The Journey to the West, Revised Edition, Volume 2 (21 page)

    
The priest goes West to seek the World-Honored One,

    
Though foul and fiendish vapors clog the way.

    
Tonight he’s a tiger, what hopeless ordeal!

    
The white horse drops reins his master to save.

In midair the young dragon prince saw that the Silver Peace Hall was aglow with lights, for there were eight huge candelabra standing inside with all their candles lit. As he lowered the direction of his clouds, he looked carefully and saw the monster seated alone at the head table and gorging himself with wine and human flesh. “What a worthless fellow!” said the dragon with a laugh. “He has shown his hand! He’s revealed himself! It’s not very smart, is it, to eat people! Since I don’t know the where-abouts of Master and I have only this lawless demon before me, I might as well go down there and have some fun with him. If I succeed, I might be able to catch the monster-spirit first and then rescue my master.”

Dear dragon prince! With one shake of his body, he changed himself into a palace maid, truly slender of body and seductive in appearance. She walked swiftly inside and bowed to the demon, saying, “Imperial son-in-law, please don’t hurt me. I came to pour wine for you.” “Pour then,” said the fiend. Taking up the wine pot, the little dragon began pouring until the wine was about half an inch higher than the rim of the goblet, but the wine did not spill. This was, in fact, the Magic of Water Restriction used by the little dragon, though the fiend did not know it even when he saw it. “What uncanny ability you have,” he said, highly pleased. The little dragon said, “I can pour and make it go even higher.” “Pour some more! Pour some more!” cried the fiend. The little dragon took the pot and kept on pouring, until the wine rose like a pagoda of thirteen layers with a pointed top; not a drop of it was spilled. The fiendish creature stuck out his mouth and finished a whole goblet before he picked up the carcass and took another bite. Then he said, “You know how to sing?” “A little,” said the little dragon, who selected a tune and sang it before presenting another goblet of wine to the fiend. “You know how to dance?” said the monster. The little dragon said, “A little also, but I’m empty-handed, and the dance won’t be attractive.” Lifting up his robe, the fiend unbuckled the sword he wore on his waist and pulled the blade out of the sheath. The little dragon took the sword from
him
and began to dance in front of the dining table; wielding the sword up and down, left and right, she created intricate patterns of movement.

Waiting until the fiend was completely dazzled by the dance, the little dragon suddenly broke the steps and slashed him with the sword. Dear monster! He lunged sideways and the blow barely missed him; the next thrust of the dragon was met by a candelabrum made of wrought iron and weighing about eighty or ninety pounds, which the monster picked up in a hurry. The two of them left the Silver Peace Palace as the little dragon changed back to his original form to do battle with the fiend in midair. This battle in the darkness was something! “How was it?” you ask.

    
This one was a monster born and formed on Casserole Mount;

    
That one was a chastised true dragon of the Western Ocean.

    
This one gave off bright light

    
Like white lightning;

    
That one belched out potent air

    
Like bursting red cloud.

    
This one seemed a white-tusked elephant let loose among mankind;

    
That one seemed a golden-clawed wild cat flown down to earth.

    
This one was a jade pillar propping up Heaven;

    
That one was a golden beam bridging the seas.

    
The silver dragon flew and danced;

    
The yellow demon flipped and flopped.

    
The precious sword, left and right, did not slow down;

    
The candelabrum, back and forth, went on and on.

After the two of them had fought at the edge of the clouds for about eight or nine rounds, the little dragon’s hand grew weak and his limbs turned numb. The old demon, after all, was strong and powerful; when the little dragon found that he could no longer withstand his adversary, he aimed the sword at the monster and threw it at him. The monster, however, was not unprepared for this desperate move; with one hand, he caught the blade, and with the other, he hurled the candelabrum at the little dragon. Unnerved, the dragon did not duck fast enough and one of his hind legs was struck by it. Hastily he dropped down from the clouds, and it was his luck that the imperial moat was there to save his life. Chased by the demon, the little dragon dove headfirst into the water and all at once became invisible. Whereupon the demon took the sword and picked up the candelabrum to go back to the Silver Peace Palace; there he drank as before till he fell asleep, and we shall speak no more of him for the moment.

We tell you instead about the little dragon, who hid himself at the bottom of the moat. When he did not hear a sound after half an hour, he gritted his teeth to endure the pain in his leg and leaped up. Treading the dark
clouds,
he returned to the post-house where he changed once more into a horse and lay down in the stall. He looked pitiful indeed—completely soaked and wounded on his leg! At this time,

    
Horse of the Will and Ape of the Mind are all dispersed;

    
Metal Squire and Wood Mother are both scattered;

    
Yellow Dame is wounded, from every one divorced;

    
With reason and right so parted, what can be achieved?

Let us say no more about how Tripitaka met disaster and the little dragon encountered defeat. We tell you instead about that Zhu Eight Rules, who, since abandoning Sha Monk, stuck his head deep into the bushes and lay there like a hog snoozing in a pool of mud. The nap, in fact, lasted till the middle of the night, and only at that time did he awake. When he became conscious, he did not even know where he was at first; only after he rubbed his eyes and collected his thoughts a little did he manage to cock his ears to listen to whatever might be happening. Well, what happened was that

    
This deep mountain had no dog barking;

    
These spacious wilds lacked even cock crowing.

Looking up at the stars, he figured that it was about the hour of the third watch and he thought to himself, “I would like to try to rescue Sha Monk, but

    
One silk fiber is no thread;

    
A single hand cannot clap!

Okay! Okay! Let me go back and see Master first. If I could persuade the king to give me some more help, old Hog would return to rescue Sha Monk tomorrow.”

Idiot mounted the clouds quickly and went back to the city; in a little while, he reached the post-house. The moon was bright and people had become quiet at this time, but he searched the corridors in vain to find any trace of his master. All he saw was the white horse lying there: his whole body was soaked and on one of his hind legs was the mark of a bruise about the size of a pan. “This is doubly unfortunate!” said Eight Rules, greatly startled. “This loser hasn’t traveled. Why is he sweating like that, and with a bruise on his leg? It must be that some evil men have robbed our master, wounding the horse in the process.”

The white horse recognized that it was Eight Rules; assuming human speech suddenly, he called out: “Elder Brother!” Idiot was so shaken that he fell on the ground. Pulling himself up, he was about to dash outside when the white horse caught hold of the monk’s robe by his teeth, saying again, “Elder Brother, don’t be afraid of me.”

“Brother,” said Eight Rules, still shaking, “why are you talking today?
When
you talk like that, it has to mean that some great misfortune is about to befall us.” The little dragon said, “Did you know that Master had landed in a terrible ordeal?” “No, I didn’t,” said Eight Rules.

The little dragon said, “Of course, you didn’t! You and Sha Monk were flaunting your abilities before the king, thinking that you could capture the demon and be rewarded for your merit. You didn’t expect that the demon was so powerful and you were the ones no doubt who were beaten. At least one of you could have returned to give us the news, but there was not one word from either of you. That monster-spirit had changed himself into a handsome scholar and broken into the court to present himself to the king as an imperial relative. Our master was changed by him into a ferocious striped tiger, who was then taken captive by the officials and locked up in an iron cage in one of the palace chambers. When I heard how Master suffered, my heart felt as if it had been stabbed by a sword. But you were gone for nearly two days, and I was afraid that any further delay might mean that Master would be killed. So I had no choice but to change back into my dragon body to go and try to rescue him. When I reached the court, I couldn’t find Master, but I met the monster in the Silver Peace Palace. I changed into the form of a palace maid, trying to deceive him. He asked me to do a sword dance, during which I tried to slash him. He escaped my blow and defeated me instead with a candelabrum. I tried desperately to hit him when I threw the sword at him, but he caught it instead and gave me a blow on my hind leg with that candelabrum. I dived into the imperial moat and saved my life; the bruise on my leg was caused by the candelabrum.”

When Eight Rules heard these words, he said, “Is that all true?” “You think I’m deceiving you?” said the little dragon. Eight Rules asked, “What are we going to do? What are we going to do? Can you move at all?” “If I can,” said the little dragon, “what then?” “If you can move at all,” said Eight Rules, “move into the ocean then. Old Hog will pole the luggage back to the Old Gao Village to pick up my wife again.” When the little dragon heard this, he clamped his mouth onto Eight Rules’s shirt and refused to let go. As tears fell from his eyes, he said, “Elder Brother, you mustn’t become indolent.” “Why not?” said Eight Rules. “Brother Sha has already been caught by him, and I can’t beat him. If we don’t scatter now, what are we waiting for?” The little dragon thought for some time before he spoke again, tears streaming down his cheeks. “Elder Brother, don’t mention the word scatter. If you want to save Master, you have to go and ask a person to come here.” “Who is that?” asked Eight Rules. The little dragon said, “You’d better hurry and mount the clouds to go to the Flower-Fruit Mountain, so that you can invite our Big Brother, Pilgrim Sun, to come back. Most certainly he has dharma power great enough to subdue this fiend and rescue Master, avenging at the same time the shame of our defeat.”

“Brother,”
said Eight Rules, “let me go ask someone else. That monkey and I are not on the best of terms, you know. When he killed that Lady White Bone back there on the White Tiger Ridge, he was mad at me already for wheedling Master into reciting the Tight-Fillet Spell. I was just being frivolous, and I didn’t think that the old priest would really recite it and even banish him. I don’t know how he hates me now, and I’m certain also that he won’t come back. Suppose we have a little argument then: that funeral staff of his is pretty heavy, you know. If he doesn’t know any better at that moment and gives me a few strokes, you think I’ll be able to live?” The little dragon said, “He won’t hit you, because he is a kind and just Monkey King. When you see him, don’t say that Master is in peril; just tell him that Master is thinking of him and deceive him into coming. When he gets here and sees what’s happening, he will not get mad. He will want most certainly to have it out with the monster-spirit instead. Then the demon will surely be caught and Master will be saved.” “All right, all right!” said Eight Rules. “You are so dedicated. If I don’t go, it’ll mean that I’m not dedicated. I’ll go, and if indeed Pilgrim consents to come, I’ll return with him. But if he is unwilling, then don’t expect me, because I won’t be coming back either.” “Go! Go!” said the little dragon. “He will certainly come.”

Idiot indeed put away his muckrake and straightened his shirt. He leaped up and mounted the clouds, heading straight toward the East. It so happened that the Tang Monk was not yet fated to die. The wind was blowing in the right direction; all Idiot had to do was to stick up his huge ears, and he sped across the Eastern Ocean as if sails were hoisted on him. The sun was just rising when he dropped from the clouds to find his way in the mountain. As he was walking, he heard someone talking. He took another careful look and found Pilgrim sitting on a huge boulder in a mountain valley. Before him some one thousand and two hundred monkeys lined up in ranks, all shouting, “Long live our Father Great Sage!” Eight Rules said, “What pleasures! What pleasures! No wonder he doesn’t want to be a monk and wants only to come home! Look at all these goodies! Such a huge household, and so many little monkeys to serve him! If old Hog has a large farm like this, I’m not going to be a monk either. Since I’ve arrived, what shall I do? I suppose I’ll have to see him.”

But Idiot was in truth afraid of Pilgrim, and he dared not show himself openly. Sliding down the grassy meadow, he crawled stealthily into the midst of those thousand-odd monkeys and began to kowtow also along with them. He had no idea how high the Great Sage was sitting and how sharp his vision was. Having seen everything all at once, the Monkey King asked, “Who is that barbarian in the ranks who’s bowing in such a confused manner? Where does he come from? Bring him up here!” Hardly had he finished speaking when the little monkeys, like a swarm of bees, pushed
Eight
Rules to the front and pressed him to the ground. Pilgrim said, “Barbarian, where did you come from?” “I dare not accept the honor of your questioning me,” said Eight Rules, his head lowered. “I’m no barbarian, I’m an acquaintance.”