EIGHTY-NINE

The yellow lion-spirit in vain gives the Muckrake Feast;

Gold, Wood, and Earth disturb with a scheme Mount Leopard’s-Head.

We were telling you about those several ironsmiths, who had been hard at work for several days and therefore slept soundly at night. By morning, when they rose to resume their heating and hammering, they discovered that the three weapons in the tent had vanished. Dumbfounded and panic-stricken, they searched all over the place and ran into the three young princes, who were walking out from the palace to inspect the work. The ironsmiths all kowtowed and said, “O young lords! We do not know where the weapons of the divine masters have gone!”

Shaken by the words, the young princes said, “Perhaps the masters themselves put the weapons away at night.” They dashed over to the Gauze-Drying Pavilion and saw that the white horse was still tethered at the corridor. Unable to contain themselves, they cried, “Masters, are you still sleeping?”

“We’re up,” replied Sha Monk as he opened the door to let the princes in. When they looked around and did not see the weapons, one of them asked nervously, “Did the masters take back their weapons?”

“No, we didn’t!” said Pilgrim, jumping up.

“Those three weapons of yours,” said another prince, “all vanished during the night.”

Scrambling up hurriedly, Eight Rules asked, “Is my rake there?” Another young prince said, “When we three came out just now, we saw people searching all over but they couldn’t find them. Your disciples suspect that the weapons may already have been taken back by the masters, and that’s why we’ve come to ask you. Since the treasures of our teachers can grow or shrink, I wonder if you haven’t concealed them on your bodies again, just to make fun of your disciples.”

“Really, we have not taken them back,” said Pilgrim. “Let’s all go look for them.” They all went to the tent in the courtyard, but there was no trace of the weapons.

“Those ironsmiths must have stolen them!” said Eight Rules. “Bring out the weapons quickly! A moment’s delay and you’ll be beaten to death! Beaten to death!”

Horrified, the ironsmiths kowtowed and shed tears, saying, “Holy Fathers! We have been working so hard these last few days that we all slept through the night. By morning when we got up, the weapons were gone. We are all mortal men. How could we even have moved them? We beg you, Holy Father, to spare our lives! Please spare our lives!”

Pilgrim said nothing in reply. Greatly annoyed, he muttered to himself, “This is our fault! Once they had copied the forms, we should have taken the weapons back. Why did we leave them here like that? Those treasures generate tremendous radiance and luminous colors. That must have disturbed some wicked person, who came and stole them during the night.”

“What are you saying, Elder Brother?” asked Eight Rules, refusing to believe him. “It’s such a peaceful region here! This is no hollow mountain on the rustic countryside! How could there be any wicked people? It has to be the greed of those ironsmiths. When they saw the radiance of our weapons, they knew that these were treasures. They must have left the palace during the night and banded together with others. They must have dragged and hauled our weapons away. Let’s seize them now! Let’s beat them!” The ironsmiths could only kowtow and swear their denial.

In the midst of all this commotion the old prince came out. When he learned what had taken place, his face, too, was drained of color. He brooded for a long time and then said, “The weapons of the divine masters are not like those of common mortals. Scores or even hundreds of men could not unlodge them or move them. Moreover, we have governed this city for almost five generations already. Not that we wish to brag or boast, but we do enjoy quite a virtuous reputation beyond these palace walls. The people of this city, be they civilians, soldiers, or artisans, do have respect for the laws of ours. They’d never dare be so unscrupulous. I beg the divine masters to reexamine the matter.”

“There’s no need to reexamine anything!” replied Pilgrim, laughing. “Nor need we persist in putting the blame on the ironsmiths. Let me ask Your Highness, are there any mountain forests and monstrous fiends around this city of yours?”

“This question of the divine master is most reasonable,” said the prince. “There is a Leopard’s-Head Mountain north of our city, and there is also a Tiger’s-Mouth Cave in it. People have frequently claimed that there are immortals in the cave, but some say also that tigers, wolves, and monstrous fiends live there. We have not been able to determine exactly what creatures there are.”

“No need to say any more,” said Pilgrim, chuckling. “It must be some wicked creatures there who, having discovered our treasures, stole them during the night.” He then called out: “Eight Rules, Sha Monk, stay here to guard Master and protect the city. Let old Monkey go and look for our weapons.” He also instructed the ironsmiths not to put out the fire in the furnace so that they could continue to forge the princes’ weapons.

Dear Monkey King! After taking leave of Tripitaka, he vanished completely from sight. Instantly he was standing on the Leopard’s-Head Mountain, for it was, you see, no more than thirty miles from the city. When he looked around on the peak, he saw that indeed there was a certain aura of monsters. Truly

A lengthy dragon pulse,¹

A region vast and wide;

Pointed peaks, erect, that puncture the sky;

Sloping streams, dark and deep, that swiftly flow.

Before the mount’s a carpet of jade grass;

Behind the mount’s the brocade of rare blooms.

Aged pines and cypresses;

Ancient trees and bamboos.

Crows and magpies in confusion fly and cry;

Wild apes and cranes all screech and squall.

Below the hanging ledge,

Pairs and pairs of deer;

Before the sheer cliff,

Badgers and foxes in twos.

The dragon approaching rises and falls;

With nine turns and nine bends comes the earth pulse.

Jade-Flower District is where the ranges meet,

A place that prospers in ten thousand years.

As Pilgrim stared at the scenery, he suddenly heard someone speaking from behind the mountain. Turning quickly to look, he found two wolf-headed fiends walking toward the northwest, chatting loudly.

“These have to be fiendish creatures out patrolling the mountain,” mused Pilgrim. “Let old Monkey follow them and hear what they have to say.” Making the magic sign with his fingers, he recited a spell and, with one shake of his torso, changed into a little butterfly. With outstretched wings he soared and turned to catch up with them. In truth it was quite a model of transformation!

Two wings gossamery,

Twin feelers silvery.

Aloft the wind he darts away

Or dances slowly through the day.

The waters and walls so nimbly he’ll skirt;

With fragrant catkins his delight’s to flirt.

Scents of fresh flowers his airy self most please;

His graceful form unfolds with greatest ease.

Wings aflutter, he alighted on the head of one of the monster-spirits to eavesdrop on them. All of a sudden, the monster said, “Second Elder Brother, our Great King has had several pieces of good luck. Last month he got himself a beautiful lady, who has been giving him a good time in the cave. Then last night he acquired these three weapons, and they’re truly priceless treasures. Tomorrow he plans to give a banquet at this so-called Muckrake Festival. All of us are going to enjoy ourselves.”

“We’re quite lucky, too!” said the other one. “We have these twenty taels of silver to take to buy hogs and sheep. When we reach the Northwest Market, let’s have a few bottles of wine first. Let’s skim two or three taels off the top so that we can buy a cotton jacket for winter. Won’t that be nice?” The two fiends thus chatted and giggled as they sped along the main road.

When Pilgrim heard that there was to be a Muckrake Festival, he was secretly pleased. He would have slain the fiends, but he had no weapon, and in any case he felt that they were not responsible for the theft. Flying ahead of them, therefore, he resumed his original form and stood still by the road. He waited until those two fiends had almost reached him and then suddenly spat a mouthful of magic saliva onto them, crying, “Oṃ Hūm Ṭa Li!” At once this magic of immobilization rendered those two wolf-headed spirits completely motionless: eyes unblinking, they could not even open the mouths; body upright, their two legs stood absolutely still. Then Pilgrim pushed both of them over, searched through their clothes, and did indeed find the twenty taels of silver wrapped in a little bag tied to the belt around one of their waists. Each of them also had a white lacquered tablet hanging on his belt; on one was the inscription Shifty-and-Freaky, and on the other, Freaky-and-Shifty.

Dear Great Sage! He took their silver and untied their tablets, then strode back to the city. When he arrived at the royal residence, he gave a thorough account to the prince, the Tang Monk, the various officials, and the artisans. “It must be,” said Eight Rules, chuckling, “old Hog’s treasure that is emitting such great radiance that they have to buy hogs and sheep to feast and celebrate. Now how are we going to get it back?”

Pilgrim said, “All three of us brothers ought to go there. The silver should be given to our own artisans as a reward. Let’s ask His Highness for a few sheep and hogs. Eight Rules, you change into the form of Shifty-and-Freaky, and I’ll change into the form of Freaky-and-Shifty. Sha Monk can disguise himself as a trader of sheep and hogs. We’ll enter the Tiger’s-Mouth Cave that way. When we have the chance, each of us will grab our own weapon and finish off those monstrous deviates. Then we can be on our way.”

“Marvelous! Marvelous! Marvelous!” laughed Sha Monk. “We shouldn’t delay! Let’s go!” The old prince indeed agreed to his scheme and asked one of his stewards to purchase about seven hogs and four or five sheep.

The three brothers took leave of their master and went out of the city to exercise their magic powers. “Elder Brother,” said Eight Rules, “since I have never laid eyes on that Shifty-and-Freaky, how could I change into his form?”

“That fiend has been rendered motionless by old Monkey’s magic of immobilization,” said Pilgrim, “and he won’t come out of it until this time tomorrow. But I remember how he looks. Stand still, and let me show you what to change into. Like this . . . and this . . . and you’ll look like him.” Instantly he was transformed into an exact image of Shifty-and-Freaky. The fiend’s tablet was then hung on his waist. Pilgrim also changed into the form of Freaky-and-Shifty with the proper tablet hanging on his waist. Sha Monk then disguised himself as a trader; herding the hogs and sheep, the three of them took the main road heading straight for the mountain. In a little while they entered the fold of the mountain and again ran into a little monster. He had some vicious features indeed! Look at those

Two round, rolling eyes

Like lamps aglow;

And red, bristling hair

Like flames ablaze.

Bottled nose,

Gaping mouth,

And sharp teeth protruding;

Biforked ears,

Caved-in brow,

And puffed up blue face.

He wore a light yellow garment

And trod a pair of rush sandals—

Strong and sturdy like a savage god,

Brash and hasty like a wicked demon.

With a colored lacquered box for invitations tucked under his left arm, the fiend yelled at Pilgrim, “Freaky-and-Shifty, have you two returned? How many animals did you buy?”

“Just look at what we’re herding,” replied Pilgrim.

“And who is this?” asked the fiend, facing Sha Monk. “He’s an animal trader,” said Pilgrim. “We still owe him a few taels of silver, and we’re taking him home so that he can be paid. Where are you going?”

The fiend said, “I’m heading for the Bamboo-Knot Mountain to invite the venerable great king to attend a festival tomorrow.” Following the drift of the conversation, Pilgrim immediately asked him, “How many people are invited altogether?”

“The venerable great king will head the table, of course,” said the fiend. “Including our great king and the captains of our mountain, there’ll be some forty persons.” They were conversing like that when Eight Rules spoke up, “Let’s get going! The animals have scattered!”

“You round them up,” said Pilgrim, “while I ask him for the invitation so I can have a look.” Because he thought that Pilgrim was a member of their own family, the fiend opened the box and took out the invitation card to hand over to Pilgrim. Pilgrim unfolded it and found this message written on it:

Tomorrow morning a banquet will be reverently prepared for you so that we may celebrate the Fine Festival of the Muckrake. I pray that you will visit our mountain with your chariot and attendants. It will be our good fortune if you do not refuse. With profound gratitude I submit this invitation to my Venerable Grandmaster, the Ninefold-Numina Primal Sage. Your grand-disciple, Yellow Lion, kowtows a hundred times.

After reading it, Pilgrim handed the card back to the fiend, who put it back in the box and took off toward the southeast.

“Elder Brother,” asked Sha Monk, “what does the card say?” “It’s an invitation to celebrate a festival of the muckrake. The sender identifies himself as such: ‘Your granddisciple, Yellow Lion, kowtows a hundred times.’ The one to whom the invitation is addressed happens to be the grandmaster, one ‘Ninefold Numina Primal Sage.’” On hearing this, Eight Rules laughed and said, “This has to be old Hog’s property!”

“How can you tell that it’s your property?” asked Pilgrim.

Eight Rules said, “The ancients have a saying that ‘A scabby sow is the special foe of the golden-haired lion.’ That’s why I say that this is old Hog’s property.”

As the three of them chatted and laughed, they herded the hogs and sheep along. Soon they caught sight of the Tiger’s-Mouth Cave. Outside the door this was the scenery they saw:

Emerald mountains all around

Like cities in one row bound.

Green creepers the crags entwine;

From tall cliffs hang purple vines.

Birdsongs the woods invade;

Flowers the cave’s entrance shade.

A Peach Blossom Cave² no less,

Such that hermits would possess.

When they approached the cave, they found a motley crew of monster-spirits, old and young, cavorting beneath the blossoms and trees. The “Ho! Ho!” snortings of Eight Rules as he herded the animals caught their attention, and they all came forward to meet members of their own household. As they went after the hogs and sheep and began trussing them, the commotion alerted the monster-king inside, who led a dozen little monsters to come out and asked, “So, you two have returned? How many hogs and sheep did you buy?”

“Eight hogs and seven sheep,” replied Pilgrim, “altogether fifteen animals. The price of hogs should be sixteen taels of silver, the price of sheep, nine taels. We received twenty taels before. Now we still owe five taels. This is the trader, who came along to get his money.”

On hearing this, the monster-king gave the order: “Little ones, fetch five taels of silver and send the man off.”

Pilgrim said, “This trader didn’t just come for his money. He wanted to observe the festival too.”

Enraged, the monster-king rebuked him, saying, “What a rogue you are, Freaky Child! You were supposed just to make the purchase. Why did you have to mention the festival to anyone?” Eight Rules drew near and said, “My lord, the treasures you acquired are indeed rare in the world. What’s wrong with letting him take a look at them?”

“You’re a pest, too, Shifty Child!” snapped the monster. “I got my treasures from the city in the Jade-Flower District. If this trader sees them and spreads the news in the district, the prince may hear about it. If he then comes here to look, what am I going to do?”

“My Lord,” said Pilgrim, “this trader comes from behind the Northwest Market. He’s not a resident of the city. How could he go there and spread the word? Besides, he’s a little hungry, and neither of us has eaten. If there’s any wine and food in the house, please give him some, and then send him off.” He had hardly finished speaking when a little monster handed over five taels of silver to him. Passing the silver to Sha Monk, Pilgrim said, “Trader, take the silver. I’ll take you to the back to have some food.”

Forcing himself to be bold, Sha Monk went inside the cave with Eight Rules and Pilgrim. When they reached the second-level hall, they found a votive table set up in the center, on which the nine-pronged muckrake was laid, its colorful radiance truly blinding. Leaning on the east wall was the golden-hooped rod, and on the west a fiend-routing staff. The monster-king, who had followed them in, said, “Trader, the luminous thing in the center is the muckrake. You may look at it, but don’t ever mention this to anyone after you leave.” Sha Monk nodded and thanked him. Alas!

When someone sees his property,

He will go for it certainly.

For his entire life that Eight Rules had been an impetuous person. When he saw the muckrake, he was not about to engage in anymore small talk. Running up to the table and seizing it with both hands, he changed back into his true form and struck at the face of the monster-spirit. Our Pilgrim and Sha Monk, too, dashed to both walls to grab their own weapons and change back into their true forms. As the three brothers began to attack madly, the fiendish king retreated hastily to the back, where he picked up a four-lights shovel³ with a long handle and a sharp blade. Rushing back out into the courtyard, he blocked the three weapons and shouted, “Who are you that you dare use a trick to wangle my treasures from me?”

“You larcenous hairy lump!” scolded Pilgrim. “So you don’t recognize us! We are the disciples of Tripitaka Tang, a sage monk from the Land of the East. When we had our travel rescripts certified at the Jade-Flower District, the noble prince there asked his three sons to submit to us as teachers and learn martial arts from us. Because our treasures were to serve as models for their weapons, which were being forged, we left them in the yard, and they were stolen by you larcenous hairy lump during the night. And you say instead that we use a trick to wangle your treasures! Don’t run away! Have a taste of what our three weapons can dish up for you!” The monster-spirit immediately raised his shovel to oppose him. Thus began a battle that moved from the courtyard to beyond the front door. Look at those three monks crowding one fiend. A marvelous fight it was!

The rod swishes like the wind;

The rake descends like the rain.

The staff lifts up to fill the sky with mist;

The shovel extends to color the clouds.

Like three gods refining great cinnabar—

The flames, the colors would awe ghosts and gods.

Pilgrim’s most able to exert his pow’r.

The monster stole treasures, how insolent!

Eight Rules, Heavenly Reeds, now shows his might;

Sha Monk, the great warrior, is good and strong.

Brothers, united, use their smart device

And stir up a fight in Tiger’s-Mouth Cave.

That fiend is tough and he exploits his wiles:

Four sturdy heroes thus have quite a match.

They brawl this time till the sun’s heading west,

When the monster grows weak and fails to stand.

After they fought for a long time on the Leopard’s-Head Mountain, the monster-spirit could no longer withstand his opponents. He shouted at Sha Monk, “Watch my shovel!” and, as Sha Monk stepped aside to dodge the blow, he escaped through the hole thus created. Mounting the wind, he sped toward the southeast. Eight Rules was about to give chase when Pilgrim said, “Let him go. As the ancient proverb has it, ‘The desperate bandit should not be pursued.’ Let’s cut off his way of retreat instead.” Eight Rules agreed.

Going up to the entrance of the cave, the three of them slaughtered all of those hundred-odd monster-spirits, old and young alike. They were actually tigers, wolves, leopards, horses, deer, and mountain goats. Then the Great Sage used his magic to haul up all the valuable belongings from the cave, the carcasses of the slain monsters, and the hogs and sheep that had been herded there. With dried wood Sha Monk started a fire, and Eight Rules wagged his ears to fan up a strong gust. The entire lair was thus gutted; after which, they took the stuff brought out of the cave and returned to the city.

At that time the city gates had not been closed for people had not yet retired. The old prince and his sons were waiting with the Tang Monk at the Gauze-Drying Pavilion when they suddenly found the courtyard littered with dead beasts, live hogs and sheep, and some fine jewels and clothing thrown down from midair. Then they heard the cry, “Master, we have returned in triumph!”

The prince gave thanks immediately, and Elder Tang was filled with delight. When the three young princes went to their knees, Sha Monk raised them and said, “Don’t thank us yet. Let’s take a look at what we have here.”

“Where do they all come from?” asked the old prince.

“Those tigers, wolves, leopards, horses, deer, and mountain goats,” said Pilgrim with a smile, “happen to be spirits who have become fiends. We succeeded in recovering our weapons and fought our way out of their door. The old monster is actually a golden-haired lion. Using a four-lights shovel, he fought with us till dusk before fleeing for his life toward the southeast. Instead of giving him pursuit, we eliminated his way of retreat by slaughtering all the rest of the fiends and bringing back these valuable belongings of his.”

The old prince was both delighted and alarmed by what he heard: he was delighted by the victory, but he was also alarmed by the possibility that the monster might return to exact vengeance.

“Please do not worry, Your Highness,” said Pilgrim. “I have considered the matter also, and I will take appropriate action. We will certainly clean up the whole affair for you before we depart, so that no harm will come to you afterward. When we went there this noon, we ran into a red-haired, blue-faced little monster on his way to deliver an invitation. This was what I saw written on the card:

Tomorrow morning a banquet will be reverently prepared for you so that we may celebrate the Fine Festival of the Muckrake. I pray that you will visit our mountain with your chariot and attendants. It will be our good fortune if you do not refuse. With profound gratitude I submit this invitation to my Venerable Grandmaster, the Ninefold-Numina Primal Sage.

The sender was identified as ‘Your granddisciple, Yellow Lion.’ When that monster-spirit fled in defeat just now, he must have gone to his grandfather’s place to talk. Tomorrow they will certainly come looking for us to exact vengeance. We will then make a clean sweep of these monsters for you.” The old prince thanked him and asked for the evening maigre to be served. After master and disciples had eaten, they retired, and we shall leave them for the moment.

We tell you instead about the monster-spirit, who headed southeast and did indeed flee to the Bamboo-Knot Mountain. In that mountain was a cave-dwelling with the name of Nine-Bends Curvate Cave. The Ninefold-Numina Primal Sage living there was the grandfather of the monster-spirit, whose legs that night never descended from the wind. By the time of the fifth watch, he arrived at the entrance of the cave and was admitted after knocking on the door. One little monster said to him, “Great King, Little Blue Face arrived last night to deliver your invitation, and Venerable Father asked him to stay till this morning, so that he could go with him to attend your muckrake festival. How is it that you also have come at such an early hour to deliver another invitation in person?”

“I don’t know what to say,” replied the monster-spirit, “but there isn’t going to be any festival!”

As he spoke, Little Blue Face came out and said, “Great King, why are you here? Once Venerable Father Great King gets up, he’ll go with me to attend your festival.” The monster-spirit, however, could only wave his hand nervously without uttering a word.

In a little while, the old monster arose and summoned his visitor in. As the monster-spirit abandoned his weapon and went to his knees, he could not stop the tears rolling down his cheeks.

“Worthy grandchild,” said the old monster, “you sent me an invitation yesterday, and I was about to go attend your festival this morning. Now you have even come in person. But why are you so sad and troubled?”

Kowtowing, the monster-spirit said, “Your granddisciple was taking a leisurely stroll the other night in the moonlight when he saw radiance flooding the sky over the Jade-Flower District. When I hastened to investigate, I found three luminous weapons in the courtyard of the royal residence: a muckrake with nine prongs dipped in gold, a treasure staff, and a golden-hooped rod. After your granddisciple brought them back with magic, he wanted to have a Fine Festival of the Muckrake. The little ones were told to purchase hogs, sheep, and various fruits to prepare a banquet for celebration and for the enjoyment of our grandfather. After I sent off Blue Face yesterday to deliver the invitation to you, Child Freaky, whom I asked to go buy the hogs and sheep, returned herding a few animals. He brought a trader along, who came to collect some money we owed him and insisted on being an observer of the festival. At first your granddisciple refused, for I feared that he might spread the news to the wrong person outside. Then he claimed he was hungry and asked for food. So I told him to go inside to eat. When they walked in and saw the weapons, they claimed they were theirs. Each of them, in fact, seized one of the weapons and then changed into his original form: one was a priest with a hairy face and a thunder-god beak, one was a priest with a long snout and huge ears, and one was a priest with dark, gloomy complexion. Without regard for good or ill, they all shouted madly that they wanted to fight. Your humble grandson took up the four-lights shovel quickly to oppose them, trying at the same time to find out who they were that they dared used such deception. They claimed that they were disciples of the Tang Monk, who had been sent by the Great Tang in the Land of the East to go to the Western Heaven. They were passing through the city and having their rescript certified when they were detained by the young princes, who wanted to learn martial arts from them. Their three weapons were placed in the yard as models to be copied, and I stole them. That was the explanation for their angry attack on me. But I don’t know the names of those three priests, who all seem very able. Your grandson alone could not withstand the three of them. So I fled in defeat to my grandfather, in hopes that you would take up arms to assist me and seize those monks to exact vengeance. That would be a great token of your love for your grandson.”

On hearing these words, the old monster reflected in silence for a while. With a chuckle, he said, “So, it’s they! My worthy grandchild, you made a mistake when you got them involved!”

“Do you know who they are, grandmaster?” asked the monster-spirit.

“The one with a long snout and huge ears,” said the old monster, “happens to be Zhu Eight Rules, and the one with dark, gloomy complexion is Sha Monk. These two are still all right. But the one who has a hairy face and a thundergod beak goes by the name of Pilgrim Sun. This person truly has vast magic powers. When he caused great disturbance in the Celestial Palace five hundred years ago, not even a hundred thousand warriors from Heaven could capture him. Moreover, he devotes himself to mischief-making. Whether it’s ransacking a mountain or overturning an ocean, breaking down a cave or besieging a city, he’s a real champion at creating troubles! How could you provoke him? All right, I’ll go with you. I’ll capture that fellow and those princes of Jade-Flower as well, just to relieve your feelings.” The monster-spirit kowtowed to give thanks.

Immediately the old monster summoned into his presence his various grandsons: Gibbon-Lion,⁴ Snow Lion, Suanyi,⁵ Baize,⁶ Wildcat, and Elephant-Baiter. Led by Yellow Lion, each of them took up a sharp weapon and mounted a gust of violent wind to reach the Leopard’s-Head Mountain. There they encountered the powerful odor of fire and smoke and heard the sound of weeping. When they looked more carefully, they found Freaky and Shifty sobbing and crying for their lord.

“Are you the real Freaky Child or the false Freaky Child?” snapped the monster-spirit as he walked up to them.

The two fiends fell on their knees. As they kowtowed and tried to hold back their tears, the two fiends said, “How could we be false? Yesterday we took the money to go purchase hogs and sheep. When we got to the main road west of the mountain, we ran into a priest with a hairy face and a thundergod beak. He spat on us once and immediately our legs grew weak and our mouths clamped shut. We could neither talk nor walk. He pushed us over and searched out our silver. He took our tablets, too. Neither of us snapped out of our stupor until just now. When we got home, the smoke and fire had not yet died but all our buildings had been burned out. Because we couldn’t see our lord or any of the captains and officers, we stayed here and wept. How did this fire start anyway?”

When he heard this, the monster-spirit could not stop the tears gushing from his eyes. As he stamped the ground with both feet, he railed spitefully, “Baldie! You’re so wicked! How could you do such a vicious thing? You have gutted my cave-dwelling, burned my pretty lady to death, and robbed me of all my family and belongings! I’m so mad I could die! I’m so mad I could die!”

The old monster asked Gibbon-Lion to drag him over and said to him, “Worthy grandchild, when things have reached this stage, getting mad won’t do you any good. Let’s conserve our vitality instead so that we may go seize those monks in the prefectural city.”

Refusing to stop his wailing, the monster-spirit said, “Venerable Father! That mountain home of mine wasn’t built in a day! Now it’s completely wrecked by that baldpate! What do I have to live for?” He struggled up and would have rammed his head against a boulder to kill himself had not Snow Lion and Gibbon-Lion stopped him with their earnest pleadings. After a while, they left the mountain and headed for the city.

When their churning wind and looming fog drew near, the people outside all parts of the capital were so terrified that men and women alike fled into the city with scant regard for their homes or possessions. After they had entered, the gates were shut tightly; meanwhile, someone had sped to the palace to cry, “Disaster! Disaster!” The princes and the Tang Monk were just enjoying breakfast in the Gauze-Drying Pavilion when they heard this report. When they stepped out to inquire, the people said, “A large band of monster-spirits are approaching the city, kicking up sand and stone and belching wind and fog.”

“What shall we do?” exclaimed the old prince, horrified.

“Relax, all of you!” said Pilgrim, chuckling. “This must be the monster-spirit from the Tiger’s-Mouth Cave who fled in defeat yesterday toward the southeast. Now he has banded together with that so-called Ninefold-Numina Primal Sage to come here. Let us brothers go out to meet them. Order the four gates closed and call up men to guard the city.” The prince indeed gave the order for the city gates to be closed and armed men were summoned to ascend the rampart. On the city tower the prince, together with his three sons and the Tang Monk, made the roll call. Amid fluttering banners that blotted out the sun and cannon fire that filled the sky, Pilgrim and his two brothers left the city midway between cloud and fog to face their enemies. Thus it was that

Affinity’s lack had caused wise weapons’ loss

And stirred up the demons, their perverse foes.

We do not know how this battle will turn out; let’s listen to the explanation in the next chapter.