Chapter 13

The poem says: The Great Tang King has issued an edict conferring his seal, The Imperial Envoy Xuanzang goes to inquire into the Chan school. With steadfast heart he polishes and searches for the dragon’s lair, With earnest intent he cultivates and ascends Vulture Peak. Across the borderlands he travels through how many states, Before cloud-wrapped mountains he passes ten thousand ranges. From this day, taking leave, he sets forth toward the west, Upholding the teaching of the Jātaka, he awakens to the Great Emptiness. It is told that on the third day before the full moon of the ninth month in the thirteenth year of Zhenguan, Tripitaka, having received the escort of the Tang King and many officials, was sent beyond the passes of Chang’an. After one or two days of riding without pause, they soon reached Famen Temple. The venerable abbot of the temple’s upper quarters led more than five hundred monks, who stood arrayed on either side and welcomed him inside. They met and offered tea. When the tea was finished, they brought in the vegetarian meal. After the meal, before they knew it, night had fallen. It was just as the poem says: Shadows stir, and the Milky Way seems near; The moon shines bright, and not a speck of dust remains. The wild geese cry across the distant Han, The rhythm of the pounding blocks resounds in the western neighborhood. Returning birds roost upon withered trees, Chan monks expound the Brahma sounds. Upon a meditation mat and single couch, One sits until the night is nearly divided. Beneath the lamps, the monks discussed the fixed purpose of the Buddhist school and the reason for going west to the Western Heaven to obtain the scriptures. Some said the waters were distant and the mountains high; some said the road was full of tigers and leopards. Some said the steep ridges and precipitous cliffs were difficult to cross; some said the poisonous demons and wicked monsters were difficult to subdue. Tripitaka kept his mouth shut and said nothing, merely pointing to his own heart and nodding several times. The monks could not understand his meaning, so they put their palms together and asked, “Dharma Master, why do you point to your heart and nod?” Tripitaka answered, “When the heart arises, all manner of demons arise; when the heart is extinguished, all manner of demons are extinguished. I, your disciple, once spoke a great vow before the Buddha at Huasheng Temple. I cannot but fulfill this heart of mine. On this journey, I must reach the Western Heaven, see the Buddha, and seek the scriptures, so that our Dharma Wheel may turn again, and that the sacred lord’s imperial domain may remain eternally secure.” Hearing these words, every monk praised him with admiration, and each proclaimed them aloud. All cried, “A loyal-hearted, red-blooded, greatly expounding Dharma Master!” Their praise could not be exhausted, and they invited the Master to enter his couch and rest. Soon again, bamboo knocked against the fading moon as it set, and the cock crowed while dawn clouds arose. The monks rose, preparing tea, water, and the morning vegetarian meal. Xuanzang then put on his kasaya, went to the main hall, and bowed before the Buddha, saying, “I, your disciple Chen Xuanzang, am proceeding to the Western Heaven to obtain the scriptures. But with mortal eyes I am foolish and deluded, and cannot recognize the true form of the Living Buddha. Now I wish to make a vow: wherever I encounter a temple on the road, I shall burn incense; wherever I meet a Buddha, I shall worship the Buddha; wherever I meet a pagoda, I shall sweep the pagoda. I only pray that my Buddha, in his compassion, will soon manifest his sixteen-foot golden body, bestow the true scriptures, and leave them to be transmitted in the Eastern Land.” After making his prayer, he returned to the abbot’s quarters and took the meal. When the meal was finished, the two attendants readied the saddles and horses and hastened the journey. Tripitaka left the mountain gate and bade farewell to the monks. The monks could not bear the separation and escorted him for a full ten li before returning with tears in their eyes. Tripitaka then proceeded straight westward. It was indeed the season of late autumn, and there was only this to be seen: In several villages the trees had shed their leaves, and the reed flowers were broken; From a few maple and poplar trees red leaves fell. Mist and rain on the road, old friends few; Yellow chrysanthemums bright, mountain bones slender, cold waters, broken lotuses, people haggard. White duckweed and red smartweed beneath frosty skies like snow, The setting clouds cast a lone wild duck down through the vast heavens. Dimly and indistinctly, wild clouds flew; The black swallows departed, the guest geese arrived, Their loud, piercing cries shattered the night. The master and his disciples traveled for several days and reached Gongzhou City. The officials and other personnel belonging to Gongzhou had already come to welcome them into the city. After resting for one night, they left the city the following morning and continued onward. Along the way they ate when hungry and drank when thirsty, lodged at night and traveled at dawn. After two or three days, they again reached Hezhou Garrison. This was the borderland of the mountains and rivers of Great Tang. The frontier commander and the monks and Daoists of that place had already heard that the Imperial Envoy, the Imperial Younger-Brother Dharma Master, was going west to see the Buddha. None failed to show reverence. They welcomed him inside and provided for him, then had the Sangha Administrator invite him to rest at Fuyuan Temple. The monks of that temple came one by one to pay their respects and arranged the evening vegetarian meal. When the meal was finished, the two attendants were instructed to feed the horses well and set out before dawn. When the cock had just crowed, he summoned the attendants, but this again disturbed the temple monks, who prepared tea, broth, and vegetarian offerings. After the meal, they left the borderland. This elder was anxious and had risen far too early. As it happened, it was already deep autumn, when the cock crows early, and it was only the hour of the fourth watch. The party of three, with four mouths including the horses, faced the clear frost and watched the bright moon as they traveled some dozens of li. They saw a mountain ridge and had no choice but to part the grass in search of a road. It is impossible to describe how rugged and difficult it was to travel, and they also feared they had taken the wrong path. While they were still wondering about this, they suddenly lost their footing, and the three men together with the horses fell into a pit. Tripitaka’s heart raced, and the attendants trembled with fear. Just as they were terrified, they heard roaring and loud shouts from within, crying, “Bring them here! Bring them here!” They saw fierce winds rolling and surging forth fifty or sixty demonic creatures, who seized Tripitaka and the attendants and dragged them up. The Dharma Master trembled as he secretly peered about. Seated above was a Demon King of extraordinary ferocity. Truly, he was: His majestic might made his body bristle, His fierce air gave his bearing grandeur. Lightning eyes flew with brilliant light, A thunderous voice shook the four quarters. Sawlike teeth spread beyond his mouth, Chisel-like fangs showed beside his cheeks. Brocade and embroidery encircled his body, Patterned markings wrapped his spine. His steel whiskers left little flesh visible, His hooked claws were sharp as frost. The Yellow Lord of the Eastern Sea feared him, As did the White-Forehead King of Southern Mountain. Tripitaka was so terrified that his soul flew from his body, while the two attendants’ bones softened and their sinews went numb. The Demon King ordered them bound. All the demons at once bound the three men with ropes. Just as they were preparing to devour them, they heard a commotion outside, and someone came to report, “Bear Shanjun and Te Chushi have arrived.” Hearing this, Tripitaka raised his head and looked. Walking in front was a black fellow. You may ask what he looked like: Bold and heroic, he possessed abundant courage; Light and vigorous, his body was sturdy. When crossing water, he relied only on ferocious strength; When running through the forest, he displayed wrathful might. In former times he accorded with auspicious dreams; Today alone he revealed his heroic bearing. He could climb and break green trees, Knew the cold, and was skilled at explaining the seasons. Only where spiritual signs appeared was he most manifest; For this reason he was called Shanjun. Then they saw that the one coming behind was a fat fellow. You may ask what he looked like: A lofty pair of horns crowned his head, His bearing was solemn, his shoulders and back rose high. By nature he wore blue garments and was steady, His hoofed steps were often slow and halting. His clan name was Father Gū, His original appellation was Mother Zhi. He could perform the work of plowing the fields; Because of this he was named Te Chushi. The two swayed and waddled into the interior, and the Demon King hurried out to welcome them. Bear Shanjun said, “General Yin, you have been prospering all this while—congratulations, congratulations.” Te Chushi said, “General Yin’s appearance surpasses the ordinary—truly delightful, truly delightful.” The Demon King said, “How have the two honored guests been these past days?” Shanjun said, “I have only been guarding simplicity.” Chushi said, “I have only been following the seasons.” After the three had exchanged greetings, they each took a seat and talked and laughed. They saw that the attendants were bound and crying out in pain and grief. The black fellow said, “Where did these three come from?” The Demon King said, “They came to offer themselves at my door.” The Scholar laughed and said, “Can they serve as guests?” The Demon King said, “I am honored, I am honored.” Shanjun said, “They must not all be used. Eat two and leave one alive; that will suffice.” The Demon King agreed, and immediately called those on his left and right. They split open the bellies of the two attendants, gouged out their hearts, and chopped their corpses to pieces. He offered their heads, hearts, and livers to the two guests, consumed the four limbs himself, and distributed the remaining flesh and bones among the various demons. The only sound was the wet crunching of their eating, truly like a tiger devouring a lamb. In an instant they had eaten everything. It nearly frightened the elder to death. This was the first ordeal after leaving Chang’an. While he was still in a state of panic, the eastern sky gradually began to grow pale. The two monsters did not disperse until daylight, and both said, “We have imposed heavily upon you today. Allow us another day to repay you with all sincerity.” Only then did they crowd away together. Before long, the red sun rose high. Sanzang was dazed and muddled, unable even to distinguish east from west, north from south. Just as he was in this desperate plight, he suddenly saw an old elder approaching with a staff in his hand. Coming forward, he brushed his hand once, and all the ropes were severed. He blew a breath toward Sanzang, and only then did Sanzang revive. Kneeling on the ground, he said: “Many thanks, Elder Gonggong, for rescuing this poor monk’s life.” The old elder returned his courtesy and said: “Rise. Have you perhaps lost anything?” Sanzang said: “The attendants accompanying this poor monk have already been eaten by monsters. I only do not know where the luggage and horses are.” The old elder pointed with his staff and said: “Is that not a horse and two bundles over there?” When Sanzang turned to look, they were indeed his possessions; nothing had been lost, and his heart relaxed somewhat. He asked the old elder: “Elder Gonggong, what place is this? How did you come to be here?” The old elder said: “This is Shuangcha Ridge, a lair of tigers and wolves. Why did you fall here?” Sanzang said: “At cockcrow, I left the borders of Hezhou Guard. I did not expect that I had set out too early, making my way through frost and dew, and suddenly losing my way to this place. I encountered a Demon King, exceedingly fierce and vicious, who bound me and my two attendants. Then I saw a black fellow who called himself Lord of Bear Mountain, and a fat fellow who called himself Te Chushi. They came in and called that Demon King General Yin. The three of them ate my two attendants, and only dispersed when daylight came. I never imagined that I possessed such great affinity and destiny there, moving Elder Gonggong to come here and save me!” The old elder said: “Te Chushi is a wild ox spirit; Lord of Bear Mountain is a bear spirit; General Yin is an old tiger spirit. All the demonic evils around here are mountain essences, tree ghosts, strange beasts, and gray wolves. It is only because your original nature is innately luminous that they could not eat you. Come with me; I will lead you to the road.” Sanzang was unable to express the depth of his gratitude. He placed the bundles on the horse, took hold of the reins, and followed the old elder straight out of the pit and ravines, walking onto the main road. He then tied the horse to the grass by the roadside and turned to bow his thanks to the elder. The elder thereupon transformed into a gust of clear wind, mounted a red-crowned white crane, and soared away into the sky. He saw that the wind had wafted down a brief note. Written upon it were four lines of verse. The verse said: I am Taibai Xing of the Western Heaven, I have come especially to save your life and spirit. As you go forward, divine disciples will aid you; Do not, for hardships, make complaint along the journey. After reading it, Sanzang faced the sky and bowed, saying: “Many thanks to Venus for delivering me from this difficulty.” After bowing, he took hold of the horse and went on alone, solitary and miserable, struggling forward. Upon this ridge, truly, there was: Chill and rustling, rain-forest winds; murmuring and tinkling, waters beneath the ravine. Fragrant and rich, wild flowers in bloom; dense and tangled, heaps of scattered rocks. Clamorous and noisy, deer and apes; ranks upon ranks, muntjacs and river deer. Hubbub and din, birdsong everywhere; still and silent, no human affairs at all. The elder, trembling and fearful, his heart unquiet; The horse, weak in strength, its hooves unable to rise. Sanzang staked his life and struggled onward among the steep ridges. After traveling half a day, he saw not the smoke of a single human dwelling or village. First, his belly had grown hungry; second, the road was uneven. At the very moment of danger, he saw two fierce tigers roaring ahead, while behind him several long snakes coiled and writhed. On the left were poisonous insects; on the right, strange beasts. Alone and without a plan, Sanzang could only abandon body and mind and submit to Heaven’s command. To make matters worse, the horse’s back was weak and its hooves crooked; it knelt down at once and collapsed upon the ground. Beating it could not make it rise, and leading it could not make it move. The Dharma Master suffered so greatly that he had nowhere to place his body. Truly, he was in utter misery; he had already resigned himself to certain death and could do nothing about it. Yet although he had calamity, he also had deliverance. Just as he was in this desperate plight, he suddenly saw the poisonous insects scurrying away, the demon beasts fleeing through the air, the fierce tigers vanishing into hiding, and the long snakes concealing themselves. When Sanzang raised his head to look, he saw a man holding a steel fork, with bow and arrows hanging at his waist, turning out from before the mountain slope. Indeed, he was a fine fellow. Behold him: Upon his head he wore a spotted leopard-skin cap patterned like mugwort leaves; upon his body he wore a wool-and-brocade poluo robe; around his waist he bound a lion-barbarian belt; upon his feet he wore a pair of muntjac-hide boots. His ringed eyes were round and glaring like those of a mourner; his encircling beard bristled wildly like He Kui. A pouch of poisonous drugs and bow-arrows hung from him, and in his hand he held a large, steel-spotted fork. The sound of thunder shattered the courage of mountain insects; his valor and ferocity startled the souls from wild pheasants. When Sanzang saw him gradually drawing near, he knelt by the roadside, pressed his palms together, and cried loudly: “Great King, save my life! Great King, save my life!” The fellow came before him, set down his steel fork, and helped him up with his hand. “Elder, do not be afraid. I am not a wicked man. I am a hunter of these mountains, surnamed Liu and named Boqin, with the sobriquet Zhenshan Taibao. I had just come out to seek two mountain creatures for food. I did not expect to encounter you, and have caused you much disturbance.” Sanzang said: “This poor monk is an imperial envoy of Great Tang, a monk journeying west to the Western Heaven to worship the Buddha and seek the scriptures. A moment ago I came to this place and encountered wolves, tigers, snakes, and insects surrounding me on all sides, so that I could not go forward. Then I suddenly saw Taibao arrive; all the beasts fled, and you saved this poor monk’s life. Many thanks, many thanks.” Boqin said: “I live here, making my living by relying on hunting wolves and tigers and catching snakes and insects. That is why all the beasts fear me and flee. Since you have come from the Tang court, you and I are fellow countrymen. This place is still the territory of Great Tang, and I too am a subject of the Tang dynasty. You and I eat the water and soil of the imperial king; truly, we are people of one country. Do not be afraid. Come with me to my home, where you may let the horse rest. Tomorrow morning I shall send you on your way.” Hearing this, Sanzang was filled with joy. He thanked Boqin and followed him, leading the horse. After they crossed the mountain slope, they again heard the sound of wind whooshing. Boqin said: “Elder, do not go on. Sit here. A mountain cat is coming from the place where the wind is sounding. Wait while I catch it and take it home to entertain you.” Hearing this, Sanzang was once more filled with fear and trembling and did not dare take a step. The Taibao gripped his steel fork, lengthened his stride, and went forward to meet it. A variegated tiger came face to face with him. When it saw Boqin, it hurriedly turned its head and tried to leave. The Taibao gave a thunderous shout: “Where do you think you are going, you wicked beast?” Seeing that it was being pursued closely, the tiger turned and sprang forward, raking with its claws. The Taibao raised his three-pronged fork and met it in combat. Sanzang was so terrified that he went limp and collapsed upon the grass. Since leaving his mother’s womb, this monk had never seen such a dangerous affair. The Taibao and the tiger faced one another below the mountain slope; truly, it was a fine battle. Behold: Anger billowed in waves; mad winds rolled and roared. Anger billowed in waves—the Taibao’s strength made his hair rise to his crown; Mad winds rolled and roared—the spotted tiger flaunted its might and sprayed red dust. One bared its fangs and brandished its claws; the other shifted his steps and turned his body. The three-pronged fork lifted to the sky and flashed in the sun; the thousand-flowered tail stirred, sending mist and clouds flying. One thrust wildly at the chest; the other lunged head-on to swallow him. Whoever dodged it might live again as a human; whoever was struck would surely meet the King of Hell. Only the spotted tiger’s roar and the Taibao’s fierce voice could be heard. The spotted tiger’s roar shook and split the mountains and rivers, startling birds and beasts; The Taibao’s fierce voice opened the Heavenly Court and revealed the stars. One’s golden eyes glared in fury; the other’s boldness gave birth to wrath. Admirable Liu Taibao, the Mountain-Subduing Guardian; Worthy of praise, the lord among beasts who held his ground. Man and tiger, greedy for life, contended over victory and defeat; With the slightest lapse, the three souls would be lost. The two of them fought for about an hour. Then the tiger’s claws slowed and its waist weakened, and the Taibao raised his fork and stabbed it squarely through the chest, knocking it down. Pitiful indeed! The point of the steel fork pierced through its heart and liver, and in an instant blood flowed all over the ground. Seizing it by the ears, he dragged it onto the road. What a fine man! His breathing was not even hurried, and his complexion did not change. He said to Sanzang: “Good fortune, good fortune. This mountain cat will provide the elder with food for a day.” Sanzang could not praise him enough. “The Taibao is truly a mountain god!” Boqin said: “What ability do I possess that I should deserve such praise? This is the elder’s great fortune. Come, come—let us skin it at once, cook some meat, and entertain you as well.” He held the fork in one hand and dragged the tiger with the other, leading the way in front. Sanzang led the horse and followed behind. They wound along past the mountain slope, when suddenly they saw a mountain hamlet. Before its gate there truly was: Ancient trees reached the skies, while wild vines spread across the road. The dust-laden wind of ten thousand ravines was cold; the aspect of a thousand cliffs was strange. The fragrance of wildflowers along a single path assailed the body; several stalks of secluded bamboo stood green and graceful. A thatched gate-tower, a bamboo-fenced courtyard—worthy of depiction, worthy of painting; A stone-slab bridge, white earthen walls—true delight, truly rare. The autumn aspect was bleak and desolate, the refreshing air solitary and lofty. Yellow leaves fell beside the road; white clouds drifted above the ridges. Within the sparse woods, mountain birds chattered noisily; outside the hamlet gate, little dogs barked shrilly. Boqin reached the gate, threw down the dead tiger, and called, “Where are the lads?” Three or four household servants came out, all of strange shapes and fierce faces. They came forward dragging and hauling, lifted the tiger onto their shoulders, and carried it inside. Boqin instructed them to skin it early and prepare it for receiving guests. He then turned back to welcome Sanzang inside. When they had met, Sanzang again bowed and thanked Boqin for his great kindness and pity in saving his life. Boqin said, “We are fellow countrymen; why trouble yourself to give thanks?” After they were seated and had finished their tea, an old woman led a daughter-in-law and presented herself before Sanzang. Boqin said, “This is my mother and my wife.” Sanzang said, “Please ask your honored mother to take the upper seat, that this poor monk may pay his respects.” The old woman said, “The Elder is a distant guest; each of you should take care of yourself. There is no need for such ceremony.” Boqin said, “Mother, he is one dispatched by the Tang King to go west to see the Buddha and seek scriptures. A little while ago I encountered him at the mountaintop. Thinking of the people of the same country, I invited him home to rest his horse, and tomorrow I shall send him on his way.” Hearing this, the old woman was extremely delighted and said, “Good, good, good. There could be no better opportunity for inviting him. Tomorrow is the anniversary of your father’s death; let us trouble the Elder to perform some meritorious service and recite a volume of scripture, then send him onward the day after tomorrow.” Though this Liu Boqin was a tiger-killing hand and the Taibao who guarded the mountain, he nevertheless possessed a measure of filial feeling. Hearing his mother’s words, he immediately began arranging incense and paper to keep Sanzang there. As they spoke, they were unaware that the sky was gradually growing dark. The servants set out tables and stools, and placed several plates of thoroughly cooked tiger meat, steaming hot, upon them. Boqin invited Sanzang to partake for the time being, saying that other food would be prepared separately. Sanzang pressed his palms together before his chest and said, “Good indeed! I shall not conceal it from the Taibao: from the time I left my mother’s womb, I have been a monk, and have never known how to eat meat.” Hearing this, Boqin pondered for quite a while and said, “Elder, for generations my humble household has not known how to eat vegetarian food. Even when there are some bamboo shoots, when we gather some wood ears, seek out some dried vegetables, or make some tofu, all of it is fried in the oil of muntjacs, deer, tigers, and leopards; there is no truly vegetarian fare. The two cooking pots and stoves are likewise thoroughly greasy. What can be done in such a situation? It is rather my fault for inviting the Elder.” Sanzang said, “The Taibao need not trouble himself. Please partake as you wish. As for this poor monk, I can endure hunger even if I go three or five days without eating; I simply dare not break my fasting precepts.” Boqin said, “What if you should starve to death? What then?” Sanzang said, “Having received the heavenly grace of the Taibao, who rescued me from among tigers and wolves, even if I starve to death, it will still be better than feeding a tiger.” When Boqin’s mother heard this, she called out, “Son, do not idle away your words with the Elder. I have vegetarian things with which to entertain him.” Boqin said, “Where will the vegetarian things come from?” His mother said, “Do not concern yourself with me; I have my own vegetarian fare.” She told her daughter-in-law to take down the small pot, set a fire, burn away the grease, scrub it again and again, and wash it again and again, then put it back on the stove. First she boiled half a pot of water and set it aside. Then she took some mountain elm leaves, added water, and boiled them into tea. After that she took some yellow millet and foxtail millet and cooked them into rice. She also boiled some dried vegetables. She filled two bowls and brought them out, laying them on the table. The old mother addressed Sanzang, saying, “Elder, please take your vegetarian meal. This is a little tea and food that this old woman and her daughter-in-law personally prepared with the utmost cleanliness and purity.” Sanzang came down and thanked her, then took the upper seat. Boqin set out separately some tiger meat, fragrant muntjac meat, python meat, and fox meat without salt or sauce, together with finely chopped dried venison, filling plates and bowls to accompany Sanzang in eating his vegetarian meal. As he had just sat down and wished to raise his chopsticks, he saw Sanzang press his palms together and recite a scripture. This frightened Boqin so that he dared not move his chopsticks; he hurriedly rose and stood to one side. Sanzang had recited only a few lines when he invited him to take the vegetarian meal. Boqin said, “Are you a monk who recites only short-headed scriptures?” Sanzang said, “This is not a scripture; it is a volume of the spell for ending the fast.” Boqin said, “You people who leave the household have so many particularities; even when eating a meal, you must recite and chant.” After eating the vegetarian meal, they cleared away the plates and bowls, and gradually it grew late. Boqin led Sanzang out from the central residence to take a walk in the rear. Passing through a side passage, they came to a thatched pavilion. He pushed open the door and entered within. They saw several powerful bows and strong crossbows hanging on all four walls, with several quivers of arrows inserted there; two bloodstained tiger skins draped across the beams; many spears, knives, forks, and cudgels stood inserted at the foot of the walls; and two seats had been arranged in the very center. Boqin invited Sanzang to sit for a while. Seeing such a fierce and filthy place, Sanzang did not dare sit long, and thus left the thatched pavilion. Proceeding farther to the rear, they came to a great garden, but one could not see the end of its clumps of chrysanthemums piled with yellow and its trees of maples and poplars hung with red. Then, with a whoosh, more than ten fat deer and a great herd of yellow muntjacs ran out. When they saw people, they merely gazed foolishly and stupidly, not fearing them at all. Sanzang said, “I suppose these muntjacs and deer are what the Taibao raises to maintain the household?” Boqin said, “It is like the households in your Chang’an City: the wealthy gather treasures, and those with estates gather stores of rice and grain. We hunters can only gather and raise some wild beasts, to prepare for cloudy days.” The two of them talked and walked at leisure; before they knew it, dusk had fallen, and they returned to the front residence to rest. Early the next morning, the whole household, old and young, rose and prepared a vegetarian meal to entertain the Elder, asking him to begin the recitation of scriptures. The Elder washed his hands, then, together with the Taibao, took incense before the household shrine and bowed to it. Only then did Sanzang strike the wooden fish. First he recited the True Words for Purifying the Mouth Karma, then he recited the Divine Spell for Purifying Body and Mind, and afterward opened a volume of the *Scripture for Delivering the Dead*. When he had finished chanting it, Boqin again asked him to write a memorial for recommending the dead, and then opened and recited the *Diamond Sutra* and the *Guanyin Scripture*. Each was chanted aloud in a clear, high voice. When the recitations were finished, they ate the midday vegetarian meal, after which he recited the *Lotus Sutra* and the *Amitabha Sutra*, chanting several volumes of each. He also recited a volume of the *Peacock Scripture* and spoke of the story of the bhikṣu washing away his karma. Before long, it was again late in the day. They offered all manner of incense and sacrificial fire, burned the paper images of the various spirits and horses, and burned the memorial recommending the dead. When the Buddhist services were complete, they each went to sleep. Yet it is said that the spirit of Boqin’s father, having been saved through recommendation and delivered from sinking into perdition, had already come to his own house as a ghost and entrusted a dream to all the old and young of the household, saying: “In the underworld, I suffered bitterly and could not escape, and for a long time I was unable to be reborn. Now, fortunately, the Holy Monk has recited the scriptures and dispelled my karmic sins. The King of Hell has sent someone to escort me to the wealthy lands of Zhonghua, where I have gone to be reborn into the household of an honored elder. You must properly thank the Elder and do not slight him, do not slight him. I am off.” This is precisely what is meant by: “The adornment of all dharmas truly has its purpose; recommending the dead frees them from suffering and brings them out of perdition.” When the entire household awoke from the dream, the sun had already risen in the east. Boqin’s wife said: “Taibao, tonight I dreamed that Father came home and said that in the underworld he suffered bitterly and could not escape, and for a long time was unable to be reborn. Now, fortunately, the Holy Monk has recited the scriptures and dispelled his karmic sins. The King of Hell sent someone to escort him to the wealthy lands of Zhonghua, where he went to be reborn into the household of an honored elder, and instructed us to properly thank that Elder and not slight him. After he finished speaking, he went straight out the door and wandered away. We called to him, but he did not answer; we tried to keep him, but could not. Upon waking, it was only a dream.” Boqin said: “I too had just such a dream, exactly like yours. Let us rise and go tell Mother.” The husband and wife were just about to go tell her when they heard the old mother calling: “Boqin, my child, come here. I have something to tell you.” The two went before her. The old mother sat on the bed and said: “My son, tonight I had a joyous dream. I dreamed that your father came home and said that, thanks to the Elder’s saving rites, his karmic sins had been dispelled, and he had gone to the wealthy lands of Zhonghua to be reborn into the household of an honored elder.” The husband and wife both laughed heartily and said: “My wife and I both had this dream and were just coming to report it. Unexpectedly, Mother called us, and it is the same dream.” They then called everyone in the household, old and young, to rise and prepared their thanks. They made ready the horses for him, and all went forward to bow and thank him, saying: “Many thanks to the Elder for recommending and saving our deceased father, freeing him from hardship and bringing him to rebirth. We can never repay you.” Sanzang said: “What ability does this poor monk possess, that I should dare trouble you to offer thanks?” Boqin related the dream-words of the three members of the household to Sanzang from beginning to end, and Sanzang was also delighted. They soon provided a vegetarian meal and also brought out one liang of silver as thanks. Sanzang would not accept a single coin. The whole family again earnestly bowed and entreated him, but Sanzang ultimately accepted not a single coin. He merely said: “It is enough that you were willing to show compassion and escort me for a journey; that is sufficient to make me deeply grateful for your affection.” Boqin and his mother and wife had no choice, and hurriedly made some coarse-flour baked cakes and dry provisions, then asked Boqin to escort him a long distance. Sanzang happily accepted them. The Taibao received his mother’s command, then summoned two or three household servants, each carrying hunting implements, and together they went onto the main road. The wild sights in the mountains and the scenery upon the ridges were beyond anything one could see to the end. After traveling for half a day, they saw opposite them a great mountain. Truly, it rose high to meet the blue heavens, towering, precipitous, and dangerous. Before long, Sanzang reached its edge. The Taibao climbed this mountain as though walking on level ground. When they had reached the middle of the mountain, Boqin turned back and stood below the road, saying: “Elder, please go forward on your own; I must turn back.” Hearing this, Sanzang rolled down from the saddle and dismounted, saying: “I beg you, please trouble yourself to escort me one more stretch.” Boqin said: “The Elder does not know. This mountain is called Two-Boundary Mountain. Its eastern half belongs to the jurisdiction of our Great Tang, while its western half is the territory of the Tartar tribes. The wolves and tigers over there will not submit to my authority, and I too cannot cross the boundary. You must go on by yourself.” Sanzang was alarmed. He opened his arms wide, grasped Boqin’s robe and sleeves, and shed tears as they found it difficult to part. Just as they were earnestly admonishing one another and bowing in farewell, they heard, from below the mountain’s foot, a cry like thunder: “My Master has come! My Master has come!” It startled Sanzang into a daze, while Boqin struggled. After all, who was it that was shouting? Let us listen to the explanation in the next installment.