We were telling you about the Great Sage Sun and his two brothers, who lowered their clouds and returned to the court. They were met by the king, the queen, and their subjects—all of them lined up in rows to bow and to express their thanks. Pilgrim then gave a complete account of how the Bodhisattva came to subdue the monster, and all the officials in court touched the top of their heads to the ground in adoration. As they were thus rejoicing, the Custodian of the Yellow Gate arrived to announce, “My lord, there are four more monks who have arrived at the gate.” A little apprehensive, Eight Rules said, “Elder Brother, could it be that the monster-spirit, having used magic to disguise himself as the Bodhisattva Mañjuśrī to deceive us, has now changed again into some kind of monk to match wits with us?” “How could that be?” said Pilgrim, who then asked that the monks be summoned inside.
After the civil and military officials transmitted the order and the visitors entered, Pilgrim saw that they were monks from the Precious Grove Monastery, who came bearing the rising-to-Heaven cap, the green-jade belt, the brownish yellow robe, and the carefree boots. Highly pleased, Pilgrim said, “It’s wonderful that you’ve come!” He asked the mendicant worker to step forward: his head-wrap was taken off and the rising-to-Heaven cap was placed on his head; the cloth garment was stripped off and he put on the brownish yellow robe instead; after he untied the silk sash and took off the monk sandals, he buckled on the jade-green belt and climbed into the carefree boots. The prince was then told to bring out the white jade token so that the king might hold it in his hands, and he was asked to ascend the main hall to be the king once more. As the ancient proverb said, “The court should not be one day without a ruler.” But the king absolutely refused to sit on the throne; weeping profusely, he knelt on the steps and said, “I’ve been dead for three years, and I’m indebted to Master for making me return to life. How could I dare assume such honor again? Let one of these masters be the ruler; I’ll be perfectly content to go with my wife and child outside the city to live as a commoner.” Tripitaka, of course, would have none of this, for he was intent on going to worship Buddha and to acquire the scriptures. The king then turned to Pilgrim, who said to him, smiling, “To tell you the truth, if old Monkey wanted to be a king, he would have been one throughout the myriad kingdoms in the world. But all of us are used to the leisurely and carefree existence of monks. If I become a king, I will have to let my hair grow again; I won’t be able to retire when it’s dark, nor will I be able to sleep beyond the hour of the fifth watch. I’ll be anxious when reports from the borders arrive; I’ll have endless worries when there are disasters or famines. How could I live with these things? So, you may as well be the king, and we shall continue to be monks to cultivate our merit.” After pleading with them bitterly to no avail, the king had no choice but to ascend the treasure hall once more to face south and resume the use of the royal “we.” After giving a general pardon throughout his empire, he also bestowed huge rewards on the monks of the Precious Grove Monastery before they left. Then he opened up the eastern palace to give a banquet to honor the Tang Monk; at the same time, painters were summoned into the palace to make portraits of the four pilgrims, so that these could be permanently revered in the Hall of Golden Chimes.
After they had securely established the kingdom, master and disciples, reluctant to stay too long, were about to take leave of the throne to face the West. The king, the queen, the prince, and all their subjects took out the crown treasures together with gold, silver, and silk to present to the master as tokens of gratitude, but Tripitaka refused to accept any of these. All he wanted was to have his travel rescript certified so that he could tell Wukong and his brothers to saddle the horse and leave. Feeling very keenly that he had not expressed his gratitude in an adequate manner, the king called for his imperial chariot and invited the Tang Monk to sit in it. The two rows of civil and military officials were told to lead the way in front, while he, the prince, and the ladies of the three palaces pushed the chariot themselves. Only after they had gone out of the city wall was the Tang Monk permitted to descend from the dragon chariot to take leave. “O Master,” said the king, “when you have reached the Western Heaven and retrace your steps with your scriptures, you must pay our region a visit.” “Your disciple obeys you,” said Tripitaka, and the king went back to the city tearfully with his subjects. The Tang Monk and his three disciples again took up the labyrinthine path, their minds intent only on bowing at the Spirit Mountain. It was now the season of late autumn and early winter, and they saw
Frost blighting the maples to make each forest sparse,
And rain-ripened millet, plenty every where.
Warmed by the sun, summit plums spread their morning hues;
Rocked by the wind, mountain bamboos voice their chilly plaint.
After they left the Black Rooster Kingdom, master and disciples journeyed during the day and rested at night; they had been on the road for more than half a month when they came upon another tall mountain, truly Heaven-touching and sun-obstructing. Growing alarmed on the horse, Tripitaka quickly pulled in his reins to call Pilgrim. “What do you want to say, Master?” asked Pilgrim. “Look at that huge mountain with those rugged cliffs before us,” said Tripitaka. “You must take caution and be on your guard, for I fear that some deviate creature all of a sudden will come to attack me again.” “Just get moving,” said Pilgrim with a chuckle. “Don’t be suspicious. Old Monkey has his defense.” The elder had to banish his worries and urged his horse to enter the mountain, which was truly rugged. You see,
Whether tall or not,1
Its top reaches the blue sky;
Whether deep or not,
A stream with depth like Hell down there.
Before the mountain
Are often seen rings of white clouds rising
And boiling waves of dark fog;
Red plums and jadelike bamboos;
Verdant cedars and green pines;
Behind the mountain
Are soul-rending cliffs ten thousand yards deep,
Behind which are strange, grotesque, demon-hiding caves,
In which water drips down from rocks drop by drop,
Leading to a winding, twisting brooklet down below.
You see also fruit-bearing apes prancing and leaping,
And deer with horns forked and zigzagged;
Dull and dumbly staring antelopes;
Tigers climbing the hills to seek their dens at night;
Dragons churning the waves to leave their lairs at dawn.
When steps at the cave’s entrance snap and crackle,
The fowls dart up with wings loudly beating.
Look also at these beasts pawing noisily through the woods.
When you see this horde of birds and beasts,
You will be stricken with heart-pounding fear.
The Due-to-Fall Cave faces the Due-to-Fall Cave;
The cave facing the Due-to-Fall Cave faces a god.
Green rocks are dyed like a thousand pieces of jade;
Blue-green gauze enshrouds ten thousand piles of mist.
As master and disciples became more and more apprehensive, they saw a red cloud rising up from the fold of the mountain ahead of them; after it reached midair, it condensed and took on the appearance of a fireball. Greatly alarmed, Pilgrim ran forward to catch hold of one of the Tang Monk’s legs and pulled him from the horse, crying, “Brothers, stop! A monster is approaching!” Eight Rules and Sha Monk quickly took out their muckrake and precious staff and surrounded the Tang Monk.
Let us now tell you that there was indeed a monster-spirit inside the ball of red light. Several years ago he heard people saying that the Tang Monk sent from the Land of the East to acquire scriptures from the Western Heaven was the incarnation of the elder, Gold Cicada, a good man who had practiced austerities for ten existences. Any person who could taste a piece of his flesh, they said, would be able to prolong his life until it became the same as Heaven and Earth. Every morning, therefore, he waited in the mountain, and suddenly he found that the pilgrim had arrived. As he watched in midair, he saw that the Tang Monk beside the horse was surrounded by three disciples, all ready to fight. Marveling to himself, the spirit said, “Dear monk! This white-faced, chubby cleric riding a horse was just coming into my view, when all of a sudden these three ugly monks had him surrounded. Look at them! Everyone is rolling up his sleeves, stretching out his fists and wielding his weapon—as if he is about to fight with someone. Aha! One of them with some perception, I suppose, must have recognized me. Well, if it’s going to be like this, it’ll be difficult for anyone trying to get a taste of the Tang Monk’s flesh.” As he thought to himself, questioning his mind with mind like that, he said, “If I try to overpower them, I may not even get near them, but if I try to use the good to deceive them, I may succeed. As long as I am able to beguile their minds, I can trick them even with the good. Then I’ll catch them for sure. Let me go down and tease them a little.”
Dear monster! He made the red light disperse and lowered his cloud toward the fold of the mountain. Shaking his body, he changed immediately into a little mischievous boy, about seven years of age and completely naked, who was bound by a rope and suspended from the top of a pine tree. “Help! Help!” he cried without ceasing.
We were just telling you about the Great Sage Sun, who raised his head and found that the red cloud had completely dissipated and the flames all vanished. He therefore said, “Master, please mount up again for the journey.” “You just told us that there was a fiend approaching,” said the Tang Monk. “Do we dare proceed now?” “A little while ago,” said Pilgrim, “I saw a red cloud rising up from the ground, and by the time it reached midair, it condensed into a flaming ball of fire. It had to be a monster-spirit. But now the red cloud has dissipated, and so it must be a monster who’s a passerby and who does not dare harm people. Let’s go.”
“Elder Brother is truly clever with words,” said Eight Rules, chuckling. “Even monster-spirits can be passersby!”
“How would you know?” asked Pilgrim. “If some demon king of a certain cave in a certain mountain has sent out invitations to spirits of sundry mountains and caves to attend a festival, monster-spirits from all quarters—north, south, east, and west—would respond. Perhaps he’s just interested in going to the festival and not in harming people. That’s a monster-spirit who’s a passerby.”
When Tripitaka heard these words, he was only half-convinced, but he had little alternative other than to climb on his saddle to journey into the mountain. As they proceeded, they heard suddenly repeated cries of “Help!” Highly startled, the elder said, “O Disciples! Who’s calling out in the midst of this mountain?” Pilgrim walked forward and said to him, “Master, keep moving. Don’t harp on such things as human carriage,2 donkey carriage, open carriage, or reclining carriage. Even if there were a carriage in a place like this, there wouldn’t be anyone to carry you.” “I’m not talking about carriages,” said the Tang Monk. “I’m referring to someone calling us.” “I know,” said Pilgrim with laughter, “but mind your own business. Let’s move on.”
Tripitaka agreed and urged his horse forward once more. Before they had traveled a mile, they heard again the call, “Help!” “Disciple,” said the elder, “the sound of this call can’t be that of a demon or a goblin, for if it were, there would be no echo. Just listen to it: there was a call a moment ago, and now we have another one. It must have come from a man in dire difficulty. Let’s go and help him.” Pilgrim said, “Master, please put away your compassion just for today! When we have crossed this mountain, you can be compassionate then. If you know those stories about strange plants and possessed vegetations, you should know that everything can become a spirit. In most cases, they may not be too dangerous, but if you should run into something like a python, which has become an evil spirit after prolonged self-cultivation, you’d be in trouble. A spirit like that can even possess knowledge of a person’s nickname. If he should call out, hiding in the bushes or in the fold of the mountain, a person may get by if he does not answer him, but if he does answer, the spirit can snatch away his primal soul, or he can follow that person and take his life that night. Let’s get away! Let’s get away! As the ancients said, ‘If you escape, just thank the gods.’ Please don’t listen to this call.”
The elder had little alternative but to agree and he whipped his horse to go forward. Pilgrim thought to himself, “I wonder where this brazen fiend is hollering. Let old Monkey give him a taste of ‘Cancer in opposition to Capricornus’ so that the two will never meet.” Dear Great Sage! He said to Sha Monk, “Hold on to the horse and walk slowly. Old Monkey’s going to take a leak.” Look at him! He let the Tang Monk walk slightly ahead and then recited a spell to exercise the magic of shortening the ground and moving the mountain. He pointed his golden-hooped rod backward once, and master and disciples immediately went past the peak of the mountain, leaving behind the fiendish creature. In big strides, the Great Sage caught up with the Tang Monk and they proceeded. Just then Tripitaka heard again a call coming from the mountain behind him, crying “Help!” The elder said, “O Disciple! That person in adversity truly has no affinity, for he has not run into any of us. We must have passed him, for you can hear that he is crying out from the mountain behind us.” “Or he may be still ahead of us,” said Eight Rules, “but perhaps the wind has changed.” “Never mind whether the wind has changed or not,” said Pilgrim. “Just keep moving.” As a result, everyone fell silent and concentrated on trying to pass the mountain, and we shall speak no more of them for the moment.
We tell you instead about that monster-spirit in the mountain valley: he cried out for three or four times but no one appeared. He thought to himself, “When I saw the Tang Monk just now, he couldn’t have been more than three miles away. I’ve been waiting for him all this time. Why hasn’t he arrived? Could it be that he had taken another road down the mountain?” Shaking his body, he loosened the rope at once and mounted the red light once more to rise into the air. Unwittingly the Great Sage Sun was looking back with head upturned, and when he saw the light, he knew that it was the fiendish creature. Once more he grabbed the legs of the Tang Monk and pushed him off the horse, crying, “Brothers, take care! Take care! That monster-spirit is approaching again!” Eight Rules and Sha Monk were so alarmed that they wielded their rake and staff to surround the Tang Monk as before.
When that spirit saw what happened in midair, he could not stop marveling, saying to himself, “Dear monks! I just saw that white-faced priest riding on the horse. How is it that he is now surrounded again by the three of them? Now I realize, after what I’ve seen, that I must overthrow the one who has perception before I can seize the Tang Monk. If not,
My exertions are vain for I can’t get my thing;
My efforts notwithstanding, all is nothing!”
He lowered his cloud and transforming himself as before, he hung himself high on top of a pine tree. This time, however, he positioned himself only about half a mile away.
We tell you now about the Great Sage Sun, who when he raised his head and found that the red cloud had dispersed, requested once more that his master mount up and proceed. “You just told us that the monster-spirit was approaching again,” said Tripitaka. “Why do you ask me to move on?” Pilgrim said, “This monster-spirit is a passerby. He doesn’t dare bother us.” The elder grew angry and said, “You brazen ape! You’re just playing with me! When there is a demon, you say it’s nothing. But when we are in this peaceful region, you are out to frighten me, yelling all the time about a monster-spirit. There’s more falsehood than truth in your words, and without regard for good or ill, you grab my legs and throw me off the horse. Now you come up with an explanation about this monster-spirit who’s a so-called passerby! If I got hurt from the fall, would you be able to live with yourself? You, you . . .” “Please don’t be offended, Master,” said Pilgrim. “If your hands and feet got hurt from the fall, we could still take care of you, but if you were abducted by a monster-spirit, where would we go to look for you?” Enraged, Tripitaka would have recited the Tight-Fillet Spell had not Sha Monk desperately pleaded with him. Finally he mounted his horse and proceeded once more.
Before he could even sit properly on the saddle he heard another cry: “Master, please help me!” As he looked up, the elder found that it came from a little child, completely naked, who was suspended on top of a tree. He pulled in the reins and began to berate Pilgrim, saying, “You wretched ape! How villainous you are! You don’t have the tiniest bit of kindness in you! Every thought of yours is bent on making mischief and working violence! I told you that it was a human voice calling for help, but you have to spend countless words to claim it was a monster. Look! Isn’t that a person hanging on the tree?” Seeing how the master was putting the blame on him and also the form before his face, the Great Sage lowered his head and dared not reply, for there was nothing he could do at the moment and he was afraid that his master would recite the Tight-Fillet Spell. He had little choice, in fact, but to permit the Tang Monk to approach the tree. Pointing with his whip, the elder asked, “Which household do you belong to, child? Why are you hung here? Tell me, so that I can rescue you.”
Alas! Clearly this is a monster-spirit who has transformed himself in this manner, but that master is a man of fleshly eyes and mortal stock, completely unable to recognize what he saw.
When that demon heard the question, he became even more bold in his chicanery. With tears welling up in his eyes, he said, “O Master! West of this mountain there is a Withered Pine Brook, by the side of which there is a village where my family is located. My grandfather’s name is Red, and because he has amassed a huge fortune, he was given the name Red Millions. He has, however, been dead for a long time after having lived to a ripe old age, and his estate was left to my father. Recent business reversals have gradually fribbled away our possessions, and my father for that reason has changed his name to Red Thousands. He has been, you see, befriending many men of valor, to whom he had lent gold and silver with the hope of reaping some profits. Little did he realize that these were all rootless men out to swindle him, and he lost both principal and interest. My father therefore vowed that he would never lend out another penny, but those borrowers, after having squandered what they had, banded together and plundered our house in broad daylight, holding lit torches and staffs. Not only did they rob us of all our money and possessions, but they killed my father also. And when they saw that my mother was somewhat attractive, they decided to abduct her and take her with them to be some kind of camp lady. Unwilling to abandon me, my mother carried me along in her bosom and, weeping, followed the thieves to this mountain, where they wanted to kill me also. Fortunately, my mother pleaded with them and I was spared the knife; I was tied with ropes and hung here to die of hunger and exposure instead. I don’t know what sort of merit I’ve accumulated in another existence that brings me the luck of meeting Master here. If you are willing to be compassionate and save my life so that I can return home, I shall try to repay your kindness even if I have to sell myself. Even when the yellow sand covers my face, I will not forget your kindness.”
When Tripitaka heard these words, he thought they were the truth and immediately asked Eight Rules to loosen the ropes and rescue the child. Not knowing any better either, Idiot was about to act when Pilgrim on one side could not restrain himself any longer. “You brazen thing!” he shouted. “There’s someone here who recognizes you! Don’t think you can use your humbuggery to hoodwink people! If your possessions were stolen, if your father was killed and your mother taken by thieves, to whom would we entrust you once we rescued you? With what would you thank us? Your fables don’t add up!”
When the fiend heard these words, he became frightened, realizing that the Great Sage was an able man to be reckoned with. Trembling all over, the fiend spoke as tears flowed down his face, “Master, though my parents are lost and gone, and though the wealth of our family is reduced to nothing, I still have some land and relatives.” “What sort of relatives do you have?” asked Pilgrim. The fiend said, “The household of my maternal family lives south of this mountain, while my aunties reside north of the peak. Li Four at the head of the brook is the husband of my mother’s sister, and Red Three in the forest is a distant uncle. I have, moreover, several cousins living here and there in the village. If Venerable Master is willing to save me and take me to see these relatives at the village, I shall certainly give them a thorough account of your kindness, and you will be handsomely rewarded when we sell some of our land.”
When Eight Rules heard what he said, he pushed Pilgrim aside, saying, “Elder Brother, this is only a child! Why keep on interrogating him? What he told us was that the thieves had robbed them of their liquid assets. They couldn’t take their houses and land, could they? If he will speak to his relatives, we may have huge appetites, but we can’t eat up the price of ten acres of land. Let’s cut him down.” Idiot, of course, thought only of food; he had no further regard for good or ill, and using the ritual razor, he ripped open the ropes to free the fiend. Facing the Tang Monk tearfully, the fiend knelt beneath the horse and kept on kowtowing. A compassionate man, the elder called out, “Child, get up on the horse. I’ll take you there.” “O Master,” said the fiend, “my hands and feet are numb from the hanging, and my torso hurts. Moreover, I’m a rural person and not used to riding horses.” The Tang Monk at once asked Eight Rules to carry him, but the fiend, after glancing at Idiot, said, “Master, my skin is frostbitten, and I dare not let myself be carried by this master. He has such a long mouth and large ears, and the hard bristles behind his head can be frightfully prickly!” “Let Sha Monk carry you then,” said the Tang Monk. After glancing at him also, the fiend said, “Master, when those robbers came to plunder our house, each one of them had his face painted; they wore false beards and they held knives and staffs. I was terribly frightened by them, and now when I see this master with such a gloomy complexion, I’m even more intimidated. I just don’t dare to ask him to carry me.” The Tang Monk therefore told Pilgrim Sun to put the fiend on his back. Laughing uproariously, Pilgrim said, “I’ll carry him! I’ll carry him!”
Secretly pleased, the fiendish creature gave himself willingly to Pilgrim to carry. When Pilgrim pulled him up from the side of the road to test his weight, he found that the fiend weighed no more than three catties and ten ounces. “You audacious fiend!” said Pilgrim, laughing. “You deserve to die today! How dare you pull tricks before old Monkey? I recognize you to be ‘that something.’” “I’m the offspring of a good family,” said the fiend, “and it is my misfortune to face this great ordeal. What do you mean by ‘that something’?” “If you are an offspring of a good family,” said Pilgrim, “why are your bones so light?” “They are small,” said the fiend. “How old are you now?” said Pilgrim, and the fiend said, “I’m seven years old.” “Even if you put on only one catty of weight per year,” said Pilgrim, “you should now weigh seven catties. How is it that you are not even a full four catties?” “I didn’t get enough milk when I was a baby,” said the fiend. Pilgrim said, “All right, I’ll carry you, but if you want to piss, you must tell me.” Tripitaka then walked in front with Eight Rules and Sha Monk, while Pilgrim followed behind with the child on his back. As they proceeded toward the West, we have a poem as a testimony, and the poem says:
Though virtue’s lofty, demonic blocks are high.
Chan promotes stillness, but stillness breeds fiends.
Lord of the Mind’s upright, he takes the middle way;
Wood Mother’s3 naughty, he walks a wayward path.
Horse of the Will’s silent, nursing want and greed;
Yellow Dame’s wordless, feeling his unease.
Guest-Error succeeds but his joys are vain—
They will, at last, be melted by the Right.
As the Great Sage Sun carried the demon on his back, he began to brood over his resentment toward the Tang Monk, thinking to himself, “Master truly does not know how difficult it is to traverse this rugged mountain; it’s hard enough to do so when you are empty-handed, but he has to ask old Monkey to carry someone else, not to mention a fellow who’s a monster no less. Even if he were a good man, it would be worthless to carry him along, since he had already lost both parents. To whom would we carry him? I might as well smash him dead!” At once the fiendish creature became aware of what Pilgrim was thinking and he, therefore, resorted to magic: taking four deep breaths from the four quarters, he blew them onto the back of Pilgrim, and his bearer immediately felt as if a weight of a thousand pounds were on him. “My child,” said Pilgrim, chuckling, “you are using the heavy-body magic to crush your venerable father?” When the fiend heard those words, he became afraid that the Great Sage might harm him. He liberated himself from his corpse and his primal soul rose into the air and stood there, while the weight on Pilgrim’s back grew heavier. Growing angry, the Monkey King grabbed the body on his back and hurled it against some rocks at the side of the road; the body was reduced to a meat patty. Fearing that it would still be resistant, Pilgrim tore off the four limbs and smashed them to pieces, also by the road.
When the fiend saw clearly what happened in midair, he could not restrain the fire leaping up in his heart, saying to himself, “This monkey monk! How villainous of him! Even if I am a demon plotting to harm your master, I have yet to raise my hand. How could you seek to inflict on me such injury? It’s a good thing that I have enough foresight to leave with my spirit; otherwise, I would have unwittingly lost my life. I might as well make use of this opportunity to seize the Tang Monk, for if I delay any further, he might get even smarter.” Dear monster! He at once caused to rise in midair a truly fierce whirlwind, which threw up rocks and kicked up dirt. Marvelous wind!
Angrily it whipped up clouds and waters rank,
As rising black ether blotted out the sun.
All summit trees were pulled out by their roots;
Wild plums were wholly leveled with their branches.
Yellow sand dimmed the eyes, so men could not walk.
Strange rocks battered the road, how could it be smooth?
It churned and tossed to darken all the plains
While birds and beasts howled throughout this whole mount.
The wind blew until Tripitaka could hardly stay on the horse, until Eight Rules refused to look up and Sha Monk lowered his head and covered his face. Only the Great Sage Sun knew that it was a wind sent up by the fiend, but when he ran forward to try to catch up with the others, the fiend riding on the head of the wind had already caught hold of the Tang Monk and whisked him away. Instantly they vanished without a trace, so that there was no way for the disciples to know even where to look for them.
In a little while, the wind began to subside and sunlight appeared once more. Pilgrim walked forward and saw that the white dragon horse was still trembling and neighing uncontrollably. The load of luggage was thrown by the road, Eight Rules lay sprawled beneath a ledge moaning, and Sha Monk was making noises while crouching on the slope. “Eight Rules!” shouted Pilgrim. When Idiot heard the voice of Pilgrim and looked up, the violent wind had calmed. He scrambled up and tugged at Pilgrim, saying, “O Elder Brother, what a terrific wind!” Sha Monk also came up and said, “Elder Brother, this is a whirlwind.” Then he asked, “Where’s Master?” Eight Rules said, “The wind was so strong that we all hid our heads and covered our eyes, each trying to find shelter. Master seemed to have put his head down also on the saddle.” “But where is he now?” asked Pilgrim. “He must have been made of straw,” said Sha Monk, “and got blown away!”
Pilgrim said, “Brothers, it’s time for us to disband.” “Exactly,” said Eight Rules, “while there’s still time. It’s better for each of us to find our own way off. The journey to the Western Heaven is endless and limitless! When will we ever get there?” When Sha Monk heard these words, he was so shocked that his whole body began to turn numb. “Elder Brother,” he said, “how could you say something like that? Because we committed crimes in our previous lives, we were lucky to be enlightened by the Bodhisattva Guanshiyin, who touched our heads, gave us the commandments, and changed our names so that we could embrace the Buddhist fruit. We willingly accepted the commission to protect the Tang Monk and follow him to the Western Heaven to worship Buddha and acquire scriptures, so that our merits would cancel out our sins. Today we are here and everything seems to come to an end abruptly when you can talk about each of us finding our own way off, for then we would mar the good fruits of the Bodhisattva and destroy our virtuous act. Moreover, we would provoke the scorn of others, saying that we know how to start but not how to finish.”
“Brother,” said Pilgrim, “what you say is right, of course, but what are we to do with Master, who refuses to listen to people? I, old Monkey, can with this pair of fiery eyes and diamond pupils discern good and evil. Just now this wind was called up by that child hanging on the tree, for I could tell that he was a monsterspirit. But you didn’t know, nor did Master; all of you thought that he was an offspring of some good family and told me to carry him along instead. Old Monkey was planning to take care of him when he tried to crush me with the heavy-body magic. Then I smashed his body to pieces, but he resorted to the magic of the liberation of the corpse and kidnapped Master with the whirlwind. Because Master so frequently refused to listen to my words, I became terribly discouraged and that was why I said we should disband. Now that you, Worthy Brother, have shown such faithfulness, old Monkey finds it difficult to make up his mind. Well, Eight Rules, what exactly do you want to do?” Eight Rules said, “I was stupid enough just now to mouth some foolish words, but we truly should not disband. We have no choice really, Elder Brother, but to listen to Younger Brother Sha and try to find the monster and save Master.” Brightening up all at once, Pilgrim said, “Brothers, we shall unite our minds to do what we must; after we have picked up the luggage and the horse, we shall ascend this mountain to find the monster and save Master.”
Pulling at creepers and vines, descending into ravines and crossing streams, the three of them journeyed for some seventy miles without turning up anything. That mountain did not have a single bird or beast, though old cedars and pines were often sighted. Growing more and more anxious, the Great Sage Sun leaped up to the summit with a bound and shouted, “Change!” He changed into someone with three heads and six arms, just as he did when he caused great disturbance in Heaven. Waving the golden-hooped rod once, he changed it into three rods, which he wielded and began to strike out madly in both directions of east and west. When Eight Rules saw him, he said, “Sha Monk, this is bad! Elder Brother is so mad because he can’t find Master that he’s having a fit.”
After awhile, the mock combat of Pilgrim brought out a band of indigent deities, all dressed in rags; their breeches had no seats and their trousers had no cuffs. Kneeling before the mountain, they cried, “Great Sage, the mountain gods and the local spirits are here to see you.” Pilgrim said, “How is it that there are so many mountain gods and local spirits?” Kowtowing, the various deities said, “Let us report to the Great Sage, this mountain has the name of Roaring Mountain of the Six-Hundred-Mile Awl-Head Peak.4 There are one mountain god and one local spirit for each ten-mile distance; altogether we have, therefore, thirty mountain gods and thirty local spirits. We heard yesterday already that the Great Sage had arrived, but since we could not assemble all at once, we were tardy in our reception and caused the Great Sage to be angry. Please pardon us.”
“I’ll pardon you for the moment,” said Pilgrim, “but let me ask how many monster-spirits there are in this mountain?”
“O Father!” said the deities, “there’s only one monster-spirit, and he has just about worn our heads bald! He has been such a plague that we have little incense and no paper money, and we are completely without offerings. Every one of us has hardly enough clothes to wear and food for our mouths. How many more monster-spirits could we stand?” Pilgrim said, “Where is this monster-spirit living, before or behind the mountain?” “Neither place,” said the deities, “for in this mountain is a stream, which has the name of Dried Pine Stream. By the stream is a cave, which has the name of Fiery Cloud Cave. In the cave there is a demon king of vast magic powers, who frequently abducts us local spirits and mountain gods there to do such menial tasks for him as tending fire, guarding the door, beating the rattle, and shouting passwords at night. The little fiends under him also ask us frequently for payola.”
“You are the immortals of the Region of Darkness,” said Pilgrim. “Where would you have money?” “Exactly,” said the deities. “We don’t have any money to give them, and all we can do is to catch a few mountain antelopes or wild deer to pay off this gang of spirits now and then. If we don’t have any presents for them, they will come to wreck our temples and strip our garments, giving us such harrassment that we can’t possibly lead a peaceful existence. We beseech the Great Sage to stamp out this monster for us and rescue the various living creatures on this mountain.” “If all of you are under his thumb so that you have to be in his cave frequently,” said Pilgrim, “you must know the name of this monster-spirit and where he is from.” “When we speak of him,” said the deities, “perhaps even the Great Sage knows of his origin. He is the son of the Bull Demon King, reared by Rākṣasī. After he had practiced self-cultivation at the Blazing Flame Mountain for three hundred years, he perfected the true fire of Samādhi and his magic powers were great indeed. The Bull Demon King told him to come and guard this Roaring Mountain; his childhood name is Red Boy, but his fancy title is Great King Holy Child.”
Highly pleased by what he heard, Pilgrim dismissed the local spirits and mountain gods and changed back into his original form. Leaping down from the summit, he said to Eight Rules and Sha Monk, “Brothers, you may relax. No need to worry anymore. Master won’t be harmed, for the monster-spirit is related to old Monkey.” “Elder Brother,” said Eight Rules with a laugh, “don’t lie! You grew up in the East Pūrvavideha Continent, but this place here belongs to the West Aparagodānīya Continent. The distance is great, separated by ten thousand waters and a thousand hills, and by at least two oceans. How could he be related to you?” Pilgrim said, “Just now this bunch of deities that appeared to me happen to be the local spirits and mountain gods of this region. When I questioned them on the origin of the monster, they told me that he was the son of the Bull Demon King reared by Rākṣasī. His name is Red Boy, and he also has the fancy title of Great King Holy Child. I remember that when old Monkey caused great disturbance in Heaven five hundred years ago, I made a grand tour at the time of the famous mountains in the world to search for the heroes of this great Earth. The Bull Demon King at one time joined old Monkey and others to form a fraternal alliance of seven; of the some five or six demon kings in this alliance, only old Monkey was quite small in size. That was the reason why we addressed the Bull Demon King as big brother. Since this monster-spirit is the son of the Bull Demon King, who is an acquaintance of mine, I should be regarded as his old uncle if we begin to talk about relations. How would he dare harm my master? Let’s get to his place quickly.”
With laughter, Sha Monk said, “O Elder Brother! As the proverb says,
Three years not showing at the door,
A relative is one no more.
You were parted from him for five, perhaps six hundred years; you haven’t even drunk a cup of wine with him, nor have you exchanged invitations or seasonal gifts. How could he possibly think of himself as your relative?” “How could you measure people this way?” said Pilgrim. “As the proverb says,
If lotus leaf can to the ocean flow,
Where would people not meet as they come and go?
Even if he doesn’t admit the fact that we are relatives, it will still be unlikely that he would harm my Master. If we don’t expect him to give us a banquet, we most certainly may expect him to return to us the Tang Monk whole.” So, the three brothers in all earnestness led the horse, which carried the luggage on its back, and found the main road to proceed.
Without stopping night or day, they came upon a pine forest after having traveled for over a hundred miles. Inside the forest was a winding brook in which clear green water swiftly flowed. At the head of the brook there was a stone-slab bridge, which led directly up to the entrance of a cave dwelling. “Brothers,” said Pilgrim, “look at that craggy cliff over there with all those rocks. It must be the home of the monster-spirit. Let me discuss the matter with you: which of you is going to stand and guard the luggage and the horse, and which of you will follow me to subdue the fiend?” Eight Rules said, “Elder Brother, old Hog can’t sit still for too long. Let me go with you.” “Fine! Fine!” said Pilgrim. “Sha Monk, hide the luggage and the horse deep in the forest, and guard them carefully. The two of us will go up there to search for Master.” Sha Monk agreed; Eight Rules then followed Pilgrim to move forward, each of them holding his weapon. Truly
The child’s not smelted and demonic fire triumphs,
But Wood Mother and Mind Monkey have mutual support.
We don’t know what will be the outcome when they walk up to the cave; let’s listen to the explanation in the next chapter.