The poem says:
Sweep often the grounds of the mind;
Wipe clean the dust of affections.
Let not the pit ensnare your Buddha-self.
Only when essential self’s clean
May you your primal source convene.
You must lift and trim nature’s wick
To breathe thus freely at Caoxi.1
Keep the horse and the ape from sounding harsh:
Through night and day a breath serene
Will let all your technique be seen.
The tune of this lyric poem is called A Southern Branch. It is meant to describe the Tang Monk and how he escaped from his ordeal of ice in the HeavenReaching River and how he ascended the other shore by standing on the white turtle. Master and the disciples, the four of them, followed the main road and set out again toward the West. It was the time of midwinter, and they saw
Faint outlines of woodlands in the mists,
Clear frames of bare mountains in the stream.
As master and disciples walked along, they again came upon a huge mountain blocking their way. The road turned exceedingly narrow and the cliffs were tall; moreover, there were many rocks and the ridges were so steep that it would be difficult for humans or horses to proceed. Reining in his horse, Tripitaka called out, “Disciples.” Pilgrim led Zhu Eight Rules and Sha Monk forward, saying, “Master, what do you have to say?” “Look how tall the mountain is ahead of us,” said Tripitaka. “I fear that tigers and wolves might run rampant up there, or strange beasts might come out to attack us. Be careful!” “Please do not worry, Master,” said Pilgrim. “We three brothers are united in a single effort to embrace the Right and seek the Real. We will exercise our power to disperse monsters and subdue fiends. You needn’t be afraid of any tigers or wolves!” On hearing his words, Tripitaka felt more assured and urged his horse forward to ascend the cliff. As they did so, they glanced around and saw that it was quite a mountain indeed.
Rugged and soaring—
Pointed and towering—
Rugged and soaring it rises to the sky;
Pointed and towering it blocks the blue heavens.
Strange rocks piled high like tigers sitting;
Hoary pines aslant like dragons flying.
Atop the peak a bird sings a pretty song;
Before the cliff the plums waft a strong, sweet scent.
The brook swells and surges, its water cold;
The clouds assail the summit, dense and dark.
You also feel the drifting snow,
The biting wind,
And the mountain’s roaring, famished tiger.
Jackdaws pick through the trees but find no nest;
Wild deer search in vain for a place to rest.
Pity the travelers, who can hardly walk:
Crestfallen, downcast, they cover their heads!
Master and disciples, the four of them, braved the snow and cold to scale, shivering, the rugged peak. After they passed it, they saw in the distance a towered building in the fold of the mountain and some charming buildings nearby. Delighted, the Tang Monk said on his horse, “O Disciples, I feel so cold and hungry today! It’s a good thing that there are in the fold of the mountain that building and the houses. It has to be either a village, a mansion, an abbey, or a monastery. Let’s go and beg for some food. We can move on after we have a meal.” When Pilgrim heard this, he opened wide his eyes to look and saw that the place was shrouded with baleful clouds and diabolical air. “Master,” he turned to speak to the Tang Monk, “that’s not a good place.” “There are buildings and houses,” said Tripitaka. “Why isn’t it a good place?” “O Master,” said Pilgrim with a snicker, “how could you know? There are plenty of monsters and demons on the way to the West, and they are most capable of devising2 some form of houses or dwellings. It doesn’t matter whether it is a towered building or a pavilion, or some such edifice; any one of these can be merely a transformation to deceive people. You have heard of the saying that ‘a dragon can beget nine kinds of offspring.’ One of them is the giant clam;3 the breath this creature emits is luminous and takes on the appearance of buildings and houses. When a big river is caught in inclement weather, that’s when the giant clam produces such a mirage. If some birds or crows happen to fly by and decide to rest their wings on these specious buildings, the clam will swallow them with one gulp. It’s a vicious trap. When I see how baleful the aura is over there, I must tell you not to approach it.”
“So we can’t go over there,” said Tripitaka, “but I’m really hungry!” “If you are, Master, please dismount,” said Pilgrim. “Sit here on level ground and let me go somewhere to beg some vegetarian food for you to eat.” Tripitaka consented and dismounted. After Eight Rules took hold of the reins, Sha Monk put down the luggage and untied the wrap to take out the alms bowl to hand over to Pilgrim. Taking it in his hand, Pilgrim gave this instruction to Sha Monk: “Worthy Brother, don’t go forward. Just stand guard over Master sitting here. Wait until I come back with the food and we can then set out again to the West.” Sha Monk obeyed, and Pilgrim said once more to Tripitaka, “Master, that place in front of us betokens more evil than good. Don’t ever leave here and go elsewhere. Old Monkey is off to beg for food.” “Don’t talk anymore,” said the Tang Monk. “Just go quickly and come back. I’ll wait for you here.” Pilgrim turned and was about to leave, but he walked back again to say, “Master, I realize you can’t sit still for very long. Let me provide you with some means of safety.” He took out his golden-hooped rod and drew on the level ground a large circle. The Tang Monk was asked to sit in its middle, while Eight Rules and Sha Monk stood by either side of him. The horse and the luggage, too, were placed near them. Then Pilgrim pressed his palms together to bow to the Tang Monk, saying, “The circle drawn by old Monkey here is as strong as an iron wall. No matter what they are—tigers, wolves, ogres, or demons—they will not dare come near you. But you must not step out of the circle. Remain seated inside and no harm will come to you. But if you leave the circle, you will in all likelihood meet with danger. Please take heed of my words! Please take heed of my words!” Tripitaka agreed and all three of them sat down solemnly in the circle.
Mounting the clouds, Pilgrim went south to search for a place to beg for food. Suddenly he saw some tall, aged trees, near which was a village. He lowered his cloud and took a careful look. He saw
Snow abusing weak willows
And ice frozen in the square pond;
Sparse bamboos waving their blue;
Dense pine trees holding their green;
A few thatched huts half decked with silver;
A small, slanted bridge powder-dusted;
Half-bloomed narcissus by the fence;
Long icicles dangling beneath the eaves.
The piercing cold wind wafted a rare scent,
But snow hid the place where plum flowers bloomed.
As Pilgrim admired the scenery of the village, he heard one of the wooden gates open with a creak and out walked an old man, who wore a lamb’s-wool hat, a long robe full of holes, and a pair of grass sandals. Supporting himself with a staff, he looked up to the sky and said, “Ah, the northwest wind is rising. It’ll be fair tomorrow.” Hardly had he finished speaking when a Pekingese ran out from behind him and barked furiously at Pilgrim. Only then did the old man turn around.
Pilgrim stood before him holding the alms bowl and bowed, saying, “Old Benefactor, this priest happens to be someone sent by imperial decree of the Great Tang in the Land of the East to the Western Heaven to seek scriptures from Buddha. We are passing through your region and my master is hungry. I have come to your honorable residence to beg you for some vegetarian food.” When the old man heard this, he shook his head and struck the ground several times with his staff, saying, “Elder, you shouldn’t beg for food just yet, for you have taken the wrong road.” “I have not,” said Pilgrim. The old man said, “The main road to the Western Heaven is due north of here, over a thousand miles away.
You should go and find that road at once.” Pilgrim laughed and said, “Yes, it is
due north of here, and my master right now is sitting beside that road and waiting for me to beg for food.” “This monk is babbling!” said the old man. “If your master is indeed waiting at the main road for you to beg for food, a distance of a thousand miles will require six or seven days of traveling one way, even if you happen to be an exceptionally adroit traveler. When you go back to him, it will take another week or so. By then, he would be long starved to death, wouldn’t he?”
Pilgrim laughed again and said, “To tell you the truth, Old Benefactor, I left my master not long ago, and it took me no more than the time of drinking a cup of tea to get to this place. Once I succeed in begging some food, I shall rush back to serve it to him for lunch.” On hearing this, the old man became terribly frightened, thinking to himself, “This priest is a ghost! A ghost!” He turned around and began to dash inside. Pilgrim made a grab at him and said, “Benefactor, where are you going? If you have some food, donate it to us.” “It’s not convenient! It’s not convenient!” said the old man. “Go to some other family.” “Benefactor,” said Pilgrim, “you aren’t very considerate! As you said, this place is over a thousand miles away from the main road. If I go to another family, it may take another thousand miles. Wouldn’t my master be really starved to death then?”
“To tell you the truth,” said the old man, “there are altogether six or seven people in my family, and we have just washed and placed three pints of rice in the cauldron. It’s not even fully cooked yet. Please go somewhere else to look for your food.” Pilgrim said, “As the ancients said, ‘Walking to three other houses is not like sitting in one.’ This humble priest will sit here and wait.” When the old man saw how persistent Pilgrim was, he became angry; lifting his staff, he struck out at Pilgrim. Not the least intimidated, Pilgrim allowed the old man to hit his bald head seven or eight times without a flinch—it was as if someone were scratching an itch for him! “This is a priest with a collision-proof head!” said the old man. “Venerable Sir,” said Pilgrim, chuckling, “you can hit me all you want. But you’d better remember the number of blows you give me: one blow will cost you one pint of rice! You can take your time and measure it!” On hearing this, the old man quickly dropped his staff and ran inside. He slammed the door shut, yelling, “A ghost! A ghost!” The entire household was so terrified that both the front and the back doors were at once tightly bolted.
When Pilgrim saw that the doors were shut, he thought to himself, “This old rogue said that they had just washed the rice and placed it in the cauldron. I wonder if he was telling the truth. As the proverb says, ‘The Daoists beg from the worthies but the Buddhists from the fools.’ Let old Monkey go in and take a look.” Dear Great Sage! He made the magic sign with his fingers and used the magic of invisibility to walk straight into the kitchen: steam was indeed rising from the cauldron, for there was inside it half a cauldron of dried rice. He stuffed the alms bowl into the cauldron and gave it a strong scoop to fill the alms bowl with rice. He then mounted the clouds to go back to his master, and we shall not speak of him for the moment.
We tell you now instead about the Tang Monk sitting in the circle. He waited for a long time without seeing Pilgrim returning. Half rising, he said dejectedly, “Where did that ape go to beg for food?” “Who knows!” said Eight Rules on one side, snickering. “He must have gone somewhere to play around! You think he’s going to beg for food? He just wants us imprisoned here!” “What do you mean by imprisoned?” asked Tripitaka. “Don’t you know, Master?” said Eight Rules. “The ancients drew on the ground to establish a jail. That’s what he did! He drew a circle with his rod, and he claimed that it was stronger than a wall of iron. But if some tigers or ferocious beasts really showed up, how could this circle protect us? We might as well give ourselves to them for food!” “Wuneng,” said Tripitaka, “what do you propose to do?” Eight Rules said, “This place can’t shelter us from the wind or the cold. If you agree with old Hog, we should follow this road and start out toward the West once more. If Elder Brother manages to get some food, he will no doubt return quickly, riding on his cloud. He should have no difficulty catching up with us, and when there is food, we can stop and eat first before we move on. Sitting here all this time will only make our feet grow cold!”
It was the bad luck of Tripitaka to have heard these words! He agreed with Idiot and all of them walked out of the circle. Eight Rules led the horse while Sha Monk poled the luggage; the elder did not even climb on the horse. Following the road, he walked right up to the towered building and found that it was an edifice facing south. Outside the door was a brick wall painted white with corners like the word eight, which connected with a small towered-gate decorated with carvings of lovebirds hung upside down and painted with five colors. The door of the building was half closed. Eight Rules tied the horse to one of the stoneware door wedges, and Sha Monk put down his pole. As he was sensitive to the cold wind, Tripitaka sat on the threshold. “Master,” said Eight Rules, “this must be the residence of a noble man or an official. If we can’t see anyone near the front door, all the inhabitants must be inside warming themselves by the fire. You two sit here, and let me go inside to take a look.” “Take care!” said the Tang Monk. “Don’t offend people!” Idiot said, “I know! Since I was converted and entered the gate of Chan, I have acquired some manners! I’m not like one of those village fools!”
Tying the muckrake to his waist, Idiot straightened out his blue silk shirt and walked inside in a civil manner. He saw three large front halls with all the curtains drawn up; the whole place was quiet and without a trace of any human inhabitant. There were neither furniture nor utensils. Passing the screens, he walked further inside and came upon a long corridor, behind which was a tall, two-story building. The windows on top were half opened, and one could see parts of a set of yellow silk curtains in the room. “The people must be afraid of the cold,” said Idiot to himself. “They are still sleeping!” With no regard for manners, Idiot strode right up to the second story of the building. When he drew the curtains apart to take a look, he was so startled that he stumbled and fell. Inside the curtains, you see, and lying on top of an ivory bed was a skeleton of sickly white. The skull was big as a jar and the leg bones, straight as poles, were about four or five feet long. After he had calmed down, Idiot could not restrain the tears rolling down his cheeks. Shaking his head and sighing, he said to the skeleton, “I wonder you are
The remains of a marshal of which nation,
Or of which domain or state a great general.
Once you were a hero striving to win;
Today how piteously you show your bones.
Your children and wife aren’t here to serve you;
No soldiers burn incense to honor you.
You are truly most lamentable a sight:
You, who used to seek rule by might or right!”
As Eight Rules thus lamented, he suddenly saw a flare of light behind the curtains. “Someone must be here after all to offer incense to him,” said Idiot. He went behind the curtains hurriedly to look and found that rays of light were coming through some screens set up in a side room. Behind the screens was a lacquered table, on which there were several garments made of embroidered silk brocade. When Idiot picked them up, he saw that they were three silk vests.
Without regard for good or ill, he took the vests and came down the building. He went back through the front halls to walk out the door. “Master,” he said, “there’s no trace of anyone living inside. It’s in fact a residence of the deceased. Old Hog went inside and walked upstairs to the tall tower, where there was a skeleton inside some yellow silk curtains. In a side room there were three silk vests, which I’ve brought with me. This has to be our luck, at least a little of it! Since it’s turning cold now, we can make good use of them. Master, take off your outer garment and put on one of those vests. Enjoy, so you won’t feel the cold so
much.” “No! No!” said Tripitaka. “For the Code Book says, ‘To take things,
whether in open or in secret, is thievery.’ If someone found out and caught up with us, the officials would undoubtedly charge us with the crime of theft. Take them back and put them at the place you found them. We can sit here for awhile to escape from the wind, and when Wukong arrives, we’ll move on. Those of us who have left the family should not be so covetous of small gains!” Eight Rules said, “There’s not a single person around, even dogs or chickens are unaware of our presence. Only we know what we have done. Who will file charges against me? Who will be a witness? It was as if I had picked up these vests from the road. What do you mean by taking in open or in secret?” “You act foolishly!” said Tripitaka. “Though man may not know it, will Heaven be ignorant of it? Xuandi left this instruction:
He may conscience slyly despise,
But like lightning are the god’s eyes.4
Return them quickly! Don’t be greedy for things which do not belong to you.”
Idiot, of course, refused to listen. Laughing, he said to the Tang Monk, “O Master! Since I became a human, I have worn several vests, but none made with such lovely brocade. If you won’t want to put it on, let old Hog put it on. I’m going to try something new, and I want to warm my back a bit. When Elder Brother arrives, I’ll take it off and we’ll move on.” “If that’s the way you put it,” said Sha Monk, “I’ll try one, too!” The two of them took off their shirts and put on the vests. They were just trying to tighten the straps when all of sudden they could no longer stand up and tumbled to the ground. The vests, you see, somehow turned out to be like two straitjackets; in an instant, the two of them had their arms twisted backwards and firmly bound behind their backs. Tripitaka was so taken aback that he stamped his feet and chided them; he then went forward to try to untie them, but it was all to no avail. As the three of them made continuous clamor over there, a demon was soon alerted.
That towered building, you see, had indeed been devised by a monster-spirit, who had spent the days ensnaring people at the place. As he sat in his own cave, he suddenly heard noises of complaint and expostulation. When he hurried out to have a look, he found two victims all tied up. The demon called up his little imps quickly and did away with the buildings and towers. The Tang Monk was seized, along with the white horse and the luggage. Then they herded all of them, including Eight Rules and Sha Monk, into the cave. After the old demon took his seat high in the middle, the little fiends pushed the Tang Monk forward and forced him to kneel down. “Where did you come from, monk?” asked the old demon. “How dare you be so bold as to steal my garments?”
As tears rolled down, the Tang Monk said, “This poor monk is someone sent by the Great Tang in the Land of the East to acquire scriptures in the Western Heaven. Stricken with hunger just now, I told my senior disciple to go to beg for food and he hasn’t returned. He told us to remain seated in the mountain, and if we had listened to him, we would not have trespassed your immortal court to find shelter from the cold wind. It was here that these two young disciples of mine grew covetous of small things after they found your clothes. Your poor monk certainly had no evil intentions, and they were told to return the vests to where they were found. Refusing to listen to me, they wanted to wear them just to warm their backs, and that was how they fell into the traps set by the Great King. Since you have caught me, I beg you to be merciful and spare my life so that I may proceed to acquire the true scriptures. I shall always be grateful for your grace and kindness, which I shall forever proclaim when I return to the Land of the East.”
“I have often heard,” said the demon, chuckling, “that if anyone eats a piece of the Tang Monk’s flesh, his white hair will turn black, and his fallen teeth will grow back once more. Today it is my good fortune that you have arrived without my beckoning. And you still expect me to spare you? What is the name of your big disciple? Where did he go to beg for food?” On hearing the question, Eight Rules said loudly and boastfully, “My Elder Brother is Sun Wukong, the Great Sage, Equal to Heaven, who caused great havoc in Heaven five hundred years ago.”
When the demon heard that declaration, he became rather apprehensive. Though he did not utter a word, he thought to himself, “I have heard for a long time that that fellow has vast magic powers. I didn’t expect that I would meet him by chance like this.” Then he gave the order: “Little ones, tie them up also with two new ropes. Put them all in the rear. Wait until I have caught their big disciple. Then we can steam them all together to eat them.” The little fiends obeyed with a shout and tied up all three of them before they were carried to the rear. The white horse was chained in the stable and the luggage was left in the house. Then the various monster-spirits began sharpening their weapons to prepare to catch Pilgrim, and we shall leave them for the moment.
We tell you now about Pilgrim Sun, who after he had stolen an alms bowlful of rice from the village in the south, mounted his cloud to return to where he began. By the time he reached the slope of the mountain and lowered his cloud, he saw that the Tang Monk was gone. The circle he drew with his rod could be seen on the ground, but neither the people nor the horse were anywhere in sight. He quickly turned his head to look toward the towered buildings and found that these, too, had disappeared. All he saw were strange rocks and mountain ridges. Aghast, Pilgrim said, “That’s it! They must have fallen into danger!” Following the tracks of the horse he hurried along the road toward the West.
He journeyed for about five or six miles, and as he became more and more dejected, he heard all at once someone speaking on the northern slope. When he looked, he saw that it was an old man, who had on a thick woolen robe, and his head was covered by a warm hat. On his feet he had on a pair of half-new leather boots which had been nicely waxed. He supported himself with a staff that had a dragon head, and he was followed by a young houseboy. The old man also carried a twig of winter-plum blossoms in his hand, and as he walked down the slope, he was humming some kind of song. Putting down his alms bowl, Pilgrim faced him and bowed, saying, “Old Grandpa, this humble priest salutes you.” Returning his bow, the old man said, “Where did you come from, elder?” Pilgrim said, “We came from the Land of the East, on our way to seek scriptures from Buddha in the Western Heaven. Master and disciples, there were altogether four of us. Because my master was hungry, I was sent to beg for some vegetarian food. I told the three of them to sit on a level spot by the mountain slope back there to wait for me. By the time I came back, however, they had disappeared. I don’t know which road they took. May I ask, Old Grandpa, whether you have seen them?” When the old man heard this, he snickered and said, “Was there someone with a long snout and huge ears among those three?” “Yes! Yes! Yes!” said Pilgrim.
“Was there also someone with a gloomy complexion tugging a white horse and leading a pale-faced stoutish monk?” “Yes! Yes! Yes!” said Pilgrim. The old man said, “You have taken the wrong road, all of you! Don’t bother to look for them. Each of you should flee for your life!” Pilgrim said, “The pale-faced one is my master, and those strange-looking priests are my younger brothers. They and I were united in our determination to go to the Western Heaven for scriptures. How could I not go to search for them?” “I passed through this region some time ago,” said the old man, “and I saw them taking the wrong road, which had to lead them straight into the mouth of demons.” “Old Grandpa,” said Pilgrim, “please tell me what kind of a demon there is and where does he live, so that I may demand their return at his door.”
The old man said, “This mountain is named the Golden Helmet Mountain, and in it there is a Golden Helmet Cave. The master of the cave is the Great King One-Horned Buffalo, who has vast magic powers and who is most capable in the martial arts. Your three companions this time must have lost their lives, and if you go there to search for them, I fear that you, too, may get yourself killed. Perhaps it’s better for you not to go. I don’t want to keep you from going, but I certainly am not going to encourage you either. It’s your decision.”
Bowing again and again to thank him, Pilgrim said, “I am grateful to the Old Grandpa for his instructions. But I cannot possibly give up my search!” He was about to pour out the rice that he took from the village in the south to give to the old man so that he could put away the empty bowl when the old man lay down his staff and took away the alms bowl. All at once the houseboy and the old man both revealed their true forms and went to their knees to kowtow. “Great Sage,” they cried in unison, “these humble deities dare not hide anything from you. We are the mountain god and the local spirit of this region, and we have come to receive you here. Let us keep the bowl and the rice for the moment, so that the Great Sage can exercise his power. When the Tang Monk is rescued, the rice will then be presented to him and he will appreciate what reverence and devotion the Great Sage has shown him.”
“You are asking to be beaten, clumsy ghosts!” bellowed Pilgrim. “If you knew that I had arrived, why didn’t you show up earlier to meet me? Why must you come in shabby disguises?” “The Great Sage is rather impetuous,” said the local spirit, “and this humble deity dares not confront you directly. That’s why we camouflage ourselves to report to you.” Calming down more and more, Pilgrim said, “I’ll only make a note of your beating this time! Take care of that alms bowl for me, and let me go and catch that monster-spirit.” The local spirit and the mountain god obeyed.
Tightening his sash on his tiger-skin kilt which he hitched up, our Great Sage dashed into the mountain to look for the fiend’s cave, holding high his goldenhooped rod. He passed one of the cliffs and saw more strange boulders and two stone doors just beneath a green ledge. In front of the doors were many little imps, wielding lances and waving swords. Truly there were
Mists in auspicious folds;
Moss in bluish clumps;
Strange rugged rocks stood in array;
Rough winding paths coiled round and round.
Apes cried and birds sang in this lovely scene;
Phoenixes, male and female, danced as in Peng-Ying.5
A few plums, facing the east, began to bloom;
Warmed by the sun, the bamboos displayed their green.
Beneath the steep ridge—
Within the deep brook—
Beneath the steep ridge snow piled high like powder;
Within the deep brook water froze as ice.
Pines and cedars fresh for a thousand years;
Bunches of mountain tea all glowing red.
As he did not go there merely to admire the scenery, our Great Sage strode up to the doors and cried out in a severe voice, “Little imps! Go inside quickly and tell your cave master that I am Sun Wukong, the Great Sage, Equal to Heaven, and the disciple of the holy monk from the Tang court. Tell him to send out my master quickly so that all of your lives may be spared.”
That group of fiends dashed inside to report, “Great King, there is a hairyfaced priest with a curved beak outside. He calls himself Sun Wukong, the Great Sage, Equal to Heaven, and he has come to demand the return of his master.” When he heard this announcement, the demon king was delighted. “I wanted him to come!” he said. “Since I left my former palace and descended to earth, I have never had a chance to practice martial art. Today he is here and he will be a worthy opponent.” He gave the order at once for his weapon to be brought out, and every one of those fiends, young and old, in the cave aroused himself. They hurriedly hauled out a twelve-foot-long spotted-steel lance to present to the old fiend. Then the old fiend gave this order: “Little ones, all of you must follow orders. Those who advance will be rewarded; those who retreat will be executed.” The fiends all obeyed and followed the old demon, who, when he walked out of the cave, asked aloud, “Who is Sun Wukong?” On one side Pilgrim took a look at that demon king and saw that he was ugly and ferocious indeed:
A jagged, single horn;
A pair of gleaming eyes;
Coarse skin swelling up from his head;
Dark flesh glowing beneath his ears.
A long tongue oft’ licking his nose;
A wide mouth full of yellow teeth.
His hide is like indigo blue;
His tendons are tough as steel.
Rhino-like, though he can’t light up the stream;6
Steer-like, though he can’t plow the fields.
He has no use at all for tilling the soil,
Though he has the strength to shake Heav’n and Earth.
His two dyed-blue hands with tendons brown
Grasp firmly the long, straight, spotted-steel lance.
You’ll see why, if you stare at his fierce form,
He’s called Great King One-Horned Buffalo.
Pilgrim Sun walked up to him and said, “Your Grandpa Sun is here! Give me back my master quickly, and you will suffer no harm. Utter but half a ‘No,’ and I’ll see to it that you die faster than you can select your burial ground!” “You audacious, brazen monkey-spirit!” shouted the demon. “What abilities do you have that you dare indulge in such tall talk?” “You brazen fiend,” said Pilgrim, “it’s only you who has never seen the abilities of old Monkey!” The demon said, “Your master stole some garments of mine and I caught him all right. And now I am just about to have him steamed and eaten. What kind of a warrior are you that you dare demand his return at my door?” “My master is an honest and upright priest,” said Pilgrim. “It’s impossible that he should want to steal things from a fiend like you!” The demon replied, “I created an immortal village beside the mountain, and your master sneaked into one of the buildings. What he saw he coveted, and he took three of my vests of silk brocade and put them on. I had proof derived from both the stolen goods and witnesses, and that was why I seized him. If you indeed are able, you should try your hand with me. If you can withstand me for three rounds, I will spare your master’s life. If you can’t, I’ll send you to the Region of Darkness!”
With a laugh, Pilgrim said, “Brazen creature! No need for this bravado! If you speak of trying my hand, you are after old Monkey’s own heart. Come up here and have a taste of my rod!” The fiendish creature, of course, was in no wise afraid of any combat. Raising his lance, he stabbed at Pilgrim’s face. This was quite a marvelous battle! Look at
The golden-hooped rod upraised—
The long-shaft ed lance going out—
The golden-hooped rod upraised
Is brilliant as the golden snakes of lightning.
The long-shaft ed lance going out
Is radiant like a dragon leaving the ink-dark sea.
The little imps beat the drums before the door
As they spread in formation to help the fight.
Over here our Great Sage uses his might
To reveal, back and forth, his abilities.
On that side there is a lance,
Alert and spirited;
On our side there is a rod—
Such lofty art of combat!
Truly a hero has met a hero true;
A foe has found another worthy foe.
That demon king belches purple breath like lightning coils;
This Great Sage’s eyes flash forth rays like brocade clouds.
Because a Great Tang Monk faces an ordeal,
They, without forbearance, strive bitterly.
Closing again and again for more than thirty times, they could not reach a decision. When that demon king saw how perfect Wukong’s style was in using his rod, how there was not even the slightest false move, he was so pleased that he shouted bravos repeatedly, saying, “Marvelous ape! Marvelous ape! Truly abilities like these are worthy to cause havoc in Heaven!” That Great Sage, too, was also pleased by the methodical way in which the demon king wielded his lance: as he parried left and right, every blow and every thrust were in perfect form. “Marvelous spirit! Marvelous spirit!” cried the Great Sage also. “Truly a demon capable of stealing elixir!” The two of them therefore fought for twenty more rounds.
Using the tip of his lance to point at the ground, the demon king shouted for the little imps to attack together. All those brazen fiends, wielding swords, scimitars, staffs, and spears, rushed forward at once and surrounded the Great Sage Sun completely. Entirely undaunted, Pilgrim only cried, “Welcome! Welcome! That’s exactly what I want!” He used his golden-hooped rod to cover his front and back, to parry blows east and west, but that gang of fiends refused to be beaten back. Growing more agitated, Pilgrim tossed his rod up into the air, shouting, “Change!” It changed immediately into iron rods by the hundreds and thousands; like flying snakes and soaring serpents, they descended onto the fiends from the air. When those monster-spirits saw this, everyone was frightened out of his wits. Covering their heads and necks, they fled toward their cave for their lives. The old demon king, however, stood still and, laughing with scorn, said, “Monkey, don’t be impertinent! Watch my trick!” He at once took out from his sleeve a white, shiny fillet and tossed it up in the air, crying, “Hit!” With a swish, all the iron rods changed back into a single rod, which was then sucked up by the fillet. The Great Sage Sun, completely empty-handed, had to use his somersault desperately in order to escape with his life. Thus
The demon, in victory, returned to his cave,
But Pilgrim, in a daze, knew not what to do.
Truly it is that
The Dao is one foot but demons are ten feet tall.
Nature reels, feelings faint—the wrong home you find.
Dharma-self, alas, has no proper seat:
His act that time stems from a faulty mind!
We do not know what is the end of all this; let’s listen to the explanation in the next chapter.