SEVENTY-TWO

At Cobweb Cave Seven Passions delude the Origin;
At Purgation Spring Eight Rules forgets all manners.

We were telling you about Tripitaka, who took leave of the king of the Scarlet-Purple Kingdom and proceeded westward on his horse. He passed over numerous mountains and forded countless waterways. Soon, autumn departed and even winter faded, and it was again the bright, attractive season of spring. As master and disciples stepped on the green and enjoyed the scenery, they came upon some houses shaded by trees. Rolling over on his saddle, Tripitaka dismounted and stood by the main road. “Master,” asked Pilgrim, “why are you not moving on when this road is so level and smooth?”

“Elder Brother,” said Eight Rules, “you are quite insensitive! Master must be rather tired of sitting on the horse. You can let him get down to catch his breath a little.” “I’m not trying to catch my breath,” said Tripitaka, “but I see that there’s a household over there. I would like to go and beg some maigre for us to eat.”

“Look at the way Master speaks!” said Pilgrim, smiling. “If you want to eat, I’ll go and do the begging. As the proverb says, ‘Once a teacher, always a father.’ How could the disciples remain seated while the master goes to beg for food?” “It’s not like that,” replied Tripitaka. “Usually we look out into the endless horizon, and regardless of how far you have to travel, you go to beg for food. Today, there’s a household nearby, close enough for me to call you if I need help. You should therefore let me go and do the begging.”

“But Master,” said Eight Rules, “you’re not thinking properly. As the proverb says, ‘When three persons go out, the youngest child suffers.’ You belong to the paternal generation, and all of us are your disciples. As an ancient text says, ‘When there’s any hard work to be undertaken, the young must do it.’¹ Let old Hog go.” “O disciples,” said Tripitaka, “today the weather’s fair and bright, unlike the times of wind and rain. In those days, you will, of course, do it, even if you have to cover great distances. Let me go now to this household; when I find out whether there’s food or not, we’ll leave.”

“Elder Brothers,” said Sha Monk, smiling on one side, “no need to talk further. Master’s temperament is like that, and you need not contradict him. If you offend him, he won’t eat the food even if you succeed in begging it.” Eight Rules agreed and took out the almsbowl for him. After Tripitaka changed his hat and cloak, he strode up to the village to look around. It was quite a nice dwelling. You see

A stone bridge arching up;

Aged trees thick and neat.

Where the stone bridge arches up,

Gurgling water flows to meet a long brook;

Where aged trees are thick and neat,

The songs of hidden birds reach distant hills.

On the bridge’s other side are a few thatched huts,

Quaint and elegant like an immortal shrine;

There’s also a window o’erlaid with reeds

That make it seem clearly a Daoist home.

Before the window four lovelies appear,

All stitching phoenixes and doing needlework.

When the elder saw that there was no man but only four young women in the house, he dared not enter. He stood still beneath the trees and found that each one of them seemed to have

An orchid nature fine like spring,

A womanly mind firm as stone.

Pink hues adorned her lovely face;

Her rouged lips were most smoothly done.

Her moth brows were slanted crescents;

Her hair piled up a cobweb bun.

If she stood among the flowers,

The bees would mistake her for one.

He waited there for at least half an hour, but the whole place was quiet, without even a sound from chickens or dogs. He thought to himself, “If I truly don’t have the ability to beg a meal, I’ll make my disciples laugh at me. They’ll dare say, if the master could not even succeed in begging food, how could the disciples go and worship Buddha?”

The elder could not think of a better alternative; though he knew perhaps he should not proceed, he nonetheless walked up the bridge. After he had taken several steps, he could see that there was within the courtyard of the thatched hut a small pavilion made of sandalwood. Inside the pavilion, there were three other young women kicking a ball filled with air.² Look at these three girls, who were quite different from the other four. You see

Halcyon blue sleeves fluttering;

Light yellow skirts swaying.

Halcyon blue sleeves fluttering

Enshroud dainty, jade-white fingers.

Light yellow skirts swaying

Half reveal shoes slender and shapely.

Their postures and styles are perfection all;

Moving or still, their heels take many forms.

To pass overhead they must gauge the height;

The long pass must be accurate and true.

A turning kick is “Flower Beyond the Wall”;

Backing up becomes “Traversing the Sea.”

Trapping gently a lump of dirt;

Charging alone to tackle legs.

When “A Pearl Ascends Buddha’s Head,”³

They seize and separate with the toe.

They can pick up a slender brick;

They kick, bending back, their feet arched.

They squat with a straight torso;

They twist and kick with their heels.

Knees bent they can call for a pass,⁴

Their shoulders swing like donning capes.

Through the legs the ball freely goes

Or it loops and swings round the neck.

They kick like the Yellow River flowing upstream,

Or like gold fishes beached on the sand.⁵

That one by mistake thinks it is the head;

This one whirling bumps at once the waist.

Firmly the ball’s held by the calf;

Squarely they slam with their toes.

Heels lifted, straw sandals fall;

Scissor kicks send backward the prize.

Step back for the shoulder-pass style;

The hairpin only once goes awry .

As the hamperlike net hangs low,

They will then kick toward the gate.⁶

When the ball hits squarely the goal,

All the fair ladies shout, “Bravo!”

So, each one’s silk gowns is sweat-soaked and her makeup’s messy;

Only when zeal’s all spent will they cry enough.

We cannot end the description; therefore we offer also another testimonial poem. The poem says:⁷

Third month’s the time they kick ball in a field,

These fair ones blown down by immortal wind.

Their faces perspire like flowers bedewed;

Their dusty moth brows are willows in mist.

Shrouding their fingers, the blue sleeves hang low;

Light yellow skirts awhirl, they show their feet.

They finish their kicking all faint and fair

With jewels askew and disheveled hair.

Tripitaka watched them until he could no longer tarry. He had to walk up to the arch of the bridge and call out in a loud voice, “Lady Bodhisattvas, this humble cleric has come here to beg for whatever amount of food you care to give me.” When they heard his voice, all the girls abandoned their needlework and their ball. Smiling broadly, they came out of the door to say, “Elder, pardon us for not coming to meet you first when you arrived at our rustic village. Since we dare not feed a priest by the wayside, please take a seat inside.”

On hearing this, Tripitaka thought to himself, “My goodness! My goodness! The West is truly the land of the Buddha. If women are concerned to feed the priests, how could men not revere the Buddha?” The elder walked forward and bowed before he followed the girls into the thatched hut. After they passed the pavilion made of sandalwood, he looked around. Ah! There were actually neither rooms nor corridors, only

Towering summits,

Extensive ranges.

Towering summits that touch the cloud and mist;

Extensive ranges that reach sea and isle.

The door’s near a stone bridge,

Borne by flowing water of nine twists and turns;

The yard’s planted with plums and peaches,

Vying for splendor with a thousand stalks and fruits.

Vines and creepers dangle from several trees;

Orchid spreads its scent through ten thousand flowers.

From afar the cave seems better than Isle Peng;

Up close the mountain and woods surpass Mount Hua’s.

It’s the bogus immortals’ reclusive place;

No other household takes its neighboring space.

One of the girls walked forward, pushed open two stone doors, and asked the Tang Monk to take a seat inside. The elder had little alternative but to walk inside, where he discovered no other furniture but stone tables and benches. It was dark, and the air seemed to have turned very chilly all of a sudden. Becoming alarmed, the elder thought to himself, “This place betokens more evil than good. It’s not a nice place at all.”

Still all smiles, the girls said, “Please be seated, elder.” The elder had no choice but to sit down, and after awhile, he was so cold that he began to shiver. “From which monastery did you come, elder?” asked one of the girls. “What sort of alms are you seeking? To repair bridges and roads, to build a monastery or a pagoda, or to fund a festival and print scriptures? Please take out your alms book for us to see.” “I’m not a priest begging for alms,” replied the elder. “If you are not,” said the girl, “why have you come here?”

The elder said, “I’m someone sent by the Great Tang in the Land of the East to go to the Great Thunderclap in the Western Heaven to acquire scriptures. Passing through your honored region, I became hungry, and that was the reason for my approaching your lovely mansion. After I have begged a meal from you, I shall leave.” “Fine! Fine! Fine!” said the girls. “As the proverb says, ‘Monks coming from afar can read sūtras better.’ Sisters, we must not slight our guest. Let us prepare a vegetarian meal quickly.”

At that time, three of the girls kept the elder company by speaking with him, rather animatedly, on the subject of karma. Four of the girls, however, rolled up their sleeves and dashed into the kitchen, where they added fire and scrubbed the pans. What did they prepare, you ask? Human flesh sauteed and fried in human lard until black enough that it could pass for pieces of fried wheat gluten. They also pan-fried some freshly gouged human brains, which they then cut up to look like pieces of bean curd. Two dishes of these they took out to set on the stone table and said to the elder, “Please eat. In such a hurry, we haven’t been able to prepare a good vegetarian meal for you. But do eat some food to relieve your hunger; there’s more of it in the back.”

Taking a whiff of the dishes, the elder clamped his mouth shut when he found the food to be so stinky and putrid. He rose and bowed with hands folded, saying, “Lady Bodhisattvas, this humble cleric has kept a vegetarian diet since his birth.” “Elder,” replied one of the girls, laughing, “these are vegetarian dishes.”

“Amitābha!” cried the elder. “If I, a priest, partake of such vegetarian dishes, I won’t ever get to see the World-Honored One or acquire the scriptures.”

“Elder,” said the girl, “you are someone who has left the home. You should never be choosy with your patrons!” “Would I dare? Would I dare?” said the elder. “Since this priest received the decree of the Great Tang to go West, he has not destroyed even the tiniest creature and he has tried to relieve suffering wherever he sees it.

I feed myself, picking up grain by grain;

I clothe myself, knitting threads one by one.

How could I dare be choosy with my patrons?”

“Though you may not be choosy with your patrons, elder,” said another girl, laughing, “you are not afraid to put the blame on people after walking in the door. Don’t despise the coarse and the unseasoned. Eat a little, please!”

“Indeed, I dare not,” replied the elder, “for I fear I may break the commandment. To nourish a life is not as good as delivering a life, lady Bodhisattvas. Please let me go.”

The elder tried to struggle out of the door, but the girls barred the way, refusing, of course, to let him go. “A business right at our door,” they cried, “and you expect us not to do it? ‘You want to cover up a fart with your hand?’ Where do you think you are going?” All of them, you see, knew a little martial art, and they were also quite dexterous with their hands and feet. Grabbing the elder, they yanked him forward like a sheep and flung him to the ground. He was pinned down by all of them, trussed up with ropes, and pulled over a crossbeam to be hung up high. The way in which he was hung, in fact, had a name to it: it was called “Immortal Pointing the Way.” One of his arms, you see, was stretched forward and suspended by a rope; the other arm was tied up alongside the body, and the rope was then used to hang up the midsection. His two legs were bound together and hung up by a third rope. The elder thus dangled facedown from the crossbeam, held by three ropes. Racked by pain, his eyes brimming with tears, the elder thought morosely to himself, “How bitter is the fate of this priest! I thought that I could beg a meal from a good family, but I landed in a fiery pit instead! O disciples, come quickly to save me, and we’ll be able still to see each other again. Two more hours and my life will be finished!”

Though the elder was sorely distressed, he nonetheless was also observing the girls carefully. After they had tied and hung him up properly, they began to take off their clothes. Greatly alarmed, the elder thought to himself, “They are disrobing because they want to beat me, or they may want to devour me.” But the girls were only taking off their upper garments. After they had their bellies exposed, they began to exercise their magic power. Out from their navels poured coils of thread, with the thickness of a duck egg; like bursting jade and flying silver, the threads had the entire village gate covered up in a moment.

We tell you now instead about Pilgrim, Eight Rules, and Sha Monk, all waiting by the wayside. Two of them were watching the luggage and grazing the horse, but Pilgrim, always the mischievous one, was leaping from branch to branch as he picked the leaves and searched for fruits. He chanced to turn his head toward the direction his master had gone and saw all at once a mass of light. So alarmed was he that he leaped down from the tree, shouting, “It’s bad! It’s bad! Master’s luck is turning rotten!” Then he pointed with his fingers and said to his companions, “Look what happened to that village!” Eight Rules and Sha Monk stared at the place and saw the mass of light bright as snow and shiny as silver. “Finished! Finished!” cried Eight Rules. “Master must have run into monster-spirits! Let’s go rescue him, quickly!” “Don’t shout, Worthy Brother,” said Pilgrim, “for you haven’t seen the truth of the matter. Let old Monkey go up there.” “Be careful, Elder Brother,” said Sha Monk, and Pilgrim replied, “I know what to do.”

Dear Great Sage! Tightening up his tiger-skin skirt and whipping out his golden-hooped rod, he bounded up there in two or three leaps. There he discovered a dense mass of cords that had to be a thousand layers thick, weaving up and down in a weblike pattern. He touched the cords with his hand, and they felt soft and sticky. Not knowing quite what it was, Pilgrim lifted his iron rod and said to himself, “One blow of my rod can surely snap ten thousand layers of this thing, let alone a thousand layers!” He was about to strike when he stopped and thought to himself some more: “I can snap something hard, but this is quite soft. All I can do probably is to flatten it a little. But if I disturb whatever it is, it may have Old Monkey all tangled up, and that won’t be good. Let me ask a few questions first before I strike.”

Whom would he question, you ask? He made the magic sign, you see, and recited a spell, which had the immediate effect of causing an old local spirit to walk round and round in his shrine as if he were turning a millstone. His wife said to him, “Oldie, why are you spinning round and round? Is your epilepsy acting up?” “You wouldn’t know about this! You wouldn’t know about this!” cried the local spirit. “There’s here a Great Sage, Equal to Heaven. I haven’t gone to meet him, and now he’s summoning me.”

“Go and see him then,” said his wife. “What are you spinning around here for?” “If I go see him,” replied the local spirit, “I’ll have to see his heavy rod also. Without regard for good or ill, he’ll strike at me.” His wife said, “When he sees how old you are, he won’t strike you.” The local spirit said, “All his life,

He loves to drink wine free

And beat old folks specially!”

The two of them thus chatted for a while, but he could find no other alternative than to walk out of the shrine. Trembling all over, he went to his knees by the road and called out, “Great Sage, the local spirit of this region kowtows to you.”

“Get up,” said Pilgrim, “and don’t look so harried without a reason. I’m not going to beat you, I’ll just leave it standing on your account. Let me ask you, what is this place?” “Where did the Great Sage come from?” asked the local spirit. “We were going to the West from the Land of the East,” replied Pilgrim.

The local spirit said, “Did the Great Sage pass through a mountain ridge?” “We are still up there,” said Pilgrim. “Can’t you see our horse and luggage over there?” “That,” said the local spirit, “is the Cobweb Ridge, beneath which is a Cobweb Cave. There are seven monster-spirits inside the cave.” “Are they male or female fiends?” asked Pilgrim, and the local spirit said, “Female.” “What sort of magic powers do they possess?” asked Pilgrim again.

The local spirit said, “This humble deity has little strength or authority, and he can’t determine what sort of abilities they may have. I only know that three miles due south of here, there’s a Purgation Spring, which is a natural hot spring. Originally, it was the bathing place for the Seven Immortal Dames of the Region Above. Since the monster-spirits arrived, they took over the Purgation Spring, and the Immortal Dames did not even bother to contend with them. They simply let the monster-spirits have the place. If, then, even

Heaven’s gods did not pick with these fiends a fight,

Such spirits had to have great magic might.”

“Why did the monster-spirits want the spring?” asked Pilgrim. The local spirit said, “After these fiends took it over, they bathed in it three times a day. They did once already today during the Hour of the Serpent,⁸ and they would come back again by noon.” On hearing this, Pilgrim said, “Local spirit, you may go back. Let me catch them by myself.” After kowtowing one more time, the local spirit, still trembling, went back to his own shrine.

Our Great Sage all alone now exercised his magic power; with a shake of his body he changed into a tiny fly, alighted on a blade of grass by the road, and waited. In a moment, all he heard was loud breathing noises,

Like silkworms devouring leaves,

Like tide rising from the sea.

In approximately the time it took to drink half a glass of tea, all the threads disappeared and the village came into sight once more as before. Then he heard the wooden gates open with a creak, and loud, laughing chatter brought out seven young women. As Pilgrim stared at them secretly, he saw that all of them walked side by side and hand in hand. Laughing and joking, they proceeded to cross the bridge. Some beauties indeed! They appeared to be

Jadelike but far more fragrant;

Flowerlike but their words were real.

Willow brows arched like distant hills;

Scented mouths framed by cherry lips.

Kingfisher plumes rose on hair pins;

Small feet gleamed beneath crimson skirts.

They seemed like Chang’e coasting to the world below,

And immortals going down to earth.

“No wonder my master wanted to beg a meal at this place!” chuckled Pilgrim to himself. “So there are such lovely creatures around here. If my master is kept by these seven beauties, he won’t even make one meal for them, nor will he be able to last for two days if they use him. If they take turns to handle him, he’ll die on the spot. Let me eavesdrop on them and see what they plan to do.”

Dear Great Sage! With a buzz, he flew off and alighted on one of the hair buns. After they crossed the bridge, one of the girls walking behind called out to those up front, “Elder Sisters, after we take our bath, let’s go back and have that fat monk steamed for food.” “This fiendish creature,” chuckled Pilgrim to himself, “is so headless! Boiling will save them some firewood. Why does she want him steamed?”

Picking flowers and fencing with blades of grass as they headed south, those girls soon arrived at the bathing pool, which was enclosed by a magnificent wall.

Wildflowers lushly fragrant covered the ground;

On all sides were orchids both fresh and dense.

The girl in the back walked forward and pushed open two doors with a loud crack; inside there was indeed a large pool of hot water.

At the time of creation,

The original number of suns was set at ten.⁹

Later, Hou Yi, the archer, stretched his bow

And shot down nine of these suns,

Leaving only one sun behind,

The true fire of supreme yang.

There are nine hot springs in the world,

All transformations of the former suns.

These magic springs of yang are:

Fragrant-Cold Spring,

Mountain-Mate Spring,

Hot Spring,

Eastern-Fusion Spring,

Mountain-Flooding Spring,

Filial-Peace Spring,

Wide-Whirling Spring,

And Torrid Spring.

This is the Purgation Spring.

We have also a testimonial poem, which says:

One climate without heat or cold,

E’en in autumn it’s ever spring.

Hot ripples like a boiling cauldron’s;

Snowy waves like newly made soup.

Spilling out it warms the crops;

Its still body washes our dust.

Its bubbles seem like swelling tears;

It churns like jade liquified.

Such moisture was never brewed;

Self-heated, it’s clear and smooth.

A good sign of auspicious land,

Truly it’s Heaven’s creation,

Where beauties wash their smooth and ice-white skins:

All dirt removed, their jadelike frames renewed.

This bathing pool was about fifty feet wide and over one hundred feet long. Inside, it was about four feet deep, the water being so clear that one could see to the bottom. A jet of water, like rolling pearls and swelling jade, continued to bubble up from the base, and there were on all four sides some six or seven outlets for the water to drain. By the time it reached some rice paddies two or three miles away, the water would still be warm. Adjacent to the pool were three small pavilions; behind the middle one was placed an eight-legged bench, on both ends of which there were also color lacquered garment racks. Secretly delighted by what he saw, Pilgrim spread his wings and landed with a buzz on one of those racks.

Seeing how warm and clear the water was, the girls immediately wanted to bathe in it. They took off their clothes, put them on the racks, and leaped into the pool together. Pilgrim saw them

Undoing their buttons and clasps,

Untying their sashes of silk.

Their bosoms were white like silver;

Their bodies all resembled snow.

Their limbs appeared gilded in ice;

Their shoulders seemed kneaded with dough.

Their bellies looked soft and yielding;

Their backs were both shiny and smooth.

Their knees and wrists were round and small;

Their feet, no wider than three inches.

Desire ringed their midsections,

Showing their apertures of love.

After jumping into the pool, the girls began to leap and bounce on the water as they swam and frolicked. “If I want to hit them,” thought Pilgrim to himself, “all I have to do is to stick my rod in the pool and give it a stir. That’s called:

Pouring hot water on the rats,

You wipe out the entire nest.

Pity! Pity! I can kill them all right, but old Monkey’s fame will diminish somewhat. As the proverb says, ‘A man does not fight with a woman.’ A fellow like me would look rather feckless if I beat to death a few of these scullions. No, I won’t strike at them. I’ll devise a plan that’ll make them unable to move. That ought to do some good.”

Dear Great Sage! Making the magic sign and reciting a spell, he changed with one shake of his body into an old, hungry hawk. You see

Feathers like snow and frost,

And eyes bright as the stars.

Seeing him, the fiendish fox loses its wits;

Meeting him, the wily hare’s terrified.

Steel-like claws gleaming and quick

Make his looks fierce and heroic.

He uses his old fists to serve his mouth,

Ready to chase himself all things that fly.

He soars through vast stretches of frigid air,

Boring clouds, grasping things, without a care.

With a flap of his wings, the hawk flew up to the pavilion, stretched out his sharp claws, and picked the racks clean of the seven suits of clothing left draping there before darting back to the ridge, where he changed into his original form to meet Eight Rules and Sha Monk.

Look at our Idiot now! He met Pilgrim and said, laughing, “So Master has been imprisoned in a pawn shop!” “How do you know?” asked Sha Monk. “Don’t you see,” said Eight Rules, “that Elder Brother has robbed it of all its clothing?” Putting them down, Pilgrim said, “These are things worn by monster-spirits.” “How could there be so many?” asked Eight Rules.

Pilgrim said, “There are seven suits altogether.” “How could you strip them so easily,” asked Eight Rules, “and so well?” “I didn’t need to,” replied Pilgrim. “This place, you see, is called the Cobweb Ridge, and that village actually bears the name of Cobweb Cave. Inside the cave are seven girls who, having captured our master and hung him up, went to take a bath in the Purgation Spring. That spring is actually a hot spring formed by Heaven and Earth. After they took their baths, the monster-spirits were planning to steam Master for food. I followed them there, and when I saw them disrobing and getting into the water, I wanted to strike at them. But I feared that I might soil my rod and lower my reputation, and that was why I didn’t move my rod. Instead, I changed into a hungry, old hawk and grabbed all of their clothing. Too embarrassed to leave the pool, they just squatted in the water. Let us go quickly to untie Master and we can be on our way.”

“Elder Brother,” said Eight Rules with a chuckle, “whenever you do anything, you always leave something behind. If you have seen monster-spirits, how could you not kill them and want instead to go untie Master? Though they are too embarrassed to leave the pool now, they’ll come out once it is night. They must have some old clothes at home, which they can put on and then chase us down. Even if they don’t chase us, they can remain here, and after we have acquired the scriptures, we will have to take this road back. As the proverb says,

Rather give up your travel expenses;

Never lack what your fist dispenses.

If they bar our way and give us trouble by the time we return from the West, we will meet up with enemies, won’t we?”

“What do you want to do then?” asked Pilgrim. “As I see it,” said Eight Rules, “we must first slay the monster-spirits before we go untie Master. This is the plan of ‘Mowing the Grass by Rooting It Out.’” “I don’t want to strike at them,” said Pilgrim. “If you do, you go ahead.”

Elated with delight, Eight Rules held high his muckrake and ran up to the pool with big strides. After he pushed open the doors to look, he found those seven girls all squatting in the water and casting abusive profanities at the hawk, shouting, “That flattened-hair beast! That wretched outcast! May a big cat gnaw on his head! He seized our clothes! How could we move?”

“Lady Bodhisattvas,” said Eight Rules, hardly able to contain his giggles, “so you are taking a bath here. How about asking a priest like me to join you?” When they saw him, the fiends became angry. “You are a very rude priest!” they cried. “We are women in a home, and you are a man who has left the home. The ancient book said, ‘By the seventh year, a man and a woman are not to sit on the same mat.’¹⁰ How could you bathe in the same pool with us?”

“It’s so hot now,” said Eight Rules, “that there’s no alternative. Don’t be so fussy and let me wash with you. Stop throwing the book at me! What’s all this about sitting and not sitting on the same mat!” Refusing to permit any further discussion, our Idiot abandoned his rake, took off his black silk shirt, and leaped into the water with a splash. More incensed than ever, the fiends rushed forward and wanted to hit him. Little did they know that Eight Rules could be extremely agile once he landed in water. With a shake of his body he changed at once into a sheat fish spirit. All the fiends reached for him with their hands and tried to catch the fish; but as they dove toward him in the east, he darted to the west with a swoosh, and when they plunged their hands down in the west, he spurted to the east once more. All slimy and slippery, he darted madly between their legs. The water, you see, was about chest deep; after Eight Rules swam around on top of the water for awhile, he dove straight for the bottom, so tiring the fiends that they all collapsed, panting, in the pool.

Only then did Eight Rules leap out of the pool, change back into his original form, put on his shirt, and take up his muckrake once more. “Who do you think I am?” he bellowed. “Just a sheat fish spirit?” When they saw him, the fiends were terrified. “You are the priest who came in just now,” said one of them. “You changed into a sheat fish when you leaped into the water, and we couldn’t catch hold of you. Now you look like this again. Where, in fact, did you come from? You must give us your name.”

“So, you bunch of lawless fiends really don’t recognize me!” said Eight Rules. “I’m the disciple of the Tang elder, someone from the Great Tang in the Land of the East who is on his way to acquire scriptures. I am Zhu Wun-eng, Eight Rules, the Marshal of Heavenly Reeds. You have my master hung up in a cave, and you are planning to have him steamed for food. My master! Steamed for food? Stretch out your heads at once, and receive a blow, each of you. I want to finish you off!”

When they heard these words, the fiends were frightened out of their wits. Going to their knees in the water, they cried, “We beg the Venerable Father to forgive us. We have eyes but no pupils and we caught your master by mistake. Though he is hanging there now, he has not been tortured. Please spare our lives in your mercy. We are willing to give you some travel money instead to send your master to the Western Heaven.” Waving his hand, Eight Rules replied, “Don’t talk like that! The proverb has put the matter very well:

Once the candy salesman did me deceive,

I could never the sweet talker believe.

No matter what, I’m going to give you a blow of my rake. Then each of us can be on our way!”

As he had always been rather crude and rough, more intent on displaying his power than on showing pity and tenderness to women, our Idiot lifted up his rake and, without further regard for good or ill, rushed forward to attack them. Terribly flustered, the fiends were no longer concerned with embarrassment than with the far more important matter of preserving their lives. Shielding their private parts with their hands, they leaped out of the water and stood by the pavilions to exercise their magic. All at once the threads began to pour out of their navels, and in no time at all, Eight Rules was enclosed inside what appeared to be a huge silk tent. Discovering, when he raised his head, that the sky and the sun had suddenly disappeared, our Idiot wanted to run away, but alas, he could hardly even take a step! All over the ground ropes and cords were strewn to trip him up. The moment he moved his legs, he began to stumble: he headed to the left and his face hugged the ground; he went to the right and he fell head over heels; he turned around and his snout kissed the earth; he scrambled up only to do a handstand. He tumbled over countless times until his body turned numb and his legs flaccid, until his head swam and his eyes could not see straight. Unable even to crawl, all he could do was lie on the ground and moan. After the fiends had him trapped like that, they did not beat him or harm him in any way. Leaping out of the door of the pool, they ran back to the cave instead, using the cobweb as a shelter.

Having passed the stone bridge, they stood still and recited the magic spell again to retrieve the web. Then they darted into the caves, all naked, and ran past the Tang Monk, giggling and still covering their private parts with their hands. After they took out some old clothes to put on from one of the stone chambers, they went to the rear door and cried, “Children, where are you?” Each of the monster-spirits, you see, had an adopted son, their names being Bee, Hornet, Cockroach, Cantharis, Grasshopper, Maggot, and Dragonfly. Those monster-spirits, you see, once set up a huge web to have these seven insects captured and were about to devour them. But as the ancients said, “Fowl have fowl talk, and beasts have beast language.” The insects pleaded for their lives, declaring their willingness to honor their captors as mothers. From that time since,

They picked a hundred spring flowers to serve the fiends;

They searched out summer plants to feed monster-spirits.

When the insects now heard the summons, they immediately gathered before the monster-spirits to say, “Mothers, why did you send for us?” “Sons,” replied the fiends, “earlier this morning we provoked by mistake a priest who came from the Tang court. His disciple just now had us trapped in the pool; not only were we put to dreadful shame, but we almost lost our lives also. You must exert your strength and go out to make him turn back. If you prevail, you may then go to your uncle’s house to meet us.” And so, having escaped with their lives, the fiends went to their elder brother’s house, where their damnable mouths would stir up greater calamity, and where we shall leave them for the moment. Look at those insects! Rubbing their hands and fists eagerly, they all went forth to battle their enemy.

We tell you now about that Eight Rules, who grew faint and dizzy from all those falls. After awhile, however, he managed to raise his head a little and found that all the cords and threads had disappeared. He scrambled up rather cautiously; taking a step at a time and nursing his pain, he found his way back. When he saw Pilgrim, he tugged at him and said, “Elder Brother, is my face swollen and bruised?” “What happened to you?” asked Pilgrim.

Eight Rules replied, “I was completely covered up by cords and threads that those fiends let out. They even had tripping tethers set up on the ground. I don’t know how many times I fell, but my torso went limp and my back was about to break, unable to move even a single step. I got my life back and returned here only because the ropes and cords disappeared after awhile.” When he heard that, Sha Monk cried, “Finished! Finished! You have caused a disaster! Those fiends must have gone to the cave to harm Master. Let’s go quickly to rescue him!”

On hearing this, Pilgrim began to run toward the village, followed by Eight Rules pulling the horse. When they arrived at the stone bridge, their way was barred by seven little fiends, who cried, “Slow down! Slow down! We are here!” Taking a look at them, Pilgrim said to himself, “How laughable! They’re all so tiny! Even the tallest is no more than two and a half feet, and the heaviest can’t be more than ten pounds.” He then bellowed at them, “Who are you?” The fiends replied, “We are the sons of the seven immortal dames. You have insulted our mothers, and now you dare even fight up to our door. Don’t run away! Look out for yourself!” Dear fiendish creatures! They rushed forward and mounted a wild attack. Our Eight Rules was already sorely annoyed by his falls; when he saw how tiny those insects were, he grew vicious and began to strike out with his rake.

When those fiends saw how savage Eight Rules was, each of them changed back into his original form and flew up into the air, crying, “Change!” Instantly, one changed into ten, ten into a hundred, a hundred into a thousand, and a thousand into ten thousand—there were in no time at all countless insects. You see

The sky full of flying maggots,

The ground covered by dragonflies;

Bees, hornets, diving at your heads;

Cockroaches going for your eyes.

Cantharides bite your front and back,

And grasshoppers, your crown and feet.

A huge, black mass striking your face,

Its chirr would gods and spirits faze.

Alarmed, Eight Rules said, “O Elder Brother, they may say that scriptures are easy to get, but on the road to the West, even insects bully people!” “Brother,” said Pilgrim, “don’t be afraid. Go and attack them quickly!” “My face, my head,” cried Eight Rules, “all over my body, there must be over ten layers of them! How am I going to attack them?” “It’s nothing! It’s nothing!” cried Pilgrim. “I have my abilities!” “O Elder Brother,” cried Sha Monk, “whatever ability you have, bring it out! My bald head’s swollen from their bites!”

Dear Great Sage! He pulled off a bunch of hair and chewed them to pieces before spitting them, crying, “Change! Yellow, spar . . .” “Elder Brother,” interrupted Eight Rules, “what sort of street talk are you using again? Yellow? Spar?” “You don’t realize,” replied Pilgrim, “that yellow means yellow hawk and spar is the sparrowhawk. We have also the kite, the gerfalcon, the eagle, the fishhawk, and the harrier. Those sons of the monster-spirits are seven kinds of insect, and my hairs have changed into seven kinds of hawk.” The hawks, of course, were most able to peck at insects; one peck of their bills and a whole insect was devoured. They attacked also with their claws, and they knocked the insects down with their wings. Soon the insects were eliminated; not a trace of them could be found in the air, but there was over a foot of their corpses on the ground.

The three brothers then raced past the bridge to go into the cave, where they found their old master suspended from the beam and weeping. “Master,” said Eight Rules, walking up to him, “because you wanted to be hung for fun in here, you have made me fall who knows how many times!” Sha Monk said, “Let’s untie Master first before we say anything more.” Pilgrim at once had the rope cut and lowered his master. “Where did the monster-spirits go?” he asked. The Tang Monk said, “They ran to the back, all naked, to call for their sons.” “Brothers,” said Pilgrim, “come with me to go look for them.”

Holding their weapons, the three of them searched in vain for the fiends in the rear garden, even after they had climbed some of the peach and pear trees. “They are gone! They are gone!” said Eight Rules. Sha Monk said, “No need to look for them anymore. We should go and wait on Master.” The brothers returned to the front to ask the Tang Monk to mount up. “You two take Master out first,” said Eight Rules. “Let old Hog use my rake on their residence so that they’ll have no place to live if they return.” “Using your rake is a waste of strength,” chuckled Pilgrim. “Why don’t you find some firewood, and you’ll finish everything off for them.”

Dear Idiot! He indeed located some rotted pine, broken bamboo, dried willow, and dead creepers; he started a fire and soon the entire cave-dwelling was burned to the ground. Master and disciples then felt more at ease to proceed. Aha! After their departure, we do not know what will happen to the fiends; let’s listen to the explanation in the next chapter.