by Unknown
When Pilgrim heard this, he was filled with anger. “These brazen fiends are so audacious! I am protecting the Tang Monk so that he may attain the right fruit. How could they plan to devour my man?” He was so mad that he clenched his teeth, whipped out his iron rod, and leaped down from the tall peak. All he had to do was to slam the rod down on the heads of the little fiends, and they were immediately reduced to meat patties! When he saw them like that, however, he was moved somewhat to pity. “Alas,” he said to himself, “they were kind enough after all to have spilled everything about their family to me. How could I finish them off just like that? All right! All right! What’s done is done!”
Dear Great Sage! Because of the impediment in his master’s way, he had no choice but to do something like this. He took down one of the nameplates and tied it to his own waist. The banner with the word, “command,” he hauled on his shoulder, the bell he hung on his belt, and he took up the rattle. Facing the wind, he made the magic sign and recited a spell to change with one shake of his body into the appearance of that Little Wind Cutter whom he first met on the road. In big strides, he followed the road back to search for the cave and to do some more detection on those three old fiendish demons. Truly, these were
The Handsome Monkey King’s ten thousand ways to change!
Ten thousand permutations, what real abilities!
He dashed deeply into the mountain, following the path on which he came. As he ran along, he suddenly heard people shouting and horses neighing. When he raised his eyes to look, he saw that the noise was coming from a huge mob of little fiends in front of the Lion-Camel Cave, all equipped with columns of scimitars, lances, spears, and halberds, with flags and banners. Delighted, our Great Sage said to himself, “Long Life Li’s words are not far off the mark!” The way that those little fiends were arrayed, you see, had an order to it: two hundred and fifty of them made up one huge column, to which was assigned a tall colored flag. When he spotted some forty such flags, he knew that there had to be at least ten thousand troops right there before the cave.
Thereupon he thought further to himself, “Old Monkey has already changed into a Little Wind Cutter. Once I step inside, I would have to give some answers should those old demons question me on patrolling the mountain. If I am recognized because of some slip-up in my words, how am I going to get away? Even if I want to run out the door, how could I get out with so many of them barring the door? If I want to seize the fiendish kings inside the cave, I must get rid of these fiends before the door first.”
How could he get rid of the fiends, you ask? Marvelous Great Sage! He thought some more to himself: “Though those old demons have never met my face, they have already known the reputation of old Monkey. Let me rely on that reputation, then, and exploit its power; let me give some big talk to frighten them a bit, and see whether those creatures of Middle Land2 indeed have sufficient affinity to be rewarded by us taking the scriptures back to them. If they do, a few bravado sentences of mine will frighten the fiends enough to scatter them. If those creatures, however, do not have sufficient affinity so that we cannot acquire the true scriptures, then
Even if I preach till the lotus flowers appear,
I shall not dispel the spirits before the cave.”
His mind thus questioning his mouth, and his mouth thus questioning the mind, he beat his rattle and shook his bell as he marched up to the entrance of the Lion-Camel Cave. He was immediately met by the little fiends of the forward camp who said, “Little Wind Cutter, have you returned?” Instead of answering them, Pilgrim lowered his head and walked on.
At the second-level camp, he was stopped again by some more little fiends who said, “Little Wind Cutter, have you returned?” “I have,” replied Pilgrim. “When you went on patrol this morning,” said the fiends, “did you run into Pilgrim Sun?” “I have,” replied Pilgrim, “he’s polishing his pole at the moment.”
A little frightened, those little fiends said, “What does he look like? What sort of a pole is he polishing?” Pilgrim said, “He was squatting there by the side of a brook, and he still seemed like a trailblazing deity. If he stood up, he would have to be over a hundred feet tall! He had in his hands an iron rod that resembled a huge pole, so thick it was that it had to have the thickness of a rice bowl. As he sprinkled some water on the stone ledge, he rubbed his rod on it while he mumbled to himself, ‘O dear pole! I haven’t taken you out for awhile to show your magic powers. Now that you have been taken out, may you beat to death for me all those monster-spirits, even if there are one hundred thousand of them! Then let me slay also those three arch-demons and offer them as sacrifices to you!’ Once he has polished his rod so that it shines, he will no doubt slaughter first those ten thousand of you before the door.”
When those little fiends heard these words, every one of their hearts quivered and their galls shook, as their souls melted and their spirits dispersed. “Think on this, all of you,” said Pilgrim again. “The flesh of that Tang Monk doesn’t amount to many pounds, you know, and I doubt if we’ll ever get to receive our portions even if he were divided up. Why should we withstand that pole for them? Why don’t we ourselves just scatter?” “You are right,” said the various fiends. “Let’s look after our own lives and leave.” All of these fiends, you see, were no more than wolves, tigers, leopards, and the like. With a roar, all these beasts and fowl simply dispersed in every direction. And so, those few subversive sentences of the Great Sage Sun worked like the songs of Chu3 when they scattered some eight thousand troops.
Secretly delighted, Pilgrim said to himself, “Marvelous! Those old fiends are good as dead! If words will make them run, how would they dare meet me face to face? When I get inside, however, I’d better repeat what I said. For if I miss saying something, a couple of those little fiends who have run inside just now may reveal my secret.” Look at him!
He was set to approach the ancient cave;
With boldness he walked deep inside the door.
We do not know whether good or evil would befall him when he saw the old demons; let’s listen to the explanation in the next chapter.
SEVENTY-FIVE
Mind Monkey drills through the yin-yang body;
Demon lords return to the true great Way.
We were telling you about that Great Sage Sun, who walked inside the cave to look left and right. He saw
A mound of skeletons,
A forest of dead bones;
Human hair packed together as blankets,
And human flesh trodden as dirt and dust;
Human tendons knotted on the trees
Were dried, parched, and shiny like silver.
In truth there were mountains of corpses and seas of blood;
Indeed the putrid stench was terrible!
The little fiends on the east
Gouged out flesh from living persons;
The brazen demons on the west
Boiled and cooked fresh human meat.
Only Handsome Monkey King had such heroic gall;
No other mortal would dare enter this door.
After a little while, he walked through the second-level door to look around inside. Ah! What he saw in here was quite different from the outside; it was a place both quiet and elegant, both handsome and spacious. On the left and right were exotic grass and rare flowers; there were old pines and aged bamboos front and back. He had to walk, however, for another seven or eight miles before he reached the third-level door, through which he stole a glance. Inside the door and sitting loftily on three high seats were three old fiends, who appeared most savage and hideous. The middle one had
Teeth like files and saws,
A round head and a square face.
He had a voice like thunder
And flashing eyes like lightning.
His nose curled skyward;
His brows sprouted flames.
When he moved,
All other beasts trembled;
When he sat,
All demons sh
ook and quivered.
This was the king of beasts,
The green-haired lion fiend.
The one to his left had
Phoenix eyes and golden pupils,
Yellow tusks and stubby legs,
Long nose and silver hair,
A head that seemed tail-like;
Knotted brows beneath his round forehead
And a huge, rugged torso.
He had a soft voice like a lissome beauty,
But his white face was a bull-head demon’s.
A brute of prolonged self-cultivation,
This was the yellow-tusked old elephant.
The one to his right had
Golden wings and leviathan head,1
Starlike pupils and leopard eyes.
He ruled the north, governed the south—
Fierce, strong, and courageous.
Coming alive he could fly and soar
While quails quaked and dragons dreaded.
When he shook his feathers,
All the birds went into hiding;
When he stretched his sharp claws,
All the fowl cowered in terror.
Able to reach a cloudy distance of ninety-thousand miles,
This was the great eagle-roc.
Below them stood some one hundred captains, all in complete armor and military regalia, and looking most truculent and fierce. When Pilgrim saw them, however, he was filled with delight. Not the least bit frightened, he marched through the door in big strides, and after he dropped his rattle, he lifted his head and said, “Great Kings.” Smiling broadly, the three old demons said, “Little Wind Cutter, have you returned?” “I have indeed,” replied Pilgrim in a ringing voice.
“Have you found out anything about Pilgrim Sun when you were on patrol in the mountain?”
“In the presence of the great kings,” replied Pilgrim, “I dare not speak.”
“Why not?” asked the first old demon.
“By the command of the great kings,” said Pilgrim, “I went forward, beating my rattle and shaking my bell. As I walked along, I suddenly caught sight of a person squatting by a brook. Even then he looked like a trailblazing deity, and if he had stood up, he would have been undoubtedly over a hundred feet tall. Bailing some water from the brook, he was polishing with it a huge pole on a rock. As he did so, he kept mumbling to himself that up till now, he hadn’t been able to show off the magic power of his pole. Once he had polished the pole enough to make it glow, he said he would come and use it on the great kings. I knew he had to be that Pilgrim Sun, and that’s why I have returned to make my report.”
When that old demon heard these words, he perspired profusely. Shaking all over, he said, “Brothers, I told you not to bother the Tang Monk. His disciple has such vast magic powers that he has already made plans for us. Now he is polishing his rod to beat us up. What shall we do?” Then he gave this order: “Little ones, summon all the soldiers outside the cave to come in. Shut the door, and let those priests pass.”
One of the captains who knew what had happened said immediately, “Great King, the little fiends guarding the door outside have all scattered.” “How could they have all scattered?” asked the old demon. “They must have heard the bad news, too. Shut the door quickly! Shut the door quickly!” The various fiends hurriedly banged the front and back doors shut and bolted them.
Becoming somewhat alarmed, Pilgrim thought to himself, “After they close the doors, they might question me on some other business in their house. If I can’t answer them, I will give myself away. Won’t I be caught then? Let me scare them a little bit more, so that they’ll open the doors again for me to flee if I need to.” He therefore went forward again and said, “Great Kings, that Pilgrim Sun said something that’s even more dreadful.” “What else did he say?” asked the old demon.
Pilgrim said, “He said that when he had caught hold of the three of you, he would skin the great great king, he would debone the second great king, and he would pull out the tendons of the third great king. If you shut your doors and refuse to go out, he is capable of transformations, you know. He may well change into a tiny fly, come in through a crack in the door, and seize all of us. What shall we do then?”
“Brothers,” said the old demon, “be careful. There is hardly a fly in our cave. If you see a fly coming in here, it has to be that Pilgrim Sun.” Smiling to himself, Pilgrim thought, “I’ll give him a fly to scare him a bit. Then he’ll open the doors.”
The Great Sage stepped to one side and pulled off a piece of hair behind his head. Blowing a mouthful of immortal breath on it, he whispered, “Change!” and it at once changed into a gold-headed fly, which darted up and flew smack into the face of the old demon. “Brothers, this is awful!” cried a horrified old demon. “That little something has entered our door!” Those fiends, young and old, were so terrified that they took up pitchforks and brooms to swat madly at the fly.
Unable to contain himself, our Great Sage broke into loud giggles, which, alas, he should have never permitted himself to do. For once he laughed, his original features also appeared. When the third old demon saw him, he leaped forward and grabbed him, crying, “Elder Brothers, we were almost fooled by him!” “Who is fooling whom?” asked the first old demon.
“The one who was speaking to us just now,” replied the third fiend, “was no Little Wind Cutter. He is Pilgrim Sun. He must have run into Little Wind Cutter, slain him somehow, and changed into his appearance to deceive us here.” Greatly shaken, Pilgrim said to himself, “He has recognized me!” Rubbing his face hurriedly with his hand to correct his features, he said to those fiends, “How could I be Pilgrim Sun! I am the Little Wind Cutter. The great king has made a mistake.”
“Brother,” said the old demon, smiling, “he is Little Wind Cutter. For three times every day he answers my roll call. I know him.” Then he asked Pilgrim, “Do you have your nameplate?” “I do,” replied Pilgrim, and he took it out at once from inside his clothes. More convinced than ever, the old fiend said, “Brother, don’t falsely accuse him.”
“Elder Brother,” said the third fiend, “didn’t you see him? He was giggling just now with his face half turned, and I saw for a moment a thunder god beak on him. When I grabbed him, he changed back immediately into his present looks.” He then called out: “Little ones, bring me some ropes.” The captains took out ropes immediately. Wrestling Pilgrim to the ground, the third fiend had him hog-tied before they hitched up his clothes to examine him. It became apparent at once that he was the BanHorsePlague all right! Pilgrim, you see, was capable of seventy-two kinds of transformation. If it was a matter of changing into a fowl, a beast, a plant, a utensil, or an insect, his entire body could be transformed. But when he had to change into another person, only his face but not his body could be transformed. When they lifted up his clothes, therefore, they saw a body full of brown fur, two red buttocks, and a tail.
When he saw this, the first old fiend said, “Though he may have the face of Little Wind Cutter, it’s the body of Pilgrim Sun. It’s he. Little ones, bring us some wine first, so that I may present to the third great king a cup of merit. Since we have caught Pilgrim Sun, there is no doubt that the Tang Monk will be the food of our mouths.”
“Let’s not drink wine just yet,” said the third fiend. “Pilgrim Sun is an exceedingly slippery character, for he knows many ways of escape. I fear we may lose him. Tell the little ones to haul out our vase and put Pilgrim Sun inside it. Then we can drink.” “Exactly! Exactly!” said the old demon, laughing loudly. He at once summoned thirty-six little fiends to go to their weapons chamber and haul out the vase.
How big was the vase, you ask? Why would it need thirty-six persons to carry it? Though it was no more than twenty-four inches tall, that vase was a treasure governed by the double primal forces of yin and yang. Its magic reactions inside were activated by the seven jewels, the eight trigrams, and the twenty-four solar terms. Only thirty-six persons, a number which corresponded to the number
of constellations in the Heavenly Ladle group, would have sufficient strength to lift it up. In a little while, the little fiends had the treasure vase hauled out and set before the third-level door. After they had unpacked it from its wrappings and removed the stopper, they untied Pilgrim and stripped him naked. Then they carried him up to the mouth of the vase, and immediately he was sucked inside with a loud whoosh by the immortal breath of the vase. It was then covered again with its stopper, on top of which they added a tape to seal it. Beckoning his companions to join him to drink, the old fiend said, “Now that this little ape has entered my treasure vase, he’d better not think of the road to the West anymore. If he ever wanted to worship Buddha and acquire scriptures, he might as well turn his back, take up the wheel of transmigration, and seek Buddhist treasure in the next incarnation!”
We tell you now about that Great Sage, who found the vase to be quite small for his body once he reached the inside. He decided, therefore, to transform himself into someone smaller and squat in the middle of the vase. Finding it to be quite cool after some time, he could not refrain from chuckling to himself and saying out loud, “These monster-spirits are banking on their false reputation! How could they tell people that once someone was placed inside the vase, he would change into pus and blood after one and three-quarter hours? If it’s cool like this, I can live here for seven or eight years with no trouble!”
Alas! The Great Sage, you see, had no idea of how that treasure worked: if someone who had been placed within it remained silent for a whole year, then it would remain cool for all that time. But the moment that person spoke, fire would appear to burn him. Hardly had the Great Sage spoken, therefore, when he saw that the entire vase was engulfed in flames. Fortunately, he was not without abilities; sitting in the middle, he made the fire-repellent magic sign with his fingers and faced the flames calmly. After about half an hour, some forty snakes crawled out from every side and began to bite him. Pilgrim stretched forth his hands, picked up the snakes, and with a violent wrench tore them into eighty pieces. In a little while, however, three fire dragons emerged and had him encircled top and bottom.