The Journey to the West, Revised Edition, Volume 2

by Unknown

  After the civil and military officials transmitted the order and the visitors entered, Pilgrim saw that they were monks from the Precious Grove Monastery, who came bearing the rising-to-Heaven cap, the green-jade belt, the brownish yellow robe, and the carefree boots. Highly pleased, Pilgrim said, “It’s wonderful that you’ve come!” He asked the mendicant worker to step forward: his head-wrap was taken off and the rising-to-Heaven cap was placed on his head; the cloth garment was stripped off and he put on the brownish yellow robe instead; after he untied the silk sash and took off the monk sandals, he buckled on the jade-green belt and climbed into the carefree boots. The prince was then told to bring out the white jade token so that the king might hold it in his hands, and he was asked to ascend the main hall to be the king once more. As the ancient proverb said, “The court should not be one day without a ruler.” But the king absolutely refused to sit on the throne; weeping profusely, he knelt on the steps and said, “I’ve been dead for three years, and I’m indebted to Master for making me return to life. How could I dare assume such honor again? Let one of these masters be the ruler; I’ll be perfectly content to go with my wife and child outside the city to live as a commoner.” Tripitaka, of course, would have none of this, for he was intent on going to worship Buddha and to acquire the scriptures. The king then turned to Pilgrim, who said to him, smiling, “To tell you the truth, if old Monkey wanted to be a king, he would have been one throughout the myriad kingdoms in the world. But all of us are used to the leisurely and carefree existence of monks. If I become a king, I will have to let my hair grow again; I won’t be able to retire when it’s dark, nor will I be able to sleep beyond the hour of the fifth watch. I’ll be anxious when reports from the borders arrive; I’ll have endless worries when there are disasters or famines. How could I live with these things? So, you may as well be the king, and we shall continue to be monks to cultivate our merit.” After pleading with them bitterly to no avail, the king had no choice but to ascend the treasure hall once more to face south and resume the use of the royal “we.” After giving a general pardon throughout his empire, he also bestowed huge rewards on the monks of the Precious Grove Monastery before they left. Then he opened up the eastern palace to give a banquet to honor the Tang Monk; at the same time, painters were summoned into the palace to make portraits of the four pilgrims, so that these could be permanently revered in the Hall of Golden Chimes.

  After they had securely established the kingdom, master and disciples, reluctant to stay too long, were about to take leave of the throne to face the West. The king, the queen, the prince, and all their subjects took out the crown treasures together with gold, silver, and silk to present to the master as tokens of gratitude, but Tripitaka refused to accept any of these. All he wanted was to have his travel rescript certified so that he could tell Wukong and his brothers to saddle the horse and leave. Feeling very keenly that he had not expressed his gratitude in an adequate manner, the king called for his imperial chariot and invited the Tang Monk to sit in it. The two rows of civil and military officials were told to lead the way in front, while he, the prince, and the ladies of the three palaces pushed the chariot themselves. Only after they had gone out of the city wall was the Tang Monk permitted to descend from the dragon chariot to take leave. “O Master,” said the king, “when you have reached the Western Heaven and retrace your steps with your scriptures, you must pay our region a visit.” “Your disciple obeys you,” said Tripitaka, and the king went back to the city tearfully with his subjects. The Tang Monk and his three disciples again took up the labyrinthine path, their minds intent only on bowing at the Spirit Mountain. It was now the season of late autumn and early winter, and they saw

  Frost blighting the maples to make each forest sparse,

  And rain-ripened millet, plenty every where.

  Warmed by the sun, summit plums spread their morning hues;

  Rocked by the wind, mountain bamboos voice their chilly plaint.

  After they left the Black Rooster Kingdom, master and disciples journeyed during the day and rested at night; they had been on the road for more than half a month when they came upon another tall mountain, truly Heaven-touching and sun-obstructing. Growing alarmed on the horse, Tripitaka quickly pulled in his reins to call Pilgrim. “What do you want to say, Master?” asked Pilgrim. “Look at that huge mountain with those rugged cliffs before us,” said Tripitaka. “You must take caution and be on your guard, for I fear that some deviate creature all of a sudden will come to attack me again.” “Just get moving,” said Pilgrim with a chuckle. “Don’t be suspicious. Old Monkey has his defense.” The elder had to banish his worries and urged his horse to enter the mountain, which was truly rugged. You see,

  Whether tall or not,1

  Its top reaches the blue sky;

  Whether deep or not,

  A stream with depth like Hell down there.

  Before the mountain

  Are often seen rings of white clouds rising

  And boiling waves of dark fog;

  Red plums and jadelike bamboos;

  Verdant cedars and green pines;

  Behind the mountain

  Are soul-rending cliffs ten thousand yards deep,

  Behind which are strange, grotesque, demon-hiding caves,

  In which water drips down from rocks drop by drop,

  Leading to a winding, twisting brooklet down below.

  You see also fruit-bearing apes prancing and leaping,

  And deer with horns forked and zigzagged;

  Dull and dumbly staring antelopes;

  Tigers climbing the hills to seek their dens at night;

  Dragons churning the waves to leave their lairs at dawn.

  When steps at the cave’s entrance snap and crackle,

  The fowls dart up with wings loudly beating.

  Look also at these beasts pawing noisily through the woods.

  When you see this horde of birds and beasts,

  You will be stricken with heart-pounding fear.

  The Due-to-Fall Cave faces the Due-to-Fall Cave;

  The cave facing the Due-to-Fall Cave faces a god.

  Green rocks are dyed like a thousand pieces of jade;

  Blue-green gauze enshrouds ten thousand piles of mist.

  As master and disciples became more and more apprehensive, they saw a red cloud rising up from the fold of the mountain ahead of them; after it reached midair, it condensed and took on the appearance of a fireball. Greatly alarmed, Pilgrim ran forward to catch hold of one of the Tang Monk’s legs and pulled him from the horse, crying, “Brothers, stop! A monster is approaching!” Eight Rules and Sha Monk quickly took out their muckrake and precious staff and surrounded the Tang Monk.

  Let us now tell you that there was indeed a monster-spirit inside the ball of red light. Several years ago he heard people saying that the Tang Monk sent from the Land of the East to acquire scriptures from the Western Heaven was the incarnation of the elder, Gold Cicada, a good man who had practiced austerities for ten existences. Any person who could taste a piece of his flesh, they said, would be able to prolong his life until it became the same as Heaven and Earth. Every morning, therefore, he waited in the mountain, and suddenly he found that the pilgrim had arrived. As he watched in midair, he saw that the Tang Monk beside the horse was surrounded by three disciples, all ready to fight. Marveling to himself, the spirit said, “Dear monk! This white-faced, chubby cleric riding a horse was just coming into my view, when all of a sudden these three ugly monks had him surrounded. Look at them! Everyone is rolling up his sleeves, stretching out his fists and wielding his weapon—as if he is about to fight with someone. Aha! One of them with some perception, I suppose, must have recognized me. Well, if it’s going to be like this, it’ll be difficult for anyone trying to get a taste of the Tang Monk’s flesh.” As he thought to himself, questioning his mind with mind like that, he said, “If I try to overpower them, I may not even get near them, but if I try to use the good to deceive them, I may s
ucceed. As long as I am able to beguile their minds, I can trick them even with the good. Then I’ll catch them for sure. Let me go down and tease them a little.”

  Dear monster! He made the red light disperse and lowered his cloud toward the fold of the mountain. Shaking his body, he changed immediately into a little mischievous boy, about seven years of age and completely naked, who was bound by a rope and suspended from the top of a pine tree. “Help! Help!” he cried without ceasing.

  We were just telling you about the Great Sage Sun, who raised his head and found that the red cloud had completely dissipated and the flames all vanished. He therefore said, “Master, please mount up again for the journey.” “You just told us that there was a fiend approaching,” said the Tang Monk. “Do we dare proceed now?” “A little while ago,” said Pilgrim, “I saw a red cloud rising up from the ground, and by the time it reached midair, it condensed into a flaming ball of fire. It had to be a monster-spirit. But now the red cloud has dissipated, and so it must be a monster who’s a passerby and who does not dare harm people. Let’s go.”

  “Elder Brother is truly clever with words,” said Eight Rules, chuckling. “Even monster-spirits can be passersby!”

  “How would you know?” asked Pilgrim. “If some demon king of a certain cave in a certain mountain has sent out invitations to spirits of sundry mountains and caves to attend a festival, monster-spirits from all quarters—north, south, east, and west—would respond. Perhaps he’s just interested in going to the festival and not in harming people. That’s a monster-spirit who’s a passerby.”

  When Tripitaka heard these words, he was only half-convinced, but he had little alternative other than to climb on his saddle to journey into the mountain. As they proceeded, they heard suddenly repeated cries of “Help!” Highly startled, the elder said, “O Disciples! Who’s calling out in the midst of this mountain?” Pilgrim walked forward and said to him, “Master, keep moving. Don’t harp on such things as human carriage,2 donkey carriage, open carriage, or reclining carriage. Even if there were a carriage in a place like this, there wouldn’t be anyone to carry you.” “I’m not talking about carriages,” said the Tang Monk. “I’m referring to someone calling us.” “I know,” said Pilgrim with laughter, “but mind your own business. Let’s move on.”

  Tripitaka agreed and urged his horse forward once more. Before they had traveled a mile, they heard again the call, “Help!” “Disciple,” said the elder, “the sound of this call can’t be that of a demon or a goblin, for if it were, there would be no echo. Just listen to it: there was a call a moment ago, and now we have another one. It must have come from a man in dire difficulty. Let’s go and help him.” Pilgrim said, “Master, please put away your compassion just for today! When we have crossed this mountain, you can be compassionate then. If you know those stories about strange plants and possessed vegetations, you should know that everything can become a spirit. In most cases, they may not be too dangerous, but if you should run into something like a python, which has become an evil spirit after prolonged self-cultivation, you’d be in trouble. A spirit like that can even possess knowledge of a person’s nickname. If he should call out, hiding in the bushes or in the fold of the mountain, a person may get by if he does not answer him, but if he does answer, the spirit can snatch away his primal soul, or he can follow that person and take his life that night. Let’s get away! Let’s get away! As the ancients said, ‘If you escape, just thank the gods.’ Please don’t listen to this call.”

  The elder had little alternative but to agree and he whipped his horse to go forward. Pilgrim thought to himself, “I wonder where this brazen fiend is hollering. Let old Monkey give him a taste of ‘Cancer in opposition to Capricornus’ so that the two will never meet.” Dear Great Sage! He said to Sha Monk, “Hold on to the horse and walk slowly. Old Monkey’s going to take a leak.” Look at him! He let the Tang Monk walk slightly ahead and then recited a spell to exercise the magic of shortening the ground and moving the mountain. He pointed his golden-hooped rod backward once, and master and disciples immediately went past the peak of the mountain, leaving behind the fiendish creature. In big strides, the Great Sage caught up with the Tang Monk and they proceeded. Just then Tripitaka heard again a call coming from the mountain behind him, crying “Help!” The elder said, “O Disciple! That person in adversity truly has no affinity, for he has not run into any of us. We must have passed him, for you can hear that he is crying out from the mountain behind us.” “Or he may be still ahead of us,” said Eight Rules, “but perhaps the wind has changed.” “Never mind whether the wind has changed or not,” said Pilgrim. “Just keep moving.” As a result, everyone fell silent and concentrated on trying to pass the mountain, and we shall speak no more of them for the moment.

  We tell you instead about that monster-spirit in the mountain valley: he cried out for three or four times but no one appeared. He thought to himself, “When I saw the Tang Monk just now, he couldn’t have been more than three miles away. I’ve been waiting for him all this time. Why hasn’t he arrived? Could it be that he had taken another road down the mountain?” Shaking his body, he loosened the rope at once and mounted the red light once more to rise into the air. Unwittingly the Great Sage Sun was looking back with head upturned, and when he saw the light, he knew that it was the fiendish creature. Once more he grabbed the legs of the Tang Monk and pushed him off the horse, crying, “Brothers, take care! Take care! That monster-spirit is approaching again!” Eight Rules and Sha Monk were so alarmed that they wielded their rake and staff to surround the Tang Monk as before.

  When that spirit saw what happened in midair, he could not stop marveling, saying to himself, “Dear monks! I just saw that white-faced priest riding on the horse. How is it that he is now surrounded again by the three of them? Now I realize, after what I’ve seen, that I must overthrow the one who has perception before I can seize the Tang Monk. If not,

  My exertions are vain for I can’t get my thing;

  My efforts notwithstanding, all is nothing!”

  He lowered his cloud and transforming himself as before, he hung himself high on top of a pine tree. This time, however, he positioned himself only about half a mile away.

  We tell you now about the Great Sage Sun, who when he raised his head and found that the red cloud had dispersed, requested once more that his master mount up and proceed. “You just told us that the monster-spirit was approaching again,” said Tripitaka. “Why do you ask me to move on?” Pilgrim said, “This monster-spirit is a passerby. He doesn’t dare bother us.” The elder grew angry and said, “You brazen ape! You’re just playing with me! When there is a demon, you say it’s nothing. But when we are in this peaceful region, you are out to frighten me, yelling all the time about a monster-spirit. There’s more falsehood than truth in your words, and without regard for good or ill, you grab my legs and throw me off the horse. Now you come up with an explanation about this monster-spirit who’s a so-called passerby! If I got hurt from the fall, would you be able to live with yourself? You, you . . .” “Please don’t be offended, Master,” said Pilgrim. “If your hands and feet got hurt from the fall, we could still take care of you, but if you were abducted by a monster-spirit, where would we go to look for you?” Enraged, Tripitaka would have recited the Tight-Fillet Spell had not Sha Monk desperately pleaded with him. Finally he mounted his horse and proceeded once more.

  Before he could even sit properly on the saddle he heard another cry: “Master, please help me!” As he looked up, the elder found that it came from a little child, completely naked, who was suspended on top of a tree. He pulled in the reins and began to berate Pilgrim, saying, “You wretched ape! How villainous you are! You don’t have the tiniest bit of kindness in you! Every thought of yours is bent on making mischief and working violence! I told you that it was a human voice calling for help, but you have to spend countless words to claim it was a monster. Look! Isn’t that a person hanging on the tree?” Seeing how the master was putting the
blame on him and also the form before his face, the Great Sage lowered his head and dared not reply, for there was nothing he could do at the moment and he was afraid that his master would recite the Tight-Fillet Spell. He had little choice, in fact, but to permit the Tang Monk to approach the tree. Pointing with his whip, the elder asked, “Which household do you belong to, child? Why are you hung here? Tell me, so that I can rescue you.”

  Alas! Clearly this is a monster-spirit who has transformed himself in this manner, but that master is a man of fleshly eyes and mortal stock, completely unable to recognize what he saw.

  When that demon heard the question, he became even more bold in his chicanery. With tears welling up in his eyes, he said, “O Master! West of this mountain there is a Withered Pine Brook, by the side of which there is a village where my family is located. My grandfather’s name is Red, and because he has amassed a huge fortune, he was given the name Red Millions. He has, however, been dead for a long time after having lived to a ripe old age, and his estate was left to my father. Recent business reversals have gradually fribbled away our possessions, and my father for that reason has changed his name to Red Thousands. He has been, you see, befriending many men of valor, to whom he had lent gold and silver with the hope of reaping some profits. Little did he realize that these were all rootless men out to swindle him, and he lost both principal and interest. My father therefore vowed that he would never lend out another penny, but those borrowers, after having squandered what they had, banded together and plundered our house in broad daylight, holding lit torches and staffs. Not only did they rob us of all our money and possessions, but they killed my father also. And when they saw that my mother was somewhat attractive, they decided to abduct her and take her with them to be some kind of camp lady. Unwilling to abandon me, my mother carried me along in her bosom and, weeping, followed the thieves to this mountain, where they wanted to kill me also. Fortunately, my mother pleaded with them and I was spared the knife; I was tied with ropes and hung here to die of hunger and exposure instead. I don’t know what sort of merit I’ve accumulated in another existence that brings me the luck of meeting Master here. If you are willing to be compassionate and save my life so that I can return home, I shall try to repay your kindness even if I have to sell myself. Even when the yellow sand covers my face, I will not forget your kindness.”