In the eighth month of autumn, in the third year of the Zhenguan era.
That year, frost came early to Chang’an, devastating the crops and casting a heavy shadow over the eve of the Zhenguan prosperity. At the beginning of the month, the imperial court issued an edict allowing disaster victims to migrate freely in search of food. Xuanzang, thirty years old, carrying a wooden box and luggage, blended in with the refugees as he walked through the streets of Chang’an.
“Master, are you planning a long journey?” As he passed by He’s Physiognomy Shop, the diviner He Hongda greeted him with a smile.
Xuanzang recognized this man, a renowned diviner in Chang’an, on par with Li Chunfeng, the Shilangjian, and Yuan Tiangan, the Huojingling. His divinations and predictions were always accurate. Xuanzang’s heart stirred, and he bowed with his palms together, “This humble monk is indeed planning to go west. The journey is long and arduous. I wonder if I will be able to make it?”
He Hongda silently observed him, his fingers quickly calculating within his sleeves. Suddenly, he sighed, “Master, your journey will span ten thousand li. Though there will be obstacles along the way, you will manage. As you depart, it seems you will ride an old and thin red horse. That horse’s lacquered saddle will have iron on the front.”
Overjoyed, Xuanzang bowed in gratitude. He left through the Jinguang Gate from the Western Market, blending in with the fleeing refugees as he headed northwest.
Half a month later, Xuanzang arrived in Liangzhou. Known as the “Ancient Capital of the Four Liangs, the Metropolis of Hexi,” Liangzhou connected the vast desert and controlled the throat of five commanderies. Merchants from both Han and foreign lands constantly traveled along the Silk Road. By this time, Xuanzang was already famous throughout the land. When the Buddhist and secular communities in Liangzhou heard that Master Xuanzang had come to seek dharma on his journey west, they eagerly invited him to stay.
Thus, Xuanzang remained for a month, giving lectures on the sutras. Those Western Region merchants, hearing that Xuanzang would pass through their countries on his way to India, took the opportunity to inform their kings as they returned home. Even before Xuanzang had left the border, his reputation had spread far and wide across the Western Regions. Kings ordered travelers along the route to keep an eye out for Master Xuanzang.
However, Xuanzang encountered a problem. The Great Tang, newly established, had unsettled borders and had issued a “border prohibition,” restricting people from leaving the country. When Li Daliang, the Governor of Liangzhou, learned of Xuanzang’s plan to journey west to India, he immediately sent people to investigate. Protected by Buddhist forces, Xuanzang fled Liangzhou and arrived in Guazhou. Li Daliang’s arrest warrant soon followed, demanding Xuanzang’s capture.
When Li Chang, a minor official in Guazhou, received the warrant, he was shocked. A devout Buddhist, he rushed to meet Xuanzang and tore up the warrant in front of him, saying, “Master, you must leave for the West as soon as possible, or more warrants will come.”
Xuanzang was deeply grateful but also deeply troubled.
Guazhou City was already at the northwestern edge of the Great Tang’s territory. Further north were five beacon towers forming the border outposts, each a hundred li apart, with barren desert in between. There was no water or grass, except near the beacon towers. But soldiers guarded these towers, bows drawn and arrows nocked, keeping watch day and night, shooting to kill anyone they saw. Even if one passed the fifth beacon tower, to the west lay the natural barrier between the Great Tang and the Western Region’s state of Yiwu—the eight-hundred-li Mohe Yan Desert. No birds flew above, no beasts roamed below, and no water or grass grew in between. Countless merchants had lost their way there, leaving no trace behind.
Xuanzang worried day and night, seeking ways to cross the border illegally. He lingered for over a month but could find no solution. One day, while paying respects at the Ashoka Temple, a strong foreign man entered to worship Buddha. After finishing his prayers, the man didn’t leave but instead circled Xuanzang three times. This was a respectful custom common in India and the Western Regions.
Xuanzang was surprised, “Why does the benefactor perform such a grand gesture?”
“Master,” the foreigner bowed, “I am a Sogdian from the country of Shi, surnamed Shi, given the name Pantuo. Seeing the Master’s radiant Buddhist light, I wish to receive the precepts from you.”
Xuanzang immediately bestowed upon him the Five Precepts. After the ceremony, Shi Pantuo offered flatbread and fruits. Xuanzang reminded of his troubles, asked, “This humble monk wishes to journey west to India to seek the dharma, but the border is heavily guarded, and I cannot cross illegally. Do you know of any convenient routes near Guazhou?”
Shi Pantuo thought for a moment and said, “Master, I have traveled between Guazhou and Yiwu several times. If you don’t mind, I am willing to help you pass the five beacons.”
Xuanzang was overjoyed, and they agreed to meet at the temple gate at dusk the next day. Excited, Xuanzang bought a horse, water, and dried food, and waited with his horse at the temple gate. At dusk, Shi Pantuo arrived as promised, but with him came an old foreigner leading an old horse.
Xuanzang was puzzled, “Is this old man coming with us as well?”
Shi Pantuo quickly explained, “Master, this old man has traveled to Yiwu more than thirty times and knows the western route intimately. I invited him to explain some things to you.”
Xuanzang relaxed. The old foreigner’s deep-set eyes twinkled with a smile, “Master, the western route is fraught with dangers—vast deserts, ghostly hot winds, with no one successfully crossing. Even with ample supplies and traveling in groups, one can still get lost in these western flowing sands. How much more so for the Master traveling alone? Please reconsider and do not risk your life!”
Xuanzang was silent for a moment, then resolutely said, “This humble monk seeks the great dharma and vows not to return east until reaching the land of the Brahmins. Even if I die in a foreign land, I am willing to accept it.”
The old foreigner shook his head, seeming both regretful and admiring, “Since the Master has decided to go, you can ride my horse instead. This horse has traveled to Yiwu fifteen times. It is steady and familiar with the route, and will surely carry the Master to Yiwu.”
Only then did Xuanzang notice the old horse he was leading. Upon closer inspection, he was stunned—it was an old, thin red horse with an iron fitting on its lacquered saddle.
A chill of astonishment ran down his spine. Xuanzang gazed deeply at the old foreigner, who smiled obliviously. Was it He Hongda’s divination that had penetrated the mysteries of heaven, seeming ghostly and demonic, or was there a mysterious force secretly controlling his journey to the West?