Defeated, Tripitaka wiped his tears and rejoined his disciples. When the Monkey King saw his Master upset, he approached him and asked:
“Did the monks from this monastery strike you?”
“No,” replied the Tang Monk.
“Did they scold you?” pressed the Monkey King.
“No again,” answered Tripitaka.
The Monkey King asked once more:
“Then why do you seem so troubled? Are you still longing for the land you left behind?”
With sorrow in his voice, Tripitaka affirmed:
“They told me this place is not suitable for me.”
“What do you mean?” exclaimed Wukong, bursting into laughter. “Are those inside Taoists?”
Tripitaka, growing angry, replied:
“In Taoist temples there are only Taoists. Those here are monks.”
The Monkey King cried out again:
“Is that so? If they are monks, then they are no different from us. As the old saying goes: Those who gather near Buddha are all of one kind. Sit here while I go take a look at this monastery myself.”
Intimidation at the Precious Grove Monastery
With his iron bar in hand, the Monkey King strode directly toward the Hall of the Great Hero.
A servant appeared carrying lighted incense sticks and placed them into an urn before the images of Buddha. The Monkey King roared and knocked him over. When the startled servant lifted his head and saw Wukong’s face, such was his terror that he fell down again. Fear gave him strength, and, stumbling repeatedly, he finally managed—after great difficulty—to reach the abbot’s chambers.
Trembling, the servant said:
“There’s a monstrous monk outside.”
The abbot bellowed:
“All servants deserve to be whipped! Didn’t I order you earlier to lead all such people to the corridors and let them spend the night there? Why disturb me again with the same matter? If you open your mouth again, rest assured I will have you flogged twenty times!”
Defending himself, the servant stammered:
“This one is different. Moreover, his appearance is truly horrifying.”
“Describe him to me,” said the abbot.
The terrified servant explained:
“He has round eyes, pointed ears, a face completely covered in fur, and speaks like a thunder god. To make matters worse, he wields a massive iron bar as if intending to beat anyone who dares approach him. And—he grinds his teeth in the most chilling way imaginable.”
“I’ll go see what he’s like,” said the abbot.
But the moment he cracked the door open, the Monkey King had already barged in uninvited. When the old monk saw him, fear seized him so violently that he slammed the door shut. In the blink of an eye, however, Sun Wukong shattered it into pieces and then commanded:
“Hurry up and prepare a thousand rooms—I want to take a nap.”
The abbot, still frantically searching for a place to hide, turned to the servant and exclaimed:
“No wonder he looks so hideous—he even speaks arrogantly! Here we have at most three hundred rooms, counting even my quarters, the Buddha halls, and the drum and bell towers. Yet this fellow demands nothing less than a thousand rooms just for a nap. Where on earth are we supposed to find so many rooms?”
The servant confessed:
“Forgive me, but all my courage has vanished. I fear you will have to find the answer to this great dilemma yourself.”
Shaking from head to toe, the abbot raised his voice:
“We humbly beg you to listen. This monastery is so humble and insignificant that we cannot serve you as you deserve. We suggest, therefore, that you go elsewhere—a more appropriate place to spend the night.”
Wukong made his bar as thick as a basin, stood it upright in the middle of the courtyard, and said:
“If this place is not good enough for us to stay the night, then leave—and the matter is settled.”
The abbot protested:
“But we have lived in this monastery since our youth. Our spiritual ancestors entrusted it to our masters, who passed it on to us. It is our duty to pass it on to those who will someday occupy the position we now hold. What kind of man are you to demand, without reason or restraint, that we abandon the inheritance of our forebears?”
The servant suggested:
“It would be better not to argue with him. Why don’t we simply leave? If we don’t do as he says, he’ll reduce everything to rubble with that bar.”
The abbot exclaimed:
“What nonsense! Between young and old, we number five hundred monks. Where can such a large crowd possibly go? Besides, if we leave here, we may never find another place to settle.”
Upon hearing this, the Monkey King declared:
“Nonsense! Send someone out to receive a few taps from my iron rod, and I shall show you what I’m made of.”
“Go out and take that punishment for me,” ordered the abbot to the servant, who replied, trembling with fear:
“How could you ask me such a thing? Don’t you see how huge that bar is?”
Explained the abbot:
“As the proverb rightly says: An army must be maintained for a thousand days to be used in a single hour. Now do you understand why it must be you, and not I, who goes out?”
The servant protested firmly:
“It’s inhumane to command me to suffer such a beating! That bar is so big that if it so much as brushes against me, I’ll be reduced to mincemeat.”
Admitted the abbot:
“That’s true. Anyone might lose their life by carelessly bumping into it in the dark.”
“And still you want me to go out?” the servant protested again.
A Display of Power
Listening to their heated argument, the Monkey King thought to himself:
“These people clearly cannot withstand my blows. If I killed someone, the Master would blame me. Better I strike something else to show them my power.”
He looked up slightly and noticed a stone lion beside the abbot’s quarters. Wukong raised his bar and brought it crashing down on the statue, instantly reducing it to dust. At the sight, the monk panicked and dove under the bed, while the servant tried to squeeze through a hole into the kitchen, shouting all the while:
“Please, forgive us! We accept your request!”
Wukong asked the abbot:
“How many monks live in this monastery?”
The abbot replied:
“There are exactly five hundred people living here.”
The Monkey King ordered:
“Summon them all and tell them to come out and greet my Master. If you do, I shall spare your lives.”
Relieved, the abbot exclaimed:
“If you don’t hit me with a stick, I’d carry him on my back to the hall myself if you asked.”
“Well, what are you waiting for?” urged the Monkey King.
And so the monks indeed came out in an orderly procession to welcome the Tang Monk and his disciples.
Bajie’s Mockery
Wukong couldn’t help but smile, and ordered the monks to continue walking toward the gate. Upon reaching it, they knelt and began bowing repeatedly, touching their foreheads to the ground. Then the abbot raised his voice and said:
“Reverend Master Tang, we humbly invite you to occupy the abbot’s quarters and rest there as long as you wish.”
Seeing what had happened, Piggy Bajie couldn’t help but comment:
“Our Master did things very poorly. They treated you with such disdain that tears filled your eyes. But look how capable Big Brother is—he made them kneel and welcome us with such respect!”
Tripitaka reprimanded him:
“How foolish you are! As the old saying goes: Even spirits fear the fearsome.”
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