Now the Great Sage Sun stepped inside the cave mouth and looked to either side. And this is what he saw:
Skulls piled like ridges, bare bones standing like a forest.
Human hair trodden into felt mats, human skin and flesh rotted down to muck and dust.
Human sinew wound round the trees, dried and scorched, glinting bright as silver.
A mountain of corpses indeed, a sea of blood, and the reek of it past bearing.
Off east the lesser fiends were seizing men alive and slicing the flesh from them; away west the foul demons had human meat fresh in the pot, fresh on the boil.
Had the Handsome Monkey King not carried a heart this bold, no second mortal alive would have got in through that door.
Before long he had walked in through the second gate, and when he looked — oh! Inside was nothing like outside: clear and strange and quietly elegant, handsome and broad and level; to left and right, jade grasses and immortals' flowers; before and behind, tall pines and kingfisher-green bamboo. Another seven or eight lǐ or so, and only then the third gate. Slipping into cover and stealing a look, he saw three old fiends enthroned up there, savage-looking in the extreme.
The one in the middle looked like this:
Chisel fangs and saw teeth, a round skull and a square face.
A voice that roared like thunder, eyes flashing like lightning.
Nostrils tipped up to heaven, red brows streaming flame.
Wherever he walked, a hundred beasts lost their nerve; if he sat down, the whole crowd of demons shook in their gall.
This one was the king among beasts, the Green-Haired Lion Fiend.
The one on his left hand looked like this:
Phoenix eyes and golden pupils, yellow tusks and heavy legs.
A long trunk and silver bristles, a head that looked much like a tail.
A round forehead and furrowed brows, a body heaped and massive.
A voice as delicate as a graceful beauty, a jade face like the ox-headed demon of hell.
This one was the old yellow-tusked elephant, who had hidden his teeth and cultivated himself for many a year.
The one on his right hand looked like this:
Golden wings and the head of a kūn fish, star pupils in a leopard's eye.
Beating up out of the north and setting his course south, unyielding and bold.
Born to soaring by transformation — the little quail laughs at him, the dragon goes pale.
When those pinions beat the wind round, a hundred birds hid their heads; when those keen talons spread, every fowl lost its gall.
This one was the great péng eagle, whose road through the clouds runs ninety thousand.
Ranged down the two sides stood a hundred-odd officers great and small, every one of them in full harness, helm and mail in good order, awesome to look at, the killing air coming off them in waves.
Wukong took it all in, delighted at heart, not a scrap afraid, and marched straight in with a long stride, unslung his clapper and bell, and called up the hall: “Great King!” The three old fiends asked with a laugh, “Little Bore-Wind! You're back?” Wukong answered up, “I'm back.” “You went out on patrol — what did you learn of Sun Wukong's whereabouts?”
Wukong said, “Great King above me, I hardly dare to bring it up.” The old fiend said, “Why should you not dare?” Wukong said, “On the Great King's orders I was going along beating my clapper and bell, when I looked up sharp and saw a man squatting there grinding down a great pole. He looked like a Road-Opening God; if he had stood up he would have been a good ten-odd zhàng tall.
“He set to right there on the rock by the ravine wall, scooped up a handful of water, gave it a grind, and muttered aloud that his pole had not yet shown its power in all this time — he meant to grind it bright and then come and beat the Great Kings to death. That is how I knew he was Sun Wukong, and I came straight back to report it.”
At these words the old fiend broke out in a sweat all over, and said, shaking and stammering with fright, “Brothers, I told you not to provoke the Tang monk. His disciple has vast magic powers. He has made his preparations in advance, and he is grinding a cudgel to beat us with. What are we to do?” He ordered: “Little ones, call in everybody outside, great and small, shut the doors, and just let him go past.”
One of the officers who knew reported, “Great King, the little fiends outside have already scattered.” The old fiend said, “What do you mean, all scattered? I suppose they got wind of it and thought it looked bad. Shut the doors, quick, shut the doors!” With a clatter and a bang the demons bolted and barred every door, front and back.
Wukong took fright inwardly. “Now the doors are shut, if he asks me any household details I cannot answer, won't that give the game away and get me caught? Better give him one more scare and get him to leave the doors open, so I can run.” So he stepped forward again. “Great King, there was worse he said.” The old fiend said, “What else did he say?”
Wukong said, “He said he would take the First Great King and flay him, the Second Great King and slice the flesh off his bones, and the Third Great King and draw out his sinews. If you shut the doors and don't go out, well — he can transform. In a moment he'll turn into a fly, come in through a crack in the door, and carry the lot of us out. What are we to do then?”
The old fiend said, “Brothers, be careful. In this cave of mine there hasn't been a fly in years. If a fly gets in, it is Sun Wukong.” Wukong laughed to himself. “Then I'll turn into a fly and give him a scare, and the doors will open.” The Great Sage slipped aside, reached behind his head, plucked out a hair, blew a breath of immortal air on it and cried, “Change!”
At once it became a gold fly, which flew straight at the old fiend and butted him full in the face. The old monster panicked. “Brothers, this is not right. That thing has got in through the door.” So startled were the whole crowd of demons, great and small, that every one of them snatched up a fork or a broom and rushed forward swatting wildly at the fly.
The Great Sage could not hold it in, and let out a snickering laugh. He had no business laughing at all, and that one laugh laughed his real face right out. Whereupon the third old demon sprang forward and seized him. “Brother! We were very nearly taken in by him.” The old fiend said, “Worthy brother, who took in whom?”
The third monster said, “That little fiend who reported just now is no Little Bore-Wind. He is Sun Wukong himself. He must have run into Little Bore-Wind, and somehow beaten him to death — who knows how — and then transformed himself to come and fool us.” Wukong panicked. “He's recognised me.”
He gave his face a rub and said to the old monster, “How am I Sun Wukong? I'm Little Bore-Wind. The Great King has got the wrong man.” The old fiend laughed. “Brother, he is Little Bore-Wind. He answers the roll in front of me three times a day. I know him.”
And he asked, “Have you got your badge?” Wukong said, “I have.” He pushed up his clothes and produced the tag. That settled the old monster entirely. “Brother, don't wrong him.”
The third monster said, “Brother — did you not see him? Just now he shrank aside and let out one laugh, and I saw a thunder-god's muzzle come out on him. And when he saw me grab hold of him, he changed back into this shape again.” He called, “Little ones — fetch rope.” The officers fetched rope at once.
The third monster wrenched Wukong over and trussed him with all four limbs gathered together. They lifted his clothes to look, and it was the Ban-Horse Plague to the life. Now Wukong had seventy-two transformations, and if he changed into a bird, a beast, a flower, a tree, a vessel or an insect, his whole body went over with it; but when he changed into a person, only the head and face changed, and the body would not come over.
Sure enough — a coat of yellow fur, two red haunches, and a tail. The old fiend looked and said, “Sun Wukong's body, Little Bore-Wind's face. It's him.” He ordered, “Little ones, set out wine first, and pass the Third Great King a cup for the merit of it.
“Now that Sun Wukong is brought down, the Tang monk is as good as food in our mouths.” The third monster said, “Don't drink yet. Sun Wukong is quick and slippery. He knows the arts of escape. I am afraid he will get away. Have the little ones carry out the bottle, put Sun Wukong inside it, and then we can drink.”
The old fiend laughed aloud. “Just so, just so.” At once he told off thirty-six little fiends to go inside, open the storehouse door, and carry out the bottle. How big would you say that bottle was? Only two chǐ and four cùn tall. Then why should it take thirty-six men to lift?
That bottle was a treasure of the twin breaths of yin and yang. Within it were the seven treasures and the eight trigrams and the twenty-four seasonal breaths, and it took thirty-six men, matching the number of the Heavenly Ladle, before it could be lifted at all. In no time the precious bottle was carried out, set down outside the third gate, wiped clean, and the lid lifted off.
They untied Wukong's ropes, stripped off his clothes, and by means of the immortal breath inside that bottle he was sucked in with a whistling rush, the lid was clapped on, and a paper seal pasted over it.
Then they went off to drink. “This time the monkey is inside my precious bottle, and he can stop dreaming of the road to the West. If he is still to worship the Buddha and fetch the scriptures, he will have to turn his back on the cradle-rocking and go and be reborn in somebody else's body.” And look at them, the whole crowd of demons great and small, every one of them chuckling, all going off to toast the victory — of which no more for now.
Now when the Great Sage got inside the bottle, the treasure bound his body down small, so he simply transformed and squatted in the middle of it. After a good while it was shady and cool in there, and he suddenly let out a laugh: “These demons have a big reputation outside and nothing behind it. How do they go about telling people that this bottle puts a man inside and in an hour and a quarter turns him to pus and blood?
“If it stays as cool as this I could live here seven or eight years and take no harm.” Ah! The Great Sage did not know the working of that treasure. If it holds a man who says nothing for a year, then for a year it stays cool; but the moment it hears a human voice, fire comes and burns. The Great Sage had not finished speaking before the whole bottle was full of flame.
Luckily he had the skill for it: he sat in the middle, worked the fire-avoiding charm with his fingers, and was not frightened in the least. He endured a half shíchen of it, and then forty snakes bored out all round him and bit. Wukong swung his arms wide, grabbed them in, squeezed with all his strength, and squeezed them into eighty pieces.
A short while later three fire dragons came out and coiled round Wukong above and below, and that was truly past bearing. He felt himself flustered and at a loss: “Anything else is manageable, but these three fire dragons are hard to deal with. If I go another spell without getting out and it works the fire-breath up into my heart, then what?”
He thought: “I will stretch myself a bit taller and split it open.” Good Great Sage — he worked the sign, spoke a spell, and cried, “Grow!” At once he grew to some zhàng in height. The bottle clung tight against his body and grew right along with him. He shrank himself down small, and the bottle shrank down with him too.
Wukong took fright in his heart: “Bad, bad, bad. How is it that when I grow it grows, and when I shrink it shrinks? What is to be done?” Before he had finished speaking there was a soreness on his ankle bone. He reached down quickly and felt it — the fire had burned it soft. He fretted to himself: “What am I to do?
“My ankle is burned soft. I am made a cripple.” He could not hold it in, and the tears came down. And this was just the case of:
Meeting the demon and meeting with hardship, he thinks of Xuanzang; running into trouble and facing peril, he worries for the holy monk.
He said, “Master! Ah, Master — In that year I came back to the right road, and by the grace of the Bodhisattva Guanyin, who urged me to good, I escaped the calamity of heaven. You and I have toiled over every mountain, put down a great many monsters, subdued Bajie and gained Sha Monk, through a thousand hardships and ten thousand pains, hoping to attain the West together and complete the true fruit as one.
“Who would have thought that today I should meet this poisonous fiend — that old Sun should blunder in here and throw his life away, leaving you stranded halfway up the mountain, unable to go on. I suppose it is because my name stood so high in the old days that today's trouble has come.”
In the middle of this misery he suddenly remembered: “That year at Coiled Snake Mountain the Bodhisattva gave me three life-saving hairs. I wonder whether they are still there — let me have a hunt for them.” He put out a hand and felt himself all over, and there behind his head were three hairs, uncommonly stiff.
He brightened: “The hair on my body is all soft and pliant like that, and only these three are stiff as spear-shafts. These must be the ones to save my life.” So he set his teeth, bore the pain, pulled the hairs out, blew a breath of immortal air, and cried, “Change!” One became a diamond drill, one a strip of bamboo, and one a cotton cord.
He bent the bamboo strip into a little bow, drew the drill along with it, and at the bottom of the bottle gave it a whirring bout of boring — bored out an eye-hole, and the light came through. He said happily, “What luck, what luck — now I can get out.” He had only just transformed to get himself out when the bottle went cool again. Why should it go cool? The fact is that his boring had let the breath of yin and yang leak away, and so it went cool.
Good Great Sage — he took back his hairs, made himself small, and turned into a gnat, exceedingly light and deft, fine as a beard-hair and long as an eyebrow. He bored out through the hole and still did not run, but flew straight up and fixed himself on the old fiend's head. The old fiend was in the middle of his wine when he abruptly set down his cup and said, “Third brother — has Sun Wukong dissolved by now?”
The third monster laughed: “Still at this hour? He'll be long gone.” The old fiend gave the order to have the bottle carried up. The thirty-six lesser fiends below at once lifted the bottle, and the bottle was a great deal lighter. The lesser fiends were so alarmed they reported, “Great King, the bottle is light!” The old fiend shouted, “Nonsense! The treasure is the whole working of the two breaths, yin and yang. How should it be light?”
One rather forward lesser fiend among them hauled the bottle right up and said, “Look at that — isn't it light?” The old fiend lifted the lid to look, and saw the light coming through inside. He could not help crying out, “This bottle is empty — kōng means cleaned out!”
The Great Sage, up on his head, could not help saying, “My boy — sōu means run off!” The demons heard it and said, “He's gone! He's gone!” And at once the order went out: “Shut the doors! Shut the doors!”
Wukong gave himself a shake, gathered up the clothes they had stripped off him, showed his true form, sprang out of the cave and turned back to curse them: “Demons — none of your insolence! Your bottle is bored through. It won't hold a man any more. It's only good to squat over.” Delighted with himself, whooping and racketing, he trod the cloud-tops and went straight back to where the Tang monk was.
The elder was there scooping up earth for incense and praying toward the sky. Wukong halted his cloud a moment to hear what he was praying. The elder put his palms together, faced heaven, and said:
“I pray and summon the immortals of the clouds and mists, the Six Ding and Six Jia and all the heavens,
“and beg them to guard my worthy disciple Sun Wukong, whose powers are vast and whose arts are without bound.”
When the Great Sage heard words like these he put out all the more effort, gathered in his cloud-glow, came near and called, “Master — I have come back.” The elder took hold of him: “Wukong. You have had a hard time of it. You went far to scout that high mountain and were so long in coming back — I have been very anxious. What in truth is in this mountain, for good or ill?”
Wukong laughed: “Master, on this trip just now — first, the living beings of the Eastern Land have the affinity and the allotment for it; second, the Master's merit is measureless and boundless; and third, it was owing to your disciple's own arts.” He set out in detail the whole business of dressing up as Bore-Wind, being trapped in the bottle, and getting himself out. “To see my honoured master's face today — truly I am a man of two lifetimes.”
The elder, thanking him beyond ceasing, said, “So this time you did not have it out with the demons?” Wukong said, “I did not.” The elder said, “Then you can't get me over the mountain?” Wukong was a creature who had to win, and he shouted out, “How do you mean I can't get you over the mountain?”
The elder said, “You have not settled it with them one way or the other. With everything left this vague, how am I to dare go on?” The Great Sage laughed: “Master, you really are too inflexible. As the saying goes: a single thread makes no cord, and one palm alone cannot clap. Those fiends are three, and the lesser demons number thousands upon thousands. How is old Sun single-handed to have it out with them?”
The elder said, “The few are no match for the many. It is hard going for you alone. Bajie and Sha Monk both have abilities of their own. Have them both go, join strength and heart with you, sweep the mountain road clean, and get me across.” Wukong pondered and said, “The Master's words are most apt. Have Sha Monk guard you, and have Bajie come along with me.”
The Idiot panicked: “Brother, you've no eye for people. I'm coarse and lumpish, I've no skill worth the name, I shoulder the wind just walking along. What good am I to you?” Wukong said, “Brother, you may have no skill worth the name, but at least you're a body. As the common saying has it: a fart adds to the wind. You can at least stiffen my nerve a bit.”
Bajie said, “All right, all right. I'll look to you to carry me along. Only when things get fast and slippery, don't play tricks on me.” The elder said, “Bajie, take care. Sha Monk and I will be here.”
The Idiot roused up his divine dignity, and with Wukong loosed a wild wind and rode the cloud and mist, sprang up the high mountain and came straight to the cave mouth. They saw at once that the cave doors were shut fast, and looking round there was nobody. Wukong went forward, gripped his iron cudgel and called out in a harsh, high voice, “Demons — open up! Come out quick and fight old Sun!”
The lesser fiends in the cave carried the report inside. The old fiend, shaken to the heart and trembling in his gall, said, “For years everyone has said the monkey is fierce. The talk was not idly passed on — it is true after all.” The second old monster asked from beside him, “What do you say, elder brother?”
The old fiend said, “That Wukong turned himself into Little Bore-Wind this morning and got in among us, and we could not tell. Luckily our worthy third brother knew him, and we put him in the bottle. Then he worked his arts, bored the bottle through, and made off with his clothes into the bargain. Now he is outside calling for a fight. Who dares take the first round with him?”
Not one of them answered. He asked again, and again nobody answered. Every one of them was playing deaf and pleading dumb. The old fiend lost his temper: “We hold an ugly name on the great road west, undeservedly. Today Sun Wukong slights us like this — if we do not go out and meet him in the field, our reputation goes down too.
“Let me lay down this old life of mine and go three rounds with him. If I can win through three rounds, the Tang monk is still meat in our mouths; and if I cannot, then we shut the doors and let him pass.” So he took his harness, buckled it on, opened the door and went out ahead.
Wukong and Bajie watched from beside the gate, and he was a fine monster indeed:
Iron brow and bronze head under a treasure helm, the helmet tassel streaming and tossing in brilliant light.
Blaze on blaze, lightning-flash, both eyes bright; bright on bright, a spread of rosy cloud, the temple-hair flying.
Hooked talons like silver, sharp and keen; saw teeth like chisels, close-set and even too.
Golden mail on his body without a thread of a seam, a dragon-sash bound at his waist with a clever catch.
In his hand a steel sabre, glittering and glinting; a hero's dignity, rare in this world.
One bellow like a thunderclap, and he demanded: who is that knocking at the door?
The Great Sage turned round: “It is your Grandfather Sun, the Great Sage Equal to Heaven.” The old fiend laughed: “You are Sun Wukong? Bold, insolent ape! I have not provoked you — so why are you here calling for a fight?” Wukong said, “'Only with a wind do waves get up; with no tide, water levels itself.'
“You have not provoked me — would I be looking for you? It is only because you fox-pack and dog-gang have banded together in one crew, plotting to eat my master, that I have come here to do something about it.” The old fiend said, “Swaggering up and shouting at my door like this — you wouldn't be wanting a fight?”
Wukong said, “Just so.” The old fiend said, “Restrain your insolence. If I called up my demon troops, drew up the ranks, shook out the banners and beat the drums and gave you battle, it would make me look like a stay-at-home tiger bullying you.
“I will take you one against one, and no helpers allowed.” Hearing this Wukong called out, “Bajie, step aside! Let's see what he makes of old Sun.” The Idiot really did slip off to one side.
The old fiend said, “Come here and stand for me like a post first. Let me put my whole strength into three cuts at that bald head of yours, and I will let your Tang monk pass; and if you cannot bear it, then bring your Tang monk along smartly and let him make me a meal.”
Wukong heard this and laughed: “Demon — if you have paper and brush in that cave of yours, fetch them out and I will draw up a contract with you. From today, chop away until next year — I still will not hold it against you.”
The old fiend roused up his dignity, planted his feet in a T-stance, raised the sabre in both hands, and chopped straight down at the Great Sage's crown. The Great Sage tipped his head up to meet it. There was a crack, and the scalp did not so much as redden. The old fiend was astonished: “What a hard head this monkey has!”
The Great Sage laughed: “You do not know. Old Sun is this:
“Born with a bronze head and an iron brain-pan, such as heaven and earth have not in all the world.
“Axes cannot chop nor hammers break it; in my young days I went into Lord Lao's furnace.
“The Star Officers of the Four Dippers oversaw the making of it; the Twenty-Eight Lodges put their labour in.
“Steeped in water time and again it will not spoil; all round it is knobbed and ridged with slabs of sinew laid on.
“And the Tang monk, still fearing it not solid enough, put a purple-gold band on it in advance.”
The old fiend said, “Monkey, no more boasting. Watch this second cut come — I will not spare your life.” Wukong said, “Either way you will only chop like that again.” The old fiend said, “Monkey, you do not know this sabre:
“Made in a furnace of gold and fire, wrought by divine craft through a hundred temperings.
“Its edge follows the Three Strategies; its hardness is set by the Six Bow-Cases.
“Shaped like a bluebottle's tail, curved like the waist of a white python.
“Into the hills, and the clouds go rolling; down to the sea, and the waves go surging.
“Ground and polished past counting, boiled and tempered some hundreds of times.
“Kept in a deep-mountain ancient cave, and in the field it has earned its merits.
“Catch it under this monk's crown of yours, and one pare of it makes two gourd-dippers.”
The Great Sage laughed: “This demon has no eye for things at all, taking old Sun for a gourd-head.
“Never mind. A miss on the cut is a miss on the deal — I will let you have another go and see what comes of it.”
The old fiend raised the sabre and chopped again. The Great Sage gave his head a tip to meet it, and with a bang it split into two halves. The Great Sage rolled on the ground and became two bodies. The demon panicked at the sight and let his steel sabre drop.
Bajie, watching from a distance, laughed: “Old fiend, better take two more cuts — wouldn't that make four of him?” The old fiend pointed at Wukong: “I have heard you can work the body-dividing art. How dare you bring that trick out and use it in front of me?” The Great Sage said, “What is the body-dividing art?”
The old fiend said, “Why was it that the first cut moved you not at all, and now one cut makes two men?” The Great Sage laughed: “Demon, do not be alarmed. Chop away ten thousand times and I will give you back twenty thousand men.”
The old fiend said, “You monkey — you can only divide the body. You cannot gather it back. If you have the skill to gather back into one, then take a swing at me with that cudgel.”
The Great Sage said, “No lying now. You were to cut three times and you have cut me only twice. You bid me strike one blow with the cudgel. If I strike a blow and a half, my surname is not Sun.” The old fiend said, “Just so, just so.”
Good Great Sage — he gathered himself in, rolled once, was one body again, and whipped out the cudgel to strike straight at the head. The old fiend threw the sabre up to block it: “Insolent ape! What sort of mourning-stick is that, to come to a man's door and strike him with?” The Great Sage shouted, “If you ask about this rod of mine — in heaven and on earth alike it has a name.” The old fiend said, “How does it have a name?”
He said:
“The rod is nine-times-turned wrought iron, forged in the furnace by Lord Lao's own hand.
“King Yu sought it out and named it the Divine Treasure; for the Four Seas and Eight Rivers it served as the gauge.
“Along its middle the stars are darkly arrayed; at both ends it is clamped and wrapped in plates of gold.
“Patterns crowd it thick enough to startle gods and demons; dragon figures and phoenix seal-script are worked on it.
“Named the Numinous Yang Rod, one single shaft, hidden deep in the sea's treasury where no man could see it.
“Taking shape and changing at will, it rises to fly; streaming out, a five-coloured rosy light appears.
“Old Sun attained the Way, took it home to the mountain, and through endless transformations has much experience of it.
“At any moment it can be as thick as a great jar, or shrink to something fine as an iron thread.
“Thick as the Southern Peak or fine as a needle, its length changing as my heart wills.
“Lifted lightly and coloured clouds are born; brightly it flies up like a bolt of lightning.
“Streaming cold air presses a chill on a man; strand upon strand, a killing mist shows in the air.
“Subduing dragons and quelling tigers it keeps close at my side; to the sky's edge and the sea's corner it has travelled everywhere.
“Once I took this rod and made havoc in the Palace of Heaven; its dignity scattered the Peach Banquet.
“The Heavenly King contested with me and never won; Nezha faced me and could hardly hold the fight.
“The rod struck the gods till they had nowhere to hide; a hundred thousand heavenly troops all fled and scattered.
“The thunder generals in a body guarded the Divine Empyrean; I flew up and struck at the Hall of Perfect Brightness.
“The court-holding heavenly envoys were all thrown into a rush; the immortal ministers guarding the throne were all thrown into confusion.
“I raised the rod and overturned the Northern Dipper Palace; turned my head and shook open the Southern Pole Court.
“The Golden-Gate Heavenly Emperor saw how fierce the rod was, and expressly invited the Tathagata to come and meet me.
“For a soldier, winning and losing come as they will; hardship and calamity are beyond arguing with.
“Ranged out in a row, five hundred whole years — and I owe it to the Southern Sea Bodhisattva's urging.
“In great Tang there was a monk who had left the household life, and he made a vast vow before heaven.
“In the City of the Unjustly Dead he ferried the ghost-souls over; at the assembly on Vulture Peak he was to seek the scripture rolls.
“All along the western road there are demons and fiends, and moving about is very far from convenient.
“Knowing the iron rod was without equal in the world, he begged me to be his companion along the way.
“Evil fiends that so much as touch it go to the dark realm; flesh turns to red dust and bone to flour.
“Everywhere, demons have died under this rod; by tens of thousands and by thousands, past all reckoning.
“Above, it battered the Dipper-and-Ox Palace to ruin; below, it crushed the Hall of the Ten Judges.
“With it the heavenly generals once chased the Nine Luminaries; in the earth prison it wounded the death-summoning judge.
“Dropped from mid-air it shakes the hills and rivers; it beats the Year Star's own new bright sword.
“Relying wholly on this rod I guard the Tang monk, and demons the world over I have beaten through and through.”
The fiend heard it out, and trembling and shaking, throwing his life away, raised the sabre and chopped; and the Monkey King, smiling and humming, brought the iron rod up to meet it. The two of them held each other off in front of the cave at first, then sprang up and fought it out in mid-air.
And it was a fine fight:
The Divine Treasure Rod that gauged the bed of the Heavenly River; the rod named As-You-Will, highest in the world.
Boasting of his skill, the fiend-chief in a temper; the great guarding sabre held high, his power bold.
Outside the door they contended and could still close; up in the air they wagered and neither would give way.
The one changes his face as his heart wills; the other plants his feet and grows in body and waist.
They fought till the sky was heavy with cloud-vapour and mist streamed over all the moor.
That one has set his mind again and again on eating Xuanzang; this one widely wields his powers to guard the house of Tang.
All because the Buddha handed down the scriptures, crooked and straight stand clear, and hatred and bitterness meet.
The old fiend and the Great Sage fought through twenty rounds and more, with neither winning nor losing.
The fact is that Bajie, watching from below as the two of them fought to the best of it, could not hold back — he whipped out the rake, rode the wind up, sprang aloft, and jabbed straight at the demon's face. The fiend panicked. What he did not know was that Bajie has a tiger-head temperament, and startles people by sheer rashness.
He took it for a long snout and big ears, a hard hand and a savage rake — lost the field, dropped his sabre, turned his head and ran. The Great Sage shouted, “After him! After him!” The Idiot, riding on his own moment of glory and holding the rake up, chased straight down after the demon.
Seeing him closing, the old fiend planted himself at the front of the slope, faced into the wind, gave himself a shake and showed his true form, opened his great mouth wide, and made to swallow Bajie. Bajie took fright and dived into the grass, caring nothing for the thorns and brambles, minding nothing for the scraped and aching head, and lay there trembling, listening for the sound of the clapper.
Wukong came up behind, and the creature opened his mouth for him too — and he walked right into the contrivance, put away his iron rod, went up to meet it, and was swallowed by the old fiend at one gulp. The Idiot was so appalled that he lay in the grass muttering and grumbling: “That Keeper of the Horses — no idea when to advance and when to fall back.
“The creature comes to eat you and you don't run — you go up to meet him instead! Swallowed down at a mouthful like that — today he is a monk, tomorrow he will be a movement of the bowels.” The fiend went off victorious, and only then did the Idiot bore his way out of the grass and slip back the way he had come.
Now Xuanzang was down at the foot of the slope with Sha Monk, watching and hoping, when they saw Bajie come running up, panting and gasping. Xuanzang was aghast: “Bajie! Why are you in such a state? Where is Wukong?” The Idiot said through his blubbering, “Elder brother was swallowed down into the demon's belly at a mouthful.”
Hearing it, Xuanzang fell to the ground in shock, and after a long moment he stamped and beat his breast: “Disciple! I always said you were good at subduing demons, that you would bring me west to see the Buddha — how was I to know you would die today at this creature's hand? Bitter, bitter! All the merit my disciples and I earned together is turned now to dust and ashes.”
The master was in the bitterest distress. Now look at the Idiot: he does not come and comfort his master at all, but calls out, “Sha Monk! Fetch the luggage over and let the two of us divide it.” Sha Monk said, “Second brother — divide it how?”
Bajie said, “Split it up and everyone breaks camp: you go back to the Flowing Sand River and carry on eating people; I will go to Gao Village and look in on my wife. We sell the white horse and buy the master a coffin to see him out.” The elder, hearing this and puffing with rage, called on August Heaven and wept aloud. But of that no more for the moment.
Now the old fiend, having swallowed Wukong and reckoning he had managed it well, went straight back to his own cave, where the demons came out to ask after his success in the field. The old fiend said, “I have brought one back.” The second monster said happily, “Who is it that you caught, elder brother?” The old fiend said, “Sun Wukong.” The second monster said, “Where have you got him?”
The old fiend said, “I swallowed him down into my belly at a mouthful.” The third demon chief was appalled: “Elder brother! I never got round to telling you — Sun Wukong is not good eating.” The Great Sage said from inside the belly, “Extremely good eating — and it staves off hunger too. You will never go hungry again.”
The lesser fiends were so alarmed they said, “Great King! This is bad — Sun Wukong is talking inside your belly!” The old fiend said, “Afraid of him talking? I had the skill to eat him — am I to have no skill to deal with him? Go quickly and boil up some salt water, let me pour it down, retch him up, and then we will fry him slowly and drink over it.”
The lesser fiends really did mix up half a basin of salt water. The old monster drank it off dry at one go, made a hollow of his mouth, and retched in earnest; the Great Sage had taken root in the belly and did not stir at all.
Then he blocked off his own throat and heaved outward again, retched until his head swam and his eyes swirled and his gall-bladder was fit to burst; Wukong moved all the less. The old fiend caught his breath and called out, “Sun Wukong — will you not come out?” Wukong said, “Too early yet! This is just the moment for not coming out.”
The old fiend said, “Why will you not come out?” Wukong said, “You are a very inflexible demon. Ever since I became a monk I have lived very thin. Now the autumn has turned cold and I am still wearing a single-layer robe. In here it is actually warm and there is no draught. Let me stay the winter out and then I will come.”
The demons heard it and all said, “Great King, Sun Wukong means to winter in your belly!” The old fiend said, “If he wants to winter, then I will settle into meditation and work a transport method — eat nothing all winter and starve that Keeper of the Horses to death.” The Great Sage said, “My boy — you have no idea.
“Old Sun, escorting the Tang monk after scriptures, came through the Guang country and brought along a folding pot. I have carried it in here to boil up the offal and eat. I shall take the liver, guts, stomach and lungs you have in here and enjoy them at my leisure — enough to keep me provisioned till Qingming.” The second monster was appalled: “Elder brother — this monkey would actually do it.”
The third monster said, “Elder brother, eating the offal is one thing — but where would he set up the pot?” Wukong said, “The three-forked bone is a good place to set a pot.” The third monster said, “This is bad — if he sets a pot up and gets a fire smoking, and the smoke rises into the nostrils, would he not sneeze?”
Wukong laughed: “No trouble. Let old Sun give the gold-hooped rod a jab up through the crown of your head and punch a hole: first it does for a skylight, and second it does for a chimney.”
Hearing this, the old fiend said he was not afraid, but his heart shook all the same, and he could only stiffen his gall and call out, “Brothers — do not be afraid. Fetch out that drugged wine of mine, and let me drink a few cups of it down and poison the monkey to death.”
Wukong laughed to himself: “When old Sun made havoc in Heaven five hundred years ago I ate Lord Lao's elixir, the Jade Emperor's wine, the Queen Mother's peaches and phoenix marrow and dragon liver. What is there I have not eaten? What kind of drugged wine is this, that it dares to drug me?” The lesser fiends really did strain out two pots of the drugged wine, poured a cup brim full, and handed it to the old fiend.
The old fiend took it in his hand, and down in the belly the Great Sage caught the smell of the wine and said, “He is not having that.” Good Great Sage — he gave his head a twist, turned it into a trumpet-mouth, and set it open at the bottom of the demon's throat.
The creature swallowed it down with a gulp, and Wukong with a gulp caught it and drank it. The second cup went down, and Wukong with a gulp caught and drank that too. Seven or eight cups in a row went down, and he caught and drank every one.
The old fiend set down the cup: “I will not drink any more. Ordinarily two cups of this wine and my belly is like fire; and just now I have drunk seven or eight and my face has not so much as flushed!”
The fact is the Great Sage could not hold much wine, and having caught and drunk seven or eight cups of the demon's he began to let the drink out of him inside the belly — endlessly striking poses, dropping into the flat-four stance, throwing flying kicks, seizing the liver and swinging on it, standing on his hands, turning somersaults, dancing about at random. The creature could not bear the pain and fell to the ground.
In the end there is no knowing whether he lived or died — so listen to the next chapter, and it will be explained.