The Journey to the West, Revised Edition, Volume 3

by Unknown

  Though your hands may hold a luminous pearl.

  You will soon reel under this blowing sand.

  Spellbound by what he saw, Pilgrim did not notice that some sand and dust flew into his nose until the itch made him sneeze a couple of times. He turned and picked up from beneath the ledge two small pebbles, which he used to stop up his nostrils. Shaking his body once, he changed into a sparrowhawk able to penetrate fire. He flew right into the smoke and flame, but all of a sudden, the sand and dust vanished, and even the smoke and fire subsided. Quickly he changed back into his true form and dropped down from the air. As he looked about, there came to his ears the loud clanging of a brass gong. “I must have taken the wrong road!” he thought to himself. “This can’t be where the monster-spirit lives. The gong sounds like one of those belonging to a postal soldier. This must be a state highway, and some postal soldier is on his way to deliver a document. Let old Monkey go and question him a bit.”

  As he walked along, he saw a little fiend with a yellow banner on his shoulder and an official document bag on his back. Banging aloud the gong, the fiend was running swiftly toward him. “So this is the fellow who’s beating the gong!” said Pilgrim, laughing. “I wonder what sort of document he’s carrying. Let me eavesdrop on him.”

  Dear Great Sage! With a shake of his body he changed into a midge and gently alighted on the fiend’s document bag. All he heard was the monster-spirit banging the gong and mumbling to himself, “Our great king is quite vicious! Three years ago he abducted the Golden Sage Queen from the Scarlet-Purple Kingdom, but he didn’t have the affinity even to touch her. Only those palace maidens brought here as substitutes were the ones who suffered. Two of them came, and they were driven to death; then four arrived, and they, too, were driven to death. Year before last, he wanted the maidens; last year, he wanted more; this year, he wanted more; and even now, he still wants some more. But he has run into an adversary, for that vanguard sent to make demands for the palace maidens has been defeated by some Pilgrim Sun. Angered by this, our great king wanted to go into war with that kingdom and asked me to send them some declaration of war. Once I deliver this document, that king had better decide not to fight, for any war would only go against him. When our great king uses his smoke, fire, and flying sand, none of them, the king and his subjects, can ever hope to remain alive. We will certainly occupy their city; our great king will become emperor and we will become his officials. High or low, we will have some appointments or ranks, but I fear that our action would be intolerable to Heaven.”

  When Pilgrim heard this, he was secretly delighted. “Even a monster-spirit,” he thought to himself, “can have good intentions. Just listen to what he has said about how their ‘action would be intolerable to Heaven.’ Isn’t he a good man? But concerning the Golden Sage Queen, I don’t quite understand what he means by the fiend king not having affinity to touch her body. Let me question him a bit.” With a buzz, he flew away from the monster-spirit and darted ahead for several miles. A shake of his body changed him into a little Daoist lad:

  His head had two tufts of hair;

  He wore a patched cleric robe.

  Tapping a wooden-fish drum,

  A Daoist hymn he hummed.

  Rounding the mountain slope, he met the little fiend and saluted him with hand upraised, saying, “Officer, where are you going? What’s the document you are delivering?” Behaving as if he knew his interrogator, the fiendish creature stopped his gong and, giggling loudly, returned the greeting. “Our great king,” said he, “has sent me to deliver a declaration of war to the Scarlet-Purple Kingdom.” “Has that someone from the Scarlet-Purple Kingdom,” continued Pilgrim, “mated with the great king?”

  “Almost immediately after she had been abducted,” replied the little fiend, “an immortal presented to her as a gift a five-colored divine robe. Once she had put it on, however, needlelike prickles sprouted all over her body. Our great king didn’t even dare to give her the slightest touch, for the merest contact would inflict terrific pain on his hand. We don’t know how those prickles grew, but that’s the reason for his not claiming her body from the beginning until now. Earlier this morning, he sent his vanguard to demand two palace maidens for his service, but the vanguard was defeated by one so-called Pilgrim Sun. Our great king was angered, and that was why he sent me to deliver a declaration of war. He is going to do battle with him tomorrow.” “Is the great king still angry?” asked Pilgrim. “Indeed he is,” replied the little fiend. “You should go cheer him up with a Daoist song or two.”

  Dear Pilgrim! After a bow with hands folded, he turned and walked away, while the fiend struck up his gong and journeyed as before. Unleashing his violence all at once, Pilgrim whipped out his rod, turned around again, and delivered a blow on the back of the little fiend’s head. Alas! This one blow made

  The head shatter, the blood flow, the brains burst out;

  The skin rift, the neck split, and his life expire.

  As he put away the rod, he was smitten with regret, saying to himself, “I’m a little too impatient! I hadn’t even asked his name. Oh, all right!” He took down the declaration of war document to put in his own sleeve; the yellow banner and the brass gong were stuffed into the grass by the road. As he picked up the fiend by the legs and was about to throw him into the brook, a gold-plated nameplate dropped down from his waist with a clang. On the plate was the following inscription:

  One trusted junior officer by the name of Going and Coming:

  rather short, pimply face, beardless. To be worn at all times.

  The person without this plate is an imposter.

  “So this fellow has the name of Going and Coming,” chuckled Pilgrim, “but my rod has rendered him Going without Coming.” He took down the nameplate and attached it to his waist. He was about to throw away the corpse when the thought of the threat of smoke and fire stopped him from searching further for the cave-dwelling. Raising his rod instead, he punched it through the chest of the little fiend, toted the corpse to rise to the air, and went back to the kingdom to annouce his first merit. Look at him! Thinking and wondering to himself, he soon arrived at the capital.

  Before the Hall of Golden Chimes, our Eight Rules was standing guard over the king and his master, when all of a sudden he saw Pilgrim approaching in midair and toting a monster-spirit. “Ah, this fribble business!” he muttered to himself. “If I had known it earlier, old Hog would have gone to arrest the fiend. That would have been counted as my merit, wouldn’t it?” Hardly had he finished speaking when Pilgrim lowered his cloud and threw the monster-spirit before the steps. Dashing up to the corpse, Eight Rules gave him a blow with his rake, crying, “This is the merit of old Hog!”

  “What merit of yours is that?” asked Pilgrim. “Don’t cheat me out of it!” replied Eight Rules. “I have evidence here. Aren’t those nine holes made by the rake?” “Take another look,” said Pilgrim, “and see if he has a head or not.” “So, he’s headless!” said Eight Rules, chuckling. “I was wondering why he didn’t move at all when I struck him with my rake.”

  “Where’s Master?” asked Pilgrim, and Eight Rules said, “Talking with the king in the hall.” “Go and ask him to come out,” said Pilgrim.

  Eight Rules ran up to the hall and nodded his head, whereupon Tripitaka rose and descended the hall to meet Pilgrim. Pilgrim took out the declaration of war and stuffed it into the sleeve of Tripitaka, saying, “Put it away, Master, and don’t let the king see this.”

  As they were speaking, the king also came down the hall and met Pilgrim. “Divine monk, you’ve returned,” he said. “How did the matter of arresting the fiend go?” Pointing with his finger, Pilgrim said, “Isn’t that a monster-spirit who has been slain by old Monkey?” The king took one look and said, “It is the corpse of a fiend, but he’s no Jupiter’s Rival, whom we have seen twice with our own eyes. The archfiend is eighteen feet tall, and his shoulders are five times as wide as other men’s. His face resembles a golden beam, and hi
s voice is like thunder. He is no vulgar-looking midget like this one.”

  Smiling, Pilgrim said, “Your Majesty, you are perceptive, for this is indeed no Jupiter’s Rival, but only a little fiend serving as a messenger, who ran into old Monkey. I slew him and toted him back to announce my merit.” “Fine! Fine! Fine!” said the king, highly pleased. “This should be considered your first merit. We have often sent our people out there to gather intelligence, but we have never managed to turn up anything substantial. The moment the divine monk goes forth, he’s able to bring back a captive. That’s true magic power!” Then he called out, “Warm up the wine, so that we may congratulate the elder for his merit.”

  “Drinking wine is a trivial matter,” said Pilgrim. “Let me ask your Majesty, did the Golden Sage Palace leave you any memento when she departed? If she did, give it to me.” When the king heard him mention the word, “memento,” he felt as if a sword had run his heart through and he wept aloud, saying,

  When we toasted brightness and warmth that year,

  The vicious Jupiter uttered his cries.

  He took by force our queen to be his wife;

  We yielded her up for the people’s sake.

  There were no words of greeting or farewell,

  No tender partings by the wayside stands.10

  Mementos, scented purse—every thing is gone,

  Except myself, all bitter and forlorn.

  “Your Majesty,” said Pilgrim, “your pain is near its end. Why torture yourself like that? If our lady did not leave you any memento, are there objects in the palace that she is most fond of? Give me one of these.” “Why do you want them?” asked the king. Pilgrim said, “That fiend king does have magic powers. When I saw the smoke, the fire, and the sand he released, I knew it would be difficult to bring him to submission. Even if I were to succeed, I fear that our lady would refuse to accompany me, a stranger, to return to the kingdom. She will trust me only if she sees me entrusted with some object most dear to her when she was in the palace. That’s why I must take such an object along with me.”

  “In the dressing alcove,” said the king, “at the Palace of the Bright Sun, there is a pair of gold bracelets, originally worn by our Golden Sage Palace. Because that day was the festival when she had to tie five colored threads to her arms, she took off the bracelets. As these were some of her favorite things, they are still kept in a jewel box. Because of the way we were separated, however, we could not bear the sight of these bracelets, for they reminded us so much of her lovely face. The moment we see them, we would be sicker than ever.” “Let’s not talk about illness anymore,” said Pilgrim. “Bring me the bracelets. If you can part with them, give them to me. If not, I’ll just take one of them.”

  The king asked the Jade Sage Palace to take them out. When the king saw the bracelets, he cried several times, “Dearest, dearest Lady,” before handing them over to Pilgrim. After Pilgrim took them, he put them on his arm.

  Dear Great Sage! He refused the wine of merit and mounted the cloud somersault instead. With a whistle he arrived once more at the Unicorn Mountain. Too preoccupied to enjoy the scenery, he at once began searching for the cave. As he walked along, he heard the raucous noise of people speaking. When he stood still to look more carefully, he found soldiers posted at the entrance of the Cave of Mythic Beast, some five hundred of them,

  All tightly lined up,

  And densely arrayed.

  Tightly lined up, they held spears and swords

  Which gleamed in the sun;

  Densely arrayed, they unfurled the banners

  Which fluttered in the wind.

  Tiger generals, bear captains, all able to change;

  Leopard warriors, striped-cat marshals, most spirited.

  Grey wolves, how savage!

  Brown elephants, still more potent!

  Sly hare, clever deer, wielding halberds and swords;

  Long snakes, huge serpents, hung with sabers and bows.

  The chimpanzee who understands human speech

  Leads the troops, secures the camp as one informed.

  When Pilgrim saw them, he dared not proceed; instead, he turned and walked back out the way he came. Why did he turn back, you ask? It was not because he was afraid of them. Actually, he returned to the spot where he had slain the little fiend and found again that brass gong and that yellow banner.

  Facing the wind, he made the magic sign;

  Thinking the image, he went into motion.

  With one shake of his body, he changed himself into the form of Going and Coming. Banging loud his gong, he stepped forward in great strides and marched right up to the Cave of the Mythic Beast. Just as he was looking over the cave, he heard the chimpanzee say, “Going and Coming, are you back?” Pilgrim had no alternative but to reply, “I’m back.” “Get inside quickly!” said the chimpanzee. “The great king is waiting for your reply at the Skinning Pavilion.” On hearing this, Pilgrim strode inside the front door, still beating his gong. Once inside, he saw hanging cliffs and precipitous walls, rock chambers and quiet rooms. There were exotic grasses and flowers on the left and right, and there were plenty of old cedars and aged pines front and back.

  Soon he walked through the second-level door, where he saw an octagonal pavilion with eight translucent windows. In the middle of the pavilion was a gold inlaid armchair, on which was seated solemnly a demon king. Truly he had a savage appearance! You see

  Colored nimbus soaring up from his head

  And violent air bursting forth from his chest.

  Pointed teeth protrude like rows of sharp swords;

  His temple’s tousled locks flare like red fume.

  Whiskers like arrows stick onto his lips;

  Hairs wrap his body like blanket layers.

  Mocking Jupiter are two copper-bell eyes;

  An iron club he holds looks tall as the sky.

  Though Pilgrim saw him, he was bold enough to make light of the monster-spirit. Without in the least affecting good manners, Pilgrim turned his back on him and kept beating the gong. “Have you returned?” asked the fiend king, but Pilgrim did not answer him. “Going and Coming, have you returned?” he asked again, and still Pilgrim did not answer him. The fiend king walked up to him and tugged at Pilgrim, saying, “Why are you still beating the gong after you have come home? I ask you a question, and you don’t answer me. Why?”

  Dashing the gong to the ground, Pilgrim cried, “What’s this ‘Why, Why, Why’? I told you I didn’t want to go, and you insisted that I should. When I got there, I saw countless men and horses already arrayed in battle formations. The moment they saw me, they cried, ‘Seize the monster-spirit! Seize the monster-spirit!’ Pushing and shoving, they hauled me bodily into the city to see the king, who at once ordered me executed. It was fortunate that counselors from both rows of ministers invoked the old maxim that ‘When two states are at war, the envoys are never executed.’ They spared me and took away the declaration of war. Then they sent me out of the city, where before the entire army they caned me thirty times on my legs. I was released to tell you that they would be here soon to do battle with you.”

  “As you have put the matter,” said the fiend king, “you have lucked out! No wonder you didn’t answer me when I questioned you.” Pilgrim said, “I was silent not because of anything. It’s just that I was nursing my pain, and that’s why I didn’t reply.”

  “How many horses and men do they have?” asked the fiend king one more time. Pilgrim said, “I was scared silly, and I was further intimidated by their beatings. You think I would be able to account for the number of their horses and men? All I saw in thick rows were

  Bows, arrows, sabers, mail, and armor;

  Lances, swords, halberds, and tasseled banners;

  Poleaxes, crescent spades, and head-coverings;

  Huge axes, round shields, and iron caltrops;

  Long battle staffs;

  Short, fat cudgels;

  Steel tridents and petards and helmets, too.<
br />
  To be worn are tall boots, head gear, and quilted vests.

  Crops and whips, sleeve-pellets, and bronze mallets.”11

  When the fiendish king heard this, he laughed and said, “That’s nothing! That’s nothing! A little fire and all such weapons will be wiped out. You should go now and tell our Lady Golden Sage not to worry. When she heard that I was growing angry and about to go into battle, she was already full of tears. Why don’t you go now and tell her that the men and horses of her country are most fearsome and that they will certainly prevail against me. That ought to give her some relief for awhile.”

  On hearing this, Pilgrim was very pleased, saying to himself, “Old Monkey can’t ask for anything better!” Look at him! He seems to be peculiarly familiar with the way! Rounding a small side door, he passed through halls and chambers. Deep inside the cave, you see, were all tall buildings and edifices, quite unlike what was in front. When he reached the rear palace where the Lady Golden Sage lived, he saw brilliantly colored doors. Walking through these to look around, he found two choirs of fiendish vixen and deer, all made up to appear as beautiful maidens standing on the left and right. In the middle was seated the lady, who held her chin in her hand as tears fell from her eyes. Indeed she had

  Soft, youthful features,

  Seductive good looks.

  Too lazy to do her hair,

  She left it piled up loosely;

  Loathful of make-up,

  She wore neither pins nor bracelets.

  Her face had no powder,

  She being scornful of rouge.

  Her hair had no oil,

  For she kept unkempt her tresses.

  Her cherry lips pouted

  As she clenched her silvery teeth;

  Her moth brows knitted

  As tears drenched her starlike eyes.

  All her heart

  Yearned for the Scarlet-Purple ruler;

  All her thoughts

  Dwelled on fleeing at once this snare and net.

  Truly it had been thus:

  The fate of fair ladies was always harsh.

  Weary and silent, she faced the east wind.