The master and his disciples walked back along the mountain path.
A-Hu was still waiting where they had left him. Seeing Xuanzang return, he greeted him with a low growl and rubbed his massive head against his palm.
Xuanzang reached out and stroked the fur behind his neck.
They ate a little and packed their luggage.
Tang Sanzang mounted A-Hu, Sha Monk shouldered the luggage, Little White Dragon guided the tiger by his head, Zhu Bajie dragged the Rake, and Pilgrim Sun wielded the Iron Cudgel to clear a path as they headed straight down the high mountain.
There was no end to their nights by the water and meals in the wind, their journeys through frost and dew.
Spring passed into summer, and the vegetation grew ever more lush.
On and on they traveled, and another month passed in the blink of an eye.
Along the way, they sought lodging whenever they came to a village.
Xuanzang expounded the scriptures to everyone he met and offered help whenever trouble arose.
For those who had just lost someone, he recited a scroll of the Rebirth Mantra;
For those with lingering illnesses, he prescribed a few medicinal herbs;
For quarreling couples, he sat down and helped them make peace.
His disciples did not sit idle either.
Bajie was the most popular.
One thrust of his Nine-Toothed Rake into the fields, one pass across them, and the soil was turned deep and even.
An old villager stared with eyes wide, repeatedly calling it a divine weapon and insisting on treating him to wine.
Bajie declined, citing his vows, and drank only a few bowls of cool tea, but this moved the old man so deeply that he insisted on becoming his sworn brother.
Wukong did no farmwork.
He squatted in a