Chapter 16: The Monks of Guanyin Monastery Scheme for the Treasure; the Monster of Black Wind Mountain Steals the Robe

Master and disciple rode up to the temple gate and found that it was indeed a monastery.

Halls rise upon halls, corridors pile upon corridors.
Outside the three gates, ten thousand bands of colored cloud hang high.
Before the Hall of Five Blessings, a thousand threads of red mist coil.
On both sides stand pines and bamboo; within the grove, cypresses and junipers.
The pines and bamboo have no year and no age, yet remain cool and secluded;
the cypresses and junipers wear color and form, proud and stately all the same.
The bell tower stands high; the stupa tower rises steep.
Monks sit at ease in meditation; birds cry quietly in the trees.
In lonely stillness, there is truly no dust;
in clear emptiness, the Way is indeed clear.

A verse says:

A lofty monastery, hidden in a green hollow,
a splendid temple that outshines the world of men.
Truly, pure lands are rare among the human throng;
under heaven, it is famous mountains that monks most often occupy.

Tripitaka dismounted, and the Pilgrim set down the luggage just as a group of monks came out from within the gate. Their appearance was this:

On their heads they wore caps pinned to the left, and their robes were spotless.
Copper rings hung from both ears, and silk sashes bound their waists.
They walked in straw sandals, with wooden fish in hand.
Their mouths were always in recitation, and all their return was to prajna.

Tripitaka saw them and stood respectfully to one side, offering a greeting. The monks hurriedly returned the salute and laughed, saying, "We have kept you waiting. Where have you come from? Please come into the abbot's room for tea."

Tripitaka said, "I am a servant from the Eastern Land, an imperial envoy bound for Thunderclap Monastery to worship the Buddha and seek the scriptures. The day is growing late, and we would ask shelter for one night in your noble monastery."

The monk said, "Please, come in and sit. Come in and sit."

Only then did Tripitaka call the Pilgrim to lead in the horse. The monk caught sight of the Pilgrim's face and became faintly afraid. "What sort of thing is that leading the horse?"

Tripitaka said, "Speak softly, speak softly. If he hears you call him a thing, he will take offense at once. He is my disciple."

The monk shivered and bit his finger. "Such a hideous, monstrous face. How could you take him as a disciple?"

Tripitaka said, "You cannot judge by looks alone. He is ugly, certainly, but terribly useful."

The monk had no choice but to lead Tripitaka and the Pilgrim through the gate. Inside the gate, above the main hall, hung four great characters: Guanyin Monastery. Tripitaka was overjoyed.

"I have received the bodhisattva's holy grace many times and have not yet had the chance to bow my thanks. To meet a monastery named for her is like meeting the bodhisattva herself. How fitting to offer worship."

The monk at once ordered the gate keeper to open the hall doors and invited Tripitaka to bow to the sacred image. The Pilgrim tied up the horse, dropped the luggage, and went with Tripitaka onto the hall. Tripitaka bent his back, laid his chest to the ground, and knocked his head before the golden image. The monk went off to beat the drum, and the Pilgrim went to strike the bell.

Tripitaka prostrated himself before the dais, praying with all his heart. When the prayer was done, the monk stopped the drum, but the Pilgrim kept striking the bell without pause, sometimes quick, sometimes slow, ringing it for a long while.

The keeper said, "The worship is over. Why are you still ringing the bell?"

Only then did the Pilgrim drop the bell striker and laugh. "You don't understand. I am just doing what people say: one day a monk, one day his bell."

At that moment the sound roused the monks of all ranks and the elders in every room. Hearing the bell ring wildly, they all rushed out and cried, "What wild fellow is beating the bell and drum here?"

The Pilgrim jumped out and shouted, "It is your Pilgrim grandfather, here for a bit of fun!"

At the sight of him, the monks were so scared they tumbled and rolled, all falling flat to the ground. "Lord Thunder! Lord Thunder!"

The Pilgrim said, "Thunder is my grandson. Get up, get up. Do not be afraid. We are old masters from Great Tang in the Eastern Land."

Only then did the monks bow and greet them. When they saw Tripitaka, they finally felt safe. The abbot of the monastery invited them, saying, "Masters, please come to the rear abbot's room for tea."

So they unbridled the horse, carried the luggage, passed around the main hall, and entered the rear quarters, where seats were arranged and tea was offered. After the tea, the abbot also ordered a meal. The daylight was still bright when Tripitaka had not yet finished thanking him, and from the back came two little boys supporting an old monk.

This was his dress:

On his head he wore a square Vairocana cap, with a cat's-eye gem shining from the top.
He wore a brocade-lined jacket, its gold trim bright with peacock-green hairs.
His monk's shoes were studded with eight treasures, and his staff had stars set in cloud-patterns.
His face was lined like the Old Mother of Mount Li;
his eyes were dim like the Dragon King of the Eastern Sea.
His mouth did not seal well, for his teeth had fallen out;
his back was bent and his waist twisted by age.

The monks said, "Our master has arrived."

Tripitaka bowed and greeted him. "Old abbot, your disciple pays respects."

The old monk returned the salute and took his seat.

"The little ones have said that a master has come from the Eastern Land of Tang, so I have come out to receive you," he said.

Tripitaka said, "I have come rashly to your precious mountain, and I beg forgiveness."

"Not at all, not at all."

The old monk asked, "Master, how far is it from the Eastern Land to this place?"

Tripitaka said, "Beyond the borders of Chang'an it is more than five thousand li. We crossed Two-Boundary Mountain, took in a troop of young disciples, and after two months on the road, passing through the Western lands of Hubi Country, traveled another five or six thousand li before reaching your honorable place."

The old monk said, "Then we are already ten thousand li apart. I have spent my whole life within this monastery and never once stepped outside the gate. I am truly, as the saying goes, a man who sits at the bottom of a well and thinks he sees the sky. I am a rotten and useless old fellow."

Tripitaka asked, "How old are you, venerable abbot?"

The old monk said, "I am a foolish two hundred and seventy years old."

When the Pilgrim heard that, he laughed, "Then you are still my many-times-great-grandson."

Tripitaka glanced at him and said, "Be careful with your tongue. Do not insult people by talking above yourself and below yourself."

The monk then asked, "Master, how old are you?"

The Pilgrim said, "I dare not say."

The old monk took that for a foolish joke and did not ask further. He merely called for tea. A little novice brought out a jade-white platter and three glazed tea cups mounted in blue enamel and gold. Another carried a white copper pot and poured three cups of fragrant tea.

Truly, the color outshone the bright red of pomegranate petals, and the flavor surpassed osmanthus blossoms.

Tripitaka could not praise them enough. "Fine objects, fine objects. Truly lovely food and lovely vessels."

The old monk said, "They are unworthy of your notice. Your Mastership comes from the Empire of Heaven and has seen all manner of rare things. Such little wares are hardly worth praise. But since you have come from the upper kingdom, do you perhaps carry some treasure that you might let your disciple admire?"

Tripitaka said, "Alas, our Eastern Land has no great treasure. Even if it did, the road is too long to carry it."

The Pilgrim said from the side, "Master, the robe in the bundle the other day was a treasure, was it not? Why not show it to him?"

When the monks heard the word robe, they all laughed faintly.

The Pilgrim said, "What are you laughing at?"

The abbot said, "You said the robe is a treasure, and indeed that is no joke. As for robes like that, men such as us have more than twenty or thirty of them. And as for my master here, he has been a monk in this place for two hundred and sixty or seventy years and has seven or eight hundred robes. Bring it out and let us look."

The old monk was, in truth, showing off for the moment, so he ordered the gate keeper to open the storehouse. The novices carried out the chests. Twelve great chests were brought into the courtyard, the locks opened, and robe after robe was lifted out and hung on clothes racks strung all around.

Soon the room was full of brocade and embroidery, the walls covered in silk.

The Pilgrim looked one by one and saw that they were all garments worked with flowers, stitched with gold, and richly ornamented. He laughed and said, "Good, good, good. Put them away. Now let us bring out our own and look at it."

Tripitaka tugged at him and whispered, "Disciple, do not try to outdo people in wealth. We are strangers here, and I fear trouble."

The Pilgrim said, "What trouble can there be in looking at a robe?"

Tripitaka said, "You do not understand. The ancients said, 'Rare and precious things must not be shown to greedy and deceitful people.' Once such a thing catches their eye, it stirs their heart. Once it stirs their heart, it breeds a scheme. You are the one who fears trouble; if you ask and they grant it, that is one thing. If not, then body and life may be lost for this very reason. This is no small matter."

The Pilgrim said, "Do not worry. It is all on me."

Without another word, he hurried off, opened the bundle, and already the light of dawn-like brilliance was bursting out. Two layers of oiled paper were still wrapped around it. He peeled away the paper, took out the robe, and shook it open. Red light filled the room, and colored radiance overflowed the hall.

The monks saw it and not one of them failed to smile with delight. It was truly a marvelous robe.

Above it hung a thousand sorts of cleverly worked bright pearls;
below and above, ten thousand rare Buddhist treasures were set in clusters.
Dragon whiskers spread colored brocade along the borders;
tufts of down silk trimmed the four sides in gold.
Wear it, and demons and devils vanish from the body;
put it on, and sprites and apparitions sink into the Yellow Springs.
Made by celestial artisans and handled by immortals,
only a true monk would dare to wear it.

The old monk saw that treasure and, sure enough, his wicked heart was stirred. He came forward and knelt before Tripitaka, tears falling from his eyes.

"Your disciple is truly without fate," he said.

Tripitaka helped him up. "Venerable abbot, what is it you wish to say?"

The old monk said, "When your robe was just spread out, the light was so dazzling and the day so late that my eyes were dim. I could not see it clearly. Was that not a lack of fate?"

Tripitaka told him, "Bring lamps."

The old monk said, "The robe already shines brightly. If we add lamps, it will only glare all the more. How could I see it clearly?"

The Pilgrim said, "What would you have us do?"

The old monk said, "If your grace is broad and your heart easy, let me take it to the rear room and look at it carefully through the night. By tomorrow morning I will return it to you so you can continue west. What do you say?"

Tripitaka heard this and gave a start. "This is all your doing. This is all your doing."

The Pilgrim laughed. "Why fear him? Let me wrap it up and let him take it away to look. If anything goes wrong, I will answer for it."

Tripitaka could not stop him, so he handed over the robe and said, "Look at it all you like. But tomorrow morning you must return it exactly as it is. Do not damage it in the least."

The old monk was delighted and ordered a novice to carry the robe inside. Then he told the monks to sweep the front meditation hall clean, set up two bamboo beds, and prepare bedding for the two honored guests. He also ordered the morning meal to be prepared for their departure. After that, everyone dispersed, and master and disciple shut the meditation hall and lay down.

The old monk, having cheated the robe into his hands, took it into the rear room and cried over it by lamplight. So frightened were the monks of the monastery that none dared sleep first. A little novice did not know why and went to report to the others, saying, "The old master has been crying since the second watch and still has not stopped."

Two favorite disciples went in and asked, "Why is Master crying?"

The old monk said, "I am crying because I have no fate and cannot look at Tripitaka's treasure."

The little monks said, "You are already of advanced age. Let it pass. Since the robe is right in front of you, just open it and look. Why cry so hard?"

The old monk said, "There is no long chance to look. I am already two hundred and seventy years old and have vainly gathered up hundreds of robes. How could I ever get hold of one like this? How could I ever become a Tripitaka?"

The little monks said, "Master, you are mistaken. Tripitaka is a traveling monk with no home and no village.

You, with your old age and comfort, have had enough already. Why would you want to be like him?"

The old monk said, "Though I live at home in ease and enjoy my old age, I cannot wear that robe just once. If I could wear it for a single day, I would die with my eyes closed and count this monk's life in the world as worthwhile."

The monks said, "What nonsense. If you want to wear it, what is so hard? If we keep him here one day, you may wear it one day; if we keep him ten days, you may wear it ten days. Why cry like this?"

The old monk said, "Even if we keep him for years, I would only wear it for those years. In the end I would still not have it forever. When he wants to leave, we can only let him go. How could we keep it long-term?"

Just then a young monk named Guangzhi stepped forward and said, "If the master wants to keep it long-term, that is easy."

The old monk's face brightened. "My son, what good idea do you have?"

Guangzhi said, "The Tang monk and his companion are travelers. They are already very tired, and now they have fallen asleep. If we gather the strong men, take spears and broadswords, break into the meditation hall, and kill them both, then bury the corpses in the back garden, only our own house would know. We could seize the white horse and luggage, and keep the robe as a family treasure. Would that not be a plan for long-lasting possession?"

The old monk was delighted. He wiped away his tears and said, "Good, good, good. Excellent plan." He immediately set about gathering spears and blades.

Then another little monk, Guangmou, Guangzhi's disciple-brother, came forward and said, "That plan is no good. If we are to kill them, we must first judge the movement of things. The one with the white face seems easy; the one with the hairy face seems difficult. If we fail to kill him, would we not only bring disaster on ourselves? I have a way that uses no swords or spears. I do not know what you think."

The old monk said, "My son, what method?"

Guangmou said, "In my view, we should summon the great and small wardens of the eastern mountain halls, and have each man bring a bundle of dry firewood. Give up those three meditation rooms, set the fire, and make sure they have no way out. Burn the horse with them all together.

"Even if the people in the houses above and below the mountain see it, they will only say that they were careless and let the fire get out of hand, and that the meditation hall burned down. Would not both monks be burned to death? It would also cover our tracks. And the robe would then truly be our family treasure."

The monks all heard this and were delighted. "Excellent, excellent, excellent. This plan is even better, even better."

So they ordered the wardens to bring in firewood. Alas, this was the scheme that doomed the old monk in spite of his long life.

The monastery had more than seventy rooms and more than two hundred monks of every rank. That night they all rushed about bringing wood, surrounding the front and back of the meditation hall on every side, and preparing to set the place on fire.

Meanwhile, Tripitaka and the Pilgrim had settled down for the night. The Pilgrim was a clever monkey; although he lay down, he only kept his spirit alert and his eyes half-open in wakefulness. Soon he heard people moving outside, and the crackling of firewood with the wind stirring among it.

He thought, "It is dead of night. Why are there footsteps outside? Could there be thieves plotting against us?"

At once he sprang up and was about to open the door and look, but he did not want to wake his master. So he changed himself into a honeybee.

Truly, he was sweet at the mouth and venomous at the tail, thin of waist and light of body. Through blossoms and willows he flew like an arrow; among cotton fluff and fragrant drift he moved like a falling star. Though tiny in form, he could bear a burden; though his wings were slight, he knew how to ride the wind.

He slipped out from under the rafters and looked clearly.

There he saw the monks carrying firewood and grass, already surrounding the meditation hall to set it alight. The Pilgrim laughed to himself. "Just as my master said, they mean to take our lives and scheme for my robe, and so have formed such poisonous intent. I ought to bring out my rod and beat them, but alas, they could not bear a single strike. One round of blows would kill them all, and then my master would blame me for murder. Very well, very well. I will take the sheep along with the hand, and use their own trick against them. I will let them fail in their own scheme!"

The fine Pilgrim somersaulted straight up to the Southern Heaven Gate. Pang, Liu, Gou, and Bi all bowed low; Ma, Zhao, Wen, and Guan bent their backs, crying, "It is bad, it is bad! The one who shook the Heavenly Palace has come again."

The Pilgrim waved his hands. "Gentlemen, there is no need for ceremony. Do not be alarmed. I have come to find the Heavenly King Guangmu."

Before he could finish, the Heavenly King himself came forward to greet him. "It has been a long time, a long time. We heard earlier that Guanyin went before the Jade Emperor and borrowed the Four Duty Officers, the Six Ding and Six Jia, and the Revealing Spirits to protect the Tang monk on his way west to seek the scriptures. We heard that you had become his disciple. How is it that you have time to come here today?"

The Pilgrim said, "Let us skip the pleasantries. The Tang monk has met wicked men who are setting fire to burn him alive. The matter is urgent beyond measure. I have come especially to borrow your fire-warding cover so I can save him. Hurry and bring it out, and I will return it at once."

The Heavenly King said, "You are mistaken. If wicked men are setting fire, you should borrow water to put it out. Why ask for a fire-warding cover?"

The Pilgrim said, "You do not understand the inside of it. If I borrow water, the fire will not take and their scheme will be spoiled. But if I borrow this cover, I can protect Tripitaka from harm while leaving the rest of the place to burn. Hurry, hurry. If I am late, my business below will be ruined."

The Heavenly King laughed. "This monkey still has not given up his wicked heart. He only thinks of himself and never of anyone else."

The Pilgrim said, "Enough talk. Do not delay. You will ruin a great matter."

The Heavenly King dared not refuse, so he handed over the cover. The Pilgrim took it, settled his cloud, and flew straight to the roof of the meditation hall, where he covered Tripitaka, the white horse, and the luggage. Then he went to the rear room where the old monk slept and sat on the roof there, protecting the robe.

As the fire was set, he turned his fingers through a spell, muttered an incantation, faced the southeast, drew in one breath, and blew it out. A great wind arose and fanned the flames into a roaring blaze.

Ah, what a fire!

Black smoke spread thick and low; red flames leaped high and bright.
Black smoke spread thick and low, and not a single star could be seen in the sky.
Red flames leaped high and bright, and the earth glowed for a thousand li.
At first they were bright golden snakes; afterward they became fierce blood-red horses.
The Southern Three Energies displayed their heroism;
the great spirit of Fire itself loosed its power.
Dry firewood burned with its own fierce nature;
why speak of Sui Ren drilling wood?
Hot oil in front of the gate cast out colored flames,
surpassing even the furnace opened by the ancestral Daoist.
So it is with a fire that has no mercy, and with evil intent that is given wind.
Not only was the disaster not stopped; it was helped along.
Wind followed the fire's strength, and the flames rose a thousand zhang high.
Fire rode the wind's might, while ash burst up beyond the ninth heaven.
Pah-pah and crack-crack, like the popping of New Year's firecrackers;
boom-boom and clap-clap, like cannon fire in an army camp.
Even the hall's Buddha images could not escape; the guardian spirits of the eastern courtyard had nowhere to hide.
It was fiercer than the night battle at Red Cliff, more savage than the fires within the palace of Epang.

A spark can burn a thousand acres. In a moment the wind roared and the fire raged, and the whole of Guanyin Monastery glowed red from end to end. The monks ran about with boxes in their arms and baskets on their shoulders, clutching tables, carrying pots, and crying out in misery all over the courtyard.

The Pilgrim protected the rear abbot's room, and the fire-warding cover shielded the front meditation hall. Everywhere else, front and back, the blaze raged hot, and the whole place shone in red light and gold flame that reached to the sky and lit the walls.

Just as the fire broke out, it stirred a mountain beast. Some twenty li to the south of Guanyin Monastery stood Black Wind Mountain, and in the mountain was Black Wind Cave, where a demon was sleeping and rolling over in his bed. The light from the window made him think dawn had come. When he got up to look, he saw the glow of fire to the north and was shocked.

"Ah! Guanyin Monastery must have caught fire. These monks are careless indeed. I will go and lend a hand."

The good demon threw himself on the clouds and came to the smoke and fire. Sure enough, it was a sky-high blaze. The front halls were already empty, and the two side corridors were still burning hot. He strode in hard, calling for water, and saw that the rear rooms were not on fire. On the roof of the rear building sat one man, blowing the wind.

He understood at once. He went inside and found, in the middle of the abbot's room, a wash of colored radiance, and on the table a blue felt bundle. He opened it and saw a brocaded cassock, a rare treasure of the Buddhist gate.

Wealth stirs the heart. He did not save the fire, nor did he call for water. He took the cassock, seized the chance in the chaos, and dashed back on cloud-footing, returning straight to Black Wind Mountain.

The fire did not burn itself out until dawn at the fifth watch. When at last it died, the monks were all stripped to the waist, crying and sobbing, rummaging in the ashes for copper and iron, prying through rotten charcoal, and groping for gold and silver. Some were patching together lean-tos against walls, others were cooking at the foot of the charred walls. Their crying and cursing need not be told in detail.

The Pilgrim took the fire-warding cover, somersaulted it back to the Southern Heaven Gate, and returned it to the Heavenly King Guangmu.

"Thanks for the loan. Thanks for the loan."

The Heavenly King took it back and said, "Great Sage, you were sincere indeed. I was just worrying that you would not return my treasure and I would have no way to ask for it. I am delighted that you brought it back yourself."

The Pilgrim said, "Am I the sort of fellow who cheats people face to face? This is what they call 'good to borrow, good to return; if you borrow again, it will not be hard.'"

The Heavenly King said, "It has been a long time since we last met. Please come into the palace and sit for a while."

The Pilgrim said, "I am not what I was before. If I had a broken bench to sit on and long stories to trade, I might stay. But now I am protecting Tripitaka and cannot spare the time. Another day, another day."

He hurried off in farewell and dropped through the clouds, only to find himself once again above the sun.

He returned to the meditation hall, changed back into a honeybee, and flew inside. Recovering his true form, he looked over at Tripitaka, who was still sleeping soundly.

"Master, daybreak has come. Get up."

Tripitaka woke and rolled over. "So it is."

He dressed, went out, and looked up. At once he saw only collapsed walls glowing red, and no halls or towers at all.

He cried out in shock, "How is it that the halls and towers are all gone, and only red walls remain?"

The Pilgrim said, "You were still dreaming. There was a fire in the night."

Tripitaka said, "How did I not know?"

The Pilgrim said, "I protected the meditation hall. You were sleeping so soundly that I did not wake you."

Tripitaka said, "If you could protect the meditation hall, why did you not save the other rooms from the fire?"

The Pilgrim laughed. "Then let me tell you, Master. Just as you said yesterday, they set their hearts on our robe and schemed to burn us alive. If I had not noticed, we would now be nothing but gray bones."

Tripitaka said, "So they were the ones who set the fire?"

"Who else?"

Tripitaka said, "Did they perhaps neglect you, and you did this?"

The Pilgrim said, "Am I the sort of lazy fellow who does such wicked things? It was truly them. Seeing that their hearts were poisonous, I did not save the fire for them. I only helped the flames along with a little wind."

Tripitaka cried, "Heavens! Heavens! When fire breaks out, one should help with water. Why did you help with wind?"

The Pilgrim said, "Do you know the old saying? 'If a man means no harm to the tiger, the tiger means no harm to the man.' If they had not made fire, why would I have made wind?"

Tripitaka said, "Where is the cassock? Surely it was not burned?"

The Pilgrim said, "No matter, no matter. It could not burn. The rear abbot's room where the robe was kept was untouched by fire."

Tripitaka said with anger, "I do not care what you do, but if it is damaged even a little, I will start chanting that spell again and again. Then even if you die, it will not be enough."

The Pilgrim grew frightened. "Master, do not chant it. Do not chant it. I will find the robe and return it to you, and then we can leave."

Tripitaka took up the horse, and the Pilgrim shouldered the luggage. They came out of the meditation hall and went straight to the rear abbot's room.

The monks, meanwhile, were in great grief and confusion when they suddenly saw the master and disciple coming with horse and baggage. They were so terrified that their souls nearly flew out of their bodies. "The ghosts of the dead have come to claim us!"

The Pilgrim shouted, "What ghosts? Bring back my robe!"

The monks all knelt at once and knocked their heads, crying, "Mercy, masters! There are grievances and there are debtors. If you want lives, it has nothing to do with us. It was Guangmou and the old monk who planned to harm you. Do not come after us for our lives!"

The Pilgrim snapped, "You dead beasts, who asked you for any lives? Just bring back the cassock so we can go on."

Among them two bold monks said, "Masters, you were already burned to death in the meditation hall. Now you come back for the robe. Are you really men, or ghosts?"

The Pilgrim laughed. "What evil beasts you are. What fire are you talking about? Go look at the front hall, and then come back and speak."

The monks climbed up and looked. The doors, windows, and latticework of the meditation hall had not been burned even a little. Everyone was frightened half out of their wits, and only then did they recognize Tripitaka as a sacred monk and the Pilgrim as a powerful protector.

They all came forward and kowtowed.

"We had eyes but no pupils. We did not know a true person had descended from above. Your cassock is in the rear room with the old master."

Tripitaka walked through three or five layers of broken walls and could only sigh. Sure enough, the rear room had not burned. The monks rushed inside and shouted, "Old master! Tripitaka is no mortal man. He was not burned after all, and now the trouble has fallen back on us. Hurry and bring out the cassock, and return it to him!"

The old monk, unable to find the robe and having burned down his own monastery's buildings, was already in deep misery and agitation. Hearing this, how could he answer? He thought of no way forward and no way back. So he rushed out, bent over, and slammed his head hard against the wall. Alas, he only cracked his skull, spilled blood, and sent his soul scattering. His throat broke, his breath cut off, and he dyed the red earth with his blood. A verse bears witness:

Alas for the old monk, dull of mind and thick of heart,
a long-living man who only wasted his years.
He wanted the cassock to pass into distant generations,
yet did not know Buddha's treasure is never common stuff.
To take what is easy for long-lasting gain
is always to court ruin and find one's plans come to nothing.
Guangzhi and Guangmou, what use were they?
They harmed others to benefit themselves, and all was empty in the end.

The monks were thrown into panic and cried, "The old master has smashed himself to death, and the robe is still nowhere to be found. What are we to do?"

The Pilgrim said, "You must have hidden it away. All of you come out and hand over your names so I can inspect you one by one."

The abbot of the front and rear quarters brought out two rolls with the names of the monastery's monks, novices, gatekeepers, and lay assistants. Altogether there were two hundred and thirty names.

The Pilgrim told his master to sit high and watch while he read out each name and searched each man from head to toe, telling them all to open their collars for a clear inspection. Still there was no cassock. He then searched every chest, basket, and bundle that had been carried out from the various quarters, and found not a trace.

Tripitaka's heart was miserable. Seeing that the Pilgrim was not finding it quickly enough, he sat above and began chanting the spell.

The Pilgrim fell headlong to the ground, clutching his head in terrible pain. "Do not chant, do not chant! I will find the robe and return it!"

The monks, seeing this, all trembled and went forward to kneel and plead. Only then did Tripitaka stop.

The Pilgrim sprang up, drew the iron rod from his ear, and was about to strike the monks. Tripitaka shouted him down:

"Monkey, your head hurts and you still do not fear? You still want to be rude? Put down your hand and do not hurt anyone. Ask them again."

The monks knocked their heads and begged Tripitaka, "Spare our lives. We truly did not see it. It was all the old dead ghost's fault.

"He had been looking at your robe last night and cried until deep in the night. He did not dare look at it closely. He was thinking only of long-term possession and wanted to make it his family treasure. So he planned and schemed and arranged to burn you to death. After the fire started, the wind went wild and everyone only thought of putting out the flames and grabbing what they could. We truly do not know where the robe went."

The Pilgrim flew into a rage. He went into the rear room, had the corpse of the self-killed old ghost brought out, stripped and examined it carefully, and found no treasure on the body at all. He even dug three feet into the floor of the room, but there was still no trace.

After thinking for a long while, he asked, "Do you have some demon here who has taken shape?"

The abbot said, "If you had not asked, we would not have told you. Due east of here stands Black Wind Mountain, and in Black Wind Cave there lives a Black Great King. This old dead monk used to exchange lectures with him, and he is a demon. Nothing else."

The Pilgrim asked, "How far is that mountain from here?"

The abbot said, "Only twenty li away. The mountain you can see from here is the one."

The Pilgrim laughed. "Master, put your heart at ease. There is no need to say more. It was certainly that black monster who stole it."

Tripitaka said, "He is twenty li away. How can you know it was him?"

The Pilgrim said, "Did you not see the fire last night? The light soared ten thousand li and lit up the three heavens. Let alone twenty li, even two hundred li would have seen it. He must have seen the blaze and, taking advantage of the chance, slipped here in the dark. When he saw our cassock was a treasure, he surely took it in the confusion. Let me go and find him."

Tripitaka said, "If you go, on what shall I rely?"

The Pilgrim said, "Do not worry. In secret, the spirits will protect you. In the open, I will make these monks serve you."

He called the monks over and said, "Let a few of you bury the old ghost. Let a few of you attend my master and look after my white horse."

The monks obeyed.

The Pilgrim added, "Do not answer me by rote. If I leave and you do not serve him well, I will know. Those who look after my master must be cheerful and courteous. Those who feed the white horse must keep the water and grass proper. If there is even the slightest neglect, I will show you this rod and let you see it."

He struck the rod against the fire-blackened brick wall, and with one crash the wall shattered to pieces and seven or eight layers of wall toppled over. The monks were all so weak in the bones and numb in the limbs that they knelt and wept.

"Rest assured, Great Sage. We will do our utmost and serve your master with all our heart. We dare not be the least bit careless."

The fine Pilgrim leaped on his somersault cloud and went straight to Black Wind Mountain to look for the cassock.

It was:

The Golden Cicada sought the right path and came out beyond the capital;
leaning on his staff, he headed west through the green hills.
Tigers, leopards, wolves, and insects met him wherever he went;
merchants, scholars, and travelers saw him only rarely.
Monks from foreign lands came and went, envied by the foolish;
all depended on the Great Sage Equal to Heaven for protection.
Fire rose, wind blew, and the meditation hall was ruined;
in Black Wind's night, the brocaded robe was stolen away.

As for whether the robe was found or lost, and whether the outcome was lucky or unlucky, that must wait for the next chapter.