“If I may borrow half a saucer of water,” answered the fiend, “I will turn him back into his real form.” The king sent an officer to fetch some water for his son-in-law. The monster put the water in his hand, leapt forward, and did an Eye-deceiving Body-fixing Spell. He recited the words of the spell, spurted a mouthful of water over the Tang Priest, and shouted “Change!” Sanzang's real body was hidden away on top of the hall, and he was turned into a striped tiger. To the king's mortal eyes the tiger had:
A white brow and a rounded head,
A patterned body and eyes of lightning.
Four legs,
Straight and tall;
Twenty claws,
Hooked and sharp.
Jagged fangs ringed his mouth,
Pointed ears grew from his brow.
Fierce and powerful, formed like a giant cat,
Wild and virile as a brown bull-calf.
His bristling whiskers shone like silver,
Acrid breath came from his spike tongue.
He was indeed a savage tiger
Whose majesty dominated the palace hall.
One look at him sent the king's souls flying from his body, and all the officials fled in terror except for a handful of gallant generals. They charged the tiger at the head of a group of officers, hacking wildly with every kind of weapon. If the Tang Priest had not been fated to survive, even twenty of him would have been chopped to mince. Luckily for him the Six Dings, the Six Jias, the Revealers of the Truth, the Duty Gods, and the Protectors of the Faith were all protecting him in mid-air and preventing him from being wounded by any of the weapons. After a turmoil that continued until evening they finally caught the tiger, chained it, and put it in an iron cage in the room where officials waited for audience.
The king then ordered his household department to lay on a large banquet to thank his son-in-law for saving his daughter from being killed by the monk. That evening, when the court had been dismissed, the monster went to the Hall of Silvery Peace. Eighteen Palace Beauties and Junior Concubines had been selected, and they made music, sang and danced, urging the fiend to drink and be merry. The ogre sat alone in the seat of honour, and to left and right of him were all these voluptuous women. When he had been drinking until the second watch of the night he became too intoxicated to restrain his savagery and longer. He jumped up, bellowed with laughter, and turned back into his real self. A murderous impulse came upon him, and stretching out his hand as big as a basket he seized a girl who was playing a lute, dragged her towards him, and took a bite from her head. The seventeen other palace women fled in panic and hid themselves.
The Palace Beauties were terrified,
The Junior Concubines were panic-stricken.
The terrified Palace Beauties
Were like lotuses beaten by the rain at night;
The panic-stricken Concubines
Were like peonies swaying in the spring breezes.
Smashing their lutes, they fled for their lives,
Trampling on zithers as they ran away.
As they went out through the doors they knew not where they went;
In their flight from the hall they rushed everywhere,
Damaging their faces of jade
And bumping their pretty heads.
Every one of them fled for her life;
All of them ran away to safety.
The women who had fled did not dare to shout as they did not want to disturb the king in the middle of the night, so they all hid trembling under the eaves of walls, where we shall leave them.
The monster, still in his seat of honour, thought for a moment then drank another bowl of wine, dragged the woman towards him, and took two more gory mouthfuls of her. While he was enjoying himself inside the palace the news was being spread outside that the Tang Priest was really a tiger spirit. The rumour spread like wildfire, and it soon reached the government hostel. Nobody else was there but the white horse, who was eating fodder from a trough. This horse had once been a young dragon prince from the Western Sea who as a punishment for offending against the Heavenly Code had lost his horns and scales and been turned into a white horse to carry Sanzang to the West to fetch the scriptures.
When he heard it being said that the Tang Priest was a tiger spirit he thought, “My master is clearly a good man. That evil spirit must have changed him into a tiger to harm him, whatever shall I do? Monkey's been gone for ages, and there's no news of the other two.” By the middle of the night he could wait no longer.
He jumped up and said, “If I don't rescue the Tang Priest I'll win no merit at all.” He could restrain himself no longer, so he snapped his halter, shook his bridle and girths loose, and changed himself back into a dragon. Then he went straight up on a black cloud to the Ninth Heaven. There is a poem to prove it that goes:
On his journey West to worship the Buddha
Sanzang met an evil demon.
Now that he had been changed into a tiger
The white horse came to his rescue, trailing its halter.
From up in the air the dragon saw the bright lights in the Hall of Silvery Peace, where eight wax candles were burning on eight great candlesticks. Bringing his cloud down for a closer look he saw the monster sitting by himself in the seat of honour and drinking as he ate human flesh. “Hopeless beast,” thought the dragon with a grin, “giving his game away like that. He's broken the counterpoise of his steelyard-he has exposed himself! A man-eater can't be a good fellow. Now I know what has happened to our master: he's met this foul ogre. I'll try to fool him. If it comes off there's still time to rescue our master.”
With a shake the splendid dragon king turned himself into a slim and seductive Palace Beauty. Hurrying inside he greeted the ogre and said, “If you spare my life, Your Highness, I'll hold your cup for you.”
“Pour me out more wine,” he said. The young dragon took the pot and used a Water-controlling Spell to fill his cup so full that the wine stood several inches higher than the rim without spilling.
The monster, who did not know this piece of magic, was delighted with the trick; and when the dragon asked, “Shall I fill it higher still?” he replied, “Yes, yes.” The dragon lifted the pot and poured and poured. The wine rose till it towered as tall as a thirteen-storied pagoda, and still hardly any spilled over. The ogre opened his mouth wide and swallowed the lot, then pulled the dead girl towards him and took another bite.
“Can you sing?” he asked, and the dragon replied, “Yes, in a way.” He sang a short song and handed the ogre another cup of wine.
“Can you dance?” the ogre asked. “Yes, in a way,” he replied, “but I can't dance well empty-handed.” The ogre pushed his robe aside, brought out the sword he wore at his waist, unsheathed it, and handed it to the dragon, who took it and did a sword dance in front of the banqueting table.
As the monster gazed pop-eyed the dragon stopped dancing and hacked at his face. The ogre side-stepped and immediately seized a cast-iron lantern, that must have weighed a good hundredweight with its stand, with which to parry the sword. As the pair of them came out of the Hall of Silvery Peace, the dragon reverted to his true form and went up into mid-air on a cloud to continue the fight. It was a really vicious combat:
One was a monster born and bred on Bowl Mountain;
The other was an exiled dragon from the Western Sea.
One shone as if he were breathing out lightning;
The other's vigor seemed to burst through the clouds.
One was like a white-tusked elephant in a crowd;
The other was a golden-clawed wildcat leaping down to earth.
One was a pillar of jade, towering to heaven,