The Journey to the West, Revised Edition, Volume 2

by Unknown

  Pilgrim said, “After we parted, we proceeded toward the West until we came to the Black Rooster Kingdom. The king there had been murdered by a monster-spirit masquerading as a Daoist able to summon wind and rain. The monster then changed himself into the form of the king, and now he sits in the Hall of Golden Chimes. When my master read the sūtras during the night before last in the Precious Grove Monastery, the king’s spirit appeared to him and requested earnestly for old Monkey to subdue the fiend for him. Because old Monkey considered the problem of evidence, he went to the imperial garden with Eight Rules to look for the burial site. Within a well of octagonal marble walls, we fished out the king’s corpse, so perfectly preserved that neither his color nor his appearance had changed. When we brought him back to my master, he was moved by compassion and wanted me to revive him. The condition was set, however, that I could not go to the Region of Darkness to fetch his soul, and that I must find some means to revive him in the World of Light. I concluded that there was no other remedy available, and that was why I came especially to see you. I beseech the Patriarch of Tao to be merciful and lend me one thousand tablets of your Soul-Restoring Elixir of Nine Reversions, so that old Monkey can save the king.”

  “This ape is babbling!” said Laozi. “What are you saying—one thousand tablets, two thousand tablets! You eat them like rice? You think they are kneaded with mud? That easy? No! Go quickly! I have none!” “All right,” said Pilgrim, chuckling, “how about a hundred tablets?” “I don’t have any,” said Laozi. “Just ten tablets, then,” said Pilgrim. “This wretched ape is an absolute pest!” said Laozi angrily. “I don’t have any. Get out! Get out!” “You really don’t have any?” said Pilgrim, laughing. “I’ll go somewhere to look for help then.” “Go! Go! Go!” shouted Laozi. Turning around, the Great Sage strode out at once.

  Laozi suddenly thought to himself, “This monkey is such a rogue! When I told him to go, he left, but I fear that he might sneak back in and start stealing.” He ordered a divine youth to call Pilgrim back at once, saying, “You ape, you have itchy hands and feet! I’ll give you one tablet of my Soul-Restoring Elixir.” “Venerable Sir,” said Pilgrim, “if you know the talent of old Monkey, you will bring out your golden elixir at once and divide up what you have with me equitably. That’ll be your good fortune! Otherwise, I’m going to swipe them clean for you.” Taking out his gourd, the patriarch turned it upside down and poured out one pellet of golden elixir. He handed it over to Pilgrim, saying, “That’s all I have. Take it, take it! I’m giving it to you, you know, and when that king is revived, it’ll be counted as your merit.” Pilgrim took it and said, “Let’s not hurry! I’m going to have a taste of it first, for I’m not going to be duped by some bogus pill!” He popped it into his mouth at once. The old patriarch was so startled that he dashed forward and grabbed the skin on Pilgrim’s head. Holding high his fist, he shouted, “You wretched ape! If you dare swallow it, I’ll kill you!” “Shame on you!” said Pilgrim, laughing. “Don’t be so petty! Who’s going to eat your stuff! How much could it be worth, this flimsy stuff? Isn’t it right here?” The monkey, you see, had a little pouch just beneath his jowl, and that was where he kept the golden elixir. After the patriarch had felt it with his fingers, he said, “Go away! Don’t bother me here anymore!” Then the Great Sage thanked the old patriarch and left the Tushita Heaven Palace. Look at him!

  In countless hallowed beams he left the arches of jade;

  On myriad auspicious clouds he went to the world of dust.

  In a moment, he left the South Heaven Gate behind and, as the sun came up, he dropped from the clouds and arrived at the gate of the Precious Grove Monastery.

  Eight Rules’s weeping could still be heard when he approached, crying, “Master.” “Wukong has returned,” said Tripitaka, delighted. “Do you have any elixir or medicine?” “I do,” said Pilgrim. “He couldn’t possibly not have it!” said Eight Rules. “He would have brought back something even if he had to steal it!” “Brother,” said Pilgrim, chuckling, “you can get out of the way, I don’t need you anymore. Wipe away your tears, or you can go somewhere to weep. Sha Monk, please fetch me some water.”

  Sha Monk hurried to the well in the rear where there was a bucket nearby. He bailed out half an alms bowl of water and brought it to Pilgrim. After he took it, Pilgrim spat out the elixir and placed it inside the lips of the king. Then with both hands, he pulled the jaws of the king apart, and using a mouthful of clean water, he flushed the golden elixir down to the king’s stomach. After about half an hour, loud gurgling noises came from the belly of the king, although his body remained immobile. “Master,” said Pilgrim, “even my golden elixir seems unable to revive him! Could it be that old Monkey’s going to be finished off by blackmail?” Tripitaka said, “Nonsense! There’s no reason for him not to live. How could he swallow that water if he had been only a corpse dead for a long time? It had to be the divine power of that golden elixir, which entrance into his stomach now causes the intestines to growl. When that happens, it means that circulation and pulse are in harmonious motion once more. His breath, however, is still stopped and cannot flow freely. But that’s to be expected when a man has been submerged in a well for three years; after all, even raw iron would be completely rusted. That’s why his primal breath is all used up, and someone should give him mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.”

  Eight Rules walked forward and was about to do this when he was stopped by Tripitaka. “You can’t do it,” he said. “Wukong still should take over.” That elder indeed had presence of mind, for Zhu Eight Rules, you see, had been a cannibal since his youth, and his breath was unclean. Pilgrim, on the other hand, had practiced self-cultivation since his birth, the food sustaining him being various fruits and nuts, and thus his breath was pure. The Great Sage, therefore, went forward and clamped his thundergod beak to the lips of the king: a mighty breath was blown through his throat to descend the tiered towers.1 Invading the bright hall, it reached the cinnabar field and the jetting-spring points beyond before it reversed its direction and traveled to the mud-pill chamber of the crown. With a loud swoosh, the king’s breath came together and his spirit returned; he turned over and at once flexed his hands and feet, crying, “Master!” Going then to his knees, he said, “I remember my soul as a ghost did see you last night, but I did not expect this morning my spirit would return to the World of Light.” Tripitaka hurriedly tried to raise him, saying, “Your Majesty, I didn’t do anything. You should thank my disciple.”

  “Master, what are you saying?” said Pilgrim with laughter. “The proverb says, ‘A household does not have two heads.’ You should accept his bow.”

  Greatly embarrassed nonetheless, Tripitaka raised the king up with both hands and they went together into the Chan hall. The king insisted on greeting Pilgrim, Eight Rules, and Sha Monk before he would take a seat. The resident monks of the monastery had just finished preparing the morning meal and they were about to present it when they discovered a king with soaking wet garments. Everyone became frightened; each of them began to speculate. Pilgrim Sun, however, leaped into their midst and said, “Monks, don’t be so alarmed. This is in fact the king of the Black Rooster Kingdom, the true ruler of all of you. Three years ago he was murdered by a fiend, but old Monkey revived him last night. We plan to go with him to the city presently to distinguish the perverse from the true. If you have some vegetarian food prepared, bring it here, so that we can start our journey after we eat.” The monks then presented hot water also so that the king could wash up and change his clothes. The royal reddish brown robe was discarded, and he put on instead two cloth shirts given to him by the monk-official. They took off the jade belt and tied him up with a yellow silk sash; after the carefree boots were removed, he was given a pair of old monk sandals. Then they had their vegetarian breakfast before going to saddle the horse.

  “Eight Rules,” said Pilgrim, “how heavy is your luggage?” “I’ve been toting it every day,” said Eight Rules, “and I really don�
��t know how heavy it is.” Pilgrim said, “Divide one and let the king take up the other one. We should get to the city early to do our work.” Delighted, Eight Rules said, “Lucky! Lucky! When I brought him here on my back, I used up a lot of my strength. I had no idea that he could be my substitute after he had been healed.” Resorting at once to mischief, Idiot divided the luggage; he carried the lighter load with a flat pole that he acquired from the monastery, whereas the heavier load he gave to the king to pole. “Your Majesty,” said Pilgrim with a chuckle, “I hope you don’t mind our treatment, dressing you in that manner and asking you to pick up a pole to follow us?” Kneeling down immediately, the king said, “Master, you are like parents who have given me a new birth. Don’t mention anything about poling some luggage. I’m even willing to pick up the whip and hold the stirrups to look after the Venerable Father and follow him all the way to the Western Heaven.”

  Pilgrim said, “There’s no need for you to do that, but I have a reason for making you do this at the moment. You can help us carry the luggage for these forty miles until we have entered the city and caught the monster-spirit. Then you can become a king again, and we will go and fetch our scriptures.” Hearing this, Eight Rules said, “In that case, he is going to pole for only forty miles. After that, old Hog will remain as a long-term laborer!” “Brother, no more foolish talk!” said Pilgrim. “Get out there and lead the way.”

  Eight Rules indeed walked with the king in front to lead the way, while Sha Monk helped his master to mount the horse and Pilgrim took up the rear. Arranged in an orderly formation, the five hundred monks of that monastery followed them all the way to the gate, playing and blowing their musical instruments. Smiling, Pilgrim said, “No need for you monks to accompany us any further. I fear that if any of this is leaked to the officials, our enterprise will be ruined. Go back quickly! Go back quickly! Only see to it that the king’s clothing and belt are cleaned and prepared. Send them to the city either late tonight or early tomorrow morning. I’ll ask for some reward for you.” The monks obeyed and returned to their quarters, while Pilgrim in big strides caught up with his master to proceed with him. So it is that

  The West has mystery, it’s good to seek the truth.

  Wood and Metal in concord, then spirit can be refined.

  The elixir mother recalls in vain a foolish dream;

  The child deplores deeply how powerless he is.

  You must seek at a well’s bottom the enlightened lord,

  And then bow to Laozi in the Hall of Heaven.

  Back to your own nature once you see form’s emptiness,2

  You’re thus truly a Buddha-led man of affinity.

  It did not take master and disciples even half a day on the road when they saw a city approaching. “Wukong,” said Tripitaka, “I suppose that must be the Black Rooster Kingdom ahead of us.” “Exactly,” said Pilgrim. “Let’s enter the city quickly so that we can do our business.” After they entered the city, master and disciples found the population well-mannered and engaged in a great deal of bustling activities. As they walked along, they soon came upon the phoenix bowers and dragon towers, exceedingly grand and ornate edifices for which we have a testimonial poem. The poem says:

  These outland buildings are like the sovereign state’s;3

  Like those of old Tang, people sing and dance.

  Flowers greet jeweled fans trailed by roseate clouds;

  Fresh robes, sun-lit, glimmer in jade-green fog.

  Peacock screens open and fragrant mist pours out;

  Pearly shades roll up as colored flags unfurl.

  A picture of peace most worthy of praise:

  Quiet rows of nobles but no memorials.

  “Disciples,” said Tripitaka as he dismounted, “we might as well go right into the court to have our rescript certified and not be bothered by some bureaucratic office.” “That’s reasonable,” said Pilgrim. “We brothers will go in with you; it’s easier to talk when you have more people on your side.” The Tang Monk said, “If all of you are going inside, you must not be rowdy. Let’s go through the proper ceremony of greeting a ruler before we do any talking.” “If you want to go through that,” said Pilgrim, “it means that you have to prostrate yourself.” “Exactly,” said the Tang Monk, “we have to undertake the grand ceremony of five bows and three kowtows.”

  “Master, you are too insipid!” said Pilgrim with a chuckle. “It’s so unwise of you to want to pay homage to that character! Let me go in first, for I know what I’m going to do. If he has anything to say to us, let me answer him. If I bow, you all can bow with me; if I crouch, you crouch also.” Look at that mischievous Monkey King! He went straight up to the gate of the court and said to the guardian official, “We have been sent by the Throne of the Great Tang in the Land of the East to go worship Buddha in the Western Heaven and to acquire scriptures from him. Having arrived in this region, we would like to have our rescript certified. May we trouble you to report this to the king so that the act of virtuous fruit will not be delayed.” The Custodian of the Yellow Gate went at once to the gate of the main hall and knelt before the vermilion steps to memorialize, saying, “There are five monks outside the gate of the court, who claim that they have been sent by imperial decree from the Tang nation in the Land of the East to go to see Buddha for scriptures in the Western Heaven. They would like to have their rescript certified, but they dare not enter the court, and they await your summons.”

  The demon king at once gave the order to summon them inside. The Tang Monk then proceeded to walk inside the court followed by the king who had been revived. As they walked, the king could not stop the tears from rolling down his cheeks, thinking to himself, “How pitiful indeed! My bronze-guarded empire, my iron-clad domain, had been secretly taken over by him.” “Your Majesty,” said Pilgrim softly, “you must not show your sorrow at this moment, for we may reveal everything. The rod in my ear is getting rather restless. In a moment, it will achieve a great merit by beating a demon to death and banishing all perversity. Your empire will soon be returned to you.” The king dared not disobey; pulling up his robe to wipe away the tears, he followed them resolutely up to the Hall of Golden Chimes.

  The rows of civil and military officials, some four hundred of them, all stood there with great sobriety and noble looks. Pilgrim led the Tang Monk up to the white jade steps; he then stood still and remained erect. All those officials beneath the steps became terrified, saying, “This monk is most foolish and base! When he sees our king, why does he not prostrate himself, nor does he express his praise? He does not even give a bow! How audacious and rude!”

  Before they even finished speaking, the demon king asked, “Where did this monk come from?” Pilgrim replied boldly, “I am from the Great Tang nation in the Land of the East, in the South Jambūḍvīpa Continent, someone sent by imperial decree to go seek the living Buddha in the Great Thunderclap Monastery of India in the Western Territories for true scriptures. Having reached this region, I do not want to pass through it without having our travel rescript certified.”

  When the demon king heard what he said, he became angry, saying, “So what if you are from the Land of the East? We are not paying tribute in your court, nor have we any intercourse with your nation. How dare you neglect your etiquette and not bow to us?” Laughing, Pilgrim said, “Our celestial court in the Land of the East was established in antiquity, and ours had been called the superior state for a long time. Yours is only a state of the hinterlands in an inferior region. Haven’t you heard of the ancient saying?

  The king of the superior state

  Is father and ruler;

  The king of the inferior state

  Is son and subject.

  You haven’t even received me properly, and you dare chide me for not bowing to you?” Infuriated, the demon king shouted to the civil and military officials, “Seize this wild monk!” When he said, “Seize,” all the officials surged forward. Pointing immediately with his finger, Pilgrim cried, “Cease!” That,
you see, was the magic of immobilization, which made the various officials unable to move at all. Truly

  The captains before the steps looked like idols of wood,

  And marshals in the palace resembled men of clay.

  When the demon king saw how Pilgrim had rendered immobile all the officials, he leaped up from the dragon couch and was about to seize Pilgrim himself. Secretly pleased, the Monkey King thought, “Good! Exactly what old Monkey wanted! The moment you come near, your head, even if it’s made of raw iron, is going to have a gaping hole when my rod finds it.” He was about to strike, when suddenly a saving star appeared from one side. “Who was it?” you ask. It was none other than the prince of the Black Rooster Kingdom. Dashing up to tug at the demon king’s garment, the prince knelt before him and said, “Let the anger of father king subside.”