Tang Sanzang threw a punch that turned the tiger into pulp.
The hunter, who had been secretly hiding in the woods, was instantly dumbfounded. His face was expressionless, his eyes filled with terror and shock.
Wasn't it said that Tang Sanzang is of a pure and kind nature, generous and charitable, afraid to sweep the floor lest he hurt an ant, and treasuring even the moths drawn to a lamplight? How could he kill a tiger with his own hands? And how is his strength so immense that he could defeat a tiger with a mere punch, leaving it no chance to fight back?
The hunter was terrified, unsure of what to do. He had intended to report back to Heaven after killing the tiger himself, then advise Tang Sanzang, and finally invite him to stay at his home. This was his mission, his destiny; if he succeeded, he could share in the spoils of this great calamity of the Journey to the West. But now that the tiger was dead, he had no opportunity to play his part.
