by Unknown
Anger flared in his heart,
Wrath sprouted from his gall.
Jumping down quickly from his lute couch, he took off his casual garment and put on his Daoist robe. He picked up a compliant hook and leaped out of the door of the Abbey. “Where is Sun Wukong?” he shouted. Pilgrim turned his head to see how that True Immortal was dressed.
A star cap of bright colors crowned his head;
He wore a red magic robe with golden threads.
His cloud shoes were topped by patterned brocade;
An elegant treasure belt wrapped around his waist.
A pair of stockings of embroidered silk;
Half visible, a patterned woolen kilt.
His hands held a compliant golden hook:
The blade, sharp; the handle, dragonlike and long.
Phoenix eyes glowed with brows going straight up;
Sharp, steely teeth within a blood-red mouth.
A beard soared like bright flames beneath his chin;
Like rushes flared his temple’s scarlet hair.
His form seemed as violent as Marshal Wen’s,6
Although their clothing was not the same.
When Pilgrim saw him, he pressed his palms together before him and bowed, saying, “This poor monk is Sun Wukong.” “Are you the real Sun Wukong,” said the master with a laugh, “or are you merely assuming his name and surname?” “Look at the way the master speaks!” said Pilgrim. “As the proverb says, ‘A gentleman changes neither his name when he stands, nor his surname when he sits.’ What would be the reason for me to assume someone else’s name?”
The master asked, “Do you recognize me?” “Since I made repentance in the Buddhist gate and embraced with all sincerity the teaching of the monks,” said Pilgrim, “I have only been climbing mountains and fording waters. I have lost contact with all the friends of my youth. Because I have never been able to visit you, I have never beheld your honorable countenance before. When we asked for our way in a village household west of the Child-and-Mother River, they told me that the master is called the True Immortal Compliant. That’s how I know your name.” The master said, “You are walking on your way, and I’m cultivating my authentic immortality. Why did you come to visit me?” “Because my master drank by mistake the water of the Child-and-Mother River,” replied Pilgrim, “and his stomachache turned into a pregnancy. I came especially to your immortal mansion to beg you for a bowl of water from the Abortion Stream, in order that my master might be freed from this ordeal.”
“Is your master Tripitaka Tang?” asked the master, his eyes glowering. “Yes, indeed!” answered Pilgrim. Grinding his teeth together, the master said spitefully, “Have you run into a Great King Holy Child?” “That’s the nickname of the fiend, Red Boy,” said Pilgrim, “who lived in the Fiery Cloud Cave by the Dried Pine Stream, in the Roaring Mountain. Why does the True Immortal ask after him?” “He happens to be my nephew,” replied the master, “and the Bull Demon King is my brother. Some time ago my elder brother told me in a letter that Sun Wukong, the eldest disciple of Tripitaka Tang, was such a rascal that he brought his son great harm. I didn’t know where to find you for vengeance, but you came instead to seek me out. And you’re asking me for water?”
Trying to placate him with a smile, Pilgrim said, “You are wrong, Sir. Your elder brother used to be my friend, for both of us belonged to a league of seven bond brothers when we were young. I just didn’t know about you, and so I did not come to pay my respect in your mansion. Your nephew is very well off, for he is now the attendant of the Bodhisattva Guanyin. He has become Sudhana, the Boy Skilled in Wealth, with whom even we cannot compare. Why do you blame me instead?”
“You brazen monkey!” shouted the master. “Still waxing your tongue! Is my nephew better off being a king by himself, or being a slave to someone? Stop this insolence and have a taste of my hook!” Using the iron rod to parry the blow, the Great Sage said, “Please don’t use the language of war, Sir. Give me some water and I’ll leave.” “Brazen monkey!” scolded the master. “You don’t know any better! If you can withstand me for three rounds, I’ll give you the water. If not, I’ll chop you up as meat sauce to avenge my nephew.” “You damned ignorant fool!” scolded Pilgrim. “You don’t know what’s good for you! If you want to fight, come up here and watch my rod!” The master at once countered with his compliant hook, and the two of them had quite a fight before the Abbey of Immortal Assembly.
The sage monk drinks from this procreant stream,
And Pilgrim must the Immortal Compliant seek.
Who knows the True Immortal is a fiend
That safeguards by force the Abortion Stream?
When these two meet, they speak as enemies
Feuding, and resolved not to give one whit.
The words thus traded engender distress;
Rancor and malice so bent on revenge.
This one, whose master’s life is threatened, comes seeking water;
That one for losing his nephew declines to yield the stream.
Fierce as a scorpion’s the compliant hook;
Wild like a dragon’s the golden-hooped rod.
Madly it stabs the chest, what savagery!
Aslant, it hooks the legs, what subtlety!
The rod aiming down there7 inflicts grave wounds;
The hook, passing shoulders, will whip the head.
The rod slaps the waist—“a hawk holds a bird.”
The hook swipes the head—“a mantis hits its prey.”
They lunge here and there, both striving to win;
They turn and close in again and again.
The hook hooks, the rod strikes, without letup—
Victory cannot be seen on either side.
The master fought the Great Sage for over ten rounds and then he began to weaken. The Great Sage, however, grew more fierce, the blows of his rod raining on his opponent’s head like a meteor shower. His strength all gone, the master fled toward the mountain with his compliant hook trailing behind him.
Instead of chasing after him, the Great Sage wanted to go into the Abbey to look for the water, but the Daoist had long had the door tightly shut. Holding the porcelain bowl, the Great Sage dashed up to the door and kicked it down with all his might. He rushed inside and saw the Daoist leaning on the well, covering its mouth with his body. The Great Sage lifted high his rod and shouted that he was about to strike, causing the Daoist to flee to the rear. Then he found a bucket, but just as he tried to bail some water, the master dashed out from the rear and caught hold of one of his legs with the compliant hook. One hard tug sent the Great Sage tumbling beak-first to the ground. Clambering up, the Great Sage at once attacked with his iron rod, but the master only retreated to one side. With hook in hand, he cried, “See if you could take away my water!”
“Come up here! Come up here!” yelled the Great Sage. “I’ll beat you to death!”
But the master refused to go forward to fight; he just stood there and refused to permit the Great Sage to bail out the water. When the Great Sage saw that his enemy was motionless, he wielded his iron rod with his left hand while his right hand tried to let the rope down the well. Before the pulley had made several turns, however, the master again struck with his hook. As the Great Sage could hardly protect himself with only one hand, the hook once more caught hold of one of his legs, causing him to stumble and the rope to fall into the well, bucket and all. “This fellow is quite rude!” said the Great Sage, who clambered up and, holding the iron rod now with both hands, showered his opponent’s body and head with blows. Not daring to face him and fight, the master fled away as before. Again the Great Sage wanted to get the water, but this time he had no bucket, and moreover, he was afraid that the master would return to attack him. He thought to himself: “I must go and find a helper.”
Dear Great Sage! He mounted the clouds and went straight back to the village hut, crying, “Sha Monk.” Inside Tripitaka was moaning to endure the pain, while the groans of Eig
ht Rules were continuous. Delighted by the call, they said, “Sha Monk, Wukong’s back.” Sha Monk hurried out the door to ask, “Big Brother, have you brought water?” The Great Sage entered and gave a thorough account to the Tang Monk. Shedding tears, Tripitaka said, “O disciple! How is this going to end?” “I came back,” said the Great Sage, “to ask Brother Sha to go with me. When we reach the Abbey, old Monkey will fight with that fellow and Sha Monk can use the opportunity to get that water to save you.” Tripitaka said, “Both of you who are healthy will be gone, leaving behind the two of us who are sick. Who will look after us?” The old woman waiting on them said, “Relax, old arhat. You don’t need your disciples. We will serve you and take care of you. When you first arrived, we were already fond of you. Then we saw how this bodhisattva traveled by cloud and fog, and we knew that you had to be an arhat or bodhisattva. We’ll never dare to harm you again.”
“You are all women here,” snapped Pilgrim. “Whom do you dare to harm?” “O dear father!” said the old woman, giggling. “You’re lucky to have come to my house. If you had gone to another one, none of you would have remained whole.” “What do you mean,” said Eight Rules, still groaning, “by not remaining whole?” The old woman replied, “The four or five of us in this family are all getting on in years. We have given up the activities of love. If you go to another family, there may be more youthful members than old ones. You think the young ones will let you go? They will want to have intercourse with you, and if you refuse, they will take your lives. Then they will cut you up to use your flesh to make fragrant bags.” “In that case,” said Eight Rules, “I won’t be hurt. They all smell nice, and they’ll be good for fragrant bags. I’m a stinking hog, and even when I’m cut up, I still stink. That’s why I can’t be hurt.” “Don’t be so talkative!” said Pilgrim, chuckling. “Save your strength, so you can give birth.” The old woman said, “No need for delay. Go quickly to get the water.” “Do you have a bucket in your house?” asked Pilgrim. “Please lend us one.” The old woman went to the back to take out a bucket and rope to hand over to Sha Monk, who said, “Let’s bring two ropes. We may need them if the well is deep.”
After Sha Monk received the bucket and the ropes, he followed the Great Sage out of the village hut and they left together, mounting the clouds. In less than half an hour, they arrived at the Male-Undoing Mountain. As they lowered their clouds to go before the Abbey, the Great Sage gave Sha Monk this instruction: “Take the bucket with the ropes and hide yourself. Old Monkey will go and provoke battle. When we are in the thick of fighting, you can use the opportunity to go inside, get the water, and leave.” Sha Monk obeyed.
Wielding his iron rod, the Great Sage Sun approached the door and shouted: “Open the door! Open the door!” The Daoist who stood guard at the door hurried inside to report, “Master, that Sun Wukong is here again.” Greatly angered, the master said, “This brazen ape is insolent indeed! I have always heard that he has considerable abilities, and today I know it’s true. That rod of his is quite difficult to withstand.” “Master,” said the Daoist, “his abilities may be great, but yours are not inferior. You are, in fact, exactly his match.” “But twice before,” said the master, “I lost to him.” “Only in a contest of sheer violence,” said the Daoist. “Later, when he tried to bail water, your hook made him fall twice. Haven’t you equalized the situation? He had little alternative but to leave at first, and now he’s back. It must be that Tripitaka’s pregnancy is so advanced and his body so heavy that his complaints have driven this monkey to return, against his better judgment. He must feel rather contemptuous toward his master, and I’m sure that you will win.”
When the True Immortal heard these words, he became
Delighted and filled with elation;
Full of smiles and brimming with power.
Holding straight his compliant hook, he walked out of the door and shouted, “Brazen simian! Why are you here again?” “Only to fetch water,” answered the Great Sage. “That water,” said the True Immortal, “happens to be in my well. Even if you are a king or a prime minister, you must come begging with offerings of meat and wines, and then I will only give you a little. You are my enemy no less, and you dare to ask for it with empty hands?” “You really refuse to give it to me?” asked the Great Sage. The True Immortal replied, “Yes! Yes!” “You damned fool!” scolded the Great Sage. “If you don’t give me the water, watch my rod!” He opened up at once and rushed at the True Immortal, bringing down the rod hard on his head. Stepping aside quickly to dodge the blow, the True Immortal met him with the hook and fought back. This time, it was even more ferocious a battle than last time. What a fight!
Golden-hooped rod,
Compliant hook,
Two angry men so full of enmity.
The cosmos darkens as sand and rocks fly up;
Sun and moon sadden as dirt and dust soar high.
The Great Sage seeks water to save his master,
Denied by the fiend for his nephew’s sake.
The two exert their strength
To wage a contest there.
Teeth are ground together
To strive for a victory.
More and more alert,
They arouse themselves.
They belch cloud and fog to sadden ghosts and gods.
Bing-bing and bang-bang clash both hook and rod,
Their cries, their shouts shake up the mountain range.
The fierce wind, howling, ravages the woods;
The violent airs surge past the dipper stars.
The Great Sage grows happier as he strives;
The True Immortal’s gladder as he fights.
They do this battle with whole heart and mind;
They will not give up until someone dies.
The two of them began their fighting outside the Abbey, and as they struggled and danced together, they gradually moved to the mountain slope below. We shall leave this bitter contest for a moment.
We tell you instead about our Sha Monk, who crashed through the door, holding the bucket. He was met by the Daoist, who barred the way at the well and said, “Who are you that you dare come to get our water?” Dropping the bucket, Sha Monk took out his fiend-routing treasure staff and, without a word, brought it down on the Daoist’s head. The Daoist was unable to dodge fast enough, and his left arm and shoulder were broken by this one blow. Falling to the ground, he lay there struggling for his life. “I wanted to slaughter you, cursed beast,” scolded Sha Monk, “but you are, after all, a human being. I still have some pity for you, and I’ll spare you. Let me bail out the water.” Crying for Heaven and Earth to help him, the Daoist crawled slowly to the rear, while Sha Monk lowered the bucket into the well and filled it to the brim. He then walked out of the Abbey and mounted the cloud and fog before he shouted to Pilgrim, “Big Brother, I have gotten the water and I’m leaving. Spare him! Spare him!”
When the Great Sage heard this, he stopped the hook with his iron rod and said, “I was about to exterminate you, but you have not committed a crime. Moreover, I still have regard for the feelings of your brother, the Bull Demon King. When I first came here, I was hooked by you twice and I didn’t get my water. When I returned, I came with the trick of ‘Enticing the Tiger to leave the Mountain’ and deceived you into fighting me, so that my brother could go inside to get the water. If old Monkey is willing to use his real abilities to fight with you, don’t say there is only one of you so-called True Immortal Compliant. Even if there are several of you, I would beat you all to death. But to kill is not as good as to let live, and so I’m going to spare you and permit you to have a few more years. From now on if anyone wishes to obtain the water, you must not blackmail the person.”
Not knowing anything better, that bogus immortal brandished his hook and once more attempted to catch Pilgrim’s legs. The Great Sage evaded the blade of his hook and then rushed forward, crying, “Don’t run!” The bogus immortal was caught unprepared and he was pushed head over heels to the gr
ound, unable to get up. Grabbing the compliant hook the Great Sage snapped it in two; then he bundled the pieces together and, with another bend, broke them into four segments. Throwing them on the ground, he said, “Brazen, cursed beast! Still dare to be unruly?” Trembling all over, the bogus immortal took the insult and dared not utter a word. Our Great Sage, in peals of laughter, mounted the cloud to rise into the air, and we have a testimonial poem.
The poem says:
For smelting true lead true water you need;
True water well mixed dries true mercury.
True mercury and lead have no maternal breath;
Elixir are numinous drugs and grains.
In vain baby boy has a pregnant form;
Earth Mother has achieved merit with ease.
Heresy pushed down, right faith they learn;
The Lord of the Mind, all smiles, would return.
Mounting the auspicious luminosity, the Great Sage caught up with Sha Monk. Having acquired the true water, they were filled with delight as they returned to where they belonged. After they lowered the clouds and went up to the village hut, they found Zhu Eight Rules leaning on the door post and groaning, his belly huge and protruding. Walking quietly up to him, Pilgrim said, “Idiot, when did you enter the delivery room?” Horrified, Idiot said, “Elder Brother, don’t make fun of me. Did you bring the water?” Pilgrim was about to tease him some more when Sha Monk followed him in, laughing as he said, “Water’s coming! Water’s coming!” Enduring the pain, Tripitaka rose slightly and said, “O disciples, I’ve caused you a lot of trouble.” That old woman, too, was most delighted, and all of her relatives came out to kowtow, crying, “O bodhisattva! This is our luck! This is our luck!” She took a goblet of flowered porcelain, filled it half full, and handed it to Tripitaka, saying, “Old master, drink it slowly. All you need is a mouthful and the pregnancy will dissolve.” “I don’t need any goblet,” said Eight Rules. “I’ll just finish the bucket.” “O venerable father, don’t scare people to death!” said the old woman. “If you drink this bucket of water, your stomach and your intestines will all be dissolved.” Idiot was so taken aback that he dared not misbehave; he drank only half a goblet.
