Tripitaka and his disciples traveled eight hundred miles in a single day to cross the immense Flame Mountain after extinguished its flames.
Autumn was coming to an end, and winter had begun to show signs of its imminent arrival.
The travelers noticed this over many days on the road. After covering a very long distance, they came upon a fortified city.
The City of Splendor
Monk Tang pulled the reins of his horse and, turning toward Wukong, exclaimed:
“Do you see those buildings over there? What kind of place do you think it is?”
The Monkey King looked up and saw that it was a city protected by a deep moat.
After studying it carefully, Wukong concluded:
“This must be a royal capital.”
Bajie objected with a laugh:
“How can you be so sure? The world is full of cities belonging to prefectures or merely part of some district.”
Wukong replied:
“Yes, but those inhabited by a king are completely different from what you just described. Just look at the gates of that city — there are more than a dozen of them. Besides, its perimeter exceeds two hundred kilometers, and its buildings are so tall that they are always shrouded in clouds. If this isn’t the capital of a kingdom, why does it appear so distinguished?”
The master spurred his horse and soon arrived at one of the city gates. He dismounted, crossed the bridge over the moat on foot, and entered the streets of the city. Its markets and boulevards were bustling with life, but what was most surprising was that all the inhabitants were dressed as if they were nobles.
Encountering the Oppressed Monks
Just as they were most amazed by the city’s prosperity, they saw a group of monks begging from door to door. Their clothes were in tatters, and they wore iron shackles.
Seeing them, Tripitaka sighed with pity and said:
“Wukong, go over to them and ask why they lead such miserable lives.”
The Monkey King shouted:
“Hey, monks! Which monastery do you belong to, and wear these shackles?”
“We are members of the Golden Light Monastery and have been unjustly punished,” replied the monks, kneeling down.
The Monkey King immediately brought them before Tang Monk, who, after hearing his disciple’s explanation, asked:
“What do you mean by saying you’ve been unjustly punished? Please tell me about it, if you don’t mind.”
The Golden Light Monastery’s Tragedy
They apologized:
“Although you seem kind-hearted, we don’t know where you come from. Also, we dare not speak here. If you are so kind as to accompany us to our humble dwelling, we would have the honor of telling you all our troubles.”
“That seems most prudent. We will go with you and hear everything in peace,” said Tang Monk.
When they arrived at the gate of the monastery, they saw a plaque above the lintel engraved with golden horizontal characters: Golden Light Monastery — Built by Imperial Decree.
With great difficulty due to the shackles binding them, the monks opened the main hall doors and invited the master to pay homage to the Buddha.
At the sight of such a sorrowful scene, tears flowed abundantly from Tripitaka’s eyes.
Tang Monk followed all the steps of the ritual. Then they all went to the back, where they found six or seven young monks chained to a pillar directly in front of the guardian monk’s quarters. That was too much for Tripitaka to bear.
Revelation through Dreams
All the monks prostrated themselves face-down on the ground, and after repeatedly bowing their heads, one of them asked:
“Could you possibly be the monks from the court of the Great Tang in the Eastern Lands?”
Wukong laughed and replied:
“Indeed, we are those very monks. How did you recognize us?”
The monk answered:
“We have been appealing day and night to Heaven and Earth for justice in our case, for we have been condemned without cause. Last night, we all had the same dream, in which we were told that a monk was about to arrive from the court of the Tang in the Eastern Lands — one who would free us from all our sufferings and restore the honor we have lost. When we saw you, we had no doubt it was you, because you have unmistakable faces.”
Kingdom of Sacrifice’s Fall
Tripitaka asked:
“What is the name of this region, and why are you in such a pitiful state?”
One of the monks, who had knelt again in respect, replied:
“This city is known as the Kingdom of Sacrifice, and it is the largest settlement in the western territories. Not long ago, all the barbarian tribes scattered around these parts paid tribute to us: the Kingdom of Yue Tuo in the south, Gao Chang in the north, the Western Liang State in the east, and the Kingdom of Ben Bo in the west. They brought each year countless quantities of the finest jade, exquisite pearls, extraordinarily beautiful girls, and spirited horses. They came willingly, without the need for war or military expeditions, convinced of our unquestionable moral superiority.”
Tripitaka commented:
“If what you say is true, then your king must be deeply virtuous, your officials incorruptible, and your warriors noble beyond doubt.”
The monk replied:
“Nothing could be further from the truth. Our king is not virtuous, our officials are not honest, and our warriors are not brave. This city owed its fame to the Golden Light Monastery, whose tall pagoda always appeared wrapped in a sacred aura. Because of that, and nothing else, this place was considered the center of a heavenly prefecture and enjoyed the respect of all the barbarian tribes.”
The monk paused briefly and continued:
“However, three years ago, a strange rain of blood fell upon us. Everyone trembled with fear, and cries of terror echoed from every house. The royal ministers reported the blood rain event to His Majesty, and they spent several hours deliberating on what might have caused such a strange phenomenon. They concluded it was a punishment from the Lord of Heaven, and both Taoist priests and Buddhist monks were ordered to chant scriptures continuously to appease Heaven and Earth. But the worst part was that the barbarian peoples refused to continue paying tribute to us. The king wanted to send a punitive expedition against them, but his advisors dissuaded him, claiming the fault was ours — that we had stolen the treasure stored in the pagoda. That explained the disappearance of the holy aura and the refusal of other peoples to keep offering tribute. The king didn’t hesitate. He had us arrested and subjected us to such horrible tortures that two-thirds of the monks living here perished. Those of us who remained were disgraced, loaded with chains, and subjected to the torment of the shackles.”
Plea for Justice
“Yet, thinking calmly, how foolish would we have to be to steal our own treasure? By Buddhist compassion, use the power of your Dharma to clear our name and lift this shame!” the monks implored.
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