The Journey to the West, Revised Edition, Volume 3

by Unknown

  As the situation was fast becoming unbearable, Pilgrim was rather flustered, saying to himself, “I can take care of other things, but these fire dragons are hard to deal with. If I don’t get out of here, the fire and the heat may overwhelm me after awhile. What then? I think I’d better push my way out by making my body bigger.” Dear Great Sage! Making the magic sign with his fingers and reciting a spell, he cried, “Grow!” At once his body reached the height of over a hundred feet, but the vase also grew in size with him. Reversing his magic, he reduced the size of his body, but the vase, too, grew smaller with him.

  Greatly alarmed, Pilgrim said, “Hard! Hard! Hard! How could it grow big or small with me like that? What shall I do?” He had hardly finished speaking when he felt some pain on his shanks. Rubbing them hurriedly with his hand, he found his shanks were turning flaccid because of the fire. More and more anxious, he thought to himself, “What’s to become of me? Even my shanks are weakened by the fire. I’ll be reduced to a cripple!” He was hardly able to hold back his tears. Thus it was that

  He thought of Tripitaka, having met demons and woes;

  He missed the sage monk, when beset by fatal ordeals.

  “O Master!” he cried. “Since that year when I embraced the truth because of the Bodhisattva Guanyin’s persuasion and was delivered from my Heaven-sent calamity, I suffered with you the trek through various mountains and subdued many fiends, including the bringing to submission of Eight Rules and Sha Monk. All my labor, all my bitter toil were done with the hope that we would reach the West together and attain the right fruit. Little did I realize that I would meet such vicious demons today! Having been thrown in here by my mistake, old Monkey will lose his life, and you will be stranded halfway up the mountain, unable to proceed. Could it be that my past misdeeds were what brought on my present ordeal?”

  As he grieved like that, he suddenly thought to himself, “On the Serpent Coil Mountain2 that year, the Bodhisattva gave me as a gift three life-saving hairs. I wonder if I still have them. Let me search for them.” He touched his whole body with his hands and found three hairs on the back of his neck to be especially stiff. Delighted, he said to himself, “All my hairs are quite soft, and only these three happen to be stiff. They must be my lifesavers!”

  Clenching his teeth to endure the pain, he pulled off the hairs and blew on them a mouthful of immortal breath, crying, “Change!” One of the hairs changed into a diamond drill, the second one into a strip of bamboo, and the third into a piece of cotton rope. Bending the strip into the shape of a bow, he tied the rope to both ends and used it to guide the drill to drill away at the bottom of the vase. After awhile, light filtered in through a small hole. “Lucky! Lucky!” he said, highly pleased. “I can get out now!” As he was about to use transformation to escape, the vase suddenly turned cool once more. Why, you ask? Once he drilled through the vase’s bottom, you see, the two forces of yin and yang leaked out.

  Dear Great Sage! He retrieved his hairs and, shrinking the size of his body, changed into a mole cricket, so delicate that it was no thicker than a strand of whisker and no longer than a piece of eyebrow hair. He crawled out of the hole, but instead of leaving, he flew directly up to the old demon’s head and alighted on it. The old demon was drinking merrily when all of a sudden, he put down his cup and said, “Third Younger Brother, has Pilgrim Sun melted?” “It’s about time, isn’t it?” said the third demon, smiling.

  The old demon gave the order for the vase to be brought up to the table, and those thirty-six little fiends immediately went to haul it. When they discovered, however, that the vase had become very light, the terrified fiends cried, “Great Kings, the vase has turned light.” “Nonsense!” snapped the old demon. “Our treasure is the perfect product of the double forces of yin and yang. How could it have turned light?” One of the more courageous little fiends picked up the vase all by himself and brought it near the table, saying, “See for yourself whether it’s lighter or not.”

  Removing the stopper, the old demon peered inside and, when he saw a speck of light coming from the bottom, he burst out, “The vase is empty!” Unable to contain himself, the Great Sage shouted on his head, “My dear child! I’m gone!” “He’s gone! He’s gone!” cried the other fiends. “Close the doors! Close the doors!”

  With one shake of his body, Pilgrim retrieved the clothes they took from him, and, changing back into his original form, bounded out of the cave. “Monster-spirits, don’t you dare be unruly!” he shouted back at them as he left. “The vase has been punctured, and it can’t be used on humans anymore. It’s only good for a night pot!” Merrily and noisily, he trod the clouds and went back to the place where he left the Tang Monk. The elder at the time was just saying a prayer toward the sky, using pinches of dirt as incense. Pilgrim stopped his cloud to hear what he was saying. With his hands folded before his chest, the elder bowed to the sky and said,

  I pray to all immortals of cloud and mist,

  All devas, and Gods of Darkness and Light:

  May they my good pupil, Pilgrim, assist

  And grant him vast and boundless magic might.

  When the Great Sage heard such words, he was moved to even greater diligence. Causing the cloudy luminosity to subside, he drew near and said, “Master, I’ve returned.” The elder took him by the hand and said, “Wukong, you’ve worked very hard! When you didn’t come back after having gone deep into the mountain, I was very worried. Tell me truly what sort of good or evil may we expect in this mountain.”

  With a smile, Pilgrim replied, “My trip was a successful one this time only because the creatures of the Land in the East are blessed with goodly affinity; and secondly, because the merit and virtue of my master are boundless and limitless; and thirdly, because your disciple has some magic powers.” Whereupon he gave a thorough account of how he disguised himself as the Little Wind Cutter, how he was trapped inside the vase, and how he escaped. “Now that I can behold the countenance of my master once more,” he said, “I feel like I have gone through another incarnation.”

  Thanking him profusely, the elder asked, “You didn’t fight with the monster-spirits this time?” “No, I didn’t,” replied Pilgrim. “You can’t therefore, escort me across the mountain, can you?” asked the elder.

  As he had always been a person who loved to win, Pilgrim began to shout, “What do you mean that I can’t escort you across this mountain?” “You haven’t quite proven that you can prevail against them,” said the elder. “Everything seems so muddled at the moment. How could I dare proceed?”

  “Master,” replied Pilgrim with a laugh, “you are not very perceptive! As the proverb says,

  A little yarn is no thread;

  A single hand cannot clap.

  There are three old demons, thousands and thousands of little fiends, and only one old Monkey. How could I possibly fight with them?”

  “The few cannot withstand the many,” replied the elder. “I quite understand that you can’t cope with them all by yourself. But Eight Rules and Sha Monk both have abilities. I’ll tell them to go with you, so that your united efforts will sweep clean the mountain path and escort me through it.” “What you say is quite right,” said Pilgrim, turning somewhat pensive. “Sha Monk, however, should stay here to guard you. Let Eight Rules go with me.”

  Terribly alarmed, our Idiot said, “Elder Brother, you’re the one who is imperceptive! I’m rather crude, and I don’t have much ability. Even when I walk along, I resist the wind. Of what use am I to you?” “Brother,” said Pilgrim, “even though you may not have great abilities, you are still another person. As the common folks say, ‘Even a fart is additional air!’ You can at the very least build up my courage.” “All right! All right!” said Eight Rules. “I hope you’ll look after me a bit. When things become tight, don’t play tricks on me.” “Do be careful, Eight Rules,” said the elder. “Sha Monk and I will remain here.”

  Arousing his spirit, our Idiot mounted a gust of violent wind with Pilgri
m and rode on the fog and the cloud to go up the tall mountain. When they arrived before the door of the cave, they found the door tightly shut and no one in sight. Pilgrim walked forward and, holding his iron rod, cried out in a loud voice, “Fiends, open your door! Come out quickly to fight with old Monkey!” When the little fiends in the cave reported this, the old demon was deeply shaken. “The rumor spreading for years about how powerful that ape is,” he said, “has been proven true today!”

  “Elder Brother, what do you mean?” asked the second fiend on one side. The old demon replied, “When that Pilgrim changed into Little Wind Cutter earlier this morning to sneak in here, we couldn’t recognize him. It was fortunate that our Third Worthy Brother spotted him at last and we managed to put him inside the vase. But he had the ability to drill through the vase and he escaped after he retrieved his clothes. Now he’s provoking battle outside. Who has enough courage to face him in the first fight?” To this question of his, however, no one made a reply. He asked again, but still there was no answer, for everyone inside the cave was playing deaf and dumb.

  His anger rising, the old demon said, “We’re earning ourselves an ugly reputation on the main road to the West. When Pilgrim Sun today can mock us like this and we do not go out to face him in battle, our fame will surely diminish. Let me risk this old life of mine to go have three rounds with him. If I can withstand him for three rounds, the Tang Monk will be the food of our mouths. If I can’t, let’s close up our door and let them pass.” He put on his armor and opened the door to walk out. Pilgrim and Eight Rules stood by the door to stare at him, and he was some fiendish creature indeed!

  A jeweled helmet topped his iron-hard head,

  With dangling tassels colorful and bright.

  Like flashing lightning his two eyes did glow;

  Like shining mist hair on both temples flowed.

  His claws were like silver, both quick and sharp;

  His sawlike teeth were even and thickset.

  The armor he wore was one solid gold piece;

  A smart dragon-head sash wrapped round his waist.

  His hands held a shiny scimitar of steel:

  The world rarely saw such heroic might.

  With one bellow loud as a thunderclap

  He asked, “Who on our door would dare to rap?”

  Turning around, the Great Sage said, “It’s your Venerable Father Sun, the Great Sage, Equal to Heaven.” “Are you Pilgrim Sun?” asked the old demon with a laugh. “You audacious ape! I’m not bothering you. Why are you provoking battle here?” Pilgrim replied, “As the proverb says,

  The waves will only rise with the wind;

  Water will subside without the tide.

  If you didn’t bother me, you think I would come looking for you? It’s because you bunch of thugs and hoodlums have banded together to plot against my master, planning to devour him. That’s why I’ve come to do this.”

  “You show up at our door in such a menacing manner,” said the old demon. “Does that mean that you want to fight?” “Exactly,” replied Pilgrim. “Stop acting with such insolence!” said the old demon. “If I ordered out my fiend troops, placed them in formation, raised the flags, and beat the drums to fight with you, all I would be doing is to show simply that I’m the local tiger trying to take advantage of you. I’ll face you alone, one to one, and no other helper will be permitted.” On hearing this, Pilgrim said, “Zhu Eight Rules, step aside. Let’s see what he’ll do with old Monkey.” Idiot indeed walked away to one side.

  “You come over here,” said the old demon, “and act as my chopping block first. If your bald head can withstand three blows of my scimitar, I’ll let you and your Tang Monk go past. But if you can’t, you’d better turn him over quickly to me as a meal.”

  When he heard this, Pilgrim smiled and said, “Fiend! If you have brush and paper in your cave, take them out and I’ll sign a contract with you. You can start delivering your blows from today until next year, and I won’t regard you seriously!” Arousing his spirit, the old demon stood firmly with one foot placed in front of the other. He lifted up his scimitar with both hands and brought it down hard on the head of the Great Sage. Our Great Sage, however, jerked his head upward to meet the blow. All they heard was a loud crack, but the skin on the head did not even redden. Greatly astonished, the old demon said, “What a hard head this monkey has!” Chuckling, the Great Sage said, “You don’t realize that old Monkey was

  Born with a bronze head and a crown of steel

  That no one possessed in Heav’n or on Earth.

  Unbreakable by the mallet or the ax,

  It has gone in my youth into Laozi’s stove.

  Its making Four Dipper Stars had overseen

  And Twenty-Eight Lodges applied their work.

  It could not be wrecked though drowned a few times,

  For tough sinews circled it all around.

  Fearing still that it was not strong enough,

  The Tang Monk added a fillet of gold!”

  “Stop bragging, ape!” said the old demon. “Watch the second blow of my scimitar! It’ll not spare your life!” “Why talk like that?” replied Pilgrim. “Isn’t it enough that you hack away?” “Monkey,” said the old demon, “you have no idea that my scimitar is

  Metal in the furnace forged,

  Wrought by the gods’ drawn out work.

  The fine blade and its mighty pow’r

  Conform to military science.

  It looks like the tail of a fly

  And also a white serpent’s waist.

  In the mountain clouds would gather;

  In the ocean waves would pile high.

  Pounded and polished countless times,

  It has been a hundred ways refined.

  Though it’s kept in an ancient cave,

  It’ll win once in battle it’s placed.

  I’ll grab that nice, bald, priestly head of yours

  And make two gourd halves with one mighty whack!”

  “This monster-spirit is so blind!” chuckled the Great Sage. “So, you think that old Monkey’s head is a gourd! All right. I won’t delay you. You can give me another blow.”

  The old demon lifted his blade to hack away once more, and again the Great Sage met it with his head. With a loud crack, the head was split in two, but the Great Sage also rolled on the ground immediately and changed into two bodies. Terrified by what he saw, the fiend lowered his scimitar. From a distance, Eight Rules saw everything and said, laughing, “The old demon should strike again, and there’ll be four persons!” Pointing at Pilgrim, the old demon said, “I have heard that you are capable of the Magic of Body-Division. But why are you exercising it in my presence?” “What do you mean by the Magic of Body-Division?” asked the Great Sage.

  “Why didn’t you move when I gave you the first blow?” asked the old demon. “Why did you become two persons after the second one?” “Fiend, don’t be afraid,” said the Great Sage, laughing. “If you cut me ten thousand times, I’ll give you twenty thousand persons!”

  “Monkey,” said the old demon, “you may be able to divide your body, but I doubt whether you can retrieve your bodies. If you have the ability to become one again, you may give me a blow with your rod.” “No lying, now,” said the Great Sage. “You said you wanted to hack me three times with your scimitar, and you have only done it twice. Now you want me to give you a blow with my rod. If I strike you even half a blow more, I’ll give up my surname Sun!” “Well said,” replied the old demon.

  Dear Great Sage! He embraced the other half of himself and, with a roll, became one person again. Picking up his rod, he slammed it down on the old demon, who parried the blow with his scimitar and said, “Brazen ape, don’t you dare be unruly! What sort of a funeral staff is that that you dare use it to hit someone right before his door?” “If you ask me about this rod of mine,” snapped the Great Sage, “you should know that it has a reputation both in Heaven and on Earth.” “What kind of reputation?” asked the old demon
. The Great Sage said,

  The rod of steel nine cyclic times refined

  Was forged in the stove by Laozi himself.

  King Yu took it, named it “Treasure Divine,”

  To fix the Eight Rivers and Four Seas’ depth.

  In it were spread out tracks of planets and stars,

  Its two ends were clamped in pieces of gold.

  Its dense patterns would frighten gods and ghosts;

  On it dragon and phoenix scripts were drawn.

  Its name was one Rod of Numinous Yang,

  Stored deep in the sea, hardly seen by men.

  Well-formed and transformed it wanted to fly,

  Emitting bright strands of five-colored mist.

  Enlightened Monkey took it back to the mount

  To experience its pow’r for boundless change.

  At times I would make it thick as a drum

  Or small and tiny as an iron wire.

  Huge like South Mountain or fine as a pin,

  It lengthened or shortened after my desire.

  Move it gently and colored clouds would rise.

  Like flashing lightning it would soar and fly.

  Its cold air, far-reaching, would bring you chills;

  Its deadly aura could imbue the sky.

  To tame tigers and dragons it I kept;

  With me it toured all four corners of earth.

  I once disturbed with this rod the Hall of Heav’n;

  Its might broke up the Festival of Peach.

  Fighting it the devarāja had no chance;

  Against it Naṭa found the task most hard.

  Struck by the rod, the gods had no place to hide;

  One hundred thousand soldiers ran and fled.