“Yes,” said the delighted Sanzang.

“Marvellous,” said Pig, “but the rest of us look shabby by comparison. Even if I rolled around for two or three years on end I couldn't make myself look as elegant as that.”

The splendid Great Sage left them behind as he went straight up to the old man, bowed to him and said, “Greetings, venerable sir.” Seeing how young and cultivated he looked, the old man returned his greeting and stroked his head in an offhand way.

“Little monk,” the old man said with a smile, “where have you come from?”

“We are from the Great Tang in the East,” Monkey replied, “going to worship the Buddha and fetch the scriptures. When we came here and heard you tell us that there are demons here my master was terrified. He sent me to ask you about them. What sort of evil spirits would dare go in for that sort of crime? I would trouble you, venerable sir, to tell me all the details so that I can put them in their place and send them on their way.”

“You're much too young, little monk,” said the old man with a smile, “to know what's good for you. Your remarks aren't helpful. Those evil spirits have tremendous magical powers. How can you have the nerve to talk of putting them in their place and sending them on their way?”

“From what you are saying,” Monkey replied with a smile, “you seem to be trying to protect them. You must be a relation of theirs, or else a neighbour or a friend. Why else would you be promoting their prestige and boosting their morale, and refusing to pour out everything you know about their background?”

“You certainly know how to talk, monk,” said the old man, nodding and smiling. “I suppose you must have learned some magic arts while travelling with your master. Perhaps you know how to drive away and capture goblins, or have exorcised people's houses for them. But you've never come up against a really vicious monster.”

“What sort of vicious?” Monkey said.

“If those evil spirits send a letter to Vulture Mountain the five hundred arhats all come out to meet them,” the old man said. “If they send a note to the Heavenly Palace the Ten Bright Shiners all turn out to pay their respects. The dragons of the Four Oceans were their friends and they often meet the immortals of the Eight Caves. The Ten Kings of the Underworld call them brothers; the local gods and city gods are good friends of theirs.

When the Great Sage heard this he could not help bursting into loud guffaws. “Stop talking,” he said, grabbing hold of the old man, “stop talking. Even if that demon is friends with all those young whippersnappers, my juniors, that's nothing really remarkable. If he knew I was coming he'd clear off the same night.”

“You're talking nonsense, little monk,” the old man said. “How can any of those sages be juniors and young whippersnappers to you?”

“To be truthful with you,” Monkey replied with a grin, “my people have lived for many generations in the Water Curtain Cave on the Mountain of Flowers and Fruit in the land of Aolai. My name is Sun Wukong. In the old days I used to be an evil spirit too and did some great things. Once I fell asleep after drinking too much at a feast with the other demons and dreamed that two men came to drag me off to the World of Darkness. I got so angry that I wounded the demon judges with my gold-banded cudgel. The kings of the Underworld were terrified and I practically turned the Senluo Palace upside-down. The judges in charge of the case were so scared that they fetched some paper for the Ten Kings to sign. They promised to treat me as their senior if I let them off a beating.”

“Amitabha Buddha!” exclaimed the old man when he heard this. “If you talk big like that you won't be able to grow any older.”

“I'm old enough, fellow,” said Monkey.

“How old are you then?” the old man asked. “Guess,” Monkey replied.

“Six or seven,” the old man said. “I'm ten thousand times as old as that,” laughed Monkey, “I'll show you my old face, then you'll believe me.”

“How can you have another face?” the old man asked.

“This little monk has seventy-two faces,” Monkey replied.

Not realizing that Monkey really had these powers the old man went on questioning him till Monkey rubbed his face and turned back into himself, with his protruding teeth, big mouth, red thighs and tigerskin kilt round his waist. As he stood there at the foot of the rocky scar, holding his gold-banded cudgel, he was the living image of a thunder god. The sight of him made the old man turn pale with terror and go so weak at the knees that he could not keep himself upright but collapsed to the ground. When he got to his feet again he lost his balance once more.

“Old man,” said the Great Sage, going up to him, “don't get yourself so frightened over nothing. I may look evil but I'm good inside. Don't be afraid! You were kind enough just now to tell us that there are demons here. Could I trouble you to let me know how many of them there are? I'll thank you very much if you do.” The old man trembled, unable to speak and acting as if deaf. He replied not a word.

Getting no answer from him, Monkey went back down the slope.

“So you are back, Wukong,” Sanzang said. “What did you find out?”

“It's nothing,” said Monkey with a smile, “nothing. Even if there are one or two evil spirits on the way to the Western Heaven, the people here only worry so much about them because they're such cowards. No problem! I'm here!”

“Did you ask him what mountain this was and what cave,” said Sanzang, “how many monsters there are, and which is the way to Thunder Monastery?”

“Please excuse me if I speak frankly, Master,” put in Pig. “When it comes to transformations, trickery and deception, then four or five of us would be no match for Brother Monkey. But a whole parade of Monkeys couldn't touch me for honesty.”

“That's right,” said the Tang Priest, “that's right. You're honest.”

“Goodness knows why,” said Pig, “but he just rushed in without a second thought, asked a couple of questions, and came running back in an awful mess. I'm going to find out the truth.”

“Do be careful, Wuneng,” said the Tang Priest.

The splendid idiot put his rake in his belt, straightened up his tunic, and swaggered straight up the slope to call to the old man, “Respectful greetings, sir.” The old man had finally managed to get back on his feet with the help of his stick after seeing that Monkey had gone, and was still shaking and about to depart when Pig suddenly appeared.

“Sir,” he said, more shocked than ever, “whatever kind of nightmare am I in the middle of? The first monk was ugly enough, but at least he looked a little bit human. But this one's got a snout like a pestle, ears like rush fans, a face like iron plates, and a neck covered in bristles. It doesn't look at all human.”

“You must be in a very bad mood to run me down like that, old man,” laughed Pig. “Is that how you see me? Ugly I may be, but if you can bear to look at me for a while you'll find I get quite handsome.”

Only when the old man heard Pig using human speech did he address him by asking, “Where are you from?”

“I'm the Tang Priest's second disciple,” Pig replied, “and my Buddhist names are Wuneng or Bajie. The one who came and asked you questions just now was Sun Wukong the Novice, the senior disciple. My master has sent me to pay my respects to you because he's angry with Sun Wukong for offending you and not finding out the truth. Could you please tell me, sir, what mountain this is, what caves there are on it, what demons live in them, and which is the main route West?”

“Are you honest?” the old man asked.

“I've never been false in all my life,” Pig replied. “You mustn't talk a whole lot of fancy nonsense like the other monk just now,” said the old man.

“I'm not like him,” Pig replied.

Leaning on his stick, the old man said to Pig, “This is Lion Ridge, and it is 250 miles around. In it there is a Lion Cave where there are three demon chieftains.”