Chapter 72- Tripitaka-Pigsy's Nearly Fatal Attraction

Stories of Journey to the West, Chapter 72 The journey's moved on from Zu-Zigo. Autumn passed, winter too, and now, like we said, it's spring. Everything looks lovely, peaceful. But then, Master Tang San-Zang does something, well, pretty unusual for him. He normally sticks close to his disciples, right? Lan-Wu-Kong, Zu-Ba-Ji, Sha-Wu-Jing, they handle the protection, the food, everything. So, um, why now? Why does he suddenly insist on going off by himself to this nearby, quote, hermitage? It's such a key moment because it breaks their pattern entirely. San-Zang spots this place, looks like a quiet little hermitage, and just declares, I'm going to ask for alms myself. And, you know, San-Wu-Kong immediately objects. One day as teacher, lifetime as father, the disciple's job to serve, not the master. Right, the classic argument. Exactly. And then Zu-Ba-Ji pipes up, saying, you know, the youngest should suffer, meaning him or Sha-Wu-Jing, not the master. But then Sha-Wu-Jing, who's often the sensible one, kind of tells them, look, just let him go. He knows the master can be stubborn. Ah, so he figures arguing will just make it worse. Pretty much. He warns them, if you annoy him now, he won't even eat the food if we go get it. And San-Zang himself. He says he's tired from riding, the place is close, the weather's clear. So he thinks, what could possibly go wrong? A quick solo trip. Exactly. He seems determined to prove he can handle this one little thing himself. And looking at the place, you can almost see why he felt confident. The description is so idyllic. There's this big stone bridge, ancient trees all need in rows, a stream. Yeah, a murmuring stream leading to a brook. And beyond that, these thatched huts that look clean and elegant, like immortal hermitages. Even the windows are described as pure and bright, better than Taoist temples. It really paints a picture of utter peace. It's designed to lull you and San-Zang into a false sense of security. So San-Zang gets closer, and then he sees them. Four women inside one of the huts, doing this incredibly detailed needlework. Stitching phoenixes and embroidering dragons. And the description of the women themselves is just, wow. Hearts firm like stone, nature's joyous like spring, rosy cheeks, red lips, slender eyebrows, cloud-like hair. So beautiful that wandering bees mistake them for flowers. I mean, the text really lays it on thick. Absolutely. It's setting up this image of perfect, almost ethereal beauty and virtue. But then it gets even more elaborate. Just as he's watching, three more women come out, and they start playing this game, a kind of kicking ball game. And this is where it gets really interesting, like you said in the intro. The text goes into incredible detail about this game. It's not just, you know, kicking a ball around. No, it sounds like a performance. It really does. Their movements are described so vividly. Floating green sleeves, swaying yellow skirts. And it specifically mentions seeing their delicate, slender hands, and crucially, partially revealing tiny lotus feet. Ah. Yes, and the kicking itself is described with these complex, graceful moves, like an out-of-wall flower turn, or flipping over the sea, catching a mud ball, a single shot versus double bend. It sounds incredibly athletic, almost acrobatic. They're sweating, their hair's a mess, but they're still depicted as beautiful and skillful. Yeah. Quite a scene. It absolutely is. It adds another layer to their allure, not just passive beauty, but active, skillful grace. Though perhaps unnaturally skillful. Good point. So, San Zhang watches all this for quite a while. He seems completely captivated. Finally, he calls out, female bodhisattvas. Notice that he calls them bodhisattvas, enlightened beings. Poor monk here begs for some vegetarian food. He's totally bought into the illusion. He sees beauty, grace, maybe even piety, and assumes the best. And how do they react when he calls out? Oh, it's all smiles and warmth. They immediately drop the needlework, drop the ball, they come over laughing, welcome him in. They assure him, oh, we've never blocked the road from a traveling monk. Total hospitality. Wow. So welcoming. And San Zhang, he thinks, this must be it. This has to be Buddha's land. Even the women here are so devout, so ready to give alms. He's completely convinced he's found this little pocket of paradise. He's just completely disarmed by it all. The setting, the women, their actions. But then he actually steps inside the hut. Kind of isolated. A woman smiles and invites him in. But right away, you feel it. Something's off. He steps inside. What hits him first? What are those little clues that make him think, uh-oh? That's key. His gut feeling kicks in instantly. The book paints this picture, right? Everything's stone. Stone tables, stone benches. And there's this cold feeling in the air, like really cold. He literally thinks to himself, this feels like more ill than good fortune. That's a direct quote, basically. And yet, you've got these women acting all pleasant. Asking, oh, are you here for alms? Charity? He explains, no, I'm the monk from the east, going west for scriptures. Just need a meal, really? And they give this answer, a monk from afar makes for good scripture reading. Which sounds almost too nice, you know? Yeah, that kind of overly polite reply, especially when he's already feeling uneasy. Definitely a bit of a red flag. Okay, so three women chat with him about karma, destiny, that sort of thing. Meanwhile, the other four are in the kitchen. What exactly are they cooking up for their guests? What kind of meal is this? Right. And this is where it gets, well, properly gruesome. This isn't your average vegetarian fare. The description is stomach-churning. We're talking about food fried in human oil. Stewed human meat. There's this black paste that looks like gluten, but isn't. And maybe the worst part. Scooped out human brains, fried up to look like tofu pieces. And they bring this out to him, as a meal. Wow. Just, wow. I can barely listen to that. Imagine Tang Monk. He must have been utterly repulsed. He gets a whiff of it, right? It smells fishy or gamey. He can't even bring himself to taste it. He just bows, puts his palms together, says, I'm vegetarian from the womb. Yeah, wait, wait. How do the hosts take that? Oh, they push back. Hard. They actually insist, no, no, this is vegetarian. So it's not just about food preferences. This is like a direct attack on his whole way of life, his vows. And Tang Monk, he argues back. He says, look, if I eat this stuff, this so-called vegetarian food, I'll never see the Buddha. I won't get the scriptures. He lists his vows, really lays it out. I don't harm even the smallest life. I help anyone suffering. I only eat grains. I patch my own clothes. His commitment is total. It just shows how deep his practice runs, even when he's staring death, basically, in the face. But that commitment, that refusal, it makes him a problem for them, doesn't it? They call him picky. And at this point, Tang Monk knows. He knows he's in deep trouble. He tries to leave. He actually begs them, release me. Like you'd let an animal go free. What do they say to that? Nope. Absolutely not. They block the door. And they say something really nasty, comparing him to a difficult customer who, well, the text says, passed gas, then tried to cover it. Basically meaning, you came in, you made a fuss, now you're stuck. Too late. That's when the friendly act completely drops. It gets physical fast. And suddenly, they're not just smiling women anymore. They show this surprising skill, martial arts. They move fast, grab him, yank him, throw him down hard, tie him up with ropes. But the way they leave him tied up, it's specific and really agonizing from the description. Oh, absolutely. It's incredibly specific and cruel. The detail that stands out is this message called Immortal Pointing the Way. They tie him to a beam. But get this. One hand pointing forward, the other arm tied at his waist, and both feet tied back behind him. So he's hanging there, suspended, face down, belly exposed. Back up, belly down, the text says. Just imagine that. Pure agony. You can practically feel it. He's in terrible pain, crying, cursing his luck. Feels like he's in a fiery pit. He yells out for his disciples, Sun Wukong, Zhu Bajie, Shao Wujing, warning them he'll probably be dead in like two hours if they don't find him. But even then, hanging there, suffering, he's watching the women, and they start taking off their clothes. What's he thinking now? Yeah, his immediate thought, pure terror. He thinks they're going to beat him, or maybe worse, eat him. Half-cooked, is the phrase used. The tension is just ratcheting up. But then the twist, the big reveal of who or what they really are. They only take off their upper robes, just exposing their stomachs, their bellies. And then from their waists, these silk ropes just burst out. Not thin little threads, these are thick, like duck egg thick, the text says. They come shooting out, described like jade and silver, and instantly cover the whole gate, the whole courtyard entrance. Bizarre. Sun Wukong, Zhu Bajie, Shao Wujing, they're just waiting by the road. And Wukong being Wukong. Exactly. The playful monkey, as they say. He's climbing trees, looking for fruit, just, you know, keeping busy. But then he spots something. Not fruit, though. No, not fruit. He sees this bright light. The text describes it as like snow, and bright as snow, like silver, and shining like silver. Wow, okay, so very noticeable. Very. And his immediate thought, Master is in low fortune. Alarm bells are ringing. And then you have Zhu Bajie. Oh, yes. Bajie's reaction is, well, pure Bajie. He shouts, Master has met a demon, let's go save him. Always dramatic, that one. Always. But here's where it gets interesting, and maybe our first, like, key insight. Wukong, despite all his power, he doesn't just charge in. He stops Bajie. He does. Tells him, don't yell, don't you see anything yet? Let me go first. It shows this unusual caution, patience, observation over just brute force. So he decides to check it out himself first. Precisely. He goes closer to what looks like a village, but it's not a village. What is it then? It's described as silk ropes wrapped thousands of layers thick, like warp and weft. Just layers and layers of silk. Silk ropes covering a whole area. Yeah. And he touches it. It's sticky and soft. Sticky. Okay, that changes things. Right. It immediately makes him rethink his usual approach. He figures hitting it with his staff, his go-to weapon, might just flatten it. Or worse. He could get tangled up in it. Exactly. Sticky and soft, not something you can just smash through easily. It forces him to think differently, you know? The obstacle itself dictates the strategy needed. Okay, so smashing is out. What's plan B for the Great Sage? Well, this is where his strategic mind really kicks in. If force isn't the answer, what do you need? Information. Intelligence. Bingo. He pivots immediately to intel gathering. He knows he needs to understand what he's dealing with. How does he do that? Does he sneak around? Even better. He uses his magic. He pinches a spell and recites an incantation and summons the local land god, Tutalaue. Ah, the local authorities. Sort of the supernatural equivalent, yeah. It's a smart move. Go right to the source with local knowledge. This isn't just magic for magic's sake. It's about leveraging available resources, even the minor ones. And how does the land god react? Are they happy to help the Great Sage? Oh, far from it. This part's actually quite funny. The text says the land god shows up spinning like a millstone. He's absolutely terrified. Spinning? Yeah. So much so that his wife, Tutipur, who comes along, thinks he's having some kind of seizure, calls it sheep's wind. Seriously. Why is he so scared of Wukong? I thought Wukong was the hero. Well, yes, but he also has a reputation. It's a fantastic little detail. The land god, still trembling, explains why he's scared. Okay, let's hear it. He says Wukong's staff is really heavy, which is fair enough. But then he adds that Wukong likes to drink without paying and, get this, beats old people. No, Wukong drinks without paying and beats old people. That's the land god's complaint. It tells you Wukong isn't just seen as this noble hero by everyone. Some of the lower-level deities see him as a bit of a troublemaker, a cosmic bully almost. That adds a whole new layer to his character. It really does. Shows how perception can be shaped by past actions, even for heroes. Okay, so the terrified, spitting land god eventually calms down enough to talk. Eventually, yeah. Shaking, he confirms the location. This place is Pansi Ling Silk Web Bridge, and below it is Pansi Dong, the Silk Web Cave. And who lives there? Seven female demons. That's the core intel. Seven of them? Hmm. Does he know how powerful they are? That's a crucial point. He admits he doesn't know their full strength. He has his limits. But he does know something very useful. What's that? He knows they occupy a place called Zuogu Quan, the Washing Dut Spring, about three lot, maybe a mile or so south of the cave. A spring? A natural hot spring, apparently. And here's the really key detail. This spring used to be the bathing spot for the seven immortal maidens. Actual immortals, like celestial beings? That's the implication. And the fact that these powerful immortals apparently just let the demons take over the spring... Suggests the demons must be pretty tough. Tough enough that even immortals didn't want to tangle with them. Exactly. It's indirect evidence of their power. But maybe the most vital piece of intel the land god gives is about their routine. Yeah. Predictability. Always useful. Definitely. He says these demons bathe in the spring three times a day. And guess what? It's almost bath time. It's almost time for their midday bath. Perfect timing for Wukong. That kind of behavioral pattern is gold for a strategist. Absolutely. So Wukong's got the location, the number of enemies, a hint of their power, and their predictable routine. What now? He thanks the land god, sends him and his wife away, probably much to their relief, and then he makes his move. But not by charging in. Right. He learned that lesson with the silt. He transforms, this time, into something tiny and unassuming. A gray fly. A fly. Clever. Blend right in. Precisely. He lands on a blade of grass and just waits. Patient observation again. And then the silk ropes. They start to disappear. The text gives these amazing sounds, hissing and breathing sounds, like silkworms eating leaves, like the sea tide. Wow. Evocative. Incredibly. After, it says, about half a cup of tea's time, all the silk is gone. The entrance to the cave, or the area, looks normal again. And then the demons appear. Then the seven women emerge, and they're described as stunningly beautiful, walking together, laughing. How beautiful are we talking? The text lays it on thick. More fragrant than jade. Willow eyebrows. Skin-like cream. Basically comparing them to Chang'e, the moon goddess, coming down to earth. Ethereal. Okay, so incredibly beautiful. Yeah. But Wukong knows they're demons. He does. And then, as he's listening, still as a fly, remember, he hears their conversation as they walk towards that spring. And what are they saying? Something charming, I bet. Not quite. One sister says to another something like, Sister, after we bathe, we'll go steam that fat monk and eat him. Whoa. Just like that. Beautiful women planning to cook and eat his master. Exactly. That juxtaposition is stark. Extreme beauty masking monstrous intentions. It's a potent reminder, isn't it? Don't judge by appearances. Definitely raises the stakes. Confirms the land god's intel, too. So they head to the spring. What's the spring itself like? It's described quite lavishly. A magnificent gate. Surrounded by beautiful wildflowers. Dense orchids. Not some murky demon pool at all. It's almost serene. Which makes their plan even more jarring. It does. And the place has this amazing backstory connecting it to, like, deep mythology. Tell me more. This spring, the Zuo Guquan, is supposedly one of only nine special hot springs on earth. It was formed, believe it or not, from the nine suns that the archer Hao Yi shot down. Nine fallen golden crows. That story. That's the one. So this bathing spot is literally born from a cosmic event. It adds this layer of ancient power and significance to the place. That's incredible. A demon layer with cosmic origins. All right. And there's even a poem in the text describing the spring. It paints this picture of perpetual warmth and clarity. Can you give us a sense of it? Sure. It talks about how it's always summer, always spring, with boiling waves, fresh hot waves, how it flows out to water fields, but is also perfect for washing away dust. Calls it auspicious local beauty, naturally divine. Naturally divine. Right before the demons jump in to plot murder. The irony. The poem goes on about beautiful women bathed, skin smooth as ice, bodies cleansed of dust, fresh as jade. Which, you know, is literally happening, but with a dark twist. Okay. So it's beautiful, mythical. Any practical details? How big is it? Yeah. The text gives dimensions. About five zhang wide, ten zhang long, four qi deep. Rough conversion, maybe 50 feet by 100 feet, and about four feet deep. So, sizable. Big enough for seven demons to splash around in. Definitely. Clear water bubbling up, flows out for quite a distance, still warm enough to irrigate fields. And it's got amenities. Pavilions nearby, a big bench, and importantly, two gold-painted clothes racks. Clothes racks. Ah, I see where this might be going. And Wukong the fly. Lands right on one of those clothes racks. Perfect vantage point. He watches as the women undress. The text describes them. It does, quite vividly. White as silver, bodies like snow, smooth as ice. They jump in the water, laughing, splashing, playing around, completely oblivious. So Wukong is there, hidden. He sees them. He knows they plan to eat his master. He has his all-powerful staff. This seems like the moment, right? Why not just end it? A quick blast of power. You'd think so. He's got the element of surprise. And he does think about it. His internal monologue is fascinating here. What goes through his head? He thinks, basically, if I just stir the water hard with my staff, it'll be like scalding rats in a pot. They'd all die instantly. He knows he can do it. But he pauses. He reflects. And his reasoning is, well, unexpected for someone like Wukong. Why does he hesitate? He thinks, it would be beneath my name. He considers it dishonorable to kill these few maidens as a man. He explicitly thinks, men do not fight with women. Wow. So it's not about fear and ability. It's about chivalry. Or maybe his reputation. It seems like a mix. Is it genuine chivalry? Or is it about maintaining his heroic image, even to himself? The text leaves it a bit open. But the point is, he chooses not to use lethal force here, even against demons who want to eat his master. He decides outright killing isn't the right move in this specific situation. It's about how the victory is achieved. That's a really complex layer. So if killing them is off the table, what does he do? He can't just let them go back and steam the monk. No, he needs to neutralize the threat. He comes up with a different plan. He decides to, as the text puts it, teach them an airless trick, so they cannot move or leave the water. An airless trick? What does that mean? Some kind of binding spell? It sounds like something intended to immobilize or incapacitate them completely, maybe through shame or helplessness rather than injury. And his method is brilliant. Another transformation. Yes. He needs something swift and intimidating for this. He transforms into a hungry eagle. Predator mode. A big fearsome one, described with feathers like frost and snow, eyes like bright stars, powerful imagery. And the eagle does what? Dives at them? Not quite at them. He swoops down dramatically, wheels around, using those sharp claws to snatch their clothes. He grabs all seven sets of clothes right off those gold-painted racks. He steals their clothes. He steals their clothes, swoops up, grabs everything, and flies off. It's swift, decisive, non-violent towards them directly, but completely incapacitating. Wow. Wukong coming back to Pigsy and Sandy, but he's carrying something odd. Yeah, very odd. Seven sets of women's clothes, and Pigsy, always ready with a joke, right? He says the master must hit up a pawn shop. Yeah, perfect Pigsy. Quite an entrance for Wukong. So Wukong explains where he got this unusual haul. Right. He lays it out. These seven female monsters, they've captured the master, strung him up in their cave, and their plan... Not good, I'm guessing. No. They want to take a bath first, in this place called the Cleansing Filth Spring, before they steam and eat him. Right. So Wukong follows them there. He does. Sees them get undressed for their bath. He turns into a hungry eagle, swoops down, grabs their clothes, and leaves them there, you know, shivering and ashamed in the water. But Pigsy, he's not having it, is he? Nope, not at all. Pigsy immediately brings up his philosophy. Hmm. Cutting the roots. Yeah. He argues, pretty forcefully, that leaving them alive is just asking for trouble down the road. You know, they'll come back, maybe find some old clothes, chase them later, block their way home. Okay, that sounds like Pigsy. Pragmatic. Maybe a bit brutal. Definitely brutal. Yeah. He even throws in a proverb. Better to lose money by the road than not give a punch by the road. Basically, deal with the problem now, completely. Finish them off. Cut the grass by the roots, as he says. It's very black and white for him. So, it's a real clash, then. Wukong's cleverness versus Pigsy's, well, brute force. Pretty much. And Wukong, kind of surprisingly, he says, I won't hit them. If you want to hit them, you go hit them. Why do you think he does that? Just washes his hands of it? It's like strategic delegation, maybe. Wukong knows Pigsy. He knows he'll just charge in. Yeah. Maybe Wukong sees it as a way to let Pigsy handle the dirty work he didn't want to do himself in that specific way. Or maybe just the quickest, if messiest, solution. And Sandy, just watching all this. Yep, Sandy's there, quiet as usual. Taking it all in. Probably thinking about how unpredictable this whole journey is. Meanwhile, Pigsy grabs his rake, all fired up, and heads off to the spring alone. And the scene there. It is just pure Pigsy chaos. Oh, completely. He bursts in, finds the seven women still in the water, cursing the eagle Wukong, obviously. And then what does he do? Something outrageous, I bet. You bet. He asks if he can join them for a bath. No! Seriously. Seriously. Just walks in and asks to hop in the hot spring with them. Wow. Okay. How do they react? Predictably. They're furious. Call him utterly without manners. They even quote an old text at him. Something like, After seven years, males and females don't share a mat. Huh. Even the demons have etiquette rules. Right. It shows you these traditional ideas about propriety were really strong. Even monsters know the rules. Which makes Pigsy crashing through them even more, you know, transgressive. And Pigsy just ignores it. Completely. Calls it book learning. Throws down his rake, takes off his own robes, and just leaps into the water. Just like that. So what happens? Does he fight them? Well, it turns into this bizarre water fight. He's actually good in the water, remember? Oh, right. So he turns himself into a slippery catfish spirit. A catfish. Yep. And they're trying to grab him, but he's darting all around between their legs. The water's chest deep, apparently. And they just get exhausted chasing this slippery fish. It's almost comical. That is. Yeah, that's quite a picture. Pure Pigsy. Disruptive. Totally. It's not about a fair fight. It's about using his specific kind of weird skills to cause chaos and wear them down. Weaponizing absurdity, basically. Yeah. So after he's worn them out as a catfish... He jumps out, changes back to his normal form, grabs his robes, picks up his rake again, and basically gloats. Who am I? You thought I was just some catfish. And the demonesses, they must be terrified now. Oh, yeah. They start trembling. They realize who he is. Marshall Tianpeng, Wuning, Bajie Tang, San Zhang's disciple. They start begging for mercy. Ah, the begging starts. Admit they messed up grabbing his master. Offer him travel money if he'll just let them go. Hmm. Is that genuine, do you think? Or just pure desperation? Almost certainly desperation. Right. Born out of fear, they see his power now. But Pigsy's not buying it. He quotes another proverb. He does. Something like, Once cheated by a sweet-talking gentleman, now I don't trust sweet-mouthed people. Shows he's cynical. Maybe learned the hard way not to trust cliques like that. So, no mercy from Pigsy. None at all. He refuses, attacks them with his rake. Just goes after all of them. No pity. Okay, so things escalate again. What do the demonesses do? They can't fight him physically. Right. They're desperate. They jump out of the water, covering themselves up as best they can, abandoning all shame, run to a nearby pavilion. And that's when they unleash their real power. Ah, magic. What is it? This is where you see their spider demonesses. Silk ropes shoot out of their navels. Out of their navels? Seriously? Seriously. It creates this huge silk canopy, covers the whole sky, and traps Pigsy underneath. Wow. Okay, that's unique. And the ground gets covered in these silk threads, too. So Pigsy tries to run, but he keeps tripping and falling. The text describes it pretty comically. Head over heels, face plants, handstand falls. Oh, man. Poor Pigsy. Well, kinda. Yeah, he ends up dizzy and weak, groaning on the ground, trapped and tangled, but not really hurt physically. So the silk trap works. Perfectly. It's their specialized magic, right? Not brute force, but binding and snaring. Turns Pigsy's own aggression against him. So they've got Pigsy subdued. What next? They retreat, pull the silk canopy back into their cave, they run past the captive Tang San Zhang naked, apparently smiling, then quickly put on some old clothes. Naked and smiling. They call for their children from the back door. Children? They have kids. Well, yes and no. This is another really strange, fascinating detail. They're not biological kids. They're seven sworn foster sons. Foster sons? Who are they? Get this. A honeybee, an ant or hornet, a cicada, a tiger beetle, a locust, a wax moth, and a dragonfly. Insects. Their sons are insects. Yep. A whole bunch of different insects. It shows you how pretty much any creature can gain sentience, gain power, form these weird alliances. That is wonderfully bizarre. How did that happen? How did insects become their foster sons? The story goes they originally got caught in the spider's webs, you know, to be eaten. Right. But they begged for their lives. Oh. Promised to serve the demonesses, their mothers. They'd, like, collect flowers in spring for the monsters, seek herbs in summer to show filial piety. So it's like a really twisted adoption story based on survival. Exactly. A transactional kind of family born out of fear and power. It shows the complex hierarchies, even in the demon world. Allegiance out of necessity. Okay, so the demonesses, they're obviously furious after Pixie's bath antics. Still fuming, yeah. Humiliated. So they send these insect sons after Pixie. That's the plan. They dispatch them to deal with the trapped Pixie, promising them a reunion with their uncles, presumably other demons if they succeed. With the insect army getting ready. Pretty much. These eager little insect sons preparing for battle. Pixie. He gets into trouble again, doesn't he? He really does. And humiliating, as the text suggests. Oh, definitely humiliating. It says he was dizzy from the falls, took a lot of painful tumbles. Right. His back and waist were aching, couldn't really move. It really sets him up for being extra grumpy later. And then, when the ropes just vanish, his first reaction is, not exactly heroic, is it? No, not at all. Classic Pixie. He's immediately worried about his bruised face and swollen head. Checks his reflection. Vanity first, danger second. Pretty much. But you know, it actually pivots the story quickly. Because him showing up like that, tips off Sandy. Yeah, Sandy. The sensible one. Right. He immediately figures, okay, the monsters must have gone after the master. So the urgency shifts. It's not just about Pixie's aches and pains anymore. Exactly. Now it's a rescue mission. They've got to get to Tang Sanzang. Fast. Okay, so they race off to save the master. But, oh, another obstacle. This stone bridge. Yeah, and blocking it are these seven small demons. And the description is key here, isn't it? They're tiny. Almost comically tiny. Like two and a half, maybe three feet tall. Weighing less than ten pounds. You'd think, no problem. You really would. But they've got some serious attitude. Oh, absolutely. They strut out there, claiming they're the sons of the seven immortals. And they accuse the pilgrims. Yeah, accuse them of bullying their mothers. And then they just launch this wild, totally disorganized attack. It's almost cute in a menacing way. But Pixie's not amused. No, Pixie's had enough. He's already sore and humiliated from the Nets. Seeing these little worm-like creatures, as the text calls them, that's the last straw. So he raises his rig, ready to just pulverize them. He is furious. All that frustration is boiling over. He's thinking, finally, something I can just clobber. But this is where it gets weird, isn't it? It's not just a simple fight. Not at all. This is the twist. Because when Pixie goes to attack, these little guys, they change. Change how? They multiply. Like, crazily. One becomes ten. Then a hundred. A thousand. Ten thousand. Whoa. And finally, the text says an infinite number. It just explodes. Infinite number of what? Still tiny demons. Not demons anymore. Insects. A massive, terrifying swarm of insects. Oh, wow. Okay. And the description is just visceral. Full sky, flying smeared wax, dancing dragonflies, honey ants, wasps stinging eyes. Ugh. Wasps stinging eyes sounds particularly awful. It's a whole sensory assault. Blister beetles biting front and back. Horseflies stinging up and down. Just as darkness covering the face. Sounds like it would startle gods and ghosts, as the text says. Exactly. It's not just a nuisance. It's a suffocating, blinding wave of horror. And Pixie, what's his reaction now? His rake probably isn't much use. He's completely overwhelmed. He cries out this incredibly poignant line, something like, Wow. That says it all, really. The sheer despair. They're covered. The text says the insects are ten layers thick on them. Ten layers. Okay, that's unimaginable. Just a living blanket of biting, stinging things. Utterly desperate. And Sandy, seeing this, immediately turns to Monkey. Right. Time for Monkey's magic trick. Sandy's basically yelling, So the pressure's on Monkey. What does he pull out of his hat this time? Or out of his fur? He does his signature move. Plucks a handful of hairs from his body. Okay. Standard Monkey prep. Chews them into powder. And then sprays them out towards the insect cloud. And the hairs become? Eagles. Or, rather, specific kinds of hawks and eagles. Seven types. Does it say which ones? It does, actually. Yellowhawk. Hemphawk. Blankhawk. Which is a curious one. Maybe a specific type we don't easily translate. Whitehawk. Eagle. Fish eagle. And Sparrowhawk. Huh. Specific. Monkey even points this out. Yeah, he tells Big Z, These are seven kinds of eagles. It's not just random magic. It's targeted. Because eagles eat insects, right? Natural predators. Precisely. It's ingenious. This isn't just brute force magic. It's using a natural counter. Yeah. An avian air force, basically. So how effective are they? Devastatingly effective. Yeah. They just tear through the swarm. Swooping. Diving. Snatching. They'll use the air completely. Instantly. No trace of insects left flying. Just a massive pile of dead ones on the ground a foot deep. Wow. Problem solved. Efficient. Very. It really shows monkey strength isn't just power. It's strategic thinking. Knowing the right tool for the job. So with the insect apocalypse averted, they can finally cross the bridge. Yep. They hurry across into the caves where the monsters live. And they find the master. They do. Yeah. But he's not in great shape. He's hanging from the ceiling. Crying. Hanging. Oh, man. And Pigsy. Does he have anything to say? Of course he does. Classic Pigsy again. He asks if the master was hanging for fun and making him fall down so much earlier. Always lightening the mood, huh? Or maybe just complaining. A bit of both, probably. But the master, he's properly chasing this time. He admits what happened. Yeah. He confesses. Says the seven monsters had gone bare-bodied to the back to call their sons. Ah. So that's when they trapped him. Right. And he makes this really significant promise. He says he'll never act on his own again, never leave them, even if he starves. That feels like a big moment for him. Usually he's the one getting them into trouble by wandering off or being naive. It really is. It's a moment of real vulnerability and maybe growth, recognizing he truly needs his disciples, all their different skills. So they get him down. What about the monsters, Lair? Do they just leave? Well, Pigsy wants to smash the place up with his rake. You know, make sure the monsters can't come back. Still in demolition mode. Yeah. But Monkey has a better idea. More permanent. Let me guess. Fire. You got it. Monkey says, basically, smashing is too much work. Let's just burn it down. Root and branch extermination. Thorough. Very. They gather dry pine, bamboo, willow, vine-specific fuel, and the whole place goes up in flames. Completely destroyed. So the monsters, if they ever came back, would find nothing. Their fate is kind of left open, isn't it? It is. We don't see them again in this immediate aftermath. The focus is on the pilgrims moving on. And there must have been a huge sense of relief after all that. Oh, absolutely. Master and disciples, finally safe from that particular menace, continuing their journey westward.