Chapter 16

Now it happened that the master and disciple urged their horses forward, coming straight to the front of the mountain gate to look. Indeed, it was a monastery. But behold: Layer upon layer of halls and towers, tier upon tier of corridors and rooms. Outside the three-arched gate, lofty and majestic, ten thousand paths of colored clouds concealed it; before the Hall of the Five Blessings, brilliant and radiant, a thousand bands of red mist wound around it. Two paths of pines and bamboo, a grove of cypresses and junipers. The two paths of pines and bamboo, without reckoning of years or eras, were naturally pure and secluded; the grove of cypresses and junipers, possessing color and bearing, followed its proud beauty. Again one saw the bell and drum towers rising high, and the stupa tower steep and lofty. Meditating monks had settled their natures; birds twittering in the trees had leisurely voices. Lonely and dustless, truly lonely; clear and empty, possessing the Way, truly clear and empty. The poem says: The upper monastery, Jeta Grove, hidden in a green grotto, Its splendid scene surpassing the saha world. Indeed, pure lands are few among humankind; Throughout the realm’s famous mountains, monks occupy the greater part. The Elder dismounted, and the Pilgrim rested his luggage. Just as they were about to enter the gate, a group of monks came walking out from within. Look at how they appeared: On their heads they wore left-bun caps, Upon their bodies, undefiled robes. Copper rings hung from both ears, Silk sashes bound their waists. Grass sandals made their steps steady, Wooden fish were carried in their hands. Their mouths constantly uttered recitations, And they always took refuge in Prajñā. When Sanzang saw them, he stood by the gate and offered a greeting. The monk hurriedly returned the courtesy and said with a smile, “I failed to look up.” He asked, “From where have you come? Please enter the abbot’s quarters and have some tea.” Sanzang said, “This disciple is an imperial envoy from the Eastern Land, traveling to the Thunderclap Monastery to worship Buddha and seek scriptures. It is now growing late here, and I wish to borrow your upper monastery for one night.” The monk said, “Please come in and sit inside, please come in and sit inside.” Only then did Sanzang call for the Pilgrim to lead the horse in. The monk suddenly caught sight of the Pilgrim’s appearance and was somewhat frightened, so he asked, “What sort of thing is the one leading the horse?” Sanzang said, “Quietly, quietly. His temper is quick. If he hears you say ‘what sort of thing,’ he will become angry. He is my disciple.” The monk shuddered, biting his finger, and said, “Such an ugly-headed, monstrous-looking creature—how could you take him as a disciple?” Sanzang said, “You cannot see through him. Ugly he may be, but he is exceedingly useful.” The monk had no choice but to enter the mountain gate together with Sanzang and the Pilgrim. Inside the mountain gate, they again saw that the main hall bore four large characters: “Guanyin Monastery.” Sanzang was delighted once more and said, “This disciple has repeatedly received the holy grace of the Bodhisattva, yet has never had the opportunity to bow and give thanks. Now that I have encountered a monastery, it is just as though I had seen the Bodhisattva herself. How good it is to offer thanks in worship.” Hearing this, the monk immediately ordered a Daoist attendant to open the hall doors and invited Sanzang to worship. The Pilgrim tethered the horse, cast down the luggage, and went up to the hall with Sanzang. Sanzang stretched his back and relaxed his body, spread out his chest, and bowed his head to the ground before the golden image. The monk then went to beat the drum. The Pilgrim went to strike the bell. Sanzang prostrated himself before the altar, pouring out his heart in prayer. When the prayers and bows were finished, the monk stopped the drum, but the Pilgrim continued striking the bell without pause, sometimes quickly and sometimes slowly, striking it for a long while. The Daoist attendant said, “The worship is finished. Why are you still striking the bell?” Only then did the Pilgrim cast down the bell mallet and say with a laugh, “How could you understand? This is my way of ‘being a monk for one day and striking the bell for one day.’” At that moment, he startled all the monks of the monastery, great and small, as well as the elders of the upper and lower quarters. Hearing the bell ringing chaotically, they all crowded out and said, “What wild man is here beating the bells and drums recklessly?” The Pilgrim leaped forward and cried with a shout, “It was your grandfather Sun who struck it for amusement.” The monks, seeing him, were so frightened that they tumbled and rolled about, all crawling upon the ground and crying, “Grandfather Thunder Duke!” The Pilgrim said, “The Thunder Duke is my great-grandson. Get up, get up. Do not be afraid. We are grand masters who have come from the Eastern Land, Great Tang.” Only then did the monks perform their obeisances. When they saw Sanzang, they all at last felt reassured and were no longer afraid. Among them, the abbot of the monastery invited them, saying, “Grand masters, come to the rear abbot’s quarters and be served tea.” They then untied the bridle and led in the horse, lifted the luggage, turned past the main hall, and went straight into the rear rooms, where the order of seats was arranged. The abbot presented tea and then arranged a vegetarian offering. The daylight was still early, and Sanzang had not yet finished expressing his thanks when he saw two young attendants supporting an old monk as he came out from the rear. Look at how he was dressed: Upon his head he wore a Vairochana square cap, Its cat’s-eye gem finial shining brightly; Upon his body he wore a brocade and velvet short robe, Its gold edging of kingfisher feathers flashing brilliantly. A pair of monk’s shoes gathered with the Eight Treasures, A staff inlaid with cloud-stars. His entire face was creased with wrinkles, like the Old Mother of Mount Li; His pair of dim eyes, however, were like the Dragon Lord of the Eastern Sea. His mouth did not close against the wind, for his teeth had fallen out; His waist was bent and his back crooked, for his sinews had contracted. The monks said, “The patriarch has arrived.” Sanzang bowed and performed a courtesy as he welcomed him, saying, “Elder Abbot, this disciple offers you greetings.” The old monk returned the courtesy, and they each took their seats. The old monk said, “A moment ago, the young ones said that a grand master from the Tang court in the Eastern Land had arrived, so I came out to pay my respects.” Sanzang said, “I have lightly intruded upon your precious mountain without knowing proper conduct. Forgive me, forgive me.” The old monk said, “You are too modest, you are too modest.” He then asked, “Grand master, how many miles is it from the Eastern Land to this place?” Sanzang said, “After leaving the borders of Chang’an, there are more than five thousand li. After crossing the Two-Boundary Mountain, I took in a young disciple. Along the way, I passed through the Western Fan Habi Kingdom; after traveling for two months and another five or six thousand li, I finally arrived at your honored place.” The old monk said, “That makes a distance of ten thousand li. This disciple of mine has idly passed his whole life away. I have never even left the mountain gate. Truly, as the saying goes, ‘sitting in a well and observing the sky’—I am but a rotten and useless old one.” Sanzang again asked, “How many years has the Elder Abbot attained?” The old monk said, “I have foolishly grown to two hundred and seventy years.” Hearing this, the Pilgrim said, “He is still my ten-thousandth-generation grandson.” Sanzang shot him a glance and said, “Mind your words. Do not fail to recognize rank and status and offend people.” The monk then asked, “Grand master, how many years of age are you?” The Pilgrim said, “I dare not say.” The old monk took it merely for a mad remark and did not take it to heart, nor did he ask further. He only ordered tea to be presented. A young attendant brought out a mutton-fat jade tray bearing three gold-inlaid enamel tea cups. Another attendant carried a white-copper pot and poured three cups of fragrant tea. Truly, its color outshone the splendor of pomegranate blossoms, and its flavor surpassed the fragrance of osmanthus flowers. Seeing it, Sanzang could not praise and admire it enough, saying, “Fine objects, fine objects. They are truly beautiful food and beautiful vessels.” The old monk said, “An embarrassment to the eye, an embarrassment to the eye. You, grand master, are from the Celestial Dynasty, the superior kingdom, and have seen a wide array of rare treasures. Vessels such as these are hardly worthy of your praise. Since you have come from an upper kingdom, might you have some treasure that you could lend to this disciple for a look?” Sanzang said, “How pitiful. Our Eastern Land has no treasures of any consequence. Even if there were some, the journey is so far that they could not have been carried along.” The Pilgrim said from beside him, “Master, the other day I saw that robe in the bundle. Is it not a treasure? Why not take it out and let him look at it?” When the monks heard mention of the cassock, they all laughed coldly. The Pilgrim said, “What are you laughing at?” The abbot said, “The grand master has just said that a cassock is a treasure. Those words are truly laughable. If we speak of cassocks, people of our rank have no fewer than twenty or thirty. As for our patriarch, he has been a monk here for two hundred and fifty or sixty years and possesses a full seven or eight hundred.” He called out, “Bring them out and let us have a look.” The old monk, too, was merely showing off for the moment, so he ordered the Daoist attendant to open the treasury. The dhūta carried out chests, twelve in all, and placed them in the courtyard, where the locks were opened. Clothing racks were set up on both sides, ropes were stretched around the four sides, and the cassocks were shaken open one by one and hung up for Sanzang to inspect. Indeed, the entire hall was filled with embroidered brocade, and all four walls with damask and silk. The Pilgrim examined them one by one. They were all things woven with flowers and brocade, embroidered and gilded. He laughed and said, “Good, good, good. Put them away, put them away. Bring out ours as well, and let us have a look.” Sanzang seized the Pilgrim and whispered, “Disciple, do not contend with people over wealth. You and I are traveling alone in a foreign land; I fear something may go wrong.” The Pilgrim said, “What could go wrong by showing the kasaya?” Sanzang said, “You do not understand. The ancients said: ‘Rare and precious objects must not be shown to greedy and treacherous men.’ Once they enter his eyes, they will stir his heart; once they stir his heart, they will give rise to schemes. You are one who fears calamity. If he asks for it and you comply with his request, that is one thing; otherwise, the loss of your body and life may all arise from this. It is no small matter.” The Pilgrim said, “Set your mind at ease, set your mind at ease. It is all in this old Sun’s hands.” You see, without further argument he hurried away, undid the bundle, and at once rays of light burst forth. It was still wrapped in two layers of oiled paper. When the paper was removed and the kasaya taken out and shaken open, red radiance filled the room, and colored splendor flooded the courtyard. When the assembled monks saw it, there was not one whose heart did not rejoice and whose mouth did not praise it. It truly was a fine kasaya. On it were written: A thousand ingenious pearls hang in splendor, Ten thousand rare Buddha treasures gather there. Above and below, dragon whiskers spread brocade, On all four sides,兜羅錦 forms the bordered edge. When worn upon the body, goblins and monsters vanish; When draped over the person, demons and spirits enter the Yellow Springs. Celestial immortals in transformation made it with their own hands; None but a true monk dare put it on. When the old abbot saw such a treasure, his treacherous heart was indeed stirred. He walked forward, knelt before Sanzang, and let tears fall from his eyes. “I, your disciple, truly have no such fortune,” he said. Sanzang helped him up. “What do you wish to say, old院 master?” He said, “Just now your venerable lord’s treasure was opened, but the sky has grown dark, and my eyes are dim and blurred with age, so I cannot see it clearly. Is that not simply my lack of fortune?” Sanzang instructed, “Bring a lamp in your hands and let him look again.” The old monk said, “Your venerable lord’s treasure already shines brightly. If a lamp is lit as well, it will be even more dazzling, and there will be no hope of examining it closely.” The Pilgrim said, “How do you wish to look at it, then?” The old monk said, “If your venerable lord will graciously set his mind at ease and allow your disciple to take it to the rear chamber and examine it carefully for one night, then I will return it to your venerable lord tomorrow morning before you depart westward. What does your honored will think?” When Sanzang heard this, he was startled and reproached the Pilgrim. “It is all your fault, all your fault.” The Pilgrim laughed. “What are you afraid of? Let me wrap it up and have him take it away to look at. If anything should go amiss, this old Sun will take full responsibility.” Sanzang could not stop him. He handed the kasaya to the old monk and said, “Take it and look at it as you please. But return it to me tomorrow morning just as it is. You must not damage or soil it in the slightest.” The old monk joyfully instructed the young attendant to carry the kasaya inside. He then ordered the assembled monks to sweep the meditation hall in front until it was clean, take two rattan beds, arrange bedding upon them, and invite the two venerable lords to rest. At the same time, he ordered them to prepare the morning vegetarian meal for their departure. Thereupon they all dispersed. The master and disciples closed the meditation hall and went to sleep; but this need not be discussed. Now, that monk had tricked the kasaya into his hands. He took it beneath the lamp in the rear chamber, and, facing it, wailed and wept bitterly. The monks of the monastery were so alarmed that none dared go to sleep first. The little attendant did not know what was happening, but went and reported to the assembled monks, “Grandfather has been crying until the second watch, and still has not stopped.” Two of his granddisciples, who were his favorites, came forward and asked, “Master, why are you crying?” The old monk said, “I am crying because I have no fortune and cannot look upon the Tang monk’s treasure.” The little monk said, “Grandfather, your years have made you senile. His kasaya is right before you. All you need do is undo it and look at it. Why must you weep so bitterly?” The old monk said, “I cannot look at it for long. I am two hundred and seventy years old, and have gathered several hundred kasayas for nothing. How could I obtain one like his? How could I become a Tang monk?” The little monk said, “Master, you are mistaken. The Tang monk is merely a traveling monk who has left his native village and abandoned his home. You are of such advanced age and enjoy such comforts; that is already sufficient. Why would you wish to be a traveling monk like him?” The old monk said, “Although I am a settled monk, at ease and enjoying my declining years, I still cannot wear his kasaya. If only I could wear it for a single day, I could close my eyes even in death without regret; then my life as a monk in this mortal world would have been worthwhile.” The assembled monks said, “How absurd. If you wish to wear his, what difficulty is there? We will keep him here tomorrow for one day, and you can wear it for one day. If we keep him here for ten days, you can wear it for ten days. That will do. Why weep so bitterly?” The old monk said, “Even if we kept him for a whole year, I could wear it only for that year. In the end, I still could not possess it forever. When he wished to leave, we would have to let him go. How could we keep him for the long term?” Just as they were speaking, a little monk named Guangzhi stepped forward and said, “If Grandfather wishes to possess it for the long term, that is easy.” When the old monk heard this, he immediately brightened and said, “My child, what brilliant idea do you have?” Guangzhi said, “Those two Tang monks are travelers and have suffered greatly on the road. They are now asleep. We should choose several strong men, take spears and knives, break open the meditation hall, kill them, and bury their corpses in the rear garden. Only our family would know. Then we could also take their white horse and traveling bags, while keeping the kasaya as a family heirloom. Would that not be a plan to ensure our descendants’ prosperity for generations?” When the old abbot heard this, his heart filled with joy. Only then did he wipe away his tears and say, “Good, good, good! This plan is perfect.” He immediately began to gather spears and knives. Among them was another little monk named Guangmou, Guangzhi’s junior fellow disciple. He came forward and said, “This plan is not good. If we want to kill them, we must first see how things stand. The pale-faced one seems easy enough, but the hairy-faced one seems difficult. What if we fail to kill them and instead bring calamity upon ourselves? I have a way that requires neither knives nor weapons. I wonder what your honored will thinks of it.” The old monk said, “My child, what is your method?” Guangmou said, “In your grandson’s opinion, we should now summon all the heads of the large and small quarters on East Mountain, and require each man to bring one bundle of dry firewood. We will abandon those three rooms of the meditation hall and set them ablaze, so that the two men have no way to escape, and burn the horse along with them. If the people living before or behind the mountain see it, we will simply say that the Tang monk was careless, started a fire, and burned down our meditation hall. Would those two monks not be burned to death as well? It would also conceal the truth from the eyes of others. Would the kasaya not then become our family heirloom?” When those monks heard this, there was not one who was not delighted. They all said, “Excellent, excellent, excellent! This plan is even better, even better!” They then instructed every quarter to bring in firewood. Alas! This plan was precisely what would bring the long-lived old monk to the end of his allotted life, and turn Guanyin Monastery into dust. It happened that his monastery had seventy or eighty quarters, with more than two hundred monks, great and small. That night they all carried firewood together, surrounding the meditation hall in front, behind, and on all four sides until no passage remained. They prepared to set it ablaze; but this need not be discussed. Now, Sanzang and his disciples had settled down to rest. The Pilgrim, however, was a numinous monkey. Though he had lain down to sleep, he merely preserved his spirit and refined his qi, keeping his eyes half awake. Suddenly he heard people constantly moving outside, with the clattering of firewood and the stirring of wind. He grew suspicious and thought, “It is quiet at this hour of night. How can I hear the sound of people walking? Could they be thieves plotting to harm us?” He sprang up at once, intending to open the door and investigate, but feared that he would awaken his master. You see, he gathered his spirit, shook his body, and transformed himself into a little bee. Truly: Sweet of mouth but poisonous of tail, slender-waisted and light of body; Through flowers and over willows it flies like an arrow, seeking fragrance and clinging to fluff like a falling star. Its tiny body can bear a heavy load; its thin, noisy wings know how to ride the wind. From beneath the roof beams it slipped out, to see everything clearly. Just then the multitude of monks were carrying firewood and hauling grass, having already surrounded the meditation hall and set it ablaze. The Pilgrim laughed secretly and said, “It is indeed just as my master said: he intends to take our lives and scheme for my kasaya, and therefore has conceived such a poisonous heart. I would take up my staff and strike him, but alas, he cannot withstand a beating; a single bout of blows would kill him, and my master would again blame me for acting violently. Enough, enough, enough. I shall give him a ‘sheep led away by the hand,’ use his own scheme against him, and teach him that he cannot remain here!” What a fine Pilgrim! With a single somersault, he leaped into the Southern Heavenly Gate. Pang, Liu, Gou, and Bi bent their bodies in alarm, while Ma, Zhao, Wen, and Guan bowed with their backs bent, all saying, “This is bad, this is bad! The master who once raised havoc in Heaven has come again.” The Pilgrim waved his hand and said, “Gentlemen, dispense with ceremony; do not be alarmed. I have come to seek Guangmu Heavenly King.” Before he had finished speaking, he encountered the Heavenly King, who had already arrived and greeted the Pilgrim, saying, “Long have we been parted, long have we been parted. Previously I heard that Guanyin Bodhisattva had gone to see the Jade Emperor and borrowed the Four Duty Meritorious Officers, the Six Ding and Six Jia, and the Jie-di, among others, to protect Tang Sanzang on his journey west to obtain the scriptures. It was said that you had become his disciple. How have you found leisure to come here today?” The Pilgrim said, “Let us not yet speak of our separation. Tang Sanzang encountered wicked men on the road, and they have set fire to burn him. The matter is exceedingly urgent, so I have come especially to borrow your fire-repelling cover, to save him. Bring it quickly for me to use; I shall return at once.” The Heavenly King said, “You are mistaken. Since wicked men have set the fire, you should borrow water to save him. Why do you want the fire-repelling cover?” The Pilgrim said, “How could you know the circumstances? If we borrow water to save him, the fire will not be able to burn, which would instead suit them; by borrowing this cover, however, we can protect Tang Sanzang from harm, while the rest—let them be, let them burn as much as they will. Quickly, quickly! I fear it may already be too late. Do not delay the business I must conduct below.” The Heavenly King laughed and said, “This monkey still harbors such an unkind heart: he cares only for himself and does not concern himself with others.” The Pilgrim said, “Quickly, quickly! Do not trifle with your tongue and ruin the great affair.” The Heavenly King did not dare refuse to lend it, and so handed the cover to the Pilgrim. The Pilgrim took it, pressed down upon the cloud, and went straight to the ridge of the meditation hall, covering Tang Sanzang, the white horse, and the luggage. He then went and sat atop the Abbot’s quarters at the rear, protecting the kasaya. Seeing those people set the fire ablaze, he twisted his fingers into a spell, recited a spell, and drew in a breath toward the xun quarter, then blew it out. A gust of wind arose, turning the fire and blowing it into a roaring, chaotic blaze. What a fire, what a fire! It was: Black smoke vast and dim, red flames soaring high. Black smoke vast and dim—across the long sky not a single star could be seen; red flames soaring high—the great earth was lit, a thousand li glowing red. At first, bright and blazing, golden serpents; afterward, mighty and fearsome, blood-red horses. The Three Qi of the south displayed their valor, while the Great Spirit Huilu exerted his magic power. Dry firewood fed the fierce nature of the flames—what need was there to speak of Suiren drilling wood? Before the gate, hot oil floated colored flames, surpassing the Old Ancestor opening his furnace. Truly, when the merciless fire broke forth, how could it withstand this deliberate act of violence? Instead of quelling disaster, they had turned to aiding cruelty. The wind followed the force of the fire, and the flames flew more than a thousand zhang high; the fire flaunted the might of the wind, and ashes burst upward beyond the clouds of the ninth heaven. Pinging and banging, it was just like firecrackers at the end of the year; spluttering and roaring, it was just like the sound of cannons in an army. The Buddha images at the scene burned with nowhere to flee, and the sangharama of the eastern courtyard had no place to hide. It surpassed the night battle at Red Cliff, and exceeded the fire within the Epang Palace. This was truly a spark of fire able to burn fields of ten thousand qing. In an instant, with the wind raging and the fire flourishing, the entire Guanyin Monastery was crimson everywhere. Look at those monks: carrying boxes and lifting baskets, snatching tables and carrying pots, they filled the entire monastery with cries of misery reaching to Heaven. Sun Wukong protected the Abbot’s quarters at the rear, while the fire-repelling cover covered the meditation hall in front. Everywhere else, before and behind, the flames blazed forth. It truly was a brilliant red fire illuminating the sky, with golden light shining through the walls. Unexpectedly, when the fire arose, it startled the beasts and monsters of an entire mountain. Some twenty li due south of this Guanyin Monastery stood Black Wind Mountain. Within the mountain was a Black Wind Cave, and within the cave was a monster who was just waking from sleep and turning over. Seeing light shining through the window, he thought it was dawn. When he rose to look, however, it was the firelight from the due north, flickering brightly. The monster was greatly startled and said, “Ah! This must be a fire that has broken out in the Guanyin Monastery. These monks are truly careless. Let me go and help them put it out.” What a fine monster! He rose upon a cloud and arrived beneath the smoke and flames. Indeed, the fire rushed into the sky; all the halls in front were empty, while the smoke and fire in the two corridors were still blazing. He took great strides and barged inside, just calling out for someone to bring water, when he saw that there was no fire at the rear quarters, and that someone atop the roof ridge was blowing the wind. He immediately understood what was happening. Hastily entering to look, he saw within the center of the Abbot’s quarters a glow of rosy light and colored radiance, and upon the table an azure-felt bundle. He untied it and looked inside, and saw a brocade kasaya, an extraordinary treasure of the Buddhist gate. Truly, wealth moves the human heart. He neither put out the fire nor called for water; taking the kasaya, he seized the opportunity amid the chaos, pulled back his cloud-steps, and went straight toward East Mountain. The fire burned until dawn of the fifth watch, only then dying out. Look at those monks: naked and bare, wailing and weeping, they all went into the ashes to search for copper and iron, rake through the rotten charcoal, and dig for gold and silver. Some, in the baskets beside the walls, covered and erected lean-tos; some, at the foot of the bare walls, set up a pot and prepared food. Their cries of injustice, their disorderly shouting and tumult, need not be discussed. But to speak of the Pilgrim: having taken the fire-repelling cover, he sent himself by a somersault up to the Southern Heavenly Gate, returned it to Guangmu Heavenly King, and said, “Thanks for the loan, thanks for the loan.” The Heavenly King received it and said, “The Great Sage is truly sincere. I was just worried that you would not return my treasure, and that there would be nowhere to seek it from you; fortunately, you have promptly brought it back.” The Pilgrim said, “Is your old grandson the sort of person who deceives others to their faces? This is called, ‘Borrow well and return well; borrow again without difficulty.’” The Heavenly King said, “We have not met for so long. Please come to my palace and sit for a while—what say you?” The Pilgrim said, “Your old grandson is different from before. The days of rotten benches and lofty, expansive conversation are over. Now I protect Tang Sanzang and cannot find leisure. We shall recount our affairs later, later.” He hurriedly bade farewell and dropped from the cloud. Then he saw the Sun Star above him. He went straight to the front of the meditation hall, shook his body, transformed into a little bee, and flew inside. Resuming his true form to look, he saw that his master was still sleeping soundly. The Xingzhe called out: “Master, it is dawn. Get up.” Sanzang only then awoke, turned over, and said, “Indeed.” He put on his clothes and came out through the door. Suddenly he raised his head and saw only some fallen walls and red walls; the towers, platforms, and palace halls were gone. Greatly startled, he said, “Ah! How is it that all the palace halls have disappeared, and there are only red walls? What is the meaning of this?” The Xingzhe said, “You are still dreaming. There was a fire last night.” Sanzang said, “How did I not know?” The Xingzhe said, “This old Sun guarded the meditation hall. Seeing that you were sleeping soundly, I did not disturb you.” Sanzang said, “You had the ability to guard the meditation hall; how then did you not save the other rooms from the fire?” The Xingzhe laughed and said, “Let me make this clear to you: Just as you said yesterday, he had fallen in love with our kasaya and schemed to burn and kill us. If this old Sun had not noticed, by now we would all have been reduced to ashes and bones.” Hearing this, Sanzang was frightened and said, “Was it they who set the fire?” The Xingzhe said, “If it was not he, then who was it?” Sanzang said, “Could it be that, because they slighted you, you did this deed?” The Xingzhe said, “Is this old Sun such a lazy and wicked person as to do such an evil thing? In truth, it was his household that set the fire. Seeing how poisonous his heart was, this old Sun indeed did not save his fire; I merely helped him a little by adding to the wind.” Sanzang said, “Heavens, heavens! When a fire breaks out, one should only help with water. How did you instead help with wind?” The Xingzhe said, “Do you not know the saying of the ancients: ‘When a man has no intention of harming a tiger, the tiger has no intention of harming a man’? If he had not made fire, how would I have been willing to make wind?” Sanzang said, “Where is the kasaya? Could it perhaps have been burned?” The Xingzhe said, “Nothing is wrong, nothing is wrong. It could not burn; the abbot’s chamber where the kasaya was kept had no fire.” Sanzang said angrily, “I do not care about you, but if it has suffered even the slightest damage, I shall merely recite that spell, and you will be dead.” The Xingzhe panicked and said, “Master, do not recite it, do not recite it. I promise to find and return your kasaya. Wait while I go fetch it, and then we shall continue on our way.” Sanzang then led the horse, while the Xingzhe shouldered the baggage, and they left the meditation hall, heading straight for the rear abbot’s chamber. Now, while those monks were in the midst of their grief, they suddenly saw the master and disciple leading the horse and carrying the baggage toward them. Terrified out of their wits, each cried, “The wronged ghosts have come to claim our lives!” The Xingzhe shouted, “What wronged ghosts claiming lives? Quickly return my kasaya.” All the monks knelt together, kowtowing, and said, “Grandfather! Every wrong has its wrongdoer, and every debt has its debtor. If lives are to be claimed, it has nothing to do with us. It was all Guangmou and the old monk who plotted together to harm you. Do not demand our lives.” The Xingzhe gave a sharp shout and said, “You accursed beasts! Who is asking you for any life? Just bring out the kasaya and return it to me, so that I may continue on my way!” Among them, two monks of some courage said, “Old Master, you were already burned to death inside the meditation hall, and now you have come again to demand the kasaya. Are you truly still human, or are you a ghost?” The Xingzhe laughed and said, “You pack of wicked beasts, where could there have been any fire? Go look at the meditation hall in front, then come back and speak.” The monks scrambled to their feet and went forward to look. The doors, windows, and lattice panels outside the meditation hall had not been scorched in the least. The people were terrified, and only then recognized that Sanzang was a divine monk of extraordinary kind, while the Xingzhe was an honored Dharma-protector. They all came forward and kowtowed, saying, “We had eyes but no pearls and did not recognize a True Person descended to the mortal realm. Your kasaya is in the rear abbot’s chamber, with the old Grandmaster.” Sanzang passed through three or five layers of ruined walls and broken partitions, sighing without end. He saw that the abbot’s chamber indeed had no fire. The monks rushed inside and called out, “Grandfather, the Tang Monk is a divine being and was not burned to death. Instead, our own household has now been ruined. Quickly bring out the kasaya and return it to him.” As it happened, the old monk could not find the kasaya, and he had also burned the buildings of his monastery. He was in a state of extreme vexation and agitation. Upon hearing these words, how could he dare answer? Finding no plan and no way forward or back, he strode off, bent at the waist, and struck his head hard against the wall. Pitifully, the impact split his skull and sent blood streaming; his soul and spirit scattered, his breath was cut off in his throat, and the ground was stained red. A poem offers proof. The poem says: Alas, the old monk’s nature was foolish and blind, Vainly he lived as a long-lived old man in the human world. Desiring the kasaya to be handed down through distant ages, How could he know that the Buddha-treasure was no ordinary thing? Taking what was easy to obtain as something lasting, He was bound to grow desolate and bring his enterprise to ruin. What use were Guangzhi and Guangmou? Harming others for his own benefit ended in utter emptiness. The monks were so frightened that they cried, “The Grandmaster has dashed himself to death, and the kasaya is still nowhere to be seen. What are we to do?” The Xingzhe said, “I suppose you have stolen it and hidden it. All of you come out and prepare a register by name; this old Sun will inspect you one by one.” The masters of the courtyards in the upper and lower chambers prepared two registers listing all the monks, dhuta ascetics, acolytes, and Daoist practitioners of the monastery, numbering two hundred and thirty persons in all, great and small. The Xingzhe invited his master to sit in the high seat, while he called out every name from beginning to end and searched them. He made them all unfasten the fronts of their robes and clearly checked each one; there was no kasaya. He then carefully searched from beginning to end through the trunks and other belongings that had been carried and snatched out of the various rooms. But where could any trace be found? Sanzang was vexed in his heart and endlessly resentful of the Xingzhe, yet he sat above and began reciting the spell. The Xingzhe fell heavily to the ground, clutching his head, unable to endure it, crying only, “Do not recite it, do not recite it! I promise to find and return the kasaya.” Seeing this, the monks trembled one and all, came forward, knelt, and pleaded for reconciliation. Only then did Sanzang close his mouth and stop reciting. The Xingzhe sprang up with a somersault and drew the iron staff from his ear. He was about to strike those monks when Sanzang shouted to stop him, saying, “You monkey-head, your head is hurting and you are still not afraid? You would still be rude? Do not raise your hand, and do not harm anyone. Question them once more for me.” The monks kowtowed and worshiped, and tearfully pleaded with Sanzang: “Old Master, spare our lives. We truly did not see it. This was all the fault of that old dead ghost. Last night, while looking at your kasaya, he wept until deep into the night and did not even dare look at it afterward. Thinking to make it last forever and turn it into a family heirloom, he devised a plan and scheme to burn and kill you, Old Master. After the fire began, a violent wind arose. Each person thought only of putting out the fire and carrying away the belongings. We truly do not know where the kasaya went.” The Pilgrim grew furious, walked into the abbot’s quarters, carried out the corpse of that dead old ghost, and stripped it bare for a careful examination, yet there was not the slightest trace of that treasure anywhere on his body. He then dug three feet into the ground throughout the abbot’s quarters, but there was still no sign of it. The Pilgrim pondered for a long while, then asked, “Could there be some demon here that has attained the Dao?” The abbot said, “If Your Lordship does not ask, you would never know. To the southeast of this place there is a Black Wind Mountain. Inside Black Wind Cave there is a Black Great King. This old dead ghost often discoursed on the Dao with him; he is a demon. There is nothing else.” The Pilgrim said, “How far is that mountain from here?” The abbot said, “Only twenty li. The mountain whose peak can be seen from here is the one.” The Pilgrim laughed and said, “Master, set your mind at ease. There is no need to say more; it must unquestionably have been that black monster who stole it.” Sanzang said, “His place is twenty li from here—how can you conclude that it was he?” The Pilgrim said, “Did you not see the fire last night? Its light soared ten thousand li and illuminated the Three Heavens. Let alone twenty li—even two hundred li would have been lit up. Surely it was he who saw the fire blazing brilliantly, took advantage of the opportunity, and came secretly here. Seeing that our cassock was a treasure, he must have seized it amid the confusion and carried it away. Wait while your Old Sun goes to look for him.” Sanzang said, “When you have gone, then what shall I rely on?” The Pilgrim said, “Do not worry. In secret, divine spirits will protect you; in the open, wait for me to order those monks to attend you.” He immediately summoned all the monks and said, “Let several of you go bury that old dead ghost; let several attend my master and look after my white horse.” The monks accepted the order. The Pilgrim then said, “Do not merely agree with your mouths. Once I have gone, you must not fail to serve him. Those who look after my master must keep pleasant expressions and cheerful faces; those who tend the white horse must provide water and fodder in proper measure. If you make even the slightest mistake, I will show you this very cudgel.” He drew out his cudgel and struck the fire-scorched brick wall with a bang, smashing the wall to powder and shaking down seven or eight layers of walls besides. When the monks saw this, their bones went limp and their bodies grew numb. They knelt, kowtowed, and shed tears, saying, “Grandfather, go forward with your mind at ease. We shall exert ourselves with reverence to serve Your Lordship, and certainly will not dare be the least bit negligent.” The Pilgrim, indeed, hastily mounted the Somersault Cloud and went straight to Black Wind Mountain to seek the cassock. It was precisely: The Golden Cicada sought the True Law and left the capital region, Leaning on his staff, he journeyed west across the green hills. Where tigers, leopards, wolves, and beasts crossed the road, Artisans, merchants, scholars, and travelers were rarely seen. On the road he met a foreign monk foolishly envious, Relying wholly on the might of the Great Sage Equal to Heaven. Fire arose and wind sprang up; the monastery of Chan was ruined, And by night the Black Bear stole the brocade cassock. As for whether the cassock will be found on this journey, and what fortune or misfortune will come of it, let us listen to the explanation in the next installment.