The Journey to the West, Revised Edition, Volume 2

by Unknown

  Her jadelike hand held up a knife

  With which she peeled off bamboo skin.

  When Pilgrim saw her, he could not refrain from calling aloud, “Bodhisattva, your disciple, Sun Wukong, pays you sincere homage.” “Wait outside,” commanded the Bodhisattva. Pilgrim went to his knees to kowtow, saying, “Bodhisattva, my master is facing a terrible ordeal. I came especially to ask you concerning the origin of the fiend at Heaven-Reaching River.” “Go out of the grove,” said the Bodhisattva, “and wait till I come out.”

  Not daring to force her, Pilgrim had no choice but to walk out of the bamboo grove. He said to the various devas, “The Bodhisattva seems to be all wrapped up today in her domestic affairs. Why is she not sitting at her lotus platform? Why is she not made up? Why does she look so gloomy, making bamboo slips in the grove?” “We don’t know,” said the deities. “When she left the cave this morning, she went at once into the grove before she was even properly dressed. She told us also to wait for the Great Sage, and she must be doing something for your affairs.” Pilgrim could do nothing but wait.

  After awhile, the Bodhisattva emerged from the grove holding a purple-bamboo basket. “Wukong,” she said, “I’ll go with you to rescue the Tang Monk.” Kneeling down hurriedly, Pilgrim said, “Your disciple dares not press you. Let the Bodhisattva dress and ascend her seat first.” “No need to dress,” said the Bodhisattva. “I can go with you just like this.” Abandoning the devas, the Bodhisattva mounted the auspicious clouds immediately and rose into the air. Great Sage Sun had to follow her!

  In a moment, they arrived at the Heaven-Reaching River. On seeing them, Eight Rules said to Sha Monk, “Elder Brother is so impulsive! I wonder what sort of wild clamor he made at South Sea that forced an undressed and unadorned Bodhisattva to come here!” Hardly had he finished speaking when the Bodhisattva landed on the bank. Bowing, the two disciples said, “Bodhisattva, we have intruded upon you. Please forgive us!” Untying her sash from her vest, the Bodhisattva fastened it to the basket and rose halfway into the air on the clouds. She held the sash and lowered the basket into the river, pulling it toward the upper reach. Then she recited a spell, saying, “The dead depart; the living remain! The dead depart, the living remain!” She repeated this seven times and then lifted up the basket. Inside was a shiny goldfish, still blinking its eyes and tossing about.

  “Wukong,” cried the Bodhisattva, “go into the water quickly and rescue your master.”

  “But we have not yet captured the fiend,” said Pilgrim. “How could we rescue Master?” “Isn’t the fiend in the basket?” asked the Bodhisattva. Bowing, Eight Rules and Sha Monk said, “How could the little fish get to be so powerful?”

  “He is a goldfish reared in my lotus pond,” said the Bodhisattva. “Every day, he would float with the current to the surface to listen to my lectures, and his powers were acquired from his self-cultivation. That nine-petaled bronze mallet is a stalk supporting an unopened lotus bud, which the process of his magic cultivation has made into a weapon. I don’t know which day it was when high tide carried him to this place. When I watched my flowers leaning on the railing this morning, this fellow did not come out to greet me. I made calculations then by consulting the grooves on my fingers and learned that he had become a spirit here, seeking to harm your master. That was why I did not even bother to put on my clothes or jewels, for I was exercising my divine powers to fashion this basket to catch him.”

  “Bodhisattva,” said Pilgrim, “please remain here for a moment. Let me go and call together the believers in the Chen village so that they may gaze upon your golden visage. This will be your great favor toward them, and, moreover, the account of how you have captured the fiend will help these mortal humans to become your devout worshippers.” “All right,” said the Bodhisattva. “Go and call them together quickly.” Eight Rules and Sha Monk sprinted back to the village, screaming, “Come, all of you, to see the living Bodhisattva Guanyin!” The inhabitants of the entire village, young and old, all rushed to the edge of the river. Without regard for the mud and water, they all knelt down and kowtowed. Someone skilled in painting among them at once made a portrait of the goddess, and that was how the picture of the Guanyin with a fish basket came about. Thereafter, the Bodhisattva returned to South Sea.

  Opening a path in the water, Eight Rules and Sha Monk went straight to the Sea-Turtle House to search for their master. The watery fiends and fish spirits inside were all dead. They went to the rear of the palace and opened the stone box. Then they carried the Tang Monk to leave the waves and to be reunited with the others on the shore. Chen Qing and his brother in gratitude kowtowed to them, saying, “Venerable Father, you should have listened to our pleadings and you would not have had to undergo such suffering.” “No need to say that anymore,” said Pilgrim. “You people here will have no need to make any more sacrifices next year, for the Great King has been done away with. He will take no more lives. Mr. Chen, now we must count on you to find a boat to take us across the river.” “We have one! We have one!” said Chen Qing. He at once gave the order to build a boat; when the villagers heard this, everyone responded with enthusiasm. One of them said that he would purchase the mast and another volunteered to get the oars. Some of them wanted to bring the ropes, while still others promised to hire the sailors.

  As they were making such clamor by the bank of the river, they suddenly heard this cry coming from the middle of the water: “Great Sage Sun, there is no need for a boat that will only be a waste of money and materials. I’ll take you four across the river.” When the people heard this, they were so frightened that the timid ones fled back to the village, while the more courageous among them, trembling all over, stole glances at where the voice was coming from. Instantly, out crawled a strange creature from the depths. “How did he look?” you ask. He is

  A square-headed divine not of this world;

  His name: a water god most subtle and shrewd.

  His tail can life prolong a thousand years;

  He hides himself in a hundred rivers deep.

  Vaulting on waves and currents he comes to shore;

  Facing the sun and wind he lies on the beach.

  Truly enlightened he nourishes his breath,

  An old turtle, scabby headed and white shelled.

  “Great Sage,” cried the old sea-turtle again, “don’t build the boat. I’ll take all of you, master and disciples, across the river.” Raising high his iron rod, Pilgrim said, “Cursed creature! If you dare approach me, I’ll kill you with one blow of my rod!” “I am grateful to the kindness of the Great Sage,” said the old turtle, “and that’s why I want to help all of you with the best intention. Why do you want to hit me instead?” “What kindness have I shown you?” asked Pilgrim.

  The old turtle said, “Great Sage, you don’t realize that the Sea-Turtle House down below happens to be my residence, a place my ancestors handed down to me from generation to generation. Since I had awakened to my source and origin, I succeeded in nourishing my numinous breath to enable me to practice self-cultivation here. The house had been rebuilt by me and named the Sea-Turtle House. Nine years ago, that fiend arrived during a huge tidal wave, and at once he let loose his violence and fought with me. He slew many of my children and robbed me of many of my kinsfolk. I was no match for him, and my house was taken away by force. Now I am truly indebted to the Great Sage, who in his attempt to rescue his master, has succeeded in bringing the Bodhisattva Guanyin here to disperse all the fiendish miasma. With the monster seized, the house belongs to me once again. Now I can be reunited with my kin, young and old; I can occupy my old home again without having to rest on earth or recline on mud. This favor of yours is indeed great as a mountain and deep as the sea. But it is not just I myself who am indebted to you. The entire village here has been exempted from ever having to make the annual sacrifice, and countless children’s lives are spared. This is indeed a case of the double gain with a single move. Dare I not show my gratitude and try to r
epay you?”

  Secretly pleased by what he heard, Pilgrim put away his iron rod and said, “Are you really sincere about this?” The old turtle said, “I’m a recipient of the Great Sage’s profound kindness. How dare I play false?” “Swear to Heaven that you are telling the truth,” said Pilgrim. Opening wide his huge red mouth toward the sky, the old turtle said, “If I do not truly intend to send the Tang Monk across the Heaven-Reaching River, may my body turn into blood!” “You come here then,” said Pilgrim, chuckling. Swimming to the edge of the river, the old turtle then crawled up the bank. When the people gathered about him to take a look, they found a huge white globe of a shell, about forty feet in its circumference. “Master,” said Pilgrim, “we can get on him and cross over.” Tripitaka said, “Disciple, even that thick ice before gave us difficulty. I wonder if this turtle’s carapace is safe at all.” “Please do not worry, Master,” said the old turtle, “I’m much safer than that thick ice! If I make even one slip, I’ll not achieve my merit.” “O Master!” said Pilgrim. “It is not likely for a creature who has acquired human speech to lie. Brothers, bring us the horse! Quick!”

  As they went to the edge of the river, the entire Chen village, young and old, all came to bow to them. After Pilgrim led the horse up onto the back of the old turtle, he asked the Tang Monk to stand to the left of the horse’s neck, Sha Monk to the right, and Eight Rules at the back. Pilgrim himself stood in front of the horse. Fearing that the turtle might cause trouble nevertheless, he untied the sash of his tiger-skin kilt and fastened it to the nose of the turtle, pulling it up like a rein. He placed one foot on the turtle’s back and the other foot on its head; one hand held the iron rod while the other held the rein. “Old Turtle,” said he, “go slowly. One wrong move and I’ll give your head a blow!” “I dare not! I dare not!” said the old turtle. Stretching forth his four legs, the turtle trod on the surface of the water as smoothly as if he were walking on level ground. The people on shore all burned incense and kowtowed, everyone chanting, “Namo Amitābha!” It was truly as if real arhats were descending to earth and living Bodhisattvas revealing themselves. The people worshipped until they could no longer see the pilgrims before they dispersed, and we shall speak no more of them.

  We tell you instead about the master riding on the white turtle; in less than a day, they crossed the Heaven-Reaching River of eight hundred miles. With dry hands and feet, they went ashore, As Tripitaka landed, he pressed his palms together to give thanks, saying, “I have troubled you, old Turtle, but there is nothing I can give you. Let me acquire the scriptures first, and when I come back, I’ll thank you then with a gift.” The old turtle said, “There’s no need for any gift from you, old Master. But I have heard that the Buddhist Patriarch in the Western Heaven has not only transcended the process of birth and death, but he has also the knowledge of past and future. I have practiced self-cultivation here for a full thirteen hundred years. Though I have lengthened my age and lightened my body, and I have also acquired the knowledge of human speech, I find it difficult to shed my original shell. When you get to the Western Heaven, I beg the old Master to inquire of the Buddhist Patriarch and see when I may cast off my original shell to acquire a human body.” Tripitaka said, “I promise to ask.” Then the old turtle turned around and plunged back into the water. Pilgrim helped Tang Monk to mount the horse, Eight Rules poled the luggage, and Sha Monk took up the rear. Master and disciples found the main road and started out again toward the West. Thus it was that

  The holy monk sought Buddha by decree

  Through a vast distance and many ordeals.

  His mind was steadfast, undaunted by death;

  He crossed Heaven River on a turtle’s back.

  We don’t know exactly how far they still have to go, or whether good or evil befalls them; let’s listen to the explanation in the next chapter.

  FIFTY

  Nature follows confused feelings through lust and desire;

  Faint spirit and moved mind meet a demon chief.

  The poem says:

  Sweep often the grounds of the mind;

  Wipe clean the dust of affections.

  Let not the pit ensnare your Buddha-self.

  Only when essential self’s clean

  May you your primal source convene.

  You must lift and trim nature’s wick

  To breathe thus freely at Caoxi.1

  Keep the horse and the ape from sounding harsh:

  Through night and day a breath serene

  Will let all your technique be seen.

  The tune of this lyric poem is called A Southern Branch. It is meant to describe the Tang Monk and how he escaped from his ordeal of ice in the Heaven-Reaching River and how he ascended the other shore by standing on the white turtle. Master and the disciples, the four of them, followed the main road and set out again toward the West. It was the time of midwinter, and they saw

  Faint outlines of woodlands in the mists,

  Clear frames of bare mountains in the stream.

  As master and disciples walked along, they again came upon a huge mountain blocking their way. The road turned exceedingly narrow and the cliffs were tall; moreover, there were many rocks and the ridges were so steep that it would be difficult for humans or horses to proceed. Reining in his horse, Tripitaka called out, “Disciples.” Pilgrim led Zhu Eight Rules and Sha Monk forward, saying, “Master, what do you have to say?” “Look how tall the mountain is ahead of us,” said Tripitaka. “I fear that tigers and wolves might run rampant up there, or strange beasts might come out to attack us. Be careful!” “Please do not worry, Master,” said Pilgrim. “We three brothers are united in a single effort to embrace the Right and seek the Real. We will exercise our power to disperse monsters and subdue fiends. You needn’t be afraid of any tigers or wolves!” On hearing his words, Tripitaka felt more assured and urged his horse forward to ascend the cliff. As they did so, they glanced around and saw that it was quite a mountain indeed.

  Rugged and soaring—

  Pointed and towering—

  Rugged and soaring it rises to the sky;

  Pointed and towering it blocks the blue heavens.

  Strange rocks piled high like tigers sitting;

  Hoary pines aslant like dragons flying.

  Atop the peak a bird sings a pretty song;

  Before the cliff the plums waft a strong, sweet scent.

  The brook swells and surges, its water cold;

  The clouds assail the summit, dense and dark.

  You also feel the drifting snow,

  The biting wind,

  And the mountain’s roaring, famished tiger.

  Jackdaws pick through the trees but find no nest;

  Wild deer search in vain for a place to rest.

  Pity the travelers, who can hardly walk:

  Crestfallen, downcast, they cover their heads!

  Master and disciples, the four of them, braved the snow and cold to scale, shivering, the rugged peak. After they passed it, they saw in the distance a towered building in the fold of the mountain and some charming buildings nearby. Delighted, the Tang Monk said on his horse, “O Disciples, I feel so cold and hungry today! It’s a good thing that there are in the fold of the mountain that building and the houses. It has to be either a village, a mansion, an abbey, or a monastery. Let’s go and beg for some food. We can move on after we have a meal.” When Pilgrim heard this, he opened wide his eyes to look and saw that the place was shrouded with baleful clouds and diabolical air. “Master,” he turned to speak to the Tang Monk, “that’s not a good place.” “There are buildings and houses,” said Tripitaka. “Why isn’t it a good place?” “O Master,” said Pilgrim with a snicker, “how could you know? There are plenty of monsters and demons on the way to the West, and they are most capable of devising2 some form of houses or dwellings. It doesn’t matter whether it is a towered building or a pavilion, or some such edifice; any one of these can be merely a transformation to deceive people. You have heard of t
he saying that ‘a dragon can beget nine kinds of offspring.’ One of them is the giant clam;3 the breath this creature emits is luminous and takes on the appearance of buildings and houses. When a big river is caught in inclement weather, that’s when the giant clam produces such a mirage. If some birds or crows happen to fly by and decide to rest their wings on these specious buildings, the clam will swallow them with one gulp. It’s a vicious trap. When I see how baleful the aura is over there, I must tell you not to approach it.”

  “So we can’t go over there,” said Tripitaka, “but I’m really hungry!” “If you are, Master, please dismount,” said Pilgrim. “Sit here on level ground and let me go somewhere to beg some vegetarian food for you to eat.” Tripitaka consented and dismounted. After Eight Rules took hold of the reins, Sha Monk put down the luggage and untied the wrap to take out the alms bowl to hand over to Pilgrim. Taking it in his hand, Pilgrim gave this instruction to Sha Monk: “Worthy Brother, don’t go forward. Just stand guard over Master sitting here. Wait until I come back with the food and we can then set out again to the West.” Sha Monk obeyed, and Pilgrim said once more to Tripitaka, “Master, that place in front of us betokens more evil than good. Don’t ever leave here and go elsewhere. Old Monkey is off to beg for food.” “Don’t talk anymore,” said the Tang Monk. “Just go quickly and come back. I’ll wait for you here.” Pilgrim turned and was about to leave, but he walked back again to say, “Master, I realize you can’t sit still for very long. Let me provide you with some means of safety.” He took out his golden-hooped rod and drew on the level ground a large circle. The Tang Monk was asked to sit in its middle, while Eight Rules and Sha Monk stood by either side of him. The horse and the luggage, too, were placed near them. Then Pilgrim pressed his palms together to bow to the Tang Monk, saying, “The circle drawn by old Monkey here is as strong as an iron wall. No matter what they are—tigers, wolves, ogres, or demons—they will not dare come near you. But you must not step out of the circle. Remain seated inside and no harm will come to you. But if you leave the circle, you will in all likelihood meet with danger. Please take heed of my words! Please take heed of my words!” Tripitaka agreed and all three of them sat down solemnly in the circle.