OriginChapter 72
The story relates that Tripiṭaka took leave of the King of Zhūzǐ, adjusted his saddle and horse, and proceeded westward. After crossing many mountain ranges and passing through endless waterways, before they knew it autumn had gone and winter waned, and once again the spring light was bright and beautiful. The master and disciples were just enjoying the greenery and scenery along the road when they suddenly saw a hermitage in the woods. Tripiṭaka rolled off his saddle and dismounted, standing by the side of the main road. Wukong asked, "Master, this road is flat and without deviation; why do you not go on?" Bajie said, "Elder Brother, you are so unfeeling. The master has grown tired sitting on the horse—let him come down and enjoy the breeze a little." Tripiṭaka said, "It is not to enjoy the breeze. I see that there is a household over there, and I wish to go myself to beg some alms food." Wukong laughed and said, "Look at what the master says. If you want alms food, I will go and beg it myself. As the common saying goes: 'One day as teacher, for life as father.' How could it be right that the disciple sits at ease while the master goes to beg alms?" Tripiṭaka said, "That is not the way to put it. On ordinary days, when the view stretches boundless and far, you go off near and far to beg alms. Today the household is close by and can be called upon; let me go and beg one meal." Bajie said, "Master, you lack judgment. As the saying goes: 'When three go out, the youngest bears the hardship.' Besides, you are of the father generation, and we are all disciples. The ancient book says: 'When there is work, the disciples should bear the toil.' Let old Pig go." Tripiṭaka said, "Disciples, today the weather is clear and bright, unlike times of wind and rain. At such times, you would certainly go far away. This household—let me go. Whether there is alms or not, I can return and be on our way." Shā Seng laughed from the side and said, "Elder Brother, there is no need to argue so much. The master's nature is like this; do not go against him. If you anger him, even if you bring back alms, he will not eat."
Bajie heeded the words, took out the alms bowl, and helped him change his clothes and cap. Striding forth, he went straight to the front of the village to look it over—it was indeed a fine dwelling place. One could see:
The stone bridge rose high, the ancient trees stood dense and neat. The stone bridge rose high, with babbling brookwater joining the long stream; the ancient trees stood dense and neat, with twittering hidden birds singing on the distant hills. Beyond the bridge there were several thatched cottages, pure and elegant like an immortal's hermitage; and there was also a latticed window, white and bright enough to rival a Daoist temple. Before the window suddenly appeared four fair ladies, all there embroidering phoenixes and tracing luan birds with needle and thread.
The elder, seeing that the household had no men, only four women, dared not enter. He stood still, sheltering himself beneath the tall trees. He saw that each of the women:
Her chamber heart was firm as stone, her orchid nature glad as spring. Her delicate face was set off by rosy clouds, her vermilion lips evenly painted with crimson rouge. Her moth eyebrows curved like a slender moon, her cicada tresses piled like fresh clouds. If she stood among flowers, roaming bees would mistake her for one.
After a short pause of half a double-hour, all was utterly still, with no sound of fowl or dog. He thought to himself, "If I cannot manage a meal of alms, I will also draw the mockery of my disciples—they would dare say that the master cannot beg alms, so how can the disciples go to worship the Buddha?"
The elder, having no recourse, and feeling somewhat at fault, hastened across the bridge. After a few more steps, he saw that within the thatched cottage there was a pavilion of woody sachet, and beneath the pavilion three more women were kicking a leather ball. Now these three women were different in appearance from the other four. One could see:
Fluttering green sleeves, swaying light yellow skirts. Fluttering green sleeves, lowly shrouding jade-bamboo slender fingers; swaying light yellow skirts, half revealing narrow golden-lotus feet. Their bearing and figure were wholly perfect; their moving and stilling steps showed a thousand varied postures. They took the ball high and low with skill, turning and passing it truly and neatly. Turning round they kicked a flower over the wall; stepping back they flipped it into a great crossing of the sea. Lightly they caught a mass of mud; with a single thrust they sharply parried a hook. A bright pearl on the Buddha's head, they firmly grasped it with pointed boots. They could take a narrow brick with ease; lying like a fish they struck with the foot. Bending at the waist and folding the knees they squatted, twisting the neck and tilting the heels they kicked. They could bounce it on the bench, and the shoulder-wrap was very free. Crossing the crotch they came and went at will; locking the neck they swung it to and fro. What they kicked was the Yellow River flowing backward—they bought it on Goldfish Shoal. One mistook it for the head; this one turned and struck it with the crutch. Upright they raised it to the shin, neatly they stabbed with the toe. Lifting the heel they flicked it like straw sandals; turning the head they swept it back. Stepping back they feigned a shoulder move; with a hook they gave a single twist. The basket came down long, and they made a rush at the gate. When they kicked to the height of delight, the fair ladies all shouted in praise. One by one, sweat soaked their powder, dampening their silk robes; when their zest waned and their spirits flagged, they called out "Enough!"
Words cannot exhaust it; there is also a poem as proof. The poem says:
On the cuju field in the third-month sky, immortal breezes blew down the fair moon maidens.
Sweat stained their powdered faces like flowers bearing dew; dust darkened their moth brows like willows veiled in mist.
Their green sleeves hung low, shrouding jade bamboo shoots; their light yellow skirts trailed aside, revealing golden lotus feet.
After several bouts, they were languid and weak; their cloudlike tresses were disheveled and their jeweled hairpins askew.
Tripiṭaka, having watched for a long time, had no choice but to step onto the bridge head and call out loudly, "Bodhisattva ladies, this poor monk begs a little alms food according to circumstances." When those women heard this, each and every one joyfully cast aside their needles and thread, left the ball, and all came out smiling and laughing, saying, "Elder, we have failed to welcome you. Now that you have come to our humble village, we would never dare to obstruct a mendicant monk—please come inside and sit." When Tripiṭaka heard this, he thought to himself, "Excellent, excellent! The Western Region is truly the land of Buddha; even women pay attention to feeding monks, how much more must men be devout in revering the Buddha?"
The elder stepped forward, made a formal greeting, and followed the women into the thatched cottage. Passing by the woody-sachet pavilion, he looked—ah! Inside there were no proper rooms or corridors. He saw only:
The peaks rose high, the earth-veins stretched far. The peaks rose high, reaching to the clouds and mist; the earth-veins stretched far, connecting to the seas and mountains. The gate neared the stone bridge, where nine turns and nine bends the flowing water curved around; the garden planted with peaches and plums, a thousand trees and a thousand fruits vied in luxuriant bloom. Vines and creepers hung on three or five trees; orchid and iris fragrance scattered over ten thousand flowers. From afar the cave-mansion outshone Penglai Isle; near at hand the mountain grove pressed down on Mount Taihua. This was truly a place where demon immortals sought seclusion; with no neighbors, it stood alone as a household.
One of the women came forward, pushed open the two stone doors, and invited Tang Monk to sit inside. The elder had no choice but to enter. When he raised his head and looked, all the furnishings were stone tables and stone stools, with a chilling, gloomy air. The elder's heart was alarmed, and he secretly thought, "This place bodes ill rather than good; it is certainly not auspicious." The women all smiled and laughed, saying, "Elder, please be seated." The elder could do nothing but sit. After a short while, he shivered with cold. The women asked, "Elder, from which precious mountain do you come? What kind of alms do you seek? Is it for building bridges and repairing roads, constructing temples and venerating pagodas, or making Buddha images and printing scriptures? Please bring out your alms-register and let us see." The elder said, "I am not a monk seeking alms." The women said, "If you are not seeking alms, what business have you come here for?" The elder said, "I am a scripture-seeker sent by the Great Tang of the East to the Great Thunderclap Monastery in the Western Heaven. I chanced to pass by your precious region, and being hungry in my belly, I have come specially to your fragrant mansion to beg a meal; then this poor monk will be on his way." The women said, "Good, good, good. As the saying goes: 'A monk from afar is good at reading scriptures.' Sisters, we must not be remiss. Quickly prepare the meal."
At that moment, three young women were keeping him company, chatting back and forth, discoursing on this and that. The other four went into the kitchen, hitched up their sleeves and tucked in their skirts, lit the fire and scoured the woks. And what do you suppose they were preparing? Why, it was human oil fried and rendered, human flesh seared and stewed—the blackened bits made into the likeness of gluten, the scooped-out brains fried into slabs of bean curd. Two platters were carried out and set upon the stone table, and they said to the elder: "Pray partake. In this haste we could not prepare a proper vege-table, but pray make do with this to fill your belly. More courses will follow." The elder gave it a sniff, and catching the reek of fish and flesh, dared not open his mouth. He rose slightly and, pressing his palms together, said: "Bodhisattvas, this humble monk has been vegetarian since the womb." The women laughed and said: "Elder, this is all vegetarian." The elder said: "Amitābha! If this is what you call vegetarian, then if I, a monk, were to eat it, I need not hope to see the World-Honored One or obtain the scriptures." The women said: "Elder, you who have left the household—take care not to be choosy about who gives alms." The elder said: "How would I dare, how would I dare. I, a monk, am sent by the Great Tang Emperor's decree, journeying west all the way; I harm not the smallest living thing, and wherever I see suffering I rescue it. When I meet a grain of rice I take it up and put it in my mouth; when I encounter a thread of silk I join it to cover my body. How would I dare be choosy about the giver of alms?" The women laughed and said: "Though the elder is not choosy about the giver, he still finds fault with those who come to his door. Do not despise our coarse fare—eat a little." The elder said: "Truly I dare not eat, for fear of breaking my precepts. I beg the Bodhisattvas: rather than nourish life, better to release it; pray release this monk and let him go."
The elder struggled to leave, but the women blocked the door—how would they let him go? They all said: "A business that comes to the door—should we not do it well? 'After letting out a fart, you then cover it with your hand.' Where do you think you're going?" Every one of them knew some martial arts, and their hands and feet were nimble. They seized the elder, pulled him in as easily as leading a sheep, and with a thump flung him to the ground. The crowd held him down, bound him with rope, and hung him high from a beam. This hanging had a name: it was called "Immortal Pointing the Way." One hand was pulled forward and hung by a cord; one arm was bound around the waist and hoisted by a rope; both feet were drawn backward and suspended by another cord—three ropes hung the elder from the beam, his spine facing upward, his belly downward. The elder bore the pain, held back his tears, and inwardly cursed his fate: "I, a monk, am so ill-starred! I thought I would beg a meal from a good household, but little did I know I have fallen into a fiery pit. Disciples, come quickly to save me, that we may still meet face to face; but if you delay but two hours, my life is done."
Though the elder was in anguish, he still kept an eye on those women. They, having hung him securely, began to remove their clothes. The elder's heart leaped in fright, and he thought to himself: "Once they take off their clothes, they mean to sport with me. Or perhaps they mean to eat me half-raw." As it turned out, the women only undid their upper silk robes, baring their bellies, and each displayed her magic power: from their navels there issued strands of silk, thick as a duck's egg, gushing forth—jade spurting, silver flying—and in a moment the whole village gate was shrouded from sight, of which no more need be said.
Now the Monkey King, Eight Rules, and Sha Monk were all by the main road; two of them were tending the horse and watching the luggage, but the Monkey King was ever a prankster, leaping among the trees and plucking leaves and fruit. Suddenly turning his head, he saw a patch of brilliant light and, startled, leaped down from the tree, shouting: "Bad, bad! The Master's luck has sunk low." The Monkey King pointed with his finger and said: "Look at that village—what do you make of it?" Eight Rules and Sha Monk gazed together: that patch was like snow and yet bright as snow, like silver and yet gleaming as silver. Eight Rules said: "Enough, enough. The Master has run into demons—let us hurry to save him." The Monkey King said: "Good brothers, don't shout. None of you have seen anything yet—wait till Old Sun goes." Sha Monk said: "Elder Brother, take care." The Monkey King said: "I know what to do."
Great Sage that he was, he tightened his tiger-skin kilt, whipped out his gold-banded cudgel, and with a few brisk strides ran up ahead. There he saw the silk threads wound thick in a hundred thousand layers, crisscrossing this way and that, just like the warp and woof of a loom. He pressed them with his hand—they were sticky and soft, and clung to one's fingers. The Monkey King had no idea what they were. He raised his staff and said: "With one blow, never mind a few thousand layers—even if there were tens of thousands, I'd break them all." Just as he was about to strike, he stayed his hand and thought: "If they were hard, I could break them; but being soft, I could only flatten them. And if I startle them and they entangle Old Sun, that would be no good. Let me first ask about them, then strike."
And whom, you ask, did he go to ask? He made a mudra, recited a spell, and compelled the local Earth God to spin round and round in his shrine like a millstone. The Earth God's wife said: "Old man, why are you spinning? You must be having a fit of the sheep-sickness." The Earth God said: "You don't understand, you don't understand. The Great Sage Equal to Heaven has come, and since I did not go to receive him, he is now summoning me." His wife said: "Then go see him—why are you turning about here?" The Earth God said: "If I go see him, that staff of his is no light thing; he'll strike first and ask questions later, no matter who." His wife said: "When he sees how old you are, why would he strike you?" The Earth God said: "All his life he loves to drink wine he hasn't paid for, and he especially likes to beat old people." The old couple argued for a while, but in the end, having no choice, he went out and knelt trembling by the roadside, calling out: "Great Sage, the local Earth God kowtows to you." The Monkey King said: "Rise, and don't make such a show of busyness. I won't strike you—I'll keep that debt on the books. I ask you, what place is this?" The Earth God said: "From where does the Great Sage come?" The Monkey King said: "I come from the East, bound for the West." The Earth God said: "When the Great Sage came from the east, did he pass by that mountain ridge?" The Monkey King said: "I was just on that ridge. Our luggage and our horse are still resting there—is it not so?" The Earth God said: "That is called Coiled Silk Ridge. Below the ridge there is a cave called Coiled Silk Cave. In the cave are seven demons." The Monkey King said: "Are they male fiends or female fiends?" The Earth God said: "They are female fiends." The Monkey King said: "How great are their powers?" The Earth God said: "Your humble servant's power is meager and his might short; I do not know the full extent of their means. I only know that due south of here, three li away, there is a Bathing-Stain Spring, a natural hot spring, which was originally the bathing pool of the Seven Immortal Maidens above. Ever since the demons came to dwell here and seized their Bathing-Stain Spring, the Immortal Maidens never contended with them but let them have it without a word. I have observed that even celestial immortals do not provoke demon fiends—surely these spirits must have great ability." The Monkey King said: "What do they do with this spring?" The Earth God said: "These fiends have seized the bathing pool and come out to bathe three times a day. Now the hour of Si has already passed, and the hour of Wu is nigh." Hearing this, the Monkey King said: "Earth God, you may go back. I will capture them myself." The old Earth God kowtowed once and, trembling, returned to his shrine.
This Great Sage alone displayed his magic power: he shook himself and changed into a common housefly, alighting on a blade of grass by the roadside to wait. In a moment, there came a sound of breathing and sucking, like silkworms devouring leaves, like the sea giving birth to tides. After about the time it takes to drink half a cup of tea, the silk threads were all gone, and the village reappeared, exactly as it had looked before. Then came a creak as the wicker gate opened, and from within, amid laughter and chatter, seven women emerged. The Monkey King watched them closely in the shadows: they came arm in arm, shoulder to shoulder, hand in hand, laughing and talking as they crossed the bridge—truly handsome they were. One could see:
Finer than jade, their fragrance still excels;
Like flowers they speak, and truer than flowers' spells.
Their willow brows arch over distant peaks,
Their cinnabar lips part like cherry's streaks.
Hairpins of kingfisher plume atop their heads,
Gold lotus feet flash through crimson skirts' reds—
Like Chang'e come down to the earthly shore,
Or immortal maids fallen to the mortal core.
"Little wonder my master came seeking alms," said the traveler with a laugh, "for such fine things are here. If these seven beauties were to keep my master, there wouldn'tt be enough to eat for one meal, nor enough for two days' use; if they took turns with him, the first bout would finish him off. Let me go and listen to them, to see what scheme they hatch."
Excellent Great Sage, with a buzz he flew and alighted upon the hairpin of the woman walking in front. As they had just crossed the bridge, the one at the rear came forward and called out: "Sisters, after we bathe, let us steam that fat monk for eating." Hidden, the traveler chuckled to himself: "These monsters have no sense at all. Boiling would save firewood; why must they insist on steaming him?" Those women, plucking flowers and playing with grass, headed southward, and before long arrived at the bathing pool. There stood a gate and wall, most splendid and imposing, with wild flowers fragrant and brilliant all about, and orchids and iris growing thick and close on every side. A woman from the rear stepped forward, gave a shrill whistle, and pushed open the double doors; within, sure enough, was a pool of hot water. This water:
From the beginning of creation, the sun-star originally had ten, but later Yi, skilled with his bow, shot down nine crows that fell to earth, leaving only the Golden Crow, which is the true fire of the sun. Heaven and earth have nine hot springs, all transformed from those crows. The Nine Yang Springs are Fragrant Cold Spring, Companion Mountain Spring, Warm Spring, East Union Spring, Huangshan Spring, Xiao'an Spring, Guangfen Spring, and Hot Spring—and this one is the Bath of Purification.
A poem bears witness:
Through all seasons, winter and summer one breath,
Three autumns ever flow with spring.
Hot waves seethe like a boiling cauldron,
Snowy billows fresh as new soup.
Divided streams nourish grain and crops,
Pooled currents wash away vulgar dust.
Glistening drops like pearls well forth,
Rolling ripples bring forth jade moisture.
Slippery and smooth, not brewed from grain,
Clear and level, yet naturally warm.
Auspiciously splendid, the earth's own beauty,
Transforming nature, the purest heaven.
When fair ladies bathe, their icy flesh glides smooth,
Washed clean of worldly cares, their jade bodies fresh.
That bathing pool was some five zhang wide and over ten zhang long, with a depth of four chi, and the water was so clear one could see clean to the bottom. At the bottom, the water bubbled up like rolling pearls and jade, gurgling forth, with six or seven apertures on all sides for flow. It ran off for two or three li, and by the time it reached the fields, it was still warm water. Beside the pool stood a pavilion of three bays. Inside the pavilion, near the back wall, was placed a bench with eight legs; at either end were two lacquered clothes racks. Hidden, the traveler chuckled with delight, and with a flap of his wings flew to alight upon the head of one clothes rack.
When those women saw that the water was both clear and hot, they decided to bathe. Together they took off their clothes, draped them over the racks, and all went down into the water together. The traveler saw:
Loosened buttons undone,
Unknotted silk sash ties.
Milky-white bosoms like silver,
Jade bodies white as snow.
Arms smooth as ice spread,
Fragrant shoulders as if kneaded from powder.
Belly soft and pliant,
Back smooth and clean.
Knees and ankles round and small,
Golden lotus feet three inches narrow.
In between, a certain feeling—
The amorous cave laid bare.
The women all dove into the water, each splashing and tumbling in the waves, playing in the water. The traveler thought: "If I were to strike them, a single swirl of my staff in the pool would be like pouring boiling water on rats—the whole nest would die. Pity, pity! But to kill them outright would only lower Old Sun's reputation. As the saying goes: 'A man does not contend with women.' A fellow like me, killing these wenches—really not up to scratch. Better not strike them, but give them a scheme of utter extinction, so they cannot move from their place—wouldn't that be fine?" Excellent Great Sage, he formed a mudra, recited a spell, shook his form, and changed into a hungry eagle. Behold:
Feathers like frost and snow,
Eyes like bright stars.
Where foxes see him, their souls all perish,
When hares encounter him, their courage fails.
Steel talons sharp and swift,
Mighty bearing, fierce and bold.
He'll use his fists to fill his belly,
And personally pursue his winged prey.
Through the vast cold sky he soars up and down,
Piercing clouds to seize his quarry as he pleases.
With a whoosh of his wings he flew forward, swept open his sharp talons, snatched all seven sets of clothes from the racks, and carried them straight back to the ridge. Resuming his true form, he appeared before Pigsy and Sandy.
Now watch that blockhead greet him with a laugh: "So Master was taken from a pawnshop!" Sandy asked, "How do you figure?" Pigsy replied: "Don't you see Elder Brother has brought back all his clothes?" The traveler set them down and said: "These are the clothes of the female demons." Pigsy asked: "How did there come to be so many?" The traveler said: "Seven sets." Pigsy asked: "How did you strip them so easily, and so cleanly?" The traveler said: "There was no stripping at all. This place is called Cobweb Mountain, and the village is called Cobweb Cave. In the cave are seven female monsters who have seized my master and hung him inside, and they all went to the Bath of Purification to bathe. That spring is a natural formation, a pool of hot water. They planned to bathe and then steam my master for eating. I followed them there, and seeing them take off their clothes and go into the water, I wanted to strike them, but I feared soiling my staff and also lowering my reputation, so I did not use my staff, but changed into a hungry eagle and snatched their clothes. They are now so shamed and humiliated they dare not show themselves, crouching in the water. Let us hurry and free our master and be on our way." Pigsy laughed and said: "Elder Brother, in all you do, you always leave loose ends. Since you found the demons, why not kill them, and only then free Master? They may now hide in shame and not come out, but by nightfall they surely will. They still have old clothes at home, and once dressed they'll chase after us. Even if they don't, they live here long-term, and after we retrieve the scriptures, we'll have to return by that very road. As the saying goes: 'Better to spare roadside cash than roadside fists.' If they block our way and make a ruckus then, won't they become our enemies?" The traveler said: "What do you suggest?" Pigsy said: "In my view, kill the demons first, then free Master—that is the plan of uprooting weeds to remove the roots." The traveler said: "I won't strike them. If you want to strike them, go ahead."
Pigsy roused his spirits, all joy and delight, raised his rake, strode off, and ran straight there. Pushing open the door, he saw the seven women crouching in the water, cursing that eagle loudly: "That flat-feathered beast, that cat-chewing dead man—he's taken all our clothes, how are we to move?" Unable to contain himself, Pigsy laughed and said: "Ladies, bathing here? How about including this monk for a wash?" When the monsters saw him, they grew angry and said: "You monk, most discourteous! We are women of the household, and you are a monk who has left home. The ancient books say: 'Boys and girls past seven do not share the same mat.' How dare you bathe in the same pool with us?" Pigsy said: "The weather is scorching hot—I can't help it, just let me join you for a bit. Why bring out all those bookish sayings about sharing mats or not?" The blockhead would hear no more; dropping his rake and removing his black brocade cassock, with a splash he dove into the water. The monsters, vexed at heart, all charged forward to strike him. Little did they know that Pigsy was thoroughly adept in the water; once in, he shook his form and changed into a catfish demon. The monsters then all tried to catch fish, but they could not lay hold of him: when they groped to the east, he suddenly slipped off to the west; when they groped to the west, he suddenly slipped off to the east. Slippery and slick, he darted only between their thighs. Now the water was chest-deep; after tiring themselves out above water, they tumbled about beneath it as well, until they were all sprawled out, panting heavily, their energies spent.
Only then did Bajie leap back up, reappear in his true form, put on his straight robe, and grasp his rake, shouting, "Who am I? You took me for a catfish spirit." When the monster saw this, his heart quaked and his gall trembled. He said to Bajie, "You came first as a monk, then turned into a catfish in the water; and since I could not catch you, you now appear in this getup. Where exactly did you come from? You must leave your name." Bajie said, "You bunch of vile monsters truly do not recognize me. I am a disciple of the elder Tang of the Great Tang in the East, who is on a pilgrimage for scriptures—I am Tianpeng Marshal Wuneng, also known as Bajie. You have hung my master in your cave and plotted to steam him for your enjoyment. And my master—is he fit to be steamed? Quick, stretch out your heads one by one, so I can give each a strike of my rake and put an end to you." When those fiends heard these words, their souls fled and their spirits scattered. They knelt in the water and said, "We beg your lordship to be lenient! We have eyes but cannot see—we mistakenly caught your master. Though we have hung him there, we have never dared to inflict torture or suffering. We beg your mercy to spare our lives; we are willing to contribute some travel expenses and see your master off to the Western Heaven." Bajie waved his hand and said, "Say no more. As the saying goes: 'Once fooled by the sugar-seller gentleman, never again trust sweet talkers.' The best is to give each a strike of the rake, and everyone goes their own way."
The fool, utterly crude and boorish, displayed his prowess without the least pity or tenderness. He raised his rake and, without regard for who or what, charged forward and began smashing wildly. The monster, flustered, cared no longer for shame—his life was all that mattered. He covered his shameful parts with his hands, leaped out of the water, and all of them ran to stand in the pavilion. They performed their magic: from the navel holes, silken threads gushed forth in great quantities, and they spun a vast silk canopy that covered the sky, trapping Bajie beneath it. The fool suddenly looked up and saw neither sun nor sky; he tried to turn and flee, but could not lift his feet. It turned out they had cast tripping ropes—everywhere on the ground were silk threads. At the slightest move of his feet, he stumbled and fell; going left, he smacked his face on the ground; going right, he did a headstand; turning sharply, he fell mouth-first; scrambling up, he fell upside-down again. He fell countless times, until the fool was numb and weak, dizzy and blurred of sight, unable even to crawl, and lay groaning on the ground.
The monsters then trapped him, but neither beat nor wounded him. They each jumped out the gate, covered the daylight with their silk canopy, and returned to their own cave. When they reached the stone bridge, they stood still, recited their true incantation, and in an instant withdrew the canopy. Stark naked, they ran into the cave, covering those parts, and scampered past Tang Sanzang with giggles. They went into the stone chamber, put on some old clothes, and then went straight to stand at the back gate, calling, "Where are my children?" Now, each of these fiends had a son, not born of them, but sworn dry sons. They were named: Mi (honeybee), Ma (wasp), Lu (a kind of wasp), Ban (wasp with bands), Meng (gadfly), La (a fly), and Qing (dragonfly). Mi was a honeybee, Ma a wasp, Lu a wasp, Ban a banded wasp, Meng a gadfly, La a kind of fly, and Qing a dragonfly. Originally, this fiend had spread a sky-covering net and caught these seven kinds of insects, intending to eat them. As the ancients say: "Birds have bird talk, beasts have beast language." At that time, these insects begged for their lives and pleaded to become her adopted children. And so, in spring they gathered hundred flowers to offer the monster, and in summer they sought all kinds of herbs to honor the fiend. Now, hearing the summons, they all came before her and asked, "Mother, what are your orders?" The monster said, "My children, this morning we mistakenly provoked the monk from Tang. Just now his disciple cornered us in the pond and made us suffer great humiliation, nearly costing us our lives. You must strive hard—quickly go out the gate and drive them back. If you win, come to your uncle's house to meet me." Once those fiends had escaped, they went to their elder brothers' places, causing mischief and trouble—but that is another story. Now watch these insects, each rubbing their fists and palms, sallying forth to meet the enemy.
Now Bajie, dizzy and dazed from his falls, suddenly looked up and saw that the silk canopy and ropes had all vanished. Then, step by step, groping along, he crawled up, enduring the pain, and found his way back. Seeing Wukong, he grabbed him and said, "Elder brother, is my head swollen? Is my face bruised?" Wukong said, "What happened to you?" Bajie said, "That creature covered me with silk ropes and set tripping cords—I don't know how many times I fell. I'm bent and broken, unable to move an inch. Only now that the canopy and ropes are gone did I manage to escape with my life." When Sha Seng saw this, he said, "Enough, enough—you've stirred up trouble. That fiend must have gone back to the cave to harm our master. We must hurry and save him."
Upon hearing this, Wukong strode off at once; Bajie led the horse. They hurriedly arrived before the village, and saw seven little fiends on the stone bridge blocking the way, saying, "Slow down, slow down—we are here." Wukong looked and said, "How amusing—they are all tiny creatures. The tallest are only two chi five or six cun—less than three chi; the heaviest only eight or nine jin—less than ten jin." He shouted, "Who are you?" The fiends said, "We are the sons of the Seven Immortal Maidens. You insulted our mother, and now you have the audacity to come to our door. Don't move—watch out!" The good monsters—they all came striking wildly. Now Bajie, already irritated by his falls, and seeing these tiny insects, grew fierce and raised his rake to smash them. When those fiends saw the fool's ferocity, they each revealed their true forms, flew up into the air, and cried, "Change!" In an instant, one became ten, ten became a hundred, a hundred became a thousand, a thousand became ten thousand—each multiplying without end. Behold:
Flying all over the sky—La flies,
Dancing everywhere—dragonflies.
Honeybees and wasps chase at foreheads,
Wasps sting at the eyes.
Ban wasps bite front and back,
Gadflies sting above and below.
Darkness covers the face,
Swift and terrifying to gods and ghosts.
Bajie, panicked, said, "Brother, I thought it would be easy to fetch the scriptures—but on this Western Road, even bugs bully people!" Wukong said, "Brother, don't be afraid—go forward and strike them quickly." Bajie said, "They cover my head and face, all over my body, layer upon layer ten thick—how can I strike?" Wukong said, "No matter, no matter—I have my ways." Sha Seng said, "Brother, whatever ways you have, use them quickly—soon even your bald head will be swollen from stings."
The great sage then plucked a handful of his hair, chewed it to pieces, and blew it out—it transformed into various kinds of eagles: yellow, hemp, da, white, vulture, fish, and harrier. Bajie said, "Senior brother, what kind of jargon are you speaking—'yellow,' 'hemp,' and so on?" Wukong said, "You don't know. Yellow is the yellow eagle, hemp is the goshawk, da is the da eagle, white is the white eagle, vulture is the vulture eagle, fish is the osprey, and harrier is the harrier eagle. Those fiends' sons are seven kinds of insects; my hair are seven kinds of eagles." Eagles are the best at pecking insects—one peck each, with claws and wings striking. In no time they had beaten them all into oblivion, leaving no trace in the sky and over a chi of carcasses on the ground.
Only then did the three brothers cross the bridge and enter the cave. There they saw the old master hanging and weeping pitifully. Bajie approached and said, "Master, you wanted to be hung here for fun—but you don't know how many tumbles you've cost me." Sha Seng said, "First let's untie the master." Wukong then cut the ropes and lowered the master. He asked, "Where have the fiends gone?" Tang Sanzang said, "Those seven all ran stark naked to the back to call their sons." Wukong said, "Brothers, follow me to find them."
The three men each took their weapons and went to the rear garden to search around, but found no trace. They even searched all over the peach and plum trees but saw nothing. Bajie said, "Gone, gone." Sha Seng said, "No need to look for him; let me go and help Master up." The brothers then came back to the front and invited Tang Sanzang to mount the horse. Bajie said, "You support Master and go on ahead; let Old Pig use his rake to smash down this house, so that when he comes back he'll have no place to stay." Xingzhe laughed and said, "Smashing takes too much effort; better to find some firewood and give him an end to his roots." Good idiot that he was, he found some rotten pine, broken bamboo, dry willow, and withered vines, set a fire to them, and with a roaring blaze everything was burned clean. Only then did the master and disciples feel at ease and proceed onward.
Eh! After all, as they went on, one does not know what fortune or misfortune the monster might encounter; pray listen to the explanation in the next chapter.