OriginChapter 65
This cycle of cause and effect exhorts people to do good and by no means to do evil. As soon as a thought arises, the gods illuminate and reflect upon it, allowing him to act as he will. How can you learn from the foolish, the dull, the clever, and the capable? Both still lack the medicine of the mindless. While life lasts, with the Way before you, you ought to cultivate; do not drift aimlessly. Recognize the root source; shed the original shell. Seek longevity; you must grasp it firmly. Constantly see clearly, pondering the ambrosia. Penetrate the three passes, fill the black sea, and command that the good ride on cranes and phoenixes. In the midst of that, pitying the old and being more compassionate, they ascend to ultimate bliss.
Now the story tells that Tripitaka’s single-minded devotion was so sincere that, not to mention the protection of heavenly spirits, even the spirits of grasses and trees came to escort him forward. After a refined gathering through the night, they escaped from the thorns and brambles, with no more vines and creepers entangling them. The four travelers pressed westward. After traveling for some time, winter again drew to a close, and it was just the season of the third spring month:
All things flourished in harmonious alternation; the Dipper’s handle turned back to the Tiger. Grass buds spread green across the earth; willow eyes filled the embankments with green. One mountain ridge of peach blossoms blazed like red brocade; half a stream of misty waters shone bright as blue silk. Many winds and rains; boundless feelings. The sun dried the flower hearts to brilliance; swallows bore mossy stamens lightly. Mountain colors, like Wang Wei’s paintings—now dense, now pale; bird songs, like Su Qin’s tongue—crisscrossing and flowing. Fragrant blooms spread embroidered carpets with none to admire them, yet butterflies danced and bees sang as if possessed of feeling.
The master and his disciples also sought out fragrant scenes and trod upon emerald green, slowly following the horse’s steps. As they were going along, they suddenly saw a high mountain, which from a distance seemed to touch the sky. Tripitaka raised his whip and pointed, saying, “Wukong, I wonder how tall that mountain is—it seems as if it joins the blue heavens and pierces the azure firmament.” The Pilgrim said, “Does not an old poem say, ‘Only heaven is above; no mountain can rival its height’? That merely speaks of a mountain’s supreme loftiness, that nothing can compare with it—how could there be any principle of touching heaven?” Bajie said, “If it does not touch heaven, why is Mount Kunlun called the Heavenly Pillar?” The Pilgrim said, “You do not understand. Since ancient times, ‘Heaven is not full in the northwest.’ Mount Kunlun lies in the Qian position of the northwest, and therefore it has the appearance of propping up the sky and blocking the void, hence it is named the Heavenly Pillar.” Sha Seng laughed and said, “Elder Brother, do not speak such fine words to him; once he hears them, he will go and lord them over others. Let us keep walking; once we climb that mountain, we shall know its height.”
That blockhead chased after Sha Seng, wrestling and tussling with him. The old master’s horse flew along like the wind. In a moment they reached the foot of the mountain cliff and proceeded step by step upward. They saw that the mountain:
In the forest the wind sighed; at the ravine bottom the water gurgled. Crows and sparrows could not fly over it; even immortals would say it was hard. A thousand crags and ten thousand ravines, a hundred twists and a thousand turns. Dust rolled in billows with no one coming; strange rocks stood in dense forests, never tiring to behold. In places clouds were like surging water; in spots trees abounded with birds’ cries. Deer carried lingzhi away; apes plucked peaches and returned. Foxes and badgers leaped to and fro on the cliffs; chamois and deer sported along the ridges. Suddenly a tiger’s roar startled the heart; striped leopards and gray wolves barred the way.
Tripitaka was terrified at the sight. But the Great Sage Sun had vast supernatural powers. Watch him—with his golden-banded staff, he gave a mighty roar that frightened away wolves, insects, tigers, and leopards. He cleared a path and led his master straight up the high mountain. After crossing the ridge and descending to the level ground on the west, they suddenly saw auspicious lights shimmering and colorful mists swirling. There was a complex of towers, pavilions, and halls, with the faint, lingering sound of bells and stone chimes. Tripitaka said, “Disciples, see what place that is.” The Pilgrim raised his head, shading his eyes with his hand, and looked carefully. That was indeed a fine place over there. Truly:
Precious towers and jeweled thrones—a sublime monastery in a famous region. The hollow valley teemed with the echoes of the earth; the quiet precincts scattered heavenly fragrances. Green pines, draped with rain, shaded the lofty pavilions; emerald bamboos, holding clouds, guarded the lecture hall. Haloed light, ethereal and faint, revealed a dragon palace; colors drifted and fluttered, stretching along the sandy realm. Vermilion railings and jade doorways, painted rafters and carved beams. As they discussed the scriptures, the fragrance filled the seats; as they chanted the registers, the moon shone at the windows. Birds cried among the cinnabar trees; cranes drank by the stone springs. On all sides flowers bloomed, lovely in the Qiyuan garden; on three sides gates opened, shining with the light of Shravasti. Terraces and towers rose abruptly, their gates facing the peaks; bells and chimes echoed slowly, their sounds lingering long. Windows opened to a gentle breeze; curtains rolled back to reveal hazy mist. There were monks of serene and carefree spirit, no worldly airs—harmonious and flourishing. A true paradise where the red dust never reached; a pure land, a vihara, an excellent site for cultivation.
The Pilgrim finished his inspection and replied, “Master, that place is a monastery, but I do not know why, amid its Zen radiance and auspicious halos, there is also some inauspicious air. From its appearance, it also resembles Thunderclap, yet the path is somewhat off. When we get there, we must not enter rashly, for fear of falling into foul play.” Tang Sanzang said, “Since it bears the appearance of Thunderclap, could it not be Vulture Peak? Do not mislead my sincere heart or delay my purpose in coming.” The Pilgrim said, “No, no. I have walked the road to Vulture Peak several times—how could this be that road?” Bajie said, “Even if it is not, there must certainly be some good people dwelling there.” Sha Seng said, “Do not be overly suspicious; this road inevitably passes before that gate. Whether it is or not, we shall know at a glance.” The Pilgrim said, “Wujing speaks reasonably.”
The elder whipped his horse and galloped to the mountain gate. When he saw the three characters “Thunderclap Monastery,” he was so startled that he tumbled from his horse and fell to the ground, cursing, “You vile ape! You have ruined me. Here it is clearly Thunderclap Monastery, and you still deceive me.” The Pilgrim forced a smile and said, “Master, do not be angry. Look again. On the mountain gate are four characters—why do you read only three and then blame me?” The elder, trembling, scrambled up and looked again—indeed, there were four characters: “Small Thunderclap Monastery.” Tripitaka said, “Even if it is the Small Thunderclap Monastery, there must certainly be a Buddha within. The scriptures say there are three thousand Buddhas; I imagine they are not all in one place. For instance, Guanyin is in the South Sea, Samantabhadra on Mount Emei, and Manjushri on Mount Wutai. I wonder which Buddha’s abode this is. The ancients said: ‘Where there is a Buddha, there are scriptures; no region is without treasures.’ We may enter.” The Pilgrim said, “We must not enter. This place holds little fortune and much ill. If calamity befalls us, do not blame me.” Tripitaka said, “Even if there is no Buddha, there must be a Buddha image. This disciple has made this vow: whenever he meets a Buddha, he worships him. How could I blame you?”
He then ordered Bajie to fetch his cassock and change his monk’s cap. Having donned his vestments properly, he lifted his feet and advanced. Just then, someone inside the mountain gate called out, “Tang Sanzang, you have come from the East to pay homage to our Buddha—why are you still so remiss?” Hearing this, Tripitaka at once bowed low; Bajie also kowtowed, and Sha Seng knelt down as well. Only the Great Sage held the horse and attended to the luggage, staying behind. As they entered the second gate, they beheld the Great Hall of Tathagata. Before the hall, below the jeweled terrace, were arrayed five hundred Arhats, three thousand Bodhisattvas, four Vajras, eight Bodhisattvas, bhikshunis, and upasakas—countless holy monks and Daoists. Truly, the fragrant flowers were resplendent and auspicious vapors swirled thickly. The elder, Bajie, and Sha Seng were so flustered that they bowed with every step, making their way up to the spiritual terrace. The Pilgrim, however, remained standing and did not bow. Then from the lotus throne a stern voice called out loudly, “Sun Wukong, why do you not bow before Tathagata?” The Pilgrim looked carefully once more, saw that it was false, and immediately abandoned the horse and luggage. He seized his staff and shouted, “You pack of evil beasts! How dare you assume the name of Buddha and defile Tathagata’s pure virtue? Do not run!” With both hands he swung his staff and struck. Suddenly, with a clang from midair, a pair of golden cymbals descended and closed over the Pilgrim, head and feet, trapping him inside. The panicked Zhu Bajie and Sha Heshang hurriedly raised their rake and staff, but they were immediately surrounded by a throng of Arhats, Bodhisattvas, holy monks, and Daoists. Caught off guard, the two of them were seized as well. Then Tripitaka was captured. All were bound with ropes and cords, tightly lashed and firmly tied.
Now the one who had been disguised as Tathagata on the lotus throne was in fact a demon king, and all the Arhats and the rest were lesser monsters. He then withdrew the Buddha’s appearance and once more revealed his demon form. He had the three carried away to the rear and locked up. As for the Pilgrim, he was sealed inside the golden cymbal, never to be opened, and placed upon the jeweled terrace, to be dissolved into pus and blood within three days and nights. After that, he would steam the other three in an iron cage and devour them. Thus it is said:
The green-eyed ape recognized truth from false;
By Zen’s design he saw the form and bowed to the golden body.
Huangpo blindly joined in the rites of worship;
Mumu, with foolish heart, shared in the discourse.
The evil fiend forcibly bullied the true nature;
The demon lord, harboring malice, deceived heaven and man.
Truly, the Way is small, the demon lord great;
Mistakenly entering the side gate, one wastes one's body in vain.
At that time, the host of demons stored Tang Sanzang and his two disciples in the rear; they tied the horse at the back; they placed his cassock and monk's cap inside the luggage load, and also stored it away. On one side they kept strict watch—no more of this for now.
Now Wukong was enclosed inside the golden cymbal, completely dark, so stifled that he sweated all over. He lunged left and right, but could not get out. In desperation, he struck wildly with his iron staff, but not a bit of it would move. Having no plan left, he strained his body outward, trying to break the golden cymbal. He then formed a mudra and grew to a thousand or even ten thousand zhang in height; but the golden cymbal grew along with his body, without the slightest crack or light. He again formed a mudra and shrank his body down, as small as a mustard seed; the cymbal also shrank with his body, without even a tiny hole. He then blew a breath of immortal energy onto his iron staff and cried, "Change!"—and it turned into a banner pole, propping up the golden cymbal. Then he pulled out two long hairs from the back of his head and cried, "Change!"—they turned into two five-petaled plum-blossom drills. Plying them beneath the staff, he drilled a thousand or more times, but only produced a loud grating noise; the cymbal would not be drilled through at all. Wukong, now frantic, formed a mudra and recited a spell: "Om Lan Jing Fa Jie, Qian Yuan Heng Li Zhen," thereby summoning the Five Directional Jiedi, the Six Ding and Six Jia, and the Eighteen Protector Gāthā, who all stood outside the golden cymbal and said, "Great Sage, we are all protecting your master, not allowing the demons to harm him. Why have you summoned us?" Wukong said, "My master does not heed my advice—if he were to die, it would be no loss. But you must quickly use your powers to pry open this cymbal and let me out, so we can devise a plan. There is no light or air in here; I am stifled all over—are you trying to suffocate me?" The gods indeed tried to pry it open, but it seemed as if it had grown together; not a single bit could be moved. The Golden-Head Jiedi said, "Great Sage, this cymbal must be some kind of treasure. It is sealed top and bottom into one solid piece. Our divine powers are too weak to move it." Wukong said, "I have used no small amount of divine abilities inside, but I could not move it either."
Upon hearing this, the Jiedi immediately ordered the Six Ding deities to protect Tang Sanzang, the Six Jia deities to guard the golden cymbal, and the various Gāthā to keep watch front and back. He himself then soared up on auspicious light and in an instant burst through the Southern Heavenly Gate. Without awaiting summons, he went straight up to the base of the Lingxiao Palace, where he saw the Jade Emperor, prostrated himself, and reported: "Your Majesty, I am the emissary of the Five Directional Jiedi. Now the Great Sage Equaling Heaven, who is escorting Tang Sanzang on his quest for scriptures, encountered a mountain named Little Thunderclap Monastery. Sanzang mistakenly thought it was the Spirit Mountain and went in to worship; it turned out to be a false setup by demons, who have trapped his master and disciples and enclosed the Great Sage within a pair of golden cymbals. He can neither advance nor retreat, and is nearly at the point of death. I have therefore come to report." The Jade Emperor immediately issued a decree: "Dispatch the Twenty-Eight Constellations of the stars to go quickly and relieve the calamity and subdue the demons."
The constellations did not dare delay; they followed the Jiedi and left the Heavenly Gate, arriving at the mountain gate around the second watch. At that hour, the great and small demons, having captured Tang Sanzang, had all been feasted by the old demon and had each gone to sleep. The constellations, without causing any alarm, all came to the outside of the cymbal and announced, "Great Sage, we are the Twenty-Eight Constellations sent by the Jade Emperor to rescue you." Wukong was overjoyed on hearing this and said, "Strike it with your weapons to break it, and Old Sun will come out." The constellations said, "We dare not strike it. This object is a treasure of solid gold; striking it will surely make a sound, and the noise will alert the demons, making rescue difficult. Let us instead use our weapons to pry it. Wherever you see the slightest light, you can come out." Wukong said, "Exactly." Then you see them—those with spears using their spears, those with swords using their swords, those with sabers using their sabers, those with axes using their axes; some shouldered, some lifted, some pried, some wedged. They worked until the third watch, but it would not budge in the slightest, as if it had been cast into a single whole. Meanwhile, Wukong inside peered east and west, crawled over and rolled about, but could not see even a glimmer of light.
Kang Jinlong said, "Great Sage, do not be anxious. This treasure is certainly an如意 (wish-fulfilling) object and must be able to change. Inside, feel along the seam with your hand. I will thrust my horn tip in, and then you can transform and slip out through the loosened spot." Wukong followed his advice and indeed felt around inside. The constellation shrank his body, and his horn tip became like a needle point, inserted along the seam of the cymbal. Pitiful—he used the strength of a thousand catties before he could pierce through to the inside. Then he applied his magical power to his own body and horn, and called, "Grow! Grow! Grow!" The horn grew to the thickness of a bowl. The cymbal's mouth, strangely, did not seem to be cast from gold but rather like flesh and skin that had grown together; it tightly gripped Kang Jinlong's horn, with no gap whatsoever all around. Wukong felt the horn and said, "It's no use—there is not the slightest looseness above or below. I have no choice; you must bear a little pain and bring me out." O wonderful Great Sage—he at once changed his Golden Cudgel into a steel drill and bored a hole through the tip of the horn. He then shrank his body to the size of a mustard seed, crouched inside the drilled hole, and called, "Pull out the horn! Pull out the horn!" The constellation then spent no small amount of effort before he could pull it out, and he collapsed to the ground, utterly spent.
Wukong then drilled out from the hole in the horn tip, resumed his original form, whipped out his iron staff, and struck the cymbal with a loud *dang*—it was like a copper mountain collapsing and a gold mine bursting open. Alas, that Buddhist implement was shattered into a thousand pieces of fragmented gold. The Twenty-Eight Constellations were startled, the Five Jiedi had their hair standing on end, and the great and small demons all woke from their dreams. The old demon king, flustered in his sleep, quickly rose, threw on his robe, beat the war drum, mustered the host of demons, and each took up weapons. At this time dawn was about to break. They surged forward to the base of the precious terrace, where they saw Sun Wukong and the constellations surrounding the shattered golden cymbal—he was greatly shocked. He at once ordered, "My little ones! Secure the front gate tightly, and do not let anyone out."
When Wukong heard that, he took the star hosts, mounted clouds, and leaped up into the ninefold void. The demon king gathered the broken gold pieces, arrayed his demon soldiers, and lined up outside the mountain gate. Nursing his hatred, he had no choice but to don his armor, took a short, soft wolf-tooth mace, and came out of camp, shouting loudly: "Sun Wukong! You are a true man—do not flee far away. Come forward quickly and fight three rounds with me." Wukong could not restrain himself; he led the star hosts, descended from the clouds, and looked to see what sort of creature the demon was. He saw:
His hair was unbound, bound with a thin, flat golden circlet;
His eyes were glaring, with two erect yellow brows.
He had a pendant nose with open, flared nostrils;
A square mouth with sharp, pointed teeth.
He wore a suit of linked-ring chainmail,
And a belt of gathered silk tassels.
On his feet were a pair of Ula boots,
And in his hand he held a wolf-tooth mace.
His form resembled a beast yet was not quite beast;
His countenance was not human yet seemed like man.
The Walker brandished his iron staff and shouted, "What sort of monster are you, that you dare pretend to be the Buddha, seize this mountain, and set up a false Little Thunderclap Monastery?" The demon king said, "This ape does not know my name, and so dares to trespass upon this immortal mountain. This place is called Little Western Heaven. Because I cultivated and achieved the true fruit, Heaven bestowed upon me these precious pavilions and splendid towers. My name is Yellowbrow Old Buddha. The people here do not know this, but they call me Yellowbrow Great King or Grandfather Yellowbrow. I have long known that you are heading west and have some abilities, so I set up this image to display my power, luring your master in here, to make a wager with you. If you can best me, I will spare you and your master and let you attain the true fruit. If not, I will beat you all to death and go myself to see Tathagata to fetch the scriptures, thereby achieving the true fruit in the Central Land." The Walker laughed and said, "Monster, no need for such boasting. Since you want to wager, come up quickly and take my staff." The demon king, beaming with delight, wielded his wolf-teeth club to meet him. What a fine battle:
Two staves, not alike, yet described they have their forms:
One short and soft, a Buddha's weapon; one hard and firm, from ocean stores.
Both have the power of transformation at will; now they meet to vie in strength.
The short, soft wolf-teeth club is trimmed with brocade; the hard, firm golden band is like a dragon.
Thick or thin, truly praiseworthy; short or long, perfectly fitting.
Monkey and demon, both join battle—this fight is no lie.
The tamed monkey, upholding doctrine, acts as the mind-ape; the reckless fiend, cheating Heaven, puts on a false show.
Angry and resentful, each without mercy; fierce and savage, both have their ways.
One attacks the head with never a let-up; the other parries head-on and cannot yield.
Spraying clouds dim the sun; belching mist veils the peaks.
Stave meets stave in mutual greeting, forgetting life and death because of Tripitaka.
They fought for fifty rounds without determining victory or defeat. At the mountain gate, gongs and drums were sounded, and the many demons shouted and waved their flags. On this side, the Twenty-Eight Lunar Mansions and the Five Directional Guardians, along with the other holy beings, each shouldered their weapons, gave a great shout, and surrounded the demon chief in their midst. The horde of demons outside the gate were so frightened they could hardly beat their drums, trembling and too weak to strike the gongs. The old demon, however, showed no fear at all. With one hand he wielded the wolf-teeth club to hold off the host, while with the other he reached to his waist and untied an old white cloth bag. He tossed it upward, and with a swishing sound, he swept Sun the Great Sage, the Twenty-Eight Lunar Mansions, and the Five Directional Guardians all into the bag at once. He slung it over his shoulder and strode back. The lesser demons all returned joyfully in triumph. The old demon ordered his minions to fetch thirty or fifty hempen ropes, opened the bag, and tied up each one as they were pulled out. Every one of them had limp bones and numb sinews, with wrinkled and shrunken skin. They were bound and carried to the rear, thrown to the ground without distinction. The demon king then ordered a banquet with free-flowing drink, which lasted from dawn until dusk before they dispersed, each to their own sleeping quarters.
Now Sun the Great Sage and the host of gods had been tied up until midnight, when suddenly they heard weeping sounds. Turning an ear to listen, they recognized Tripitaka's voice, crying: "Wukong, ah,
I rue that I did not heed you then,
And thus have met this calamity now.
Inside the gold cangue you were hurt,
And bound with rope—who knows my plight?
The four of us have met with bitter fate,
And all our three thousand merits are undone.
How can I escape these pressing woes,
And westward go in peace, to return?"
When the Walker heard this, he felt pity in his heart and said to himself, "Though the master did not heed my words and has now fallen into this harm, yet amid tribulation he still thinks of old Sun. Taking advantage of this quiet night when the demons sleep and none are on guard, I shall free the others and escape."
O most excellent Great Sage, he used the art of body-concealment, shrank his form, slipped free of the ropes, and drew near to Tang's master, calling, "Master." The elder recognized his voice and said, "How did you come here?" The Walker quietly recounted everything that had happened. The elder was greatly pleased and said, "Disciple, save me quickly. From now on, I shall do as you say and will no longer be stubborn." Only then did the Walker set to work. He first untied his master, then freed Eight Rules and Sha Monk. He also untied the Twenty-Eight Lunar Mansions and the Five Directional Guardians one by one. Then he led the horse over and told them to hurry out first. But once they were out the gate, he did not know where the luggage was, so he went back to look for it. Kang Jinlong said, "You value things too much and people too little. Since you have saved your master, that is enough—why go looking for luggage again?" The Walker said, "People are important, but the robe and bowl are even more so. In the bundle are the customs clearance passport, the brocade cassock, and the purple-gold alms bowl—all are precious treasures of the Buddhist faith. How could I not want them?" Eight Rules said, "Brother, go look for them. We will wait for you ahead on the road." And so the stars escorted Tang's master, using the art of summoning and joining their powers. With a gust of wind, they swept out of the enclosure, made for the main road, went down the hillside, and halted on level ground to wait.
It was about the third watch when Sun the Great Sage, light of step and slow of pace, stole back inside. The gates and doors were all tightly shut, layer upon layer. He climbed up to a high pavilion and found all the windows closed. He wanted to go down, but feared the rattling of the window lattices and dared not push them. Making a mudra, he shook himself and changed into a spirit-rat, commonly called a bat. Do you know how he appeared?
His head was pointed like a rat's, his eyes bright as one too;
With wings he came out at dusk, in daylight he dwelt without light.
Hiding his body in cracks between tiles, seeking food by pouncing on gnats.
He loved clear, bright moons; in flight he best knew the hour.
He slipped in beneath the unsealed gaps between the rafters, passed through gates and doors, and when he reached the middle, he saw, beneath the window of the third-story pavilion, a shimmering beam of light. It was not lamplight, not firefly light, not rosy cloud-light, nor lightning-flash. He half-flew, half-hopped, and drew near the window to look—it was the bundle emitting light. The monster had taken off Tang's cassock and, without folding it, had stuffed it carelessly into the bundle. The cassock was a Buddha-treasure, set with wish-granting pearls, mani pearls, red carnelian, purple coral, sarīra relics, and night-lustrous pearls—hence its radiant glow. Seeing the robe and bowl, his heart rejoiced. He resumed his true form, seized them, and heedless of whether the carrying-pole was balanced, hoisted it onto his shoulder and started down. But one end slipped off, and with a thud the bundle crashed onto the floorboards, making a loud clatter. Ah! As fate would have it, the old monster was sleeping downstairs. The noise woke him, and he leaped up, shouting wildly, "Someone is here! Someone is here!" All the demons, great and small, jumped up, lit lamps and torches, and with a great clamor searched front and back. Some came to report, "Tang's master has fled." Others reported, "The Walker and all the rest have fled as well." The old demon quickly passed the order, commanding, "Be on guard at every gate!" When the Walker heard this, fearing he would be snared again, he did not manage to carry off the bundle but somersaulted out through the window and was gone.
The fiend searched everywhere, back and forth, but could not find Tang Sanzang and the others. Seeing that the sky was about to grow light, he took up his staff and led his hosts in pursuit. There he saw the Twenty-Eight Constellations and the Five Directional Revealers and other deities, their clouds and mists surging thickly as they camped at the foot of the slope. The fiend king gave a great shout: "Where are you going? Here I come!" Jiao Mujiao urgently called out: "Brothers, the monster is here." Kang Jinlong, Di Tufu, Fang Ritu, Xin Yuehu, Wei Huohu, Ji Shuibao, Dou Muxie, Niu Jinniu, Nu Tuzi, Xu Rishu, Wei Yeyan, Shi Huozhu, Bi Shuiyu, Kui Mulang, Lou Jingou, Wei Tuzhi, Mao Riji, Bi Yuewu, Zi Huohou, Shen Shuiyuan, Jing Muan, Gui Jinyang, Liu Tuzhang, Xing Rima, Zhang Yuelu, Yi Huoshe, Zhen Shuiyin, together with the Gold-Head Revealer, the Silver-Head Revealer, the Six Jia and Six Ding deities, and the Dharma-Protecting Ganas, along with Eight Precepts and Sha Monk—(not leading Tang Sanzang, having left the White Dragon Horse behind)—each took up his weapon and surged forward in one body. When the fiend king saw them, he gave a cold, mocking laugh, blew a whistle, and four or five thousand great and small fiends, each mighty and formidable, joined in chaotic battle on the western slope. A fine slaughter:
The demon lord, wanton and evil, bullied the true nature;
The true nature, gentle and mild, could not overcome the demon.
With every scheme attempted, it was hard to escape suffering;
With a thousand clever arts, there was no reconciliation.
The celestial hosts came to protect,
The holy sages aided in the fight.
To hold back was to fail the Wood Mother;
To fix one's will moved the Yellow Dame.
The chaos shook the heavens and rattled the earth;
The fierce struggle set nets and spread snares.
On that side they waved banners and raised war cries;
On this side they beat drums and clashed gongs.
Spears and swords, thick and dense, cast icy gleams;
Halberds and blades, in endless ranks, bore much killing air.
The fiend soldiers were fierce and bold;
How could the divine troops withstand them?
Sorrowful clouds dimmed the sun and moon;
Dismal mists veiled the mountains and rivers.
They grappled and dragged in bitter combat—
All because Sanzang worshipped Amitābha.
The fiend king redoubled his ferocity and led his hosts forward in a murderous charge.
Just as they were locked in battle with no clear victor, there came the sound of Pilgrim's angry shout: "Old Sun is here!" Eight Precepts met him and asked: "What of the luggage?" Pilgrim replied: "Old Sun nearly lost his life, and you talk of luggage!" Sha Monk, gripping his precious staff, said: "Let us set aside talk for now—hurry and strike the fiend!" The constellations, Revealers, Ding and Jia deities, and the rest were surrounded by the horde of fiends in the thick of the melee, and the old demon wielded his staff to strike the three of them. Pilgrim, Eight Precepts, and Sha Monk cast aside their staffs and staves, swung their muckrakes and held him off. Truly the earth was darkened and the sky dimmed; they could not gain victory. They fought until the sun star sank beyond the mountain roots in the west, and the moon star rose over the sea cliffs in the east. When the fiend saw that evening had come, he gave a whistle and ordered all his fiends to remain watchful, while he produced his treasure. Pilgrim saw it clearly: the monster untied his carrying pouch and held it in his hand. Pilgrim cried out: "Not good—run!" He then, heedless of Eight Precepts, Sha Monk, and the many celestial hosts, turned a somersault and sprang up into the ninth heaven. The deities, Eight Precepts, and Sha Monk did not understand his meaning; the fiend flung it up, and they were all packed inside again—only Pilgrim had escaped. The fiend king withdrew his troops and returned to the monastery, where he again ordered ropes brought out and bound them as before. He had Tang Sanzang, Eight Precepts, and Sha Monk suspended high from beams, the white horse tied in the rear, and all the deities likewise bound, carried into an underground cellar, sealed and covered over. The fiend hosts obeyed his orders, and each was put away—but no more of that.
Now Pilgrim, having leaped into the ninth heaven and saved his life, saw the fiend troops withdraw without unfurling their banners, and knew that the others had been captured. He then lowered his auspicious light and alighted on the eastern mountaintop, gnashing his teeth at the monster, shedding tears for Tang Sanzang, gazing up at the sky, and suddenly crying out in grief. "Master!" he called. "In what former life did you incur this calamity, that in this life you meet fiends at every step? Suffering such hardship with no escape—what is to be done?" Alone, he lamented for a long while, then again composed his spirit and pondered, asking his own heart: "I wonder what sort of carrying pouch this demon has, that it can hold so many things? Now even the celestial gods and generals—so many of them—have been packed inside. I would seek help from Heaven, but I fear the Jade Emperor would take offense. I recall that the True Warrior of the North, titled the Demon-Subduing Celestial Worthy, now dwells on Wudang Mountain in the Southern Jambū Continent. I shall go invite him to rescue my master from this ordeal." Just as it is said:
Before the immortal path was complete, the Ape and Horse scattered;
The mind-spirit lacked a master, and the Five Phases withered.
Whether this journey would end in success, you must hear the explanation in the next installment.