We were telling you about those six mighty commanders, who walked out of the cave entrance and followed the road directly toward the southwest. Pilgrim thought to himself, “They wanted to extend an invitation for the Venerable Old King to eat my master, and that Venerable Old King has to be the Bull Demon King. Since old Monkey met him that year, our friendship was a deep one, as ours were the most congenial spirits and sentiments. Now I have returned to the path of rectitude; though he’s still a perverse demon, I can remember his looks despite our lengthy separation. Let old Monkey transform himself into the Bull Monster King and see if they could be deceived.” Dear Pilgrim! He slipped away from those six little fiends; spreading his wings, he flew to a distance of some ten miles ahead. With one shake of his body he changed into the form of Bull Monster King and, pulling off several strands of hair, he cried, “Change!” They changed into several little fiends who were mounting falcons, leading hounds, and brandishing bows and arrows as if they were hunting in the fold of the mountain. There they waited for the six mighty commanders.
As that motley crew shuffled along, they suddenly saw the Bull Monster King seated before them. So startled were Burly-Hurly and Hurly-Burly that they fell to their knees at once, crying, “Venerable Great King is here!” Since Cloud-inFog, Fog-in-Cloud, Quick-as-Fire, and Swift-as-Wind were all of fleshly eyes and mortal stock, how could they possibly distinguish between the true and the false? They all knelt down also and kowtowed, saying, “Father, these little ones have been sent by the Great King Holy Child from the Fiery Cloud Cave. We are here to invite Father Venerable Great King to dine on the flesh of the Tang Monk, so that your age will be lengthened a thousandfold.” “Children,” rejoined Pilgrim, “get up. Follow me home; I’ll go with you after I’ve changed my clothes.” Kowtowing again, the little fiends said, “We beg our Father not to stand on ceremony. There’s no need to return to your residence. The distance is great, and we fear that our Great King will chide us for our delay. We beseech you to begin your journey at once.” Laughing, Pilgrim said, “What nice children you are! All right, all right! Clear the way and I’ll go with you.” The six fiends roused their spirits and shouted to clear the way, while the Great Sage followed them.
In no time at all they returned to their own place. Swift-as-Wind and Quickas-Fire dashed into the cave, crying, “Great King, Father Venerable Great King has arrived.” Delighted, the monster king said, “All of you are quite useful! You’ve returned so quickly!” He at once gave the order for all his captains to arrange their troops and to unfurl the flags and drums to receive the Venerable Great King. The fiends of the entire cave all obeyed this command and they formed an orderly formation all the way out to the entrance. Shaking his body once to retrieve his hairs, who were leading dogs and falcons, Pilgrim with chest thrust forward walked loftily inside in big strides. After he took a seat in the middle facing south, Red Boy faced him and knelt down to kowtow to him. “Father King,” he said, “your child gives you obeisance.” Pilgrim said, “My child is exempted from such ceremonies.” Only after he had prostrated himself four times did the monster king rise from the ground and stand below the seat of Pilgrim.
“My child,” said Pilgrim, “why did you ask me to come here?” Bowing again, the monster king said, “Though your child is not talented, he has managed to capture a certain person yesterday, a monk from the Great Tang in the Land of the East. I have often heard people say that he is someone who has practiced self-cultivation for ten incarnations. If anyone eats a piece of his flesh, this person will enjoy the same age as an immortal from P’êng-lai or Ying-chou. Your foolish boy does not dare eat the Tang Monk by himself. That is why I have invited Father King especially to enjoy with me the flesh of the Tang Monk, so that your age may be lengthened a thousandfold.” When Pilgrim heard these words, he shuddered and said, “My child, which Tang Monk is this?” “The one journeying to the Western Heaven to acquire scriptures,” said the monster king. “My child,” said Pilgrim, “is he the master of Pilgrim Sun?” “Indeed,” said the monster king. Waving his hand and shaking his head, Pilgrim said, “Don’t provoke him! You can provoke others, but you don’t know what sort of person that Pilgrim Sun happens to be! My worthy boy, you haven’t met him, I suppose? That monkey has vast magic powers and knows many ways of transformation. Once when he caused great disturbance in the Heavenly Palace, the Great Jade Emperor sent against him one hundred thousand celestial soldiers, but they did not succeed in capturing him even after they had set up the cosmic nets. How dare you want to eat his master? Quickly, send him back to his disciple, and don’t provoke that monkey. If he finds out that you have eaten his master, he need not come to fight with you; all he has to do is use that goldenhooped rod of his to drill a hole halfway into the mountain and he will shovel it right out of its roots! My child, where will you find shelter then? Who will take care of me when I grow old?”
“Father King,” said the monster king, “what are you saying? You are magnifying the powers of others to belittle the abilities of your son. Though that Pilgrim Sun and his two brothers—altogether three of them—attempted to lead the Tang Monk to cross our mountain, they permitted me to use a transformation to abduct their master back here. Afterwards, he and Zhu Eight Rules searched their way to our door, and he then made some such foolish claim that he was a kin of ours. I grew angry and fought with him, though the several rounds we went through did not indicate that he was such a hot shot! Zhu Eight Rules stepped in from the side to join the fray, and that was when your child spat out his true fire of samādhi and defeated them all at once. They were so frightened, in fact, that they went to ask the Dragon Kings of the Four Oceans to assist them with rain, but the rainwater, of course, could not extinguish my true fire of samādhi. Pilgrim Sun was so severely burned this time that he went into a little coma! Then he told Zhu Eight Rules to seek help from the Bodhisattva Guanyin of the South Sea. I changed into a specious Guanyin and tricked Eight Rules back here; he’s now hung in our compliant bag waiting to be steamed and fed to the little ones. This morning, that Pilgrim returned to our door to make noises once more; when I gave the order to seize him, he was so frightened that he even abandoned a wrap of his and fled. It was then that I decided to invite Father King to come here so that you can see him live before he is steamed for food. My hope is for your age to lengthen, so that you will enjoy long life without ever growing old.”
Chuckling, Pilgrim said, “My worthy boy! You know only that you can overpower him with your true fire of samādhi. You don’t know that he knows seventy-two ways of transformation.” “He can change into whatever he wants to,” said the monster king, “but I can still recognize him. I don’t think he dares enter our door.” “My child,” said Pilgrim, “you may recognize him when he changes into something big, and that will be difficult indeed for him to get inside your door. But if he changes into something small, it will be difficult for you to recognize him.” “Let him!” said the monster king. “Every door of mine here has four or five little fiends standing guard over it. How could he possibly enter?” Pilgrim said, “So you don’t know about this! He is able to change into a fly, a mosquito, a flea, or a bee, a butterfly, a mole cricket, or some such creature. He can even change into a form like me! How could you possibly recognize him?” “Don’t worry!” said the monster king. “Even if he had a gall of iron and a heart of bronze, he wouldn’t dare approach my door.”
“According to what you have told me, my worthy boy,” said Pilgrim, “you certainly are more than able to withstand him, and this explains why you are eager to invite me to come and dine on the Tang Monk’s flesh. Unfortunately, however, I can’t eat it today.” “Why not?” asked the monster king. Pilgrim said, “I’m feeling my age these days, and your mother often tells me to do some good deeds. There’s not much I can do, I thought, but I have decided to keep a vegetarian diet.” The monster king said, “Is Father King keeping a permanent one or a monthly diet?” “Neither,” said Pilgrim, “but mine is called a ‘Thunder Vegetarian Diet,’ and I keep it for only four days in a month.” “Which four?” asked the monster king. Pilgrim said, “During those three days when the celestial
stem xin appears in the sexagesimal representations1 and during the sixth day of
the month. Today happens to be the day of xinyou: I should maintain a
vegetarian diet in the first place, and in the second place, a you day means that I
myself should not meet any guests. Therefore, let’s wait until tomorrow; I’ll personally see to it that the Tang Monk is scrubbed clean to be steamed and enjoyed along with all of you.”
When the monster king heard these words, he thought to himself, “My Father King has always fed on humans; that’s been his livelihood, in fact, for over a thousand years. How is it that he has taken up a vegetarian diet now? He has, after all, committed many evil acts. How could three or four days of vegetarian diet atone for them? His words make no sense! Something’s fishy!” He turned at once and walked out the second door, calling together the six mighty commanders to ask them, “Where did you find the Venerable Great King?” The little fiends said, “On our way.” “I remarked that you all returned so quickly,” said the monster king. “Didn’t you reach his house?” “No,” said the little fiends, “we did not.” “That’s bad!” said the monster king. “We have been deceived by him! This is no Venerable Great King.” All those little fiends knelt down immediately, saying, “Great King, can’t you even recognize your own father?” “The features and the gestures seem genuine,” said the monster king, “but he doesn’t talk like him. I fear that we may be deceived by him and become his victim. Take care, all of you: those who use swords unsheath your swords; those who use spears keep your spears sharp; those who use staffs and ropes have them ready. Let me question him some more and see how he talks. If indeed he is the Venerable Great King, we can wait even a month until he is pleased to eat the Tang Monk. But if his words are not right, I’ll give a yell and all of you will attack together.” The various demons obeyed.
This monster king went inside again and bowed once more to Pilgrim. “My child,” said Pilgrim, “there’s no need to stand on ceremony in the family. No need to bow to me. If you have something to say, say it.” Prostrating himself on the ground, the monster king said, “Your foolish boy invited you to come here for two reasons: first, I wanted to present to you the flesh of the Tang Monk, and second, I have a small question to ask you. Some days ago, I was taking a leisure trip; as I mounted the auspicious luminosity to rise to the Ninefold Heaven, I ran suddenly into Master Zhang Daoling, the Daoist Patriarch.”2 “Is he the Celestial Master?” asked Pilgrim. “Yes,” said the monster king. Pilgrim said, “What did he have to say?” “When he saw how well formed my features were,” said the monster king, “and how level were my shoulders, he inquired after the hour, date, month, and year of my birth. Your child, however, was too young to remember the exact time. An expert in astrological divination, the Master wanted to tell my fortune through calculations based on the five planets. That is the reason why I have asked Father King to come here. Please tell me the times of my birth, so that I can ask him to tell my fortune the next time I see him.”
When Pilgrim heard these words, he sat smiling to himself, thinking, “Dear monster! Since old Monkey has returned to the Buddhist fruit, I have caught, as a guardian of Master Tang, several monster-spirits on our way, but none of them matches this one for jugglery! If he asks me about some trivial matters in the household, I can fabricate an answer with whatever comes into my mind. But now he wants to have the date, month, and year of his birth! How could I know?” Dear Monkey King! He was most resourceful indeed! Sitting augustly in the middle, he did not betray the slightest fear; instead, his face beaming with pleasure, he said, smiling, “My worthy boy, please rise. Because of my age, I have been troubled by all sorts of things of late, and I have quite forgotten the exact time of your birth. Let me ask your mother when I return home tomorrow.”
The monster king said to himself, “Father King has never stopped talking about the eight nativity characters3 of my birth, saying that I have an age as lengthy as Heaven’s. How could he forget them today? Nonsense! He has to be false!” He gave a yell, and the various fiends rushed forward to hack at Pilgrim’s head and face with their spears and swords. Using the golden-hooped rod to parry the blows, this Great Sage changed back into his original form and said to the monster-spirit, “My worthy child! How unreasonable you are! How could a son attack his own father?” Filled with embarrassment, the monster king did not even dare look at him, as Pilgrim transformed himself into a beam of golden light and left the cave dwelling. “Great King,” said the little fiends, “Pilgrim Sun has escaped.” The monster king said, “All right, all right! Let him go! I’ll admit defeat this time! Let’s shut the door and say nothing to him. We will wash and scrub the Tang Monk so that he can be steamed and eaten.”
We now tell you about that Pilgrim who held on to his iron rod and walked toward the stream, roaring with laughter. When Sha Monk heard him, he quickly left the woods to meet him, saying, “Elder Brother, you have been gone for nearly half a day, and you have returned laughing. Could it be that you have succeeded in rescuing Master?” “Brother,” said Pilgrim, “though I have not rescued Master, I have won a round.” “What do you mean?” asked Sha Monk. Pilgrim said, “Zhu Eight Rules, you see, was tricked by that fiend, who changed himself into the form of Guanyin. He is caught and hung now in a leather bag. I was trying to devise a plan to rescue him when I heard that these so-called six mighty commanders were sent to invite a Venerable Great King to dine on Master’s flesh. Old Monkey thought that that Great King had to be the Bull Monster King; so I changed into his form, bluffed my way in, and took the seat in the middle. The fiend called me Father King, and I answered him; he kowtowed to me, and I accepted it. It was a pleasure indeed! That was the round I won.”
“Elder Brother,” said Sha Monk, “the way you covet small advantages will make it difficult, I fear, for Master’s life to be preserved.” “Don’t worry,” said Pilgrim. “Let me go and ask the Bodhisattva to come here.” “But your torso is still sore,” said Sha Monk. “Not anymore!” said Pilgrim. “The ancients said, ‘A happy affair cheers one’s spirit.’ You look after the luggage and the horse; let me go.” “You’ve given that monster a grudge against you,” said Sha Monk, “and I fear that he might harm our master. Go and come back quickly.” Pilgrim said, “I’ll come back quickly all right! In the time of a meal, I’ll be back.”
Dear Great Sage! As he was speaking, he slipped away from Sha Monk; using his cloud somersault, he headed straight for the South Sea. It took him much less than half an hour in the air when he saw the scenery of the Potalaka Mountain. In a moment, he lowered his cloud and dropped down on the mountain cliff, where he was met by a group of twenty-four devas who asked, “Where are you going, Great Sage?” After Pilgrim bowed to them, he said, “I want to see the Bodhisattva.” “Wait a moment,” said the devas, “and let us announce you.” Then the deva Hāritī4 went before the Cave of Tidal Sound to announce, “Let the Bodhisattva know that Sun Wukong is here to have an audience with you.” When the Bodhisattva heard the announcement, she ordered him to enter. Straightening out his attire, the Great Sage walked inside solemnly and prostrated himself before the Bodhisattva.
“Wukong, why aren’t you leading Master Gold Cicada to the West to seek scriptures?” asked the Bodhisattva. “Why are you here?”
Pilgrim said, “Permit me to make this known to the Bodhisattva. Your disciple was accompanying the Tang Monk on his journey, when we reached the Fiery Cloud Cave by the Dried Pine Stream at the Roaring Mountain. There is a monster-spirit called Red Boy, whose name is also the Great King Holy Child, and who has abducted my master. Your disciple and Zhu Wuneng found our way to his door and fought with him. He let loose his samādhi fire and we could not prevail against him nor could we rescue Master. I went swiftly to the Great Eastern Ocean and managed to return with the Dragon Kings of the Four Oceans. They gave us rainwater, but we still could not win. In fact, your disciple was burned so badly that he almost lost his life.” The Bodhisattva said, “If his is the samādhi fire and if he has such magic powers, why did you go seek the aid of the Dragon Kings? Why did you not come see me?” “I was about to come,” said Pilgrim, “but your disciple was badly hurt by the smoke, unable to mount the clouds. I therefore told Zhu Eight Rules to come and seek the assistance of the Bodhisattva.”
“But Wuneng never appeared,” said the Bodhisattva. “Indeed he did not reach your treasure mountain,” said Pilgrim, “for he was deceived by that monsterspirit, who changed into your image and has taken Wuneng into his cave. Right now, Wuneng is hanging in a leather bag, about to be steamed and eaten.”
Hearing this, the Bodhisattva grew terribly angry, crying, “How dare that brazen fiend change into my image!” As she cried, she flung into the ocean the immaculate porcelain vase set with precious pearls which she held in her hand. Pilgrim was so startled that his hairs stood on end, and he stood up at once to stand in waiting down below, saying to himself, “This Bodhisattva still has quite a fiery temper! Well, old Monkey should have known better than to speak like that and provoke her into ruining her virtue by smashing the immaculate vase. What a pity! What a pity! If I had known it earlier I would have asked her to give it instead to old Monkey. That would be some gift, wouldn’t it?”
Hardly had he finished speaking when the vase appeared again at the crest of some gigantic waves swelling up in the middle of the ocean. The vase, you see, was borne on the back of a strange creature, which Pilgrim stared at intently. How does this creature look?
The “Helper of Mud” is his primal name,
He adds luster to water to show his might.
Reclusive, he knows the laws of Heav’n and Earth;
Retired, he sees yet the mysteries of ghosts and gods.
Safely he hides once his head and tail withdraw,
But legs outstretched will make him fly and soar.
As King Wen drew trigrams and Zeng Yuan divined,
He frequented, too, the courtyards of Fu Xi.5
His nature displays a thousand charms
When he sports and plays in the rising tide.
His armor’s knit by strands of golden cord;
Spot by spot, that’s how his shell has been adorned.
His robe shows Eight Trigrams and Nine Palaces,
And richly ornate is his gown of green.
Brave when he’s living—so he’s loved by Dragon Kings;
The Buddha’s tablet he bears e’en after death.
If you want to know this strange creature’s name,
He’s the fierce black tortoise making winds and waves.
Carrying the vase on his back, the tortoise climbed ashore and nodded his head at the Bodhisattva twenty-four times to indicate that he had given her twentyfour bows.
When Pilgrim saw him, he smiled and thought to himself, “So the guardian of the vase is here. If the vase ever gets lost, I suppose we can ask him for it.” The Bodhisattva said, “Wukong, what are you saying down there?” “Nothing,” said Pilgrim. “Then bring the vase up here,” commanded the Bodhisattva. Pilgrim went forward at once to pick up the vase. Alas! He could not do so at all! It was as if a dragonfly attempted to rock a stone pillar—how could he even budge it? Pilgrim approached the Bodhisattva and knelt down, saying, “Your disciple cannot pick it up.”
“Monkey head,” said the Bodhisattva, “all you know is how to brag! If you can’t even pick up a small vase, how can you subdue fiends and capture monsters?” “To tell you the truth, Bodhisattva,” said Pilgrim, “I might be able to do it ordinarily, but today I just can’t pick it up. I must have been hurt by the monster-spirit, and my strength has weakened.” The Bodhisattva said, “Normally it’s an empty vase, but once it has been thrown into the ocean, it has traveled through the three rivers, the five lakes, the eight seas, and the four big rivers. It has, in fact, gathered together from all the aquatic bodies in the world an oceanful of water, which is now stored inside it. You may be strong, but you don’t possess the strength of upholding the ocean. That’s why you cannot pick up the vase.” Pressing his hands together before him, Pilgrim said, “Yes, your disciple is ignorant of this.”
Walking forward, the Bodhisattva used her right hand and picked up the immaculate vase with no effort at all and placed it on the middle of her left palm. The tortoise nodded his head again before he crawled back into the water. “So this is a coolie who serves the household and looks after the vase!” said Pilgrim. After the Bodhisattva took her seat again, she said, “Wukong, the sweet dew in my vase is not like that unauthorized rain of the Dragon Kings; it can extinguish the samādhi fire of the monster-spirit. I want you to take it with you, but you are unable to pick up the vase. I want the Dragon Girl Skilled in Wealth to go with you, but I fear that you are not a person of kindly disposition. All you know is how to hoodwink people. When you see how beautiful my Dragon Girl is, and what a treasure is my immaculate vase, you will try to steal it. If you succeed, where would I find time to go look for you? You’d better leave something behind as a pledge.”
“How pitiful!” said Pilgrim. “Bodhisattva, you are so suspicious! Since your disciple embraced complete poverty, he has never indulged in such activities. You tell me to leave a pledge, what shall I use? This silk shirt on my body is a gift from you. And this tiger-skin skirt, how much can it be worth? The iron rod —well, I need it for protection night and day. Only this little fillet on my head is made of gold, but you used some tricks to make it grow on my head so that it could not be taken down. If you want a pledge, I’m willing now to give that to you as a pledge. You can recite a Loose-Fillet Spell and remove it from me. Otherwise, what shall I use as a pledge?” “You are rather smug, aren’t you?” said the Bodhisattva. “I don’t want your clothes, your iron rod, or your gold fillet. Pull off one strand of that lifesaving hair behind your head and give it to me.” Pilgrim said, “These hairs were also your gift; I fear that if I pull one off, they will be broken up in such a way that they will no longer be able to save my life.” “You ape!” scolded the Bodhisattva. “You are so stingy that you won’t even uproot one hair!6 That makes it difficult for me also to dispense my Goodly Wealth!” Laughing, Pilgrim said, “Bodhisattva, you are truly suspicious! But as the saying goes, ‘If you don’t have regard for the monk, at least have regard for the Buddha.’ I beg you to save my master from his ordeal.” Then the Bodhisattva
Freely and gladly left the lotus seat
And walked up the rocky cliff with scented steps.
Since the holy monk was threatened with harm,
She would subdue the fiend and give him help.
Highly pleased, the Great Sage Sun followed Guanyin out of the Tidal Sound Cave, as the various devas stood at attention on the Potalaka Peak. “Wukong,” said the Bodhisattva, “let’s cross the ocean.” Pilgrim bowed and said, “Let the Bodhisattva go first.” “You go first,” said the Bodhisattva. Kowtowing, Pilgrim said, “Your disciple dares not display his power before the Bodhisattva. If I use the cloud somersault, my clothes may flip up and reveal my body, and I fear that the Bodhisattva will take offense at my irreverence.”
When the Bodhisattva heard these words, she told the Dragon Girl Skilled in Wealth to pick from the lotus pond one petal of lotus flower and drop it into the ocean below the mountain ridge. Then she said to Pilgrim, “Get up on that lotus flower petal and I’ll send you across the ocean.” Seeing the flower, Pilgrim said, “Bodhisattva, this petal of flower is so light and thin. How could it bear me up? I’ll tumble into the water for sure, and won’t my tiger-skin kilt be soaked? If it loses its tan, how can I wear it when the weather turns cold?” “Get up there and see what happens!” shouted the Bodhisattva. Not daring to disobey, Pilgrim risked his life and jumped onto the flower. At first, it did seem rather light and small, but when he alighted on it, he found that the flower was actually somewhat larger than a small boat. Delighted, Pilgrim said, “Bodhisattva, it should hold me.” “In that case,” said the Bodhisattva, “why can’t you cross the ocean?” Pilgrim said, “There is neither pole nor oar, neither sail nor mast. How could I cross the ocean?” “No need for that,” said the Bodhisattva, who blew a mouthful of air lightly onto the lotus flower and immediately it drifted away from the shore. Another breath of the Bodhisattva sent Pilgrim across the bitter sea of the Southern Ocean7 until he reached the other shore. When his feet touched solid ground again, Pilgrim laughed and said, “This Bodhisattva truly knows how to display her powers! She’s able to summon old Monkey hither and thither with no effort at all!”
The Bodhisattva then gave instructions for all the devas each to stand guard in his station, and for the Dragon Girl Skilled in Wealth to shut the gate of the cave. Mounting the auspicious cloud, she departed from the Potalaka Peak. When she reached the backside of the mountain, she called out, “Hui’an, where are you?” Hui’an, you see, whose common name was Mokṣa, happened to be the second prince of the Pagoda Bearer Devarāja Li, and he, as the pupil taught personally by the Bodhisattva, never strayed from her side. His name was Disciple Hui’an, the Dharma Guardian. Pressing his hands together before him, Hui’an bowed to the Bodhisattva, who said to him, “Go quickly to the Region Above and borrow the Swords of Constellations from your Father King.” “How many swords do you want, Teacher?” asked Hui’an. “The entire set,” said the Bodhisattva.
Obeying her command, Hui’an mounted the clouds and went through the South Heaven Gate to reach the Palace of Cloudy Towers. He kowtowed to his Father King, who asked him, “Why has my son come here?” Mokṣa replied, “Sun Wukong came to ask my teacher to subdue a fiend; she in turn told your child to borrow the Swords of Constellations from Father King.” The devarāja at once asked Naṭa to take out the swords, all thirty-six of them, to hand over to Mokṣa, who said to Naṭa, “Brother, please go and bow to mother. I have urgent business; when I return the swords, I shall kowtow to her then.” They parted hurriedly; Mokṣa mounted the auspicious luminosity and returned to South Sea, where he presented the swords to the Bodhisattva.
After she received them, the Bodhisattva threw them into the air as she recited a spell: the swords were transformed into a thousand-leaf lotus platform. Leaping up, the Bodhisattva sat solemnly in the middle. On one side, Pilgrim snickered to himself, “This Bodhisattva is so prudent and penurious! In that pond of hers she has her own five-colored treasure lotus platform, but she can’t bear to use it. She has to borrow someone else’s things!” “Wukong,” said the Bodhisattva, “stop talking! Follow me!” They all mounted the clouds and left the ocean, the white cockatoo flying ahead while Great Sage Sun and Hui’an followed from behind.
In a moment, they reached the peak of a mountain. “This is the Roaring Mountain,” said Pilgrim, “and from here to the door of the monster-spirit is a distance of approximately four hundred miles.” When the Bodhisattva heard this, she lowered her auspicious cloud and recited a spell that began with the letter,
Oṁ. At once, various deities and demons appeared from the left and right of the
mountain, all local spirits and mountain deities of the region. They came to kowtow before the Bodhisattva’s treasure lotus seat. “Don’t be alarmed, all of you,” said the Bodhisattva. “I’m here to seize this demon king, but I want you all to sweep this area clean. Not a single living creature is to remain within three hundred miles around here. Take the small beasts in their lairs, the young creatures in their nests, and send them up to the peak so that their lives may be preserved.” The various deities obeyed and left; they returned momentarily to report that their work was done.
The Bodhisattva said, “If the region is cleared, all of you may return to your shrines.” She turned her immaculate vase upside down and all at once a torrent of water thundered forth. Truly it
Surged over the summit,
And dashed over stone walls.
Surging over the summit it seemed the swelling sea;
Dashing over stone walls it seemed the vast ocean.
Black mists arose, damping the entire sky;
Green waves reflecting the sun beamed chilly light.
The whole cliff gushed jadelike sprays;
The whole sea sprouted gold lotus.
The Bodhisattva let loose her awesome might,
Her sleeve revealed the Dharmakāya of Chan.8
This place was changed to Potalaka’s scene,
Truly a perfect image of South Sea.
Udumbara bloomed from lovely rushes;
Fresh palmyra leaves spread from scented grass.
On purple bamboos the cockatoo paused;
Amid some green pines red partridges called.
Waves ten thousand fold and lotus all around,
Hear the wind roar, the water surging up to Heav’n.
When the Great Sage Sun saw this, he marveled to himself, “Truly a Bodhisattva of great mercy and compassion! If old Monkey had this kind of dharma power, he would simply pour the little vase on the mountain. Who cares about fowls and beasts, crawling or winged creatures?” “Wukong,” cried the Bodhisattva, “stretch forth your hand.” Hurriedly rolling up his sleeve, Pilgrim stretched out his left hand. The Bodhisattva pulled out a twig of her willow branch after having dipped it in the sweet dew of her vase and wrote on his palm the word “Delusion.” She said to him, “Hold your fist and go quickly to provoke battle with the monster-spirit. You are permitted not to win but to lose; let him defeat you and chase you back here. I have my power to subdue him.”
Obeying the instruction, Pilgrim turned his cloudy luminosity and headed straight for the entrance of the cave. Holding his left hand in a fist and the iron rod with his right, he shouted, “Fiends, open the door!” Those little fiends again went inside to report, “Pilgrim Sun is here again.” “Shut the door tightly,” said the monster king, “and don’t mind him.” “Dear boy!” shouted Pilgrim. “You chased your old man out the door, and you still wouldn’t open up!” The little fiends reported again: “Pilgrim Sun is using that little something to insult you.” All the monster said was, “Don’t listen to him!” After he had shouted for a couple of times and found the door still tightly shut, Pilgrim became enraged. He lifted the iron rod and with one blow punched a big hole in the door. The little fiends were so terrified that they ran inside, crying, “Pilgrim Sun has smashed our door!” When the monster king heard these reports and discovered that the front door was smashed, he bounded out the door and, holding the lance, yelled at Pilgrim, “You ape! You really don’t know when to stop! I let you take some advantage of me and you are still not content. You dare come again to oppress me by smashing my door. What sort of punishment should you receive?” “My child,” said Pilgrim, “you dare chase your old man out your door. What sort of
punishment should you receive?”
Embarrassed as well as enraged, the monster king picked up his lance and stabbed at Pilgrim’s chest, who also lifted his iron rod to parry and return the blow. They fought for four or five rounds when Pilgrim, still making a fist, retreated with his rod trailing behind him. The monster king stood still before the mountain and said, “I’m going to wash and scrub the Tang Monk instead.” “My dear boy,” said Pilgrim, “Heaven is watching you! Won’t you come?” When the monster-spirit heard these words, he grew even more enraged. With a yell, he dashed before Pilgrim and attempted to stab him with the lance once more. Our Pilgrim wielded his iron rod and fought with him for several rounds before retreating again. “Monkey,” scolded the monster king, “you were able to fight before for at least twenty or thirty rounds. Why are you running away now when we are just sett ling down to do battle? Why?” “Worthy child,” said Pilgrim, chuckling, “your old man is afraid that you will start a fire!” The monster-spirit said, “I’m not going to start the fire. You come up here.” “If you are not,” said Pilgrim, “step over here. A gallant fellow should not beat up people in front of his own house.” The monster-spirit, of course, did not know that this was a trick; he lifted his lance and gave chase once more. Dragging his rod, Pilgrim opened up his left fist and the monster king was completely deluded; all he had in mind was to give chase to his adversary. The one running ahead was like a falling meteor; the one chasing from behind was like an arrow leaving the bow.
In less than a moment, they saw the Bodhisattva. Pilgrim said, “Monsterspirit, I’m scared of you. Let me go. You have chased me to the South Sea, the residence of the Bodhisattva Guanyin. Why aren’t you turning back?” The monster king refused to believe it; gritting his teeth, he persisted in his chase. Pilgrim, with one shake of his body, slipped into the divine luminosity that surrounded the body of the Bodhisattva and disappeared. When the monsterspirit suddenly discovered that Pilgrim was gone, he walked up to the Bodhisattva with bulging eyes and said to her, “Are you the reinforcement Pilgrim Sun brought here?” The Bodhisattva did not reply. Rolling the lance in his hands, the monster king bellowed, “Hey! Are you the reinforcement Pilgrim Sun brought here?” Still the Bodhisattva did not reply. The monster-spirit lifted his lance and jabbed at the heart of the Bodhisattva, who at once changed herself into a beam of golden light and rose into the air. Pilgrim followed her on her way up and said to her, “Bodhisattva, you are trying to take advantage of me! The monster-spirit asked you several times. How could you pretend to be deaf and dumb and not make any noise at all? One blow of his lance, in fact, chased you away, and you have even left behind your lotus platform.”
“Don’t talk,” said the Bodhisattva, “let’s see what he will do.” At this time, Pilgrim and Mokṣa both stood in the air shoulder to shoulder and stared down; they found the monster-spirit laughing scornfully and saying to himself, “Brazen ape, you’re mistaken about me! What sort of person do you think that I, Holy Child, happen to be? For several times you could not prevail against me, and then you had to go and fetch some namby-pamby Bodhisattva. One blow of my lance now has made her vanish completely. Moreover, she has even left the treasure lotus platform behind. Well, let me get up there and take a seat.” Dear monster-spirit. He imitated the Bodhisattva by sitting in the middle of the platform with hands and legs folded. When he saw this, Pilgrim said, “Fine! Fine! Fine! This lotus platform has been given to someone else!”
“Wukong,” said the Bodhisattva, “what are you mumbling again?”
“Mumbling what? Mumbling what?” replied Pilgrim. “I’m saying that the lotus platform has been given to someone else. Look! It’s underneath his thighs. You think he’s going to return it to you?”
“I wanted him to sit there,” said the Bodhisattva. “Well, he’s smaller than
you,” said Pilgrim, “and it seems that the seat fits him even better than it fits you.” “Stop talking,” said the Bodhisattva, “and watch the dharma power.”
She pointed the willow twig downward and cried, “Withdraw!” All at once, flowers and leaves vanished from the lotus platform and the auspicious luminosity dispersed entirely. The monster king, you see, was sitting actually on the points of those swords. The Bodhisattva then gave this command to Mokṣa: “Use your demon-routing cudgel and strike back and forth at the sword handles.” Dropping from the clouds, Mokṣa wielded his cudgel as if he were demolishing a wall: he struck at the handles hundreds of times. As for that monster-spirit,
Both his legs were pierced till the points stuck out;
Blood spouted in pools as flesh and skin were torn.
Marvelous monster! Look at him! Gritting his teeth to bear the pain, he abandoned the lance so that he could use both hands to try to pull the swords out from his body.
“O Bodhisattva,” said Pilgrim, “that fiendish creature is undaunted by the pain. He’s still trying to pull out the swords.” When the Bodhisattva saw this, she said to Mokṣa, “Don’t harm his life.” She then pointed downward again with
her willow twig and recited a spell beginning with the letter, Oṁ. Those Swords
of Constellations all changed into inverted hooks, sharp and curved like the teeth of wolves, which could not be pulled out at all. Only then was the monster-spirit overcome by fear. Holding onto the points of the swords, he pleaded pitifully in pain, “Bodhisattva, your disciple has eyes but no pupils, and he could not perceive your vast dharma power. I beseech you to be merciful and spare my life. I’ll never dare practice violence again. I’m willing to enter the gate of dharma to receive your commandments.”
When the Bodhisattva heard these words, she lowered her golden beam and approached the monster-spirit with her two disciples and the white cockatoo. “Are you willing to receive my commandments?” she asked. Nodding his head as tears fell, the monster king said, “If you spare my life, I’m willing to receive the commandments.” The Bodhisattva asked, “You wish to enter my fold?” “If you spare my life,” replied the monster king, “I’m willing to enter the dharma gate.” “In that case,” said the Bodhisattva, “I’ll touch your head and give you the commandments.” She took out from her sleeve a golden razor and approached the fiend. With a few strokes, she shaved his hair off and turned it into the style of the Tai Mountain Crowning the Head: the top was completely bald, but three tufts of hair were left around the edge so that they could be knotted together into three tiny braids. Grinning broadly on one side, Pilgrim said, “How unfortunate for this monster-spirit! He looks like neither boy nor girl! I don’t know what he looks like!” “Since you have received my commandments,” said the Bodhisattva, “I won’t treat you lightly. I’ll call you the Boy Skilled in Wealth. How’s that?” The fiend nodded his head in agreement, for all he hoped for was that his life be spared. The Bodhisattva pointed with her finger and called out, “Withdraw!” The Swords of Constellations dropped to the ground, and the boy did not bear even a single scar on his body.
Then the Bodhisattva said, “Hui’an, you take the swords back to Heaven to return them to your Father King. You needn’t return here to meet me, but go back to the Potalaka Peak to wait for me with the other devas.” Mokṣa obeyed and sent the swords back to Heaven before returning to the South Sea, and we shall speak no more of him.
We tell you now that the wildness in that boy had not been wholly removed. When he saw that his pains were gone and that his thighs had healed and, moreover, that the hair on his head had been made into three tiny braids, he picked up the lance and said to the Bodhisattva, “You don’t have any true dharma power to subdue me! It’s a kind of chicanery, that’s all! I won’t take your commandments! Watch the lance!” He lunged at the face of the Bodhisattva, and Pilgrim was so mad that he wielded his iron rod and was about to strike. “Don’t hit him,” the Bodhisattva cried. “I have my punishment for him.” She took out from her sleeve a golden fillet, saying, “This treasure used to belong to our Buddha, who gave it to me when he sent me to search for the scripture pilgrim in the Land of the East. There were three fillets altogether: the Golden, the Constrictive, and the Prohibitive. The Constrictive Fillet was given to you first to wear, while the Prohibitive Fillet was used to make the guardian of my mountain submit.9 I have been unwilling to part with this Golden Fillet. Now that this fiend is so audacious, I’ll give it to him.”
Dear Bodhisattva! She took the fillet and waved it at the wind once, crying, “Change!” It changed into five fillets, which she threw at the body of the boy, crying, “Hit!” One fillet enveloped the boy’s head, while the rest caught his two hands and two feet. “Stand aside, Wukong,” said the Bodhisattva, “and let me recite for a while the Golden-Fillet Spell.” Horrified, Pilgrim said, “O Bodhisattva, I asked you to come here to subdue a fiend. Why do you want to cast that spell on me?” “This spell,” said the Bodhisattva, “is not the Tight-Fillet Spell, which is the spell cast on you. It is the Golden-Fillet Spell, reserved especially for that boy.” Greatly relieved, Pilgrim stood to one side of her to listen to the Bodhisattva’s recital. Making the magic sign with her fingers, she went through her recitation several times, and the monster-spirit scratched his ears and clawed at his cheeks; he curled himself into a ball and rolled all over the ground.
Truly One word could reach the whole region of sand,
This dharma power so vast, boundless, and deep.
We do not know how that boy manages to make his submission; let’s listen to the explanation in the next chapter.