by Unknown
“Relax! Relax! Let me go now!” said the Tiger Monster. He checked off the roll fifty of the toughest little demons, who began beating drums and waving banners. He himself took up the two bronze scimitars and leaped out of the cave, crying with a loud voice, “Where did you come from, you monkey-monk, that you dare make such a racket here?!’ “You skin-flaying beast!” shouted Pilgrim. “You were the one who used that shell-casting trick to take away my master. Why do you question me instead? You better send out my master immediately, or I’ll not spare your life.” “I took your master,” said the Tiger Monster, “so that he could be served to my Great King as meat for his rice. If you know what’s good for you, get away from here. If not, I’ll catch you too, and you’ll be eaten along with him. It will be like ‘one free piece of merchandise with every purchase!’” When he heard this, Pilgrim was filled with anger. With grinding teeth and fiery eyes all ablaze, he lifted his iron rod and yelled, “What great ability do you have, that you dare talk like that? Don’t move! Watch this rod!” Wielding his scimitars swiftly, the Vanguard turned to meet him. It was truly some battle as the two of them let loose their power. What a fight!
That monster is truly a goose’s egg,
But Wukong is a goose-egg stone no less!
When bronze swords fight Handsome Monkey King,
It’s like eggs coming to strike at stones.
How can sparrows quarrel with the phoenix?
Dare pigeons oppose the eagles and hawks?
The monster belches wind—the mount’s filled with dust;
Wukong spits out fog and clouds hide the sun.
They fight for no more than four or five rounds;
The Vanguard grows weak, having no strength left.
He turns in defeat to flee for his life,
Hard pressed by Wukong, who seeks his death.
Not able to hold out any longer, the monster turned and fled. But since he had boasted in front of the Cave Master, he dared not go back to the cave; instead, he fled toward the mountain slope. Pilgrim, of course, would not let him go; holding his rod, he gave chase relentlessly, shouting and crying along the way. As they reached the fold of the mountain, which formed a wind break, he happened to look up, and there was Eight Rules grazing the horse. Hearing all the shouts and clamor, Eight Rules turned around and saw that it was Pilgrim chasing a defeated Tiger Monster. Abandoning the horse, Eight Rules lifted his rake and approaching from one side brought it down hard on the monster’s head. Pity that Vanguard!
He hoped to leap clear of the brown-rope net,
Not knowing he would meet the fisher’s coop.
One blow from Eight Rules’s rake produced nine holes, from which fresh blood spurted out, and the brains of the monster’s whole head ran dry! We have a poem as a testimony for Eight Rules, which says:
Returning to True Teaching some years ago,
He kept a chaste diet to realize the Real Void.
To serve Tripitaka is his pious wish:
This, a new Buddhist convert’s first merit.
Idiot put his foot on the monster’s spine and brought down the rake on him once more. When Pilgrim saw that, he was very pleased, saying, “That’s right, Brother! He was audacious enough to lead scores of little demons against me, but he was defeated. Instead of fleeing back to the cave, he came here seeking death. It’s a good thing you are here, or else he would have escaped again.” “Is he the one who took our master with the wind?” asked Eight Rules. “Yes! Yes!’’ said Pilgrim. “Did you ask him the whereabouts of our master?’’ said Eight Rules. “This monster brought Master to the cave,” said Pilgrim, “to be served to some blackguard of a Great King as meat for his rice. I was enraged, fought with him, and chased him here for you to finish him off. Brother, this is your merit! You can remain here guarding the horse and luggage, and let me drag this dead monster back to the mouth of the cave to provoke battle again. We must capture the old monster before we can rescue Master.” “You are right, Elder Brother,” said Eight Rules. “Go, go now! If you beat that old monster, chase him here and let old Hog intercept and kill him.” Dear Pilgrim! Holding the iron rod in one hand and dragging the dead tiger with the other, he went back to the mouth of the cave. So it was that
The dharma-master met monsters in his ordeal;
Feeling and nature in peace wild demons subdued.
We do not know whether he managed this time to overcome the monster and rescue the Tang Monk; let’s listen to the explanation in the next chapter.
TWENTY-ONE
The Vihārapālas1 prepare lodging for the Great Sage;
Lingji of Sumeru crushes the wind demon.
We shall now tell about those fifty defeated little demons, who rushed into the cave carrying their broken drums and torn banners. “Great King,” they cried, “the Tiger Vanguard was no match for the hairy-faced monk. That monk chased him down the eastern slope until the Vanguard disappeared.” When the old monster heard this, he was terribly upset. As he bowed his head in silent deliberation, another little demon who stood guard at the door came to report, “Great King, the Tiger Vanguard was beaten to death by the hairy-faced monk and dragged up to our door to provoke battle.” Hearing this, the old monster became even angrier. “This fellow does not know when to stop!” he said. “I have not eaten his master, but he has killed our Vanguard instead. How insolent!” Whereupon he bellowed, “Bring me my armor. I have heard only rumors about this Pilgrim Sun, and I’m going out there to find out what sort of monk he really is. Even if he has nine heads and eight tails, I’m going to take him in here to pay for the life of my Tiger Vanguard!” The little demons quickly brought out the armor. After having been properly buckled and laced, the old monster took a steel trident and leaped out of the cave, leading the rest of the demons. Standing in front of the door, the Great Sage watched the monster emerge with a truly aggressive appearance. Look how he is attired. You see
Gold helmet reflecting the sun;
Gold cuirass gleaming with light.
A pheasant-tail tassel flies from the helmet;
A light yellow silk robe topped by the cuirass,
Tied with a dragonlike sash of brilliant hues.
His breastplate emits eye-dazzling light.
His boots of suede
Are dyed by locust flowers.
His embroidered kilt
Is decked with willow leaves.
Holding a sharp trident in his hands,
He seems almost the Erlang2 Boy of old!
When he had come out, the old monster shouted, “Who is Pilgrim Sun?” With one foot on the carcass of the Tiger Monster and the compliant iron rod in his hands, Pilgrim replied: “Your Grandpa Sun is here! Send my master out!” The old monster took a careful look and saw the diminutive figure of Pilgrim—less than four feet, in fact—and his sallow cheeks. He said with a laugh: “Too bad! Too bad! I thought you were some kind of invincible hero. But you are only a sickly ghost, with nothing more than your skeleton left!”
“Child,” said Pilgrim laughing, “how you lack perception! Your grandpa may be somewhat small in size, but if you have the courage to hit me on the head with the handle of your trident, I’ll grow six feet at once.” “Harden your head,” said the monster, “and have a taste of my handle!” Our Great Sage was not in the least frightened. When the monster struck him once, he stretched his waist and at once grew more than six feet, attaining the height of ten feet altogether. The monster was so alarmed that he tried to use his trident to hold him down, shouting, “Pilgrim Sun, how dare you stand at my door, displaying this paltry magic of body protection! Stop using tricks! Come up here and let’s measure our real abilities!” “My dear son,” said Pilgrim with laughter, “the proverb says: ‘Mercy should be shown before the hand is raised!’ Your grandpa is pretty heavy-handed, and he fears that you won’t be able to bear even one stroke of this rod!” Refusing to listen to any such discussion, the monster turned his trident around and stabbed at Pilgrim’s chest. The Great Sag
e, of course, was not at all perturbed, for as the saying goes, the expert is never exercised. He raised his rod and, using the movement of the “black dragon sweeping the ground” to parry the trident, struck at the monster’s head. The two of them thus began a fierce battle before that Yellow Wind Cave:
The Monster King became enraged;
The Great Sage released his might.
The Monster King became enraged,
Wishing to seize Pilgrim to pay for his Vanguard.
The Great Sage released his might
To capture this spirit and to save the priest.
The trident arrived, blocked by the rod;
The rod went forth, met by the trident.
This one, a mountain-ruling captain of his hosts.
That one, the Handsome Monkey King who defends the Law.
At first they fought on the dusty earth;
Then each arose midway to the sky.
The fine steel trident;
Pointed, sharp, and brilliant.
The compliant rod:
Body black and yellow hoops.
Stabbed by them, your soul goes back to darkness!
Struck by them, you’ll face King Yama!
You must rely on quick arms and keen sight.
You must have a tough frame and great strength.
The two fought without regard for life or death;
We know not who will be safe or who will be hurt.
The old monster and the Great Sage fought for thirty rounds, but neither could gain the upper hand. Pressing for a quick victory, Pilgrim decided to use the trick of “the body beyond the body.” He tore from himself a handful of hairs that he chewed to pieces in his mouth. Spitting them out, he cried, “Change!” They changed at once into more than a hundred Pilgrims: all having the same appearance and all holding an iron rod, they surrounded the monster in midair. Somewhat alarmed, the monster also resorted to his special talent. He turned to face the ground to the southwest and opened his mouth three times to blow out some air. Suddenly a mighty yellow wind arose in the sky. Dear wind! It was indeed powerful.
Cold and whistling, it changed Heaven and Earth,
As yellow sand whirled without form or shape.
It cut through woods and hills to break pines and plums;
It tossed up dirt and dust, cracking crags and cliffs.
Waves churned in Yellow River to cloud its floor;
Tide and current swelled up at River Xiang.
The Polestar Palace in the blue sky shook;
The Hall of Darkness was almost blown down;
The Five Hundred Arhats all yelled and screamed;
The Eight Guards of Akṣobhya all cried and shrieked.
Mañjuśrī’s green-haired lion ran away;
Viśvabhadra lost his white elephant.3
Snake and turtle of Zhenwu left their fold;4
Aflutter were the saddle-flaps of Zitong’s5 mule.
Traveling merchants sent their cries to Heaven,
And boatmen bowed to make their many vows—
Their mistlike lives awash in rolling waves;
Their names, their fortunes, adrift in the tide!
Caves on genie mountains were black as pitch;
The isle of Penglai6 was gloomy and dark.
Laozi could not tend his elixir oven;
Age Star folded his fan of grapevine leaves.
As Queen Mother went to the Peaches Feast,
The wind blew her skirt and pins awry.
Erlang lost his way to the Guanzhou town;
Naṭa found it hard to pull out his sword.
Li Jing missed the pagoda in his hand;
Lu Ban7 dropped his golden-headed drill.
While three stories of Thunderclap fell down,
The stone bridge at Zhaozhou broke in twain.
The orb of the red sun had little light;
The stars of all Heaven grew obscure and faint.
Birds of south mountains flew to northern hills;
Water of east lakes spilled over to the west.
Fowls with mates broke up, they ceased their calls;
Mothers and sons parted, their cries turned mute.
Dragon Kings sought yakṣas all over the sea;
Thunder gods hunted lightnings every where.
Ten Kings of Yama tried to find their judge;
In Hell, Bull-Head ran after Horse-Face.
This wind blew down the Potalaka Mount
And whipped up one scroll of Guanyin’s verse.
White lotus-blooms, cut down, flew beside the sea;
Twelve halls of the Bodhisattva were blown down.
From Pan Gu till this time since wind was known,
There never was wind with such ferocity.
Hu-la-la!
The universe did almost split apart!
The whole world was one mighty trembling mass!
This violent wind called up by the monster blew away all those little Pilgrims formed by the Great Sage’s hairs and sent them reeling through the air like so many spinning wheels. Unable even to wield their rods, how could they possibly hope to draw near to fight? Pilgrim was so alarmed that he shook his body and retrieved his hairs. He then lifted the iron rod and tried to attack the monster all by himself, only to be met by a mouthful of yellow wind right on his face. Those two fiery eyes with diamond pupils of his were so blasted that they shut tightly and could not be opened. No longer able to use his rod, he fled in defeat while the monster retrieved the wind, which we shall mention no further.
We tell you now about Zhu Eight Rules, who, when he saw the violent yellow windstorm arriving and the whole of Heaven and Earth growing dim, led the horse and took the luggage to the fold of the mountain. There he crouched on the ground and refused to open his eyes or raise his head, his mouth incessantly calling on the name of Buddha and making vows. As he was wondering how Pilgrim was faring in his battle and whether his master was dead or alive, the wind stopped and the sky brightened again. He looked up and peered toward the entrance of the cave, but he could neither see any movement of weapons nor hear the sound of gongs and drums. Idiot dared not approach the cave, since there was no one else to guard the horse and the luggage. Deeply distressed and not knowing what to do, he suddenly heard the Great Sage approaching from the west, grunting and snorting as he came. Bowing to meet his companion, he said, “Elder Brother, what a mighty wind! Where did you come from?”
With a wave of his hand, Pilgrim said, “Formidable! It’s truly formidable! Since I, old Monkey, was born, I have never witnessed such a violent wind! That old monster fought me with a steel trident, and we battled for over thirty rounds. It was then that I used the magic of the body beyond the body and had him surrounded. He panicked and called up this wind, which was ferocious indeed. Its force was so overwhelming that I had to suspend my operation and flee instead. Whew! What a wind! Whew! What a wind! Old Monkey also knows how to call up the wind and how to summon the rain, but it’s hardly as vicious as the wind of this monster-spirit!” “Elder Brother,” said Eight Rules, “how is the martial technique of that monster?” “It’s presentable,” said Pilgrim, “and he knows how to use the trident! He is, in fact, just about the equal of old Monkey. But that wind of his is vicious, and that makes it difficult to defeat him.” “In that case,” said Eight Rules, “how are we going to rescue Master?”
Pilgrim said, “We’ll have to wait to rescue Master. I wonder if there is any eye doctor around here who can take a look at my eyes.” “What’s the matter with your eyes?” asked Eight Rules. Pilgrim replied, “That monster blew a mouthful of wind on my face, and my eyes were so sorely blasted that they are now watering constantly.” “Elder Brother,” said Eight Rules, “we are in the middle of a mountain, and it’s getting late. Let’s not talk about eye doctors; we don’t even have a place to stay.” “It won’t be difficult to find lodging,” said Pilgrim. “I doubt that the monster has the gall to harm our master. Let’s find our way back to the main road and see w
hether we can stay with a family. After spending the night, we can return to subdue the monster tomorrow when it’s light.” “Exactly, exactly,” agreed Eight Rules.
Leading the horse and carrying up the luggage, they left the fold of the mountain and went up the road. Dusk was setting in, and as they walked, they heard the sound of barking dogs toward the south of the mountain slope. Stopping to look, they saw a small cottage with flickering lamplights. Not bothering to look for a path, the two of them walked through the grass and arrived at the door of that household. They saw
Dark clumps of purplish fungi;
Greyish piles of white stones;
Dark clumps of purplish fungi with much green grass;
Greyish piles of white stones half grown with moss:
A few specks of fireflies, their faint light aglow;
A forest of wild woods stand in dense rows;
Orchids ever fragrant;
Bamboos newly planted;
A clear stream flows a winding course;
Old cedars lean o’er a deep cliff.
A secluded place where no travelers come:
Only wild flowers bloom before the door.
Not daring to enter without permission, they both called out: “Open the door! Open the door!” An old man inside appeared with several young farmers, all holding rakes, pitchforks, and brooms. “Who are you? Who are you?” they asked. With a bow, Pilgrim said, “We are disciples of a holy monk from the Great Tang in the Land of the East. We were on our way to seek scriptures from the Buddha in the Western Heaven when we passed through this mountain, and our master was captured by the Yellow Wind Great King. We have yet to rescue him. Since it is getting late, we have come to ask for lodging for one night at your house. We beg you for this means of convenience.” Returning the bow, the old man said, “Pardon me for not coming to greet you. This is a place where clouds are more numerous than people, and when we heard you calling at the door just now, we were afraid that it might be someone like a wily fox, a tiger, or a bandit from the mountain. That’s why my little ones might have offended you by their rather brusque manner. Please come in. Please come in.”