As he walked, Bajie was thinking to himself:
“What a wretched life! I was sleeping peacefully when that cursed monkey tricked me into hauling a corpse! Disgusting! I’ll make him pay—I’ll beg the master to recite the Headache Spell!”
Bajie’s Resentment and the Headache Spell
They arrived at the monastery, and Bajie went straight to the Zen hall. Dropping the corpse onto the floor, he shouted:
“Master, wake up and come take a look at this!”
Hearing the commotion, the Tang Monk hurried out and asked:
“What is it you want me to see?”
“This ancestor of the monkey’s I had to carry on my back,” replied the Pig.
Wukong exclaimed:
“Cursed fool! Since when do I have ancestors?”
Bajie retorted:
“If this man isn’t related to you, I don’t understand why you went through the trouble of making me carry him. You can’t imagine how hard it was!”
The Tang Monk and Monk Sha examined the body in astonishment, for the king’s features were as fresh and lifelike as when he had been alive. Yet this very fact deepened the master’s sorrow, and he cried out, visibly pained:
“In what past life could you have made such a terrible enemy, Majesty, that he has now killed you in this one? What ill fortune, to be deprived of both son and wife! No one knows of your tragic fate—not even the woman who shared your life for so many years.”
Bajie smiled and asked:
“Why are you mourning him like this, Master? As far as I know, he’s not even family. What does his death have to do with you?”
The Tang Monk explained:
“For monks, compassion is our first virtue. I don’t understand how you can be so heartless.”
Defending himself, the Pig said:
“Heartless? I only stayed calm because Wukong told me he could bring him back to life. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have carried him—rest assured of that.”
The Master, ever gullible, seemed to have a head full of water. Upon hearing this surprising confession, he raised his voice and said:
“If you truly have the power, Wukong, to restore him to life, then your merits surpass even those of men who build seven-story temples. Not to mention the benefits it would bring us all—it would be as if we had already paid homage to Buddha on the Vulture Peak.”
The Monkey King exclaimed:
“How can you believe the nonsense this fool comes up with? Understand this: when a man dies, he spends a period—up to forty-nine days—purging his sins in this world of light before being reborn. How can I bring him back if he’s been dead for over three years?”
“I understand,” said Tripitaka, discouraged.
“Don’t believe him, Master,” insisted Bajie, clearly resentful. “I know he can do it. To prove it, just recite the spell. It’s so effective that he’ll do everything in his power to bring this man back to life.”
So the Tang Monk did as instructed. The Monkey began to feel unbearable pain.
Unable to endure the agony, the Monkey King screamed desperately:
“For the love of Heaven, stop chanting the spell! I’ll do as you ask! I’ll bring the man back to life!”
Journey to the Tushita Heaven
It was nearly midnight when Wukong bid farewell to the Master and his two other brothers. With a single leap, he headed directly toward the Thirty-Third Heaven, the Heaven of Supreme Bliss, where the Tushita Palace stood.
Upon seeing him, Lao-Tzu warned his young attendants:
“Be extremely careful. Here comes the heartless rogue who once dared steal our elixir.”
The Monkey King greeted him with a smile:
“Please don’t be so cautious. Why all these precautions with me? You should know I’m not like that anymore.”
Lao-Tzu replied:
“About five hundred years ago, you threw Heaven into chaos and stole our elixir. Not long ago, on the Lofty Mountain, it cost me great effort to get you to return the treasures you took from the monsters. How can I trust you now? Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to hear the reason for your visit.”
The Monkey King denied:
“As a matter of fact, I returned all the treasures you speak of the moment you asked. Why so suspicious?”
“Why aren’t you on the road instead of coming here to snoop around my palace?” Lao-Tzu shot back.
The Monkey explained:
“After parting ways with you, we continued our journey without incident until we reached the Black Rooster Kingdom. There, we learned the true king had been murdered by a monster who once posed as a Taoist capable of controlling rain and wind. Our only course, therefore, was to come to you and request a thousand pills of the Nine Transformations Elixir, so that this king may finally regain his life.”
Laozi exclaimed:
“You don’t even know what you’re asking! Open your mouth and out comes ‘a thousand’ or ‘two thousand’ pills. Do you even know how difficult they are to make?”
“Alright, a thousand is too many. How about a hundred, then?” asked the Monkey King.
“I don’t have any,” Laozi repeated.
“What about ten?” the Monkey pressed.
“Ugh, this monkey is such a nuisance!” Lao-Tzu snapped, growing angry. “I told you I have none left—just go away.”
Without another word, the Monkey turned and left the palace. But rather than calming Lao-Tzu, this unexpected move only made him more nervous.
He muttered uneasily:
“I don’t trust that monkey! It’s strange he obeyed so quickly. Most likely, he’s gone around back to see what he can steal.”
To prevent further trouble, Laozi sent an assistant to call the Monkey back and said:
“It seems like your feet or hands must be cramping—you can’t even wait properly. Fine. I’ll give you one pill of my elixir.”
The Monkey King replied:
“Knowing, as you do, of my abilities, you should be more generous. Otherwise, I’ll just steal all your golden pills.”
The Patriarch Lao-Tzu took his gourd and pulled out a single golden pill. He handed it to Wukong and insisted:
“It’s the only one I have. Take it.”
Hardly had he said it when the Monkey popped it into his mouth.
Lao-Tzu lunged at the Monkey, grabbing his head and threatening him with a raised fist:
“You damned monkey! If you swallow that, I’ll kill you.”
The Monkey laughed and replied:
“You should be ashamed! How stingy and finicky you are! Who said I was going to eat your potion? It’s barely worth anything! Isn’t it still here?”
After checking that it was indeed the same pill he had just given him, Laozi grumbled:
“Just go already and stop bothering me!”
Wukong thanked him and left the Tushita Palace.
He mounted a cloud again and in the blink of an eye returned to the Precious Grove Monastery.
The King’s Resurrection
Wukong turned to the Sand Monk and said:
“Bring me some water.”
He pried open the king’s jaws and used the water to rinse the golden elixir down into his stomach.
Half an hour later, strange sounds began to emerge from the king’s belly, but his body remained as motionless as before. So the Monkey King leaned over the king and blew with all his might into the mouth of the dead man. The king coughed loudly, and his breath and spirit merged into one. The king had revived—and sat up immediately.
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