by Unknown
Two ears that whip the wind in hu-hu sound.
Arrowlike hairs behind his head are seen;
His whole body’s skin is both coarse and green.
His hands hold up a thing bizarre and queer:
A muckrake of nine prongs which all men fear.
Forcing himself to be bold, the monster-spirit shouted: “Where did you come from? What is your name? Tell me quickly, and I’ll spare your life!” With a chuckle Eight Rules said, “My child, so you don’t recognize your Ancestor Zhu! Come up here and I’ll recite for you:
With huge mouth and fangs I’ve great magic might.
Emperor Jade made me Marshal Heavenly Reeds.
The boss of Heaven’s eighty-thousand marines,
Comforts and joys I had in the halls of light.
Because I mocked Chang’e when I was drunk
And flaunted my strength at a wrongful hour—
One shove of my snout toppled Tushita;
Queen Mother’s divine herbs I then devoured—
Emperor Jade pounded me two thousand times
And banished me from the Three Heavens realm.
Though told to nourish my primal spirit,
I became again a monster down below.
About to marry at the Village Gao,
I met Brother Sun—’twas my wretched fate!
Quite defeated by his golden-hooped rod,
I had to bow and take the Buddhist vow:
A coolie who bears luggage and leads the horse,
Who owes, in former life, the Tang Monk a debt!
This iron-legged Heavenly Reed’s name is Zhu;
And my religious name is Zhu Eight Rules.”
On hearing these words, the monster-spirit snapped, “So you’re the disciple of the Tang Monk. I’ve always heard that the flesh of the Tang Monk is most edible. Now that you’ve barged in here, you think I’ll spare you? Don’t run away! Watch my club!”
“Cursed beast!” said Eight Rules. “So you used to be a Doctor in Dyeing!”
“Why was I a Doctor in Dyeing?” asked the monster-spirit.
“If you weren’t,” replied Eight Rules, “how would you know the use of a stirring club?” The fiend, of course, did not permit any further chatter; he drew near and struck madly. The two of them thus began quite a furious battle in the fold of the mountain:
The nine-pronged muckrake,
One single iron club—
The rake in motion churned like violent wind;
The club used deftly flew like sudden rain.
One was a nameless, vile fiend blocking the mountain path;
One was sinful Heavenly Reeds helping Nature’s lord.
With Nature righted, why fear demons or fiends?
On tall mountains, earth would not beget gold.
That one’s club parried like a serpent bolting from the deep;
This one’s rake came like a dragon breaking from the banks.
Their shouts, thunderous, rocked mountains and streams;
Their cries, heroic, stirred the depths of earth.
Two valiant fighters each showing his power
To wage a life-risking contest of might.
Summoning his own powers, Eight Rules engaged the monster-spirit, who also shouted for the little fiends to have his opponent encircled.
We shall leave them for the moment and tell you instead about Pilgrim, who, standing behind the Tang Monk, burst out laughing all of a sudden. “Elder Brother,” asked Sha Monk, “why are you snickering?”
“Zhu Eight Rules is truly idiotic!” said Pilgrim. “When he heard that people were feeding monks, he was deceived into leaving immediately and still hasn’t returned after all this time. If his rake managed to beat back a monster-spirit, you would be able to watch him come back in triumph and clamor for merit. But if he could not withstand him and got himself captured, then that would be my misfortune also, for I don’t know how many times, backward and forward, he would castigate me as BanHorsePlague. Wujing, stop talking to me for a while. Let me go see what’s happening.”
Dear Great Sage! Without letting the elder know, he quietly pulled a hair from the back of his head and blew his immortal breath on it, crying, “Change!” It changed into his appearance to accompany both Sha Monk and the elder. His true body left with his spirit to shoot up into the air and look: he soon discovered that Idiot, surrounded by the fiends, was gradually losing ground, the movements of his muckrake slackening.
Pilgrim could no longer restrain himself; lowering his cloud, he cried out in a loud voice, “Don’t worry Eight Rules! Old Monkey’s here!” When that Idiot heard Pilgrim’s voice, he was stirred to greater strength than ever as he attacked madly with his rake. Unable to withstand him, the monster-spirit said, “A moment ago this monk was beginning to weaken. Why is it that he has turned more ferocious all at once?”
“My child,” said Eight Rules, “you shouldn’t try to oppress me! A family member of mine has arrived!” Ever more fiercely he delivered blows at his opponent’s head and face, until the monster-spirit could hardly parry his blows and led the other monsters to retreat in defeat. When Pilgrim saw the monster-spirit flee, however, he did not draw near. Turning his cloud around, he went back to where he had been, and with one shake retrieved his hair. Being of fleshly eyes and mortal stock, the elder did not perceive what had taken place.
In a little while, Idiot also returned; though he was the winner, he had been so exercised that he was sniveling from the nose and foaming at the mouth. Panting hard, he walked near to call out, “Master!” Astonished by the sight of him, the elder said, “Eight Rules, you went to cut some grass for the horse. How is it that you’re returning in such terrible shape? Could it be that people on the mountain are guarding the grass and refuse to let you cut it?”
Putting down his rake, Idiot began to slap his head and stamp his feet, saying, “Master, don’t ask! If I told you, I’d be embarrassed to death!”
“Why?” asked the elder.
Eight Rules said, “Elder Brother tricked me! He said at first that there was no monster-spirit in the wind and fog, that there was no evil omen. It was, he said, a village, and its families were devoted to virtue. They were steaming white-grain rice and bleached-flour buns to feed the monks. Since I thought it was the truth and was feeling so hungry, I wanted to get there and beg some first, on the excuse that I was cutting grass for the horse. Little did I expect that there would be quite a few fiends, who had me surrounded. I have been fighting bitterly with them all this time. If it hadn’t been for the assistance lent by Elder Brother’s mourning staff, I would have never escaped the net and come back here.”
On one side Pilgrim began to laugh, saying, “This Idiot’s babbling! The moment you become a thief, you like to shift the blame on a whole bunch of people. I was watching Master right here. Since when did I leave his side?”
“That’s right!” said the elder. “Wukong hasn’t left me at all.”
Jumping up and down, Eight Rules screamed, “Master, you just don’t know. He has an alibi!”
The elder said, “Wukong, are there really fiends?” Knowing that he could no longer fool him, Pilgrim bowed and said, chuckling, “There are a few small ones, but they don’t dare bother us. Eight Rules, come over here. I want to entrust you with something truly worthwhile. When we escort Master through this rugged mountain road, we should act as if we were on military maneuvers.”
“What would we do if we were?” asked Eight Rules.
“You can be the path-finding general and open up the road in front,” replied Pilgrim. “You needn’t do anything if the monster-spirit doesn’t show up, but if he appears, you fight with him. If you prevail, it will be regarded as your meritorious fruit.” Eight Rules calculated that the monster-spirit’s abilities were about the same as his, and so he said, “I don’t mind dying at his hands! Let me lead the way!”
“This Idiot!” said Pilgrim with a chuckle, “If he mouths such unlucky words first, how can h
e make any progress?” Eight Rules said, “Elder Brother, do you know the proverb?
A prince at a banquet
Will either be drunk or fed;
A fighter on the field
Will either be hurt or dead.
I want to say something amiss first, and then I may prove to be the stronger afterward.” Delighted, Pilgrim saddled the horse at once and asked the master to mount. With Sha Monk toting the luggage, they all followed Eight Rules into the mountain, and we shall leave them for the moment.
We tell you instead about that monster-spirit, who led those several defeated little fiends back to their own cave. Taking a seat high on a rocky edge, he fell completely silent. Many of the little fiends who had remained behind as household guards crowded around him to ask, “Great King, when you go out, you frequently return in a happy mood. Why are you so troubled today?”
“Little ones,” replied the old monster, “normally when I go out to patrol the mountain, I grab a few humans or beasts—regardless of where they are from—to take back home for you to feast on. Today my luck’s rather poor, for I ran into an adversary.”
“What adversary?” asked the little monsters.
“He happens to be a monk,” replied the old monster, “a disciple of the scripture-seeker Tang Monk from the Land of the East, whose name is Zhu Eight Rules. I was defeated by blows from his muckrake. I’m damn mad! For years I’ve heard people say that the Tang Monk is an arhat who has practiced austerities in ten incarnations. If someone eats a piece of his flesh, his age will be lengthened, and he’ll attain longevity. Little did I expect him to arrive this day at our mountain. I wanted so badly to seize him and have him steamed for food, but I didn’t know he had a disciple like that under him.”
He had hardly finished speaking when a little monster stepped forward from the ranks. Facing the old monster above, he sobbed three times aloud and then he laughed three times. “Why are you weeping and crying?” snapped the old monster. The little monster knelt down to say, “Just now the great king says that he wants to eat the Tang Monk, but I would like to tell you that this monk’s flesh is impossible to eat.”
The old monster said, “People everywhere claim that one piece of his flesh will enable one to live long without growing old, to acquire an age as lasting as Heaven’s. Why do you say that it’s impossible to eat?”
“If it were possible,” replied the little monster, “he wouldn’t have made it here, for he would have been devoured by monster-spirits elsewhere. He has three disciples under him, you see.” “Do you know which three?” asked the old monster. “His eldest disciple is Pilgrim Sun,” said the little monster, “and his third disciple is Sha Monk. This Zhu Eight Rules is his second disciple.”
“How strong is Sha Monk when compared with Zhu Eight Rules?” asked the old monster.
“About the same,” replied the little monster.
“What about that Pilgrim Sun? How does he compare with Zhu?”
Sticking out his tongue, the little monster said, “I dare not speak! That Pilgrim Sun has vast magic powers and knows many ways of transformation! Five hundred years ago, he caused great disturbance at the Celestial Palace. Those Twenty-eight Constellations3 from the Region Above, the Nine Luminaries, the Twelve Horary Branches, the Five Nobles and Four Ministers, the Stars of East and West, the Gods of North and South, the Deities of the Five Mountains and the Four Rivers, and the divine warriors of entire Heaven could not tangle successfully with him. How could you have the nerve to want to eat the Tang Monk?”
“How do you know so much about him?” asked the old monster.
The little monster said, “I used to live with the great kings of the Lion-Camel Cave at the Lion-Camel Ridge.4 Those great kings, not knowing anything better, wanted to devour the Tang Monk. When Pilgrim Sun used his golden-hooped rod to fight inside our door, alas, he reduced us to the condition like the title of a domino combination: Minus One, Abolish Six! I was intelligent enough, fortunately, to slip out the back door and come here to be received by the great king. That’s how I found out about his abilities!” When the old monster heard these words, he paled with fright, for as the saying goes, “Even a great general is afraid of augury.” When he heard a member of his own household speaking like that, how could he not be frightened?
At that anxious moment, another little monster went forward to say, “Great King, don’t be upset, and don’t be frightened. The proverb tells us that ‘Success comes step-by-step.’ If you desire to devour the Tang Monk, let me offer you a plan to seize him.”
“What sort of plan do you have?” asked the old monster.
“One called ‘The Plan of Plum Blossoms with Parted Petals,’” answered the little monster. “What do you mean by that?” asked the old monster.
The little monster said, “Take a roll call of all the monsters in the cave, young and old; select a hundred out of the thousands, ten out of the hundred, and finally three out of those ten. These three must all have abilities and the capacity for transformation. They will all change into the great king’s appearance, wearing his armor and holding his club, and then be placed in ambush. The first one will engage Zhu Eight Rules in battle; the next, Pilgrim Sun; and the third, Sha Monk. We shall risk these three little monsters to induce those three brothers to leave their master. Then the great king will be able to stretch forth his hand from midair to seize the Tang Monk like ‘Fetching Things from One’s Pocket,’ like ‘Squeezing a Fly in the Fish Bowl.’ That’s not too difficult, is it?”
On hearing this the old monster was filled with delight. “This is a most marvelous plan!” said he. “When we set out, I won’t do anything if we can’t catch the Tang Monk. But if we do catch him, I’ll not treat you lightly. I’ll appoint you as our vanguard officer.” The little monster kowtowed to thank him before giving the order for the roll call. When all the monster-spirits of the cave, young and old, were summoned into their presence, three able little monsters were indeed selected. All of them were told to change into the form of the old monster; each holding the iron club, they were placed in ambuscade to wait for the Tang Monk, and we shall leave them there for the moment.
We tell you now about our Elder Tang who, free of cares and worries, followed Eight Rules up the main road. After they had proceeded for a long time, a loud pop from the side of the road suddenly brought out a little monster, who rushed forward and attempted to seize the elder. “Eight Rules,” cried Pilgrim Sun, “the monster-spirit is here! Why don’t you do something?”
Without bothering to distinguish one from the other, our Idiot whipped out his muckrake and dashed forward to attack madly the monster-spirit, who met his blows with an iron club. Back and forth, the two of them fought beneath the mountain slope, when another fiend leaped out from some bushes with a pop and headed straight for the Tang Monk.
“Master, things are going wrong!” cried Pilgrim. “Eight Rules is so blind that he has allowed the monster-spirit to slip by him to come here to grab you. Let old Monkey go beat him off!” Hurriedly he wielded his rod and rushed forward, bellowing, “Where are you going? Watch my rod!” Without uttering a word, the monster-spirit lifted his club to meet him. Beneath the grassy knoll the two of them thus rushed together, and as they fought, another monster-spirit leaped out from behind the mountain to the howling of a strong gust and headed straight for the Tang Monk.
When Sha Monk saw him, he was horrified. “Master!” he cried. “Both Big Brother and Second Elder Brother must be so dim of sight that they allowed the monster-spirit to slip past them and come to grab you! Sit here on the horse, and let old Sand go capture him!” This monk, without distinguishing between good and ill either, immediately wielded the staff to block the iron club of the monster-spirit. They strove together most bitterly, shouting and screaming at each other as they gradually drifted away. When the old fiend, flying through the air, discovered the Tang Monk sitting all alone on the horse, he reached down with his five steellike claws; with one grasp he lifted the mas
ter away from the horse and stirrup. The monster-spirit then took him away in a gust of wind. How pitiful! This is why it’s hard for
Chan-nature, demon-plagued, can’t bear right fruit.
River Float meets again his Ill-luck Star!
Lowering the wind, the old monster brought the Tang Monk into the cave, shouting, “Vanguard!” The little fiend who planned all this ran forward to kneel down, saying, “I dare not accept the title! I dare not accept the title!”
“Why do you say this?” asked the old monster. “When a great general gives his word, it’s as if the white has been dyed black! Just now I told you that I wouldn’t do anything if we couldn’t catch the Tang Monk, but if we did, you would be appointed vanguard of our forces. Today your marvelous plan indeed succeeded. How could I betray you? You may bring the Tang Monk over here, and ask the little ones to fetch water and scrub the pan, to haul in the wood and start a fire. Steam him a bit, so you and I can eat a piece of his flesh to lengthen our age.”
“Great King,” said the vanguard, “let’s not eat him just yet.”
The old fiend said, “We’ve captured him. Why shouldn’t we eat him?” The vanguard replied, “Of course the great king may eat him, and if you do, both Zhu Eight Rules and Sha Monk even may be persuaded that they should overlook the matter. But that bossy Pilgrim Sun, I fear, may let loose his viciousness once he learns that we have devoured his master. He doesn’t even have to come fight with us. All he needs do is plunge that golden-hooped rod of his into the midriff of our mountain; it’ll create such a gaping hole that the mountain itself will topple over. Then we won’t even have a place to stay.”
“Vanguard,” said the old fiend, “what sort of noble opinion do you have?”
“As I see the matter,” replied the vanguard, “you should send the Tang Monk into the back garden and tie him to a tree. Don’t feed him any rice for two or three days. That’ll clean up his inside, for one thing, and for another, it should give us the time we need until his three disciples stop searching for him at our door. When we know for certain that they have left, we’ll then take him out and enjoy him at our leisure. Isn’t that better?”