Chapter 21

Yet it is said that the fifty defeated and battered little demons, carrying some tattered flags and broken drums, rushed into the cave and reported: “Great King, the Tiger Vanguard could not contend with that hairy-faced monk. He was driven down the eastern mountain slope by him.” Hearing this, the old demon was exceedingly troubled. He lowered his head and remained silent, pondering a strategy, when another little demon from the front gate came in and said: “Great King, the Tiger Vanguard has been beaten to death by that hairy-faced monk. He is being dragged outside the gate, where he is cursing and challenging us to battle.” Hearing this, the old demon became even more troubled and said: “That fellow is truly ignorant. I never even ate his master, yet he has beaten my vanguard to death. Infuriating! Infuriating!” He called out: “Bring my armor. I have only heard people speak of some Sun Wukong. Let me go out and see what kind of nine-headed, eight-tailed monk he is, capture him, and bring him in here to answer for the life of my Tiger Vanguard.” The little demons hurriedly carried out the armor. The old demon armed himself in perfect order, took up a three-pronged steel fork, and led the host of demons out of his cave. The Great Sage stood waiting outside the gate. When he saw that demon come out, he was indeed valiant. Observe how he was dressed: His golden helmet shimmered in the sun, his golden armor gathered light. From his helmet streamed the tail feathers of a mountain pheasant; over his armor lay a pale goose-yellow gauze robe. His armor cords, coiled like dragons, gleamed with color; around his heart-guard mirror radiance flashed. His deerskin boots were dyed the color of locust blossoms; his brocade apron was adorned with willow-leaf velvet. In his hand he held a sharp three-pronged steel fork, No less than the Manifest Sage Lord of former years. The old demon came out through the gate and shouted in a harsh voice: “Which one is Sun Wukong?” The Pilgrim stood with the hide of the tiger monster beneath his feet and held the iron staff of his 如意如意. He answered: “Your maternal grandfather, Sun, is here. Send out my master.” The monster examined him closely and saw that the Pilgrim’s body was short and coarse, his face thin and emaciated, and that he was not even four feet tall. He laughed and said: “Pitiable, pitiable. I thought you were some sort of mighty hero who could overturn mountains and never be defeated. It turns out you are merely a skeletal sick wretch like this.” The Pilgrim laughed and said: “You son of a—what poor eyesight you have. Though your maternal grandfather is small, if you would only strike me on the head with the handle of your fork, I would grow three feet.” The monster said: “Hold your head firm and take one stroke from me.” The Great Sage showed no fear. The monster indeed struck him once. He bent his waist, and his feet lengthened by three feet, making him more than ten feet tall. The demon hurriedly pressed down his steel fork and shouted: “Sun Wukong, how dare you bring out that body-protecting transformation technique before my gate? Do not play tricks. Come forward, and let me show you my skill.” The Pilgrim laughed and said: “Son, as the saying goes: ‘When mercy is shown, the hand is not raised; once the hand is raised, mercy is not shown.’ Your maternal grandfather’s hand is heavy indeed. I fear you may not endure this staff.” The monster gave him no chance to speak, but twisted his steel fork around and thrust it straight at the Pilgrim’s chest. The Great Sage was a master who did not panic, while the panicked could not be a master. He swept out his iron staff, using the “Black Dragon Skims the Ground Stance,” knocked aside the steel fork, and then struck straight at the monster’s head. The two fought this splendid battle before the Yellow Wind Cave: The Demon King grew angry; the Great Sage displayed his might. The Demon King grew angry, intending to seize the Pilgrim and make him answer for his vanguard; The Great Sage displayed his might, wishing to capture the fiend and rescue the Elder. The fork came, the staff parried; the staff went, the fork met it. One was the Grand Marshal of the Mountain-Suppressing Host; The other was the Dharma-Protecting Handsome Monkey King. At first they battled amid dust and earth; Later each rose and fought in midair. The pointed steel fork was sharp and bright; The 如意如意 staff was black of body and yellow of bands. Those pierced by it would send their souls to the Netherworld; Those struck by it were certain to meet the King of Hell. All depended on swift hands and keen eyes; Strength of body and vigor of frame were indispensable. The two sides fought, casting away life and forgetting death, With no knowing which would remain safe and which would be wounded. The old demon and the Great Sage fought for thirty rounds without victory or defeat. The Pilgrim wished to accomplish a feat, so he used the technique of the “Body Outside the Body”: he plucked off a handful of hairs, chewed them to pieces in his mouth, and spat them upward, crying: “Transform!” They became more than a hundred Pilgrims, all dressed alike, each holding an iron staff, surrounding the monster in the air. The monster was frightened, but he too employed an ordinary ability: he hastily turned his head toward the xun quarter, opened his mouth three times, and blew out a breath. Suddenly, a gust of yellow wind swept up from the earth. It was a fierce wind indeed: Cold and whistling, heaven and earth changed; Without shadow or form, yellow sand whirled. It pierced forests, broke ridges, and toppled pines and plum trees; It scattered earth, raised dust, and shattered mountain peaks and cliffs. The waves of the Yellow River splashed, turbid to the bottom; The waters of the Xiang River surged, its waves rolling and turning. The azure heavens trembled, shaking the Palace of Dou and the Ox; It nearly blew down the Palace of Senluo. The Five Hundred Arhats clamored until the heavens rang; The Eight Great Vajras shouted together in confusion. Manjushri’s green-haired lion ran away; Samantabhadra’s white elephant could hardly be found. The tortoise and snake of Zhenwu lost their companions; The mule of Zitong had its saddle flap blown adrift. Traveling merchants cried out and appealed to Heaven; The boatmen bowed and promised every manner of vow. Lives on misty waters drifted amid the waves; The remnants of life spent pursuing fame and profit were carried away with the current. The immortal mountains and cave abodes were pitch-black; The isles of Penglai were dim and dark. Laojun could scarcely attend to his alchemy furnace; The Star Lord of Longevity put away his dragon-whisk fan. The Queen Mother was just departing for the Peach Banquet; A single gust scattered the sash and bracelets at her waist. Erlang lost his way in Guanzhou City; Nezha could not retrieve the sword from its case. The Heavenly King could no longer see the pagoda in his palm; Lu Ban hung up his golden-headed drill. The Precious Palace of Thunderclap Temple fell three tiers; The stone bridge of Zhaozhou broke into two. The single red sun was tossed until it gave no light; The stars filling the sky all grew dim and disordered. Birds from the southern mountain flew toward the northern mountain; The waters of the eastern lake spread toward the western lake. Males and females were torn apart and could no longer call to one another; Mothers and children were separated and could hardly cry out. The Dragon King searched the seas for the yakshas; The Thunder Duke searched everywhere for flashes of lightning. The Ten Generations of Kings of Hell sought their judges; In the underworld, Ox-Head pursued Horse-Face. This wind toppled Mount Potalaka; It swept up one scroll of Guanyin’s scriptures. White lotus flowers were torn loose and flew along the seashore; It blew down the Bodhisattva’s twelve courtyards. From Pangu to the present, winds have been seen before, But none was as baleful as this wind. Whoosh, whoosh—the cosmos nearly burst apart; The rivers and mountains for ten thousand miles all trembled. The monster unleashed this furious wind, and the little Pilgrims transformed from the Great Sage Sun’s hairs were blown about in midair, spinning chaotically like spinning wheels. They could not possibly swing their staffs, nor could they draw their bodies together. In alarm, the Pilgrim shook his body hairs and gathered them back onto his body. Then, alone, he raised his iron staff and advanced to strike. The monster again sprayed a mouthful of yellow wind directly into his face, causing his two fiery eyes and diamond pupils to be blown tightly shut, so that he could not open them. He could therefore no longer wield the iron staff and was defeated and forced from the battle. The demon withdrew the wind and returned to the cave; this need not be discussed further. It so happened that Zhu Bajie, seeing the Yellow Wind rise in great fury, with Heaven and Earth plunged into darkness, led the horse and guarded the luggage, lying low among the hollows of the mountain. He did not dare open his eyes or raise his head, but kept muttering prayers and making vows to the Buddha. Nor did he know how the battle between the Great Sage and the enemy had gone, or whether their master was alive or dead. While he was thus pondering anxiously, the wind suddenly died and the sky cleared. He abruptly raised his head and looked toward the cave entrance, but saw no weapons and heard no gongs or drums. The Fool still did not dare approach the gate, yet there was no one to watch the horse and baggage either. Truly, he was caught between advancing and retreating, and was utterly panic-stricken. As he worried, he heard Sun Dasheng shouting as he came from the west. Only then did he rise and greet him, saying, “Brother, what a mighty wind! Where have you come from?” The Pilgrim waved his hand and said, “It was fierce, fierce! Since I was born, this old Sun has never seen such a wind. That old demon wielded a three-pronged steel fork and came to fight me. After more than thirty rounds, I used the art of a ‘body beyond the body’ to surround and attack him. He became desperate, and so produced this gust of wind. It was truly vicious—it blew me so hard that I could not remain standing. I withdrew my art and fled before the wind. Ah—a fine wind! A fine wind! This old Sun too can summon the wind and call down the rain, but never have I seen wind as vicious as that demon’s.” Bajie said, “Brother, how was that demon’s martial skill?” The Pilgrim said, “It was passable. His fork techniques were quite orderly, and he fought me to a draw. It was only that the wind was so vicious that it was difficult to defeat him.” Bajie said, “How are we to rescue our master in such circumstances?” The Pilgrim said, “As for rescuing our master, we shall make another plan later. I wonder whether there is an eye doctor here. Let us have him treat my eyes.” Bajie said, “What happened to your eyes?” The Pilgrim said, “That monster blew a mouthful of wind at me. It made my eyeballs ache, and now cold tears keep streaming down.” Bajie said, “Brother, it is late in the day here in the middle of the mountain. Do not speak of finding an eye doctor—even lodging is nowhere to be found.” The Pilgrim said, “Finding lodging will not be difficult. I expect that demon still dares not harm our master. Let us first seek the main road, find some household, and stay there for the night. Tomorrow, when daylight comes, we shall return to subdue the demon.” Bajie said, “Exactly, exactly.” He then led the horse, lifted the luggage, and left the mountain hollow, proceeding to the mouth of the road. By now it was gradually growing dusk. Suddenly they heard the barking of dogs beneath a slope south of the road. The two halted and looked around. It was a farmstead, with the dim glow of lamplight shining from within. Without caring whether there was a path or not, they pushed through the weeds and went straight to the gate of the household. There they saw: Purple fungi lay in shadow, white stones stood gray. Purple fungi in shadow, among them green grass grew; White stones stood gray, half covered with green moss. A few small fireflies flashed brightly; A forest of wild trees stood in dense ranks. Fragrant orchids breathed their rich perfume; Tender bamboo had newly been planted. Clear springs flowed through winding ravines; Ancient cypresses leaned against deep cliffs. The place was secluded, with no traveler coming to roam; Before the gate, only wild flowers bloomed. The two did not dare enter unbidden, but could only call out, “Open the gate, open the gate!” An old man was there, bringing several young farmhands carrying forks, rakes, and brooms. They all came forward and asked, “Who is it? Who is it?” The Pilgrim bowed and said, “We are disciples of the Holy Monk of the Great Tang in the Eastern Land. We are traveling westward to worship the Buddha and seek the scriptures. Passing through this mountain, we were overtaken by the Yellow Wind King, who seized our master and carried him away. We have not yet managed to rescue him. It is now late, so we have come especially to your residence to beg lodging for one night. We humbly ask you to grant us this convenience.” The old man returned the salute and said, “Forgive me for not welcoming you sooner, forgive me. This is a remote place with many clouds and few people. When we suddenly heard someone calling at the gate, we feared it might be a demon fox, a tiger, or some band of mountain robbers. Thus, in my ignorant rusticity, I may have acted rashly and offended you, not knowing that you were two venerable elders. Please enter, please enter.” The brothers led in the horse and carried in the luggage, going straight to the inner part of the household. They tied up the horse and set down the burden, then paid their respects to the head of the farmstead and took their seats. A gray-haired servant brought tea. After the tea, several bowls of sesame rice were brought out. When they had finished eating, bedding was arranged and they were told to retire. The Pilgrim said, “I could do without sleep for now, but may I ask, good sir, whether there is anyone in this region who sells eye medicine?” The old man said, “Is it the venerable elder whose eyes are afflicted?” The Pilgrim said, “I shall not conceal the matter from you, old sir. We religious men have always been free of illness and have never known what it is to suffer from an eye ailment.” The old man said, “If your eyes are not afflicted, why ask for medicine?” The Pilgrim said, “Today, while rescuing our master at the entrance to the Yellow Wind Cave, we unexpectedly encountered that monster, who blew a mouthful of wind at me. It made my eyeballs ache, and now my eyes are full of tears. That is why I wish to find some eye medicine.” The old man said, “Amitabha, Amitabha! You venerable elder, though so young, how can you tell lies? The Yellow Wind King’s wind is the most terrible of all. His wind is unlike any spring wind, pine-and-bamboo wind, or wind from east, west, south, or north. …” Bajie said, “Perhaps you mean wind between the brain and skull, wind in the sheep’s ears, great numbness wind, or one-sided and straight-on headache wind?” The elder said, “No, no. It is called the Samadhi Divine Wind.” The Pilgrim said, “How can that be?” The old man said, “That wind can darken Heaven and Earth; it is skilled at blowing ghosts and gods into sorrow. It is vicious enough to split rocks and collapse cliffs, and when it blows upon a person, his life is immediately ended. If you encountered that wind and were blown by it, could you still expect to live? Only an immortal could emerge unscathed.” The Pilgrim said, “Indeed, indeed. Although we are not immortals, immortals are still my juniors. This life of mine is not so easily ended; it merely caused my eyeballs to ache.” The old man said, “Since you speak thus, you must be someone with a remarkable origin. There is no one here who sells eye medicine. This old man too has some cold tears whenever facing the wind. I once met an extraordinary person who transmitted a prescription called Sanhua Jiuzi Paste. It can cure every kind of wind-afflicted eye.” Hearing this, the Pilgrim bowed and said, “I beg you to give me a little, that I may try applying it.” The old man agreed at once. He went inside and brought out a small agate-stone jar. Pulling out the stopper, he dipped a jade hairpin into it, drew out a little, and applied it to the Pilgrim’s eyes. He told him not to open them, but to calm his mind and sleep; by morning they would be well. Having finished applying it, he put away the stone jar and led the young farmhands back inside. Bajie untied the bundle, spread out the bedding, and invited the Pilgrim to settle down. The Pilgrim kept his eyes closed and groped about blindly. Bajie laughed and said, “Sir, where is your staff for the blind?” The Pilgrim said, “You gluttonous, worthless fool, are you treating me as though I were blind?” The Fool chuckled silently to himself and went to sleep. The Pilgrim sat on the bedding and circulated his divine power. Only after the third watch had passed did he finally lie down to sleep. Before they knew it, the fifth watch was nearly over and dawn was approaching. The Pilgrim rubbed his face and opened his eyes, saying, “It truly is excellent medicine. Compared with before, my vision is a hundred times brighter.” He then turned his head and looked behind him. Ah! Where were the rooms, the houses, and the doors and windows? He saw only some tall old locust trees and willows. The brothers were all sleeping on the green grass beneath them. Bajie awoke and said, “Brother, why are you shouting?” The Pilgrim said, “Open your eyes and look.” The Fool suddenly raised his head and saw that the household had vanished. He scrambled up in alarm and said, “Where is my horse?” The Pilgrim said, “Is it not tied to the tree?” “And the luggage?” The Pilgrim said, “Is it not placed beside your head?” Bajie said, “This household is truly lazy. They moved away without even calling out to us. If only they had let this old pig know, I could have sent you some tea and fruit. Perhaps they were hiding from the authorities, fearing that the village headman would find out, and so they moved away during the night. Ah! We slept far too soundly. How could they have torn down their house without our hearing even a single sound?” The Pilgrim chuckled and said, “Fool, do not shout so wildly. Look—what sort of paper notice is that on the tree?” Bajie went forward and pulled it off with his hand. It turned out to contain these four lines of verse: The monastery of the Dharma-protecting Galan is not the dwelling of an ordinary man; the cottage has been transformed by the Dharma-protecting Galan. A wondrous medicine to cure your painful eyes, with all my heart I subdue the monster—do not hesitate. The Pilgrim said: “This band of fierce spirits, having changed the dragon-horse themselves, have never once been checked by him; yet he has come again to put on airs.” Bajie said: “Brother, do not put on airs. How did he subdue you and check your name?” The Pilgrim said: “Brother, you still do not know. The Dharma-Protecting Galan, the Six Ding and Six Jia, the Five-Direction Jieti, and the Five Watches’ Meritorious Officers received the Bodhisattva’s command to protect my master secretly. From the day we reported our names, because you have been here all this while, we have not once needed to use them, and so they were never checked and recorded.” Bajie said: “Brother, since they received the command to protect Master secretly, they cannot reveal themselves openly; therefore they transformed the immortal village. Do not blame him. Yesterday, too, he treated your eyes for you, and he also saw to it that we were given a meal. It may indeed be said that he did his utmost. Do not blame him; let us go rescue Master.” The Pilgrim said: “What you say is right. It is not far from here to the mouth of Yellow Wind Cave. You must not set out yet; stay in the woods to watch the horses and guard the luggage. I will go to the cave and make inquiries, see what has become of Master, and then contend with him.” Bajie said: “Precisely. We must obtain reliable news of whether he is alive or dead. If Master has died, each of us can find a direction and get to work; if he is not dead, we can exert all our strength and devote our whole hearts.” The Pilgrim said: “Do not talk nonsense. I am off.” He sprang into the air and went straight to the gate of the cave, which was still shut while they slept. The Pilgrim did not knock or disturb the monsters. He formed a hand-secret, recited a spell, and with a shake of his body transformed into a striped-legged mosquito, truly tiny and clever. A poem bears witness. The poem says: A tiny form, troublesome, with a sharp beak, its buzzing voice fine as thunder. It passes readily through orchid chambers and gauze curtains, especially fond of the warm air of summer. It fears only the smoke that strikes its wings, yet especially loves the radiance of lamplight. Light and tiny, exceedingly swift at burrowing, it flies into the monster’s cave. He saw that the little monster guarding the gate was snoring in sleep. The Pilgrim flew to his face and took a bite. The little monster turned over and woke, saying: “Oh, my lord! What a huge mosquito—one bite has raised a great lump.” Suddenly he opened his eyes and said: “It is daylight.” Then he heard a creak, and the second gate opened. Buzzing, the Pilgrim flew inside. He saw the old monster giving orders at every gate to remain vigilant, while at the same time arranging the weapons: “I fear that yesterday’s blast of wind did not blow Sun the Pilgrim to death. He will certainly come again today, and when he comes I will surely make an end of his life.” Hearing this, the Pilgrim flew past the hall and went straight to the rear, where he saw a single gate shut very tightly. The Pilgrim slipped in through a crack in the gate. It turned out to be a vast empty garden. On the other side, Tang Sanzang was tied with ropes and cords to the Wind-Fixing Stake. Tears streamed down the Master’s face; his heart was wholly occupied with thoughts of Wukong and Wuneng, and he did not know where either of them was. The Pilgrim folded his wings and settled on his bald head, calling: “Master.” The Elder recognized his voice and said: “Wukong! I have been longing to see you to death. Where are you calling me from?” The Pilgrim said: “Master, I am on your head. Do not be anxious or troubled. We must capture the monster before we can save your life.” Tang Sanzang said: “Disciple, when will you capture the monster?” The Pilgrim said: “The tiger-monster who captured you has already been beaten to death by Bajie. It is only that the old monster’s wind is fierce. I expect it will be today; we are certain to capture him. Set your mind at rest and do not cry. I am off.” With that, buzzing, he flew to the front. He saw the old monster seated above, checking and recording the various route commanders. Then he saw a little monster before the cave, who rubbed his command-character banner and rushed into the hall to report: “Great King, I was out patrolling the mountain. As soon as I left the gate, I saw a long-mouthed, big-eared monk sitting in the woods. If I had not run a little faster, he would almost have caught me. But I did not see that hairy-faced monk from yesterday.” The old monster said: “Since Sun the Pilgrim is not here, he must have been blown to death; otherwise, he has gone somewhere to seek reinforcements.” All the monsters said: “Great King, if the wind truly blew him to death, it is our good fortune; we fear only that it did not kill him, and that he has gone to summon divine soldiers. What then shall we do?” The old monster said: “Why fear any divine soldiers? If anyone can withstand my wind, only Lingji Bodhisattva could do so; what else is there to fear?” On the roof beam, the Pilgrim heard these words and was overjoyed. He immediately flew out, resumed his true form, and came to the woods, calling: “Brother.” Bajie said: “Brother, where have you been? Just now a monster carrying a command-character banner came by, and I drove him away.” The Pilgrim laughed and said: “Well done, well done. I transformed into a mosquito and entered his cave to investigate Master. It turned out that Master was tied to the Wind-Fixing Stake and was weeping. I told him not to cry. Then I flew up to the roof beam and listened. I saw the one carrying the command-character banner panting as he went in to report—though you had driven him away, he said he had not seen me. The old monster guessed wildly and said that I had been blown to death, and then said that I had gone to summon divine soldiers. But he himself revealed one person to us. Wonderful, wonderful.” Bajie said: “Whom did he reveal?” The Pilgrim said: “He said, ‘What divine soldiers are there to fear? The only one who can withstand my wind is Lingji Bodhisattva.’—But I do not know where Lingji resides.” As they were discussing this, an old gentleman emerged from beside the main road. See what he looked like: His body was strong, and he needed no staff; his icy beard and snowy temples were thick and tousled. Golden flowers dazzled the eyes, his expression hazy; his lean bones and withered sinews remained unyielding. His back bent, his head lowered, his steps slow; his great brows and red face were like a child’s. Judging by his appearance, he was called a man, yet he seemed a Star of Longevity emerging from a cave. Bajie was delighted when he saw him and said: “Brother, as the saying goes: ‘To know the road below the mountain, ask those who come and go.’ Go forward and ask him, will you?” The Great Sage truly hid his iron staff, lowered the front of his robe, stepped forward, and called: “Old gentleman, greetings.” The old man returned a half-hearted salute and said: “What sort of monk are you? What business brings you to this deserted wilderness?” The Pilgrim said: “We are holy monks on a journey to obtain the scriptures. Yesterday we lost our master here, and have come especially to ask you, old gentleman: where does Lingji Bodhisattva reside?” The old man said: “Lingji is three thousand li directly to the south. There is a mountain there called Little Sumeru Mountain. Within the mountain is a religious sanctuary, the Bodhisattva’s monastery where he expounds the scriptures and practices meditation. Are you people going there to obtain his scriptures?” The Pilgrim said: “We are not going to obtain his scriptures. I have a matter that troubles him, but I do not know which road to take.” The old man pointed south with his hand and said: “This sheep-intestine road is the one.” While he tricked the Great Sage into turning his head to look at the road, the old gentleman transformed into a clear breeze and vanished without a sound. Only a brief note remained beside the road, bearing these four lines of verse: Respectfully reported to the Great Sage Equaling Heaven: the old man is none other than Li Changgeng. On Sumeru Mountain is the Flying Dragon Staff; in former years Lingji received the Buddha’s weapon. The Pilgrim took the note and turned to go down the road. Bajie said, “Brother, our fortunes have been low these past days. For the last two days we have been seeing ghosts in broad daylight. Who was that old man who transformed into wind and departed?” The Pilgrim handed the note to Bajie and read it once through. “Who is Li Chang Geng?” The Pilgrim said, “That is the title of Taibai Jinxing of the West.” Bajie hurriedly prostrated himself toward the empty sky and said, “Benefactor, benefactor! If not for Jinxing petitioning the Jade Emperor on behalf of this old pig, who knows what my life would have been transformed into?” The Pilgrim said, “Brother, you do know how to feel gratitude. But do not show yourself. Just hide deep within this forest and carefully guard the luggage and the horses. Wait until I find Mount Sumeru and invite the Bodhisattva to come.” Bajie said, “Understood, understood. Just hurry on ahead. This old pig has learned the tortoise method: whenever it is time to withdraw my head, I withdraw it.” The Great Sage Sun leaped into the air, mounted the Cloud-Somersault, and headed straight south. Indeed, he was exceedingly swift: with one nod of his head he passed three thousand li; with a twist of his waist he covered more than eight hundred miles. In a short while, he saw a lofty mountain, with auspicious clouds appearing halfway up and blessed vapors drifting in profusion. In a hollow of the mountain there truly was a monastery. He heard only the long, melodious sound of bells and chimes, and saw the faint, drifting smoke of incense. The Great Sage went straight to the gate, where he saw a Daoist with a string of prayer beads around his neck, chanting the Buddha’s name. The Pilgrim said, “Daoist, accept my bow.” The Daoist bent his body and returned the courtesy. “Where have you come from, honored sir?” The Pilgrim said, “Is this the place where Lingji Bodhisattva gives sermons?” The Daoist said, “This is indeed the place. What have you to say?” The Pilgrim said, “I trouble your venerable self to carry in a message for me: I am the disciple of the Imperial Brother Tripitaka Master under the rule of the Great Tang in the Eastern Land, the Great Sage Equaling Heaven, Pilgrim Sun Wukong. I now have a matter on which I must see the Bodhisattva.” The Daoist laughed and said, “Honored sir, you have too many words and too many names. I cannot remember them all.” The Pilgrim said, “Just say that the Tang Monk’s disciple Sun Wukong has arrived.” The Daoist did as he was told and went to the lecture hall to make the report. The Bodhisattva immediately put on his kasaya, added incense, and went out to welcome him. As the Great Sage had only just lifted his foot to enter the gate and looked inside, he saw: The whole hall was clothed in brocade, and the entire chamber was filled with majesty. All the disciples were reciting the *Lotus Sutra*, while the venerable senior gently struck the golden-cast chime. The offerings before the Buddha were all immortal fruits and immortal flowers; the things arranged upon the altar were all vegetarian delicacies and pure foods. Splendid treasure candles, each golden flame shooting toward the rainbow clouds; rich and fragrant true incense, each trail of jade smoke flying like colored mist. Truly, after the lecture is finished, the heart is tranquil and enters samadhi; patch after patch of white cloud coils around the pine tips. Quietly sheathing the wisdom sword, the demon’s head is destroyed; the skillful assembly of Prajna Paramita reaches sublime heights. The Bodhisattva straightened his robes and came out to greet him. The Pilgrim ascended the hall and took the guest’s seat, whereupon tea was ordered. The Pilgrim said, “There is no need to trouble yourself with tea. My master is in danger at Yellow Wind Mountain, and I have come especially to request that the Bodhisattva display his great Dharma power, subdue the monster, and save my master.” The Bodhisattva said, “I received the Tathagata’s command and was stationed here to suppress and guard the Yellow Wind Monster. The Tathagata bestowed upon me one Fixed-Wind Pill and one Flying Dragon Treasure Staff. At that time I captured him, spared his life, and released him to conceal his nature and return to the mountain. He was forbidden to harm living beings or create evil karma. I did not know that today he would seek to harm your master. By violating the teaching, he has made my own offense.” The Bodhisattva wished to keep the Pilgrim, prepare a vegetarian meal, and converse with him, but the Pilgrim earnestly declined. He then took the Flying Dragon Staff, and together with the Great Sage they mounted the clouds. Before long they arrived above Yellow Wind Mountain. The Bodhisattva said, “Great Sage, this demon is somewhat afraid of me. I shall remain fixed within the clouds above. You go down and challenge him, and lure him out, so that I may use my Dharma power.” The Pilgrim followed his words, pressed down the head of the cloud, and without another word drew his iron staff and smashed apart the cave gate. He shouted, “Demon, return my master to me!” The little demon guarding the gate was so frightened that he hurriedly went in to report. The monster said, “This insolent monkey is truly rude. He will not submit or behave, but instead has smashed my gate. Once I go out, I shall unleash a formation of divine wind and surely blow him to death.” He donned his armor as before, took up his steel fork, and again came out of the gate. When he saw the Pilgrim, he did not exchange another word, but twisted his fork and thrust it straight at the Pilgrim’s chest. The Great Sage turned aside and evaded it. He raised his staff and fought the monster face-to-face for only a few bouts. Then the monster turned his head back toward the Xun direction and was just about to open his mouth and summon the wind, when he saw Lingji Bodhisattva in midair throw down the Flying Dragon Treasure Staff. No one knew what sort of spell the Bodhisattva recited, but the staff became an eight-clawed golden dragon. With a loud swish it spread its two claws, seized the demon, and lifted him by the head. After slamming him two or three times against the rocky cliffside, it revealed his true form: a yellow-haired sable rat. The Pilgrim caught up and raised his staff to strike, but the Bodhisattva stopped him and said, “Great Sage, do not take his life. I still have to take him to see the Tathagata.” Then he said to the Pilgrim, “He was originally an awakened rat beneath the foot of Vulture Peak. Because he stole the pure oil from within a glazed lamp, causing the lamp flame to grow dim, he feared that the Vajra Warriors would seize him, and so he fled. Here he became a demon and caused mischief. The Tathagata perceived him and determined that he did not deserve the death penalty, so he ordered me to keep him under restraint. But since he has harmed living beings and created evil karma, he must be taken up to Vulture Peak. Now he has again offended the Great Sage and entrapped the Tang Monk. I shall take him to see the Tathagata and make his crimes clear. Only then will this deed count as merit.” Hearing this, the Pilgrim thanked the Bodhisattva. As for the Bodhisattva’s return to the West, we shall say no more. Now, Pig Bajie was in that forest, thinking about the Pilgrim, when he suddenly heard someone calling from below the mountain slope: “Brother Wuneng, bring the horse and carry the luggage here!” The Idiot recognized the Pilgrim’s voice, hastily gathered himself, and ran out of the forest. Seeing the Pilgrim, he said, “Brother, how did things go?” The Pilgrim said, “I invited Lingji Bodhisattva to subdue the demon. He used a Flying Dragon Staff to seize the monster. It turned out to be a yellow-haired sable rat that had become a demon. The Bodhisattva has taken him to Vulture Peak to see the Tathagata. You and I will go into the cave and rescue Master.” Only then did the Idiot rejoice greatly. The two of them charged inside. With a single onslaught of rake and iron staff, they beat to death every one of the nest’s cunning rabbits, demon foxes, musk deer, and horned deer. Then they went to the rear garden to worship and rescue their master. The Master came out through the gate and asked, “How did the two of you capture the demon? How were you finally able to rescue me?” The Pilgrim recounted in full the matter of inviting Lingji to subdue the demon. The Master could not thank him enough. The brothers arranged some of the vegetarian provisions from the cave and ate a meal of tea and food. Only then did they leave the cave, find the main road, and continue westward. As for what happened afterward, we shall leave that for the next installment.