The Journey to the West, Revised Edition, Volume 4

by Unknown

  All at once Pilgrim blurted out, “Tathāgata! I have heard people say that that monster-spirit is related to you!”

  “This insolent ape!” said Tathāgata. “How could a monster-spirit be related to me?” “If not,” replied Pilgrim with a laugh, “how could you recognize him?”

  “By my eyes of wisdom,” said Tathāgata, “that’s how I recognize all three of them. The old fiend and the second fiend both have their proper masters. Ānanda and Kāśyapa, come! The two of you will mount the clouds and go your separate ways to Mount Five-Platforms and Mount E’mei. Summon Mañjuśrī and Viśvabhadra to come for an audience.” The two honored ones departed at once with the decree.

  “Mañjuśrī and Viśvabhadra,” said Tathāgata, “are the proper masters of those two fiends. But now that you mention it, the third fiend is indeed somewhat related to me.” “On the paternal party,” asked Pilgrim, “or the maternal one?”

  Tathāgata said, “At the time when Chaos parted, Heaven opened at the epoch of Zi, Earth developed at the epoch of Chou, and Man came into existence at the epoch of Yin.

  When Heaven and Earth mated,

  Then myriad things were born.

  The myriad things consisted of beasts and fowl: of the beasts, the unicorn was the head, and the phoenix was the head of the fowl. After having been fertilized by the aura of procreation, the phoenix also gave birth to the peacock and the great roc. When the peacock first came into the world, it was a most savage creature, able to devour humans. In fact, it could suck in a human being with one breath from a distance of some forty miles. I was on top of the Snow Mountain, having just perfected my sixteen-foot diamond body, when the peacock sucked me into his stomach. I could have escaped through his anal passage, but fearing that my body might be defiled, I cut my way out through his back and rode him back to the Spirit Mountain. I was about to take his life, but the various buddhas stopped me with the observation that to hurt the peacock would be like hurting my own mother. That was why I detained him at the mountain instead and appointed him Buddha-Mother, the Bodhisattva Mahārāja Mayūra.14 Since the great roc had the same parent as the peacock, it could be said that he was somewhat related to me.”

  On hearing this, Pilgrim said with a smile, “Tathāgata, according to what you’ve told me, you should be regarded as the nephew of that monster-spirit!” “Only my presence, I fear, will bring that fiend to submission,” said Tathāgata. Touching his head to the ground, Pilgrim said, “I beg you to make this journey at once.”

  Tathāgata left the lotus throne and went out of the monastery gate with the rest of the buddhas. There they saw Ānanda and Kāśyapa leading Mañjuśrī and Viśvabhadra on their way to the monastery also. As the two bodhisattvas bowed to him, Tathāgata asked, “How long have your beasts of burden been gone from your mountains?”

  “Seven days,” replied Mañjuśrī. “Seven days in the mountain,” said Tathāgata, “are equivalent to several thousand years on earth. I wonder how many lives they have taken down there. You must follow me quickly if we are to retrieve them.” With one bodhisattva standing on each side of him, the Buddha and his followers rose into the air. You see

  Auspicious clouds adrift in all the sky,

  As Buddha in mercy his wisdom15 doth ply:

  He shows forth Heaven’s law of procreation,

  Explaining Earth’s patterned transformation.

  Before his face five hundred arhats stand;

  Behind three thousand guardians form a band.

  Ānanda, Kāśyapa follow left and right;

  Mañ and Viśva the monstrous fiends will smite.

  It was as a peculiar favor granted him that the Great Sage succeeded in eliciting the assistance of the Buddhist Patriarch and his followers. In a little while, they caught sight of the city. “Tathāgata,” said Pilgrim, “the spot releasing black vapors over there is the Lion-Camel Kingdom.”

  “Go down first,” said Tathāgata, “and provoke battle with those monster-spirits. You are permitted to lose but not to win. When you retreat back here, I’ll bring them to submission.”

  The Great Sage lowered his cloud and landed on the city wall; his feet planted on the merlons of the battlement, he shouted, “Damned lawless beasts! Come out quickly to fight with old Monkey!” Those little fiends standing on the rampart were so terrified that they dashed down to report: “Great Kings, Pilgrim Sun is provoking battle on the battlement!”

  “This ape hasn’t shown himself for about two days,” said the old fiend. “If he returns to provoke battle this morning, could it be that he has succeeded in getting some help?”

  “We’re not afraid of whatever help he has gotten, are we?” said the third demon. “Let’s all go and have a look.” Each grasping his weapon, the three demon chiefs rushed up to the battlement. When they saw Pilgrim, they raised their arms without a word and attacked. Pilgrim wielded his iron rod to meet them; after seven or eight rounds, however, he feigned defeat and fled, with the fiend kings all roaring, “Where are you going?”

  The Great Sage shot up to midair with one somersault, but those three spirits all mounted the clouds to give chase. Immediately Pilgrim hurled himself into the golden radiance of Father Buddha and vanished from sight. What did appear were the three images of Buddha—Past, Present, and Future—together with five hundred arhats and three thousand guardians, who fanned out on all sides. They had the three fiend kings surrounded so tightly that not even water could have seeped through!

  “Brothers, it’s bad!” cried the old demon, completely unnerved. “This monkey is truly a devil in the earth! How did he manage to bring our masters here?”

  “Don’t be frightened, Big Brother,” said the third demon. “We’ll all go forward together and use our weapons to cut down that Tathāgata and take over his Thunderclap Treasure Monastery.”

  Not knowing any better, our demon chief accordingly charged forward and tried to attack madly with his scimitar. Mañjuśrī and Viśabhadra, after quickly reciting a magic spell, shouted in unison, “If these cursed beasts do not submit now, are they waiting for another incarnation?” The old fiend and the second fiend were so terror-stricken that they dared not struggle any longer. Dropping their weapons, they rolled over once and changed back into their original forms. The two Bodhisattvas tossed two lotus thrones onto their backs and then leaped up to take their seats on top. In this way, the two fiends lowered their ears and submitted.

  Since the two bodhisattvas had thus subdued the green lion and the white elephant, only the third demon refused to surrender. Throwing away his halberd, the fiend spread out his wings and soared into the air, his sharp claws seeking to strike at the Monkey King. The Great Sage was still hiding in the luminosity around the Buddha, and the fiend actually had no way of getting near him, though he would have liked very much to do so. Perceiving the roc’s intentions, Tathāgata faced the wind and gave his head (which had once supported the nests of magpies)16 a shake. The head changed at once into a piece of meat dripping with fresh blood. Stretching out his claws, the monster-spirit drew near and tried to clutch at the piece of meat. Our Father Buddha pointed at him with his finger and immediately the monster-spirit felt such cramps throughout his huge wings that he could not fly away. All he could do was to hover over the Buddha’s head in his true form: a golden-winged great roc.

  “Tathāgata,” he cried, “why did you exercise your mighty dharma power to constrain me?” “Your wickedness,” replied Tathāgata, “has incurred for you a heavy debt of retribution in this place. Follow me, and you may acquire merit beneficial to you.” “But your place allows for only a strict vegetarian diet,” said the monster-spirit. “It’s a condition of extreme poverty and hardship. I can enjoy human flesh here to my endless delight. If you starve and destroy me, you will have sinned, too.”

  “In the four great continents of my domain,” said Tathāgata, “there are countless worshippers. I shall ask those who wish to do good to sacrifice first to your mouth.” Since that great roc
could neither flee nor escape, though he sorely wished to do so, he had no choice but to make submission.

  Only then did Pilgrim step out of the golden radiance to kowtow to Tathāgata, saying, “Father Buddha, you have put away the monster-spirits and eliminated great evils. But my master is gone.”

  “Wretched ape!” said the great roc through clenched teeth, “You had to find such a cruel fellow to constrain me! Since when did we devour that old priest of yours? He’s still hidden in an iron chest at the pavilion of brocade-fragrance.” When Pilgrim heard these words, he kowtowed hurriedly to thank the Buddhist Patriarch, who had the roc firmly detained on top of his halo as a guardian. Then the entire entourage left on the clouds to return to the treasure monastery.

  Pilgrim lowered himself from the clouds and entered the city, where he could find not a single little fiend. So it was that

  A snake without head would not crawl;

  A bird without wings could not fly.

  When they saw that the fiend kings had made submission to the Buddhist Patriarch, each of them fled for his life. Pilgrim released Eight Rules and Sha Monk and also found the luggage and the horse. “Master has not been eaten,” he said to the two of them. “Follow me!”

  He led his two brothers to the interior court and found the pavilion of brocade-fragrance. Opening the door, they located the iron chest, inside of which they could hear the sound of Tripitaka weeping. Wedging open the chest with his fiend-routing staff, Sha Monk called out: “Master!” When he saw them, Tripitaka wailed aloud: “O disciples! How did you manage to subdue the demons? How did you find me here?”

  Thereupon Pilgrim gave a thorough rehearsal of what had taken place, from beginning to end, and Tripitaka was filled with gratitude. Master and disciples found some rice and foodstuff in the palace with which they prepared a meal for themselves. After they had eaten their fill, they packed up and set out once more on the main road toward the West. Thus it was that

  True scriptures must be by true people sought;

  Restless minds and raging wills will come to naught.

  We do not know when they will get to face Tathāgata; let’s listen to the explanation in the next chapter.

  SEVENTY-EIGHT

  At Bhikṣu he pities the infants and summons the night gods;

  In the golden hall he knows the demon speaking on the way and virtue.

  One thought will stir up a demonic crew!

  So bitter’s training, though what can you do?

  Rely on washing to remove the dust;

  The body harness and refine you must.

  Sweep clean all causations,1 to stillness return;

  Stamp out every fiend without concern.

  Of shackle and snare you’ll surely leap free

  And rise, when work is done, to Great Canopy.2

  We were telling you about the Great Sage Sun, who, having exerted every effort, succeeded in eliciting the assistance of Tathāgata to subdue the fiends. When the ordeal finally ended, Tripitaka and his disciples left the Lion-Camel Kingdom and journeyed westward. After several months, it was again the time of winter. You see

  The peak’s jadelike plums half-blooming,

  The pond’s water slowly icing.

  The red leaves have all dropped away

  And pines turn more verdant and gay.

  The pale clouds are about to snow;

  Dried grass on the mountain lies low.

  What frigid scene now fills the eyes

  As bone-piercing chill multiplies!

  Braving the cold and plunging through the chill, resting in the rain and feeding on the wind, master and disciples proceeded until they saw another city. “Wukong,” asked Tripitaka, “what sort of a place is that over there?” “When you get there,” replied Pilgrim, “you’ll know. If it’s a kingdom of the West, we’ll have to have our rescript certified. If it’s merely a district, county, or prefecture seat, we’ll just pass through.” Hardly had master and disciples finished speaking than they arrived at the foot of the city gate.

  Tripitaka dismounted, and the four of them entered the outer wall of the city, where almost immediately they found an old soldier huddled against the wind and sleeping beneath a wall exposed to sunlight. Pilgrim walked up to him and shook him gently, saying, “Officer.” Waking with a start and blinking several times, the old soldier finally caught sight of Pilgrim. Immediately he went to his knees and kowtowed, crying, “Holy Father!”

  “Stop making all this fuss!” said Pilgrim. “I’m no evil spirit! Why should you address me as Holy Father?”

  “Aren’t you Holy Father Thundergod?” asked the old soldier, still kowtowing.

  “Certainly not!” said Pilgrim. “I am a priest from the Land of the East on his way to seek scriptures in the Western Heaven. I just arrived, and I came to ask you for the name of your region.” Only when he heard those words did the old soldier calm down; with a big yawn he scrambled up to stretch himself and say, “Elder, Elder, pardon me! This place was originally the Bhikṣu Kingdom, but now the name has been changed to the Young Masters’ City.”

  “Is there a king in the city?” asked Pilgrim.

  “Yes! Yes! Yes!” replied the old soldier. Pilgrim turned back to say to the Tang Monk, “Master, this place originally was called the Bhikṣu Kingdom, but it has been changed now to the Young Masters’ City. I don’t know why they changed the name.”

  “If it was Bhikṣu,” said a perplexed Tang Monk, “why then should it be called Young Masters?” Eight Rules said, “It must be that the Bhikṣu king had died. The one newly occupying the throne is a young master, and that’s why it’s called the Young Masters’ city.”

  “Nonsense! Nonsense!” said the Tang Monk. “Let’s go inside the city first. We may make further inquiry on the streets.” “Exactly,” said Sha Monk. “That old soldier is probably ignorant, or he may have been frightened into babbling by Big Brother. Let’s go into the city to make inquiry.” They walked through three levels of city gates before they reached the big thoroughfares. As they paused to look around, they found that the people here all seemed to be good-looking and handsomely dressed. What they came upon were

  Wine shops and song bars full of raucous din.

  Tall colors adorned a teahouse or inn.

  Business was good at every gate and door;

  Abundant wealth packed both mart and store.

  People, like ants, traded brocade and gold;

  For fame and for profit they bought and sold.

  What solemn manners! Such prosperous scene

  Of calm seas and rivers—a year serene!

  Toting the luggage and leading the horse, master and disciples walked for a long time on the main boulevards, where the sight of prosperity seemed endless. Then they began to notice that in front of each household was a geese coop.

  “O Disciples!” said Tripitaka. “All the people here put a geese coop in front of their house. Why is that?” On hearing this, Eight Rules looked left and right, and he saw that indeed there were these geese coops lined with silk curtains of five colors.

  “Master,” said our Idiot with a giggle, “this must be an auspicious day for marriage or for meeting friends. The people must all be performing some rituals.”

  “Rubbish!” snapped Pilgrim. “How could every household be performing a ritual? There must be a reason for this. Let me go and take a look.” “You’d better not go,” said Tripitaka, tugging at him. “Your hideous features will offend people.”

  “I’ll go in transformation then,” replied Pilgrim. Dear Great Sage! Making the magic sign, he recited a spell and changed with one shake of his body into a little bee. Wings outstretched, he flew up to one of the coops and crawled inside the curtains. There he discovered a little child sitting in the middle. When he went to another coop, he found another child also. In fact, he discovered the same thing in front of eight or nine households: they were all little boys, and there were no girls at all. Some of them were playing in the coops; others merel
y sat and cried; still others were eating fruit or sleeping.

  After seeing that, Pilgrim changed back into his original form to report to the Tang Monk: “There are little boys in the coops; the older ones cannot be more than seven years old, and some of the younger ones are barely five. I don’t know why they are in there.” His words made Tripitaka more perplexed than ever.

  A turn on the street brought them all at once up to the gate of an official mansion, the Golden Pavilion Postal Station. “Disciples,” said Tripitaka, highly pleased, “let’s go inside this postal station. We can ask them about the place, feed our horse, and request lodging for the night.”

  “Exactly! Exactly!” said Sha Monk. “Let’s get inside quickly!” As the four of them entered amiably, the officers on duty at once announced their arrival to the station master, who ushered them inside. After they had exchanged greetings and taken their seats, the station master asked, “Elder, where did you come from?”

  “Your humble cleric,” replied Tripitaka, “has been sent by the Great Tang in the Land of the East to go seek scriptures in the Western Heaven. Having arrived in your noble region, we would like to have our travel rescript certified and to beg you to grant us one night’s lodging in your lofty mansion.”

  The station master immediately requested tea and asked those on duty to prepare the tokens of hospitality. Having thanked him, Tripitaka asked again, “Is it possible for me to enter the court today and have an audience with the throne and get my rescript certified?”

  “You can’t do it tonight,” said the station master. “Wait until early court tomorrow. Please spend the night and rest here in our humble dwelling.” In a little while, when the preparation had been finished, the station master invited the four pilgrims to partake of a vegetarian meal. His subordinates were ordered to sweep clean the guest room for the pilgrims to rest. After thanking him repeatedly, Tripitaka sat down and said to the station master, “There is something that this humble cleric must ask you to explain. How do the people of your noble region rear young children?”