The pilgrims resumed their usual life of travelers—walking by day, resting by night, drinking when thirst overtook them, and eating when hunger struck.
Spring passed, summer came to an end, and autumn once again appeared in the palace of the seasons. One evening, as dusk was falling, Tang Monk pulled gently on his horse’s reins and asked those traveling with him:
“Where shall we spend the night?”
The Pilgrim replied:
“If it pleases you, let’s walk a little farther until we come upon some houses.”
Encountering the Heaven-Reaching River
With no better option, the master and disciples followed Wukong’s lead. However, they did not travel far before they soon heard the deafening sound of a powerful current of water.
“A torrent blocks our way,” remarked Monk Sha.
“How are we going to cross it?” asked Tang Monk, worried.
“I’ll go first and check how deep it is,” said Bajie.
“Don’t be foolish, please, Wuneng. How do you plan to find out?” Tripitaka scolded.
Bajie replied:
“It’s very simple. I’ll take an egg-shaped stone and throw it into the water. If it makes foam, the water is shallow; but if it sinks with a bubbling sound, then it’s deep.”
“What are you waiting for? Try it on this stream!” urged the Monkey King.
Bajie felt around the ground until he found a suitable stone, threw it into the water, and all that could be heard was a strange, long sound, like fish breathing—an unmistakable sign that the stream was very deep.
Discouraged, Bajie exclaimed:
“Too deep! I’m afraid we won’t be able to cross.”
Tripitaka sighed:
“What can we do now?”
Sha Wujing suggested:
“Look over there. Isn’t that a man standing in the distance?”
Wukong said:
“The best thing would be for me to go closer and ask him a few questions.”
He rushed toward where the figure seemed to stand. When he got near, he realized they had all been mistaken—it was nothing more than a stone slab on which three large characters were carved, along with two lines of smaller writing beneath them. The large characters read: Heaven-Reaching River, and the smaller ones stated: It spans more than eight hundred kilometers, and very few have ever crossed it.
Mysterious Drums and Cymbals
Bajie suggested:
“Listen carefully. Don’t you hear drums beating and cymbals clashing? There must be a pious family nearby who has offered a banquet to local monks. I think we should go there to get some vegetarian food and ask if there is any way to ford this river.”
Tripitaka strained his ears and indeed heard the sounds Bajie had described.
More encouraged, he commented:
“You’re right. Those aren’t Taoist instruments. A Buddhist ceremony must be taking place nearby. Let’s go take a look.”
Sun Wukong took hold of the horse’s reins, and together they headed toward the source of the music. There was no proper path, only endless stretches of sandy dunes. Still, they didn’t have to walk far before they saw a group of well-built houses. Located between the river and nearby hills, there were about four or five hundred of them.
A Village’s Dire Sacrifice
As they dismounted, Tripitaka noticed a house by the roadside.
Soon after, an old man appeared. Seeing that the old man was about to close the door, the master quickly clasped his hands at chest level and greeted him:
“Wait, elder. I’d like to pay my respects.”
“You’re too late,” the old man replied, returning the greeting.
“What do you mean?” Tripitaka asked, surprised.
The elder explained:
“There’s no food left. Had you arrived earlier, you could have joined the feast we prepared for the monks. Why did you come so late?”
Tripitaka bowed respectfully and confessed:
“Humble monk that I am, sir, I haven’t come here to eat.”
“Then why have you come?” the elder asked.
Tripitaka answered:
“I am an envoy of the Great Emperor of the Tang, Ruler of the Eastern Lands, and I am heading westward to the Western Paradise in search of sacred scriptures. While passing through here, night fell, and we thought we heard the sound of drums and cymbals. Upon arriving, we discovered the sounds came from your home, so we came to ask for lodging. We will continue our journey tomorrow morning at dawn.”
The elder shook his hand and scolded:
“A man who has renounced family shouldn’t lie. There are about fifty-four thousand kilometers between here and the Kingdom of the Great Tang in the East. How could one person possibly travel such a distance alone?”
Tripitaka replied:
“It shows you are perceptive and observant. But I haven’t made this journey alone. I travel with three devoted and capable disciples. It is thanks to them that I am here today.”
The elder asked again:
“Why haven’t your disciples approached? Invite them inside. My house is spacious enough to shelter all of you.”
Tripitaka turned around and called out:
“Come forward!”
Then he asked:
“May I ask what kind of religious service you’ve just held?”
The elder replied:
“It was simply a pre-funeral service.”
Bajie exclaimed:
“No one in your house has died. How could you hold a funeral service?”
The Monkey King added:
“You must be confused, Grandfather. Could you explain what you mean by preemptive funeral rites?”
The Cruelty of the River God
The elder replied:
“There is a temple nearby, called the Temple of the Great King of Miraculous Power, located about a mile beyond the stone monument by the riverbank. This Great King has brought us rain and heavenly blessings year after year. Yet, for all the favors he bestows, he is also terribly cruel to us.
With tears streaming down his face, the elder continued:
“He loves to devour children. Every year, the Great King demands the sacrifice of one boy and one girl, along with many cattle and sheep. Once he is satisfied with the offering, we can be sure that timely rains will fall. But if we refuse to give him the sacrifices I’ve mentioned, he turns his wrath upon us, bringing disasters and calamities.”
The Monkey King asked:
“I suppose it’s your family’s turn to offer this monstrous sacrifice this year, isn’t it?”
“You have hit the nail on the head,” the elder replied.
“I have only one daughter named Golden Burden(Cheng Jin). She recently turned eight. My brother here is named Chen Qing. He has only one son, named Chen Guanbao, who has just turned seven. My brother and I each have only one child to carry on our family names. Unfortunately, it is our turn this year to make the sacrifice to the Great King. Today’s ceremony was dedicated to them, and thus we call it the ‘pre-funeral service’ for obvious reasons.”
Tears flowed freely down Tripitaka’s cheeks.
Wukong’s Pledge
Wukong comforted the two elders and said:
“Old sirs, there’s no need to grieve. Consider yourselves fortunate to have met us. Gladly would we trade our lives for the lives of your children.”
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