After the old monk had tricked them into giving him the cassock, he held it under the lamp in the back room as he wept and wailed over it. This so alarmed the monks that none of them dared go to sleep before he did. The young page, not knowing what to do, went to tell the other monks, “Grandad's still crying although it's getting on for eleven.” Two junior monks, who were among the old man's favorites, went over to ask him why he was crying.

“I'm crying because my accursed fate won't allow me to see the Tang Priest's treasure,” he said; to which they replied, “Grandad, in your old age you have succeeded. His cassock is laid before you, and all you have to do is open your eyes and look. There's no need for tears.”

“But I can't look at it for long,” the aged monk answered. “I'm two hundred and seventy this year, and I've collected all those hundreds of cassocks for nothing. However am I to get hold of that one of his? However am I to become like the Tang priest?”

“Master, you've got it all wrong,” the junior monks said. “The Tang Priest is a pilgrim far from home. You should be satisfied with your great seniority and wealth; why ever would you want to be a pilgrim like him?”

“Although I live at home and enjoy my declining years, I've got no cassock like his to wear,” the aged monk replied. “If I could wear it for a day, I would close my eyes in peace. I'd be as happy as if I were a monk in my next life.”

“What nonsense,” the junior monks said. “If you want to wear his cassock, there'll be no problem about that. We'll keep him for another day tomorrow, and you can wear it for another day. Or we can keep him for ten days and you can wear it for ten days. So why get so upset about it?”

“Even if we kept him for a year,” the old monk replied, “I'd only be able to wear it for a year, which wouldn't bring me any glory. I'll still have to give it to him when he went: I can't keep him here for ever.”

As they were talking a young monk called Broad Wisdom spoke out. “Grandad,” he said, “if you want it for a long time, that's easy to arrange too.”

“What brilliant idea have you got, child?” the aged monk asked, cheering up.

“That Tang Priest and his disciple were so exhausted after their journey that they are both asleep by now,” Broad Wisdom replied. If we arm some strong monks with swords and spears to break into the meditation hall and kill them, they can be buried in the back garden, and nobody but us will be any the wiser. This way we get their white horse and their luggage as well as the cassock, which will become an heirloom of the monastery. We would be doing this for posterity.” The old monk was very pleased with this suggestion, and he wiped the tears from his eyes as he said, “Very good, very good, a marvellous plan.”

Another young monk called Broad Plans, a fellow-student of Broad Wisdom's, came froward and said, “This plan's no good. If we are to kill them, we'll have to keep a sharp eye on them. That old pale-faced one looks easy enough, but the hairy-faced one could be tricky; and if by any chance we fail to kill him, we'll be in deep trouble. I have a way that doesn't involve using weapons, but I don't know what you'll think of it.”

“What do you suggest, my child?” the aged monk asked.

“In my humble opinion,” he replied, “we should assemble the head monks of all the cells, senior and junior, and get everyone to put a bundle of firewood outside the meditation hall. When it's set alight, those two will have no escape, and will be burnt to death together with their horse. Even if the people who live around this mountain see the blaze, they'll think that those two burnt down the mediation hall by carelessly starting a fire. This way they'll both be burnt to death and nobody will know how it happened. Then the cassock will become our monastery's treasure for ever.” All the monks present were pleased with this suggestion, exclaiming, “Great, great, great; an even better plan.” The head of every cell was told to bring firewood, a scheme that was to bring death to the venerable and aged monk, and reduce the Guanyin Monastery to ashes. Now there were seventy or eighty cells in the monastery, and over two hundred junior and senior monks. They shifted firewood all night, piled it up all round the meditation hall so that there was no way out, and prepared to set it alight.

Although Sanzang and he had gone to bed, the magical Monkey's spirit remained alert and his eyes half open even when he was asleep. His suspicions were aroused by the sound of people moving around outside and the rustling of firewood in the breeze. “Why can I hear footsteps in the still of the night?” he wondered. “Perhaps bandits are planning to murder us.” He leaped out of bed, and was on the point of opening the door to take a look when he remembered that this might disturb his master, so instead he used his miraculous powers to turn himself into a bee with a shake of his body.

Sweet his mouth and venomous his tail,

Slender his waist and light his body.

He flew like an arrow, threading through willows and flowers,

Seeking their nectar like a shooting star.

A tiny body that could bear great weights,

Carried on the breeze by his frail and buzzing wings.

Thus did he emerge from under the rafters,

Going out to take a look.

He saw that the monks had piled firewood and straw all around the meditation hall and were setting it alight. Smiling to himself he thought, “So my master was right. This is their idea. They want to kill us and keep our cassock. I wish I could lay into them with my cudgel. If only I wasn't forbidden to use it, I could kill the lot of them; but the master would only be angry with me for murdering them. Too bad. I'll just have to take my chances as they come, and finish them off.”

The splendid Monkey leapt in through the Southern Gate of Heaven with a single somersault, startling the heavenly warriors Pang, Liu, Gou and Bi into bowing, and Ma, Zhao, Wen and Guan into bending low as they all said, “Oh no, oh no! The fellow who turned Heaven upside down is here again.”

“There's no need to stand on courtesy or be alarmed, gentlemen,” said Monkey with a wave of his hand, “I've come to find the Broad-Visioned Heavenly King.”

Before the words were out of his mouth the Heavenly King was there and greeting Monkey with, “Haven't seen you for ages. I heard the other day that the Bodhisattva Guanyin came to see the Jade Emperor to borrow the four Duty Gods, the Six Dings and Jias and the Revealers of the Truth to look after the Tang Priest on his pilgrimage to the Western Heaven to fetch the scriptures. They were also saying that you were his disciple, so how is it that you have the spare time to come here?”

“Let's cut the cackle,” said Monkey. “The Tang priest has run into some villains who have started a fire to burn him to death. It's very urgent, which is why I've come to ask you for the loan of your Anti-fire Cover to save him with. Fetch it at once; I'll bring it straight back.”

“You've got it all wrong,” the Heavenly King replied. “If villains are trying to burn him, you should rescue him with water. What do you need my Anti-fire Cover for?”

“You don't understand,” Monkey continued. “If I try to save him with water, he may still be hurt even if he isn't burnt up. I can only keep him free from injury if you lend me that cover; and with that it doesn't matter how much burning they do. Buck up, buck up! It may be too late already. Don't mess up what I've got to do down there.”

“You monkey,” said the Heavenly King with a laugh, “You're as wicked as ever, thinking only of yourself and never of others.”

“Hurry up, hurry up,” Monkey pleaded. “You'll ruin everything if you go on nattering.” The Heavenly King, no longer able to refuse, handed the cover to Monkey.