The Journey to the West, Revised Edition, Volume 2 (63 page)

Pilgrim said, “These gods are rather unreasonable. They should rather let you die early so that you could reach Heaven at once. Why are they guarding you like that?” The monks said, “They try to comfort us in our dreams, telling us not to seek death but to endure our suffering for awhile until the arrival of the holy monk from the Great Tang in the Land of the
East,
the arhat who is journeying to the Western Heaven to acquire scriptures. Under him, we are told, there is a disciple who is the Great Sage, Equal to Heaven, and who has vast magic powers. He is, moreover, a person of rectitude and kindness, one who will avenge the injustices of the world, assist those who are needy and oppressed, and comfort the orphans and the widows. We are told to wait for his arrival, for he will reveal his power and destroy the Daoists, so that the teaching of Chan and complete poverty will be honored once more.” When Pilgrim heard these words, he said silently to himself, smiling,

    
“Don’t say old Monkey has no competence,

    
For gods proclaim early his eminence.”

Turning quickly and striking up again the wooden fish, he left the monks to return to the city gate to meet the Daoists. “Sir,” said the Daoists as they greeted him, “which of them is your relative?” “All five hundred of them are relatives of mine,” said Pilgrim. Laughing, the two Daoists said, “How could you have that many relatives?” “One hundred are neighbors to my left,” said Pilgrim, “and one hundred are neighbors to my right; one hundred belong to my father’s side, and one hundred belong to my mother’s side. Finally, one hundred happen to be my bond-brothers. If you are willing to let these five hundred persons go, I’ll be willing to enter the city with you. If you are not, I won’t go with you.”

The Daoists said, “You must be a little crazy, for all at once you are babbling! These monks happen to be gifts from the king. If we want to release even one or two of them, we will have to go first before our masters to report that they are ill. Then, we have to submit a death certificate before we can consider the matter closed. How could you ask us to release them all? Nonsense! Nonsense! Why, not to speak of the fact that we would be left without servants in our household, but even the court might be offended. The king might send some officials to look into the work here or he himself might come to investigate. How could we dare let them go?” “You won’t release them?” said Pilgrim. “No, we won’t!” said the Daoists. Pilgrim asked them three times and his anger flared up. Whipping out his iron rod from his ear, he squeezed it once in the wind and it had the thickness of a rice bowl. He tested it with his hand before slamming it down on the Daoists’ heads. How pitiful! This one blow made

    
Their heads crack, their blood squirts, their bodies sink low;

    
Their skin split, their necks snap, their brains outflow!

Those monks on the beach, when they saw in the distance that he had slain the Daoists, all abandoned the cart and ran toward him, crying, “What disaster! You’ve just killed royal kin.” “What royal kin?” asked Pilgrim. The
monks
had him completely surrounded, crying, “Their masters would not bow to the king when they walk into court, and when they walk out, they need not take leave of the lord. His Majesty addresses them constantly as Messrs. Preceptors of State, Elder Brothers. How could you come here and cause such a terrible disaster? Their disciples came out to this place to supervise our work and they did not offend you. How could you beat them to death? If those immortal elders claimed that you were here only to supervise our labor and that we were the ones who took their lives, what would happen to us? We must go into the city with you and have you confess your guilt first.” “Stop hollering, all of you,” said Pilgrim, laughing. “I am no mendicant Daoist of the Complete Truth order. I’m here to save you.” “You have murdered two men,” said the monks, “and we are likely to be blamed for it. Look what you have added to our burdens! How could you be our savior?”

Pilgrim said, “I am Pilgrim Sun Wukong, the disciple of the holy monk of the Great Tang. I have come especially to save your lives.” “No! No!” cried the monks. “You can’t be, for we can recognize that venerable father.” “You haven’t even met him,” said Pilgrim, “so how could you recognize him?” The monks said, “We have met in our dreams an old man who identified himself as the Gold Star Venus. He told us over and over again how Pilgrim Sun was supposed to look so that we wouldn’t make a mistake in identifying him.” “What did he tell you?” asked Pilgrim. The monks said, “He said that the Great Sage has

    
A bumpy brow, and golden eyes flashing;

    
A round head and a hairy face jowl-less;

    
Gaping teeth, pointed mouth, a character most sly;

    
He looks more strange than thunder god.

    
Using a golden-hooped iron rod,

    
He once broke Heaven’s gates apart.

    
He now follows Truth, protecting a monk,

    
And saves humankind from distress.”
⁵

When Pilgrim heard these words, he was both pleased and annoyed; pleased, because the gods had spread wide his fame, but also annoyed, because those old rogues, he thought, had revealed to mortals his primal form. He blurted out all at once, “Indeed all of you can see that I am not Pilgrim Sun, but I am a disciple of his, just learning how to cause some trouble for fun! Look over there! Isn’t that Pilgrim Sun who is approaching?” He pointed to the East with his finger and tricked the monks into turning their heads. As they did so, he revealed his true form, which the monks recognized immediately. Every one of them went to his knees, saying, “Father,
we
are of fleshly eyes and mortal stock, and we failed to know that you appeared to us in transformation. We beg Father to avenge our wrongs and dispel our woes by entering the city quickly and exterminating the demonic ones.” “Follow me,” said Pilgrim, and the monks all followed him closely.

The Great Sage walked to the beach. Exerting his magic power, he yanked the cart through the two passes and up the spine ridge before picking it up and smashing it to pieces. He then tossed all those bricks, tiles, and timber down a ravine. “Go away!” he bellowed to the monks. “Don’t crowd around me. Let me see the king tomorrow and destroy those Daoists.” “O Father!” said those monks. “We dare not go very far away, for we fear that we might be caught by the officials. Then we would be brought back for beatings and for ransom, and there would be no end to our woes.” “In that case,” said Pilgrim, “let me give you some means of protection.”

Dear Great Sage! He plucked a handful of hairs that he chewed into small pieces. To each of the monks he gave a piece with the instruction: “Stick it into the nail of your fourth finger and then make a fist. You can walk as far as you want. Don’t do anything if no one comes to seize you, but if there should be someone trying to arrest you, hold your fist up tightly and cry, ‘Great Sage, Equal to Heaven.’ I will come at once to protect you.” “Father,” said the monks, “if we walk too far away and you can’t see or hear us, what good will it do?” “Relax,” said Pilgrim, “for even if you are ten thousand miles away, I guarantee that nothing will happen to you.”

One of the monks who was somewhat courageous indeed held up his fist and whispered, “Great Sage, Equal to Heaven.” At once a thunder spirit stood in front of him, holding an iron rod. He looked so formidable that not even a thousand cavalry would dare charge near him. Several scores of the monks made the call also, and several scores of Great Sages at once appeared. The monks kowtowed, crying, “Father, truly an efficacious manifestation!” “When you want it to disappear,” said Pilgrim, “all you have to say is the word, ‘Cease.’
” They cried, “Cease!” and the hairs appeared again in their nails. The monks were overjoyed and began to disperse. “Don’t go too far away,” said Pilgrim, “but listen for news of me in the city. If a proclamation requesting for monks to return to the city is published, you may then enter the city and give me back my hairs.” Those five hundred monks then scattered in all directions, and we shall speak no more of them for the moment.

We tell you now instead about the Tang Monk by the wayside. While he waited in vain for Pilgrim to come back with a report, he told Zhu Eight Rules to lead the horse forward toward the West. As they proceeded, they met some monks hurrying by, and when they drew near the city, they saw Pilgrim standing there with a dozen or so monks who had not dispersed. Reining in his horse, Tripitaka said, “Wukong, you were sent here to find
out
about the strange noise. Why did it take you so long and still you didn’t return?” Leading those monks to bow before the Tang Monk’s horse, Pilgrim gave a thorough account of what had happened. Horrified, Tripitaka said, “If this is the situation, what shall we do?” “Please have no fear, Venerable Father,” said those monks. “Father Great Sage Sun is an incarnation of a Heavenly god, and his vast magic powers will no doubt prevent you from coming to any harm. We are priests of the Wisdom Depth Monastery of this city, an edifice built by imperial command of the late king, the father of the present ruler. Since the image of the late king is still inside the monastery, it has not been torn down along with all the other monasteries, big and small, of the city. Let us invite the venerable father to go into the city and rest in our humble dwelling. We are certain that the Great Sage Sun will know what to do by the time of the morning court tomorrow.” “What you say is quite right,” said Pilgrim. “All right! We might as well enter the city first.”

The elder dismounted and went up to the city gate. The sun was setting as they walked across the drawbridge and inside the triple gates. When people on the streets saw that priests from the Wisdom Depth Monastery were toting luggage and leading a horse, they all drew back and avoided them. Before long they reached the entrance of the monastery, where they saw hanging high above the gate a huge plaque on which was written in gold letters: “The Wisdom Depth Monastery, Built by Imperial Command.” Pushing open the gates, the monks led them through the Vairocana Hall. They then opened the door to the main hall; the Tang Monk draped the cassock over his body and prostrated himself before the golden image. Only after he had paid homage to Buddha in this manner did he walk inside the main hall. “Hey, you who are looking after the house!” cried the monks, and an old priest emerged. When he saw Pilgrim, he fell on his knees at once and cried, “Father, have you arrived?” “Who am I?” asked Pilgrim. “Why should you address me and honor me in this manner?” “I recognize you to be the Great Sage, Equal to Heaven, the Father Sun,” said the priest. “Every night we dream of you, for the Gold Star Venus frequently appears to us in our dreams, telling us that we can preserve our lives only when you come to us. Today, I can tell immediately that you are the one whom we saw in our dreams. O Father, I’m so glad that you have arrived in time. After one or two more days, we may all become ghosts!” “Please rise! Please rise!” said Pilgrim with laughter. “Tomorrow you will see some results!” The monks all went to prepare for them a vegetarian meal, after which they swept clean the abbot’s residence for the pilgrims to rest.

Pilgrim, however, was so preoccupied that he could not sleep even by the time of the second watch. From somewhere nearby also came the sound of pipes and gongs, and he became so aroused that he rose quietly and slipped
on
his clothes. He leaped into midair to have a better look and at once discovered that there was the bright glare of lamps and torches due south of him. Lowering his cloud, he peered intently and found that the Daoists of the Three Pure Ones Abbey were making supplications to the stars. He saw

    
The spiritual realm of a tall chamber;

    
The blessed place of a magic hall.

    
The spiritual realm of a tall chamber,

    
August like the features of Mount Penglai;

    
The blessed place of a magic hall,

    
Immaculate like the Palace of Transformed Joy.

    
Daoists on both sides played their strings and pipes;

    
Masters at the center held up their tablets of jade.

    
They expounded the
Woe-Dispelling Litany
;

    
They lectured on the
Classic of the Way and Virtue
.

    
To raise dust
⁶
a few times they wrote out their charms;

    
To make the supplication they prostrated themselves.

    
With spell and water they sent a dispatch

    
As flames of torches shot up to the Region Above.

    
They sought and questioned the stars

    
As fragrant incense rose through the azure sky.

    
Before the stands were fresh offerings;

    
On top of tables were victuals sumptuous.

On both sides of the hall’s entrance was hung a pair of yellow silk scrolls on which the following parallel couplet in large characters was embroidered: