Chan Master Wuchao

After bidding farewell to Gao Village, the party continued west.

Over the past month, their company had become considerably livelier.

They had gained someone who kept complaining of hunger.

"Master... how much farther do we have to walk?"

Zhu Bajie carried the Nine-Toothed Rake over his shoulder. His new black robes, which had originally fit him well, were now stretched taut over his round belly. He dragged his feet, his large ears drooping, and whined:

"It's barely morning, and we haven't even had a mouthful of hot soup. The temple of my five innards is about to revolt! Master, why don't we take a break? We could find somewhere shady up ahead. Even a nap would do-at least I could eat my fill in a dream."

Hearing this, Sun Wukong somersaulted back from the front of the party, landed beside Zhu Bajie's large ear, and caught a tuft of bristles with a chuckle.

"Idiot! How many steps have we even taken? The sun hasn't climbed halfway up the mountain yet! Is that belly of yours a bottomless pit? At supper last night, Old Sun saw you eat half a pot all by yourself!"

Zhu Bajie tilted his head away in pain, but he was not angry. He merely grumbled, "Brother Monkey, you don't understand. Old Pig is broad and stout, and hunger hits me hardest. Half a pot only half-filled my belly. How could that last through all this walking?"

At the rear of the party, Ao Lie carried the luggage on a shoulder pole, as stern and taciturn as ever. Only when he heard "half a pot" did the corner of his mouth twitch slightly, and he silently shifted the pole to his other shoulder.

This pig's appetite was indeed a considerable "burden" on the road for the one carrying the luggage.

Xuanzang rode on A-Hu's back, holding a scroll of scripture. He did not turn around at these words, but simply said:

"Bajie."

Zhu Bajie shuddered, immediately dropped his lazy manner, and straightened his back. "Master, I'm here!"

Xuanzang turned a page of the scripture, his voice calm. "When the mind is empty and serene, the hungry fire in the belly dies away of its own accord. With all this clamoring, the more you shout, the hungrier you become, and the hungrier you become, the more tired you feel. Why torment yourself?"

Zhu Bajie pulled a miserable face and muttered, "Master, scriptures don't fill your belly..."

That day, they suddenly caught sight of a lofty mountain ahead, wreathed in billowing clouds and radiant mists, with a thousand streams of auspicious light. Though it lacked precipitous slopes, it possessed an ethereal serenity. Pines and cypresses grew thickly, and a wondrous fragrance filled the air.

Riding on A-Hu's back, Xuanzang sensed that the mountain's aura was pure and upright, unlike a haunt of demons.

"Master, there's something special about this mountain." Sun Wukong blinked his Fiery Golden Eyes.

Leading A-Hu, Zhu Bajie looked up and immediately brightened. "Master, Old Pig knows this area! This is Futuo Mountain. An old Chan master named Wuchao lives up there. He's an old cultivator with some real attainment."

"Back when I was a demon on Fuling Mountain, he wanted me to cultivate under him, too. But I'd grown used to being lazy and couldn't bear the misery of sitting in meditation, so I never went."

Xuanzang nodded slightly. "Since he is a senior cultivator, we ought to pay our respects."

The party followed the path uphill.

Before long, they saw an enormous nest of brushwood and grass atop a fragrant juniper. To its left, deer carried flowers in their mouths; to its right, mountain monkeys offered fruit. Azure luan birds and colorful phoenixes sang together in the treetops.

A figure sat upright inside the nest.

His face was withered, and he wore an old monk's robe, looking like dead wood and cold ashes.

"Old Chan master! Old Chan master!" Zhu Bajie called up to him. "Have you been well?"

Chan Master Wuchao slowly opened his eyes. His gaze flashed like lightning as it swept over the party, finally settling on Zhu Bajie. A trace of a smile appeared on his face, and he floated down from the tree, landing without a sound.

"Are you Zhu Ganglie of Fuling Mountain?" the Chan master asked with a smile.

"Some years ago, I offered to guide you to liberation, but you refused. What great karmic fortune has brought you into the Buddhist fold today?"

Zhu Bajie chuckled and pointed at Xuanzang. "Guanyin Bodhisattva persuaded me to embrace virtue and take the precepts. Now my master, the holy monk of Great Tang, has enlightened me, and we happened to be passing through your mountain."

Only then did Chan Master Wuchao turn his gaze toward Xuanzang.

"Forgive my discourtesy. So you are the holy monk seeking the scriptures. The journey to the Western Heaven is long, and demons run rampant along the way. Yours is truly a mighty vow."

Chan Master Wuchao merely gave a slight nod in return greeting. Then he pointed at Sun Wukong beside them and asked, "And who is this?"

Sun Wukong could never stand being slighted. Seeing the old monk reminisce only with Bajie while ignoring him had already left him seething.

He planted the Golden Cudgel on the ground and sneered.

"Hey! Old Chan master, are your eyes growing on top of your head? You recognize that idiot, but you don't recognize Old Sun?"

Chan Master Wuchao glanced at him indifferently, a faint, ambiguous smile on his face.

"Only because we have scarcely met."

"You!" Sun Wukong flew into a rage and was about to lash out.

But Xuanzang stepped forward, placing himself in front of Wukong, and said calmly:

"This is my eldest disciple, Sun Wukong."

"Oh..." Chan Master Wuchao nodded without concern.

With that, he paid Wukong no further attention and turned to Xuanzang, his tone taking on a somewhat lecturing air.

"Holy monk, the road to the Western Heaven is long, and the Great Thunderclap Temple lies at the edge of the sky. Countless tigers, leopards, jackals, wolves, demons, and ghosts haunt the way. Though your disciple possesses some brute strength, he may not be able to keep you safe."

Sun Wukong scratched his ears and cheeks in fury, his grip on the Golden Cudgel creaking.

Xuanzang's expression remained unchanged. He asked in return, "Then what would you advise, Chan master?"

Chan Master Wuchao took a yellowed scroll of scripture from inside his robes and said:

"Though the road is long, there must eventually come a day when you arrive. It is only the demons of the mind that are difficult to dispel. I have here a scroll of the Heart Sutra, comprising fifty-four lines and two hundred and seventy characters."

"This scripture is the supreme scripture for cultivating truth, the gateway to attaining Buddhahood. Should you encounter demonic miasma, simply recite it. It will keep your mind steady and prevent demons from assailing you, leaving you free from harm."

Having said this, Chan Master Wuchao did not ask whether Xuanzang wished to learn it, but began reciting on his own:

"When the Bodhisattva Avalokiteshvara practiced the profound perfection of wisdom, she perceived that all five aggregates were empty..."

His voice was ancient and desolate, carrying a barren stillness that seemed to reduce every thought to ashes.

As he chanted, the flowers and grasses around them seemed to lose their color in that very instant, sinking into an absolute "emptiness."

Yet at the very instant Chan Master Wuchao opened his mouth-Xuanzang spoke as well.

"When the Bodhisattva Avalokiteshvara practiced the profound perfection of wisdom..."

His clear, resonant voice sounded at exactly the same time as Chan Master Wuchao's aged one.

Every word matched, every line overlapped.

Chan Master Wuchao abruptly stopped. He stared at Xuanzang in astonishment.

Xuanzang did not stop. His expression solemn and his eyes half-closed, the Nectar Buddha Wheel shimmered faintly behind his head as the scripture flowed from his lips without the slightest hesitation:

"...she perceived that all five aggregates were empty, and transcended all suffering and adversity."

"Shariputra, form is no different from emptiness, emptiness is no different from form. Form is emptiness, and emptiness is form..."

Chan Master Wuchao froze.

How does this monk know this Mahayana teaching?

What shocked him even more was that, although the words Xuanzang recited were identical to his own, the spiritual meaning they conveyed was utterly opposite!

What Wuchao chanted was "emptiness."

What Xuanzang chanted was "deliverance."

As the final line fell, Xuanzang slowly opened his eyes.

In that instant, the flowers and grasses around them that had lost their color burst into vibrant life once more, their hues even brighter than before.