The Journey to the West, Revised Edition, Volume 3

by Unknown

  We tell you now about the son of the old man Yang, who was indeed one of those bandits. After Pilgrim had beaten to death the two chiefs on the mountain slope, the thieves scattered and fled for their lives. By about the time of the fourth watch, however, they had regrouped and came to knock on the door of the Yang house. When he heard the noise, the old man put on his clothes at once and said, “Mama, he’s back.” “If he’s here,” said the old woman, “go open the door and let him in.” No sooner had he opened the door when those thieves swarmed inside, all crying, “We’re hungry! We’re hungry!” The son of old Yang hurried inside to wake up his wife, so that she could cook some rice. As there was no more firewood in the kitchen, he had to bring back some from the rear garden. Then he asked his wife in the kitchen, “Whose white horse is that in the rear garden?” “It belongs to some monks from the Land of the East,” said the wife, “who are on their way to seek scriptures. They came to ask for lodging last night, and Papa and Mama fed them dinner before they were sent to sleep in the barn back there.”

  When the fellow heard this, he ran out to the thatched hall in front, laughing and clapping his hands. “Brothers,” he said, “we’re very lucky! Our foes are in the house!” “Which foes?” asked the thieves. The fellow replied, “The monks who killed our chiefs came to our house to ask for shelter. They are sleeping in the haystacks in our barn.” “How marvelous!” said the bandits. “Let’s catch these bald asses, and we’ll chop each of them into minced meat. For one thing, we’ll get the luggage and the horse; for another, we’ll avenge our leaders.” “Don’t be hasty,” said the fellow. “All of you should sharpen your knives right now. Wait until the rice is cooked; after we have a full meal, we can attack them together.” The thieves indeed went to sharpen their knives and spears.

  When the old man heard them talking like that, however, he went quietly to the rear garden and woke up the Tang Monk and his three disciples. “That fellow has led a band of his friends here,” he said, “and when they discovered that you were here, they planned to harm you. Mindful of the fact that you have traveled a great distance to reach our place, this old moron can’t bear the thought of your getting hurt. Pack your bags quickly, and I’ll let you out the back door.” When Tripitaka heard this, he shook all over as he kowtowed to thank the old man. Then he called Eight Rules to lead the horse, Sha Monk to pole the luggage, and Pilgrim to pick up the nine-ringed priestly staff. After the old man let them out of the back door, he returned to the front and quietly went to bed once more.

  We tell you now about the fellow and his companions. When they had sharpened their knives and spears and eaten their fill, it was already about the time of the fifth watch. They rushed together into the rear garden, but no one was to be seen. Quickly lighting torches and lamps, they searched all around for a long time, but not a trace could be detected. Then they found that the back door was open, and they all said, “They’ve escaped from the back door!” With a shout, they gave chase immediately.

  Every bandit was darting forward like an arrow, and by sunrise, they caught sight of the Tang Monk. When the elder heard shouts behind him, he turned to look and discovered a band of some thirty men rushing toward him, all armed with knives and spears. “Oh, disciples,” he cried, “the brigand troops are catching up with us. What shall we do?” “Relax, relax!” said Pilgrim. “Old Monkey will go finish them off!” “Wukong,” said Tripitaka as he stopped his horse, “you must not hurt these people. Just frighten them away.” Unwilling, of course, to listen to his master, Pilgrim turned quickly to face his pursuers, saying, “Where are you going, sirs?” “You nasty baldie!” cried the thieves. “Give us back the lives of our great kings!”

  As they encircled Pilgrim, the bandits lifted their spears and knives to stab and hack away madly. The Great Sage gave one wave of his rod and it had the thickness of a bowl; with it, he fought until those bandits dropped like stars and dispersed like clouds. Those he bumped into died at once, those he caught hold of perished immediately, those he tapped had their bones broken, and those he brushed against had their skins torn. The few smart ones managed to escape, but the rest of the dumb ones all went to see King Yama!

  When Tripitaka saw that many men had fallen, he was so aghast that he turned and galloped toward the West, with Zhu Eight Rules and Sha Monk hard on the horse’s heels. Pilgrim pulled over one of the wounded bandits and asked, “Which is the son of old Yang?” “Father,” groaned the thief, “the one in yellow.” Pilgrim went forward to pick up a knife and beheaded the one in yellow. Holding the bloody head in his hand, he retrieved his iron rod and, in great strides, caught up with the Tang Monk. As he arrived before the horse, he raised the head and said, “Master, this is the rebellious son of old Yang, and he’s been beheaded by old Monkey.” Paling with fright, Tripitaka fell down from the horse, crying, “Wretched ape! You’ve scared me to death! Take it away! Take it away!” Eight Rules went forward and kicked the head to the side of the road, where he used the muckrake to bury it.

  Sha Monk, meanwhile, put down the luggage and took hold of the Tang Monk, saying, “Master, please get up.” After he regained composure, the Tang Monk stood on the ground and began to recite the Tight-Fillet Spell. The head of Pilgrim was clamped so painfully tight that his entire face turned scarlet, his eyes bulged, and dizziness overtook him. Rolling on the ground, all he could mutter was; “Stop that recital! Stop that recital!” The elder, however, went on for more than ten times, and still he would not stop. Pilgrim was doing somersaults and handstands, for the pain was truly unbearable. “Master, please forgive my sins!” he cried. “If you have something to say, say it. Just stop that recital!” Only then did Tripitaka halt his recitation and say, “I have nothing to say to you. I don’t want you as my follower. Go back.” Kowtowing despite his pain, Pilgrim said, “Master, how is it that you are chasing me away?” “Brazen ape,” said Tripitaka, “you’re just too vicious! You are no scripture pilgrim. When you slaughtered those two bandit chiefs below the mountain slope yesterday, I took offense already at your lack of human kindness. When we reached that old man’s house last night, he was good enough to give us lodging and food, and moreover, it was he who opened his back door to let us escape with our lives. Though his son is no good, he has not done anything to us to deserve this kind of execution. As if that’s not enough, you have taken so many lives that you have practically destroyed the sentiment of peace in this world. I have tried to admonish you so many times, but there’s not a single thought of kindness in you. Why should I keep you? Be gone, quickly! Or I will start reciting the magic words once more!” “Stop it! Stop it!” cried a horrified Pilgrim. “I’m going!” He said he would go, and immediately he vanished without a trace by his cloud somersault. Alas, thus it is that

  Elixir will not ripen with a violent mind;

  When spirit’s unstable, the Way’s hard to find.

  We don’t know to which direction the Great Sage rushed off; let’s listen to the explanation in the next chapter.

  FIFTY-SEVEN

  True Pilgrim lays bare his woes at Mount Potalaka;

  False Monkey King transcribes texts at Water-Curtain Cave.

  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 Water-Curtain Cave with my life.” Smiling at him, the Bodhisattva replied, “The Tight-Fillet 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. Dr
opping 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.