The Journey to the West, Revised Edition, Volume 2 (50 page)

Dear monster! He made the red light disperse and lowered his cloud toward the fold of the mountain. Shaking his body, he changed immediately into a little mischievous boy, about seven years of age and completely naked, who was bound by a rope and suspended from the top of a pine tree. “Help! Help!” he cried without ceasing.

We were just telling you about the Great Sage Sun, who raised his head and found that the red cloud had completely dissipated and the flames all vanished. He therefore said, “Master, please mount up again for the journey.” “You just told us that there was a fiend approaching,” said the Tang Monk. “Do we dare proceed now?” “A little while ago,” said Pilgrim, “I saw a red cloud rising up from the ground, and by the time it reached midair, it condensed into a flaming ball of fire. It had to be a monster-spirit. But now the red cloud has dissipated, and so it must be a monster who’s a passerby and who does not dare harm people. Let’s go.”

“Elder Brother is truly clever with words,” said Eight Rules, chuckling. “Even monster-spirits can be passersby!”

“How would you know?” asked Pilgrim. “If some demon king of a certain cave in a certain mountain has sent out invitations to spirits of sundry mountains and caves to attend a festival, monster-spirits from all quarters—
north,
south, east, and west—would respond. Perhaps he’s just interested in going to the festival and not in harming people. That’s a monster-spirit who’s a passerby.”

When Tripitaka heard these words, he was only half-convinced, but he had little alternative other than to climb on his saddle to journey into the mountain. As they proceeded, they heard suddenly repeated cries of “Help!” Highly startled, the elder said, “O Disciples! Who’s calling out in the midst of this mountain?” Pilgrim walked forward and said to him, “Master, keep moving. Don’t harp on such things as human carriage,
²
donkey carriage, open carriage, or reclining carriage. Even if there were a carriage in a place like this, there wouldn’t be anyone to carry you.” “I’m not talking about carriages,” said the Tang Monk. “I’m referring to someone calling us.” “I know,” said Pilgrim with laughter, “but mind your own business. Let’s move on.”

Tripitaka agreed and urged his horse forward once more. Before they had traveled a mile, they heard again the call, “Help!” “Disciple,” said the elder, “the sound of this call can’t be that of a demon or a goblin, for if it were, there would be no echo. Just listen to it: there was a call a moment ago, and now we have another one. It must have come from a man in dire difficulty. Let’s go and help him.” Pilgrim said, “Master, please put away your compassion just for today! When we have crossed this mountain, you can be compassionate then. If you know those stories about strange plants and possessed vegetations, you should know that everything can become a spirit. In most cases, they may not be too dangerous, but if you should run into something like a python, which has become an evil spirit after prolonged self-cultivation, you’d be in trouble. A spirit like that can even possess knowledge of a person’s nickname. If he should call out, hiding in the bushes or in the fold of the mountain, a person may get by if he does not answer him, but if he does answer, the spirit can snatch away his primal soul, or he can follow that person and take his life that night. Let’s get away! Let’s get away! As the ancients said, ‘If you escape, just thank the gods.’ Please don’t listen to this call.”

The elder had little alternative but to agree and he whipped his horse to go forward. Pilgrim thought to himself, “I wonder where this brazen fiend is hollering. Let old Monkey give him a taste of ‘Cancer in opposition to Capricornus’ so that the two will never meet.” Dear Great Sage! He said to Sha Monk, “Hold on to the horse and walk slowly. Old Monkey’s going to take a leak.” Look at him! He let the Tang Monk walk slightly ahead and then recited a spell to exercise the magic of shortening the ground and moving the mountain. He pointed his golden-hooped rod backward once, and master and disciples immediately went past the peak of the mountain, leaving behind the fiendish creature. In big strides, the Great Sage caught
up
with the Tang Monk and they proceeded. Just then Tripitaka heard again a call coming from the mountain behind him, crying “Help!” The elder said, “O Disciple! That person in adversity truly has no affinity, for he has not run into any of us. We must have passed him, for you can hear that he is crying out from the mountain behind us.” “Or he may be still ahead of us,” said Eight Rules, “but perhaps the wind has changed.” “Never mind whether the wind has changed or not,” said Pilgrim. “Just keep moving.” As a result, everyone fell silent and concentrated on trying to pass the mountain, and we shall speak no more of them for the moment.

We tell you instead about that monster-spirit in the mountain valley: he cried out for three or four times but no one appeared. He thought to himself, “When I saw the Tang Monk just now, he couldn’t have been more than three miles away. I’ve been waiting for him all this time. Why hasn’t he arrived? Could it be that he had taken another road down the mountain?” Shaking his body, he loosened the rope at once and mounted the red light once more to rise into the air. Unwittingly the Great Sage Sun was looking back with head upturned, and when he saw the light, he knew that it was the fiendish creature. Once more he grabbed the legs of the Tang Monk and pushed him off the horse, crying, “Brothers, take care! Take care! That monster-spirit is approaching again!” Eight Rules and Sha Monk were so alarmed that they wielded their rake and staff to surround the Tang Monk as before.

When that spirit saw what happened in midair, he could not stop marveling, saying to himself, “Dear monks! I just saw that white-faced priest riding on the horse. How is it that he is now surrounded again by the three of them? Now I realize, after what I’ve seen, that I must overthrow the one who has perception before I can seize the Tang Monk. If not,

    
My exertions are vain for I can’t get my thing;

    
My efforts notwithstanding, all is nothing!”

He lowered his cloud and transforming himself as before, he hung himself high on top of a pine tree. This time, however, he positioned himself only about half a mile away.

We tell you now about the Great Sage Sun, who when he raised his head and found that the red cloud had dispersed, requested once more that his master mount up and proceed. “You just told us that the monster-spirit was approaching again,” said Tripitaka. “Why do you ask me to move on?” Pilgrim said, “This monster-spirit is a passerby. He doesn’t dare bother us.” The elder grew angry and said, “You brazen ape! You’re just playing with me! When there is a demon, you say it’s nothing. But when we are in this peaceful region, you are out to frighten me, yelling all the time about a monster-spirit. There’s more falsehood than truth in your words, and without
regard for good or ill, you grab my legs and throw me off the horse. Now you come up with an explanation about this monster-spirit who’s a so-called passerby! If I got hurt from the fall, would you be able to live with yourself? You, you . . .” “Please don’t be offended, Master,” said Pilgrim. “If your hands and feet got hurt from the fall, we could still take care of you, but if you were abducted by a monster-spirit, where would we go to look for you?” Enraged, Tripitaka would have recited the Tight-Fillet Spell had not Sha Monk desperately pleaded with him. Finally he mounted his horse and proceeded once more.

Before he could even sit properly on the saddle he heard another cry: “Master, please help me!” As he looked up, the elder found that it came from a little child, completely naked, who was suspended on top of a tree. He pulled in the reins and began to berate Pilgrim, saying, “You wretched ape! How villainous you are! You don’t have the tiniest bit of kindness in you! Every thought of yours is bent on making mischief and working violence! I told you that it was a human voice calling for help, but you have to spend countless words to claim it was a monster. Look! Isn’t that a person hanging on the tree?” Seeing how the master was putting the blame on him and also the form before his face, the Great Sage lowered his head and dared not reply, for there was nothing he could do at the moment and he was afraid that his master would recite the Tight-Fillet Spell. He had little choice, in fact, but to permit the Tang Monk to approach the tree. Pointing with his whip, the elder asked, “Which household do you belong to, child? Why are you hung here? Tell me, so that I can rescue you.”

Alas! Clearly this is a monster-spirit who has transformed himself in this manner, but that master is a man of fleshly eyes and mortal stock, completely unable to recognize what he saw.

When that demon heard the question, he became even more bold in his chicanery. With tears welling up in his eyes, he said, “O Master! West of this mountain there is a Withered Pine Brook, by the side of which there is a village where my family is located. My grandfather’s name is Red, and because he has amassed a huge fortune, he was given the name Red Millions. He has, however, been dead for a long time after having lived to a ripe old age, and his estate was left to my father. Recent business reversals have gradually fribbled away our possessions, and my father for that reason has changed his name to Red Thousands. He has been, you see, befriending many men of valor, to whom he had lent gold and silver with the hope of reaping some profits. Little did he realize that these were all rootless men out to swindle him, and he lost both principal and interest. My father therefore vowed that he would never lend out another penny, but those borrowers, after having squandered what they had, banded together and plundered our house in broad daylight, holding lit torches and staffs. Not only
did
they rob us of all our money and possessions, but they killed my father also. And when they saw that my mother was somewhat attractive, they decided to abduct her and take her with them to be some kind of camp lady. Unwilling to abandon me, my mother carried me along in her bosom and, weeping, followed the thieves to this mountain, where they wanted to kill me also. Fortunately, my mother pleaded with them and I was spared the knife; I was tied with ropes and hung here to die of hunger and exposure instead. I don’t know what sort of merit I’ve accumulated in another existence that brings me the luck of meeting Master here. If you are willing to be compassionate and save my life so that I can return home, I shall try to repay your kindness even if I have to sell myself. Even when the yellow sand covers my face, I will not forget your kindness.”

When Tripitaka heard these words, he thought they were the truth and immediately asked Eight Rules to loosen the ropes and rescue the child. Not knowing any better either, Idiot was about to act when Pilgrim on one side could not restrain himself any longer. “You brazen thing!” he shouted. “There’s someone here who recognizes you! Don’t think you can use your humbuggery to hoodwink people! If your possessions were stolen, if your father was killed and your mother taken by thieves, to whom would we entrust you once we rescued you? With what would you thank us? Your fables don’t add up!”

When the fiend heard these words, he became frightened, realizing that the Great Sage was an able man to be reckoned with. Trembling all over, the fiend spoke as tears flowed down his face, “Master, though my parents are lost and gone, and though the wealth of our family is reduced to nothing, I still have some land and relatives.” “What sort of relatives do you have?” asked Pilgrim. The fiend said, “The household of my maternal family lives south of this mountain, while my aunties reside north of the peak. Li Four at the head of the brook is the husband of my mother’s sister, and Red Three in the forest is a distant uncle. I have, moreover, several cousins living here and there in the village. If Venerable Master is willing to save me and take me to see these relatives at the village, I shall certainly give them a thorough account of your kindness, and you will be handsomely rewarded when we sell some of our land.”

When Eight Rules heard what he said, he pushed Pilgrim aside, saying, “Elder Brother, this is only a child! Why keep on interrogating him? What he told us was that the thieves had robbed them of their liquid assets. They couldn’t take their houses and land, could they? If he will speak to his relatives, we may have huge appetites, but we can’t eat up the price of ten acres of land. Let’s cut him down.” Idiot, of course, thought only of food; he had no further regard for good or ill, and using the ritual razor, he ripped open the ropes to free the fiend. Facing the Tang Monk tearfully, the fiend knelt
beneath
the horse and kept on kowtowing. A compassionate man, the elder called out, “Child, get up on the horse. I’ll take you there.” “O Master,” said the fiend, “my hands and feet are numb from the hanging, and my torso hurts. Moreover, I’m a rural person and not used to riding horses.” The Tang Monk at once asked Eight Rules to carry him, but the fiend, after glancing at Idiot, said, “Master, my skin is frostbitten, and I dare not let myself be carried by this master. He has such a long mouth and large ears, and the hard bristles behind his head can be frightfully prickly!” “Let Sha Monk carry you then,” said the Tang Monk. After glancing at him also, the fiend said, “Master, when those robbers came to plunder our house, each one of them had his face painted; they wore false beards and they held knives and staffs. I was terribly frightened by them, and now when I see this master with such a gloomy complexion, I’m even more intimidated. I just don’t dare to ask him to carry me.” The Tang Monk therefore told Pilgrim Sun to put the fiend on his back. Laughing uproariously, Pilgrim said, “I’ll carry him! I’ll carry him!”

Secretly pleased, the fiendish creature gave himself willingly to Pilgrim to carry. When Pilgrim pulled him up from the side of the road to test his weight, he found that the fiend weighed no more than three catties and ten ounces. “You audacious fiend!” said Pilgrim, laughing. “You deserve to die today! How dare you pull tricks before old Monkey? I recognize you to be ‘that something.’
” “I’m the offspring of a good family,” said the fiend, “and it is my misfortune to face this great ordeal. What do you mean by ‘that something’?” “If you are an offspring of a good family,” said Pilgrim, “why are your bones so light?” “They are small,” said the fiend. “How old are you now?” said Pilgrim, and the fiend said, “I’m seven years old.” “Even if you put on only one catty of weight per year,” said Pilgrim, “you should now weigh seven catties. How is it that you are not even a full four catties?” “I didn’t get enough milk when I was a baby,” said the fiend. Pilgrim said, “All right, I’ll carry you, but if you want to piss, you must tell me.” Tripitaka then walked in front with Eight Rules and Sha Monk, while Pilgrim followed behind with the child on his back. As they proceeded toward the West, we have a poem as a testimony, and the poem says: