by Unknown
While they spoke, one of the sons brought out some rice and placed it on the table, saying, “Please eat.” Tripitaka immediately folded his hands to begin his grace, but Eight Rules had already swallowed a whole bowl of rice. Before the priest could say the few sentences, Idiot had devoured three more bowlfuls. “Look at the glutton!” said Pilgrim. “It’s like we’ve met a preta!” Old Wang was a sensitive person. When he saw how fast Eight Rules was eating, he said, “This honored priest must be really hungry! Quick, bring more rice!” Idiot in truth had an enormous appetite. Look at him! Without lifting his head once, he finished over ten bowls, while Tripitaka and Pilgrim could hardly finish two. Idiot refused to stop and wanted to eat still more. “In our haste we have not prepared any dainty viands,” said old Wang, “and I dare not press you too much. Please take at least one more helping.” Both Tripitaka and Pilgrim said, “We have had enough.” “Old man,” said Eight Rules, “what are you mumbling about? Who’s having a game of divination with you? Why mention all that about the fifth yao and the sixth yao?4 If you have rice, just bring more of it, that’s all!” So Idiot in one meal finished all the rice in that household, and then he said he was only half full! The tables and dishes were cleared away, and after bedding had been placed on the bamboo bed and on some wooden boards, the travelers rested.
The next morning, Pilgrim went to saddle the horse, while Eight Rules put their luggage in order. Old Wang asked his wife to prepare some refreshments and drinks to serve them, after which the three of them expressed their thanks and took leave of their host. The old man said, “If there is any mishap on your journey after you leave here, you must feel free to return to our house.” “Old man,” said Pilgrim, “don’t speak such disconcerting words. Those of us who have left the family never retrace our steps!” They then urged on the horse, picked up the luggage, and proceeded toward the West. Alas! What this journey means for them is that
There’s no safe way which leads to the Western Realm;
There’ll be great disasters brought by demons vile.
Before the three of them had traveled for half a day, they did indeed come upon a tall mountain, exceedingly rugged. Tripitaka rode right up to the hanging cliff and looked around, sitting sideways on his saddle. Truly
Tall was the mountain;
Rugged, the peak;
Steep, the precipice;
Deep, the canyon;
Gurgling, the stream;
And fresh were the flowers.
This mountain, whether tall or not,
Its top reached the blue sky;
This stream, whether deep or not,
Its floor opened to Hell below.
Before the mountain,
White clouds rose in continuous rings
And boulders in shapes grotesque.
Countless the soul-rending cliffs ten thousand yards deep;
Behind them, winding, twisting, dragon-hiding caves,
Where water dripped from ledges drop by drop.
He also saw some deer with zigzag horns;
Dull and dumbly staring antelopes;
Winding and coiling red-scaled pythons;
Silly and foolish white-faced apes;
Tigers that climbed the hills to seek their dens at night;
Dragons that churned the waves to leave their lairs at dawn.
If one stepped before a cave’s entrance,
The dead leaves crackled;
The fowls in the grass
Darted up with wings loudly beating;
The beasts in the forest
Walked with paws noisily scratching.
Suddenly wild creatures hurried by,
Making hearts beat with fear.
Thus it was that the Due-to-Fall Cave duly faced the Due-to-Fall Cave,5
The Cave duly facing the Due-to-Fall Cave duly faced the mount.
One blue bill dyed like a thousand yards of jade,
Mist-veiled like countless mounds of jade-green gauze.
The master rode forward very slowly, while the Great Sage Sun also walked at a slower pace and Zhu Wuneng proceeded leisurely with the load. As all of them were looking at the mountain, a great whirlwind suddenly arose. Alarmed, Tripitaka said, “Wukong, the wind is rising!” “Why fear the wind?” said Pilgrim. “This is the breath of Heaven in the four seasons, nothing to be afraid of.” “But this is a terribly violent wind, unlike the kind that comes from Heaven,” said Tripitaka. “How so?” said Pilgrim. Tripitaka said, “Look at this wind!
Augustly it blows in a blusterous key,
An immense force leaving the jade-green sky.
It passes the ridge, just hear the trees roar.
It moves in the wood, just see the poles quake.
Willows by the banks are rocked to the roots;
Blown garden flowers now soar with their leaves.
Fishing boats, nets drawn, make their hawsers taut;
Vessels with sails down have their anchors cast.
Trekkers in mid-journey have lost their way;
Woodsmen in the hills cannot hold their loads.
From woods with fruits divine the apes disperse;
From clumps of rare flowers the small fawns flee.
Before the cliff cypress fall one by one;
Downstream bamboo and pine die leaf by leaf.
Earth and dust are scattered while sand explodes;
Rivers and seas overturned, waves churn and roll.”
Eight Rules went forward and tugged at Pilgrim, saying, “Elder Brother, the wind is too strong! Let’s find shelter until it dies down.” “You are too soft, Brother,” said Pilgrim, laughing, “when you want to hide the moment the wind gets strong. What would happen to you if you were to meet a monster-spirit face to face?” “Elder Brother,” said Eight Rules, “you probably haven’t heard of the proverb,
Flee the fair sex like a foe;
Flee the wind like an arrow!
We suffer no loss if we take shelter just for a little while.”
“Stop talking,” said Pilgrim, “and let me seize the wind and smell it.” “You are fibbing again, Elder Brother,” said Eight Rules, with a laugh, “for how can the wind be seized for you to smell? Even if you manage to catch hold of it, it will slip past you at once.” “Brother,” said Pilgrim, “you didn’t know that I have the magic to ‘seize the wind.’” Dear Great Sage! He allowed the head of the wind to move past but he caught hold of its tail and sniffed at it. Finding it somewhat fetid, he said, “This is indeed not a very good wind, for it smells like a tiger or else like a monster; there’s something definitely strange about it.”
Hardly had he finished speaking when from over a hump of the mountain a fierce striped tiger with a whiplike tail and powerful limbs appeared. Tripitaka was so horrified that he could no longer sit on the saddle; he fell head over heels from the white horse and lay beside the road, half out of his wits. Throwing down the luggage, Eight Rules took up his muckrake and rushed past Pilgrim. “Cursed beast!” he shouted. “Where are you going?” He lunged forward and struck at the beast’s head. That tiger stood straight up on his hind legs and, raising his left paw, punctured his own breast with one jab. Then, gripping the skin, he tore downward with a loud rending noise and he became completely stripped of his own hide as he stood there by the side of the road. Look how abominable he appears! Oh! That hideous form:
All smeared with blood, the naked body;
Most sickly red, the warped legs and feet;
Like shooting flames, wild hair by the temples;
Bristlingly hard, two eyebrows pointing upward;
Hellishly white, four steel-like fangs;
With light aglow, a pair of gold eyes;
Imposing of mien, he mightily roared;
With power fierce, he cried aloud.
“Slow down! Slow down!” he shouted. “I am not any other person. I am the vanguard of the forces commanded by the Great King Yellow Wind. I have received the Great King’s strict order to patrol this mountain and t
o catch a few mortals to be used as hors d’oeuvres for him. Where did you monks come from that you dare reach for your weapons to harm me?” “Cursed beast that you are!” cried Eight Rules. “So you don’t recognize me! We are no mortals who just happen to be passing by; we are the disciples of Tripitaka, the royal brother of the Great Tang Emperor in the Land of the East, who by imperial decree is journeying to the Western Heaven to seek scriptures from the Buddha. You better stand aside quickly for us to pass, and don’t alarm my master. Then I’ll spare your life. But if you are impudent as before, there will be no clemency when this rake is lifted up!”
That monster-spirit would not permit any further discussion. He quickly drew near, assumed a fighting pose, and clawed at Eight Rules’s face. Dodging the blow, Eight Rules struck at once with his rake. Since the monster had no weapons in his hands, he turned and fled, with Eight Rules hard on his heels. Racing to the slope below, the monster took out from beneath a clump of rocks a pair of bronze scimitars, with which he turned to face his pursuer. So the two of them clashed right in front of the mountain slope, closing in again and again. Meanwhile, Pilgrim lifted up the Tang Monk and said, “Master, don’t be afraid. Sit here and let old Monkey go help Eight Rules strike down that monster so that we can leave.” Only then did Tripitaka manage to sit up; trembling all over, he began to recite the Heart Sūtra, but we shall say no more of that.
Whipping out the iron rod, Pilgrim shouted, “Catch him!” Eight Rules at once attacked with even greater ferocity, and the monster fled in defeat. “Don’t spare him,” yelled Pilgrim. “We must catch him!” Wielding rod and rake, the two of them gave chase down the mountain. In panic, the monster resorted to the trick of the gold cicada casting its shell: he rolled on the ground and changed back into the form of a tiger. Pilgrim and Eight Rules would not let up. Closing in on the tiger, they intended to dispose of him once and for all. When the monster saw them approaching, he again stripped himself of his own hide and threw the skin over a large piece of rock, while his true form changed into a violent gust of wind heading back the way he had come. Suddenly noticing the master of the law sitting by the road and reciting the Heart Sūtra, he caught hold of him and hauled him away by mounting the wind. O, pity that Tripitaka,
The River Float fated to suffer oft!
It’s hard to make merit in Buddha’s gate!
Having taken the Tang Monk back to the door of his cave, the monster stopped the wind and said to the one standing guard at the door, “Go report to the Great King and say that the Tiger Vanguard has captured a monk. He awaits his order outside the door.” The Cave Master gave the order for him to enter. The Tiger Vanguard, with the two bronze scimitars hanging from his waist, lifted up the Tang Monk in his hands. He went forward and knelt down, saying, “Great King! Though your humble officer is not talented, he thanks you for granting him the honored command of doing patrol in the mountain. I encountered a monk who is Tripitaka, master of the law and brother to the Throne of the Great Tang in the Land of the East. While he was on his way to seek scriptures from Buddha, I captured him to present to you here for your culinary pleasure.” When the Cave Master heard this, he was a little startled. “I have heard some rumor,” he said, “that the master of the law Tripitaka is a divine monk who is going in search of scriptures by imperial decree of the Great Tang. He has under him a disciple whose name is Pilgrim Sun and who possesses tremendous magical power and prodigious intelligence. How did you manage to catch him and bring him here?”
“He has, in fact, two disciples,” said the Vanguard. “The one who appeared first used a nine-pronged muckrake, and he had a long snout and huge ears. Another one used a golden-hooped iron rod, and he had fiery eyes and diamond pupils. As they were chasing me to attack me, I used the trick of the gold cicada casting its shell and succeeded not only in eluding them but also in catching this monk. I now respectfully present him to the Great King as a meal.” “Let’s not eat him yet,” said the Cave Master.
“Great King,” said the Vanguard, “only a worthless horse turns away ready feed!” “You haven’t considered this,” said the Cave Master. “There’s nothing wrong with eating him, but I’m afraid his two disciples may come to our door and argue with us. Let’s tie him instead to one of the posts in the rear garden and wait for three or four days. If those two don’t show up to disturb us, then we can enjoy the double benefit of having his body cleaned and not having to bicker with our tongues. Then we can do what we want with him, whether we wish him boiled, steamed, fried, or sautéed; we can take our time to enjoy him.” Highly pleased, the Vanguard said, “The Great King is full of wisdom and foresight, and what he says is most reasonable. Little ones, take the priest inside.”
Seven or eight demons rushed up from the sides and took the Tang Monk away; like hawks catching sparrows, they bound him firmly with ropes. This is how that
Ill-fated River Float on Pilgrim broods;
The god-monk in pain calls Wuneng to mind.
“Disciples,” he said, “I don’t know in what mountain you are catching monsters, or in what region you are subduing goblins. But I have been captured by this demon from whom I have to suffer great injury. When shall we see each other again? Oh, what misery! If you two can come here quickly, you may be able to save my life. But if you tarry, I shall never survive!” As he lamented and sighed, his tears fell like rain.
We now tell you about Pilgrim and Eight Rules, who, having chased the tiger down the slope of the mountain, saw him fall and collapse at the foot of the cliff. Lifting his rod, Pilgrim brought it down on the tiger with all his might, but the rod bounced back up and his hands were stung by the impact. Eight Rules, too, gave a blow with his muckrake, and its prongs also rebounded. They then discovered that it was nothing but a piece of tigerskin covering a large slab of stone. Greatly startled, Pilgrim said, “Oh, no! Oh, no! He’s tricked us!” “What trick?” asked Eight Rules. Pilgrim replied, “This is called the trick of the gold cicada casting its shell. He left his skin covering the stone here to fool us, but he himself has escaped. Let’s go back at once to take a look at Master. Let’s hope that he has not been hurt.” They retreated hurriedly, but Tripitaka had long vanished. Bellowing like thunder, Pilgrim cried, “What shall we do? He has taken Master away.” “Heavens! Heavens!” wailed Eight Rules, leading the horse, as tears fell from his eyes, “where shall we go to look for him?” With head held high, Pilgrim said, “Don’t cry! Don’t cry! The moment you cry, you already feel defeated. They have to be somewhere in this mountain. Let’s go and search for them.”
The two of them indeed rushed up the mountain, passing the ridges and scaling the heights. After traveling for a long time, they suddenly beheld a cave dwelling emerging from beneath a cliff. Pausing to take a careful look around, they saw that it was indeed a formidable place. You see
A pointed peak fortresslike;
An old path ever winding;
Blue pines and fresh bamboos;
Green willows and verdant wu-trees;6
Strange rocks in twos below the cliff;
Rare fowls in pairs within the woods.
A stream flowing far away spills over a wall of stones;
The mountain brook reaches the sandy banks in small drops.
Wasteland clouds in clusters;
And grass as green as jade.
The sly vixen and hare scamper wildly about;
Horned deer and musk deer lock to contest their strength.
Slanted across the cliff dangles an aged vine;
Half down the gorge an ancient cedar hangs.
August and grand, this place surpasses Mount Hua;7
The falling blooms and singing birds rival Tiantai’s.
“Worthy Brother,” said Pilgrim, “you may leave the luggage in the fold of the mountain, where it will be protected from the wind. Then you can graze the horse nearby and you need not come out. Let old Monkey go fight with him at his door. That monster has to be caught before our master can be rescued.” “N
o need for instructions,” said Eight Rules. “Go quickly!” Pulling down his shirt and tightening his belt on the tiger-skin skirt, Pilgrim grasped his rod and rushed up to the cave, where he saw six words in large letters above the door: “Yellow Wind Cave, Yellow Wind Peak.” He at once poised himself for battle, with legs apart and one foot slightly ahead of the other. Holding his rod high, he cried, “Monster! Send out my master at once, lest I overturn your den and level your dwelling!”
When the little demons heard this, every one of them was panic-stricken and ran inside to make the report, “Great King, disaster!” The Yellow Wind Monster, who was sitting there, asked, “What’s the matter?” “Outside the cave door there’s a monk with a thunder-god mouth and hairy face,” said one of the little demons, “holding in his hands a huge, thick, iron rod and demanding the return of his master.” Somewhat fearful, the Cave Master said to the Tiger Vanguard, “I asked you to patrol the mountain, and you should merely have caught a few mountain buffalo, wild boar, fat deer, or wild goats. Why did you have to bring back a Tang Monk? Now we have provoked his disciple to come here to create all sorts of disturbance. What shall we do?” “Don’t be anxious, Great King,” said the Vanguard, “and put your worries to rest. Though this junior officer is untalented, he is willing to lead fifty soldiers out there and bring in that so-called Pilgrim Sun as a condiment for your meal.” “In addition to the various officers here,” said the Cave Master, “we have some seven hundred regulars. You may pick as many of them as you want. Only if that Pilgrim is caught will we be able to enjoy a piece of that monk’s flesh with any comfort. And if that happens, I’m willing to become your bond brother. But I fear that if you can’t catch him, you may even get hurt. You mustn’t blame me then!”
