The Mind-Ape returns to the right path;The six robbers vanish without a trace

Protector Liu was a bold man indeed. He went up, pulled the grass from beside the monkey’s temples and the sedge from under his chin, and asked, “What have you to say?” The monkey said, “Nothing to you. Tell that Master to come here. I have a question for him.” Sanzang said, “What do you want to ask me?” The monkey said, “Are you the one sent by the great ruler of the Eastern Land to fetch scriptures from the Western Heaven?” Sanzang said, “I am. Why do you ask?” The monkey said, “I am the Great Sage Equal to Heaven who made havoc in the Heavenly Palace five hundred years ago. For the crime of deceiving my sovereign, the Buddha pinned me here. A while ago the Bodhisattva Guanyin passed this way, on the Buddha’s orders to find a scripture-seeker in the Eastern Land. I asked her to save me. She urged me to give up violence, take refuge in the Buddhist teaching and do my utmost to protect the scripture-seeker on his journey west to worship the Buddha. When the task was done, she said, good things would follow. So day and night my heart has been in suspense, morning and evening I have trembled with anxiety, waiting only for you, Master, to free me. I am willing to protect you as you fetch the scriptures and become your disciple.” Sanzang was delighted to hear this. “You have a good heart, and the Bodhisattva has instructed you. You are willing to enter the Buddhist order. But I have neither axe nor chisel. How am I to get you out?” The monkey said, “No axe or chisel is needed. If you are willing to save me, I can get out myself.” Sanzang said, “Of course I would save you, but how can you get out?” The monkey said, “On top of this mountain is a seal with gold lettering, placed there by our Buddha. Just go up and peel it off, and I can get out.” Sanzang accepted his word and turned to beg Liu Boqin, “Protector, come up the mountain with me.” Boqin said, “Who knows whether this is true?” The monkey called loudly, “It is true! I would never dare lie to you.”

Boqin had no choice but to call the houseboys to lead the horse. He supported Sanzang himself as they climbed the high mountain again. Clinging to creepers and vines, they reached the very summit. Sure enough, ten thousand shafts of golden light shone there and a thousand streams of auspicious vapour. On a great square rock a slip of paper had been pasted, bearing six gold characters: “Om mani padme hum5.” Sanzang went forward, knelt facing the rock and bowed several times to the golden writing. Then he turned towards the west and prayed: “Your disciple Chen Xuanzang has been sent by imperial command to seek the scriptures. If it is our destined bond to be master and disciple, let me peel off the golden writing, free the divine monkey and attain realization with him at Spirit Mountain. If no such bond exists, and this is a vicious, unruly monster deceiving your disciple, so that no good can come of it, let me be unable to lift the seal.” He prayed and bowed again. When he had finished, he stepped up and gently peeled off the six gold characters. A fragrant wind swept in and snatched the seal from his hand into the air. A voice called, “I am the guardian who held the Great Sage prisoner. Today his ordeal is complete. We are returning to the Buddha to report and hand back this seal.” Sanzang, Boqin and the others were so startled that they bowed towards the sky. They went straight down the mountain and returned to the stone chamber. Sanzang said to the monkey, “The seal has been removed. Come out.” Delighted, the monkey cried, “Master, please go a little farther away so that I can get out without frightening you.”

At these words Boqin led Sanzang and the whole party back towards the east. They had gone five or seven li when the monkey called again, “Farther, farther!” Sanzang went a good distance more and came down off the mountain. Then they heard a resounding crash: the earth truly split and the mountain collapsed. Everyone shook with fear. But the monkey was already before Sanzang’s horse, stark naked and kneeling. “Master, I am out!” he said. He bowed to Sanzang four times, sprang up and made a deep bow to Boqin with his hands clasped. “Thank you, elder brother, for escorting my Master, and for pulling the grass off my face.” When he had given his thanks, he went to gather the luggage and secure the saddle on the horse. At the sight of him the horse’s back went weak and its legs buckled. It trembled so much it could scarcely stand. The monkey had once been Keeper of the Horses, tending dragon horses in Heaven. He had powers over them, and so ordinary horses were afraid when they saw him.

Sanzang saw that his intentions were good: he truly seemed fit to be a member of the Buddhist order. “Disciple,” he called, “what is your surname?” The Monkey King said, “Sun.” Sanzang said, “I shall give you a name in religion, so that I have something to call you.” The Monkey King said, “No need to trouble yourself with such kindness, Master. I already have a name in religion: Sun Wukong.” Sanzang was pleased. “That fits our lineage nicely. With your looks, you are rather like a little wandering ascetic. Let me give you the nickname Pilgrim (Xingzhe)6. What do you say?” Wukong said, “Good, good, good!” From that time on he was also called Pilgrim Sun.

Now, Pilgrim Sun asked Sanzang to mount and went ahead with the luggage on his back, naked and walking with a lurching stride. Before long they had passed Two Realms Mountain when a fierce tiger suddenly appeared, roaring and lashing its tail. Sanzang’s heart shook with fear in the saddle. But Pilgrim stood happily beside the road and said, “Do not be afraid, Master. He has come to bring me clothes.” He put down the luggage, pulled a needle from his ear and waved it in the wind. It proved to be an iron cudgel as thick as a bowl. Holding it, he laughed. “This treasure has had no use for more than five hundred years. Today I shall bring it out and earn myself something to wear.” Look at him lengthen his stride and go to meet the tiger, crying, “Accursed beast! Where are you going?” The tiger crouched low in the dust, not daring to move at all. He struck it on the head with his cudgel, and its brains burst into ten thousand peach-red flecks, its teeth spattering out like beads of jade. Chen Xuanzang was so frightened that he tumbled from the saddle, bit his finger and cried, “Heavens! Heavens! The other day Protector Liu fought that striped tiger for half a day before killing it. Today Sun Wukong has smashed this one to pulp with a single blow, without a struggle. Truly, however strong the man, there is always someone stronger!”

Pilgrim dragged the tiger over and said, “Sit a moment, Master. Wait while I take off his clothes and put them on for the road.” Sanzang said, “What clothes has he got?” Pilgrim said, “Never mind me, Master. I know what to do.” A fine Monkey King! He plucked out a hair, blew a breath of immortal air onto it and cried, “Change!” It turned into a pointed knife shaped like an ox’s ear. He slit the skin along the tiger’s belly and peeled it down, taking off the hide in one whole piece. He chopped away the claws, cut off the head and trimmed out a square of tiger skin. Holding it up, he measured it. “A little wide. One piece will make two.” He took the knife and cut it into two pieces, put one away and wrapped the other round his waist. He pulled a vine from beside the road and tied it tight, covering his lower body. “On we go, Master, on we go. When we come to a house, we can borrow a needle and thread. There will be time enough to sew it then.” He twirled the iron cudgel until it was a needle again and put it back in his ear. Then he shouldered the luggage and asked his Master to mount.

The two went forward. From his horse the elder asked, “Wukong, where is the iron cudgel you used to kill the tiger? Why can I no longer see it?” Pilgrim laughed. “You do not know, Master. I got this cudgel from the Dragon Palace of the East Sea. It is called the Divine Treasure Iron That Anchors the River of Heaven, and also the As-You-Will Gold-Banded Cudgel. It did me great service when I rebelled against the Heavenly Palace. It changes as I wish: if I want it big, it is big; if I want it small, it is small. Just now I turned it into an embroidery needle and put it in my ear. I take it out only when I need it.” Sanzang was secretly pleased. He asked again, “Why did that tiger stop moving the moment it saw you and let you strike it as you pleased? What explains that?” Wukong said, “To tell you frankly, Master, never mind a tiger: even a dragon would not dare treat me rudely. Old Sun has quite a knack for subduing dragons and taming tigers, and divine powers to overturn rivers and churn the seas. I can read a face and discern its mood, hear a sound and understand its meaning. Enlarged, I can fill the universe; diminished, I can fit within a hair. My transformations have no limit; none can fathom when I shall appear or disappear. What is so remarkable about skinning this tiger? When we reach a really difficult spot, you will see what I can do.” At these words Sanzang felt easier still, free of all worry, and urged his horse onwards.

Pilgrim said, “Move along, Master. It is getting late. Those thick woods over there must hide a homestead. Let us hurry and find a bed for the night.” Sanzang urged his horse forward, went straight towards the house and dismounted before the courtyard. Pilgrim threw down the luggage, went up and called, “Open the door! Open the door!” An old man came out leaning on a bamboo staff and flung the door open. When he saw Pilgrim’s hideous face, the tiger skin tied round his waist and his resemblance to the Thunder God, his legs went weak and his body numb. “A ghost! A ghost!” he babbled. Sanzang came forward to steady him. “Do not be afraid, old benefactor. He is this poor monk’s disciple, no ghost or monster.” The old man looked up and saw Sanzang’s refined, striking face. Only then did he stand firm. “What temple have you come from, monk, bringing this wicked-looking fellow to my door?” Sanzang said, “This poor monk comes from the Tang dynasty and is going to the Western Heaven to worship the Buddha and seek the scriptures. We happened to pass this way at nightfall, and have come to your charitable household to ask for one night’s lodging. Tomorrow we shall leave before daylight. I earnestly beg you to oblige us.” The old man said, “You may be a man of Tang, but that ugly one certainly is not.” Wukong shouted fiercely, “You old fellow, have you no eyes? My Master is the man of Tang. I am his disciple. I am no man of sugar7 or honey either: I am the Great Sage Equal to Heaven! Some people round here know me. And I have seen you before.” The old man said, “Where have you seen me?” Wukong said, “When you were little, did you not gather firewood in front of me? Did you not pick greens off my face?” The old man said, “What nonsense! Where do you live, and where do I live? When did I gather firewood in front of you or pick greens off your face?” Wukong said, “It’s you, my boy, who’s talking nonsense! You do not recognize me anymore. I am the Great Sage from the stone chamber in Two Realms Mountain. Take another look.” Only then did the old man understand. “You do look rather like him. But how did you get out?” Wukong told the old man the whole story: how the Bodhisattva had urged him to be good and told him to wait for the Tang Monk, who would remove the seal and set him free.

The old man now bowed and invited the Tang Monk inside. He called his old wife and his children to meet them and explained what had happened. Everyone was delighted. He ordered tea, and when it had been drunk, he asked Wukong, “Great Sage, you must be getting on in years?” Wukong said, “How old are you?” The old man said, “I have foolishly lived to a hundred and thirty.” Pilgrim said, “You are still only of my great-grandchildren’s generation. I cannot remember when I was born, but I have spent more than five hundred years at the foot of this mountain alone.” The old man said, “Yes indeed, yes indeed. I remember my grandfather saying that this mountain fell from Heaven and pinned a divine monkey underneath it. Only now have you got free. When I saw you as a child, you had grass on your head and mud on your face, and I was not afraid of you. Now there is no mud on your face or grass on your head, but you seem a little thinner, and you have covered yourself with a great tiger skin. How much different do you look from a ghost or monster?” At this the whole household laughed heartily.

The old man was kindly and at once had a vegetarian meal prepared. After they had eaten, Wukong asked, “What is your family’s surname?” The old man said, “Our humble household is named Chen.” At this Sanzang rose and made a greeting with his hands clasped. “Old benefactor, you and this poor monk belong to the same honoured clan.” Pilgrim said, “Master, your surname is Tang. How can you belong to his clan?” Sanzang said, “In my lay family I too am surnamed Chen. I come from Juxian Village, Hongnong Commandery, Haizhou Prefecture, in the Tang realm. My name in religion is Chen Xuanzang. But Emperor Taizong of our Great Tang made me his brother and gave me the name Sanzang, assigning Tang as my surname8. That is why I am called the Tang Monk.” Hearing that they shared a surname, the old man was delighted all over again.

Pilgrim said, “Old Chen, since we are imposing on your household anyway, I have not had a bath for more than five hundred years. Could you heat some water so that my Master and I can wash? We shall thank you for everything when we leave.” The old man immediately ordered water heated and basins brought, and had the lamps lit. Master and disciple bathed, then sat before the lamplight. Pilgrim said, “Old Chen, one more thing to trouble you: have you a needle and thread I could borrow?” The old man said, “Yes, yes, yes,” and told his wife to bring them and hand them to Pilgrim. Pilgrim had a sharp eye. He had noticed that his Master had taken off a short white cloth gown to bathe and had not put it on again. He pulled it over and slipped it onto himself. Then he took off the tiger skin, joined the pieces together and made a pleat like a horse’s face. He wrapped it round his waist, fastened it with the vine and went before his Master. “How does Old Sun look today compared with yesterday?” Sanzang said, “Good, good, good. Now you look like a pilgrim.” He added, “Disciple, if you do not mind its being old and worn, you may keep that gown.” Wukong bowed with his hands clasped. “Thank you for the gift, thank you!” Then he went to find fodder for the horse. By now everything was done, and master, disciple and old man all went to bed.

Master and disciple had been travelling for some time when a whistle suddenly sounded beside the road and six men burst out, armed with long spears, short swords, sharp blades and powerful bows. “Where are you going, monk?” they roared. “Leave the horse and put down the luggage at once, and we shall spare your life and let you pass.” Sanzang was frightened out of his wits. He fell from the horse and could not speak. Pilgrim helped him up. “Do not worry, Master. Nothing is wrong. These are all people bringing us clothes and travelling money.” Sanzang said, “Wukong, you must be a little hard of hearing. They tell us to leave our horse and luggage, and you ask them for clothes and money?” Pilgrim said, “You watch the clothes, luggage and horse. Let Old Sun have a bout with them and see how things stand.” Sanzang said, “A skilled fighter cannot match two fists, and two fists are no match for four hands. There are six great fellows, and you are such a tiny little man. How dare you fight them?”

Pilgrim had always been bold and would hear no more. He went forward, clasped his hands before his breast and greeted the six men. “Gentlemen, why are you blocking this poor monk’s way?” They said, “We are the Great Kings who rob the road, the kindly lords of the mountain. Our names have long been famous. Perhaps you do not know them, though. Leave your belongings at once and we shall let you pass. If you so much as say ‘no’, we shall chop your bodies and grind your bones to pieces.” Pilgrim said, “I too am a Great King by ancestral right and a lord of the mountain of many years’ standing. Yet I have never heard your famous names.” They said, “If you do not know, we shall tell you. One is called Eye-Sees-Joy (Yankanxi), one Ear-Hears-Anger (Ertingnu), one Nose-Smells-Love (Bixiuai), one Tongue-Tastes-Thought (Shechangsi), one Mind-Conceives-Desire (Yijianyu) and one Body-Breeds-Sorrow (Shenbenyou).” Wukong laughed. “So you are six petty thieves9! You fail to recognize that this man of religion is your true master, and dare block his way. Bring out the treasure you have stolen. I shall divide it into seven equal shares with you and spare you.” At these words the robbers were joyful, angry, loving, thoughtful, desirous and sorrowful, each according to his name. They all came forward shouting, “What an insolent monk! You have given us none of your things, and now you turn round and demand a share of ours!” Brandishing spears and swords, they rushed him together and hacked wildly at his head. Clang, bang, clang: seventy or eighty blows fell. Wukong stood among them as though he noticed nothing. The robbers said, “A fine monk! His head is hard indeed.” Pilgrim laughed. “It will just about do. Your hands must be tired of striking by now. Time for Old Sun to take out a needle and have a little fun.” The robbers said, “This monk must be an acupuncture doctor in disguise. We have no illnesses. What is all this talk of needles?”

Pilgrim reached into his ear and pulled out an embroidery needle. He waved it in the wind, and it became an iron cudgel fully as thick as a bowl. Holding it, he said, “Do not go! Let Old Sun give you a blow as well and try his hand.” The six robbers scattered in terror. He lengthened his stride, chased them down on every side and killed them all, one by one. He stripped off their clothes, took their travelling money and came back smiling. “On we go, Master. Old Sun has wiped out the robbers.” Sanzang said, “You have made terrible trouble. They may have been highway robbers, but even if they were brought before the authorities, they would not deserve death. Whatever your powers, you should only have driven them off. Why kill them all? You have taken human lives without cause. How can you be a monk? Those who leave the household life sweep the ground in fear of hurting ants, and cover their lamps with gauze to spare the moths. How could you kill them in a flurry of blows without distinguishing right from wrong? You have not the least heart of mercy or kindness. Luckily this is wild country, with no one to investigate. But suppose we reach a city and someone happens to offend you. If you turn violent there too and swing your cudgel about, injuring people, I shall be dragged into it though innocent. How am I to get clear?” Wukong said, “Master, if I had not killed them, they would have killed you.” Sanzang said, “As a man of religion, I would rather die than commit violence. If I died, it would be only one life, whereas you have killed six. How can that be justified? If this were reported to the authorities, even your own father sitting as magistrate could not excuse it.” Pilgrim said, “To tell you frankly, Master, five hundred years ago, when Old Sun held Flower-Fruit Mountain and ruled there as a monster king, I killed more people than I can count. If it were as you say, and the authorities could really hear complaints against me, I would never have become the Great Sage Equal to Heaven.” Sanzang said, “It was because you had no restraint or discipline, ran riot among men, bullied Heaven and deceived your sovereign that you suffered this ordeal five hundred years ago. Now you have entered the Buddhist order. If you go on committing violence as you did then and do nothing but take lives, you cannot reach the Western Heaven or be a monk. Wicked! Wicked!”

The elder could only gather his luggage and sling it over the horse. Instead of riding, he went miserably westwards on foot, his monk’s staff in one hand and the reins in the other. Before long he saw an aged woman ahead on the mountain path, holding a padded garment with a flowered cap resting on top. As she came close, Sanzang hurried to lead his horse to the right and stood aside to let her pass. The old woman asked, “Where have you come from, Elder, travelling here so lonely and forlorn?” Sanzang said, “Your disciple has been sent from the Great Tang in the Eastern Land to worship the living Buddha in the Western Heaven and seek the true scriptures.” The old woman said, “The Buddha of the West is at the Great Thunderclap Monastery, within the borders of India, a hundred and eight thousand li from here. Alone with one horse, without a companion or a disciple, how can you get there?” Sanzang said, “Your disciple took a disciple of his own a few days ago, but he was headstrong, vicious and unruly. I spoke a few words to him, and he would not accept instruction. He vanished and went away.” The old woman said, “I have this padded cloth gown and this flowered cap inlaid with gold. They belonged to my son. He was a monk for only three days before, unhappily, his short life ended. I have just been to his temple to weep for him and take leave of his Master, and have brought these two things away as keepsakes. Elder, since you have a disciple, I shall give you the gown and cap.” Sanzang said, “Thank you for such a generous gift, honoured mother. But my disciple has gone, and I dare not accept them.” The old woman asked, “Which way did he go?” Sanzang said, “I heard a rushing sound. He went back east.” The old woman said, “My home is not far to the east. He must have gone there. I also have a spell called the True Words for Settling the Mind, also known as the Band-Tightening Spell. Learn it secretly, keep it firm in your heart and never let a single other person know. I shall catch up with him and tell him to come back and follow you. Give him this gown and cap to wear. If he will not obey you, silently recite the spell. He will never dare turn violent or leave you again.” Sanzang lowered his head and bowed in thanks. The old woman changed into a shaft of golden light and went back east. Sanzang realized that it was the Bodhisattva Guanyin who had taught him these true words. He hurriedly gathered a pinch of earth to use in place of burning incense and bowed earnestly towards the east. Then he put away the gown and cap, hiding them in his bundle. He sat beside the road to practise the True Words for Settling the Mind, reciting them over and over until he knew them perfectly and held them fast in his heart. Let us leave him there for now.

Meanwhile, when Wukong left his Master, he took one somersault cloud straight back to the East Sea. He lowered his cloud, parted the waters and went directly to the Crystal Palace. The Dragon King was soon alerted and came out to welcome him, then led him inside to sit. When they had exchanged greetings, the Dragon King said, “I recently heard that your ordeal was over, Great Sage, and have failed to congratulate you. I suppose you have restored your immortal mountain and returned to your old cave?” Wukong said, “I have a mind to do that, but I have also become a monk.” The Dragon King asked, “What sort of monk?” Pilgrim said, “Thanks to the Bodhisattva of the South Sea, who urged me to be good and taught me to seek true attainment, I am following the Tang Monk from the Eastern Land to worship the Buddha in the West. I have taken refuge in the Buddhist order and am now called Pilgrim.” The Dragon King said, “Then you truly deserve congratulations, congratulations! This is what it means to turn from evil to the right path, to discipline yourself and foster a good heart. But if so, why have you come east again instead of going west?” Pilgrim laughed. “That Tang Monk has no understanding of a fellow’s temper. Some petty thieves blocked the road, and I killed them. Then he nagged and chattered and told me all the things I had done wrong. Do you think Old Sun can put up with that sort of vexation? I left him and meant to return to my own mountain, so I came here first to see you and ask for a cup of tea.” The Dragon King said, “You honour me with your visit, you honour me.” At once his sons and grandsons brought fragrant tea to offer him.

When they had finished their tea, Pilgrim turned and noticed a painting hanging on the back wall: the offering of shoes at Yi Bridge. “What scene is this?” he asked. The Dragon King said, “You came earlier, Great Sage, and this happened later. That is why you do not recognize it. It is called ‘The three offerings of shoes at Yi Bridge’.” Pilgrim asked, “What were the three offerings?” The Dragon King said, “This immortal is Lord Yellow Stone10 (Huangshi Gong), and this young man is Zhang Liang11 of the Han. Lord Yellow Stone sat on Yi Bridge and suddenly dropped a shoe beneath it. He told Zhang Liang to fetch it. The young man hurried to retrieve it and knelt to present it to him. This happened three times, and Zhang Liang showed not the least arrogance or neglect. Lord Yellow Stone came to love his diligence and care, and at night gave him a heavenly book, telling him to help establish the Han. Afterwards, sure enough, he planned his strategies within the command tent and secured victories a thousand li away. When peace came, he abandoned office, returned to the mountains and roamed with Master Red Pine12 (Chisongzi), coming to understand the way of immortality. Great Sage, if you will not protect the Tang Monk, work faithfully or accept instruction, in the end you will be only a demon immortal. Do not dream of reaching true attainment.” Wukong listened and pondered for a long while without speaking. The Dragon King said, “You must decide for yourself, Great Sage. Do not ruin your future for the sake of doing as you please.” Wukong said, “No more talk. Old Sun will go back and protect him, that is all.” The Dragon King was delighted. “In that case I dare not keep you. Please show your mercy at once, Great Sage. Do not leave your Master alone too long.”

Seeing that the Dragon King was urging him to leave, Pilgrim sprang up, left the realm beneath the sea, mounted his cloud and took his leave. On the way he met the Bodhisattva of the South Sea. “Sun Wukong,” she said, “why do you refuse instruction and fail to protect the Tang Monk? What are you doing here?” Alarmed, Pilgrim bowed in the clouds. “Thanks to your kind words, Bodhisattva, a monk from the Tang really did come. He removed the seal, saved my life and took me as his disciple. But he blamed me for being vicious and unruly, so I left him for a little while. I am going back to protect him now.” The Bodhisattva said, “Go at once. Do not let this good resolve slip away.” With that they each went their way.

In a moment Pilgrim saw the Tang Monk sitting disconsolately beside the road. He went up and said, “Master, why are you not travelling? What are you still doing here?” Sanzang looked up. “Where have you been? You left me afraid to go on or even move, so I have been sitting here waiting for you.” Pilgrim said, “I went to the old Dragon King’s home in the East Sea to ask for some tea.” Sanzang said, “Disciple, a man of religion must not lie. You have been away no more than one two-hour period, and you say you went to the Dragon King’s home for tea?” Pilgrim laughed. “To tell you frankly, Master, I can ride a somersault cloud. One somersault takes me a hundred and eight thousand li, so I can go and come back at once.” Sanzang said, “I spoke a little sternly, and you took offence, lost your temper and deserted me. Someone with your powers can find tea to drink. Someone like me, who cannot get anywhere, can only sit here and go hungry. Surely you cannot feel easy about that.” Pilgrim said, “If you are hungry, Master, I shall go and beg some food for you.” Sanzang said, “There is no need. There is still dry food in my bundle, given to me by Protector Liu’s mother. Take the begging bowl and find some water, so that I can eat a little before we go on.”

Pilgrim untied the bundle and found several baked flatbreads of coarse flour inside. He took them out and handed them to his Master. Then he noticed a fine, bright padded cloth gown and a flowered cap inlaid with gold. “Did you bring this gown and cap from the Eastern Land?” he asked. Sanzang answered readily, “I wore them when I was little. Put on this cap, and you can chant scriptures without being taught. Put on this gown, and you can perform the rites without being shown.” Pilgrim said, “Dear Master, give them to me to wear.” Sanzang said, “I only fear the length may not be right. If they fit you, put them on.” Pilgrim took off his old white cloth gown and slipped on the padded one. It was as though it had been cut to his measurements. Then he put on the cap. The moment Sanzang saw him wearing it, he stopped eating his dry food and silently recited the Band-Tightening Spell once. Pilgrim cried, “My head hurts! My head hurts!” His Master went on reciting it several more times, and Pilgrim rolled about in pain, clawing the gold-inlaid cap to pieces. Afraid he might tear the gold band apart as well, Sanzang stopped. When the chanting stopped, so did the pain. Pilgrim reached up and felt something like a thread of gold drawn tight round his head. He could neither take it off nor pull it apart: it had already taken root. He took the needle from his ear, pushed it under the band and pried wildly outwards. Again Sanzang feared he would break it, so he began chanting once more. The pain returned. Pilgrim stood on his head and turned somersaults, his ears red, his face flushed, his eyes swollen and his body numb. His Master could not bear the sight and stopped again. Pilgrim’s head no longer hurt. “So it is you cursing me, Master?” he said. Sanzang said, “I am reciting the Band-Tightening Scripture. When have I ever cursed you?” Pilgrim said, “Recite it again and see.” Sanzang did, and Pilgrim’s head hurt again. He could only cry, “Stop, stop! When you chant, it hurts. What does this mean?” Sanzang said, “Will you accept my instruction now?” Pilgrim said, “I will.” “Will you be insolent again?” Pilgrim said, “I would not dare.”

Though he agreed aloud, his heart still held evil intentions. He waved the needle until it was as thick as a bowl and made to strike the Tang Monk. The frightened elder recited the spell two or three more times. The monkey fell to the ground, dropped the iron cudgel and could not lift a hand. He could only cry, “Master, I understand now. Stop chanting, stop chanting!” Sanzang said, “How could you betray your conscience and dare strike me?” Pilgrim said, “I never dared strike you. Tell me, Master, who taught you this magic?” Sanzang said, “An old woman taught me just now.” Pilgrim flew into a rage. “Say no more. That old woman must have been Guanshiyin! How could she torment me like this? I shall go to the South Sea and beat her.” Sanzang said, “If she taught me this magic, she must have known it already. If you go looking for her and she begins chanting, will you not die?” Pilgrim saw the sense of this and truly dared not stir. He could only change his mind, kneel and beg, “Master, this is her means of bringing me to heel and making me follow you west. I shall not provoke her. And you must not treat it like ordinary speech, chanting it all the time. I am willing to protect you, and shall never think of turning back again.” Sanzang said, “In that case, help me mount.” Only then did Pilgrim submit with all his heart. He roused his spirits, tightened his padded cloth gown, secured the saddle, gathered the luggage and set off towards the west.

But what more befell them as they went on? To learn what happened next, read the next chapter.