CHAPTER 40 

The Boy Fools with Transformations, Disturbing the Dhyana Heart; Ape and Horse Return with a Knife; the Mother of Wood Is Empty

The story goes on to tell how the Great Sage Sun and his two fellow-disciples landed their clouds and went straight into the palace. Here monarch, ministers, queen and prince bowed to them in thanks, a group at a time, and Wukong told everyone the story of how Manjusri had recovered the demon. They all knelt and bowed to the ground repeatedly.

Amid all the congratulations the gatekeeper came to report, “My lord, there are four more monks at the gates.” This news threw Bajie into a panic.

“Brother,” he said, “has the fiend used his magic to make a false Manjusri to fool us? Perhaps he’s turned into a monk now for another battle of wits with us.”

“Nonsense,” said Wukong, ordering that they be summoned inside.

The civil and military officials passed on the order and the monks were sent in. Wukong saw that they were monks from the Precious Wood Monastery bringing the king’s crown, jade belt, yellow ochre robe and no-worry shoes.

“Splendid,” said Wukong with delight, “splendid.” He then asked the lay brothers to step forward, and made the king take off his monastic headcloth and put on his crown, remove his cotton habit and don his robe of yellow ochre, replace his silk belt with the jade belt, and kick off his monastic sandals for his no-worry shoes. Wukong then told the crown prince to fetch the white jade scepter for his father to hold, and invited the king to enter the throne hall to rule once more.

As the old saying has it, “The court cannot be without a monarch for a single day.” The king refused to sit on the throne, but knelt in the middle of the steps weeping and saying, “Now that you have brought me back to life after I was dead for three years, Master, I can’t possibly go on acting as king. Please ask your master to be king. It will be enough for me to take my wives and children to live as a commoner outside the city.” Sanzang absolutely refused to take the throne, his heart being utterly set on worshipping the Buddha and fetching the scriptures.

The king then offered the throne to Wukong, who said with a laugh, “I tell you frankly, gentlemen, if I’d wanted to be a king I could have been the king of every country on earth. But we’re all used to being monks now—it’s an easy life. If I were a king I’d have to grow my hair and I wouldn’t be able to sleep at dusk or when the drum is beaten for the fifth watch. Whenever there was a report from the frontier I’d be worried, and I’d be distressed and helpless at reports of famine and disaster. I’d never get used to it. No, you go back to being a king, and I’ll carry on and win merit as a monk.”

No matter how hard the king tried to refuse he finally had to enter the throne hall, sit facing south on the throne, and call himself king. He issued a general amnesty, sent the monks of the Precious Wood Monastery back with rich presents, and opened up the eastern hall of the palace to give a banquet for the Tang Priest. He also sent for painters to paint portraits of the Tang patriarch and his three disciples to hang in the throne hall.

Now that they had restored the country to peace the master and his disciples did not want to stay long; they were eager to take their leave of the king and carry on towards the west. The king, his queen and consorts, the crown prince and the ministers presented the country’s greatest treasures as well as gold, silver, silk and satin to the patriarch as tokens of their thanks.

Sanzang accepted none of these gifts but only the return of his passport and urged Wukong and the other two to saddle the horse up and be on their way as soon as possible. The king was most upset. He ordered the state carriage brought out and invited the Tang Priest to ride in it. The two groups of civil and military officials led the way, while the king, his queen and consorts, and the crown prince pushed the wheels of the carriage. Only when they had passed through the outer walls of the city did Sanzang get down from the dragon carriage to take his leave of them all.

“Master,” said the king, “please visit our country on your way back after collecting the scriptures in the Western Heaven.”

“I hear and obey,” replied Sanzang. The king then returned with his ministers, weeping. The Tang Priest and his three disciples made their way along a twisting road, single-minded in their determination to worship at the Vulture Peak. By now autumn was just giving way to winter.

Bare stand the woods as frost carves out red leaves;

Ample the yellow millet ripened after rain.

Sun-warmed plum trees blossom in the dawn;

Cold sounds the bamboo shaken by the wind.

Master and disciples had now left the Kingdom of Wuji. Resting at night and travelling by day, they had been going for the best part of a month when they saw a mountain in front of them that touched the sky and blotted out the sun. Sanzang was alarmed. Reining in the horse he called urgently for Wukong, who asked, “What are your orders, Master?”

“Do you see that big mountain in front of us?” said Sanzang. “It’s so sheer that I’m sure there must be evil creatures lurking on it to catch us, so be on your guard.”

“Just keep going and don’t worry,” said Wukong with a laugh. “I’ll protect you.” With that the venerable elder relaxed and spurred his horse on. When they reached the craggy mountain they saw that it was indeed precipitous:

Is it high?

It touches the azure firmament.

It is deep?

Its chasms open down to hell.

Before the mountain white clouds always billow.

Swirling black mists,

Red-blossoming plums, emerald bamboo,

Green cypresses and bluish pines.

Behind the mountain is a lofty soul-gripping pillar,

Concealing the fantastic caves of monsters.

Springs flow from the caves with cheerful voice,

And down ravines that twist and wind.

Apes swing from the sky to offer fruit;

Stags carry many-branching antlers,

While river deer shyly watch the strangers.

At duck the tigers climb to seek their dens;

Dragons emerge at dawn from out of the waters.

A sudden mighty roar at a cave’s mouth

Sends birds noisily aloft with fright.

See how the woodland beasts skulk off.

At the sight of all these birds and beasts

The human heart beats hard in terror.

Spacious as halls are the caves,

All lined up along the peaks;

The granite rocks are coloured like pieces of jade;

Mist covers all as if with greenish gauze.

Master and disciples were already frightened enough when a red cloud emerged from a fold in the mountain and rose straight up into the sky, where it formed a ball of fire. Wukong was horrified. As he went to take a closer look he pushed the master’s leg to get him off the horse and said, “Brothers, stay here. An evil spirit’s coming.” In their alarm Bajie grabbed his iron rake and Friar Sand his staff as they stood guard on either side of the Tang Priest.

Here the story divides into two. The red light was indeed from an evil spirit who had heard tell some years earlier that a Tang priest from the East, a reincarnation of the Venerable Golden Cicada and a holy man who had cultivated his conduct through ten successive lives, was going to the Western Heaven to fetch the scriptures. Anyone who ate a piece of his flesh would live as long as heaven and earth. The evil spirit had been longing day in and day out for him to arrive, and now he was here. As the evil spirit looked at them from mid-air he saw the three disciples ready for action as they guarded the Tang Priest on his horse. The spirit was full of admiration.

“Now there’s a monk for you,” he said to himself. “I can just make out a fat, white-faced monk riding a horse. That must be the holy Tang Priest. But why is he surrounded by those three hideous monks? They’ve all clenched their fists, their sleeves are rolled up, and they’re armed. They look as if they’re ready for a fight. I wonder if any of them is sharp-eyed enough to see what I am? Looking the way that I do I haven’t a hope of eating the Tang Priest’s flesh.”

After he had been arguing it over for some time he said to himself, “If I try swooping down to grab him I won’t get anywhere near him. I’ll only get him if I trick him through cunning. Once I’ve hoodwinked him I can think of some crafty scheme that’s bound to catch him. So I’ll go down and try a few games with him.”

The splendid evil monster then dispersed his red light and brought his cloud down to land on the mountainside, where he turned himself with a shake of his body into a naughty boy of six, stark naked, tied hand and foot to the top of a pine tree, and shouting, “Help, help!”

When the Great Sage looked up again and saw that the red cloud and the fire had completely disappeared he told the master to remount and be on his way again.

“But you said an evil spirit was here; I don’t dare move,” replied Sanzang.

“Just now I saw a red cloud rise up from the ground,” said Wukong, “and turn into a ball of fire in mid-air. It was certainly an evil spirit. As the fire and the cloud have now gone I think it must just have been passing by and wasn’t going to do us any harm. Let’s go.”

“You make it sound all very convincing,” said Bajie, “but who ever heard of an evil spirit that just passed by?”

“You wouldn’t know,” replied Wukong. “If the demon king of some mountain cave has invited the spirits from all the other caves in the mountains to a banquet, then the spirits from all around would be heading there. They’d be much more interested in the feast than in doing anyone any harm. That must have been a passing spirit.”

Sanzang was only half-convinced, but he remounted and continued along the path up the mountain. On his way he heard a shout of “Help!” and said to his disciple with shock, “Disciples, what’s that cheer in the middle of these mountains?”

“You just keep going, Master,” said Wukong, coming up to him. “Stop worrying about chairs, whether they’re carried by people or mules, or whether they’re open-topped or litters. Even if there were a chair here there’d be nobody to carry it for you.”

“I’m not talking about chairs for carrying but about cheers,” said Sanzang. “I know,” said Wukong, “but it’s no concern of yours. You just keep going.”

Sanzang did as he was told and whipped his horse forward. About a quarter of a mile later he heard another shout of “Help!”

“Disciple,” he said, “that’s no goblin or demon shouting. If it were there’d be no echo. Listen to those shouts, one after another. I’m sure it’s someone in trouble. We must go to the rescue.”

“Master,” said Wukong, “let’s have a bit less of that compassion until we’ve crossed the mountain. Then you can be as compassionate as you like. This is an evil place. You must have heard how things can become spirits just as creepers attach themselves to trees. Most of them are no trouble, but there’s one kind of python that’s developed its powers for so long that it’s become a spirit. It’s got an amazing knowledge of the names people had as children. If you don’t reply when it calls your name out from the undergrowth or from a mountain hollow you’ll be fine; but if you answer a single word it’ll grab your soul and will surely come and kill you the next night. Move! If you get away you can thank your lucky stars, as the saying goes. Whatever you do, ignore it.”

The venerable elder still had no choice but to obey and whip his horse on. “I don’t know where that damned monster is,” thought Wukong. “He just keeps on shouting. I’ll have to use separating magic to keep him and the master apart.” The splendid Great Sage then called Friar Sand to him and said, “Lead the horse on slowly while I take a piss.” Watch Wukong as he lets the Tang Priest get several paces ahead, says a spell to move mountains and make land shrink, and points behind him with his cudgel. Once master and disciples were over the peak they would have left this demon behind. He then hurried to catch up with the Tang Priest and press on up the mountain. But Sanzang heard another cry of “Help!” from the other side of the mountain.

“Disciple,” he said, “that poor person is very unlucky to have missed us. We’ve passed him now. Can’t you hear him shouting on the other side of the mountain?”

“If he’s around he must still be on this side,” said Bajie. “It’s just that the wind has changed.”

“Never you mind about whether the wind has changed or not,” said Wukong. “Keep moving.” From then on they all stopped talking and wished they could step over the mountain with a single stride.

The story switches back to the evil spirit, whose three or four shouts had found no response. “I’ve been waiting for the Tang Priest here,” he thought, “and I saw that he was only about a mile away. I wonder why he’s still not here after all this time. He must have taken a short cut.” He then braced himself, slipped out of his bonds, and went up into the air again in his red light to take another look. He did not notice when the Great Sage looked up at him, recognized him as an evil spirit, and pushed the Tang Priest by his foot off the horse once more. “Brothers,” said Wukong, “be very careful. The evil spirit’s coming back.” Again Bajie and Friar Sand placed themselves on either side of the Tang Priest to protect him with their rake and staff.

The spirit was full of praise for all this as he noticed it from mid-air: “What fine monks! I saw the fat, white-faced one on the horse before: why have the other three hidden him? I’d better take a closer look to find out. I’ll have to get rid of the sharp-eyed one first before I can catch the Tang Priest. Otherwise I’ll have

Wasted my worry without any gain,

Been to that trouble, and yet all in vain.”

Once more he brought the cloud down, made the same transformation that he had the previous time, and waited at the top of a pine tree. This time he was only a few hundred yards away from them.

When the Great Sage Sun looked up yet again and saw that the red cloud had dispersed he once more asked the master to remount and press on. “But you told me the evil spirit was back,” said Sanzang, “so why do you want me to keep going?”

“It was another passing one, and it won’t dare try to harm us,” Wukong replied. At this the venerable elder lost his temper.

“Damned monkey. You keep trying to make a fool of me. When there really are evil monsters you say there’s no problem, but in a quiet, peaceful place like this you keep giving me terrible frights by shouting about evil spirits. If I were to fall and injure myself I would certainly not forgive you. It’s outrageous.”

“Don’t be cross with me, Master,” said Wukong. “Even if you did hurt a hand or a foot in a fall it could be cured easy enough. But if an evil spirit got you I wouldn’t know where to look for you.” Sanzang, who was by now in a raging fury, was only dissuaded from saying the Band-tightening Spell by Friar Sand’s entreaties. Yet again he remounted to carry on with his journey.

He was not even settled in the saddle when he heard another call of “Help, Master!” He looked up to see a little boy hanging naked in a tree. Reining in his horse he started to abuse Wukong again: “You damned scoundrel, ape. There’s not a shred of kindness in you. All you can think of is wickedness and murder. I told you it was a human voice, but you kept yelling over and over again that it was a monster. Can’t you see the boy in the tree?” As the master was so angry Wukong sneaked a glance at him and saw what sort of expression he was wearing. Then he bowed his head and made no reply, firstly because there was nothing he could do, and secondly because he was afraid that the master might say the spell.

When the Tang Priest reached the foot of the tree he pointed at the boy with his riding crop and asked, “Who are your parents? Why are you hanging up there? Tell me and I will save you.” Oh dear! He was truly an evil spirit to make himself look like that, but the master only had mortal, fleshly eyes and could not see what he was.

The evil spirit put on even more of an act on hearing these question. “Master,” he called, tears pouring down, “I live in the village by Withered Pine Ravine to the west of the mountain. My grandfather was known as Millionaire Hong because he had such a huge fortune. He died a long time ago and left everything to my father. Nowadays we throw our money around and we’re not nearly as rich any more. That’s why my father’s called Hundred Thousand Hong. All he likes doing is making friends with all the big shots around and lending his gold and silver out at interest. But they were crooks who swindled him out of the lot, and he lost both capital and interest. My father swore never to lend out another penny. Then the people who borrowed from him became so desperate with poverty that they formed a gang. They attacked us in broad daylight with fire and weapons, stole all our goods, and killed my father. Because my mother is so beautiful they carried her off to be the bandit chief’s woman. She couldn’t bear to leave me behind, so she hid me in her clothes and went weeping and trembling with the bandits. When they got to this mountain the bandits wanted to kill me. They only spared me from the sword because of my mother’s desperate pleas. Instead they tied me to this tree to die of cold and hunger. I don’t know where the bandits have taken my mother. I’ve been hanging up here for three days and nights, and you’re the first people to come past. I must have earned merit in a previous life to have met you in this one, Master. If in your great compassion you can rescue me and take me home I’d gladly sell myself into slavery in order to repay you. I won’t forget what you’ve done for me even when I’m buried.”

Taking all this for the truth, Sanzang told Bajie to undo the ropes and bring the boy down. The idiot, not realizing who he was, was just about to start doing it. This was more than Wukong could bear.

“Damned beast,” he shouted, “there’s someone here who can see what you are. Cut out all that nonsense, and stop trying to fool us. If all your family’s goods have been stolen, your father has been murdered and your mother kidnapped, then who are we going to hand you to after we rescue you? What sort of reward will you give us? It doesn’t hang together. It’s a pack of lies.”

This frightened the evil spirit, who realized now that Wukong was an able opponent and was keeping an eye on him. So he trembled and wept as he continued, “Although I’ve lost both my parents and all my family’s goods I’ve still got all our land and my other relations.”

“What relations?” Wukong asked.

“My other grandfather lives to the south of the mountain,” the evil spirit replied, “and my aunt’s home is north of the ridge. Li the Fourth from the head of the ravine is married to my aunt, and Hong the Third in the woods is a distant uncle. I’ve also got cousins living around the village. If the venerable master will save me and take me back to the village and my relations I’ll tell them all about the venerable master’s kindness in rescuing me. I’ll mortgage or sell some land, and reward you richly.”

At this Bajie blocked Wukong’s way and said, “Brother, you can’t interrogate a little boy like that. He told you that the bandits only took his moveable goods—how could they have possibly taken his houses and land? If he tells his relations all about it the most we’ll eat will be an acre and a half’s worth, no matter how big our appetites are. Let’s save him.” All the idiot could think about was his stomach. He did not care at all whether he was acting wisely as he cut through the ropes with his monk’s knife and let the demon down from the tree. The demon then kept kowtowing and weeping copiously in front of the Tang Priest’s horse. The tenderhearted priest said, “Come up on the horse, boy, and I’ll carry you with me.”

“Master,” said the boy, “my hands and feet are numb after hanging by them for so long, and my back is hurting too. Besides, we villagers don’t know how to ride.” The Tang Priest then told Bajie to carry the evil spirit, who stole a quick look at Bajie and said, “Master, my skin is so tender after being frozen that I couldn’t bear to have this gentleman carrying me. His long snout, big ears and the bristles on the back of his head would stick into me something terrible.”

“Friar Sand,” said the Tang Priest, “you carry him.”

The boy then took a glance at Friar Sand and said, “Master, when the bandits raided our house they gave me a terrible fright. They were all made up like actors, wore false beards, and carried sticks and swords. The sight of that evil-looking reverend gentleman scares the wits out of me. I wouldn’t dare let him carry me.” The Tang Priest then told Wukong to carry the boy, to which Wukong agreed with a chuckle. The monster concealed his delight as he docilely let Wukong carry him. Wukong pulled him over to the side of the path and tried him for weight.

The boy was only about three pounds ten ounces heavy. “Damn you, you demon,” said Wukong, “you die today. How dare you try your tricks on me! I know that you’re one of those.”

“I’m the son of a good family who’s had the bad luck to meet with disaster,” said the demon. “What do you mean by calling me ‘one of those’?”

“If you’re the son of a good family,” said Wukong, “then why are your bones so light?”

“I have very small bones,” said the demon.

“How old are you?” Wukong asked.

“Six this year,” the demon replied.

“You still ought to put on at least a pound a year,” said Wukong with a smile. “You should weigh at least six pounds: how come you’re less than four?”

“I wasn’t breastfed as a baby,” said the demon.

“Very well then,” said Wukong, “I’ll carry you. But mind you warn me if you need to piss or shit.” Sanzang then pressed ahead with Bajie and Friar Sand while Xingzhe brought up the rear with the demon on his back. They carried on towards the west, as this poem proves:

High fiendish dangers face high virtue;

The stillness of meditation gives rise to evil spirits.

When the Heart Lord is upright and takes the middle way,

Wood’s mother foolishly treads the wrong path.

The Thought-horse silently nurses desires,

The Yellow Wife wordlessly worries and grieves.

When the stranger prospers he rejoices in vain;

From just this place must one vanish.

As the Great Sage Sun carried the evil spirit he felt very resentful of the Tang Priest for not realizing how hard the going was for him. “It would be bad enough to cross these high mountains empty-handed, but he has to make me carry someone else too. Even if this wretch is a good boy and not an evil spirit, he’s lost his parents and I don’t know who I should take him to. Best thing would be to dash him to the ground and finish him off.”

The demon knew what Wukong was thinking, so he drew in four deep breaths from all around then blew them out again on Wukong’s back, which made Wukong feel he weighed a thousand pounds.

“You’re using extra-weight magic to weigh me down, my lad,” laughed Wukong. This made the monster afraid that Wukong was going to kill him, so he got his spirit out of his body and sprang up into the ninth layer of cloud. Now that Wukong was finding the load on his back even heavier he grabbed the boy and smashed him so hard against a rock by the path that the boy’s body looked like minced pork. Then, just to make sure that the boy would give no more trouble, Wukong tore off all four of his limbs and ripped them into little pieces that he scattered on both sides of the path.

At this the demon, who was watching from mid-air, could hold back his fiery temper no longer. “This ape of a monk is thoroughly vicious,” he said. “Evil spirit wanting to kill your master I may be, but I’ve not yet laid my hands on him. How could you butcher me so atrociously? If I hadn’t anticipated and got my spirit out you’d have slaughtered me in cold blood. I’m going to catch the Tang Priest here and now. If I delay any longer, he will become too clever.”

The splendid evil spirit then conjured up a whirlwind in mid-air. It was a terrible one that sent stones and dust flying. What a splendid wind:

The bowling whirlwind carried a stench over clouds and water;

The sun and moon were blacked out by its pall.

The trees along the ridge were soon uprooted;

The flowering plums were flattened, trunks and all.

Sand-blinded travelers could barely walk along;

The paths were blocked by many a crashing rock.

Its swirling mass made all the earth seem dark;

The mountain creatures screamed and howled from shock.

It blew so hard that Sanzang could barely stay on his horse, Bajie could not look straight ahead, and Friar Sand had to bend and cover his face. Realizing that this was a devil’s wind, the Great Sage rushed forward to catch them up, but the demon had already scooped the Tang Priest up in his wind. Sanzang had disappeared without a trace. Nobody could tell where he had been taken or where to start looking for him.

Before long the wind fell and the sun was shining again. Wukong went up and saw that the white dragon horse was trembling and neighing. The luggage had been thrown into the path, Bajie was hiding under a crag and whimpering, and Friar Sand was squatting howling on the mountainside.

“Bajie!” said Wukong, and recognizing his voice the idiot looked up to see that the storm was over.

He climbed to his feet, grabbed hold of Wukong, and said, “What a wind.”

Friar Sand came forward too and said, “That was a twister, brother. But where’s the master?”

“The wind blew so hard,” said Bajie, “that we all had to hide our heads, close our eyes and take cover. The master lay down on the horse’s back.”

“But where’s he gone now?” Wukong asked.

“He must have been blown away by the wind as if he were made of rushes,” replied Friar Sand.

“Well, brothers, we might as well split up here and now,” said Wukong.

“Yes,” said Bajie, “the sooner the better. It would be a very good idea if we all went our separate ways. This journey to the Western Heaven is endless. We’ll never get there.”

Hearing them saying this made Friar Sand shudder and turn numb. “Brothers, what terrible things to say,” he said. “We all committed crimes in our earlier lives and were converted by the Bodhisattva Guanyin who administered the vows to us and gave us our Buddhist names. We all adopted the Buddhist faith and volunteered to protect the Tang Priest on his journey to the West to worship the Buddha and fetch the scriptures. This is how we are going to atone for our crimes. If we give up here and talk about going our separate ways we’ll fail to do the good deeds the Bodhisattva asked of us and we’ll disgrace ourselves. People will jeer at us and say that we’ve got no staying power.”

“You’re right, brother,” said Wukong. “But why wouldn’t the master do as he was told? My fiery eyes and golden pupils can tell good from evil. The whirlwind just now was caused by the boy who was hanging in the tree. I could see he was an evil spirit, but neither of you nor the master could. He thought the boy was the son of a good family and made me carry him. Just when I’d decided to get rid of him he used his magic to make himself heavier and weigh me right down, so I smashed him to bits. I reckon he must have used his powers to escape from his body, call up the whirlwind and carry the master off. If only the master hadn’t always ignored my advice. That’s why I was so discouraged and said that we ought to split up. I accept your sincere advice, brother, but I don’t know what to do. What do you suggest, Bajie?”

“What I said just now was nonsense,” said Bajie. “I was talking off the top of my head. Of course we shouldn’t split up. We’ll just have to do as Brother Sha says, find the monster and save our master.”

“Let’s all pull together,” said Wukong cheerfully, his anger now gone. “Get the baggage and the horse ready, and we’ll go up the mountain to find the demon and save our master.”

The three of them pulled themselves up the mountainside and across ravines with the help of creepers, covering about twenty miles without finding any trace of the demon. The mountain was completely without birds and beasts, but there was many a tall pine. By now Wukong was really anxious, so he sprang up on a craggy peak, shouted, “Change!” and gave himself three heads and six arms, so that he looked just as he had when he made havoc in Heaven. Then he shook his gold-banded cudgel so that there were three of that too. With much whacking and thwacking he lashed out wildly to the east and to the west, clearing paths both ways.

“This is terrible, brother,” said Bajie to Friar Sand. “We’ll never find the master this way. He’s just in a furious temper.”

Wukong’s lashing about flushed out a whole crowd of poverty-stricken local gods dressed in rags and tatters, with no seats to their breeches or legs to their trousers. They all knelt on the mountain slope and said, “Great Sage, we mountain gods and local deities pay our respects.”

“Why are there so many of you?” Wukong asked.

“Great Sage,” they replied, kowtowing, “this mountain is known as Mount Hao. It measures two hundred miles around. As there is a mountain god and a local deity every three miles or so that makes thirty mountain gods and thirty local deities. We heard yesterday that you were coming, Great Sage, but we have been late greeting you because we could not all assemble quickly enough. That is why the Great Sage has been so angry. We beg him to forgive us.”

“I’ll let you off this time,” said Wukong, “but I’ve got something to ask you: how many evil spirits are there on this mountain?”

“Just one, Great Sage,” they replied, “but he’s really beggared us. We get hardly any incense or paper offerings burnt for us now, and no food or blood at all. We have to go hungry and naked. How many evil spirits could we possibly support?”

“Which side of the mountain does he live on?”

“Neither,” they said. “In the middle of the mountain there’s a ravine called the Withered Pine Ravine, and beside it there’s a cave called the Fire-cloud Cave. In the cave lives a demon king who has tremendous magic powers. He’s always capturing us mountain gods and local deities to tend his kitchen fire and watch his door, or to make us carry bells and shout to clear the way for him at night. And the little devils expect us to make regular payments to them too.”

“You are all gods from the spirit world, so where can you get money from?” Wukong asked.

“We haven’t any,” the gods replied, “we have to muster all of us spirits morning and evening to catch a few deer, and if we haven’t anything to offer, they’ll come to tear down our shrines and take off our own clothes. He’s made life impossible for us. We beg and beseech you to rid us of this monster and save all the spirits of these mountains.”

“As he controls you and you are always going to his cave you must know where he’s from and what he’s called,” said Pilgrim Sun.

“When we tell you we’re sure you will have heard of him, Great Sage,” they replied. “He’s the son of the Bull Demon King by Raksasi. He cultivated his conduct for three hundred years in the Fiery Mountains and developed True Samadhi Fire. His powers are tremendous. The Bull Demon King sent him here to hold this mountain. His name is Red Boy, and his title is Boy Sage King.”

This was good news for Wukong, who dismissed the local deities and mountain gods, resumed his original form, and jumped down from the peak. “Relax, brothers,” he said to Bajie and Friar Sand, “no need to worry any more. The master won’t possibly be killed. The evil spirit is a relation of mine.”

“Stop lying, brother,” said Bajie. “This is the Western Continent of Cattle-gift, and you come from the Eastern Continent of Superior Body. They’re a very long way apart, with thousands of mountains and rivers between them, to say nothing of a couple of oceans. So how could he possibly be a relation of yours?”

“The crowd that turned up just now were the local deities and mountain gods from round here. When I asked them for some background on the demon they told me he is Red Boy, the son of the Bull Demon King by Raksasi, and he’s also known as the Boy Sage King. When I made havoc in Heaven five hundred years ago I visited all the famous mountains and people of distinction in the world. The Bull Demon King took me as his seventh sworn younger brother. There were six demon kings altogether, and the only reason why I was prepared to call the Bull Demon King my elder brother was because I was a bit smaller than him. So as this devil is the Bull Demon King’s son and I know his father, that makes me his old uncle. The boy couldn’t possibly harm my master. We must be off straight away.”

“But, brother,” said Bajie with a laugh, “three years without paying a visit and relations are no longer relations, as the saying goes. You haven’t seen him for five or six hundred years. You haven’t even had a drink together or invited him over on holidays. There’s no way he’ll still treat you as a relation.”

“What a way to judge people,” said Pilgrim Sun. “As another saying goes,

Every piece of duckweed floats down to the sea;

People will always meet each other somewhere.

Even if he doesn’t regard me as a relation any more, at any rate he won’t harm the master. I don’t expect him to treat me to a slap-up meal, but he’s bound to give me the Tang Priest back in one piece.” The three brother-disciples, their minds once more turned to pious thoughts, led the white horse loaded with the luggage along the path.

Without caring whether it was day or night they had covered some forty miles when they saw a pine woods through which a stream flowed in a twisting ravine. The water was green and pure, and at the head of the ravine was a stone bridge leading to a cave. “Brothers,” said Wukong, “I’m sure the evil spirit must live in that rock-face over there. Let’s have a council of war to decide who looks after the luggage and the horse and who comes with me to subdue the demon.”

“Brother,” said Bajie, “I’m no good at hanging around. I’ll come with you.”

“Fine,” said Wukong, continuing, “Friar Sand, hide the horse and the luggage deep in the woods and guard them carefully while we two go there to look for the master.” Friar Sand did as he was told, while Xingzhe and Bajie went fully armed to the cave. Indeed:

The vicious fire of a raw child won;

Mind-ape and Mother of Wood both helped.

If you don’t know whether things turned out for good or for ill, listen to the explanation in the next installment.