We tell now how the king of Jisai and his ministers, great and small, watched the Great Sage Sun and Eight Rules mount the clouds and ride the mist, carrying off the two lesser fiends and drifting away into the distance. Every one of them bowed toward heaven and said, “What is told of them is no idle tale. Only today do we learn that there are such immortals and living Buddhas in the world.”
Seeing them gone beyond all trace, the king turned and made his thanks to Tripitaka and Sha Monk. “This solitary one has only the fleshly eye of a common mortal,” he said. “I knew no more than that your worthy disciples had strength enough to lay hold of fiends and thieves. How should I have known they were immortals of the upper air, who mount the clouds and ride the mist?”
“This poor monk has no powers of his own,” said Tripitaka. “All along the road I have been beholden to these three small disciples.”
“I will hide nothing from Your Majesty,” said Sha Monk. “My eldest brother in religion is the Great Sage Equal to Heaven, come over to the faith. He once made havoc of the Palace of Heaven, and with a single gold-banded cudgel he faced a hundred thousand celestial troops without meeting one match among them. He put such fright into the Most High Lord Lao and such terror into the Jade Emperor. My second brother is Marshal Tian Peng, come to his true fruit; he too once had command of the eighty thousand water-troops of the River of Heaven. Only your disciple here has no powers, being the Curtain-Raising Captain who received the precepts.
“We foolish brothers are without ability in a good many other matters. But as for seizing fiends and binding monsters, taking thieves and catching runaways, subduing tigers and bringing dragons to heel, kicking at the sky and making sport of wells, or even churning the seas and overturning rivers — of such things we know a little. This mounting of clouds and riding of mist, this calling up of rain and whistling for wind, that shifting of the Dipper and moving of the stars, that shouldering of mountains and chasing after the moon: these are mere leavings, matters of no account. What is there in them worth the speaking?”
Hearing this, the king grew more reverent still. He begged the Tang Monk to take the upper seat, calling him on every tongue the Old Buddha, and styled Sha Monk and the rest, one and all, Bodhisattvas. The whole court, civil and military, was delighted, and the black-haired commons of the entire realm made their prostrations — but of that no more.
We tell now how the Great Sage Sun and Eight Rules rode a wild wind, carried the two lesser fiends off to the Green Wave Pool on the Mountain of Tumbled Rocks, and brought their cloud to a stand. Pilgrim breathed a mouthful of immortal breath upon the gold-banded cudgel and cried, “Change!” It changed into a precept knife, and with it he sliced the ears from the black-fish fiend and the lower lip from the sheatfish sprite. Then he flung them into the water and shouted after them:
“Off with you, and quickly — report to that Myriad Sage Dragon King. Tell him the Great Sage Equal to Heaven, Grandfather Sun, is here, and let him send out at once the original treasure from the pagoda of the Temple of Golden Light in Jisai, and I will spare the lives of his household. But if he lets out so much as half a 'no,' I will churn this pool dry and see his whole house, old and young alike, put to the sword.”
The two lesser fiends, their lives granted them, bore their pain and fled for safety, dragging their chains behind them as they plunged into the water. They so frightened the giant soft-shells and river alligators, the tortoises and terrapins, the shrimps and crabs and fish-sprites, that the whole company came crowding round to ask, “What are you two about, trailing rope and cord?”
The one clapped a hand over his ears, shaking his head and lashing his tail; the other clapped a hand over his mouth, stamping his feet and beating his breast. All of them clamouring and making an uproar, they went straight up to the Dragon King's palace hall: “Report to the Great King — disaster!”
The Myriad Sage Dragon King was just then drinking with his nine-headed son-in-law when he saw the two of them come in. He set down his cup at once and asked what disaster this was.
“Last night, on our round of inspection,” they reported, “we were taken by the Tang Monk and Sun the Pilgrim as they swept the pagoda, and bound fast with iron chains. This morning we were brought before the king, and then that Pilgrim and Zhu Eight Rules seized the pair of us — the ears cut from one and the lip from the other — and threw us into the water, sending us to report that they demand the treasure from the pagoda's crown.” And so they told the whole affair, first and last, over in detail.
When the old dragon heard that it was Sun the Pilgrim, the Great Sage Equal to Heaven, he was frightened until his hun-soul would not stay in his body and his po-souls scattered to the ninth heaven. Trembling, he said to his son-in-law, “Worthy son-in-law! Were it anyone else that had come, the thing might still be reckoned with; but if it is truly he, this is no good business.”
The son-in-law laughed. “Set your mind at rest, honoured father-in-law. Your foolish son-in-law has studied a little skill at arms since childhood, and within the four seas has met a hero or two in his time. What is there in him to fear? Let me go out and give him battle for three bouts, and I warrant that fellow will draw in his head and come over in surrender, not daring so much as to look up.”
A fine fiend! He sprang up in haste and put on his armour, and took up a weapon of a kind called the crescent-moon spade. Out of the palace he stepped, opened a road through the water, and called from the surface, “Which of you is this Great Sage Equal to Heaven? Come up and yield your life.”
Pilgrim and Eight Rules stood at the water's edge and looked to see how the fiend was arrayed:
On his head a helm of burnished silver, its glitter putting white snow to shame;
on his body a suit of helm and mail, its brightness a match for autumn frost.
Draped above it a brocade campaign robe — truly it is rosy cloud enfolding jade;
girt at the waist a belt of rhinoceros grain — indeed it is a flowered python coiled about gold.
In his hand he grips the crescent-moon spade, sunset flying, lightning darting;
on his feet he wears boots of pigskin, water cleaving, waves parting.
Seen from afar, one head and one face; looked at close to, on all four sides a human face:
eyes before, eyes behind, seeing through the eight quarters;
a mouth on the left, a mouth on the right, nine mouths holding discourse.
One bellow, and the vast sky shudders —
like a crane in flight whose cry pierces the ninefold heaven.
Seeing that no one answered, he called out once more, “Which of you is the Great Sage Equal to Heaven?”
Pilgrim gave his gold fillet a press and his iron cudgel a run of the hand. “Old Sun is the man.”
“Where is your house and home?” said the fiend. “From what quarter does your person come? How did you come to reach the kingdom of Jisai, and to guard a pagoda for that king, and then make so bold as to seize my officers, and dare besides to do violence, and come up to my precious mountain demanding a fight?”
Pilgrim cursed him. “You thieving fiend! So you do not know your Grandfather Sun. Step up here, and listen while I tell it:”
Old Sun's forebears dwelt on the Mountain of Flowers and Fruit,
in the Water Curtain Cave, amid the great sea.
From youth I refined an indestructible body,
and the Jade Emperor invested me as Sage Equal to Heaven.
Only because I made havoc in the Palace of Dipper and Ox,
not one god of heaven could get the better of me.
Then they must call the Tathāgata, who spread forth Sumeru —
wisdom without bound, and no common exercise of it.
For the sake of a somersault we wagered our divine powers;
his hand turned into a mountain and pressed me down with its weight.
A full five hundred years, down to this day,
until Guanyin spoke for me, and only then did I escape with my life.
Tripitaka of the Great Tang goes up to the Western Heaven,
to bow from afar at Vulture Peak and seek the Buddha's hymns.
He loosed me from my bondage that I might guard him,
smelting demons and cleansing monsters, following him in the practice.
On the road we came upon the city of Jisai in the Western Region.
Wrongfully it had cost monks their lives through three generations.
We in our compassion asked after the old business,
and it was because the pagoda threw back no light.
My master swept the pagoda to search the matter out plainly,
on to the third watch of the night, when the pipes of heaven fell still.
We caught the fiends and took a true deposition,
and they said that you were the ones who stole the treasure.
Thieves in full partnership — there was a Dragon King,
and a princess named along with him, styled Myriad Sage.
A rain of blood drenched the light from the pagoda,
and you carried off his treasure to use it.
The deposition before the throne had nothing false in it;
I obey the king's word and have ridden into these parts.
And so I have sought you out and demanded a fight;
you need not ask again what Grandfather Sun is called.
Give the treasure back to him, and be quick about it,
and spare the lives of your whole house, young and old.
But if you are fool enough to make a parade of your strength,
I will have your waters dried, your mountain fallen, and the whole of it come to grief.
The son-in-law heard him out and said with a small cold laugh, “So you are the monk who goes for the scriptures — trumping up charges to no purpose and meddling in what is not yours. I stole his treasure; you go to fetch the Buddha's scriptures. What has it to do with you, that you should come brawling here?”
“This thieving fiend is quite past reason,” said Pilgrim. “Though I have taken no favour from the king, and eaten none of his water and rice, and am under no obligation to exert myself for him — yet since you stole his treasure and defiled his pagoda, and year after year kept the monks of the Temple of Golden Light in wrongful suffering, and they are of one gate and one breath with me, how should I not exert myself for them and make the wrong plain?”
“Since that is how it stands with you,” said the son-in-law, “I suppose you mean to have a contest of it. There is a common saying: arms make no gentle work. Only I fear that once hands are raised there will be no leaving room for mercy, and that in a moment I shall do your life some harm and spoil your going for the scriptures.”
Pilgrim flew into a rage and cursed him. “You rascally thieving fiend, what great powers have you, that you dare open so wide a mouth? Come up here and take a stroke of your lordship's cudgel.”
The son-in-law was not in the least dismayed. He caught the iron cudgel on his crescent-moon spade, and there on the crest of the Mountain of Tumbled Rocks — this was truly a fine fight:
The fiend stole the treasure and the pagoda lost its light;
Pilgrim seized the fiends and made report to the king.
The lesser fiends fled for their lives back into the water;
the old dragon's gall broke, and the two took counsel together.
The nine-headed son-in-law put forth his martial power,
came on in armour to display his native strength.
Rage broke out in Sun the Great Sage Equal to Heaven;
the gold-banded cudgel rose in its full hardness.
That monster — nine skulls, eighteen eyes,
front and back alike sending out a fine light;
this Pilgrim — a pair of iron arms with a thousand catties' force,
thronging thick, and auspicious besides.
The spade like the moon at the first return of the yang;
the cudgel like frost flying over ten thousand lǐ.
Said he: “It is no concern of yours — leave off reporting other men's wrongs.”
Said I: “You set out on purpose to steal a treasure, and that is no good at all.
“You rascally thief — less of your wildness;
“give him back his treasure and get some peace.”
Cudgel met and spade parried, contending which stood higher;
no winning or losing showed, and the field went on being drilled.
The two of them went at it back and forth, fought through thirty bouts and more, and neither won nor lost. Zhu Eight Rules stood before the mountain, and seeing them come to the sweetest part of the fight, raised his nine-tined rake and drove it in at the fiend's back. But it turned out that the fiend's nine heads had eyes all the way round, and he saw it plainly. Seeing Eight Rules coming up behind, he used the butt of the spade to fend off the rake while the head of it held off the iron cudgel.
He held out another five bouts or seven, but could not fend off the swinging from before and behind at once; so he took a roll, sprang up into the air, and showed his true form — which was a Nine-Headed Worm. To look upon its shape was to see something wholly hideous; to behold this form was to be frightened to death. This was how he was made:
Plumage spread out like brocade,
the body balled up and matted like floss.
In compass it had the scale of a zhàng and two chǐ,
in length the make of a soft-shell or a river alligator.
Two feet with points as keen as hooks,
nine heads gathered in a ring into one place.
Spread wide, its wings are exceedingly apt at soaring —
even the great Peng has not its force;
raising its voice, it shakes the far edge of heaven —
it can cry higher yet than the immortal crane.
Its many eyes flash and glitter with a golden light,
its bearing haughty, unlike the common run of birds.
Zhu Eight Rules saw it and said in alarm, “Brother! In all my time as a person I have never seen so hideous a thing. What sort of blood and breath ever bred such a beast?”
“A rare thing truly, a rare thing truly,” said Pilgrim. “Let me go up after it and strike.”
That fine Great Sage! He sprang up on an auspicious cloud, leapt into the air, and struck straight at its head with the iron cudgel. The monster made its body large, spread its wings and flew aslant, whipped about with a rush, swept down before the mountain, and out of the middle of its body put forth yet another head, which opened a mouth like a basin of blood, took Eight Rules by the mane in a single bite, and half dragging and half hauling him, carried him down into the water of the Green Wave Pool and was gone.
Reaching the outside of the dragon palace, it changed back into its former shape, threw Eight Rules down on the ground, and called, “Where are my little ones?” From within, the fish-sprites — black carp, culter, carp and mandarin fish — and the shell-armoured monsters — tortoise, terrapin, giant soft-shell and river alligator — came crowding out together and answered, “Here!”
“Tie this monk up over there,” said the son-in-law, “and get me satisfaction for my patrolling privates.” The sprites, shoving and clamouring, carried Eight Rules in; and the old Dragon King in his delight came out to meet them, saying, “Worthy son-in-law, you have done well! How did you take him?” The son-in-law told the whole matter over from the beginning, and the old dragon at once ordered wine set out to toast the feat — but of that no more.
We tell now how Sun the Pilgrim, seeing the fiend carry Eight Rules off, said within himself in fear, “The fellow is as formidable as that. I would go back to court and see my master, but I fear that king would laugh at me; I would call out and challenge him to battle, but alas I am single-handed, and water business besides is not what I am used to. Let me change myself and go in, and see how the fiend disposes of the idiot. And if I get the chance, I shall steal him out and get on with the business.”
That fine Great Sage! He pinched a magic sign, shook himself and changed, and became a crab once again; he dropped into the water and went straight to the front of the ceremonial arch. It turned out that this was a road he had come to know well the time before, when he raided the Bull Demon King and stole the golden-eyed beast. Going right down below the palace gate-towers, he crawled sideways across, and saw the old Dragon King and the Nine-Headed Worm drinking merrily with the whole household.
Pilgrim dared not go near. He crawled along under the eastern gallery and saw a number of shrimp-sprites and crab-sprites amusing themselves in a confused throng. He listened to their talk a while, then took up their speech and their turns of phrase, and asked, “That long-snouted monk his lordship the son-in-law brought in — is he dead by now or not?”
“Not dead,” said the sprites. “Isn't that him groaning, tied up under the western gallery there?”
Hearing this, Pilgrim crawled softly across to the western gallery, and sure enough there was the idiot, tied to a pillar and groaning. Pilgrim came up close and said, “Eight Rules, do you know me?”
Eight Rules caught the voice and knew it for Pilgrim's. “Brother, what has happened? Instead I have been caught by the fellow myself.”
Pilgrim looked about and saw nobody, so with his pincers he bit the rope through and told him to run. The idiot got his hands free and said, “Brother, he has taken away my weapon. What is to be done?”
“Do you know where it has been put?”
“It was carried up to the palace hall by the fiend just then.”
“You go on ahead,” said Pilgrim, “and wait for me under the ceremonial arch.” Eight Rules fled for his life and slipped quietly out.
Pilgrim turned back and crawled up into the palace hall to look. On the left there was a dense brightness — it was Eight Rules' nine-tined rake giving off light. He worked a spell to hide his body, stole the rake out, went down to the ceremonial arch, and called, “Eight Rules — catch your weapon.”
The idiot got his rake and said at once, “Brother, you go on ahead, and let old Hog fight his way into the palace. If I win, I shall seize the whole household; if I do not win, I shall come out beaten, and you can stand by on the bank of this pool to back me up.” Pilgrim was delighted, and only told him to be careful.
“I am not afraid of him,” said Eight Rules. “As for skill in the water, I have a little of that myself.” And Pilgrim left him and carried himself up out of the water — but of that no more.
Eight Rules belted up his black cassock, gripped the rake in both hands, gave a shout, and went smashing in. He so alarmed the water-tribe, great and small, that they went scurrying and scattering, ran up to the palace hall and bawled, “Bad news! The long-snouted monk has broken his rope and is fighting his way back in!”
The old dragon and the Nine-Headed Worm and the whole household together were caught unready; they sprang up and went dodging and hiding. The idiot, careless of life or death, charged up into the hall, and all the way with his rake broke the door-leaves, broke the tables and chairs, and smashed every one of the drinking things to pieces. There is a poem in witness of it. The poem says:
The Mother of Wood fell in with a water-fiend and was taken;
the Mind Monkey would not give him up, and sought him bitterly.
In secret he plied an artful scheme and stole the lock open;
greatly he showed his divine power, and deep was his angry hate.
The son-in-law hurriedly took the princess and hid;
the Dragon King shook with terror and his voice was cut off.
In the water palace and the crimson towers the doors and windows were ruined;
dragon sons and dragon grandsons, every one of them, lost their souls.
In that bout Eight Rules smashed the tortoiseshell screen into powder and dashed the coral trees down to ruin. The Nine-Headed Worm stowed the princess safely away within, snatched up his crescent-moon spade, hurried to the front hall and shouted, “You rascally, clumsy swine! How dare you so far forget yourself as to terrify my household?”
Eight Rules cursed back. “You thieving fiend, how did you dare take me and carry me off? This whole business is no affair of mine. It was you who invited me home to fight. Bring out the treasure and give it back to me, and I shall go and see the king and have done with it. Otherwise I shall certainly not spare the lives of your household.”
As if the fiend would show any mercy! He set his teeth and closed with Eight Rules. The old dragon had only just collected his wits; he led out dragon sons and dragon grandsons, each with spear or blade, and they came on all together to the attack. Eight Rules saw the thing was going badly, made a feint with the rake, turned his body and ran, and the old dragon led the company after him. In a moment they shot up out of the water, and all of them came tumbling about on the surface of the pool.
We tell now how Sun the Pilgrim stood waiting on the bank. Seeing them come chasing Eight Rules up out of the water, he set half a foot on the cloudy mist, whipped out the iron cudgel and shouted, “Stand where you are!” One blow, and the old dragon's head was beaten to a pulp. Pity it — blood spurted, and red water spread over the pool; the corpse drifted, and broken scales floated on the waves. It so terrified the dragon sons and dragon grandsons that every one of them fled for his life; and the nine-headed son-in-law gathered up the dragon's corpse and turned back to the palace.
Pilgrim and Eight Rules did not pursue for the moment, but went back up on the bank and told each other all that had happened. “The fellow's edge is blunted,” said Eight Rules. “When I went in with my rake all down the line, I beat them like blossom scattered on running water, and their souls flew every way. I was just at grips with the son-in-law when the old Dragon King came up on me — and it was thanks to you that he was killed. Those fellows have gone back, and they will certainly be laying out the body and putting on mourning. They will not come out again for anything. And now the day is getting late besides. What is to be done?”
“Never mind the day being late,” said Pilgrim. “Take the chance while it is here and go down again to the attack. The treasure must be got out; only then can we go back to court.”
The idiot's heart was not in it; he hung back and made excuses. Pilgrim pressed him hard: “Brother, no more hesitating. Draw them out again the way you did just now, and let me do the striking.”
The two of them were still arguing it out when they heard a wild wind come rolling and a dark mist come lowering, passing suddenly out of the east and straight away to the south. Pilgrim looked carefully, and it was Erlang the Manifested Sage, leading the Six Brothers of Plum Mountain, with hawks and hounds on the arm, foxes and hares slung on poles, river-deer and roebuck carried between them, every one of them with a bent bow at his waist and a keen blade in his hand, riding the wind and mist and coming on at a bound.
“Eight Rules,” said Pilgrim, “that is my brotherhood of Seven Sages. It would be a good thing to stop them and invite them to help us in the fight. If we could bring it off, it would be a great opportunity indeed.”
“If they are your brothers,” said Eight Rules, “then by all means they should be stopped and invited.”
“But among them is my eldest brother the Manifested Sage. I was once subdued by him, and it will not do for me to meet him face to face. You go and head off their cloud, and call out: True Lord, halt a moment — the Great Sage Equal to Heaven is here and comes to pay his respects. If he hears that it is I, he will certainly stop. And when he has come down and settled, then it will do for me to meet him.”
The idiot leapt hastily up on his cloud, went up the mountain and blocked the way, and called out in a sharp loud voice, “True Lord, hold your carriage a moment — the Great Sage Equal to Heaven asks to see you.” His Lordship, hearing it, at once gave the word and halted the six brothers; and when he had exchanged greetings with Eight Rules, he asked, “Where is the Great Sage Equal to Heaven?”
“He is down at the foot of the mountain,” said Eight Rules, “waiting to be called.”
“Brothers,” said Erlang, “go quickly and bring him up.”
The six brothers were Kang, Zhang, Yao, Li, Guo and Zhi; and each of them came out from the camp and called, “Brother Sun Wukong! Our eldest brother invites you.” Pilgrim came forward, made his salutations to them all, and went up the mountain in their company. His Lordship Erlang came out to meet him; they took each other by the hand and supported one another, and greeted each other as equals.
“Great Sage,” he said, “you have got clear of a great calamity, taken the precepts of the monastic gate, and when the day comes and the merit is complete you will mount high upon the lotus throne. My congratulations — my congratulations.”
“I dare not take it so,” said Pilgrim. “I formerly received a kindness beyond measure from you, and have not yet made the least return for it. Though I am clear of calamity and travelling west, I do not yet know how the merit and the practice will come out. Now, having come upon the kingdom of Jisai on the road, and to answer for the monks in their affliction, I am here seizing fiends and demanding a treasure. Chancing to see my elder brother's carriage, I made bold to ask you to stay and lend a hand. I do not know from where my elder brother comes — will you be so good as to favour me?”
Erlang laughed. “Having leisure and nothing on hand, I have been out hunting with my brothers and am on the way back. It is my good fortune that the Great Sage does not disdain to stop me for a meeting; I feel the full weight of an old acquaintance's regard. If you bid me lend my strength to subdue a fiend, how should I dare do otherwise than as you bid? But I do not know what fiend or thief this place holds.”
“Has the eldest brother forgotten?” said the Six Sages. “This is the Mountain of Tumbled Rocks, and below it lies the Green Wave Pool, the dragon palace of the Myriad Sage.”
Erlang said in surprise, “The old Myriad Sage dragon was never one to make trouble. How should he dare steal a pagoda's treasure?”
“Not long ago he took in a son-in-law,” said Pilgrim, “who is a Nine-Headed Worm come to spirit-hood. The two of them, son-in-law and father-in-law together, turned thieves: they sent down a rain of blood on the kingdom of Jisai and stole away the Buddha-relic from the crown of the pagoda of the Temple of Golden Light. That king could not make out what it meant, and cruelly laid hold of the monks and had them beaten. It was my master's compassion that set him sweeping the pagoda by night; and I caught two lesser fiends up in the tower then, sent out by him on patrol. This morning they were brought under guard to the court, and confessed it all truthfully. The king then begged my master to put them down, and my master ordered us here.
“In the first bout the Nine-Headed Worm put out a head from the middle of his body and carried Eight Rules off in his mouth. So I changed shape and went down into the water, and got Eight Rules loose. Just now there was a great battle, and it was I who beat the old dragon to death; those fellows have gone off to gather up the body and put on mourning. The two of us were just debating a fresh challenge when we saw my elder brother's train coming down; and so I have made bold to trouble you.”
“Since the old dragon is killed,” said Erlang, “this is just the moment to press the attack, so that the fellow has no time to get his hands up. Would that not wipe out the whole nest together?”
“That may be so,” said Eight Rules, “but what of the day being late?”
“The soldier's saying goes: a campaign does not wait upon the hour. What is there to fear in a late day?”
“Eldest brother, no hurry,” said Kang, Yao, Guo and Zhi. “The fellow's household is here; there is nowhere for them to go, we reckon. Brother Sun is an honoured guest besides, and Zhu Ganglie has come round to the true fruit; we have wine and dishes carried with us in camp. Let the lads get a fire going and lay it out here — for one thing to congratulate the two of them, and for another to talk over old times. Let us make a night of it and challenge them at daybreak — where is the delay in that?”
Erlang was delighted. “What my worthy brothers say is exactly right,” he said, and he ordered the junior officers to make it ready.
“Such generosity from you all — I dare not stubbornly refuse,” said Pilgrim. “But ever since I became a monk it has been fasting all the way, and I am afraid the meat and the vegetable will not sit well together.”
“There are vegetarian fruits and sweetmeats,” said Erlang, “and the wine is vegetarian too.” And the brothers, in the light of the stars and moon, with the sky for a canopy and the ground for a mat, raised their cups and talked over old times.
It is a true saying: in loneliness the watches are long, and in merriment the night is short. Before they knew it the east was turning white.
Eight Rules, with several cups of wine in him and quivering in good humour, said, “The day is nearly light. Let old Hog go down into the water and challenge them.”
“Careful, Marshal,” said Erlang. “You have only to draw him out, and my brothers and I can set to work.”
Eight Rules laughed. “I know it, I know it.” See him gather his robe and grip his rake, work the water-parting spell, go leaping down and straight to the foot of the ceremonial arch. He gave a shout and went smashing into the hall.
By now the dragon sons had put on hemp and were weeping over the dragon's body; the dragon grandsons and the son-in-law were behind, getting the coffin ready. Eight Rules came cursing forward, and where his hand fell the rake-head landed heavy: it took a dragon son square across the skull and drove nine holes through his head at one stroke. It so terrified the dragon dame and the rest that they ran scattering inward, and she cried, “The long-snouted monk has killed my son too!”
The son-in-law, hearing it, took up his crescent-moon spade and came fighting out with the dragon grandsons. Eight Rules raised his rake to meet them, fighting and giving ground by turns, and leapt out of the water. On the bank the Great Sage Equal to Heaven and the seven brothers rushed forward together, spears and blades stabbing every way, and chopped a dragon grandson into so many lumps of minced meat.
The son-in-law, seeing that things were not going well, took a roll before the mountain, showed his true form once more, spread his wings and went wheeling up into the air. Erlang at once took his golden bow, fitted a silver pellet, drew the bow full and shot upward at him. The monster hastily furled its wings, swept down close, and made to bite Erlang. It had just put out a head from the middle of its body when that slender hound sprang up at it and with one bark bit the head clean off, dripping with blood. The monster bore its pain and fled for its life, making straight away for the Northern Sea.
Eight Rules was for going after it, but Pilgrim stopped him. “Do not chase him. As the saying has it, do not pursue a desperate foe. With his head bitten off by the hound, he is a great deal more likely dead than alive. Let me change into his shape; you part the water and drive me in, and I will find the princess and get the treasure out of her by a trick.”
“Letting him go may do well enough,” said Erlang and the Six Sages; “only, leaving such a breed alive in the world is bound to be a plague to the men who come after.” To this day there is a nine-headed creature that drips blood; it is of that surviving stock.
Eight Rules did as he was told and parted the water. Pilgrim changed into the fiend's shape and went in front; Eight Rules came bawling and shouting behind. By degrees the chase came to the dragon palace, and there was the Myriad Sage princess, saying, “Husband, why so flustered as this?”
“That Eight Rules has the better of it,” said Pilgrim. “He has driven me in here, and I feel I am no match for him. Get the treasures well hidden, and be quick about it.”
In her haste the princess could not tell the true from the false. She fetched out of the rear hall a casket of solid gold and handed it to Pilgrim, saying, “This is the Buddha-treasure.” She fetched out another casket of white jade and handed him that too. “This is the nine-leaved magic fungus. Take these treasures away and hide them, while I have two or three bouts with Zhu Eight Rules and hold him off. When you have the treasures safely put away, come out again and join the fight.”
Pilgrim stowed the two caskets about him, gave his face a wipe, showed his own form and said, “Princess — do I look to you like your husband?” The princess took fright and made to snatch the caskets back. But Eight Rules ran up, laid a rake across her back, and struck her down to the ground.
There was still the old dragon dame. She turned to go, and Eight Rules caught hold of her and had the rake up to strike when Pilgrim said, “Hold. Do not beat her to death. Keep one alive, so we have something to show at the capital.” And so they carried the dragon dame up out of the water.
Pilgrim came up on the bank behind him, carrying the two caskets, and said to Erlang, “By my elder brother's might we have the treasures, and the fiends and thieves are swept clean away.”
“For one thing it is that king's great good fortune,” said Erlang, “and for another it is you worthy brothers' boundless power. What merit have I in it?”
“Since Brother Sun's work is accomplished,” said the brothers all, “we will take our leave here.” Pilgrim thanked them without end, and wanted to keep them to go and see the king with him. The company would not, and so Erlang led them all back to Guankou, and there was an end of it.
Pilgrim carrying the caskets and Eight Rules dragging the dragon dame, half on cloud and half in mist, in a moment they were inside the kingdom. It turned out that the monks of the Temple of Golden Light, loosed from their bonds, were all outside the city to meet them. Seeing the two of them bring their cloud and mist to a stand, the monks came up, knocked their heads and made obeisance, and escorted them into the city.
The king and the Tang Monk were just then in the hall in conversation. One of the monks who had gone on ahead made bold to enter at the court gate and report, “Ten thousand years! Their lordships Sun and Zhu are come, with the thieves taken and the treasure won.”
Hearing it, the king came hurriedly down from the hall and went out with the Tang Monk and Sha Monk to meet them, thanking them without end for their divine work, and at once ordered a banquet laid to render thanks.
“There is no need to bestow drink yet,” said Tripitaka. “Let my disciple put the pagoda's treasure back in its place, and then we may feast.” Then he asked Pilgrim, “You left the capital yesterday — how is it that you are only now come back?” Pilgrim told it over in detail — the fight with the son-in-law, the killing of the Dragon King, the meeting with the True Lord, the defeat of the fiend, and the changing of shape to swindle the treasure out. Tripitaka and the king and the officers great and small were all beyond measure delighted.
“Can the dragon dame speak the speech of men?” the king asked again.
“She is a dragon king's wife,” said Eight Rules, “and has borne a great many dragon sons and dragon grandsons — how should she not know the speech of men?”
“Since she knows it, let her tell out at once the whole story of the thieving, first and last.”
“Of the stealing of the Buddha-treasure I know nothing whatever,” said the dragon dame. “It was my husband the dragon spirit and that son-in-law, the Nine-Headed Worm: knowing that the light on your pagoda was a Buddhist śarīra, three years ago they sent down a rain of blood and took their chance to steal it away.”
“And the magic fungus — how was that stolen?” he asked again.
“That was my young daughter, the Myriad Sage princess, who went in secret up before the Hall of Divine Mists in the Great Canopy Heaven and stole the Queen Mother's nine-leaved magic fungus. The śarīra, getting the immortal breath of this plant to keep it warm, would not decay in a thousand years and would give off light for ten thousand. Sweep it over the ground or over a field, and at once there are ten thousand shafts of rosy light and a thousand strands of auspicious vapour. Now you have taken it away, and brought it about that my husband is dead and my sons cut off, my son-in-law lost and my daughter gone. A thousand times I beg you, spare my life.”
“We are not sparing you at all,” said Eight Rules.
“No house is guilty in every member,” said Pilgrim. “I will spare you — only you must keep watch over the pagoda for me from this time on and for ever.”
“A good death is not so good as a bad life,” said the dragon dame. “Only leave me my life, and you may set me to whatever you please.” Pilgrim called for an iron chain.
The officer in attendance fetched a chain at once and ran it through the dragon dame's shoulder-blades. Pilgrim told Sha Monk, “Ask the king to come and watch us set the pagoda to rights.” The king had his carriage made ready at once and came out of the court hand in hand with Tripitaka, with the officers civil and military, and so to the Temple of Golden Light.
Pilgrim went up the pagoda and set the śarīra in the middle of the precious vase at the crown of the thirteenth storey, and chained the dragon dame to the central pillar. He said the true words and summoned the local earth god, the city god and the temple's guardian spirits, and charged them to bring one meal every three days to keep the dragon dame alive; and at the least default they would be executed on the spot. The gods assented in the unseen.
Then Pilgrim took the fungus and swept it over all thirteen storeys, floor by floor, and set it inside the vase to keep the śarīra warm. Now indeed the old was made new again: ten thousand shafts of rosy light, a thousand strands of auspicious vapour, and once more it was seen from all eight quarters and looked to by four kingdoms together.
Coming down out of the pagoda door, the king gave thanks. “Had the Old Buddha and the three Bodhisattvas not come here, how should this matter ever have been made plain!”
“Your Majesty,” said Pilgrim, “the two characters Golden Light are not good; they are not the stuff of long standing. Gold is a thing that flows, and light is a vapour that flickers. This poor monk has laboured this while on your behalf. Change the temple's name to the Temple of the Subdued Dragon, and it will stand for ever.” The king at once ordered the name changed and a new tablet hung up, reading: The Imperially Founded Realm-Protecting Temple of the Subdued Dragon.
On one side a royal banquet was laid; on the other, painters were called to set down the likenesses of the four, and their names were entered in the Tower of Five Phoenixes. The king brought out his imperial carriage to see the Tang Monk and his disciples on their way, and offered gold and jade in requital. Master and disciples firmly declined and would not take the least part of it. This indeed was a case of:
The evil fiends cut away, all quarters are at peace;
the precious pagoda gives back its light, and the great earth is bright.
In the end it is not known what the road ahead may hold; listen to the next chapter and it will be explained.