The story tells how when the king saw that Monkey had the power to summon dragons and order gods about he put his seal on the passports and handed them to the Tang Priest, whom he allowed to continue on his journey West. The three Taoist masters were so terrified that they prostrated themselves in the Hall of Golden Bells and submitted a memorial to the king, who came down from his dragon throne, helped them to their feet with his own hand, and said, “Why are you performing this obeisance to me today?”

“Your Majesty,” the Taoists replied, “we came here to help the country, protect the state and look after the people. We have toiled here for twenty years but now these Buddhist monks have put themselves ahead of us and ruined our reputation with a magic trick. Are you not insulting us by letting them off their death sentences just because of some rain? We implore you to keep their papers and allow us three brothers to challenge them to another competition. What do you think?”

The king of Tarrycart really was muddle-headed: when he heard advice from the East he inclined to the East, and when he was advised from the West he inclined to the West. “What sort of competition with them do you propose, Teachers of the Nation?” he asked.

“We would like to compete with them in sitting in meditation,” said the Great Immortal Tiger Power.

“The Teacher of the Nation must have made a mistake,” the king replied. “That monk comes from a sect that practices dhyana meditation. He must have mastered the art of meditation before his emperor sent him to fetch scriptures. Why would you want to compete with him at that?”

“The way we sit in meditation,” the Great Immortal replied, “is not the ordinary way. It has a special name: 'revealing one's holiness on a cloud ladder'”

“What does that mean?” the king asked.

“A hundred tables are needed,” said the Great Immortal. “Fifty of them are piled one on top of each other to make the meditation platform. Once must mount it not by using one's hands or a ladder, but by riding a cloud to take one's seat on it and sit motionless for the agreed number of hours.”

Realizing that this was rather difficult he asked this question: “Monks, the Teacher of the Nation would like to compete with you in a way of sitting in meditation called 'revealing one's holiness on a cloud ladder'. Can any of you do that?” When Monkey heard this he kept silent and did not reply.

“Brother,” asked Pig, “why aren't you saying anything?”

“I'll be honest with you,” Monkey replied. “I can manage all sorts of tricks like kicking the sky into a well, stirring up the sea, turning rivers upside down, lifting mountains, chasing the moon away, and moving stars and constellations around. I'm not afraid of having my head chopped off, my brains sliced up, my entrails laid open, my heart cut out and being shifted about in other ways like that. But when it comes to sitting in meditation I'm beaten. I'm not a sitter by nature. Even if you chained me to an iron column I'd want to wriggle up and down. I'd never want to sit still.”

Then Sanzang cut in with, “I can sit in meditation.”

“That's splendid,” said Monkey with delight, “splendid. But how long can you do it for?”

“When I was young,” Sanzang replied, “a monk of the Chan sect who came to my monastery taught the way of fastening one's being to the root, settling the nature, and fixing the spirit while on the boundary of life and death. I can sit for two or three years.”

“If you're going to sit there for two or three years, Master,” said Monkey, “we can give up the idea of going to fetch the scriptures. You won't need to sit there for more than a few hours before coming down.”

“But I can't get up there, disciple,” Sanzang protested.

“Go forward and accept the challenge,” said Monkey. “I'll get you up there.”

The venerable elder put his hands together in front of his chest and said, “This humble monk can sit in meditation.” The king then ordered that the meditation platforms be built. The state had the resources to tear down mountains, and in less than an hour the two meditation platforms had been built, one to each side of the throne hall.

The Great Immortal Tiger Power then went down from the hall, stood in the middle of the steps, sprang into the air and went straight up on a cloud to the Western platform and set down. Monkey plucked out one of his hairs and turned it into a double of himself that stood below with Pig and Friar Sand while he made his real self into a coloured auspicious cloud that lifted the Tang Priest up through the air to take his seat on the Eastern platform.

Then he put the cloud away, turned into the tiniest of insects, flow into Pig's ear, and said, “Brother, keep a very close eye on the master and don't talk to my double.”

“I understand, I understand,” replied the idiot with a grin.

The Great Immortal Deer Power had been sitting on his embroidered cushion for a very long time watching the two of them sitting on their high platforms without either emerging as the winner. He decided to help his elder brother, so he plucked a hair from the back of his head, rolled it into a ball, and flicked it straight at the Tang Priest's head, where it turned into a huge bedbug that started biting the venerable elder. Sanzang first itched and then was in pain. When sitting in meditation movements of the hand are forbidden; if he moved his hand he would lose. The agony was soon unbearable, and he pulled his head down to scratch it against his collar.

“This is bad,” said Monkey. “The master's being driven mad by epilepsy.”

“No,” said Friar Sand, “it's a migraine.”

When Monkey heard this he said, “Our master is sincere and a gentleman. If he says he can sit in meditation he most certainly can. Gentlemen don't lie. You two shut up while I go up there for a look.” The splendid Monkey then flew with a buzz straight up to the Tang Priest's head, where he saw a bedbug the size of a bean biting the master. He immediately picked it off him then scratched and rubbed his head for him, so that the venerable elder did not itch or ache any more and sat up straight again.

“Monks have bald heads,” thought Brother Monkey, “and not even a louse could settle on one, let alone a bedbug. I think it must have been a trick by those Taoists to get the master killed. Hunh! Well, they haven't won yet, despite their cheating. I'll try a trick on them.” Monkey then flew up and landed on the head of one of the ceramic animals on the roof of the palace hall. He shook himself and turned into a poisonous centipede seven inches long that went straight for the Taoist and stung him in the nose. The Taoist could sit still no longer, and tumbling head over heels he fell off the platform and would probably have died had not the senior and junior officials saved him. The horrified king sent the royal tutor to take the Taoist to the Hall of Literary Splendor to comb his hair and clean himself up; meanwhile Monkey went up on his auspicious cloud to carry his victorious master down to before the steps of the throne hall.

The king ordered that Sanzang be allowed to leave the country, but the Great Immortal Deer Power made this submission: “Your Majesty, my elder brother has long suffered from rheumatism. The heavenly wind in that high place brought on a new attack of his illness, which was why the Buddhist monk won. Please keep him here so that I can compete with him at guessing objects through wooden boards?”

“What is guessing objects through wooden boards?” the king asked.

“This humble Taoist has the power of knowing what is on the other side of a board,” Deer Power replied, “and I would like to see whether that Buddhist monk can too. If he is better at guessing than I am, let him go. But if he is not then I hope Your Majesty will decide what crime he is guilty of, avenge us brothers, and not allow our twenty years of protecting the country to be sullied.”

The king was so utterly muddle-headed that he accepted this malicious suggestion and ordered that a red lacquered chest be carried by the eunuchs of the royal household into the harem, where his queen was told to put one of her treasures inside. The chest was carried out and set in front of the steps of the throne hall a few moments later. “Your two faiths must each compete with your magical powers in guessing what treasure is in the chest,” he told the Buddhist and the Taoist.

“Disciple,” asked Sanzang, “how can I tell what is inside?”

Monkey put his cloud away, turned himself back into the smallest of insects, landed on Sanzang's face and said, “Don't worry, master. I'll go and take a look.” The splendid Great Sage flew over to the chest, crawled under its legs, and saw a crack between the boards through which he squeezed inside. Here he saw a red lacquer tray in which was placed a set of court robes: a mountain, river and state jacket and a heaven, earth and land skirt. He picked them up, shook and crumpled them, bit the tip of his tongue, sprayed a mouthful of blood over them, called “Change!” and turned them into a worn-out cloak into which he pissed before crawling out through the crack between the boards. He then flew back to the Tang Priest's ear and said, “Master, say that it's a worn-out cloak.”

“But he told me to guess what treasure is inside,” said the Tang Priest. “What sort of treasure is an old cloak?”

“Never mind about that,” said Monkey. “Just make that guess.” The Tang Priest stepped forward and was just about to state his guess when Deer Power said, “I shall make the first guess. The chest contains a mountain, river and state jacket and a heaven, earth and land skirt.”

“No,” said the Tang Priest, “it does not. The chest contains a rotten cloak.”

“That monk is being outrageous,” said the king. “He has the effrontery to suggest that our country has no treasures by guessing that it contains a tattered old cloak. Execute him!”

The two groups of guards officers were just about to fall upon the Tang Priest when he called out desperately, “Your Majesty, spare me for a moment while the chest is opened for you to look inside. If there really is a treasure there I shall accept my punishment; but if there is not you would be doing me an injustice.” The king then ordered that the chest be opened, and when the officials in attendance on him opened it and lifted out the red tray he saw that there really was a putrid old cloak on it.

“Who put that there?” asked the king in a great fury.

The queen then slipped forward from behind the dragon throne to say, “My lord, I put the mountain, river and state jacket and the heaven, earth and land skirt inside myself. I don't know how they can have turned into that.”

“You may retire, good wife,” said the king. “I believe you. All the things used in the harem are of the finest silks and gauzes. We would never have anything like that.” He then ordered that the chest be carried up to him so that he could put a treasure inside it himself for another test.

The king then went into the harem, picked a peach as big as a bowl from the magic peach tree in the palace gardens, placed it in the chest and had it carried down for the two of them to guess what it was.

“Disciple,” said the Tang Priest, “I have to guess again.”

“Don't worry,” said Monkey, “I'll take another look.” Once more he buzzed over, went in through the same crack, and saw a peach that was just to his liking. He turned back into himself and ate the peach clean up as he sat in the chest, nibbling every single piece of it, including the damaged parts of the skin, and leaving the stone there when he turned back into the tiniest of insects and flew back to land on Sanzang's ear. “Master,” he said, “guess that it's a peach stone.”

“Don't make a fool of me, disciple,” said Sanzang. “If I hadn't spoken up fast just now I would have been executed. This time I must guess that it is something precious, and there is nothing precious about a peach stone.”

“Don't be afraid,” said Monkey. “All that matters is winning.”

Before Sanzang could speak the Great Immortal Antelope Power said, “I shall make the first guess. It is a magic peach.”

“It is not a peach, only a peach stone,” said Sanzang.

“But we put the peach in there ourself,” said the king. “It could not possibly be only a stone. The Third Teacher of the Nation is right.”

“Your Majesty,” put in Sanzang, “open the chest up and look.”

Once more the officials in attendance carried the chest up to be opened, lifted out the dish, and revealed only a stone with no skin or flesh, a sight that shocked the king.

“Teachers of the Nation,” he said, “stop competing with him and let him go. We put the magic peach in there with our own hands. If there is only a stone there now, who can have eaten it? He must have gods or demons helping him in secret.”

When Pig heard this he said to Friar Sand with a touch of a sarcastic grin, “The king doesn't realize that Monkey is an expert when it comes to eating peaches.”

As he was saying this the Great Immortal Tiger Power came back into the throne hall after combing his hair and washing himself in the Hall of Literary Splendor. “Your Majesty,” he said, “this monk has the art of shifting and changing things. Have the chest brought up here. I will break his magic and have another divination contest with him.”

“What do you want to guess now?” the king asked.

“Magic can change only things, not people,” said Tiger Power. “Hide this boy Taoist in the chest, and I guarantee that the monk will not be able to change him.” The boy got inside, the lid was put on, and the chest carried down.

“Guess what treasure is inside it this third time, monk,” the king said.

“Again!” exclaimed Sanzang, to which Monkey replied, “Wait while I take another look.” Once more he buzzed over and squeezed inside, this time to find a little boy inside.

Splendid Monkey knew what to do. How true it is that few in the world can do improvised transformations, and hardly any as skillfully as he. He shook himself, turned into the exact image of the old Taoist, went into the chest and said “Disciple.”

“Where have you come from, master?” the boy asked him.

“I came by disappearing magic,” Monkey replied.

“What instructions do you have for me?” the boy asked.

“The Buddhist monk saw you getting into the chest,” said Monkey, “and if he says that there's a young Taoist in here we'll have lost. I've come here to work out a plan with you. We'll shave your head and guess that you're a Buddhist monk.”

“Do whatever you decide, master,” said the boy, “as long as we win. If we lose to him again our reputation will be ruined and the king will have no more respect for us.”

“You are right,” said Monkey. “Come here, my boy, and if we win I'll reward you richly.” He then turned his gold-banded cudgel into a razor, put his arms firmly round the boy, and said, “Put up with the pain, there's a good boy, and don't make a sound while I shave your head.” In an instant he had shaved off the boy's hair, which he stuffed into a ball and hid in a corner of the chest. Then he put the razor away and stroked the boy's shaven pate saying, “Your head looks like a Buddhist monk's now, my boy, but your clothes are wrong. Take them off and I'll transform them for you.”

The boy took off his greenish-white cloud-patterned crane cloak with embroidered brocade hems. Monkey blew on it with a magic breath, called “Change!” and turned it into a brown Buddhist monk's habit for the boy to put on. Monkey pulled out two more hairs and turned them into a wooden fish that he gave to the boy saying, “Listen carefully, disciple. Whatever happens don't come out when you hear a call of 'Taoist boy'. But when you hear someone say 'Buddhist monk,' lift the lid of the chest with your head, strike the wooden fish, and come out reciting a Buddhist surra. Do that and we will win.”

“But I can only recite the Classic of the Three Officials, the Classic of the Dipper, and the Classic of Elimination of Disaster,” said the boy, “I don't know any Buddhist scriptures.”

“Can you recite the name of a Buddha?” asked Monkey. “Anyone can recite 'Amitabha Buddha,'“ the boy replied.

“That'll have to do then,” said Monkey. “Recite the Buddha's name and save me the trouble of having to teach you a sutra. Remember what I've told you as I'm going now.” Monkey then turned back into the tiniest of insects, squeezed out, flew back to beside the Tang Priest's ear, and said, “Master, say that there's a Buddhist monk inside.”

“This time we are certain to win,” replied Sanzang.

“How can you be so sure?” Monkey asked.

“The sutras teach us that there are three treasures,” said Sanzang, “the Buddha, the Dharma and the Clergy; so a monk must count as a treasure.”

As Sanzang was saying this the Great Immortal Tiger Power said, “Your Majesty, this third time there is a Taoist boy inside.” Tiger Power called and called but the boy would not come out. Sanzang then put his hands together and said, “There is a monk inside.”

“There's a monk inside the chest,” shouted Pig at the top of his voice, at which the boy raised the lid of the chest with his head and stepped out, beating his wooden fish and repeating the name of the Buddha. The civil and military officials were so delighted that they all cheered; while the terrified Taoists were at a loss for words.

“This monk is being helped by gods and demons,” said the king. “How else could he have got into the chest as a Taoist boy and stepped out as a Buddhist monk? Even if a barber had got in with him he could only have shaved his head; but he's wearing a well-fitting habit and repeating the Buddha's name too. Teachers of the Nation, you must let those monks go.”

To this the Great Immortal Tiger Power replied, “Your Majesty, this is a case of a chess-player meeting his match, or a general coming up against a master strategist. We would like to try the martial arts we learned as boys in the Zhongnan Mountains against him.”

“What martial arts?” the king asked.

“We three brothers all have some divine powers,” Tiger Power replied. “We can put our head back on when they have been cut off; open up our chests, cut out our hearts, and make ourselves whole again; and take a bath in boiling oil.”

“But those are all certain death,” exclaimed the king in horror. “We have these powers,” said Tiger Power, “which is why I can give you a clear undertaking that we will not give up until we have been allowed a tournament with him.”

Monkey had just turned himself back into the tiniest of insects and gone over to investigate when he heard all this. Reverting to his real form he roared with laughter and said, “What luck, what marvellous luck. Business has brought itself to my front door.”

“But those are all ways of getting yourself killed,” said Pig. “How can you talk about business coming to your front door?”

“You still don't know my powers,” said Monkey.

“But all the transformations you can do are more than enough,” said Pig. “You can't have powers like that too.”

To this Monkey said,

 

“Cut off my head and I'll still go on talking,

Lop off my arms and I'll sock you another.

Chop off my legs and I'll carry on walking,

Carve up my guts and I'll put them together.

“When anyone makes a meat dumpling

I take it and down it in one.

To bath in hot oil is really quite nice,

A warm tub that makes all the dirt gone.”

 

When Pig and Friar Sand heard this they roared with laughter. Monkey then stepped forward and said, “Your Majesty, this humble monk can be beheaded.”

“What do you mean, you can be beheaded?” the king asked.

“When I was cultivating my conduct in the monastery many years ago,” Monkey replied, “a dhyana monk who came there taught me a method of being beheaded. I don't know if it's any good, and I'd like to try it out today.”

“That monk is too young to have any sense,” said the king with a smile. “Having your head cut off isn't something that you can try out for I fun. Your head is the chief of the Six Positives, and when it's cut off you're dead.”

“Your Majesty,” said the Great Immortal Tiger Power, “this is just the way I want him to act so that we can get our revenge on him.” Believing him, the foolish monarch ordered that a place for public execution be prepared.

As soon as the order was given, three thousand men of the royal guard were drawn up outside the palace gates. “The monk shall be beheaded first,” said the king. Monkey cheerfully agreed: “I'll go first, I'll go first.”

Then he put his hands together and shouted, “Teacher of the Nation, I hope you'll forgive my effrontery in going first.” Monkey then turned round and went outside.

“Be careful, disciple,” said Sanzang, catching hold of him as he passed, “this is no place for fooling about.”

“What's there to be afraid of?” said Monkey. “Stop holding me; let me go.”

The Great Sage went straight to the execution ground, where the executioners grabbed him and tied him up so that he was like a ball. When he was placed high on the earthen mound a shout of “Behead him!” was heard, and his head was cut off as the sword whistled down. The executioners then kicked it and sent it rolling thirty or forty paces away like a ripe watermelon. No blood came from Monkey's throat as a shout of “Come here, head” rose from his stomach.

The Great Immortal Tiger Power was so appalled by this display of magical skill that he said a spell and ordered the local deity, “Hold on to that head. When I've beaten this monk I shall request His Majesty to rebuild your little shrine as a big temple and replace your clay statue with a gold one.” Now the local deity was under Tiger Power's control because Tiger Power had the five-thunder magic, so he held Monkey's head down.

“Come here, head,” Monkey called again, but his head was no more able to move than if it had taken root there. Monkey was now feeling anxious, so he made a spell with his hands, burst out of the ropes that were binding him, and shouted, “Grow!” In a flash another head grew on his neck, so terrifying the executioners and the soldiers of the guard army that they all shivered and shook.

The officer supervising the executions rushed into the palace to report, “Your Majesty, when the little monk's head was cut off he grew another one.”

“So that's another trick our brother can do,” said Pig to Friar Sand with a mocking laugh.

“As he can do seventy-two transformations,” said Friar Sand, “he has seventy-two heads.”

Before he had finished saying this Monkey came back and called, “Master!”

“Was it painful, disciple?” asked a greatly relieved Sanzang.

“No, it wasn't painful,” said Monkey, “it was fun.”

“Brother,” asked Pig, “do you need sword-wound ointment?”

“Feel if there is a scar,” said Monkey.

The idiot put out his hand and said with a smile of wide-eyed astonishment, “Fantastic. It's completely whole—there's not even a scar.”

While the brother-disciples were congratulating each other they heard the king calling on them to take their passport and saying, “We grant you a full pardon. Go at once.”

“We accept the passport, but we insist that the Teacher of the Nation must be beheaded too to see what happens,” said Monkey.

“Senior Teacher of the Nation,” said the king, “that monk's not going to let you off. You promised to beat him, and don't give me another fright this time.” Tiger Power then had to take his turn to go to be tied up like a ball by the executioners and have his head cut off with a flash of the blade and sent rolling over thirty paces when it was kicked away.

No blood came from his throat either, and he too called out, “Come here, head.”

Monkey instantly pulled out a hair, blew a magic breath on it, said, “Change!” and turned it into a brown dog that ran across the execution ground, picking the Taoist's head up with its teeth and dropping it into the palace moat.

The Taoist shouted three times but did not get his head to come back. As he did not have Monkey's art of growing a new one the red blood started to gush noisily from his neck.

 

No use were his powers to call up wind and rain;

He could not compete with the true immortal again.

 

A moment later his body collapsed into the dust, and everyone could see that he was really a headless yellow-haired tiger

The officer supervising the executions then came to report, “Your Majesty, the Senior Teacher of the Nation has had his head cut off and cannot grow a new one. He is lying dead in the dust and is now a headless yellow-haired tiger.” This announcement made the king turn pale with shock. He stared at the other two Taoist masters, his eyes not moving.

Deer Power then rose to his feet and said, “My elder brother's life is now over, but he was no tiger. That monk in his wickedness must have used some deception magic to turn my elder brother into a beast. I will never forgive him for this, and am resolved to compete with him in opening the stomach and cutting out the heart.”

When the king heard this he pulled himself together and said, “Little monk, the Second Teacher of the Nation wants another competition with you.”

“I hadn't had a cooked meal for ages,” said Monkey, “until the other day I was given a meal at a vegetarian's house on our journey West. I ate rather a lot of steamed bread, and my stomach has been aching recently. I think I must have worms, so I'd be glad to borrow Your Majesty's sword, cut my stomach open, take out my innards, and give my spleen and my stomach a good clean-out before going to the Western Heaven.”

When the king heard this he said, “Take him to the place of execution.” A whole crowd of people fell upon Monkey, took hold of him, and began dragging him there. Monkey pulled his hands free and said, “No need to grab hold of me. I can walk there myself. There's just one condition: my hands mustn't be tied up as I will need them to wash my innards.” The king then ordered that his hands be left free.

Monkey walked with a swagger straight to the execution ground, where he leant against the stake, undid his clothes, and exposed his stomach. The executioners tied ropes round his neck and his legs, then made a quick cut in his stomach with a knife shaped like a cow's ear. This made a hole into which Monkey thrust both his hands to open it further as he brought out his entrails. He spent a long time checking them over carefully before putting them all back inside. Then he bent over again, pinched the skin of his stomach together, breathed a magic breath on it, called out, “Grow!” and made it join up again.

The king was so shocked that he gave Monkey the passport with his own hands, saying, “Here is your passport. Please don't let me delay you holy monks on your journey West any longer.”

“Never mind the passport,” said Monkey, “but what about asking the Second Teacher of the Nation to be cut open?”

“This is nothing to do with me,” the king said to Deer Power.

“You wanted a match with him, and now you must go ahead.”

“Don't worry,” said Deer Power. “I cannot possibly lose to him.”

Watch him as he swaggers like the Great Sage Monkey to the execution ground to be tied up by the executioners and have his stomach cut open with a whistle of the cow's-ear knife. He too took out his entrails and sorted them out with his own hands. Monkey meanwhile pulled out one of his hairs, blew on it with a magic breath, shouted, “Change!” and turned it into a hungry eagle that spread its wings, stretched out its claws, swooped down, grabbed the Taoist's internal organs, heart, liver and all, and flew off nobody knew where to devour them. The Taoist was

 

Left as an empty, eviscerated ghost,

With no entrails or stomach as he wanders around lost.

 

The executioners kicked the wooden stake down and dragged the body over to look at it. To their surprise they found it was that of a white-haired deer.

The officer supervising the executions came to make another shocked report: “The Second Teacher of the Nation has met with disaster. He died when his stomach was cut open and a hungry eagle carried off all his entrails and internal organs in its claws. He turns out to have been a white-haired deer.”

“How could he have been a deer?” asked the king in terror. To this the Great Immortal Antelope Power submitted the following reply: “How could my elder brother possibly look like an animal after his death? This is all the result of that monk using magic to ruin us. Let me avenge my elder brother.”

“What magic arts do you have at which you might beat him?” the king asked. “I will compete with him at bathing in boiling oil,” Antelope Power replied. The king then ordered that a great cauldron be brought out and filled with sesame oil for the two of them to have their competition.

“I'm most grateful for your consideration,” said Monkey. “I haven't had a bath for a very long time, and these last couple of days my skin has begun to itch. I need a good, hot soak.”

The officials in attendance on the king then set the cauldron of oil in position, built up a pile of dry firewood, set it burning fiercely, and heated the oil till it boiled and bubbled. Monkey was told to go in first. He put his hands together in front of his chest and said, “Is it to be a gentle bath or a rough one?” When the king asked him what they were, Monkey replied, “For a gentle bath you keep your clothes on, stretch your hands wide out, do a roll and come up again without getting your clothes at all dirty. If there is even a spot of oil on them you have lost. For a rough bath you need a clothes rack and a wash towel. You take your clothes off, jump in and somersault or do dragonfly-stands as you play around and wash yourself.”

“Do you want to compete with him at gentle baths or rough ones?” the king asked Antelope Power. “If it is gentle baths,” said Antelope Power, “he might have treated his clothes with some drug that will keep the oil off. Let it be rough baths then.” Monkey then stepped forward and said, “Excuse my impertinence in always going first.” Watch him while he takes off his tunic and tigerskin kilt, jumps into the cauldron, and dives through the waves, enjoying himself as much as if he were swimming in water.

At the sight of this Pig bit his finger and said to Friar Sand, “We've underestimated that Monkey. I usually say nasty things about him as if he just liked fooling about. I never realized he had powers like this.”

When Monkey saw the two of them whispering his praises to each other, he thought suspiciously, “The idiot's mocking me again. How true it is that the clever have to do all the work and the clumsy stay idle. Here's me leaping around like this while he's standing there at his ease. Right, then. I'll get him tied up in knots and give him a real scare.” In the middle of washing himself he made a great splash and plunged down to the bottom of the cauldron where he turned himself into a jujube stone. He did not come up again.

The officer supervising the executions went up to the king and reported, “Your Majesty, the little monk has been fried to death in the boiling oil.” The king in his delight ordered that the bones be fished out for him to see. The executioners fetched an iron strainer on a long handle with which they fished around in the cauldron, but its mesh was so coarse that Monkey, who was now as small as a nail, kept slipping through the holes in it and they could not fish him out. They then reported that the monk was so small and his bones so soft that they had been fried right away.

“Arrest the three monks,” the king ordered. The guard officers in attendance grabbed Pig first as he looked dangerous, pushed him down, and tied him up with his hands behind his back. Sanzang was so terrified that he shouted, “Your Majesty, grand this poor monk a couple of hours' reprieve. My disciple achieved countless good deeds after he was converted. Today he has died in the cauldron of boiling oil because he offended Your Majesty. Those who die first become gods, and I am not greedy to stay alive. Indeed, those in authority in the world look after the world's people. If Your Majesty tell me to die, your subject will not dare disobey. I only ask you in your mercy to grant me a bowl of cold gruel and three paper horses that I can place in front of the cauldron. I would like to burn the paper as a mark of my feeling for my disciple, and I will then be ready to go to my execution.”

“Very well,” said the King. “What a fine sense of honour these Chinese have.” He then ordered that some gruel and yellow paper be given to the Tang Priest, which was done.

Sanzang told Friar Sand to come with him as the two of them went to the foot of the steps while several guard officers dragged Pig by his ears to the cauldron. Sanzang said this invocation before the cauldron: “Disciple Sun Wukong,

 

Since being ordained and then joining our order

You cared for and guarded me travelling West.

We hoped to complete our great journey together.

Who would have thought you would here to go rest?

Your life's only aim was collecting the scriptures,

And even when dead on the Buddha you ponder.

Now far, far away you true spirit is waiting;

As a ghost will you climb to the temple of Thunder.”

 

“Master,” said Pig when he heard this, “there's no need for an invocation like that. Friar Sand, fetch me some gruel and I'll make an invocation.” Then the idiot said, snorting with anger as he lay tied up on the ground,

 

“Trouble-making monkey,

Ignorant Protector of the Horses.

The monkey deserved to die,

The Protector had to fry.

The Monkey found it too hot,

The Protector's had his lot.”

 

When Monkey at the bottom of the cauldron heard the idiot abusing him like that he could not restrain himself from turning back into himself, standing up in the cauldron, and saying, “Dreg-guzzling moron! Who do you think you're swearing at?”

“Disciple,” said Sanzang on seeing him, “you gave me a terrible fright.”

“Big Brother's used to shamming dead,” said Friar Sand. The civil and military officials were thrown into such a panic that they went forward to report to the king.

“Your Majesty, the monk did not die. He has just stood up in the cauldron.” The officer supervising the executions was afraid that he would be in trouble for having earlier made a false report to the king, so he submitted a new one: “The monk did die, but as this is an ill-omened day he has come back as a ghost to haunt us.”

This made Monkey so angry that he sprang out of the cauldron, wiped the oil off himself, put on his clothes, pulled out his cudgel, and hit the supervisor of the executions so hard that his head turned to a meatball. “A ghost, indeed,” he said, giving the officers such a fright that they untied Pig, fell to their knees, and pleaded, “Forgive us, forgive us.” As the king came down from his dragon throne Monkey went into the hall, seized hold of him, and said, “Don't go, Your Majesty. Make the Third Teacher of the Nation get into the cauldron of oil now.”

“Third Teacher of the Nation,” said the king with much trembling, “you must get into the cauldron at once to save my life.

“Don't let the monk hit me.” Antelope Power then went down from the throne hall and like Monkey took off his clothes, jumped into the oil, and went through the motions of washing himself.

Monkey let the king go, went up to the cauldron, and told those tending the fire to add more fuel. Then he put out his hand to feel and found to his astonishment that the bubbling oil was icy cold.

“It was boiling hot when I had my bath,” he thought, “but it's cold for his. I'm sure that one of the dragon kings must be protecting him.” He leap straight up into midair, said the magic word “Om,” and summoned the Dragon King of the Northern Ocean.

“I'll get you, you horned worm, you loach with scales on,” said Monkey. “How dare you help the Taoist by protecting the bottom of the cauldron as a cold dragon and letting him beat me in this display of divine powers!”

The dragon king was so frightened that he kept making respectful noises as he replied, “I'd never have dared help him. There is more to this than you realize, Great Sage. That evil beast has strenuously cultivated his conduct, shaken off his original shell, and has only really kept his five-thunder magic. In all other respects he has taken the path of heresy and could never return to the true Way. This is the 'Great Opening-up' that he learned on Lesser Mount Mao. The other two have already had their powers defeated by you, Great Sage, and reverted to their true appearances. The cold dragon this one uses is one that he created for himself, but it is only a trick with which to fool common mortals: it could not deceive you, Great Sage. I shall now take that cold dragon under my control, and guarantee that his skin and bones will now be fried to a crisp.”

“Hurry up about it if you don't want a beating,” said Monkey, at which the dragon king changed into a fierce gust of wind that seized the cold dragon and carried it off to the sea.

Monkey now came down to earth and stood beside Sanzang, Pig and Friar Sand in front of the throne hall watching the Taoist struggling without success to climb out of the boiling oil. Then the Taoist slipped back into the cauldron, and in an instant his bones came apart as his skin was fried crisp and his flesh cooked tender.

The official supervising the executions came in again to report, “Your Majesty, the Third Teacher of the Nation has been deep-fried to death.” The tears gushed from the king's eyes as he struck the table by the throne and cried aloud,

 

“Hard is the gaining of life and hard is its end;

Elixir never refine without true instruction.

Vainly the spirits are raced and water-spells made;

Pills that can make you immortal are only a fiction.

Nirvana can never be won by a mind in disorder;

Cunning is useless when all it can cause is destruction.

Had I been warned that all could so easily fail,

I'd have kept to the diet and chosen a life of inaction.”

 

Indeed:

 

There was no use in the golden touch and in making elixir;

Calling up wind and summoning rain all ended in failure.

 

If you do not know how the master and his disciples continued, listen to the explanation in the next installment.