ends of bamboo, pines that had lost their needles, hollow stumps of willows, creepers broken off from their roots, withered artemisia, old reeds, rushes and dead mulberry. They carried a lot of this into the back entrance, where Monkey set it alight and Pig fanned the flames with both ears. Then the Great Sage sprang up, shook himself and put the sleep-insect hairs back on his body. When the junior devils woke up they were all already on fire. Poor things! None of them had the faintest chance of surviving. When the whole cave was burnt right out the disciples went back to see the master.

When Sanzang saw that the senior demon had woken up and was shouting he called, “Disciples, the evil spirit has come round.” Pig went up and killed him with one blow of his rake, whereupon the ogre turned back into his real form as a leopard spirit with a coat patterned like mugwort flowers.

“Leopards with flower-patterned coats can eat tigers,” Monkey observed, “and this one could turn into a human too. Killing him has prevented a lot of serious trouble in future.” The venerable elder could not express his gratitude strongly enough, and he then mounted the saddle. “My home isn’t far from here to the Southwest, sirs,” said the woodcutter. “I invite you to come there to meet my mother and accept my kowtows of thanks for saving my life. Then I’ll see you gentlemen along your way.”

Sanzang was happy to accept, and instead of riding he walked there with his three disciples and the woodcutter. After they had followed a winding path to the Southwest for a short distance this is what they saw.

Lichen growing across a stone-flagged path,

Wisteria joining across the wicker gate,

Chains of mountains on every side, And a wood full of singing birds.

A dense thicket of pine and bamboo,

Rare and wonderful flowers in profusion.

The place is remote and deep amid the clouds,

A thatched cottage with a bamboo fence.

While they were still some distance away they could make out an old woman leaning on the wicker gate with tears streaming from her eyes, weeping and calling to heaven and earth for her son.

As soon as the woodcutter saw his mother he left the Tang Priest behind as he rushed straight to the gate, knelt down and said, “Mother, I’m back.”

Throwing her arms around him the woman said, “My boy, when you didn’t come home for days on end I thought the mountain lord must have caught you and killed you. I’ve suffered terrible heartache. If you weren’t killed why didn’t you come back before? Where are your carrying-pole, ropes and axe?”

The woodcutter kowtowed as he replied, “Mother, the mountain lord did capture me and tie me to a tree. I was lucky to escape with my life, thanks to these gentlemen. They are arhats sent by the Tang court in the East to fetch the scriptures from the Western Heaven. This gentleman was captured by the mountain lord and tied to a tree as well. His three disciples have enormous magic powers. They killed the mountain lord with a single blow: he was a leopard with mugwort flower spots who had become a spirit. They burnt all the junior devils to death, untied the senior gentleman and then untied me too. I owe them a tremendous debt of gratitude: but for them your son would certainly be dead. Now that the mountain is completely safe I’ll be able to walk around at night without any danger.”

After hearing this the old woman came forward to greet Sanzang and his disciples, kowtowing at every step. Then she led them in through the wicker gate to sit down in the thatched cottage. Mother and son next performed endless kowtows as expressions of their gratitude before hastily and in a fluster preparing them some vegetarian food as a mark of their thanks.

“Brother,” said Pig to the woodcutter, “I know you’re hard up here. Just put something simple together for us. Don’t go to a lot of trouble and effort.”

“Quite frankly, sir,” the woodcutter replied, “we’re very poor here. We don’t have any gill fungus, button mushrooms, peppers or aniseed. All we can offer you gentlemen are some wild vegetables.”

“We’re putting you to a lot of trouble,” said Pig. “Be as quick as you can. We’re starving.”

“It’ll soon be ready,” the woodcutter replied, and before long a table and stools were set out and wiped clean, and several dishes of wild vegetables served:

Tender-scalded day lilies,

White lumps of pickled scallion,

Knotweed and purslane,

Shepherds purse and “goosegut blossom.”

The “swallows stay away” was delicious and tender;

The tiny fists of beansprouts were crisp and green.

Indigo heads boiled soft,

White-stewed “dog footprints,”

“Cat’s ears,”

Wild turnips,

All with tender and tasty gray noodles.

“Scissor shafts,”

“Oxpool aid,”

Tipped in the pot with broom purslane.

Broken grain purslane,

And lettuce purslane,

All green, delicious and smooth.

“Birdflower” fried in oil,

Superb water-chestnuts,

Roots of reeds and wild-rice stems,

Four kinds of excellent water plants.

“Wheat-mother,”

Delicate and finely flavored;

“Raggedy patches”

You could never wear.

Under the bitter sesame bed runs a fence.

Sparrows wander around,

Macaques leave their footprints,

Eager to eat it all when fried and piping hot.

Sloping wormwood and green artemisia surround crown daisy chrysanthemums;

The moths fly around the buckwheat.

Bald “goat’s ear,”

Wolfberry fruits,

That don’t need oil when combined with dark indigo.

A meal of every kind of wild vegetable

As a mark of the woodcutter’s reverent thanks.

When master and disciples had eaten their fill they packed up ready to start out again. Not daring to press them to stay, the woodcutter asked his mother to come out and bow to them in thanks again. He then kowtowed, fetched a club of jujube wood, fastened his clothes tight, and came out to see them on their way.

Friar Sand led the horse, Pig carried the shoulder-pole, and Monkey followed close behind them while the master put his hands together on the back of the horse and said, “Brother woodcutter, could you kindly lead us to the main track? We will take out leave of you there.” Together they then climbed high, went down slopes, skirted ravines and negotiated inclines. “Disciples,” said the venerable elder thoughtfully as he rode,

“Since leaving my monarch to come to the West

I have made a long journey across a great distance.

At each river and mountain I have met with disaster,

Barely escaping from monsters and fiends.

My heart has been set on the Three Stores of scriptures,

And my every thought is of Heaven above.

When will my toil and my labor be ended?

When will I go home, my journey completed?”

When the woodcutter heard Sanzang saying this he said, “Don’t be so downhearted, sir. It’s only some three hundred miles West along this road to India, the land of paradise.”

As soon as Sanzang heard this he dismounted and replied, “Thank you for bringing us so far. Now that we are on the main track, please go home now, brother woodcutter, and give our respects to your venerable mother. We poor monks have no way to reward you for the sumptuous meal you gave us just now except by reciting surras morning and evening to protect you and your mother and enable both of you to live to be a hundred.” The woodcutter took his leave of them and went back by the way he had came. Master and disciples then headed West together.

Indeed:

The ogre subdued and wrongs set to right, he escaped from his peril;

Having been shown this kindness he set out on his way with the greatest of care.

If you don’t know how long it was till they reached the Western Heaven, listen to the explanation in the next installment.