by Unknown
When the king heard this, he at once asked for an altar to be built. Meanwhile, he also gave the command that his carriage be brought out. “We want personally to ascend the Five-Phoenix Tower to watch,” he said. Many officials followed the carriage up the tower and the king took his seat. Tripitaka Tang, followed by Pilgrim, Sha Monk, and Eight Rules, stood at attention down below, while the three Daoists also accompanied the king and took their seats on the tower. In a little while, an official came riding with the report, “The altar is ready. Let one of the Father Preceptors of State ascend it.”
Bowing with his hands folded before him, the Tiger-Strength Immortal took leave of the king and walked down the tower. “Sir,” said Pilgrim, barring his way, “where are you going?” “To ascend the altar and pray for rain,” said the Great Immortal. “You do have a sense of self-importance,” said Pilgrim, “absolutely unwilling to defer to us monks who have come from a great distance. All right! As the proverb says, ‘Even a strong dragon is no match for a local worm!’ But if the master insists on proceeding first, then he must make a statement first before the king.” “What statement?” asked the Great Immortal. Pilgrim said, “Both you and I are supposed to ascend the altar to pray for rain. When it comes, how could anyone tell whether it’s your rain or mine? Who could tell whose merit it is?” When the king above them heard this, he was secretly pleased and said, “The words of this little priest are quite gutsy!” When Sha Monk heard this, he said to himself, smiling, “You don’t know that his stomach’s full of gutsiness! He hasn’t shown much of it yet!”
The Great Immortal said, “There’s no need for me to make any statement. His Majesty is quite familiar with what I am about to do.” “He may know it,” said Pilgrim, “but I am a monk who came from a distant region. I have never met you and I’m not familiar with what you are about to do. I don’t want us to end up accusing each other later, for that wouldn’t be good business. We must settle this first before we act.” “All right,” said the Great Immortal, “when I ascend the altar, I shall use my ritual tablet as a sign. When I bang it loudly on the table once, wind will come; the second time, clouds will gather; the third time, there will be lightning and thunder; the fourth time, rain will come; and finally the fifth time, rain will stop and clouds will disperse.” “Marvelous!” said Pilgrim, laughing. “I have never seen this before! Please go! Please go!”
With great strides, the Great Immortal walked forward, followed by Tripitaka and the rest. As they approached the altar, they saw that it was a platform about thirty feet tall. On all sides were flown banners with the names of the Twenty-Eight Constellations written on them. There was a table on top of the altar, and on the table was set an urn filled with burning incense. On both sides of the urn were two candle stands with huge, brightly lit candles. Leaning against the urn was a tablet made of gold, carved with the names of the thunder deities. Beneath the table were five huge cisterns full of clear water and afloat with willow branches. To the branches was attached a thin sheet of iron inscribed with the charms used to summon the agents of the Thunder Bureau. Five huge pillars were also set up around the table, and written on these pillars were the names of the barbarian thunder lords of Five Quarters. There were two Daoists standing on both sides of each pillar; each of the Daoists held an iron bludgeon used for pounding on the pillar. There were also many Daoists drawing up documents behind the altar. Before them there were set up a brazier for burning papers and several statues, all representing the messengers of charms, the local spirits, and patron deities.
The Great Immortal, without affecting the slightest degree of modesty, walked straight up to the altar and stood still. A young Daoist presented him with several charms written on yellow papers and a treasure sword. Holding the sword, the Great Immortal recited a spell and then burnt a charm on the flame of a candle. Down below several Daoists picked up a document and a statue holding a charm and had these burned also. With a bang the old Daoist high above brought down his ritual tablet on the table and at once a breeze could be felt in the air. “O dear! O dear!” muttered Eight Rules. “This Daoist is certainly quite capable! He bangs his tablet once and indeed the wind’s rising.” “Be quiet, Brother,” said Pilgrim. “Don’t speak to me anymore. Just stand guard over Master here and let me do my business.”
Dear Great Sage! He pulled off a piece of hair and blew on it his immortal breath, saying, “Change!” It changed at once into a spurious Pilgrim, standing next to the Tang Monk. His true body rose with his primal spirit into midair, where he shouted, “Who is in charge of the wind here?” He so startled the Old Woman of the Wind that she hugged her bag while the Second Boy of the Wind pulled tight the rope at the mouth of the bag. They stepped forward to salute Pilgrim, who said, “I am accompanying the holy monk of the Tang court to go to acquire scriptures in the Western Heaven. We happen to pass through the Cart Slow Kingdom and are now waging a rainmaking contest with that deviant Daoist. How could you not help old Monkey and assist that Daoist instead? I’ll pardon you this time, but you’d better call in the wind. If there’s just the tiniest breeze to make the whiskers of the Daoist flutter, each of you will receive twenty strokes of the iron rod!” “We dare not! We dare not!” said the Old Woman of the Wind, and so, there was no sign of any wind. Unable to contain himself, Eight Rules began to holler, “You Sir, please step down! You’ve banged aloud the tablet. How is it that there’s no wind? You come down, and let us go up there.”
Holding high his tablet, the Daoist burned another charm before bringing down his tablet once more. Immediately, clouds and fog began to form in midair, but the Great Sage Sun shouted again, “Who is spreading the clouds?” He so startled the Cloud-Pushing Boy and the Fog-Spreading Lad that they hurriedly came forward to salute him. After Pilgrim had given his explanation as before, the Cloud Boy and the Mist Lad removed the clouds, so that
The sun came out and shone most brilliantly;
The sky was cloudless for ten thousand miles.
Laughing, Eight Rules said, “This master may deceive the king and befool his subjects. But he hasn’t any real abilities! Why, the tablet has sounded twice! Why is it that we don’t see any clouds forming?”
Becoming rather agitated, the Daoist loosened his hair, picked up his sword, and recited another spell as he burned a charm. Once more he brought down his tablet with a bang, and immediately the Heavenly Lord Deng arrived from the South Heaven Gate, trailed by the Squire of Thunder and the Mother of Lightning. When they saw Pilgrim in midair, they saluted him, and he gave his explanation as before. “What powerful summons,” he said “brought you all here so quickly?” The Heavenly Lord said, “The proper magic of Five Thunder exercised by that Daoist was not faked.2 He issued the summons and burned the document, which alerted the Jade Emperor. The Jade Emperor sent his decree to the residence of the Primordial Celestial Worthy of All-Pervading Thunderclap in the Ninefold Heaven. We in turn received his command to come here and assist with the rainmaking by providing thunder and lightning.” “In that case,” said Pilgrim, “just wait a moment. You can help old Monkey instead.” There was, therefore, neither the sound of thunder nor the flash of lightning.
In sheer desperation now, that Daoist added more incense, burned his charms, recited more spells, and struck his tablet more loudly than ever. In midair, the Dragon Kings of Four Oceans all arrived together, only to be met by Pilgrim, who shouted, “Aoguang, where do you think you’re going?” Aoguang, Aoshun, Aoqin, and Aorun all went forward to salute him, and Pilgrim gave his explanation as before. He thanked the Dragon Kings moreover, saying, “I needed your help in times past, but we have not yet reached our goal. Today, I must rely on your assistance once more to help me achieve this merit right now. That Daoist has struck his tablet four times, and it’s now old Monkey’s turn to do business. But I don’t know how to burn charms, issue summons, or strike any tablet. So all of you must play along with me.”
The Heavenly Lord Deng said, “If the Great Sage gives us the o
rder, who would dare disobey? You must, however, give us a sign, so that we may follow your instructions in an orderly manner. Otherwise, thunder and rain may be all mixed up, and that will not be to the credit of the Great Sage.” Pilgrim said, “I’ll use my rod as the sign.” “O Dear Father!” cried the Squire of Thunder, horrified. “How could we take the rod?”
“I’m not going to strike you,” said Pilgrim. “All I want from you is to watch the rod. If I point it upwards once, you’ll make the wind blow.”
“We’ll make the wind blow!” snapped the Old Woman of the Wind and the Second Boy of the Wind in unison.
“When the rod points upward a second time, you’ll spread the clouds.” “We’ll spread the clouds! We’ll spread the clouds!” cried the Cloud-Pushing Boy and the Mist-Spreading Lad.
“When I point the rod upwards for the third time, I want thunder and lightning.” “We’ll provide the service! We’ll provide the service!” said the Squire of Thunder and the Mother of Lightning.
“When I point the rod upwards the fourth time, I want rain.” “We obey! We obey!” said the Dragon Kings.
“And when I point the rod upwards the fifth time, I want sunshine and fair weather. Don’t make any mistake!”
After he had given all these instructions, Pilgrim dropped down from the clouds and retrieved his hair back to his body. Being of fleshly eyes and mortal stock, how could those people know the difference? Pilgrim then cried out with a loud voice, “Sir, please stop! You have struck aloud the tablet four times, but there’s not the slightest sign of wind, cloud, thunder, or rain. You should let me take over.” The Daoist had no choice but to leave his place and come down the altar for Pilgrim to take his turn. Pouting, he went back to the tower to see the throne. “Let me follow him,” said Pilgrim, “and see what he has to say.” He arrived and heard the king asking the Daoist, “We have been listening here most eagerly for the sounds of your tablet. Four times it struck and there was neither wind nor rain. Why is that?” The Daoist said, “Today the dragon deities are not home.” Pilgrim shouted with a loud voice, “Your Majesty, the dragon deities are home all right, but the magic of your National Preceptor is not efficacious enough to bring them here. Allow us priests to summon them here for you to see.” “Ascend the altar at once,” said the king, “and we shall wait for the rain here.”
Having received this decree, Pilgrim dashed back to the altar and tugged at the Tang Monk, saying, “Master, please go up to the altar.” “Disciple,” said the Tang Monk, “I don’t know how to pray for rain.” “He’s trying to set you up,” said Eight Rules, laughing. “If there’s no rain, they’ll put you on the pyre and finish you off with a fire.” Pilgrim said, “Though you may not know how to pray for rain, you know how to recite scriptures. Let me help you.” The elder indeed ascended the altar and solemnly took a seat on top. With complete concentration, he recited silently the Heart Sūtra. Suddenly an official came galloping on a horse with the question, “Why are you monks not striking the tablet and burning charms?” Pilgrim answered in a loud voice, “No need for that! Ours is the quiet work of fervent prayers.” The official left to give this reply to the king, and we shall mention him no further.
When Pilgrim heard that his old master had finished reciting the sūtra, he took out his rod from his ear and one wave of it in the wind gave it a length of twelve feet and the thickness of a rice bowl. He pointed it upwards in the air; when the Old Woman of the Wind saw it, she immediately shook loose her bag as the Second Boy of the Wind untied the rope around its mouth. The roar of the wind could be heard instantly, as tiles and bricks flew up all over the city and stones and dust hurtled through the air. Just look at it! It was truly marvelous wind, not at all similar to any ordinary breeze. You saw
Snapped willows and cracked flowers;
Fallen trees and toppled woods;
Nine-layered halls with chipped and broken walls;
A Five-Phoenix Tower of shaken pillars and beams;
The red sun losing its brightness in Heav’n;
The yellow sand taking wings on Earth;
Alarmed warriors before the martial hall;
Frightened ministers in the letters bower;
Girls of three palaces with frowzy locks;
Beauties of six chambers with tousled hair.
Tassels dropped from gold caps of marquis and earls;
The prime minister’s black gauze did spread its wings.
Attendants had words but they dared not speak;
The Yellow Gate held papers that could not be sent.
Goldfishes and jade belts stood not in rows;
Ivory tablets and silk gowns had broken ranks.
Colored rooms and turquoise screens were all damaged;
Green windows and scarlet doors were all destroyed.
Tiles of Golden Chimes Hall flew off with bricks;
Carved doors of Brocade-Cloud Hall all fell apart.
This violent wind was violent indeed!
It blew till king and subjects, fathers and sons, could not meet,
Till all streets and markets were emptied of men,
And doors of ten thousand homes were tightly shut.
As this violent gust of wind arose, Pilgrim Sun further revealed his magic power. Giving his golden-hooped rod a twirl, he pointed it upwards a second time. You saw
The Cloud-Pushing Boy,
The Fog-Spreading Lad—
The Cloud-Pushing Boy revealed his godly power
And a murky mass dropped down from Heaven;
The Fog-Spreading Lad displayed his magic might
And dense, soaring mists covered the Earth.
The three markets all grew dim;
The six avenues all turned dark.
With wind clouds left the seas
And Kunlun, trailing the rain.
Soon they filled Heav’n and Earth
And blackened this world of dust.
’Twas opaque like chaos of yore;
None could see Phoenix Tower’s door.
As thick fog and dense clouds rolled in, Pilgrim Sun gave his golden-hooped rod another twirl and pointed it upwards a third time. You saw
The Squire of Thunder raging,
The Mother of Lightning irate—
The Squire of Thunder, raging,
Rode a fiery beast backward to descend from Heaven’s pass;
The Mother of Lightning, irate,
Wielded gold snakes madly as she left the Dipper Hall.
Hu-la-la cracked the thunder,
Shattering the Iron Fork Mountain;
Xi-li-li flashed the scarlet sheets,
Flying out of the Eastern Ocean.
Loud rumbles of chariots came on and off;
Like fires and fames the grains and rice shot up.
Myriad things sprouted, their spirits revived.
Countless insects were from dormancy aroused.3
King and subjects both were terrified;
Traders and merchants were awed by the sound.
Ping-ping, pang-pang, the thunder flashed and roared so ferociously that it seemed as if mountains were toppling and the earth was splitting apart. So terrified were the city’s inhabitants that every house lighted incense, that every home burned paper money. “Old Deng,” shouted Pilgrim. “Take care to look out for those greedy and corrupt officials, those churlish and disobedient sons. Strike down many of them for me to warn the public!” The peal of thunder grew louder than ever. Finally, Pilgrim pointed the iron rod once more and you saw
The dragons gave order,
And rain filled the world,
Strong as Heavens river spilling o’er the dikes,
Quick as the clouds rushing through a channel.
It pattered on top of towers;
It splashed outside the windows.
The Silver Stream ran down from Heaven,
And whitecaps surged through the streets.
It spurted like vases upturned;
It gushed forth like basins p
oured out.
With houses almost drowned in hamlets,
The water rose to rural bridges’ height.
Truly mulberry fields became vast oceans,
And billows all too soon raced through the land.
Dragon gods came to lend a helping hand
By lifting up the Yangzi and throwing it down!
The torrential rain began in the morning and did not stop even after the noon hour. So great was the downpour that all the streets and gulleys of the Cart Slow Kingdom were completely flooded. The king therefore issued this decree: “The rain’s enough! If we had any more, it might damage the crops and that would have made things worse.” An official messenger below the Five-Phoenix Tower at once galloped through the rain to make this announcement: “Holy monk, we have enough rain.” When Pilgrim heard this, he pointed the golden-hooped rod upwards once more and, instantly, the thunder stopped and the wind subsided, the rain ended and the clouds dispersed. The king was filled with delight, and not one of the various civil and military officials could refrain from marveling, saying, “Marvelous priest! This is truly that ‘for the strong, there’s someone stronger still!’ Even when our Preceptors of State were capable of making the rain, a fine drizzle would go on for virtually half a day before it stopped completely. How is it that the weather can turn fair the moment the priest wants it to be fair? Look, the sun comes out instantly and there is not a speck of cloud anywhere!”
The king gave the command for the carriage to be returned to the palace, for he wanted to certify the travel rescript and permit the Tang Monk to pass through. Just as he was about to use his treasure seal, the three Daoists all went forward and stopped him, saying, “Your Majesty, this downpour of rain cannot be regarded as the monk’s merit, for it still owes its origin to the strength of the Daoist Gate.” The king said, “You just claimed that the Dragon Kings were not home and that was why it didn’t rain. He walked up there, exercised his quiet work of fervent prayers, and rain came down at once. How could you strive with him for credit?”