Journey 016: Burn It All Down
The wicked schemes of the monks at the Guanyin Monastery backfire calamitously.
Transcript
Welcome to the Chinese Lore Podcast, where I retell classic Chinese stories in English. This is episode 16 of Journey to the West.
Last time, the monk San Zang and his disciple Sun Wukong were continuing their journey West when they stopped in at a monastery for the night. This was a monastery in honor of the Bodhisattva Guanyin, but its inhabitants were acting like anything but devout followers of the goddess of compassion. They soon showed themselves to be a vain, greedy, and even murderous lot. When their ancient Patriarch lusted after San Zang’s precious cassock, one of the young monks, named Great Wisdom, suggested that, hey what if we just stormed their room while they slept and stabbed them to death? And then the cassock would be yours and no one would be the wiser.
But another young monk, named Big Plan, objected. “This is not a good idea. If you want to kill them, you have to size them up. That white-faced monk is easy enough to handle, but that hairy-faced one could be tough. If we fail to kill them, won’t we be bringing trouble upon ourselves? I have an idea that doesn’t require picking up a weapon.”
“My child, what’s your idea?” the eager Patriarch asked.
“In my opinion, we should call up all the monks and have each man grab a bundle of kindling. Just write off those three meditation halls in the building the Tang monk and his disciple are sleeping in. Set that building on fire, and they would have nowhere to run. The fire would consume even their horse. When other residents around the mountain see the fire, we can just say the Tang monk was careless and accidentally started a fire that burned down our buildings. How can those two monks not be reduced to ashes? That will cover up everything, and the cassock will become our heirloom.”
Sigh. Again, these are some damn shady monks. They were all praising Mr. Big Plan for this even better idea. So they called up 200-some monks from the monastery and had them pile up a ton of firewood around the building where San Zang and Sun Wukong were sleeping.
Inside the building, Sun Wukong was asleep, but being a powerful magical being, he had a sixth sense about shenanigans. He heard nonstop footsteps outside and wondered to himself, “It’s the middle of the night. Why are there so many footsteps out there? Could it be bandits trying to harm us?”
He jumped up and was just about to open the doors to have a look, but then he was afraid of waking his master. So he turned into a bee and flew outside. He perched himself on a beam and looked around. He saw hundreds of monks hurrying to and fro, piling up firewood and preparing to set the building on fire.
“My master was right!” Wukong silently laughed to himself. “These guys have been driven by greed to kill us and take our cassock. I could take out my rod and give them a beating, but they won’t survive it, and then my master would fault me for killing. Fine, fine, fine. I’ll just give them a taste of their medicine.”
So Wukong now took to the air and flew way up, all the way to heaven. Now, this was the first time he had shown his face around the abode of the Jade Emperor since that little … umm … unpleasantness 500-some years ago. Also, remember that a year on earth was just a day in heaven, so for the guards at the heavenly gates, it was only like 18 months ago when Sun Wukong turned the place upside down. So they all fell into a panic at the sight of him.
But Wukong waved his hands and reassured them, “Guys, calm down. I’m looking for the Broad-Eyed Devaraja.”
So this Broad-Eyed Devaraja was one of the four Heavenly Kings in charge of guarding the gates of heaven. And good ol’ Broad-Eyes showed up just then. He greeted Wukong and said, “It’s been a while. I heard that the Bodhisattva Guanyin had come to see the jade Emperor to borrow some spirits to help protect the Tang monk on his way West. She said he had taken you in as his disciple. How come you have time to come here today?”
“This is not a vacation,” Wukong said. “The Tang monk has encountered some villains who are trying to burn him with fire. It’s urgent, so I’ve come to borrow your Fire Protection Dome to save him. Let me borrow it quick. I’ll return it soon.”
“Uhh, if villains are trying to start a fire, you should go borrow some water to put it out. Why are you asking for my Fire Protection Dome instead?” Broad-Eyes said, probably just looking for a thin excuse to not let this monkey hold his stuff.
“You don’t understand. If I use water, then the fire won’t burn. I just want to borrow your dome to protect my master from harm. As for the rest, let them burn to their hearts’ content. C’mon, make it quick. Don’t dally and foil my business down below!”
Broad-Eyes chuckled, “You monkey, you’re still so wicked. You just care about your own people and no one else.”
“Hurry up! Enough talk!” Wukong pressed him.
Well, when it came down to it, Broad-Eyes did not dare to say no to the guy who once wiped the floor with him and his fellow gods. So he handed over his magic dome. Wukong now flew back down to the monastery, landed atop the building that his master was in, and cast the dome over San Zang, their horse, and their luggage. Now, this was presumably a magic dome invisible to the mortal eye, because all the monks continued to set the fire.
Wukong, meanwhile, camped out atop the roof of the Patriarch’s quarters, where he could keep an eye on his master’s cassock. When he saw the fire start to burn, he uttered an incantation and blew a breath toward the fire. Instantly, a gale whipped up, and the flames roared and spread. Within moments, the entire monastery was ablaze. All the monks were scrambling and crying out in vain.
The fire burned until around 5 a.m. By the time it died down, all the monks were left half naked, weeping, and rummaging through the ashes in hopes of salvaging a scrap of precious metal. Wukong, meanwhile, retrieved the magic dome and returned it to Broad-Eyes, who was not entirely certain he would actually get it back.
“Great Sage, you’re good to your word,” he said with a hint of surprise. “Just now, I was fretting that you won’t return my treasure and that I would have no way to get it back. I’m so happy that you’ve returned it.”
“What kind of lying thief do you take me for?” exclaimed the monkey who once stole everything that wasn’t bolted down in heaven. “You lent it to me willingly, so I’m returning it willingly, so that I can easily borrow it again in the future.”
“It’s been a long time since we met; why don’t you come sit down inside and have a chat?” Broad-Eyes offered.
“I can’t just sit and shoot the breeze anymore like back in the day. I’m protecting the Tang monk, so I have no free time. I hope you understand.”
And with that, Wukong hurriedly flew back to the monastery, turned back into a bee, and flew back inside the hall where his master was sleeping. He then reverted to himself and called out, “Master, it’s light out. Time to get up.”
Only now did San Zang wake up. He got dressed, opened the door, and walked outside. But where there had been impressive towers and buildings the night before, he was greeted by the sight of scorched, collapsed walls.
“What happened?! Where did the buildings go?! What’s with scorched walls?!” he exclaimed in surprise.
“You’re still dreaming!” Wukong said. “There was a fire last night.”
“How come I didn’t know?”
“Ohhhh because I protected the hall. You were sound asleep, master. So I didn’t want to disturb you.”
“Since you had the power to protect our hall, why didn’t you put out the fires elsewhere?”
“Master, I’ll tell you the truth. It’s just as you said last night. These monks lusted after our cassock and schemed to burn us to death. If I hadn’t caught wind of it, you would be bone and ash now!”
“They … they started the fire?” a scared San Zang asked.
“Who else could it be?”
“You didn’t start the fire because they slighted you in some way, did you?”
“Am I the type to do such a wicked thing?! Truly, they started the fire. I saw how wicked they were, so I didn’t help them put out the fire. But I did help them with a bit of wind.”
“Oh good lord! Where there’s fire, you should counter with water! How could you add wind instead?!”
“You know, it’s like the ancients said, ‘If man doesn’t want to harm the tiger, the tiger won’t harm man.’ If these guys hadn’t brought the fire, I wouldn’t have brought the wind.”
“Where’s the cassock now? Did it get damaged in the fire?” San Zang asked.
“No, it’s fine, it’s fine. It couldn’t have gotten burned. The building it was in didn’t catch on fire.”
“I don’t care what you say,” San Zang said sternly. “But if it’s damaged in the slightest, I will recite the Band-Tightening Spell over and over until you’re dead!”
Now THAT did scare Wukong straight. “Master, no need for that!” he said. “I’ll return your cassock. I’ll got get it, and we can hit the road.”
San Zang now took hold of his horse’s reins, while Wukong picked up their luggage. They headed to the back of the monastery to look for the cassock. On the way, they came across a group of mourning monks. When they saw San Zang and Wukong, they were scared out of their minds.
“Wronged souls have come back to seek vengeance!” they cried out.
“What nonsense!” Wukong scoffed. “Hurry up and return our cassock!”
But the monks all kneeled and pleaded, “Sirs! All grievances should be taken up with the guilty party. We didn’t have anything to do with your deaths. It’s all a scheme by that Big Plan and the Patriarch. Don’t come to us to ask for your lives back!”
Wukong shouted, “You damn animals! Who’s asking you for lives back?! Just return our cassock so we can hit the road!”
Two of the bolder monks now said, “Sirs, you were burned to death in the hall. And yet here you are, asking for your cassock. Are you men, or ghosts?!”
Wukong laughed. “You idiots! What fire? Go take a look at the hall in the front and then come to talk to me about a fire!”
The monks scrambled to their feet and went to have a look. And sure enough, the building that they had tried to burn stood unscathed. They were all shocked and figured that San Zang must be a divine monk and Wukong his protector. They now kowtowed to the pair and said, “We were blind and didn’t recognize you gods! Your cassock is in the Patriarch’s quarters in the back!”
As they walked toward the back of the monastery, San Zang couldn’t help but lament the sight of countless destroyed buildings. But the Patriarch’s quarters were indeed unscathed. All the monks rushed inside and shouted, “Grand master, the Tang monk is a god. He didn’t die in the fire. We burned our own home instead! Hurry up and return his cassock!”
At that moment, the old Patriarch was all in a tizzy, and for good reasons. His monastery was in shambles. But what’s worse, he had lost the cassock somehow. It had seemingly just disappeared. When the other monks rushed in and demanded that he return the cassock, he panicked. In the heat of the moment, he threw himself against a wall head-first, splattering his blood and brains everywhere and killing himself.
The other monks were stunned at this turn of events. They wept aloud and told San Zang, “Our Patriarch killed himself, and the cassock is nowhere to be found. What should we do?”
Wukong, though, was skeptical. “You all must have stashed it. All of you, get out here and let me search you!”
So all the monks, priests, and other workers in in the monastery — 230 in all — came out and lined up for inspection. Wukong asked his master to have a seat while he went down the line, made every monk strip, and searched them one by one. But by the time he made it through the entire line, there was still no sign of the cassock. He then made the monks bring out all their possessions, and he searched them all, but again to no avail.
By now, San Zang was getting irritated and annoyed at Wukong. He started reciting the Band-Tightening Spell, and Wukong immediately fell to the ground, clutching his head in pain.
“Stop! Stop! I’ll find and return the cassock!” he pleaded.
Only when the other monks approached him, trembling, and pleaded on their knees did San Zang stop reciting the spell. Wukong sprang to his feet, pulled out his golden rod and threatened to beat the monks. But San Zang shouted, “You monkey! Haven’t your head hurt enough? Mind your manners! Don’t harm anyone. Let me question them.”
All the monks kowtowed to San Zang and told him, “Sir, please spare us! We really didn’t see the cassock. It’s all that damn old man’s fault. Last night, he was looking at your cassock and crying deep into the night. Then he started entertaining thoughts of holding on to it forever as an heirloom. So he schemed to burn you. When the fire started, the wind picked up, and we were all busy trying to put it out. We don’t know where the cassock went.”
Wukong was pissed. He marched into the Patriarch’s quarters and dragged the old man’s corpse outside, stripped him naked, and searched him up and down. But still, there was no trace of the cassock.
After he had sufficiently defiled the dead, Wukong thought for a minute and asked the monks, “Are there any demons around here?”
“Oh, if you hadn’t asked, we would’ve forgotten,” the monks said. “To the Southeast of here, there is a Black Wind Mountain. On the mountain there’s a Black Wind Cave. There’s a Black Lord in that cave. Our Patriarch often discussed the Dao with him. He’s the only demon around here.”
“How far away is that mountain?” Wukong asked.
“Only a few miles. You can see the peak from here.”
Wukong smiled and told San Zang, “Master, don’t worry. That black demon must have stolen the cassock.”
“But he lives miles from here; how can you be certain it was him?” San Zang asked.
“You didn’t see the fire last night. But it was raging so hard that you could’ve seen it from hundreds of miles away, much as a few miles! He must have seen the fire and took the opportunity to sneak here. When he saw our cassock, he must have stolen it. Let me go look him up.”
“But what about me?” San Zang asked, oh so helplessly.
“Don’t worry,” Wukong reassured him. “There are gods protecting you behind the scenes. And I’ll tell those monks to tend to your needs.”
So Wukong called the monks over and told them, “A few of you go bury that old fart, while the rest tend to my master and my horse!”
The monks all agreed, but Wukong wasn’t done. “Don’t just say yes and then neglect my master the moment I’m gone,” he warned them. “You must attend to my master carefully, and make sure my horse is well fed. If you neglect them in the slightest, well, watch this!”
As he spoke, he took out his rod and smashed it against a scorched wall. The wall crumbled into dust, and the tremors knocked down seven or eight surrounding walls. All the monks sank to their knees and said with tears in their eyes, “Sir, please go without worry. We will exert all our strength to serve your master and will not dare to neglect even the smallest need!”
Appeased, Wukong took to the air and rode a somersault cloud toward Black Wind Mountain. In his wake, all the monks kowtowed toward heaven and said, “Good lord! Turns out he’s a god from above. No wonder fire couldn’t harm him. Curse that ignorant old fool. His scheming backfired on himself!”
San Zang now consoled them. “Please get up and let go of your regrets. If my disciple is able to find the cassock, then all would be well. But if he can’t find it, he’s got a short temper, so I don’t know what would happen to you. I fear you might all die.”
All the monks were on edge when they heard that. So they prayed to heaven that Sun Wukong would find the cassock.
So, as it turns out, that Black Lord on Black Winds Mountain was indeed responsible for the disappearing cassock. Last night, he was roused from his sleep by the glow of the raging fire at the monastery.
“My god!” he thought to himself. “This must be a fire at the Guanyin Monastery. Those monks must have carelessly started it by accident. Let me go take a look and lend them a hand.”
So he took to the air and flew over to the monastery, which was engulfed in flames. He rushed into the front of the monastery and was calling for someone to fetch water to fight the fire when he noticed that the back of the monastery was unscathed and someone was on the roof, spurring on the flames with wind.
Seeing this, the Black Lord rushed into the Patriarch’s quarters. He noticed a glow emanating from a blue bundle on the table. He unwrapped it and found San Zang’s cassock. Recognizing its value, the demon decided the heck with the fire, I’m going home. So he grabbed the cassock and flew back to his cave.
Fast forward to the present, and Sun Wukong had just arrived above Black Wind Mountain. From the air, he gazed down and saw a lush peak covered in trees and wildflowers, with birds chirping, cranes prancing, and monkeys playing.
Just as he was checking out the mountain view, he heard people talking nearby. Wukong snuck over, hid under a cliff, and looked out. He saw three demons sitting on the ground. In the center was a black man. To his left was a Daoist priest, and to his right a scholar dressed in white. They were discussing matters of Daoist practice.
In the midst of the conversation, the black man said, “The day after tomorrow is my birthday. Sirs, will you come to see me then?”
The scholar replied, “We celebrate your birthday every year, so why won’t I come this year?”
“Last night, I acquired a treasure, called the Brocade Buddhist Robe,” the black man said. “It’s quite a thing. I’ll use it as the theme for a huge party and invite all the spirits of the mountain to celebrate. We can call it the Buddhist Robe Banquet. What do you think?”
The priest laughed and replied, “Brilliant! I will come offer my congratulations tomorrow, and then come back for the banque the day after.”
While the demons were yapping away, Wukong was getting steamed as he listened to them talk about his master’s treasure. He bounded out from his hiding place, raised his golden rod, and shouted, “Damn you demons! You stole my cassock and want to hold a Buddhist Robe Banquet?! Return it at once!”
As he shouted, his rod came smashing down toward the demons. The black demon immediately turned into a gust of wind and vanished, while the Daoist fled on a cloud. But the scholar was a step slow and took the rod squarely on his head, which killed him instantly. Sun Wukong flipped over his corpse and saw that it had reverted to its true form, that of a white-spotted snake. Wukong wasn’t done though, as he took out his rage on the remains of the snake, chopping it into six or seven pieces. He then ventured deeper into the mountain in search of the black demon.
After a while, he came upon a cave enshrouded in fog and surrounded by pine and cypress trees. Its entrance was blocked by a set of stone doors that were tightly shut. Across the top of the doors was a horizontal stone plaque with large characters that said: Black Wind Mountain, Black Wind Cave.
Banging on the door with his rod, Wukong demanded that the cave’s residents open up. And kind of surprisingly, a demon lackey did and asked, “Who the hell are you? How dare you intrude on our divine cave?”
“You damn beast!” Wukong cursed. “How dare you call this piddly place a divine cave? How dare you even speak the word ‘divine’? Go tell that dark guy to deliver my cassock out here immediately, and I’ll spare the whole lot of you!”
The demon lackey rushed back inside and reported to his master, “My lord! The Buddhist Robe Banquet is a no-go! There’s a hairy-faced monk outside who looks like the god of thunder, demanding his cassock!”
The black demon was still catching his breath after fleeing back to his hideout. He now thought to himself, “Where did that knave come from? How dare he be so rude as to intrude upon my home?!”
He now donned his armor and grabbed a spear. When he went outside, Wukong was standing with rod in hand and waiting. He sized up his foe. The demon was clad in black from head to toe and wielded a spear with a black tassel. His pupils were golden and flashed like lightning.
Wukong snickered under his breath, “That knave looks like a kiln worker or coal miner. He must make his living scrubbing charcoal.”
The demon now shouted, “Monk, who the hell are you?! How dare you act up around here?!”
Wukong stomped forward and shouted back, “Cut the small talk! Return your granddaddy’s cassock right now!”
“Which monastery do you belong to? Where did you lose your cassock?! Why the hell are you asking me for it?!”
“My cassock was stored in the rear compound of the Guanyin Monastery to the north of here. That monastery caught on fire, and you took the opportunity to steal it. And now you want to hold a Buddhist Robe Banquet to celebrate your birthday. Don’t deny it! Return it to me at once, and I’ll spare your life! If you dare to utter half a no, I will push over this Black Wind Mountain, Flatten your Black Wind Cave, and reduce your entire nest of demons to dust!”
The black demon scoffed, “You scoundrel! So you’re the one who started the fire last night. You were the one on the rooftop, summoning the winds. That’s right, I did take the cassock! What’re you going to do about it?! Where did you come from? What’s your name? What skills do you have that you’d dare to boast like this?!”
“So you don’t recognize your grandaddy,” Wukong shot back. “I am the disciple of Hierarch San Zang, imperial brother of the emperor of the Great Tang Kingdom. My name is Sun Wukong the Pilgrim. As for my skills, if I tell you, you’re going to lose your mind and die of fright!”
“I haven’t met you, so tell me about your powers,” the black demon demanded.
“Oh kiddo, stand still and listen carefully. I have been powerful since my youth. I can transform with the wind and cultivate my nature to escape the cycle of life and death. I once dedicated myself to pursuing the Dao. I went into Lingtai (2,2) Mountain. There resided an old immortal who was 18,000 years old. He became my master and taught me the way to eternal life. …”
And so he went on, and on, and on, recounting how he turned heaven upside down before being suckered by the Buddha and then pledging himself to be San Zang’s disciple. But when Wukong was done boasting, far from being scared to death, his foe just laughed and said, “So you’re the stable monkey who caused a ruckus in heaven.”
Now, as you might imagine, the stable monkey thing was a real sore spot for Wukong, and he got pissed when he heard that slight. “You thief! You refused to return the cassock and instead insulted me! Stand still and taste my rod!”
And so, the two of them raised their weapons and went at it. They fought for a dozen or so exchanges without a winner. By now, the sun was at its zenith. Parrying a blow, the black demon said, “Sun Wukong, let’s both take a break. Let me go eat lunch, and then I’ll come back and fight you again!”
“You animal! What kind of hero are you, that you need to eat so soon? When I was pinned under Five Elements Mountain, I went 500-some years without tasting so much as a drop of soup, and I still wasn’t hungry. Stop making excuses, and don’t try to run. Return my cassock, and then you can go eat!”
But the demon feigned a thrust of the spear, and then turned and fled into his cave, shutting the stone doors behind him. He then told his lackeys to prepare for his birthday party and sent out invitations to his demon friends.
So what was Sun Wukong going to do now? To find out, tune into 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
- “The Quiet Aftermath by Sir Cubworth (from YouTube audio library)
- “Slow Times Over Here” by Midnight North (from YouTube audio library)
- “Comfortable Mystery 3 – Film Noire” by Kevin MacLeod is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution license (Source: http://incompetech.com/music/royalty-free/index.html?isrc=USUAN1100536; Artist: http://incompetech.com/)