The Journey to the West, Revised Edition, Volume 3

by Unknown

  Eight Rules uses his power to seek the fan;

  The gods hunt the Bull King to protect the Law.

  The Bull King’s two hands will not stop or pause:

  With vigor they parry both left and right.

  They fight till the birds fold their wings and cease to fly,

  Till fishes stop leaping and submerge their scales,

  Till ghosts and gods wail as Heav’n and Earth grow faint,

  Till tigers and dragons cower as sunlight fades.

  Abandoning any regard for his life or limb, the Bull King fought them for over fifty rounds before he weakened and was forced to retreat in defeat. As he fled toward the north, he was met at once by the Diamond Guardian Dharma Diffusion of vast magic powers and of the Cliff of Mysterious Demons in the Mountain of Five Platforms, who shouted at him, “Bull Demon, where are you going? I have been sent by the Buddhist Patriarch Śākyamuni to set up cosmic nets here to capture you.”

  Hardly had he finished speaking when the Great Sage, Eight Rules, and the other deities came rushing toward them, so frightening the demon king that he turned and fled toward the south. He ran right into the Diamond Guardian Victorious Ultimate of immeasurable dharma-power and of the Pure-Cool Cave in the Emei Mountain, who shouted at him, “I received the Buddha’s decree to capture you.”

  His legs turning weak and his heart growing faint, the Bull King hurriedly tried to head toward the east, when he was met by the Diamond Guardian Great Strength, a Vaiśramaṇa ascetic from the Ear-Touching Ridge of the Sumeru Mountain, who shouted at him: “Where are you going, old Bull? By the secret command of Tathāgata, I am here to arrest you.” Backing off in fear, the Bull King fled toward the west, but he was greeted by the Diamond Guardian Ever Abiding, the indestructible honored rāja of the Golden Beam Summit at the Kunlun Mountain, who shouted at him, “Where is this fellow going? I am stationed here by the personal order of the aged Buddha in the Great Thunderclap Monastery of the Western Heaven. Who’ll let you get away?”

  In fear and trembling, the Bull King did not have time even for regret when he saw Buddhist warriors and celestial generals approaching from all sides with cosmic nets spread so wide that there was virtually no way to escape. In that abject moment, he heard Pilgrim and other pursuers closing in, and he had to mount the clouds to try to flee toward the sky.

  Just then, Devarāja Li, the Pagoda-Bearer, and Prince Naṭa led Fish-Bellied Vajrayakṣa and Celestial General Mighty-Spirit to block his path in midair. “Slow down! Slow down!” they cried. “By the decree of the Jade Emperor, we are here to arrest you.” In desperation, the Bull King shook his body as before and changed into a huge white bull, wielding his two iron-like horns to try to gore the devarāja, who met him with his scimitar.

  Meanwhile, Pilgrim Sun arrived at the scene. “Great Sage,” shouted Prince Naṭa, “we have our armor on, and we can’t salute you properly. Yesterday we father and son saw Tathāgata, who asked us to present a memorial to the Jade Emperor and inform him that the journey of the Tang Monk has been blocked at the Mountain of Flames, and that it was difficult for the Great Sage Sun to bring the Bull Demon King to submission. The Jade Emperor therefore issued a decree for my father king to lead the troops here to lend you assistance.” “But this fellow has considerable magic powers,” said Pilgrim. “Now he has changed into such a body. What shall we do?” “Great Sage, don’t worry!” said the prince with a laugh. “Watch me capture him!”

  Shouting “Change!”, the prince immediately changed into a figure having three heads and six arms. He leaped onto the bull’s back and brought his monster-cleaving sword down on the bull’s neck: the bull was beheaded at once. Putting away his scimitar, the devarāja was about to greet Pilgrim when another head emerged from the torso of the bull, his mouth belching black air and his eyes beaming golden rays. Naṭa lifted his sword once more and cut off the bull’s head; as soon as it dropped to the ground, another head came out. It went on like this more than ten times. At last, Naṭa took out his fiery wheel and hung it on the Bull’s horn. The wheel at once started a great blaze of true immortal fire, which burned so fiercely that the bull began to growl and roar madly, shaking his head and wagging his tail. He would have liked to use transformation to escape, but the Devarāja Pagoda-Bearer trained his imp-reflecting mirror steadfastly on him so that he could not change out of his original form. As he had no way to flee, he could only cry, “Don’t take my life! I’m willing to make submission to Buddhism.” “If you do pity your own life,” said Naṭa, “bring out the fan quickly.” The Bull King said, “The fan is being kept by my wife.”

  On hearing this, Naṭa took out his monster-tying rope and draped it around the bull’s neck. Then he threaded the rope through his nostrils so that the bull could be pulled with the hand. Pilgrim then collected together the Four Great Diamond Guardians, the Six Gods of Darkness and the Six Gods of Light, the Guardians of Monasteries, the Devarāja Pagoda-Bearer, the Celestial General Mighty-Spirit, Eight Rules, the local spirit, and the ghost soldiers. Surging around the white bull, they all went back to the entrance of the Palm-Leaf Cave. “Madam,” called the old bull, “please bring out the fan to save my life.”

  When Rākṣasī heard the call, she took off her jewels and her colored clothing. Tying up her hair like a Daoist priestess and putting on a plain colored robe like a Buddhist nun, she took up with both hands the twelve-foot long palm-leaf fan to walk out of the door. When she caught sight of the Diamond Guardians, the devarāja and his son, and the other sages, she hurriedly went to her knees to kowtow and say, “I beg the Bodhisattvas to spare our lives. We are willing to give this fan to Brother-in-law Sun so that he may achieve his merit.” Pilgrim drew near and took up the fan; then all of them mounted the auspicious clouds to return toward the east.

  We tell you now about Tripitaka and Sha Monk, who were alternately sitting and standing by the main road as they waited for Pilgrim. They were indeed full of anxiety because he did not return for such a long time. Then, all of a sudden, auspicious clouds filled the sky and hallowed lights flooded the earth, as the various divine officers drifted near. Turning quite apprehensive, the elder said, “Wujing, who are those divine warriors approaching us?” Recognizing the figures he saw, Sha Monk replied, “Master, those are the Four Great Diamond Guardians, the Golden-Headed Guardian, the Six Gods of Darkness and the Six Gods of Light, the Guardians of Monasteries, and other deities of the air. The one leading the bull is Third Prince Naṭa, and the one holding the mirror is Devarāja Li, the Pagoda-Bearer. Big Brother is carrying the palm-leaf fan, followed by Second Elder Brother and the local spirit. All the rest happen to be celestial guards.” On hearing this, Tripitaka put on his Vairocana hat and changed into his cassock before he led Wujing to bow to the sages, saying, “What virtue does this disciple possess that he should cause all you honored sages to descend to the mortal world?” “You should be congratulated, sage monk,” said one of the Four Great Diamond Guardians, “for your perfect merit is nearly achieved. We have come to assist you by the decree of Buddha. You must persist in your cultivation with all diligence, and you must not slacken at all.” Tripitaka kowtowed repeatedly to receive this instruction.

  Holding the fan, the Great Sage Sun walked near the mountain and waved the fan once with all his might. Immediately the flames on the mountain subsided and there was only the faintest glow left. He fanned at it a second time and a cool, gentle breeze rustled through the region. He fanned at the mountain a third time, and as

  Hazy clouds filled the sky,

  A fine rain drizzled down.

  We have a testimonial poem, and it says:

  Eight hundred miles long, this Mountain of Flames,

  The light of its fire has worldwide fame.

  Elixir can’t ripen with five senses scorched;

  When Three Passes6 are burned, the Dao’s impure.

  At times the palm-leaf may bring dew and rain;

  By luck Heaven’s hosts lend their godly pow�
��r.

  Lead the bull to Buddha, let it sin no more:

  Nature is calm when water’s joined with fire.

  At this time Tripitaka was liberated from heat and delivered from distress; his mind was purified and his will made quiescent. The four pilgrims renewed their submission and thanked the Diamond Guardians, who returned to their treasure mountains. The Six Gods of Darkness and the Six Gods of Light then rose into the air to provide continual protection, while the other deities all scattered. The deva-rāja and the prince led the bull to return to see Buddha. Only the local spirit remained to watch Rākṣasī, who was still standing at attention on one side.

  “Rākṣasī,” said Pilgrim, “how is it that you are not on your way? Why are you still standing here?” Going to her knees, Rākṣasī said, “I beg the Great Sage to be merciful and give me back my fan.” “You bitch!” shouted Eight Rules. “You don’t know when to stop! Isn’t it enough that we spare your life? You still want your fan? After we have taken it across the mountain, you think we won’t trade it for a snack? We are not going to give it back to you after we have expended all this energy! Look how the rain drizzles! Why don’t you go back!”

  “The Great Sage,” said Rākṣasī, bowing again, “said originally that he would return the fan to me once the fire was extinguished. I didn’t listen to you at first, and now it’s too late for regret after such a battle. Because of our recalcitrance, an army had to be sent here to toil and fight. I would, however, like to tell you that we have actually attained the way of humanity, though we have not returned to the right fruit. Now that I have witnessed the epiphany of the true body returning to the West, I shall never dare misbehave again. I beg you to give me back my fan, so that I may start a new life in self-cultivation.”

  “Great Sage,” said the local spirit, “since this woman knows the means by which the flames can forever be extinguished, you should ask her for it before you return the fan to her. This humble deity will remain in this region to care for its populace and beg from them some offering for my livelihood. You will have done us all an act of grace.” “When I spoke to the local people,” said Pilgrim, “they told me that when the fan extinguished the fire on this mountain, they could only harvest the five grains for one year. Then the fire would start again. How could it be extinguished forever?” “If you want it extinguished forever,” replied Rākṣasī, “you must fan at the mountain forty-nine times. It will never start again.”

  When he heard this, Pilgrim indeed took the fan and fanned with all his strength at the summit forty-nine times: a great torrential rain descended on the mountain. It was truly a treasure, for the rain came down on only the area where there was fire before; where there was no fire, the sky remained clear. Master and disciples thus stood on the spot where there was no fire and they did not get wet at all. After staying there for the night, they put in order the luggage and the horse the next morning and gave the fan back to Rākṣasī. Pilgrim said to her, “If old Monkey didn’t do this, I fear that people might say that my words are not trustworthy. You go back to a mountain with your fan now and don’t start any trouble. I spare you because you have already attained a human body.” After she received the fan, Rākṣasī recited a spell, and it changed again back into an almond leaf, which she placed in her mouth. She bowed to thank the pilgrims and went off somewhere to practice self-cultivation as a recluse. In the end she, too, attained the right fruit and a lasting reputation in the sūtras.

  As Rākṣasī and the local spirit thanked them and walked to send them off, Pilgrim, Eight Rules, and Sha Monk were again accompanying Tripitaka to move forward, truly with their bodies pure and cool and with moisture beneath their feet. This is what we mean by

  Kan and Li completed, true origin’s fused;

  Water and fire balanced, the great Dao is born.

  We don’t know in what year they will return to the Land of the East; let’s listen to the explanation in the next chapter.

  SIXTY-TWO

  To wash off filth, to bathe the mind, just sweep a pagoda;

  To bind demons and return to the lord is self-cultivation.

  In all twelve hours1 you must never forget

  To reap the fruit of night and day.2

  For five years—one hundred and eight thousand rounds—3

  Let not spirit water run dry,

  Nor let fire-light cause you distress.

  There’s no harm where fire and water blend well;

  Five Phases would join as if enchained.

  Yin and yang at peace raise you up cloudy tower:4

  Ride the phoenix to reach Heaven;

  Mount the crane to head for Yingzhou.

  The tune of this lyric is “Immortal by the River,” which we use solely to depict Tripitaka and his three disciples. Since they attained the condition wherein water and fire were in perfect equilibrium, their own natures became pure and cool. Successful in their endeavor to borrow the treasure fan of pure yin, they managed to extinguish the large mountain of torrid flames; and in less than a day, they traversed the distance of eight hundred. Leisurely and carefree, master and disciples proceeded toward the West. As it was the time of late autumn and early winter, this was what they saw:

  Wild chrysanthemum drop their blooms;

  Tender buds emerge from new plums.

  At each village they harvest grains;

  Every where they eat fragrant fare.

  The woods shed their leaves and distant hills are seen;

  By brookside frost thickens, cleansing the ravine.

  Moved by the wintry breeze,

  The insects stop their work.

  Pure yin now becomes yang,

  The month’s ruled by Yuanming.5

  Water virtue’s strong,

  For peace reigns in bright, clear days.

  Earth’s aura descends;

  Heaven’s aura rises;

  The rainbow leaves without a trace;

  Ice slowly forms in pools and ponds.

  Dangling by the ridges, wisteria flowers fade;

  Absorbing cold, pines and bamboos grow more green.

  After they traveled for quite awhile, the four of them again found themselves approaching a moated city. Reining in his horse, the Tang Monk called out to his disciple: “Wukong, look at those tall, towering buildings over there. What kind of a place do you think it is?” Pilgrim raised his head to look and saw that it was indeed a moated city. Truly it has

  The shape of a coiled dragon,

  This crouched-tigerlike strong city.

  On all sides bright canopies overhang it;

  With many turns royal plains level out.

  Beasts of jade and stone form the bridges’ railings;

  Statues of worthies stand on golden mounts.

  Truly it seems like a capital of China,

  A metropolis of Heaven;

  A secure domain of ten thousand miles,

  A prosperous empire of a thousand years.

  Barbarians yield to the ruler’s far-reaching grace;

  Mountains and seas pay tribute to the sages’ court.

  The royal steps are clean;

  The royal path’s serene;

  The taverns bustle with songs;

  Flowered towers are full of joy.

  Evergreens outside the Weiyang Palace6

  Should let the phoenix sing to greet the dawn.

  “Master,” said Pilgrim, “that moated city has to be the domain of a ruler or king.” “In this world,” said Eight Rules with a laugh, “there are cities that belong to a prefecture, and there are cities that belong to a district. How do you know that this is the domain of a ruler or a king?”

  “Don’t you know,” said Pilgrim, “that the domain of a king or a ruler is quite different from a prefecture or a district? Just look at those gates on all four sides of the city: there must be over ten of them. The circumference around it has to be over a hundred miles. The buildings are so tall that there are clouds and fog hovering over them. If this is no
t a royal capital of some sort, how could it have so grand and noble an appearance?” “You have good eyes, Elder Brother,” said Sha Monk, “and you may recognize that it’s a royal city. Do you know it’s name?” Pilgrim replied, “There are neither banners nor plaques. How could I know its name? We have to make inquiries inside the city, and then we’ll know.”

  Urging his horse on, the elder soon arrived at the gate, where he dismounted to walk across the moat-bridge. As he looked around after he entered the gate, he discovered flourishing trades in all three markets and the six boulevards; and he saw, moreover, that in their elegant attire, the people looked most distinguished. As they walked along, they suddenly caught sight of a score of monks begging from door to door, everyone carrying the cangue and wearing a lock. They looked most destitute indeed!

  “When the hare dies,” sighed Tripitaka, “the fox will grieve, for a creature will mourn its kind.” Then he called out:

  “Wukong, go up there and question them. Why are they so condemned?” Obeying his master’s words, Pilgrim said, “Hey, monks! Which monastery do you belong to? Why are you carrying the cangue and wearing the lock?” Going to their knees, the monks said, “Father, we are monks of the Golden Light Monastery who have been grievously wronged.” “Where is this Golden Light Monastery?” asked Pilgrim. “Just around the corner there,” said one of the monks.

  Pilgrim brought them before the Tang Monk before he asked them again, “What do you mean by grievously wronged? Tell me.” “Father,” said the monks, “we don’t know where you came from, though you seem quite familiar to us. We dare not tell you here. Please come to our humble residence, and we will disclose our woes.” “That is more appropriate,” said the elder. “Let’s go to their monastery, and we can then question them carefully.” They went together up to the monastery gate, where they found in gold letters this horizontal inscription: Golden Light Monastery Built by Imperial Command. As master and disciples entered the gate, they saw

  Cold scented lamps in aged halls;

  Windswept leaves in vacant corridors.

  Atop the clouds, a thousand-foot pagoda;