The tale relates that the Bull Demon King, overtaking the Great Sage Sun, saw him bearing that banana-leaf fan upon his shoulder, going along with a pleased face and a cheerful colour. The Demon King was greatly startled.
“So the ape has wheedled the method of working it out of her as well,” he said. “If I ask him for it to his face and demand it back, he will certainly not give it up; and if he fans me but once I shall be carried a hundred and eight thousand lǐ away — would that not be gratifying his wish exactly?
“I have heard that the Tang Monk waits upon the high road yonder. His second disciple is the Boar Spirit and his third the Sand Spirit, and in the years when I was myself a monster I met with them. I shall change into the shape of the Boar Spirit and cheat him back in his turn. I reckon the ape, being pleased with his success, will surely not be watchful in any detail.”
A fine Demon King! He too commands the seventy-two transformations, and his martial art is a match for the Great Sage's; only his body is the more ungainly. He lacks the drilling quickness and is the less nimble. He put his precious swords away, recited a spell, shook himself and changed, and at once took on a face and features just like Eight Rules'. Then he cut down by a side road, came face to face with the Great Sage and called out: “Elder brother, here I am.”
The Great Sage was indeed delighted. As the ancients said, the cat that has won is as glad as a tiger; and he, leaning only upon his own strength, did not look further into the intent of the one who came. Seeing that it was Eight Rules' shape, he called at once: “Brother, where are you going?”
The Bull Demon King caught up the thread. “Our master, seeing you so long in returning, feared the Bull Demon King's powers were great, that you would be no match for him in a fight and would find it hard to obtain his treasure, and so sent me to come and meet you.”
The Pilgrim laughed. “No need to trouble yourselves. I have already got it in hand.”
“And how did you get it?” the Bull King asked.
“That old bull fought me through a hundred bouts and more without either of us prevailing,” said the Pilgrim. “Then he left me and went off to the bottom of Green Wave Pool in Scattered Rock Mountain, to drink with a company of flood-dragon spirits and dragon spirits. So I followed him in secret, changed myself into a crab, stole the water-parting golden-eyed beast he rides, took on the old bull's own shape, and went straight to Banana-Leaf Cave to gull the Rakshasi. That woman and old Sun made a dry match of it for a while, and old Sun contrived a way to cheat it out of her.”
“That was hard work indeed,” said the Bull King. “Elder brother has laboured far too much — let me carry the fan for you.”
How was the Great Sage to know true from false? His thought did not reach so far, and he thereupon handed the fan over to him.
Now the Bull King knew the root of the matter, how the fan was let out and drawn in; and taking it into his hand he worked some spell or other, there was no telling what, so that it shrank as before to the size of an apricot leaf and showed its own true form. Then he opened his mouth and cursed: “Wretched ape! Do you know me now?”
Pilgrim saw it and reproached himself within. “This is my own doing.” He groaned aloud, stamped his foot and cried: “Ai! Year upon year I have shot geese, and today a gosling has carried off my eye.”
It galled him till he raged like thunder. He whipped out the iron rod and struck at the head, and the Demon King at once used the fan and fanned him a stroke. What he did not know was that the Great Sage, when he had earlier turned into a cicada-fly and gone into the Rākṣasī's belly, had held the wind-fixing pill in his mouth and swallowed it down without noticing; so his five viscera were made fast and his skin and bone firm, and fan how the other might, he could not stir him at all. The Bull King took fright, threw the treasure into his mouth, and swinging his swords two-handed fell to hacking.
The two of them, up in the middle air, fought such a fight as this:
Sun the Great Sage, Equal to Heaven; the rowdy Bull King, Confounder of the World;
all for one banana-leaf fan they meet, and each makes vaunt of his strength.
The careless Great Sage cheated a man; the brazen Bull King swindled a fan.
This one — the gold-banded rod goes up, and there is no kindness in it;
that one — the paired blue blades, and there is calculation in them.
The Great Sage loosed his power and blew out coloured mist;
the Bull King played the ruffian and spat a hair-fine light.
Both contend in valour, neither of them good,
grinding and gnashing their teeth with their tempers up.
They scattered earth and raised dust till heaven and earth went dark;
sand flew and stones rolled till the ghosts and spirits hid.
This one says: “How dare you cheat me back so blindly?”
That one says: “My wife gave you leave to go along with her.”
Words coarse and speech foul, natures fierce and tempers hard.
That one says: “To gull a man's wife and daughter — you deserve to die;
take it before a magistrate and the punishment would fall on you.”
The quick-witted Sage Equal to Heaven, the savage and stubborn King of Great Strength:
of one mind, wanting only the killing, and waiting for no parley.
Rod striking, swords meeting, both straining alike:
let either slacken a little and he sees the King of the Dead.
But leave the two of them locked past parting. The tale turns instead to the Tang Monk, sitting on the road. For one thing the fire-vapour steamed him, and for another his heart was scorched and his mouth dry; and he said to the local god of the Fiery Mountain: “May I ask, honoured spirit, what are the Bull Demon King's powers?”
“That Bull King's arts are not small and his power has no bound,” said the local god. “He is a match for the Great Sage exactly.”
“Wukong is one who can travel,” said Tripitaka. “Ordinarily he goes two thousand lǐ and is back in a moment. How is it that he has been gone a whole day now? He must certainly be contending with that Bull King.” He called: “Wuneng, Wujing — you two: which of you will go and meet your elder brother? Should you meet the enemy, lend your strength; get the fan and bring it, relieve me of this vexation, and let us be over the mountain early and away on the road.”
“It is late in the day,” said Eight Rules. “I have been thinking I ought to go and fetch him, only I do not know the road to Mount Piled Thunder.”
“This small spirit knows it,” said the local god. “Let General Curtain-Roller keep your master company, and I shall go along with you.”
Tripitaka was greatly pleased. “I put you to trouble, honoured spirit. When the thing is done I shall thank you again.”
Eight Rules roused his spirits, hitched up his black brocade cassock, took up his rake, and rose at once with the local god on cloud and mist, going straight back toward the east. As they went they heard of a sudden the noise of battle-cries running high, and a wild wind rolling. Eight Rules held down his cloud-head and looked, and there were Pilgrim Sun and the Bull King at their killing.
“Marshal of the Heavenly Reeds, will you not go forward?” said the local god. “What are you waiting for?”
The Idiot whipped out his rake and called in a fierce loud voice: “Elder brother, here I am!”
“You lout,” said Pilgrim bitterly, “what a great business you have spoiled for me.”
“The master sent me to meet you,” said Eight Rules, “and because I did not know the mountain road we talked it over a long while and had the local god guide me. That is why I am late. How have I spoiled any great business?”
“It is not that I blame you for being late,” said Pilgrim. “This wretched bull is beyond all decency. I got the fan out of the Rākṣasī, and then this creature turned himself into your shape and said he had come to meet me. I was pleased for the moment and handed the fan straight into his hand; whereupon he showed his own form and is here matching himself against old Monkey. That is how the great business was spoiled.”
Eight Rules heard it and was furious. He raised his rake and cursed him to his face: “You blood-swollen, plague-ridden thing! How dare you take the shape of your own grandsire to cheat my elder brother and set us brothers at odds?” See him now, laying about with the rake anyhow, at head and face alike.
As for the Bull King: for one thing he had fought Pilgrim a whole day and his strength was spent and his spirit weary; for another he saw that Eight Rules' rake was fierce and could not fend it off. So he broke and ran. Then the local god of the Fiery Mountain, at the head of his shadow-troops, blocked him to his face.
“King of Great Strength, hold your hand,” he said. “Tripitaka of Tang goes west to fetch the scriptures. There is no spirit that does not protect him and no heaven that does not favour him; the three realms know of it and the ten directions uphold him. Bring the banana-leaf fan quickly and fan the flames out, so that he may pass without calamity or hindrance and be over the mountain early; otherwise heaven above will call your offence to account, and you will surely be put to death.”
“You local god understand nothing of the rights of it,” said the Bull King. “That wretched ape seized my son, wronged my concubine and cheated my wife: outrage upon outrage. I could wish to swallow him down whole and turn him to dung to feed the dogs. How should I be willing to lend him my treasure?”
Before he had done speaking, Eight Rules came up cursing: “You knot-hearted murrain! Bring out the fan quickly and I will spare your life.”
The Bull King could only turn back, and fought Eight Rules with his sword again. The Great Sage raised his rod to help, and this bout, there, was a fine fight:
A hog turned spirit, a bull turned monstrous,
and with them an ape who stole from heaven and got the Way.
The nature of Chan has always been able to fight and refine;
but earth must be used to bring the source together.
The rake's nine teeth are pointed and keen besides;
the precious sword's twin edges are quick and supple too.
The iron rod, furling and unfurling, is the chief reliance;
the earth-god lends his strength, and the head of the elixir is formed.
The three houses in mutual restraint contend together;
each unfolds his powers and would lay his plans.
Catch the ox and plough the ground, and the golden coin grows;
call the hog back to the furnace, and the wood-breath is gathered in.
If the heart is not present, how shall the Way be made?
Let the spirit keep to its dwelling, and the ape must be tethered.
Wild shouting, bitter entreaty, and three sorts of weapon whistling.
Rake pounding, sword wounding, and no good will in either;
the gold-banded rod goes up, and there is cause for it.
They fought until the stars gave no light and the moon no brightness,
and a whole sky of cold mist hung black and long.
The Demon King roused his courage and strove, moving and fighting as he went; they fought a whole night and neither had the upper hand, and it was already dawn again. Ahead of them was the mouth of his Cloud-Touching Cave on Mount Piled Thunder; the three of them, with the local god and the shadow-troops, made such a clamour as shook the ear, and it startled the Jade-Faced Princess, who called a maid to see where the shouting came from.
A little demon on the gate came in to report: “It is our own lord, with that thunder-god-snouted fellow of yesterday and a monk with a long snout and great ears, fighting the local god of the Fiery Mountain and all his crowd.”
The Jade-Faced Princess heard it and at once ordered the headmen of the outer guard, great and small, each to take up spear and blade and lend their strength. They mustered from front and back, of all assorted sizes, upward of a hundred of them; and every one of them showing off his spirit, brandishing spear and flourishing cudgel, they called out together: “Great King and master, we come by our lady's inner command, expressly to lend our strength!”
The Bull King was delighted. “Well come, well come!”
The whole crowd of demons went forward at once and hacked away. Eight Rules could not meet it in time; he trailed his rake behind him and fled the field. The Great Sage loosed his somersault cloud and sprang clear of the ring, and the shadow-troops too scattered and ran. The old bull had the victory, gathered his demons back into the cave, and shut the cave door fast; of which no more for the present.
“This creature is a bold fighter,” said Pilgrim. “He and old Monkey have been at it since about the hour of shēn yesterday, right through to tonight, and neither has won. Luckily you two have come to take up the relief. We have fought bitterly like this half a day and a night, and he shows no sign of wearying. And now this pack of little demons besides, and a rough sturdy lot they are. He has shut the cave door fast and will not come out. What is to be done?”
“Brother,” said Eight Rules, “you left the master at the hour of sì yesterday. How is it you did not fall to fighting him until shēn? Where were you those two or three double-hours?”
“After parting from you I was at this mountain in a moment, and met a woman,” said Pilgrim. “I gave her greeting, and she turned out to be his favourite, the Jade-Faced Princess. I gave her one fright with my iron rod, and she ran into the cave and called the Bull King out. He and old Monkey traded words like chisels and shouted at each other a while. Then we came to blows and fought a good double-hour. Just as we were at it, someone came and invited him away to a banquet.
“So I followed him to the bottom of Green Wave Pool on Scattered Rock Mountain, turned into a crab, spied out the news, stole the water-parting golden-eyed beast that he rides, took the Bull King's own shape, went on to Banana-Leaf Cave on Emerald Cloud Mountain, cheated the Rākṣasī, and gulled the fan out of her. Outside the door I tried the method over and over, and got the fan made large; only I cannot make it small again. And just as I was carrying it away on my shoulder, he took your face and cheated it back off me. That is how two or three double-hours were lost.”
“This is exactly what the common saying means,” said Eight Rules: “a bean-curd boat capsized in the open sea — in with the soup and out with the water. Now that his fan is not to be had, how are we to get the master over the mountain? Let us go back and take some road round, hang it.”
“Great Sage, do not fret; Marshal of the Heavenly Reeds, do not slacken,” said the local god. “The moment you speak of turning aside you have entered a side gate, and that is no kind of religious practice. The old saying goes: one does not walk by bypaths. How then can you turn aside? That master of yours is sitting on the straight road, watching with all his eyes for you to succeed.”
“True, true,” said Pilgrim fiercely. “Idiot, no wild talk. The local god speaks with reason. What we want with him is just this:”
To gamble win against loss, to play out our arts;
let me work the Earthly-Fiend transformations.
Since coming west I have met no match;
and the Bull King himself was once a transformation of the mind-ape.
This time is the right time to meet the source and the stream;
I must hold on and get the precious fan.
Take the cool, put out the flames,
break through stubborn emptiness and look upon the Buddha's face.
Practice complete, we rise to the Heaven of Utmost Bliss,
and all together attend the Dragon-Flower Feast.
Eight Rules heard it and put out his strength, and said in earnest:
“Yes, yes, yes; go, go, go; never mind whether the Bull King can or cannot.
Wood is born in hài and is matched to the hog;
lead the ox back and return it to the kind of earth.
Metal is born under shēn and is properly the ape;
where there is no punishment and no conquest there is much concord.
Use the banana-leaf, take it for the sense of water,
and when the blazing fire is put out, After Completion is made.
Day and night do not part from it; toil to the end of effort,
and when the work is done hasten to the Ullambana feast.”
The two of them led the local god and the shadow-troops forward together, plying the rake and swinging the rod, clang and clatter, until they had smashed the front gate of the Cloud-Touching Cave to pieces. It frightened the headmen of the outer guard into trembling, and they rushed inside to report: “Great King, Sun Wukong has led a crowd and broken the front gate!”
The Bull King was just then telling the Jade-Faced Princess the whole affair, and railing at Pilgrim Sun. Hearing that the front gate was broken he flew into a rage, hurriedly put on his armour, took up his iron staff and came out from within, cursing: “Wretched ape! How big a fellow are you, that you dare come to my door and make such a riot and break down my gate-leaf?”
Eight Rules came up and cursed him wildly: “You wretched old flayed hide! What sort of person are you, to dare take that one's measure? Do not run — look to the rake!”
“You swill-stuffing lout are nothing to look at,” shouted the Bull King. “Call that ape up here, and be quick.”
“You grass-gorging ox that knows neither good nor ill!” said Pilgrim. “Yesterday I was still calling you brother; today you are an enemy. Look to yourself and taste my rod.”
The Bull King roused his courage and met them. This bout was better than the one before. The three heroes were mixed together in one place, and a fine killing it was:
Nail-rake and iron rod display their divine might;
together they lead the shadow-troops against the old sacrificial beast.
The sacrificial beast alone unfolds his fierce strong nature;
filling all and matching heaven, his power is vast.
Plying the rake to pound, wielding the staff to hammer,
and the iron-rod hero brings out a further surprise.
Three kinds of weapon ring and clang;
parrying and warding, and who gives way to whom?
He says that he is first; I say that I take the palm.
With the earth-troops for witness it is hard to judge between them;
wood and earth seethe against each other, following up and down.
These two say: “Why will you not lend the banana-leaf fan?”
That one says: “How dared you cheat against your own heart and deceive my wife?
The driving off of my concubine and the harm done my child are still unavenged,
and now you beat at my gate and alarm me besides.”
This one says: “Look well to yourself and guard against the As-You-Will rod;
let it graze you the least bit and the skin breaks.”
That one says: “Take good care to dodge the teeth of the rake;
one wound and nine holes run with blood.”
The Bull Demon is not afraid, and shows his fierce strength;
the iron staff raised high, he has an eye for the moment.
Overturning cloud and upsetting rain they come and go at will;
spitting mist and blowing wind, each gives his powers free play.
In bitter hatred, this bout, they all stake their lives;
each nursing an evil thought and glad to be locked together.
Dropping the guard, yielding high and low,
meeting in front and warding behind, and none of them the loser.
The two brothers strain together; the single man with his one staff acts alone.
They fought from the hour of mǎo past the hour of chén,
and when the fighting was done the Bull Demon drew in his hands and went back.
The three of them, careless of death and forgetful of life, fought above a hundred bouts more. Eight Rules' idiot streak came up; relying on Pilgrim's divine power he raised his rake and pounded wildly. The Bull King could not fend it off; he broke, turned back, and made straight for the cave door. But the local god and the shadow-troops barred the cave door and shouted: “King of Great Strength, where do you think you are going? We are here.”
The old bull could not get into the cave, and hurriedly drew back. Seeing Eight Rules and Pilgrim coming after him, he was so alarmed that he threw off his armour, dropped his iron staff, shook himself and changed into a swan, and flew away into the sky.
Pilgrim saw it and laughed. “Eight Rules, the old bull has gone.” The Idiot had no notion of it and the local god could not tell either; the two of them stared east and peered west, hunting about at random before and behind Mount Piled Thunder.
Pilgrim pointed. “Is that not him, flying up there?”
“That is a swan,” said Eight Rules.
“It is the old bull, transformed,” said Pilgrim.
“If that is so,” said the local god, “what is to be done?”
“You two break in at this gate,” said Pilgrim, “wipe out the whole pack of demons, pull down his nest and cut off his way back. Leave old Monkey to gamble transformations with him.” Eight Rules and the local god did as they were told and broke in at the cave door; of which no more here.
The Great Sage put away his gold-banded rod, made the sign and said the spell, shook himself and changed into a gyrfalcon. With a whirr of one wing he bored up into a rift in the cloud, flew back down inverted, dropped on the swan's body, gripped its neck and took at its eye. The Bull King knew it for Pilgrim Sun's transformation, shook out his wings in haste and changed into a yellow hawk, turning back to take at the gyrfalcon.
Pilgrim changed again into a black phoenix, bent solely on driving the yellow hawk. The Bull King knew it, and changed into a white crane, gave one long cry and flew away southward. Pilgrim steadied himself, shook out his flight feathers, and changed into a vermilion phoenix, giving one high call.
The white crane, seeing that the phoenix is king of birds and that no fowl dares stir against him, swept down with a beat of the wing, dropped below the cliff, changed his body and became a musk deer, grazing before the crag with a dull dawdling air. Pilgrim knew him, dropped his wings likewise, and became a hungry tiger, whipping his tail and pawing the ground, coming to run the deer down for food.
The Demon King lost his head and changed into a great leopard spotted with coin-shaped rosettes, meaning to wound the hungry tiger. Pilgrim saw it, faced into the wind, gave his head one shake and became a golden-eyed lion with a voice like a thunderclap, an iron brow and a brazen skull, and turned about to eat the great leopard.
The Bull King grew desperate and changed into a man-bear, opened his stride and came to seize the lion. Pilgrim rolled over and became a scabby elephant, its trunk like a long snake and its tusks like bamboo shoots, and unrolled the trunk to wrap up the man-bear.
The Bull King laughed a little laugh and showed his own body: a great white ox, his head like a steep ridge, his eyes like lightning, his two horns like a pair of iron pagodas, his teeth set in a row of blades, better than a thousand zhàng in length from head to tail and eight hundred zhàng in height from hoof to back. And he called out to Pilgrim: “Wretched ape! What will you do about me now?”
Pilgrim likewise showed his own body, drew out the gold-banded rod, bent his waist and shouted: “Grow!” He grew until he stood ten thousand zhàng high, his head like Mount Tai, his eyes like sun and moon, his mouth like a pool of blood, his teeth like door-leaves; and holding an iron rod in his hand he struck straight at the head. The Bull King hardened his head and came at him with the horns. This bout of theirs shook ridge and mountain and startled heaven and earth. There is a poem in witness of it:
The Way rises a chǐ and the demon a thousand zhàng;
the ingenious mind-ape subdues him by main strength.
If the mountain of fire is to have no raging flame,
the precious fan must first give up its coolness.
The Yellow Dame is sworn to uphold the Primal Elder;
the Wood Mother, with feeling to spare, sweeps the fiends away.
The Five Phases in concord return to the true fruit;
refine the demon, wash the filth away, and go up to the West.
The two of them put out their full powers and fought there in the middle of the mountain, and it startled the whole host of spirits passing through the void, so that the Golden-Headed Guardian, the Six Jia and Six Ding, and the eighteen Guardians of the Faith all came and hemmed the Demon King in. The Demon King was openly unafraid. Watch him: one head east and one head west, his two iron horns straight and stiff and shining, butting this way and that; a charge south and a charge north, his one hard tail bristling and knotted with sinew, swinging left and right.
The Great Sage met him face on, and the many gods struck at him from four sides. The Bull King grew desperate, rolled on the ground, resumed his own form and made off toward the Banana-Leaf Cave. Pilgrim likewise put away his dharma-body, and came after him with the many gods. The Demon King rushed into the cave and shut the door and would not come out; and the whole company ringed Emerald Cloud Mountain about so that not a drop could leak through.
They were just at the gate and attacking it when they heard Eight Rules coming up with the local god and the shadow-troops, all shouting. Pilgrim saw them and asked: “How went it at the Cloud-Touching Cave?”
“That old bull's lady — I pounded her to death with one stroke of the rake,” said Eight Rules with a laugh, “and when we tore open her clothes to look, she turned out to be a jade-faced fox spirit. That pack of demons were all of them asses, mules, calves, bullocks, badgers, foxes, raccoon-dogs, river-deer, sheep, tigers, elk and deer and the like, and every one has now been cut down. And we set fire to his cave-mansion and its galleries and burned them. The local god said he has another household living on this mountain, so we came on here to sweep that away too.”
“Worthy brother, you have done well,” said Pilgrim. “This is good news, good news. Old Monkey gambled transformations with that old bull for nothing, and never got the victory. He turned himself into a white ox than which nothing could be bigger, and I took on the stature that models heaven and images earth. Just as we were butting at each other, the gods came down by good fortune and hemmed him in a long while; but he took his own form again and got away into the cave.”
“Is that the Banana-Leaf Cave, then?” said Eight Rules.
“It is, it is,” said Pilgrim. “The Rākṣasī is in there.”
“If that is how it is,” said Eight Rules fiercely, “why not break in, cut the creature down and demand the fan of him, instead of letting him sit there growing in cunning and the pair of them making up their quarrel?”
Splendid Idiot! He roused his fierce spirit, raised the rake and pounded straight at the door, and with a crash brought the stone cliff down along with the door on one side of it. It frightened the maidservant into hurrying in with word: “Master, somebody or other has broken the front gate clean down.”
The Bull King had only just run in, panting, and was telling the Rākṣasī the whole business of contending with Pilgrim Sun for the fan. Hearing the report he was greatly angered within, and spat the fan out of his mouth and handed it to the Rākṣasī. The Rākṣasī took the fan in her hand and said with her eyes full of tears: “Great King, give this fan to the ape and let him withdraw his troops.”
“Madam,” said the Bull King, “the thing is small but the grudge is deep. Sit you here, and let me go and match myself against him once more.” The demon put his armour on again, chose two more precious swords, and came out at the door.
He met Eight Rules pounding at the door with the rake; the old bull did not stop to talk but drew and cut at his head. Eight Rules raised the rake to meet it, gave back a few steps, and came out at the door, where the Great Sage was already swinging the rod overhead. The Bull Demon at once rode a wild wind, sprang clear of the cave, and they were all locked together again on Emerald Cloud Mountain. The many gods ringed him about on four sides, and the local god's troops attacked from left and right. This bout was another fine killing:
Cloud bewilders the world; mist covers heaven and earth.
A rustling dark wind rolls the sand and stones;
a towering rage churns the waves of the sea.
Twice-whetted, the two swords; harnessed anew, the whole body in mail.
The enmity knotted deep as the sea; the grudge nursed, and the anger grows the more.
See how the Great Sage Equal to Heaven, for the sake of the work in hand,
will not speak of the old friend of former years.
Eight Rules puts out his strength to get the fan;
the host of gods guard the Law and take the lord of oxen.
The Bull King's two hands never rest;
warding left and blocking right, he plays out his spirit.
They fought until the birds passing overhead could not fly and folded their wings one and all,
and the swimming fish did not leap but sank their scales away.
Ghosts wept and spirits howled and heaven and earth went dark;
dragons grieved and tigers feared and the sunlight dimmed.
The Bull King staked his life and threw his body in, fought upward of fifty bouts, could not hold against them, broke, and made off northward. But there already stood the Vajra of Vast Power and Sprinkled Law from Secret Demon Crag on Mount Wutai, barring the way and shouting: “Bull Demon, where do you think you are going? I was dispatched by the Buddha Śākyamuni to spread a net over heaven and earth, and to take you here.”
While he was still speaking, the Great Sage and Eight Rules and the gods came up behind. The Demon King turned in alarm and went south, and ran full into the Vajra of Measureless Power and Surpassing Attainment from Cool Cavern on Mount Emei, who blocked him and shouted: “I hold the Buddha's command, and am here for the very purpose of taking you.”
The Bull King's heart went adrift and his legs weak; he pulled back in haste and went east, and there met the Vaiśravaṇa Vajra of Great Strength from Ear-Rubbing Crag on Mount Sumeru, who came at him and shouted: “Old bull, whither? I hold the Tathāgata's secret order, and am sent to seize you.”
The Bull King drew back again in terror and went west, and met the Vajra of Indestructible Honoured King and Eternal Abiding from Golden Haze Ridge on Mount Kunlun, who stood against him and shouted: “Where will the creature go now? I have the Buddha's own word from the Great Thunderclap Monastery in the West to hold this pass. Who is to let you through?”
The old bull's heart shook and his gall trembled, and his regret came too late. He saw that on all four sides and in all eight quarters there were the Buddha's soldiers and heaven's generals, drawn up truly like a net raised high, and there was no getting his life out. Just in that moment of panic he heard Pilgrim coming up at the head of the host, so he rode his cloud-head and made off upward.
But as luck had it there were the Pagoda-Bearing Heavenly King Li and Prince Nezha, leading the Fish-Belly Yakṣa and the Mighty Spirit General, curtaining off the sky and calling: “Not so fast, not so fast! I hold the Jade Emperor's command, and am come here expressly to destroy you.”
The Bull King grew desperate, shook himself and changed as before, becoming a great white ox again, and used his two iron horns to butt at the Heavenly King. The Heavenly King brought his blade down at him. Pilgrim Sun came up behind.
Prince Nezha called out in a fierce loud voice: “Great Sage, I am in armour and cannot make you the courtesy. Yesterday your foolish servant and his father saw the Buddha Tathāgata send up a despatch informing the Jade Emperor that the Tang Monk's road was blocked at the Mountain of Flames and that the Great Sage could not subdue the Bull Demon King; and the Jade Emperor passed down an order dispatching my father to lead his host and lend their strength.”
“This creature's arts are not small,” said Pilgrim, “and now he has taken a body of this size. What is to be done about it?”
The prince laughed. “Great Sage, have no doubt. Watch me take him.”
The prince at once shouted: “Change!” He changed into three heads and six arms, sprang up onto the Bull King's back, and with one sweep of the demon-cleaving sword at the neck had the bull's head off before anyone knew it. The Heavenly King put up his blade and only then greeted Pilgrim.
But out of the Bull King's trunk another head came boring up, spitting black vapour from the mouth and shooting golden light from the eyes. Nezha struck again with the sword, and where the head fell another came boring up. He struck a dozen strokes running, and a dozen heads grew straight out after them.
Then Nezha took out his fire-wheel and hung it on the old bull's horn, then blew up the true fire, blazing and roaring, until it burned the Bull King into wild bellowing and roaring, shaking his head and lashing his tail. He was just about to transform and slip away when the Pagoda-Bearing Heavenly King held his true form fast in the demon-revealing mirror, so that he could not shift at all and had no means of escaping alive; and he could only cry: “Do not take my life! I will submit to the House of Buddha willingly.”
“If you value your life,” said Nezha, “bring out the fan at once.”
“The fan is with my mountain wife,” said the Bull King. “She has it put away.”
Hearing this, Nezha undid the demon-binding rope, straddled the bull's neck, took hold of the nose with one hand, ran the rope through the nostrils and led him by hand. Pilgrim Sun gathered the four great Vajras, the Six Ding and Six Jia, the Guardians of the Faith, the Pagoda-Bearing Heavenly King and the Mighty Spirit General, along with Eight Rules, the local god and the shadow-troops; and they crowded about the white ox and came back to the mouth of the Banana-Leaf Cave.
The old bull called: “Madam, bring out the fan and save my life.”
The Rākṣasī heard him call, hastily took off her pins and rings, put off her coloured clothes, bound up her black hair like a Daoist nun and dressed in undyed white like a bhikṣuṇī; and holding in both hands that banana-leaf fan of a zhàng and two chǐ in length, she came out at the door. Seeing the Vajras and the holy company and the Heavenly King with his son, she knelt in haste upon the ground, knocked her head and made obeisance, saying: “I beg the bodhisattvas to spare the lives of my husband and myself. I will offer up this fan for Uncle Sun to accomplish his work.”
Pilgrim came forward and took the fan, and with all the company rode the auspicious cloud straight back to the eastern road.
The tale turns to Tripitaka and Sha Monk, who stood a while and sat a while, watching for Pilgrim; he had not come back this long time, and how anxious they were. Of a sudden they saw auspicious cloud filling the sky and lucky light covering the ground, drifting and floating: it was the host of gods drawing near. The elder took fright and said: “Wujing, whose divine soldiers are those coming yonder?”
Sha Monk knew them. “Master, those are the four great Vajras, the Golden-Headed Guardian, the Six Jia and Six Ding, the Guardians of the Faith and the gods that pass by. The one leading the ox is Third Prince Nezha, the one holding the mirror is Pagoda-Bearing Heavenly King Li, eldest brother has the banana-leaf fan in his hand, second brother and the local god come behind, and the rest are all guardian soldiers.”
Hearing this, Tripitaka changed into his Vairocana cap and put on his cassock, and with Wujing bowed to receive the holy company, giving thanks: “What virtue or ability has your disciple, that he should presume to trouble your honoured holinesses to come down to the world?”
“Rejoice, holy monk,” said the four great Vajras. “Your meritorious work is very nearly complete. We were dispatched by the Buddha's command to help you. You must strive with all your strength in your practice, and not slacken for a moment.”
Tripitaka clicked his teeth and knocked his head, and received the charge with body and life.
The Great Sage, with the fan in his hand, went up to the edge of the mountain and swung it once with all his strength; and the Mountain of Flames put its fire down level and still, and its glare was quietly gone. Pilgrim, delighted, fanned once more, and there was only a soft rustling and whispering, and a clear breeze faintly stirring. At the third stroke the sky filled with spreading cloud, and a fine rain came drifting down. There is a poem in witness of it:
The Mountain of Flames stretches eight hundred stages far;
fire lights the great earth, and its name is known.
Fire boils the five leaks and the elixir will not ripen;
fire scorches the three passes and the Way is not clear.
Now the banana-leaf is borrowed to send down rain and dew;
and by good fortune the generals of heaven have helped the divine work.
The ox is led back to the Buddha and its wildness is done;
water and fire joined, the nature settles of itself.
At this Tripitaka was rid of his parching and his vexation, his heart cleared and his mind settled. The four took refuge, thanked the Vajras, and each returned to his own precious mountain. The Six Ding and Six Jia rose into the sky to keep guard. The gods of heaven and earth that had been passing scattered away. The Heavenly King and the prince led the ox straight back to the Buddha's land, to report their commission discharged. Only the local god of the mountain stayed, holding the Rākṣasī under guard, waiting at the side.
“Rākṣasī,” said Pilgrim, “you do not go your way but stand here still. What are you waiting for?”
The Rākṣasī knelt. “I beg the Great Sage of his mercy to give me back the fan.”
“You wretched creature, you know neither high nor low,” shouted Eight Rules. “Sparing your life was enough. What fan is there still to ask for? We shall carry it over the mountain. May we not sell it for money and buy ourselves something to eat? We have spent all this spirit and strength on it, and are we to hand it over to you? The rain is coming down in a drizzle. Will you not go home?”
The Rākṣasī bowed again. “The Great Sage said at the first that he would give it back when the fire was fanned out. After all this, my regret comes truly too late. It is only because I was not open-handed that I have caused a whole army to be raised. We too have cultivated ourselves into human form; only we have not yet come to the true fruit. Now that his true body has been made manifest and taken west, I shall not dare act wildly again. I beg you to grant me back the fan, that I may begin again and reform, and go to cultivate my body and nourish my life.”
“Great Sage,” said the local god, “take the chance while this woman knows the method of quenching the fire: cut the fire off at its root and give her back the fan. Then this small spirit may live here in some peace, save the people of this region, and beg a little blood-offering; it would be a true kindness.”
“At the time I asked the country people,” said Pilgrim, “and they said that when this mountain's fire is fanned out you get one year's harvest and then it breaks out again. How is it to be cured at the root?”
“If you would cut the fire off at its root,” said the Rākṣasī, “you need only fan forty-nine strokes together, and it will never break out again.”
Hearing this, Pilgrim took the fan, put out all his sinew and strength, and fanned forty-nine strokes together toward the mountain top; and on that mountain a great rain came pouring down. A treasure indeed: where there was fire it rained, and where there was no fire the sky was clear. Master and disciples stood in that place without fire, and were not caught by the wet.
They sat out the night, and only next morning gathered horse and baggage, and gave the fan back to the Rākṣasī. And he said: “If old Monkey did not give it to you, I fear it would be said of me that I am a man without his word. Take the fan back to your mountain and make no more trouble. Seeing that you have won a human form, I let you go.”
The Rākṣasī took the fan, said a spell over it, pinched it into an apricot leaf and held it in her mouth. She bowed her thanks to the holy company, hid her name and cultivated the Way; and afterwards she too attained the true fruit, and her name is handed down for ever in the Sūtra-piṭaka. The Rākṣasī and the local god both gave thanks in gratitude, and saw them off from behind. Pilgrim, Eight Rules and Sha Monk guarded Tripitaka and went forward from there, and truly their bodies were cool and the ground was moist beneath their feet. It is truly what is meant by:
Kan and Li in After Completion, and the True Origin is joined;
water and fire in even balance, and the Great Way is made.
There is no telling in the end how many years before he comes back to the Eastern Land; listen to the explanation in the next chapter.