The Journey to the West, Revised Edition, Volume 2

by Unknown

  Pilgrim said, “I am Pilgrim Sun Wukong, the disciple of the holy monk of the Great Tang. I have come especially to save your lives.” “No! No!” cried the monks. “You can’t be, for we can recognize that venerable father.” “You haven’t even met him,” said Pilgrim, “so how could you recognize him?” The monks said, “We have met in our dreams an old man who identified himself as the Gold Star Venus. He told us over and over again how Pilgrim Sun was supposed to look so that we wouldn’t make a mistake in identifying him.” “What did he tell you?” asked Pilgrim. The monks said, “He said that the Great Sage has

  A bumpy brow, and golden eyes flashing;

  A round head and a hairy face jowl-less;

  Gaping teeth, pointed mouth, a character most sly;

  He looks more strange than thunder god.

  Using a golden-hooped iron rod,

  He once broke Heaven’s gates apart.

  He now follows Truth, protecting a monk,

  And saves humankind from distress.” 5

  When Pilgrim heard these words, he was both pleased and annoyed; pleased, because the gods had spread wide his fame, but also annoyed, because those old rogues, he thought, had revealed to mortals his primal form. He blurted out all at once, “Indeed all of you can see that I am not Pilgrim Sun, but I am a disciple of his, just learning how to cause some trouble for fun! Look over there! Isn’t that Pilgrim Sun who is approaching?” He pointed to the East with his finger and tricked the monks into turning their heads. As they did so, he revealed his true form, which the monks recognized immediately. Every one of them went to his knees, saying, “Father, we are of fleshly eyes and mortal stock, and we failed to know that you appeared to us in transformation. We beg Father to avenge our wrongs and dispel our woes by entering the city quickly and exterminating the demonic ones.” “Follow me,” said Pilgrim, and the monks all followed him closely.

  The Great Sage walked to the beach. Exerting his magic power, he yanked the cart through the two passes and up the spine ridge before picking it up and smashing it to pieces. He then tossed all those bricks, tiles, and timber down a ravine. “Go away!” he bellowed to the monks. “Don’t crowd around me. Let me see the king tomorrow and destroy those Daoists.” “O Father!” said those monks. “We dare not go very far away, for we fear that we might be caught by the officials. Then we would be brought back for beatings and for ransom, and there would be no end to our woes.” “In that case,” said Pilgrim, “let me give you some means of protection.”

  Dear Great Sage! He plucked a handful of hairs that he chewed into small pieces. To each of the monks he gave a piece with the instruction: “Stick it into the nail of your fourth finger and then make a fist. You can walk as far as you want. Don’t do anything if no one comes to seize you, but if there should be someone trying to arrest you, hold your fist up tightly and cry, ‘Great Sage, Equal to Heaven.’ I will come at once to protect you.” “Father,” said the monks, “if we walk too far away and you can’t see or hear us, what good will it do?” “Relax,” said Pilgrim, “for even if you are ten thousand miles away, I guarantee that nothing will happen to you.”

  One of the monks who was somewhat courageous indeed held up his fist and whispered, “Great Sage, Equal to Heaven.” At once a thunder spirit stood in front of him, holding an iron rod. He looked so formidable that not even a thousand cavalry would dare charge near him. Several scores of the monks made the call also, and several scores of Great Sages at once appeared. The monks kowtowed, crying, “Father, truly an efficacious manifestation!” “When you want it to disappear,” said Pilgrim, “all you have to say is the word, ‘Cease.’” They cried, “Cease!” and the hairs appeared again in their nails. The monks were overjoyed and began to disperse. “Don’t go too far away,” said Pilgrim, “but listen for news of me in the city. If a proclamation requesting for monks to return to the city is published, you may then enter the city and give me back my hairs.” Those five hundred monks then scattered in all directions, and we shall speak no more of them for the moment.

  We tell you now instead about the Tang Monk by the wayside. While he waited in vain for Pilgrim to come back with a report, he told Zhu Eight Rules to lead the horse forward toward the West. As they proceeded, they met some monks hurrying by, and when they drew near the city, they saw Pilgrim standing there with a dozen or so monks who had not dispersed. Reining in his horse, Tripitaka said, “Wukong, you were sent here to find out about the strange noise. Why did it take you so long and still you didn’t return?” Leading those monks to bow before the Tang Monk’s horse, Pilgrim gave a thorough account of what had happened. Horrified, Tripitaka said, “If this is the situation, what shall we do?” “Please have no fear, Venerable Father,” said those monks. “Father Great Sage Sun is an incarnation of a Heavenly god, and his vast magic powers will no doubt prevent you from coming to any harm. We are priests of the Wisdom Depth Monastery of this city, an edifice built by imperial command of the late king, the father of the present ruler. Since the image of the late king is still inside the monastery, it has not been torn down along with all the other monasteries, big and small, of the city. Let us invite the venerable father to go into the city and rest in our humble dwelling. We are certain that the Great Sage Sun will know what to do by the time of the morning court tomorrow.” “What you say is quite right,” said Pilgrim. “All right! We might as well enter the city first.”

  The elder dismounted and went up to the city gate. The sun was setting as they walked across the drawbridge and inside the triple gates. When people on the streets saw that priests from the Wisdom Depth Monastery were toting luggage and leading a horse, they all drew back and avoided them. Before long they reached the entrance of the monastery, where they saw hanging high above the gate a huge plaque on which was written in gold letters: “The Wisdom Depth Monastery, Built by Imperial Command.” Pushing open the gates, the monks led them through the Vairocana Hall. They then opened the door to the main hall; the Tang Monk draped the cassock over his body and prostrated himself before the golden image. Only after he had paid homage to Buddha in this manner did he walk inside the main hall. “Hey, you who are looking after the house!” cried the monks, and an old priest emerged. When he saw Pilgrim, he fell on his knees at once and cried, “Father, have you arrived?” “Who am I?” asked Pilgrim. “Why should you address me and honor me in this manner?” “I recognize you to be the Great Sage, Equal to Heaven, the Father Sun,” said the priest. “Every night we dream of you, for the Gold Star Venus frequently appears to us in our dreams, telling us that we can preserve our lives only when you come to us. Today, I can tell immediately that you are the one whom we saw in our dreams. O Father, I’m so glad that you have arrived in time. After one or two more days, we may all become ghosts!” “Please rise! Please rise!” said Pilgrim with laughter. “Tomorrow you will see some results!” The monks all went to prepare for them a vegetarian meal, after which they swept clean the abbot’s residence for the pilgrims to rest.

  Pilgrim, however, was so preoccupied that he could not sleep even by the time of the second watch. From somewhere nearby also came the sound of pipes and gongs, and he became so aroused that he rose quietly and slipped on his clothes. He leaped into midair to have a better look and at once discovered that there was the bright glare of lamps and torches due south of him. Lowering his cloud, he peered intently and found that the Daoists of the Three Pure Ones Abbey were making supplications to the stars. He saw

  The spiritual realm of a tall chamber;

  The blessed place of a magic hall.

  The spiritual realm of a tall chamber,

  August like the features of Mount Penglai;

  The blessed place of a magic hall,

  Immaculate like the Palace of Transformed Joy.

  Daoists on both sides played their strings and pipes;

  Masters at the center held up their tablets of jade.

  They expounded the Woe-Dispelling Litany;

  They lectured on t
he Classic of the Way and Virtue.

  To raise dust6 a few times they wrote out their charms;

  To make the supplication they prostrated themselves.

  With spell and water they sent a dispatch

  As flames of torches shot up to the Region Above.

  They sought and questioned the stars

  As fragrant incense rose through the azure sky.

  Before the stands were fresh offerings;

  On top of tables were victuals sumptuous.

  On both sides of the hall’s entrance was hung a pair of yellow silk scrolls on which the following parallel couplet in large characters was embroidered:

  For wind and rain in due season,

  We invoke the Celestial Worthies’7 boundless power.

  As the empire’s peaceful and prosperous,

  May our lord’s reign exceed ten thousand years.

  There were three old Daoists resplendent in their ritual robes, and Pilgrim thought they had to be the Tiger-Strength, Deer-Strength, and Goat-Strength Immortals. Below them there was a motley crew of some seven or eight hundred Daoists; lined up on opposite sides, they were beating drums and gongs, offering incense, and saying prayers. Secretly pleased, Pilgrim said to himself, “I would like to go down there and fool with them a bit, but as the proverb says,

  A silk fiber is no thread;

  A single hand cannot clap.

  Let me go back and alert Eight Rules and Sha Monk. Then we can return and have some fun.”

  Putting his auspicious cloud on a descending path, he headed straight back to the abbot’s hall, where he found Eight Rules and Sha Monk asleep head to foot in one bed. Pilgrim tried to wake Wujing first, and as he stirred, Sha Monk said, “Elder Brother, you aren’t asleep yet?” “Get up now,” said Pilgrim, “for you and I are going to enjoy ourselves.” “In the dead of night,” said Sha Monk, “how could we enjoy ourselves when our mouths are dried and our eyes won’t stay open?” Pilgrim said, “There is indeed in this city an Abbey of the Three Pure Ones. Right now the Daoists in the Abbey are conducting a mass, and their main hall is filled with all kinds of offerings. The buns are big as barrels, and their cakes must weigh fifty or sixty pounds each. There are also countless rice condiments and fresh fruits. Come with me and we’ll go enjoy ourselves!” When Zhu Eight Rules heard in his sleep that there were nice edibles, he immediately woke up, saying, “Elder Brother, aren’t you going to take care of me, too?” “Brother,” said Pilgrim, “if you want to eat, don’t make all these noises and wake up Master. Just follow me.”

  The two of them slipped on their clothes and walked quietly out the door. They trod on the cloud with Pilgrim and rose into the air. When Idiot saw the flare of lights, he wanted immediately to go down there had not Pilgrim pulled him back. “Don’t be so impatient,” said Pilgrim. “Wait till they disperse. Then we can go down there.” Eight Rules said, “But obviously they are having such a good time praying. Why would they want to disperse?” “Let me use a little magic,” said Pilgrim, “and they will.”

  Dear Great Sage! He made the magic sign with his fingers and recited a spell before he drew in his breath facing the ground toward the southwest. Then he blew it out and at once a violent whirlwind assailed the Three Pure Ones Hall, smashing flower vases and candle stands and tearing up all the ex-votos hanging on the four walls. As lights and torches were all blown out, the Daoists became terrified. Tiger-Strength Immortal said, “Disciples, let’s disperse. Since this divine wind has extinguished all our lamps, torches, and incense, each of us should retire. We can rise earlier tomorrow morning to recite a few more scrolls of scriptures and make up for what we miss tonight.” The various Daoists indeed retired.

  Our Pilgrim, leading Eight Rules and Sha Monk, lowered their clouds and dashed up to the Three Pure Ones Hall. Without bothering to find out whether it was raw or cooked, Idiot grabbed one of the cakes and gave it a fierce bite. Pilgrim whipped out the iron rod and tried to give his hand a whack. Hastily withdrawing his hand to dodge the blow, Eight Rules said, “I haven’t even found out the taste yet, and you’re trying to hit me already?” “Don’t be so rude,” said Pilgrim. “Let’s sit down with proper manners and then we may treat ourselves.” “Aren’t you embarrassed?” asked Eight Rules. “You are stealing food, you know, and you still want proper manners! If you were invited here, what would you do then?”

  Pilgrim said, “Who are these bodhisattvas sitting up there?” “What do you mean by who are these bodhisattvas?” chuckled Eight Rules. “Can’t you recognize the Three Pure Ones?” “Which Three Pure Ones?” asked Pilgrim. “The one in the middle,” said Eight Rules, “is the Celestial Worthy of Commencement; the one on the left is the Daoist Lord of Numinous Treasures; and the one on the right is the Most High Aged Lord, Laozi.” Pilgrim said, “We have to take on their appearances. Only then can we eat safely and comfortably.” When he caught hold of the delicious fragrance coming from the offerings, Idiot could wait no longer. Climbing up onto the tall platform, he gave the figure of Laozi a shove with his snout and pushed it to the floor, saying, “Old fellow, you have sat here long enough! Now let old Hog take your place for awhile!” So Eight Rules changed himself into Laozi, while Pilgrim took on the appearance of the Celestial Worthy of Commencement and Sha Monk became the Daoist Lord of Numinous Treasures. All the original images were pushed down to the floor. The moment they sat down, Eight Rules began to gorge himself with the huge buns. “Could you wait one moment?” said Pilgrim. “Elder Brother,” said Eight Rules, “we have changed into their forms. Why wait any longer?”

  “Brother,” said Pilgrim, “it’s a small thing to eat, but giving ourselves away is no small matter! These holy images we pushed on the floor could be found by those Daoists who had to rise early to strike the bell or sweep the grounds. If they stumbled over them, wouldn’t our secret be revealed? Why don’t you see if you can hide them somewhere?” Eight Rules said, “This is an unfamiliar place, and I don’t even know where to begin to look for a hiding spot.” “Just now when we entered the hall,” Pilgrim said, “I chanced to notice a little door on our right. Judging from the foul stench coming through it, I think it must be a Bureau of Five-Grain Transmigration. Send them in there.”

  Idiot, in truth, was rather good at crude labor! He leaped down, threw the three images over his shoulder, and carried them out of the hall. When he kicked open the door, he found a huge privy inside. Chuckling to himself he said, “This BanHorsePlague truly has a way with words! He even bestows on a privy a sacred title! The Bureau of Five-Grain Transmigration, what a name!” Still hauling the images on his shoulders, Idiot began to mumble this prayer to them:

  “O Pure Ones Three,

  I’ll confide in thee:

  From afar we came,

  Staunch foes of bogies.

  We’d like a treat,

  But nowhere’s cozy.

  We borrow your seats

  For awhile only.

  You’ve sat too long,

  Now join the privy.

  In times past you’ve enjoyed countless good things

  By being pure and clean Daoists.

  Today you can’t avoid facing something dirty

  When you become Celestial Worthies Most Smelly!”

  After he had made his supplication, he threw them inside with a splash and half of his robe was soiled by the muck. As he walked back into the hall, Pilgrim said, “Did you hide them well?” “Well enough,” said Eight Rules, “but some of the filth stained my robe. It still stinks. I hope it won’t make you retch.” “Never mind,” said Pilgrim, laughing, “you just come and enjoy yourself. I wonder if we could all make a clean getaway!” After Idiot changed back into the form of Laozi, the three of them took their seats and abandoned themselves to enjoyment. They ate the huge buns fist; then they gobbled down the side dishes, the rice condiments, the dumplings, the baked goods, the cakes, the deep-fried dishes, and the steamed pastries—regardless of whether these were hot or cold. Pilgrim Sun, howev
er, was not too fond of anything cooked; all he had were a few pieces of fruit, just to keep the other two company. Meanwhile Eight Rules and Sha Monk went after the offerings like comets chasing the moon, like wind mopping up the clouds! In no time at all, the food was completely devoured. When there was nothing left for them to eat, instead of leaving, they remained seated there to chat and wait for the food to digest.

  Alas! This was what had to happen! There was, you see, in the east corridor a young Daoist, who, just when he had lain down, scrambled up again all at once when he thought to himself, “I left my handbell in the hall. If I lost it, the masters would rebuke me tomorrow.” He said to his companion, “You sleep first. I’ve got to go find something.” Without even putting on his undergarments, he threw a shirt on himself and went to the main hall to search for his bell. Groping this way and that in the darkness, he finally found it. As he was turning to leave, he suddenly heard sounds of breathing. Terribly frightened, the Daoist began to rush out of the hall, and as he did so, he stepped on a lychee seed, which sent him crashing to the floor and the bell was smashed to pieces. Unable to restrain himself, Zhu Eight Rules burst into roars of laughter, frightening the little Daoist out of his wits. He scrambled up only to fall down once more; stumbling all over, he managed to reach the master residence.