Volume 3: A Long Journey Chapter 282: The Country of Chechi

As Tang Seng and his disciples traversed autumn and winter, braving wind and snow, traveling day and night, they finally reached the early spring season. The sun shone brightly, and all things seemed to glow with life.

The group continued on their journey while admiring the scenery, each feeling relieved. Although Wukong wanted to return to Qitianling, he was uneasy. Wu Ping remained silent throughout the journey, his small eyes darting between Wukong and Tang Seng. Fortunately, the quest to obtain the scriptures would take several years, so there was no need to rush. If anything serious happened, someone from Qitianling would surely come to help them escape unscathed.

One day, as they traveled along the road, they suddenly saw a group of about a hundred people approaching. Among them were old and young, all in tattered clothes, some with wounds on their bodies. What was more noticeable was that they were all monks.

As they got closer, Tang Seng could see clearly. He quickly dismounted from his horse and exclaimed in shock, “These… these are my Buddhist disciples! How did they end up in such a miserable state?”

Seeing Tang Seng dressed in robes, looking dignified, and his fine horse, the monks stepped aside to make way. Only an old monk stood in the middle of the road and said, “Amitabha.” Tang Seng returned the greeting and asked, “Elder, why do you look like this? Where are you going?”

Before the old monk could speak, tears streamed down his face. He said, “Elder, turn back quickly! If you delay, even you won’t be able to escape.”

Tang Seng asked, “Why escape? Have we encountered bandits?”

The old monk replied, “If it were bandits, it would still be better—just a loss of property. But this is a life-threatening situation!” Tang Seng asked, “Then who are they?”

The old monk said, “This is a main road. Staying here might attract attention. It’s better to find a secluded place to explain things to you.” Wukong sneered, “Could it be that you are the bandits? You fled from the authorities here and, seeing our horses and belongings, plan to lure us to a deserted place to commit crimes?”

The old monk said, “You little monk speak so unreasonably! I meant well, but you wrongfully accuse me. I won’t say anything more. Just go into the city. Whether you live or die, it has nothing to do with me!”

Wukong laughed, “If you have nothing to hide, why not talk here on the road?”

The old monk glanced back anxiously and said, “The authorities are chasing us from behind. How dare we talk here?”

One of the monks urged, “Abbot, let’s go quickly!”

The old monk replied, “Saving one life is equivalent to building seven stupas. I’ll finish speaking and then leave.” He briefly explained that ahead lay a country called the Country of Chechi. Its king originally believed in Buddhism and ordered the construction of many temples. With thriving incense offerings, the monks lived peacefully and devoutly, holding high status in the country.

A few years ago, three Taoist priests appeared out of nowhere. These three had the demeanor of immortals—capable of controlling wind and rain, turning stones into gold. Within just a few days, they confused the king so much that he honored them as national advisors, allowing them to attend court without participating in rituals or bowing to others, their status far surpassing that of princes and ministers. From then on, the king abandoned Buddhism and turned to Taoism. These Taoist priests forced the monks in the country to work as laborers to build Taoist temples and worship the Three Pure Ones. The monks, who had once been delicate and soft-skinned, now toiled day after day—how could one describe their suffering? But if they refused to work, they would be beaten, so they had no choice.

Wukong interjected, “If they’ve already started working, why do they want to run away?” The old monk replied, “You don’t know the whole story. Even working was tolerable, but half a month ago, another Taoist priest arrived. This one possessed extraordinary powers—able to move mountains and seas, ride clouds and mist. Even the immortals in heaven were at his mercy. The original three national advisors, fearing his strength, regarded him as their master. The king, thinking he was extremely fortunate, treated him like a distinguished guest.”

“That Taoist is extremely cruel. If he wants to spread his teachings, he sees us monks as thorns in his eyes. A few days after arriving, he tried to destroy the temples, burn the scriptures, and capture all the monk disciples to force them to grow hair and work as servants. Anyone who resisted was beaten or killed—many lives have already been lost.”

Tang Seng exclaimed, “Ah, how can he disregard human life so much!”

The old monk sighed, “I was originally the abbot of a temple. After learning about this, thinking of the monks in my temple, I hid in a kind donor’s house for a few days. But the donor’s servants leaked the news, and the authorities came to arrest us again. The donor’s family was imprisoned, and we fled in panic.”

“Having come this far, I saw an elder heading that way. As fellow Buddhists, I’m telling you this—please turn back to avoid unnecessary disaster.”

After saying that, the old monk led the monks eastward.

Tang Seng said, “Abbot, wait!”

The old monk turned around, his face grim. “Don’t call me. I need to hurry!”

Tang Seng said, “Stop hurrying. I can save you!”

The old monk glanced back and said with a bitter smile, “Elder, you look so scholarly and refined. I doubt your strength can compare to mine. How could you save me? Human life is sacred—don’t treat it as a joke!”

Just then, the sound of horse hooves came from the west, accompanied by dust clouds—it was the pursuers from the Kingdom of Chachi.

The monks’ faces turned pale. If caught by the soldiers, they would surely die.

Forty or fifty riders approached and saw nearly a hundred monks fleeing in all directions. Standing in the road were four monks in strange clothes. They were overjoyed and immediately captured and killed the monks, knowing they would receive a generous reward for bringing them back.

The leading general then shouted, “Lock them all up!”
Hou Kong, having heard the old monk’s account, already had a plan in mind. The three Taoists from Chechi Country were most likely the immortals Tiger Strength, Deer Strength, and Sheep Strength. He had already subdued these three in the three realms, but after escaping, they came to Chechi Country to cause trouble again. As for the later Taoist, his origin was unknown, yet he was always much stronger than the three of them—otherwise, how could they have willingly become his disciples?
Seeing the soldiers charging at them with sharp weapons like wolves and tigers, he recited a spell and shouted, “Fix!” Forty or fifty riders, along with their horses, instantly froze in place, as if made of clay.
The group of monks, who were fleeing, saw this miracle and knelt down together, exclaiming, “The Bodhisattva has manifested!”
Hou Kong waved his hand and called the old monk over. The old monk approached timidly and asked, “Which Bodhisattva is showing mercy to us?” Hou Kong smiled and said, “Far in the sky, yet right before our eyes.”
The old monk, finding Hou Kong’s appearance strange and unusual, naturally couldn’t believe it. He asked, “You? Which Bodhisattva are you?” Hou Kong replied, “Who said only Bodhisattvas can save people?”
Tang Seng said, “Abbot, this is my eldest disciple, Sun Wukong. He also knows some magic spells; even ordinary immortals are not as good as him.”
Upon hearing this, the old monk immediately wanted to kowtow, but Tang Seng quickly stopped him and asked, “Wukong, what do you think we should do?”
Hou Kong said, “Master, although our journey is to obtain the scriptures, we certainly can’t stand by and watch our fellow disciples suffer. Since we’ve encountered them, let’s take them with us into the city. I really want to see what kind of being this murderer is!”
Hearing about entering the city, the old monk quickly waved his hands and said, “We dare not enter the city. It’s already a great fortune that we managed to escape!”
Hou Kong said, “Come with me into the city, and I’ll ensure your safety!”
The old monk, half-believing and half-doubting, said, “There are soldiers in the city to capture us, and immortals using magic. No matter how strong you are, it’s hard to fight against many enemies.”
Hou Kong took out his Ruyi Tianji Stick. When it was placed on the ground, it turned into an iron roller over ten feet long and half a foot thick. He said, “Let’s see who can withstand my stick!”
The old monk was terrified and said, “We can’t, we definitely can’t!”
Hou Kong retracted the stick and smiled, “Then let’s go!”
Thus, the four disciples, along with hundreds of monks, trudged toward Chechi Country. The monks didn’t go far; after an hour’s walk, they saw the city walls of Chechi Country.
It was just past noon, and the city gate was bustling with activity. People coming in and out had to take off their hats for inspection. Those with bald heads or thin hair would be questioned thoroughly. If one was born bald, it was better not to enter the city at all, lest they lose their lives.

Wukong led the way at the front, followed by many monks, which naturally attracted a lot of attention. As they approached the city gates, soldiers on duty stepped forward to block them, shouting angrily, “Where do you monks come from? How dare you show off in the streets!” Wukong replied with a smile, “We’re here to work in the city, looking for some jobs—any job is better than starving to death.” The soldier was skeptical; with monks fleeing from the city in such numbers, how could there be any who wanted to enter? But there were camps stationed at the city gates with plenty of soldiers, so they weren’t worried about any threats. The soldier said, “If you want to enter, then someone must watch over you first.” Wukong replied, “It’s fine to be watched, but where do you get so many people?” The soldier glanced around and saw that there were also dozens of soldiers guarding the city gates, yet now he was alone—even the camps outside the gates had disappeared. In broad daylight, could this be a ghost? It was obviously a trick by Wukong, who had frozen those people in place and used a illusion to make it seem like they had vanished. Wukong patted the soldier’s shoulder and said, “It’s not your fault.” The soldier stood there, mouth agape, unable to move. Wukong turned around, waved his hand, and shouted, “Let’s go!” After passing through three sets of city gates, they soon reached a temple, though its walls had collapsed and it was in ruins. A golden plaque was broken in half and lying on the ground, still showing the words “Imperially Built Zhiyuan Temple.” Seeing the temple, the old monk couldn’t help but cry again, saying, “This is the Zhiyuan Temple I used to be in—it’s in such a terrible state now.” Wukong noticed that a few buildings in the temple were still intact and said, “You stay here for now. My master and I will go get the permission documents.” Hearing that Wukong was leaving, the old monk exclaimed in alarm, “Little immortal, are you going to abandon us here? What if—” Wukong replied, “How could I abandon you? Someone will surely protect you.” He pointed at Wuping and Huowuhui, saying, “These two haven’t intervened yet, but they’re actually several times stronger than me. They’re immortals from heaven who have come to observe the people’s conditions.” Hearing that there were two more immortals, the monks wanted to kowtow, but Tang Seng told Wukong, “Monks don’t lie—don’t talk nonsense.” Wukong laughed and said, “I’m telling them so they can rest assured.” After settling the monks, Wukong and Tang Seng slowly made their way toward the palace. Along the way, they saw countless Taoists but not a single monk. Many people stared at Tang Seng, who wore a Pilu hat and a precious robe. After walking a short distance, a group of Taoists, with flushed faces and reeking of alcohol, stopped Tang Seng and Wukong. The leader reached out to pull at Tang Seng’s robe, saying mockingly, “Well, there really is a fish that slipped through the net!”