We were telling you about a dejected Great Sage Sun, who rose into midair. He was about to return to the Water-Curtain Cave of the Flower-Fruit Mountain, but he was afraid that those little fiends might laugh at him, for how could he be a true hero if he could betray his own word? He thought of seeking shelter in the celestial palace, but he feared that he would not be given permission to stay there long. He next thought of the islands in the sea, but then he was ashamed to face the resident immortals. Finally, he considered the dragon palace, but he could not stomach the idea of approaching the dragon kings as a suppliant. Truly, he had absolutely no place to go, and he thought sadly to himself, “All right! All right! All right! I’ll go to see my master again, for only that will bear the right fruit.”
He dropped down from the clouds and went before the horse of Tripitaka, saying, “Master, please forgive this disciple one more time! I’ll never dare work violence again. I promise I’ll accept all your admonitions, and I beg you to let me accompany you to the Western Heaven.” When the Tang Monk saw him, however, he even refused to reply. As soon as he reined in the horse, he recited the Tight-Fillet Spell. Over and over again, he went through it for more than twenty times until the Great Sage fell prostrate to the ground, the fillet cutting an inch into his flesh. Only then did the elder stop and say, “Why don’t you leave? Why have you come to bother me again?”
Pilgrim could only reply, “Don’t recite anymore! Don’t recite anymore! I can spend my days somewhere, but without me I fear that you can’t reach the Western Heaven.” Growing angry, Tripitaka said, “You are a murderous ape! Heaven knows how many times you’ve brought troubles on me! I absolutely don’t want you anymore. Whether I can reach there or not, it’s no concern of yours. Leave quickly! If you don’t, I’ll start the magic word again, and this time, I won’t stop—not until your brains are squeezed out!” When the Great Sage saw that his master refused to change his mind, and as the pain was truly unbearable, he had no alternative but to mount his cloud somersault once more and rise into the air. Then he was struck by the thought: “If this monk is so ungrateful to me, I’ll go to the Bodhisattva Guanyin at Mount Potalaka and tell on him.”
Dear Great Sage! He turned his somersault around and in less than an hour reached the Great Southern Ocean. Lowering his auspicious luminosity, he descended on the Potalaka Mountain and sped at once into the purple bamboo grove. There he was met by the disciple Mokṣa, who greeted him, saying, “Where is the Great Sage going?” “I must see the Bodhisattva,” replied Pilgrim. Mokṣa led him to the entrance of the Tidal Sound Cave, where the Boy Skilled in Wealth also greeted him, saying, “Why has the Great Sage come here?” “I have something to tell on the Bodhisattva,” Pilgrim said.
When he heard the words “to tell on,”1 Skilled in Wealth laughed and said, “What a smart-mouthed ape! You think you can oppress people just like the time I caught the Tang Monk. Our Bodhisattva is a holy and righteous goddess, one who is of great compassion, great promise, and great conveyance, one who with boundless power saves us from our sufferings. What has she done that you want to bring an accusation against her?” Pilgrim was already deeply depressed; what he heard only aroused him to anger and he gave such a snarl that the Boy Skilled in Wealth backed off at once. “You wicked, ungrateful little beast!” he shouted. “You are so dimwitt ed! You were once a fiend, a spirit, but it was I who asked the Bodhisattva to take you in. Since you have made your submission to the Right, you have been enjoying true liberty and long life—an age as everlasting, in fact, as Heaven’s. Instead of thanking me, how dare you be so insulting? I said that I was going to tell something on the Bodhisattva. How dare you say that I’m smart-mouthed?” Trying to placate him with a smile, Skilled in Wealth said, “You’re still an impulsive ape! I was just teasing you. Why do you change color so suddenly?”
As they were thus conversing, a white cockatoo came into view, flying back and forth before them for a couple of times, and they knew that this was the summons of the Bodhisattva. Whereupon Mokṣa and Skilled in Wealth led the way to the treasure lotus platform. As Pilgrim went to his knees to bow to the Bodhisattva, he could no longer restrain the tears from gushing forth and he wailed loudly. Asking Mokṣa to lift him up, the Bodhisattva said, “Wukong, tell me plainly what’s causing you such great sorrow. Stop crying! I’ll relieve your suffering and dispel your woe.”
Pilgrim, still weeping, bowed again before he said, “In previous years, when has your disciple ever consented to be snubbed by anyone? When, however, I was liberated by the Bodhisattva from my Heaven-sent calamity, and when I took the vow of complete poverty to accompany the Tang Monk on his way to see Buddha for scriptures in the Western Heaven, I was willing to risk my very life. To rescue him from his demonic obstacles was like
Snatching a tender bone from the tiger’s mouth,
Scraping off one scale, live, from a dragon’s back.
My only hope was to be able to return to the Real and attain the right fruit, to cleanse myself of sins and destroy the deviates. How could I know that this elder could be so ungrateful! He cannot recognize any virtuous cause, nor can he distinguish between black and white.”
“Tell me,” said the Bodhisattva, “a little about the black and white.” Whereupon Pilgrim gave a thorough account of how he had beaten to death the brigands, which provoked the misgivings of the Tang Monk; how without distinguishing black and white, the Tang Monk had used the Tight-Fillet Spell to banish him several times; and how he had to come to lay bare his woes to the Bodhisattva because there was no place on Earth or in Heaven where he could find refuge. Then the Bodhisattva said to him: “When Tripitaka Tang received the imperial decree to journey to the West, his sole intention was to be a virtuous monk, and therefore he most certainly would not lightly take even one human life. With your limitless magic power, why should you beat to death these many bandits? Those brutish bandits are no good, to be sure, but they are, after all, human beings and they don’t deserve such punishment. They are not like those fiendish fowl or monstrous beasts, those demons or griffins. If you kill or slaughter those things, it’s your merit, but when you take human lives, then it’s your wickedness. Just frighten them away, and you would still be able to protect your master. In my opinion, therefore, you have not acted in a virtuous manner.”
Still tearful, Pilgrim kowtowed and said, “Though I may not have acted in a virtuous manner, I should have been given a chance to use my merit to atone for my sins. I don’t deserve to be banished like this. I beg now the Bodhisattva to have compassion on me and recite the Loose-Fillet Spell. Let me be released from the golden fillet and I’ll give it back to you. Let me go back to the WaterCurtain Cave with my life.” Smiling at him, the Bodhisattva replied, “The TightFillet Spell was imparted to me originally by Tathāgata, who sent me in that year to go find a scripture pilgrim in the Land of the East. He gave me three kinds of treasure: the brocade cassock, the nine-ringed priestly staff, and three fillets named the golden, the tight, and the prohibitive. I was also taught in secret three different spells, but there was no such thing as the Loose-Fillet Spell.”
“In that case,” said Pilgrim, “let me take leave of the Bodhisattva.” The Bodhisattva asked, “Where are you going?” “To the Western Heaven,” replied Pilgrim, “where I’ll beg Tathāgata to recite the Loose-Fillet Spell.” “Wait a moment,” said the Bodhisattva, “and let me scan the fortune for you.” “No need for that,” said Pilgrim. “This sort of misfortune is all I can take!” “I’m not scanning yours,” said the Bodhisattva, “but the Tang Monk’s.”
Dear Bodhisattva! As she sat solemnly on the lotus platform, her mind penetrated the three realms and her eyes of wisdom surveyed from a distance the entire universe. In a moment, she opened her mouth and said, “Wukong, your master will soon encounter a fatal ordeal. Before long, he will be looking for you, and I will tell him then to take you back so that both of you can acquire the scriptures to attain the right fruit.” The Great Sage Sun had no choice but to obey; not daring to misbehave, he stood at attention beneath the lotus platform where we shall leave him for the moment.
We tell you now about the elder Tang, who, after he had banished Pilgrim, told Eight Rules to lead the horse and Sha Monk to pole the luggage. All four of them headed toward the West. When they had traveled some fifty miles, Tripitaka stopped the horse and said, “Disciples, we left the village at the early hour of the fifth watch, and then that BanHorsePlague made me terribly upset. After this half a day, I’m quite hungry and thirsty. Which of you will go beg me some food?” “Please dismount, Master,” said Eight Rules, “and let me see if there’s a village nearby for me to do so.” On hearing this, Tripitaka climbed down from the horse, while Idiot rose on the clouds. As he stared all around, he found mountains everywhere, but there was not a single house in sight. Dropping down, Eight Rules said to Tripitaka, “There’s no place to beg food. I couldn’t see a village anywhere.” “If there’s no place to beg food,” said Tripitaka, “let’s get some water for my thirst.” Eight Rules said, “I’ll go fetch some water from the brooklet south of the mountain.” Sha Monk therefore handed the almsbowl over to him, and supporting it with his palm, Eight Rules left on the clouds and fog. The elder sat by the road to wait for him, but after a long while, he still did not return. The bitter thirst, alas, was becoming quite unbearable, for which we have a testimonial poem. The poem says:
To nurse breath and spirit, that’s extraction:
Feelings and nature are in form the same.
Ailments arise from spirit and mind distraught;
When shape and sperm fail, the Way declines.
Three flowers fizzle and your labor’s vain;2
All Four Greats3 wither and you strive for naught.
Earth and wood sterile, metal and water die.
When will true self, so sluggish, be attained?
When Sha Monk saw how greatly Tripitaka was suffering from his hunger and thirst, and Eight Rules still had not returned with the water, he had no alternative but to put down the wraps and tie up the white horse. Then he said, “Master, please sit here for a moment; let me go and see if I can hurry him back with the water.” Tears welling up in his eyes, the elder could only nod his head to give his reply. Quickly mounting the cloudy luminosity, Sha Monk also headed for the south of the mountain.
As he sat there all by himself enduring his agonies, the elder suddenly heard a loud noise near him. He was so startled that he jumped up, and then he saw that Pilgrim Sun was kneeling on one side of the road, his two hands holding high a porcelain cup. “Master,” he said, “without old Monkey, you don’t even have water. This is a cup of nice, cool water. Drink it to relieve your thirst, and let me then go beg some food for you.” “I won’t drink your water!” replied the elder. “If I die of thirst on the spot, I’ll consider this my martyrdom! I don’t want you anymore! Leave me!” “Without me,” said Pilgrim, “you can’t go to the Western Heaven.”
“Whether I can or not,” said Tripitaka, “is no business of yours! Lawless ape! Why are you bothering me again?” Changing his color all at once, that Pilgrim became incensed and shouted at the elder, “You cruel bonze! How you humiliate me!” He threw away the porcelain cup and slammed the iron rod on the back of the elder, who fainted immediately on the ground. Picking up the two blue woolen wraps, the monkey mounted his cloud somersault and went off to some place.
We now tell you about Eight Rules, who went to the south slope of the mountain with his almsbowl. As he passed the fold of the mountain, a thatched hut, the sight of which had been blocked previously by the mountain, came into view. He walked up to it and discovered that this was some sort of human residence. Idiot thought to himself, “I have such an ugly face. They will no doubt be afraid of me and refuse to give me any food. I must use transformation . . .”
Dear Idiot! Making the magic sign with his fingers, he recited a spell and shook his body seven or eight times. At last he changed into a yellowish, consumptive monk, still rather stoutish. Moaning and groaning, he staggered up to the door and called out: “Patron,
If your kitchen has surplus rice,
Let it starved wayfarers suffice.
This humble cleric is from the Land of the East, on his way to seek scriptures in the Western Heaven. My master, now sitting by the road, is hungry and thirsty. If you have any cold rice or burnt crusts, I beg you to give us some.”
Now, the men of the household, you see, had all gone to plant the fields, and only two women remained behind. They had just finished cooking lunch and filled two large bowls with rice to be sent to the fields, while some rice and crusts were still in the pot. When they saw his sickly appearance, and when they heard all that muttering about going to the Western Heaven from the Land of the East, they thought that he was babbling because of his illness. Afraid, moreover, that he might fall dead right before their door, the women hurriedly packed the almsbowl with the leftovers, crust and all, which Idiot gladly received. After he left on the road from which he came, he changed back into his original form.
As he proceeded, he heard someone calling, “Eight Rules!” Raising his head, he found that it was Sha Monk, standing on a cliff and shouting, “Come this way! Come this way!” Then he leaped down from the cliff and approached Eight Rules, saying, “There’s lovely, clean water here in the brook. Why didn’t you bail some? Where did you run off to?” “When I reached here,” said Eight Rules, chuckling, “I saw a house in the fold of the mountain. I went there and succeeded in begging from them this bowl of dried rice.” “We can use that,” said Sha Monk, “but Master is terribly thirsty. How can we bring back some water?” “That’s easy,” replied Eight Rules. “Fold up the hem of your robe, and we’ll use that to hold the rice. I’ll take the alms-bowl to bail some water.”
In great spirits, the two of them went back to the spot by the road, where they saw Tripitaka lying down with his face hugging the earth. The reins were loosened, and the white horse was rearing up and neighing repeatedly by the road. The pole with the luggage, however, was nowhere to be seen. Eight Rules was so shaken that he stamped his feet and beat his breast, shouting, “This has to be it! This has to be it! The cohorts of those bandits whom Pilgrim Sun beat to death must have returned to kill Master and take the luggage.” “Let’s tie up the horse first,” said Sha Monk, and then he too began to shout: “What shall we do? What shall we do? This is truly the failure that comes in midway!” As he turned to call but once “Master,” tears streamed down his face and he wept bitterly. “Brother,” said Eight Rules, “stop crying. When we have reached this stage of affairs, let’s not talk about that scripture business. You watch over Master’s corpse, and let me ride to some village store in whatever county or district nearby and see if I can buy a coffin. Let’s bury Master and then we can disperse.”
Unwilling, however, to give up on his master, Sha Monk turned the Tang Monk over on his back and put his own face up to the corpse’s face. “My poor master!” he wailed, and presently, the elder’s mouth and nose began to belch hot air as a little warmth could also be felt on his chest. “Eight Rules,” cried Sha Monk hurriedly, “come over here. Master’s not dead!” Our Idiot approached them and lifted up the elder, who woke up slowly, groaning all the time. “You lawless ape!” he exclaimed. “You’ve just about struck me dead!” “Which ape is this?” asked both Sha Monk and Eight Rules, and the elder could do nothing more than to sigh. Only after he drank several gulps of water did he say, “Disciples, soon after both of you left, that Wukong came to bother me again. Because I adamantly refused to take him back, he gave me a blow with his rod and took away our blue woolen wraps.”
When Eight Rules heard this, he clenched his teeth as fire leaped up from his heart. “This brazen ape!” he said. “How could he be so insolent? Sha Monk, you look after Master and let me go to his home to demand the wraps.” “Stop being so angry,” said Sha Monk. “We should take Master to that house in the fold of the mountain and beg for some hot liquids to warm up the rice we managed to get just now. Let’s take care of Master first before you go look for him.”
Eight Rules agreed; after having helped their master to mount up, they held the almsbowl and carried the cold rice up to the house’s door, where they found only an old woman inside. Seeing them, she quickly wanted to hide. Sha Monk pressed his palms together and said, “Old Mama, we are those from the Land of the East sent by the Tang court to go to the Western Heaven. Our master is somewhat indisposed, and that is why we have come here especially to your house to beg some hot tea or water, so that he may eat some rice.” “Just now,” said the old woman, “there was a consumptive monk who claimed to have been sent from the Land of the East. We have already given him some food. How is it that you are also from the Land of the East? There’s no one in the house. Please go to someplace else.” On hearing this, the elder held onto Eight Rules and
dismounted. Then he bent low and said, “Old Popo, I had originally three
disciples, who were united in their efforts to accompany me to see Buddha for scriptures at the Great Thunderclap Monastery in India. My eldest disciple, whose name is Sun Wukong, has unfortunately practiced violence all his life and refused to follow the virtuous path. For this reason, I banished him. Little did I expect him to return in secret and give my back a blow with his rod. He even took our luggage and our clothing. I must now send a disciple to go find him and ask for our things, but the open road is no place to sit. Hence we have come to ask your permission to use your house as a temporary resting place. As soon as we get back our luggage, we’ll leave, for we dare not linger.”
“But there was a yellowish, consumptive monk just now,” said the old
woman, “who received our food. He also claimed to be part of a pilgrimage going to the Western Heaven from the Land of the East. How could there be so many of you?” Unable to restrain his giggles, Eight Rules said, “That was I. Because I have this long snout and huge ears, I was afraid that your family might be frightened and refuse me food. That was why I changed into the form of that monk. If you don’t believe me, just take a look at what my brother’s carrying in the fold of his robe. Isn’t that your rice, crust and all?”
When the old woman saw that it was indeed the rice that she had given him, she no longer refused them and asked them to go inside and take a seat. She then prepared a pot of hot tea, which she gave to Sha Monk for him to mix with the rice. After the master had eaten several mouthfuls, he felt more calm and said, “Which of you will go ask for the luggage?” “In that year when Master sent him back there,” said Eight Rules, “I went to look for him. So I know the way to his Flower-Fruit Mountain and the Water-Curtain Cave. Let me go! Let me go!” “You can’t go!” replied the elder. “That monkey has never been friendly with you, and you are so rough with your words. A tiny slip when you talk to him and he may want to attack you. Let Wujing go.”
“I’ll go! I’ll go!” said Sha Monk agreeably, whereupon the elder gave him this further instruction: “You must size up the situation as soon as you get there. If he’s willing to give you our wraps, just pretend to thank him and take them. If he’s unwilling, be sure not to argue or fight with him. Go directly to the Bodhisattva’s place at the South Sea and tell her everything. Ask the Bodhisattva to demand the luggage from him.” After he had listened most attentively, Sha Monk said to Eight Rules, “When I’m gone, you must not be slack in your care of Master. And don’t cause any mischief in this family, for I fear that they would not serve you rice then. I’ll be back soon.” “I know,” said Eight Rules, nodding. “But you must come back quickly, whether you succeed or not in getting our things back. I don’t want something to happen like ‘Hauling firewood with a pointed pole: you lose at both ends’!” And so, Sha Monk made the magic sign and mounted the cloudy luminosity to head for the East Pūrvavideha Continent. Truly,
Body’s here but spirit has flown its lodge.
How could fireless oven heat elixir?
Yellow Dame leaves her lord to seek Metal Squire;
Wood Mother bids a teacher in sickly looks.
This journey’s of unknown returning date,
A time, hard to surmise, of coming home.
Five Phases work no smooth conquest or growth.
Wait till Mind Monkey reenters the pass.4
Only after he had traveled in the air for three nights and days did Sha Monk finally reach the Great Eastern Ocean. As the sound of waves reached his ears, he lowered his head and saw that
Black fog swelling skyward makes the dark air dense;
The brine holds the sun to chill the light of dawn.
He was, of course, too preoccupied to enjoy the scenery. Passing the immortal island of Yingzhou, he hurried toward the Flower-Fruit Mountain, riding on the oceanic wind and tide.
After a long while, he saw towering peaks jutting up like rows of halberds and sheer cliffs like hanging screens. He dropped down on the highest summit and began to search for his way to the Water-Curtain Cave. As he drew near his destination, he began to hear a noisy din made by countless monkey spirits living in the mountain. Sha Monk walked closer and found Pilgrim Sun sitting high on a rock terrace, his two hands holding up a piece of paper from which he was reading aloud the following statement:
Emperor Li, King of the Great Tang in the Land of the East, now commands the sage monk, Chen
Xuanzang, royal brother before the throne and master of the Law, to go to India in the West, and ask for
scriptures in all sincerity from the Buddhist Patriarch, Tathāgata, in the Great Thunderclap Monastery on
the Spirit Mountain.
Because of grave illness invading our body, our soul departed for the region of Hades. It was our good
fortune to have our life span unexpectedly lengthened, and the Kings of Darkness kindly returned us to
life. Whereupon we convened a vast and goodly assembly to erect a Plot of the Way for the redemption
of the dead. We were indebted to the salvific and woe-dispelling Bodhisattva Guanshiyin, who appeared
to us in her golden form and revealed that there were both Buddha and scriptures in the West, which
could deliver and redeem the lost souls of the dead. We have, therefore, commissioned Xuanzang, master
of the Law, to traverse a thousand mountains in order to acquire such scriptures. When he reaches the
various states of the Western region, we hope that they will not destroy such goodly affinity and allow
him to pass through on the basis of this rescript.
This is an imperial document promulgated on an auspicious day in the autumn of the thirteenth year in
the Zhenguan reign period of the Great Tang.
Since leaving my5 noble nation, I have passed through several countries, and in midjourney, I have
made three disciples: the eldest being Pilgrim Sun Wukong, the second being Zhu Wuneng Eight Rules,
and the third being Sha Wujing Monk.
After he read it aloud once, he started again from the beginning. When Sha Monk realized that it was the travel rescript, he could no longer contain himself. Drawing near, he shouted: “Elder Brother, this is Master’s rescript. Why are you reading it like that?” When that Pilgrim heard this, he raised his head but could not recognize Sha Monk. “Seize him! Seize him!” he yelled. The other monkeys immediately had Sha Monk surrounded; pulling and tugging at him, they hauled him before that Pilgrim, who bellowed, “Who are you, that you dare approach our immortal cave without permission?”
When Sha Monk saw how he had changed color and refused to recognize his own, he had little choice but to bow low and say, “Let me inform you, Elder Brother. Our master previously was rather impetuous and wrongly put the blame on you. He even cast the spell on you several times and banished you home. Your brothers did not really try to pacify Master for one thing, and for another, we soon had to look for water and beg for food because of Master’s hunger and thirst. We didn’t expect you to come back with all your good intentions. When you took offense at Master’s adamant refusal to take you in again, you struck him down, left him fainted on the ground, and took the luggage. After we rescued him, I was sent to plead with you. If you no longer hate Master, and if you can recall his previous kindness in giving you freedom, please give us back the luggage and return with me to see Master. We can go to the Western Heaven together and accomplish the right fruit. But if your animosity is deep and you are unwilling to leave with me, please give me back the wraps at least. You can enjoy your old age in this mountain, and you will have done at the same time all of us a very good turn.”
When he heard these words, that Pilgrim laughed scornfully and said, “Worthy Brother, what you said makes little sense to me. I struck the Tang Monk and I took the luggage not because I didn’t want to go to the West, nor because I loved to live in this place. I’m studying the rescript at the moment precisely because I want to go to the West all by myself to ask Buddha for the scriptures. When I deliver them to the Land of the East, it will be my success and no one else’s. Those people of the South Jambūdvīpa Continent will honor me then as their patriarch and my fame will last for all posterity.”
“You have spoken amiss, Elder Brother,” said Sha Monk, smiling, “Why, we have never heard anyone speaking of ‘Pilgrim Sun seeking scriptures’! When our Buddha Tathāgata created the three canons of true scriptures, he also told the Bodhisattva Guanyin to find a scripture pilgrim in the Land of the East. Then she wanted us to traverse a thousand hills and search through many states as protectors of that pilgrim. The Bodhisattva once told us that the scripture pilgrim was originally Tathāgata’s disciple, whose religious designation was the Elder Gold Cicada. Because he failed to listen attentively to a lecture of the Buddhist Patriarch, he was banished from the Spirit Mountain to be reborn in the Land of the East. He was then instructed to bear the right fruit in the West by cultivating once more the great Way. Since it was preordained that he should encounter many demonic obstacles in his journey, we three were liberated so that we might become his guardians. If Elder Brother does not wish to accompany the Tang Monk in his quest, which Buddhist Patriarch would be willing to impart to you the scriptures? Haven’t you dreamed up all this in vain?”
“Worthy Brother,” said that Pilgrim, “you’ve always been rather blockish! You know one thing, but you fail to perceive another. You claim that you have a Tang Monk who needs both of us to protect him. Do you really think that I don’t have a Tang Monk? I have already selected here a truly enlightened monk, who will go acquire the scriptures and old Monkey will only help him. Is there anything wrong with that? We have, in fact, decided that we’ll begin the journey tomorrow. If you don’t believe me, let me show you.” He then cried: “Little ones, ask the old master to come out quickly please.” The little fiends indeed ran inside and led out a white horse, followed by a Tripitaka Tang, an Eight Rules poling the luggage, and a Sha Monk carrying the priestly staff.
Enraged by the sight, Sha Monk cried, “Old Sand here changes neither his name when he walks nor his surname when he sits. How could there be another Sha Monk? Don’t be impudent! Have a taste of my staff!”
Dear Sha Monk! Lifting high his fiend-routing staff with both his hands, he killed the specious Sha Monk with one blow on the head. He was actually a monkey spirit. That Pilgrim, too, grew angry; wielding his golden-hooped rod, he led the other monkeys and had Sha Monk completely surrounded. Charging left and right, Sha Monk managed to fight his way out of the encirclement. As he fled for his life by mounting the cloud and fog, he said to himself: “This brazen ape is such a rogue! I’m going to see the Bodhisattva to tell on him!” When that Pilgrim saw that the Sha Monk had been forced to flee, he did not give chase. He went back to his cave instead and told his little ones to have the dead monkey skinned. Then his meat was taken to be fried and served as food along with coconut and grape wines. After they had their meal, that Pilgrim selected another monkey monster who knew transformation to change into a Sha Monk. He again gave them instructions on how to go to the West, and we shall leave them for the moment.
Once Sha Monk had left the Eastern Ocean by mounting the clouds, he reached the South Sea after journeying for a day and night. As he sped forward, he saw the Potalaka Mountain approaching, and he stopped his cloud to look around. Marvelous place it was! Truly
This secret spot of Heaven,
This hidden depth of Earth,
Where a hundred springs join to bathe both sun and stars,
Where the wind blows as the moon beams her rippling light.
When the tide rises, the great fishes6 change:
When the waves churn, the huge scorpaenids swim.
Here water joins the northwest sea,
Its billows the Eastern Ocean fuse.
The four seas are linked by the same Earth pulse;
Each isle immortal has its fairy homes.
Speak not of Penglai every where.
Let’s look at Cave Potalaka.
What fine scenery!
The peak’s bright colors show prime essence strong.
Auspicious breeze wafts moonlight beneath the ridge.
Through groves of purple bamboo peacocks fly;
On willow-branch a sentient parrot speaks.
Jade grass, jasper flowers bloom fair each year:
Gold lotus, jewelled trees grow annually.
A few times the white cranes fly up the peak;
The phoenix comes often to the mount-kiosk.
E’en fishes by nature seek authentic Truth,
For to hear scriptures they leap through the waves.
Descending slowly from the Potalaka Mountain as he admired the scenery, he was met by the disciple, Mokṣa, who said to him, “Sha Wujing, why aren’t you accompanying the Tang Monk to procure scriptures? Why are you here?”
After Sha Monk returned his bow, he said, “I have a matter that requires my having an audience with the Bodhisattva. Please take the trouble to announce me.” Mokṣa already knew that it had to do with his search for Pilgrim, but he did not mention it. He went instead inside first and said to the Bodhisattva, “The youngest disciple of the Tang Monk, Sha Wujing, is outside seeking an audience.” When Pilgrim Sun heard that beneath the platform, he chuckled and said, “This has to be that the Tang Monk has met some kind of ordeal, and Sha Monk is here to seek the assistance of the Bodhisattva.”
The Bodhisattva at once asked Mokṣa to call him in, and Sha Monk went to his knees to kowtow. After his bow, he raised his head and was about to tell the Bodhisattva what had happened, when all of a sudden he saw Pilgrim Sun standing on one side. Without even a word, Sha Monk whipped out his fiendrouting staff and aimed it at Pilgrim’s face. Pilgrim, however, did not fight back; he only stepped aside to dodge the blow. “You brazen ape!” screamed Sha Monk. “You rebellious simian guilty of ten evil deeds! So, you are even here to hoodwink the Bodhisattva!” “Wujing!” shouted the Bodhisattva. “Don’t raise your hands! If you have a complaint, tell it to me first.”
Putting away his treasure staff, Sha Monk knelt down before the platform, and, still huffing, said to the Bodhisattva, “This monkey has performed countless violent acts along the way. The day before, he beat two highwaymen to death beneath the mountain slope, and Master already found fault with him. Little did we expect that that very night we had to live right in the bandit camp, and he slaughtered a whole band of them. As if that weren’t enough, he took a bloody head back to show to Master, who was so aghast that he fell down from his horse. It was then that Master gave him a reprimand and banished him. After we separated, Master found the hunger and thirst unbearable at one place and told Eight Rules to go find water. When he didn’t return after a long while, I was told to go find him. When Pilgrim Sun saw that we both had left, he sneaked back and gave Master a blow with his iron rod, after which he took away our two blue woolen wraps. When we finally returned, we managed to revive Master, and then I had to make a special trip to his Water-Curtain Cave to demand from him the wraps. How could I know that he would change his face and refuse to recognize me? Instead, he was reciting back and forth the travel rescript of Master. When I asked him why, he said that he was no longer willing to accompany the Tang Monk. He wanted to go procure sciptures in the Western Heaven and take them all by himself to the Land of the East. That, he said, would be his sole merit, and the people would honor him as their patriarch while his fame would be everlasting. I told him, ‘Without the Tang Monk, who would be willing to give you scriptures?’ He said then that he had already selected a true, enlightened monk, and he brought out a Tang Monk, all right, including a white horse, followed by an Eight Rules and a Sha Monk for me to see. ‘I’m the Sha Monk,’ I said, ‘so how could there be another Sha Monk?’ I rushed up to this impostor and gave him a blow with my treasure staff; it turned out to be a monkey spirit. Then this ape led his followers to try to capture me, and that was when I fled and decided to come here to inform the Bodhisattva. He must have used his cloud somersault and arrived first, and I don’t know what sort of balderdash he has mouthed to dupe the Bodhisattva.”
“Wujing,” said the Bodhisattva, “don’t blame another person wrongly. Wukong has been here for four days, and I haven’t let him go anywhere. How could he have gone to find another Tang Monk to go fetch scriptures by themselves?” “But,” said Sha Monk, “I saw a Pilgrim Sun in the Water-Curtain Cave. You think I’m lying?” “In that case,” said the Bodhisattva,“don’t get upset. I’ll tell Wukong to go with you to take a look at the Flower-Fruit Mountain. Truth is indestructible, but falsehood can easily be eliminated. When you get there, you’ll find out.” On hearing this, our Great Sage and Sha Monk took leave at once of the Bodhisattva and left. And so, the result of their journey will be that
Before Mount Flower-Fruit black and white will be made distinct;
By the Water-Curtain Cave the true and perverse will be seen.
We don’t know, however, how that will be accomplished; let’s listen to the explanation in the next chapter.