This is a fresh, complete English translation of Wu Cheng’en’s public-domain one-hundred-chapter novel, produced with GPT-5.3-Codex-Spark assistance. It is an AI-assisted first edition, not a reproduction of an existing translation.

Form is originally without form, and emptiness is also not truly emptiness. Stillness and clamor, speech and silence are originally the same. Why labor to speak of dreams within a dream? In action there is a use that is no use, and in the apparent nonattainment there is the bestowal of merit. And if ripe fruit naturally turns red in time, do not ask how to nurse the planting.

The Master Tripitaka told his disciples to use their powers to hold back the monks of Bujin Monastery. The monks, seeing the dark wind sweep past, did not see the master and disciples, and took it that a living Buddha had descended among mortals, so they knelt in obeisance and withdrew, nothing more worthy of mention.

The monk-companions continued westward, exactly at the turn when spring ended and early summer began:

The air was clear and pure, the weather brisk; in pools and ponds lotus plants had appeared. Plums ripened after the rain had passed, and wheat came to completion in the wind. Where herbs exhaled their fragrance and flowers fell, orioles called among willow boughs that swayed lightly. River swallows flew with their chicks in practice, and mountainfowl called as they fed their young. The days under the Dipper’s southern span were bright and lasting, and all things shone forth. They could not tell what happened at morning meals and evening lodgings as they crossed brooks and sought the waves. On that road of peace they had traveled for half a month. Ahead, a city wall had now come close. Tripitaka asked, “Disciple, what place is this?” Wukong said, “I do not know, I do not know.” Bajie laughed: “You’ve traveled this road already, how can you say you do not know? It’s just some odd turn, isn’t it, and you are pretending not to recognize it to tease us?” Wukong replied: “This fool has no sense at all. Though this road has been ridden a few times, at the time we were only in the upper emptiness of nine heavens, coming and going while riding clouds. When have we ever landed here? Why should I be concerned with this matter? Why inquire into it? That is why I do not know. As for this odd bit, it is also to tease you.”

Before they knew it, they had already reached the edge of the city. Tripitaka dismounted, crossed a hanging bridge, and entered the long street inside the gate; there were two old men seated under a corridor discussing together. Tripitaka called, “Disciple, you three stand at the center of the street with your heads lowered. Do not be reckless. Wait while I go to that corridor and ask our way.” As he bade it, Wukong obeyed and stayed still. Nearing them, the elder joined his palms and said, “Elder layman, this poor monk offers his greeting.” The two old men had been idling in talk and idle speculation, speaking of rise and decline, gain and loss, who was saintly and who was worthy, and where the heroes of earlier times had now gone; truly, it was a matter for great sighing. Hearing him ask, they at once replied respectfully, “What does the monk seek?” Tripitaka said, “This poor monk comes from afar to worship the Buddha. I have reached Baofang and do not know the place-name. Is there a household where the virtuous live, that would make an offering meal?” One of the old men answered, “This is Tongtai Prefecture. Behind the prefecture is a county called Diling. If the Venerable one wishes to take a meal of charity, there is no need for credentials. Passing this ceremonial archway, on the north-south street running west to east, there is a house with a tiger-posted gate called the Kou household. At its entrance hangs a plaque reading ‘No Monk Obstructed.’ For pilgrims from distant lands like you, they will receive you fully. Go, go, go—do not interrupt our thread of talk.” Tripitaka thanked him and turned to Wukong: “This place is Diling County in Tongtai Prefecture. The two elders said: ‘Pass this archway and the north-south street, then eastward to the tiger-socket gate house. There is the Kou household, and before it is the sign “No Monk Obstructed.”’ They directed me there for a meal.” Sha Wujing added, “The Western lands are Buddhist lands indeed, and there truly are monks receiving alms. Since this is a prefecture and county, we need not have travel papers inspected. Let us take some alms and eat, and then continue on the road.”

The elder and the three moved slowly along the long street, and people from the market-gate area became frightened and suspicious, staring and whispering as they clustered around to look at their faces. Tripitaka ordered silence and told them only, “Do not be impertinent, do not be impertinent.” The three truly bent their heads and did not dare to look up. After turning a corner they indeed saw a grand north-south street.

As they walked, they saw a gatehouse with a tiger-seated threshold; on the interior shadowed wall hung a great placard with four characters reading “No Monk Obstructed.” Tripitaka said, “In the Western Buddhist lands, both sages and fools are without deceit. Though those two elders said it and I did not fully believe them, what they spoke has proved true here.” Bajie stepped forward as though in a village and was about to enter. Wukong said, “You fool, stay. Wait for someone to come out, ask how things stand, and then enter.” Sha Wujing added, “Elder-brother speaks rightly. If we cross the threshold without sorting inside and out, we might trouble the household head.” They left their horse and baggage at the gate.

After a short while a dark-skinned servant came out carrying a scale and a basket. At the sight, he panicked, dropped both, and ran in to report: “Master, there are four strange monks outside!” The householder, staff in hand, had been pacing the courtyard while murmuring Buddha’s name; upon hearing the report he flung down his staff and came out to receive them. Seeing their four attendants, he was not repelled by ugliness, but called, “Please come in, please come in!” Tripitaka, with humble courtesy, entered with all three. They turned through an alley, and the householder led the way to a chamber and said, “This upper building is the Buddha Hall, the Sutra Hall, and the Fast-hall for receiving lordly guests. The lower rooms are for my apprentices and household children.” Tripitaka praised him without reserve. He then changed his robe, came to bow in worship, and stepped into the hall; there he saw:

Scent-clouds rolled dense and dim, while candle-flame shone with brilliance. The hall was full of clustered brocades and piled blossoms, and to every side gold laid out in dazzling color. Vermilion frames hung high with purple-gold bells; painted-lacquer benches and stands faced one another beside flower-throated drums. A few pairs of banners stitched as eight treasures; a thousand Buddhas, all of yellow-gold splendor. Ancient bronze braziers, ancient bronze vases; carved-lacquer tables, carved-lacquer boxes. In the braziers the sandalwood sank and burned without cease; in the bronze vases lotus-hued glories appeared again and again. On the carved-lacquer tables were fresh five-cloud trays, and in the carved boxes were mounds of aromatic flower petals. Glass cups held water limpid and clear; glass lamps burned bright with perfumed oil. A single bronze gong sounded, its resonance drifting slowly through empty space. It was truly a hall beyond the dust of the world, rivaling a palace of precious radiance. After cleansing his hands and fingers and offering incense, Tripitaka knelt in obeisance and circled back to salute the householder. Kou said, “Please wait. Come, I want you to meet in the Sutra Hall.” He then showed them the following: Square sideboards and upright cabinets, jade caskets and gilded chests. On those sideboards and cabinets were heaped countless scriptures; jade caskets and gold boxes stored many slips and memorials. On a painted-lacquer desk lay paper, ink, and inkstone, all refined and elegant scholarly tools. Before the pepper-and-powder screen were works of painting, guqin, and board games, all of profound and wondrous charm. A light jade bell of floating gold hung there, and from the ceiling hung a moon-wreathed dragon-whisk. The pure air made spirits exhilarated, and one felt the mind of fasting become naturally still. When Tripitaka had come to offer worship, Kou again stopped him: “Please loosen the Buddha robes.” Tripitaka removed his robe. He then saluted Tripitaka properly, and had Wukong and the two others do likewise. He told them to have the horses fed and luggage set in the corridor, then asked about their health. Tripitaka said, “This humble monk is sent by the imperial court of Great Tang in the Eastern Earth, come to Mount Lingshan to pay obeisance to Buddha and seek the true scripture. Hearing that your household honors monks, I have come to beg for one fasting meal before proceeding.” A delighted expression spread on Kou’s face as he smiled and said, “I, your servant, are called Kou Hong, styled Dakuan. I have spent sixty-four years in vain. Since I reached forty, I vowed to feed ten thousand monks, and yet only recently I have near-completed that vow. For twenty-four years now I have kept accounts of monks fasted for. Lately, with no other business, I reckoned the names of those already fed: there have been nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-six, lacking only four. Today, the four Teachers descending by Heaven’s will have arrived and complete the ten thousand. Please keep your honored names here and stay, if only for less than a month, until the tally is fulfilled. Then this servant will send sedan and horse to escort you uphill. From here to Lingshan it is only eight hundred li—not far, by any measure.” Tripitaka, hearing this, was deeply rejoiced and agreed for the time being.

The various young and old house servants ran into the residence for kindling, water, rice, flour, and vegetables to prepare the ritual meal. At once they disturbed Kou’s mother and she asked, “Where have these monks come from, and why such haste?” A servant said, “Only four high monks have just arrived. Father asked after their health; they said they are envoys of the Great Tang emperor of the Eastern Land, going to Lingshan to worship Buddha. How far is it from here, they know not. Father said they are heaven-sent, so he has ordered us to prepare alms at once and make offerings.” Hearing this, the old lady was pleased and called for an attendant girl: “Bring me a set of clothes; I too will go and see.” The servant replied, “Granny, one can be seen, but the other three cannot—they are frightfully odd and ugly.” The old lady said, “You know nothing. Even if their faces are ugly and strange, they must be heavenly beings descended from heaven. Go tell your father at once.” One servant ran to the Sutra Hall and told Kou, “Grandmother has come; she wants to pay her respects to the lord from the Eastern Land.” Hearing this, Tripitaka rose. Before he could say another word, the old lady had already arrived at the hall entrance. She glanced up and saw Tripitaka’s commanding countenance, noble bearing, and handsome grace. Then she turned and saw Wukong, Bajie, and Sha Wujing, whose appearances were extraordinary. Though she knew they were perhaps beings from heaven to earth, she still felt a measure of fright and knelt respectfully upward. Tripitaka quickly returned the courtesy and said, “Please forgive the bodhisattva for any disrespect.” The old lady asked Kou, “Why are the four teachers not seated together?” Bajie clasped his mouth and said, “The three of us are my disciples.” Ah! The sound of his voice was like a tiger’s cry from deep in the mountains, and that mother was struck with fear at once.

Before he had fully finished speaking, a house servant came in to report, "Two uncles have arrived." Tripitaka quickly turned around, and there were two young scholar grooms. The two scholars came into the hall of scripture and, before the elder, knelt and bowed. In his haste Tripitaka returned the reverence. The householder stepped forward and explained, "These are my two younger sons, Kou Liang and Kou Dong. They were studying in the study and were coming home for the midday meal; hearing that the teacher had arrived, they came to pay respect." Tripitaka exhaled with joy: "Excellent, excellent! It is said, "He who seeks a noble lineage must do good; a good grandson is one who studies."" The two scholars then asked their father in turn, "Where has this honored elder come from?" The householder laughed, "From far away. It is the envoys of the great Tang Emperor in the Eastern lands of the Great Tang under the Nanzhan Continent, sent to Mount Ling to bow before the Buddha and fetch the scriptures." The scholars said, "In the records I read in the Shilin Guangji, it is said that under Heaven there are only four great continents. Here we call ours the Western Oxen-Goat Continent, and there is also the Eastern Victorious-continent of Gods. From the southern continent to this place, who can say how many ages it must have taken?" Tripitaka laughed: "While on the road, I have spent many days idling and few days in motion. I have often faced venomous demons and cruel monsters, countless hardships and bitter pains. It is only through my three disciples that I have been protected. Counting all, fourteen rounds of cold and heat have passed before I obtained the precious Dharma." Hearing him, the scholars praised him without end: "A true divine monk! a true divine monk!"

He had not finished speaking when another boy came in and asked, "The vegetarian banquet is laid out; please enter and take zhai, honored father." The householder sent his mother and sons back to the inner rooms, but he himself went with the four disciples into the chanting hall to dine. Everything there was neatly set out, and one saw:

Gilded-lacquered tables and stands, black-lacquered folding chairs. In front, five kinds of lofty fruits, all newly crafted in excellent style; in the second row, five small dishes; in the third row, five plates of fruit; in the fourth row, five broad plates of light side foods. Each item was sweet, each piece fragrant. Plain soup and rice, steamed buns, hot spicy dishes bubbling and steaming, all delectable and truly filling. Seven or eight serving boys came and went carrying bowls and dishes, and four or five kitchen cooks never stopped their hands. See those who brought the soup, and those who kept adding rice; each coming and going was swift as a star chasing the moon. Zhu Bajie could finish a bowl in one mouthful; it was like wind scattering torn clouds. The master and disciples all enjoyed a complete meal. Tripitaka rose, thanked the householder for the zhai, and was about to leave. The householder stopped him and said, "Master, please stay a few more days. As the saying goes, 'An easy beginning makes a hard ending.' Let me first complete this rite fully, then I dare send you on your way." Tripitaka saw how sincere and earnest he was, and had no choice but to stay.

After five or seven evenings and mornings had passed, the householder only then invited the twenty-four resident monks to conduct the complete ceremony. The monks wrote for three or four days, selected a lucky date, and opened the Buddhist rite. In his house it was arranged much like the custom in the great Tang capital, yet all in correct order:

Great banners were raised, and gold-clad decorations were laid out; candles were held in neat rows, incense offered in reverence. Drums were struck, bells clashed, shu flute and reed pipes were played. The cloud-gongs and transverse flutes sounded clear, all fashioned in proper pattern. One round of drumming, one round of wind, and in clear unison they recited from the Buddhist canon. First, the Earth God was pacified; then the heavenly generals were invited. Ritual documents were issued, and Buddha images were bowed before. They chanted a section of the Peacock Sutra, line by line removing calamity and evil obstacles. A Medicine Buddha lamp was lit, its flames brilliant and bright. They recited the Water Confession, easing grievances and sins; they intoned the Avataṃsaka to dispel slander. The wondrous teachings of the three vehicles were practiced with keen diligence, and one or two monks all did alike. After such rites for three full days and nights, the Buddha Hall was complete. Tripitaka, thinking of the Sound of Thunder, fixed his mind on departure and wished to go again. He took leave of thanks. The householder said, "Master, to take leave so swiftly seems hasty. After so many days of rituals and duties, you may be made impatient, may the spirits even resent it?" Tripitaka said, "I have greatly disturbed your household, and do not know how I can repay it; how could I dare to complain? When my august sovereign sent me beyond the pass, he asked when I could return. I answered three years too boldly. Instead I lingered on the road and now fourteen years have passed. If scriptures are obtained, return will still need twelve or thirteen years more; would this not violate the imperial summons? How can I bear that guilt? Please let me pass, old householder, and let this poor monk go on. Once I obtain the sutras and return, I will stay long in your house again. What harm in that?"

Zhu Bajie could not hold himself back: "Master, he won't follow any human wish or emotion. This venerable householder is rich and mighty, and he has promised this kind of monk-feast in fulfillment. The rites are now complete, and he is truly sincere in devotion. Why not stay a while and it would not be troublesome? Why must we leave at once? To give up such fine meal and go asking for alms elsewhere! Is this some old master and old mistress's household at the front gate or what?" Tripitaka cut in with a sharp call: "You glutton, you only know how to eat and care nothing for the reason we make offerings. You are like a beast that has food in its trough and itching in its belly. Since both of you insist on greed and greed-born anger and delusion, tomorrow I will leave on my own account." When the Master changed his expression, the Monkey seized Zhu Bajie by the head and gave him one hard fistful of a punch, shouting, "Fool, you do not know right from wrong and have brought the Master and us all into blame." Sha Wujing laughed: "Well struck, well struck. If one keeps silent like this one, one only draws annoyance; and here he interjects again." The fool stood to the side in a choking fury and did not dare speak again. The householder, seeing his master and disciples now truly irritated, could only keep a forced smile on his face and say, "Master, do not be exasperated. For today, please be a little forgiving. Tomorrow I will arrange flags and drums, invite some neighbors and kin, and send you off on your journey."

While they were still talking, the old woman came out and said, "Honored father of the assembly, now that you have come here, do not force yourself in grief to refuse. How many days have you stayed now?" Tripitaka answered, "It has been half a month." The old woman said, "This half month is the merit of my householder father. I too have some needle-and-thread money saved and wish to offer monkzai for another half month." Before she could finish, Kou Liang and Kou Dong came out as well: "Honored lords, my father has offered food-offerings and monk rites for over twenty years without ever once meeting such worthy guests. Now we are fortunate this rite is complete, and the four lords have descended; truly this is honor to our home. As for us young brothers, we are ignorant and do not know cause and effect. We have often heard it said, 'If husband makes merit, husband gains; if wife makes merit, wife gains; no one gains if none make merit.' Father and mother both wish to offer greens, each hoping to receive some cause and effect, as do we all. Even this fool brother can spare a little tied silver and hopes to offer alms to the honored master for half a month before taking him on the way." Tripitaka said, "Your late mother and grandmotherly blessing is too sincere; I have already dared not receive it. Why again would I accept such worthy and profound kindness from your bright sons? I cannot receive. This morning I am determined to set out; never take offense. If not, to violate the imperial deadline for so long, my sin is beyond pardon." The old woman and her two sons, seeing him still immovable, grew annoyed and said, "He is so willing to keep him and this old one so stubborn to leave. If he insists on leaving, let him go then; why so much labor and bustle?" The mother and sons withdrew inside.

Zhu Bajie could not keep quiet and said again to Tripitaka: "Master, do not overplay the role too much. It is said, 'If you stay, you become odd; if you leave, you earn blame.' Let us remain for one more month and complete the wishes of this household as well, and only then go on. Why such haste?" Tripitaka shouted once more, and the fool shut his mouth and struck himself twice: "Chi! Chi! Chi! You never tire of talking and now make noise again!" The Monkey and Sha Wujing gave small chuckles and laughed aside. Tripitaka then scolded the Monkey, "What are you laughing at?" He immediately formed the hand-seal and prepared to intone the Tightening Headband Spell. Zhu Bajie panicked; the Monkey knelt down at once and said, "Master, I did not laugh. I did not laugh. Please do not recite it, please do not recite it."

Seeing his master and disciples growing increasingly vexed, the householder no longer dared to press him to stay and simply said, "Master, no more quarrelling. We will send him off at first light tomorrow." He then left the scripture hall and issued instructions: he had the invitations written, one hundred and ten notes in all, inviting neighbors and relatives, so that at dawn he could respectfully escort the Tang court teacher westward. In one section he ordered the kitchen staff to arrange the farewell banquet; in another he asked those in charge to prepare twenty pairs of colored banners, and to engage a troupe of drummers and wind players, monks from Nanfang Monastery, and Taoist priests from the Dongyue Shrine. He set a strict hour: by the hour of si, everyone was to be in order. Those charged with the tasks received the commands and went off.

Night had fallen. After taking the evening zhai, each returned to their sleeping place. One could see:

A few crows returning to roost crossed to another village, and from the rooftop towers one heard distant bells and drums. Six streets and three markets were hushed of human smoke; ten-thousand households and thousand gatehouses glimmered with dim lamps. The moon was bright, the wind clear, blossoms threw their shadows; the dim Milky Way reflected the stars. Where the cuckoo wailed, the night grew deeper, and nature was silent and the earth and sky were in solemn stillness. In the three or four watches of that night the house servants who handled each division rose early and bought and arranged every required thing. You could see the feast arrangers in a kitchen hurry all about; those setting the flags stirred noise at the hall front; those inviting monks and Taoists ran back and forth; those calling drummers and players moved in a rush; those sending invitation slips went east and west; those preparing sedan chairs and horses called up and down in coordination. This midnight uproar continued until dawn; by near the hour of si all matters were completed, and all had been done with only wealth to spare.

Though Tripitaka and his three disciples rose at first light, there was already that group of people gathered to serve them. The Elder ordered the luggage packed and the horses made ready. Zhu Bajie, hearing that they were to leave, pouted his plump lips and mumbled to himself, so he finally folded his robes and bowl and fetched out the broad shoulder-pole. Sha Wujing scrubbed the horses, fitted saddle and bridle, and waited on. Sun Wukong handed the Golden-Hooped Staff to the Master, who tied the pocketed pass-document across his chest; in the span of a breath all were ready to depart. The steward of the house then invited them into the rear Great Hall. Inside, a feast had been laid out, unlike the fare prepared in the vegetarian hall before. It was thus:

Silk curtains were hung high, screens fenced in all around. In the center hung a picture of Mount Longevity and the Sea of Blessings; on two walls were four panels of spring, summer, autumn, and winter. From a dragon-carved censer incense drifted in white haze, and auspicious vapor rose from a magpie-tailed brazier. The dish-boards of clustered colors glowed like jewel ornaments; rows of candied sweets were set in bright colors in exact sequence. Before the steps, drums beat to the pentatonic mode; above, the hall was laid with fruits and cookery like woven brocade. Plain soup and plain rice were exquisitely clear, while fragrant wine and fragrant tea were all of exquisite charm. Though it was a common household, it did not fall short of a prince’s estate. The joyful uproar was so great it seemed to shake heaven and earth. The Master was then in courteous greeting with the steward when a house servant announced, "The guests have all arrived." They were the invited neighbors from both sides, the in-law kin, and also fellow practitioners, Buddhist chanters, and virtuous friends, who together all bowed to the Master. When they had finished, each took his seat in turn. Below, zithers played with drums and horns; above, singing and wine-banquet rose in turns. At this rich repast, Zhu Bajie, with interest, said to Sha Wujing: "Brother, eat freely. Once we leave the Kou household, we will not find such richness again." Sha Wujing laughed: "Second Brother, why such words? It is said: 'With precious dishes of a hundred flavors, one good meal is enough.' Only in private kitchens one imagines a private belly." Bajie replied, "You are far too frugal. If I fill up at this one meal, I could go three days without hunger." Sun Wukong heard this and said, "Bajie, don’t bloat yourself and split your belly; we must set out now."

He had scarcely spoken when noon was near. The Master lifted his chopsticks and chanted the Ya-zhai Jing. Zhu Bajie grew flustered, took the serving of extra rice and emptied bowl after bowl, five or six in all; then he stuffed buns, fried dumpling-like cakes, pastries, and roasted sweets—whether good or bad—into both sleeves until they were full, and only then followed the Master in rising. Tripitaka thanked Kou and then thanked all the assembled before leaving together. Outside the gate were colored banners, precious canopies, drummers and musicians, and also two groups of monks and teachers approaching. Kou laughed and said, "You have all come late. Teacher must hurry and cannot serve the alms meal today; let us give thanks when he returns." Everyone yielded the way, carrying one another’s burdens and yielding passage: those in sedan chairs took the chairs, those on horses mounted, and those on foot walked forward, all allowing Tripitaka and the four to go foremost. Drums and music roared loud enough to fill the sky, flags and streamers were enough to veil the sun, and crowds of people gathered amid horses and carts to watch Kou send Tripitaka off. Such splendor in honor truly surpassed halls encircled in jade and green ribbons, and in no way was it inferior to brocade tents of spring. That group of monks played a set of Buddhist music; that group of Daoists played a current of dark, arcane tones. They escorted them beyond the city gates. When they had come to the ten-li pavilion outside, trays of food and jars of water were set out, cups and goblets raised as they drank and parted. Kou still would not part with him and, with tears held in his eyes, said, "When Teacher returns from fetching the scriptures, you must come back and stay here for several days, so I may repay my heart of devotion." Tripitaka, grateful beyond words, thanked him yet again and said: "If I reach Ling Mountain and meet the Buddha, I will first report your great virtue before the Buddha himself. When I return, I will return to your gate and bow in thanks, again and again." After these words, and without noticing it, two or three more li had passed. The Master turned and bowed again in earnest. Kou then burst into loud weeping and left. This is so:

I took a vow to feed a monk on his road to the wondrous awakening, yet for want of karma I cannot behold the Buddha Tathagata.

Let us put aside for now that Kou sent them as far as the ten-li pavilion and then returned home. As for the four disciples, after walking four or five miles more, it was getting toward dusk. Tripitaka said, "It is late. Where shall we take shelter tonight?" Zhu Bajie, carrying his pole and pouting, said, "When you can give up food and tea already prepared, when you will not stay in a cool tiled house, yet still insist on pressing on as if chasing a stolen corpse and colliding with wandering souls—what path is this? If rain falls tonight, what are we to do?" Tripitaka retorted, "Wretched beast, you complain again. There is a saying: 'Though Chang’an be pleasant, it is no place to remain in for long.' Once we have the proper audience with Buddha and receive the true sutra, when we turn back to Great Tang and make report to the Son of Heaven, then in the imperial kitchens you can eat for years as much as you like. You will swell up and burst, that way, and end as a bloated hungry ghost." Bajie chuckled softly to himself and said no more.

Sun Wukong looked down the road ahead and far away saw a few buildings, then hurriedly told the Master, "There is a place to rest there, there." The Elder went forward and found it was a collapsed ceremonial archway; on the lintel was an old, weathered plaque with four faded, dusty characters: "Huaguang Xingyuan." Tripitaka dismounted and said, "Bodhisattva Huaguang was a disciple of the Buddha of the Fivefold Flaming Light. Having exterminated the venomous Fire-Demon King, he was stripped of office and transformed into one of the Five Radiant Spirit Officers. This place must have a temple attendant." So they all entered together, but saw that the hall and corridors had collapsed and no human shadow appeared. They tried to step out, but the sky had overcast with dark clouds and was covered, and then a hard rain came down in torrents. With no choice, they chose a windward shelter under that ruined house and covered themselves from rain and wind. The place was dense and hushed; they dared not speak loudly, fearing some lurking demon might sense them. Some sat, some stood; they endured the whole night without sleep. Then truly this was:

When joy reaches its utmost fullness, sorrow comes again where joy had been.

It remains unknown whether they will move forward by dawn or not. Listen in the next chapter for the resolution.