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Sun Wukong and the star lords quickly mounted their clouds and soared high into the sky. The monster gathered all the golden fragments and, at the same time, ordered his troops to form up on the open ground beside the monastery gate.
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Having escaped the perils of thorns and entangled tree spirits, the pilgrims continued westward. Soon winter came to an end, and spring returned, spreading its presence everywhere. The master and his disciples preferred the languid fragrance of flowers and the soft comfort of meadows.
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After snatching the Tang Monk, the old man headed toward a stone house completely shrouded in mist.
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In gratitude for vanquishing the monsters and recovering the Buddha’s relics, the king of the Kingdom of Sacrifice wished to present Tripitaka and his companions with a great amount of gold and jade, which they politely declined.
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Early the next morning, Tang Monk and his two disciples brought the captured spirits before the king.
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Tripitaka said: “When I left Chang’an, I vowed in the Hall of the Dharma Gates that I would not pass by a temple without burning incense, nor a monastery without paying homage to Buddha, nor a pagoda without sweeping its courtyard or stairs.”
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Tang Sanzang and Sha Monk waited restlessly for Wukong’s return, pacing like caged animals by the roadside.
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The Monkey King struggled desperately to escape the raging tempest, yet could not even brush the ground. The wind tossed him about like a speck of dust, upending him as easily as a typhoon strips trees bare or a torrent sweeps away withered blossoms.