The Journey to the West, Revised Edition, Volume 1

by Unknown

  The Devarāja was beaten back to Heaven,

  While Naṭa in pain led his troops and fled.

  Xiansheng Master7 knew transformations well;

  With him I waged a contest and I fell.

  Laozi, Guanyin, and the Jade Emperor

  All watched the battle at South Heaven Gate.

  When Laozi decided to lend his help,

  Erlang brought me to Heaven’s magistrate.

  To the monster-routing pillar I was tied;

  The gods were told to have my head cut off.

  Failing to harm me with either sledge or sword,

  They would blast and burn me with thunderclaps.

  What skills indeed did this old Monkey have,

  Who was not even half a whit afraid!

  Into Laozi’s brazier they sent me next,

  To have me slowly cooked by fire divine.

  The day the lid was opened I jumped out

  And ran through Heaven brandishing a rod.

  Back and forth I prowled with none to stop me,

  Making havoc through all thirty-six Heavens.

  Then Tathāgata revealed his power:

  Under Mount Five Phases he had me clamped,

  And there I squirmed for a full five hundred years

  Till by luck Tripitaka left the Tang court.

  Now I go West, having yielded to Truth,

  To see Jade Eyebrows at Great Thunderclap.8

  Go and ask in the four corners of the universe:

  You’ll learn I’m the famous ranking daimon of all time!”

  When the monster heard these words, he laughed and said, “So you are the BanHorsePlague who disturbed the Celestial Palace?” What most annoyed Pilgrim was when people called him BanHorsePlague. The moment he heard that name, he lost his temper. “You monstrous rogue!” he shouted. “You would not return the cassock you stole, and yet you dare insult this holy monk. Don’t run away! Watch this rod!” The swarthy fellow jumped aside to dodge the blow; wielding his long lance, he went forward to meet his opponent. That was some battle between the two of them:

  The compliant rod,

  The black-tasseled lance.

  Two men display their power before the cave:

  Stabbing at the heart and face;

  Striking at the head and arm.

  This one proves handy with a death-dealing rod;

  That one tilts the lance for swift, triple jabs.

  The “white tiger climbing the mountain” extends his paws;

  The “yellow dragon lying on the road”9 turns his back.

  With colored mists flying

  And bright flashes of light,

  Two monster-gods’ strength is yet to be tried.

  One’s the truth-seeking, Equal-to-Heaven Sage;

  One’s the Great Black King who’s now a spirit.

  Why wage this battle in the mountain still?

  The cassock, for which each would aim to kill!

  That monster fought with Pilgrim for more than ten rounds until about noon, but the battle was a draw. Using his lance to halt the rod for a moment, the swarthy fellow said, “Pilgrim Sun, let us put away our weapons for the time being. Let me have some lunch first, and then I’ll wage a further contest with you.” “Accursed beast!” said Pilgrim. “You want to be a hero? Which hero wants to eat after fighting for merely half a day? Consider old Monkey, who was imprisoned beneath the mountain for altogether five hundred years and he hadn’t even tasted a drop of water. So, what’s this about being hungry? Don’t give me any excuses and don’t run away! Give me back my cassock, and I’ll allow you to go and eat.” But that monster only managed to throw one more feeble thrust with his lance before dashing into the cave and shutting his stone doors. He dismissed his little demons and made preparations for the banquet, writing out invitation cards to the monster kings of various mountains, but we shall say no more about that.

  We must tell you that Pilgrim had no success in breaking down the door and so had to return to the Guanyin Hall. The clerics of that monastery had already buried the old monk, and they were all gathered in the back room to minister to the Tang Monk, serving him lunch soon after he had finished breakfast. As they were scurrying about fetching soup and hauling water, Pilgrim was seen descending from the sky. The monks bowed courteously and received him into the back room to see Tripitaka. “Wukong,” said Tripitaka, “so you’ve returned. How is the cassock?” “At least I found the real culprit,” said Pilgrim. “It was a good thing that we did not punish these monks, for the monster of Black Wind Mountain did steal it. I went secretly looking for him, and saw him seated on a beautiful grass meadow having a conversation with a white-robed scholar and an old Daoist. He was, in a sense, making a confession without being tortured, saying something about the day after tomorrow being his birthday, when he would invite all the other griffins for the occasion. He also mentioned that he had found an embroidered Buddha robe last night, in celebration of which he was planning to throw a large banquet, calling it the Festival of the Buddha Robe. Old Monkey rushed up to them and struck out with his rod; the swarthy fellow changed into the wind and left, and the Daoist also disappeared. The white-robed scholar, however, was killed, and he turned out to be a white-spotted snake who had become a spirit. I quickly chased the swarthy fellow to his cave and demanded that he come out to fight. He had already admitted that he took the cassock, but we fought to a draw after half a day of battle. The monster returned to his cave because he wanted to eat; he closed his stone doors tightly and refused to fight anymore. I came back to see how you were and to make this report to you. Since I know the whereabouts of the cassock, I’m not worried about his unwillingness to give it back to me.”

  When the various monks heard this, some of them folded their hands while others kowtowed, all chanting, “Namo Amitābha! Now that the whereabouts of the cassock is known, we have a claim to our lives again.”

  “Don’t celebrate yet,” said Pilgrim, “for I have not yet recovered it, nor has my master left. Wait until we have the cassock so that my master can walk peacefully out of this door before you start cheering. If there’s the slightest mishap, old Monkey is no customer to be provoked, is he? Have you served some good things to my master? Have you given our horse plenty of hay?”

  “We have, we have, we have!” cried the monks hastily. “Our service to the holy monk has not slackened in the least!” “You were gone only half a day,” said Tripitaka, “and I have been served tea three times and have had two vegetarian meals. They didn’t dare slight me. You should therefore make a great effort to get back the cassock.” “Don’t rush!” said Pilgrim. “Since I know where he is, I shall certainly capture this fellow and return the garment to you. Relax! Relax!”

  As they were speaking, the abbot brought in some more vegetarian dainties to serve to the holy monk Sun. Pilgrim ate some and left at once on the hallowed cloud to search for the monster. As he was traveling, he saw a little demon approaching from the main road, who had a box made of pear tree wood wedged between his left arm and his body. Suspecting that something important was inside the box, Pilgrim raised his rod and brought it down hard on the demon’s head. Alas, the demon could not take such a blow! He was instantly reduced to a meat patty, which Pilgrim tossed to the side of the road. When he opened the box, there was indeed an invitation slip, on which was written:

  Your student-servant, the Bear, most humbly addresses the Exalted Aged Dean of the Golden Pool. For the gracious gifts you have bestowed on me on several occasions I am profoundly grateful. I regret that I was unable to assist you last night when you were visited by the God of Fire, but I suppose that Your Holy Eminence has not been adversely affected in any way. Your student by chance has acquired a Buddha robe, and this occasion calls for a festive celebration. I have therefore prepared with care some fine wine for your enjoyment, with the sincere hope that Your Holy Eminence will be pleased to give us a visit. This invitation is respectfully submitted two days in advance.

&nb
sp; When Pilgrim saw this, he roared with laughter, saying, “That old carcass! He didn’t lose anything by his death! So he belonged to a monster’s gang! Small wonder that he lived to his two hundred and seventieth year! That monster, I suppose, must have taught him some little magic like ingesting his breath,10 and that was how he enjoyed such longevity. I can still remember how he looked. Let me change myself into that monk and go to the cave to see where my cassock is located. If I can manage it, I’ll take it back without wasting my energy.”

  Dear Great Sage! He recited a spell, faced the wind, and changed at once into an exact semblance of that old monk. Putting away his iron rod, he strode to the cave, crying, “Open the door!” When the little demon who stood at the door saw such a figure, he quickly made his report inside: “Great King, the Elder of the Golden Pool has arrived.” Greatly surprised, the monster said, “I just sent a little one to deliver an invitation to him, but he could not possibly have reached his destination even at this moment. How could the old monk arrive so quickly? I suppose the little one did not run into him on the way, but Pilgrim Sun must have asked him to come here for the cassock. You, steward, hide the cassock! Don’t let him see it!”

  Walking through the front door, Pilgrim saw in the courtyard pines and bamboos sharing their green, peaches and plums competing in their glamour; flowers were blooming everywhere, and the air was heavy with the scent of orchids. It was quite a grotto-heaven. He saw, moreover, a parallel couplet mounted on both sides of the second doorway that read:

  A deep mountain retreat without worldly cares.

  A divine cave secluded—what joy serene.

  Pilgrim said to himself, “This fellow is also one who withdraws from dirt and dust, a fiendish creature who knows his fate.”11 He walked through the door and proceeded further; when he passed through the third doorway, he saw carved beams with elaborate ornaments and large windows brightly decorated. Then the swarthy fellow appeared, wearing a casual jacket made of fine dark-green silk, topped by a crow-green cape of figured damask; he wore a head-wrap of black cloth and was shod in a pair of black suede boots. When he saw Pilgrim entering, he tidied his clothes and went down the steps to receive him, saying, “Golden Pool, old friend, we haven’t seen each other for days. Please take a seat! Please take a seat!” Pilgrim greeted him ceremoniously, after which they sat down and drank tea.

  After tea, the monster bowed low and said, “I just sent you a brief note, humbly inviting you to visit me the day after tomorrow. Why does my old friend grant me that pleasure today, already?” “I was just coming to pay my respects,” said Pilgrim, “and I did not anticipate meeting your kind messenger. When I saw that there was going to be a Festival of the Buddha Robe, I came hurriedly, hoping to see the garment.” “My old friend may be mistaken,” said the monster, laughing. “This cassock originally belonged to the Tang Monk, who was staying at your place. Why would you want to look at it here, since you must surely have seen it before?” “Your poor monk,” answered Pilgrim, “did borrow it, but he did not have the opportunity last night to examine it before it was taken by the Great King. Moreover, our monastery, including all our belongings, was destroyed by fire, and the disciple of that Tang Monk was rather bellicose about the matter. In all that confusion, I couldn’t find the cassock anywhere, not knowing that the Great King in his good fortune found it. That is why I came specially to see it.”

  As they were speaking, one of the little demons out on patrol came back to report: “Great King, disaster! The junior officer who went to deliver the invitation was beaten to death by Pilgrim Sun and left by the wayside. Our enemy followed the clue and changed himself into the Golden Pool Elder so that he could obtain the Buddha robe by fraud.” When the monster heard that, he said to himself, “I was wondering already why he came today, and in such a hurried manner too! So, it’s really he!” Leaping up, he grabbed his lance and aimed it at Pilgrim. Whipping out the rod from his ear, Pilgrim assumed his original form and parried the lance. They rushed from the living room to the front courtyard, and from there they fought their way out to the front door. The monsters in the cave were frightened out of their wits; young and old in that household were horror-stricken. This fierce contest before the mountain was even unlike the last one. What a fight!

  This Monkey King boldly posed as a monk;

  That swarthy chap wisely concealed the robe.

  Back and forth went their clever repartee,

  Adapting to each instant perfectly.

  He would see the cassock but had no means:

  This runic treasure’s a mystery indeed!

  The small imp on patrol announced mishap;

  The old fiend in anger showed his power.

  They fought their way out of the Black Wind Cave,

  The rod and the lance forced a trial by might.

  The rod checked the lance, their noise resounding;

  The lance met the rod, causing sparks to fly.

  The changes of Wukong, all unknown to men;

  The monster’s magic skills, so rare on earth.

  This one wanted for his birthday fete a Buddha robe.

  Would that one with no cassock go home in peace?

  The bitter fight this time seemed without end.

  Even a live Buddha descending could not break them up!

  From the entrance of the cave the two of them fought up to the peak of the mountain, and from the peak of the mountain they fought their way up to the clouds. Belching wind and fog, kicking up sand and rocks, they fought until the red sun sank toward the west, but neither of them could gain the upper hand. The monster said, “Hey, Sun! Stop for a moment! It’s getting too late to fight any more. Go away! Come back tomorrow morning, and we’ll decide your fate.” “Don’t run away, my son,” cried Pilgrim. “If you want to fight, act like a fighter! Don’t give me the excuse that it’s getting late.” With his rod, he rained blows indiscriminately on his opponent’s head and face, but the swarthy fellow changed once more into a clear breeze and went back to his cave. Tightly bolting his stone doors, he refused to come out.

  Pilgrim had no alternative except to go back to the Guanyin Hall. Dropping down from the clouds, he said, “Master.” Tripitaka, who was waiting for him with bulging eyes, was delighted to see him; but when he did not see the cassock, he became frightened again. “How is it that you still have not brought back the cassock?” he asked. Pilgrim took out from his sleeve the invitation slip and handed it over to Tripitaka, saying, “Master, the monster and that old carcass used to be friends. He sent a little demon here with this invitation for him to go to a Festival of the Buddha Robe. I killed the little demon and changed into the form of the old monk to get inside the cave. I managed to trick him into giving me a cup of tea, but when I asked for the cassock, he refused to show it to me. As we were sitting there, my identity was leaked by someone on patrol in the mountain, and we began to fight. The battle lasted until this early evening and ended in a draw. When the monster saw that it was late, he slipped back into the cave and tightly bolted up his stone door. Old Monkey had no choice but to return here for the moment.”

  “How’s your skill as a fighter when compared with his?” asked Tripitaka. “Not much better,” said Pilgrim. “We are quite evenly matched.” Tripitaka then read the invitation slip and handed it to the abbot, saying, “Could it be that your master was also a monster-spirit?” Falling to his knees, the abbot said, “Old Father, my master is human. Because that Great Black King attained the way of humanity through self-cultivation, he frequently came to the monastery to discuss religious texts with my master. He imparted to my master a little of the magic of nourishing one’s spirit and ingesting breath; hence they address each other as friends.”

  “This bunch of monks here,” said Pilgrim, “don’t have the aura of monsters: each one has a round head pointing to the sky and a pair of feet set flat on the earth. They are a little taller and heavier than old Monkey, but they are no monsters. Look at what’s written on the slip: ‘you
r student-servant, the Bear.’ This creature must be a black bear who has become a spirit.” Tripitaka said, “I have heard from the ancients that the bear and the ape are of the same kind. They are all beasts, in other words. How can this bear become a spirit?” “Old Monkey is also a beast,” said Pilgrim, laughing, “but I became the Great Sage, Equal to Heaven. Is he any different? All the creatures of this world who possess the nine apertures can become immortals through the art of self-cultivation.” “You just said that the two of you were evenly matched,” said Tripitaka again. “How can you defeat him and recover my cassock?” “Lay off! Lay off!” said Pilgrim. “I know what to do.” As they were discussing the matter, the monks brought in the evening meal for master and disciple. Afterwards, Tripitaka asked for lamps to go to the Chan hall in front to rest. The rest of the monks reclined against the walls beneath some temporary awnings and slept, while the back rooms were given to accommodate the senior and junior abbots. It was now late. You see

  The Silver Stream aglow;

  The air perfectly pure;

  The sky full of bright and twinkling stars;

  The river marked by receding tide.

  All sounds are hushed;

  All hills emptied of birds.

  The fisherman’s fire dies by the brook;

  The lamps grow faint on the pagoda.

  Last night ācāryas sounded drums and bells.

  Only weeping is heard throughout this night!

  So they spent the night in the Chan hall, but Tripitaka was thinking about the cassock. How could he possibly sleep well? As he tossed and turned, he suddenly saw the windows growing bright. He arose at once and called: “Wukong, it’s morning. Go find the cassock quickly.” Pilgrim leaped up with a bound and saw that the monks were bringing in washing water. “All of you,” said Pilgrim, “take care to minister to my master. Old Monkey is leaving.” Getting up from his bed, Tripitaka clutched at him, asking, “Where are you going?” “Come to think of it,” said Pilgrim, “this whole affair reveals the irresponsibility of the Bodhisattva Guanyin. She has a Chan hall here where she has enjoyed the incense and worship of all the local people, and yet she can permit a monster-spirit to be her neighbor. I’m leaving for the South Sea to find her for a little conversation. I’m going to ask her to come here and demand that the monster return the cassock to us.” “When will you be back?” asked Tripitaka. “Probably right after breakfast,” answered Pilgrim. “At the latest, I should be back around noon, when everything should be taken care of. All of you monks must take care to wait on my master. Old Monkey is leaving.”