Chapter 81: At Zhenhai Temple the Mind Ape Recognizes the Monster; In the Black Pine Forest the Three Companions Seek Their Master

Eighty-First Chapter: Mind Monkey Knows the Monster at Zhenhai Temple; The Three Companions Seek the Master in the Black Pine Forest

It is told that the Tang Monk and his disciples arrived at the Temple of the Forest of Chan at Zhenhai. The monks received them and prepared a vegetarian meal to offer. After the four of them had eaten, the woman also had some food and regained her strength. As dusk gradually fell, lamps were lit in the abbot’s quarters. The monks, partly to inquire about the Tang Monk’s journey to fetch the scriptures and partly to gaze at the woman, crowded together under the lamplight. The Tang Monk said to the lama monk who had first greeted them, “Abbot, when we leave your precious mountain tomorrow and head west, what is the road like?” The monk knelt on both knees. Startled, the elder pulled him up and said, “Abbot, please rise. I asked you about the road; why do you bow?” The monk said, “Venerable Master, if you travel west tomorrow, the road is smooth and you need not worry. But there is a matter that is not quite proper at present. I wanted to speak of it as soon as you entered, but I feared offending your dignity. Only after the meal just now did I dare to inform you boldly: Master, coming from the east, your journey has been long and arduous. It is fine for you and your disciples to rest in the little monks’ quarters; but this female bodhisattva is inconvenient. I do not know where to ask her to sleep.” The Tang Monk said, “Abbot, do not be suspicious, thinking that my disciples and I have any improper thoughts. This morning, as we passed through the Black Pine Forest, we came upon this woman tied to a tree. My disciple Sun Wukong was unwilling to save her, but I, in my compassionate heart, rescued her. Now that we are here, you may send her to sleep wherever you see fit.” The monk thanked him and said, “Since the Venerable Master is so generous, let her go to the Hall of the Heavenly Kings, and behind the statue of the Heavenly King, we will prepare a straw bed for her to sleep on.” The Tang Monk said, “Very good, very good.” So the little monks then led the woman to the rear hall to sleep. The elder then, in the abbot’s quarters, asked the assembled abbots to do as they pleased, and they all dispersed. The Tang Monk instructed Wukong, “You have worked hard; sleep early and rise early.” So they all slept together, not daring to leave their master’s side, guarding him. As the night deepened, it was just like:

The jade hare rose high, all sounds grew still;

The celestial streets were silent, no one walked.

The Milky Way glittered, stars shone bright;

Drums beat from the watchtower, urging the change of watches.

The idle talk of the night is not mentioned. When dawn came, Sun Wukong got up and called for Bajie and Sha Monk to pack the luggage and saddle the horse, then invited the master to set out. At this time, the elder was still drowsy and not yet awake. The Pilgrim approached and called out, “Master.” The master lifted his head a little but did not answer with a sound. The Pilgrim asked, “Master, what is the matter?” The elder groaned and said, “Why do I have such a dizzy head and swollen eyes, and all my bones and skin ache?” When Bajie heard this, he reached out and felt his body; it was a little feverish. The idiot laughed and said, “I know! Last night, seeing the free rice, you ate a few extra bowls, and then you slept with your head down, so you got indigestion.” The Pilgrim scolded, “Nonsense! Let me ask the master what is really going on.” Sanzang said, “In the middle of the night, I got up to relieve myself and did not put on my hat. I think I caught a chill from the wind.” The Pilgrim said, “That makes more sense. Can you travel now?” Sanzang said, “I cannot even sit up now; how can I mount the horse? I am only afraid of delaying the journey.” The Pilgrim said, “Master, what are you saying? As the saying goes, ‘He who is your teacher for a day is your father for life.’ We are your disciples, just like sons. It is also said, ‘Raising a son does not require him to produce gold and silver, only that he understands the situation and acts accordingly.’ Since you are unwell, why speak of delaying the journey? What harm is there in enduring a few days?” The brothers all attended to the master, and before they knew it, morning passed to noon, noon to dusk, and the fine night gave way to another dawn.

Time flew quickly, and three days had passed. On that day, the master struggled to sit up and called out, “Wukong, in these past days, my illness has been heavy, and I have not asked you: that female bodhisattva who escaped with her life—has anyone sent her some food to eat?” The Pilgrim laughed and said, “Why do you bother about her? Take care of your own illness first.” Sanzang said, “True, true. Help me up and take out my paper, brush, and ink. Borrow an inkstone from the temple to use.” The Pilgrim said, “What are you going to do?” The elder said, “I want to write a letter. Seal it together with the passport, and you deliver it to the emperor in Chang’an, so that I may see the Great Tang Emperor once more.” The Pilgrim said, “That is easy. I, Old Sun, am useless at other things, but when it comes to delivering letters, I am second to none. Prepare the letter properly and give it to me. With one somersault, I will deliver it to Chang’an and hand it to the Tang King; with another somersault, I will return, and your brush and ink will not even be dry. But why are you sending a letter? First, read me the meaning of the letter; then you can write it, no hurry.” The elder wept and said, “I write: ‘Your subject monk bows his head thrice, prostrating himself, / Hailing the ten-thousand-year sovereign, the holy lord; / Let the civil and military officials all see, / And the four hundred nobles all know: / In that year, by imperial decree, I left the eastern land, / Hoping to reach the Spirit Mountain and see the World-Honored One. / Unexpectedly, on the road, I met with calamity; / Who would have thought, halfway, I encountered disaster? / The monk’s illness is grave, I cannot advance; / The Buddha’s gate is deep, reaching the Heavenly Gate. / The scriptures exist, but without life, all toil is vain; / I petition the present dynasty to send another man.’” When the Pilgrim heard these words, he could not help but burst into loud laughter and said, “Master, you are too useless. With just a little illness, you get such an idea. If you are seriously ill, whether you want to live or die, just ask me. I, Old Sun, have a skill: I will ask which King of Hell dares to have such thoughts? Which judge dares to issue a summons? Which ghostly messenger dares to come and fetch you? If you anger me, I will bring out my nature from when I made havoc in Heaven, and with my staff, I will smash my way into the Underworld, seize the ten Kings of Hell, and pull out their sinews one by one, and I won’t let them off even then.” Sanzang said, “Disciple, I am seriously ill. Do not speak such big talk.” Bajie stepped forward and said, “Elder Brother, the master says he is unwell, but you only say he is fine—that is most improper. Let us discuss this early. First, sell the horse, pawn the luggage, buy a coffin for the funeral, and break up the group.” The Pilgrim said, “Idiot, you are talking nonsense again. You do not understand. The master is the second disciple of our Buddha Tathagata, originally called the Elder Golden Cicada. Because he was disrespectful to the Dharma, he was fated to suffer this great calamity.” Bajie said, “Brother, if the master was disrespectful to the Dharma and was banished back to the eastern land, reborn in human form in the sea of right and wrong and the field of disputes, vowing to go west to worship the Buddha and seek the scriptures, being bound by demons and hung by monsters, suffering many torments—that should be enough. Why does he also have to fall ill?” The Pilgrim said, “How would you know? The Venerable Master once, while listening to the Buddha preach the Dharma, dozed off and slipped, stepping on a grain of rice with his left foot. When he descended to the lower realm, he was fated to suffer this three-day illness.” Bajie, startled, said, “If that is the case, then I, Old Pig, who spills and scatters food when eating, must have to suffer many years of illness.” The Pilgrim said, “Brother, the Buddha does not hold grudges against sentient beings, and you do not understand. People say: ‘At noon when hoeing the field, sweat drips onto the soil. Who knows that every grain in the plate is the fruit of hard toil?’ The master only needs this one day, and tomorrow he will recover.” Sanzang said, “Today I am different from yesterday: My throat is very thirsty. Go somewhere and find some cool water for me to drink.” The Pilgrim said, “Good! The master asking for water means he is recovering. Let me go fetch some water.”

The Pilgrim immediately took the alms bowl and went to the monastery kitchen behind the temple to draw water. Suddenly, he saw that all the monks had red eyes and were weeping quietly in sorrow, not daring to sob aloud. The Pilgrim said, “You monks are too petty. We stay a few days, and when we leave, we will thank you, and we will also pay for the firewood according to the number of days. Why are you so spineless?” The monks hurriedly knelt down and said, “We dare not, we dare not.” The Pilgrim said, “Why dare not? Could it be that my long-snouted monk ate too much and ate up your capital?” The monks said, “Venerable Sir, in this desolate mountain, there are about a hundred monks, big and small. Each of us could support you for one day, and even a hundred days would be no problem. How would we dare to be so ungrateful as to fuss over food and expenses?” The Pilgrim said, “If you are not fussing, then why are you crying?” The monks said, “Venerable Sir, we do not know where a demon has come to this temple. At night, we sent two little monks to strike the bell and beat the drum. We heard the bell and drum sound, but no one returned. The next day, when we searched, we only found the monk’s cap and shoes thrown in the back garden. Their bones were still there, but the people had been eaten. During the three days you have stayed, six monks have disappeared from our temple. Therefore, we brothers cannot help but be afraid, and cannot help but be sad. Because we saw that your venerable master was ill, we dared not tell you, but we could not help secretly shedding tears.”

When the Great Sage heard this, he was both startled and delighted, and said, "There's no need to say more. It must be a demon harming people here. Let me get rid of it for you." The monks said, "Venerable sir, if the goblin isn't cunning, its magic won't work. It can certainly ride clouds and mists, and it can certainly go in and out of the underworld. As the ancients said well: 'Do not trust the uprightness of the upright; beware of those who lack benevolence.' Venerable sir, do not blame us for saying this: if you can capture it, that will be our temple's great fortune to have this root of disaster removed forever. But if you cannot capture it, there will be many inconveniences." Pilgrim said, "What do you mean by 'many inconveniences'?" The monks replied, "To tell you the truth, venerable sir, although this wilderness temple has a hundred or so monks, we all left home when we were young. When our hair grows long, we find a knife to cut it; when our clothes are thin and tattered, we mend them. In the morning, as we wash our faces, we fold our hands and bow, taking refuge in the Great Way; at night, after we put things away and burn incense, we sincerely click our teeth and recite the name of Amitabha. Looking up, we see the Buddha's nine-grade lotus, the three-vehicled compassionate ferry, and the Dharma clouds, and we wish to see the Tathagata in the Jeta Grove; looking down, we see our minds, uphold the five precepts, save the great trichiliocosm, and in life after life within all dharmas, we wish to awaken to stubborn emptiness and form emptiness. When the various benefactors come, old and young, tall and short, fat and thin, we all knock on wooden fish, strike metal chimes, jostling each other, through two volumes of the Lotus Sutra and one copy of the Emperor Liang's Repentance; when the various benefactors do not come, new and old, raw and ripe, simple and clever, we all fold our palms, close our eyes, sit peacefully in meditation on our rush mats, and firmly close the door under the moonlight. We let the orioles sing and the birds quarrel idly, but they do not touch our convenient, compassionate, great Dharma vehicle. Therefore, we cannot subdue tigers or tame dragons; we cannot recognize monsters or goblins. If you, venerable sir, stir up that demon, then our hundred monks will only be enough for one full meal for it. First, it will cause us to fall into the cycle of rebirth; second, it will destroy this ancient meditation grove; third, it will leave no trace of radiance at the Tathagata's assembly. These are the many inconveniences."

When Pilgrim heard the monks speak thus, anger arose in his heart and ferocity grew at his courage. He cried out in a loud voice, "How stupid you monks are! You only know about that goblin, but do you not know the deeds of Old Sun?" The monks answered softly, "We truly do not know." Pilgrim said, "Today I will tell you a little. Listen carefully. I once subdued tigers and tamed dragons on the Mountain of Flowers and Fruit; I once went up to Heaven and made a great disturbance in the Celestial Palace. When hungry, I took the Old Lord's elixir and bit off two or three pellets; when thirsty, I took the Jade Emperor's wine and lightly sipped six or seven cups. With my pair of gold-gleaming eyes, neither white nor black, the heavens grew dim and the moon hazy; holding my golden-banded staff, neither short nor long, I come without shadow and go without trace. What need to speak of great goblins or small monsters? Even if they are lazy, pus-filled wretches, I chase them down: some run, some tremble, some hide, some panic; I seize them and bring them back: some are filed, some are burned, some are ground, some are pounded. Truly it is like the Eight Immortals crossing the sea, each displaying their own divine powers. All you monks, I will capture this goblin and show you, and then you will know Old Sun."

The monks listened, nodding secretly to themselves, and said, "This bald rascal talks big; he must have some background." They all answered in chorus. Only the lama monk said, "Wait a moment. Your master is ill. It would not matter if you captured this goblin, but as the saying goes: 'When a young master goes to a feast, if he doesn't get drunk, he's full; when a stalwart goes to battle, if he doesn't die, he's wounded.' When you two are locked in combat, if you implicate your master, it won't be very convenient." Pilgrim said, "Reasonable, reasonable. I'll first send some cold water for my master to drink, then come back." He picked up the alms bowl, filled it with cold water, left the kitchen, and went straight to the abbot's quarters, calling out, "Master, drink some cold water." Tripitaka was then feeling thirsty and bothered, so he raised his head, took the bowl, and drank it in one gulp. Truly: A drop in thirst is like sweet dew; when the right medicine arrives, the illness is cured. Pilgrim saw that the elder's spirit was gradually reviving and his eyebrows relaxing, so he asked, "Master, would you like some soup or rice?" Tripitaka said, "This cold water is like a divine elixir; the illness is half cured. I could eat some soup or rice." Pilgrim called out loudly, "My master is better! He wants soup and rice!" He told the monks to hurry and prepare it: wash rice and cook it, roll out dough and bake flatcakes, steam stuffed buns, and make vermicelli soup. They set out four or five tables. Tripitaka only ate half a bowl of rice gruel; Pilgrim and Sha Monk only ate one serving; the rest was all devoured by Eight Rules in one meal. The utensils were cleared away, lamps were lit, and the monks dispersed.

Tripitaka said, "How many days have we stayed here now?" Pilgrim said, "Three full days. Tomorrow evening will be the fourth day." Tripitaka said, "Three days have delayed much of our journey." Pilgrim said, "Master, it's not worth counting as a journey. Let's go tomorrow." Tripitaka said, "Just so. Even if I still have some illness, there's no help for it." Pilgrim said, "Since we're leaving tomorrow, let me capture the goblin tonight to show you." Tripitaka was startled and said, "Capture what goblin again?" Pilgrim said, "There's a goblin in this temple. Let Old Sun capture it for you." Tripitaka said, "Disciple, my illness is not yet cured. Why have you started this thought again? If that monster has divine powers and you cannot capture it, won't that harm me?" Pilgrim said, "You really dampen a man's spirit. Old Sun subdues demons everywhere. Have you ever seen me lose to anyone? If I don't act, I don't act; but if I do, I win." Tripitaka pulled him back and said, "Disciple, as the saying goes well: 'When you have a chance to be convenient, be convenient; when you can forgive others, forgive them.' 'How can worrying be as good as keeping your mind at peace? What is the use of contending, compared to the height of patience?'" The Great Sage Sun, seeing his master earnestly trying to dissuade him from subduing the demon, spoke the truth: "Master, to tell you the truth, that goblin has eaten people here." Tripitaka was greatly shocked and said, "Eaten what people?" Pilgrim said, "In the three days we've stayed, it has eaten six little monks of this temple." The elder said, "'When the rabbit dies, the fox grieves; creatures grieve for their own kind.' Since it has eaten the monks of this temple, I too am a monk. I will let you go, but be careful and thorough." Pilgrim said, "Say no more. Old Sun's hand will reach it and it will be eliminated."

Look at him there in the lamplight, instructing Eight Rules and Sha Monk to guard the master. Joyfully, he leaped out of the abbot's quarters and went straight to the Buddha hall. When he looked, there were stars in the sky, but the moon had not yet risen, and the hall was pitch dark. He blew out his true fire and lit the glass lantern, then beat the drum on the east side and struck the bell on the west. When the sound died down, he shook himself and changed into a little monk, only twelve or thirteen years old, wearing a yellow silk surplice and a white linen robe, knocking on a wooden fish with his hand and reciting sutras in his mouth. He waited until the first watch, but there was no movement. At the second watch, a waning moon began to rise, and he only heard a whistling sound of wind. It was a fine wind:

Black fog darkened the heavens, sorrowful clouds dimmed the earth. All around was like spilled ink; a single patch was like indigo mixed. First it blew, raising dust and scattering soil; then later it came, toppling trees and shattering forests. When it raised dust and scattered soil, the starlight appeared; when it toppled trees and shattered forests, the moonlight grew dim. It blew until: Chang'e tightly hugged the cassia tree, the Jade Rabbit frantically searched for its medicine mortar; the Nine Luminaries all shut their doors, the Four Dragon Kings all closed their gates; the City God in his temple sought his little devils, the celestial maidens in the sky could not ride the clouds; King Yama in the underworld looked for Horse-Face, the judges ran wildly chasing their head-wraps. It moved the stones on Kunlun's peak and rolled the rivers and lakes into turbulent waves.

The wind had just passed when he suddenly smelled the fragrance of orchids and musk, and heard the tinkling of pendants. He straightened up and looked up—ah!—it was a beautiful woman, walking straight into the Buddha hall. Pilgrim kept mumbling and muttering, reciting scriptures. The woman came close, threw her arms around him, and said, "Little elder, what scripture are you reciting?" Pilgrim said, "What I vowed." The woman said, "Everyone else is sleeping peacefully—why are you still reciting scriptures?" Pilgrim said, "If I vowed to, how can I not?" The woman embraced him and kissed him, saying, "Let me go with you to the back to have some fun." Pilgrim deliberately turned his head away and said, "You don't understand things very well." The woman said, "Do you practice physiognomy?" Pilgrim said, "I know a little." The woman said, "What sort of person do you read me to be?" Pilgrim said, "I read you as someone who steals raw and cooked things, driven out by your parents-in-law." The woman said, "You're wrong, you're wrong. I wasn't driven out by parents-in-law, nor because of stealing raw or cooked things. It's just my ill fate from a former life—I was married to a young man. Before the bridal chamber was consummated, I fled to escape my husband. Taking advantage of the starry light and bright moon, it's also fate that brings us together from a thousand li. Let you and me go to the back garden to join in joy and become husband and wife." When Pilgrim heard this, he nodded secretly and thought, "Those few foolish monks were all lured by lust, and so lost their lives. Now she's come to trick me too." So he answered readily, "Lady, I am a monk still young in years, and I don't know anything about these matters of joining in joy." The woman said, "Come with me, and I'll teach you." Pilgrim laughed inwardly and thought, "Very well, I'll go with her and see what she does."

The two of them, arm in arm and hand in hand, left the Buddha hall and went straight to the back garden. The fiend tripped Pilgrim, sending him tumbling to the ground. She cried out wildly, "Dear heart, dear brother!" and reached out to grab his lower body. Pilgrim said, "My child, so you truly want to eat old Sun." But he caught her hand, used a little sitting-throw trick, and flipped the fiend head over heels onto the ground. The fiend still cried out, "Dear heart, dear brother, you can certainly throw your mother!" Pilgrim thought secretly, "If I don't strike her now, when will I? Indeed: 'He who strikes first prevails; he who strikes later suffers.'" So he crossed his hands, arched his waist, leaped up, and revealed his true form and dharma appearance. He swung his gold-banded iron staff and struck straight at her head. The fiend was indeed startled. She thought, "This little monk is quite formidable." Opening her eyes wide, she saw it was that disciple of Elder Tang's named Sun. She was not afraid of him either. What kind of fiend was this? A nose made of gold, fur like spread snow. The earth itself was her dwelling, secure wherever she stayed. Nursing her qi for three hundred years, she had been to Spirit Mountain several times. Sated with incense flowers and candles, Rulai had dispatched her down from the heavenly courts. The Pagoda-Bearing Heavenly King's beloved daughter, Prince Nezha regarded her as his own kin. She was no bird that fills the sea, nor a turtle that carries mountains. She feared neither Lei Huan's sword nor Lü Qian's blade. Coming and going, she cared not for rivers broad as the Han; rising and falling, she heeded not mountains towering like Tai and Heng. Look at her—a dainty, delicate moon-flower face—who would know she was a rat-spirit flaunting her prowess?

Confident in her vast supernatural powers, she casually raised her twin swords; they clanged and clattered as she parried left and covered right, following his every move. Though Pilgrim was stronger, he could not knock her down. A dark wind rose from the ground; the waning moon lost its light. See those two! What a fine battle in the back garden: A dark wind rose from the earth, the waning moon shimmered faintly. Silent was the Brahma king's hall, desolate the little ghost's corridor; the back garden became a battlefield. Great Sage Sun, a celestial saint; the downy maiden, a queen among women: they gambled their powers, neither willing to yield. One turned her fragrant heart, hating the black-bald monk; the other opened his wisdom eyes, loathing the new finery. Two swords flew—who would recognize the lady bodhisattva? A single staff struck—fierce as a living vajra. Where it struck, the gold band flashed like lightning; in an instant, the iron staff gleamed with starry light. Jade towers seized the kingfisher; golden halls shattered the mandarin ducks. Gibbons cried as the Ba moon shrank; wild geese called as the Chu sky stretched long. The eighteen arhats silently cheered; the thirty-two devas were all in panic.

The Great Sage Sun, his spirits roused, wielded his staff without the slightest error. The spirit, realizing she could not match him, suddenly frowned and a plan came to her mind. She turned and fled. Pilgrim shouted, "Vicious creature, where are you going? Surrender at once!" The spirit paid him no heed, retreating steadily. When Pilgrim pressed her closely, she took off the embroidered shoe from her left foot, blew a breath of immortal qi, recited a spell, and cried, "Change!" It changed into her own likeness, wielding two swords and advancing; her true form flickered, turned into a gust of pure wind, and vanished. Was this not Sanzang's calamity? She went straight to the abbot's quarters, seized Tang Sanzang, and carried him up into the clouds, into the dark and misty void. In the blink of an eye, she reached the Hollow Mountain, entered the Bottomless Cave, and ordered her little ones to prepare a vegetarian feast for the wedding. But let us leave that aside for now.

As Pilgrim fought, growing more and more impatient and irritable, he saw an opening and struck the spirit down with his staff—but it was only an embroidered shoe. Pilgrim knew he had fallen for her trick. He quickly turned around to look for his master, but there was no master to be found. He only saw that idiot and Sha Monk mumbling and muttering something. Pilgrim's rage filled his chest; without regard for good or bad, he swung his staff and began to strike wildly, shouting repeatedly, "I'll kill you! I'll kill you!" The idiot was so flustered he could not find a way to escape. Sha Monk, however, was a great general from Spirit Mountain and had seen many things. Softening his manner, he stepped forward and knelt, saying, "Elder Brother, I understand. I think you want to kill the two of us and not go to rescue the master, but just go straight home." Pilgrim said, "I'll kill the two of you, then go rescue him myself." Sha Monk laughed and said, "Elder Brother, what are you saying? Without the two of us, it's truly 'a single thread cannot make a cord, one hand cannot make a clap.' Brother, who will look after the luggage and the horse? Better to emulate Guan and Bao sharing their gold than to imitate Sun and Pang fighting over their schemes. The old saying goes: 'To kill a tiger, you need brothers by blood; to go into battle, you need father and son.' I beg you, Elder Brother, spare us the beating for now. When dawn comes, we will join hearts and strength to find the master." Though Pilgrim's supernatural powers were vast, he also understood reason and knew the time. Seeing Sha Monk's earnest entreaties, he relented and said, "Eight Rules, Sha Monk, both of you get up. Tomorrow we will search for the master. But you must put in effort." When the idiot heard he was forgiven, he wished he could promise half the sky and said, "Brother, leave this all to old Pig." The brothers thought and pondered—how could they sleep? They wished they could nod and summon the sun from Fusang, or blow away all the stars in the sky with one breath.

The three of them sat until dawn, packed up, and prepared to leave. The temple monks came to block the gate and asked, "Reverend Sirs, where are you going?" Pilgrim laughed and said, "It's hard to say. Yesterday I boasted before everyone that I would catch the spirit for you, but not only did I not catch the spirit, I lost my master instead. We are going to search for him." The monks were afraid and said, "Reverend Sir, a small matter has implicated the teacher; but where will you search?" Pilgrim said, "There is a place to find him." The monks hastily said, "Since you are going, do not be in a hurry. First eat some breakfast." They quickly brought out two or three basins of soup and rice. Eight Rules ate until everything was clean and said, "Good monks, once we find our master, we will come back here to play." Pilgrim said, "And still come back here to eat their rice? Go to the Heavenly King Hall and see if that woman is still there." The monks said, "Reverend Sir, she is not, she is not. Since she stayed that one night, she was gone the next day."

Cheerfully, Pilgrim took leave of the monks, told Eight Rules and Sha Monk to lead the horse and carry the load, and headed straight east. Eight Rules said, "Elder Brother, you are wrong. Why are we going east again?" Pilgrim said, "What do you know? The other day, when we tied up that woman in the Black Pine Forest, old Sun's fiery eyes and golden pupils saw through her completely, but all of you took her for a good person. Today, the one who ate the monks is also her, and the one who kidnapped the master is also her. You saved a fine lady bodhisattva! Since she has now taken the master, we will search along the old road." The two sighed in admiration and said, "Good, good, good. Truly, there is subtlety in roughness. Let's go, let's go."

The three hurried into the forest. There they saw: Clouds thick, mists vast; rocks layered, paths winding. Fox tracks and rabbit trails crisscrossed; tigers, leopards, wolves, and jackals came and went. Within the forest, there was no sign of the spirit; where, oh where, was Sanzang?

The Monkey King grew anxious. He pulled out his gold-banded cudgel, shook himself, and changed into the form he had when he caused havoc in Heaven: three heads and six arms, with six hands holding three cudgels, wildly thrashing about in the forest. When Eight Rules saw this, he said, "Sha Monk, the elder brother is angry. He can't find the master, and he's gone mad with rage." It turned out that as the Monkey King fought his way forward, he drove out two old men: one was the Mountain God, the other the Earth Spirit. They came forward and knelt, saying, "Great Sage, the Mountain God and Earth Spirit come to pay homage." Eight Rules remarked, "How effective! With one bout of fighting, you've driven out a Mountain God and an Earth Spirit; if you fight another round, you'll even drive out the God of the Year." The Monkey King asked, "Mountain God, Earth Spirit, how dare you be so insolent—forming a band of robbers here? When the robbers get their loot, they buy pigs and sheep to sacrifice to you, and they've also conspired with the fiend who captured my master. Where is he hiding now? Tell me the truth quickly, or you'll get a beating." The two spirits, flustered, said, "Great Sage, you wrong us. That fiend is not on our mountain, nor is he under our jurisdiction. But as for the place where the wind rises at night, we know a little." The Monkey King said, "Since you know, tell me one by one." The Earth Spirit said, "That fiend has taken your master to the due south, a thousand miles from here. There is a mountain there called Trapping Hollow Mountain. In that mountain there is a cave called the Bottomless Cave. It was a fiend from that mountain who came here, transformed, and captured him." When the Monkey King heard this, he felt secretly alarmed. He dismissed the Mountain God and Earth Spirit, withdrew his magic body, and revealed his true form. He said to Eight Rules and Sha Monk, "The master has gone far away." Eight Rules said, "If it's far, we'll ride the clouds and go after him."

So that simpleton leaped up first on a violent wind; Sha Monk followed on a cloud; the white horse, being originally of dragon lineage, carried the luggage and trod on wind and mist; the Great Sage rose on his cloud somersault. They all headed south. Before long, they saw a great mountain blocking the clouds. The three reined in the horse and halted their clouds. This is what the mountain looked like:

Its summit scraped the azure sky, its peak touched the blue heavens. Around it were countless tangled trees, and birds came and went with chirping cries. Tigers and leopards walked in troops, and musk-deer and roebuck moved in herds. On the sunny side, rare flowers and precious herbs gave off fragrance; on the shady side, winter snow and hard ice never melted. The mountain paths were rugged and perilous, with sheer cliffs and deep ravines. Upright peaks rose high, winding gullies curved deep. Pines were lush and thick, stones glittered and gleamed. Travelers who saw this place were terrified in their hearts. Woodcutters were nowhere to be seen, and immortal herb-gathering boys left no trace. Before their eyes, tigers and leopards could raise mists, and foxes everywhere stirred up strange winds.

Eight Rules said, "Brother, with a mountain so dangerous, there must be evil spirits." The Monkey King said, "Needless to say, a high mountain naturally has monsters; a steep ridge cannot lack spirits." He called out, "Sha Monk, you and I will stay here for a while and let Eight Rules go down to the hollow to scout ahead. Let him find out which path is easy to travel, whether there is a cave, and where its door is open. Let him investigate everything thoroughly, so that we can all go together to find the master and rescue him." Eight Rules said, "Old Pig has rotten luck—you're using me as the scapegoat first." The Monkey King said, "Last night, you said everything was up to you; why are you backing out now?" Eight Rules said, "Don't shout; I'll go." The simpleton put down his rake, shook out his clothes, and, empty-handed, leaped down from the high mountain to look for the path.

As for what happened on this journey, whether it was good or bad, listen to the explanation in the next chapter.