“Yes,” said Pig in desperation, “I'll cook. My skin and bones may be coarse, but they'll boil tender. I'm done for! I'm done for.”

Before Pig had finished shouting a little devil came in from outside to report that Novice the Sun was there again and being very abusive.

“Damn him. He thinks we're completely useless,” exclaimed the Senior Demon King with horror. “Hang Pig up again,” he told the little demons, “and check what treasures we have left.”

“We still have three in the cave,” reported the steward devil.

“Which three?” the demon king asked. “The Seven-star Sword, the Plantain Fan, and the Pure Vase,” replied the steward.

“The vase is useless,” said the demon king. “All you used to need to do was to call someone's name and get a reply for them to be put inside. But now Sun the Novice has learned the words of the spell and put my brother in it. We won't need that-leave it here. Fetch me the sword and the fan at once.”

The steward immediately fetched them for the old demon, who tucked the fan inside the back of his collar and took the sword in his hand. Then he mustered all three hundred or more of his devils and drilled them in the use of spear, staff, rope and sword. The Senior Demon King then put on his helmet and breast plate, over which he threw a cloak of fiery red silk. The demons fell into battle formation, ready to capture the Great Sage Sun. The Great Sage meanwhile, now aware that the Junior Demon King had rotted down inside the gourd, tied it up very tight and fastened it to his belt, then prepared to fight, his gold-banded cudgel in his hand. The old demon, his red battle-flag unfurled behind him, leapt out through the doors of the cave. This was how he was dressed:

Dazzling bright the tassels on his helmet,

Brilliantly coloured the belt at his waist.

The armor he wore was made of dragon scales,

Covered with a cloak of burning fire.

Lightning flashed from his glaring eyes,

Smoke curled up from his bristles of steel.

Lightly he lifted the Seven-star Sword,

His shoulders covered by the Plantain Fan.

He moved like clouds drifting from an island,

Sounded like thunderbolts shaking the mountains.

His mighty prowess would oppress Heaven's warriors

As he wrathfully led his devils from the cave.

He ordered the little devils into battle positions at once, then started hurling abuse: “Thoroughly ill-mannered ape. You've murdered my brother and ruined our fraternal love. You're utterly loathsome.”

“Detestable monster,” replied Monkey in kind. “You hang on to your devilish life for all you're worth, but how do you expect me to stand for my master, my fellow-disciples and horse all being hung up in your cave for no good reason at all? It's intolerable. Hand them over to me this moment and throw in some generous travelling expenses. Then I'll cheerfully be on my way and spare your rotten life.” With no more ado the demon lifted his sword and struck at Monkey's head, while Monkey raised his iron cudgel to meet him. It was a fine battle they fought outside the gates. Indeed!

The Gold-Banded Cudgel and the Seven-star Sword,

Flashing like lightning as they meet.

The chill wind from them makes one cold,

While mighty banks of cloud blot out the ridges.

One, moved by brotherly love,

Would do no act of kindness;

The other, out to save the pilgrim,

Showed no touch of mercy.

The two sides seethed with equal hatred,

Each of them sharing the same loathing.

They fought so hard that

Heaven and earth were thrown into darkness,

Gods and demons were terrified,

The sun went pale in the dense smoke,

Dragons and tigers trembled.

One gnashed his teeth, as if filing nails of jade;

The other's glaring eyes burned with golden fire.

Moving to and fro they showed off their valour,

In an endless play of sword and cudgel.

When the old demon had fought twenty rounds with Monkey and neither had emerged the victor he waved the scabbard of his sword and called all his little devils forward. Over three hundred of them all rushed up and surrounded Monkey. The splendid Great Sage, quite unperturbed, used his cudgel to strike and parry to either side, before and behind. The little devils all had great skill, and they fought their way ever closer to him, tying him up as if in a tangle of silk floss as they tugged at his waist and legs. They would not retreat. The Great Sage was so alarmed by this that he used extra-corporeal magic. Plucking a bunch of hairs from under his left ribs he chewed thew to pieces that he blew out with the shout, “Change!” Every piece turned into another Monkey. Just watch as the biggest ones wield cudgels, the short ones use their fists, and the tiniest ones, with no other way of attacking grabbed knuckles and sank their teeth into muscles.

The little devils were put to rout. “Your Majesty,” they yelled, “it's going all wrong. We're in terrible trouble. The whole mountain and everywhere else is swarming with Sun the Novices.” Now that his little devils had been thrown back by the extra-corporeal magic the demon king was hard-pressed; rush around as he might, there was to escape for him.

In his alarm the demon took his precious sword in his left hand and reached behind his neck with right hand to bring out the Plantain Fan. Then he turned towards the fire-gods of the Southeast and the Constellation Ligong he waved the fan. At once flames shot out of the ground, for such was the power of that treasure. The monster was truly ruthless. He waved the fan seven or eight times, setting great fires burning heaven and earth. It was a fine blaze:

Not a heavenly fire,

Nor a fire in a furnace,

Nor a fire on the mountain,

Nor a fire under the pot.

But the miraculous fire that comes from the Five Elements.

The fan is no ordinary object,

Nor was it fashioned by human skill:

It is a treasure made when Chaos was first parted.

The fire caused by this fan

Shines and dazzles

Like red silk lightning;

Burns and blazes

Like crimson gauze sunsets.

Not a wisp of smoke,

Only a mountain covered in flame,

Turning the pines on its ridges into trees of fire,

And the cypresses by its crags into lanterns.

The beasts in their dens, fearful for their lives,

Rush hither and thither;

The birds in the woods, to save their feathers,

Fly far and high.

The magic fire that roars up to the sky,

Destroys the rocks, dries up the streams, and makes all red.

The Great Sage trembled with fear at the sight of this evil fire. “This is terrible,” he said. “It may do me no harm, but I can't save those hairs of mine. If they are caught by the fire they'll burn the way hair does.”

So he shook himself and took the hair back on his body, leaving just one behind as a facsimile of himself. Then, to avoid disaster by fire, his real self somersaulted upwards, reciting a spell to ward off the fire, and escaped from the inferno. He went straight back to the Lotus Flower Cave in the hope of rescuing his master. He rushed to the cave doors, brought his cloud down to land, and found over a hundred little devils there with smashed heads, broken legs, and open wounds. They had all been wounded by his magical other selves and were now standing there howling in agony. At the sight of them the Great Sage could not restrain his evil and murderous nature; he laid into them, swinging his iron cudgel. The poor devils, who were the fruit of so much hard work to acquire human form, became so many pieces of worn and hairy hide once more.