Journey 037: Total Wipeout
Sun Wukong faces off against the demon kings of Lotus Flower Cave and their extended family.
Podcast: Play in new window | Download
Transcript
Welcome to the Chinese Lore Podcast, where I retell classic Chinese stories in English. This is episode 37 of Journey to the West.
Last time, after much shenanigans, Sun Wukong got his hand on the demons’ magic gourd again and left them with a fake. He then pretended to be Wukong Sun, one of Sun Wukong’s brothers, and challenged Silver Horn to a faceoff. Silver Horn was surprised that his opponent also had a gourd that looked just like his. He demanded to know where Wukong Sun got his, and Wukong Sun, Sun Wukong, Kongwu Sun, whatever, said, no you go first.
After Silver Horn explained that his gourd grew on an immortal vine dating back to the time of creation, Sun Wukong said, “My gourd came from there, too.”
“How so?” Silver Horn asked.
“Yeah, there were two gourds on that vine. Mine is the male, yours is the female.”
“Forget about male or female, as long as it can bottle up people, then it’s a magical treasure.”
“True enough. Why don’t you go ahead and try to bottle me up first.”
Now, Silver Horn should’ve known something smelled fishy about all this. But instead he was ecstatic that Sun Wukong allowed him to take the first shot. So he flew into the air, turned his gourd upside down, and shouted, “Wukong Sun!”
Sun Wukong answered him eight or nine times in a row, and nothing happened. Silver Horn came back down to earth, stamped his foot, beat his chest, and shouted, “Oh heaven! Who said that the world never changes! Even this treasure must be afraid of her husband. The female gourd must be afraid to work her magic after seeing the male gourd.”
While Silver Horn was busy offering up treatises on gender relations among magic gourds, Sun Wukong laughed and told him, “Put yours away; it’s my turn.”
He now flew into the air, turned his gourd, aka the real one, upside down, and shouted, “Silver Horn!” Silver Horn, feeling like he couldn’t refuse to answer after Sun Wukong had answered him, muttered an acknowledgement. And immediately, he was sucked into the gourd. Sun Wukong slapped on the seal with Laozi’s name and rejoiced, “Son, it’s your turn to taste something new!”
He descended from the clouds and headed back to Lotus Flower Cave. As he walked along the uneven mountain terrain on his bowed monkey legs, he could hear the sound of liquid sloshing in the gourd. Turns out, Silver Horn wasn’t powerful enough to withstand the pus-ifying effects of the gourd, so he was soon reduced to liquid. But Wukong was like, yeah nice try buddy.
“Oh son, are you taking a leak or spitting? I’ve already tried those tricks myself. I’m not opening the seal for seven or eight days. There’s no rush. In fact, considering how easily I got out, I’m not opening this thing for a thousand years.”
As he talked to the gourd, he approached the entrance to the cave. There, he gave the gourd a shake, and heard more sloshing.
“Hey, it sounds like the tube that you shake divining sticks in,” Wukong chuckled. “Let me cast a divination and see when master can get out of this place.”
And so, he started shaking the gourd while reciting a divination chant. The demon lackeys saw this and hurriedly reported to Golden Horn, “My lord, that Wukong Sun bottled up your brother in the gourd and is using him to cast a divination.”
Golden Horn was shocked and scared. He collapsed to the ground and wailed, “Oh good brother! The two of us left heaven for the mortal realm so we could enjoy wealth and prosperity together and be the masters of this cave forever! But you have lost your life over this monk, and I have lost a limb!”
As Golden Horn and all the lackeys cried, Zhu Bajie shouted from the ceiling beam where he was hanging, “Hey demons! Stop crying and listen to me. Sun Wukong, Kongwu Sun, and Wukong Sun are all the same person. My brother just rearranged the characters of his name. He has the power of 72 transformations. So he came here, stole your treasure, and bottled up your brother. Since your brother is already dead, there’s no point in this kind of mourning. Hurry up and clean your woks. Cook some mushrooms, bamboo shoots, tofu and vegetables. Let us down so that we can chant some scripture for your brother.”
That was the last thing Golden Horn needed to hear. He barked to his lackeys, “Stop our mourning for a minute. Take that Zhu Bajie down and steam him until his flesh is falling apart. Once I’ve eaten my fill, I’ll go avenge myself on Sun Wukong.”
Sha Zeng, also hanging from the ceiling, chided Zhu Bajie, “See?! I told you to keep your mouth shut. He who talks the most gets cooked first!”
Zhu Bajie was about to panic, but a lackey told Golden Horn, “My lord, Zhu Bajie is tough to steam.”
“Thank Buddha!” Bajie exhaled. “Somebody is building up their karma. Yes, I’m indeed tough to steam.”
But then another lackey chimed in, “If we skin him first, then he’d be easy to steam.”
Bajie panicked again and sputtered, “No, no. I’m easy to steam. Even though my skin is thick, it’ll fall apart as soon as you boil me. Ah crap!”
While the demons were discussing pork recipes, one of the lackeys at the gate reported, “That Wukong Sun is cursing us outside again!”
“That scoundrel thinks we have no one left to face him!” Golden Horn fumed. “Little ones, hang Zhu Bajie back up for now, and check to see how many magic treasures we still have.”
His demon steward told him that they still had three items: the Seven-Star Sword, the Banana Fan, and the Jade Vase.
“That vase is not useful. If you call someone’s name and they answer, then it’ll bottle them up,” Golden Horn said. “But that Sun Wukong learned how it works and bottled up my brother. Leave it here. Bring me the fan and the sword.”
So the steward brought forth those two items. Golden Horn tucked the fan into his shirt and grabbed the sword. He then called up 300-some lackeys, donned his armor and red battle robe, and stormed out to fight Sun Wukong.
Once they lined up outside the cave, Golden Horn cursed, “Insolent monkey! You’ve killed my brother. You’re despicable!”
Wukong cursed back, “Damn demon! You can’t bear to part with the life of one demon, so how can I bear to see my master, my brothers, and our horse all hanging in your cave? Hurry up and deliver them to me, along with lots of travel money, and I’ll leave and spare your life.”
Golden Horn was done talking. He raised his sword and attacked. Wukong met him with golden rod in hand, and the two squared off. After 20-some exchanges, Golden Horn shouted for his lackeys to join the fray. So the 300-some lackeys swarmed around Wukong. He showed no sign of fear, charging this way and that. But after a while, the lackeys were starting to get to him. So he pulled a handful of fur from his left abdomen, chewed them up, sprayed them out, and turned them into a gaggle of Sun Wukongs. These reinforcements quickly beat back the lackeys, who shouted to Golden Horn, “All is lost! There are Sun Wukongs everywhere!”
As the lackeys scattered, Golden Horn found himself surrounded by Sun Wukongs, with nowhere to run. Panicked, he pulled out the banana fan and waved it in the direction of the abode of the fire gods. A stream of fire erupted from the ground. This was no ordinary fire, or even a celestial flame, but the magical flame of the five elements. The flames roared and scorched everything in their path.
Even Sun Wukong was taken aback. He said to himself, “Oh crap! The fire might not harm me, but my hairs would burn if they touched fire.”
So he did a little shimmy and retracted all the hair he had unleashed, all except for one strand, which he turned into a doppelganger that looked like it was running for cover. The real Wukong, meanwhile, flew above the flames and headed to Lotus Flower Cave to save his master.
When Wukong landed at the cave, he saw a hundred or so demon lackeys outside, all bloodied and injured from the beating that his monkey-hair minions had dished out earlier. This riled up Wukong’s vicious side. He raised his rod, charged in, and finished the job.
Leaving a trail of dead demon lackeys in his wake, Wukong stormed into the cave. He saw a red glow and panicked, thinking the fire had reached the cave. But a closer look revealed that the glow was coming from the jade vase that Golden Horn had left behind. Wukong was delighted at this discovery. So he put off rescuing his master for a minute, took the vase, and turned and headed back outside.
No sooner had he stepped out of the cave did he run smack dab into Golden Horn. Golden Horn took a swing, but Wukong quickly vanished into the air. In his wake, Golden Horn was left standing amid all the corpses of his lackeys, strewn across the ground. He looked up to the sky and wept. Then, he stumbled into his cave. All his stuff — well, most of his stuff — were still there, but there was now no other demon in his lair. Drowning in melancholy, he leaned against a stone table, put down his sword, tucked his fan in his shirt, and fell asleep.
While Golden Horn dozed off, Sun Wukong returned to the cave. He saw the gates open and heard nothing coming from inside. So he quietly sneaked in and found the demon lord asleep against the stone table. Wukong could see the Banana Fan sticking out from his shirt. So Wukong quietly approached, pulled the fan out, and whooshed away. As he did so, the handle of the fan grazed Golden Horn’s hair. The demon snapped awake and saw Sun Wukong making off with his fan. So he grabbed his sword and gave chase. The two now squared off again outside the cave.
“You keep playing pranks on me and killed my crew!” Golden Horn fumed. “And now you’ve come back to steal my treasure. I must fight you to the death this time!”
“You really don’t know any better!” Wukong shot back. “You want to fight with me? That’s like hurling an egg against a rock!”
The two traded blows for 40-some exchanges, but then Golden Horn started to falter, so he beat a hasty retreat toward the Southwest, in the direction of Dragon-Crushing Cave, the abode of his now dead fox demon mother.
Wukong, meanwhile, went into Lotus Flower Cave and freed San Zang, Zhu Bajie, and Sha Zeng. They thanked him and asked about the demons. He told them, “Their second-in-command is in the gourd. He’s probably melted by now. Their leader just lost to me and fled to Dragon-Crushing Mountain. As for the lackeys, my doppelgangers killed half of them, and I finished off the rest who fled back here. That’s how I got in here to save you all.”
San Zang thanked him nonstop, saying, “Good disciple, thank you for all your hard work!”
“Oh tell me about it,” Wukong chuckled. “While you guys were just hanging here, I was running around nonstop. I was more rushed than a courier carrying an urgent dispatch. I was coming in and going out repeatedly, running to and fro the whole time. Only after I stole the demons’ treasures could I beat them.”
Zhu Bajie cut in, “Hey brother, show us that gourd. That Silver Horn has probably turned to pus by now.”
Wukong unloaded all the magic items he stole, but he held on to the gourd and said, “Don’t open it yet. When he put me in there earlier, I tricked him into opening it by spitting. Let’s not open it now, or he might escape.”
So the pilgrims celebrated by raiding the demons’ pantry, cleaning up the wok, and cooking a nice vegetarian meal. After they ate their fill, they got a good night’s sleep in the cave.
Meanwhile, Golden Horn fled to Dragon-Crushing Mountain, where he assembled all the demon maids who served the fox demon. He told them how Sun Wukong had killed their mistress, bottled up his brother, wiped out his band of demon lackeys, and stole his magic macguffins. All the demon maids wept, but he told them, “Don’t cry. I still have my Seven-Star Sword. And now I have your forces. And I’ll go get some reinforcements from my relatives. I WILL avenge myself on that Sun Wukong!”
Just then, the lackey at the gate reported that Golden Horn’s uncle from the other side of the mountain had arrived with his troops. So this uncle was the younger brother of the fox she-demon that Sun Wukong had killed. His name was King Septimus Fox. He got word from his sentries that Sun Wukong had killed his sister, impersonated her, stole his nephews’ treasures, and has been fighting his nephews for days. So he brought an army of 200-some demons to help.
When the Fox King entered the cave, he saw Golden Horn dressed in white mourning clothes, and the two had a good cry together. Golden Horn then bowed and recounted what happened. The Fox King was irate. He told Golden Horn to change out of his mourning clothes, round up all the demon maids from the cave, and join forces with him. This combined demon army took to the air and charged back toward Lotus Flower Cave.
At Lotus Flower Cave, Wukong was telling Sha Zeng to prepare breakfast before they hit the road when he suddenly heard the sound of winds whooshing outside. He went out and saw an army of demons descending from the Southwest. Alarmed, Wukong shouted to Bajie, “Brother, the demon has brought reinforcements!”
San Zang went pale, but Wukong smiled and told him, “Don’t worry. Bring me all of the demon’s magic treasures.”
Once he tucked the gourd, the vase, the golden cord, and the banana fan into his utility belt, Wukong grabbed his golden rod, told Sha Zeng to stay in the cave to protect San Zang, and then headed out with Zhu Bajie by his side.
Across the way, the demon army had lined up in formation. At its head was the Fox King. He had a jade-like face, a long beard, a steely brow, and ears like knives. He wore a golden helmet and a suit of chain mail, and wielded a halberd.
“You insolent monkey!” the Fox King cursed. “How dare you bully my nephews so?! You’ve stolen their treasures, harmed my relatives, killed their demon soldiers, and occupied their cave! Show me neck one-by-one now and receive your deaths, so that I may avenge my sister!”
“You damn hairy scoundrels!” Wukong cursed back. “Don’t you know your granddaddy’s powers? Stay and taste my rod!”
The two now started to fight. After just a few exchanges, the Fox King was no match and fell back. Wukong gave chase and was met by Golden Horn. After they fought for a few exchanges, the Fox King turned around and rejoined the fight, and he was quickly met by Zhu Bajie. After this quartet tangled for a good while without any winners, Golden Horn gave a shout, and the entire demon army charged forward to help.
Inside the cave, San Zang could hear the sound of fierce battle outside. He told Sha Zeng to go check on his brothers. Sha Zeng went out with his demon-taming Buddhist staff, let out a roar, and charged into the fray, beating back the demon lackeys. Seeing things go south, the Fox King turned and ran, but Zhu Bajie caught up to him and with one blow, left nine bleeding holes in the Fox King’s back, killing him instantly.
Seeing his uncle meet his end, Golden Horn quit the fight against Sun Wukong and made for Zhu Bajie. Bajie faced him, and Sha Zeng joined in. Soon, Golden Horn couldn’t hold his ground against the two of them, so he flew off toward the South, with Bajie and Sha Zeng in hot pursuit.
Seeing this, Wukong darted into the air, took out the jade vase, pointed it at the demon, and shouted, “Lord Golden Horn!”
Golden Horn thought it was one of his own lackeys calling, so he turned and answered. He was immediately sucked into the jade vase, and Wukong slapped on the seal. The Seven-Star Sword fell to the ground, and Wukong snatched that up, too. He then met up with his fellow disciples, and they reported back to San Zang that they had cleansed the mountain of demons, and oh oops, I guess we kind of left you by your lonesome again. Boy it sure was a good thing that no demon lackey strayed into the cave while we were outside sating our bloodlust. If only you had a fourth disciple who could turn into, oh I don’t know, a dragon who can defend you when the three of us are gone. Anyway, San Zang was delighted, and the party ate breakfast, prepared their luggage and horse, and resumed their journey west.
While the pilgrims were walking, a figure suddenly appeared from the side of the road, grabbed hold of the horse’s reins, and said, “Monks, where are you going? Return my treasures!”
“Oh crap, it’s the demons’ granddaddy coming to ask for his stuff back!” Zhu Bajie shouted in alarm.
Wukong took a closer look and saw that it was actually Lao Zi, the founder of Daoism and the god in whose cauldron he spent 49 days all those centuries ago.
“Hey old man, what are you doing here?” Wukong asked.
Lao Zi now flew into the air and called out, “Sun Wukong, return my treasures.”
Wukong followed him up into the air and asked, “Treasure? What treasure?”
“The gourd was my container for elixir pills,” Lao Zi explained. “The jade vase was my water vessel. The sword was my weapon for taming demons. The fan was my tool for fanning the flames of my cauldron. The golden cord was my sash for tying up my robe. And those two demons were my young acolytes. One was responsible for watching my golden cauldron, and the other my silver cauldron. They stole my treasures and sneaked down to the mortal realm. I was looking for them, but you’ve caught them and done me a great service.”
“Ohhh,” Wukong said. “You rude old man. You allowed your servants to run wild and do evil. You should be punished for not imposing strict enough discipline.”
“It’s not my fault; you can’t blame me,” Lao Zi explained. “The Bodhisattva Guanyin asked me three times to let her borrow them and turn them into demons here as a test of your resolve.”
Soooo, if that was the case, why did you say they had stolen your stuff and sneaked off? But whatever. When Sun Wukong heard that, he thought,” That Bodhisattva is so deceitful! When she freed me and told me to protect the Tang monk, I said the journey was too dangerous, so she told me to go see her for help if I ran into trouble. But now she’s making demons to give me a hard time? That liar! She deserves to be a spinster her whole life!”
He said to Lao Zi, “Well, if you hadn’t come, I would not have returned these things to Guanyin. But given what you’ve said, you can take them back.”
So Lao Zi took back the five magical items. He opened the gourd and the vase, and two wisps of immortal vapor emerged from the vessels. He pointed at them, and they turned back into his two acolytes, who emitted a radiant glow as they stood by his side. Of course, the silver acolyte probably has a little bit of monkey spit in him now, since his melted pus was mixed in with the loogies that Sun Wukong had left in the gourd earlier.
Lao Zi now took his leave. Sun Wukong went back down to bring San Zang and company up to speed on what Lao Zi told him. San Zang thanked him again. With renewed conviction after this latest trial, master and disciples set off once more. Zhu Bajie carried the luggage, Sha Zeng led the horse, and Sun Wukong led the way as they descended the mountain and continued Westward.
Time flew by, and after some more days on the road, they came across — surprise, surprise — yet another mountain standing in their way. San Zang called out, “Pupils, look at how high and craggy that mountain is. We must be careful. There might be more demons hiding there.”
“Oh master, stop letting your imagination run wild,” Wukong said. “Just calm down, and it’ll be fine.”
“Pupil, how can the journey west be so treacherous?” San Zang lamented. “It’s been four or five years since I left the Tang capital. Why are we still not there yet?”
Wukong laughed, “Oh we’re still a ways off. We have barely left the front door!”
“Brother, don’t lie!” Bajie cut in. “How can there be such a huge front door?”
“Oh brother, we’re still milling back and forth inside the house,” Wukong replied.
Sha Zeng laughed, “Brother, don’t scare us with your exaggerations. Even if there were such a big house, where would you buy a beam big enough for it?”
“Brother, in my view, the sky is the roof, the sun and moon are the windows, and the Four Mountains and Five Peaks are the pillars and beams,” Wukong said. “Heaven and earth are one big hall.”
“Alright then,” Bajie said. “Let’s take a few spins around that house and head on back.”
“Don’t speak nonsense,” Wukong told him. “Just follow me and keep going.”
Resting his golden rod on his shoulders, Wukon now led the way while San Zang followed on his horse. It was a wild, imposing peak, with no sign of other travelers but plenty of signs of wild animals. San Zang trembled as they continued deeper into the mountain. At one point, he reined in his horse and said, “Wukong, I have traversed so many mountains since I left the capital. When will I finally make it back?”
Wukong chuckled, “Master, don’t you worry, and don’t be so impatient. Just calm down and keep going, and success will find you.”
So the party pressed on, taking in views of the mountain. Soon, the sun was hugging the western horizon. San Zang noticed some towers and great halls in a canyon, and he said, “Pupils, it’s getting late, but fortunately there are some towers and buildings not far from here. That must be a monastery. Let’s seek lodging there, and continue tomorrow.”
“You’re right, master,” Wukong answered. “Hold on while I check if it’s safe.”
He leaped into the air and took a close look at the structures. They were indeed a Buddhist monastery, with red plaster walls, golden-studded gates, and rows of towers and pagodas. Wukong flew back down and told San Zang that the place checked out, so they headed straight for it.
When they arrived at the entrance, Wukong asked San Zang what kind of monastery this was. San Zang was like, “Look, I just got here, too. I haven’t even set foot inside, so how would I know?”
“Ah, but you have been a monk since you were a kid,” Wukong said. “You learned the Confucian classics before you studied the sutras and dharmas. You’re widely educated and you’ve been shown great kindness by the Tang emperor. So how come you can’t read those big characters on the door?”
“You insolent monkey and your ignorant words,” San Zang chided him. “I was riding toward the west just now, and the sun was in my face, so I couldn’t read the characters. And the characters were obscured by dust, so I didn’t see them.”
Wukong now stretched and made himself a couple yards taller so he could reach the plaque above the door. He wiped away the dust and asked San Zang to have a look. The plaque said, “Treasure Grove Imperial Monastery.”
Shrinking back down to his normal size, Wukong asked San Zang, “Master, which of us should go in to ask for lodging?”
“Let me go,” San Zang said. “You all have ugly appearances, and your language is coarse and your tempers short. If you offend the resident monks, they might not let us stay.”
So San Zang set down his Buddhist staff, removed his cape, and tidied up his clothes. He walked through the entrance and saw a pair of fierce-looking idols of door gods along the two sides, behind red railings. He nodded and sighed, “If the people in the East would also build such giant idols and worship them, then I won’t have to go to the West.”
Then, as he made his way to the second set of doors, he saw more idols, this time of the Four Heavenly Kings. Inside those gates, he saw four towering pine trees, each with a canopy that looked like a parasol. Then, he lifted his head and saw the main Buddha hall. San Zang put his palms together, kneeled, and kowtowed toward the altar in the hall. Then he got up and walked around to the back door. There, he saw a relief of the Bodhisattva Guanyin, saving all the beings in the South Sea. The relief featured beautifully carved shrimps, fish, crabs, and turtles, frolicking among the waves.
Nodding again, San Zang sighed repeatedly, “Pity! Even the creatures of scale and shell worship the Buddha, so why does man refuse to cultivate his virtue?”
Just then, a monk came out through the innermost gate. He saw San Zang’s exquisite countenance, so he rushed over, greeted him, and asked where he’s from. San Zang gave his usual introduction and requested lodging, and the monk said, “Elder, please don’t take it the wrong way, but I can’t make that call. I’m just a lay brother who does menial chores. The abbot in charge is inside. Let me go inform him. If he agrees to let you stay, I’ll invite you in. But if he refuses, I would not dare to waste your time.”
San Zang thanked him, and the monk went inside and told the abbot that he had a visitor. The abbot changed clothes, put on his hat and cassock, came out and asked where the visitor was. The monk pointed out San Zang, and the abbot looked in his direction. He saw that San Zang was sporting a bare, bald head, a shabby monastic robe, and a pair of dirty, water-stained shoes.
The abbot scolded his monk, “You must be itching for more flogging. Don’t you know that I’m an appointed high official in this monastery, and that I only come out to greet gentry from the city? Why did you make such a fuss over this kind of monk and asked me to come welcome him? Look at him. He must be some wandering monk, not an honest one. He must be seeking lodging because it’s getting late. But how can we allow him to disturb our quarters? Just tell him he can squat under the eaves tonight. Why did you bother me?!”
And with that, the abbot turned around and went back inside.
Well, that’s not exactly the welcome San Zang had hoped for. To see how his disciples will react to this slight, tune in to the next episode of the Chinese Lore Podcast. Thanks for listening!
Music in This Episode
- “Luỹ Tre Xanh Ngát Đầu Làng (Guzheng) – Vietnam BGM” by VPRODMUSIC_Asia_BGM
- “Slow Times Over Here” by Midnight North (from YouTube audio library)
- “Dark Toys” by SYBS (from YouTube audio library)
- “Ravines” by Elphnt (from YouTube audio library)
- “Loneliest Road in America (US 50)” by Jesse Gallagher (from YouTube audio library)