The Journey to the West, Revised Edition, Volume 2 (77 page)

    
I plumbed the deep, seeking Buddha in the West.

    
I met disaster at Black River before;

    
Now in this ice-break, my life will expire.

    
I know not if my pupils can come here,

    
Or if with true scriptures I can go home.

Pilgrim could not refrain from calling out, “Master, don’t be annoyed. The
Water-Calamity Book
says,

    
Earth is the mother of the Five Phases;

    
But water is their very source.

    
Without earth there is no life;

    
Without water there is no growth.

Old Monkey has arrived!” On hearing this, Tripitaka said, “O Disciple! Please save me!” “Try to relax,” said Pilgrim. “Wait till we seize the monster-spirit and you will be freed from your ordeal.” “Get moving quickly!” said Tripitaka. “One more day and I’ll suffocate!” “That won’t happen! That won’t happen!” said Pilgrim. “I’m off!” Turning around, he leaped right out of the gate and changed back into his original form. “Eight Rules!” he shouted. Idiot and Sha Monk drew near, saying, “Elder Brother, what did you find out?” “It was this fiend all right,” said Pilgrim, “who captured Master. He is not yet hurt, but he is imprisoned in a stone box. The two of you should provoke battle at once after old Monkey has gone back up to the surface of the water. If you two can capture him, do so; but if you can’t, feign defeat and entice him out to the surface. I’ll attack him then.” “Have no worry, Elder Brother,”
said
Sha Monk. “You leave first and let us size up the situation.” Making the water-repelling sign with his fingers, Pilgrim darted out of the river and stood on the bank to wait for them.

Look how violent that Eight Rules could become! Dashing up to the gate, he shouted in a severe voice, “Brazen fiend! Send my master out!” The little monsters inside the gate were so alarmed that they went hurriedly to report, “Great King, someone at the gate is demanding his master.” “That must be one of those brazen monks,” said the monster. “Bring out my armor!” The little fiends took it out quickly. After he was properly suited up, the monster picked up his weapon and walked out the gate. Facing him on the left and on the right were Eight Rules and Sha Monk, who stared intently at him. Dear monster! Look at him!

    
His head wore a gleaming helmet of gold.

    
A gold cuirass he had that flashed red light.

    
Pearl- and jade-studded, a belt wrapped his waist.

    
His feet wore strange boots of tobacco brown.

    
The bridge of his nose rose high like a ridge.

    
His forehead seemed like a dragon’s, broad and wide.

    
Both round and fierce his blazing eyes would glare.

    
His teeth, like steel swords, were even and sharp.

    
His tousled short hair did shoot up like flames.

    
His long beard was groomed like a golden awl.

    
His mouth held a pond weed, tender and green.

    
His hands gripped a nine-grooved red bronze mallet.

    
As the gates swung wide open with a creak,

    
He bellowed like the thunder of triple spring.

    
Features like his are rare in human world.

    
Hence he’s called Great King of Numinous Power.

After the fiend walked out of the gates, about a hundred little imps, all wielding lances and swords, followed him out and stood in two columns behind him. “From which monastery have you come,” he asked Eight Rules, “and why are you causing a disturbance here?” “You brazen creature!” shouted Eight Rules. “You were almost beaten to death! You argued with me the other night, and yet you dare play ignorant and ask me again today? I am a disciple of a holy monk from the Great Tang in the Land of the East, and a pilgrim journeying to see Buddha in the Western Heaven for scriptures. Be-fooling the people with your empty magic, you are even audacious enough to call yourself Great King of Numinous Power and indulge in devouring virgin boys and girls from the Chen village. I am One Load of Gold from the family of Chen Qing. Can’t you recognize me?”

“Monk,”
said the monster, “you are quite unreasonable! For taking on the form of One Load of Gold, you should be charged with the crime of false identity. Not only did I not eat you, but the back of my hand was also wounded by you. I have yielded to you already. How dare you come seeking trouble right up to my door?” “If you had yielded,” said Eight Rules, “then why did you raise up the cold wind and send down the great snowfall? Why did you make the ice to trap my master? Send him out quickly and all will be well. If but half a ‘No’ escapes from your teeth, I’ll never spare you! Just look at this rake in my hands!” On hearing this, the fiend smiled sarcastically and said, “Monk, you are wagging your tongue and bragging! It was I, indeed, who brought the snow and froze the river to abduct your master. Now you are clamoring at my door and demanding his return, but this time, I fear, is not quite the same as the time before. Previously, I brought no weapon with me as I thought I was attending a feast, and you took advantage of me. Don’t run away now, because I’m going to fight with you for three rounds. If you can withstand me, I will return your master; if you cannot, I’ll eat you also.”

“My darling child!” said Eight Rules. “That’s the way to talk! Take care, watch my rake!” “So you became a monk midway in your life,” said the fiend. Eight Rules said, “My dear boy, you do have a little Numinous power! How did you know that I became a monk midway in my life?” “Since you are using a rake,” said the fiend, “you must have been hired as a gardener somewhere, and now you have stolen even your master’s rake!” “Son,” said Eight Rules, “this rake of mine is no garden tool. Look!

    
The huge teeth are forged like dragon claws;

    
Its handle, white-gold wrapped, is serpent shaped.

    
When it’s used in battle, cold wind swoops down;

    
When it’s put to combat, bright flames spring up.

    
Able to smite fiends for the holy monk,

    
It catches monsters on the westward way.

    
When I move it, mist hides the sun and moon.

    
When I use it, bright, colored lights will shine.

    
Mount Tai’s toppled, and a thousand tigers cringe.

    
The sea’s upturned, ten thousand dragons fear.

    
Though you may have Numinous power,

    
One blow will give you nine big, gaping holes!”

That fiend, of course, would not take such words seriously! He raised his bronze mallet and brought it down on Eight Rules’s head. Using his muckrake to parry the blow, Eight Rules said, “You brazen creature! So, you too, became a spirit midway in your life!” “How could you tell that I became
a spirit midway in my life?” asked the fiend. “If you know how to use a bronze mallet,” said Eight Rules, “you must have been a laborer hired by some silversmith to tend the fires. You took advantage of him and stole his mallet!” The fiend said, “This is no mallet for forging silver. Look!

    
Nine segments formed like petals of a flow’r;

    
Though hollow the stem’s made of evergreen.

    
It’s not anything of this mortal world,

    
It has its birth and name in the house of gods.

    
Green seeds and cases aged in the jasper pool;

    
Pure scent and nature born of a jade-green pond.

    
Since I toiled to temper and refine it,

    
It’s charged with magic and it’s hard as steel.

    
Swords, halberds, and spears—all can’t rival it.

    
Axes and lances—none can withstand it.

    
Though your rake may be like a sharp-edged sword,

    
My mallet will break it as it breaks a nail!”

When Sha Monk saw how the two of them engaged in such exchanges, he could no longer restrain himself from approaching them and shouting, “Fiend! Stop this boasting! The ancients said, ‘What’s spoken proves nothing; only deeds are visible!’ Don’t run away. Have a taste of my staff!” Using the mallet to parry the blow, the fiend said, “So, you also are someone who became a monk midway in your life!” “How did you know?” asked Sha Monk. “The way you look,” said the fiend, “you resemble someone who used to work in a pastry shop.” Sha Monk said, “How could you tell that I used to work in a pastry shop?” “If you didn’t work there,” said the fiend, “how could you learn to use a rolling pin, like the one they made noodles with?” “You cursed thing!” scolded Sha Monk. “Of course, you haven’t seen anything like this before!

    
This kind of weapon is rare in the world;

    
That’s why you don’t know the treasure staff’s name.

    
It came from the moon—the shadowless spot—

    
Carved from a piece of divine śāla wood.

    
Outside it’s decked with jewels luminous;

    
Within, a hub of gold’s most glorious.

    
In bygone days it attended royal feasts;

    
Now it follows Right and guards the Tang Monk.

    
Few may know it on the way to the West;

    
Great fame it has in the Region Above.

    
It’s called the fiend-routing treasure staff:

    
One blow and it will surely crack your skull!”

In
no mood to talk further, the fiend charged him; the three of them turned ferocious all at once and began a fierce battle at the bottom of the river.

    
Bronze mallet, treasure staff, and muckrake:

    
Wuneng and Wujing both engaged the fiend.

    
One was Heavenly Reeds descending to earth;

    
One was a divine warrior coming from the sky.

    
Both attacked the water fiend, showing their power.

    
This one withstood alone the god-monks—a laudable show!

    
Proper affinity can perfect the great Dao:

    
Mutual growth or conquest holds Ganges’ sand.

    
Earth conquers water,

    
And the bottom’s seen when water dries up;

    
Water begets wood

    
Which, flourishing, will bloom like flowers.

    
Chan and Dao, nurtured, lead to the same essence;

    
Elixir, refined and forged, tames the three parties.

    
Earth is mother

    
Sprouting golden shoots;

    
Gold begets divine water and the baby’s born.

    
Water’s the source

    
To moisten wood.

    
And wood, thriving, brings forth strong, bright fire.

    
The conjoined Five Phases will all differ:

    
That’s why they strive, each changing colors.

    
Look! Each petal of that bronze mallet was fine and bright;

    
The treasure staff was wrapped in a thousand strands of silk.

    
The rake, made according to yin-yang and the stars,

    
Dealt sundry blows without style or number.

    
They risked their lives for the monk’s ordeal;

    
They courted death for Śākyamuni’s sake.