Journey to the West (vol. 1)

by Wu Cheng-En

  “Don't be afraid,” said the Great Immortal with a smile. “Calm down and tell us all about it.”

  “Master,” said Pure Wind, “the Tang Priest from the East did come. It was quite soon after you had left. There were four monks and a horse-five of them altogether. We did as you had ordered us and picked two manfruits to offer him, but the venerable gentleman was too vulgar and stupid to know what our treasures were. He said that they were newborn babies and refused to eat any, so we ate one each. Little did we imagine that one of his three disciples called Brother Sun Wukong, or Monkey, would steal four manfruits for them to eat. We spoke to him very reasonably, but he denied it and secretly used his magic. It's terrible…” At this point the two boys could no longer hold back the tears that now streamed down their cheeks. “Did the monk strike you?” asked the immortals. “No,” said Bright Moon, “he only felled our manfruit tree.”

  The Great Immortal did not lose his temper when he heard their story, “Don't cry,” he said, “don't cry. What you don't realize is that Monkey is an Immortal of the Supreme Monad, and that he played tremendous havoc in the Heavenly Palace. He has vast magic powers. But he has knocked our tree over. Could you recognize those monks?”

  “I could recognize all of them,” replied Pure Wind.

  “In that case come with me,” said the Great Immortal. “The rest of you are to prepare the instruments of torture and be ready to flog them when we come back.”

  The other Immortals did as they were told while the Great Immortal, Bright Moon and Pure Wind pursued Sanzang on a beam of auspicious light. It took them but an instant to cover three hundred miles. The Great Immortal stood on the edge of the clouds and gazed to the West, but he did not see Sanzang; then he turned round to look East and saw that he had left Sanzang over two hundred and fifty miles behind. Even riding all night that venerable gentleman had covered only forty miles, which was why the Great Immortal's cloud had overshot him by a great distance.

  “Master,” said one of the Immortal boys, “there's the Tang Priest, sitting under a tree by the side of the road.”

  “Yes, I'd seen him myself,” the Great Immortal replied. “You two go back and get some ropes ready, and I'll catch him myself.” Pure Wind and Bright Moon went back.

  The Great Immortal landed his cloud, shook himself, and turned into and itinerant Taoist. Do you know what he looked like?

  He wore a patchwork gown,

  Tied with Lu Dongbin sash,

  Waving a fly-whisk in his hand

  He tapped a musical drum.

  The grass sandals on his feet had three ears,

  His head was wrapped in a sun turban.

  As the wind filled his sleeves

  He sang The Moon Is High.

  “Greetings, venerable sir,” he called, raising his hands. “Oh, I'm sorry I didn't notice you before,” replied Sanzang hastily.

  “Where are you from?” the Great Immortal asked. “And why are you in meditation during your journey?”

  “I have been sent by the Great Tang in the East to fetch the scriptures from the Western Heaven,” Sanzang said, “and I'm taking a rest along the way.”

  “You must have crossed my desolate mountain if you have come from the East.”

  “May I ask, Immortal sir, which mountain is yours?”

  “My humble abode is the Wuzhuang Temple on the Mountain of Infinite Longevity.”

  “We didn't come that way,” said Monkey, who realized what was happening. “We've only just started out.”

  The Great Immortal pointed at him and laughed. “I'll show you, you damned ape. Who do you think you're fooling? I know that you knocked our manfruit tree down and came here during the night. You had better confess: you won't get away with concealing anything. Stay where you are, and give me back that tree at once.” Monkey flared up at this, and with no further discussion he struck at the Great Immortal's head with his cudgel. The Great Immortal twisted away from the blow and went straight up into the sky on a beam of light, closely pursued by Monkey on a cloud. In mid-air the Great Immortal reverted to his true appearance, and this is what he looked like:

  A golden crown on his head,

  A No-worries cloak of crane's down on his body.

  A pair of turned-up sandals on his feet,

  And round his waist a belt of silk.

  His body was like a child's,

  His face was that of a beautiful woman.

  A wispy beard floated down from his chin,

  And the hair on his temples was crow-black.

  He met Monkey unarmed

  With only a jade-handled whisk in his hands.

  Monkey struck wildly at him with his club, only to be parried to left and right by the Great Immortal's whisk. After two or three rounds the Great Immortal did a “Wrapping Heaven and Earth in His Sleeve” trick, waving his sleeve gently in the breeze as he stood amid the clouds, then sweeping it across the ground and gathering up the four pilgrims and their horse in it.

  “Hell,” said Pig, “We're all caught in a bag.”

  “It isn't a bag, you idiot,” said Monkey, “he's caught us all in his sleeve.”

  “It doesn't matter, anyhow,” said Pig. “I can make a hole in it with a single blow of my rake that we can all get through. Then we'll be able to drop out when he relaxes his grip on us.” But however desperately he struck at the fabric he could make no impression on it: although it was soft when held in the hand it was harder than iron when hit.

  The Great Immortal turned his cloud round, went straight back to the Wuzhuang Temple, landed, sat down, and told his disciples to fetch rope. Then, with all the junior Immortals in attendance, he took the Tang Priest out of his sleeve as if he were a puppet and had him tied to one of the pillars of the main hall. After that he took the other three out and tied each of them to a pillar. The horse was taken out, tethered, and fed in the courtyard, and their luggage he threw under the covered walk.

  “Disciples,” he said, “these priests are men of religion, so we cannot use swords, spears or axes on them. You'd better fetch a leather whip and give them a flogging for me-that will make me feel better about the manfruit.” The disciples immediately produced a whip-not an oxhide, sheepskin, deerskin or calfskin whip, but a seven-starred dragon-skin one-and were told to soak it in water. A brawny young Immortal was told to take a firm grip on it. “Master,” he said, “which of them stall I flog first?”

  “Sanzang is guilty of gross disrespect,” the Great Immortal replied, “flog him first.”

  “That old priest of ours couldn't stand a flogging,” thought Monkey when he heard this, “and if he died under the lash the fault would be mine.” Finding the thought of this unbearable, he spoke up and said, “You're wrong, sir. I stole the fruit, I ate the fruit, and I pushed the tree over. Why flog him first when you ought to be flogging me?”

  “That damn monkey has a point,” said the Great Immortal with a smile, “so you'd better flog him first.”

  “How many strokes?” the junior Immortal asked.

  “Give him thirty,” the Great Immortal replied, “to match the number of fruits.” The junior Immortal whirled the lash and started to bring it down. Monkey, frightened that the Immortal would have great magical powers, opened his eyes wide and looked carefully to see where he was going to be hit, and it turned out to be on his legs. He twisted at the waist, shouted “Change!” turned them into a pair of wrought-iron legs, and watched the blows fall. The junior Immortal gave him thirty lashes, one after the other, until it was almost noon.

  “Sanzang must be flogged too,” the Great Immortal commanded, “for training his wicked disciple so slackly and letting him run wild.”

  The junior Immortal whirled the lash again and was going to strike Sanzang when Monkey said, “Sir, you're making another mistake. When I stole the fruit, my master knew nothing about it-he was talking to those two boys of yours in the main hall of the temple. This plot was hatched by us three disciples. Anyhow, even if he were guilty of sl
ackness in training me, I'm his disciple and should take the flogging for him. Flog me again.”

  “That damn monkey may be cunning and vicious, but he does have some sense of his obligations to his master. Very well then, flog him again.” The junior Immortal gave him another thirty strokes. Monkey looked down and watched his legs being flogged till they shone like mirrors but still he felt no pain.

  It was now drawing towards evening, and the Great Immortal said, “Put the lash to soak. We can continue that flogging tomorrow.” The junior Immortal took the lash away to be soaked while everyone retired to their quarters, and after supper they all went to bed.

  “It was because you three got me into this trouble that I was brought here to be punished,” moaned the venerable Sanzang to his three disciples as tears streamed down from his eyes. “Is that how you ought to treat me?”

  “Don't grumble,” Monkey replied. “I was the one to be flogged first, and you haven't felt the lash, so what have you got to groan about?”

  “I may not have been flogged,” Sanzang replied, “but it's agony being tied up like this.”

  “We're tied up too to keep you company,” said Friar Sand. “Will you all stop shouting?” said Monkey, “then we can be on our way again when we've taken a rest.”

  “You're showing off again, elder brother,” said Pig. “They've tied us up with hempen ropes and spurted water on them, so we're tightly bound. This isn't like the time we were shut in the hall of the temple and you unlocked the doors to let us out.”

  “I'm not boasting,” said Monkey. “I don't give a damn about their three hempen ropes sprayed with water. Even if they were coconut cables as thick as a ricebowl they would only be an autumn breeze.” Apart from him speaking, all was now silence. Splendid Monkey made himself smaller, slipped out of his bonds, and said, “Let's go, master.”

  “Save us too, elder brother,” pleaded a worried Friar Sand. “Shut up, shut up,” Monkey replied, then freed Sanzang, Pig and Friar Sand, straightened his tunic, tightened his belt, saddled the horse, collected their luggage from under the eaves, and went out through the temple gates with the others. “Go and cut down four of the willow-trees by that cliff,” he told Pig, who asked, “Whatever do you want them for?”

  “I've got a use for them,” Monkey replied. “Bring them here immediately.”

  The idiot Pig, who certainly had brute strength, went and felled each of them with a single bite, and came back holding them all in his arms. Monkey stripped off their tops and branches and told his two fellow-disciples to take the trunks back in and tie them up with the ropes as they themselves had been tied up. Then Monkey recited a spell, bit the tip of his tongue open, and spat blood over the trees. At his shout of “Change!” one of the trees turned into Sanzang, one turned into Monkey, and the other two became Friar Sand and Pig. They were all perfect likenesses; when questioned they would reply, and when called by their names they responded. The three disciples then hurried back to their master, and once more they traveled all night without stopping as they fled from the Wuzhuang Temple.

  By the time it was dawn the venerable Sanzang was swaying to and fro as he dozed in the saddle. “Master,” called Monkey when he noticed, “you're hopeless. You're a man of religion-how can you be finding it so exhausting? I can do without sleep for a thousand nights not feeling a bit tired. You'd better dismount and spare yourself the humiliation of being laughed at by a passer-by. Take a rest in one of the places under this hill where the wind is stored and the vapours gather before we go any further.”

  We shall leave them resting beside the path to tell how the Great Immortal got up at dawn, ate his meatless breakfast, and went to the hall. “Today Tang Sanzang is to be whipped,” he announced as he sent for the lash. The junior whirled it around and said to the Tang Priest, “I'm going to flog you.”

  “Flog away,” the willow tree replied.

  When he had given it thirty resounding lashes he whirled the whip around once more and said to Pig, “Now I'm going to flog you.”

  “Flog away,” the willow tree replied.

  When he came to flog Friar Sand, he too told him to go ahead. But when he came to flog Monkey, the real Monkey on the road shuddered and said, “Oh, no!”

  “What do you mean?” Sanzang asked.

  “When I turned the four willow trees into the four of us I thought that as he had me flogged twice yesterday he wouldn't flog me again today, but now he's lashing the magic body, my real body is feeling the pain. I'm putting an end to this magic.” With that he hastily recited an incantation to break the spell.

  Look at the terror of the Taoist boys as they throw down their leather whips and report, “Master, at first we were flogging the Priest from the Great Tang, but all we are flogging now are willow trunks. The Great Immortal laughed bitterly on hearing this and was full of admiration.

  “Brother Monkey really is a splendid Monkey King. I had heard that when he turned the Heavenly Palace upside-down, he could not even be caught with a Heaven and Earth Net, and now I see it must be true. I wouldn't mind your escaping, but why did you leave four willows tied up here to impersonate you? He shall be shown no mercy. After him!” As the words “After him” left his mouth, the Great Immortal sprang up on a cloud and looked West to see the monks carrying their bundles and spurring their horse as they went on their way. Bringing his cloud down he shouted, “Where are you going, Monkey? Give me back my manfruit tree.”

  “We're done for,” exclaimed Pig, “our enemy's come back.”

  “Put all your piety away for now, master,” said Monkey, “while we finish him off once and for all with a bit of evil; then we'll be able to escape.” The Tang Priest shivered and shook on hearing this, and before he could answer, the three disciples rushed forward, Friar Sand wielding his staff, Pig with his rake held high, and the Great Sage Monkey brandishing his iron cudgel. They surrounded the Great Immortal in mid-air and struck wildly at him. There are some verses about this terrible fight:

  Monkey did not know that the Immortal Zhen Yuan,

  The Conjoint Lord of the Age, had even deeper powers.

  While the three magic weapons fiercely whirled,

  His deer-tail fly-whisk gently waved.

  Parrying to left and right, he moved to and fro,

  Blocking blows from front and back he let them rush around.

  When night gave way to dawn they still were locked in combat.

  If they tarried here they would never reach the Western Heaven.

  The three of them went for him with their magic weapons, but the Great Immortal kept them at bay with his fly-whisk. After about an hour he opened wide his sleeve and caught up master, disciples, horse, and baggage in it once more. Then he turned his cloud around and went back to his temple, where all the Immortals greeted him. After taking his seat in the hall he took them out of his sleeve one by one. He had the Tang Priest tied to a stunted locust tree at the foot of the steps, with Pig and Friar Sand tied to trees next to him. Monkey was tied up upside-down, which made him think that he was going to be tortured and interrogated. When Monkey was tightly bound, the Great Immortal sent for ten long turban-cloths.

  “What a kind gentleman, Pig,” said Monkey, “he's sent for some cloth to make sleeves for us-with a bit less he could have made us cassocks.” The junior Immortals fetched home-woven cloth, and on being told by the Great Immortal to wrap up Pig and Friar Sand with it, they came forward to do so.

  “Excellent,” said Monkey, “excellent-you're being encoffined alive.” Within a few moments the three of them were wrapped up, and lacquer was then sent for. The Immortals quickly fetched some lacquer that they had tapped and dried themselves, with which they painted the three bandaged bodies all over except for the heads.

  “Never mind about our heads, sir,” said Pig, “but please leave us a hole at the bottom to shit through.”

  The Great Immortal then sent for a huge cauldron, at which Monkey said with a laugh, “You're in luck, Pig. I think they m
ust have brought the cauldron out to cook us some rice in.”

  “Fine,” said Pig, “I hope they give us some rice first-we'll make much better-looking ghosts if we die with our bellies full.”

  The Immortals carried out the large cauldron and put it under the steps, and the Great Immortal called for dry wood to be stacked up round it and set ablaze. “Ladle it full of pure oil,” he commanded, “and when it is hot enough to bubble, deep-fry Monkey in it to pay me back for my manfruit.”

  Monkey was secretly delighted to hear this. “This is just what I want,” He thought. “I haven't had a bath for ages, and my skin's getting rather itchy. I'd thoroughly appreciate a hot bath.” Very soon the oil was bubbling and Monkey was having reservations: he was afraid that the Immortal's magic might be hard for him to fathom, and that at first he might be unable to use his limbs in the cauldron. Hastily looking around him, he saw that there was a sundial to the East of the dais and a stone lion to the West. Monkey rolled towards it with a spring, bit off the end of his tongue, spurted blood all over the stone lion, and shouted “Change,” at which it turned into his own image, tied up in a bundle like himself. Then he extracted his spirit and went up into the clouds, from where he looked down at the Taoists.

  It was just at this moment that the junior Immortals reported, “The oil's boiling hard.”