Chinese Lore Podcast

The pilgrims discover their hosts’ woeful backstory and offer to help. Subscribe Transcript Characters Music Transcript Welcome to the Chinese Lore Podcast, where I retell classic Chinese stories in English. This is episode 51 of Journey to the West. Last time, after ridding the Slow-Cart Kingdom of three demon Daoist priests, the pilgrims resumed their journey West until they hit another obstacle. And the big wheel of trials and tribulations says that this week’s challenge was … another river. This one was so deep and wide that the pilgrims couldn’t see a way across. And it was getting late, so they found lodging in a settlement near the river. Zhu Bajie then scared off the monks who were performing some kind of ceremony in the house, and proceeded to wow everyone by gorging himself like a pig on the leftover food. After dinner, San Zang thanked the two old men who had taken him in and asked for their names. The two men, who were brothers, told him that their last name was Chen. San Zang pressed his palms together and said, “Hey we’re family!” “Elder, your last name is Chen as well?” the old men asked. “Indeed,” San Zang replied. “May I ask what ritual you were conducting earlier?” Bajie chuckled, “Master, why are you asking? It has to be something like ‘Vegetarian Offering for Longevity’, a ‘Peace-Blessing Feast,’ or a ‘Completion Ritual Feast.’ ” “Not so, not so,” the old men said. “Then what was the feast for?” San Zang asked again. “This was a ‘Prearranged Funeral Feast for the Living,’ ” the old men told him. Bajie almost doubled over laughing. “Old sirs, you’re a poor judge of character. We’re expert liars and exaggerators. So how can you fool us with that hogwash?! How can monks not know the ins and outs of ritual feasts? There are only pre-arranged feasts for merit transfer or repayment. How can there be a Prearranged Funeral Feast? No one in your family has died yet, so why are you holding a funeral ritual?” Hearing this, Wukong was secretly impressed, thinking to himself, “That dum-dum has wised up a bit. The old men are indeed in error. What is this ‘Prearranged Funeral Feast?’ ” But the two old men now asked, “How did you come to be here instead of following the main road on your pilgrimage?” Wukong answered, “We did travel along the main road, but a wide river blocked our path and we couldn’t cross. We heard the sound of cymbals, so we came here to ask for lodging.” “Did you see anything on the river bank?” the old men asked. “We only saw a stone tablet. It said the name of the river was the Heaven-Penetrating River, and it described it as 300 miles wide and rarely traversed. That was all.” “If you keep going upriver along the bank for half a mile, you’ll see a temple dedicated to the Great King of Numinous Power. Did you not see that?” “No, please tell me: What is that Numinous Power?” “Oh elder! They say his divine responses inspired temples everywhere, And his mighty power protects the people for a thousand miles. Year after year he bestows sweet rain upon the estate, And every season auspicious clouds descend upon the villages.” “Bringing sweet rain and auspicious clouds are good things,” Wukong said. “So why are you so grief-stricken about it?” The old men stamped their feet, beat their chests, and let out a bitter cry: “Oh elder! Though he grants many favors, there is enmity; Though he shows kindness, he still harms people. For he demands to eat young boys and girls— Such a being is no true and upright god!” “What? Eat boys and girls?!” Wukong asked. “Indeed.” “And I’m betting it’s your family’s turn, right?” “Yes, this year is our turn. Our settlement has 100 households. We are within the jurisdiction of the Slow-Cart Kingdom. This is called the Chen Family Village. That Great King demands an annual sacrifice — a boy and a girl, along with pigs and sheep. He eats them all in one go, and then ensures that we have fair weather. If we don’t provide him with a sacrifice, then he would bring calamity upon us.” “And how many sons do you have?” Wukong asked. The older old man beat his chest and lamented, “Oh pity! What sons?! I’m so ashamed. This is my younger brother. His name is Chen Qing (1). My name is Chen Cheng (2). I’m 63, and he’s 58. Children have been hard to come by. I was childless at age 50. My family and friends pressed me to take a concubine. I gave in and married one, and she bore me a daughter, who’s only 8 this year. We gave her the name Pound of Gold.” “Wow, fancy name!” Bajie said. “Why is she called Pound of Gold?” “Because I was having trouble getting a child, I did a lot of good deeds — repairing bridges, building roads, constructing monasteries, erecting pagodas, and holding feasts for monks. Whatever money I spend on those deeds, I kept track of the expense in a ledger. The year my daughter was born, the total happened to be a pound of gold, hence her name.” “And what about the boy?” Wukong asked. “My younger brother has a son, also born of a concubine. He’s 7 this year. His name is Chen Guanbao (1,3).” Guanbao, by the way, means Blessed by Guan. Wukong asked for the reason behind the name, and Chen Cheng (2) explained, “Our family worships Lord Guan.” And Lord Guan, by the way, is none other than Guan Yu, the legendary warrior from the Romance of the Three Kingdoms.  “We prayed at the altar of Lord Guan for a son and that wish was granted,” Chen Cheng continued. “Hence his name. My brother and I are more than 100 years old combined, and we only have these two children. But it’s our turn to provide the sacrifice, and we dare not refuse. It’s unbearable to give up our children. So we are holding a preemptive reincarnation ritual for them. That’s why it’s called a Prearranged Funeral Feast.” That backstory brought San Zang to tears, and he wept, “This is just as the ancients said, ‘The young plums are falling before the old plums, and heaven torments those without children.’ ” Wukong, however, laughed and asked Chen Cheng, “Old sir, how much property do you have?” “We’ve got some. We have about 80 acres of wet farmland and 100-some acres of dry farmland. We also have about 90 plots of pasture land, 300 water buffaloes, 20-some donkeys and horses, and countless pigs, sheep, chicken, and geese. We have more grain than we can eat, and more clothes than we can wear. And we have plenty of money.” “Well then, you’re such a cheapskate,” Wukong said. “What do you mean?” “With that much property, how can you bear to sacrifice your own children? Why don’t you spend 50 taels of silver to buy a young boy, and spend another 100 taels of silver to buy a young girl. That wouldn’t cost you more than 200 taels of silver, and you can keep your children to continue your line.” So umm … now we’re talking about buying, selling, and sacrificing someone else’s children instead of your own. Somehow that doesn’t seem like a Buddha-sanctioned solution to this problem. But hey, at least Sun Wukong is suggesting they pay more for a girl than a boy. Umm, yay for the fairer sex? Anyway, the two old men wept and told him, “Elder, you don’t understand. That Great King comes by our house a lot.” “Oh? Did y’all see what he looks like?” “We never see him. We just smell a fragrant breeze and that’s the sign of his coming. Then we hurriedly offer incense and kowtow toward the wind. He knows all the details about our household, including the birth dates and times of everyone. He will only accept our own children. Putting aside the fact that you can’t buy two kids for two or three hundred taels of silver. Even if we had tens of thousands of taels, where would we find a boy and a girl with the exact appearance and exact birth dates? “Ah so that’s it,” Wukong said. “Alright. Bring out your son and let me have a look at him.” The younger old man, Chen Qing (1), hurried to the back and returned with his son in his arms. He set the boy down in the light. The kid had no inkling of the fate awaiting him and just danced around, ate, and played.  Wukong observed him for a moment, and then muttered an incantation, twisted his body, and turned into a perfect doppelganger of the boy. The two identical boys now played hand-in-hand under the light.  Chen Qing fell to his knees and said to San Zang in a panic, “Sir, this is not right! That elder was just talking; how did he turn into an exact copy of my son? He even sounds and acts like him! This is going to take years off my life! Please, elder, show your true form!” Wukong ran his hand over his face and turned back into himself. The old man kneeled in front of him and exclaimed, “Elder, turns out you have such powers!” “Heh, did I look like your son?” Wukong asked with a chuckle. “You did! You were just like him in appearance, voice, clothing, and height!” “You haven’t even had a close look yet. Come pick me up and see if I weigh the same as him.” “Yes, yes, you do!” “Would I pass for him for the sacrifice?” “You would! You would!” “Then I’m going to take your son’s place, so that your family line can go on. I’ll go face that demon king.” Chen Qing kowtowed and said, “Sir, if you can exercise compassion and take my son’s place, I will offer 1,000 taels of silver as travel money for your master’s pilgrimage.” “But how are you going to thank me?” Wukong asked. “Well … if you’re taking my son’s place in the sacrifice, you would be dead.” “How so?” “That demon king would have eaten you.” “Oh he wouldn’t dare! We’ll see what fate heaven has in store for me. If he eats me, then I’m destined for a short life. If he doesn’t, then I’m lucky.” Chen Qing kept kowtowing to thank Wukong, and he presented Wukong with 500 taels of silver. But his older brother, Chen Cheng, just leaned against the door and cried. Wukong took hold of him and said, “Sir, you haven’t thanked me yet. Are you unwilling to part with your daughter?” Chen Cheng kneeled and said, “Yes, indeed! I’m grateful that you are saving my nephew. That’s more than enough. But I have no son and only this one daughter. How could I bear to lose her?” “Then go cook five ladles of rice and prepare some good vegetarian dishes for that long-snout brother of mine, and ask him to turn into your daughter. Then he and I will go to the sacrifice together and save both kids.” Zhu Bajie was alarmed when he heard that. “Brother, you and your shenanigans! Why are you pulling me in? You don’t care if I live or die!” “Oh brother, as the saying goes, ‘Even roosters don’t eat food that they haven’t worked for.’ ” Wukong told him. “We were treated with a generous feast when we arrived here, and you were still complaining about not getting enough. So why wouldn’t you help them with their troubles?” “Brother, you may be able to shapeshift, but I can’t.” “Don’t you also know 36 transformations?” San Zang now chimed in, “Bajie, your brother is right. You should do this. As the saying goes, ‘Saving one life is worth more than building a seven-tier pagoda.’ You would be thanking our hosts and building your karma. It should be ok. You and your brother should be back in no time.” “Oh master, listen to you,” Bajie grumbled. “I can only turn into mountains, trees, rocks, elephants, water buffaloes, or fat guys. It would be hard to turn into a little girl.” But Wukong told Chen Cheng, “Don’t listen to him. Bring out your daughter and let’s have a look.” So Chen Cheng brought his daughter into the parlor. His whole family also came out to kowtow to the pilgrims and beg them to save their child. The girl wore a kingfisher-blue circlet adorned with the Eight Treasures and dangling pearls. She had on a red-and-yellow shimmering silk jacket, a green satin cape, and a checkerboard collar. Around her waist she tied a bright crimson flowered silk skirt. On her feet were a pair of light-red silk shoes. On her legs she wore two gold-embroidered knee guards. “Bajie, that’s the girl,” Wukong said. “Hurry up and turn into her so we can go to the sacrifice.” “Brother, how can I turn into someone this dainty?” “Hurry up and do it!” Wukong barked. “Don’t earn yourself a beating!” “Ok ok. Don’t beat me. Let me try to turn into her.” So dum-dum muttered an incantation, shook his head a few times, and shouted, “Change!” Well, his face did change into the girl’s likeness, but the rest of him was still that of a fat man. Wukong chuckled, “Try again.” “Even if you beat me, I can’t do any better. What can be done about it?” “But you have the head of a girl and the body of a monk. That wouldn’t do,” Wukong said as he blew a breath toward Bajie. And in that instant, Bajie’s body shrank to match the girl’s.  This done, Wukong told the two old men, “Take your son and daughter back inside so you don’t get us mixed up. Otherwise, my brother might try to get out of this by sneaking into the back and making it hard to tell him apart from your daughter. Give your kids some fruits and tell them not to cry. Otherwise, that demon king might catch on. Let the two of us go face him.” He also instructed Sha Zeng to protect San Zang, and then he asked, “How are we to be presented? Tied up? Steamed? Diced?” Bajie panicked, “Brother, don’t toy with me! I don’t have those kinds of powers.” The old men said, “Oh we would never dare. We would just use two red platters and have you sit on them. We would put you on a table, and have a couple young men carry the table to the temple.” “Great! Bring out the platters and let us try them out,” Wukong said. So the old men brought out the platters. Wukong and Bajie sat down in them. Each platter was then put on a table, and four young men lifted up the table, walked into the courtyard and then back into the parlor and put the tables back down. “Hey Bajie, look! We’re monks fit to sit on a high platform,” Wukong joked. “Yeah, but once they carry us there, will we get to be carried back?” Bajie fretted. “I’m not worried about being carried to and fro. But if we get carried to the temple and get devoured, that’s no laughing matter.” “Just watch me,” Wukong said. “If that demon eats me, then you just run away.” “Yeah but how would you know which one he would eat first? If he eats the boy first, then I can run. But what if he decides to start with the girl?” The old men told him, “In past years’ sacrifices, some among us who were bold enough hid around the temple and saw that he always ate the boy first, and then the girl.” “Oh that’s great!” Bajie said with relief. Just then, they heard the sound of gongs and drums outside as a crowd approached with lanterns and torches. The other villagers had gathered and were knocking on the door, shouting, “Bring out the sacrificial boy and girl!” The Chen Family Village delivering the annual sacrifice to the temple. The two old men put on a good show by weeping and wailing while the four young men carried out the two children. The villagers escorted the kids, along with sacrificial pigs and sheep, to the demon king’s temple. There, they set the boy and girl on the altar. Wukong turned and saw that the altar held incense and candles, and a golden placard in the center said, “The Spirit of the Great King of Numinous Power.” There were no idols of any kind. The villagers now lined up, kneeled, and chanted, “Oh Great King. Today the sacrificial leader of Chen Family Village, Chen Cheng and others, in accordance with the annual custom, hereby offer up a boy named Chen Guanbao (1,3) and a girl named Pound of Gold, along with numerous pigs and sheep, for your enjoyment. Please bless us with good weather and a bountiful harvest.” After that prayer, the villagers burned some sacrificial paper horses and left. Once they were gone, Bajie said to Wukong, “Let’s just go home.” “What home are you talking about?” Wukong asked him. “Let’s go back to the Chen family’s home and take a nap.” “Dum-dum, stop your nonsense! Let’s just do this.” “You’re the dum-dum! We were just kidding around with them. How can we actually allow ourselves to be sacrificed for them?!” “Enough nonsense! If we’re going to help someone, we have to help them to the end. We have to wait until that demon king shows up and eats us. Otherwise, he would bring calamity on these people.” Just then, a strong gale whipped up. “Oh crap, here comes the wind!” Bajie said. “Quiet!” Wukong shushed him. “Just let me handle it.” Moments later, a demon showed up at the temple door. His golden armor and golden helmet gleamed bright and new; a jeweled belt was wrapped around his waist like curling red clouds. His eyes shone like brilliant stars just risen at dusk, and his teeth were set in rows like the edges of a saw. Beneath his feet mist and rosy vapors drifted and swirled; around his body warm haze billowed softly. When he moved, gusts of icy wind swept forth in waves; where he stood, layers of deadly air gathered thickly. He looked like a curtain-raising guard who escorts an imperial carriage, or a mighty door god standing watch at a temple entrance. This demon blocked the temple door and asked, “Whose family offers the sacrifice this year?!” Wukong replied with a smile, “We are from the family of Chen Cheng and Chen Qing.” That demon was taken aback. He thought to himself, “This boy dares to talk to me like nothing’s happening. Usually the sacrifices are scared out of their minds and don’t dare to utter a word. They are practically dead when I pick them up. But this boy talked back to me.” So he didn’t dare to just grab the children and devour them just yet. He now asked for their names, and Wukong smiled and replied again, “I am Chen Guanbao. And the girl is Pound of Gold.” “This sacrifice is an annual custom. You have been presented to me, and I’m going to eat you now,” the demon said, just making sure the kid knew what he was in for. “We do not dare to resist,” Wukong said. “Please help yourself.” This again put the demon on his heel. He now shouted, “Stop talking back. I usually eat the boy first. But this year, I’m going to eat the girl first.” Oh crap. Bajie panicked and said, “Great King, you should do as you always do. Don’t break custom.” But the demon ignored his plea and went straight for him. Bajie wasn’t about to sit around and let himself get eaten, so he jumped down, showed his true form, pulled out his rake, and took a swing at the demon. The demon leaped back and fled. As he did so, Bajie’s rake struck him in the back and made a clanging sound. “I must have broken his armor!” Bajie exclaimed. Wukong now turned back into himself and took a look. He saw two fish scales the size of a platter. The brothers now gave chase and leaped into the air. There, they saw the demon, who had not come armed since he figured he was coming for a feast, not a fight.  “Where are you monks from?!” the demon king barked. “How dare you come here to mess with my business and ruin my reputation?” “Heh, you two-bit demon don’t know any better,” Wukong said. “We are disciples of the sage monk San Zang, sent by the Great Tang Kingdom in the East to go West to fetch scriptures. Last night, we were lodging at the Chen family’s home and heard that there’s a demon pretending to control the weather and demanding a boy and a girl as sacrifices each year. Out of compassion, we have come to capture you. Confess right now: You’ve been eating two kids a year. How many years have you been pretending to be the king of this place? How many children have you eaten? Return them all, and I’ll spare your life!” That demon turned and fled. Bajie took another swing at him, but came up empty this time as the demon turned into a wild wind and ducked into the Heaven-Penetrating River below. “Let’s not chase him right now,” Wukong said to Bajie. “He must be a creature that dwells in the river. Tomorrow we’ll figure out a way to capture him and help master get across.” So the two returned to the temple, gathered up the sacrificial pigs and sheep, as well as the tables, and brought them all back to the Chen residence. San Zang, Sha Zeng, and their hosts were sitting around waiting for news when suddenly they saw all the sacrificial items descend from the sky and land in their courtyard. Wukong then filled them in on what happened. The two old men were delighted and ordered their attendants to prepare rooms for the pilgrims to spend the night. As dawn drew near, Zhu Bajie started feeling a chill and woke up, calling out to Wukong, “Brother, it’s cold!” “Dum-dum, men or religion fear not the heat or the cold. Why are you complaining?” Wukong shot back. But San Zang also woke up and said, “It really is cold.” So the pilgrims got up, got dressed, and opened the door to see what’s up. To their surprise, they were greeted with the sight of a winter wonderland. The sky was cloudy, the ground wsa white, and a heavy snow fell as if it was the depth of winter. San Zang asked his hosts whether this was normal for this time of year. Chen Cheng told him that it wasn’t out of the ordinary for snow to fall in the eighth month of the year around here. Then, the attendants presented rice porridge for the pilgrims. After eating, the snow picked up even more, and the accumulation on the ground was now about two feet deep. This made San Zang worry about delays to his journey, and he started to weep. “Sir, please don’t worry about the snow,” his host said. “We have enough food to feed you for the rest of your lives.” “Old benefactor, you don’t understand,” San Zang explained. “When I was entrusted with this mission by my emperor, he personally saw me off. He offered me a cup of wine and asked when I would be back. I didn’t know how difficult the journey would be then, so I answered that I would return within three years. But it’s been seven or eight years since I left. I still haven’t seen the Buddha. I’m worried about being late, and also concerned about vicious demons. We were fortunate enough to make your acquaintance. Last night, my unworthy disciples repaid you in some small way. I was hoping we could borrow a boat and cross the river. But I didn’t expect this heavy snow. Now the road is covered, and I don’t know when we will complete our mission and return home.” “Elder, don’t worry,” Chen Cheng consoled him. “There’s plenty of time. Just wait here for a few days. Once the sky lightens up and the ice melts, I will take care of transportation to get you across.” Another attendant now came to invite them to breakfast. Soon after that, it was lunch time. This neverending buffet was making San Zang  uneasy. He told his host, “Thank you for taking us in, but please don’t go out of your way.” “Elder, you saved our family. Even if we threw feasts for days on end, it would not be enough to thank you,” Chen Cheng said. Eventually, the snow stopped, and people were able to go outside again. Seeing San Zang so unhappy, Chen Cheng had his men clean up the garden, set up a firepit, and invited his guests to go visit the garden.  Bajie chuckled, “This old man is so silly. Spring is the time to enjoy the garden. What’s the point when it’s snowing and cold?” “Dum-dum, what do you know?” Wukong scoffed. “A snowscape is peaceful. It’ll help master relax.” “Exactly, exactly,” Chen Cheng agreed. He then escorted his guests to the garden. It was indeed a tranquil scene. Ice and frost hung from trees. Jade-green moss beneath the steps were covered with powdered snow. Emerald bamboo shot up like white jade. The ice and snow, coupled with the pretty decorations in the fish ponds, pavilions, and courtyards, made the place look like a scene from an old painting. After touring the garden, they sat down in a snow cave for tea and chitchat with some neighbors. Chen Cheng asked the pilgrims if they drank wine. San Zang said, “I don’t, but my disciples can drink a few cups of weak wine.” Chen Cheng immediately ordered his attendants to bring fruits and snacks and warm up some wine for his guests. So they sat around the stove and drank a few cups with the neighbors. It was now getting late in the day, so the pilgrims were invited back to the parlor for dinner. As they headed back, they heard people on the streets saying, “It’s so cold! The river is frozen!” San Zang said to Wukong, “What should we do now that the river is frozen?” Chen Cheng said, “I’m guessing it’s just the shallow waters near the bank that’s frozen.” But a passer-by said, “No, the entire river is frozen like a mirror. Some people are walking across it.” Walk across it, huh? Well that’s convenient. To see how this development will affect the pilgrims travel plans, tune in to the next episode of the Chinese Lore Podcast. Thanks for listening! Music in This Episode “Luỹ Tre Xanh Ngát Đầu Làng (Guzheng) – Vietnam BGM” by VPRODMUSIC_Asia_BGM “The Quiet Aftermath by Sir Cubworth (from YouTube audio library) “Dark Toys” by SYBS (from YouTube audio library) The post Journey 051: Child’s Play first appeared on Chinese Lore Podcast.

Sun Wukong goes head-to-head against the last remaining demon Daoist priest of the Slow-Cart Kingdom. Subscribe Transcript Characters Music Transcript Welcome to the Chinese Lore Podcast, where I retell classic Chinese stories in English. This is episode 50 of Journey to the West. Last time, the Daoist priests who had earned the king’s favor in the Slow-Cart Kingdom kept challenging the pilgrims to duels of magic, and it kept going badly for them. Sun Wukong disposed of the two senior priests by making off with their head and innards, respectively, in the midst of a couple gruesome contests. The lone remaining priest, Goat Immortal, just didn’t know when to quit. Instead, he challenged Sun Wukong to another contest, this time daring him to take a bath in boiling oil. Now, we know from prior adventures that Sun Wukong is just fine with a dip in hot oil, so he happily obliged. But before he jumped in, he asked the king whether they were civil baths or martial baths. The king was quite puzzled by that question, so Wukong explained, “With a civil bath, one would not disrobe. We would just dive in, take a quick spin, and come back out. But you can’t stain your clothes. Whoever gets so much as a drop of oil on his clothes loses. But with a martial bath, then we need a clothes rack and a towel. We would disrobe, jump in, and tumble, do handstands, and play around in the oil.” The king asked Goat Immortal which he preferred, and Goat Immortal said, “With a civil bath, he might have pretreated his clothing with special substance that makes it oil-proof. Let’s do a martial bath.” So Wukong said, “The pardon me for going first again.” He then stripped off his clothes, and leaped into the boiling cauldron and started splashing around like he was in a jacuzzi or mini swimming pool. Sun Wukong enjoys a dip in hot oil. Watching this display, Zhu Bajie said to Sha Zeng, “We had that monkey all wrong. Normally he just trades insults with us. Who knew he has such real skills?” Umm … are we living in the same novel? Because I clearly remember Sun Wukong demonstrating his quote unquote real skills in basically every episode of this podcast. Anyway, Sun Wukong saw the two of them just standing around and shooting the breeze, and he thought to himself, “That dum-dum is laughing at me. As the saying goes, ‘The smart ones do all the work while the dumb ones get to chill.’ I’ve been so busy, while he gets to just stand around. Well, I’ll teach him.” So in the midst of his bath, Sun Wukong suddenly made a splash, dived to the bottom, turned into a nail, and stayed there. Once the bubbles stopped coming up, the head executioner went to tell the king, “Your highness, that little monk got cooked alive in the oil.” The king was delighted and told his men to scoop out Sun Wukong’s bones. An executioner dipped a metal strainer into the cauldron and scooped, but Wukong had turned into a nail so small that he slipped through the holes in the strainer. After a few more attempts came up empty, the executioner told the king, “That monk’s body was small; he must have dissolved in the oil.” The king now ordered his men to seize the other three pilgrims. The guards saw how vicious Zhu Bajie looked, so they started with him and tied him up. San Zang panicked and shouted to the king, “Your highness, please spare us for a  moment. My disciple had rendered countless service since I took him in. Today, he offended your preceptors and died in the cauldron of oil. Alas, what can be done about it? He who dies first becomes a god. I would not dare to live on. The officials reign over the civilians. If your highness tells me to die, I would never dare to do otherwise. But I hope you will show a little mercy and give me half a bowl of cold gruel and three paper horses. Allow me to go to the cauldron and burn some sacrificial money so as to commemorate the bond between me and my disciple. Then, I will submit to punishment.” “Yes, you people from the Central Kingdom are honorable,” the king said. Well, not honorable to spare their lives, but he was moved enough to grant San Zang’s dying wish. So San Zang and Sha Zeng walked down the steps, while several guards pulled the bound Zhu Bajie along by his ears. The three pilgrims stood by the cauldron, and San Zang mourned: “My disciple Sun Wukong! Ever since you joined the Buddhist school, You’ve protected me on my journey west with the greatest love and kindness. I had hoped we would attain the Great Way together, But today you have gone to the underworld! In life you were dedicated to fetching scripture, And in death you remain devoted to the Buddha. Your heroic soul, across 10,000 miles, must wait a moment, In the underworld as a ghost, and then ascend to the Thunderclap Temple!” When Bajie heard that eulogy, he told San Zang, “Master, that’s not the way to do this. Sha Zeng, offer up the gruel and let me pray.” So Dum-Dum, still tied up, now kneeled and scoffed, “Damn troublesome ape, stupid ignorant stable monkey! Your cursed ape, you deep-fried stable monkey. May you be dead, and may your line end!” Sun Wukong heard every word of those insults at the bottom of the cauldron, and he couldn’t tolerate it anymore. So he showed his true form and surfaced, dripping with oil. “You damn fool! Who are you cursing?!” he barked. San Zang exclaimed, “Pupil, you scared me to death!” Sha Zeng chimed in, “Brother, why did you pretend to be dead?!” The court officials were all stunned and rushed to tell the king that the monkey was very much alive. But the head executioner, fearful that this twist might make him a liar in the eyes of the king, told him, “That monkey did die, but his ghost has appeared.” Well, turns out the one he should’ve been worried about offending was not the king, but Sun Wukong. Because when Wukong heard that report, he flew into a rage. He leaped out of the cauldron, toweled off, put his clothes back on, whipped out his golden rod, pulled the head executioner over, and smacked him on the head with the rod, turning him into a puddle of flesh. “So my ghost was showing, huh?!” Wukong scoffed as he admired his bloody handiwork.  This very non-Buddhist act scared all the court officials, and they hurriedly untied Zhu Bajie, fell to their knees, and begged for mercy. The king tried to run from his throne, but Wukong cornered him and said, “Your highness, don’t run. You have to tell your Third Preceptor to go into the cauldron as well.” So Goat Immortal followed Wukong’s example as he disrobed, jumped into the cauldron, and started taking a bath without any sign of distress. Wukong let go of the king, walked over to the cauldron, told the men tending the oil to stir the fire. But then he dipped his hand into the cauldron and discovered that the boiling oil was ice cold. “Hmm, when I was bathing, it was boiling hot, but now it’s cold,” he thought to himself. “I know! Some dragon king must be protecting this guy.” So Wukong quickly flew into the air, recited an incantation, and summoned the Dragon King of the North Sea. “You horned earthworm! You scaly eel! Why did you send an ice dragon to protect that priest and help him show me up?!” Wukong fumed. The dragon king was paralyzed with fear and could only mutter, “I would never dare to help him. Great Sage, you don’t understand. These wretched creatures cultivated their Dao to the point where they left their old forms behind and attained the Five Thunder Magic. All the rest of their powers are just parlor tricks, unworthy of the True Way. But this is the “Great Flaying” technique that they cultivated. You broke the other two priests’ magic and revealed their true form. This last one refined an ice dragon on his own. It can only fool mortal eyes, but not you, Great Sage! Let me apprehend that ice dragon, and he will be boiled alive.” “Then make it quick, and I’ll spare you a beating,” Wukong ordered. So the dragon king turned into a wind, flew to the cauldron, seized the ice dragon, and took it into the ocean. By the time Wukong descended from the sky to rejoin the party, he saw that Goat Immortal was struggling in the cauldron, trying to climb out. But it was too late. He slipped into the boiling oil, and was reduced to a tender lamb stew within moments. When the king received this report from the new head executioner, he leaned against his desk and wept aloud: “A human body is indeed hard to come by. Don’t try to make elixirs without master instruction. You may possess spells to command spirits and water, Yet you have not the pill that prolongs life and preserves existence. If clarity and completeness are lost, how can one achieve Nirvana? All your scheming only leaves your fate unsettled. If you had realized earlier how easily one may be broken and defeated, Why not nourish yourself in secret and dwell securely in the mountains?” While the king was crying his heart out on his throne, Sun Wukong approached and barked at him, “How can you be so muddle-headed?! Look at those priests’ carcasses. One is a tiger, one is a deer, and that Goat Immortal is a goat. If you don’t believe me, scoop out his bones and see. No human would have such bones. They were wild animals that turned into demons and they came here to harm you. But they saw that you were still strong, so they did not dare to make their move. In another couple years, when you start to decline, they would’ve killed you, and then your kingdom would belong to them. It’s a good thing that we came along when we did and killed those demons and saved your life. And yet you’re crying over them?! Enough already. Hurry  up and give us our travel papers and see us off!” Only now did the king come to his senses. And his court officials all told him, “The dead priests really did turn out to be a stag and a tiger, and those are indeed goat bones in the cauldron. You must listen to the sage monks.” “In that case, we must thank the sage monks,” the king said. “It’s getting late, so have the royal tutor escort them back to the Building Wisdom Monastery. Tomorrow morning, have the Bureau of Royal Banquets set up a vegetarian feast to thank them.” So the pilgrims returned to the monastery and rested there that night. The next morning at 5 a.m., the king held court, assembled his officials, and sent out a command to post royal decrees at all four gates to summon back all the Buddhist monks. He then traveled with his court to the Building Wisdom Monastery and invited the pilgrims to the eastern pavilion of the palace for a feast. After the feast, the king gave the pilgrims their travel documents. Then, the entire court escorted them out of the palace. There, they saw a bunch of monks kneeling by the side of the road. These were the monks who had fled after Sun Wukong freed them. They had gotten word about the king’s decree summoning Buddhist monks back to the city, so they all streamed back to return the monkey hairs that Sun Wukong had given them as protection.  “How many of you are here?” Wukong asked. “All 500 of us,” they replied. Wukong now did a little shimmy and retracted all the hairs that he had given the monks. He then told the king and everyone else present, “I really did free these monks. And I was the one who smashed the carts. And I did kill those two wicked Daoist priests. Today, I have rid you of the demons and the wicked; only now do you recognize the power of Buddhism. From now on, don’t act recklessly again. I hope you will unite the three schools: Revere Buddhism, revere Daoism, and foster talent. Do that, and I will guarantee that your realm will endure forever.” The king agreed and thanked him profusely before seeing the pilgrims off. Once they departed the city, master and disciples again traveled West every day. And soon, spring and summer had passed, and autumn was settling in again. One day, as evening crept in, San Zang reined in his horse and asked where they were going to stay that night. Wukong told him, “Master, men of religion shouldn’t talk like common folk.” “What do you mean?” San Zang asked. “Common folk are in their warm beds right now, cuddling under blankets with their babies and their wives, sleeping carefree. But we men of religion can’t do that. We must use the moon and the stars as our covers, dine on the wind, and sleep by the water. If the road keeps going, then we keep going. Only when the road ends do we stop.” Zhu Bajie chimed in, “Brother, you don’t know the half of it. The roads are mountainous, and I’m carrying a heavy load. It’s really hard to keep going. We have to find a place to sleep and rest up tonight, so that we can keep going tomorrow. Otherwise, I’ll be so tired that I’ll just collapse.” “Let travel a bit farther under the moonlight, and stop when we find a homestead,” Wukong said. As he pressed on, the others had no choice but to follow. They traveled a bit farther and started hearing the sound of waves. “Oh great! A dead end!” Bajie said. “It’s a river blocking our path,” Sha Zeng added. “How can we cross it?” San Zang asked. “Let me go see how deep it is,” Bajie said. “Bajie, don’t speak nonsense,” San Zang said. “How can you test the depth?” “I’ll throw a pebble into the water. If it splashes, then it’s shallow. If it just sinks, then it’s deep.” So dum-dum found a rock on the side of the road and chucked it into the river. And the thing just disappeared without a trace. “It’s deep! Really deep! We can’t cross.” “You may have tested its depth, but do you know how wide it is?” San Zang asked. “Let me go take a look,” Wukong said. He soared into the air and gazed into the distance. Here’s what he saw: Brilliant light spreads and soaks the moon; Vast reflections seem to float across the sky. Its numinous current could swallow Mount Hua (2), Its long flow runs through a hundred rivers. A thousand surging waves roll in layers, Ten thousand towering swells rise and crash. No fishing lights gleam along the shores, While herons sleep upon the sandy banks. So boundless it seems, like the open sea— One glance reveals no end in sight. Wukong came back down to the shore and told San Zang, “Master, it’s really wide. We can’t cross. My fiery golden eyes can see everything within 300 miles during daytime, and even at night, I can see everything within 100 miles. But I couldn’t see the other side of the river. Who knows how wide it is?” San Zang was so stunned that he couldn’t speak for a while. And then, he started to choke up and asked, “Then, what should we do?” Well, the obvious answer here was to hit 1 on your speed dial and call in the Bodhisattva Guanyin, but then this book would be like 3 chapters long. So instead, Sha Zeng said, “Master, don’t cry. Look, there’s someone standing by the river.” “That must be a fisherman,” Wukong said. “Let me go ask him.” So Wukong ran over to the shadow by the water, only to discover that it wasn’t a person, but a stone tablet. It bore three large characters that read, “Heaven-Penetrating River.” Beneath that name were two lines of smaller characters that said, “Straight crossing 800 miles; since ancient times, few have crossed.” “Master, come take a look at this,” Wukong shouted. San Zang walked over, read the tablet, and cried some more. He said, “Oh pupils. When I left the Tang capital all those years ago, I thought the road West would be easy. But who knew that it would be riddled with demons, monsters, mountains, and rivers?” Umm, dude. It wouldn’t be much of a pilgrimage if it were easy. It’s not like Guanyin didn’t warn you about the dangers when you first volunteered. In any case, Zhu Bajie now said, “Master, do you hear the sound of cymbals? Someone must be preparing a vegetarian meal. Let’s hurry up and go get a bite and ask about a boat. And then we can tomorrow.” San Zang listened and indeed heard the sound of cymbals. “It must be either Daoists or Buddhists,” he said. “Let’s go.” So Wukong led the way and the pilgrims headed in the direction of the music. There were no roads. They trudged across a beach and saw in the distance a cluster of about four or five hundred houses. And it looked like a pretty nice settlement.  San Zang dismounted and saw a house at the head of the path. Outside its doors stood a tall ceremonial banner. Inside the house there were candles and lights, and fragrant incense filled the air. “Wukong, this place is different from a mountain crevice or the river bank,” he said. “With a roof over our heads, we can find shelter from the cold and sleep easy. But you all stay back. Let me go ask for lodging first. If they’re willing to let us stay, then I’ll call you over. But if they refuse, don’t act up. Your faces are ugly and might scare them. If you cause trouble, then we wouldn’t be able to find anywhere to stay.” “You’re right. Master, you go on first, and we’ll stay here,” Wukong said. So San Zang took off his hat, exposing his bald head. He tidied up his clothing, took hold of his Buddhist staff, and walked over to the house. He saw that the door was half open. He did not dare to intrude, so he just stood outside. Moments later, an old man came out. Around his neck hung a necklace of beads, and he was muttering the name of the Buddha as he came to close the door. San Zang pressed his palms together and called out, “Old benefactor, greetings.” The old man returned his greetings and said, “Monk, you’re too late.” “What do you mean?” “You’re too late; we’re all out of food. If you had gotten here earlier, you would’ve been able to eat your fill, and I would have given you a bolt of white fabric and 10 copper coins. What took you so long?” San Zang bowed and replied, “Old benefactor, I’m not here for the food.” “Then why are you here?” “I’ve been sent by the Great Tang Kingdom in the East to go West to fetch scripture. I was passing through your honorable estate and it was getting late. I heard the sound of cymbals from your residence, so I came to ask for lodging for just tonight. I will be on my way tomorrow.” The old man waved his hands and said, “Monk, a man of religion shouldn’t speak nonsense. The Tang Kingdom is a thousand miles from here. How did you get here alone?” “You’re right, old benefactor. But I have three disciples with me, and they’ve been paving the way and protecting me. That’s how I’ve managed to get here.” “In that case, why didn’t your disciples come with you?” the old man said. “Please, there is room here for you to rest.” So San Zang turned and called out, “Pupils, come here.” The three disciples rushed over and were about to go inside, but the old man saw them and fell onto the ground, muttering, “Demons! Demons!” San Zang helped him up and said, “Benefactor, don’t be afraid. They aren’t demons. They’re my disciples.” “But, but, how did such a handsome master come by such ugly disciples?” the old man said. “They may be lacking in appearance, but they know how to tame dragons and tigers and capture demons and monsters,” San Zang reassured him.  But the old man was skeptical. He just held on to San Zang and walked back inside slowly. The three disciples, meanwhile, rushed into the house. They tied up the horse and dropped the luggage on the ground. They saw a few monks in the main parlor reciting scripture, so Zhu Bajie poked his head in and asked, “Hey monks, what scripture are y’all reciting?” The monks looked up and saw this hulking figure with a long snout and big ears, sounding like thunder. And behind him were two equally … umm … eccentric looking characters. All the monks in the parlor were scared. They dropped everything, knocked over their lamps, and scrambled out the door, tripping over the doorstep and knocking their heads on the way out. The three disciples just clapped and roared with laughter as they watched this slapstick comedy, and that just made the monks run even faster as they scampered off. Now, San Zang, escorting the old man, came into the parlor. He saw the lights were out and his three disciples doubled over laughing. San Zang scolded them, “You fiends! You’re so wicked! I tell you all the time, “As the ancients said, ‘To be good without being taught—what else could that be but sagehood? To become good only after instruction—what else could that be but worthiness? To remain ungood even after being taught—what else could that be but folly?’ You guys are acting like the biggest fools! You crashed in here without any manners, frightened our host, and scared off the monks who were reciting scripture. You’ve disrupted their ceremony. And I’ll have to answer for it.” The three disciples dared not talk back. Only now did the old man believe San Zang’s claim that they were his pupils. The old man told San Zang, “Sir, it’s no big deal. We had just finished the ceremonies anyway.” “Well, in that case, bring out the leftover food, so we can eat and go to bed,” Bajie said. The old man called for his attendants to bring light. The attendants were surprised, since they thought there were plenty of lights in the parlor, what with the monks sitting there and chanting scriptures. A few of them came over and saw that the parlor was pitch black. They lit some torches and lanterns and came in. But the first things they saw were Zhu Bajie and Sha Zeng, which scared them so much that they dropped the torches, ran out, and shut the doors, shouting, “Demons! Demons!” Wukong picked up the torches, lit the candles in the room, and pulled over a chair for San Zang to sit in. The three disciples then sat down around him, and the old man sat down in front of them. Just then, the doors opened back up, and another old man came in, leaning on a wooden cane, and asking, “What demons are intruding on this good household at night?” The first old man hurriedly went over and told the second old man, “Brother, no need for all this. They’re not demons. It’s a sage monk from the Tang Kingdom in the East, heading to fetch scripture. Even though his disciples look vicious, they’re kind at heart.” The second old man now set down his cane and greeted the pilgrims before sitting down and calling for servants to bring tea. He had to call several times before a few young servants slowly came in, trembling in fear and not daring to go near. Zhu Bajie couldn’t take it anymore and asked, “Old man, what’s up with your servants?” The second old man said, “I told them to bring food for you.” “How many servants do you have?” “Eight.” “And who are those eight supposed to be serving?” “The four of you.” “Well, my fair-faced master only needs one attendant. That hairy-faced god-of-thunder-looking one just needs two servants. But the sullen-looking one needs eight. And I need 20 attendants.” “In that case, it sounds like you have a larger appetite,” the old man said. “You’ve got that right.” “No problem. I’ve got enough people,” the old man said. He then called out about 40 people to tend to the guests. When they saw their masters sitting and talking with the guests, the attendants set aside their fears and prepared dinner. They set up several tables, one each for the four pilgrims, and one for the two old men. First, they brought out fruits and vegetables, followed by noodles, rice, snacks, and soup.  Everything was set up neatly. San Zang lifted his chopsticks and recited a passage of scripture before eating. Bajie, however, was hungry and impatient. He couldn’t even wait for San Zang to finish before he picked up a red wooden bowl of white rice and swallowed it in one gulp in the blink of an eye. One of his attendants said, “Sir, you’ve got no sense. Instead of stashing steamed buns, why are you stashing rice? Wouldn’t it stain your clothes?” “I didn’t stash it; I ate it.” “You didn’t even open your mouth; how could you have eaten it?” “You’re lying! I ate it. If you don’t believe me, I’ll do it again to show you.” So the attendant handed him another bowl, and just like before, he turned it upside down over his mouth and it went straight in and down.” “Sir, you’ve got a throat as slippery as worn bricks!” the attendant exclaimed. Before San Zang finished reciting a scroll of scripture, Zhu Bajie had already downed five or six bowls of rice. The rest of the party now started eating as well. Bajie, meanwhile, blew through the meal like a hurricane, and kept calling out for more rice. But gradually, the rice stopped coming out. Wukong now said, “Bajie, don’t eat so much. This is better than starving in the mountains. But stop when you’re half full.” “Bullcrap! As the saying goes, ‘A hungry monk might as well be buried alive.’ ” Wukong, though, told the attendants to clean up and just ignore dum-dum. The two old men, however, bowed and said, “Sir, to tell you the truth, if it were daytime, it would be no problem. We can feed a hundred or so people with appetites as large as this fat elder’s But it’s late and we only cooked one stone’s worth of flour and five ladles of rice, along with a few spreads of vegetarian dishes for our relatives, neighbors, and the monks. We weren’t expecting you. The monks have been scared off, and we don’t dare to invite any relatives or neighbors now. So all the food is for you. If you’re still hungry, we can make some more.” “Yes, yes, make more, make more!” Bajie said. So I’m guessing at some point the plot will move past just everyone sitting and watching Zhu Bajie gorge himself. To see what’s in store for the pilgrims, tune in to the next episode of the Chinese Lore Podcast. Thanks for listening! Music in This Episode “Luỹ Tre Xanh Ngát Đầu Làng (Guzheng) – Vietnam BGM” by VPRODMUSIC_Asia_BGM “A Lost Story of the Wind” by Harumachi Music “Day of Recon” by Max Surla/Media Right Productions (from YouTube audio library) The post Journey 050: Goat vs. G.O.A.T. first appeared on Chinese Lore Podcast.

Things escalate quickly in the battle of magic between Daoists and Buddhists. Subscribe Transcript Characters Music Transcript Welcome to the Chinese Lore Podcast, where I retell classic Chinese stories in English. This is episode 49 of Journey to the West. Last time, the pilgrims found themselves locked in a battle of powers against the three Daoist priests who had won the favor of the king of the Slow-Cart Kingdom. Calling on his connections with the gods, Sun Wukong defeated Tiger Immortal in a wager to see who could summon the rain. The king was just about to let the pilgrims go on their merry way, but Tiger Immortal refused to let the matter drop. Instead, he challenged the pilgrims to a duel of meditation atop two super-tall stacks of tables. Now, Sun Wukong usually leaps at being challenged to anything, but on this occasion, he fell silent. Fellow disciple Zhu Bajie asked him what’s up, and Wukong said, “Brother, to tell you the truth, if it’s kicking the heavens, meddling with the cosmos, stirring seas and overturning rivers, shouldering mountains and chasing the moon, shifting the Dipper and moving the stars—I can do all that. Even if it’s having my head cut off or my brains smashed in, my belly split open or my heart gouged out, or undergoing all kinds of strange transformations—none of that scares me. But when it comes to sitting and meditating, I’m no good. I don’t have the temperament for it. Even if you chained me to a steel column, I would be climbing up and down. How can I sit still?” At this point, San Zang raised his hand and was like, hey, I’m ACTUALLY useful for once! “That’s great!” Wukong said with delight. “How long can you sit still for?” “In my youth, I met a wandering monk who explained the Way. My essence is divinely calm. Even in moments of crisis, I can sit still for two or three years.” “Master, if you were to sit for two or three years, then we can forget about fetching scriptures,” Wukong joked. “It won’t be more than two or three hours before you can come back down.” “But I can’t get up to the top,” San Zang said, remembering that Tiger Immortal had thrown in an extra rule that the contestants couldn’t climb up the tall stacks of tables but instead had to fly up. “Just go answer the challenge, and I’ll send you up there,” Wukong told him. So San Zang pressed his palms together in front of his chest and told the king, “I can meditate.” The king immediately ordered his men to set up two towers of 50 stacked tables each. Within an hour, the towers were set up in front of the main hall of the palace. Tiger Immortal now stood in between the two, leaped, stepped onto a cloud, flew up to the western tower, and sat down.  Sun Wukong then got up to his old tricks. He plucked off one of his own hairs, turned it into a doppelganger of himself to stand next to Zhu Bajie and Sha Zeng at the foot of the towers. His real self, meanwhile, turned into a colorful cloud, lifted San Zang into the air, and set him down on top of the eastern tower. Wukong then turned into a small bug, landed on Zhu Bajie’s ear, and whispered, “Brother, keep a close eye on master, and don’t speak to my doppelganger.” Bajie chuckled in acknowledgement. Meanwhile, up above, the two contestants were having either the chillest faceoff ever or the most intense sitting session ever. Both sat in motionless meditation for a good long time.  San Zang and Tiger Immortal engaged in a meditation contest. Down below, one of the other Daoist priests, Deer Immortal, saw that they were evenly matched and decided to give his brother a hand with some shenanigans. He plucked a short hair off the back of his head, rolled it into a tiny ball, and flicked it up to the top of the eastern tower, landing on San Zang’s head. The hair now turned into a big stinky bug and started to bite San Zang. Feeling first the itch and the pain, San Zang started getting a little antsy. Per the rules, he couldn’t lift his hand to scratch or he would lose. So he started moving his head and trying to rub the itch against his clothes. Watching from below, Bajie said, “Uh oh, master is having a seizure.” Sha Zeng said, “No, he must be having a headache.” Wukong, however, told them, “Master is a man of the utmost sincerity. If he said he could sit still in meditation, then he can. Otherwise he wouldn’t have said it. He doesn’t lie. Be quiet, and let me go have a look.” So Wukong flew up, still in insect form, flew up to San Zang’s head. There, he saw a stinkbug the size of a pea, biting his master. Wukong hurriedly removed the bug and scratched San Zang’s head. Feeling the relief, San Zang once again sat still. Wukong, meanwhile, thought to himself, “Monks’ heads are bald. They don’t even have a single flea, so how could he have a stinkbug? This must be that priest’s dirty trick. Heh. Since they’re evenly matched, let me go have a little fun with him!” So Wukong flew over to the western tower, turned into a seven-inch long centipede, and crawled up Tiger Immortal’s nostril. Tiger Immortal couldn’t possibly sit still with a creepy crawlie going up his nose, and he tumbled backward and fell off the tower. He nearly plummeted to his death, but lucky for him, a bunch of officials broke his fall and helped him up. The king was shocked and immediately had the royal tutor lead Tiger Immortal to a private chamber to get cleaned up. Wukong, meanwhile, turned back into a cloud and carried San Zang back down. So once again, the pilgrims won the wager, and the king was about to let them be on their way. But this time, the second priest, Deer Immortal, said, “Your highness, my brother has long had a hidden head ailment. It must have acted up when he got up so high. That’s why the monk won. Keep the monk here for now. Let me face off against him on guessing through a screen.” “What do you mean, guessing through a screen?” the king asked. “I can sense objects on the other side of a screen. Let’s see if that monk can. If he can outguess me, then they may go. If not, then your highness must punish them and avenge our sect, so as not to forget the 20 years we have spent protecting your realm.” The muddle-headed king once again went along with this. He ordered his men to bring a red cabinet to the hall. He had his queen put a royal treasure inside the cabinet before bringing it into the center of the hall. He then told the two sides to guess what’s inside. San Zang looked to Wukong and asked, umm, now what? Wukong again worked his magic, turned into a tiny bug, and perched on San Zang’s head, telling him, “Master, don’t worry. Let me go have a look.” He then flew to the cabinet, perched on its feet, and noticed a tiny seam in the wood. He crawled through the seam into the cabinet. Inside, he saw a red platter that held a robe embroidered with patterns of mountains and rivers, symbolizing the kingdom. Wukong picked it up and crumbled it into a tangled mess. He then bit his tongue and sprayed a mouthful of blood on it and shouted, “Change!” The fancy robe turned into a shabby, tattered monk’s robe. But Wukong wasn’t done. He now peed on the robe before crawling back out through the seam. He flew over to San Zang and whispered in his ear, “Master, you should guess that it’s a tattered monk’s robe.” “But the king said to guess the treasure,” San Zang whispered back. “How can a tattered monk’s robe be a treasure?” “Don’t worry about it; just guess.” So San Zang stepped forth and was about to guess, but Deer Immortal cut in front of him and said, “I’m going first. Inside the cabinet is a mountain-and-river robe.” But San Zang said, “Not so, not so. Inside is a tattered monk’s robe.” The king fumed, “This monk is too rude! How dare he imply that our kingdom is so short on valuables that we would call a tattered monk’s robe a treasure?! Men, arrest him!” The guards approached, and San Zang said in a panic, “Your highness, please spare me for a moment and open the cabinet. If it’s really a treasure, then I will submit to punishment. But if it’s not a treasure, then aren’t you punishing me unjustly?” The king was like, fine, I’ll give you no room for complaint. So he ordered his men to open up the cabinet. But when the attendant brought out the tray, it indeed held a tattered, and kind of stinky, monk’s robe. “Who put this in here?!” the king asked angrily. From behind his throne, his queen came out and said, “My lord, I personally put the mountain-and-river robe inside. I don’t know how it could’ve turned into this.” “I see. Wife, you may go. I know we have nothing but fancy clothes in the palace, and that we would never have such trash.” He then told the attendants, “Bring the cabinet here. I will personally hide a treasure inside and try again.” The king now went to the royal garden in the back of the palace and plucked a huge peach the size of a bowl from his special peach tree. He put it into the cabinet in secret, and then told the two sides to guess. Ok, stashing a peach with a monkey around? Now you’re just asking for it. Sun Wukong again flew into the cabinet, and this time, he was delighted. A few moments later, he flew back out, landed on San Zang’s ear, and said, “Master, say that it’s a peach pit.” “Don’t toy with me,” San Zang said. “The king almost punished me the first time because he didn’t like my answer. We must guess a treasure this time. How can a peach pit be a treasure?” “Don’t worry; just beat the priest first,” Wukong reassured him. San Zang was just about to speak up, but the third priest, Goat Immortal, cut him off. “Let me go first. It’s an immortal peach.” “Not a peach, but a peach pit,” San Zang said. “I personally put a peach inside,” the king scolded San Zang. “How can you say it’s a peach pit? The Third Preceptor is right.” “Your highness, please open it up,” San Zang requested. So the attendant again opened up the cabinet and brought out the tray. And lo and behold, it was indeed a peach pit, completely stripped of every scrap of flesh or peel. The king was stunned and alarmed. He said to the priests, “Preceptors, don’t wager against them anymore. Just let them go. I personally stashed a peach inside, but now it’s only a pit. Who could’ve eaten it? They must have gods and ghosts helping them.” Zhu Bajie now smirked at Sha Zeng and whispered, “Heh, they don’t know that we have an old hand at eating peaches.” Just then, Tiger Immortal, now bandaged up after his fall, came back into the hall and said, “Your highness, this monk has the power of secretly swapping out objects. Bring the cabinet up here. I’ll break his magic and then make him guess again.” “You still want to guess?” the bewildered king said. “His powers can only swap out objects, but not people. Hide a Daoist acolyte inside the cabinet, and the monk won’t be able to swap him.” The king agreed. So they stashed a young Daoist acolyte inside the cabinet, closed it up, and had it carried back down into the hall. Then, they challenged San Zang to guess again.  So Sun Wukong once again flew into the cabinet. When he saw that the secret object this time was a Daoist acolyte, he turned himself into an old Daoist priest and appeared inside the cabinet.  “Master, where did you come from?” the young acolyte said with surprise. “I sneaked in with my magic,” Wukong said. “What instructions do you have for me?” the acolyte asked. “That monk saw you come into the cabinet. If he guesses that it’s an acolyte inside, we would lose again. So I’ve come to strategize with you. Let me shave your head, and then we will guess that there is a monk inside the cabinet.” “Master, do whatever you want, just as long as we beat them. If we lose to them again, it would make us look bad, and the court would stop respecting us.” “Exactly. Come over here. Once we beat them, I will reward you handsomely.” Wukong now turned his golden rod into a shaving knife. He held the young acolyte in his arms, and said, “Good boy. Put up with the pain and don’t make a sound. I will shave you.” Soon, the acolyte was bald. Wukong gathered up the hair, rolled it into a clump, and shoved it into a crack in the cabinet feet. He put away the knife, felt the boy’s bald head, and said, “My child, your head looks like a monk, but your clothes don’t. Take it off, and let me change it for you.” So the acolyte removed the pale greenish-white crane cloak he was wearing. Wukong blew on it and said, “Change!” The cloak turned into a plain, earthen-yellow straight robe. Wukong had the acolyte put this on. He then plucked a hair off himself and turned it into a wooden fish, the small wooden drum that monks beat while they recite scriptures.  He gave it to the acolyte and told him, “Listen up. If they call for a Daoist acolyte, don’t go out there. But if they call for a monk, then open up the cabinet and come out while beating the wooden fish and reciting a Buddhist scripture. Only then can we win.” “But I only know Daoist scriptures, not Buddhist ones,” the acolyte said. “Hmm, do you know the name of the Buddha?” Wukong asked. “Amitabha. Everybody knows that.” “Alright then. Just recite the name Amitabha, and remember what I just told you. Alright, I’m off.” So Wukong turned back into a bug, flew out, and landed back on San Zang’s ear. Now, I have to imagine it took more than just a few minutes for Wukong to shave the kid, change his clothes, and talk through the plan with him. So … what was San Zang doing this whole time? Vamping? Anyway, Wukong now whispered to San Zang, “Master, tell them it’s a monk.” But Tiger Immortal again cut in line and told the king, “Your highness, this third treasure is a Daoist acolyte.” He then called toward the cabinet, asking the acolyte to come out, but nothing happened. San Zang, however, pressed his palms together and said, “It’s a monk.” Zhu Bajie shouted with all his might, “It’s a monk inside the cabinet!” And right on cue, a kid with a bald head came out from the cabinet, dressed in a plain monk’s robe, beating a wooden fish, and reciting the name Amitabha. All the court officials shouted in approval of San Zang’s powers, while the three Daoist priests looked on with stunned silence. The equally stunned king said, “This monk must have ghosts and gods helping him! How could a Daoist go into the cabinet and come out a monk? Even if someone snuck in, all they could’ve done would be to shave his head. How could he have changed into a fitting Buddhist robe and be chanting the Buddha’s name? Oh preceptors, just let these monks go on their way!” But Tiger Immortal still refused. He said, “Your highness, we have met a worthy rival today. Back when we were studying on Zhongnan (4,2) Mountain, we learned some martial powers. We might as well use those to wager against them.” “What martial powers?” the king asked. “My brothers and I have magical powers. If you cut off our heads, we can put them back on. If you cut out our hearts, they can grow back. If you throw us into a cauldron of boiling oil, we just treat it like a bath.” Well, that escalated quickly, from sitting still and playing guessing games to cutting off heads and disemboweling yourself. “But those three things would all kill you!” the king said. “We wouldn’t have spoken thusly if we didn’t have those powers,” Tiger Immortal said. “We must see this through against them.” The king now called out to the pilgrims: “You monks from the East. My preceptors refuse to let you go. They want to compete against you on cutting off heads, slicing open bellies, and taking baths in hot oil.” Wukong was busy flying back and forth in insect form when he heard this. He turned back into himself and laughed out loud, “What great luck! Opportunity has come knocking!” But Bajie said, “Brother, those three things are all deadly. How come you say opportunity has come knocking?” “Don’t you know my skills?” Wukong said. “Brother, you can turn into this or that, but do you really have such powers?” “Oh, if you cut off my head, I can still talk. If you chop off my arms, I can still beat you. Break off my legs, I can still walk. Slice open my belly, and it’ll heal without a scar. It’s just like making dumplings — pinch them once and swallow them whole. And taking a bath in boiling oil is even easier. It’s just a warm rinse to wash away the dirt.” Bajie and Sha Zeng both laughed out loud when they heard that boast. Wukong now told the king, “Your highness, I can do decapitation.” “How?” the king asked. “When I was studying in a Buddhist monastery, I met a monk, and he taught me a decapitation trick. I don’t know if it’s any good, so I’m going to try it out today.” The king laughed, “This monk is young and ignorant. How can you ‘try out’ decapitation? Your head is the most important body part. If it gets cut off, you’ll die!” But Tiger Immortal cut in, “Your highness, that’s exactly what I want. Only then can our anger be assuaged!” Well, King Dunce once again listened to the priest and ordered his troops to prepare the execution ground. Three thousand soldiers lined up outside the palace, and the king told Wukong to go first. Wukong did not hesitate. He called out to the priests, “Preceptors, pardon me for being so bold as to go ahead of you.”  He then headed outside. San Zang grabbed him and said, “Wukong, be careful! This is no game.” “Oh there’s nothing to be afraid of. Let go. I’ll be right back.” Wukong strolled out to the execution ground. The executioners grabbed him, tied him up, and pressed him down on an earthen block. At an officer’s command, the executioner’s blade fell, and so did Wukong’s head. And the executioner even gave the head a kick, sending it rolling some 40 steps away like a watermelon.  But no blood came out from Wukong’s trunk. Instead, a voice rang out from his belly, “Head, come here!” One of the priests, Deer Immortal, was stunned at Wukong’s powers, so he decided to pull a dirty trick. He recited an incantation and commanded the local earth spirit, “Hold on to his head. Once I beat the monks, I will ask the king to turn your little shrine into a huge temple and craft an idol for you.” Now, this priest had command of the Five-Thunder Magic, which allowed him to control the local earth spirit. So the spirit obeyed his command and indeed held on to Wukong’s head. Wukong’s body called again, “Head, come here!” But the head remained still as if it had sprouted roots. Wukong got tired of waiting, so his headless body stood up, shrugged off his ropes, and shouted, “Grow!” And right on cue, another head emerged from his body. The executioners and the soldiers were all frightened, and the officer overseeing the execution rushed into the palace and reported to the king, “That little monk had his head cut off, but then he grew another one!” Zhu Bajie chuckled and said to Sha Zeng, “Who knew Brother Sun had such skills?” Sha Zeng laughed back, “He has the power of 72 transformations, so he must have 72 heads.” Just then, Wukong strolled back in and called out to San Zang, who was delighted and asked him how he was. “Oh nothing to it. It was kind of fun,” Wukong said. “Brother, do you need some ointment for your scar?” Bajie asked. “Feel my neck and see if there is a scar.” Bajie felt Wukong’s neck and laughed, “Miraculous! It’s grown back perfectly. No scar at all!” While the disciples were chitchatting, the king called out to them, “I will pardon your crimes. Go at once! Go!” But Wukong said, “It’s fine to get our travel papers, but your preceptor also must have his head cut off first.” The king said to Tiger Immortal, “Preceptor, that monk wouldn’t let you off the hook. You wanted to wager against him, so you can’t go back on your challenge.” So Tiger Immortal had no choice but to go out to the execution ground. The executioners tied him up, pushed him down, chopped off his head, and kicked it 30-some steps away. His body also did not bleed, and it also called out, “Head, come here!” But in that moment, Wukong plucked off a hair and turned it into a dog. The dog scampered onto the execution grounds, gripped Tiger Immortal’s head in its mouth, and ran off. It carried the head all the way to the river outside the palace and tossed it into the water. Uh, bye bye head. Back at the execution ground, Tiger Immortal called three times for his head to come back, but the head was too far away to make it back. And unlike Wukong, Tiger Immortal didn’t know how to grow another head. Moments later, a red beam sprayed out from his body, and he lay dead in the dirt. As the crowd looked on, they saw the headless carcass of a tiger. The officer overseeing the execution came in to tell the king, “Your highness, the senior preceptor had his head cut off, but he couldn’t grow another one, and died on the spot. Turns out he’s a headless tiger.” The king turned pale and gazed at the remaining two priests without blinking. Deer Immortal rose and said, “My brother may have met his end, but how can he be a tiger? It must be that monk’s doing, turning my brother into an animal. I cannot spare him! I must compete against him on slicing open our bellies.” The king collected himself and called out to Wukong, “Monk, my second preceptor wants to wager against you.” Wukong replied, “I usually don’t eat cooked food. But a couple days ago, we ran into a generous benefactor who fed us. I ate too many steamed buns, and my stomach has been hurting these last few days. I must have intestinal worms. I was just about to ask your highness for a knife to cut open my belly, take out my innards and wash them clean, so that I’m fit to go west and see the Buddha.” The king ordered his men to take Wukong back to the execution grounds. A bunch of soldiers swarmed on him, but Wukong waved them off and said, “No need for you to hold me. I can walk by myself. But I have one condition: Don’t tie me up. I need my hands to wash my innards.” The king agreed, so Wukong swaggered back to the execution grounds. He leaned up against a wooden post, untied his shirt, and exposed his belly. The executioner tied him to the column with a couple ropes, and then used a small blade to cut a hole in his abdomen.  Wukong now pulled the hole open, yanked out his intestines, cleaned each one carefully, and put them back into his abdomen in neat order. He then held the skin in place over the hole, blew on it, and shouted, “Grow!” And just like that, his belly looked like nothing ever happened. The king was shocked. He held up the pilgrims’ travel papers and said, “Sage monks, don’t delay your journey west. Here are your travel papers.” Oh no you don’t. Wukong was like, I’m not going anywhere until somebody else here cuts open his belly as well. So the king told Deer Immortal to make good on his wager. Deer Immortal promptly reassured the king, “Don’t worry. I wouldn’t lose to him.” So he too swaggered onto the execution ground. The executioners tied him to the post and sliced open his belly as well. And just like Wukong, Deer Immortal pulled out his intestines and started cleaning them. But just then, Wukong plucked another hair and turned it into a ravenous eagle. The eagle swooped down, grabbed Deer Immortal’s innards with its talons, and flew off to god knows where.  Left without his innards, Deer Immortal did not live for long. When the executioners pulled his corpse over, they saw the body of a white stag. The execution officer again rushed back inside the palace to tell the king, “The Second Preceptor had some bad luck. While he was slicing open his belly, a hungry eagle flew off with his innards and he died. Turns out he’s a white stag.” “What? How could he be a stag?” the king said in fear. Well, I mean, look: Tiger Immortal turned out to be a tiger, so is it any surprise that Deer Immortal turned out to be a deer? The last remaining priest was Goat Immortal — hey guess what animal he might be. He now got up and told the king, “My brother is dead, but how could he be an animal? It’s all this monk’s doing. Allow me to avenge my brothers!” “How would you beat him?” the king asked. “ I will wager against him on taking a bath in a cauldron of boiling oil.” So the king ordered his men to heat up a giant cauldron and fill it with fragrant oil. Wukong said, “Thank you, your highness. I don’t usually bathe, and these last couple days, my skin has been itching. So a hot soak is perfect!” Once the oil was boiling, the king told Wukong to go first. But Wukong asked him, “Should I do a civil bath or a martial bath?” Um, a what now? To see what he means, tune in to the next episode of the Chinese Lore Podcast. Thanks for listening! Music in This Episode “Luỹ Tre Xanh Ngát Đầu Làng (Guzheng) – Vietnam BGM” by VPRODMUSIC_Asia_BGM The post Journey 049: Deadly Wagers first appeared on Chinese Lore Podcast.

The pilgrims get into a duel of magic against the local Daoist priests. Subscribe Transcript Characters Music Transcript Welcome to the Chinese Lore Podcast, where I retell classic Chinese stories in English. This is episode 48 of Journey to the West. Last time, the pilgrims were preparing to intervene in the Slow-Cart Kingdom, where the king revered Daoism and spurned Buddhism to a fanatical degree. But the night before they were to appear in the royal court, Sun Wukong, Zhu Bajie, and Sha Zeng crashed the Daoists’ temple, pretended to be the three highest figures in the Daoist canon, chucked the idols of said Three Purities into the latrine, and helped themselves to the sacrificial offerings in the temple. The Daoist priests thought their revered celestials had appeared in person, so they begged for some holy water. Sun Wukong was like, uhh, sure, I’ve got some “holy” water for you. The three Daoist masters presented vessels for receiving said holy water and left the hall as instructed. As soon as they were gone, Wukong and his fellow disciples urinated into the containers and sat back to watch literal toilet humor. Once the Daoist priests carried their vessels outside, they got a cup, and Tiger Immortal, the senior member of the trio of Daoist masters, scooped out a cup of holy water from his vat and chugged it. As he smacked his lips with a weird look on his face, Deer Immortal asked him, “Brother, how does it taste?” “Not great,” Tiger Immortal replied. “It kind of stinks.” “Hmm, let me try a sip,” Goat Immortal said. He then took a sip from another container and said, “It kind of tastes like pig urine.” Inside the hall, Wukong heard them talking. Realizing that the jig was up, he figured, “We might as well leave our name now we’ve tricked them.” So he shouted, “Priests! Stop your wishful thinking! How would the Three Purities descend upon your mortal realm? I’ll let you know our true identies. We are monks from the Tang Kingdom, going West on an imperial decree. We were bored tonight, so we came here, ate your offerings, and were sitting around shooting the breeze. And then you kowtowed and prayed to us, so we had to give you something. That’s no holy water; it’s our pee!” When the priests heard this, I assume they probably wretched and puked. And then they blocked the door and started throwing rocks, tiles, and anything else they could find into the hall at the three pilgrims. But Wukong, with Bajie and Sha Zeng in tow, charged out and flew off on a beam of light. They made their way back to the Buddhist monastery where they were lodged. Taking care not to wake up their master San Zang, the three sneaked back into their room and went to sleep. When dawn rolled around, San Zang got up and called out to his disciples, “Come with me to get our travel papers.” Sun Wukong and his fellow disciples got up, got dressed, and told him, “Master, the muddle-headed king of this country listens to those Daoists. He reveres Daoism and hates Buddhism. If you say anything wrong, he might not grant you travel papers. Let us protect you and head into court together.” San Zang was delighted. He donned his fancy cassock, Sun Wukong carried their travel documents, Sha Zeng carried the alms bowl, and Bajie carried San Zang’s Buddhist staff. They told the monks at the monastery to keep an eye on their luggage and horse, and then headed off to the palace. They introduced themselves to the officer at the gate, telling him that they were monks sent by the Tang Kingdom in the East to fetch scriptures, and that they were there to get their travel papers.  When the officer reported this to the court, the king said, “These monks must have come to seek death! Why have they not been arrested yet?” But the royal tutor stepped forth and said, “The Great Tang of the East is a large central kingdom. It’s quite far from here, and the journey is plagued by demons. These monks must have some power to dare to come west. On account of them having come so far, I hope your highness will summon them, examine their travel documents, and grant them passage, so as not to miss the opportunity to form an amicable bond.” The king agreed, so he summoned San Zang and company. The pilgrims came in and presented their travel documents to the king. As he was examining it, the gate officer reported that the three “Preceptors of the Nation” had arrived. The king hurriedly put away the travel papers, descended from his throne, and greeted the three Daoist masters with a bow. San Zang turned and saw the three Daoist priests swaggering in, followed by a pair of young acolytes whose hair was tied up in twin coils. As they walked, all the court officials bowed to pay their respects and did not dare to look them in the eye. The three Daoists entered the hall and didn’t even pay their respects to the king. The king asked respectfully, “Preceptors, I had not extended an invitation to you. What made you grace us with your presence?” Tiger Immortal said, “We came to inform you of something. Which kingdom do these four monks hail from?” “They are sent by the Great Tang Kingdom in the East to go West for scriptures. They came to get their travel papers.” The three Daoists clapped and laughed aloud, “We thought they had run away; turns out they’re still here!” “Precptors, what do you mean?” the king asked with alarm. “They had just introduced themselves. I was about to arrest them and send them to you as laborers. But on the advice of my tutor, I figured that they had come from afar and I shouldn’t spurn the good will of the central kingdom. So I summoned them in. I didn’t expect you would show up. Did they offend you? What offense have they committed?” The priests laughed and told him, “Your highness, yesterday they killed two of our disciples outside the east gate, released 500 monks, and smashed our carts. And then last night, they stormed into our sanctuary, damaged the idols of the Three Purities, and stole all the offerings. They even left some pee and tricked us into each taking a sip. We realized it didn’t taste right and were about to capture them, but they ran away. Turns out they’re here! As the saying goes, ‘Enemies always run into each other’!” The king became irate when he heard this and ordered that the pilgrims be executed. But Sun Wukong put his palms together and shouted, “Your highness, please calm your thunderous rage and allow us to explain.” “You have offended our preceptors. Their words cannot be wrong!” the king barked. “They accused us of killing two of their disciples yesterday, but who is their witness?” Wukong replied. “And even if we unjustly assume responsibility for that crime, only two of us should die for it. The other two should still be sent on their way to fetch scriptures. And they accused us of destroying their carts and releasing the imprisoned monks. They also have no witnesses for that accusation, and that’s not a capital offense anyway. Just punish another of us for it. And they accused us of damaging the Three Purities and causing a row in their sanctuary. That’s just them trying to frame us.” “How so?” the king asked. “We are from the East and only got here yesterday. We don’t even know the roads around here, so how could we have known what they were up to in their temple last night? They say we left them some pee. Well, then they should’ve caught us then and there. But now, they’re framing us after the fact. Anyone can pretend to be someone else, so how can they finger us? I hope you will investigate this matter closely.” That king wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, so this spiel by Wukong left him uncertain what to do. Just then, the gate officer reported that a bunch of old local residents were requesting an audience. The king summoned them in. It was a group of about 40 old men who lived in the area. They kowtowed and said, “Your highness, it hasn’t rained all spring. We worry that the summer will bring drought, so we have come to ask one of the preceptors to pray for rain and provide relief for the people.” “You all may leave now; rain will arrive soon,” the king told them.  Once the civilians left, the king said to the pilgrims, “Do you know why I revere Daoism and hate Buddhism? A few years back, when we were praying for rain, the monks of our kingdom could not deliver a single drop of rain. Fortunately, our national preceptors were sent by heaven, and they summoned rain and ended the drought. I should punish you for insulting our preceptors, but I will spare you for now. Do you dare to make a wager with our preceptors over who can summon the rain? If your prayers can summon rain to quench my people, I will pardon your crimes, give you travel papers, and allow you to continue West. If you can’t deliver any rain, then I will have you executed in public.” Wukong chuckled and told him, “Actually, I do know a bit about praying for rain.” So the king ordered his men to prepare the ceremonial altar ground and sent word that he was going to watch both sides do their thing from the Five Phoenix Tower. So his court officials accompanied him up the tower and he sat down. San Zang, accompanied by his disciples, stood at the foot of the tower, while three Daoist priests sat down next to the king up top.  Momentarily, word came that the altar was ready. Tiger Immortal now took his leave of the king and descended the tower. But Wukong stopped him and said, “Sir, where are you going?” “To ascend the altar and pray for rain,” Tiger Immortal replied. “Well aren’t you full of yourself? Why don’t you let us distant visitors go first? Alright alright. Like they say, ‘A strong dragon doesn’t step on the local snakes.’ You can go first, but we must get something clear up front.” “What?” “Well, if we both ascend the altar and pray for rain, then who’s to say whether the rain came because of you or me? Who gets the credit then?” Hearing this from atop the tower, the king said to himself, “Hmm, that little monk speaks with some sense and substance.” Down below, Sha Zeng chuckled under his breath, “Oh he’s got a whole bellyful of substance that he hasn’t shown you yet.” Tiger Immortal now said, “There’s no need to worry. His highness will know who gets the credit.” “Well that may be, but we are monks from afar. We’ve never met you all before. If you try to cheat us later, it won’t be good. We should work it out in advance.” “Fine. When I go up to the altar, just watch my command tokens for the signal: When I strike the first token, the wind will rise. With the second token, clouds will gather. When the third token sounds, there will be thunder and lightning. And with the fourth token, rain will fall. With the fifth token, the rain will cease and the clouds will disperse.” “How wonderous!” Wukong said with a laugh. “I’ve never seen such a thing. Please, go on!” So Tiger Immortal strode toward the altar, with San Zang and his disciples following behind. They saw a high terrace, about three yards tall. Twenty-eight ceremonial flags were erected on each side, and the top of the terrace was lit up by candles. Next to the incense urn was a golden placard, on which was written the name of the god of thunder. Below it were five large vats, each filled with clear water. On the water floated willow branches. Each branch held up a metal tablet, on which was inscribed the talisman of the Department of Thunder. To the left and right were five large wooden stakes, on which was written the names of the Thunder Envoys of the Five Directions. Each stake was flanked by two Daoist priests, each holding an iron hammer, waiting to strike the stake. Behind the terrace were numerous other Daoist priests, all busy writing ritual documents. In the center was a furnace for burning paper sacrifices, and there were several effigies of the spirits who assist the rites. Tiger Immortal went up the terrace and stood at the top. Next to him, a young priest carried a few sheets of yellow paper inscribed with talismanic writing and a sword. Tiger Immortal took the sword, muttered an incantation, and burned a paper talisman over a candle. Beneath him, the priests burned an effigy and a ritual document. And then, the first token was struck, and as it sounded, wind indeed whipped up. “Oh crap!” Zhu Bajie muttered at the foot of the terrace. “That priest has some real skills. The wind really did start when he sounded the first token.” “Brother, quiet!” Wukong said. “Don’t talk to me again. Just protect master. I need to take care of something; I’ll be right back.” Wukong then plucked a hair off himself, blew on it, and turned it into a doppelganger of himself, standing next to San Zang. The real Wukong, meanwhile, secretly flew up into the sky and shouted, “Who is making that wind?” That would be Granny Wind and Lord Xun (4), the heaven-appointed windmakers. When they heard Wukong shouting, they hurriedly tied up the mouths of the wind bags they used to perform their magic and went to greet Wukong. He told them, “I am protecting the Tang monk on his way west for scriptures. We were passing through the Slow-Cart Kingdom and made a wager with some demon Daoists about who can summon the wind. Why are you helping those priests instead of me? I’ll spare you for now. Make the wind stop at once. If there’s so much as a breeze that makes that priest’s beard sway, you will each get 20 whacks with my rod!” Sun Wukong foiling Tiger Immortal’s rain dance. The wind gods, of course, obeyed him. Down below, the air became completely still. Zhu Bajie now shouted toward the top of the terrace, “Hey priest! You should quit! Your token sounded, but where’s the wind? Why don’t you c’mon down and let us have a try?” Tiger Immortal now brandished his second command token, burned another talisman, and struck the token. Clouds promptly started to gather … until Sun Wukong shouted up in heaven, “Who’s making the clouds?” The two cloud gods hurriedly paid their respects to him. He made similar threats as before, and the clouds immediately dissipated. Looking up from below, all people could see was the bright sun, with not a single cloud in sight. “This priest is only skilled at fooling the king and his people. He has no real skills,” Bajie chuckled. “He has sounded the second token, but where are the clouds?” Tiger Immortal was getting restless. Brandishing his sword, he now let his hair down, recited a spell, burned another talisman, and struck his third command token. But up above, the proprietors of thunder and lightning were too busy making nice with Sun Wukong to notice. “Who told you guys to show up?” Wukong asked them. “That priest’s magic is real,” said Lord Deng (4), a member of the Department of Thunder. “He dispatched a ritual document and burned a talisman. That caught the Jade Emperor’s attention, and so he sent word for us to answer the prayer by providing thunder and lightning.” “In that case, just hold on a bit,” Wukong told them. “Wait for my signal.” Hearing no thunder and seeing no lightning, Tiger Immortal now added more incense, candles, and incantations as he struck his fourth command token to summon the rain. Well, as we’ve established, rain comes from the Dragon Kings of the Four Seas, and we all who they are chummy with, or afraid of. Up in the sky, Wukong was catching up with them and asked them to lend him a hand. After they agreed, he told the Dragon King of the West Sea, “Thanks for your son saving my master some days back.” “My scoundrel nephew is still locked up in the sea,” the dragon of the west said. “I haven’t dared to punish him myself. I was waiting for your instructions.” “Oh just do whatever you want. But help me today. That priest has struck his token four times. It’s my turn. But I’m not going to send documents, burn talismans or strike tokens. You all just need to lend a hand.” Lord Deng said, “Who would dare to disobey your command? But we do need a signal. Otherwise everything would be chaotic and it would make you look bad.” “My rod is your signal.” The God of Thunder panicked, “Granddaddy, how can we endure that rod?” “No! I’m not going to hit you with it. When I point the rod up the first time, unleash the winds. The second time, bring the clouds. The third time, let loose the thunder and lightning. And the fourth time, make it rain.” All the weather gods obeyed, and so Wukong flew back down, and took the place of his doppelganger without anyone noticing. He then shouted to Tiger Immortal, “Sir, four tokens have sounded, and yet there are no winds, clouds, thunder, or rain. I think it’s my turn.” Given his performance issues, Tiger Immortal couldn’t very well just squat atop the altar. So he came down with pouty lips and went back up to the tower to see the king. Wukong went with him. The king asked Tiger Immortal, “I was listening attentively. I heard you strike the tokens four times, but I didn’t see any wind or rain. How come?” “The dragon kings weren’t home today,” Tiger Immortal said.  You know, I have to give the guy credit for having the gall to try such a ludicrous excuse. But Sun Wukong spoke up, “Your Highness, the dragons are home; it’s just that this preceptor has no powers and couldn’t invite them here. Let us monks show you how it’s done.” “Then please ascend the altar. I will wait here for the rain,” the king told him. So Wukong went back to the altar, pulled San Zang toward the steps, and said, “Master, please go up.” “But I don’t know how to summon rain,” San Zang said, bewildered. Zhu Bajie chuckled, “He’s trying to do you in, master. If you can’t make it rain, the king is going to pile up fire wood and burn the whole altar down!” But Wukong told San Zang, “Just recite scripture, and I will help you.” Thus reassured, San Zang climbed the steps to the top, sat down, collected himself, and started reciting lines from a Buddhist sutra. Just then, an official on horseback galloped onto the scene and asked, “Hey monk, why are you not striking tokens or burning talismans?” Wukong shot back, “No need for that. We monks do it quietly.” While the official reported back to the king, Sun Wukong heard that San Zang was coming to the end of his scripture recital, so he pulled out his golden rod and pointed it straight up toward the sky. The wind gods saw the signal and promptly opened up their wind bag and let loose a gale so strong that it sent pebbles flying. Trees were toppled, the Five-Phoenix Tower shook, the court officials were startled, and the streets emptied as everyone ran for cover. Wukong then pointed again, and this time, clouds blocked out the heavens and it was so dim that it was hard to see. He then pointed again, and thunder roared while lightning crashed, striking fear into the entire city as every household lit incense, burned paper money, and prayed.  Amid the thunder and lightning, you could hear Sun Wukong shouting to the heavens, “Lord Deng, take a good look and find all the greedy, corrupt officials and no-good, unfilial sons. Strike them down and make an example of them!” Then, as another thunder rolled, he pointed his rod skyward once more. Now, the dragon kings unleashed a torrential downpour. It was as if they had lifted up the Yangzi River and poured it down toward earth. The deluge lasted from morning to noon, flooding the city’s streets.  At last, the king shouted out a decree, saying, “Enough! Enough! Any more rain and it will kill the crops and backfire.” HIs courier at the foot of the tower heard this and galloped to the altar, where he asked San Zang to make it stop. Wukong now pointed up again, and immediately, the rain, thunder, clouds, and winds all vanished. The king was delighted, and all his court officials praised San Zang, “What a monk! Truly, no matter how good you are, there’s always someone better. Even though our preceptors can summon rain, it takes them half a day to get a drizzle. But look at how that monk made it happen immediately, and then made it stop immediately. There isn’t a cloud in the sky for miles now.” The king now ordered that the party return to the palace and prepare the travel papers for the pilgrims. But just then, the three Daoist priests blocked his path and said, “Your highness, those monks can’t claim credit for this rain; this was OUR doing!” “Well, you said the dragon kings weren’t home and that’s why you couldn’t summon rain,” the king said. “But then the monks went to the altar, prayed quietly, and rain immediately came down. So how can you claim credit?” Tiger Immortal said, “I had sent the ritual documents, burned the talismans, and sounded the tokens. How could the dragons dare to not come? It must’ve been that the other weather gods weren’t around, so they had to scramble here after hearing my command. It’s just that they got here right after the monks and I switched places. So their turn on the altar coincided with the rain. I was the one who summoned the dragons and brought the rain. They had nothing to do with it.” Well, this guy is really doubling down here, but that king was such a tool that he was again in a state of indecision after hearing this. But Wukong stepped forth and said, “Your highness, these little gimmicks aren’t real powers, so who cares who gets the credit. Right now, the dragon kings of the four seas are still in the sky. I haven’t dismissed them yet, so they don’t dare to leave. If your preceptor can get them to show themselves, then he can claim all the credit.” The king was delighted. “I’ve been on the throne for 23 years, but haven’t seen what a real dragon looks like. Either side: Whichever one of you, be it the Daoists or the Buddhists, can get the dragons to show themselves will get the credit. Whoever fails will get punished.” So, first of all, really? If you can’t make a supernatural dragon show themselves you get punished? This king has truly just lost his mind. But also, summoning dragons was way beyond the Daoist priests’ abilities. Tiger Immortal shouted for the dragon kings to show themselves, but the dragon kings were like, uh yeah, we’re going to stay on Sun Wukong’s good side and just ignore you.  After some fruitless attempts, Tiger Immortal gave up and told Sun Wukong to try. Wukong looked up and shouted to the Dragon King of the East Sea, “Hey Ao (4) Guang (2), where are you? You and brothers show your true form!” Within an instant, four dragons could be seen soaring through the clouds and flying above the main hall of the palace. The king burned incense in the hall, while all the officials kneeled on the front steps. “Thank you for gracing us with your presence,” the king said. “Please go back, and I will offer my thanks another day.” Wukong shouted to the weather gods, “All of you may leave. This king will thank you another day.” So the dragon kings and the other gods went their separate ways. The king then stamped the pilgrims’ passport and was just about to hand it to them and let them go when the three priests kneeled in the hall. The king was taken aback. He got out of his throne, helped the priests to their feet and asked, “Preceptors, why such grand courtesy today?” “Your highness, since the three of us arrived here, we have been supporting your state and protecting your country and people for 20 years. Today, this monk used some magic to ruin our reputation. How can you pardon them for murder just because of a round of rain? Aren’t you disrespecting us? Please hang on to their travel papers for now, and let us challenge them to another wager.” King Dunce again listened to the priests and put the travel papers away. He then asked the priests what they would wager on. Tiger Immortal said, “I will challenge him to a contest of meditation.” The king was like, “Umm, dude, he’s a monk. Meditating is what they do. How are you going to beat them in that?” But Tiger Immortal said, “My meditation is different than normal meditation. It’s called “Divinity atop the cloud ladder.” “What does that mean?” “Take 100 tables. Build two meditation platforms of 50 tables each. Stack the tables one on top of the other. Then, one cannot use their hands to climb up, nor can they use ladders. We must each fly up to the top of our tower on a cloud, and then sit absolutely still for hours.” Seeing that this was no ordinary meditation challenge, the king now asked the pilgrims if they were up to it. Uncharacteristically, Sun Wukong fell into silence. To see what’s bothering him, tune in to the next episode of the Chinese Lore Podcast. Thanks for listening! Music in This Episode “Luỹ Tre Xanh Ngát Đầu Làng (Guzheng) – Vietnam BGM” by VPRODMUSIC_Asia_BGM “Dark Toys” by SYBS (from YouTube audio library) “Ravines” by Elphnt (from YouTube audio library) The post Journey 048: Rain Makers first appeared on Chinese Lore Podcast.

Sun Wukong and his brothers have a little fun with the local Daoists. Subscribe Transcript Characters Music Transcript Welcome to the Chinese Lore Podcast, where I retell classic Chinese stories in English. This is episode 47 of Journey to the West. Last time, the pilgrims came upon the Chechi (1,2), or Slow-Cart, Kingdom. Sun Wukong found out that the local king was extremely reverential toward Daoists, but hated Buddhists. In fact, he had put all the Buddhist monks in his territory to work as laborers for his favored Daoists. Sun Wukong, disguised as a Daoist, found a bunch of monks busting their backs hauling construction material to build a new temple for the Daoists. He asked why they didn’t just run away, and they told him that the king had their likenesses painted and displayed throughout his realm, so they wouldn’t get very far. “Well, with things as they are, you all should just die,” Wukong then told the monks, somewhat insensitively. “Sir, some of us have died,” they said. “Originally there were 2,000-some monks who were arrested and brought here. Some couldn’t endure the hardship, the extreme temperatures, or the climate. About 700 have died from those conditions, and another 800 have killed themselves. Only the 500 of us are left.” “Why aren’t you dead?” Wukong asked. “When we tried to hang ourselves, our ropes snapped. When we tried to stab ourselves, the blades became dull. When we jumped into the river, we floated. When we took poison, it had no effect.” “Well aren’t you lucky? Heaven must be granting you long lives!” “Sir, you left out a couple words. It’s ‘Long lives of suffering.’ We eat thin gruel made from coarse rice three meals a day. At night we sleep on this beach without any shelter. And when we close our eyes, the spirits come to protect us.” “Maybe you were so exhausted that you were seeing ghosts?” Wukong suggested. “Not ghosts, but guardian spirits. They come at night, and prevent anyone who tries to kill themselves from dying.” “Well that’s unreasonable of them. They should let you all die and get reincarnated as soon as possible. Why are they keeping you alive?” “They tell us in our dreams, ‘Don’t try to kill yourselves. Endure this suffering. When the sage monk from the Great Tang Kingdom in the East arrives, he has a disciple called the Great Sage Equal to Heaven. He has immense powers and a kind and loyal heart. He rights injustices in the world and helps those in need. Just wait for him to show his powers. He will vanquish the Daoists and restore respect to your Buddhist clan.” When Wukong heard that, he laughed to himself and thought, “Looks like my reputation has preceded me.” He now took his leave of the monks and returned to the gates of the capital city of the Slow-Cart Kingdom. There, the two Daoist priests that he had chatted up earlier greeted him. Wukong had told them that he thought one of the monks might be his uncle, so they now asked which one it was. “Oh all 500 of them are my relatives,” he told them. The priests chuckled, “How can you have so many relatives?” “A hundred of them were my neighbors who lived to the left of my house. Another hundred lived to the right. A hundred belong to my father’s clan, another hundred to my mother’s. And a hundred are my friends. If you’re willing to let these 500 monks go, I’ll enter the city with you. If not, then I won’t go with you.” “Are you crazy? What nonsense! Those monks were bestowed to us by the king. Even to just let one or two go, we would need to first tell our masters that they are sick, and then we’ll have to pretend that they died. How can we let them all go?! That’s ridiculous!” “So you won’t do it?” “No way!” Wukong asked the priests three times, and they refused three times. That riled him up, so he pulled out his golden rod, brought it down on the two priests’ faces, and cracked open both of their skulls in an instant. From a distance, the monks on the beach saw Wukong kill the two priests, and they fell into a panic. They abandoned their carts, ran up to Wukong, and exclaimed, “Oh crap! You’ve killed the king’s relatives!” “Which one is the king’s relative?” Wukong asked. The monks surrounded him and said, “Their masters don’t need to bow to the king, and the king often calls them ‘brothers.’. How can you stir up such trouble? Their disciples came here to inspect our work. It was none of your business. Why did you kill them? Their masters wouldn’t say that you killed them. They’ll say we killed them while they were inspecting our work. What would we do? If you go into the city, more will die!” Wukong laughed, “Guys, calm down. I’m not a Daoist priest. I’m here to rescue you.” “You committed murder, which will add to our suffering! How are you saving us?” “I am that Tang sage monk’s disciple Sun Wukong. I’ve come specifically to save you all.” “No way! We recognize him.” “But you haven’t met him. How can you recognize him?” “We often see an old man in our dreams. He says he’s Venus, and often tells us what Sun Wukong looks like so we wouldn’t miss him.” “Oh? Then describe him.” “The Great Sage,  His brow is high and his golden eyes flash with brilliance; Round-headed and hairy-faced, with no cheeks. Fanged teeth and a sharp mouth—his nature wild and strange, His appearance even more grotesque than the Thunder God. He is skilled in wielding the golden-banded iron staff And once even smashed open the gates of Heaven. Now he has returned to the righteous path to guard the monk, Dedicated to rescuing the world from its calamities.” Wukong was both angry and pleased upon hearing that — pleased that his reputation was so well-known, but angry that Venus had dared to describe his appearance to these mortals. He suddenly shouted, “Guys, you’re right. I’m not Sun Wukong. I’m his disciple, coming here to cause trouble. Look, there is Sun Wukong himself!” As he pointed east, the monks turned and looked in that direction. When they looked back, Wukong had reverted back to his true form. All the monks now fell to their knees, kowtowed, and said, “Granddaddy! We are cursed with mortal eyes and didn’t recognize you in your disguise. Please avenge us, enter the city and tame the wicked!” “Come with me!” Wukong instructed them.  So the monks followed him closely as he went back to the beach. He flexed his strength, lifted up the carts of building material, and smashed them to bits, tossing all the contents of the carts back down the hill. He then told the monks, “Get out of here! Don’t be following me around. Tomorrow, when I see that king, I’ll exterminate those Daoists!” Sun Wukong turns slow carts into … even slower carts. “But granddaddy, we don’t dare to go far. The authorities might arrest us again, and then we’ll suffer once more and find ourselves back in trouble.” “In that case, I’ll give you some protection,” Wukong said. He then plucked off a handful of his own fur, chewed it up, and gave each monk a little piece of wet monkey hair. He told them, “Hide this under the nail of your ring finger and just go. No one would dare to stop you. If they try, just clench your fist and shout, ‘Great Sage Equal to Heaven,’ and I’ll be there to protect you.” “But grandaddy, what if we go out of range and can’t see you? What if you don’t answer?” “Don’t worry. This has no range limits. You’ll be fine.” The bolder monks in the group now clenched their fists and whispered, “Great Sage Equal to Heaven!” And immediately, a doppelganger of Sun Wukong appeared, holding a steel staff, and looking so ferocious that not even an army of 10,000 would approach. A hundred some monks now also shouted “Great Sage,” and 100-some Great Sages appeared. All the monks kowtowed and exclaimed, “Granddaddy, it really works!” Wukong then told them, “Say the word ‘Quiescence,’ and it will disappear.’ The monks tried, and found that the doppelgangers immediately turned back into a piece of monkey hair under their nail. Thus reassured, the monks scattered. Before they left, though, Wukong told them, “Don’t go too far. Listen for news from the city. As soon as a proclamation comes out summoning monks back to the city, come back and return my fur.” So the 500 monks all went their separate ways. Meanwhile, the rest of the pilgrims got tired of waiting around for Sun Wukong to report back, so San Zang told Zhu Bajie to lead the way and they resumed traveling West. Along the way, they ran into some monks fleeing past them. As they approached the city, they saw Wukong standing there with a dozen or so monks who had not yet fled. San Zang reined in his horse and asked Wukong why he had not reported back. Wukong brought the monks over and paid their respects to San Zang, and then recounted everything he had learned and done. San Zang was shocked. “Then … then … what should we do?!” The monks reassured him, “Sir, don’t worry. The Great Sage is sent by the gods. He’s powerful and will no doubt keep you safe. We are monks from the Building Wisdom Monastery in the city. That monastery was built by the former king, and his idol still stands there, so that monastery hasn’t been dismantled yet. All the other Buddhist monasteries in the city have been torn down. Please enter the city at once and stay at our monastery. Then tomorrow, go to court in the morning, and the Great Sage will know what to do.” “Quite right,” Wukong agreed. “Just as well. Let’s enter the city at once.” By the time they got to the city gates, the sun was already hugging the western horizon. They crossed the drawbridge and passed through three gates. The monks from the city led San Zang’s horse and carried his luggage, and the pedestrians on the streets all got out of their way. Soon, they arrived at the monks’ mountain monastery. Above the door hung a large placard with golden characters spelling out its name: Building Wisdom Monastery.  The monks opened the door to the monastery, and then opened the doors to the main hall. San Zang put on his cassock and bowed to the idol of the Buddha before entering. The monks all shouted, “Hey abbot!” An old monk came out, saw Sun Wukong, and immediately fell to his knees, saying, “Granddaddy, you’ve come at last!” “Do you recognize me? Why are you kowtowing to me?” Wukong asked. “I know you’re the Great Sage Equal to Heaven, Granddaddy Sun. We see you in our dreams. Venus has often appeared in our dreams and said that only when you show up can we survive. And now that I see you, you look exactly like in my dreams. Sir, thank goodness you’re here! If you came a couple days later, we would be ghosts!” “Please get up,” Wukong said with a laugh. “This will get settled tomorrow.” The monks then set up dinner for their guests and cleaned a room for them to sleep in that night. When 9 p.m. rolled around, however, Sun Wukong had too much on his mind to sleep. So when he heard some noise in the distance, he got up quietly, got dressed, and flew into the air to have a look. He saw the bright glow of candles coming from the South. He descended for a closer look, and saw that it was the Daoists at the Temple of Three Purities praying to the stars.  It was a lofty sanctuary, with towering, majestic halls. On both sides, Daoist priests played pipes and reed organs, chanted ritual proclamations, scattered ritual dust and displayed talismans. On the altar were a huge offering of fresh food, a feast of vegetarian dishes. In front of the doors to the main hall hung a couplet woven from yellow silk, embroidered with large characters that read,  “With favorable winds and timely rains, we pray to the Heavenly Worthy of Infinite Law; With clear rivers and peaceful seas, we ask that the king enjoy countless years of life.” Wukong saw three senior priests, dressed in priestly garb. He figured these were the Tiger Power, Deer Power, and Goat Power Great Immortals he had heard about. Below them were about 800 subordinates, all beating drums, ringing bells, tending to incense, and standing at the ready. Wukong secretly rejoiced and thought to himself, “I want to go mess with them a bit. But I need some help. Let me go get Bajie and Sha Zeng, and we’ll all have some fun.” So he flew back to the Buddhist monastery, where Bajie and Sha Zeng were sleeping by the foot of San Zang’s bed. Wukong first woke up Sha Zeng and told him, “Get up. Let’s go treat ourselves.” “It’s the middle of the night,” Sha Zeng said. “I’m thirsty and my eyes are damp. What treat is there?” “There’s a Temple of the Three Purities in this city,” Wukong explained. “The Daoist priests are praying there, and in the Hall of the Three Purities, there are lots of offerings: Steamed buns as large as a ladle, roasted pastries that weigh 60 catties each, countless dishes to go with rice, and lots of fresh fruits. You can have it all!” And won’t you know it. Zhu Bajie’s ears perked up in his sleep when he heard Wukong mention food. He woke up and said, “Brother, why aren’t you throwing some my way?” “Brother, if you want to eat, then don’t make so much noise, or you’ll wake master,” Wukong said. “Both of you, come with me.” So Bajie and Sha Zeng got dressed, slipped out, and followed Wukong up into the air. When they arrived above the Daoist temple, dum-dum was in a hurry to dive in, but Wukong pulled him back and said, “Not so fast! Wait till the priests scatter. Then we can go down.” “But they’re right in the middle of their chants. How can they be willing to scatter?” Bajie lamented. “Let me use a little power, and they will scatter.” So Wukong uttered an incantation and blew a breath toward the ground. A wild gale whipped up and swept into the main hall, knocking over all the vases, candle stands, and all the stuff hanging on the walls, and leaving the Daoist priests in the dark. All the priests were frightened, and the Tiger Immortal said, “Disciples, go for now. This celestial wind has blown out our candles. Go to bed. Tomorrow morning when you get up, read a few extra scrolls of scripture to make up for it.” So all the Daoists left the hall. Once they were gone, Wukong, Bajie, and Sha Zeng descended and entered the hall. Dum-dum immediately grabbed a roasted pastry and was about to bite into it, but Wukong smacked it out of his hand with his golden rod. “Hey, I haven’t even tasted it yet, and you knocked it away!” Bajie complained. “Don’t act so low-class. Let’s observe the proper courtesies, and then sit down and eat,” Wukong chided him. “You have no shame,” Bajie scoffed. “You’re stealing food, and you’re still talking about courtesies. What would you do if they actually invited us?” “Who are the Bodhisattvas represented by the idols on the altar?” Wukong asked. Bajie chuckled, “Don’t you recognize the Three Purities? Why are you calling them Bodhisattvas?” “Which Three Purities?” Wukong asked. “In the center is Heavenly Primogenitor. On the left is the Divine Treasures Heavenly Lord. And on the right is Lao Zi.” “Then we must assume their likeness before we can eat without worry.” Well, dum-dum was smelling the food and getting impatient, so he climbed onto the altar, knocked the idol of Lao Zi over with his snout, and mumbled, “Old fart, you’ve sat here long enough. My turn!” He then used his powers of transformation to assume the likeness of Lao Zi. Wukong turned into Heavenly Primogenitor, and Sha Zeng turned into the Divine Treasures Heavenly Lord. They shoved all three idols to the ground and sat down in their place. Bajie was just about to dig into a huge steamed bun, but Wukong told him, “Not so fast!” “Brother, I’ve already turned into Lao Zi. Why can’t I eat yet?!” Bajie grumbled. “Brother, eating is not as important as keeping this a secret. We’ve pushed the idols on to the ground. If a Daoist priest gets up early to go ring the bell or sweep the floor, he might trip on them, and then our covers would be blown. Go hide these idols.” “But I don’t know my way around here. Where would I hide them?” “When we were coming in, I noticed a small door to the right, from which emanated a foul odor. That must be a Place for the Cycle of the Five Grains. Take the idols there.” So dum-dum jumped down, threw the three idols on his shoulder, and carried them out. He went to the door that Wukong mentioned, kicked it open, and saw that it was the latrine. “That damn stable monkey has a way with words,” Bajie chuckled. “This is a toilet, but he called it ‘the Place for the Cycle of the Five Grains.’ ” But in any case, he went in and muttered,  “Three Pure Ones, Three Pure Ones—listen to what I say! We’ve come here from afar, and we’re used to wiping out demons. We’d like to enjoy these offerings, but there’s no peaceful place for us. So we’ll borrow your seats for a little while. You’ve been sitting there long enough—go rest for a moment in the latrine! Normally you enjoy endless offerings and live as pure Daoist gods; Today you’ll have to endure a bit of filth and become Heavenly Worthies who smell some stink!” This “prayer” over, he chucked the three idols into the latrine. They landed with a splash, which ended up getting him half soaked with foul, stinky water. When he returned to the main hall, Wukong asked him if the idols were hidden. “Oh they’re hidden, but I got a bit soaked with stinky water,” Bajie replied. “I hope you don’t mind.” Wukong chuckled, “Just as well. Come treat yourself. But I wonder whether we’ll leave here clean.” Bajie now turned into Lao Zi again, and the three sat down and helped themselves to a feast. They tackled the giant steamed buns first, and then made their way through every one of the vegetarian delights, paying no mind to whether they were hot or cold. Sun Wukong didn’t much care for cooked food, so he just ate a few fruits and kept his brothers company. Soon, they had ravaged the offerings and none were left. But still they did not leave. Instead, they sat there and shot the breeze while digesting. Meanwhile, a young priest from the eastern quarters had just laid down in bed when he realized that he had left his bell in the hall. He was afraid he would get scolded by his masters if it was lost. So he didn’t even bother putting on any undergarments and just threw a robe over himself and hurried back to the main hall. He felt around in the dark and found his bell. But just he was turning to leave, he heard the sound of breathing. He was startled and rushed outside. But he stepped on a lychee pit and slipped, dropping his bell and smashing it into smithereens.  Zhu Bajie couldn’t help but roar in laughter as he watched this from the altar, and that only scared the priest further. He stumbled to the back of the sanctuary, pounded on the doors, and shouted, “Masters, masters! There’s trouble!” The three Daoist masters had not gone to bed yet. They opened their door and asked what’s up. The young priest told them while trembling, “I left my hand bell, so I went back to the main hall to look for it. But then I heard someone laughing out loud. It nearly scared me to death!” The Daoist masters called for attendants to bring light and they went to see what creatures were haunting their main hall. In an instant, all the priests in the sanctuary were roused from their sleep. They all lit candles and lamps, and headed to the main hall. Hearing this commotion, Wukong put his fellow disciples on notice, and the three, still in their disguises, now sat up, put on a straight face, and did not say a word. The priests looked all around them, but they just sat there like clay idols. “If there were no intruders, how did all the offerings get eaten?” the Tiger Immortal wondered. “It looks like they were eaten by someone,” the Deer Immortal said. “They peeled the fruits and spat out the pits. But I don’t see anyone.” “Brothers, don’t worry,” the Goat Immortal said. “We’ve been showing our sincerity and devotion by praying throughout the night, and we were doing it in the name of the royal court. We must have caught heaven’s attention, and the Three Purities must have paid us a visit and helped themselves to the offerings. Before they depart, let’s pray to them and request some holy water or magic pills to present to the king. That would secure his longevity and it would be to our credit.” “Quite right,” Tiger Immortal said. “Disciples, play music and chant scripture. And fetch our priestly robes. We must pray.” So their disciples snapped to and lined up in two columns. With the clang of a chime, they started chanting a Daoist scripture. Meanwhile, Tiger Immortal, cloaked in his ceremonial robe, held a jade scepter, did a little ceremonial dance in front of the altar before kneeling and praying. He said: “With deepest awe and reverence, we bow our heads and return in devotion. We ministers of the faith uphold the teaching and look up toward the Pure Void. We cast aside the vulgar monks and honor the radiant Dao. By imperial command we have restored this precious hall and prepared the sacred court. We spread abundant offerings and raise high the dragon banners. All night we hold candles; all day the incense fills the air. With sincere hearts we present this petition above, and with humble devotion we return our reverence. Now that you have descended here and have not yet returned to your celestial carriage, we beg you to grant some golden elixir and sacred water, so it may be presented to the court and the emperor’s life may be as long as the Southern Mountain.” Zhu Bajie was getting a bit uneasy, and he whispered to Sun Wukong, “We screwed up. We didn’t leave right after we ate. And now we’re entreated with such a prayer. How should we answer?” Suddenly, Wukong spoke out aloud, “Junior immortals, pause your worship. We three were coming from the Celestial Peaches Banquet and did not bring any magic pills or holy water. We will come another day to bestow them upon you.” Seeing the idol of Heavenly Primogenitor suddenly talking to them, all the Daoist priests pleaded, “Granddaddy! The Purities have shown themselves. Don’t let them leave! We must beg them for the secret to immortality!” Deer Immortal now approached the altar and said: “Scattering the ritual dust, we bow our heads and present our sincere devotion. Your humble servants offer our lives in submission, looking up and bowing before the Three Pure Ones. Since coming to this land, we have upheld the Dao and suppressed the monks. The king is greatly pleased and reveres the profound Way. At the Great Offering we chant scriptures through the night. Fortunate that the Heavenly Worthies have not forsaken us, descending in sacred presence to this court. We humbly beg your compassionate attention and look up in hope of your grace. Surely you will leave some sacred water, so that we disciples may prolong our lives and attain long life.” Sha Zeng now whispered to Wukong, “Brother, look at this! They’re praying and begging again.” “Then let’s give them some holy water,” Wukong said. “But where would we get it?” Bajie asked. “Just follow my lead. When I have it, you will, too.” Once Deer Immortal was done praying, Wukong said aloud, “Junior Immortal, no need to pray. If we don’t leave you some holy water, then we might be extinguishing the young shoots of our own school. But if we give it to you, we worry it would seem too easy.” The priests all kowtowed again and said, “We pray that on account of our reverence, you will bestow some upon us. We will praise your virtue far and wide and make the king revere our school even more.” “Alright, in that case, bring forth some vessels,” Wukong told them. The priests all kowtowed again to thank them. Then, Tiger Immortal, showing off his strength, carried a large vat over and set it down in the hall. Deer Immortal put a sand basin on the altar table, and Goat Immortal removed the flowers from a vase and set it in the center. “You all must leave the hall and shut the door,” Wukong said. “We must not allow the divine secret to leak out. Only then can we leave you some holy water.” So all the priests left the hall, shut the door, and kowtowed on the steps. Once they were gone, Wukong stood up, lifted his tiger-skin kilt, and relieved himself into the vase. Zhu Bajie laughed, “Brother, in all the years we’ve been together, this is the only trick you haven’t played on me. I just ate, so I needed to do this anyway.” So Bajie pulled down his pants and filled the basin with his contributions. Sha Zeng, meanwhile, filled the vat halfway. Their bladders emptied, the three tidied up their clothes, sat back down on the altar, and proclaimed, “Junior immortals, come receive your holy water.” The priests rushed in, kowtowed again, and carried the vessels outside. The three Daoist masters told their disciples to fetch a cup so they could have a taste of this … umm … divine gift. To see if they’ll actually drink the pee, tune in to the next episode of the Chinese Lore Podcast. Thanks for listening! Music in This Episode “Luỹ Tre Xanh Ngát Đầu Làng (Guzheng) – Vietnam BGM” by VPRODMUSIC_Asia_BGM The post Journey 047: Three “Purities” first appeared on Chinese Lore Podcast.

Sun Wukong visits the Dragon King of the West Sea and tells him to go collect his nephew. Subscribe Transcript Characters Music Transcript Welcome to the Chinese Lore Podcast, where I retell classic Chinese stories in English. This is episode 46 of Journey to the West. Last time, the pilgrims hit another snag when, while trying to cross a river of black water, San Zang and Zhu Bajie were abducted by a river demon who fancied a little human flesh with a side of immortality. After one unsuccessful attempt to rescue their companions, Sun Wukong and Sha Zeng learned from the local river spirit that the demon was actually the nephew of the Dragon King of the West Sea. Sun Wukong was no stranger to the dragon kings of the seas, so he decided to go pay this particular dragon king a little visit. Wukong flew to the West Sea, cast a water-repelling spell, and dived in. As he was traveling underwater, he ran into a Black Fish demon lackey who was carrying a gold invitation box, shooting from upstream like an arrow. But he came face to face with Sun Wukong, who promptly delivered a killing blow to the lackey’s head, spilling his brains and cracking his skull. While the dead lackey’s body floated up to the surface, Wukong picked up the invitation box and read its content. The invitation said: “Greetings second uncle, from your nephew Tuo (2) Jie (2). Thank you for your kind regards. I captured two people today. They’re monks from the East and are true rarities. I dared not eat them alone. I remembered that your birthday is coming up soon, so I’m setting up a feast to wish you long life. I hope you will attend.” Wukong chuckled, “Well, this scoundrel delivered this right into my hands.” He stashed away the invite and continued on his way. Soon, he was spotted by a Yaksha spirit that served the Dragon King of the West Sea. The spirit rushed back to the palace to report that the Great Sage was coming. The Dragon King, whose name was Ao (4) Shun (4), went out with his clan to welcome Wukong and invited him in for tea. But Wukong said, “I haven’t tasted your tea yet, but you’ve already tasted my wine!” Ao Shun laughed, “Great Sage, you haven’t touched wine since joining the Buddhist school. So when would you have invited me to wine?” “You may not have been over for drinks, but you’re already in trouble for it!” Ao Shun was taken aback and asked what offense he had given. Wukong now showed him the invite from his nephew. Ao Shun was scared out of his mind. He hurriedly kneeled, kowtowed, and said, “Great Sage, please pardon me! That scoundrel is my younger sister’s ninth son. Her husband delivered less rain than heaven had commanded, so he was executed by the mortal prime minister Wei (4) Zheng (1).” So, if you had listened to supplemental episodes 1 through 3, you would recognize that this unfortunate brother-in-law of Ao Shun’s was none other than the dragon king whose execution led to the Tang emperor’s trip through the underworld, which in turn led to the commissioning of San Zang’s pilgrimage.  Ao Sun now continued: “My sister had nowhere to go, so I brought her son here and raised him to adulthood. The year before last, my sister unfortunately passed away. Seeing that my nephew had nowhere to go, I set him up at the Black Water River so he could work on his cultivation. Who knew that he would commit such evil. Let me send someone to capture him and bring him here.” Wukong asked, “How many sons did your sister have? Where are the rest of them causing trouble?” “She had nine sons. The other eight are all good. well. The eldest is the Little Yellow Dragon, and he lives in the Huai  (2) River. The second is the Little Black Dragon who lives in the River Ji (4). The third is the Blue−backed Dragon who occupies the Yangzi River. The Red−whiskered Dragon is the fourth son, and he holds the Yellow River. The fifth is the Vain−Effort Dragon who looks after the bell for the Buddha. Guardian Dragon is the sixth, and he sits guarding the roof of the Heavenly Palace. Respectful Dragon is the seventh; he holds up the winged column at the Jade Emperor’s court. The eighth is Clam Dragon, who lives with my eldest brother on Mount Tai (4). The youngest, Alligator Dragon, has had no particular duties since he is still young. He was only sent to the Black Water River to nourish his nature last year. He hasn’t yet won himself any fame or been transferred to another job. But I never expected that he would disobey me by offending you, Great Sage.” Wukong chuckled, “How many husbands did your sister have?” “Just the one, the dragon king of the Jing (1) River. He was executed years ago, so my sister came to stay with me, and she died the year before last.” “How can one couple produce so many bad seeds?” “As the saying goes, ‘If a dragon sires 9 children, each will be different.’ ” “Alright. I was really annoyed just now and was going to file a petition in heaven to accuse you of collaborating with demons and abducting people. But according to what you just told me, it’s that scoundrel who refuses to listen to you. So I’ll spare you this time, partly on account of your noble family, and partly because that scoundrel is young and ignorant, and you weren’t aware of his actions. But send someone to go arrest him at once and save my master. And then we’ll talk about this.” Ao Shun now summoned his crown prince, Mo (2) Ang (2), and told him, “Mobilize 500 aquatic soldiers and bring that Little Alligator here to answer for his crime. Meanwhile, I’ll arrange a banquet to apologize to the Great Sage.” But Wukong said, “No need to worry so much. I’ve already said I’ll spare you, so what need is there for a banquet? I must go back with your son right now. My master is in trouble, and my fellow disciple is eagerly waiting for me.” Ao Shun tried to keep him but couldn’t, so he told his daughter to present tea to Wukong. Wukong drank a cup, took his leave, and departed with Mo Ang and the troops. When they arrived back at Black Water River, Wukong said to Mo Ang, “Crown prince, go get that demon. I’ll be on the bank.” “Great Sage, don’t worry,” Mo Ang said. “I will go capture him and present him to you first. Only when I have returned your master would I dare to go home to see my father.” So Wukong took his leave and leaped out of the river. He headed back to the eastern bank, where Sha Zeng and the river spirit met him. He recounted his visit, and they eagerly awaited the return of their master. Meanwhile, Mo Ang went to the palace of his cousin Tuo (2) Jie (2) and told the lackeys at the gate to announce him. Tuo Jie was wondering what was taking his black fish demon lackey so long to return from delivering the invitation to his uncle, and he grew even more suspicious when he heard that his cousin had come instead of his uncle. Just then, a lackey who was on patrol came to report that there was an army of aquatic soldiers in the river, holding position to the west of his palace and carrying banners that bore the name of his cousin. “This cousin has gone too far,” Tuo Jie said. “My uncle must have been unable to come, so he sent his son. But why would my cousin be bringing troops to a banquet? Something must be up. Little ones, prepare my weapon, just in case things go south. I’ll go see him and ask what’s up.” So Tuo Jie headed out and saw a stout army in his waters. He approached their camp gate and shouted, “Cousin, my respects! Welcome!” The guards went into camp to report this, and soon Mo Ang came out, donning a golden helmet and carrying a triple-edged short staff. “Why are you here?” Mo Ang said. Tuo Jie replied, “I had sent an invitation to my uncle this morning. I figure he must be busy and so he sent you. But why did you bring an army to attend a banquet? And why do you refuse to come into my palace, and instead are garrisoned here? And why are you dressed in armor and leading troops?” “Why did you invite my father?” Mo Ang asked. “I have received much kindness from him, but I haven’t seen him in a while and haven’t had the chance to repay him. Yesterday I captured a monk from the East. I heard that he has cultivated his Dao for 10 lifetimes, so whoever eats him would gain immortality. So I wanted to invite my uncle to come have a look, and then I was going to cook that monk and share him with uncle.” Mo Ang shouted, “You are an idiot! Do you know who that monk is?” “He’s a monk from the Tang kingdom, heading West to fetch scriptures.” “But do you know the skills of his disciples?” “He had a long-snout monk with him, called Zhu Bajie. I captured him too and was going to eat them together. He had another disciple named Sha Zeng. He’s a tall, dark man with a sullen face, and he wields a Buddhist staff. Yesterday he came to demand his master back, but I went out and sent him scurrying. He didn’t seem like much.” “So you don’t know! He also has a senior disciple. It’s the Great Sage who turned heaven upside down 500 years ago. He’s protecting the Tang monk on his pilgrimage. The Bodhisattva Guanyin guided him toward this path. He’s called Sun Wukong. How can you poke that hornets’ nest? He ran into your messenger in our sea and took the invitation. He then stormed into our palace and accosted my father and me, accusing us of being in cahoots with demons and abducting people. Hurry up and deliver the Tang monk and Zhu Bajie to the river bank and give them back to the Great Sage. And then I’ll apologize to him on your behalf, and you might yet live. If you dare to utter half a no, you can give up any thought of staying here!” Tuo Jie, however, flew into a rage. “We’re cousins, and yet you are defending someone else?! You think you can just come and demand that I send the Tang monk out? You may be afraid of Sun Wukong, but I’m not. If he’s got skills, then tell him to come to my palace and trade three blows with me, and then I’ll return his master. But if he can’t beat me, then I’ll capture him too and cook them all together. And then I won’t bother inviting any relatives. I’ll just shut my door and make merry with my little ones while we feast!” Mo Ang was enraged at that insolence. “You scoundrel! You really are disobedient. Nevermind the Great Sage; do you dare to face off against me?!” “A hero is not afraid of a faceoff!” Tuo Jie shot back. He gave a shout, and his lackeys rushed forward and helped him put on his armor and handed him his own steel staff. The two now squared off in the bottom of the river. The two dragon relatives facing off against each other. After a few fierce exchanges, Mo Ang feigned an opening, luring Tuo Jie into attacking. But Mo Ang quickly smacked Tuo Jie’s right arm with his staff and then knocked him to the ground. Mo Ang then stepped on his foe to keep him down while his soldiers surged forward and tied up Tuo Jie. They pierced his shoulder blades with a steel wire to keep him from using his magic. Then, they dragged him out of the river and threw him in front of Sun Wukong. “Great Sage, I have captured the demon alligator. Please decide his fate,” Mo Ang said. Wukong lectured Tuo Jie, “You disobedient scoundrel. Your uncle set you up here so you can cultivate your Dao and make something of yourself one day in another post. Why did you occupy the river spirit’s palace and commit evil? And you dare to deceive my master and fellow disciple? I was going to smack you with my pole, but it would kill you with one graze. Where did  you stash my master?” Tuo Jie kowtowed nonstop and said, “Great Sage, I didn’t know your reputation. That’s why I disobeyed my cousin and acted against reason. But my cousin has captured me. Thank you for sparing my life. Your master is still tied up in my palace. If you will undo my chains, I will go in the river and bring him back.” Mo Ang, however, advised caution. “Great Sage, this scoundrel is a wicked demon and is very crafty. If you release him, he might get ideas.” But Sha Zeng said, “I know where he lives. Let me go search for master.” So he and the river spirit leaped in and made their way to the palace. The doors were wide open, and there was not a single demon lackey in sight. They went straight in and found San Zang and Zhu Bajie stripped naked and tied up. Sha Zeng and the river spirit hurriedly released them and carried them back up to the river bank.  Once there, Zhu Bajie saw the demon chained up, so he grabbed his rake and stomped toward him, cursing, “Damn beast! Are you gonna eat me now?!” But Wukong pulled him back and said, “Brother, spare his life, on account of the dragon king and his son.” Mo Ang now said, “Great Sage, I dare not linger. Since you have rescued your master, I’ll take this scoundrel home to see my father. Even though you spared his life, my father will not allow him to escape punishment. He’ll get his. My apologies again.” “In that case, take him and go,” Wukong said. “And please send my regards to your father. I will thank him in person another day.” So Mo Ang took his prisoner and his troops and returned to the West Sea. Meanwhile, the river spirit thanked Wukong for restoring control of the river and the palace to him. San Zang, though, asked Wukong, “We’re still on the east bank. How would we cross this river?” The river spirit said, “Sir, don’t worry. Please mount your horse. I will lead the way and take you across.” So San Zang hopped on his horse, Bajie took the reins, Sha Zeng carried the luggage, and Wukong followed right beside him. The river spirit now worked his magic and literally parted the water, opening up a wide path through. The pilgrims made their way over to the west bank, thanked the river spirit, and continued on their way. After weathering snow and wind for a good while on the road, it was spring once again. Life was returning to the land, and the weather was gentle and warm. On day, as they were traveling and taking in the scenery, they suddenly heard a shout that sounded like the roar of 10,000 men. It struck fear into San Zang’s heart. He reined in his horse and asked Sun Wukong what that was. “It sounded like the earth opening and a mountain collapsing,” Zhu Bajie said. “And like thunder,” Sha Zeng added. “And I heard people shouting and horses neighing,” San Zang chimed in. Wukong, however, chuckled, “You’re all wrong. How about I go take a look?” So he flew into the sky and looked in the direction of the noise. He saw a city in the distance. Upon closer inspection, however, he noticed an evil miasma emanating from it.  “Hmm, where is that noise coming from?” Wukong thought to himself. “That city doesn’t seem to be at war. So why the sound of people and horses?” Just then, he noticed a beach outside the city gates. Many monks were gathered there, pulling carts. As they struggled to pull together, they were shouting the name of a Bodhisattva, hence the noise that startled San Zang. Wukong now descended from the clouds to have a closer look. He saw that the carts were filled with bricks, tiles, and wood beams. The beach was a steep uphill climb, and there was only one narrow path winding its way up the steep cliff side. There was no way a cart could make its way up that path. And even though the weather was warm, the monks were clad in tattered rags, looking quite destitute.  “They must be building a monastery,” Wukong thought to himself. “But this looks like a prosperous place, so they must not be able to find any laborers for hire, so that’s why the monks are having to do this themselves.” But just then, he saw two young Daoist priests swagger out from the city gates. They were dressed in finery and looked quite well taken care of. When the monks saw them coming, they all panicked and pushed the carts even harder.  “Ah, these monks are afraid of those Daoists priests,” Wukong thought. “Otherwise, why would they be pushing so hard? I once heard people say that on the way West, there’s a place that pays homage to Daoism while spiting Buddhism. That must be this place. I need to report back to master, but if I don’t get a clear picture of the situation, he might fault me. I’m smart enough to go find out the truth. Let me go get to the bottom of this so I can answer any questions master might have.” So he flew down and turned into a traveling Daoist priest. He carried a basket in one hand and a fish drum in the other. As he walked he sang a Daoist tune. He made his way over to the city gates and greeted the two Daoist priests.  The priests asked him where he was from, and Wukong said, “I travel all over the land. Today, I have come here to beg for some food. Can you tell me which street in the city is good for begging?” The priests laughed. “Listen to you. How can you say such a thing? You’re such a downer.” “What do you mean?” “You’re talking about begging for food.” “But men of religion get by on begging. We don’t have money, so how would we get food if not by begging?” “You’re from afar and don’t understand how things are in this city,” the priests laughed. “Not only do the court officials here respect Daoism, but so do all the wealthy and respected civilians. Men and women of all ages will offer us food whenever they see us. We don’t have to say a word. And the king is the most devout follower of the Dao.” “Oh? I’m young and from far away,” Wukong said. “So I really didn’t know. Can you tell me about this place and why the king is so devoted to Daoism?” “This is called the Chechi (1,2) Kingdom,” the priests said. Chechi, by the way, literally means Slow Cart.  “And the king is our relative,” the priests continued. That prompted a chuckle from Wukong. “What, did a Daoist priest become king?” “No. But 20 years ago, there was a huge drought and nothing would grow. The king, his court, and the people all offered penance and prayers, but they were in dire straits. Suddenly, three Daoist immortals descended from heaven and saved them.” “Who were the three immortals?” “They are our school’s masters.” “What are their names?” “Our senior master is named the Tiger Power Great Immortal. Our second master is the Deer Power Great Immortal. And our third master is the Goat Power Great Immortal.” “How much power do your three masters have?” “They can summon wind and rain in the blink of an eye. They can turn water into oil and turn stone into gold as easy as simply turning around. They have the power to seize the creative forces of heaven and earth and alter the mysterious workings of the stars. The king and his officials all revere our masters, so they claimed us as family.” Wukong now said, “Well, that king is certainly lucky. As the saying goes, ‘Skills can move dukes and ministers.’ With their powers, your masters make good relatives for him. Alas, I wonder if poor ol’ me would ever be lucky enough to meet your masters just once.” The priests laughed and said, “That’s not so hard. We two are their closest disciples. And our masters are always happy to meet fellow Daoists. Whenever they hear that one is passing through, they go out to greet them. And with the two of us introducing you, it’ll be a cinch.” Wukong bowed deeply and thanked them. The priests told him, “Just wait for a few. Have a seat here. Once we take care of our official business, we’ll come take you to see our masters.” “But men of religion have no burdens. What official business do you all have?” Wukong asked. The priests pointed at the monks on the beach and said, “They’re our laborers. We need to go make sure they’re not slacking off. And then we’ll be right back.” “Eldrs, you must be mistaken,” Wukong laughed. “Buddhists and Daoists are all men of religion. How can they be our laborers?” “You don’t understand. Back during the drought, Buddhist monks and Daoist priests were both praying for rain while being fed by the court. But the monks’ prayers were ineffective. Then, our masters arrived and summoned the rain and wind to relieve the people’s suffering. So the court got angry at the monks for being useless. So the king had their monastery demolished, their idols destroyed, and their ordination certificates revoked. He also refused to let them go back to their homes. Instead, he gave the monks to us as our laborers. They are responsible for all our chores. We still need to finish building our quarters, so these monks came to transport building material. We’re worried they’ll slack off, so we came to conduct an inspection.” But now, Wukong started weeping and said, “I’m so unlucky. I won’t be able to meet your masters!” “Why not?” the priests asked. “I’ve been wandering all over in part to scrounge a living, but also in part to find family.” “What relatives are you looking for?” “I have an uncle who became a monk in his youth. Some years back, because of a famine, he left to beg for food. He hasn’t been home in years, so I went to look for him. He must have been stuck here and couldn’t leave, but I don’t know for sure. I must find him before I can go into the city with you.” “Oh that’s easy enough. We’ll take a seat here, and you can go to the beach to conduct the inspection for us. There are 500-some monks there. See if your uncle is among them. If he is, we’ll put in a good word and have him released, and then you can enter the city with us.” Wukong thanked them nonstop, and then took his leave and headed to the beach while beating his fish drum. When the monks saw him, they all kowtowed and said, “Sir, we haven’t been slacking off. All 500 of us are present and pulling the carts.” Wukong mused to himself, “These monks must be afraid of getting a beating from the Daoist priests, for them to be so afraid of a fake priest like me. They might just drop dead if I were a real priest.” He now waved his hands and said, “Don’t kneel, and don’t be afraid. I’m not the foreman. I’m here to find my relative.” As soon as they heard that, all the monks crowded around and stuck their faces out, each one hoping that Wukong would pick him and save him from this life of toil. Wukong looked around for a bit and then started laughing. “Sir, why are you laughing instead of looking for your relative?” the monks asked. “I’m laughing at you idiots. Your parents must have abandoned you to a life of religion due to unfortunate circumstances. Why do you all then not obey the rules of Buddhism? Instead of reading scriptures, why are you here laboring for Daoist priests, being ordered around like slaves?” “Sir, you’re here to make fun of us,” the monks lamented. “You’re from afar and don’t understand our plight.” “I AM from afar, and I really don’t know your plight.” “Our king is biased and unreasonable. He only likes Daoists like you. He hates us Buddhists.” “How come?” “Because three Daoist immortals showed up and summoned rain and wind. They pulled the veil over the king’s eyes and convinced him to tear down our monastery, revoke our ordination certificates, and keep us here as laborers for the Daoists. This suffering is too much! And while any wandering Daoist priest passing through receive rewards from the king, traveling Buddhist monks are seized and forced to work as laborers for the Daoists.” “Do those priests have some special magic to trick the king?” Wukong asked. “If it’s just summoning rain, that’s child’s play. How can that move the king’s heart?” “They can mold sand, refine mercury, sit in meditation to preserve the spirit, turn water into oil, and turn stone into gold,” the monks told him. “Right now, they’re building a Daoist temple to the Three Pure Ones, where the Daoist will chant scriptures day and night before Heaven and Earth and pray for immortality for the king. That’s how they won him over.” “Ah, so that’s how it is. Well, why don’t y’all just leave?” “We can’t! Those Daoist immortals convinced the king to have likenesses of all of us painted and hung up everywhere. This Slow Cart Kingdom’s territories are vast, and there’s a painting of us hanging in every county, town, and village center, and they carry the king’s personal decree. Any official who captures a runaway monk gets promoted three levels. Civilians who catch a runaway get 50 taels of silver. So we can’t flee. And not only us, but anyone who’s bald or just have very few hair can’t run away either. And there are guards everywhere. So we have no choice but to suffer here.” So this is sounding more and more like a case right up Sun Wukong’s alley. To see what he’ll do about it, tune in to the next episode of the Chinese Lore Podcast. Thanks for listening! Music in This Episode “Luỹ Tre Xanh Ngát Đầu Làng (Guzheng) – Vietnam BGM” by VPRODMUSIC_Asia_BGM “Watercolor Lillies” by Aaron Kenny (from YouTube audio library)  The post Journey 046: Gator Raid first appeared on Chinese Lore Podcast.

Guanyin shows how she’s all about mercy and compassion … after she impales you with 36 knives. Subscribe Transcript Characters Music Transcript Welcome to the Chinese Lore Podcast, where I retell classic Chinese stories in English. This is episode 45 of Journey to the West. Last time, after trading doppelganger shenanigans with Red Boy but coming no closer to rescuing his master San Zang or fellow disciple Zhu Bajie, Sun Wukong did what he should’ve done from the get-go and went to ask the Bodhisattva Guanyin for help. As she set off to help him, Guanyin bottled up a sea’s worth of water in her magic vase. She also sent her disciple, Muzha, up to heaven to see his father, the Pagoda-Wielding King Li (3) Jing (4), and borrow his set of magic knives.  Once Muzha brought back the set of 36 knives, Guanyin took them, muttered an incantation, and turned them into a lotus flower dais. She hopped on and sat in the center. Watching this, Sun Wukong chuckled under his breath, “The Bodhisattva is such a cheapskate. She has her own lotus flower dais in her pool, but she doesn’t want to use that one. Instead she’s borrowing one from someone else.” “Wukong, enough. Follow me,” Guanyin said. They took to the air and flew toward Red Boy’s lair. Soon, they saw a mountain in the distance, and Wukong told Guanyin that they were about 100 miles from Red Boy’s cave. Guanyin promptly descended to the top of the peak and muttered an incantation to summon all the local mountain and earth spirits.  After they kowtowed to her, she told them, “Don’t be afraid. I’ve come to capture the demon king on this mountain. You all sweep the surrounding area. There must not be a single living thing within 100 miles of here. All the creatures must be safely moved to higher ground. The spirits snapped to, and they reported back momentarily that the job was done. Guanyin dismissed them. She then took out her vase and poured out the water. The water gushed out with a thunderous roar, washing over the surrounding area and turning it into a sea. Sun Wukong couldn’t help but be secretly impressed, thinking to himself, “She is truly a compassionate Bodhisattva. If I had such powers, I would’ve just emptied that vase on the mountain and not given a damn about the animals.” Just then, Guanyin called for him to reach out his hand. Wukong extended his left hand. Guanyin dipped her willow twig in the dew water from her vase and wrote the character for “Confusion” in his palm. She then told him, “Clench that fist and go fight the demon. But you can only lose. Once you lure him here to me, I will take care of him.” So Wukong flew to Red Boy’s cave. With his left hand in a fist and his right hand wielding his golden rod, he demanded battle. When the lackeys reported to Red Boy, he initially just said, “Shut the door tight and ignore him.” But Sun Wukong kept cursing outside, and when Red Boy still refused to acknowledge him, he raised his rod and smashed a hole in the door. Now THAT riled up Red Boy. He grabbed his fire-tip spear and went out to face Sun Wukong. Red Boy cursed, “Damn monkey, you really don’t know any better. I let you get the better of me last time, and yet you still aren’t satisfied? And now you’re back and even smashed my door? I’ll make you pay for that!” But Wukong shot back, “Oh son, you chased your daddy out the door. You should pay for THAT!” Red Boy became flushed with embarrassment at the reminder about the fun that Sun Wukong had with him by pretending to be his father. So he raised his spear and attacked. Wukong countered with his rod in one hand. After a few exchanges, Wukong turned and fell back, dragging his rod behind him. Red Boy stood in front of the cave and said, “I’m going to go wash San Zang now.” “Oh good son, be careful,” Wukong teased him. “Heaven can see what you’re doing.” That riled up Red Boy again, so he attacked again. After a few more exchanges, Wukong again fell back, which prompted Red Boy to curse and ask, “Damn monkey. You were able to fight me for 30 exchanges before. Why do you keep running away this time?” “Good son, your daddy is afraid of your fire,” Wukong laughed. “I won’t use my fire then. Come back and fight!” “Even so, we should fight a little farther off. A true hero doesn’t attack people in front of his own house.” Red Boy took the bait and gave chase. Soon, Wukong saw the Bodhisattva Guanyin up ahead, so he said to Red Boy, “Demon, I’m afraid of you. Spare me. You’ve chased me all the way to Guanyin’s island. Why won’t you turn back?” But Red Boy refused to believe him and just kept pursuing. Wukong crouched and hid in Guanyin’s magic aura. When Red Boy caught up and saw no sign of the monkey, he approached Guanyin, glowered, and barked, “Are you Sun Wukong’s backup?!” Guanyin gave no answer. Red Boy raised his spear and shouted again, “Are you Sun Wukong’s backup?!” Again, Guanyin did not reply. So Red Boy stabbed at her heart. Guanyin turned into a beam of golden light and vanished into the sky. Sun Wukong flew up with her and said, “Bodhisattva, you’ve tricked me. When that demon kept asking you a question, you pretended to be deaf and mute and did not dare to make a peep. And then you fled when he attacked. You even left your lotus dais behind!” “Don’t say a word,” Guanyin told him. “Just watch what he’ll do next.” As they looked on from the air, they saw Red Boy scoffing down below, “Damn monkey! He underestimated me. He kept losing to me, so he went to get some BS Bodhisattva, but she’s run off without a trace with just one thrust of my spear. She even ditched her dais. Let me go sit down on it.” So Red Boy climbed up onto the dais and sat down with legs crossed like Guanyin.  “Oh great! Now your dais is his!” Wukong lamented from the air. “Wukon, what are you talking about now?” Guanyin asked. “I was saying that your lotus dais has become someone else’s. That demon is squatting on it. No way he’s going to give it back.” “But that’s exactly what I wanted him to do.” “But look: He’s small and nimble. He sits on the dais even more securely than you do.” “Be quiet, and observe my powers,” Guanyin said. She now pointed down with her willow twig and shouted, “Retract!” In the blink of an eye, the flowers that made up the lotus dais vanished, and Red Boy found himself sitting on the 36 knives, with their tips poking through his skin and into his legs.  Guanyin now told her disciple Muzha, “Take your Demon Taming Staff and go knock on the knife handles until their tips poke through.”  Muzha did as she commanded, hitting the handles of the knives thousands of times until their blades poked all the way through Red Boy’s legs. The demon’s legs were now impaled, and his blood gushed out. Red Boy, gritting his teeth, ignored the pain as he tried to pull the knives out. But Guanyin now called Muzha back and said, “Don’t kill him.”  She then pointed again with her willow twig and uttered another incantation. The tips of the knives now turned into halberds with inverted barbs that dug backward into Red Boy’s flesh, making them impossible to pull out. Panicked, Red Boy pleaded in agony, “Bodhisattva, your disciple was blind and didn’t recognize your great powers. Please exercise compassion and spare my life! I will never dare to do evil again. I’m willing to join the Buddhist school.” Hearing this, Guanyin descended and asked, “Are you willing to take the vows?” Nodding with tears in his eyes, Red Boy said, “If you will spare my life, I am willing to accept the rules of Buddhism.” “You are willing to join our school?” “If you will spare me, yes!” “In that case, I’ll shave your head.” Guanyin took out a golden shaving knife and, with just a few strokes, shaved Red Boy’s hair into a tonsure, leaving him with a topknot and three little tufts. This prompted Wukong to giggle, “What a shame for this demon! Now you don’t look like a boy or a girl!” Guanyin said to Red Boy, “Since you have accepted our rules, I will not mistreat you. I will appoint you the Page Sudhana. Do you accept?” Red Boy kept nodding, so Guanyin pointed at the dais and shouted, “Retract!” With a crashing sound, the magic knives fell to the ground, and Red Boy’s body showed no scars. Guanyin now told Muzha to deliver the knives back to his father and then go on back to her sanctuary.  But once Muzha left, Red Boy, seeing that his body was no worse for the wear but that his hair was now a subject of ridicule, had a change of heart. He picked up his spear and said to Guanyin, “You don’t have any real powers to tame me! You were just using an illusion. I refuse to accept your rules! Taste my spear!” As he attacked, Sun Wukong was just about to block his thrust, but Guanyin said, “No need to fight! I will deal with him.” She pulled a golden hoop from her sleeve and told Wukong, “When I was heading East to find a scripture pilgrim, the Buddha gave me three hoops: one of Gold, one of Tightening, and one of Prohibition. I put the Tightening one on you. The Prohibition one was used to tame the Black Bear Demon, who is now my mountain guardian. I haven’t been able to part with this Gold one. But this demon is so rude, so I’ll bestow it on him.” She then tossed the golden hoop into the air and shouted, “Change!” The single hoop turned into five hoops, and she chucked them at Red Boy, shouting, “Strike!” One hoop wrapped itself around Red Boy’s neck. Two others on his wrists, and the last two on his ankles. Guanyin then told Wukong, “Move away; I’m about to recite the Golden Band Spell.” “What? Bodhisattva, I asked you to come tame the demon. Why are you hexing me?!” Wukong protested. “No, this is not the Band-Tightening Spell. It’s the Golden-Band Spell, and it only affects that boy.” So Wukong stayed nearby and listened while Guanyin recited the spell. Red Boy rolled on the ground in pain. After reciting the spell a few times, Guanyin stopped, and so did the pain. Red Boy got up and found that the five hoops were now tightly wound into his flesh, and the more he pulled on them, the more they hurt. Wukong laughed and taunted him, “Oh my good boy, the Bodhisattva is putting a lucky amulet ring around your neck to make sure you grow up safely.” Red Boy became irate and stabbed at Wukong with his spear. Wukong ducked behind Guanyin and shouted, “Recite the spell! Recite the spell!” But instead, Guanyin used her willow twig to flick a drop of dew water toward Red Boy and shouted, “Close!” Immediately, Red Boy was forced to drop his spear aside as his palms came together in front of his chest. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t pull his hands apart anymore. Only now did he realize Guanyin’s true powers. Defeated, he could do nothing but bow his head and kowtow. Guanyin now chanted another spell, turned over her vase, and took back all the sea water that she had unleashed. She then told Wukong, “This demon has been tamed, but his heart is still wild. I’m going to make him bow with every step until he reaches my mountain. You should hurry and go save  your master.” Wukong kowtowed to thank her and offered to escort her part of the way, but she told him, “No need. Don’t delay and endanger your master’s life.” While Guanyin left with her newest conscript for what was sure to be a very long trip back home, what with the bowing along the way, Wukong met up with fellow disciple Sha Zeng and told him how Guanyin had tamed Red Boy. The two then leaped across the ravine, stormed into the cave, and killed all the demons inside. They then lowered Zhu Bajie from the ceiling and freed him from the sack that he had been hanging in.  “Brother, where is that demon?” a pissed off Bajie asked. “Let me go smack him with my rake a few times to quell my anger!” But Wukong told him they needed to save their master, so the three went to the back and found San Zang, stripped naked and weeping in a courtyard. Sha Zeng untied him, Wukong helped him get dressed, and the three disciples kowtowed to him.  He thanked them and asked how they tamed the demon. So Wukong told the story again, and San Zang hurriedly kowtowed toward the South to thank Guanyin. But Wukong said, “No need to thank her. We actually did her a favor; she got a new acolyte.” Then, Wukong instructed Sha Zeng to gather up all the valuables in the cave. They then found some rice and made a meal for San Zang. After they ate, the pilgrims once again set out and continued Westward. The pilgrims traveled for more than a month without incident, and then one day, they heard the roaring sound of water. San Zang asked with alarm where that was coming from, but Sun Wukong laughed, “Master, you can’t be a monk if you worry so much. There are four of us, and yet you’re the only one to hear the water? Have your forgotten the Heart Sutra?” San Zang said, “The Heart Sutra was passed to me verbally by Master Crow’s Nest. It contains 54 sentences and 270 characters. After hearing it, I’ve often recited it. Which sentence are you saying that I forgot?” “Old master, you forgot the sentence ‘There is no sight, no sound, no smell, no taste, no touch, and no mental process.’ We men of religion should not look on beauty, hear music, smell sweet fragrances, taste good flavors, feel cold or hot, or occupy our minds with delusions. This is the way to repel the Six Bandits that attack the eye, ear, nose, tongue, body, and mind. But because of your mission to fetch scripture, you’re constantly worrying. You’re afraid of demons because you cling to your body. When you ask for food, you’re moving your tongue. When you enjoy a pleasant aroma, your nose is stimulated. When you hear a sound, your ears are startled. When you see something, you fix your eyes on them. If you keep courting those Six Bandits, how can you reach the West and see the Buddha?” San Zang fell into silent contemplation for a moment when he heard those words. Then he said,  “Since the year I left my sage lord, I have hurried day and night with utmost devotion. My straw sandals have worn through the mountain mists; My bamboo hat has split apart the ridge-top clouds. In the still of night, the monkeys’ cries are especially mournful; In the bright moonlight, the birds’ clamors are hard to endure. When shall the three Samadhis be fulfilled, So that I may obtain the Buddha’s wondrous scriptures?” A Samadhi, by the way, is a state of meditative consciousness in Buddhism and other Indian religions. When Wukong heard that, he couldn’t help but clap and laugh out loud. “Oh master, turns out you’re just homesick! If you really want to achieve the Three Samadhis, it’s not that hard. As the saying goes, ‘The achievement completes itself at the right time.’ ” Zhu Bajie turned around and said, “Brother, if we keep running into vicious demons, we would not succeed even if we walked for a thousand years.” But Sha Zeng told him, “Brother Zhu, you are as coarse-tongued as me. Don’t irritate Brother Sun. Just keep carrying your load, and one day we’ll succeed.” They kept walking as they bantered, and soon, they came upon a great black river that stretched as far as the eye could see. The pilgrims perched on the bank and took a close look. It was an impressive river. Layer upon layer of surging swells, Fold upon fold of turbid waves— The layered billows churn black mire; The folded breakers roll like dark oil. Viewed nearby, they cast no reflection of a human form; Seen from afar, no shape of tree can be discerned. Rolling and rolling—an earth of ink; Vast and heaving—a thousand miles of ash. Foam floats up like piled charcoal; Spray leaps like overturned coal. Oxen and sheep will not drink; Crows and magpies can scarcely fly. The cattle shun it for its inky depth; The birds fear it for its boundless gloom. Only the reeds along the banks know the season; Only the flowers and grasses on the shoals compete in fresh green wonder. Lakes and rivers exist everywhere beneath Heaven; Streams and marshes abound throughout the world. Men may meet wherever life takes them— But who has ever seen the Black Water River of the West? San Zang dismounted and asked his disciples why the water was so murky and black. Zhu Bajie said, “Someone must have washed out an indigo dying vat.” Sha Zeng piped in and said, “No. Someone must have washed their inkstone in this river.” “Stop your wild speculations,” Wukong said. “Let’s find a way to get master safely across.” Bajie said, “Well, it won’t be hard for me to get across. I could either fly over it or wade into the water, and I’ll be across in less than the time it takes for a meal.” Sha Zeng also said, “If it were me, I can also fly or swim across in a short time.” “It’s easy for us, but hard for master,” Wukong said.  “How wide is this river?” San Zang asked. “Maybe about 3 miles?” Bajie said. “Can one of you find a way to carry me across?” “Bajie can,” Wukong said. “No, I can’t. If I try to fly with master, I won’t make it three feet off the ground. As the saying goes, ‘Carrying a mortal is like carrying a mountain.’ And if I try to swim across with him on my back, both of us would sink.” While they were debating what to do, they suddenly saw a man rowing a small boat from upriver. San Zang was delighted. “Pupils, look!” he said. “There’s a boat. Let’s ask him to ferry us across.” “Hey  boatman! Come here! You’ve got passengers!” Sha Zeng shouted. But the boatman shouted back, “I’m not a ferry; I don’t take passengers.” “One should help out others,” Sha Zeng retorted. “You may not be a ferry, but it’s not like we’re always bothering you for a ride. We’re monks from the East, sent to fetch scriptures. Do us a favor and ferry us across. We’ll be grateful to you.” Hearing that, the boatman rowed his boat near shore, held the rudder, and said, “Elder, my boat is small. How can I ferry all of you across?” San Zang took a closer look and saw that his boat was carved from a single length of wood. It was barely big enough to seat two people. “What should we do?” he asked his disciples. “We’ll have to make two trips,” Sha Zeng suggested. Zhu Bajie, angling for a break, said, “Brother Sha, you and Brother Sun stay on this side and watch the luggage and horse, and I’ll escort master across first. And then we can ferry the horse across, and Brother Sun can just fly over.” You know, this is where someone should really speak up and say, hey remember that horse is actually a dragon prince who used to live in the sea, so he’s probably the best swimmer out of all of us and shouldn’t have any trouble getting across. But whatever. The party agreed to Bajie’s idea, so he helped San Zang onto the boat, and the boatman pushed off into the torrents.  The tiny boat drifted into the center of the river. Suddenly, with a loud sound, the waves raged, blocking out the sun and the sky as a wild gale swept across the water. By the time it settled, the boat and all its passengers had vanished. Ah crap. Sun Wukong and Sha Zeng watching their companions disappear into the waves at Black Water River. Watching from the bank, Wukong and Sha Zeng panicked. Wukong lamented, “What should we do? Master keeps running into calamity. He just recently escaped a demon’s clutches and enjoyed a peaceful stretch on the road, but now he’s in trouble again!” “Maybe the boat capsized,” Sha Zeng said. “Let’s go down river and look.” “No, the boat didn’t capsize,” Wukong said. If it did, Bajie knows how to swim, and he would have carried master out from the water. Just now, I saw that there was something not right with that boatman. He must have summoned this wind and dragged master into the water.” “Brother, why didn’t you say so earlier? You keep watch over the luggage and horse, and I’ll go into the river and search.” “This water’s color is not right; you might not be able to handle it,” Wukong cautioned. “It doesn’t compare to the Drifting Sand River that I lived in. I can handle it.” So Sha Zeng took off his clothes, grabbed his Buddhist staff, and leaped into the river. He parted the water and stepped into the waves. As he traveled under the water, he suddenly heard someone talking. Sha Zeng ducked to the side and sneaked a peek. He saw a pavilion, and on the doors were large characters that read, “Palace of the God of the Black River in Hengyang (2,2) Valley.” Then, he heard the voice of a demon. This was none other than the “boatman”. The demon said, “It took so much effort, but I finally got him. This monk has cultivated his Dao for 10 lifetimes. If you can eat just one piece of his flesh, you’ll become immortal. I’ve been waiting for him for so long, but now it’s finally paid off. Little ones, bring out the metal steamer. Steam this monk. Also, go invite my second uncle to come share this treat with me.” Sha Zeng could feel the fire flaring up in his heart as he listened. He raised his staff and started beating on the door of the pavilion, cursing, “Damn demon! Send my master and brother out right now!” The lackey watching the door ran in to report that a sullen-looking monk was outside, banging on the door and cursing, demanding his people back. The demon lord quickly donned his armor and grabbed his weapon, a sectioned steel short staff, and rushed outside. He had a square face and round eyes that gleamed with rosy radiance. His curling lips framed a huge mouth as red as a basin of blood. His chin sported a few sparse whiskers that looked like iron wires. Cinnabar smeared his temples, and his hair was tangled and bristled. He wore an iron suit of armor and a golden helmet inlaid with jewels. “Who is banging on my door?!” the demon shouted. “You ignorant creature!” Sha Zeng shot back. “How dare you pretend to be a boatman and abduct my master? Return him at once, and I’ll spare your life!” The demon laughed and said, “Damn monk, you really don’t know any better. That’s right, I took your master, and I’m going to steam him and invite guests to the feast! C’mon, let’s fight it out! If you can beat me in three exchanges, I’ll return your master. But if you can’t, then I’ll cook you as well, and you can forget about going to the West!” That riled up Sha Zeng even more. He raised his staff and attacked, and the demon countered. After 30 exchanges, neither had the upper hand. Sha Zeng thought to himself, “This demon is a match for me. I can’t beat him alone. Let me lure him out and let Brother Sun take care of him.” So Sha Zeng feigned a blow and then turned and fled. But the demon refused to give chase and just said, “You go on. I won’t fight you anymore. I need to go prepare for guests.” Sha Zeng leaped out of the water, huffing and puffing, and told Sun Wukong, “Brother, that demon was so rude!” “You were down there for a long time,”Wukong said. “What kind of demon was it? Did you see master?” Sha Zeng relayed his encounter with the demon and how the demon refused to bite on his trick. He told Wukon, “That demon looked like a giant soft-shelled turtle, or an alligator.” “Hmm, I wonder who his uncle is,” Wukong pondered. Just then, an old man appeared from a bend in the river farther down. He kneeled from a distance and called out, “Great Sage, accept this bow from the river spirit of the Black Water River.” “Are you that demon who pretended to be a boatman?” Wukong barked. “Are you trying to trick me again?” The old man kowtowed and wept, “Great Sage, I’m no demon. I’m the real river spirit here. That demon showed up here on a high tide from the West Sea during the fifth month last year. He fought me. Alas, I am old and weak, so I was no match for him. He occupied my residence and hurt a lot of my aquatic relatives. I had no choice but to go to the sea to file a petition against him. Turns out the Dragon King of the West Sea is his maternal uncle. He rejected my petition and told me to just learn to live with him. I wanted to go to heaven to complain, but my rank is too feeble and I could not see the Jade Emperor. But now that you’re here, I have come to pay my respects and ask for help. Please help me get revenge!” “Based on what you said, the dragon kings of all four seas are at fault,” Wukong said. “That demon has abducted my master and brother, and says he’s going to cook them to treat his uncle. I  was just about to capture him, but good thing you brought me this intel. Alright, you wait here with Sha Zeng. I’ll go to the sea and drag that dragon king here to force him to capture this demon.” To see how that little visit will go, tune in to the next episode of the Chinese Lore Podcast. Thanks for listening! Music in This Episode “Luỹ Tre Xanh Ngát Đầu Làng (Guzheng) – Vietnam BGM” by VPRODMUSIC_Asia_BGM The post Journey 045: Flower Power first appeared on Chinese Lore Podcast.

Shenanigans abound as Sun Wukong and Red Boy engage in a battle of wits. Subscribe Transcript Characters Music Transcript Welcome to the Chinese Lore Podcast, where I retell classic Chinese stories in English. This is episode 44 of Journey to the West. Last time, stymied by Red Boy’s fire power, Sun Wukong went to ask the dragon kings of the four seas for help, thinking that a good downpour will put out the demon’s fire. But as it turned out, Red Boy’s fire magic was impervious to the dragon kings’ rain, and Sun Wukong was scorched in the process, leaving him a seemingly lifeless husk when his fellow disciples Zhu Bajie and Sha Zeng fished him out of the ravine. “Oh brother!” Sha Zeng lamented with tears in his eyes. “You were supposed to be immortal, and yet your life has been cut short!” Zhu Bajie, though, laughed, “Brother, don’t cry. That monkey is just pretending to be dead to mess with us. Feel his chest. Is there any warmth left?” “But his whole body is cold. Even if there’s a warm breath left, how can we revive him?” Sha Zeng asked. “Oh, he has the power of 72 transformations, so he’s got 72 lives,” Bajie said. “Hold his feet, and watch me.” So Sha Zeng held Wukong’s feet, while Zhu Bajie propped up his head and sat him up. Bajie then rubbed his own hands so they’re warm, and massaged Wukong’s pressure points. And to his credit, Sun Wukong soon came to and shouted, “Oh master!” “Brother, you were always loyal to master in life, and even in death you’re calling his name,” Sha Zeng said. “You just woke up. We’re here with you.” “What happened? Did I lose?” Wukong asked. “You were unconscious just now,” Zhu Bajie laughed. “If not for me, you would be done for. You should be thanking me.” Wukong now got to his feet and asked where the dragon kings were. The four dragon kings showed themselves in the sky. Wukong thanked them for their ineffectual help and sent them on their way. Then, with Sha Zeng helping him, Wukong staggered into the woods and sat down. After a while, he had regained his faculties. But he kept weeping and called out again, “Oh master!” “I remember when you left the Tang kingdom and saved me from dire calamity. Across mountains and rivers we were beset by demons, As 10,000 hardships cut my heart. With begging bowl in hand, we ate by mornings what fate allowed, By dusk we sought monasteries or slept in the woods. It was all for the hope of completing our mission, But how could I have known that today I would suffer such bitter pain?!” But Sha Zeng consoled him, “Brother, don’t trouble yourself. Let’s figure out where to go find reinforcements to save master.” “Well, where should we go?” Wukong asked. “Back when the Bodhisattva Guanyin instructed us to protect the Tang monk, she promised us that she would always respond to our call for help. So maybe go to her?” Wukong agreed. “When I caused a ruckus in heaven, those celestial soldiers couldn’t handle me. This demon has some serious powers. We need someone who’s even more powerful than me to tame him. The celestial soldiers won’t cut it. We must go get Guanyin. But I’m sore all over and can’t fly. How can we get to her?” Zhu Bajie volunteered to go instead. Wukong said, “Alright, you can do this. If you see the Bodhisattva, don’t just look up at her. You must bow. When she asks, tell her the name of this place and the demon, and then tell her we need her to save master. If she’s willing to come, we will capture the demon for sure.” Bajie took the instructions to heart, and then flew off toward the South. He had not gone far when he suddenly noticed Guanyin standing on a cliff. Well, that’s convenient. Dum-dum descended from the clouds and bowed, paying his respects. Guanyin asked him, “What are you doing here instead of protecting the Tang monk?” Zhu Bajie recounted their troubles with Red Boy, and Guanyin said, “The master of Fire Cloud Cave is not one to harm people. You all must have insulted him.” “I didn’t offend him,” Bajie said. “It’s my brother Wukong. That demon turned into a little kid hanging from a tree to trick my master. Master is full of compassion, so he told me to cut the boy down and told my brother to carry him. But my brother threw him to the ground, so he turned into a wind and abducted master.” Guanyin said, “Come with me. I will go to the cave to see him and patch things up between you. You can apologize and get your master back.” “Oh Bodhisattva, if he will return my master, I will kowtow to him,” Bajie said. So dum-dum followed Guanyin and retraced his steps. They went back to Fire Cloud Cave. Guanyin went straight in and told Bajie, “Don’t be worried. He is an old acquaintance of mine. C’mon in.” So Bajie went in, but no sooner did he set foot inside did a swarm of demon lackeys jump him, threw him into a sack, tied up the sack opening, and hanged him from the rafters. Guanyin, meanwhile, turned into Red Boy, sat down, and laughed, “Zhu Bajie, what skills do you have, that you would dare to protect the Tang Monk and dare to go invite Guanyin to come tame me? Pity your wide-open eyes couldn’t recognize me. Now that I’ve got you, I’m going to hang you up for a few days, and then steam you and give you to my lackeys as a reward to go with their wine!” Zhu Bajie falling for Red Boy’s fake Guanyin act So yeah, back when the disciples were busy deciding to go invite Guanyin, inside the cave, Red Boy was celebrating and telling his lackeys, “Little ones, that Sun Wukong ran off in defeat. Even if he didn’t die, he’ll be knocked out for a good while. But he might go find more reinforcements. Open the cave doors and let me go see who he’ll invite.” So Red Boy flew into the sky, just in time to see Zhu Bajie flying to the South. And Red Boy was smart enough to guess that if you were heading South for help, you were going to see Guanyin. So he quickly went back to his cave and told his lackeys, “Get my leather sack ready, but put in a new tie string. Put it outside the second set of doors. Once I lure Zhu Bajie into a trap, put him in the sack and steam him until his flesh is falling apart. It’ll be a treat for you all.” Then, Red Boy flew off again. The novel said he knew which was the fastest route to the South Sea, so he took that way. But if movies with Flying Deloreans have taught us anything, it’s that when you can fly, you don’t need roads. Anyway, Red Boy got ahead of Zhu Bajie, transformed into a doppelganger of Guanyin, and waited for Bajie on a cliff. Zhu Bajie, now hanging from the rafters, could only curse from inside the sack, “Damn demon! How rude you are! You may scheme and deceive me and eat me, but you’ll all get sick!” While dum-dum cursed nonstop, on the other side of the ravine, Sun Wukong and Sha Zeng were sitting and waiting for him to come back, when suddenly a strange wind blew right in their faces. Wukong sneezed and said, “Oh crap! This wind bodes ill. Bajie must have gotten lost.” “Even if he got lost, he could just ask for directions,” Sha Zeng said. “No, he must have run into the demon.” “If that’s the case, won’t he come running back?” “Something’s wrong. You stay here. Let me go across the ravine and check things out.” “But brother, you’re still sore. Let me go instead.” “You can’t do anything; I’ll go.” So Wukong gritted his teeth, grabbed his golden rod, went across the ravine to the cave, and shouted, “Damn demons!” The lackeys at the gate quickly rushed in and reported. Red Boy ordered his lackeys to go capture Wukong, so a gaggle of them rushed outside. Wukong was too sore and tired, so he didn’t dare to take them on. Instead, he shouted “Change,” and turned into a bundle on the side of the road. The lackeys saw the bundle and told Red Boy that Sun Wukong had fled in fear and dropped a bundle in the process. Red Boy laughed, “That bundle is worthless. It’s probably just holding some torn monk shirts or hats. Bring it inside. We can wash it and use it for lining.” So a lackey carried the bundle inside and put it by the door. As soon as the demons’ backs were turned, Wukong plucked a hair off himself, turned into a doppelganger of the bundle while he himself turned into a fly and landed on the door. Inside, he heard Zhu Bajie grumbling incoherently like a diseased hog. Wukong flew inside and saw that he was hanging from the rafters in a sack.  Wukong landed on the sack and heard him cursing, “Damn demon. Turning into a fake Guanyin to trick me. And now he’s got me hanging here and says he’s going to eat me. One of these days, my brother will use his great powers to tame all you lousy demons. When he lets me out of this sack, I’m going to rake you a thousand times!” Wukong couldn’t help but laugh under his breath, “That dum-dum may be cooped up inside the sack, but he’s still sounding tough. I must capture that demon to avenge this!” Just then, Red Boy called out, “Where are my six warriors?” Six demon lackeys came forward. These were Red Boy’s friends, and they were named Mist in the Clouds, Clouds in the Mist, Fire-fast, Windspeedy, Heater, and Cooker. They kneeled, and Red Boy asked, “Do you know the way to my father’s home?” “Yes.” “Then hurry over there and invite him here. Tell him that I’ve captured the Tang monk and will cook him so that my father may eat him and live forever.” The six lackeys rushed off, and buzzing behind them was a fly.  The lackeys left the cave and started heading southwest. Suddenly, they saw Red Boy’s father, aka the Bull Demon King, sitting on the side of the road, accompanied by a few demon lackeys. Red Boy’s demons hurriedly kowtowed and said, “My lord. We were sent by the Sage Infant King to invite you to go eat the Tang monk’s flesh so that you may attain immortality.” “Little ones, get up,” the Bull Demon King said. “Accompany me back to my home. Once I’ve changed, then we’ll go together.” “My lord, please do  us a favor. Your cave is a long way from here; it’d be inconvenient, and our lord might blame us. Please just come with us.” The Bull Demon King laughed, “What good children. Alright, alright. Lead the way, and I’ll go with you.” So the six demon lackeys led the way, clearing a path for the Bull Demon King. Soon, they had returned to the Fire Cloud Cave. Wind-fast and Fire-speedy rushed in to report, and Red Boy was delighted at how quickly they had completed their errand. He ordered all the lackeys to go out, line up, and welcome his father with drums and banners.  They welcomed the Bull Demon King into the cave with much fanfare. He sat down in the center, facing south. Red Boy kneeled and said, “Father, my respects.” “My son, please get up.” Red Boy kowtowed four times before standing up. His father then asked the purpose of the invitation. Red Boy said, “Your untalented son captured a man yesterday. He’s the Tang monk from the East. I often heard people say that he’s been cultivating his Dao for 10 lifetimes. Whoever eats a piece of his flesh will become immortal. I did not dare to eat him alone, so I invited you here to enjoy the Tang monk’s flesh together and attain immortality.” The Bull Demon King, however, said with alarm, “My son, which Tang monk are you talking about?” “The scripture pilgrim who’s heading West.” “Is he Sun Wukong’s master?” “Exactly.” The Bull Demon King waved his hand, shook his head, and said, “Don’t mess with him! Others, maybe; but do you even know about Sun Wukong? Son, you haven’t met him yet, right? That monkey is very powerful and can turn into many things. When he caused a ruckus in heaven, the Jade Emperor sent 100,000 celestial troops and laid down nets everywhere. And yet they still couldn’t catch him. How can you dare to eat his master? Hurry up and return the monk to him. Don’t antagonize that monkey. If he finds out you ate his master, he won’t come fight you. He’d just poke his golden rod into the side of the mountain and knock the whole mountain over. Then where would you live? And who would I have to take care of me in my old age?” But Red Boy scoffed, “Father, what kind of words are those? Don’t talk up others and put your own son down. I tricked that Sun Wukong and his two brothers and abducted the Tang monk. When he and Zhu Bajie came here looking for their master, they claimed to be my relatives. That pissed me off, so I fought him for a few exchanges. He’s just so-so, nothing spectacular. And then that Zhu Bajie to help him, so I sprayed out my sacred fire and beat them. Then he went to ask the dragon kings of the four seas for rain, but that couldn’t put out my fire. He got so scorched that he passed out. So he sent Zhu Bajie to the South to ask the Bodhisattva Guanyin for help, but I turned into a fake Guanyin, lured Zhu Bajie here, and hung him up in my sack. I’m going to steam him for my little ones. Then, this morning Sun Wukong came to challenge me again. When I sent my lackeys to capture him, he was so panicked that he dropped his bundle while running away. That’s why I sent people to invite you here, so you can have a look at the Tang monk before I cook him for you.” The Bull Demon King laughed, “My good son, you only know that your sacred fires can beat Sun Wukong, but you don’t know about his powers of 72 transformations!” “Meh, whatever he turns into, I can recognize him. He won’t dare to come into my cave.” “Son, you may be able to recognize him, but he’s not going to turn into something big like a wolf or an elephant. He won’t able to get inside the door that way. What if he turns into something tiny? Then you won’t be able to recognize him.” “Even so, each set of doors is guarded by four or five lackeys. How can he get in?” “You don’t understand. He can turn into an insect like a fly, mosquito, bee, or butterfly. Or what if he turned into me? Would you recognize him then?” “No worries. He won’t dare to approach my door.” “Well, it sounds like you really do have some skills, to be able to beat Sun Wukong and invite me to eat the Tang Monk. But alas, I still can’t eat him today.” “Why not?” “I’m getting up there in age, so your mother keeps telling me to do some good deeds to build some good karma. I figure there’s not a lot of good deeds I can do, so I’ve become a vegetarian.” “Is that permanent, or just for a few months?” “It’s not permanent; it’s not even a few months. It’s called, ‘Thunder Vegetarianism.’ You just do it four days each month.” “Which four days?” “Well, today is one of those four. So I should be on vegetarian food. Besides, today is not a good day for visitors. Wait till tomorrow, and I’ll personally go wash him and cook him to share with you.” Red Boy started thinking to himself, “My father has always eaten people, and he’s lived for more than 1,000 years. How come he’s suddenly taken up vegetarianism? Considering how much evil he’s done, how can he make up for it just with a few days of vegetarian food each month? This sounds fishy.” He now stepped outside the second set of doors and asked his six warriors, “Where did you meet my father?” “On the way to his cave.” “That’s why you got back so fast. You didn’t go to his home?” “Correct.” “Crap! This must be an imposter!” The lackeys kneeled and said, “My lord, how can you not recognize your own father?” “He looks and acts like my father, but he doesn’t talk like him. I worry we might get played. Be on guard. Get your weapons ready. Let me go question him and see how he answers. If he really is my father, then it would be fine even if we waited for a month before eating the Tang monk. But if his words don’t sound right, listen for my signal and attack.” Red Boy then went back inside and kowtowed again to his father. The Bull Demon King said, “Son, no need to kowtow so much. Whatever you want to say, just say it.” Red Boy kneeled and said, “In addition to inviting you to come eat the Tang monk’s flesh, I also had a request. Sometime back, I flew to heaven and ran into the Daoist master Zhang Daoling (4,2).” “The Daoist pope?” “Exactly.” “What did he say to you?” “He saw that I had a very auspicious appearance, so he asked me for my birth year, date, and time. I’m young and don’t remember. He was going to cast a divination for me. So I wanted to ask you, so that the next time I see him, he can tell my fortune.” The Bull Demon King started laughing and said, “Good son, please get up. I’m getting old. And my mind has been occupied lately. I can’t remember your birth date and time just now. Tomorrow, when I get home, I’ll ask your mother.” Red Boy scoffed, “Father, you’ve always spoken to me about my birth date and time, and you said that my life will be as eternal as heaven and earth. How can you forget it today? You must be an imposter!” He shouted, and all his lackeys charged forward and attacked. In that moment, the Bull Demon King suddenly turned into Sun Wukong, pulled out his golden rod, and fended off all the lackeys.  “Good son, you’re so rude!” Wukong laughed, “How can a son attack his father?” Red Boy was flushed with embarrassment, and Sun Wukong turned into a golden light and flew out of the cave. The lackeys panicked, but Red Boy said, “Alas, just let him go. He had me this time. Just shut the doors and don’t respond to anything he says. Let’s wash the Tang monk and steam him.” On the other side of the ravine, Sun Wukong was laughing hard as he returned to Sha Zeng. Sha Zeng asked him, “Brother, you’ve been gone for half a day. Why are you laughing? Did you rescue master?” “Oh brother, even though I didn’t rescue master, I still came out on top.” “How so?” So Wukong recounted the little fun he had with Red Boy, but Sha Zeng said, “Brother, you may have gotten some small advantage this time, but master’s life is still in danger.” “No worries; I’ll go invite the Bodhisattva.” “But you’re still sore.” “No, I’m ok now. As the old saying goes, ‘Happy things perk you up.’ You just watch the luggage and horse, and I’ll go.” “You’ve humiliated that demon; he might harm master. Hurry back!” “I’ll be back in the time it takes for a meal.” So Wukong somersaulted into the clouds and flew toward the South Sea. Within an hour, he could see Mount Potalaka. He descended and was greeted by the 24 devas. He greeted them and asked to see Guanyin. They asked him to wait outside her cave while one of them went to announce him. As soon as Guanyin heard this, she summoned Wukong. Wukong tidied up his clothes, went inside, and kowtowed to Guanyin. She asked what he was doing there, and he recounted all the troubles he’s had against Red Boy. Guanyin told him, “Since he’s powerful and can wield sacred fire, why did you go to ask the dragon kings for help instead of coming to me?” You know, that’s a darn good question. Considering Guanyin is batting a thousand in terms of helping them solve whatever trouble they’ve been running into, I don’t know why Sun Wukong didn’t just go straight to her. Oh wait, I do know. The author needed some filler.  Wukong, though, told Guanyin, “I was going to come ask you, but I was scorched and couldn’t fly. So I sent Zhu Bajie.” “But Bajie didn’t come,” Guanyin said. “Exactly. Before Bajie could get here, that demon assumed your likeness and lured Bajie to his cave. Bajie is hanging up in a sack right now, waiting to be steamed and devoured.” Guanyin was irate when she heard that. “How dare that demon assume MY likeness?!” she fumed as she hurled the jade vase in her hand into the sea. Sun Wukong was taken aback. He stood up and said, “This Bodhisattva hasn’t lost her fiery temper. My words must have offended her so much that she threw away her vase. What a pity. She should’ve just given it to me as a favor.” But just then, the waves of the sea churned, and the vase remerged, carried on the back of a monstrous creature. It was a turtle. The turtle clambered onto shore and nodded 24 times toward Guanyin. Wukong laughed under his breath and muttered, “This turtle must be the guardian of the vase. If the vase goes missing, he’s the one to ask.” “Wukong, what are you saying?” Guanyin asked. “Oh nothing, nothing.” “Go bring my vase to me.” Wukong went over to the turtle and tried to pick up the vase, but he couldn’t even nudge it. He turned around, kneeled to Guanyin, and said, “Bodhisattva, I can’t move it.” “You monkey; you just know how to brag. If you can’t lift the vase, how can you tame the demon?” “To tell you the truth, I usually can lift it but not today. I must be weak from being burned by that demon.” “No. Usually that vase is empty. But today, I threw it into the sea, and it’s now filled with water borrowed from all the rivers, lakes, and seas. That’s why you can’t lift it.” Guanyin now walked over and easily picked up the vase with her right hand, and set it into the palm of her left hand. The turtle nodded again and returned to the sea. Guanyin now told Wukong, “The dew water in my vase is different from the dragon kings’ rain. This water can extinguish that demon’s fire. But you can’t lift it. I was going to send the Naga Maiden to go with you. But you’re no good. You’re deceitful. My Naga Maiden is a beauty, and this vase is very precious. If you steal either of them, I’ll be too busy to chase you down. You must leave me something as security.” “Oh Bodhisattva, you’re too suspicious. I don’t do those things anymore now that I’m in the Buddhist school. Besides, what would you have me leave as a security deposit? The clothes I’m wearing came from you. This tiger skin kilt isn’t worth much. And I need my rod for protection. This hoop on my head is gold, but you cast a spell so that I can’t take it off. If you want it as a security deposit, then I’m willing to give it to you. You’d just need to read a Band-Loosening Spell and take it off. Otherwise, what else can I offer?” “I don’t want your clothes, rod, or head band,” Guanyin said. “I just want one of the three Life-Saving Hairs on the back of your head.” “You were the one who bestowed those hairs to me,” Wukong said. “But if you pluck one off, you’ll break up the collection, and then they won’t be any good anymore.” “You monkey!” Guanyin scolded him. “If you won’t even part with single hair, how can I help you?” “Bodhisattva, you’re too suspicious,” Wukong laughed. “As the saying goes, ‘If not for the monk, then do it for the Buddha.’ Please save my master, no matter what!” At that, Guanyin stepped off her lotus dais and flew to the top of a cliff. Wukong was delighted. He accompanied her out of her cave. She asked him to set off first, but he bowed and said, “I dare not fly in front of you. If I do my somersault cloud, I might expose myself, and then you might fault me for disrespect.” So Guanyin had the Naga Maiden go to her lotus pond and pluck a lotus flower. She cast it on the sea and told Wukong, “Get on that flower, and I’ll fly you across the sea.” “Bodhisattva, this flower is light and thin. How can it carry me? If I fall in the sea, it would get my tiger-skin kilt wet. Once the saltpeter that keeps it soft gets washed out, how can I wear it when it’s cold?” “Just get on!” Guanyin commanded. So Wukong leaped onto the flower, and all the sudden, the flower seemed to expand to even larger than a sailing ship.  “Bodhisattva, it’s big enough to carry me!” Wukong said with delight. “Then why don’t you cross the sea?” “There’s no pole, oars, mast, or sail. How can I get across?” “No need for those,” Guanyin said as she blew on the flower. That one breath sent the flower careening across the South Sea, all the way to the opposite shore. Once Wukong stepped back onto land, he laughed, “This Bodhisattva is showing off. It didn’t take her any effort at all to send me around like this.” Guanyin now asked the Naga Maiden to close the doors to her cave. She then took to the air and summoned her disciple, Muzha, aka, the second brother of Lotus Boy Nezha. She told him, “Go to heaven and ask your father to lend me his Pole Star Knife.” “How many do you need?” Muzha asked. “The whole set.” To see what Guanyin wants with a big set of knives, tune in to the next episode of the Chinese Lore Podcast. Thanks for listening! Music in This Episode “Luỹ Tre Xanh Ngát Đầu Làng (Guzheng) – Vietnam BGM” by VPRODMUSIC_Asia_BGM “Ravines” by Elphnt (from YouTube audio library) “Day of Recon” by Max Surla/Media Right Productions (from YouTube audio library) The post Journey 044: Double Fakeout first appeared on Chinese Lore Podcast.

Sun Wukong tells the villain who abducted his master that long-lost relatives were visiting, but demon boy is nonplussed. Subscribe Transcript Characters Music Transcript Welcome to the Chinese Lore Podcast, where I retell classic Chinese stories in English. This is episode 43 of Journey to the West. Last time, the pilgrims were crossing yet another mountain when yet another hard-luck case in need of rescue presented himself. This time, it was a 7-year-old boy hanging from a tree who said he had been left there by bandits. San Zang took pity on him and freed him, and then told Sun Wukong to carry the boy. Sun Wukong did what he always did when tasked with carrying people of unknown origins — he killed the passenger. But just, a wild gale whipped up, and by the time it died down, San Zang had vanished. So yeah, that was no boy. That was a demon, albeit a boy demon. Some years back, he had heard the news that there was a sage monk from the Tang kingdom who was heading West for scriptures, and that this guy was the 10th incarnation of Golden Cicada, the second disciple of Buddha, so eating a piece of his flesh would make you immortal. Demon boy was eagerly awaiting the pilgrims’ arrival on his mountain. When they finally showed up, he was spying on them in the air in the form of a red cloud, which set off Wukong’s red alert. Seeing the three fierce-looking disciples surrounding San Zang at the drop of a hat, the demon decided to use guile instead, so he turned himself into the boy in distress. And while Sun Wukong was carrying him, the demon sensed that Wukong was harboring thoughts of committing a little pedicide, so he quickly flew into the air, leaving behind a fake mortal coil for Wukong to rip apart. As he watched Wukong go to town on his doppelganger, demon boy couldn’t help but be irate. He thought to himself, “This monkey is too vicious. Even if I was a demon intent on harming your master, I haven’t even made a move yet, so why did you tear me apart like this?!” Well, but he WAS a demon intent on doing harm to San Zang, so demon boy then cast his wind spell and made off with San Zang in the chaos. After the wind subsided, the three disciples gathered and noticed that their master was gone. God this is getting old, and we’re not even half way through the novel yet.  Anyway, after the disciples did their usual thing of “Did you see where master went?” “No, did you?”, Sun Wukong said, “Brothers, let’s just break up the band!” “Right, right!” Zhu Bajie agreed. “Let’s break up now and each go our separate ways. The road West is endless; when would we ever make it there?!” But Sha Zeng was so taken aback that he felt his body go numb. He asked Wukong, “Brother, what are you saying? We had committed offenses in our prior days. Thankfully, the Bodhisattva Guanyin counseled us and brought us into the Buddhist school. We all agreed to protect the Tang monk to go West to see the Buddha and fetch scripture, so as to atone for our offenses. How can we talk about disbanding after coming this far? We must not go against the Bodhisattva’s compassion or damage our own virtues. Otherwise people would laugh at us for having no persistence.” “Brother, you’re right,” Wukong said. “But master refuses to listen. My fiery golden eyes can tell good from evil. This wind just now was created by that boy who was hanging from the tree. I recognized that he was a demon, but you didn’t, and neither did master. He thought the boy was a good person, so he told me to carry him. I tried to deal with the demon, and he tried to crush me with magic. So I tore him to pieces. But he must have used magic to slip away and created that wind to abduct master. Master always refuses to listen to me. That’s why I am disheartened and said we should disband. But given your sincerity, I am not sure what to do. Bajie, what do you think?” Zhu Bajie now backtracked as well. “I misspoke just now. Honestly, we shouldn’t disband. Brother, there’s no choice except to do as brother Sha says. Let’s go find that demon and save master.” So Wukong perked up and said, “Brothers, let’s stay united in purpose. Get the luggage and the horse, and let’s go up the mountain to find that demon and save our master.” So the three of them searched all around in a 20-some-mile radius, but found nothing, not even birds or animals. Wukong got impatient, so he flew to the top of a peak, shouted, “Change!”, and sprouted three heads and six arms, wielding three golden rods. He now started smashing everything in sight, which prompted Bajie to say to Sha Zeng, “Oh crap! Brother Sun is letting off steam because we can’t find master.” After this went on for a while, a group of shabby looking local mountain and earth spirits showed up, all dressed in rags and tatters, with no seats to their pants or legs to their trousers. They kneeled in front of the peak and paid their respects to Wukong. “How come there are so many of you here?” Wukong asked. “Great Sage,” the local spirits said, “this mountain is called the 600-Mile Drill-Point Mountain. For every 10 miles, there is a mountain spirit and an earth spirit. So there are 30 of each in all. We found out yesterday that you had arrived. But we couldn’t gather all of our numbers on short notice, hence our belated welcome. Please forgive us.” “I’ll spare you for now,” Wukong said. Answer me this: How many demons are there on this mountain?” “Oh granddaddy, just the one demon is enough to plunge us into poverty and deny us of offerings or incense. None of us can clothe or feed ourselves. How many more demons can we stand?!” “Does that demon live on the front side or back side of the mountain?” “Neither. There is a ravine in the center of this mountain, called the Dead Pine Ravine. Next to the ravine is a cave, called the Fire Cloud Cave. There’s a demon lord there. He is very powerful and often forces us to do manual labor for him. And his lackeys often hit us up for money.” “But y’all are gods from the spirit world. How would you have money?” Wukong asked. “Exactly. So all we can do is catch some game and present them as gifts. If we don’t offer gifts, then he would come tear down our temples and rip away our clothes, and we would know no peace! Please, Great Sage, rid us of this demon and save all those who reside on this mountain.” Wukong now asked, “Since he often forces you to work in his cave, do you know that demon’s name?” “You might actually know him,” the local spirits said. “He is the son of the Bull Demon King by Lady Rakshasi. He once cultivated his Dao for 300 years on the Flaming Mountain, refining the True Fire of Samadhi. He also has great magical powers. The Bull Demon King sent him here to watch over this mountain. His baby name is Red Boy, and his nickname is the Holy Infant King.” When he heard that, Wukong’s mood brightened. He dismissed the local spirits, returned to his normal number of heads and arms, and leaped down from the peak to rejoin his brothers. He told them, “Don’t worry anymore. Master will be fine. This demon is related to me.” Zhu Bajie laughed, “Brother, stop telling tall tales. You resided on the Eastern Continent, while this is the Western Continent. They are far apart and separated by rivers and mountains, not to mention two oceans. How can he be related to you?” “That group of people just now were the local earth and mountain spirits,” Wukong explained. “I asked them the backstory on the demon. They said he’s the son of the Bull Demon King and Lady Rakshasi, called Red Boy and nicknamed the Holy Infant King. Five hundred years ago, I traveled the world and met heroes across the land. That Bull Demon King was one of my seven sworn brothers, and I called him Big Brother. Since this demon is his son, then when you work through my connections with his father, I’m his uncle. How would he dare to harm my master? Let’s go find him.” Sha Zeng chuckled, “Brother, as the saying goes, ‘If you don’t visit for three years, you’re not really related anymore.’ You haven’t seen them for five or six hundred years, and you haven’t had a drink with him or invited him over for holidays. Why would he consider you family?”  “How can you think that way of people?” Wukong said. “As the saying goes, ‘Like a single leaf of duckweed drifting back to the great sea, among people, how could we not meet again somewhere?’ Even if he doesn’t treat me like family, I figure he at least wouldn’t harm master. We don’t need him to treat us to a feast, just return our master.” So the three disciples followed the main road and headed deeper into the mountain. They traveled for about 40 miles and saw a pine forest up ahead. Within the forest there was a stream flowing along a twisting ravine. The stream’s water was pure and green, and at its head was a stone bridge that connected to a cave. “Brothers, look!” Wukong said. “That jagged rock face must be where the demon lives. Let’s figure out which of you will stay to watch the luggage and horse, and which of you will come with me to tame that demon.” Bajie piped up, “Brother, I have no patience for sitting. I’ll go with you.” So they left Sha Zeng in charge of the luggage and horse, and then Wukong and Bajie grabbed their weapons and headed toward the cave. They saw a stone tablet by the door bearing the words, “Fire-Cloud Cave of Dead Pine Ravine on Mount Hao (4).” Out in front of the cave, a group of demon lackeys were playing around with weapons. Wukong shouted, “You little ones, go tell your leader right now that if he returns my master, the Tang Monk, at once, then I will spare the creatures of this cave. If he dares to utter half a no, I will topple your mountain and flatten your cave!” The lackeys hurriedly dashed back into the cave, shut the door, and reported to their leader, the Red Boy. Now, Red Boy had been busy prepping his meal. After he captured San Zang, he had his prisoner stripped, hog-tied, and bound up in the back of the cave while his lackeys washed him to prepare him for steaming. But meal prep was interrupted by word that trouble was knocking on his door. So Red Boy came out from the back and asked what’s up. The lackeys told him that a hairy-faced monk that looked like the God of Thunder, and a long-snout, big-ear monk were outside, demanding their master back and making threats.  Red Boy chuckled, “That must be Sun Wukong and Zhu Bajie. This is 50 miles away from where I abducted their master. How did they find their way here? Alright, little ones, push our carts out!” So a few lackeys pushed five small carts out the front door. When Bajie saw this, he said to Wukong, “Brother, that demon must be afraid of us, so they’re prepping their carts and getting ready to move.” “That can’t be,” Wukon said. “Let’s see where they put those carts.” The lackeys arranged the carts in the pattern of the five elements — gold, wood, water, fire, and earth. Then, they told Red Boy all was ready. Red Boy then had the lackeys in charge of his weapon bring out a long Fire Tip Spear. Red Boy took the spear and walked out bare foot, clad in only a brocade battle skirt.  Wukong and Bajie sized him up. His face was white as if he was wearing powder. His lips were crimson. His temples coiled like blue clouds, and his eyebrows were split like a newborn moon. His battle skirt was embroidered with coiling dragons and phoenixes, and he brandished a spear. “Who is making a ruckus outside my house?!” Red Boy shouted. Wukong stepped forward and laughed, “Good nephew, drop the act! Earlier today, you fooled my master by pretending to be a sickly child hanging from a tree branch on the side of the road. I carried you out of the goodness of my heart, but you summoned a wind and abducted my master. You think I don’t recognize you in this getup? Hurry up and send out my master. Don’t insult your relative. Otherwise when your father finds out, he might think I was bullying you. That wouldn’t look good.” Red Boy, however, scoffed angrily, “You crazy monkey! How could I be related to you? You’re spewing a mouthful of nonsense! I’m no nephew of yours!” “Oh kiddo. You don’t know it, but back in the day, way before you were born, your father and I were brothers.” “Monkey, that’s total bull! Who the hell are you? How can you be brothers with my father?!” “You don’t understand. I am that Sun Wukong who caused a ruckus in heaven 500 years ago. Before I went up to heaven, I traveled all over the four continents. At that time, I made it a point to visit all the heroes. Your father is the Bull Demon King, known as the Great Sage Who Pacifies Heaven. He was our big brother. There was also a Flood Dragon Demon King, called the Great Sage Who Subdues the Sea. He was second. Third was the Roc Demon King, known as the Great Sage Who Roils Heaven. Fourth was the Lion Camel Demon King, called the Great Sage Who Moves Mountains. No. 5 was the Macaque Spirit King, the Great Sage Who Commands the Winds. No. 6 was the Marmoset Spirit King, the Great Sage Who Drives the Gods. I was the Great Sage Equal to Heaven. Because of my small stature, I was No. 7. When the seven of us were hanging out, you weren’t even born yet.” But Red Boy refused to believe him, and instead stabbed at him with the spear. Wukong quickly dodged the thrust, raised his rod, and cursed, “You little beast! Show some respect to your elders! Take this!” And so the two now leaped into the air and started going at it. After 20 exchanges, even though there wasn’t a winner, Wukong was clearly on the offensive. Watching this, Zhu Bajie thought to himself, “If that monkey lures that demon into a mistake and smacks him down, then I wouldn’t have a chance to get a piece of the credit.” So he now hoisted his rake and flew into the sky as well. He swung his rake at Red Boy’s head. Red Boy was intimidated and quickly fell back. Wukong and Bajie gave chase. When they arrived back at the cave entrance, they saw Red Boy standing on the cart in the center, holding his spear in one hand, while making a fist with the other. As he saw his foes approach, Red Boy now punched his own nose twice. Zhu Bajie laughed, “You scoundrel. Have you no shame? Are you breaking your own nose and making it bleed so you can give yourself a bloody face and go somewhere to accuse us of beating you up?” But Red Boy now uttered an incantation, and then breathed fire from his mouth and smoke from his nose. In the blink of an eye, a blaze ignited, and all five carts caught on fire. Red Boy breathed out a few more sprays of flames, and a roaring fire and thick smoke now engulfed the area in front of the cave, blocking out heaven and earth. “Brother, this is trouble!” Bajie said in a panic. “This fire is going to roast me alive. He’s going to put some seasoning on me and eat me! Let’s get out of here!” And so he ditched Sun Wukong and ran back across the ravine. Wukong, meanwhile, uttered a fire-repellent spell and charged into the flames in search of Red Boy. Seeing him come through the fire, Red Boy breathed out a few more mouthfuls of fire, even more intense than before. This proved to be too much even for Wukong. He couldn’t even see the road in front of him, so he had no choice but to leap out of the fire and fly away. Once Red Boy was certain Wukong was gone, he retrieved his fire carts and led his lackeys back inside his cave, shutting the door behind them and throwing a feast to celebrate. Sun Wukong and Zhu Bajie retreating from Red Boy’s fire attack. Meanwhile, Sun Wukong landed back on the other side of the ravine. There, he heard Bajie and Sha Zeng talking inside the pine forest. Wukong went to them and chided Bajie, “You dum-dum! You fled in fear of the demon’s fire and left me by myself. What if something had happened to me?!” Bajie laughed, “Brother, that demon called you out. You really don’t know which way the wind is blowing. As the ancients said, ‘Those who recognize the times are called heroes.’ That demon refused to recognize you as his relative, and yet you insisted. And then when you were fighting, he unleashed that vicious fire, and yet you refused to flee and tried to keep fighting!” “How were that demon’s fighting skills compared to mine?” Wukong asked. “He’s no match for you,” Bajie said. “And his skills with the spear?” “Also not your equal,” Bajie said. “I saw he was faltering, so I went to lend you a hand. But who knew he would retreat and then start that fire.” “See? You shouldn’t have come,” Wukong said. “If I had fought him for a few more exchanges, I would’ve landed a blow.” While the two of them were arguing, Sha Zeng leaned against a pine tree and almost doubled over laughing. Wukong asked him, “Brother, what are you laughing about? Do you have some skill that can capture that demon and break his fire? If so, that would be to the benefit of all of us. As the saying goes, ‘Many hairs make a ball.’ If you can capture that demon and save master, then you would have done a great service.” “Oh I have no skills, and I can’t tame that demon,” Sha Zeng said. “I was just laughing at how worked up you two are.” “What do you mean?” “That demon can’t beat you in a fight. He just has the aid of his fire power. If you listen to me and counter his magic according to the five elements, it wouldn’t be difficult at all.” Wukong laughed and agreed, “Brother, you’re quite right. In our haste, we forgot about that. According to the logic of the elements, we should counter fire with water. If we go find some magic water to put out that demonic fire, we can save master.” “Exactly,” Sha Zeng said. “Let’s not delay.” “Ok, you two stay here, but don’t fight him. Let me go to the East Sea to borrow some forces and water from the dragon king, so we can extinguish the demonic fire and capture that insolent demon.” “Brother, go without worry. We’ll hold the fort,” Bajie said. So Sun Wukong somersaulted into the air and flew to the East Sea. He cast a water-parting spell and dived in. He ran into a Yaksha spirit who was patrolling the seas. The Yaksha quickly reported to the Dragon King of the East Sea, Ao (4) Guang (3), in the Water Crystal Palace. The dragon king went out with his family and troops to welcome Wukong and invited him into the palace. Once they sat down, Wukong recounted the trouble he was having and said, “We figured that water can extinguish fire, so I’m here to ask you for some water. Give me a heavy rain to douse the demonic flames and save the Tang monk.” “Great Sage, you’re mistaken,” the dragon king said. “If you want rain, you shouldn’t be asking me.” “You’re the dragon king of the seas. You’re in charge of rain. If not you, then who should I be asking?” “Although I’m in charge of the rain, I dare not proceed on my own. I must have a decree from the Jade Emperor, instructing me on where, when, and how much. I also need the official documents to mobilize the Thunder God, the Lightning Mother, the Wind God, and the Cloud Acolyte. As the saying goes, ‘A dragon can’t move without clouds.’ ” “Oh I don’t need wind, cloud, thunder, or lightning; I just need some rain water to put out the fire,” Wukong said. “Great Sage, even if you don’t need those things, I alone am not enough to help you. How about I gather my brothers to lend you a hand?” “Where are your brothers?” “They’re the dragon kings of the South, North, and West Seas.” “If I have to visit all three of those other seas, I might as well go to heaven to ask the Jade Emperor for a decree,” Wukong chuckled. “No need for you to go anywhere. I’ll sound my drums and gongs, and my brothers will come here.” Wukong agreed, so the dragon king Ao Guang had his men beat the drums and ring the gongs. Soon, the other three dragon kings showed up and asked what’s up. Ao Guang told them Sun Wukong was there to ask for some rain to beat a demon. After they paid their respects and Wukong brought them all up to speed, the dragon kings set off with their armies.  Sun Wukong led them back to Dead Pine Ravine and told them, “This is the demon’s lair. You all stay in the air and conceal yourselves for now. Let me go fight that demon. If I beat him, then you don’t need to intervene. But if I lose to them, there’s also no need to intervene. But if he starts a fire, on my signal, make it rain.” Wukong then descended into the pine forest and found Zhu Bajie and Sha Zeng. He told them, “I’ve brought the dragon kings. It might be a huge downpour. You two must take care and not let the luggage get drenched. I’ll go fight that demon.” Wukong now leaped across the ravine, went to the cave, and demanded that Red Boy come out. When the lackeys reported this to Red Boy, he roared with laughter. “That monkey must not have been harmed by the fire, so he’s come back. Alright, this time, I will not spare him. I must scorch his skin and flesh!” So he grabbed his spear and told his lackeys to push out the fire carts like before. He went outside and asked Wukong why he was back, and Wukong was like, uhh, for my master.  “You monkey!” Red Boy scoffed. “You are so stubborn. That Tang monkey may be your master, but he’s going to be my meal. You still think you can get him back? Dream on!” Wukong was irate and attacked with his golden rod. Red Boy hoisted his spear and they went at it again. They fought for 20 exchanges again, and Red Boy, seeing that he wasn’t going to win in a fight, again punched himself in the nose twice and started spraying fire. As the flames spread, Wukong shouted, “Where are the dragon kings?!” Up in the sky, Ao Guang and his brothers started spraying water from their mouths. A heavy rain now poured from the heavens.  Down it pours—loose and sweeping,then thick and heavy. Loose and sweeping,like stars falling from the edge of the sky;thick and heavy,like overturned waves crashing at the mouth of the sea. At first the drops were no bigger than fists;soon after, it was as if vats were dumped and basins overturned. The flood soaks the ground till it shines duck-head green;high mountains are washed into Buddha-head blue. From ravines the water flies like jade for a thousand yards;in mountain streams the waves surge like ten thousand strands of silver. At the three-forked crossroads all is filled to the brim;in the nine-bending creek the waters gradually level out. This is when Tang Monk meets calamity and a divine dragon comes to aid—tipping over the Milky River itself,pouring it down upon the world below. And yet, despite the poetic deluge, the flames did not recede in the slightest. As it turns out, the dragon kings’ rain could only put out mortal fires. But Red Boy’s fire was a sacred magical flame, impervious to this rain. In fact, it got stronger, as if the rain water was actually oil.  Wukong now cast a fire-repellent spell again and charged into the flames to find Red Boy. But he ran smack dab into a stream of smoke from Red Boy’s mouth. Remember that, owing his time roasting in Laozi’s cauldron, Wukong had developed fiery golden eyes that were powerful but also came with the Achille’s heel of being sensitive to smoke. His eyes watered up, and Wukong had no choice but to turn and fly away.  While Red Boy went back into his cave, Wukong was engulfed in flames and smoke. He had no choice but to plunge into the ravine to try to put out the fire. While the flames went out, the combination of the heat of the fire and the cold of the water left Wukong lifeless. Seeing this from the air, the dragon kings hurriedly stopped the rain and shouted to the other two disciples, “Grand Marshal of the Celestial Stream, Curtain-Raising Captain! Stop hiding in the woods! Go find your brother!” Bajie and Sha Zeng heard this and rushed out from the forest with horse and luggage in tow. They searched along the ravine and saw a body floating down from the head of the stream. Sha Zeng leaped into the water and carried Wukong back on to the bank. Wukong was curled up stiffly, soaked through, cold all over, and showing no signs of life. To find out the fate of Sun Wukong, and his captured master, tune in to the next episode of the Chinese Lore Podcast. Thanks for listening! Music in This Episode “Luỹ Tre Xanh Ngát Đầu Làng (Guzheng) – Vietnam BGM” by VPRODMUSIC_Asia_BGM “Ravines” by Elphnt (from YouTube audio library) The post Journey 043: Family Drama first appeared on Chinese Lore Podcast.

A child gives the pilgrims the runaround. Subscribe Transcript Characters Music Transcript Welcome to the Chinese Lore Podcast, where I retell classic Chinese stories in English. This is episode 42 of Journey to the West. Last time, Sun Wukong revived the dead king of the Wuji Kingdom, and then the pilgrims took him back to his palace, where they confronted the demon that had murdered him and assumed his likeness and his throne. With his cover blown, the demon fled. Sun Wukong chased after him. They fought in the air for a bit, but that demon was no match for Wukong, so he retraced his flight path and fled back into the palace. He charged back into the main hall, where the king, the officials, and the pilgrims were waiting, twisted his body and assumed another form. A moment later, Sun Wukong charged in, and to his surprise, he was confronted with two versions of his master, San Zang, both standing in front of the steps to the throne room, both looking exactly alike. Wukong raised his rod and took aim at one of them, but that San Zang shouted, “Wukong, no! It’s me!” Wukong then shifted his aim toward the other San Zang, but that version also shouted, “Wukong, no! It’s me!” Ah crap. Now, you would think Sun Wukong’s fiery golden demon-detecting eyes shouldn’t have a problem telling human from demon like they always do, but plot convenience demands otherwise in this case. With the two San Zangs looking, acting, and sounding exactly alike, Wukong was at a loss. He asked his fellow disciples, Zhu Bajie and Sha Zeng, which was which. But Bajie said, “You were making all that racket in the sky. I looked away for a second, and the next thing I knew, there were two masters. I don’t know which one is real and which one is fake.” Wukong then uttered an incantation and summoned the 18 gods who were tasked with protecting San Zang in secret, as well as the local earth and mountain spirits. He told them, “I’m trying to tame a demon, but he’s taken my master’s form and looks just like him. Since you all have a secret understanding, you go ask my master to go up into the throne room, and then I’ll capture the demon.” But the demon overheard this, so he quickly ran up into the throne room. Sun Wukong thought the one left standing at the bottom of the steps was the demon, so he raised his rod and made for the real San Zang. Thankfully, all the protector gods intervened and told him that the demon had preemptively gone into the throne room. Wukong pursued the demon into the room, but then the demon dashed back out, grabbed San Zang, ran into the crowd and did a little spinaroo with him, and once again, no one could tell which was which. This left Wukong in a fit, but then he saw Zhu Bajie chuckling to the side. Wukong raged, “You useless moron! Now you have two masters to order you around! Why are you so amused?!” Bajie laughed, “Oh brother, you call me dumb, but you’re even dumber than me. What’s so hard about finding out which is the real master? Just put up with a headache for a bit, and ask the two masters to recite the band-tightening spell. Sha Zeng and I will each take hold of one of them. Whichever one doesn’t know the spell must be the demon. What’s so hard about this?” “Brother, bless you!” Wukong exclaimed “Only three people know that spell. It originated from the Buddha, who taught it to the Bodhisattva Guanyin, who then passed it on to my master. No one else knows it. Alright, masters, please recite the spell.” So the real San Zang started muttering the incantation, and Sun Wukong’s head started hurting. When it was the demon’s turn, he of course didn’t know it, so he just mumbled nonsense and was immediately found out.  “This must be the demon!” Zhu Bajie shouted as he raised his rake to attack. But in order to raise his rake, he had to first loosen his grasp on the imposter, and in that moment, the demon took off again, flying into the air. Bajie let out a shout and flew after him. Sha Zeng also took out his Buddhist staff and joined the pursuit. San Zang stopped reciting his spell, and Wukong, shrugging off the headache, took to the air as well as all three disciples surrounded the demon and engaged in a dogged fight. Bajie and Sha Zeng blocked the demon in, and Sun Wukong soared above them and was about to deliver the killing blow when suddenly, an auspicious cloud approached from the Northeast and a voice called out, “Sun Wukong, stop!” Wukong looked and saw that it was the Bodhisattva Manjusiri, or Wenshu if we go by his Chinese name. He is one of the Four Great Bodhisattvas of Chinese Buddhism. Those of you who listened to my Water Margin series might remember that when one of that novel’s more colorful characters, Lu Zhishen, became a monk to hide from the law, he did so at a well-known monastery dedicated to this Bodhisattva. So anyway, Wukong recognized Wenshu, so he put away his rod, greeted the Bodhisattva, and asked what he was doing there. Wenshu said, “I’ve come to help you tame this demon.” Wukong thanked him, and Wenshu took out a magic mirror. This was a Demon-Reflecting Mirror, able to reveal a demon’s true form and freeze him in place. Wukong then called Zhu Bajie and Sha Zeng over, and they all looked in the mirror. They saw that the demon was in fact a ferocious blue-maned lion, and Wukong recognized it as Wenshu’s mount. “Bodhisattva, how did your lion come to be a demon here? Why did you not domesticate him?” Wukong asked. “He didn’t escape,” Wenshu explained. “He was sent here by the Buddha’s decree.” “That beast turned into a demon and usurped the throne, and he had a decree from the Buddha?!” Wukong exclaimed. “Considering how much suffering I’ve had to endure protecting the Tang monk, where is my decree?!” “You don’t understand,” Wenshu said. “This monarch of the Wuji Kingdom had always been kind to Buddhist monks, so the Buddha sent me here to take him to the West to become a golden arhat. I couldn’t reveal my true identity, so I turned into a mortal monk and asked him for some food. But after I asked him some tough questions that he couldn’t answer, he thought I was a wicked man, so he tied me up and threw me into the palace moat for three days and three nights. Thankfully, some arhats rescued me. When I informed the Buddha, he dispatched this demon to come here and push the king into the well to soak for three years as payback for the watery calamity he put me in for three days. ‘Every mouthful we eat or drink is predestined,’ as they say. But now that you all are here, you have rendered service.” But Wukong was not satisfied. He said, “You may have settled your score with the king, but how many people has that demon harmed?” “He hasn’t harmed anyone,” Wenshu said. “Ever since he took over, in these three years, the weather has been fair, the country stable, and the people peaceful. So what harm has he done?” “That may be, but he has been sleeping with the women of the harem, sullying their bodies and violating the rules of morality. Is that not harm?” “Oh he hasn’t sullied them at all. He’s a castrated lion.” Zhu Bajie reached under the lion’s nether regions and checked, and he laughed, “This demon is like a teetotaler with a red nose. He’s been saddled with an undeserved reputation.” “Alright, in that case, you can just take him with you,” Wukong relented and told Wenshu. “But if you hadn’t come, I would not have spared his life!” Wenshu now muttered an incantation and shouted, “Beast, show your true form now!” The demon immediately reverted to his true lion form. Wenshu put a lotus flower on the lion to tame it, hopped on its back, and flew off on a beam of light. Wukong, Bajie, and Sha Zeng then flew back to the palace, where they were greeted by a grateful king and his equally grateful officials. Wukong then recounted how Wenshu had tamed the beast and hey, you know what? The demon that killed you, impersonated you, and stole your throne for three years really wasn’t that bad. Quite a good king for everyone else, actually.  Just then, the officer watching the palace gate came to report that another four monks were seeking an audience. Bajie panicked and said to Wukong, “Brother, did that demon use some trick to impersonate the Bodhisattva Wenshu to fool us, and now he’s turned into a monk to come fight us in a battle of wits?” “That’s nonsense!” Wukong scoffed. “Let’s see what these monks want.” The visitors were summoned, and they turned out to be monks from the royal monastery where the pilgrims had stayed. They presented the royal regalia that Wukong had told them to clean. Wukong was delighted, and told the king to change out of his lay brother’s clothes and back into his kingly attire. He then ascended the throne, and the prince returned his white jade scepter. But the king refused to sit down on his throne. Instead, he kneeled in the center of the hall, wept, and told the pilgrims, “I was dead for three years, but you masters have brought me back to life. How can I dare to proclaim myself king again? One of you should assume the throne, and I am willing to move out of the city with my family and live as mere civilians.” But San Zang of course refused. The king then asked Sun Wukong to take the throne, but Wukong chuckled, “To tell you all the truth, if I wanted to be king, I could’ve been king for all the kingdoms and empires under heaven. But we’re used to the lazy life of monks. To be a king, I’d have to grow my hair out, and I won’t get any sleep. I would be restless with every report from the borders or every natural disaster. How can we get used to that? No, you go back to being king, and we’ll remain monks and keep working on our cultivation.” So the king relented, sat down on his throne, and received homage from his court. He declared an amnesty in his kingdom, and bestowed rewards on the monks from the royal monastery. Then, he held a huge feast for the pilgrims. He also summoned artists to paint their likenesses, to be kept in worship in the throne room. Having set things right in the Wuji Kingdom, the pilgrims were ready to get back on the road. The king, his family, and the court officials presented them with mountains of treasures, gold, silver, and silk. But San Zang declined it all, asking only for their travel papers and telling Wukong to get the horse ready to go immediately. So the king instead asked San Zang to sit in his royal carriage, while he, his officials, his queen, and his prince accompanied the carriage on foot all the way out of the city. Only then did they let San Zang get out. “Elders, on your way back from fetching scriptures, you must stop in at my kingdom once more,” the king said. “I shall obey,” San Zang replied. The king, with tears in his eyes, then took his leave and led his entourage back into the city, while San Zang and company resumed their journey West. In the blink of an eye, a couple weeks had passed. One day, the pilgrims came upon — what else? — another imposing mountain. San Zang, as usual, was alarmed and told Wukong, hey we need to be careful. But Wukong, as usual, laughed it off. So San Zang pushed his worries to the back of his mind and spurred on his horse, trotting to the foot of the mountain.  There, the pilgrims sized up the mountain, and it looked treacherous. Its peaks reached for the sky, while its chasms plunged toward hell. Clouds seemed to always billow, and black mist hung persistently. The nooks and crannies seemed to conceal spirits and demons. Monkeys and deer roamed, tigers and dragons lurked, and the sound of cave doors opening sent birds and wild beasts flying and darting.  As the pilgrims looked on, a red cloud emerged from a crevice in the mountain and rose into the sky, where it seemed to condense into a ball of flames. Sun Wukong was alarmed. He rushed toward the horse, grabbed San Zang by the leg, and pushed him off the saddle, shouting, “Brothers, stop! A demon approaches!” Zhu Bajie hurriedly grabbed his rake, and Sha Zeng brandished his staff, as the disciples surrounded San Zang. But a moment later, Wukong looked up again and saw that the red cloud and fire ball had all but dissipated.  “Master, you can mount the horse and get back on the road now,” he told San Zang. “But you just said a demon was approaching,” San Zang said. “How can we travel?” “Just now, I saw a red cloud rise from the ground into the air, where it turned into a ball of fire. I figured that was a demon. But then the red cloud quickly dissipated. It must have been a demon just passing through and it didn’t dare to harm us. So we can keep moving.” Zhu Bajie chuckled, “Brother, you and your slick tongue. A demon who’s just ‘passing through’. Ha!” “What do you know?!” Wukong scoffed. “If the demon lord of some cave was holding a feast, he would invite demons from all the nearby caves and mountains, and they would come from all directions. But they would just be focused on going to the banquet and have no intention of harming people. That’s why I said it’s a demon passing through.” Well, regardless, San Zang knew they had to cross the mountain to continue their journey, so he got back on the horse and continued forward. After traveling for a bit, he suddenly heard someone shouting, “Help me!” “Disciples, where could that shouting be coming from, here in the middle of the mountain?” he asked with surprise. “Oh master, just keep going; don’t worry about it,” Wukong said. “Yes, but …” “Don’t worry about other people’s business; just keep moving.” San Zang relented and kept going. But within less than a mile, he again heard someone shouting for help. He said to Wukong, “That doesn’t sound like a demon. If it were a demon, they might shout, but there would be no echo. We’ve heard this cry for help twice now; it must be someone in trouble. We should go save them.” Umm … dude, when has that EVER been true of any demon in disguise pleading for “help”? But I guess there would be no novel if San Zang would just listen to Sun Wukong and ignore every shady plea for help on the way West.  Wukong, though, tried again to dissuade San Zang. “Master, put away your compassion for today. You can be compassionate again once we’ve crossed this mountain. You know the saying about clinging to grass and attaching to trees: Things can cultivate themselves into spirits. Most kinds are ok, but there is one exception—the python. If such a snake cultivates itself for many long years, it can become a malevolent spirit, able even to know a person’s childhood name. If it hides among the grass or in a mountain hollow and calls out to someone, all is well if the person does not answer. But if he answers even once, the creature will seize his vital soul. That very night it will follow him and, without fail, take his life. So keep moving. As the ancients said, “If you escape, give thanks to the gods.” You must not listen to this cry for help.” Thus prodded, San Zang listened to Wukong and kept riding on. Wukong, meanwhile, thought to himself, “That damn demon just keeps calling out. Where is he? Let me make sure he never comes face to face with my master.” So he told Sha Zeng, “Lead the horse and go slowly. I need to relieve myself.” Once San Zang and company went a few steps ahead of him, Wukong uttered an incantation for moving mountains and shortening distances. He pointed behind him with his golden rod, and in the blink of an eye, the pilgrims had surged past the peak and left the demon far behind. Wukong then caught up to the rest of the party and continued forward. But before long, San Zang heard the cry for help again, this time coming from behind them. “Disciples, the person in trouble is cursed with bad luck. We must’ve passed him,” he said. “You can hear him calling from behind us.” Bajie chimed in, “They were in front of us not that long ago. The wind must have changed directions.” “Who cares which way the wind is blowing, just keep moving,” Wukong said. So everyone in the party just kept their mouths shut and kept moving, wishing they could cross the mountain in one stride. As they were walking, Wukong happened to look up, and he saw another red cloud hovering overhead.  “Brothers, be on guard! The demon is coming again!” he shouted as he again shoved San Zang off the horse. Bajie and Sha Zeng again hurriedly gripped their weapons and surrounded San Zang. But in the next second, Wukong looked up again and saw that the red cloud had once again dissipated. So he asked San Zang to get back in the saddle and keep going. But San Zang had had enough. He asked Wukong, “You just said the demon was coming again, so why are you telling me to keep going now?” “It’s still that demon who’s passing through,” Wukong said. “He wouldn’t dare to mess with us.” San Zang now scolded him angrily, “You damn monkey; you just keep jerking me around! When there were demons, you said all was fine. But then when we’re in a peaceful spot, you keep scaring me by shouting about demons every other step. Whether it’s real or fake, you keep pushing me off the horse. And then you say it’s some demon that’s just passing through?! If you make me fall and get injured, what then?!” As San Zang grumbled, Wukong replied, “Master, don’t blame me. If you hurt your hand or foot, that can be treated. But if you get abducted by a demon, where would we find you?” But that just made San Zang even angrier, as he threatened to read the band-tightening spell. He only relented after Sha Zeng pleaded time and again on Wukong’s behalf. Just as San Zang was climbing back into the saddle, he heard another shout of “Elder, save me!” San Zang looked up and saw a young boy, almost naked, tied up and hanging from a tree. “Damn monkey, you’re too lazy!” San Zang chided Wukong. “You have no kindness in your heart at all! You’re always just thinking about acting out and committing violence. I told you it sounded like a person, but you kept insisting it was a demon. But look! Isn’t that a human being that’s hanging from the tree?” With San Zang getting so crossed with him, Wukong acquiesced, partly because there was no opening for him to do anything, and partly because he was afraid San Zang might recite the band-tightening spell again. So he just lowered his head and made no reply.  San Zang now went to the foot of the tree, pointed up at the boy, and asked, “Whose child are you? Why are you hanging here? Tell me, and I can save you.” “Oh elder, to the West of this mountain, there is a Dead Pine Ravine. Next to the stream there is a village. I’m from there. My great grandfather’s last name was Hong (2) — which by the way means red. Because he had great wealth, he got the nickname Millionaire Hong. He has been dead for a long time now, and his property was passed to my father. But in recent years he has thrown a lot of our money away, so he’s nicknamed Hundred Thousand Hong. He liked to make friends with heroes of the land and to lend his money out at interest. But then crooks swindled him and made off with his money. So then he swore an oath to never lend a single coin again. The people who had needed to lend money then had no recourse but to band together into a violent gang. They stormed our house, took all our wealth, killed my father, and abducted my mother because she was attractive. My mother couldn’t bear to leave me, so she carried me in her arms as she accompanied the bandits to their mountain lair. But then, at their lair, they wanted to kill me. Because my mother pleaded bitterly with them, they decided to not kill me with a blade, but to leave me hanging on this tree to die of cold and starvation. Then, those bandits disappeared to who knows where with my mother. I’ve been hanging here for three days and three nights, and no one passed through here. But I must have accumulated some good karma in a previous life, to be fortunate enough to encounter you. Elder, if you can exercise great compassion, save my life, and deliver me home, even if I have to sell myself, I will repay your kindness. I will never dare to forget it even when I’m buried under the sand.” Hearing that sob story, San Zang told Zhu Bajie to go let the boy down and untie him. Just as dum-dum was about to do so, Sun Wukong couldn’t help it anymore and shouted at the boy, “Damn beast! I see right through you. Don’t try to pull one over on us! Since your home was raided, your father killed, and your mother abducted, then who are we going to leave you with? And how will you thank us? This is all lies!” The boy wept and said, “Elder, even though my parents and possessions are gone, we still have some farm land and some relatives.” “What relatives?” Wukong pressed. “My other grandfather lives to the south of the mountain. My aunt’s home is north of the ridge. Li (3) the Fourth, who lives at the head of the ravine is married to my aunt. Hong the Third from the woods is a distant uncle. I also have cousins who live around the village. If you are willing to save me, once we get to the village and meet my relatives, I will tell them all about how you rescued me. We’ll sell some of our land to repay you.” Zhu Bajie now took hold of Wukong’s arm and said, “Brother, why are you interrogating a little boy? There is reason in what he’s saying. Those robbers could only take his movable possessions, but they couldn’t have taken his house or fields. Once he tells his relatives how we saved him, no matter how big an appetite we have, we’d never be able to eat all they can offer. Just save him.” And so, Bajie took out a monk’s knife and cut the ropes, letting the boy down. The boy, with tears streaming from his eyes, kowtowed in front of San Zang’s horse. San Zang told him, “Mount my horse, and we’ll take you home.” “Elder, my arms and legs are numb from being hung up, and my back hurts too. Besides, I’m a simple peasant. I don’t know how to ride a horse.” So San Zang asked Bajie to carry the boy. But the boy, wiping his eyes, said, “Elder, my skin is too tender after being frozen, and this master’s mane is going to prick me. I don’t dare to have him carry me.” “Ok, then Sha Zeng can carry you,” San Zang said. But the boy quickly said, “Elder, those bandits all had painted faces and fake beards. They look like this elder. I’m scared out of my mind. I don’t dare to have him carry me either.” By the process of elimination, then, it was up to Sun Wukong, who accepted the task with a smile. The boy was also eager with that arrangement. Wukong gave the boy a little lift to test out how heavy he was, and found him surprisingly light. “Damn demon, you’re destined to die today,” Wukong chuckled. “How dare you use your tricks in front of me? I know you’re one of those.” “Elder, I came from a good family. I just ran into a calamity. What do you mean one of those?” “If you’re really human, how can you be so light?” “I’m a kid.” “How old are you?” “Seven.” “Even at seven, you should weigh more than this.” “I wasn’t breastfed as a baby.” “Alright, whatever. I’ll carry you, but if you want to pee or poop, tell me first.” So San Zang, accompanied by Zhu Bajie and Sha Zeng, traveled ahead, while Sun Wukong followed with the boy on his back. Hmm, didn’t we just see this a few episodes back when he was carrying the demon Silver Horns in disguise?  Well, get ready for more recycled script, because as he walked, Wukong was holding a grudge against San Zang. He thought to himself, “It’s hard enough just to walk across this treacherous mountain, and yet he wants me to carry this boy? Even if this boy is actually human, with his parents gone, who would we hand him off to? I should just kill him instead.” So yeah, that’s basically a straight lift from the Silver Horns episode. As he was thinking this, Sun Wukong suddenly felt the load on his back increase a thousand fold. He laughed, “Oh son, you’re using some magic to try to pin me down?!” As he spoke, Wukong furiously pulled the boy off his back, smashed him against a boulder, turning him into a meat patty. But he wasn’t done. Wukong then ripped the boy’s limbs off and left his carcass in a torn up pile on the side of the road. Yeesh! This is definitely not one of the more children-friendly chapters. Sun Wukong dispatching the boy he was supposed to carry. Just then, a powerful gale whipped up, sending rocks and sand flying into the air. Moments later, the wind stopped, and the sun reappeared. Wukong caught up to the rest of the party. He found Zhu Bajie struggling for breath at the foot of a cliff, Sha Zeng kneeling in front of a hill, the luggage cast aside on the road, the horse trembling and neighing, and its saddle noticeably devoid of San Zang. Ah crap! To see who’s got a hold of him this time, tune in to the next episode of the Chinese Lore Podcast. Thanks for listening! Music in This Episode “Luỹ Tre Xanh Ngát Đầu Làng (Guzheng) – Vietnam BGM” by VPRODMUSIC_Asia_BGM “Ravines” by Elphnt (from YouTube audio library) “Loneliest Road in America (US 50)” by Jesse Gallagher (from YouTube audio library) The post Journey 042: Boy Oh Boy first appeared on Chinese Lore Podcast.

Zhu Bajie gets even with Sun Wukong, and then gets some help with the luggage. Subscribe Transcript Characters Music Transcript Welcome to the Chinese Lore Podcast, where I retell classic Chinese stories in English. This is episode 41 of Journey to the West. Last time, we left off with Sun Wukong and Zhu Bajie having just retrieved the body of the murdered king of the Wuji Kingdom. But Bajie was holding a grudge against Wukong because the latter had woken him up in the middle of the night and made him lug a corpse around through a combination of trickery and threats. So Bajie was going to get even by telling their master San Zang that Wukong could revive the dead king without having to go to the underworld.  Soon, they had arrived back at the mountain monastery where their party was staying. They went in and laid the corpse in front of the meditation hall that housed the pilgrims. San Zang had been unable to sleep while the two of them were out recovering the body. He was chatting with the third disciple, Sha Zeng, when he heard Bajie call for him to come out and have a look. “What do you want me to see?” San Zang asked as he got up. “Oh it’s Wukong’s granddaddy; the monkey had me carry him back,” Bajie said. “You damn dum-dum!” Wukong snapped. “How would I have a grandfather?!” “Well, if he wasn’t your grandfather, why did you make me carry him all this way?” Bajie snapped back. San Zang and Sha Zeng came out. They saw that the king’s visage had not changed with time and looked as though he were still alive. San Zang said with sadness, “Oh your highness, in which previous life time did you make an enemy. And to encounter him again in this lifetime, to be murdered, to lose your wife and child, and to have none of your officials be aware of it. And with your family having been in the dark, you haven’t had anyone to offer incense and tea to you.” As he spoke, San Zang couldn’t help but start to weep, but Bajie chuckled, “Master, what’s it to you that he’s dead? He’s not YOUR ancestor, so why are you weeping over him?!” “Pupil, a monk should make compassion his core essence. How can you be so cold-hearted?” “I’m not cold-hearted. It’s just that brother Wukong told me he could bring this guy back to life. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have carried him back.” Taken in by Bajie’s words, San Zang said to Wukong, “If you have a way to revive this king, then as the saying goes, ‘Saving a life is worth more than building a seven-story pagoda.’ And it would be better than us just praying to the Buddha.” “Master, how can you believe that dum-dum?” Wukong scoffed. “After someone dies, once 49 days have elapsed, they would’ve finished undergoing the punishments of the living and been reincarnated. He’s been dead for three years. How can I revive him?!” San Zang was ready to leave it at that, but Bajie wasn’t. He cut in and said, “Master, don’t be fooled by that monkey. He must be a little muddle-headed. You should recite the band-tightening spell and make him revive the king.” San Zang listened to him and started to recite the spell. Unable to bear the headache, Wukong pleaded, “Master, stop reciting the spell! I’ll revive him!” “How will you do it?” San Zang asked. “I’ll have to go to the underworld and find out which of the kings of hell has his soul, and get it back from him.” Bajie, however, cut in again. “Master, don’t believe him. He told me he didn’t need to go to the underworld, that he had the skills to revive the king while staying in the world of the living.” Believing him again, San Zang resumed reciting the spell. Wukong hurriedly said, “Fine, fine, I’ll revive him in the world of the living!” “Don’t stop, master, just keep reciting the spell,” Bajie egged on San Zang. “You dum-dum! Why are you making master curse me?” Wukong fumed at Bajie. Zhu Bajie now fell over laughing. “Oh brother! You only figured that you could play tricks on me; you never thought that I could return the favor!” “Master, stop reciting the spell! I’ll revive the king in the world of the living!” Wukong begged San Zang. “How will you do it in the world of the living?” San Zang asked. “I’ll fly to heaven to see Laozi and ask him for one of his Nine-Turn Soul-Restoring Pills. That’ll revive the king.” San Zang was satisfied with that answer and told Wukong to hurry up. Wukong said, “It’s 3 a.m. now. By the time I get back, it’s going to be light out. It’s unseemly for the king to lie out here all alone. Someone must watch him and weep over him.” “Oh here we go!” Bajie grumbled. “This monkey must want me to cry.” “If you don’t, then I wouldn’t be able to revive him.” “Brother, you go on your way, and I’ll take care of the crying.” “Now, there are several types of crying,” Wukong said. “If you just open your mouth and shout, that’s called howling. When you wrench a few tears out, that’s called wailing. Only when you cry with real tears and with genuine feeling in your heart can it truly be called a howling, wailing, grief-stricken cry.” “Well then, let me show you my cry,” Bajie said. He found a scrap of paper, rolled it up and poked it in his nostrils a couple times, making his nose run. His eyes then got watery, and he started to cry. With tears flowing from his eyes and saliva dripping from his mouth, he babbled incessantly about this and that, acting like someone in mourning. He was so convincing, in fact, that even San Zan started to shed some tears. Wukong laughed, “That’s exactly the way you need to cry; now don’t stop. Don’t trick me into going and then stop crying. I can hear you. If you keep crying, then all’s well. But if you stop, I’ll beat you 20 times!” Bajie laughed as well and told him, “Go on! Once I start crying, I can keep it up for two days!” Sha Zeng now added some atmosphere by lighting a few sticks of incense, which made Wukong chuckle, “Great! Only with everyone showing some sincerity can I succeed.” Wukong then soared into the night sky and made his way up to Laozi’s palace. He found Laozi sitting in his pill refinery, fanning the flames of his cauldron with his young acolytes. As soon as he saw Wukong, Laozi said to his acolytes with alarm, “Be on your guard. That pill thief is here again!” Wukong bowed and said, “Hey old man. What nonsense is this? Why are you wary of me? I don’t do that stuff anymore.” “You monkey! When you turned heaven upside down 500 years ago, you ate a countless number of my magic pills. And then when you were captured, I put you in my cauldron for 49 days, going through god knows how much coal. You were fortunate to escape and now you’ve turned to Buddhism and are protecting the Tang monk on his pilgrimage. Last time I saw you, it was on Flat-Top Mountain, where you had tamed the demons but tried to keep my treasures. What are you doing here today?” “Look, last time I didn’t hesitate to return your treasures, so why do you still not trust me?” Wukong asked. “Why did you slip into my palace instead of heading West?” Laozi pressed. So Wukong recounted their adventures with the dead king, and then said, “My master wants me to resurrect the king without going to the underworld to fetch his soul. I figured there was no other way except to come to you. Please take pity and give me a thousand or so of your Nine-Turn Soul-Restoring Pills so I can revive him.” “What nonsense!” Laozi scoffed. “You want a thousand pills? Are you going to eat them like rice?! This stuff doesn’t grow out of the ground, you know! Get out of here; I don’t have any!” “Ok, I’ll take just a hundred or so,” Wukong said with a laugh.  “I don’t have that many either.” “Just 10 would do then.” “Damn monkey!” Laozi said angrily. “You just don’t give up, do you?! I don’t have any! Get out of here!” “Well, if you really don’t have any, then I’ll go elsewhere,” Wukong said with a smile. “Fine, go! Go!” As Wukong turned to leave, however, a thought suddenly crossed Laozi’s mind. “This monkey is a slippery one. He may say he’s leaving, but he might slip back in here and steal the pills.” So he told his acolytes to call Wukong back and told him, “You’re a shady monkey, so I’ll just give you one of my Soul-Restoration Pills.” “Old man, since you know my skills, hurry up and bring out your pills. We’ll split them 40-60, and you can count your blessings. Otherwise, I’ll come back and take them all.” Laozi took out his gourd, turned it upside down and dispensed one single golden pill. He handed it to Wukong and said, “That’s all. Take it and go! Use the pill to resurrect that king, and you can take credit for it.” Taking the pill, Wukong said, “Not so fast. Let me try it first, just in case it’s fake.” So he tossed the pill into his mouth. Laozi hurriedly grabbed him with one hand and conked him on the head with the other, cursing, “Damn monkey! If you swallow that, I’m gonna kill you!” Wukong laughed, “Look how petty you are. Who wants to eat your pill? How much could it be worth? Look, it’s right here!” Turns out, he had just stashed the pill in his cheek pouch. He let Laozi feel the pill through the skin, and that satisfied Laozi, who said, “Fine, be gone! Don’t come bother me again!” Wukong thanked him and flew off. The sun was coming up when he landed back outside the monastery. He could hear Zhu Bajie still wailing as he entered and greeted San Zang. San Zang asked Wukong if he had obtained an elixir, but Bajie cut in and said, “Of course he has. By hook or crook, he would’ve gotten some!” Wukong laughed and told Bajie, “Brother, there’s no need for you here now. Wipe your tears and go cry somewhere else.”  He then instructed Sha Zeng to go fetch some water. Sha Zeng went to the well in the back and brought back half a bowl of water. Wukong took the bowl, spat out the magic pill from his cheek pouch, put it between the lips of the dead king, opened the king’s jaws with his hands, and washed the pill down with the water. An hour later, a gurgling sound arose from the king’s belly, but his body showed no movement. “Master, if this pill can’t revive him, are you going to torture me to death with the band-tightening spell?” Wukong asked.  “How can it not work?” San Zang said. “He has been dead for so long, how could he swallow water if the magic pill isn’t working? The pill has reached his stomach, and his intestines are singing. That means his blood is flowing again. But his vital breath is cut off and can’t extend itself. After soaking in the well for three years, even iron would rust, much less a person. His own vital breath is gone, so someone needs to give him a mouthful of air.” Zhu Bajie rolled up his sleeve and was about to do just that, but San Zang pulled him back and said, “No, let Wukong do it.” So, according to the novel, the reason San Zang wanted Sun Wukong to give mouth-to-mouth was because Zhu Bajie had a history of biting his own pig mother to death and eating people, so his breath was tainted, whereas Sun Wukong grew up cultivating his Dao and eating fruits and such, so his breath was pure.  Sun Wukong gives the dead king some mouth-to-mouth. Wukong stepped forth, put his lips to the king’s, and blew a breath down the king’s throat. With a whoosh, the king came back to life, sat up, fell to his knees and cried out, “Master! I still remember how I pleaded to you last night as a ghost. Who knew that today I would be back in the world of the living!” San Zang hurriedly helped him up and said, “Your highness, I can’t take any credit. You should thank my disciple.” But Wukong chuckled, “Master, cut it out. As the saying goes, ‘One house cannot have two masters.’ It’s fine for you to accept a bow from him.” But San Zang still felt sheepish about it. He helped the king up and they walked back into the meditation hall together, met the rest of the party, and sat down. Just then, the monks in the monastery came by to deliver breakfast, and they were astonished to see the king, sitting there in dripping wet royal regalia. As they whispered amongst themselves, Wukong went outside and told them, “Don’t be suspicious. He is the king of the Wuji Kingdom, your true lord. Three years ago a demon killed him, but I revived him last night. We’re just about to head into the city to set things straight. If breakfast is ready, bring it. We’ll eat and then be on our way.” So the monks brought some hot water for the king to wash up. He then changed out of his royal regalia and put on some monk clothes from the abbot, tied the robes together with a yellow silk cord, and donned a pair of worn monk shoes. The pilgrims then ate breakfast and prepared to head out. Wukong now asked Bajie how heavy their luggage was, and Bajie answered, “Brother, I carry the luggage day in and day out, but I don’t know how much it weighs.” “Divide the load into two,” Wukong told him. “You carry one load and let the king carry the other, and let’s hurry up into the city to do our thing.” Now THAT made Bajie pretty darn happy. “What great luck!” he rejoiced. “I spent all that effort carrying his body back, but now that he’s revived, he can fill in for me.” So Bajie divided the luggage into two loads and borrowed a second shoulder pole from the monastery. Now of course, he saved the lighter load for himself and gave the heavier one to the king. Wukong chuckled and told the king, “Your highness, it must be beneath you to dress this way and carry a load while traveling with us.” The king quickly kneeled and said, “Master, you’re like my parents reborn! I am willing to do anything to serve you and follow you to the West, so what’s carrying a little bit of luggage?” “Oh I don’t need you to follow me to the West,” Wukong said. “But there’s a reason I’m asking you to do this. Just carry the load for 15 miles. Once we enter the city and capture the demon, you’ll go back to being king, and we’ll go back to fetching scripture.” Bajie grumbled, “What? So he’s only carrying it for 15 miles, and then I go back to being an indentured servant?!” “Brother, enough nonsense! Let’s hit the road,” Wukong chided him. So Zhu Bajie and the king led the way with their loads, while Sha Zeng accompanied San Zang, who rode on his horse, and Sun Wukong followed behind. All 500-some monks at the monastery lined up and played music to send them off. Wukong laughed and told them, “No need to see us out. I worry that the court might catch wind of this and it would spoil my plan. Hurry back inside. But, clean that king’s royal robes. Either tonight or tomorrow morning, deliver them into the city, and I’ll ask for some reward money for you.” So the monks went on back, and Wukong caught up to the rest of the pilgrims. Master and disciples now traveled together for half a day and saw a city come into view. “Wukong, that must be the Wuji Kingdom up ahead,” San Zang said. “Indeed,” Wukong replied. “Let’s hurry into the city and carry out our plan.” When they entered the city, they saw a busy, prosperous scene on the streets. They also noticed an impressive palace. San Zang dismounted and told his disciples, “Let’s go into the palace to get our travel papers. That way we don’t need to waste time at the magistrate’s office.” “Quite right,” Wukong agreed. “Let’s all go into the palace. There’s advantage in numbers.” “Ok, but don’t act up,” San Zang cautioned. “Let’s first greet them with civility and decorum befitting the court, and then we’ll say our piece.” “Does that mean we have to kneel to him?” Wukong asked. “Indeed. We have to kowtow.” Well, we know how Sun Wukong feels about bending the knee to anyone, much less a demon.  “Master, that won’t do at all!” he said with a laugh. “It’s not smart to kowtow to him first. Just follow my lead, and I’ll handle it. If he asks anything, let me answer. If I bow, then you all bow. If I kneel, then you all kneel.” So Wukong went in front and headed to the palace entrance. He told the official at the gate, “We’re pilgrims sent by the Great Tang kingdom in the East to go West to see the Buddha and fetch scriptures. We’re here to exchange our travel papers. Please announce us so as to avoid delaying our mission.” The official went in, kneeled in the main hall, and relayed to the fake king that there were  five scripture pilgrims outside. The demon summoned them in. As the pilgrims walked through the palace, the real king couldn’t help but shed a tear as he thought to himself, “Pity! My strong kingdom has been usurped by that demon!” Wukong, though, told him, “Your highness, don’t be sad or it’ll blow our cover. My golden rod is itching to leap out of my ear for some action. We will succeed for sure. I’ll kill the demon and cleanse the evil, and your kingdom will soon belong to you again.” The king obeyed him, wiped away his tears, and followed them to the court. There, two rows of civil and military officials lined up, all looking serious and majestic. The pilgrims, with Wukong at their head, stood in front of the white jade steps and refused to bow. All the officials were taken aback and said, “These monks are too foolish. You’re facing our king. How come you are not bowing or even saying a word of greeting? You’re too rude!” Just then, the demon spoke from the throne, “You monks, where are you from?” Wukong looked up and answered boldly, “We are sent by the Great Tang Kingdom to go West to the Great Thunderclap Temple to see the Buddha and request scriptures. We were passing through here and decided to come exchange our travel papers instead of just passing you by.” The demon said angrily, “So what if you’re from the East?! We don’t send your kingdom any tribute, nor do we have any dealings with it. How dare you refuse to bow to me?!” Wukong laughed and replied, “The East is an ancient, divine state, an elite kingdom. You are a low-level border state. As the old saying goes, ‘The monarch of the large kingdom is the father and lord, while the monarch of the small kingdom is the vassal and son.’ Yet not only did you not welcome us, but you dare to complain that we didn’t bow to you?” The demon was enraged and ordered his officials to seize the pilgrims. The officials were just about to pounce, but Wukong pointed at them and said, “Stop!” Just like that, all the court officials were frozen in their tracks, unable to move. Seeing this, the demon leaped out of his throne and made for the pilgrims himself. Wukong secretly rejoiced, thinking, “Great! That’s exactly what I wanted. Even if his head is made of steel, my rod will leave a hole!” Wukong was just about to go at it with the demon, but someone suddenly leaped out from the side, clutched the demon’s robes, kneeled, and said, “Father, please calm down!” This was none other than the prince. The demon asked him why he intervened, and the prince said, “Three years ago, I heard people say that the Tang kingdom in the East was sending a sage monk to the West to see the Buddha and fetch scriptures. Who knew they only showed up in our land today. Father, you have an explosive temper. But if you execute these monks, the Tang court will no doubt be enraged if they find out. That Tang emperor established himself on his throne and unified his kingdom, but he’s still not satisfied. He is waging wars overseas. If you execute his royal brethren and sage monk, he will surely wage war against us. Then we would be outnumbered and it would be too late for regrets. Please listen to me, and question these monks carefully first. You must first establish that they have disrespected the throne. Only then can you punish them.” So the prince was doing all this out of concern for San Zang’s safety, not realizing that it was Sun Wukong’s plan all along to antagonize the demon into attacking so he could dish out a beatdown. But the demon listened to the prince. He stood in front of his throne and shouted, “Monks, when did you leave the East? Why did the Tang emperor send you to fetch scripture?” Wukong replied, “My master is the imperial brother of the Tang emperor. His name is San Zang. The Tang emperor’s prime minister once executed an old dragon king. That led to the Tang emperor taking a trip through the underworld in his dream. When he returned to the land of the living, he held a Grand Mass of Water and Land to save the souls of the unjustly slain. My master is learned and compassionate, so he was instructed by the Bodhisattva Guanyin to head West. My master swore an oath to do so out of loyalty to his kingdom. So he was dispatched by the emperor. Upon leaving the East, at Twin Borders Mountain, he took me in as his senior disciple. My name is Sun Wukong. Then, at Gao Family Village, he took in his second disciple, Zhu Bajie. At the Drifting Sand River, he took in his third disciple, Sha Zeng. And a couple days ago at the Sacred Woods Royal Monastery, he took in a lay brother to serve as a porter and acolyte.” This detailed answer gave the demon no opening to question their backstory, but he asked San Zang angrily, “Monk, you were alone when you left the East, and then you took in four disciples. Those three other monks are fine, but this lay brother — you must have abducted him! What’s his name? Does he have an official ordination license?! Present it to me!” The real king started to tremble and whispered to Wukong, “Master, what should I do?” But Wukong held him steady and said, “Don’t worry; I’ll handle it.” He stepped forth and said sternly to the demon, “Your highness, this old layman is a mute, and he’s a bit hard of hearing. But he went to the West when he was young, so he knows the way. I know his whole backstory, so allow me to answer for him.” “Tell me his true background immediately, or you’ll be punished!” the demon threatened. Wukong told the demon: “This acolyte is getting on in years,  He’s struck both deaf and dumb, and bankrupt too. Long has his family lived in this region, Till five years ago catastrophe struck. No rain fell, and the people suffered drought; Monarch and commoners all kept and fast. Incense was burned amid their prayers to Heaven, But for hundreds of miles no clouds could be seen. When all of the people were in agonies of hunger, A wizard from Zhongnan (4,2) Mountain suddenly arrived. He showed his great powers to bring the wind and rain, Then secretly he murdered the ruler of the country, Pushing him down the well in the palace’s garden, Taking the throne himself in the king’s own likeness. Luckily I came along and did a great deed, Raising the dead and restoring him to life. Then he volunteered to act as our porter And go to the West together with us monks. The false king is that evil wizard; The lay brother is in fact the true king in disguise.” When the demon heard that, he knew the jig was up. His face became flushed, and he turned to flee. As he did so, he saw that one of the frozen-in-place officers of the royal guard was wearing a knife around his waist. So the demon grabbed the knife, soared into the air, and flew off. This left Sha Zeng steaming and Zhu Bajie yelling as they griped at Wukong, “You should’ve taken a softer approach and calmed him down, and then you would’ve had him. But now he’s flown away. How would we track him down?” Wukong laughed, “Brothers, stop your racket. Let’s have that prince come pay his respects to his father, and have the queen come out to pay her respects to her husband first.” Then he released the court officials from his spell. He then told his brothers, “Have those officials come meet their true king. Once all that is sorted out, then I’ll go find the demon.” After all that was taken care of, Wukong told Bajie and Sha Zeng to protect the king, his family, and of course their master San Zang. Then, he soared into the air and set his gaze in every direction in search of the demon. He spotted his quarry fleeing toward the northeast, so Wukong set off after him, shouting, “Hey demon! Where are you going?! Here I come!” The demon turned and saw Wukong. He pulled out his knife and roared, “Sun Wukong, you scoundrel! What’s it to you that I usurped someone else’s throne? Why did you meddle in my business and blow my cover?!” “You’ve got some nerve, damn demon!” Wukong shot back with a laugh. “How can you be king? Since you know who I am, then you should’ve known better than to try to threaten my master just now! Don’t run! If you’re a hero, then have a taste of my rod!” To see how this fight will turn out, tune in to the next episode of the Chinese Lore Podcast. Thanks for listening! Music in This Episode “Luỹ Tre Xanh Ngát Đầu Làng (Guzheng) – Vietnam BGM” by VPRODMUSIC_Asia_BGM The post Journey 041: Return of the King first appeared on Chinese Lore Podcast.