The Journey to the West, Revised Edition, Volume 2 (66 page)

Just then, the Custodian of the Yellow Gate again came to make this announcement: “Your Majesty, there are outside the gate many village elders who await your summons.” “For what reason?” asked the king. He ordered them brought in, and thirty or forty village elders came before the hall. “Your Majesty,” they said as they kowtowed, “there has been no rain this year for the entire spring, and we fear that there will be a famine if it remains dry like this through summer. We have come especially to request that one of the Holy Fathers, the Preceptors of State, pray for sweet rain that will succor the entire population.” The king said, “Let the village elders withdraw. Rain will be forthcoming.” The village elders gave thanks and left.

Then the king said, “You, priests of the Tang court, why do you think that we honor the Dao and seek to destroy Buddhism? It was because in years past, the monks of this dynasty attempted to pray for rain, and they could not produce even a single drop. It was our good fortune that these Preceptors of State descended from Heaven and saved us from our bitter affliction. Now all of you have offended the Preceptors of State no sooner than you arrived from a great distance, and you should be condemned. We shall pardon you for the moment, however, and ask whether you dare to have a rainmaking competition with our Preceptors. If your prayers could bring us the rain to assuage the needs of the people, we would pardon you, certify your rescript, and permit you to journey to the West. If you fail in your competition and no rain comes, all of you will be taken to the block and
beheaded
publicly.” With a laugh, Pilgrim said, “This little priest has some knowledge of prayers, too!”

When the king heard this, he at once asked for an altar to be built. Meanwhile, he also gave the command that his carriage be brought out. “We want personally to ascend the Five-Phoenix Tower to watch,” he said. Many officials followed the carriage up the tower and the king took his seat. Tripitaka Tang, followed by Pilgrim, Sha Monk, and Eight Rules, stood at attention down below, while the three Daoists also accompanied the king and took their seats on the tower. In a little while, an official came riding with the report, “The altar is ready. Let one of the Father Preceptors of State ascend it.”

Bowing with his hands folded before him, the Tiger-Strength Immortal took leave of the king and walked down the tower. “Sir,” said Pilgrim, barring his way, “where are you going?” “To ascend the altar and pray for rain,” said the Great Immortal. “You do have a sense of self-importance,” said Pilgrim, “absolutely unwilling to defer to us monks who have come from a great distance. All right! As the proverb says, ‘Even a strong dragon is no match for a local worm!’ But if the master insists on proceeding first, then he must make a statement first before the king.” “What statement?” asked the Great Immortal. Pilgrim said, “Both you and I are supposed to ascend the altar to pray for rain. When it comes, how could anyone tell whether it’s your rain or mine? Who could tell whose merit it is?” When the king above them heard this, he was secretly pleased and said, “The words of this little priest are quite gutsy!” When Sha Monk heard this, he said to himself, smiling, “You don’t know that his stomach’s full of gutsiness! He hasn’t shown much of it yet!”

The Great Immortal said, “There’s no need for me to make any statement. His Majesty is quite familiar with what I am about to do.” “He may know it,” said Pilgrim, “but I am a monk who came from a distant region. I have never met you and I’m not familiar with what you are about to do. I don’t want us to end up accusing each other later, for that wouldn’t be good business. We must settle this first before we act.” “All right,” said the Great Immortal, “when I ascend the altar, I shall use my ritual tablet as a sign. When I bang it loudly on the table once, wind will come; the second time, clouds will gather; the third time, there will be lightning and thunder; the fourth time, rain will come; and finally the fifth time, rain will stop and clouds will disperse.” “Marvelous!” said Pilgrim, laughing. “I have never seen this before! Please go! Please go!”

With great strides, the Great Immortal walked forward, followed by Tripitaka and the rest. As they approached the altar, they saw that it was a platform about thirty feet tall. On all sides were flown banners with the names of the Twenty-Eight Constellations written on them. There was a table on
top
of the altar, and on the table was set an urn filled with burning incense. On both sides of the urn were two candle stands with huge, brightly lit candles. Leaning against the urn was a tablet made of gold, carved with the names of the thunder deities. Beneath the table were five huge cisterns full of clear water and afloat with willow branches. To the branches was attached a thin sheet of iron inscribed with the charms used to summon the agents of the Thunder Bureau. Five huge pillars were also set up around the table, and written on these pillars were the names of the barbarian thunder lords of Five Quarters. There were two Daoists standing on both sides of each pillar; each of the Daoists held an iron bludgeon used for pounding on the pillar. There were also many Daoists drawing up documents behind the altar. Before them there were set up a brazier for burning papers and several statues, all representing the messengers of charms, the local spirits, and patron deities.

The Great Immortal, without affecting the slightest degree of modesty, walked straight up to the altar and stood still. A young Daoist presented him with several charms written on yellow papers and a treasure sword. Holding the sword, the Great Immortal recited a spell and then burnt a charm on the flame of a candle. Down below several Daoists picked up a document and a statue holding a charm and had these burned also. With a bang the old Daoist high above brought down his ritual tablet on the table and at once a breeze could be felt in the air. “O dear! O dear!” muttered Eight Rules. “This Daoist is certainly quite capable! He bangs his tablet once and indeed the wind’s rising.” “Be quiet, Brother,” said Pilgrim. “Don’t speak to me anymore. Just stand guard over Master here and let me do my business.”

Dear Great Sage! He pulled off a piece of hair and blew on it his immortal breath, saying, “Change!” It changed at once into a spurious Pilgrim, standing next to the Tang Monk. His true body rose with his primal spirit into midair, where he shouted, “Who is in charge of the wind here?” He so startled the Old Woman of the Wind that she hugged her bag while the Second Boy of the Wind pulled tight the rope at the mouth of the bag. They stepped forward to salute Pilgrim, who said, “I am accompanying the holy monk of the Tang court to go to acquire scriptures in the Western Heaven. We happen to pass through the Cart Slow Kingdom and are now waging a rainmaking contest with that deviant Daoist. How could you not help old Monkey and assist that Daoist instead? I’ll pardon you this time, but you’d better call in the wind. If there’s just the tiniest breeze to make the whiskers of the Daoist flutter, each of you will receive twenty strokes of the iron rod!” “We dare not! We dare not!” said the Old Woman of the Wind, and so, there was no sign of any wind. Unable to contain himself, Eight Rules began to holler, “You Sir, please step down! You’ve banged aloud the tablet. How is it that there’s no wind? You come down, and let us go up there.”

Holding
high his tablet, the Daoist burned another charm before bringing down his tablet once more. Immediately, clouds and fog began to form in midair, but the Great Sage Sun shouted again, “Who is spreading the clouds?” He so startled the Cloud-Pushing Boy and the Fog-Spreading Lad that they hurriedly came forward to salute him. After Pilgrim had given his explanation as before, the Cloud Boy and the Mist Lad removed the clouds, so that

    
The sun came out and shone most brilliantly;

    
The sky was cloudless for ten thousand miles.

Laughing, Eight Rules said, “This master may deceive the king and befool his subjects. But he hasn’t any real abilities! Why, the tablet has sounded twice! Why is it that we don’t see any clouds forming?”

Becoming rather agitated, the Daoist loosened his hair, picked up his sword, and recited another spell as he burned a charm. Once more he brought down his tablet with a bang, and immediately the Heavenly Lord Deng arrived from the South Heaven Gate, trailed by the Squire of Thunder and the Mother of Lightning. When they saw Pilgrim in midair, they saluted him, and he gave his explanation as before. “What powerful summons,” he said “brought you all here so quickly?” The Heavenly Lord said, “The proper magic of Five Thunder exercised by that Daoist was not faked.
²
He issued the summons and burned the document, which alerted the Jade Emperor. The Jade Emperor sent his decree to the residence of the Primordial Celestial Worthy of All-Pervading Thunderclap in the Ninefold Heaven. We in turn received his command to come here and assist with the rainmaking by providing thunder and lightning.” “In that case,” said Pilgrim, “just wait a moment. You can help old Monkey instead.” There was, therefore, neither the sound of thunder nor the flash of lightning.

In sheer desperation now, that Daoist added more incense, burned his charms, recited more spells, and struck his tablet more loudly than ever. In midair, the Dragon Kings of Four Oceans all arrived together, only to be met by Pilgrim, who shouted, “Aoguang, where do you think you’re going?” Aoguang, Aoshun, Aoqin, and Aorun all went forward to salute him, and Pilgrim gave his explanation as before. He thanked the Dragon Kings moreover, saying, “I needed your help in times past, but we have not yet reached our goal. Today, I must rely on your assistance once more to help me achieve this merit right now. That Daoist has struck his tablet four times, and it’s now old Monkey’s turn to do business. But I don’t know how to burn charms, issue summons, or strike any tablet. So all of you must play along with me.”

The Heavenly Lord Deng said, “If the Great Sage gives us the order, who would dare disobey? You must, however, give us a sign, so that we may follow
your instructions in an orderly manner. Otherwise, thunder and rain may be all mixed up, and that will not be to the credit of the Great Sage.” Pilgrim said, “I’ll use my rod as the sign.” “O Dear Father!” cried the Squire of Thunder, horrified. “How could we take the rod?”

“I’m not going to strike you,” said Pilgrim. “All I want from you is to watch the rod. If I point it upwards once, you’ll make the wind blow.”

“We’ll make the wind blow!” snapped the Old Woman of the Wind and the Second Boy of the Wind in unison.

“When the rod points upward a second time, you’ll spread the clouds.” “We’ll spread the clouds! We’ll spread the clouds!” cried the Cloud-Pushing Boy and the Mist-Spreading Lad.

“When I point the rod upwards for the third time, I want thunder and lightning.” “We’ll provide the service! We’ll provide the service!” said the Squire of Thunder and the Mother of Lightning.

“When I point the rod upwards the fourth time, I want rain.” “We obey! We obey!” said the Dragon Kings.

“And when I point the rod upwards the fifth time, I want sunshine and fair weather. Don’t make any mistake!”

After he had given all these instructions, Pilgrim dropped down from the clouds and retrieved his hair back to his body. Being of fleshly eyes and mortal stock, how could those people know the difference? Pilgrim then cried out with a loud voice, “Sir, please stop! You have struck aloud the tablet four times, but there’s not the slightest sign of wind, cloud, thunder, or rain. You should let me take over.” The Daoist had no choice but to leave his place and come down the altar for Pilgrim to take his turn. Pouting, he went back to the tower to see the throne. “Let me follow him,” said Pilgrim, “and see what he has to say.” He arrived and heard the king asking the Daoist, “We have been listening here most eagerly for the sounds of your tablet. Four times it struck and there was neither wind nor rain. Why is that?” The Daoist said, “Today the dragon deities are not home.” Pilgrim shouted with a loud voice, “Your Majesty, the dragon deities are home all right, but the magic of your National Preceptor is not efficacious enough to bring them here. Allow us priests to summon them here for you to see.” “Ascend the altar at once,” said the king, “and we shall wait for the rain here.”

Having received this decree, Pilgrim dashed back to the altar and tugged at the Tang Monk, saying, “Master, please go up to the altar.” “Disciple,” said the Tang Monk, “I don’t know how to pray for rain.” “He’s trying to set you up,” said Eight Rules, laughing. “If there’s no rain, they’ll put you on the pyre and finish you off with a fire.” Pilgrim said, “Though you may not know how to pray for rain, you know how to recite scriptures. Let me help you.” The elder indeed ascended the altar and solemnly took a seat on top. With complete concentration, he recited silently the Heart Sūtra. Suddenly
an
official came galloping on a horse with the question, “Why are you monks not striking the tablet and burning charms?” Pilgrim answered in a loud voice, “No need for that! Ours is the quiet work of fervent prayers.” The official left to give this reply to the king, and we shall mention him no further.

When Pilgrim heard that his old master had finished reciting the sūtra, he took out his rod from his ear and one wave of it in the wind gave it a length of twelve feet and the thickness of a rice bowl. He pointed it upwards in the air; when the Old Woman of the Wind saw it, she immediately shook loose her bag as the Second Boy of the Wind untied the rope around its mouth. The roar of the wind could be heard instantly, as tiles and bricks flew up all over the city and stones and dust hurtled through the air. Just look at it! It was truly marvelous wind, not at all similar to any ordinary breeze. You saw

    
Snapped willows and cracked flowers;