The Journey to the West, Revised Edition, Volume 2

by Unknown

  Light descended from the northern pole;

  Clouds parted at the south pole star.

  Ten thousand fathoms of mountain holding old, primal breath;

  A thousand peaks stood august in the cold sunlight.

  The elder on the horse became fearful, but our Great Sage Sun was ready to show off his abilities. Wielding the iron rod, he let out such a fearful cry that wolves and serpents retreated, that tigers and leopards took flight. Master and disciples thus journeyed into the mountain. As they reached the summit, Tripitaka said, “Wukong, we’ve been traveling for almost a day, and I’m getting hungry. Go somewhere and beg some vegetarian food for me.” “Master, you aren’t very smart!” said Pilgrim, attempting to placate him with a smile. “We are in the middle of a mountain, with no village in sight ahead of us nor any inn behind us. Even if we had money, there’s no place for us to buy anything. Where do you want me to go to find vegetarian food?” Irritated, Tripitaka began to berate his disciple. “You ape!” he cried. “Don’t you remember what sort of condition you were in at the Mountain of Two Frontiers? Pinned down by Tathāgata in that stone box, you could move your mouth but not your feet, and you owed it to me for saving your life. Now that you have become my disciple by having your head touched and receiving the commandments, why are you not willing to exert yourself a bit more? Why are you always so lazy?” “Your disciple,” said Pilgrim, “has been rather diligent. Since when have I been lazy?” “If you are that diligent,” said Tripitaka, “why don’t you go and beg me some vegetarian food? How can I journey if I am hungry? Moreover, this mountain is filled with pestilential vapors, and if I become ill, how can I hope to reach Thunderclap?” “Master,” said Pilgrim, “please don’t get upset. No more words. I know that yours is a proud and haughty nature. A little offense and you will recite that little something spell! Dismount and rest awhile. Let me find out whether there’s any family for me to beg some vegetarian food.”

  With a bound, Pilgrim leaped up to the edge of the clouds. Using his hand to shade his eyes, he peered all around. Alas! The journey to the West was a lonely journey, one with neither villages nor hamlets. There were abundant trees and shrubbery, but there was no sign of human habitation. Having looked around for some time, Pilgrim saw toward the south a tall mountain, where on the eastern slope there seemed to be some tiny specks of red. Lowering his cloud, Pilgrim said, “Master, there’s something to eat.” The elder asked what it was, and Pilgrim said, “There’s no household here for me to beg for rice. But there’s a stretch of red on a mountain south of here, and I suppose that must be ripe mountain peaches. Let me go and pick a few for you to eat.” Delighted, Tripitaka said, “For a person who has left the family to have peaches is already the highest blessing!” Pilgrim took the alms bowl and mounted the auspicious luminosity. Look at that brilliant somersault, with cold vapor trailing! In an instant, he was heading straight for the peaches on the south mountain, and we shall speak no more of him for the moment.

  Now, the proverb says:

  A tall mountain will always have monsters;

  A rugged peak will always produce fiends.

  In this mountain there was indeed a monster-spirit, who was disturbed by the Great Sage Sun’s departure. Treading dark wind, she came through the clouds and found the elder sitting on the ground. “What luck! What luck!” she said, unable to contain her delight. “For several years my relatives have been talking about a Tang Monk from the Land of the East going to fetch the Great Vehicle. He is actually the incarnation of the Gold Cicada, and he has the original body that has gone through the process of self-cultivation during ten previous existences. If a man eats a piece of his flesh, his age will be immeasurably lengthened. So, this monk has at last arrived today!” The monster was about to go down to seize Tripitaka when she saw two great warriors standing guard on either side of the elder, and that stopped her from drawing near. Now, who could these warriors be, you ask? They were, of course, Eight Rules and Sha Monk. Eight Rules and Sha Monk, you see, might not have great abilities, but after all, Eight Rules was the Marshal of Heavenly Reeds and Sha Monk was the Great Curtain-Raising Captain. Their authority had not been completely eroded, and that was why the monster dared not approach them. Instead, the monster said to herself, “Let me make fun of them a bit, and see what happens.”

  Dear monster! She lowered her dark wind into the field of the mountain, and, with one shake of her body, she changed into a girl with a face like the moon and features like flowers. One cannot begin to describe the bright eyes and the elegant brows, the white teeth and the red lips. Holding in her left hand a blue sandstone pot and in her right a green porcelain vase, she walked from west to east, heading straight for the Tang Monk.

  The sage monk resting his horse on the cliff

  Saw all at once a young girl drawing near:

  Slender hands hugged by gently swaying green sleeves;

  Tiny feet exposed beneath a skirt of Hunan silk.

  Perspiring her face seemed flower bedewed;

  Dust grazed her moth-brows like willows held by mist.

  And as he stared intently with his eyes,

  She seemed to be walking right up to his side.

  When Tripitaka saw her, he called out, “Eight Rules, Sha Monk, just now Wukong said that this is an uninhabited region. But isn’t that a human being who is walking over there?” “Master,” said Eight Rules, “you sit here with Sha Monk. Let old Hog go take a look.” Putting down his muckrake and pulling down his shirt, our Idiot tried to affect the airs of a gentleman and went to meet her face to face. Well, it was as the proverb says:

  You can’t determine the truth from afar.

  You can see clearly when you go near.

  The girl’s appearance was something to behold!

  Ice-white skin hides jadelike bones;

  Her collar reveals a milk-white bosom.

  Willow brows gather dark green hues;

  Almond eyes shine like silver stars.

  Her features like the moon are coy;

  Her natural disposition is pure.

  Her body’s like the willow-nested swallow;

  Her voice’s like the woods’ singing oriole.

  A half-opened haitong1 caressed by the morning sun.

  A newly bloomed peony displaying her charm.

  When Idiot saw how pretty she was, his worldly mind was aroused and he could not refrain from babbling. “Lady Bodhisattva!” he cried. “Where are you going? What’s that you are holding in your hands?” This was clearly a fiend, but he could not recognize her! The girl immediately answered him, saying, “Elder, what I have in the blue pot is fragrant rice made from wine cakes, and there’s fried wheat gluten in the green vase. I came here for no other reason than to redeem my vow of feeding monks.” When Eight Rules heard these words, he was very pleased. Spinning around, he ran like a hog maddened by plague to report to Tripitaka, crying, “Master! ‘The good man will have Heaven’s reward!’ Because you are hungry, you ask Elder Brother to go beg for some vegetarian food. But we really don’t know where that ape has gone to pick his peaches and have his fun! If you eat too many peaches, you are liable to feel a bit stuffed and gaseous anyway! Take a look instead. Isn’t that someone coming to feed the monks?” “Coolie, you’re just clowning!” said an unbelieving Tang Monk. “We’ve been traveling all this time and we haven’t even run into a healthy person! Where is this person who’s coming to feed the monks?” “Master,” said Eight Rules, “isn’t this the one?”

  When Tripitaka saw the girl, he jumped up and folded his hands. “Lady Bodhisattva,” he said, “where is your home? What sort of family is yours? What kind of vow have you made that you have to come here to feed the monks?” This was clearly a fiend, but our elder could not recognize her either! When that monster heard the Tang Monk asking after her background, she at once resorted to falsehood. With clever, specious words, she tried to deceive her interrogator, saying, “Master, this mountain, which turns back serpents and fr
ightens wild beasts, bears the name of White Tiger. My home is located due west of here. My parents, still living, are frequent readers of sūtras and keen on doing good works. They have fed liberally the monks who come to us from near and far. Because my parents had no son, they prayed to the gods, and I was born. They would have liked to marry me off to a noble family, but, wary of helplessness in their old age, they took in a son-in-law instead, so that they would be cared for in life and death.” Hearing this, Tripitaka said, “Lady Bodhisattva, your speech is rather improper! The sage classic says, ‘While father and mother are alive, one does not travel abroad; or if one does, goes only to a proper destination.’2 If your parents are still living, and if they have taken in a husband for you, then your man should have been the one sent to redeem your vow. Why do you walk about the mountain all by yourself? You don’t even have an attendant to accompany you. That’s not very becoming of a woman!”

  Smiling broadly, the girl quickly tried to placate him with more clever words. “Master,” she said, “my husband is at the northern fold of this mountain, leading a few workers to plow the fields. This happens to be the lunch I prepared for them to eat. Since now is the busy season of farm work, we have no servants; and as my parents are getting old, I have to run the errand myself. Meeting you three distant travelers is quite by accident, but when I think of my parents’ inclination to do good deeds, I would like very much to use this rice as food for monks. If you don’t regard this as unworthy of you, please accept this modest offering.”

  “My goodness! My goodness!” said Tripitaka. “I have a disciple who has gone to pick some fruits, and he’s due back any moment. I dare not eat. For if I, a monk, were to eat your rice, your husband would scold you when he learns of it. Will it then not be the fault of this poor monk?” When that girl saw the Tang Monk refuse to take the food, she smiled even more seductively and said, “O Master! My parents, who love to feed the monks, are not even as zealous as my husband. For his entire life is devoted to the construction of bridges and the repairing of roads, in reverence for the aged and pity for the poor. If he heard that the rice was given to feed Master, his affection for me, his wife, would increase manyfold.” Tripitaka, however, simply refused to eat, and Eight Rules on one side became utterly exasperated. Pouting, our Idiot grumbled to himself, “There are countless priests in the world, but none is more wishy-washy than this old priest of ours! Here’s ready-made rice, and three portions to boot! But he will not eat it. He has to wait for that monkey’s return and the rice divided into four portions before he’ll eat.” Without permitting further discussion, he pushed over the pot with one shove of his snout and was about to begin.

  Look at our Pilgrim! Having picked several peaches from the mountain peak in the south, he came hurtling back with a single somersault, holding the alms bowl in his hand. When he opened wide his fiery eyes and diamond pupils to take a look, he recognized that the girl was a monster. He put down the bowl, pulled out his iron rod, and was about to bring it down hard on the monster’s head. The elder was so aghast that he pulled his disciple back with his hands. “Wukong,” he cried, “whom have you come back to hit?”

  “Master,” said Pilgrim, “don’t regard this girl in front of you as a good person. She’s a monster, and she has come to deceive you.”

  “Monkey,” said Tripitaka, “you used to possess a measure of true discernment. How is it that you are talking nonsense today? This Lady Bodhisattva is so kind that she wants to feed me with her rice. Why do you say that she’s a monster?”

  “Master,” said Pilgrim with a laugh, “how could you know about this? When I was a monster back at the Water-Curtain Cave, I would act like this if I wanted to eat human flesh. I would change myself into gold or silver, a lonely building, a harmless drunk, or a beautiful woman. Anyone feeble-minded enough to be attracted by me I would lure back to the cave. There I would enjoy him as I pleased, by steaming or boiling. If I couldn’t finish him off in one meal, I would dry the leftovers in the sun to keep for rainy days. Master, if I had returned a little later, you would have fallen into her trap and been harmed by her.” That Tang Monk, however, simply refused to believe these words; he kept saying instead that the woman was a good person.

  “Master,” said Pilgrim, “I think I know what’s happening. Your worldly mind must have been aroused by the sight of this woman’s beauty. If you do have the desire, why not ask Eight Rules to cut some timber and Sha Monk to find us some grass. I’ll be the carpenter and build you a little hut right here where you can consummate the affair with her. We can each go our own way then. Wouldn’t that be the thing to do? Why bother to undertake such a long journey to fetch the scriptures?” The elder, you see, was a rather tame and gentle person. He was so embarrassed by these few words that his whole bald head turned red from ear to ear.

  As Tripitaka was struck dumb by his shame, Pilgrim’s temper flared again. Wielding his iron rod, he aimed it at the monster’s face and delivered a terrific blow. The fiend, however, had a few tricks of her own. She knew the magic of Releasing the Corpse.3 When she saw Pilgrim’s rod coming at her, she roused her spirit and left, leaving behind the corpse of her body struck dead on the ground. Shaking with horror, the elder mumbled, “This ape is so unruly, so obdurate! Despite my repeated pleadings, he still takes human life without cause.” “Don’t be offended, Master,” said Pilgrim, “just come see for yourself what kind of things are in the pot.” Sha Monk led the elder near to take a look. The fragrant rice made from wine cakes was nowhere to be found; there was instead a potful of large maggots with long tails. There was no fried wheat gluten either, but a few frogs and ugly toads were hopping all over the place. The elder was about to think that there might be thirty percent truthfulness in Pilgrim’s words, but Eight Rules would not let his own resentment subside. He began to cast aspersions on his companion, saying, “Master, this woman, come to think of it, happens to be a farm girl of this area. Because she had to take some lunch to the fields, she met us on the way. How could she be deemed a monster? That rod of Elder Brother is quite heavy, you know. He came back and wanted to try his hand on her, not anticipating that one blow would kill her. He’s afraid that you might recite that so-called Tight-Fillet Spell, and that’s why he’s using some sort of magic to hoodwink you. It’s he who has caused these things to appear, just to befuddle you so that you won’t recite the spell.”

  This single speech of Eight Rules, alas, spelled disaster for Tripitaka! Believing the slanderous suasion of our Idiot, he made the magic sign with his hand and recited the spell. At once Pilgrim began to scream, “My head! My head! Stop reciting! Stop reciting! If you’ve got something to say, say it.” “What do I have to say?” asked the Tang Monk. “Those who have left the family must defer to people every time, must cherish kindness in every thought. They must

  Keep ants out of harm’s way when they sweep the floor,

  And put shades on lamps for the love of moths.

  And you, you practice violence with every step! Since you have beaten to death this innocent commoner, what good would it do even if you were to go acquire the scriptures? You might as well go back.” “Master,” said Pilgrim, “where do you want me to go back to?” The Tang Monk said, “I don’t want you as my disciple.” “If you don’t want me as your disciple,” said Pilgrim, “I fear that you may not make it on your way to the Western Heaven.” “My life is in the care of Heaven,” said the Tang Monk. “If it’s ordained that I should be food for the monster, even if I were to be steamed or boiled, it’s all right with me. Furthermore, do you think really that you have the power to deliver me from the great limit? Go back quickly!” “Master,” said Pilgrim, “it’s all right for me to go back, but I have not yet repaid your kindness.” “What kindness have I shown you?” asked the Tang Monk. When the Great Sage heard this, he knelt down immediately and kowtowed, saying, “Because old Monkey brought great disruption to the Celestial Palace, he incurred for himself the fatal ordeal of being clamped by Buddha be
neath the Mountain of Two Frontiers. I was indebted to the Bodhisattva Guanyin who gave me the commandments, and to Master who gave me freedom. If I don’t go up to the Western Heaven with you, it will mean that I

  Knowing kindness without repaying am no princely man.

  Mine will be forever an infamous name.”

  Now the Tang Monk, after all, is a compassionate holy monk. When he saw Pilgrim pleading so piteously with him, he changed his mind and said, “In that case, I’ll forgive you this time. Don’t you dare be unruly again. If you work violence again as before, I’ll recite this spell over and over twenty times.” “You may recite it thirty times,” said Pilgrim, “but I won’t hit anyone again.” Helping the Tang Monk to mount the horse, he then presented the peaches that he picked. The Tang Monk indeed ate a few of the peaches on the horse to relieve his hunger momentarily.

  We now tell you about the monster who escaped by rising into the sky. That one blow of Pilgrim’s rod, you see, did not kill her, for she fled by sending away her spirit. Standing on top of the clouds, she gnashed her teeth at Pilgrim, saying spitefully to herself, “The last few years I have heard nothing but people talking about his abilities, but I’ve discovered today that his is not a false reputation. Already deceived by me, the Tang Monk was about to eat the rice. If he had just lowered his head and taken one whiff of it, I would have grabbed him and he would have been all mine. Little did I anticipate that this other fellow would return and bust up my business. What’s more, I almost received a blow from his rod. If I had let this monk get away, I would have labored in vain. I’m going back down there to make fun of him once more.”

  Dear monster! Lowering the direction of her dark cloud, she dropped into the fold of the mountain further ahead and changed with one shake of her body into a woman eighty years old, having in her hands a bamboo cane with a curved handle. She headed toward the pilgrims, weeping each step of the way. When Eight Rules saw her, he was horrified. “Master,” he said, “it’s terrible! That old Mama approaching us is looking for someone.” “Looking for whom?” asked the Tang Monk. Eight Rules said, “The girl slain by Elder Brother has to be the daughter. This one must be the mother looking for her.” “Stop talking nonsense, Brother,” said Pilgrim. “That girl was about eighteen, but this woman is at least eighty. How could she still bear children when she was sixty-some years old? She’s a fake! Let old Monkey go have a look.” Dear Pilgrim! In big strides he walked forward to look at the monster, who