Wu Cheng-en - Journey to the West (vol. 3)

The story tells how the king, ministers and common people of Bhiksuland escorted the Tang Priest and his three disciples out of the city. Seven miles later they were still unwilling to part from the pilgrims, but Sanzang insisted on getting out of the coach, mounting the horse and taking his leave of them. The people who had been seeing him off did not return to the city until the travelers had vanished from view.

When the four had been travelling for a long time the winter and the spring too were over. There was no end of wild flowers and mountain trees to be seen; fragrant blossoms filled the view. To Sanzang's alarm another towering mountain appeared in front of them.

“Disciples,” he asked, “is there a way across the high mountain before us? We must be careful.”

“Master,” laughed Brother Monkey, “that's not what a seasoned traveler should be saying. You sound much more like some pampered prince trying to look at the whole sky from the bottom of a well. As the old saying goes, a mountain can't stop the road: it can find its own way across. So why ask whether there's a way?”

“Even if this mountain cannot block the road,” Sanzang replied, “I am afraid that there may be monsters on the mountain precipices and evil spirits that will emerge from its deep recesses.”

“Don't worry,” said Pig, “don't worry. We're not far from Paradise here. I guarantee it'll all be nice and peaceful-there won't be any trouble.” As they were talking master and disciples reached the foot of the mountain without even noticing. Taking out his gold-banded cudgel Monkey climbed the rock-face.

“Master,” he called, “there's a path that goes round the mountain. The going's very easy. Hurry up!” The Tang Priest now put his worries aside and whipped the horse forward. “Carry the luggage for a while, brother,” said Friar Sand to Pig, who did so while Friar Sand held the horse's reins and the master sat in the carved saddle. They hurried along the main path up the steep slope after Monkey. This was what the mountain looked like:

The peak was wrapped in clouds;

Torrents rushed down ravines.

The paths were heavy with the scent of flowers,

And dense grew the countless trees.

Blue were the gages, white the plums,

Green the willows and red the peaches.

Spring was all but over where the cuckoo sang;

When fledgling swallows chirped the festival was finished.

Craggy boulders,

Blue-green pines shaped like parasols.

The track leading across the ridge

Climbed high over a tracery of rocks;

The beetling precipice

Was overgrown with creepers, grass and trees.

Peaks like a row of halberds vied in elegance;

Far from the ocean wave streams competed in gullies.

As the master was taking an unhurried look at the mountain scenery he was moved to homesickness by the sound of a bird singing. “Disciples,” he said,

“After receiving His Majesty's command

I was given my passport in front of the brocade screen.

Watching lanterns on the fifteenth night I left the Eastern land,

And then was parted from the emperor of Tang.

Just when the dragon and tiger winds both met

I and my disciples had to struggle with the horse.

Twelve may be the peaks of Mount Wu;

But when shall I face and see you again?”'

“Master,” said Monkey, “you're always suffering from homesickness. You're not like a monk at all. Stop worrying and keep going: don't upset yourself so. As the old saying goes, you've got to work hard if you want to be rich and successful.”

“What you say is quite right, disciple,” said Sanzang, “but I do not know where the road to the West runs.”

“Master,” said Pig, “it's all because our Tathagata Buddha can't bring himself to give those scriptures away. He must have removed the path because he knows we're coming to fetch them. Why else can't we get to the end of the journey?”

“Don't talk such nonsense,” said Friar Sand. “Just keep going with big brother. As long as we stick with him we're bound to get there in the end.”

As they were talking master and disciples came in sight of a great expanse of dark pine forest. In his fear the Tang Priest called out, “Wukong, no sooner have we taken that precipitous track over the mountain than we come to this deep, dark pine forest. Why? We must be careful.”

“There's nothing to be scared of,” said Monkey.

“Nonsense,” said Sanzang. “Never trust what appears to be absolutely upright, and be on your guard against evil masquerading as goodness. I have been through quite a few pine woods with you, but never one as vast and deep as this. Just look at the trees:

Dense-packed to East and West,

In lines to North and South.

Dense-packed to East and West they reach the end of the clouds;

In lines to North and South they touch the azure firmament.

Thorns and brambles grow close-tangled all about;

Knotweed wraps itself around the branches.

Liana coils round kudzu vine,

Kudzu coils around liana.

Where liana coils around kudzu

Travelers cannot move between East and West;

Where kudzu coils round liana

Merchants may not ply between North and South.

In this forest

You could spend half a year,

Not knowing whether sun or moon was out,

Or travel for miles

And never see the stars.

Where the outlook is to the North the view is unbounded;

On Southern slopes the bushes are in flower.

There are thousand-year-old locust trees,

Ten-thousand-year-old junipers,

Pines that endure the winter cold,

Mountain peaches that bear fruit,

Wild peonies,

And hibiscus,

All growing in a close-packed profusion,

So wild that not even a god could paint it.

Bird-song could be heard:

Parrots shrieking,

Cuckoos calling,

Magpies in the branches,

Crows feeding their mothers,

Orioles with their aerial dance,

As the mynas adjust their voices.

Quails singing,

Swallows chirping,

Mynas imitating people,

And thrushes that could recite sutras.

Then there were:

Great beasts swishing their tails,

Tigers gnashing their teeth.

Aged foxes and raccoon-dogs disguised as ladies,

Ancient gray wolves at whose baying the forest shook.

Had the Pagoda-carrying Heavenly King come here

His power to suppress demons would have been of no avail.

The Great Sage Sun was unafraid. Clearing the way ahead with his cudgel, he led the Tang Priest into the depths of the forest.

They had been travelling in this carefree style for many hours without seeing any sign of a way out of the forest when the Tang Priest called out, “Disciples, we have been through no end of steep and dangerous mountain woods on our journey West. Thank goodness we have found this purity and elegance and a smooth path. The rare and unusual flowers here are truly delightful. I intend to sit here for a moment to let the horse have a rest. I am, besides, famished. Go and beg me some meat-free food from somewhere.”

“Master,” said Monkey, “please dismount while I go begging.” This the venerable elder did. While Pig tied the horse to a tree Friar Sand put the luggage down, brought out the begging-bowl and handed it to Monkey.

“Sit still here, Master,” Monkey said, “and don't even say the word 'fear'. I'll be back in a moment.” While Sanzang sat upright in the shade of the pines Pig and Friar Sand amused themselves looking for flowers and fruit.

Let us tell of the Great Sage who somersaulted into mid air, brought his cloud to a hall and looked back. All he could see coming from the pine forest were auspicious clouds and auras that coiled and spread all around. “Good, good,” he found himself saying. Do you know why? He was expressing his admiration for the Tang Priest, the reincarnation of the Venerable Golden Cicada and a holy man who had cultivated his conduct for ten successive lifetimes, which explained there was such an aura of good omen above his head.