Now the smiths in that courtyard, worn out by day after day of hard labour, had all taken themselves off to sleep for the night. At daybreak they rose to resume their forging, and beneath the shed the three weapons were gone. Every man of them stood dumbstruck and thunderstruck, and they searched in all four directions.
Just then the three princes came out from the palace to look in, and the smiths knocked their heads on the ground together and said, “Little masters! The three weapons of the divine teachers — none of us knows where they have gone.”
When the young prince heard this his heart shook and his gall trembled, and he said, “It must be that our master gathered them up in the night.” He hurried straight to the Gauze-Screen Pavilion to look. The white horse was still under the gallery, and unable to hold himself back he called out, “Master, are you still asleep?”
Sha Monk said, “We are up.” He opened the chamber door at once and let the prince in to look. There were no weapons. Flustered and flurried, the prince asked, “Has the master gathered up his weapons?”
Pilgrim sprang up and said, “We gathered up nothing.” The prince said, “The three weapons — in the night they all disappeared.”
Eight Rules scrambled up in a rush and said, “Is my rake still there?”
The young prince said, “Just now when we came out, we saw the whole household searching front and back and finding nothing. Your disciple feared that the master had gathered them up, and so came only now to ask. The old teachers' treasures can all grow long and shrink away, so surely they are hidden about your persons, and you are teasing your disciple.”
Pilgrim said, “Truly we did not gather them up. Let us all go and look.”
They went along to the shed in the courtyard, and sure enough there was not a trace or a shadow of them.
Eight Rules said, “It must be this gang of smiths who stole them. Bring them out this instant! Delay a moment longer and we will beat the lot of you dead — beat you dead!”
The smiths, terrified, knocked their heads and let their tears fall, and said, “Grandfathers! We have laboured hard day after day, and at night we fell asleep, and by the time we rose at dawn they were gone. We are ordinary mortals to a man. How could we even lift them? We beg your mercy, grandfathers — mercy!”
Pilgrim said nothing, then, blaming himself inwardly, said, “It is our own fault after all. Once the patterns had been taken, we should have gathered them up and kept them by us. Why did we leave them lying here? Those treasures throw off a rosy radiance. It must be that they roused some wicked person, who came in the night and stole them away.”
Eight Rules did not believe it, and said, “Elder brother, what talk is this? This is a peaceable, settled country, and no wild waste or deep mountain either. Where would a wicked person come from? It must be that the smiths grew covetous. They saw the brilliance of our weapons, recognised them for three treasures, slipped out of the palace in the night, gathered a crew, and some lifting and some hauling, carried them off. Drag them here and beat them! Beat them!”
The smiths only knocked their heads and swore oaths.
In the midst of the uproar the old prince came out, and asked about what had happened. His face too went bloodless, and after a long, brooding silence he said, “The divine teachers' weapons are not of the common sort. A hundred men and more could not shift or stir them. Moreover I have held this city five generations now. This is no bold boast of mine — I have some name for worth beyond its walls. The soldiers, the people and the craftsmen of this city all stand in some awe of my rule, and would certainly not dare grow covetous. I beg the divine teachers to think again.”
Pilgrim laughed and said, “There is no need to think again, nor to press the smiths so hard. I would ask Your Highness: on the four sides of this prefecture, are there any mountain-forest fiends?”
The prince said, “The divine teacher's question is very much to the point. North of this prefecture of mine there stands a Leopard-Head Mountain, and in that mountain a Tiger-Mouth Cave. People say again and again that there are immortals in the cave; others say wolves and tigers; others say fiends. I have never yet made out the truth of it, and do not know what the thing may be.”
Pilgrim laughed and said, “No need to say more. It must be wicked creatures from that quarter who, knowing them all for treasures, stole them away in the night.”
He called, “Eight Rules, Sha Monk — you two stay here, guarding the master and watching over the city. Let old Monkey go and seek them out.” He also told the smiths that they must not let the furnace fires die, but should go on forging one piece after another.
Excellent Monkey King! He took leave of Tripitaka, gave a single whistle, and vanished shape and shadow, arriving in a moment atop Leopard-Head Mountain. That city, as it turned out, lay only thirty lǐ off, so he was there in the blink of an eye. He went straight up to the peak to look, and sure enough there was something of a fiendish air about it.
Truly it was a place of which it might be said:
The dragon vein runs long and far; the lie of the land is broad and vast.
Sharp peaks jut and jut, piercing the sky on high; steep ravines sink and sink, their waters running swift.
Before the mountain, jade grasses spread a mat; behind the mountain, rare blossoms lay out brocade.
Tall pines and aged cypresses; ancient trees and slender bamboo.
Mountain crows and mountain magpies fly crying in confusion; wild cranes and wild gibbons all howl and call.
Below the sheer cliffs, the elk go two by two;
before the steep bluffs, the badgers and foxes match two by two.
One rise and one fall, the dragon comes from afar; nine bends and nine turns, the earth vein runs hidden.
Its ridge-ends join with Jade-Flower Prefecture, a place of flourishing through ten thousand ages and a thousand autumns.
While Pilgrim was looking about him, he suddenly heard people talking behind the mountain. Turning his head quickly to look, he saw two wolf-headed fiends walking toward the north-west, talking away loudly as they went.
Pilgrim reckoned to himself, “These must be the creatures who patrol the mountain. Let old Monkey follow them and listen a while, and hear what they have to say.” He pinched his fingers in a sign, said a spell, shook himself and changed, becoming a butterfly. Spreading his wings, he went fluttering and tumbling straight after them.
Sure enough, he changed into a fine figure of a thing:
A pair of powdered wings; two silver feelers.
Riding the wind, he flies off swiftly; catching the sun, he comes dancing slowly.
Crossing water, clearing walls, he can be quick and nimble; stealing fragrance, toying with catkins, he takes great delight.
Light of body, he dotes on the taste of fresh flowers; elegant in bearing, sweet in feeling, he furls and unfurls at will.
He flew above the head of one of the fiends, drifting and swaying there, and listened to them talk.
That fiend suddenly called out, “Second brother! Our great king has had luck on luck these last days. Last month he got himself a beauty, and keeps her in the cave for his pleasure, and mighty pleased he is. And last night he got three weapons besides, and treasures beyond price they are. Tomorrow morning he opens a feast to hold a Rake Banquet, and we shall all have our share of it.”
The other said, “We have had a little luck ourselves. We are to take these twenty taels of silver and buy pigs and sheep. Now that we have reached the Qián-Quarter Market, let us drink a few pots of wine first. We will make out a padded account for the goods and skim two or three taels off him, and buy a padded coat apiece against the cold. Would that not be fine?”
The two fiends went on talking and laughing, and took to the highroad, hurrying along as if they flew.
Pilgrim heard that they meant to hold a Rake Banquet, and rejoiced secretly in his heart. He would have liked to beat them to death, but as it happened the business was no concern of theirs, and besides he had no weapon in his hands. So he flew on ahead, resumed his true form, and took his stand at the crossroads.
When the fiends had walked right up to him, he blew a mouthful of magic spittle at them, recited the words “Oṃ hūṃ ṭa ri”, worked a body-fixing spell, and held the two wolf-headed spirits fast.
Their eyes stared and stared, and their mouths could not open; stiff and straight they stood, both feet planted fast.
Then he turned them over, opened their clothes and searched them, and sure enough there were twenty taels of silver, packed into a belt-purse and tied at the waist over their skirts. Each of them also had a powder-lacquered tablet hung on him: one was inscribed “Sly-Devious Odd-Queer”, and the other “Odd-Queer Sly-Devious”.
Excellent Great Sage! He took their silver, untied their tablets, and strode back to the prefecture city. At the palace he saw the princes, Tripitaka, the officers high and low, and the craftsmen, and told them all that had passed.
Eight Rules laughed and said, “It must be that old Hog's treasure shone out so bright and rosy that they are buying pigs and sheep and laying on a feast to celebrate it. But how are we to get hold of them now?”
Pilgrim said, “We three brothers shall all go. This silver was for buying pigs and sheep. Give the silver to the smiths as a reward, and have His Highness find us some pigs and sheep. Eight Rules, you change into Sly-Devious Odd-Queer; I shall change into Odd-Queer Sly-Devious; and Sha Monk will dress as a dealer in pigs and sheep. We will walk into that Tiger-Mouth Cave, and where we see our chance, each of us will take up his weapon and finish off those fiends.”
Sha Monk laughed and said, “Splendid, splendid, splendid! No time to lose — let us be off.” The old prince did indeed follow this plan, and at once ordered his steward to buy seven or eight pigs and four or five sheep.
The three of them took leave of their master and worked their great magic outside the city walls.
Eight Rules said, “Elder brother, I never set eyes on that Sly-Devious Odd-Queer. How am I to change into his likeness?”
Pilgrim said, “That fiend has been fixed on the spot by old Monkey's body-fixing spell, and will not come round until this hour tomorrow. I remember his likeness. Stand still, and let me teach you the change. ... Thus, and thus, and that is his likeness.”
Pilgrim then changed into Odd-Queer Sly-Devious, and wore a tablet at his waist as well. Sha Monk got himself up to look like a dealer in pigs and sheep. Together they drove the pigs and sheep along, took the highroad, and made straight for the mountain.
Before long they had come into a fold of the mountain, where they met another little fiend, whose face and features were villainous beyond belief.
Look at him:
Round and rolling, his two eyes, bright as lamps aglow;
red and glaring, the hair upon his head, like fire streaming light.
A pickled nose; a snarling gash of a mouth; long fangs sharp and keen;
splayed ears; a hacked-looking brow; a blue face puffed and swollen.
On his body a coat of pale yellow; on his feet a pair of rush-and-sedge sandals.
Bold and brave as a god of terror; hurried and harried as a wicked ghost.
That fiend had a coloured lacquer letter-box tucked under his left arm, and coming up to Pilgrim he called out, “Odd-Queer Sly-Devious! So you two are back? How many pigs and sheep did you buy?”
Pilgrim said, “Are these not the ones we are driving?”
The fiend turned toward Sha Monk and said, “And who might this be?”
Pilgrim said, “This is the dealer in pigs and sheep. We are still a few taels short with him, so we brought him home to collect. Where are you off to?”
Pilgrim caught up his manner of speaking and asked, “How many are invited altogether?”
The fiend said, “The old great king takes the head of the table, and with our own mountain's king and the chiefs and the rest, there will be forty and more.” They were still speaking when Eight Rules said, “Off with you, off with you — the pigs and sheep are scattering in all directions!”
Pilgrim said, “Go and head them off, and let me ask him for his card to look at.”
The fiend, seeing one of his own household, opened the box at once, took it out and handed it to Pilgrim.
Pilgrim opened it out and looked, and this is what was written:
Tomorrow morning I respectfully set out meats and wine, to celebrate the goodly Rake Banquet, and beg you to stoop to cross the hills for a gathering.
Do not hold me a stranger. With deepest feeling.
Addressed with respect to the presence of my venerable grandsire, the Nine-Spirit Primal Sage, most honoured elder.
From your disciple and grandson, Yellow Lion, who knocks his head and bows a hundred times.
Pilgrim read it through and handed it back to the fiend. The fiend put it in the box and went off toward the south-east.
Sha Monk asked, “Elder brother, what was the talk on the card?”
Pilgrim said, “It is an invitation to celebrate the Rake Banquet. The name written on it is: From your disciple and grandson, Yellow Lion, who knocks his head and bows a hundred times. The one invited is his venerable grandsire, the Nine-Spirit Primal Sage, most honoured elder.”
Sha Monk laughed and said, “Yellow Lion must be some golden-haired lion turned spirit. But what sort of thing is a Nine-Spirit Primal Sage?”
Eight Rules, hearing this, laughed and said, “That will be old Hog's business.” Pilgrim said, “How does it follow that it is your business?”
Eight Rules said, “The ancients had a saying: a mangy sow goes straight for a golden-haired lion. So it is plain that it is old Hog's merchandise.”
The three of them went along talking and laughing, driving the pigs and sheep, until the gate of the Tiger-Mouth Cave came into view.
And this is what was to be seen outside that gate:
All round, the hills wind green; a single vein of air joins it to the city.
On sheer cliffs, green creepers climb; from high crags hang purple redbuds.
Birdsong rings round the deep trees; flower-shadows greet the cave mouth.
It yields nothing to the Peach Blossom Spring, and is fit for fleeing the world.
As they drew near the entrance they saw a whole crowd of assorted fiends, great and small, playing about under the flowering trees. Hearing Eight Rules go ha-ha as he drove the pigs and sheep up, they all came out to meet him. So it was pig-catchers to the pigs and sheep-catchers to the sheep, and they trussed the lot together.
This soon roused the fiend king within, who came out with a dozen or more little fiends and asked, “So you two are back? How many pigs and sheep did you buy?”
Pilgrim said, “We bought eight pigs and seven sheep — fifteen head in all. The pig-silver comes to sixteen taels, the sheep-silver to nine. Earlier we received twenty taels, so five are still owing. This gentleman here is the dealer, come along to collect his silver.”
The fiend king, hearing this, called at once, “You lads, fetch five taels of silver and send him on his way.”
Pilgrim said, “This guest has come firstly to collect his silver, and secondly to have a look at the goodly gathering.”
The fiend flew into a rage and cursed, “You lazy little wretch of a Sly-Devious! You bought the goods and that is that — what business have you telling people about gatherings or no gatherings?”
Eight Rules stepped up and said, “The master of the house has got himself treasures, the true wonders of the world. What harm in letting him have a look?”
The fiend gave a snort and said, “And you, Odd-Queer, are as bad! These treasures of mine came out of the city of Jade-Flower Prefecture. If this guest sees them and goes off spreading it about the prefecture, and it gets known, and those princes come looking for them one day — what then?”
Pilgrim said, “Master, this guest comes from beyond the Qián-Quarter Market, a good way from the prefecture, and he is no city man either. Where would he go to spread it about? Besides, his belly is empty, and we two have not eaten either. There is food and wine ready in the house — give him some, and send him off.”
Before he had finished, a little fiend had fetched five taels of silver and handed it to Pilgrim. Pilgrim passed the silver to Sha Monk and said, “Guest, take your silver, and I will bring you in to the back for something to eat.”
Sha Monk screwed up his courage and went into the cave with Eight Rules and Pilgrim. Coming up to the second hall, they saw on the table in the very middle, raised high and reverently set out, a nine-tooth rake, whose brilliance truly dazzled the eye; and leaning at the east end a golden-hooped rod, and at the west end a demon-quelling staff.
The fiend king, following behind, said, “Guest, that thing shining in the middle is the rake. Look at it if you like, only when you go out, on no account speak of it to anybody.”
Sha Monk nodded and thanked him.
Ah! This is just the case of it: let a thing see its master, and it will surely be taken up.
Now Eight Rules had been a blunt, blundering fellow all his life. The moment he saw the rake, where was he going to stop and exchange pleasantries with anyone? He ran up, took it down, whirled it in his hands, showed his true form, let fly a set of moves, and struck straight at the fiend's face. At this Pilgrim and Sha Monk also rushed to the two ends of the hall and took up their weapons, showed their original bodies, and the three brothers laid about them all together.
The fiend king in his fright pulled back sharply and dodged aside, slipped round to the rear, took a four-bright spade with a long shaft and a keen butt-spike, ran out into the courtyard, held off their three weapons, and shouted in a fierce voice, “Who are you, that dare play me tricks and cheat me of my treasures?”
Pilgrim cursed him, saying, “You thieving ball of fur! You do not know me. We are the disciples of the holy monk of the Eastern Land, Tripitaka Tang. Coming to Jade-Flower Prefecture to have our travel papers signed, we were shown such favour by the worthy prince that he had his three sons take us as masters and study the arts of war, using our treasures as models to forge weapons of the same pattern. Because we left them in the courtyard, you thieving ball of fur came into the city in the dead of night and stole them — and then you say that I am playing tricks and cheating you of your treasures. Do not run off — let us pay you a few compliments with these three weapons of ours, and see how you like the taste.”
The fiend then raised his spade to meet them. This bout carried them fighting out of the courtyard to the front gate. Look at the three monks closing on the one fiend — a fine fight it was:
Whirring, the rod like wind; rolling, the rake like rain.
The demon-quelling staff swings up, and the sky fills with rosy cloud; the four-bright spade thrusts out, and the clouds grow figured silk.
Like three immortals refining the great elixir, the fire-light flashing colours to startle gods and ghosts.
Pilgrim shows his power, well able for it; the fiend has stolen treasure, and much in the wrong.
Marshal of the Heavenly Reeds, Eight Rules, displays his magic; the great general Sha Monk is finer still.
The brothers, of one mind, work their plan together; and in the Tiger-Mouth Cave the fight rises up.
That fiend is bold and strong, and plays it clever and sly; four heroes well matched against each other.
They fought that day until the sun went west, and the fiend's strength grew soft, and he could hold no longer.
They had fought a long while on Leopard-Head Mountain when the fiend, unable to hold out, shouted in front of Sha Monk, “Look at my spade!” Sha Monk gave way with a turn of his body and dodged it. Getting his opening, the fiend made off, and rose on the wind toward the south-east, in the quarter of the Xùn trigram.
Eight Rules stretched out his stride to give chase, but Pilgrim said, “Let him go. There is an old saying: do not press a cornered enemy. Let us just cut off his road home instead.”
Eight Rules did as he was told.
The three went straight to the cave mouth and beat to death every one of the hundred-odd fiends, great and small. They turned out to be nothing but tigers, wolves, panthers and leopards, horses, deer, mountain goats. The Great Sage worked a spell, and the light valuables from inside the cave, the sundry beast-bodies of the slain, and the pigs and sheep they had driven up were all brought out together.
Sha Monk then fetched out dry firewood and set it alight, Eight Rules used his two ears to fan the wind, and in no time the whole nest was burnt clean away. Then, taking all they had brought out, they went straight back to the prefecture city.
At that hour the city gates still stood open and the households had not gone to bed. The old prince and his sons and Tripitaka were all waiting and watching at the Gauze-Screen Pavilion, when they saw them come thudding and clattering and dump a courtyard full of dead beasts, pigs and sheep, and light valuables.
All together they called out, “Master! We have won and come back!” The princes bowed and bowed their thanks. The elder Tang was full of joy.
The three young princes knelt and bowed to the ground, and Sha Monk raised them up, saying, “Do not thank us yet. Come up close and look at these things.” The prince said, “Where has all this come from?”
Pilgrim laughed and said, “Those tigers and wolves and panthers and leopards, the horses and deer and mountain goats — they were all fiends that had become spirits. We took our weapons from them and fought our way out of the gate. The old fiend is a golden-haired lion. He wielded a four-bright spade and fought us until nightfall, then lost the field and fled for his life, going off toward the south-east. We did not go after him, but swept his road home instead, killed off that crowd of fiends, hunted out these goods of his, and brought them away.”
The old prince, hearing this, was both glad and anxious: glad that they had won and come back, anxious that the fiend would take his revenge afterwards.
Pilgrim said, “Set your mind at rest, Your Highness. I have thought it through and dealt with it rightly. I will certainly sweep them away root and branch for you before we take the road again, and not leave you harm to come. When I went out at midday I ran into a little fiend with a blue face and red hair carrying an invitation, and I saw written on his card: Tomorrow morning I respectfully set out meats and wine, to celebrate the goodly Rake Banquet, and beg you to stoop to cross the hills for a gathering. Do not hold me a stranger. With deepest feeling. Addressed with respect to the presence of my venerable grandsire, the Nine-Spirit Primal Sage, most honoured elder. And the name was: From your disciple and grandson, Yellow Lion, who knocks his head and bows a hundred times. Just now that fiend lost the field, so he must certainly have gone off to his grandsire's place to talk it over. Tomorrow morning he will certainly come looking for revenge on us, and I will gladly sweep them clean away for you.”
The old prince gave his thanks, and had the evening meal set out. Master and disciples finished their meal, and each went to his rest — of which no more.
Now that fiend did indeed make away toward the south-east, to Bamboo-Node Mountain. In that mountain is a cave-heaven, called the Nine-Bend Coiling Cave. In the cave the Nine-Spirit Primal Sage is his grandsire.
That night his feet never stopped the wind, and travelling on he reached the fifth watch, came to the cave mouth, knocked, and went in.
A little fiend saw him and said, “Great king! Last evening the blue-faced one brought an invitation, and his lordship kept him here until this morning, meaning to come with him to your Rake Banquet. How is it you have come yourself, so very early, to invite him again?”
The fiend said, “It is bad to tell — bad to tell. The gathering cannot come off now.”
They were still speaking when the blue-faced one came out from within and said, “Great king, what brings you here? His lordship the old great king is up and coming with me to the feast this minute.”
The fiend was all in a fluster, and only waved his hand and would not speak.
After a little the old fiend rose, and had him brought in. The fiend threw down his weapon, prostrated himself, and could not stop the tears running down his cheeks.
The old fiend said, “Worthy grandson, you sent your card yesterday and I was on the very point of coming to the feast this morning. Now you come yourself. Why this grief and vexation?”
The fiend knocked his head and said, “Your little grandson was out walking under the moon two nights ago, and saw a brilliance shooting up from the city of Jade-Flower Prefecture. Going quickly to look, I found it was three weapons shining in the courtyard of the prince's palace: one a nine-tooth gold-washed rake, one a precious staff, one a golden-hooped rod. Your little grandson used a spell at once and drew them here, gave the affair the name of the Goodly Rake Banquet, had the lads buy pigs and sheep and fruits and the rest, laid on a feast to celebrate, and asked my honoured grandsire to look on it and take a pleasure in it.
“Yesterday, after I had sent Blue-Face off with the card, the very Sly-Devious I had dispatched to buy pigs and sheep came driving up some pigs and sheep, and had brought a dealer along with him to collect his silver. He insisted on going to see the gathering, and your little grandson, fearing he would talk of it outside, would not let him look. Then he said his belly was empty and begged some food, so I had him fed at the back. He went through to the inner rooms, saw the weapons, and said they were his.
“The three of them each snatched one and showed their true bodies: one a monk with a hairy face and a thunder-god's beak of a mouth, one a monk with a long snout and big ears, one a monk with an ill-luck-coloured face. They knew neither good from bad, but raised a shout and laid about them. Your little grandson snatched up his four-bright spade and ran out to hold them off, asking what men these were who dared play such tricks. He said they were disciples of the Tang monk, sent from the Great Tang in the Eastern Land toward the Western Heaven — that passing through the prefecture city to have their travel papers signed, they had been kept by the prince to teach the arts of war, that these three weapons of theirs were being used as models for forging, that they were left in the courtyard, and that I had stolen them; and so we came to blows in our anger. I do not know what the three monks are called, but they all have real powers. Your little grandson, one against their three, could not hold them, and so fled beaten to my grandsire's place. I beg you to draw your blade and help me, to seize those monks and avenge me, and so show your grandson how a grandsire loves him.”
The old fiend heard him out, thought silently for a while, then laughed and said, “So it is he. My worthy grandson, you have picked the wrong man to meddle with.”
The fiend said, “Does my grandsire know who he is?”
The old fiend said, “The one with the long snout and big ears is Zhū Bājiè; the one with the ill-luck-coloured face is Sha the monk. Those two will do. The one with the hairy face and the thunder-god's beak is called Sūn Xíngzhě. That one really has vast magic powers: five hundred years ago he made great havoc in the Palace of Heaven, and a hundred thousand heavenly soldiers could not take him. He goes out of his way to seek people out. He is the very chieftain of searching mountains and lifting seas, of breaking caves and storming cities and stirring up trouble. How came you to meddle with him? Well, no matter — let me come with you, and we will take that fellow and the Jade-Flower princes with him, and get your anger out for you.”
The fiend, hearing this, knocked his head at once and gave thanks.
So the old fiend mustered his grandsons — Ape-Lion, Snow-Lion, Suānní, Báizé, Crouching-Fox and Elephant-Gripper — and each took up a keen weapon, and with Yellow Lion at their head they each loosed a wild wind and went straight to the borders of Leopard-Head Mountain. They caught the smell of smoke and fire on the air, and then the sound of weeping. Looking closely, they saw it was Sly-Devious and Odd-Queer, the two of them, standing there calling for their master and weeping for their master.
The fiend came up and shouted, “Are you the true Sly-Devious, or a false one?”
The two fiends knelt down, tears in their eyes, and knocked their heads, saying, “How should we be false ones? Yesterday about this hour we drew the silver and went off to buy pigs and sheep, and on the highroad west of the mountain we met a monk with a hairy face and a thunder-god's beak. He spat at us once, and our legs went soft and our mouths went stiff, and we could not speak and could not move a step. He turned us over, searched away our silver, and untied our tablets. The two of us were dazed and befogged, and only came round at this very hour. And when we got home, the smoke and fire were not out yet, and the buildings were all burnt. And we could not find our master, nor the chiefs, great or small. So we are here grieving and weeping. We do not know how this fire started.”
The fiend heard them out, and could not stop his tears from welling up like a spring. He stamped both feet together, and his cry shook the sky, and he said in his hatred, “Bald wretches!
“Wicked past measure! How could you do so poisonous a thing? You burnt my cave dwelling to the ground, burnt my beauty to death, my household and my people, old and young, all swept away. It will be the death of me — the death of me!”
The old fiend told Ape-Lion to pull him over, and said, “Worthy grandson, things have come to this, and vexing yourself does no good. Save your keen spirit whole, and come to the prefecture city to take those monks.”
But the fiend would not leave off weeping, and said, “Grandsire, that mountain holding of mine was not made in a day, and now these bald wretches have destroyed it utterly. What do I want with this life of mine?”
He struggled up and went to dash his head against the rocks of the cliff. Snow-Lion, Ape-Lion and the rest urged him hard until he gave over.
So they left that place, and all bore down on the prefecture city. There was nothing to be heard but that wind rolling and the fog boiling up, and it came very close. It so frightened the people of the wards outside the walls that they dragged their sons and clutched their daughters, gave no thought to their household goods, and all ran into the prefecture city, and went in at the gate, and shut it.
Somebody carried word into the prince's palace, saying, “Disaster! Disaster!” The princes and Tripitaka and the rest were at their morning meal in the Gauze-Screen Pavilion, and hearing the report of disaster they came out to ask about it.
The crowd said, “A pack of fiends, flying the sand and rolling the stones, spouting fog and whipping up wind, has come near the city!”
The old prince was much alarmed and said, “What is to be done?” Pilgrim laughed and said, “Set your minds at rest, all of you, set your minds at rest.
“This is the Tiger-Mouth Cave fiend, who lost the field yesterday and went off south-east to fall in with that Nine-Spirit Primal Sage or whatever he is called. Let me go out with my brothers. Give the order to shut the four gates, and let your people be told off to guard the walls.”
The prince did indeed give the order and had the four gates shut, called up the levies onto the walls, and he and his sons and Tripitaka mustered them from the gate tower, with banners blotting out the sun and cannon and fire filling the sky. Pilgrim and his two brothers, half in cloud and half in mist, went out from the city to meet the enemy.
This was just the case of it:
Losing the weapons of wisdom through want of care, at once they set the demons rising and all the evils raging.
In the end there is no telling how this bout of winning and losing went; listen to the next chapter, and it will be explained.