Journey 047: Three “Purities”
Sun Wukong and his brothers have a little fun with the local Daoists.
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Transcript
Welcome to the Chinese Lore Podcast, where I retell classic Chinese stories in English. This is episode 47 of Journey to the West.
Last time, the pilgrims came upon the Chechi (1,2), or Slow-Cart, Kingdom. Sun Wukong found out that the local king was extremely reverential toward Daoists, but hated Buddhists. In fact, he had put all the Buddhist monks in his territory to work as laborers for his favored Daoists. Sun Wukong, disguised as a Daoist, found a bunch of monks busting their backs hauling construction material to build a new temple for the Daoists. He asked why they didn’t just run away, and they told him that the king had their likenesses painted and displayed throughout his realm, so they wouldn’t get very far.
“Well, with things as they are, you all should just die,” Wukong then told the monks, somewhat insensitively.
“Sir, some of us have died,” they said. “Originally there were 2,000-some monks who were arrested and brought here. Some couldn’t endure the hardship, the extreme temperatures, or the climate. About 700 have died from those conditions, and another 800 have killed themselves. Only the 500 of us are left.”
“Why aren’t you dead?” Wukong asked.
“When we tried to hang ourselves, our ropes snapped. When we tried to stab ourselves, the blades became dull. When we jumped into the river, we floated. When we took poison, it had no effect.”
“Well aren’t you lucky? Heaven must be granting you long lives!”
“Sir, you left out a couple words. It’s ‘Long lives of suffering.’ We eat thin gruel made from coarse rice three meals a day. At night we sleep on this beach without any shelter. And when we close our eyes, the spirits come to protect us.”
“Maybe you were so exhausted that you were seeing ghosts?” Wukong suggested.
“Not ghosts, but guardian spirits. They come at night, and prevent anyone who tries to kill themselves from dying.”
“Well that’s unreasonable of them. They should let you all die and get reincarnated as soon as possible. Why are they keeping you alive?”
“They tell us in our dreams, ‘Don’t try to kill yourselves. Endure this suffering. When the sage monk from the Great Tang Kingdom in the East arrives, he has a disciple called the Great Sage Equal to Heaven. He has immense powers and a kind and loyal heart. He rights injustices in the world and helps those in need. Just wait for him to show his powers. He will vanquish the Daoists and restore respect to your Buddhist clan.”
When Wukong heard that, he laughed to himself and thought, “Looks like my reputation has preceded me.” He now took his leave of the monks and returned to the gates of the capital city of the Slow-Cart Kingdom. There, the two Daoist priests that he had chatted up earlier greeted him. Wukong had told them that he thought one of the monks might be his uncle, so they now asked which one it was.
“Oh all 500 of them are my relatives,” he told them.
The priests chuckled, “How can you have so many relatives?”
“A hundred of them were my neighbors who lived to the left of my house. Another hundred lived to the right. A hundred belong to my father’s clan, another hundred to my mother’s. And a hundred are my friends. If you’re willing to let these 500 monks go, I’ll enter the city with you. If not, then I won’t go with you.”
“Are you crazy? What nonsense! Those monks were bestowed to us by the king. Even to just let one or two go, we would need to first tell our masters that they are sick, and then we’ll have to pretend that they died. How can we let them all go?! That’s ridiculous!”
“So you won’t do it?”
“No way!”
Wukong asked the priests three times, and they refused three times. That riled him up, so he pulled out his golden rod, brought it down on the two priests’ faces, and cracked open both of their skulls in an instant.
From a distance, the monks on the beach saw Wukong kill the two priests, and they fell into a panic. They abandoned their carts, ran up to Wukong, and exclaimed, “Oh crap! You’ve killed the king’s relatives!”
“Which one is the king’s relative?” Wukong asked.
The monks surrounded him and said, “Their masters don’t need to bow to the king, and the king often calls them ‘brothers.’. How can you stir up such trouble? Their disciples came here to inspect our work. It was none of your business. Why did you kill them? Their masters wouldn’t say that you killed them. They’ll say we killed them while they were inspecting our work. What would we do? If you go into the city, more will die!”
Wukong laughed, “Guys, calm down. I’m not a Daoist priest. I’m here to rescue you.”
“You committed murder, which will add to our suffering! How are you saving us?”
“I am that Tang sage monk’s disciple Sun Wukong. I’ve come specifically to save you all.”
“No way! We recognize him.”
“But you haven’t met him. How can you recognize him?”
“We often see an old man in our dreams. He says he’s Venus, and often tells us what Sun Wukong looks like so we wouldn’t miss him.”
“Oh? Then describe him.”
“The Great Sage,
His brow is high and his golden eyes flash with brilliance;
Round-headed and hairy-faced, with no cheeks.
Fanged teeth and a sharp mouth—his nature wild and strange,
His appearance even more grotesque than the Thunder God.
He is skilled in wielding the golden-banded iron staff
And once even smashed open the gates of Heaven.
Now he has returned to the righteous path to guard the monk,
Dedicated to rescuing the world from its calamities.”
Wukong was both angry and pleased upon hearing that — pleased that his reputation was so well-known, but angry that Venus had dared to describe his appearance to these mortals. He suddenly shouted, “Guys, you’re right. I’m not Sun Wukong. I’m his disciple, coming here to cause trouble. Look, there is Sun Wukong himself!”
As he pointed east, the monks turned and looked in that direction. When they looked back, Wukong had reverted back to his true form. All the monks now fell to their knees, kowtowed, and said, “Granddaddy! We are cursed with mortal eyes and didn’t recognize you in your disguise. Please avenge us, enter the city and tame the wicked!”
“Come with me!” Wukong instructed them.
So the monks followed him closely as he went back to the beach. He flexed his strength, lifted up the carts of building material, and smashed them to bits, tossing all the contents of the carts back down the hill. He then told the monks, “Get out of here! Don’t be following me around. Tomorrow, when I see that king, I’ll exterminate those Daoists!”
“But granddaddy, we don’t dare to go far. The authorities might arrest us again, and then we’ll suffer once more and find ourselves back in trouble.”
“In that case, I’ll give you some protection,” Wukong said. He then plucked off a handful of his own fur, chewed it up, and gave each monk a little piece of wet monkey hair. He told them, “Hide this under the nail of your ring finger and just go. No one would dare to stop you. If they try, just clench your fist and shout, ‘Great Sage Equal to Heaven,’ and I’ll be there to protect you.”
“But grandaddy, what if we go out of range and can’t see you? What if you don’t answer?”
“Don’t worry. This has no range limits. You’ll be fine.”
The bolder monks in the group now clenched their fists and whispered, “Great Sage Equal to Heaven!” And immediately, a doppelganger of Sun Wukong appeared, holding a steel staff, and looking so ferocious that not even an army of 10,000 would approach. A hundred some monks now also shouted “Great Sage,” and 100-some Great Sages appeared. All the monks kowtowed and exclaimed, “Granddaddy, it really works!”
Wukong then told them, “Say the word ‘Quiescence,’ and it will disappear.’ The monks tried, and found that the doppelgangers immediately turned back into a piece of monkey hair under their nail. Thus reassured, the monks scattered. Before they left, though, Wukong told them, “Don’t go too far. Listen for news from the city. As soon as a proclamation comes out summoning monks back to the city, come back and return my fur.”
So the 500 monks all went their separate ways. Meanwhile, the rest of the pilgrims got tired of waiting around for Sun Wukong to report back, so San Zang told Zhu Bajie to lead the way and they resumed traveling West. Along the way, they ran into some monks fleeing past them. As they approached the city, they saw Wukong standing there with a dozen or so monks who had not yet fled.
San Zang reined in his horse and asked Wukong why he had not reported back. Wukong brought the monks over and paid their respects to San Zang, and then recounted everything he had learned and done.
San Zang was shocked. “Then … then … what should we do?!”
The monks reassured him, “Sir, don’t worry. The Great Sage is sent by the gods. He’s powerful and will no doubt keep you safe. We are monks from the Building Wisdom Monastery in the city. That monastery was built by the former king, and his idol still stands there, so that monastery hasn’t been dismantled yet. All the other Buddhist monasteries in the city have been torn down. Please enter the city at once and stay at our monastery. Then tomorrow, go to court in the morning, and the Great Sage will know what to do.”
“Quite right,” Wukong agreed. “Just as well. Let’s enter the city at once.”
By the time they got to the city gates, the sun was already hugging the western horizon. They crossed the drawbridge and passed through three gates. The monks from the city led San Zang’s horse and carried his luggage, and the pedestrians on the streets all got out of their way. Soon, they arrived at the monks’ mountain monastery. Above the door hung a large placard with golden characters spelling out its name: Building Wisdom Monastery.
The monks opened the door to the monastery, and then opened the doors to the main hall. San Zang put on his cassock and bowed to the idol of the Buddha before entering. The monks all shouted, “Hey abbot!”
An old monk came out, saw Sun Wukong, and immediately fell to his knees, saying, “Granddaddy, you’ve come at last!”
“Do you recognize me? Why are you kowtowing to me?” Wukong asked.
“I know you’re the Great Sage Equal to Heaven, Granddaddy Sun. We see you in our dreams. Venus has often appeared in our dreams and said that only when you show up can we survive. And now that I see you, you look exactly like in my dreams. Sir, thank goodness you’re here! If you came a couple days later, we would be ghosts!”
“Please get up,” Wukong said with a laugh. “This will get settled tomorrow.”
The monks then set up dinner for their guests and cleaned a room for them to sleep in that night.
When 9 p.m. rolled around, however, Sun Wukong had too much on his mind to sleep. So when he heard some noise in the distance, he got up quietly, got dressed, and flew into the air to have a look. He saw the bright glow of candles coming from the South. He descended for a closer look, and saw that it was the Daoists at the Temple of Three Purities praying to the stars.
It was a lofty sanctuary, with towering, majestic halls. On both sides, Daoist priests played pipes and reed organs, chanted ritual proclamations, scattered ritual dust and displayed talismans. On the altar were a huge offering of fresh food, a feast of vegetarian dishes.
In front of the doors to the main hall hung a couplet woven from yellow silk, embroidered with large characters that read,
“With favorable winds and timely rains, we pray to the Heavenly Worthy of Infinite Law;
With clear rivers and peaceful seas, we ask that the king enjoy countless years of life.”
Wukong saw three senior priests, dressed in priestly garb. He figured these were the Tiger Power, Deer Power, and Goat Power Great Immortals he had heard about. Below them were about 800 subordinates, all beating drums, ringing bells, tending to incense, and standing at the ready.
Wukong secretly rejoiced and thought to himself, “I want to go mess with them a bit. But I need some help. Let me go get Bajie and Sha Zeng, and we’ll all have some fun.”
So he flew back to the Buddhist monastery, where Bajie and Sha Zeng were sleeping by the foot of San Zang’s bed. Wukong first woke up Sha Zeng and told him, “Get up. Let’s go treat ourselves.”
“It’s the middle of the night,” Sha Zeng said. “I’m thirsty and my eyes are damp. What treat is there?”
“There’s a Temple of the Three Purities in this city,” Wukong explained. “The Daoist priests are praying there, and in the Hall of the Three Purities, there are lots of offerings: Steamed buns as large as a ladle, roasted pastries that weigh 60 catties each, countless dishes to go with rice, and lots of fresh fruits. You can have it all!”
And won’t you know it. Zhu Bajie’s ears perked up in his sleep when he heard Wukong mention food. He woke up and said, “Brother, why aren’t you throwing some my way?”
“Brother, if you want to eat, then don’t make so much noise, or you’ll wake master,” Wukong said. “Both of you, come with me.”
So Bajie and Sha Zeng got dressed, slipped out, and followed Wukong up into the air. When they arrived above the Daoist temple, dum-dum was in a hurry to dive in, but Wukong pulled him back and said, “Not so fast! Wait till the priests scatter. Then we can go down.”
“But they’re right in the middle of their chants. How can they be willing to scatter?” Bajie lamented.
“Let me use a little power, and they will scatter.”
So Wukong uttered an incantation and blew a breath toward the ground. A wild gale whipped up and swept into the main hall, knocking over all the vases, candle stands, and all the stuff hanging on the walls, and leaving the Daoist priests in the dark.
All the priests were frightened, and the Tiger Immortal said, “Disciples, go for now. This celestial wind has blown out our candles. Go to bed. Tomorrow morning when you get up, read a few extra scrolls of scripture to make up for it.”
So all the Daoists left the hall. Once they were gone, Wukong, Bajie, and Sha Zeng descended and entered the hall. Dum-dum immediately grabbed a roasted pastry and was about to bite into it, but Wukong smacked it out of his hand with his golden rod.
“Hey, I haven’t even tasted it yet, and you knocked it away!” Bajie complained.
“Don’t act so low-class. Let’s observe the proper courtesies, and then sit down and eat,” Wukong chided him.
“You have no shame,” Bajie scoffed. “You’re stealing food, and you’re still talking about courtesies. What would you do if they actually invited us?”
“Who are the Bodhisattvas represented by the idols on the altar?” Wukong asked.
Bajie chuckled, “Don’t you recognize the Three Purities? Why are you calling them Bodhisattvas?”
“Which Three Purities?” Wukong asked.
“In the center is Heavenly Primogenitor. On the left is the Divine Treasures Heavenly Lord. And on the right is Lao Zi.”
“Then we must assume their likeness before we can eat without worry.”
Well, dum-dum was smelling the food and getting impatient, so he climbed onto the altar, knocked the idol of Lao Zi over with his snout, and mumbled, “Old fart, you’ve sat here long enough. My turn!”
He then used his powers of transformation to assume the likeness of Lao Zi. Wukong turned into Heavenly Primogenitor, and Sha Zeng turned into the Divine Treasures Heavenly Lord. They shoved all three idols to the ground and sat down in their place. Bajie was just about to dig into a huge steamed bun, but Wukong told him, “Not so fast!”
“Brother, I’ve already turned into Lao Zi. Why can’t I eat yet?!” Bajie grumbled.
“Brother, eating is not as important as keeping this a secret. We’ve pushed the idols on to the ground. If a Daoist priest gets up early to go ring the bell or sweep the floor, he might trip on them, and then our covers would be blown. Go hide these idols.”
“But I don’t know my way around here. Where would I hide them?”
“When we were coming in, I noticed a small door to the right, from which emanated a foul odor. That must be a Place for the Cycle of the Five Grains. Take the idols there.”
So dum-dum jumped down, threw the three idols on his shoulder, and carried them out. He went to the door that Wukong mentioned, kicked it open, and saw that it was the latrine.
“That damn stable monkey has a way with words,” Bajie chuckled. “This is a toilet, but he called it ‘the Place for the Cycle of the Five Grains.’ ”
But in any case, he went in and muttered,
“Three Pure Ones, Three Pure Ones—listen to what I say!
We’ve come here from afar, and we’re used to wiping out demons.
We’d like to enjoy these offerings, but there’s no peaceful place for us.
So we’ll borrow your seats for a little while.
You’ve been sitting there long enough—go rest for a moment in the latrine!
Normally you enjoy endless offerings and live as pure Daoist gods;
Today you’ll have to endure a bit of filth and become Heavenly Worthies who smell some stink!”
This “prayer” over, he chucked the three idols into the latrine. They landed with a splash, which ended up getting him half soaked with foul, stinky water. When he returned to the main hall, Wukong asked him if the idols were hidden.
“Oh they’re hidden, but I got a bit soaked with stinky water,” Bajie replied. “I hope you don’t mind.”
Wukong chuckled, “Just as well. Come treat yourself. But I wonder whether we’ll leave here clean.”
Bajie now turned into Lao Zi again, and the three sat down and helped themselves to a feast. They tackled the giant steamed buns first, and then made their way through every one of the vegetarian delights, paying no mind to whether they were hot or cold. Sun Wukong didn’t much care for cooked food, so he just ate a few fruits and kept his brothers company. Soon, they had ravaged the offerings and none were left. But still they did not leave. Instead, they sat there and shot the breeze while digesting.
Meanwhile, a young priest from the eastern quarters had just laid down in bed when he realized that he had left his bell in the hall. He was afraid he would get scolded by his masters if it was lost. So he didn’t even bother putting on any undergarments and just threw a robe over himself and hurried back to the main hall. He felt around in the dark and found his bell. But just he was turning to leave, he heard the sound of breathing. He was startled and rushed outside. But he stepped on a lychee pit and slipped, dropping his bell and smashing it into smithereens.
Zhu Bajie couldn’t help but roar in laughter as he watched this from the altar, and that only scared the priest further. He stumbled to the back of the sanctuary, pounded on the doors, and shouted, “Masters, masters! There’s trouble!”
The three Daoist masters had not gone to bed yet. They opened their door and asked what’s up. The young priest told them while trembling, “I left my hand bell, so I went back to the main hall to look for it. But then I heard someone laughing out loud. It nearly scared me to death!”
The Daoist masters called for attendants to bring light and they went to see what creatures were haunting their main hall. In an instant, all the priests in the sanctuary were roused from their sleep. They all lit candles and lamps, and headed to the main hall.
Hearing this commotion, Wukong put his fellow disciples on notice, and the three, still in their disguises, now sat up, put on a straight face, and did not say a word. The priests looked all around them, but they just sat there like clay idols.
“If there were no intruders, how did all the offerings get eaten?” the Tiger Immortal wondered.
“It looks like they were eaten by someone,” the Deer Immortal said. “They peeled the fruits and spat out the pits. But I don’t see anyone.”
“Brothers, don’t worry,” the Goat Immortal said. “We’ve been showing our sincerity and devotion by praying throughout the night, and we were doing it in the name of the royal court. We must have caught heaven’s attention, and the Three Purities must have paid us a visit and helped themselves to the offerings. Before they depart, let’s pray to them and request some holy water or magic pills to present to the king. That would secure his longevity and it would be to our credit.”
“Quite right,” Tiger Immortal said. “Disciples, play music and chant scripture. And fetch our priestly robes. We must pray.”
So their disciples snapped to and lined up in two columns. With the clang of a chime, they started chanting a Daoist scripture. Meanwhile, Tiger Immortal, cloaked in his ceremonial robe, held a jade scepter, did a little ceremonial dance in front of the altar before kneeling and praying. He said:
“With deepest awe and reverence, we bow our heads and return in devotion.
We ministers of the faith uphold the teaching and look up toward the Pure Void.
We cast aside the vulgar monks and honor the radiant Dao.
By imperial command we have restored this precious hall and prepared the sacred court.
We spread abundant offerings and raise high the dragon banners.
All night we hold candles; all day the incense fills the air.
With sincere hearts we present this petition above,
and with humble devotion we return our reverence.
Now that you have descended here and have not yet returned to your celestial carriage,
we beg you to grant some golden elixir and sacred water,
so it may be presented to the court
and the emperor’s life may be as long as the Southern Mountain.”
Zhu Bajie was getting a bit uneasy, and he whispered to Sun Wukong, “We screwed up. We didn’t leave right after we ate. And now we’re entreated with such a prayer. How should we answer?”
Suddenly, Wukong spoke out aloud, “Junior immortals, pause your worship. We three were coming from the Celestial Peaches Banquet and did not bring any magic pills or holy water. We will come another day to bestow them upon you.”
Seeing the idol of Heavenly Primogenitor suddenly talking to them, all the Daoist priests pleaded, “Granddaddy! The Purities have shown themselves. Don’t let them leave! We must beg them for the secret to immortality!”
Deer Immortal now approached the altar and said:
“Scattering the ritual dust, we bow our heads and present our sincere devotion.
Your humble servants offer our lives in submission, looking up and bowing before the Three Pure Ones.
Since coming to this land, we have upheld the Dao and suppressed the monks.
The king is greatly pleased and reveres the profound Way.
At the Great Offering we chant scriptures through the night.
Fortunate that the Heavenly Worthies have not forsaken us,
descending in sacred presence to this court.
We humbly beg your compassionate attention
and look up in hope of your grace.
Surely you will leave some sacred water,
so that we disciples may prolong our lives and attain long life.”
Sha Zeng now whispered to Wukong, “Brother, look at this! They’re praying and begging again.”
“Then let’s give them some holy water,” Wukong said.
“But where would we get it?” Bajie asked.
“Just follow my lead. When I have it, you will, too.”
Once Deer Immortal was done praying, Wukong said aloud, “Junior Immortal, no need to pray. If we don’t leave you some holy water, then we might be extinguishing the young shoots of our own school. But if we give it to you, we worry it would seem too easy.”
The priests all kowtowed again and said, “We pray that on account of our reverence, you will bestow some upon us. We will praise your virtue far and wide and make the king revere our school even more.”
“Alright, in that case, bring forth some vessels,” Wukong told them.
The priests all kowtowed again to thank them. Then, Tiger Immortal, showing off his strength, carried a large vat over and set it down in the hall. Deer Immortal put a sand basin on the altar table, and Goat Immortal removed the flowers from a vase and set it in the center.
“You all must leave the hall and shut the door,” Wukong said. “We must not allow the divine secret to leak out. Only then can we leave you some holy water.”
So all the priests left the hall, shut the door, and kowtowed on the steps. Once they were gone, Wukong stood up, lifted his tiger-skin kilt, and relieved himself into the vase.
Zhu Bajie laughed, “Brother, in all the years we’ve been together, this is the only trick you haven’t played on me. I just ate, so I needed to do this anyway.”
So Bajie pulled down his pants and filled the basin with his contributions. Sha Zeng, meanwhile, filled the vat halfway. Their bladders emptied, the three tidied up their clothes, sat back down on the altar, and proclaimed, “Junior immortals, come receive your holy water.”
The priests rushed in, kowtowed again, and carried the vessels outside. The three Daoist masters told their disciples to fetch a cup so they could have a taste of this … umm … divine gift. To see if they’ll actually drink the pee, 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