The Journey to the West, Revised Edition, Volume 1

by Unknown

  The two brothers led the horse and hauled the luggage inside; after tying up the animal and putting down the load, they exchanged greetings again with the old man of the cottage before taking their seats. An old manservant then came forward to present tea, after which several bowls of sesame seed rice were brought out.8 After they had finished the rice, the old man asked for bedding to be laid out for them to sleep. Pilgrim said, “We don’t need to sleep just yet. May I ask the good man whether there is in your region someone who sells eye medicine?”

  “Which one of you elders has eye disease?” asked the old man. Pilgrim said, “To tell you the truth, Venerable Sir, we who have left the family rarely become ill. In fact, I have never known any disease of the eye.” “If you are not suffering from an eye disease,” said the old man, “why do you want medicine?” “We were trying to rescue our master at the entrance of the Yellow Wind Cave today,” said Pilgrim. “Unexpectedly that monster blew a mouthful of wind at me, causing my eyes to hurt and smart. At the moment, I’m weeping constantly, and that’s why I want to find eye medicine.”

  “My goodness! My goodness!” said the old man. “A young priest like you, why do you lie? The wind of that Great King Yellow Wind is most fearsome, not comparable with any spring-autumn wind, pine-and-bamboo wind, or the wind coming from the four quarters.”

  “I suppose,” said Eight Rules, “it must be brain-bursting wind, goat-ear wind, leprous wind, or migrainous wind!” “No, no!” said the old man. “His is called the Divine Wind of Samādhi.” “What’s it like?” asked Pilgrim. The old man said, “That wind

  Can blow to dim Heaven and Earth,

  And sadden both ghosts and gods.

  So savage it breaks rocks and stones,

  A man will die when he’s blown!

  If you had encountered that wind of his, you think you would still be alive? Only if you were an immortal could you remain unharmed.”

  “Indeed!” said Pilgrim. “I may not be an immortal (for they belong to the younger generation, as far as I am concerned), but it will take some doing to finish me off! That wind, however, did cause my eyeballs to hurt and smart.”

  “If you can say that,” said the old man, “you must be a person with some background. Our humble region has no one who sells eye medicine. But I myself suffer from watery eyes when the wind blows in my face, and I met an extraordinary person once who gave me a prescription. It’s called the three-flowers and nine-seeds ointment, capable of curing all wind-induced eye maladies.” When Pilgrim heard these words, he bowed his head and said humbly, “I’m willing to ask you for some and try it on myself.” The old man consented and went into the inner chamber. He took out a little cornelian vase and pulled off the stopper; using a small jade pin to scoop out some ointment, he dabbed it onto Pilgrim’s eyes, telling him to close his eyes and rest quietly, for he would be well by morning. After doing this, the old man took the vase and retired with his attendants. Eight Rules untied the bags, took out the bedding, and asked Pilgrim to lie down. As Pilgrim groped about confusedly with his eyes closed, Eight Rules laughed and said, “Sir, where’s your seeing-eye cane?” “You overstuffed idiot!” said Pilgrim. “You want to take care of me as a blind man?” Giggling to himself, Idiot fell asleep, but Pilgrim sat on the mattress and did exercises to cultivate his magic power. Only after the third watch did he sleep.

  Soon it was the fifth watch and dawn was about to break. Wiping his face, Pilgrim opened his eyes, saying, “It’s really marvelous medicine! I can see a hundred times better than before!” He then turned his head to look around. Ah! There were neither buildings nor halls, only some old locust trees and tall willows. The brothers were actually lying on a green grass meadow. Just then, Eight Rules began to stir, saying, “Elder Brother, why are you making all these noises?” “Open your eyes and take a look,” said Pilgrim. Raising his head, Idiot discovered that the house had disappeared. He was so startled that he scrambled up at once, crying, “Where’s my horse?” “Isn’t it over there, tied to a tree?” said Pilgrim. “And the luggage?” asked Eight Rules.

  “Isn’t it there by your head?” said Pilgrim. “This family is rather shifty!” said Eight Rules. “If they have moved, why didn’t they give us a call? If they had let old Hog know about it, they might have received some farewell gifts of tea and fruits. Well, I suppose they must be trying to hide from something and are afraid that the county sheriff may get wind of it; so they moved out in the night. Good Heavens! We must have been dead to the world! How could we not have heard anything when they dismantled the whole house?” “Idiot, stop babbling!” said Pilgrim, chuckling. “Take a look on that tree and see what kind of paper slip is there.” Eight Rules took it down. It was a four-line poem that read:

  This humble abode’s no mortal abode:

  A cottage devised9 by the Guardians of Law,

  Who gave the wondrous balm to heal your sore.

  Fret not and do your best to quell the fiend.

  Pilgrim said, “A bunch of roguish deities! Since we changed to the dragonhorse, I had not taken a roll call of them. Now they are playing tricks on me instead!”

  “Elder Brother,” said Eight Rules, “stop putting on such airs! How would they ever let you check them off the roll?” “Brother,” said Pilgrim, “you don’t know about this. These Eighteen Protectors of Monasteries, the Six Gods of Darkness and Six Gods of Light, the Guardians of Five Points, and the Four Sentinels all have been ordered by the Bodhisattva to give secret protection to Master. The other day they reported their names to me, but since you have been with us, I have not made use of them. That’s why I haven’t made a roll call.” “Elder Brother,” said Eight Rules, “if they were ordered to give secret protection to Master, they had reason not to reveal themselves. That’s why they had to devise this cottage here, and you shouldn’t blame them. After all, they did put ointment on your eyes for you yesterday, and they did take care of us for one meal. You can say that they have done their duty. Don’t blame them. Let’s go and rescue Master.” “Brother, you are right,” said Pilgrim. “This place is not far from the Yellow Wind Cave. You had better stay here and look after the horse and luggage in the woods. Let old Monkey go into the cave to make some inquiry after the condition of Master. Then we can do battle with the monster again.” “Exactly,” said Eight Rules. “You should find out whether Master is dead or alive; if he’s dead, each one of us can tend to our own business; if he’s not, we can do our best to discharge our responsibility.” Pilgrim said, “Stop talking nonsense! I’m off!”

  With one leap he arrived at the entrance of the cave and found the door still shut and the inhabitants sound asleep. Pilgrim neither made any noise nor disturbed the monsters; making the magic sign and reciting the spell, he shook his body and changed at once into a spotted-leg mosquito. It was tiny and delicate, for which we have a testimonial poem:

  A pesky small shape with sharp sting;

  His tiny voice can hum like thunder!

  Adept at piercing gauze nets and orchid rooms,

  He likes the warm, sultry climate.

  He fears incense and swatting fans,

  But dearly loves bright lights and lamps.

  Airy, agile, all too clever and fast,

  He flies into the fiend’s cave.10

  The little demon who was supposed to guard the door was lying there asleep, snoring. Pilgrim gave him a bite on his face, causing the little demon to roll over half awakened. “O my father!” he said. “What a big mosquito! One bite and I already have a big lump.” He then opened his eyes and said, “Why, it’s dawn!” Just then, the second door inside opened with a creak, and Pilgrim immediately flew in. The old monster was giving orders to all his subordinates to be especially careful in guarding the various entrances while they made ready their weapons. “If the wind yesterday did not kill that Pilgrim Sun,” he said, “he will certainly come back today. When he comes, we’ll finish him off.”

  Hearing this, Pilgrim flew past the main hall an
d arrived at the rear of the cave, where he found another door tightly shut. Crawling through a crack in the door, he discovered a large garden, in the middle of which, bound by ropes to a pole, was the Tang Monk. That master was shedding tears profusely, constantly wondering where Wukong and Wuneng were to be found. Pilgrim stopped his flight and alighted on his bald head, saying, “Master!” Recognizing his voice, the Elder said, “Wukong, I nearly died thinking of you! Where are you calling from?” “Master,” said Pilgrim, “I’m on your head. Calm yourself and stop worrying. We must first capture the monster before we can rescue you. “Disciple,” said the Tang Monk, “when will you be able to capture the monster?” “The Tiger Monster who took you,” said Pilgrim, “has already been slain by Eight Rules. But the wind of the old monster is a powerful weapon. I suspect we should be able to capture him today. Relax and stop crying. I’m leaving.”

  Having said that, he flew at once to the front, where the old monster was seated aloft, making a roll call of all the commanders of his troops. A little demon suddenly appeared, waving the command flag. He dashed up to the hall, crying, “Great King, this little one was on patrol in the mountain when he ran into a monk with a long snout and huge ears sitting in the woods not far from our entrance. If I hadn’t run away quickly, he would have caught me. But I didn’t see that hairy-faced monk who came here yesterday.” “If Pilgrim Sun is absent,” said the old monster, “it may mean that he’s been killed by the wind. Or, he may have gone to try to find help.” “Great King,” said one of the demons, “it would be our good fortune if he had been killed. But suppose he’s not dead? If he succeeds in bringing with him some divine warriors, what shall we do then?” The old monster said, “Who’s afraid of any divine warrior? Only the Bodhisattva Lingji can overcome the power of my wind; no one else can do us any harm.”

  That Pilgrim resting on one of the beams above him was delighted by this one statement. He flew out of the cave at once and, changing back into his original form, arrived at the woods. “Brother!” he cried. Eight Rules asked, “Elder Brother, where have you been? Just now a monster with a command flag came by, and I chased him away.” “Thank you! Thank you!” said Pilgrim, laughing. “Old Monkey changed into a mosquito to enter the cave to see how Master was doing. I found him tied to a post in the garden, weeping. After telling him not to cry, I flew around the roof to spy on them some more. That was when the fellow who held the command flag came in panting, saying that you had chased him. He also said that he had not seen me. The old monster made some wild speculations about my having been killed by the wind, or else having gone to find help. Then, without being prompted, he suddenly mentioned someone else. It’s marvelous, simply marvelous!” “Whom did he mention?” asked Eight Rules. “He said that he wasn’t afraid of any divine warrior,” said Pilgrim, “for no one else could overpower his wind save the Bodhisattva Lingji. The only trouble is that I don’t know where this Lingji lives.” As they were thus conversing, they suddenly saw an aged man walking by the side of the main road. Look at his appearance:

  Strong, he uses no cane to walk,

  With flowing snowlike hair and beard.

  Though wit and eyes are quite dim and blurry,

  Thin bones and sinews are still tough.

  Back and head bent he walked slowly,

  With thick brows and a pink face, childlike.

  Look at his features and they seem human,

  Though he’s like Long-Life Star no less!11

  Highly pleased when he caught sight of him, Eight Rules said, “Elder Brother, the proverb says:

  You want to know the way,

  Hear what the tourist say.

  Why don’t you approach him and ask?”

  The Great Sage put away his iron rod and straightened out his clothes. Approaching the old man, he said, “Aged Sir, receive my bow.” Somewhat reluctantly, the old man returned his greeting, saying, “What region are you from, monk? What are you doing here in this wilderness?” “We are holy monks on our way to seek scriptures,” said Pilgrim. “Yesterday we lost our master here, and so I’m approaching you to ask where the Bodhisattva Lingji lives.” “Lingji lives south of here,” said the old man, “about three thousand miles away. There is a mountain called the Little Sumeru Mountain, which has within it a Land of the Way, the Chan hall where the Bodhisattva lectures on sūtras. I suppose you are trying to obtain scriptures from him.” “Not from him,” said Pilgrim, “but I have something that requires his attention. Will you please show me the way?” Pointing with his hand toward the south, the old man said, “Follow that winding path.” The Great Sage Sun was tricked into turning his head to look at the path, when the old man changed himself into a gentle breeze and vanished. A small slip of paper was left beside the road, on which was written this quatrain:

  To tell the Equal to Heaven Great Sage,

  The old man is in truth one Long Life Li!

  On Sumeru’s the Flying-Dragon Staff.

  Lingji in years past received this Buddhist arm.

  Pilgrim took up the slip and went back down the road. “Elder Brother,” said Eight Rules, “our luck must have been rather bad lately. For two days we saw ghosts in broad daylight. Who is that old man who left after changing into a breeze?” Pilgrim gave Eight Rules the slip of paper. “Who is this Long-Life Li?” asked Eight Rules, when he had read the verse. “It’s the name of the Planet Venus from the West,” said Pilgrim. Eight Rules hurriedly bowed toward the sky, crying, “Benefactor! Benefactor! Had it not been for the Gold Star, who personally begged the Jade Emperor to be merciful, I don’t know what would have become of old Hog!” “Elder Brother,” said Pilgrim, “you do have a sense of gratitude. But don’t expose yourself. Take cover deep in the woods and carefully guard the luggage and the horse. Let old Monkey find the Sumeru Mountain and seek help from the Bodhisattva.” “I know, I know!” said Eight Rules. “Hurry up and go! Old Hog has mastered the law of the turtle: withdraw your head when you needn’t stick it out!”

  The Great Sage Sun leaped into the air; mounting the cloud-somersault, he headed straight south. He was fast, indeed! With a nod of his head, he covered three thousand miles; just a twist of his torso carried him over eight hundred! In a moment he saw a tall mountain with auspicious clouds hanging halfway up its slopes and holy mists gathered around it. In the fold of the mountain there was indeed a temple. He could hear the melodious sounds of the bells and sonorous stones12 and could see the swirling smoke of incense. As he approached the door, the Great Sage saw a Daoist with a string of beads around his neck, who was reciting the name of Buddha. Pilgrim said, “Daoist, please accept my bow.” The Daoist at once bowed in return, saying, “Where did the venerable father come from?” “Is this where the Bodhisattva Lingji expounds the scriptures?” asked Pilgrim. “Indeed it is,” said the Daoist. “Do you wish to speak to someone?”

  “May I trouble you, sir, to make this announcement for me,” said Pilgrim. “I am the disciple of the master of the Law, Tripitaka, who is the royal brother of the Great Tang Emperor in the Land of the East; I am the Great Sage, Equal to Heaven, Sun Wukong, also named Pilgrim. I have a matter that requires me to have an audience with the Bodhisattva.” The Daoist laughed and said, “The venerable father has given me a long announcement! I can’t quite remember all those words.” “Just say that Sun Wukong, the disciple of the Tang Monk, has arrived,” said Pilgrim.13

  The Daoist agreed and made that announcement in the lecture hall, whereupon the Bodhisattva at once put on his cassock and asked for more incense to be burned to welcome the visitor. Then the Great Sage walked in the door and peered inside. He saw

  A hall full of brocade and silk;

  A house most solemn and grand;

  Pupils reciting the Lotus Sūtra;

  An old leader tapping the golden gong.

  Set before the Buddha

  Were all immortal fruits and flowers.

  Spread out on the altars

  Were vegetarian dainties and viands.


  The bright, precious candles,

  Their golden flames shot up like rainbows;

  The fragrant true incense,

  Its jadelike smoke flew up as colored mists.

  So it was that, after the lecture one would calmly meditate,

  When white-cloud flakes circled the tips of pines.

  The wisdom sword retired, for Māra snapped

  In this space of Prajñā-pāramitā.

  The Bodhisattva straightened out his attire to receive Pilgrim, who entered the hall and took the seat of the guest. Tea was offered, but Pilgrim said, “No need for you to bother about tea. My master faces peril at the Yellow Wind Mountain, and I beseech the Bodhisattva to exercise his great dharma power to defeat the monster and rescue him.” “I did receive the command of Tathāgata,” said the Bodhisattva, “to keep the Yellow Wind Monster here in submission. Tathāgata also gave me a Wind-Stopping Pearl and a Flying-Dragon Precious Staff. At the time when I captured him, I spared the monster his life only on condition that he would retire in the mountain and abstain from the sin of taking life. I did not know that he would want to harm your esteemed teacher and transgress the Law. That is my fault.” The Bodhisattva would have liked to prepare some vegetarian food to entertain Pilgrim, but Pilgrim insisted on leaving. So he took the Flying-Dragon Staff and mounted the clouds with the Great Sage.

  In a little while they reached the Yellow Wind Mountain. “Great Sage,” said the Bodhisattva, “this monster is rather afraid of me. I will stand here at the edge of the clouds while you go down there to provoke battle. Entice him to come out so that I may exercise my power.” Pilgrim followed his suggestion and lowered his cloud.

  Without waiting for further announcement, he whipped out his iron rod and smashed the door of the cave, crying, “Monster, give me back my Master!” Those little demons standing guard at the door were so terrified that they ran to make the report. “This lawless ape,” said the monster, “is truly ill-behaved! He would not defer to kindness, and now he has even broken my door! This time when I go out, I’m going to use that divine wind to blow him to death.” He put on his armor as before, and took up the steel trident. Walking out of the door and seeing Pilgrim, he did not utter a word before aiming the trident at Pilgrim’s chest. The Great Sage stepped aside to dodge this blow and then faced him with uplifted rod. Before they had fought for a few rounds, the monster turned his head toward the ground in the southwest and was about to open his mouth to summon the wind. From midair, the Bodhisattva threw down the Flying-Dragon Precious Staff as he recited some kind of spell. It was instantly transformed into a golden dragon with eight claws, two of which caught hold of that monster’s head and threw him two or three times against the boulders beside the mountain cliff. The monster changed back into his original form and became a mink with yellow fur.