by Unknown
Colored faces, round eyes
And two rugged horns;
Four ears10 most pointed,
And sparkling intelligence;
A body full of patterns like a colored painting
Or a large piece of brocade with floral designs.
The first one
Wears on his head a cap of warm fox fur;
His face is steamy and covered with hair.
The second one
Has draped on himself thin gauze flaming red,
His four patterned hooves resemble chunks of jade.
The third one
Has a mighty roar like a thunderclap,
His jutting teeth seem sharper than silver picks.
Each one bold and fierce,
They hold three kinds of arms:
One uses a battle-ax,
And one, a huge cutlass.
But the third one, look again!
Across his shoulders rests a knotty cane.
He saw, moreover, many monster-spirits: tall and short, fat and thin, old and young, they were all bull-heads or demonic fiends holding spears and clubs. There were three huge banners on which these titles were clearly inscribed: Great King Cold-Deterrent, Great King Heat-Deterrent, and Great King Dust-Deterrent.
After he had stared for a while, Pilgrim could wait no longer. He went forward and shouted: “You lawless thieves and fiends! Do you recognize old Monkey?”
“So you are the Sun Wukong who disturbed Heaven!” snapped one of the monsters. “Truly,
Though your face is preceded by your fame,
A god who sees you would die with shame!
You are nothing but a puny ape!”
“You oil-stealing thieves!” scolded Pilgrim, enraged. “You greasy-mouthed fiends! Stop babbling! Return my master instantly!” He rushed forward and struck out with his iron rod. Those three old monsters met him swiftly with three kinds of weapon. That was some battle in the fold of the mountain!
Battle-ax, cutlass, and a knotty cane
The Monkey King dares oppose with one rod.
The fiends—Cold-, Heat-, and Dust-Deterrent—now
Recognize the Great Sage Equal to Heaven’s name.
The rod rises to frighten gods and ghosts;
The ax and cutlass madly fly and slash.
What an image of true void magically fused,
Which resists three monstrous, false Buddha-forms!
Those three felons of this year who wet their noses with stolen oil
Are eager to seize the priest commissioned by a king.
This one for his master fears not mountains or distance;
Those ones for their mouths’ sake want annual offerings.
Bing-bang: only ax and cutlass are heard.
Pi-po: now only the rod makes the sounds.
Charging and bumping, three go against one;
Each parries and blocks to display his might.
From morning they fight till the time of night.
Who knows who will suffer and who will win?
With that single rod of his Pilgrim Sun fought the three demons for some one hundred and fifty rounds, but no decision had been reached when the sky began to darken. After a rather feeble blow of his knotty cane, the Great King Dust-Deterrent leaped across the battle line to wave his banner. Immediately that band of bull-headed fiends surged forward and had Pilgrim surrounded in the middle. All wielding weapons, they madly attacked him.
Seeing that the tide was turning against him, Pilgrim mounted the cloud somersault and fled in defeat. Those monsters did not pursue him; calling back their subordinates, they prepared dinner instead and ate it. A little monster was ordered to give a bowlful to the Tang Monk, who would not be prepared for cooking until Pilgrim was captured also. Because he had always kept a vegetarian diet and because he was racked by sorrow, the master did not even allow the food to touch his lips. For the moment we shall leave him there, weeping.
We tell you instead about Pilgrim, who mounted the clouds to return to the Mercy Cloud Temple. “Brothers!” he called out.
Eight Rules and Sha Monk were waiting for him. When they heard the call they came out together to meet him, saying, “Elder Brother, why did you go for a whole day before you came back? What actually happened to Master?”
“I followed the scent of the wind to give chase last night,” replied Pilgrim with a smile, “and by morning, I arrived at a mountain. The wind vanished, but luckily the Four Sentinels reported to me that the mountain was called the Green Dragon Mountain. In the mountain was a cave with the name of Mysterious Flower, with three monster-spirits living inside it. They had the names of Great King Cold-Deterrent, Great King Heat-Deterrent, and Great King Dust-Deterrent. They had been stealing oil from this place for years, falsely assuming the form of Buddha to deceive the officials and people of the Gold-Level Prefecture. This year they happened to bump into us, and, not knowing any better, went so far as to abduct Master. After old Monkey had acquired this information, I ordered the Sentinels to give secret protection to Master while I provoked battle before the door. Those three fiends came out together, and they all seemed like bull-headed demons. One used a battle-ax, one a huge cutlass, and the third a cane. Behind them came a whole den of bull-headed demons, waving their banners and rolling their drums. Old Monkey battled the three chieftains for an entire day, and we fought to a draw. Then one of the monster-kings waved his banner, and the little monsters all came at me. When I saw that it was getting late, I feared that I could not prevail and I somersaulted back here.”
“It must be demon kings from the Capital of Darkness causing trouble,” said Eight Rules.
“What led you to make such a guess?” asked Sha Monk.
Chuckling, Eight Rules said, “Elder Brother told us that these were all bull-headed demons. That’s how I know.”
“No! No!” said Pilgrim. “As old Monkey sees the matter, they are spirits of three rhinoceroses.”
“If they are,” said Eight Rules, “let’s capture them and saw off their horns. They are worth quite a few taels of silver!”
As they were speaking, the monks of the temple came to ask whether Father Sun would like dinner. “If it’s convenient, I’ll have some,” replied Pilgrim. “If not, I can pass.”
“Father Sun has fought for an entire day,” said a priest. “Aren’t you hungry?”
“Just a day or so, how could I be hungry?” said Pilgrim, chuckling. “Old Monkey once had no taste of food or drink for five hundred years!” Those priests, however, thought he was only joking and presently they brought him food. After he had eaten, Pilgrim said, “Let’s get ready to retire. Tomorrow we can all go together to do battle. When we capture the monster-kings, we can rescue Master.”
“What are you saying, Elder Brother?” asked Sha Monk. “As the proverb has it, ‘A pause makes one smarter!’ If that monster-spirit could not sleep tonight and brought harm to Master, what would we do then? I think it’s better for us to try to rescue Master now, and catch them off their guard. Further delay may prove to be a mistake.”
When he heard that, Eight Rules became more spirited. “Brother Sha is quite right!” he said. “We should take advantage of this moonlight to go subdue the demons.” Pilgrim agreed and gave this instruction to the temple priests: “Guard our luggage and our horse. Wait till we capture the monster-spirits and bring them back here. We shall prove to the magistrate of this prefecture that they are specious Buddhas. The levy of oil can then be eliminated to bring relief to all the common folk of the region. Won’t that be nice?” The priests obeyed. The three pilgrims at once mounted their auspicious clouds to leave the city. Truly
Shiftless and slothful, Chan nature’s confused;
Fated for dangers, the mind of Dao’s obscured.
We do not know whether they will meet victory or defeat when they get there; lets’s listen to the explanation in the next chapter.
NINETY-TWO
Three priests fight fiercely at Green Dragon Mountain;
We were telling you about the Great Sage Sun, who trod the wind and mounted the clouds with his two brothers and headed toward the northeast. Soon they arrived at the entrance to the Mysterious Flower Cave in the Green Dragon Mountain. As soon as they had dropped down from the clouds, Eight Rules wanted to tear down the doors with his rake. “Wait a moment!” said Pilgrim. “Let me go in and find out whether Master is dead or alive. Then we can do battle with them.”
“These doors are tightly shut,” said Sha Monk. “How can you get in?”
“With my magic power, of course,” replied Pilgrim.
Dear Great Sage! Putting away his rod, he made the magic sign with his fingers and recited a spell, crying, “Change!” At once he changed into a little firefly, truly quick and agile. Look at him!
Wings stretched he soars like a comet.
“Grasses decayed become fireflies.”1
One should not take lightly such magic change:
His is a nature that endures.
Flying near the stone door to look
Through the drafty crack on one side,
With one leap he reaches the quiet yard
To spy on the demons’ conduct.2
He flew inside and immediately found several buffalo sprawling all over the place. Snoring thunderously, they were all fast asleep. Even when he reached the center hall, he did not come across any activity. The doors on all sides were closed, and he had no idea where the three monster-spirits were sleeping. Passing through the hall, he headed for the rear, his tail glowing, and he heard the sound of weeping. There he discovered the Tang Monk, who had been chained to a pillar in a back room. As Pilgrim flew quietly up to him, he heard his master sob out:
Since leaving Chang’an o’er ten years ago,
Mountains and streams I’ve passed in bitter woe.
Happy to find one gala in the West,
To reach at Gold-Level the Lanternfest,
I cannot discern the lamps’ false Buddha-forms,
For tribulations are my poor life’s norms.
If my good pupils come in strong pursuit,
Let their heroic powers soon bear fruit!
On hearing this, Pilgrim was filled with delight and at once spread his wings to fly in front of his master.
“Ah!” said the Tang Monk, wiping away his tears. “The West is truly different! This is only the first month, a time when most insects are just beginning to stir. How can there be fireflies already?”
Unable to contain himself, Pilgrim called out, “Master, I’m here!”
“Wukong,” said the Tang Monk, delighted, “I was just saying, how can there be fireflies in the first month? So, it’s you!”
“O Master!” said Pilgrim as he changed back to his original form. “Because you could not distinguish the true from the specious, you have caused such delay in your journey and wasted so much effort. I shouted at you repeatedly, trying to tell you that these were not good people, but you were already making your bows. Those fiends were allowed to dim the lamps, steal the specially blended fragrant oil, and even kidnap you. I instructed Eight Rules and Sha Monk to remain in the monastery to guard our belongings. I myself followed the scent of the wind here. I didn’t know, of course, the name of this region, but luckily the Sentinels came to report that this was the Mysterious Flower Cave of the Green Dragon Mountain. Yesterday I fought with those fiends until nightfall and then went back to tell my younger brothers what had happened. We didn’t sleep, but we all came here instead. Fearing that it’s not easy to do battle deep in the night, and not knowing either how Master is faring, I used transformation to get in here to do a bit of detection.”
Highly pleased, the Tang Monk said, “So, Eight Rules and Sha Monk are outside?”
“Yes, they are,” replied Pilgrim. “Just now old Monkey saw that all the monster-spirits had fallen asleep. Let me open the lock, bash down the door, and lead you out.” The Tang Monk nodded his head to thank him.
Using his lock-opening magic, Pilgrim brushed the instrument with his hand, and the lock snapped open at once by itself. As he led his master out, he suddenly heard one of the monster-kings calling out from one of the chambers by the side of the main hall, “Little ones, shut the doors tightly, and be careful with the candles and torches. How is it that there is no patrol or watch announcement? Why aren’t the rattles sounded?”
That bunch of little fiends, you see, had been fighting strenuously all day and had therefore all fallen asleep. They were awakened only by these words of the old monster. When the rattle sounded, some of them picked up their weapons, struck up a gong, and headed for the rear. They ran smack into both master and disciple.
“My good monk!” shouted the little monsters in unison. “You may have twisted open the lock, but where do you think you’re going?”
Without permitting further explanation, Pilgrim whipped out his rod, which, with one sweep, attained the thickness of a rice bowl. He struck, and immediately slew two of them with one blow. The rest of the little monsters abandoned their weapons and dashed back to the center hall. Hammering on the door of the bedroom, they shouted: “Great Kings! It’s bad! It’s bad! The hairy-faced monk has killed right in our house!”
Scrambling to their feet when they heard this, the three fiends cried, “Seize him! Seize him!” So terrified was the Tang Monk that his arms and legs turned numb.
Unable to care for his master any longer, Pilgrim wielded his rod and charged ahead. Those little monsters were in no way able to block him or stop him; he struck down a few here, pushed over several there, and escaped after smashing through several doors. “Brothers, where are you?” he cried as he emerged.
With upraised rake and staff, Eight Rules and Sha Monk were waiting. “Elder Brother,” they said, “how are things?” Thereupon Pilgrim gave a thorough account of what had taken place after he had entered the cave through transformation—how he had freed his master and begun to slip out when the monsters discovered them, and how he had to leave his master behind and fight his way out. We shall leave them for the moment.
The monster-kings, having captured again the Tang Monk, had him chained as before. Gripping their cutlass and ax, with torches ablaze, they asked, “How did you open the lock? How did that monkey get in here? Confess at once, and we’ll spare your life! If you don’t, we’ll carve you in two!”
Trembling all over, the Tang Monk fell on his knees and said, “Father Great Kings, my disciple Sun Wukong knows seventy-two ways of transformation. Just now he changed into a little firefly and flew in here to try to rescue me. We didn’t expect to wake up the Great Kings or to run into the little Great Kings. Not knowing any better, my disciple wounded two of them. When they all shouted with upraised weapons and lighted torches, he abandoned me and ran out.”
Laughing uproariously, the three monster-kings said, “It’s a good thing we woke up! We haven’t let you escape!” They ordered their little ones to shut the doors tightly front and back, and they were to do this in complete silence.
“If they shut the doors tightly without making a noise,” said Sha Monk, “they might secretly be plotting against our master. We should get moving!” “You are right,” said Pilgrim. “Let’s knock down the door quickly!” Our Idiot at once sought to display his magic powers. Raising his rake, he delivered a blow with all his strength and smashed the stone doors to pieces. “You oil-stealing fiends!” he cried in a loud voice. “Send out my master instantly!” Those little monsters were so terrified that they rolled back inside to report, “Great Kings, it’s bad! It’s bad! Our front doors have been smashed by those priests.”
Greatly annoyed, those three monster-kings said, “These fellows are impudent indeed!” They immediately sent for their armor and, grasping their weapons, led the little monsters out the door to battle. It was then about the hour of the third watch, and a radiant moon in the sky made it almost bright as day. Once outside, they wielded their weapons withou
t exchanging one word. On this side, Pilgrim went for the battle-ax, Eight Rules opposed the huge cutlass, and Sha Monk met the large cane. This was a magnificent battle!
Three Buddhist priests
With rod, staff, and rake,
And three monstrous demons with added spunk.
From battle-ax, cutlass, and knotty cane
One hears only the sound of wind and dust.
The first few rounds stir up such grievous fog;
Colored mists soar and scatter thereafter.
Around the body the rake’s movements churn;
Still more praiseworthy’s the brave iron rod.
A world’s rarity is the treasure staff,
To which the fiends are too stubborn to yield.
The blade of the ax is both bright and sharp;
The cane is knotty and covered with dots.
The cutlass shimmers like a single-leaf door,
Opposed no less by priestly magic might.
On this side they strike fiercely for their master’s life;
On that side they claw at faces to keep the Tang Monk.
The ax and the rod both strive hard to win;
The rake and the cutlass both clash and meet.
The knotty cane and the fiend-routing staff
Go back and forth to display their power.
Three priests and three fiends fought for a long time, and neither side proved to be the stronger.
Then that Great King Cold-Deterrent shouted, “Little ones, come up here!” The various spirits rushed up with their weapons, and almost immediately Eight Rules tripped and fell to the ground. Tugging and pulling, several water-buffalo spirits hauled him inside the cave and tied him up. When Sha Monk saw that they had lost Eight Rules to a bellowing herd of bulls, he struck weakly at the Great King Dust-Deterrent and then turned to flee. He was, however, thrown face first to the ground by the spirits swarming over him. Struggling in vain to get up, he too was taken captive and tied up. Pilgrim knew then that it would be difficult for him to continue fighting by himself; mounting the cloud somersault, he managed to escape.
At the sight of Eight Rules and Sha Monk who were brought before him, the eyes of the Tang Monk brimmed with tears. “What a pity,” he said, “that you two have also fallen into the clutches of these vicious hands! Where’s Wukong?”