by Unknown
“Master, relax,” said Pilgrim, laughing. “It’s no big thing! There may be a few monster-spirits here, I suppose, but the people of this region are very timid. They frighten themselves with all this rumor about how many fiends there are and how big they are. Look, you have me!” “Elder Brother,” said Eight Rules, “you shouldn’t talk that way! I’m not like you, and what I learn is the truth. It’s not a rumor. The whole mountain and the whole valley are filled with fiendish demons. How could we go forward?”
“The mouth and face of an idiot!” said Pilgrim, chuckling. “Allow nothing to scare you! If the whole mountain and the whole valley are full of fiendish demons, old Monkey will use his rod. Half a night and they’ll all be exterminated!” “Shame on you! Shame on you!” said Eight Rules. “Stop the big talk! It’ll take seven or eight days for those monster-spirits just to take their roll call. How could you exterminate them so readily?” “How do you think I’m going to slay them?” asked Pilgrim. “Suppose they let you grab them,” replied Eight Rules, “bind them, or stop them dead with the Magic of Immobilization. Even then, you can’t kill all of them so quickly.”
With a laugh, Pilgrim said, “No need for grabbing or binding. I give this rod of mine a yank on both ends, crying, ‘Grow!’, and it’ll be four hundred feet long. Next, I wave it once, crying, ‘Thicken!’ and it’ll have an eighty-foot circumference. I roll it toward the south of the mountain once, and five thousand fiends will be crushed to death; I roll it toward the north of the mountain once, and another five thousand will be crushed to death. Then I roll it once from east to west, and forty or fifty thousand, who cares how many, will be reduced to meat patties.”
“Elder Brother,” said Eight Rules, “if you roll them down like you roll out dough for noodles, you might finish them off by the second watch.” “Master,” said Sha Monk, laughing on one side, “what are you afraid of when Big Brother has such vast magic powers? Mount up and get going!” When the Tang Monk heard them debating about their abilities, he had no choice but to calm himself and climb up on the horse.
As they proceeded, they discovered that the old man who came to inform them had vanished. “He must be a fiend,” said Sha Monk, “who exploited deliberately the reputation and power of the demons to come and frighten us.” “Don’t jump to any conclusion,” said Pilgrim. “Let me go have a look.”
Dear Great Sage! Leaping up to the peak, he looked all around without spotting anyone. As he turned his face, however, he saw colored mists flickering in the air. He immediately leaped upon the clouds to give chase and soon he caught sight of the Gold Star Venus. Rushing up to the god, Pilgrim tugged at him with his hands and used his vernacular name to address him, saying, “Long Life Li! Long Life Li! You’re such a rogue! If you have anything to say, you should have said it to my face. Why did you assume the appearance of an old country bumpkin to beguile me?”
The Gold Star saluted him hurriedly and said, “Great Sage, I’m sorry for not informing you sooner. Please forgive me! Please forgive me! These archdemons, possessive of vast magic powers, indeed make for a rugged hurdle. If you exercise all your powers in transformation and all your cleverness, you may pass through. If you but slacken a little, it’ll be difficult for you to proceed.” Thanking him, Pilgrim said, “I’m grateful! If this is such a difficult place to traverse, please go to the Region Above and request from the Jade Emperor some celestial soldiers to assist old Monkey.” “We have plenty of those for you,” replied the Gold Star. “Once I bring your message up there, we can round up even one hundred thousand celestial soldiers if you need them.”
Pilgrim took leave of the Gold Star and dropped from the clouds to face Tripitaka. “That old man,” he said, “who came to bring us the information happened to be the Star Venus.” Folding his hands before him, the elder said, “Disciple, catch up with him quickly, and ask him whether there is another road we can take.” “There’s no detour,” said Pilgrim, “for this mountain as it is is eight hundred miles across. I don’t even know how wide it is on both sides. How could we take a detour?”
On hearing this, Tripitaka could not restrain the tears flowing from his eyes. “Disciple,” he said, “if it’s so difficult, how could I ever hope to worship Buddha?” “Stop crying! Stop crying!” Pilgrim said, “Once you cry, you become completely feeble. This information of his can’t be all true, for his main purpose is to arouse our vigilance. As the saying goes, ‘To tell is to exaggerate.’ Please dismount and sit here for the moment.” “What sort of discussion are we having now?” asked Eight Rules.
“No discussion,” replied Pilgrim. “You just stand here and guard Master with all diligence, while Sha Monk can watch the horse and the luggage. Let old Monkey go up the ridge to do a little detection to see just how many fiends there are. I’ll catch one of them and question him thoroughly; if need be, I’ll even make him write up a confession and list in detail the names of all their old and young. Then I’ll order them to close up their cave and forbid them from barring our way, so that Master will be able to go through this place peacefully and quietly. Only then will you perceive the ability of old Monkey!” All Sha Monk could say to him, however, was, “Be careful! Be careful!” “No need for all your instructions!” said Pilgrim with a laugh. “Once I get up there,
I’ll open a pathway even if it’s the Great Eastern Sea;
I’ll punch an opening if it’s an ironclad mountain.”
Dear Great Sage! Whistling, he mounted the cloud somersault to leap up to the tall summit, where he pushed aside the creepers and vines to look all around. There was, however, not a sound or a trace of human beings. He spoke aloud to himself, “I’ve made a mistake! I’ve made a mistake! I should never have let the oldie Gold Star go. He was actually trying to frighten me. If there’s any monster-spirit around here, he would have jumped out and played in the wind, or he would fool with his lance or rod to practice his martial art. How is it that there is no one . . .” As he was thus talking to himself, he heard the loud bangs of a rattle behind the mountain. Turning hurriedly to look, he discovered a little fiend, hauling a banner on his shoulder which had on it the inscribed word, command. He had a bell tied to his waist, and he was beating a rattle with his hand as he walked from north to south. Pilgrim stared at him and thought that he was about twelve feet in height. Smiling to himself, Pilgrim said, “He must be a postal soldier on his way to deliver a document. Let me eavesdrop on him to see what he has to say.”
Dear Great Sage! Making the magic sign with his fingers, he recited a spell and changed, with one shake of his body, into a fly. He flew up to his cap and alighted gently on it to eavesdrop on the fiend. After he had turned onto the main road, the little fiend kept beating his rattle and shaking his bell, while he mumbled to himself, “Those of us patrolling the mountain should all be on guard against that Pilgrim Sun. He knows how to change into a fly.” Astounded by what he heard, Pilgrim said to himself, “He must have seen me! How could he know my name and how could he know I might change into a fly, if he hadn’t?”
But that little fiend, you see, had not seen him. It was actually those archdemons who somehow managed to give this instruction to the little fiends, and this one was just repeating what he heard. Pilgrim, of course, did not know this; suspecting that he had been seen, he was about to slay the fiend with the rod when he thought to himself, “I recall that the Gold Star told Eight Rules that there were three old fiends and some forty-seven or forty-eight thousand little fiends. If those little fiends are like this one, another forty thousand won’t make a bit of difference. But I wonder how powerful are those three old demons. Let me go question him, then I can raise my hands.”
Dear Great Sage! How is he going to question him, you ask? He leaped down from his cap and alighted instead on a tree to allow the little fiend to walk a few steps ahead. Quickly he changed into another little fiend, having, in fact, the same clothes and like him, beating the rattle, shaking the bell, hauling the banner, and mumbling the same words. The
only difference was that he was several inches taller than the other fiend. He ran up to the other little fiend and called out, “You on the road, wait for me.”
Turning around, the little fiend said, “Where did you come from?” “My good man!” said Pilgrim with a giggle. “Can’t you recognize someone from the same family?” “You’re not in our family,” said the little fiend. “What do you mean?” said Pilgrim. “Take a good look.”
“But you look unfamiliar,” said the little fiend. “I don’t recognize you! I don’t recognize you!” “I know I look unfamiliar,” replied Pilgrim. “I’m one of those who tend the fires, and you’ve seldom met me.”
Shaking his head, the little fiend said, “Never! Never! Even among those brothers in our cave who tend the fires, there’s no one with a pointed mouth like yours.” Pilgrim thought to himself, “I’ve made my mouth a little too pointed.” He lowered his head at once and gave his mouth a rub, saying, “My mouth’s not pointed!” Immediately, his mouth was not pointed anymore.
“Just now,” said the little fiend, “your mouth was pointed. How could it change like that after you gave it a rub? How baffling! You can’t very well belong to our family! I have never seen you before! It’s too suspicious! Moreover, the domestic laws of our great kings are very strict: those who tend the fires always tend the fires, and those who patrol the mountain will patrol the mountain. They couldn’t have asked you to tend the fires, and then asked you also to patrol the mountain, could they?” Exceedingly clever with his mouth, Pilgrim at once replied, “You have no idea that our great kings had promoted me, when they saw how good I was at tending the fires, and asked me to patrol the mountain.”
The little fiend said, “All right. There are forty of us who patrol the mountain to one platoon, and we have altogether ten platoons. Each of us is different in age, and each has a different name. To prevent confusion among the ranks and to facilitate taking the roll, our great kings gave us each a nameplate. Do you have one?”
Now Pilgrim had changed into a semblance of only what he could see of the little fiend; namely, how he was dressed and what he was doing. Since he had not seen the plate, he, of course, did not have it on him. Dear Great Sage! Refusing to admit that he had none, he followed the drift of the question instead and said, “How could I not have a plate? I just received a brand new one. But you take out yours first for me to have a look.”
Completely unaware that this was a trick, that little fiend hitched up his clothes and pulled out for Pilgrim to see a gold-lacquered plate, which was tied to his body with a small cotton thread. On the back of the plate Pilgrim saw the inscription, In Command of All Demons. In front there were three printed words: Little Wind Cutter. He thought to himself, “It goes without saying that those who patrol the mountain will be named some sort of Wind Cutters.” He therefore said to the little fiend, “Lower your clothes now, and let me show you my plate.” Turning to one side, Pilgrim yanked off a small piece of hair from the tip of his tail and gave it a pinch, whispering, “Change!” It changed at once into another gold-lacquered plate that had a small cotton thread attached to it. On it were the three printed words: Chief Wind Cutter. When he took it out and showed it to him, the little fiend was greatly taken aback. “We are all named Little Wind Cutters,” he cried, “but how could you have the name of Chief Wind Cutter?”
As he had always acted with the greatest calculation and spoken with the utmost shrewdness, Pilgrim immediately said, “You really have no idea that our great kings promoted me to be a patrol commander when they saw how well I tended the fires. They also gave me a new plate with the name, Chief Wind Cutter, and the charge that I would lead the forty of you in this platoon.” On hearing this, the fiend bowed hurriedly, saying, “Captain, Captain, you’ve just been commissioned, and that’s why you look unfamiliar. Please forgive me for offending you with my words.”
“I won’t blame you,” chuckled Pilgrim as he returned his bow. “But I do have a request: an introductory gift of five ounces of silver per person.” “Don’t be too impatient, Captain,” said the little fiend. “Let me join up with my platoon at the south of the ridge, and we’ll all chip in.” “In that case,” said Pilgrim, “I’ll go with you.” Indeed, the little fiend walked ahead, while the Great Sage followed him.
In less than a few miles, they came upon a pen peak. Why was it called a pen peak, you ask? On that mountain the peak rose straight up for some forty or fifty feet, as a pen sticking up from its rack. Hence the name. After Pilgrim went up there, he gave his tail a wag and leaped to the tallest point to sit down. “Wind Cutters,” he cried, “gather around!” All those Little Wind Cutters bowed to him down below, saying, “Captain, we wait on you.” “Do you know,” asked Pilgrim, “why the great kings sent me out here?” “No, we don’t,” replied the little fiends.
Pilgrim said, “The great kings want to devour the Tang Monk, but their only fear is that Pilgrim Sun has vast magic powers. He is capable of many transformations, they claim, and they are afraid that he may change into a Little Wind Cutter to walk on this road to spy on us. They therefore have promoted me to Chief Wind Cutter and asked me to make an investigation, to see whether there is any specious one among your platoon.” “Captain,” all those Little Wind Cutters said in unison, “we are all genuine.” “If you are,” said Pilgrim, “do you happen to know what sort of abilities our great kings possess?”
One of the Little Wind Cutters said, “I do.” “If you do,” said Pilgrim, “tell me quickly. If I agree with you, you are genuine, but if you make the slightest error, you are a specious one. I’ll certainly arrest you and take you to see the great kings.” When that Little Wind Cutter saw him sitting loftily on the peak and wielding his authority left and right, he had little choice but to speak the truth, saying, “Our great great king has vast magic powers and enormous abilities. With one gulp, he once swallowed one hundred thousand celestial warriors.”
On hearing this, Pilgrim bellowed, “You’re false!” Horrified, the Little Wind Cutter said, “Father Captain, I’m real. How could you say that I’m false?” “If you are,” said Pilgrim, “why did you babble? How big is the great great king that he can swallow with one gulp one hundred thousand celestial warriors?”
The Little Wind Cutter said, “Perhaps the captain does not know that our great great king is capable of such transformation that he can be big enough to reach the celestial hall when he wants to, or he can become as small as a vegetable seed. When the Lady Queen Mother convened the Festival of Immortal Peaches in a former year and did not send an invitation to our great great king, he wanted to strive with Heaven. The Jade Emperor sent one hundred thousand celestial warriors to bring him to submission, but our great king exercised his magic body of transformation and opened his mouth big and wide as a city gate. He charged at the celestial warriors, so terrifying them that they dared not do battle and closed up the South Heaven Gate instead. That’s what I meant when I said that he once swallowed one hundred thousand celestial warriors with one gulp.”
On hearing this, Pilgrim smiled silently to himself, saying, “If it’s this kind of ability, old Monkey is quite capable of it.” He spoke out loud again, saying, “What sort of abilities does second great king possess?”
Another Little Wind Cutter replied, “Our second great king is about thirty feet tall; he has silkworm-like eyebrows, phoenix eyes, a lovely lady’s voice, and teeth like long flat poles. His nose, moreover, resembles a dragon. When he fights with someone, all he needs to do is to wrap his nose around his enemy. Though that person may have an iron back and a bronze body, his spirit will expire and his soul will perish!” “A monster-spirit,” said Pilgrim to himself, “with a trunk like that is not difficult to catch.”
He spoke out loud once more, saying, “What sort of abilities does the third great king possess?” Another Little Wind Cutter said, “Our third great king is no fiendish creature of the mortal world, for he has the name of the Roc of Ten Thousand Cloudy Miles. When he mov
es, he whips up the wind and transports the seas; he reaches the north and rules the south. On his person he also carries a treasure, called the yin-yang double-force vase. If a person is placed inside it, he will turn to liquid within one and three-quarter hours.”
When he heard this, Pilgrim became alarmed, saying to himself, “I’m not scared of the demon, but I’d better be careful about his vase.” He spoke out loud again, saying, “You have all spoken quite accurately about the abilities of our three great kings, as accurately as I have known them to be. But do you know which of the great kings would like to devour the Tang Monk?” “Captain,” said another Little Wind Cutter, “do you mean that you don’t know?” “Don’t I know more than you?” snapped Pilgrim. “You are the ones who may not know the truth of the matter, and that’s why I was sent to give you a thorough interrogation.”
The Little Wind Cutter said, “Our great great king and the second great king have long resided in the Lion-Camel Cave of the Lion-Camel Ridge. Our third great king, however, did not live here, for his original residence was located about four hundred miles west of here, in a city by the name of the Lion-Camel State. Five hundred years ago, he devoured the entire city—the king, the civil and military officials, the populace, male and female, old and young—and took over the kingdom. All the inhabitants of that city now are fiends. I don’t know which year it was that he learned that the Tang court in the Land of the East had commissioned a monk to go seek scriptures in the Western Heaven. That Tang Monk, so the saying goes, is a good man who has practiced austerities for ten incarnations. If anyone eats a single piece of his flesh, he will gain longevity and never grow old. But fearing his disciple, Pilgrim Sun, who is said to be exceedingly formidable, our third great king was afraid that he couldn’t quite handle the situation all by himself. He came, therefore, to become a bond-brother with the two great kings at this place. The three of them are thus united in their determination and efforts to catch that Tang Monk.”
