by Unknown
We now tell you about Eight Rules, whose fortune was about to take a turn for the worse. As he walked along, he ran right into the various demons, who barred his way and asked, “Who is he that’s approaching?” Raising his head and pushing his ears aside, Idiot saw that they were demons and he became quite frightened. He said to himself, “If I say that I’m a monk going to seek scriptures, they may want to seize me. I’d better say I’m only a traveler.” The little fiends reported back to their master, saying, “Great King, it’s a traveler.” Among those thirty little fiends, there were some who did not recognize Eight Rules. There were a few, however, who found his face somewhat familiar, and pointing at him, they said, “Great King, this monk looks like the portrait of Zhu Eight Rules.” The old fiend told them at once to hang up the picture so that they could examine it more closely. When Eight Rules saw it, he was greatly shaken, muttering to himself, “No wonder I feel somewhat dispirited of late! They have caught my spirit in this portrait!” As the little fiends held up the picture with their spears, Silver Horn pointed with his hand, saying, “This one riding the white horse is the Tang Monk, and this one with a hairy face is Pilgrim Sun.” Hearing this, Eight Rules said, “City Guardian, it’s all right if I’m not included! I’ll present you with three hog’s heads, twenty-four portions of pure libation . . .” Mumbling to himself repeatedly, he kept making all sorts of vows.
The fiend, meanwhile, went on to say, “That long dark one is Sha Monk, and this one having a long snout and huge ears is Zhu Eight Rules.” When Idiot heard what he said, he was so startled that he lowered his snout toward his chest and tried to conceal it. “Monk, stick out your mouth,” cried the fiend. “It’s a birth defect,” said Eight Rules. “I can’t stick it out.” The fiend told the imps to pull it out with hooks, and Eight Rules became so alarmed that he stuck out his snout at once, saying, “It’s no more than a homely feature! Here it is! If you want to look at it, just look. Why do you want to use hooks?”
Recognizing that it was Eight Rules, the fiend took out his precious blade and hacked away. Idiot parried the blow with his rake, saying, “My child, don’t be brazen! Watch my rake!” The fiend said with a chuckle, “This man became a monk in the middle of life.” “Dear child!” said Eight Rules. “You do have some intelligence! How do you know right away that your father became a monk in the middle of life?” “If you know how to use the rake,” said the fiend, “you must have stolen it after hoeing the fields or gardens of some household.” Eight Rules said, “My child, you won’t recognize the rake of your father, for it is not like any ordinary rake for hoeing the ground. We have here
Huge teeth made in the shape of dragon claws,
Adorned with gold and like a tiger formed.
When used in battle it draws down cold wind;
When brought to combat it emits bright flames.
It can for Tang Monk all barriers remove,
Catch all monsters on this road to the West.
When it’s wielded, mists hide the sun and moon;
When it’s held high, clouds make dim the pole stars.
It knocks down Mount Tai and tigers panic;
It o’erturns oceans and dragons cower.
Though you, monster, may have many skills,
One rake will nine bloody holes produce!”
The fiend heard the words, but he was not ready to step aside. Wielding his sword of seven stars,13 he charged Eight Rules and they closed in again and again in the mountain. Even after some twenty rounds, neither appeared to be the stronger one. Growing more and more fierce, Eight Rules began to fight as if he had no regard whatever for his life. When the fiend saw how his opponent flapped his huge ears and spat out saliva, whooping and yelling all the time, he became somewhat frightened. He therefore turned around to call up all his little fiends to do battle. Now, if it were a one-to-one combat, it would have been manageable for Eight Rules. But when he saw all those little fiends approaching, he panicked and turned to flee. The road, however, was not very smooth and he immediately tripped over some vines and dried creepers along the way. As he was struggling to run, one of the little fiends made a flying tackle at his legs, and he hit the ground headfirst like a dog eating shit! The others swarmed all over him, pressing him on the ground, pulling at his mane and his ears, grabbing his legs, and tugging at his tail. They hoisted him up bodily to return to the cave. Alas! Thus it is that
A whole body bursting with demons is hard to destroy;
Ten thousand ills arise, they are tough to remove.
We do not know what happens to the life of Zhu Eight Rules; let’s listen to the explanation in the next chapter.
THIRTY-THREE
Heresy deludes the True Nature;
Primal Spirit helps the Native Mind.
We were telling you about that fiend who hauled Eight Rules into the cave, crying, “Elder Brother, we caught one!” Delighted, the old demon said, “Bring him here for a look.” “Isn’t this the one?” said the second demon. “Brother,” said the old demon, “you caught the wrong one. This monk is useless.” Eight Rules at once jumped at this opportunity and said, “Great King, please release a useless monk and let him go. It’s a crime!” “Elder Brother,” said the second demon, “don’t release him. Even if he’s useless, he is part of the Tang Monk’s company, and he’s called Zhu Eight Rules. Let’s soak him thoroughly in the pure water pool in the back; when the bristles are plucked and the hide is peeled after the soaking, we can pickle him with salt and sun him dry. He’ll be a good appetizer with wine on a cloudy day.” When Eight Rules heard these words, he said, “What rotten luck! I’ve met up with a monster who traffics in pickled food!” The little fiends hauled Eight Rules inside and threw him into the water, and we shall speak of him no further.
We tell you now about Tripitaka sitting before the slope; his ears became flushed and his heart began to pound. Growing very restless, he called out, “Wukong, why is it that Wuneng has taken so long to patrol the mountain this time and hasn’t returned?” Pilgrim said, “Master still doesn’t know anything of how his mind works!” “How does it work?” asked Tripitaka. “Master,” said Pilgrim, “if this mountain truly has monsters, he will find it difficult to advance even half a step. Instead, he will run back to report to us with all sorts of exaggerations. I suppose, however, that there are no monsters, and he must have gone ahead directly when he found the road quiet and safe.” “If he really has gone ahead,” said Tripitaka, “where shall we meet him? This a wild, mountainous region, not like somewhere in a village or town.” Pilgrim said, “Don’t worry, Master, please mount up. That Idiot is rather lazy, and without doubt he moves very slowly. Urge your horse a little and we’ll certainly catch up with him to proceed together again.” The Tang Monk indeed climbed on his horse; as Sha Monk poled the luggage, Pilgrim led the way in front to ascend the mountain.
We tell you now instead about the old fiend, who said to the second demon, “Brother, if you have caught Eight Rules, there must also be the Tang Monk somewhere. Go and patrol the mountain again, and make certain that you don’t miss him.” “At once! At once!” said the second demon, who immediately called up some fifty little fiends to go patrol the mountain with him. As they journeyed, they saw auspicious clouds and luminous ether circling. The second demon said, “Here comes the Tang Monk!” “Where is he?” asked the various little fiends. The second demon said, “Auspicious clouds will alight on the head of a virtuous man, whereas the black ether emitted from the head of a wicked man will rise up to the sky. That Tang Monk is actually the incarnation of the Elder Gold Cicada, a virtuous man who has practiced austerities for ten existences. That’s why he is encircled by these auspicious clouds.” Those little fiends, however, still could not perceive where the monk was. Pointing with his finger, the second demon said, “Isn’t that he?” Immediately, Tripitaka on the horse shuddered violently; the demon pointed again, and Tripitaka shuddered once more. This went on for three times, and Tripitaka grew very anxious, say
ing, “Disciples, why am I shuddering like this?”
“You must have an upset stomach,” said Sha Monk, “and that’s why you are feeling the chill.”
“Nonsense!” said Pilgrim. “Going through this tall mountain and rugged cliff must have made Master rather apprehensive, that’s all. Don’t be afraid! Don’t be afraid! Let old Monkey put on a show for you with my rod to calm your fears somewhat.” Dear Pilgrim! Whipping out his rod, he began to go through a sequence of maneuvers with the rod as he walked before the horse: up and down, left and right, the thrusts and parries were made in perfect accord with the manuals of martial arts. What the elder saw from the horse was a sight incomparable anywhere in the world!
As Pilgrim led the way toward the West, the monster, who was watching on top of the mountain, almost fell over with fear. Scared out of his wits, the monster blurted out, “I have heard about Pilgrim Sun for several years, but today I know that this is no false rumor.” Drawing closer to him, the various fiends said, “Great King, why do you ‘magnify the determination of others to diminish your own authority’? Of whom are you boasting?” “Pilgrim Sun,” said the second demon, “truly possesses vast magical powers. We won’t be able to eat the Tang Monk.” “Great King,” said the fiends, “if you don’t have the abilities, let a few of us go and report to the Great, Great King. Ask him to call up all the fighters, young and old, of our cave, and we will all join to form a solid battle front. You fear that he’ll be able to escape then?” “Can’t you all see that iron rod of his?” asked the second demon. “It’s powerful enough to vanquish ten thousand foes. We have but four or five hundred soldiers in the cave, and they won’t be able to take even a single stroke of his rod!”
The fiends said, “If you put it that way, the Tang Monk certainly will not be our food. Doesn’t that mean that we have also made a mistake in seizing Zhu Eight Rules? Let’s return him to the monks.”
“We haven’t quite made a mistake,” said the second demon, “nor should we send him back so easily. In the end, we are determined to devour the Tang Monk, but we can’t do it just yet.” “If you put it that way,” said the fiends, “should we wait for a few more years?” The second demon said, “No need for a few more years. I perceive now that that Tang Monk must be sought for with virtue and not be taken by violence. If we want to use force to catch him, we won’t be able to get even a whiff of him. The only way we can move him is to feign virtue, so that his mind will be made to fuse with our minds, in the process of which we shall plot against him, exploiting the very virtue of his.” The fiends said, “If the Great King wants to devise a plan to catch him, will you want to use us?” “Each of you may return to our camp,” said the second demon, “but you are not permitted to report this to the Great King. If you disturb him and leak the news, my plan may be ruined. I have my own power of transformation, and I can catch him.”
The various monsters dispersed; the demon by himself leaped down from the mountain. Shaking his body by the road, he changed into an aged Daoist. “How was he dressed?” you ask. You see
A shining star-patterned cap,
And tousled whitish hair;
A feathered gown wrapped in silk sash,
And sandals tied with yellow coir;
Nice features and bright eyes like a man divine,
A light, healthy body as the Age Star’s.
Why speak of the Blue Buffalo Daoist?1
He’s as strong as White Tablet Master2—
A specious form disguised as the true form,
Falsehood feigning to be the honest truth!
By the side of the main road, he masqueraded himself as a Daoist with a bloody, broken leg, whimpering constantly and crying, “Save me! Save me!”
We were telling you about Tripitaka, who, relying on the strength of Great Sage Sun and Sha Monk, was proceeding happily when they heard repeatedly the cry, “Master, save me!” When this reached the ears of Tripitaka, he said, “My goodness! My goodness! There is all around not a single village in the wilderness of this mountain. Who could it be that’s calling? It must be, I suppose, someone terrified by the tiger or the leopard.” Reining in his fine horse, the elder called out, “Who is the person facing this ordeal? Please show yourself.” The fiend crawled out of the bushes and at once banged his head on the ground without ceasing, facing the elder’s horse. When Tripitaka saw that it was a Daoist, and an elderly one at that, he felt sorry for him. Dismounting at once, he tried to take hold of him with his hands, saying, “Please get up! Please get up!” The fiend said, “It hurts! It hurts!” When Tripitaka released his hold, he discovered that the man’s leg was bleeding. “O Master,” said the startled Tripitaka, “where did you come from? How is it that your leg is wounded?”
With clever speech and specious tongue, the fiend answered falsely, saying, “Master, west of this mountain is a clean and secluded temple, of which I am a Daoist.” Tripitaka said, “Why are you not tending the incense and fires or rehearsing the scriptures and the rituals in the temple? Why are you walking around here?” “A patron at the southern part of this mountain,” said the demon, “invited the Daoists to pray to the stars and distribute the blessings day before yesterday. Last night my disciple and I were walking home when we ran into a ferocious striped tiger in a deep canyon. It seized my disciple and dragged him away in its mouth, while your terrified Daoist, madly attempting to flee, broke his leg when he fell on a pile of rocks. I couldn’t even find my way back. But it must be a great Heavenly affinity that caused me to meet Master today, and I beseech you in your great compassion to save my life. When I get to our temple, I will repay your profound kindness even if it means selling myself into slavery!”
When Tripitaka heard these words, he thought they were the truth and said to him, “O Master, we two belong to the same calling—I’m a monk and you’re a Daoist. Though our attire may differ, the principles in cultivation, in the practice of austerities, are the same. If I don’t save you, I shouldn’t be ranked among those who have left the family. But though I intend to save you, I see that you can’t walk.” “I can’t even stand up,” said the fiend, “so how can I walk?” “All right, all right!” said Tripitaka. “I can still walk. I’ll let you take my horse for this distance. When you get to your temple, you can return the horse to me.” The fiend said, “Master, I’m grateful for your profound kindness, but my inner thigh is hurt. I can’t ride.” Tripitaka said, “I see,” and he said to Sha Monk, “Put the luggage on my horse, and you carry him.” “I’ll carry him,” said Sha Monk.
Stealing a quick glance at Sha Monk, the fiend said, “O Master, I was so terrified by that ferocious tiger. Now that I see this priest with such a gloomy complexion, I’m even more frightened. I dare not let him carry me.” “Wukong,” said Tripitaka, “you carry him then.” Pilgrim immediately answered, “I’ll carry him. I’ll carry him.” Having made certain that it was Pilgrim who would carry him, the monster became very amiable and did not speak anymore. “You cockeyed old Daoist!” said Sha Monk, laughing. “You don’t think it’s good for me to carry you, and you want him instead. When he is out of Master’s sight, he’ll smash even your tendons on a sharp, pointed rock!”
Pilgrim, meanwhile, had agreed to put the monster on his back, but he said, chuckling, “You brazen demon, how dare you come to provoke me! You should have made some inquiry on how many years old Monkey has been around! Your fib can deceive the Tang Monk, but do you really think you could fool me? I can tell that you are a fiend of this mountain who wants to eat my master, I suppose. But is my master an ordinary person, someone for you to eat? And even if you want to devour him, you should at least have given a larger half to old Monkey!”
When the demon heard Pilgrim muttering like this, he said, “Master, I am the descendant of a good family who has become a Daoist. It’s my misfortune this day to have met this adversity of the tiger. I’m no monster.” “If you fear the tiger and the wolf,” said Pilgrim, “why don’t you recite the Scripture of the Norther
n Dipper?”3 When Tripitaka heard these words just as he was mounting, he chided, “This wanton ape! ‘Saving one life is better than erecting a seven-tiered pagoda.’ Isn’t it enough that you carry him? Why speak of the Classic of the Northern Dipper or the Classic of the Southern Dipper?”
When Pilgrim heard him, he said, “Lucky for this fellow! My master happens to be someone who is inclined toward compassion and virtue, but also someone who prefers external appearance more than inward excellence. If I don’t carry you, he’ll blame me, so I’ll carry you, all right. But I have to make it clear to you: if you want to piss or shit, tell me first. For if you pour it down my back, I can’t take the stink, and there is no one around to wash and starch my clothes when they are soiled.” “Look at my age,” said the fiend, “you think I don’t understand what you said?” Only then did Pilgrim pull him up and put him on his back before setting out on the main road to the West with the elder and Sha Monk. When they reached a spot in the mountain where the road became bumpy, weaving up and down, Pilgrim took care to walk more slowly, allowing the Tang Monk to proceed first. Before they had gone four or five miles, the master and Sha Monk descended into a fold of the mountain and became completely out of sight. More and more annoyed, Pilgrim thought to himself, “Master is such a fool even though he’s a grown man! Traveling this great distance, one gets weary even if one were empty-handed—and he tells me instead to carry this monster! I wish I could throw him off! Let’s not say he’s a monster; even if he were a good man, he should die without regret for having lived so long. I might as well dash him to the ground and kill him. Why carry him any further?”
As the Great Sage was about to do this, the monster knew instantly of his plan. Knowing how to summon mountains, he resorted to the magic of Moving Mountains and Pouring out Oceans. On Pilgrim’s back he made the magic sign with his fingers and recited a spell, sending the Sumeru Mountain into midair and causing it to descend directly on Pilgrim’s head. A little startled, the Great Sage bent his head to one side and the mountain landed on his left shoulder. Laughing, he said, “My child, what sort of press-body magic are you using to pin down old Monkey? This is all right, but a lopsided pole is rather difficult to carry.”