Journey to the West (vol. 2)

by Wu Cheng-En

  “You're right,” said Monkey.

  Whipping on the horse, the venerable elder arrived at the monastery gate, above which the words THUNDER MONASTERY were written.

  This came as such a surprise to him that he fell to the ground from the horse, saying abusively, “Wretched macaque! You'll be the death of me. Here we are at the Thunder Monastery and you're still trying to trick me.”

  “Don't be angry, Master,” said Monkey with a forced smile. “Take another look. There are three words over the gate. Why did you only read two of them out, then get angry with me?” Still shaking, the master climbed to his feet again for another look and saw that there were in fact three words written there: LESSER THUNDER MONASTERY.

  “Even if it is the Lesser Thunder Monastery,” Sanzang said, “there must be a Buddha in here. The three thousand Buddhas of whom the scriptures speak can't all live in the same place, just as the Bodhisattva Guanyin lives in the Southern Sea, Samantabhadra lives on Mount Emei and Manjusri on Mount Wutai. I wonder which Buddha's holy seat this is. As the saying has it,

  Wherever there's a Buddha there are scriptures;

  Everywhere you go you'll find some treasures.

  Let's go in.”

  “No, we mustn't,” said Monkey. “This place looks thoroughly sinister. Don't blame me if this leads to disaster.”

  “Even if there is not Buddha here there's bound to be a statue of a Buddha, and I am under a vow to worship every Buddha statue I pass,” Sanzang replied. “I won't blame you.” He then told Pig to get out his cassock, put on his mitre, neatened his clothes up and strode forward.

  As he did so a voice from inside the gate called out, “Tang Priest, you've come from the East to worship our Buddha, so why are you still being so casual about it?” Sanzang at once started kowtowing, as did Pig while Friar Sand knelt. The Great Sage hung back, holding the horse and looking after the luggage. Once they were inside the inner gates they reached the Buddha Hall, outside of which were drawn up the five hundred arhats, the three thousand protectors, the four vajrapanis, the eight Bodhisattvas, nuns, lay people, and countless holy monks and lay brothers. Everywhere was the scent of flowers and auspicious vapors. The venerable elder, Pig and Friar Sand were all so overwhelmed that they kowtowed at every step until they reached the hall. Monkey alone did not bow.

  “Sun Wukong,” came a shrill shout from the throne, “why don't you kowtow when you see the Buddha?” Nobody realized that Monkey had spotted as he took a careful look around that this was all false.

  Letting go of the horse and putting down the luggage he shouted as he brandished his cudgel, “Evil beasts! What a nerve! How dare you try to ruin the Buddha's good name by pretending to be him! Stay where you are!” He raised his cudgel in both hands and was just about to strike when a pair of bronze cymbals came out of the sky to join together with a mighty crash, enclosing him completely from head to toe. Pig and Friar Sand grabbed desperately for their rake and staff, only to be so closely surrounded by the arhats, protectors, holy monks and lay brothers that they could not move. They and Sanzang too were all captured and roped up tightly.

  Now the Buddha on the lotus throne was a demon king and all the arhats and others his little devils. They now put off their Buddha disguises, so that they looked once more like the evil creatures they really were, and carried the three of them round to the back to be kept under guard while Monkey was sealed inside the cymbals, never to be released. The cymbals were then set on a pedestal, and here he was to be turned to pus and blood within three days and nights, after which the other three were to be steamed in an iron steamer and eaten. Indeed:

  The green-eyed macaque saw that it was false;

  The dhyana monk worshipped the appearance of the Buddha.

  The yellow-wife blindly joined in the prostration,

  While the mother of wood foolishly agreed.

  The monsters used force to oppress the true nature;

  Evilly the demon king mistreated the holy man.

  The demon king was greater than the narrow Way;

  By taking the wrong course they threw away their lives.

  Having locked the Tang Priest and his two disciples away and tied the horse up at the back they put Sanzang's cassock and mitre back into the luggage and stored that away too. They then put everything under a close guard.

  Inside the cymbals Monkey found it pitch black and so hot that he was soon pouring with sweat. Push and shove though he might, there was no way he could get out, and when in desperation he hit out wildly all around with his iron cudgel he could not move the cymbals by even a fraction of an inch. Then he made a hand-spell that made him ten thousand feet tall; the cymbals grew with him. There was not a crack anywhere through which a chink of light could get in. He made another hand-spell to make himself smaller and shrank till he was as tiny as a mustard-seed. The cymbals shrank with him, and still there was no hole.

  He blew a magic breath on the iron cudgel, said, “Change!” and made it into a flagpole with which to prop the cymbals up. Then he pulled two of the longer hairs from the back of his head, blew on them, said, “Change!” and turned them into a five-part drill with a plum-blossom shaped bit which he turned a thousand times or more. There was a rasping noise but the drill made no impression.

  By now he was feeling desperate, so he made another handspell and recited the words, “Om ram peaceful dharma world; eternal keen purity of the heavenly unity.”

  This compelled the Five Protectors, the Six Dings, the Six Jias and the Eighteen Guardians of the Faith to gather round the cymbals and say, “Great Sage, we are all protecting your master and keeping the demons from harming him, so why do you call us here?”

  “If he dies it serves him right for ignoring my advice,” Monkey replied. “You lot had better find some magic to get these cymbals open at once and have me out of here so I can decide what to do. It's completely dark in here, I'm feeling very hot, and it's so stuffy it'll kill me.” The gods all tried to lift the cymbals, but as before it was impossible to move them by even a fraction of an inch.

  “Great Sage,” said the Gold-headed Protector, “goodness only knows what kind of treasure this is, but they're all of a piece from top to bottom. We gods aren't strong enough to move them.”

  “And I've lost count of the number of my magic powers I've used here without being able to move them either,” said Monkey. When the Protector heard this he told the Six Dings to look after Monkey and the Six Jias to watch over the cymbals while the guardians kept their eyes on what was happening all around.

  He then set off on his beam of auspicious light and a moment later shot in through the Southern Gate of Heaven, where he did not wait to be summoned but rushed straight to the steps of the Hall of Miraculous Brightness to prostrate himself before the Jade Emperor and report, “My sovereign, I am one of the Protectors of the Four Quarters and the Centre. The Great Sage Equaling Heaven who is escorting the Tang Priest on the journey to fetch the scriptures has now reached a mountain with a monastery called the Lesser Thunder Monastery on it. The Tang Priest went in to worship under the illusion that he had reached Vulture Peak, but it turned out that the whole thing was a decoy to trap them. The Great Sage is caught inside a pair of cymbals and can't go anywhere. He's gradually dying. That is what I have come to report.” At once the Jade Emperor ordered that the Twenty-eight Constellations be sent to rescue them and defeat the demons.

  Not daring to delay for a moment, the constellations went out through the gate of Heaven with the Protector and were soon inside the monastery. It was now the second of the night's five watches, and all the demons, senior and junior, had gone to sleep after the feast their king had given them to celebrate the Tang priest's capture. Doing nothing to disturb them, the constellations went to the cymbals and reported, “Great Sage, we're the Twenty-eight Constellations. The Jade Emperor has sent us here to rescue you.” The news made Monkey very happy. “Smash them open with your weapons and get me out of here.”

 
“We don't dare to,” the constellations replied. “This is pure gold and if we hit it the noise would wake the devils up and it would be impossible to rescue you. We'll have to try to work it open with our weapons. The moment you see a chink of light in there, out you come.”

  “Yes,” said Monkey. They used their spears, swords, sabers and battle-axes to try to lever, prise, lift, and force it open, but despite all their efforts the third watch came and still they had failed to make the slightest impression on them. It was as if the cymbals had been cast as a single whole. Not a chink of light could Monkey see from inside, no matter how hard he looked and crawled and rolled all around.

  Then the Metal Dragon of the constellation Gullet said, “Don't get impatient, Great Sage. This must be an As-You-Will treasure and I'm sure it can be changed. You feel where the cymbals join from the inside. Once I get my horn between them you can turn yourself into something and get out where I've loosened them.” Monkey followed this suggestion and felt frantically around inside. Meanwhile the constellation made himself so small that his horn was no bigger than the point of a needle. He pushed hard with it where the two cymbals joined, and by exerting tremendous pressure he managed to penetrate inside.

  He then gave himself a magic body by saying, “Grow! Grow! Grow!” The horn became as thick as a rice-bowl, but the cymbals were more like creatures of skin and flesh than objects cast from metal: they kept their close bite on the Metal Dragon of Gullet's horn, and not a crack appeared anywhere around.

  “It's no use,” said Monkey, feeling the constellation's horn, “it's not at all loose anywhere around it. There's nothing for it: you'll have to bear the pain and pull me out.” The splendid Great Sage then changed his gold-banded cudgel into a steel gimlet, bored a hole in the tip of the horn, made himself the size of a mustard seed, crawled into the hole, squatted there, and shouted, “Pull it out.” Only through stupendous efforts did the constellation manage to pull his horn out, which left him so weak and exhausted that he collapsed.

  Monkey then crawled out of the hole in the horn again, resumed his own appearance, raised his cudgel and smashed the cymbals apart with a tremendous noise like a copper mountain collapsing. The Buddhist instruments now lay shattered into thousands of fragments of gold. This gave the Twenty-eight Constellations a terrible fright and made the Protectors' hair stand on end. All the devils woke up, and as the demon king was shocked out of his sleep he jumped up, pulled on his clothes and had the drums beaten to muster all the demons with their weapons. By now it was nearly dawn and they all gathered round the throne. On seeing Monkey and the constellations standing in a ring round the fragments of the golden cymbals the demon king went pale from shock and ordered his underlings to shut the front gates and not let them escape.

  As soon as Monkey heard this he led the Twenty-eight Constellations to spring up on their clouds till they were above the ninth heaven, while the demon king had the fragments of gold tidied away and drew his devilish forces up outside the monastery gates.

  In his anger the king had no choice but to put on his armor, take his short and flexible wolf's-tooth spiked mace and come out of his camp shouting, “Sun the Novice! A real man doesn't run away from a fight. Come back and fight three rounds with me.” This was more than Monkey could stand, and he landed his cloud at the head of his starry host to see what the evil spirit looked like.

  This is what he saw:

  Matted hair

  Held in place by a thin gold band;

  Eyes flashing

  Under a pair of frowning yellow brows;

  A pear-shaped nose

  With flaring nostrils;

  A square-cut mouth

  With sharp-pointed teeth.

  He wore a coat of chain-mail

  Tied with a tasseled raw silk sash;

  On his feet were a pair of oxhide boots

  And he carried a wolf's-tooth mace.

  He looked both like a wild beast and at the same time not;

  His face was human and yet not human.

  “What kind of monster do you think you are?” shouted Monkey as he brandished his cudgel. “How can you have the effrontery to pose as a Buddha, occupy a mountain and create a false Lesser Thunder Monastery?”

  “The only reason you've got the nerve to come rampaging around my magic mountain must be that you don't know my name,” the monster said. “This is the Lesser Western Heaven, and Heaven has given me these fine buildings because I have cultivated my conduct and gained the true achievement. I am called the Yellow-browed Buddha, though in their ignorance the people around here call me King Yellow Brow or Lord Yellow Brow. I've known about your journey to the West for a very long time now and I have some magic powers, which was why I could create those illusions to lure your master in so that you and I could have a trial of strength. If you can beat me I'll spare your master and his disciples and allow you to fulfil your true achievement. But if you can't I'll kill the lot of you and go myself to see the Tathagata Buddha, fetch the scriptures and take them to China.”

  “You talk too much, evil spirit,” said Monkey with a laugh. “If you want a trial of strength try this from my cudgel.” With great pleasure the demon king parried it and a fine fight ensued:

  A pair of cudgels,

  Each quite different.

  To start with what they looked like,

  One was a short and flexible Buddha weapon,

  The other was hard from the stores of the sea.

  Both of them could be changed at will,

  And today they met in a struggle for mastery.

  The soft wolf's-tooth mace was adorned with brocade,

  The hard gold-banded cudgel had dragon patterns.

  They could both be admirably big or small,

  Any length you liked and always just right.

  Monkey and monster were evenly matched:

  This fight between them was the real thing.

  The monkey tamed by faith was now the mind-ape;

  The evil monster had offended Heaven with deception.

  In his anger and loathing neither showed mercy;

  Both had their ways of being savagely vicious.

  One struck to the head, never easing the pressure;

  The other hit at the face and could not be fought off.

  The sun went dark behind the clouds they made;

  They breathed out mists that hid the towering crags.

  Cudgel met cudgel as the rivals fought,

  Both forgetting life and death for the Tang priest's sake.

  The two of them fought fifty rounds without either emerging as victor. By the monastery gate there was much beating of drums and gongs as the evil spirits shouted their war-cries and waved their flags. Facing them were the heavenly soldiers of the Twenty-eight Constellations and the holy hosts of the Five Protectors, who were all armed and shouting as they surrounded the demon king. The demons outside the monastery gate were too frightened to beat their drums, and their hands were shaking so badly that they could not strike their gongs.

  The old demon king was not at all afraid. He held all the enemy troops at bay with his mace in one hand while with the other he undid an old white cotton pouch that was round his waist as a sash; this he threw into the air. With a loud swish it caught the Great Sage Monkey, the Twenty-eight Constellations and the Protectors of the Four Quarters and the Centre; he then slung them over his shoulder and carried them back inside. All the little demons returned in triumph. The demon king told his underlings to fetch forty or fifty hempen ropes, opened the bag, and took his prisoners out one at a time to be tied up, Each of them felt that his bones had turned soft. Their muscles were numb and their skin hung loosely on them. Once tied up they were all carried out to the back and flung on the ground indiscriminately. The demon king then ordered a banquet and the devils drank from dawn till dusk before it broke up and they all went off to sleep.

  In the middle of the night, as the Great Sage Monkey lay there tied up with all the gods, he heard the sound of
weeping. Listening more carefully he recognized the voice of Sanzang, who was saying as he sobbed, “Wukong,”

  “I wish I had heeded the warning you gave:

  From this disaster we could have steered clear.

  While you're being tortured in cymbals of gold,

  Nobody knows I'm a prisoner here.”

  “Bitter the fate that afflicts us all four;

  All our achievements have now come to naught.

  How can we be saved from this awful impasse

  To go to the West and then home as we ought?”

  When Monkey heard this he felt sorry for his master. “Although ignoring my advice was what caused this disaster,” he thought, “at least you're remembering me in your troubles. I'd better save them all and let them get away while it's night, the demons are all asleep and nobody's on guard.”

  The splendid Great Sage used escaping magic to make himself so small that he slipped out of his bonds, went up to the Tang Priest and said, “Master.”

  “Why are you here?” Sanzang asked, recognizing his voice. Monkey told him very quietly what had happened, to his great delight.

  “Please rescue me as soon as you can,” Sanzang said. “From now on I'll do whatever you say and not be so stubborn.”

  Only then did Monkey start moving, first releasing the master, Pig and Friar Sand, then the Twenty-eight Constellations; and the Protectors of the Four Quarters and the Centre, all of whom he untied one by one. Next he brought the horse over and told his master to carry on ahead as quickly as possible. Once they were outside Monkey realized that he did not know where the luggage was and went back to look for it.

  “You seem to think that things matter more than people,” said the Metal Dragon of Gullet. “It ought to be enough that we've rescued your master. Why do you want to look for the luggage?”

  “Of course people are important,” Monkey said, “but things are even more important. In the luggage there's our passport, the brocade cassock and the golden begging bowl. They're all great treasures of the Buddhist faith, and we must have them.”