Wukong paid no heed to anything and smashed Yang Meng's grave mound flat.
Seeing this, Yang Meng's Mother cried until she stopped breathing.
Yang Meng's Father kept saying, "What a sin! What a sin!"
For a time, cries filled the air and everyone fell into confusion. Tang Sanzang looked at Wukong, trembling, then toppled backward, fainting outright from anger.
Bajie and Sha Wujing hurriedly caught him.
"Master! Master!" Wukong cried in alarm.
It was not until the next day that Tang Sanzang slowly regained consciousness. His anger had assailed his heart the day before, causing him to faint.
Wukong was tending him at his side. Seeing Tang Sanzang awake, he hurried forward to give him water.
Tang Sanzang drank a little, looked at Wukong, and said nothing.
Wukong brought him some hot porridge.
Tang Sanzang ate two mouthfuls, then fell silent again.
"Master," Wukong said, "whatever wrong your disciple has committed, just recite the spell. I'll willingly bear it. Don't bottle up your anger and harm your health."
"Wukong," Tang Sanzang said, "Heaven cherishes life, and a monk must have a kind heart. I've told you this sort of thing many times already, so why can you still not rein in your temper? The Tight-Fillet Spell is meant to encourage you to do good and curb your savagery. Now that you simply endure it by force, what use would it be even if I recited it?"
Wukong knelt before the bed. "Master, your disciple knows he was wrong."
Tang Sanzang sighed. "I promised you before that I would never recite that spell again. But when you refuse to heed my teachings like this, I truly despair that iron will not become steel! That Old Benefactor and his family are good people. We've stayed here for days, receiving their care. You