The Journey to the West, Revised Edition, Volume 2 (15 page)

    
Could fine men to their houses return?

    
Corpses fell to the dust and lay on the mountain,

    
While rouged ladies at home waited.

The poem says:

    
Men killed, horses dead—how could they go home?

    
Lost, lonely souls floundered like tangled hemp.

    
Pity those strong and virile fighting men,

    
Whose blood, both good and bad, did stain the sand!

Lowering
the direction of his cloud, the Great Sage clapped his hands and roared with laughter, saying, “Lucky! Lucky! Since I made submission to the Tang Monk and became a priest, he has been giving me this advice:

    
‘Do good a thousand days,

    
But the good is still insufficient;

    
Do evil for one day,

    
And that evil is already excessive.’

Some truth indeed! When I followed him and killed a few monsters, he would blame me for perpetrating violence. Today I came home and it was the merest trifle to finish off all these hunters.”

He then shouted, “Little ones, come out!” When those monkeys saw that the violent wind had passed and heard the Great Sage calling, they all jumped out. “Go down to the south side of the mountain,” said the Great Sage, “and strip the dead hunters of their clothes. Bring them back home, wash away the bloodstains, and you all can wear them to ward off the cold. The corpses you can push into the deep mountain lake over there. Pull back here also the horses that are killed; their hides can be used to make boots, and their meat can be cured for us to enjoy slowly. Gather up the bows and arrows, the swords and spears, and you can use them for military drills again. And finally, bring me those banners of miscellaneous colors; I have use for them.”

Every one of the monkeys obeyed these instructions. Pulling down the banners and washing them clean, the Great Sage then patched them together into a large banner of many colors, on which he wrote the following words in large letters: The Flower-Fruit Mountain Rebuilt, the Water-Curtain Cave Restored—Great Sage, Equal to Heaven. A flagpole was erected outside the cave to hang up the banner. Thereafter, he gathered together more fiends and beasts by the day, and he stored up all kinds of foodstuff. The word “monk” was never mentioned again. As he enjoyed wide friendship and great power, he had no trouble in borrowing some sweet, divine water from the Dragon Kings of the Four Oceans to wash his mountain and make it green again. He next planted elms and willows in front, pines and cedars in the back; peach, pear, date, and plum—he had them all. He then sett led down to enjoy life without a care, and we shall speak no more of him for the moment.

We now tell you about the Tang Monk, who listened to Crafty Nature and banished the Monkey of the Mind. He mounted his horse to head for the West as Eight Rules led the way in front, while Sha Monk poled the luggage in the rear. After they passed the White Tiger Ridge, they came upon a large forest, full of vines and creepers, green pines and cedars. “Disciples,” said Tripitaka, “the mountain road is already rough and difficult to negotiate.
And now we have a thick and dark pine forest. Do be careful. I fear that we may run into some fiends or monstrous beasts.” But look at Idiot! Rousing his energies, he told Sha Monk to take hold of the horse, while he himself used his muckrake to open up a path in front and led the Tang Monk directly into the pine forest. As they journeyed, the elder stopped the horse and said, “Eight Rules, I’m getting really hungry today. Where can you find me some vegetarian food to eat?” “Please dismount, Master,” said Eight Rules, “and let old Hog go find some for you.” The elder descended from his horse. Sha Monk put down his load and took out the alms bowl to hand over to Eight Rules. Eight Rules said, “I’m off!” “Where to?” asked the elder. “Never mind,” said Eight Rules. “Once I go, I will

    
Drill ice for fire
⁶
to find your maigre,

    
And press snow for oil to beg your rice.”

Look at him! He left the pine forest and walked toward the West for over ten miles, but he did not come upon even a single household. It was truly a place more inhabited by tigers and wolves than by humans. When Idiot became tired from walking, he thought to himself, “When Pilgrim was here, whatever that old priest wanted he got. Today, it’s my turn to serve, and it’s like what the proverb says:

    
You know the cost of rice and firewood when you run a house;

    
You realize your parents’ kindness when you bring up a child!

Where in the world can I go to beg for food?” He walked some more and became rather drowsy. He thought to himself, “If I go back now and tell that old priest that there’s no place here for me to beg for vegetarian food even after traveling all this distance, he won’t believe me. I must find some means to while away another hour or so before I go back to answer him. Well, well! Let’s take a nap here in the grass.” Idiot indeed put his head in the grass and lay down. At the time, he thought that he would doze for awhile and then get up, but little did he realize how fatigued he was from all that walking. Once he lay down his head, he fell into a deep, snoring slumber.

For the time being, we shall speak no more of Eight Rules asleep in this place. We tell you instead about the elder in the forest, who grew so restless and anxious that his ears became flushed and his eyes began to tic. He turned quickly and said to Sha Monk, “Why hasn’t Wuneng returned from his trip to beg for food?” “Master,” said Sha Monk, “don’t you understand? When he sees how many families there are in this region of the West who love to feed monks, he’s not going to worry about you, is he, especially when he has so large a stomach! He’s not going to come back until he’s completely filled!” “You are right,” said Tripitaka. “But if he is staying at some
place
just to satisfy his hankering for food, where are we going to meet him? It’s getting late, and this is no place to live. We better find some lodging.” “Don’t worry, Master,” said Sha Monk, “you sit here and let me find him.” “Yes, yes,” said Tripitaka, “it doesn’t matter whether there’s food or not. But it’s important for us to find a place to stay.” Grasping his precious staff, Sha Monk left the pine forest to search for Eight Rules.

The elder, sitting alone in the forest, became so weary and fatigued that he had to force himself to summon enough energy to get up. Putting the luggage together in a pile and tying the horse to a tree, he took off his wide splint hat, stuck his priestly staff into the ground, and straightened his clerical robe in order to take a walk in this secluded forest just to rid himself of his depression. He looked at all the wild grass and untended flowers, but he did not hear any chattering of birds heading homeward. The forest, you see, was a place of tall grass and small paths. Because he was rather confused he soon lost his way. He had, to be sure, wanted to dispel his boredom in the first place, and to find Eight Rules and Sha Monk in the second. Little did he realize that they were proceeding westward, whereas he himself, after going in circles for awhile, was heading south. As he emerged from the pine forest, he raised his head and saw all at once flashes of golden light and colorful mists ahead of him. He looked more carefully and found that it was a bejeweled pagoda, whose golden dome was gleaming in the rays of the setting sun. “This disciple truly has no affinity!” he said to himself. “When I left the Land of the East, I made a vow to burn incense in every temple, to worship Buddha when I saw an image of Buddha, and to sweep a pagoda if I came upon a pagoda. Isn’t that a golden pagoda that is so brilliant over there? Why didn’t I take this road before? Beneath the pagoda there must be a temple, inside of which there must also be a monastery. Let me walk over there. It’s all right, I suppose, to leave the white horse and the luggage here since there is no one passing by. If there’s any space there, I’ll wait till my disciples return and we can all ask for lodging for the night.”

Alas, the time of that elder’s misfortune has indeed arrived! Look at him! He strode forward and went up to the side of the pagoda. There he saw

    
Boulders ten thousand feet tall;

    
A large bluff reaching the green sky:

    
Its roots joining the thick earth,

    
Its peaks sticking into Heaven.

    
Several thousand trees of all kinds on both sides;

    
A hundred miles of snarled creepers front and back.

    
Bright flowers on grass tips, the wind had its shadows.

    
In flowing water’s parted clouds the moon had no root.
⁷

    
Fallen logs rested in deep streams;

    
Dried
tendrils entangled bare summits.

    
Beneath a stone bridge

    
Flowed a bubbling clear stream;

    
On top of a terrace

    
Grew flourlike white blossoms.

    
When seen from afar it seemed the Paradise of Three Isles;

    
When you drew near it appeared like the lovely Penglai.

    
Purple bamboos and scented pines enclosed the mountain brook;

    
Crows, magpies, and monkeys cut through the rugged ridge.

    
Outside a cave

    
There were herds of wild beasts coming and going;

    
In the woods

    
There were flocks of birds leaving or returning.

    
In lovely green the fragrant plants thrived;

    
Radiantly the wild flowers bloomed.

    
This region, nonetheless,
⁸
was an evil place.

    
It was the elder’s bad luck to come barging in!

The elder strode up to the door of the pagoda and found a mottled bamboo curtain hanging inside. Walking inside the door, he lifted up the curtain to proceed further when suddenly he saw before him a monster asleep on a stone couch. “How does he look?” you ask.

    
Indigo face,

    
Long white fangs,

    
And a big gaping mouth!

    
Tousled hair on the head’s two sides

    
Seemed as if it had been dyed red by rouge.

    
A few stubs of deep purple beard

    
Bore the look of lychee sprouting.

    
A nose curvate like a parrot’s beak,

    
And eyes glowing like the morning stars.

    
His two huge fists

    
Had the shape of a monk’s alms bowl.

    
Two blue-veined feet

    
Forked like branches dangling down a cliff.

    
Half covered by a light yellow robe,

    
Better than the silk-brocade cassock,

    
He still grasped a scimitar

    
Which gleamed and glittered.

    
He slept on a slab of stone

    
Both flawless and smooth.

    
He had led young fiends to make formations like ants,

    
And
old demons to rule with order like bees.

    
Look at his awesome bearing,

    
When all his subjects

    
Raised the cry, “Sire!”

    
He had made the moon his third friend as he sipped his wine;
⁹

    
He had felt the wind grow beneath his arms as tea was poured.

    
Look at his vast magic power!

    
In the twinkling of an eye

    
He could tour all the Heavens.

    
In his wild woods screeched birds and fowls;

    
In his dens slept dragons and snakes.

    
Immortals tilled his fields to grow white jade;