you doing with your weapons? Could it be you mean to fight us?"
The Second Prince strode forward, whirling his rake in both hands, and made to strike Bajie.
Bajie chuckled. "That rake of yours is fit for nothing but to be grandson to my rake!" He lifted his garment, took the rake from his belt, gave it one flourish—ten thousand rays of golden light!—and spun it through its patterns, with a thousand streams of auspicious vapor. The prince was frightened till his hands went soft and his sinews numb, and dared not whirl his own.
The Pilgrim, seeing the eldest wielding a brow-level staff and bouncing about, took the gold-banded cudgel from his ear, gave it a flourish till it was thick as a rice bowl and a zhang two or three chi long, drove it into the ground—a good three feet deep—and left it standing there, saying with a laugh: "I'll make you a present of this staff!"
Hearing this, the prince dropped his own staff and went to take the cudgel. Straining with both hands with all his strength, he could not budge it a hair's breadth; he heaved at it again, shook it again—it was as if it had taken root. The third flew into a temper and came striking with his crow-black staff, but the Sha Monk warded it off with one hand, took out his demon-subduing staff, and gave it a light toss—dazzling light shimmering, radiant gleams scattering—until the Steward of the Royal Table and the officials stood gaping and gasping, unable to utter a word.
The three young princes all fell to their knees together: "Divine masters! Divine masters! We common men knew you not. We beg you with ten thousand hopes to put forth a display, that we may bow and be taught!"
The Pilgrim stepped close, lifted the cudgel up lightly, and said: "It's too cramped here to stretch our arms. Let me leap into midair and play a whole routine for you to watch." Marvelous Great Sage! With a whistle he sprang on his somersault cloud, his two feet treading five-colored clouds of good omen, and rose into midair some three hundred paces above the ground. There he spread the gold-banded cudgel into a flowers-scattering canopy-over-head, a yellow dragon turning its body—up and down, wheeling left and turning right. At first man and staff were as flowers added to brocade; then, later, no man could be seen—only a whole sky of rolling cudgel.
Below, Bajie shouted his applause, and his own hands and feet grew restless. He bellowed: "Wait for old Pig to go have a turn too!" A fine idiot! He mounted the wind, also rose into midair, and spun out his rake: three up, four down; five left, six right; seven forward, eight back—his whole repertoire—with the wind whistling about it.
Just as the show was at its height, the Sha Monk said to the elder: "Master, let old Sha go drill a little too." A fine monk! With both feet one leap, whirling his staff, he too rose into the air, and there was a haze of keen spirit and a shimmer of golden light; with both hands he swung the demon-subduing staff into a "red phoenix facing the sun," a "starving tiger pouncing on its prey," swift to meet and slow to parry, quick to wheel and nimble to dart. The three brothers each displayed his powers, all in midair together, flaunting their might. Truly:
The true aspect of Chan, uncommon and unmatched; The springs of the Great Way fill all space. Metal and Wood spread their might through the world of the Law; The knife and the spoon turn and join in perfect fusion. Divine weapons, keen and sharp, appear at every turn; The elixir's flower of light is honored everywhere. Though India stands high, still they guard their nature; The princes of Yuhua all return to the Mean.
The three young princes were frightened down onto their knees in the dust. In the Gauze-Drying Pavilion, the great and small of the household, and the old prince in the mansion, and through the whole city soldier and citizen, man and woman, monk and nun, Daoist and lay—every kind of person—chanted the Buddha's name and knocked their heads, every house taking up incense and worshiping. Truly:
Beholding the image, they turned to truth, and monks were saved thereby; Making blessings in the world of men, they enjoy the pure peace. Henceforth the road of Bodhi bears its perfect fruit, And all are men who sit in Chan and worship Buddha.
When the three had each displayed his prowess and played out their routines, they pressed down their clouds of good omen, put away their weapons, came before the Tang monk, bowed their greetings, thanked their master for his grace, and each sat down—and of that we say no more.
The three young princes hurried back to the palace and reported to the old prince: "Father King, ten thousand joys! Today has brought a service past all measure! Did you see what was performed in midair just now?"
"I saw the colored radiance in midair," said the old prince, "and in the palace court I led your mother and the rest in burning incense and worshiping—I knew not what immortals had descended to gather there."
"Not immortals from anywhere else—they are the three ugly disciples of that scripture-seeking monk. One wields the gold-banded iron cudgel, one the nine-toothed rake, one the demon-subduing staff; beside theirs, our three weapons were not worth half a hair. We asked them to play a routine, but they said the ground was too cramped to manage it in, and rose into midair to play one for us to see. Then each mounted his cloud, and the whole sky was veiled in auspicious cloud and wreathed in propitious vapor. Just now they came down and are sitting in the Gauze-Drying Pavilion. Your children are overjoyed and would take them as masters, to learn their methods and protect our state—this would truly be a service beyond all measure! What does Father King think of it?"
Hearing this, the old prince believed with a willing heart. Then and there, father and four sons, without mounting the state carriage, without spreading the canopy, walked on foot to the Gauze-Drying Pavilion. The four travelers had just packed their luggage, intending to enter the mansion, thank their hosts for the meal, take leave of the prince, and set out—when suddenly they saw the Prince of Yuhua and his sons come up to the pavilion and throw themselves down in bows. In a flurry the elder straightened up and returned their prostration to the ground, while the Pilgrim and the others slipped aside with faint cold laughs.
When the bows were done, they invited the four into the mansion hall to be seated. The four entered gladly. The old prince rose and said: "Venerable teacher Tang, I have a favor to ask—I wonder whether your three worthy disciples can grant it?"
"Command as Your Highness pleases," said Sanzang. "My humble disciples dare not disobey."
"When I first saw you all," said the old prince, "I took you only for wandering monks come far from the Tang—fleshly eyes and mortal pupils, and I showed you scant respect. But when I saw Master Sun, Master Zhu, and Master Sha dancing in the sky, then I knew you for immortals, for Buddhas. My three curs of sons have loved the practice of arms all their lives. Today in all reverence they would take you as their masters and learn some of the martial art. I beg you, venerable teacher, open the heart of Heaven and Earth, sail the boat of mercy for all, and pass on the teaching to my boys—recompense the full wealth of the city shall surely be offered you."
Hearing this, the Pilgrim could not help laughing aloud: "Your Highness, how little you understand the ways of things! We men of religion are only too eager to take on a few disciples. Since your sons have hearts turned to goodness, never speak a word of profit—let us simply deal together with warm feeling, and that will be affection enough."
Hearing this, the prince was greatly pleased, and ordered a grand banquet set out at once in the main hall of the mansion.
And oh! At one command of his will, all was made ready in an instant. Just look: knotted streamers floating; incense smoke rich and dense. Gold-inlaid tables hung with shark-silk, dazzling the eyes; lacquered chairs spread with brocade, adding luster to the seats. Tree fruits fresh; tea fragrant and steaming. Three or five courses of delicate sweets; a serving or two of plump, clean steamed buns. Steamed pastries and honeyed preserves, more wondrous still; deep-fried and syrup-drenched, truly delicious! There were a few flasks of fragrant glutinous rice wine, poured out to rival the nectar of jade; there were rounds of Yangxian immortal tea, that smelled sweeter than cassia when it reached the hand. Every kind and every course was complete; every category and line excelled. On one side they called for entertainers to sing and dance, pipe and strum, play their turns and act their plays. The master and his disciples, together with the prince and his sons, made merry the whole day. Unnoticed, evening fell; the banquet was dispersed, and he ordered beds and curtains laid out in the Gauze-Drying Pavilion, inviting the masters to rest, for on the morrow they would burn incense with utmost devotion and bow again to beg instruction in the martial art.
All obeyed; scented bathwater was prepared, the masters were invited to bathe, and everyone retired to sleep. And then:
The birds roost high; the ten thousand sounds are stilled; The poet, come to bed, has ceased his chanting. The River of Heaven shines bright; the sky grows luminous; The wild paths lie desolate; the grass grows deeper. Fulling mallets ting-tong from some other court; The distant passes stir the heart that yearns for home. The cold cricket's ringing note knows a man's thoughts, Chirping by the bedside, breaking the dreaming soul.
One night's late scene passes from the tale. Early the next morning the old prince and his sons came again to wait upon the elder. Yesterday, when they met, it had been with the rites of a prince; today they performed the rites of disciples. The three young princes bowed their heads to the floor before the Pilgrim, Bajie, and the Sha Monk, and begged: "Honored masters, lend us your weapons to look at."
Hearing this, Bajie gladly took out his rake and tossed it on the ground. The Sha Monk tossed out his staff and leaned it against the wall. The Second and Third Princes leaped up to seize them—and it was dragonflies shaking stone pillars: they strained till their heads were red and their faces flushed, and could not stir them half a hair's breadth.
The Eldest Prince saw it and called out: "Brothers, spare your strength! The masters' weapons are all divine arms—who knows how heavy they are!"
"My rake isn't so very heavy," said Bajie with a laugh. "It weighs just one canon's worth—5,048 catties, handle and all."
[Translator's note: 5,048 is the traditional count of scrolls in the Buddhist Tripitaka.]
The Third Prince asked the Sha Monk: "How heavy is your precious staff, Master?"
The Sha Monk laughed. "Also 5,048 catties."
The Eldest Prince begged to see the Pilgrim's gold-banded cudgel. The Pilgrim took from his ear a needle, flourished it in the wind, and it was thick as a rice bowl, standing straight up before him. Prince and princes alike shuddered; every official's heart quaked.
The three young princes bowed and asked: "Master Zhu's and Master Sha's weapons were both carried on their bodies, under their clothes, ready to hand. Why did Master Sun take his from his ear? And it grows when it meets the wind—why is that?"
The Pilgrim laughed. "You don't know that this cudgel of mine is no common thing of the mortal world. This cudgel:
When primeval Chaos first was parted, it was wrought and smelted; The divine sage Yu himself did set its measure. The lakes and seas, the rivers, shallow and deep— This staff has known them all, and known them well. When mountains were cut and waters tamed and all was peace, It drifted to the Eastern Sea to guard the ocean gates. Long days and deepening years it breathed its rosy haze; It can shrink and grow, and shine, and keep its luster clean. Old Sun, by fate's own share, fetched it away; Its changes, past all counting, follow on the spell. Made great, it fills the universe entire; Made small, it is a needle's little joint. The staff is called As-You-Will, and titled Gold-Banded— Heaven above and earth below acclaim it peerless. It weighs, all told, thirteen thousand five hundred catties, Now thick, now thin, at will it dies and lives. It helped me wreck the Palace of Heaven once, And followed me to storm the gates of Earth. It tames the tiger and subdues the dragon—everywhere it goes; It melts the demons, sweeps the fiends—through every quarter, thorough. One lift of it, one point—the very sun goes dark; Heaven and earth, the gods and ghosts, all lose their nerve. From Chaos down, the immortals passed it on to now— In truth, it is no mortal iron at all!"
Hearing this, the princes bowed to the floor in worship without end. The three came forward and bowed again and again, begging with devout hearts to be taught.
"You three—what arts would you learn?" asked the Pilgrim.
The princes said: "Those who would use the staff will learn the staff; those used to the rake will learn the rake; those who love the staff-weapon will learn the staff-weapon."
"To teach is easy enough," said the Pilgrim with a laugh, "but you have no strength—you cannot wield our weapons, and I fear you would learn imperfectly—paint a tiger badly, and it looks like a dog. As the men of old said: 'Lax teaching is the teacher's sloth; learning unfinished is the pupil's fault.' Since you have sincere hearts, go burn incense and bow to Heaven and Earth. First I will transmit some divine strength to you, and then the martial art may be taught."
The three young princes heard this with hearts full of joy; they carried out the incense table with their own hands, washed their hands and lit the incense, and bowed to Heaven in worship. When the bows were done, they begged their master to transmit the method. The Pilgrim turned about, bowed to the Tang monk, and said: "I report to my honored master, and beg pardon for his disciple's offense. Long years ago at the Mountain of Two Frontiers, Master's great virtue delivered your disciple and brought him into the Buddhist fold. Coming westward all this while, though I have never repaid Master's kindness in full, I have forded waters and climbed mountains, spent strength and heart to the utmost. Now, come to the homeland of the Buddha, we have happily met the three worthy sons of a worthy prince, who have given themselves to us as disciples to learn the martial art. Since they are our disciples, they are Master's disciples' disciples. I respectfully report this to my master, that I may then pass on the teaching."
Sanzang was greatly pleased. Bajie and the Sha Monk, seeing the Pilgrim perform his courtesy, also turned and knocked their heads to Sanzang: "Master, we are dull and slow, clumsy of mouth and heavy of jaw, no hands at speech. We beg Master to sit high on the seat of the Law and let us two each take a disciple for our amusement—it will be something to remember on the Western road." Sanzang gladly granted it to them both.
Then the Pilgrim had the three princes, behind the Gauze-Drying Pavilion in a quiet chamber, trace out the Dipper pattern, and bade all three lie prostrate within it, each closing his eyes and stilling his spirit. There he silently recited the true words and chanted the spells, breathed immortal breath into the three princes' hearts and bellies, gathered their primal spirits back into their proper abodes, and transmitted the oral formulas, endowing each with the strength of ten thousand men and adding the fire of the elixir's firing to them. It was like the method of shedding the womb and changing the bones. When he had circulated the full midnight-noon round of heaven, the three young princes came to, scrambled up all together, wiped their faces, and stood brimming with vigor, each with bones strong and sinews tough: the Eldest Prince could take up the gold-banded cudgel; the Second could swing the nine-toothed rake; the Third could lift the demon-subduing staff.
The old prince, seeing this, rejoiced beyond all measure and spread another vegetarian feast to thank the master and his three disciples. Right at the banquet each taught and each learned: the staff-learners drilled the staff, the rake-learners drilled the rake, the weapon-learners drilled the weapon. But though they turned a few turns and spun a few patterns, still they labored at it: one pass of the routine left them gasping and puffing, unable to endure. For those weapons were all subject to change, advancing and retiring, rising and sweeping, dwindling and growing at will, with all the marvel of spontaneous transformation—and these were but mortal men. How could they hope to reach it all at once? That day the feast was dispersed.
The next day the three princes came again to give thanks: "We are grateful that the divine masters bestowed strength upon us. Yet though we can wheel your divine weapons, turning them is a struggle. Our thought is to summon craftsmen to copy the pattern of your divine weapons, pared down in weight, and forge us replicas—will the masters permit it?"
"Good! Good! Good! Now that's talking sense," said Bajie. "Our weapons, first, you can't wield; second, we need them to guard the Law and subdue demons. By all means—forge new ones, forge new ones!"
The prince then summoned blacksmiths and bought ten thousand catties of iron and steel, and in the front court of the mansion they raised a shed and set up furnaces to do the casting. On the first day the metal was refined; on the next the prince asked the three travelers to bring out the gold-banded cudgel, the nine-toothed rake, and the demon-subduing staff and lay them in the shed, to serve as patterns for the work—and there they stayed, day and night, never taken in.
Ah! Those weapons were the treasures they carried on their bodies, that might not leave them for one instant; kept on their persons, they wore their many-colored radiances as a guard. Now that they had lain in the shed courtyard for days, their rosy light shot ten thousand beams to Heaven, and their propitious vapor, in a thousand shapes, canopied the earth.
That night there was a demon spirit living some seventy li from the city—the mountain was called Leopard Head Mountain, the cave Tiger's Mouth Cave. As he sat in the night, he suddenly saw the rosy light and auspicious vapor, and rode up on his cloud to look. It was the radiance of the prefectural city. He pressed down his cloud and came close to see—and it was these three weapons giving off their light.
The demon was both delighted and covetous. "Fine treasures! Fine treasures! Whose are these, that they lie here? It is my own good fortune—take them away! Take them away!"
The moment his covetous heart stirred, he mustered his powers, swept up all three weapons in one haul, and went straight back to his own cave. Truly:
The Way may not be left for even an instant; What can be left is not the Way. The divine weapons all have fallen into emptiness— Vainly have they toiled who cultivate the Way.
If you would know how the weapons came to be found again, listen to the explanation in the next chapter.