The Journey to the West, Revised Edition, Volume 2 (35 page)

When Zhu Eight Rules, hanging there on the beam, heard the wailing of the whole family, he could not refrain from calling out, “Monster, don’t cry! Let old Hog tell you something. The Pilgrim Sun who arrived first, the Grimpil Sun who came next, and finally the Sun Pilgrim who came last—all three of them are in fact a single person, my elder brother. He is very versatile, knowing seventy-two ways of transformation. It was he who stole your treasure and had your brother stored up. Since your brother is now dead, there is no need for you to mourn like that. You should clean up your pots and pans quickly and fix up some dried mushrooms, fresh butt on mushrooms, bean sprouts, bamboo shoots, soybean cakes, wheat glutens, wood ears, and vegetables. Invite us master and disciples for a meal, and we will be pleased to recite for you once the
Receive Life Sūtra
.”

Infuriated by what he heard, the old demon said, “I thought Zhu Eight Rules was a guileless person, but he’s actually most sassy. He dares to make fun of me at this moment! Little ones, stop mourning. Untie Zhu Eight Rules and steam him until he’s soft and tender. Let me have a full stomach first, and then I’ll go catch Pilgrim Sun to avenge my brother.” Turning to Eight Rules, Sha Monk chided him, saying, “Isn’t that nice? I told you not to talk so much! Now your talking means that you’ll be steamed and eaten.” Idiot himself became somewhat alarmed, but a little fiend then spoke up, saying, “Great King, it’s not good to steam Zhu Eight Rules.” “Amitābha
Buddha!”
said Eight Rules. “Which elder brother is trying to pile up secret merits? I’m indeed no good if I’m steamed.” Another fiend said, “After he’s skinned, he’ll then be good to steam.” Horrified, Eight Rules said, “I’m all right! I’m all right! Though my bones and skins are coarse, I’ll be tender the moment the water boils.”

As they were speaking, another little fiend came from the front door to report, “Sun Pilgrim is reviling us at our door!” “This fellow,” said a startled old demon, “abuses us because he thinks there is nobody here.” He then gave the order, “Little ones, hang up Zhu Eight Rules as before, and find out how many treasures there are still in the house.” A little fiend, who was the housekeeper, said, “There are three treasures yet in the cave.” “Which three?” asked the old demon. “The sword of seven stars,” said the housekeeper, “the palm-leaf fan, and the pure-jade vase.” “That vase is useless!” said the old demon. “It was supposed to store up anyone who answered when his name was called, but the formula was somehow passed on to that Pilgrim Sun and now our own brother has been put away. I won’t use the vase; leave it here at home. Bring me the sword and the fan, quickly.” The housekeeper handed over the two treasures to the old demon, who stuck the fan into his collar behind his neck and held the sword in his hand. He then called up about three hundred monsters, young and old, and told all of them to arm themselves with spears, clubs, ropes, and knives. The old demon himself also put on helmet and cuirass, covered with a flaming red silk cape. As the monsters rushed out the door, they lined up in battle formation, intent on catching the Great Sage Sun. Knowing by now that the second demon had been dissolved in the gourd, the Great Sage fastened the gourd to the belt around his waist while his hands held high the golden-hooped rod to prepare for combat. As red banners unfurled, the old fiend leaped out the door.

How was he dressed?

    
His helmet’s tassle shimmered on his head,

    
And from his belt fresh, radiant colors rose.

    
He wore a cuirass knit like dragon scales,

    
Topped with a long red cape like crackling flames.

    
His round eyes opened wide and lightning flashed;

    
Wiry whiskers flared up like turbid fumes.

    
His hand held lightly the seven-star sword,

    
His shoulder half-hidden by the palm-leaf fan.

    
He moved like clouds rushing past the ocean’s peaks;

    
Like thunder his voice shook mountains and streams.

    
An awesome Heaven-defying warrior,

    
Leading many monsters, he stormed out of the cave.

Aft
er ordering the little fiends to take their battle stations, the old demon shouted, “You ape! You are utterly wretched! You murdered my brother and broke up our fraternal bond. You are truly despicable!”

“Monster, you are the one who’s asking for death!” replied Pilgrim, “Do you mean to tell me that one life of a monster-spirit is worth more than those of four creatures like my master, my younger brothers, and the white horse? You think that I can bear the thought of their being hung up in the cave at this moment? That I would agree to that? Bring them out at once and return them to me. You can add also some travel expenses and send off old Monkey amiably. Then I might spare this cur-like life of yours!” The fiend, of course, would not permit any further exchanges; lifting his treasure sword, he slashed at the head of the Great Sage, who met him with uplift ed iron rod. This was quite a battle outside the entrance of the cave. Aha!

    
The seven-star sword and the golden-hooped rod

    
Clashed, and sparks flared up like lightning bright;

    
The spreading cold air brought oppressive chill

    
As vast dark clouds concealed the peaks and cliffs.

    
This one because of his fraternal bond

    
Would not let up a bit.

    
That one on account of the scripture monk

    
Would not slow down one whit.

    
Each one hated with the same kind of hate;

    
Both parties cherished such hostility.

    
They fought till Heaven and Earth darkened, scaring gods and ghosts;

    
The sun dimmed, the smoke thickened, as dragons and tigers quaked.

    
This one ground his teeth like filing down jade nails;

    
That one grew so mad that flames leaped out his eyes!

    
Back and forth they showed their heroic might,

    
And kept on brandishing both sword and rod.

The old demon fought with the Great Sage for twenty rounds, but neither could gain the upper hand. Pointing with his sword, the old demon shouted, “Little fiends, come up together!” Those three hundred monster-spirits rushed up together and completely surrounded Pilgrim. Dear Great Sage! Not in the least afraid, he wielded his rod and lunged left and right, attacking with it in front and protecting himself in the rear. Those little fiends, however, all had some abilities; the longer they fought, the more ferocious they became—like cotton floss sticking to one’s body, they tackled Pilgrim at the waist and tugged at his legs, refusing to be beaten back. Alarmed, the Great Sage resorted to the magic of the Body beyond the Body. He plucked off a handful of hairs from under his left arm, chewed them to pieces, and spat them out, crying, “Change!” Every piece of the hair changed into a Pilgrim.
Look at all of them! The tall ones wielded rods, the short ones boxed with their fists, and the tiniest ones grabbed the monsters’ shanks and began to gnaw on them. They fought till all the fiends were scattered in every direction, crying, “Great King, we’re finished! We can’t fight anymore! The mountain is full of Pilgrim Suns!” The magic of the Body beyond the Body thus sent the flock of monsters into a hasty retreat: only an old demon was left in the middle, surrounded on all sides, sorely pressed but with no way to run at all.

Terribly frightened, the demon switched the treasure sword to his left hand; with his right, he reached behind his neck and pulled out the palm-leaf fan. Facing the direction of due south (which is the direction of fire), he made a sweeping motion with the fan from the left and fanned at the ground once. Flames leaped up instantly from the ground. The treasure, you see, could produce fire just like that. An unrelenting person, the fiend fanned at the ground for seven or eight more times, and a fierce fire raged everywhere. Marvelous fire!

    
The fire was neither the fire of Heaven

    
Nor the fire of a brazier;

    
Neither the wild fire on the meadows

    
Nor the fire inside an oven.

    
It was a spark of spiritual light taken naturally from the Five Phases.

    
The fan also was no common thing in the mortal world,

    
Nor was it made by any human skill.

    
It was a true treasure formed since the time chaos parted.

    
When the fan was used to start this fire,

    
Bright and brilliant,

    
It was like the red bolts of lightning;

    
Clear and ablaze,

    
It seemed mists iridescent.

    
There was not even a strand of blue smoke,

    
Only a mountain full of scarlet flames.

    
It burned till the summit pines became fire trees,

    
And cedars changed into lanterns before the cliff.

    
The beasts of the caves, eager to live,

    
Dashed to the east and the west;

    
The birds of the woods, zealous for their feathers,

    
Flew high and retreated wide.

    
This divine, air-filling holocaust

    
Burned till rocks broke, rivers dried up, and all the ground turned red!

When the Great Sage saw how ferocious the fire was, he, too, became quite shaken, crying, “It’s bad! I can stand it myself, but my hairs are no
good.
Once they fall into the fire, they will be burned up.” Shaking his body once, he retrieved all his hairs except one piece, which he used to change into a specious form of himself, pretending to flee the fire. His true body, making the fire-resisting sign with his fingers, somersaulted into the air and leaped clear of the blaze. He then headed straight for the Lotus-Flower Cave with the intent of rescuing his master. As he sped up to the entrance of the cave and lowered the direction of his cloud, he saw a hundred-odd little fiends outside the door, every one of them with head wounds or broken legs, with lesions and bruises. They were the ones injured by his magic of the Body beyond the Body, all standing there whimpering and in pain. When the Great Sage saw them, he could not suppress the savagery in his nature; lifting up the iron rod, he fought all the way inside. How pitiful it was that he should bring at once to nothing

    
The fruits of bitter exercise to acquire human forms!

    
They all became again old pieces of hair and hide!

After the Great Sage had finished off all the little fiends, he raced into the cave with the intent of untying his master. Just then he saw again a fiery glow inside, and he became terribly flustered, crying, “Undone! Undone! If this fire is starting again even at the back door, old Monkey will find it hard to save Master.” As he was thus in alarm, he looked again more carefully. Ah! It was not the glow of fire, but actually a beam of golden light. Composing himself, he walked inside to have another look and found that the source of the glow was the pure mutton-jade vase. Filled with delight, he said to himself, “What a lovely treasure! This vase was glowing also when the little fiends took it up the mountain. Then old Monkey got it, only to have it taken away again by the monster. It’s hidden here and today it’s still glowing.” Look at him! He stole the vase at once and turned quickly to walk out of the cave, not even bothering to try to rescue his master. As soon as he came out the door, he ran into the demon returning from the south, holding the treasure sword and the fan. The Great Sage did not have time to hide himself, and the demon lifted his sword instantly to slash at his head. Mounting his cloud somersault, the Great Sage leaped up and vanished immediately.

When the fiend arrived at his own door, he saw corpses lying everywhere, all the monster-spirits under his command. He was so stricken that he lifted his face toward Heaven and sighed loudly before bursting into tears, crying “O misery! O what bitterness!” For him we have a testimonial poem, and the poem says:

    
Hateful are the sly ape and the froward horse!

    
The seeds divine who came to the world of dust,

    
For
one erring thought of leaving Heaven,