Chapter 44

Poem: Seeking scriptures to escape hindrance, westward he goes, Through countless famous mountains, never a pause. The hare runs, the crow flies, hastening day and night; Birds cry, flowers fall, from spring to autumn of their own. Three thousand worlds lie within the dust before one's eyes; Four hundred prefectures hang from the tip of the mendicant's staff. Sleeping by waters, dining on wind, he climbs the purple road; No telling when that day will come when he turns his head back. Now it was that Tang Sanzang, thanks to the dragon prince's subduing of the demon and the Black Water River God's opening of the way, led his disciples across the Black Water River and found the main road, heading straight west. Indeed they faced the wind and braved the snow, wore the moon and draped the stars. After traveling for quite some time, they encountered early spring weather. Behold: The three yangs revolve, and all things shine with life. The three yangs revolve—the whole sky bright and fair, unfurling a painting; All things shine with life—everywhere fragrant grasses spread an embroidered mat. A few snowy remnants linger on the plum blossoms; The wheat swells like a stream of clouds across the river. Gradually the ice melts and mountain springs gurgle; Fully the sprouts break forth, consuming all trace of fire. Just so: Taihao rides the Thunder, Goumang commands the Chen hour; Flowers fragrant, the wind warm, clouds thin, sunlight new; By the road, willows unroll their green eyes, As fertile rain nourishes all things in spring. The master and disciples, traveling along the road, viewed the scenery and rode at a leisurely pace, when suddenly they heard a great shout—it sounded exactly like the cries of ten thousand people. Tang Sanzang's heart was filled with fear. He reined in his horse and could not advance. Hurriedly turning his head, he said: "Wukong, what is that tremendous rumbling over there?" Bajie said: "It sounds just like an earthquake or a mountain collapse." Sha Wujing said: "It also resembles the crash of thunder." Sanzang said: "Rather, it is men shouting and horses neighing." Sun Wukong laughed and said: "None of you has guessed right. Stay here, and let old Sun go see what it is." That splendid Monkey, gathering his body with a leap, rode the cloud-light and rose into the air. Opening his eyes to look, he saw from afar a city wall. Drawing nearer, he saw that faintly auspicious light shimmered about it, with no turbulent baleful aura to be seen. Wukong mused to himself: "A fine place—yet how does such a deafening sound arise? Within the city there are no banners, lances, or halberds, nor the roar of cannons—why should it resound like men and horses in uproar?" Just as he was wondering, he saw that outside the city gate there was a stretch of sandy open ground where many monks were crowded together, pulling carts. It turned out they were all exerting their strength together and shouting in unison—"Great King of Strength Bodhisattva!"—and that was what had startled Tang Sanzang. Wukong gradually lowered his cloud and looked down. Ah! The carts were all loaded with bricks, tiles, timber, and rammed earth. The slope of the sands was very steep, and there was a narrow ridge path with two great passes. The road below the passes was all sheer cliffs—how could those carts be pulled up? Though the weather was warm, those men were in tattered rags, and their appearance was one of great distress. Wukong wondered to himself: "Could they be building or repairing a monastery? Here the five grains abound, yet no hired laborers can be found, so these monks must put in the effort themselves." While he was still uncertain, he saw two young Daoists come swaggering out of the city gate. See how they were dressed! Behold: On their heads they wore star-crowns, their bodies draped in brocade. The star-crowns on their heads glittered brightly; the brocade upon their bodies floated with rainbow hues. On their feet they trod cloud-topped shoes, and at their waists hung crimson silk sashes. Their faces were full and round like the moon, handsome and clever; Their forms were as lovely as immortal guests from the jade heavens. When those monks saw the Daoists approaching, every one of them trembled with fear and doubled their efforts, bitterly straining to pull the carts. Wukong then understood: "Aha! Surely these monks are afraid of the Daoists; otherwise, why would they be pulling with such desperation? I have heard people say that in the western lands there is a place that honors Daoists and persecutes monks—this must surely be that place. I would like to report this to my master, but if the matter is not yet clear, he might blame me, saying that someone as clever as I cannot even get reliable information. I shall go down first and ask clearly, and then I can report to my master." Now, whom did he go to ask? That splendid Great Sage, lowering his cloud, went to the foot of the city wall, shook his body, and changed into a wandering Cloud-and-Water Quanzhen priest, with a water-and-fire basket hanging from his left arm, a fish-drum in his hand, and a Daoist ballad on his lips. Approaching the city gate, he met the two Daoists, faced them, and bowed, saying: "Daoist masters, poor priest salutes you." The Daoists returned the salute and asked: "Where does the priest come from?" Wukong said: "I, a poor priest, wander to the corners of the sea and drift to the ends of the sky. Today I have come to this place, hoping to find some charitable household. May I ask you two masters: on which street in this city is there good Dao? In which lane are there worthy people? So that I, poor priest, may go and beg some alms." The Daoists laughed and said: "Priest, how can you speak such discouraging words?" Wukong said: "What do you mean by discouraging?" The Daoists said: "If you want to beg for alms, is that not discouraging?" Wukong said: "We of the religious life rely on begging; if we do not beg for alms, how shall we get money to buy food?" The Daoists laughed and said: "You are from afar and do not know the affairs of this city. In this city, not to mention the civil and military officials who esteem Dao, the wealthy elders who cherish virtue, and the men and women, young and old, who invite us with reverence to offer alms—all these are not even worth mentioning. The very first and foremost is that the sovereign himself esteems Dao and cherishes virtue." Wukong said: "I, poor priest, am young on the one hand, and on the other, I have just come from afar. I truly do not know. Might I trouble you two masters to tell me in detail the name of this place and the matter of the sovereign's esteem for Dao and virtue, that I may fully appreciate the fellowship of our shared path?" The Daoists said: "This city is called the Kingdom of Chechi. The sovereign on his jeweled throne is kin to us." Wukong, hearing this, chuckled and said: "Could it be that a Daoist has become emperor?" They said: "No. It is because, twenty years ago, the people suffered a great drought—not a drop of rain fell from the sky, and the earth yielded no grain. Whether ruler or minister, commoner or lowly, every household bathed and burned incense, and every family prayed to Heaven for rain. Just as they were at the point of death in their desperation, suddenly three immortal elders descended from Heaven to save the living." Wukong asked: "Who are those three immortal elders?" The Daoists said: "They are our masters." Wukong said: "What are the honorable titles of your masters?" The Daoists said: "Our senior master is styled Tiger Strength Great Immortal; our second master, Deer Strength Great Immortal; our third master, Goat Strength Great Immortal." Wukong asked: "How much supernatural power do the three venerable masters possess?" The Daoists said: "Our masters can summon wind and call rain with the turn of a hand; turn water into oil and touch stone to make gold as easily as turning around. Thus with such supernatural powers, they can seize the creative forces of Heaven and Earth and shift the arcane mysteries of the stars. Ruler and ministers revere them and have formed kinship with us." The Pilgrim said, "This emperor is most fortunate. As the saying goes: 'When arts are practiced, dukes and ministers take notice.' If the elder master has such skills and forms a marriage alliance, truly it would not be a loss for him. Alas! I wonder if this poor Daoist has any share of fate to see that elder master face to face?" The Daoist laughed and said, "If you wish to see my master, what difficulty is there? We two are his closest disciples, his bosom-flesh-and-blood apprentices. Moreover, my master loves the Dao and cherishes talent; whenever he hears so much as the word 'Dao,' he will come out to the main gate to welcome one. If we two introduce you, it is but the effort of blowing off dust." The Pilgrim made a deep bow and said, "Many thanks for your recommendation; let us go in at once." The Daoist said, "Wait but a moment. Sit here; let us two finish our official business first, and then we shall take you in." The Pilgrim said, "We who have left home are without bonds or restraints, free and at ease. What official business could there be?" The Daoist pointed with his hand at the monks on the sandbank and said, "The work they do is for our household. Lest they grow lazy and shirk, we are going to take their roll call and then return." The Pilgrim laughed and said, "Reverend sir, you are mistaken. Both monks and Daoists are those who have left home. Why should they do work for us and submit to our roll call?" The Daoist said, "You do not know. In former years, when prayers were offered for rain, the monks would worship the Buddha on one side while the Daoists would appeal to the constellations on the other, and both received grain from the court. But those monks proved useless; their empty chanting of empty scriptures could accomplish nothing. Later, when my master arrived, he summoned wind and called forth rain, relieving the people from their misery. Then the court grew angry, saying the monks were worthless. They tore down their monastery gates, destroyed their Buddha images, confiscated their ordination certificates, and would not allow them to return to their native places. By imperial decree they were given to our household to do labor, serving like lackeys. In our home, those who tend the fires are monks, those who sweep the floors are monks, those who guard the gates are also monks. Because the rear quarters are not yet completed, these monks have been sent to haul bricks and tiles, drag timber, and build the rooms. We fear only that they might be lazy and shirk, unwilling to pull the carts, so we two have been sent to inspect them." When the Pilgrim heard this, he seized the Daoist and said with tears, "I said I had no fate, and truly I have no fate; I cannot see the venerable master's face." The Daoist said, "Why can you not see him?" The Pilgrim said, "I, this poor Daoist, wander about the regions on foot. First, for the sake of my own life, and second, to seek my kin." The Daoist asked, "What kin do you have?" The Pilgrim said, "I have an uncle who left home in his youth, shaving his head to become a monk. In former years, when times of famine came, he also went out to beg. These past several years he has not returned home. Mindful of the kindness of my ancestors, I have come especially to search for him along the way. It may be that he is detained here in this place and cannot free himself—who can say? Only if I find him and see his face may I then enter the city with you." The Daoist said, "That is easy enough. Let us two sit down for a while, and I will trouble you to go to the sandbank and do a roll call for me. You need only count the heads to see if the number of five hundred is complete, and look among them to see which one is your uncle. If indeed there is such a one, then for the sake of our fellowship in the Dao, we shall release him and let him go. Then we may enter the city with you—how about that?" The Pilgrim thanked him endlessly, made a long bow, and took leave of the Daoist. He tapped his fish-drum and walked straight to the sandbank. Passing through the double pass and turning down the ridge, all the monks knelt together and kowtowed, saying, "Venerable Sir, we have not been lazy; of the five hundred, not half a one is missing—we are all here pulling the carts." The Pilgrim saw this and laughed inwardly, thinking, "These monks have been so beaten into fear by the Daoists that they tremble at the sight of me, a false Daoist. If I were a real Daoist, they would likely not survive." The Pilgrim waved his hand and said, "Do not kneel, do not be afraid. I am not a taskmaster. I have come here to seek a relative." When the monks heard that he was looking for kin, they crowded around him in a ring, each thrusting forward his face, coughing and clearing his throat, all eager to be recognized. They said, "We do not know which one is his relative." The Pilgrim looked them over for a while, then burst out laughing. The monks said, "Venerable Sir, if you do not recognize your kin, why do you laugh?" The Pilgrim said, "Do you know what I am laughing at? I laugh at you monks for being utterly worthless. Your parents bore you, and because your fates were marked by Huagai, bringing harm to your fathers and mothers, or because you were incompatible with your siblings, only then were you cast off to leave home. Why do you not honor the Three Treasures, revere the Buddha's Dharma, or read scriptures and perform repentance rites? Instead, you work as hired laborers for Daoists and serve as their slaves and maidservants?" The monks said, "Venerable Sir, you shame us. You, elder, must be from outside and do not know the perils here." The Pilgrim said, "Indeed I come from another region; truly I do not know what perils you have here." The monks said with tears, "The king of this kingdom is partial and without the Way. He favors only men of your kind, elder, and holds us followers of the Buddha in contempt." The Pilgrim said, "Why is that?" The monks said, "Because of the summoning of wind and rain, three immortal elders came here and destroyed our standing, deluding the king into believing them. He had our monasteries demolished, our ordination certificates confiscated, and would not allow us to return home, nor would he permit us to take up corvée duties. Instead, he gave us to the immortal elders' household to use as labor, and our suffering is unbearable. Whenever a wandering Daoist arrives here, he is at once invited to see the king and receive a reward; but if a monk comes, regardless of distance, he is seized and given to the immortal elders' household for labor." The Pilgrim said, "Surely those Daoists must have some clever magical arts to have captivated the king. If it is only summoning wind and rain, those are but minor, heterodox arts—how could they move the king's heart?" The monks said, "They can compound cinnabar and refine mercury, sit in meditation and preserve the spirit, turn water into oil, and touch stone to turn it into gold. They are now building a Hall of the Three Pure Ones, where day and night they recite scriptures and perform repentance before heaven and earth, praying that the king may live ten thousand years without aging. That is how they have bewitched the king's heart." The Pilgrim said, "So that is it. Why do you not all simply flee?" The monks said, "Venerable Sir, we cannot escape. Those immortal elders memorialized the king, and he had our likenesses painted and hung everywhere throughout the land. This Chechi Kingdom is vast in territory, and in every prefecture, district, county, village, market, and settlement there hangs a picture of monks, with the imperial brush personally inscribed above. Any official who captures a monk is promoted three ranks; any commoner who captures a monk is rewarded with fifty taels of white silver. That is why we cannot escape. Not to mention monks—even those with shorn manes, bald heads, or sparse hair cannot avoid capture. The constables are many everywhere, and the spies are numerous. No matter how you try, it is hard to get away. We have no choice but to endure our misery here." The行者 said, "If that is the case, then you should just die." The monks said, "Venerable Sir, some have died. Altogether, more than two thousand of us have been captured from various places and brought here along with the local monks. Unable to endure the suffering, unable to bear the torment, unable to withstand the cold, and unable to adapt to the climate, six or seven hundred have died, and seven or eight hundred have committed suicide. Only we five hundred have been unable to die." The行者 said, "Why can you not die?" The monks said, "When we hang ourselves, the rope breaks; when we cut our throats, we feel no pain; when we throw ourselves into the river, we float up and do not sink; when we take poison, our bodies remain at ease and unharmed." The行者 said, "Then you are blessed; Heaven has granted you longevity." The monks said, "Venerable Sir, you have left out one word—it is 'long-suffering.' We eat three meals a day, which are thin gruel made from coarse rice. At night we sleep on the sandbank, exposed to the dew. The moment we close our eyes, divine beings come to protect us." The行者 said, "Perhaps it is due to exhaustion that you see ghosts?" The monks said, "They are not ghosts, but the Six Ding and Six Jia and the Dharma Protectors. Every night they come to guard us. Whenever any of us wishes to die, they protect him and prevent his death." The行者 said, "These spirits are unreasonable. They should simply let you die early so you may be reborn in heaven—why do they protect you instead?" The monks said, "In our dreams they advise us, telling us not to seek death, but to endure the suffering and wait for the Arhat, the holy monk from the Great Tang in the East, who is going to the Western Heaven to fetch the scriptures. He has a disciple, the Great Sage Equal to Heaven, whose supernatural powers are vast and who is devoted to loyalty and righteousness. He champions justice for the people, aids the distressed, supports the endangered, and shows compassion to the orphaned and widowed. We must wait for him to display his powers, destroy the Taoists, and restore respect to our Buddhist teachings." When the行者 heard these words, he laughed to himself: "No need to say old Sun has no skill—the gods have already spread my fame in advance." He quickly turned around, tapped his fish-drum, took leave of the monks, and went straight to the city gate, where he saw the Taoists. The Taoists greeted him, saying, "Sir, which one is your relative?" The行者 said, "All five hundred are my relatives." The two Taoists laughed and said, "How can you have so many relatives?" The行者 said, "One hundred are my left neighbors, one hundred are my right neighbors, one hundred are my paternal kin, one hundred are my maternal kin, and one hundred are my sworn friends. If you are willing to release all five hundred of these men, then I will go in with you; if not, I will not go." The Taoists said, "You must have some madness—you are speaking nonsense all of a sudden. These monks are bestowed by the king. If we release even one or two, we must submit a medical report to our master, and then provide a death certificate to settle the matter. How can you speak of releasing them all? This reasoning does not hold, does not hold. Let alone the fact that our household has no one to work, even the court would take issue with it. Officials are often sent to inspect, and sometimes the emperor himself comes to check the rolls. How dare we release them?" The行者 said, "You won't release them?" The Taoists said, "We will not!" After the行者 asked three times in succession, he grew angry. He took out the iron staff from his ear, pinched it in the wind, and it became as thick as a bowl. He swung it once and swept it across the Taoist's face. Pitifully, the man fell to the ground with his head broken and blood streaming, his skin split, neck broken, and brains spilling out. The monks on the sandbank saw from afar that he had killed the two Taoists. They dropped their carts and ran up, crying, "Oh no! Oh no! You have killed the king's relatives!" The行者 said, "Which one is a king's relative?" The monks surrounded him in a formation like a winnowing basket and said, "Their master, when he goes to court, does not bow to the king, and when he leaves, does not take leave of the ruler. The court always calls him 'National Preceptor Elder Brother Sir.' How could you come here and cause such trouble? His disciples came to supervise the work—this had nothing to do with you. Why did you kill them? The immortal master will not say that you came and killed them; he will only say that we, the supervisors of the work, murdered them. What are we to do? Let us go into the city with you and answer for this life." The行者 laughed and said, "All of you, do not shout. I am not a wandering Daoist; I have come to save you." The monks said, "But you have killed someone and brought disaster upon us, adding to our burdens. How is that saving us?" The行者 said, "I am Sun Wukong, disciple of the holy monk of the Great Tang. I have come specifically to save your lives." The monks said, "No, no—we know that venerable sir." The行者 said, "Since you have never met him, how do you recognize him?" The monks said, "In our dreams we often see an old man who claims to be the Great White Planet. He constantly instructs us, telling us the appearance of Sun Wukong so that we do not mistake him." The行者 said, "What did he tell you about him?" The monks said, "He said that the Great Sage: With a prominent brow and golden eyes blazing bright, A round head and hairy face without a chin. His fangs protrude, his sharp mouth is perverse in nature— His appearance is as strange as the Thunder God's. He is skilled in wielding the golden-hooped iron staff, And once broke open the Heavenly Gates. Now he has turned to the right and protects the monk, Coming specially to rescue the world's disasters." Hearing this, the行者 was both angry and pleased. He was pleased because it spread his fame, and angry because "that old thief is so lazy that he has revealed my true form to these common folk." Suddenly he said aloud, "My good sirs, you indeed do not recognize me as Sun Wukong. I am a disciple of Sun Wukong, here to learn how to cause trouble for fun. Is that not Sun Wukong coming over there?" He pointed east with his hand, tricking the monks into turning their heads, and then he revealed his true form. Only then did the monks recognize him. One by one they fell to the ground and prostrated themselves, saying, "Grandfather, we with our mortal eyes and fleshly bodies did not recognize you in your manifested form. We beg you, Grandfather, to avenge us and eliminate our calamities, and to enter the city early to subdue the evil and restore the right." The行者 said, "You all follow me." The monks closely attended him. The Great Sage went straight to the sandbank, used his divine powers, pulled the carts past two passes and through the spine ridge, lifted them up, and smashed them to pieces. He threw all the bricks, tiles, and timber down the slopes. He ordered the monks, "Scatter! Do not stay near my hands and feet. Wait until I see the emperor tomorrow and destroy those Taoists." The monks said, "Grandfather! We dare not flee far. We fear that officials may seize us and bring us back, and then we will suffer again and bring new disasters upon ourselves." The行者 said, "If that is the case, I will give you a means of protection." The excellent Great Sage plucked a handful of his fur, chewed it into pieces, and gave a piece to each monk. He instructed them all, "Pinch it into the nail of your ring finger, clench your fist, and just keep walking. If no one dares to seize you, all is well; if someone does seize you, clench your fist tightly and call out 'Great Sage Equal to Heaven,' and I will come to protect you." The monks said, "Grandfather, if we go far away and cannot see you, and you do not answer our call, what shall we do?" The行者 said, "Just set your minds at ease. Even if it is ten thousand li away, I can ensure your safety." Among the monks, those with greater courage clenched their fists and quietly called out, "Great Sage Equal to Heaven!" At once a Thunder God stood before them, iron staff in hand, and even a thousand troops and ten thousand horses could not approach. At this time, over a hundred of them called out together, and fully a hundred Great Sages came to protect them. The monks kowtowed and said, "Grandfather, truly you are manifest and powerful." The行者 further instructed, "Call out the word 'Still,' and it will be withdrawn for you." Indeed, when they called out "Still," it was once again just a strand of fur in the crevice of their nails. Only then did the monks joyfully flee for their lives, scattering all at once. The行者 said, "Do not flee too far. Wait for news from me in the city. When a proclamation recruiting monks is issued, come back into the city and return my fur to me." The five hundred monks went east, went west, ran, stood still, and scattered in all directions—no more of that for now. But to return to Tripitaka, who waited by the roadside for Pilgrim’s report but could not get it. He then bade Zhu Bajie lead the horse and head west, where they encountered some monks hurrying along. As they drew near the city wall, they saw Pilgrim still there with a dozen or so monks who had not dispersed. Tripitaka reined in his horse and said, “Wukong, you went to find out the situation, yet you have been gone so long without returning?” Pilgrim led the dozen or so monks to the front of Tripitaka’s horse, made a bow, and recounted the whole matter. Tripitaka was greatly alarmed and said, “If that is so, what are we to do?” The dozen or so monks said, “Have no fear, my lord. The Great Sage Sun is a god descended from heaven, with boundless supernatural powers; he will surely protect you, my lord, from all harm. We are monks of the Imperial Zhìyuān Monastery in this city. Because this monastery was originally built by the late king and founding emperor, and his spirit tablet is still enshrined within, it has not been demolished. All other monasteries in the city, large and small, have been razed. We beg you, my lord, to enter the city early and stay at our humble mountain establishment. At the morning court tomorrow, the Great Sage Sun will surely have a plan.” Pilgrim said, “You are right. Very well, let us enter the city without delay.” Only then did the elder dismount and proceed to the city gate. By this time the sun was setting in the west. They crossed the drawbridge and passed through the three gateways. When the people in the streets saw the monks of Zhìyuān Monastery leading the horse and carrying the bundles, they all gave way. As they went along, they arrived before the monastery gate. There they saw suspended above the gate a large golden plaque inscribed with the words “Imperially Founded Zhìyuān Monastery.” The monks pushed open the gate, passed through the Vajra Hall, and opened the main hall. Tripitaka took out his cassock, put it on, paid obeisance to the golden image, and then entered. The monks called out, “You who keep the house!” The old monk came out and, seeing Pilgrim, at once bowed and said, “So you have come, Grandfather!” Pilgrim said, “What sort of Grandfather am I that you recognize me and hail me thus?” The old monk said, “I recognize you as the Great Sage Equal to Heaven, Grandfather Sun. Every night we see you in our dreams. The Great White Planet often comes in dreams and tells us that only when you arrive shall we be spared. Today we see your august countenance, and it is exactly as in the dream. O Grandfather! How fortunate that you came early; had you delayed another day or two, we would all have become ghosts.” Pilgrim laughed and said, “Rise, rise. Tomorrow all will be made clear.” The monks prepared a vegetarian meal, which the master and disciples ate. Then they cleaned the abbot’s quarters and lodged for the night. At the second watch, the Great Sage Sun had matters on his mind and could not sleep. He heard the sounds of flutes and drums from somewhere. Quietly he rose, put on his clothes, leaped into the air, and looked about. He saw that in the due-south direction lights and candles were blazing. Dropping his cloud for a closer look, he perceived that it was the Daoist priests of the Three Pure Ones Monastery performing the Star-Repelling Rite. And this is what he saw: A lofty hall on a numinous precinct, a true shrine on a blessed ground. The lofty hall on the numinous precinct, majestic and grand like the isle of Penglai; The true shrine on the blessed ground, faintly pure as the Palace of Transformation and Bliss. On either side Daoist priests played on flutes and mouth-organs, while in the center the high priest held aloft a jade tablet. They declaimed the litany for dispelling calamities and lectured on the Daodejing. Raising dust, they transmitted talismans again and again; prostrating themselves, they made their declarations one after another. They sprinkled consecrated water and issued summons, while candle flames flickered and soared up to the upper realms; They trod the Dipper and paced the constellations, while fragrant smoke, rich and dense, pierced the clear firmament. On the tables lay fresh offerings; on the altars were sumptuous vegetarian feasts. Before the hall hung a pair of yellow brocade banners embroidered with a couplet of twenty-two large characters: “With timely rain and favourable winds, we pray that the Heavenly Lord’s boundless Dharma be blessed; With rivers clear and seas calm, we beg that the Sovereign’s myriad years be prolonged.” Pilgrim saw three old Daoists clad in ritual vestments—he supposed they were the Great Immortals Tiger-Strength, Deer-Strength, and Goat-Strength. Below them were seven or eight hundred lesser clergy, some at drums, some at bells, some attending the incense, some making declarations, all standing in attendance on either side. Pilgrim said to himself with pleasure, “I would like to go down and mingle with them, but a single thread does not make a cord, and one palm cannot clap. I had better go back and fetch Bajie and Sha Seng, and we can have some sport together.” So he brought down his auspicious cloud and went straight to the abbot’s quarters. Now Bajie and Sha Seng were sleeping foot to foot. Pilgrim first called “Wujing,” and Sha Seng woke up and said, “Elder Brother, you are not asleep yet?” Pilgrim said, “Get up, and let you and I enjoy ourselves a little.” Sha Seng said, “In the middle of the night, with parched mouth and weary eyes, what enjoyment can there be?” Pilgrim said, “In this city there really is a Three Pure Ones Monastery. The Daoists there are performing a purificatory rite, and in the Three Pure Ones Hall there are many offerings: steamed buns as big as a peck, roasted fruits weighing fifty or sixty catties each, countless side dishes, and fresh fruits. Let us go and enjoy them.” When Zhu Bajie heard in his sleep about eating good things, he woke up and said, “Elder Brother, won’t you take me along?” Pilgrim said, “Brother, if you want to eat, do not shout and wake the master. Follow me.” The two put on their clothes, quietly went out the gate, and riding on clouds with Pilgrim, leaped up into the air. When the idiot saw the lamplight, he was about to set to work. Pilgrim pulled him back and said, “Do not be in a hurry. Wait until they disperse, and then we can go down.” Bajie said, “They are just getting into the swing of their chanting—how will they be willing to disperse?” Pilgrim said, “Let me play a trick, and they will disperse.” The Great Sage, having formed the mudra and recited the spell, drew a breath from the southeast quarter and blew it out with a whoosh—and at once a violent gale swept straight into the Three Pure Ones Hall, toppling their vases, candlesticks, and the votive hangings on the walls, and extinguishing all the lamps. The Daoists were terrified. Tiger-Strength Great Immortal said, “Disciples, disperse for now. This divine wind has blown out the lamps, incense, and flowers. Each of you go to rest. Rise early tomorrow and recite a few more scriptures to make up for it.” The Daoists indeed withdrew. Then Pilgrim led Bajie and Sha Seng, brought down their clouds, and burst into the Three Pure Ones Hall. The idiot, without regard for cooked or raw, grabbed a roasted fruit and opened his mouth to bite into it. Pilgrim drew his iron staff and struck him on the hand. Bajie drew back his hand and dodged, saying, “I have not even tasted it yet, and you hit me!” Pilgrim said, “Do not be so petty. First pay your respects and sit down properly before you eat.” Bajie said, “Shameless! Stealing food and still wanting to pay respects. If they had invited us, what then?” Pilgrim said, “Who are these bodhisattvas sitting up there?” Bajie laughed and said, “You do not even recognize the Three Pure Ones, and you mistake them for bodhisattvas?” Pilgrim said, “Which Three Pure Ones?” Bajie said, “The one in the center is the Celestial Worthy of Primordial Beginning, on the left is the Daoist Lord of Numinous Treasure, and on the right is the Most High Lord Lao.” Pilgrim said, “We must all change into these very forms before we can eat in peace.” The idiot, growing impatient at the fragrant offerings and wanting to eat, climbed up the high altar and butted the Lord Lao down with his snout, saying, “Old official, you have sat long enough—let me, Old Pig, sit for a while.” Bajie changed into the Most High Lord Lao, Pilgrim into the Celestial Worthy of Primordial Beginning, and Sha Seng into the Daoist Lord of Numinous Treasure. They pushed the original images down. When they were seated, Bajie at once grabbed the big steamed buns and began eating. Pilgrim said, “Do not be so hasty.” Bajie said, “Elder Brother, now that we have changed, if we do not eat, what are we waiting for?” Pilgrim said, “Brother, eating is a small matter; leaking the heavenly secret is a great matter. These sacred images have all been pushed to the floor. If some early-rising Daoist comes to strike the bell or sweep the ground and trips over them, will not the news get out? You should hide them away somewhere.” Bajie said, “I do not know this place well, and I cannot find the door—where can I hide them?” Pilgrim said, “When I came in just now, there was a small door on the lower right side. Inside there was a foul stench—it must be the place where the five grains are cycled back. You can put them in there.” This dullard had some brute strength. He jumped down, took the three sacred images onto his shoulders, and carried them out. When he got there and kicked open the door to look, it turned out to be a large latrine. He laughed and said, "This Bi Mawen certainly knows how to wag his tongue. Even a privy he gives a Daoist name, calling it something like 'the Place of the Five Grains' Reincarnation.'" That dullard carried them on his shoulder but did not throw them away yet; instead he muttered and mumbled a prayer: "Three Pure Ones, Three Pure Ones, listen to me: I have come here from afar, and I am used to destroying demons. I wish to enjoy your offerings, but there is no place of peace. I borrow your seats for a short while. Since you have sat long, you may now briefly descend to the privy. In ordinary times you enjoy boundless blessings as pure Daoist priests; today you cannot avoid partaking of some filth, and become Heavenly Venerables who receive foul odors!" After the prayer, with a thud he flung them inside, splashing half his robe with foul water, then walked back to the hall. Wukong said, "Did you hide them well?" Bajie said, "Hidden they are well hidden, but some water splashed up and soiled my clothes; there's some filthy stench—don't be disgusted." Wukong laughed, "All right, come and enjoy the feast. But I wonder if you can leave with a clean body." That dullard then changed back into Laozi, and the three sat down and enjoyed themselves to the full. First they ate big steamed buns, then assorted dishes, side rice, snacks, baked cakes, pastries, fried items, and steamed pastries; they cared nothing for hot or cold, and ate to their hearts' content. Now Sun Wukong did not eat much cooked food; he only ate a few fruits to keep them company. That meal was like meteors chasing the moon, wind sweeping away scattered clouds—they ate everything clean, until there was nothing left. Still they did not leave, but chatted idly there, digesting their food and amusing themselves. Ah! Such a thing happened. It turned out that in the east corridor there was a young Daoist who had just lain down, but suddenly got up and said, "I left my hand bell in the hall. If it is lost, tomorrow my master will scold me." He said to the one sleeping with him, "You go to sleep; let me go look for it." In his haste he did not put on underclothes, but only pulled on a robe and went straight to the main hall to look for the bell. He groped around and finally found the bell. Just as he was about to turn back, he heard the sound of breathing. The Daoist was frightened; as he hurriedly shuffled out, somehow he stepped on a lychee pit and with a thud slipped and fell. With a clang, the bell was shattered to pieces. Zhu Bajie could not help bursting out with a loud laugh. The young Daoist was so terrified that his three souls fled and his seven spirits were startled back; stumbling at every step, he crashed outside the abbot's quarters and banged on the door, calling, "Master, it's terrible! Calamity!" The three old Daoists had not yet slept, so they opened the door and asked, "What calamity?" Trembling, he said, "This disciple forgot his hand bell, so he went to the hall to find it, and heard someone laughing heartily—I was nearly scared to death." Hearing this, the old Daoists at once called, "Bring a lamp! Let us see what evil thing it is." At this command, all the Daoists in the two side corridors, old and young, were roused; they all got up, lit lamps and torches, and went to look at the main hall. We do not know what happened in the end; let us listen to the next chapter for the resolution.