We were telling you about Tripitaka and his disciples, who made preparations to leave the next morning. Our Master Zhenyuan, however, had become such a fast friend of Pilgrim since the two were made bond-brothers that he refused to let them leave. He gave orders instead that they should be feted for five or six days. Ever since he took the grass of the reverted cinnabar, the elder’s spirit had been strengthened and his body made healthier; he felt as if his entire physical frame had been renewed. As he was intent on acquiring the scriptures, he refused to stay, and so they departed.
After taking their leave, master and disciples took to the road and soon came upon a tall mountain. “Disciples,” said Tripitaka, “the mountain ahead appears to be rugged and steep, and I fear that the horse may not be able to proceed so easily. Every one of you should be careful.” “Have no fear, Master,” said Pilgrim. “We know how to take care of everything.” Dear Monkey King! He led the way; carrying his rod horizontally across both his shoulders, he opened up a mountain path and led them up to a tall cliff. They saw
Peaks and summits in rows;
Streams and canyons meandrous;
Tigers and wolves running in packs;
Deer and fallow deer walking in flocks;
Countless musks and boars massed together;
A mountain swarming with foxes and hares.
The huge python of a thousand feet;
The long snake of ten thousand feet.
The huge python blew out awful mists;
The long snake belched dreadful air.
By the road thorns and thistles sprawled unending;
On the peak pines and cedars grew resplendent.
Wild hemps and creepers filled their eyes;
Fragrant plants reached up to the sky.
Light descended from the northern pole;
Clouds parted at the south pole star.
Ten thousand fathoms of mountain holding old, primal breath;
A thousand peaks stood august in the cold sunlight.
The elder on the horse became fearful, but our Great Sage Sun was ready to show off his abilities. Wielding the iron rod, he let out such a fearful cry that wolves and serpents retreated, that tigers and leopards took flight. Master and disciples thus journeyed into the mountain. As they reached the summit, Tripitaka said, “Wukong, we’ve been traveling for almost a day, and I’m getting hungry. Go somewhere and beg some vegetarian food for me.” “Master, you aren’t very smart!” said Pilgrim, attempting to placate him with a smile. “We are in the middle of a mountain, with no village in sight ahead of us nor any inn behind us. Even if we had money, there’s no place for us to buy anything. Where do you want me to go to find vegetarian food?” Irritated, Tripitaka began to berate his disciple. “You ape!” he cried. “Don’t you remember what sort of condition you were in at the Mountain of Two Frontiers? Pinned down by Tathāgata in that stone box, you could move your mouth but not your feet, and you owed it to me for saving your life. Now that you have become my disciple by having your head touched and receiving the commandments, why are you not willing to exert yourself a bit more? Why are you always so lazy?” “Your disciple,” said Pilgrim, “has been rather diligent. Since when have I been lazy?” “If you are that diligent,” said Tripitaka, “why don’t you go and beg me some vegetarian food? How can I journey if I am hungry? Moreover, this mountain is filled with pestilential vapors, and if I become ill, how can I hope to reach Thunderclap?” “Master,” said Pilgrim, “please don’t get upset. No more words. I know that yours is a proud and haughty nature. A little offense and you will recite that little something spell! Dismount and rest awhile. Let me find out whether there’s any family for me to beg some vegetarian food.”
With a bound, Pilgrim leaped up to the edge of the clouds. Using his hand to shade his eyes, he peered all around. Alas! The journey to the West was a lonely journey, one with neither villages nor hamlets. There were abundant trees and shrubbery, but there was no sign of human habitation. Having looked around for some time, Pilgrim saw toward the south a tall mountain, where on the eastern slope there seemed to be some tiny specks of red. Lowering his cloud, Pilgrim said, “Master, there’s something to eat.” The elder asked what it was, and Pilgrim said, “There’s no household here for me to beg for rice. But there’s a stretch of red on a mountain south of here, and I suppose that must be ripe mountain peaches. Let me go and pick a few for you to eat.” Delighted, Tripitaka said, “For a person who has left the family to have peaches is already the highest blessing!” Pilgrim took the alms bowl and mounted the auspicious luminosity. Look at that brilliant somersault, with cold vapor trailing! In an instant, he was heading straight for the peaches on the south mountain, and we shall speak no more of him for the moment.
Now, the proverb says:
A tall mountain will always have monsters;
A rugged peak will always produce fiends.
In this mountain there was indeed a monster-spirit, who was disturbed by the Great Sage Sun’s departure. Treading dark wind, she came through the clouds and found the elder sitting on the ground. “What luck! What luck!” she said, unable to contain her delight. “For several years my relatives have been talking about a Tang Monk from the Land of the East going to fetch the Great Vehicle. He is actually the incarnation of the Gold Cicada, and he has the original body that has gone through the process of self-cultivation during ten previous existences. If a man eats a piece of his flesh, his age will be immeasurably lengthened. So, this monk has at last arrived today!” The monster was about to go down to seize Tripitaka when she saw two great warriors standing guard on either side of the elder, and that stopped her from drawing near. Now, who could these warriors be, you ask? They were, of course, Eight Rules and Sha Monk. Eight Rules and Sha Monk, you see, might not have great abilities, but after all, Eight Rules was the Marshal of Heavenly Reeds and Sha Monk was the Great Curtain-Raising Captain. Their authority had not been completely eroded, and that was why the monster dared not approach them. Instead, the monster said to herself, “Let me make fun of them a bit, and see what happens.”
Dear monster! She lowered her dark wind into the field of the mountain, and, with one shake of her body, she changed into a girl with a face like the moon and features like flowers. One cannot begin to describe the bright eyes and the elegant brows, the white teeth and the red lips. Holding in her left hand a blue sandstone pot and in her right a green porcelain vase, she walked from west to east, heading straight for the Tang Monk.
The sage monk resting his horse on the cliff
Saw all at once a young girl drawing near:
Slender hands hugged by gently swaying green sleeves;
Tiny feet exposed beneath a skirt of Hunan silk.
Perspiring her face seemed flower bedewed;
Dust grazed her moth-brows like willows held by mist.
And as he stared intently with his eyes,
She seemed to be walking right up to his side.
When Tripitaka saw her, he called out, “Eight Rules, Sha Monk, just now Wukong said that this is an uninhabited region. But isn’t that a human being who is walking over there?” “Master,” said Eight Rules, “you sit here with Sha Monk. Let old Hog go take a look.” Putting down his muckrake and pulling down his shirt, our Idiot tried to affect the airs of a gentleman and went to meet her face to face. Well, it was as the proverb says:
You can’t determine the truth from afar.
You can see clearly when you go near.
The girl’s appearance was something to behold!
Ice-white skin hides jadelike bones;
Her collar reveals a milk-white bosom.
Willow brows gather dark green hues;
Almond eyes shine like silver stars.
Her features like the moon are coy;
Her natural disposition is pure.
Her body’s like the willow-nested swallow;
Her voice’s like the woods’ singing oriole.
A half-opened haitong1 caressed by the morning sun.
A newly bloomed peony displaying her charm.
When Idiot saw how pretty she was, his worldly mind was aroused and he could not refrain from babbling. “Lady Bodhisattva!” he cried. “Where are you going? What’s that you are holding in your hands?” This was clearly a fiend, but he could not recognize her! The girl immediately answered him, saying, “Elder, what I have in the blue pot is fragrant rice made from wine cakes, and there’s fried wheat gluten in the green vase. I came here for no other reason than to redeem my vow of feeding monks.” When Eight Rules heard these words, he was very pleased. Spinning around, he ran like a hog maddened by plague to report to Tripitaka, crying, “Master! ‘The good man will have Heaven’s reward!’ Because you are hungry, you ask Elder Brother to go beg for some vegetarian food. But we really don’t know where that ape has gone to pick his peaches and have his fun! If you eat too many peaches, you are liable to feel a bit stuffed and gaseous anyway! Take a look instead. Isn’t that someone coming to feed the monks?” “Coolie, you’re just clowning!” said an unbelieving Tang Monk. “We’ve been traveling all this time and we haven’t even run into a healthy person! Where is this person who’s coming to feed the monks?” “Master,” said Eight Rules, “isn’t this the one?”
When Tripitaka saw the girl, he jumped up and folded his hands. “Lady Bodhisattva,” he said, “where is your home? What sort of family is yours? What kind of vow have you made that you have to come here to feed the monks?” This was clearly a fiend, but our elder could not recognize her either! When that monster heard the Tang Monk asking after her background, she at once resorted to falsehood. With clever, specious words, she tried to deceive her interrogator, saying, “Master, this mountain, which turns back serpents and frightens wild beasts, bears the name of White Tiger. My home is located due west of here. My parents, still living, are frequent readers of sūtras and keen on doing good works. They have fed liberally the monks who come to us from near and far. Because my parents had no son, they prayed to the gods, and I was born. They would have liked to marry me off to a noble family, but, wary of helplessness in their old age, they took in a son-in-law instead, so that they would be cared for in life and death.” Hearing this, Tripitaka said, “Lady Bodhisattva, your speech is rather improper! The sage classic says, ‘While father and mother are alive, one does not travel abroad; or if one does, goes only to a proper destination.’2 If your parents are still living, and if they have taken in a husband for you, then your man should have been the one sent to redeem your vow. Why do you walk about the mountain all by yourself? You don’t even have an attendant to accompany you. That’s not very becoming of a woman!”
Smiling broadly, the girl quickly tried to placate him with more clever words. “Master,” she said, “my husband is at the northern fold of this mountain, leading a few workers to plow the fields. This happens to be the lunch I prepared for them to eat. Since now is the busy season of farm work, we have no servants; and as my parents are getting old, I have to run the errand myself. Meeting you three distant travelers is quite by accident, but when I think of my parents’ inclination to do good deeds, I would like very much to use this rice as food for monks. If you don’t regard this as unworthy of you, please accept this modest offering.”
“My goodness! My goodness!” said Tripitaka. “I have a disciple who has gone to pick some fruits, and he’s due back any moment. I dare not eat. For if I, a monk, were to eat your rice, your husband would scold you when he learns of it. Will it then not be the fault of this poor monk?” When that girl saw the Tang Monk refuse to take the food, she smiled even more seductively and said, “O Master! My parents, who love to feed the monks, are not even as zealous as my husband. For his entire life is devoted to the construction of bridges and the repairing of roads, in reverence for the aged and pity for the poor. If he heard that the rice was given to feed Master, his affection for me, his wife, would increase manyfold.” Tripitaka, however, simply refused to eat, and Eight Rules on one side became utterly exasperated. Pouting, our Idiot grumbled to himself, “There are countless priests in the world, but none is more wishy-washy than this old priest of ours! Here’s ready-made rice, and three portions to boot! But he will not eat it. He has to wait for that monkey’s return and the rice divided into four portions before he’ll eat.” Without permitting further discussion, he pushed over the pot with one shove of his snout and was about to begin.
Look at our Pilgrim! Having picked several peaches from the mountain peak in the south, he came hurtling back with a single somersault, holding the alms bowl in his hand. When he opened wide his fiery eyes and diamond pupils to take a look, he recognized that the girl was a monster. He put down the bowl, pulled out his iron rod, and was about to bring it down hard on the monster’s head. The elder was so aghast that he pulled his disciple back with his hands. “Wukong,” he cried, “whom have you come back to hit?”
“Master,” said Pilgrim, “don’t regard this girl in front of you as a good person. She’s a monster, and she has come to deceive you.”
“Monkey,” said Tripitaka, “you used to possess a measure of true discernment. How is it that you are talking nonsense today? This Lady Bodhisattva is so kind that she wants to feed me with her rice. Why do you say that she’s a monster?”
“Master,” said Pilgrim with a laugh, “how could you know about this? When I was a monster back at the Water-Curtain Cave, I would act like this if I wanted to eat human flesh. I would change myself into gold or silver, a lonely building, a harmless drunk, or a beautiful woman. Anyone feeble-minded enough to be attracted by me I would lure back to the cave. There I would enjoy him as I pleased, by steaming or boiling. If I couldn’t finish him off in one meal, I would dry the leftovers in the sun to keep for rainy days. Master, if I had returned a little later, you would have fallen into her trap and been harmed by her.” That Tang Monk, however, simply refused to believe these words; he kept saying instead that the woman was a good person.
“Master,” said Pilgrim, “I think I know what’s happening. Your worldly mind must have been aroused by the sight of this woman’s beauty. If you do have the desire, why not ask Eight Rules to cut some timber and Sha Monk to find us some grass. I’ll be the carpenter and build you a little hut right here where you can consummate the affair with her. We can each go our own way then. Wouldn’t that be the thing to do? Why bother to undertake such a long journey to fetch the scriptures?” The elder, you see, was a rather tame and gentle person. He was so embarrassed by these few words that his whole bald head turned red from ear to ear.
As Tripitaka was struck dumb by his shame, Pilgrim’s temper flared again. Wielding his iron rod, he aimed it at the monster’s face and delivered a terrific blow. The fiend, however, had a few tricks of her own. She knew the magic of Releasing the Corpse.3 When she saw Pilgrim’s rod coming at her, she roused her spirit and left, leaving behind the corpse of her body struck dead on the ground. Shaking with horror, the elder mumbled, “This ape is so unruly, so obdurate! Despite my repeated pleadings, he still takes human life without cause.” “Don’t be offended, Master,” said Pilgrim, “just come see for yourself what kind of things are in the pot.” Sha Monk led the elder near to take a look. The fragrant rice made from wine cakes was nowhere to be found; there was instead a potful of large maggots with long tails. There was no fried wheat gluten either, but a few frogs and ugly toads were hopping all over the place. The elder was about to think that there might be thirty percent truthfulness in Pilgrim’s words, but Eight Rules would not let his own resentment subside. He began to cast aspersions on his companion, saying, “Master, this woman, come to think of it, happens to be a farm girl of this area. Because she had to take some lunch to the fields, she met us on the way. How could she be deemed a monster? That rod of Elder Brother is quite heavy, you know. He came back and wanted to try his hand on her, not anticipating that one blow would kill her. He’s afraid that you might recite that so-called Tight-Fillet Spell, and that’s why he’s using some sort of magic to hoodwink you. It’s he who has caused these things to appear, just to befuddle you so that you won’t recite the spell.”
This single speech of Eight Rules, alas, spelled disaster for Tripitaka! Believing the slanderous suasion of our Idiot, he made the magic sign with his hand and recited the spell. At once Pilgrim began to scream, “My head! My head! Stop reciting! Stop reciting! If you’ve got something to say, say it.” “What do I have to say?” asked the Tang Monk. “Those who have left the family must defer to people every time, must cherish kindness in every thought. They must
Keep ants out of harm’s way when they sweep the floor,
And put shades on lamps for the love of moths.
And you, you practice violence with every step! Since you have beaten to death this innocent commoner, what good would it do even if you were to go acquire the scriptures? You might as well go back.” “Master,” said Pilgrim, “where do you want me to go back to?” The Tang Monk said, “I don’t want you as my disciple.” “If you don’t want me as your disciple,” said Pilgrim, “I fear that you may not make it on your way to the Western Heaven.” “My life is in the care of Heaven,” said the Tang Monk. “If it’s ordained that I should be food for the monster, even if I were to be steamed or boiled, it’s all right with me. Furthermore, do you think really that you have the power to deliver me from the great limit? Go back quickly!” “Master,” said Pilgrim, “it’s all right for me to go back, but I have not yet repaid your kindness.” “What kindness have I shown you?” asked the Tang Monk. When the Great Sage heard this, he knelt down immediately and kowtowed, saying, “Because old Monkey brought great disruption to the Celestial Palace, he incurred for himself the fatal ordeal of being clamped by Buddha beneath the Mountain of Two Frontiers. I was indebted to the Bodhisattva Guanyin who gave me the commandments, and to Master who gave me freedom. If I don’t go up to the Western Heaven with you, it will mean that I
Knowing kindness without repaying am no princely man.
Mine will be forever an infamous name.”
Now the Tang Monk, after all, is a compassionate holy monk. When he saw Pilgrim pleading so piteously with him, he changed his mind and said, “In that case, I’ll forgive you this time. Don’t you dare be unruly again. If you work violence again as before, I’ll recite this spell over and over twenty times.” “You may recite it thirty times,” said Pilgrim, “but I won’t hit anyone again.” Helping the Tang Monk to mount the horse, he then presented the peaches that he picked. The Tang Monk indeed ate a few of the peaches on the horse to relieve his hunger momentarily.
We now tell you about the monster who escaped by rising into the sky. That one blow of Pilgrim’s rod, you see, did not kill her, for she fled by sending away her spirit. Standing on top of the clouds, she gnashed her teeth at Pilgrim, saying spitefully to herself, “The last few years I have heard nothing but people talking about his abilities, but I’ve discovered today that his is not a false reputation. Already deceived by me, the Tang Monk was about to eat the rice. If he had just lowered his head and taken one whiff of it, I would have grabbed him and he would have been all mine. Little did I anticipate that this other fellow would return and bust up my business. What’s more, I almost received a blow from his rod. If I had let this monk get away, I would have labored in vain. I’m going back down there to make fun of him once more.”
Dear monster! Lowering the direction of her dark cloud, she dropped into the fold of the mountain further ahead and changed with one shake of her body into a woman eighty years old, having in her hands a bamboo cane with a curved handle. She headed toward the pilgrims, weeping each step of the way. When Eight Rules saw her, he was horrified. “Master,” he said, “it’s terrible! That old Mama approaching us is looking for someone.” “Looking for whom?” asked the Tang Monk. Eight Rules said, “The girl slain by Elder Brother has to be the daughter. This one must be the mother looking for her.” “Stop talking nonsense, Brother,” said Pilgrim. “That girl was about eighteen, but this woman is at least eighty. How could she still bear children when she was sixty-some years old? She’s a fake! Let old Monkey go have a look.” Dear Pilgrim! In big strides he walked forward to look at the monster, who
Changed falsely into an old dame,
With temples white as snow.
She walked ever so slowly
With steps both small and sluggish.
Her frail body was most slender;
Her face, a leaf dried and wilted.
Her cheek bones jutted upward;
Her lips curled downward and out.
Old age is not quite like the time of youth:
The whole face is wrinkled like lotus leaves.
Recognizing the monster, Pilgrim did not even bother to wait for any discussion; he lifted up the rod and struck at the head at once. When the monster saw the uplifted rod, she again exercised her magic and her spirit rose into the air, leaving behind once more the corpse of her body struck dead beside the road. The sight so frightened the Tang Monk that he fell from his horse. Lying on the road, he did not speak another word except to recite the Tight-Fillet Spell back and forth exactly twenty times. Alas, poor Pilgrim’s head was reduced to an hourglass-shaped gourd! As the pain was truly unbearable, he had to roll up to the Tang Monk and plead, “Master, please don’t recite anymore. Say what you have to say.”
“What’s there to say?” asked the Tang Monk. “Those who have left the family will listen to the words of virtue to avoid falling into Hell. I have tried my best to enlighten you with admonition. Why do you persist in doing violence? You have beaten to death one commoner after another. How do you explain this?”
“She’s a monster,” said Pilgrim. The Tang Monk said, “This monkey is babbling nonsense. You tell me that there are that many monsters! You are a person lacking any will to do good, one who is only bent on evil. You’d better go.”
“Master,” said Pilgrim, “are you sending me away again? All right, I’ll go back. But there’s something which I find disagreeable.” “What do you find disagreeable?” asked the Tang monk. “Master,” said Eight Rules, “he wants you to divide up the luggage with him! You think he wants to go back empty-handed after following you as a monk all this time? Why don’t you see whether you have any old shirt or tattered hat in your wrap there and give him a couple of pieces.”
When Pilgrim heard these words, he became so incensed that he jumped up and down, crying, “You loud-mouthed overstuffed coolie! Ever since old Monkey embraced the teachings of complete poverty, he has never displayed the least bit of envy or greed. What are you talking about, dividing up the luggage?”
“If you show neither envy nor greed,” said the Tang Monk, “why don’t you leave?” “To tell you the truth, Master,” said Pilgrim, “when old Monkey lived at the Water-Curtain Cave of the Flower-Fruit Mountain five hundred years ago, he was hero enough to receive the submission of the demons of seventy-two caves and to command forty-seven thousand little fiends. I was quite a man then— wearing on my head a purple gold cap, putting on my body a red and yellow robe, tying around my waist a jade belt, having on my feet a pair of cloudtreading shoes, and holding in my hands the compliant golden-hooped rod. But ever since Nirvāṇa delivered me from my sins, when with my hair shorn I took the vow of complete poverty and followed you as your disciple, I had this gold fillet clamped on my head. If I go back like this, I can’t face the folks at home. If Master doesn’t want me anymore, please recite the Loose-Fillet Spell so that I may get rid of this thing from my head and return it to you. I’ll find that most pleasant and agreeable then. After all, I have followed you all this time; surely you would not deny me this bit of human kindness!”
Greatly startled, the Tang Monk said, “Wukong, I only received the TightFillet Spell in secret from the Bodhisattva. There was no Loose-Fillet Spell.” “If there was no Loose-Fillet Spell,” said Pilgrim, “then you’d better still take me along.” The elder had no alternative but to say, “You’d better get up. I’ll forgive you one more time, but you must not do violence again.” “I won’t dare do so,” said Pilgrim, “I won’t dare do so.” He helped his master to mount up once more and then led the way forward.
We now tell you about that monster who, you see, had not been killed by Pilgrim’s second blow either. In midair, the fiend could not refrain from praising her opponent, saying, “Marvelous Monkey King! What perception! He could recognize me even when I had changed into that form! These monks are moving on rather quickly; another forty miles westward beyond the mountain and they will leave my domain. If some demons or fiends of another region pick them up, people would laugh till their mouths crack up, and I would eat my heart out! I’ll go down and make fun of them one more time.” Dear Monster! Lowering the dark wind again into the fold of the mountain, she shook her body and changed herself into an old man. Truly he had
Flowing white hair like Pengzu’s,4
And beard more frosty than the Age Star’s.
A jade stone5 rang in his ears,
And gold stars flashed in his eyes.
Holding a curved dragon-head cane,
He wore a light crane’s-down cloak.
Grasping in his hands some beads,
He chanted a Buddhist sūtra.
When the Tang Monk on his horse saw this old man, he was very pleased. “Amitābha!” he cried. “The West is truly a blessed region! This dear old man can hardly walk, but he still wants to recite the sūtras!” “Master,” said Eight Rules, “stop praising him. He’s the root of disaster!” “What do you mean the root of disaster?” said the Tang Monk. Eight Rules said, “Elder Brother killed his daughter as well as his wife, and now you see this old man groping his way here. If we run smack into him, Master, you’ll pay with your life since you are guilty of death. Old Hog is your follower, so he’ll be banished to serve in the army; Sha Monk carries out your orders, so he’ll be sentenced to hard labor. But our Elder Brother, of course, will use some kind of escape magic to get away. Now, won’t that leave the three of us here to take the blame for him?”
Hearing this, Pilgrim said, “This root of idiocy! Won’t this kind of absurdity alarm our master? Let old Monkey go and have another look.” He put away his rod and went forward to meet the fiend. “Aged Sir,” he called, “where are you going? Why are you walking and reciting a sūtra as well?” Our monster this time somehow misread, as it were, the balance of the steelyard, and she thought that Great Sage Sun was after all an ordinary fellow. Hence she said, “Elder, this old man has lived here for generations. My whole life is devoted to doing good and feeding the monks, to reading scriptures and chanting sūtras. Fate did not give me a boy, and I had only a girl, for whom I took in a son-in-law. This morning she went off to take rice down to the fields, and we fear that she might have been made food for the tiger instead. My old wife went searching for her, but she, too, did not return. In fact, I have absolutely no idea what has happened to them. That’s why this old man came seeking to see if they have been harmed in any way. If so, I have little alternative but to take back their bones and have them buried properly on our ancestral site.”
“I’m the ancestor in pulling pranks!” said Pilgrim, laughing. “How dare you sneak up on me and try to deceive me with something up your sleeve? You can’t fool me. I can see that you are a monster.” The monster was so startled that she could not utter another word. Wielding his rod, Pilgrim was about to strike, but he said to himself: “If I don’t hit her, she’s going to pull some trick again, but if I hit her, I fear that Master will recite that spell again.” He thought to himself some more: “But if I don’t kill her, she can grab Master the moment she has the opportunity, and then I’ll have to make all that effort to save him. I’d better strike! One blow will kill her, but Master will surely recite that spell. Well, the proverb says: ‘Even the vicious tiger will not devour its own.’ I’ll have to use my eloquence, my dexterous tongue, to convince him, that’s all.” Dear Great Sage! He recited a spell himself and summoned the local spirit and the mountain god, saying to them, “This monster made fun of my master three times. This time I’m going to make sure I’ll kill her, but you must stand guard in the air. Don’t let her get away.” When the deities heard this command, neither dared disobey it, and they both stood guard on the edge of the clouds. Our Great Sage lifted up his rod and struck down the demon, whose spiritual light was extinguished only then.
The Tang Monk on the horse was again so horrified by what he saw that he could not even utter a word, but Eight Rules on one side snickered and said, “Dear Pilgrim! His delirium is acting up again! He has journeyed for only half a day and he has slaughtered three persons!” The Tang Monk was about to recite the spell when Pilgrim dashed up to the horse, crying, “Master! Don’t recite! Don’t recite! Just come and take a look at how she looks now.” There was in front of them a pile of flour-white skeletal bones. “Wukong,” said the Tang Monk, greatly shaken, “this person has just died. How could she change all at once into a skeleton?” Pilgrim said, “She’s a demonic and pernicious cadaver, out to seduce and harm people. When she was killed by me, she revealed her true form. You can see for yourself that there’s a row of characters on her spine; she’s called ‘LadyWhiteBone.’”
When the Tang Monk heard what he said, he was about to believe him, but Eight Rules would not desist from slander. “Master,” said he, “his hand’s heavy and his rod’s vicious. He has beaten someone to death, but, fearing your recital, he deliberately changed her into something like this just to befuddle you.” Indeed a shilly-shally person, the Tang Monk believed Eight Rules once more and started his recital. Unable to bear the pain, Pilgrim could only kneel beside the road and cry, “Don’t recite! Don’t recite! If you have something to say, say it quickly.” “Monkey head!” said the Tang Monk. “What’s there to say? The virtuous deeds of those having left the family should be like grass in a garden of spring: though their growth is invisible, they multiply daily. But he who practices evil is like a whetstone: though its ruin is invisible, it diminishes daily. You manage to get away even after beating to death altogether three persons only because there’s no one here to oppose you, to take you to task in these desolate wilds. But suppose we get to a crowded city and you suddenly start hitting people regardless of good or ill with that mourning staff of yours, how would I be able to go free from that kind of great misfortune caused by you? You’d better go back.”
“Master,” said Pilgrim, “you have really wronged me. This is undeniably a monstrous spirit, bent on hurting you. I have helped you to ward off danger by killing her, but you can’t see it. You believe instead those sarcastic and slanderous remarks of Idiot to such an extent that you try to get rid of me several times. The proverb says, ‘Nothing can occur three times’! If I don’t leave you, I’ll be a base and shameless fellow. I’ll go! I’ll go! It’s no big deal, in fact, for me to leave, but then you will have no man to serve you.” Turning angry, the Tang Monk said, “This brazen ape is becoming even more unruly. So you think that you are the only man around here? Wuneng and Wujing, they are not men?”
When the Great Sage heard this statement about the other two disciples, he was so deeply hurt that he could not but say to the Tang Monk, “O misery! Think of the time when Liu Boqin was your companion as you left Chang’an. After you delivered me from the Mountain of Two Frontiers and made me your disciple, I penetrated ancient caves and invaded deep forests to capture demons and defeat monsters. I was the one who, having experienced countless difficulties, subdued Eight Rules and acquired Sha Monk. Today, ‘banishing Wisdom just to court Folly,’ you want me to go back. That’s how it is:
When the birds vanish,
The bow is hidden;
When the hares perish,
The hounds are eaten.6
All right! All right! There’s only one thing left for us to settle, and that’s the Tight-Fillet Spell.” The Tang Monk said, “I won’t recite that again.”
“That’s hard to say,” said Pilgrim. “For when the time comes for you to face those treacherous demons and bitter ordeals, and when you, because Eight Rules and Sha Monk cannot rescue you, think of me and cannot stop yourself from reciting it, I’ll have a headache even if I’m one hundred thousand miles away. I’ll have to come back to see you, so why don’t you let this matter drop now.”
When the Tang Monk saw that Pilgrim was so long-winded, he became angrier than ever. Rolling down from his horse, he told Sha Monk to take out paper and brush from one of the wraps. Fetching some water from a brook nearby and rubbing out some ink with an ink-slab on a rock, he wrote at once a letter of banishment. Handing it over to Pilgrim, he said, “Monkey head! Take this as a certificate. I’ll never want you as a disciple. If I ever consent to see you again, let me fall into the Avīci Hell!”7 Taking the letter of banishment, Pilgrim said quickly, “Master, no need to swear. Old Monkey will leave.” He folded up the letter and put it in his sleeve. Attempting once more to placate the Tang Monk, he said, “Master, after all, I have followed you for all this time because of the Bodhisattva’s instructions. Today I have to quit in midjourney and am not able to attain the meritorious fruit. Please take a seat and let me bow to you, so that I can leave in peace.” Tang Monk turned his back and refused to reply, mumbling only, “I’m a good priest, and I won’t take the salutation of an evil man like you!” When the Great Sage saw that the Tang Monk refused to answer, he resorted to the magic of the Body beyond the Body. Pulling three pieces of hair from the back of his head, he blew on them a magic breath and cried, “Change!” They changed at once into three Pilgrims, who along with himself surrounded the master on all four sides. The master tried to turn left and right, but he was unable to dodge anymore and had to receive a bow from one of them.
Jumping up, the Great Sage shook his body and retrieved his hair. Then he gave the following instructions to Sha Monk, saying, “Worthy Brother, you are a good man. Do be careful, however, that you don’t listen to the foolish nonsense of Eight Rules. You must also exercise caution on the journey. If there should be a time when a monster catches hold of Master, you just say that old Monkey happens to be his senior disciple. When those clumsy fiends of the West get wind of my abilities, they’ll not dare to harm my master.” “I’m a good priest,” said the Tang Monk, “and I’ll never mention the name of an evil man like you. Go back.” When the Great Sage saw that the elder simply refused to change his mind, he had no alternative but to leave. Look at him:
In tears he kowtowed to part with the priest;
In grief he took care to instruct Sha Monk.
He used his head to dig up the meadow’s grass
And both feet to kick up the ground’s rattan.
Like a wheel spinning he entered Heav’n and Earth,
Most able to overleap mountains and seas.
All at once he completely disappeared;
In no time he left on the way he came.
Look at him! He suppressed his outrage and took leave of his master by mounting the cloud-somersault to head straight for the Water-Curtain Cave of the Flower-Fruit Mountain. As he was traveling, alone and dejected, he suddenly heard the roar of water. The Great Sage paused in midair to look and discovered that it was the high tide of the Great Eastern Ocean. The moment he saw this, he thought of the Tang Monk and could not restrain the tears from rolling down his cheeks. He stopped his cloud and stayed there for a long time before proceeding. We do not know what will happen to him as he goes away; let’s listen to the explanation in the next chapter.