We were telling you about the Great Sage, who, though he was banished by the Tang Monk, was nevertheless filled with regret and nostalgia when he saw the Great Eastern Ocean. He said to himself, “I haven’t come this way for five hundred years!” This is what he saw as he looked at the ocean:
Vast, misty currents;
Huge, far-reaching waves—
Vast, misty currents that join the Milky Way;
Huge, far-reaching waves that touch the pulse of Earth.
The tide rises in salvos;
The water engulfs the bays—
The tide rises in salvos
Like the clap of thunder in Triple Spring;
The water engulfs the bays
As violent gales that blow in late summer.
Those old, blessed dragon-drivers1
Would travel no doubt with knitted brows;
Those young, immortal crane-riders
Would surely pass by anxious and tense.
No village appears near the shore;
Few fishing boats hug the water.
Waves roll like a thousand year’s snow;
Wind howls as if autumn’s in June.
Wild birds can come and go at will;
Water fowls may stay afloat or dive.
There’s no fisher before your eyes;
Your ears hear only the sea gulls.
Deep in the sea fishes frolic;
Across the sky wild geese languish.
With a bound, our Pilgrim leaped across the Great Eastern Ocean and soon arrived at the Flower-Fruit Mountain. Lowering the direction of his cloud, he stared all around. Alas, that mountain had neither flowers nor plants, while the mist and smoke seemed completely extinguished: cliffs and plateaus had collapsed and the trees had dried and withered. How had it all become like this, you ask. When Pilgrim disrupted Heaven and was taken captive to the Region Above, this mountain was burned to total ruin by the Illustrious Sage, Erlang God, who was leading the Seven Bond-Brothers of Plum Mountain. Our Great Sage became more grief stricken than ever, and he composed the following long poem in ancient style as a testimony. The poem says:
I view this divine mountain and tears fall;
I face it and my sorrows multiply.
The mountain, I thought then, would not be harmed;
Today I know this place has suffered loss.
Hateful was that Erlang who vanquished me,
That heinous Little Sage who oppressed me.
In violence he dug up my parental tombs;
With no cause he broke up my ancestral graves.
All Heaven’s mists and fog are now dispersed;
The whole land’s wind and clouds both dissipate.
None can hear a tiger’s roar on eastern peaks;
Who sees a white ape howling on western slopes?
The northern gorge has no trace of fox or hare;
All deer have vanished from the southern glen.
Green rocks are burned to form a thousand bricks;
The bright sand’s changed to a pile of dirt.
Tall pines outside the cave have fallen down;
Green cedars before the cliff are thin and scarce.
Chun, shan, huai, kui, li, and tan2 all are scorched;
Peach, pear, prune, plum, almond, and date are gone.
How could silkworms be fed with no mulberry?
Midst few bamboos and willows birds cannot live.
Well-formed rocks on the peak have turned to dust;
The brook’s water has dried up—all is grass.
No orchid grows on parched earth below the cliff;
Creepers o’erspread the brown mud by the road.
To what region have birds of past days flown?
To which mountain have the beasts of old retired?
This gutted spot that snakes and leopards loathe!
This blasted place that cranes and serpents shun!
It must be for evil deeds in former times
That I should this day suffer so much pain.
As the Great Sage was thus expressing his grief, seven or eight small monkeys suddenly leaped out with a cry from among the tall grass and bushes on the slope. They rushed forward to surround him and kowtow, shouting, “Father Great Sage! You’ve come home today?” “Why aren’t you all having a little fun?” asked the Handsome Monkey King. “Why is everyone in hiding? I’ve been back for quite a while, and I haven’t seen even the shadow of one of you! Why is that?” When the several monkeys heard these words, every one of them began to weep. “Since the Great Sage was taken captive to the Region Above,” they said, “we have been suffering from the hands of hunters, truly an unbearable affliction. How could we withstand those sharp arrows and strong bows, those yellow hawks and wicked hounds, those ensnaring nets and sickleshaped spears! To preserve our lives, none of us dares come out to play; instead, we conceal ourselves deep in the cave dwelling or take refuge in some distant lairs. Only in hunger do we go steal some grass on the meadow for food, and in thirst we drink the clear liquid from downstream. Just now we heard the voice of our Father Great Sage, and that was why we came to receive you. We beg you to take care of us.”
When the Great Sage heard these words, he became more distressed. He then asked, “How many of you are there still in this mountain?” “Young and old,” said the monkeys, “altogether no more than a thousand.” The Great Sage said, “In former times, I had forty-seven thousand little monsters here. Where did they go?” The monkeys said, “When Father left, this mountain was burned by the Bodhisattva Erlang, and more than half of them were killed by the fire. Some of us managed to save our lives by squatting in the wells, diving into the brook, or hiding beneath the sheet iron bridge. When the fire was extinguished and the smoke cleared, we came out to find that flowers and fruits were no longer available for food. The difficulty in finding sustenance drove another half of the monkeys away, leaving those of us to suffer here in the mountain. These two years saw our number dwindle even further by more than half when hunters came to abduct us.”
“For what purpose?” asked Pilgrim. “Talk about those hunters,” said the monkeys, “they are truly abominable! Those of us who were shot by arrows, pierced by spears, or clubbed to death they took away for food to be served with rice. The dead monkeys would be skinned and boned, cooked with sauce and steamed with vinegar, fried with oil, and sauteed with salt. Those of us who were caught by the net or the trap would be led away live; they would be taught to skip ropes, to act, to somersault, and to do cartwheels. They would have to beat the drum and the gong on the streets and perform every kind of trick to entertain humans.”
When the Great Sage heard these words, he became terribly angry. “Who is in charge in the cave now?” he asked. “We still have Ma and Liu, the two marshals,” said the little fiends, “Peng and Ba, the two generals: they are in charge.” “Report to them at once,” said the Great Sage, “and say that I’ve returned.” Those little fiends dashed inside the cave and cried, “Father Great Sage has come home!” When Ma, Liu, Peng, and Ba heard the report, they rushed out of the door to kowtow and to receive him inside the cave. The Great Sage took a seat in the middle as the various fiends all lined up before him to pay homage. “Father Great Sage,” they said, “we heard recently that you had regained your life so that you could protect the Tang Monk on his journey to the Western Heaven to acquire scriptures. Why are you not heading toward the West? Why do you come back to this mountain?”
“Little ones,” said the Great Sage, “you have no idea that the Tang Monk is wholly ignorant of who is worthy and who is foolish. For his sake, I caught fiends and overcame demons throughout the journey, using all my abilities. Several times I slew a monster, but, accusing me of doing evil and violence, he disowned me as his disciple and banished me back here. He even wrote me a formal letter of banishment as proof that he would never want to use me again.”
Clapping their hands and roaring with laughter, the monkeys said, “Lucky! Lucky! What do you want to be a monk for? Come home and you can lead us to have a few years’ fun. Quick! Let’s bring out the coconut wine for the reception of Father.” “Let’s not drink wine just yet,” said the Great Sage. “Let me ask you, how often do those hunters come to our mountain?” “Great Sage,” said Ma and Liu, “there’s no telling of time. They are here every day to make trouble.” The Great Sage asked, “Why aren’t they here today?” Ma and Liu replied, “Just wait and you’ll see them come.”
The Great Sage gave this order: “Little ones, go up to the mountain and bring me the rocks that have been burned to small pieces. Pile them up around here in piles of thirty or sixty pieces. I have use for them.” Those little monkeys were like a cloud of bees; they swarmed all over the mountain and brought back the rock pieces and piled them together. When the Great Sage saw that, he said, “Little ones, go hide in the cave. Let old Monkey exercise his magic.” Our Great Sage went straight up to the peak to look around, and he saw over a thousand men and horses approaching from the southern half of the mountain. Beating drums and striking gongs, they were holding spears and swords, leading hawks and hounds. When the Monkey King stared carefully at them, they appeared to be most ferocious indeed. Dear men! Truly fierce! He saw
Fox skins covered their heads and backs;
Silk brocades wrapped around their torsos;
Quivers full of wolf-teeth arrows;3
And carved bows hung on their thighs.
The men seemed mountain-prowling tigers;
The horses, like brook-leaping dragons.
The whole group of men led their hounds,
As hawks perched on all their shoulders.
They hauled fire cannons4 in baskets.
They had also eagles most fierce,
And hundreds of poles with birdlimes,
And thousands of forks to catch rabbits;
Dragnets like those used by bullheads,
And lassos tossed by King Yama.
They yelled and shrieked altogether,
Causing confusion far and near.
When the Great Sage saw those men swarming up his mountain, he became terribly angry. Making the magic sign with his fingers and reciting a spell, he drew in a breath facing the southwest and blew it out. At once a violent wind arose. Marvelous wind!
It threw up dust and scattered dirt;
It toppled trees and cut down forests.
The ocean waves rose like mountains;
They crashed fold upon fold on the shore.
The cosmos grew dim and darkened;
The sun and the moon lost their light.
The pine trees, once shaken, roared like tigers;
The bamboos, hit abruptly, sang like dragons.
All Heaven’s pores let loose their angry breaths
As rocks and sand flew, hurting one and all.
The Great Sage called up this mighty wind that blew up and scattered those rock pieces in every direction. Pity those thousand-odd hunters and horses! This was what happened to every one of them:
The rocks broke their dark heads to pieces;5
Flying sand hurt all the winged horses.
Lords and nobles confounded before the peak,
Blood stained like cinnabar the earth.
Fathers and sons could not go home.
Could fine men to their houses return?
Corpses fell to the dust and lay on the mountain,
While rouged ladies at home waited.
The poem says:
Men killed, horses dead—how could they go home?
Lost, lonely souls floundered like tangled hemp.
Pity those strong and virile fighting men,
Whose blood, both good and bad, did stain the sand!
Lowering the direction of his cloud, the Great Sage clapped his hands and roared with laughter, saying, “Lucky! Lucky! Since I made submission to the Tang Monk and became a priest, he has been giving me this advice:
‘Do good a thousand days,
But the good is still insufficient;
Do evil for one day,
And that evil is already excessive.’
Some truth indeed! When I followed him and killed a few monsters, he would blame me for perpetrating violence. Today I came home and it was the merest trifle to finish off all these hunters.”
He then shouted, “Little ones, come out!” When those monkeys saw that the violent wind had passed and heard the Great Sage calling, they all jumped out. “Go down to the south side of the mountain,” said the Great Sage, “and strip the dead hunters of their clothes. Bring them back home, wash away the bloodstains, and you all can wear them to ward off the cold. The corpses you can push into the deep mountain lake over there. Pull back here also the horses that are killed; their hides can be used to make boots, and their meat can be cured for us to enjoy slowly. Gather up the bows and arrows, the swords and spears, and you can use them for military drills again. And finally, bring me those banners of miscellaneous colors; I have use for them.”
Every one of the monkeys obeyed these instructions. Pulling down the banners and washing them clean, the Great Sage then patched them together into a large banner of many colors, on which he wrote the following words in large letters: The Flower-Fruit Mountain Rebuilt, the Water-Curtain Cave Restored— Great Sage, Equal to Heaven. A flagpole was erected outside the cave to hang up the banner. Thereafter, he gathered together more fiends and beasts by the day, and he stored up all kinds of foodstuff. The word “monk” was never mentioned again. As he enjoyed wide friendship and great power, he had no trouble in borrowing some sweet, divine water from the Dragon Kings of the Four Oceans to wash his mountain and make it green again. He next planted elms and willows in front, pines and cedars in the back; peach, pear, date, and plum—he had them all. He then sett led down to enjoy life without a care, and we shall speak no more of him for the moment.
We now tell you about the Tang Monk, who listened to Crafty Nature and banished the Monkey of the Mind. He mounted his horse to head for the West as Eight Rules led the way in front, while Sha Monk poled the luggage in the rear. After they passed the White Tiger Ridge, they came upon a large forest, full of vines and creepers, green pines and cedars. “Disciples,” said Tripitaka, “the mountain road is already rough and difficult to negotiate. And now we have a thick and dark pine forest. Do be careful. I fear that we may run into some fiends or monstrous beasts.” But look at Idiot! Rousing his energies, he told Sha Monk to take hold of the horse, while he himself used his muckrake to open up a path in front and led the Tang Monk directly into the pine forest. As they journeyed, the elder stopped the horse and said, “Eight Rules, I’m getting really hungry today. Where can you find me some vegetarian food to eat?” “Please dismount, Master,” said Eight Rules, “and let old Hog go find some for you.” The elder descended from his horse. Sha Monk put down his load and took out the alms bowl to hand over to Eight Rules. Eight Rules said, “I’m off!” “Where to?” asked the elder. “Never mind,” said Eight Rules. “Once I go, I will
Drill ice for fire6 to find your maigre,
And press snow for oil to beg your rice.”
Look at him! He left the pine forest and walked toward the West for over ten miles, but he did not come upon even a single household. It was truly a place more inhabited by tigers and wolves than by humans. When Idiot became tired from walking, he thought to himself, “When Pilgrim was here, whatever that old priest wanted he got. Today, it’s my turn to serve, and it’s like what the proverb says:
You know the cost of rice and firewood when you run a house;
You realize your parents’ kindness when you bring up a child!
Where in the world can I go to beg for food?” He walked some more and became rather drowsy. He thought to himself, “If I go back now and tell that old priest that there’s no place here for me to beg for vegetarian food even after traveling all this distance, he won’t believe me. I must find some means to while away another hour or so before I go back to answer him. Well, well! Let’s take a nap here in the grass.” Idiot indeed put his head in the grass and lay down. At the time, he thought that he would doze for awhile and then get up, but little did he realize how fatigued he was from all that walking. Once he lay down his head, he fell into a deep, snoring slumber.
For the time being, we shall speak no more of Eight Rules asleep in this place. We tell you instead about the elder in the forest, who grew so restless and anxious that his ears became flushed and his eyes began to tic. He turned quickly and said to Sha Monk, “Why hasn’t Wuneng returned from his trip to beg for food?” “Master,” said Sha Monk, “don’t you understand? When he sees how many families there are in this region of the West who love to feed monks, he’s not going to worry about you, is he, especially when he has so large a stomach! He’s not going to come back until he’s completely filled!” “You are right,” said Tripitaka. “But if he is staying at some place just to satisfy his hankering for food, where are we going to meet him? It’s getting late, and this is no place to live. We better find some lodging.” “Don’t worry, Master,” said Sha Monk, “you sit here and let me find him.” “Yes, yes,” said Tripitaka, “it doesn’t matter whether there’s food or not. But it’s important for us to find a place to stay.” Grasping his precious staff, Sha Monk left the pine forest to search for Eight Rules.
The elder, sitting alone in the forest, became so weary and fatigued that he had to force himself to summon enough energy to get up. Putting the luggage together in a pile and tying the horse to a tree, he took off his wide splint hat, stuck his priestly staff into the ground, and straightened his clerical robe in order to take a walk in this secluded forest just to rid himself of his depression. He looked at all the wild grass and untended flowers, but he did not hear any chattering of birds heading homeward. The forest, you see, was a place of tall grass and small paths. Because he was rather confused he soon lost his way. He had, to be sure, wanted to dispel his boredom in the first place, and to find Eight Rules and Sha Monk in the second. Little did he realize that they were proceeding westward, whereas he himself, after going in circles for awhile, was heading south. As he emerged from the pine forest, he raised his head and saw all at once flashes of golden light and colorful mists ahead of him. He looked more carefully and found that it was a bejeweled pagoda, whose golden dome was gleaming in the rays of the setting sun. “This disciple truly has no affinity!” he said to himself. “When I left the Land of the East, I made a vow to burn incense in every temple, to worship Buddha when I saw an image of Buddha, and to sweep a pagoda if I came upon a pagoda. Isn’t that a golden pagoda that is so brilliant over there? Why didn’t I take this road before? Beneath the pagoda there must be a temple, inside of which there must also be a monastery. Let me walk over there. It’s all right, I suppose, to leave the white horse and the luggage here since there is no one passing by. If there’s any space there, I’ll wait till my disciples return and we can all ask for lodging for the night.”
Alas, the time of that elder’s misfortune has indeed arrived! Look at him! He strode forward and went up to the side of the pagoda. There he saw
Boulders ten thousand feet tall;
A large bluff reaching the green sky:
Its roots joining the thick earth,
Its peaks sticking into Heaven.
Several thousand trees of all kinds on both sides;
A hundred miles of snarled creepers front and back.
Bright flowers on grass tips, the wind had its shadows.
In flowing water’s parted clouds the moon had no root.7
Fallen logs rested in deep streams;
Dried tendrils entangled bare summits.
Beneath a stone bridge
Flowed a bubbling clear stream;
On top of a terrace
Grew flourlike white blossoms.
When seen from afar it seemed the Paradise of Three Isles;
When you drew near it appeared like the lovely Penglai.
Purple bamboos and scented pines enclosed the mountain brook;
Crows, magpies, and monkeys cut through the rugged ridge.
Outside a cave
There were herds of wild beasts coming and going;
In the woods
There were flocks of birds leaving or returning.
In lovely green the fragrant plants thrived;
Radiantly the wild flowers bloomed.
This region, nonetheless,8 was an evil place.
It was the elder’s bad luck to come barging in!
The elder strode up to the door of the pagoda and found a mottled bamboo curtain hanging inside. Walking inside the door, he lifted up the curtain to proceed further when suddenly he saw before him a monster asleep on a stone couch. “How does he look?” you ask.
Indigo face,
Long white fangs,
And a big gaping mouth!
Tousled hair on the head’s two sides
Seemed as if it had been dyed red by rouge.
A few stubs of deep purple beard
Bore the look of lychee sprouting.
A nose curvate like a parrot’s beak,
And eyes glowing like the morning stars.
His two huge fists
Had the shape of a monk’s alms bowl.
Two blue-veined feet
Forked like branches dangling down a cliff.
Half covered by a light yellow robe,
Better than the silk-brocade cassock,
He still grasped a scimitar
Which gleamed and glittered.
He slept on a slab of stone
Both flawless and smooth.
He had led young fiends to make formations like ants,
And old demons to rule with order like bees.
Look at his awesome bearing,
When all his subjects
Raised the cry, “Sire!”
He had made the moon his third friend as he sipped his wine;9
He had felt the wind grow beneath his arms as tea was poured.
Look at his vast magic power!
In the twinkling of an eye
He could tour all the Heavens.
In his wild woods screeched birds and fowls;
In his dens slept dragons and snakes.
Immortals tilled his fields to grow white jade;
Daoists calmed his fire to raise cinnabar.
A door of a small cave
Did not, of course, lead to the Hell, Avīci;
But such an ugly monster
Seemed truly a bullheaded yakṣa!
When the elder saw that kind of appearance, he retreated in horror as his body turned numb and his legs flabby. He tried to turn and run, but just as he got out of the door, the monster, who was a rather alert creature, opened his demonic eyes with golden pupils and shouted, “Little ones, go see who is outside our door!” A little fiend stuck his head out the door and saw that it was a baldheaded elder. He ran quickly inside and reported, “Great King! It’s a priest outside. He has a round head and a large face, with two ears hanging down to his shoulders. He has a body full of tender flesh and very fine skin. He’s a good-looking priest!” When the monster heard these words, he laughed aloud, saying, “This is like what the proverb says:
Flies atop a serpent’s head—
Food by itself presented!
You, little ones. Chase him down and bring him back here. I have great rewards for you.” Those little fiends rushed out of the door like a swarm of bees.
When Tripitaka saw them, his mind wanted him to move like an arrow and his feet wanted to fly; but he quivered and shook, and his feet were numb and flaccid. Moreover, the mountain road was rugged, the forest was dark, and it was getting late. How could he possibly move fast enough? The little fiends ran him down and hauled him back bodily. Truly, it is like
The dragon in shallow water teased by shrimps,
The tiger on level ground mocked by dogs.
A noble venture may have many snags.
Who’s like the Tang Monk when he faces the West?
Look at those little fiends! After having carried the elder back and put him down outside the bamboo curtain, they ran happily to make this report: “Great King, we have caught the monk and brought him back.” The old monster stole a glance at Tripitaka and saw that he had an erect head and a handsome face. He was indeed a good-looking priest. The monster thought to himself, “Such a good-looking priest must be someone from a noble nation. I can’t treat him lightly. If I didn’t show him who’s boss here, would he willingly submit to me?” Like a fox affecting the authority of a tiger, he all at once bristled up his red hairs and whiskers while his eyes split wide open. “Bring that monk in!” he bellowed. “Yes, sir!” the various fiends shouted in response, as they shoved Tripitaka inside. As the proverb has it,
Standing beneath low-pitched eaves,
How could one not bow his head?
Tripitaka had no choice but to fold his hands and greet him.
“From what region are you, monk?” demanded the monster. “Where did you come from? Where are you going? Tell us quickly!” “I’m a monk from the Tang court,” said Tripitaka. “Having received the imperial decree of the Great Tang Emperor to seek scriptures in the West, I passed by your noble mountain and decided to seek an audience with the sage beneath this pagoda. I have no intention to disturb Your Eminence. Please forgive me. When I return to the Land of the East after acquiring scriptures in the West, your illustrious name will be recorded gratefully for posterity.”
When the monster heard these words, he roared with laughter, saying, “I said to myself that you were from a noble nation. So you are indeed! You’re exactly the person I want to eat! It’s marvelous that you presented yourself here. Otherwise, I might have missed you. You are ordained to be the food of my mouth. Since you have barged in here all by yourself, I couldn’t let you go even if I wanted to. And you couldn’t escape even if you wanted to!” He then ordered the little fiends, “Tie up that monk.” The little fiends rushed forward and fastened the elder firmly with ropes to the Spirit-Soothing Pillar.10
Grasping his scimitar, the old monster asked again, “Monk, how many persons are there in your entourage? Don’t tell me you dare go up to the Western Heaven all by yourself!” When Tripitaka saw him picking up the scimitar, he said candidly, “Great King, I have two disciples named Zhu Eight Rules and Sha Monk. They all left the pine forest to go beg for food. I have, moreover, one load of luggage and a white horse, which I left in the forest.” “That’s luckier yet!” said the old monster. “Two disciples including you make three, and there are really four of you if we count the horse. That’s enough for a meal!”
“Let’s go and catch them too,” said the little fiends. “Don’t go out,” said the old monster, “but shut the door instead. After begging the food, those disciples would bring it to their master; when they can’t find him, they will surely come seeking right up to our door. The proverb says, ‘Business at one’s own door is easier to do.’ Let’s take our time and catch them then.” The little fiends indeed closed the front door.
We speak no more of Tripitaka who met disaster; we tell you instead about Sha Monk, who left the pine forest looking for Eight Rules. He walked for over ten miles but did not see even a village or hamlet. He went up to a knoll to look all around when suddenly he heard someone speaking in the grass down below. Pushing the tall grass apart hurriedly with his staff, he found Idiot inside talking in his sleep. Sha Monk gave one of the huge ears a hard tug and cried, “Dear Idiot! Master told you to beg for food. Did he give you permission to sleep here?” Idiot woke up with a start, mumbling, “Brother, what time is it?” “Get up, quick!” said Sha Monk. “Master said that it didn’t matter whether there was food or not. He told us to try finding a place to stay instead.”
Picking up the alms bowl and toting his muckrake, Idiot walked back stupidly with Sha Monk. When they reached the forest, their master was nowhere to be seen. Sha Monk began to berate him, saying, “It’s all because of you, Idiot, for taking such a long time to find some food. Master must have been seized by a monster.” “Brother,” said Eight Rules, laughing, “don’t talk nonsense. This forest is a pure, lovely place and it definitely cannot harbor a monster. It must be that that old priest cannot sit still and has gone sightseeing somewhere. Let’s go find him.” The two of them picked up the hat and the priestly staff before they left the pine forest, leading the horse and poling the luggage as they searched for their master.
It happened that the Tang Monk at this time was not yet destined to die. Having looked for him for some time to no avail, his two disciples saw beams of golden light coming from the south. “Brother,” said Eight Rules, “the blessed will only receive more blessings! Master, you see, must have gone to that bejeweled pagoda over there that is giving off that light. Who will dare to be inhospitable at a place like that? They must insist on preparing vegetarian food and his staying to enjoy it. Why aren’t we moving? We should get there and have something, too.” “Elder Brother,” said Sha Monk, “you can’t tell whether it’s a good place or not. Let’s go and have a look first.” The two of them walked boldly up to the door of the edifice and found that it was closed. Across the top of the door was a slab of white jade on which were written in large letters the following words: Casserole Mountain, Current-Moon Cave.
“Elder Brother,” said Sha Monk, “this is no monastery. It’s a cave-dwelling of a monster. Even if Master were here, I doubt if we could see him.”
“Don’t be alarmed, Brother,” said Eight Rules. “Tie up the horse and stand guard over our luggage. Let me question them.” Holding high his muckrake, Idiot went forward and shouted, “Open the door! Open the door!” The little fiend who was standing guard inside opened the door. When he saw the two of them, he ran quickly to report, “Great King, business is here.” “What sort of business?” asked the old monster. “There is a monk with large ears and a long mouth outside our cave,” replied the little fiend, “and there is also another monk with the gloomiest appearance. They came calling at our door.” Greatly pleased, the old monster said, “They have to be Zhu Eight Rules and Sha Monk! Ho-ho! They know where to look all right! How did they manage to find our door so swiftly? Well, if they appear so audacious, let’s not treat them casually. Bring me my armor!” The little fiend brought it out and helped him put it on. Grasping the scimitar, the old monster walked out of the door.
Eight Rules and Sha Monk were waiting outside the door when they saw this savage fiend emerge. “How did he look?” you ask.
Green face, red beard, and floppy scarlet hair.
His yellow gold cuirass both sparkled and gleamed.
A belt inlaid with ribbed shells wrapped his waist;
A silk sash wound tightly round his armored chest.
The wind howled when he stood idly on the mount;
The waves churned when he glumly roamed the seas.
A pair of hands with veins both brown and blue
Grasped firmly the soul-snatching scimitar.
If you would learn this creature’s given name,
Remember Yellow Robe, two famous words.
That Old Monster Yellow Robe came out of the door and asked at once, “Where are you from, monk, that you dare cause this racket before my door?” “My child,” said Eight Rules, “don’t you recognize me? I’m your venerable father! I’m one sent by the Great Tang to go to the Western Heaven, for my master happens to be the royal brother, Tipitaka. If he’s in your house, send him out at once. That’ll spare me having to level it with my rake!” “Yes, yes,” said the fiend with a laugh, “there’s a Tang Monk in my house, and I haven’t denied him any hospitality either. I was just preparing some buns filled with human flesh for him to enjoy. You two can go inside and have one also. How about it?”
Idiot indeed would have gone inside immediately if Sha Monk had not pulled him back, saying, “Elder Brother, he’s deceiving you. Since when did you start eating human flesh again?” Only then did Idiot realize his mistake. Raising his muckrake, he brought it down hard on the monster’s face. The monster stepped aside to dodge the blow and then turned to meet him with uplifted scimitar. The two of them, summoning their magic powers, mounted the clouds to fight in midair. Sha Monk abandoned the luggage and the white horse; wielding his precious staff, he joined the fray also. At this time, two fierce monks and one brazen monster began a savage battle on the edge of the clouds. Thus it was that
The staff rose high, met by the scimitar;
The muckrake came, blocked by the scimitar.
One demon warrior used his power;
Two divine monks displayed their might.
The nine-pronged rake, how truly heroic!
The fiend-routing staff, ferocious indeed!
Their blows fell left and right, in front and back,
But squire Yellow Robe showed no fear at all.
See his steel scimitar shining like silver!
And, in truth, his magic power was great.
They fought till all the sky
Was fogbound and beclouded;
And in midmountain
Stones cracked and cliff sides collapsed.
This one, for the sake of his fame,
How could he give up?
That one for the sake of his master
Would surely show no fear.
The three of them closed in again and again in midair for scores of times but a decision could not be reached. Though each of them cared for his life, none of them was about to be separated. We do not know how the disciples manage to rescue the Tang Monk; let’s listen to the explanation in the next chapter.