The Journey to the West, Revised Edition, Volume 4 Page 4

  Little did they realize, however, that once they were under way, sorrow would arrive in the midst of gladness. As a Classic says, “At prosperity’s end reversal’s born.”

  They’ll meet Jupiter in their fated hour

  And baleful spirits of those hung to death!

  That group of fiendish demons, of course, were most united in their efforts to gather around Tripitaka and most diligent in their service to him night and day. Hardly had they traveled thirty miles before they presented him with a vegetarian meal, and when they reached fifty miles, they fed him again. They even stopped before it was quite dark so that the master could rest. Throughout this leg of the journey, the fiends behaved most properly, and the pilgrims in their daily meals were fed to their hearts’ content. When they paused to rest, they found a nice place where they could sleep soundly.

  They proceeded in this manner toward the West for some four hundred miles, and they suddenly found themselves approaching a city. The Great Sage, his iron rod uplifted, was walking about a mile ahead of the entourage, when the sight of that city gave him such a fright that he fell to the ground, hardly able to get up. Since he had always been so bold, you ask, what was it about the sight of that city that so terrified him? He discovered, you see, that the city was full of vicious miasmas. It was

  Crowded with fiends and monstrous demons;

  At four gates were all rapacious spirits.

  Their commander was an old striped tiger;

  Their captain, a white-faced, ferocious cat.

  Deer with jagged horns did carry their mail,

  And wily foxes walked along the roads.

  Circling the city were thousand-foot snakes

  And huge, long serpents blocked the thoroughfares.

  Grey wolves barked orders beneath the towers;

  Leopards guarding arbors roared like humans.

  Those waving flags and beating drums were fiends all;

  Watchmen and patrol, all mountain spirits.

  Cunning hares opened doors to ply their trade;

  Wild boars toted their loads to do commerce.

  This in years past was a great and noble court.

  Now it’s a city of tigers and wolves.

  As the Great Sage lay there nursing his fear, he suddenly heard the sound of wind behind his ears. He spun around to discover the third demon with both hands aiming a square-sky halberd directly at his head. Leaping up, the Great Sage wielded his golden-hooped rod to face his adversary. The two of them, both thoroughly aroused,

  Huffed and puffed, without exchanging a word;

  Clenched their teeth, as each wanted to fight.

  Then the old demon chief appeared and, after shouting an order, lifted up his steel scimitar to hack at Eight Rules. Hurriedly abandoning the horse, Eight Rules attacked with his muckrake. The second demon also grasped his lance to stab at Sha Monk, who parried the blow at once with his fiend-routing staff. Thus three demon chiefs and three monks, each engaging the other, began a most bitter battle right on top of that mountain. Those sixteen little fiends, all obeying the command, immediately went into action: they grabbed the white horse and the luggage before they overpowered Tripitaka in his palanquin, hauling him forward until they reached the edge of the city. “By the scheme of our Father Great Kings,” they shouted, “we’ve caught the Tang Monk here!”

  Those monster-spirits in the city, old and young, all ran down and opened wide the city gate. At the same time, they immediately gave the order that all the banners should be rolled up and the drums stopped; there were to be no battle cries or the beating of gongs. “The Great King had told us before,” they said, “that we were not to frighten the Tang Monk. The Tang Monk could not withstand fear, for once he was frightened, his flesh would turn sour, and he wouldn’t be good to eat.” All those fiends,

  In great delight, beckoned Tripitaka;

  Each bowing, they received the master priest.

  They took the Tang Monk and his palanquin and carried him right up to the Hall of Golden Chimes, where they invited him to take a seat in the center and presented him with tea and rice. As they swarmed all over him, the elder was in a daze, for not a single person familiar to him met his sight. We do not know what will happen to his life; let’s listen to the explanation in the next chapter.

  SEVENTY-SEVEN

  A horde of demons affront native Nature;

  The One Body bows to True Suchness.1

  We shall not tell you for the moment about the affliction of the Elder Tang. Instead, we shall speak of those three demon chiefs, all united in their minds and efforts, who were engaged in a strenuous conflict with the Great Sage and his brothers halfway up the mountain east of the city, a battle that was something like

  An iron brush scrubbing a copper pan:

  Each party’s tough and hard.

  What a fight!

  Six substances and forms,2 six weapons;

  Six body features and six sentiments;

  Six evils of six organs from six desires;3

  A contest waged on six paths—six forms of birth.4

  In the comforts of spring of Thirty-six Halls,5

  Each of six forms or features6 had a name.

  This one’s golden-hooped rod

  Had thousands of styles;

  That one’s square-sky halberd

  Was fierce in a hundred ways.

  Eight Rules’s muckrake was savage and strong;

  The second fiend’s lance, able and in good form.

  Young Sha Monk’s treasure staff, no common thing,

  Had intent to kill;

  Old demon chief’s steel scimitar, fine and sharp,

  Would spare none, once upraised.

  These three were a true monk’s guardians whom none could face;

  Those three were brazen wild spirits who mocked both lord and law.

  At first it was so-so,

  Then the battle turned fierce;

  When six persons all used the magic of flight,

  They each tumbled and turned on the edge of clouds.

  In a moment the belched out mist and fog darkened Heaven and Earth,

  And all you heard were the growls and roars.

  The six of them fought for a long time until gradually dusk sett led in; since the sky was already misty and a strong gust was blowing, it became completely dark in no time at all.

  Now Eight Rules already had huge ears that hovered over his eyes, making the world seem more opaque than ever to him. His arms and legs slackened, and he no longer was able to parry the blows. As he turned to flee in defeat, his muckrake trailing behind him, the old demon gave him a blow with the scimitar that almost took his life. It was fortunate that he missed Eight Rules’s head, but a few bristles on his neck were shaved off. He was, however, chased down by the old demon, who opened wide his mouth and caught Eight Rules by the collar. The demon took his prisoner into the city, threw him to the little fiends to have him bound in the Hall of Golden Chimes, and then mounted the clouds once more to join in the battle.

  When Sha Monk saw that things were going badly, he turned to flee after one last halfhearted blow with his treasure staff. The second fiend flung out his trunk with a snort and wrapped him up, hands and all. He was brought into the city, where the little fiends were instructed to have him bound beneath the steps of the hall also. Then the second fiend rose into the air to try to capture Pilgrim.

  When Pilgrim saw that his two brothers had fallen into captivity, he realized he was unable to oppose three adversaries. As the saying goes,

  Even a good hand can’t withstand two fists;

  And two fists can’t oppose four hands.

  With a cry, he broke through the weapons of those three fiendish demons and fled by mounting the cloud somersault. When the third fiend saw Pilgrim somersaulting away, he shook himself and revealed his original form. Flapping both his wings, he immediately caught up with the Great Sage.

  How could he do this so readily, you ask? When Pilgrim caused grea
t disturbance in the Celestial Palace, even one hundred thousand warriors from Heaven could not catch hold of him, for a single cloud somersault of his would traverse the distance of one hundred and eight thousand miles. But one flap of this monster-spirit’s wing, however, could cover ninety thousand miles, and thus two flaps, in fact, would send him past the Great Sage. That was how the Great Sage fell into his clutches. The grip of the fiend was so firm that he could not move left or right at all, nor could he even exercise his magic power to escape; for when he enlarged himself, the fiend’s clutch would loosen somewhat, and when he reduced his size, the fiend tightened his grip accordingly. He was thus taken back to the city, dropped to the ground, and he too was bound and placed together with Eight Rules and Sha Monk. As the old demon and the second demon came forward to meet him, the third demon joined them to ascend the treasure hall. Ah! Little did they realize that they had not bound Pilgrim; it was more like sending him off!

  It was about the hour of the second watch, when all those fiends, after they had greeted each other, pushed the Tang Monk down the steps of the hall. When the lamplight revealed to the elder his three disciples all bound up and lying on the ground, he fell down at Pilgrim’s side. “O disciple!” he sobbed. “When we met with an ordeal, it was customary for you to exercise your magic powers outside so that you could seek assistance, when necessary, to subdue the demons. This time even you have been taken. How could this poor monk lay claim to his life?”

  When Eight Rules and Sha Monk heard these words of anguish from their master, they, too, began to wail. Pilgrim, however, replied with a smile, “Master, relax! And stop crying, brothers! Let them do what they will, but you will not be harmed. Let the old demons quiet down first, and we’ll be on our way.”

  “O Elder Brother,” said Eight Rules, “you’re fibbing again! Look at the way I’m tied up! When the ropes are just the least bit loosened, they immediately spit some water on them to make them tighter. A skinny fellow like you probably doesn’t feel a thing, but that’s a plague on a fatso like me! If you don’t believe me, just look at my shoulders. The ropes have cut at least two inches into my flesh. How could we escape?”

  “Not to mention the fact that we’re bound by hemp ropes,” said Pilgrim with a laugh. “Even if they use coir cables as thick as a rice bowl, I’ll treat the matter as lightly as an autumn breeze blowing past my ears! You needn’t wonder about that!”

  As the three brothers were conversing, they also heard the old demon say, “Our Third Worthy Brother is most capable and most intelligent! His marvelous plan did indeed succeed in capturing the Tang Monk! Little ones, five of you will go bail water; seven of you will scrub the pots; ten of you will start the fire; and twenty of you will go fetch the iron steamer. Let’s have those four monks steamed for us brothers to enjoy. We’ll give each of you a small piece of their flesh so that you can all attain long life too.”

  On hearing this, Eight Rules shook all over and said, “Elder Brother, listen to that! That monster-spirit’s planning to have us steamed and eaten!” “Don’t be afraid,” said Pilgrim. “Let me see if he’s a rookie or an old pro of a monster-spirit.”

  “O Elder Brother,” said Sha Monk, “stop this idle chitchat! We’re about to become neighbors of King Yama, and you’re still talking about rookie or old pro!” He had barely finished speaking when they heard the second fiend say, “It’s not easy to steam Zhu Eight Rules.”

  Delighted, Eight Rules said, “Amitābha! Who’s accumulating secret merit by saying it’s not easy to steam me?” “If it isn’t,” said the third fiend, “let’s skin him first before we steam him.” Horrified, Eight Rules yelled, “Don’t skin me! I may be coarse, but the moment the water gurgles, I’ll turn soft!” The old fiend said, “The one not easily steamed should be placed in the bottom layer.” “Don’t be afraid, Eight Rules,” said Pilgrim, laughing. “He’s a rookie, not an old pro.” “How d’you know?” asked Sha Monk.

  Pilgrim said, “Whenever you steam anything, the stuff placed on top always gets done first. That’s why you always put the toughest foodstuff in the top layer of the steamer; build up the fire until the hottest steam gets up there, and everything will be fine. But if it is placed in the bottom layer where the steam doesn’t get through that easily, you can steam the stuff for half a year and it still may not be cooked. He said just now that Eight Rules was not easy to steam, but he still wanted to put him in the bottom layer. Isn’t he a rookie?”

  “O Elder Brother!” said Eight Rules. “The way you talk, you sound as if you wanted me to be tortured alive! When they are hard-pressed and see that I’m not fully steamed, they’ll pull off the steamer, flip me over, and build up the fire again. I’ll then be cooked on both sides but still raw inside, won’t I?”

  As they were thus conversing, one of the little fiends went up to report: “The water’s boiling.” The old fiend gave the order at once for the various fiends to haul Eight Rules into the bottom layer and Sha Monk into the second. Suspecting that he would be next, Pilgrim decided it was time to leave, saying to himself, “I should be able to do something by this lamplight!” He pulled off a piece of hair and blew his immortal breath onto it, crying, “Change!” It changed at once into a Pilgrim bound by the hemp ropes. His true body rose with his spirit into the air, where he stood still and peered downward. Those fiends, of course, could not tell the true from the false: the moment they came upon the false Pilgrim, they lifted him up and placed him inside the third layer. Only then did they push the Tang Monk to the ground, hog-tie him, and place him in the fourth layer. Fueled by dried wood, a terrific blaze soon flared up.

  Perched on the edge of the clouds, the Great Sage sighed to himself, “That Eight Rules and Sha Monk of mine can still manage to withstand perhaps two seconds of boiling. But my master, all it takes is one second and he’ll turn soft! If I don’t use magic to save him, he’ll perish this instant!” Dear Pilgrim! Making the magic sign in midair, he recited:

  Let Oṁ and Ram purify the dharma realm;

  Key: Primary Reception Beneficial for Determination.7

  This spell at once caused the Dragon King of North Sea to arrive in the midst of a dark cloud, crying, “Aoshun, the little dragon from North Sea, kowtows to you.” “Please rise! Please rise!” said Pilgrim. “I wouldn’t have bothered you without cause. I came here with Master Tang, who was caught by these vicious demons. He has been placed inside that iron steamer to be steamed. Please go and give him some protection so that he won’t be destroyed.” The dragon king immediately changed himself into a cold gust of wind that blew toward the large pan. As it circled and coiled around the bottom of the pan, the three inside the steamer felt no heat at all, and that was how their lives were preserved.

  Toward the end of the hour of the third watch, the old demon was heard saying, “Subordinates, we plotted and strained ourselves in order to catch the Tang Monk and his three companions, but that effort in escorting them cost us four sleepless days and nights. Now that they are bound inside the steamer, I doubt that they will be able to escape. All of you, however, should take good care in guarding them, and ten of you little fiends should take turns in tending the fire. Let us retire to our bedchambers and rest a little. By the fifth watch, when it’s about dawn, they will certainly be soft ened. You may prepare minced garlic, salt, and vinegar and awake us for the feast.” The fiends all obeyed this instruction, while the three demon chiefs went to their bedrooms.

  Standing on the edge of the clouds, Pilgrim heard everything clearly. He then lowered the direction of his cloud slightly, but he could hear no voices coming from the steamer. “When the fire is built up,” he thought to himself, “there must be heat. Why aren’t they afraid of it? And there’s not a word from them? Ha, could they be dead already? I’ll go nearer and listen again.” Dear Great Sage! As he trod the clouds, he shook his body and changed immediately into a little black fly to alight on the trellised frame of the steamer.

  “What rotten luck! What rotten luc
k!” he heard Eight Rules mumbling inside. “I wonder if we are being steamed the stuffy or the airy way.”

  “What do you mean by that, Second Elder Brother?” asked Sha Monk. “The stuffy way,” replied Eight Rules, “the cover of the steamer will be put on. The airy way, the cover will not be used.”

  “Disciples,” answered Tripitaka from the very top layer, “the steamer hasn’t been covered.” “How lucky!” exclaimed Eight Rules. “We’re not going to die yet tonight. This is steaming the airy way.”

  When Pilgrim heard them speaking like that, he knew that they had not been harmed. Flying up, he picked up the cover of the iron steamer and gently put it on. “Disciples,” said a horrified Tripitaka, “it’s covered now!”

  “We’re finished!” said Eight Rules. “This is steaming the stuffy way. This night we’ll die for sure!” Whereupon Sha Monk and the elder began to weep.

  “Let’s not cry just yet,” said Eight Rules. “I think a fresh batch of fiends have come to tend the fire.” “How do you know?” asked Sha Monk. “When we were first placed in the steamer,” said Eight Rules, “it was an ideal situation for me. I’m suffering from a little arthritis, and I want that hot steam. Right now, however, there seems to be cold air coming up from the pan instead. Hey, you officers tending the fire! Why don’t you add some wood? What are you good for?”

  “This coolie!” said Pilgrim to himself, unable to restrain a giggle. “Doesn’t he know that he can withstand the chill, but heat will kill him? If he talks any more like that, everything will be revealed. I must hurry and rescue him. But wait! To rescue him I must change back into my true form. When those ten fiends tending the fire see me, they will certainly make a raucous noise and disturb the old fiends. Wouldn’t that be a nuisance? Let me send them a little of my magic; I remember that when I was a Great Sage in Heaven, I once had a game of finger-guessing with Dhṛtarāṣṭra at the North Heaven Gate.8 I won some sleep-inducing insects from him, and I still have a few of them here. Let me give them to the fiends.” He felt around his waist and found that he had a dozen of those insects left. “I’m going to send them ten of these,” he said to himself, “and I’ll keep two for breeding.”