Journey 049: Deadly Wagers
Things escalate quickly in the battle of magic between Daoists and Buddhists.
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Transcript
Welcome to the Chinese Lore Podcast, where I retell classic Chinese stories in English. This is episode 49 of Journey to the West.
Last time, the pilgrims found themselves locked in a battle of powers against the three Daoist priests who had won the favor of the king of the Slow-Cart Kingdom. Calling on his connections with the gods, Sun Wukong defeated Tiger Immortal in a wager to see who could summon the rain. The king was just about to let the pilgrims go on their merry way, but Tiger Immortal refused to let the matter drop. Instead, he challenged the pilgrims to a duel of meditation atop two super-tall stacks of tables.
Now, Sun Wukong usually leaps at being challenged to anything, but on this occasion, he fell silent. Fellow disciple Zhu Bajie asked him what’s up, and Wukong said, “Brother, to tell you the truth, if it’s kicking the heavens, meddling with the cosmos, stirring seas and overturning rivers, shouldering mountains and chasing the moon, shifting the Dipper and moving the stars—I can do all that. Even if it’s having my head cut off or my brains smashed in, my belly split open or my heart gouged out, or undergoing all kinds of strange transformations—none of that scares me. But when it comes to sitting and meditating, I’m no good. I don’t have the temperament for it. Even if you chained me to a steel column, I would be climbing up and down. How can I sit still?”
At this point, San Zang raised his hand and was like, hey, I’m ACTUALLY useful for once!
“That’s great!” Wukong said with delight. “How long can you sit still for?”
“In my youth, I met a wandering monk who explained the Way. My essence is divinely calm. Even in moments of crisis, I can sit still for two or three years.”
“Master, if you were to sit for two or three years, then we can forget about fetching scriptures,” Wukong joked. “It won’t be more than two or three hours before you can come back down.”
“But I can’t get up to the top,” San Zang said, remembering that Tiger Immortal had thrown in an extra rule that the contestants couldn’t climb up the tall stacks of tables but instead had to fly up.
“Just go answer the challenge, and I’ll send you up there,” Wukong told him.
So San Zang pressed his palms together in front of his chest and told the king, “I can meditate.”
The king immediately ordered his men to set up two towers of 50 stacked tables each. Within an hour, the towers were set up in front of the main hall of the palace. Tiger Immortal now stood in between the two, leaped, stepped onto a cloud, flew up to the western tower, and sat down.
Sun Wukong then got up to his old tricks. He plucked off one of his own hairs, turned it into a doppelganger of himself to stand next to Zhu Bajie and Sha Zeng at the foot of the towers. His real self, meanwhile, turned into a colorful cloud, lifted San Zang into the air, and set him down on top of the eastern tower. Wukong then turned into a small bug, landed on Zhu Bajie’s ear, and whispered, “Brother, keep a close eye on master, and don’t speak to my doppelganger.”
Bajie chuckled in acknowledgement. Meanwhile, up above, the two contestants were having either the chillest faceoff ever or the most intense sitting session ever. Both sat in motionless meditation for a good long time.
Down below, one of the other Daoist priests, Deer Immortal, saw that they were evenly matched and decided to give his brother a hand with some shenanigans. He plucked a short hair off the back of his head, rolled it into a tiny ball, and flicked it up to the top of the eastern tower, landing on San Zang’s head. The hair now turned into a big stinky bug and started to bite San Zang. Feeling first the itch and the pain, San Zang started getting a little antsy. Per the rules, he couldn’t lift his hand to scratch or he would lose. So he started moving his head and trying to rub the itch against his clothes.
Watching from below, Bajie said, “Uh oh, master is having a seizure.”
Sha Zeng said, “No, he must be having a headache.”
Wukong, however, told them, “Master is a man of the utmost sincerity. If he said he could sit still in meditation, then he can. Otherwise he wouldn’t have said it. He doesn’t lie. Be quiet, and let me go have a look.”
So Wukong flew up, still in insect form, flew up to San Zang’s head. There, he saw a stinkbug the size of a pea, biting his master. Wukong hurriedly removed the bug and scratched San Zang’s head. Feeling the relief, San Zang once again sat still.
Wukong, meanwhile, thought to himself, “Monks’ heads are bald. They don’t even have a single flea, so how could he have a stinkbug? This must be that priest’s dirty trick. Heh. Since they’re evenly matched, let me go have a little fun with him!”
So Wukong flew over to the western tower, turned into a seven-inch long centipede, and crawled up Tiger Immortal’s nostril. Tiger Immortal couldn’t possibly sit still with a creepy crawlie going up his nose, and he tumbled backward and fell off the tower. He nearly plummeted to his death, but lucky for him, a bunch of officials broke his fall and helped him up. The king was shocked and immediately had the royal tutor lead Tiger Immortal to a private chamber to get cleaned up. Wukong, meanwhile, turned back into a cloud and carried San Zang back down.
So once again, the pilgrims won the wager, and the king was about to let them be on their way. But this time, the second priest, Deer Immortal, said, “Your highness, my brother has long had a hidden head ailment. It must have acted up when he got up so high. That’s why the monk won. Keep the monk here for now. Let me face off against him on guessing through a screen.”
“What do you mean, guessing through a screen?” the king asked.
“I can sense objects on the other side of a screen. Let’s see if that monk can. If he can outguess me, then they may go. If not, then your highness must punish them and avenge our sect, so as not to forget the 20 years we have spent protecting your realm.”
The muddle-headed king once again went along with this. He ordered his men to bring a red cabinet to the hall. He had his queen put a royal treasure inside the cabinet before bringing it into the center of the hall. He then told the two sides to guess what’s inside.
San Zang looked to Wukong and asked, umm, now what? Wukong again worked his magic, turned into a tiny bug, and perched on San Zang’s head, telling him, “Master, don’t worry. Let me go have a look.”
He then flew to the cabinet, perched on its feet, and noticed a tiny seam in the wood. He crawled through the seam into the cabinet. Inside, he saw a red platter that held a robe embroidered with patterns of mountains and rivers, symbolizing the kingdom. Wukong picked it up and crumbled it into a tangled mess. He then bit his tongue and sprayed a mouthful of blood on it and shouted, “Change!”
The fancy robe turned into a shabby, tattered monk’s robe. But Wukong wasn’t done. He now peed on the robe before crawling back out through the seam. He flew over to San Zang and whispered in his ear, “Master, you should guess that it’s a tattered monk’s robe.”
“But the king said to guess the treasure,” San Zang whispered back. “How can a tattered monk’s robe be a treasure?”
“Don’t worry about it; just guess.”
So San Zang stepped forth and was about to guess, but Deer Immortal cut in front of him and said, “I’m going first. Inside the cabinet is a mountain-and-river robe.”
But San Zang said, “Not so, not so. Inside is a tattered monk’s robe.”
The king fumed, “This monk is too rude! How dare he imply that our kingdom is so short on valuables that we would call a tattered monk’s robe a treasure?! Men, arrest him!”
The guards approached, and San Zang said in a panic, “Your highness, please spare me for a moment and open the cabinet. If it’s really a treasure, then I will submit to punishment. But if it’s not a treasure, then aren’t you punishing me unjustly?”
The king was like, fine, I’ll give you no room for complaint. So he ordered his men to open up the cabinet. But when the attendant brought out the tray, it indeed held a tattered, and kind of stinky, monk’s robe.
“Who put this in here?!” the king asked angrily.
From behind his throne, his queen came out and said, “My lord, I personally put the mountain-and-river robe inside. I don’t know how it could’ve turned into this.”
“I see. Wife, you may go. I know we have nothing but fancy clothes in the palace, and that we would never have such trash.”
He then told the attendants, “Bring the cabinet here. I will personally hide a treasure inside and try again.”
The king now went to the royal garden in the back of the palace and plucked a huge peach the size of a bowl from his special peach tree. He put it into the cabinet in secret, and then told the two sides to guess.
Ok, stashing a peach with a monkey around? Now you’re just asking for it. Sun Wukong again flew into the cabinet, and this time, he was delighted. A few moments later, he flew back out, landed on San Zang’s ear, and said, “Master, say that it’s a peach pit.”
“Don’t toy with me,” San Zang said. “The king almost punished me the first time because he didn’t like my answer. We must guess a treasure this time. How can a peach pit be a treasure?”
“Don’t worry; just beat the priest first,” Wukong reassured him.
San Zang was just about to speak up, but the third priest, Goat Immortal, cut him off. “Let me go first. It’s an immortal peach.”
“Not a peach, but a peach pit,” San Zang said.
“I personally put a peach inside,” the king scolded San Zang. “How can you say it’s a peach pit? The Third Preceptor is right.”
“Your highness, please open it up,” San Zang requested.
So the attendant again opened up the cabinet and brought out the tray. And lo and behold, it was indeed a peach pit, completely stripped of every scrap of flesh or peel.
The king was stunned and alarmed. He said to the priests, “Preceptors, don’t wager against them anymore. Just let them go. I personally stashed a peach inside, but now it’s only a pit. Who could’ve eaten it? They must have gods and ghosts helping them.”
Zhu Bajie now smirked at Sha Zeng and whispered, “Heh, they don’t know that we have an old hand at eating peaches.”
Just then, Tiger Immortal, now bandaged up after his fall, came back into the hall and said, “Your highness, this monk has the power of secretly swapping out objects. Bring the cabinet up here. I’ll break his magic and then make him guess again.”
“You still want to guess?” the bewildered king said.
“His powers can only swap out objects, but not people. Hide a Daoist acolyte inside the cabinet, and the monk won’t be able to swap him.”
The king agreed. So they stashed a young Daoist acolyte inside the cabinet, closed it up, and had it carried back down into the hall. Then, they challenged San Zang to guess again.
So Sun Wukong once again flew into the cabinet. When he saw that the secret object this time was a Daoist acolyte, he turned himself into an old Daoist priest and appeared inside the cabinet.
“Master, where did you come from?” the young acolyte said with surprise.
“I sneaked in with my magic,” Wukong said.
“What instructions do you have for me?” the acolyte asked.
“That monk saw you come into the cabinet. If he guesses that it’s an acolyte inside, we would lose again. So I’ve come to strategize with you. Let me shave your head, and then we will guess that there is a monk inside the cabinet.”
“Master, do whatever you want, just as long as we beat them. If we lose to them again, it would make us look bad, and the court would stop respecting us.”
“Exactly. Come over here. Once we beat them, I will reward you handsomely.”
Wukong now turned his golden rod into a shaving knife. He held the young acolyte in his arms, and said, “Good boy. Put up with the pain and don’t make a sound. I will shave you.”
Soon, the acolyte was bald. Wukong gathered up the hair, rolled it into a clump, and shoved it into a crack in the cabinet feet. He put away the knife, felt the boy’s bald head, and said, “My child, your head looks like a monk, but your clothes don’t. Take it off, and let me change it for you.”
So the acolyte removed the pale greenish-white crane cloak he was wearing. Wukong blew on it and said, “Change!” The cloak turned into a plain, earthen-yellow straight robe. Wukong had the acolyte put this on. He then plucked a hair off himself and turned it into a wooden fish, the small wooden drum that monks beat while they recite scriptures.
He gave it to the acolyte and told him, “Listen up. If they call for a Daoist acolyte, don’t go out there. But if they call for a monk, then open up the cabinet and come out while beating the wooden fish and reciting a Buddhist scripture. Only then can we win.”
“But I only know Daoist scriptures, not Buddhist ones,” the acolyte said.
“Hmm, do you know the name of the Buddha?” Wukong asked.
“Amitabha. Everybody knows that.”
“Alright then. Just recite the name Amitabha, and remember what I just told you. Alright, I’m off.”
So Wukong turned back into a bug, flew out, and landed back on San Zang’s ear. Now, I have to imagine it took more than just a few minutes for Wukong to shave the kid, change his clothes, and talk through the plan with him. So … what was San Zang doing this whole time? Vamping? Anyway, Wukong now whispered to San Zang, “Master, tell them it’s a monk.”
But Tiger Immortal again cut in line and told the king, “Your highness, this third treasure is a Daoist acolyte.” He then called toward the cabinet, asking the acolyte to come out, but nothing happened.
San Zang, however, pressed his palms together and said, “It’s a monk.”
Zhu Bajie shouted with all his might, “It’s a monk inside the cabinet!”
And right on cue, a kid with a bald head came out from the cabinet, dressed in a plain monk’s robe, beating a wooden fish, and reciting the name Amitabha. All the court officials shouted in approval of San Zang’s powers, while the three Daoist priests looked on with stunned silence.
The equally stunned king said, “This monk must have ghosts and gods helping him! How could a Daoist go into the cabinet and come out a monk? Even if someone snuck in, all they could’ve done would be to shave his head. How could he have changed into a fitting Buddhist robe and be chanting the Buddha’s name? Oh preceptors, just let these monks go on their way!”
But Tiger Immortal still refused. He said, “Your highness, we have met a worthy rival today. Back when we were studying on Zhongnan (4,2) Mountain, we learned some martial powers. We might as well use those to wager against them.”
“What martial powers?” the king asked.
“My brothers and I have magical powers. If you cut off our heads, we can put them back on. If you cut out our hearts, they can grow back. If you throw us into a cauldron of boiling oil, we just treat it like a bath.”
Well, that escalated quickly, from sitting still and playing guessing games to cutting off heads and disemboweling yourself.
“But those three things would all kill you!” the king said.
“We wouldn’t have spoken thusly if we didn’t have those powers,” Tiger Immortal said. “We must see this through against them.”
The king now called out to the pilgrims: “You monks from the East. My preceptors refuse to let you go. They want to compete against you on cutting off heads, slicing open bellies, and taking baths in hot oil.”
Wukong was busy flying back and forth in insect form when he heard this. He turned back into himself and laughed out loud, “What great luck! Opportunity has come knocking!”
But Bajie said, “Brother, those three things are all deadly. How come you say opportunity has come knocking?”
“Don’t you know my skills?” Wukong said.
“Brother, you can turn into this or that, but do you really have such powers?”
“Oh, if you cut off my head, I can still talk.
If you chop off my arms, I can still beat you.
Break off my legs, I can still walk.
Slice open my belly, and it’ll heal without a scar.
It’s just like making dumplings — pinch them once and swallow them whole.
And taking a bath in boiling oil is even easier. It’s just a warm rinse to wash away the dirt.”
Bajie and Sha Zeng both laughed out loud when they heard that boast. Wukong now told the king, “Your highness, I can do decapitation.”
“How?” the king asked.
“When I was studying in a Buddhist monastery, I met a monk, and he taught me a decapitation trick. I don’t know if it’s any good, so I’m going to try it out today.”
The king laughed, “This monk is young and ignorant. How can you ‘try out’ decapitation? Your head is the most important body part. If it gets cut off, you’ll die!”
But Tiger Immortal cut in, “Your highness, that’s exactly what I want. Only then can our anger be assuaged!”
Well, King Dunce once again listened to the priest and ordered his troops to prepare the execution ground. Three thousand soldiers lined up outside the palace, and the king told Wukong to go first. Wukong did not hesitate. He called out to the priests, “Preceptors, pardon me for being so bold as to go ahead of you.”
He then headed outside. San Zang grabbed him and said, “Wukong, be careful! This is no game.”
“Oh there’s nothing to be afraid of. Let go. I’ll be right back.”
Wukong strolled out to the execution ground. The executioners grabbed him, tied him up, and pressed him down on an earthen block. At an officer’s command, the executioner’s blade fell, and so did Wukong’s head. And the executioner even gave the head a kick, sending it rolling some 40 steps away like a watermelon.
But no blood came out from Wukong’s trunk. Instead, a voice rang out from his belly, “Head, come here!”
One of the priests, Deer Immortal, was stunned at Wukong’s powers, so he decided to pull a dirty trick. He recited an incantation and commanded the local earth spirit, “Hold on to his head. Once I beat the monks, I will ask the king to turn your little shrine into a huge temple and craft an idol for you.”
Now, this priest had command of the Five-Thunder Magic, which allowed him to control the local earth spirit. So the spirit obeyed his command and indeed held on to Wukong’s head. Wukong’s body called again, “Head, come here!” But the head remained still as if it had sprouted roots.
Wukong got tired of waiting, so his headless body stood up, shrugged off his ropes, and shouted, “Grow!”
And right on cue, another head emerged from his body. The executioners and the soldiers were all frightened, and the officer overseeing the execution rushed into the palace and reported to the king, “That little monk had his head cut off, but then he grew another one!”
Zhu Bajie chuckled and said to Sha Zeng, “Who knew Brother Sun had such skills?”
Sha Zeng laughed back, “He has the power of 72 transformations, so he must have 72 heads.”
Just then, Wukong strolled back in and called out to San Zang, who was delighted and asked him how he was.
“Oh nothing to it. It was kind of fun,” Wukong said.
“Brother, do you need some ointment for your scar?” Bajie asked.
“Feel my neck and see if there is a scar.”
Bajie felt Wukong’s neck and laughed, “Miraculous! It’s grown back perfectly. No scar at all!”
While the disciples were chitchatting, the king called out to them, “I will pardon your crimes. Go at once! Go!”
But Wukong said, “It’s fine to get our travel papers, but your preceptor also must have his head cut off first.”
The king said to Tiger Immortal, “Preceptor, that monk wouldn’t let you off the hook. You wanted to wager against him, so you can’t go back on your challenge.”
So Tiger Immortal had no choice but to go out to the execution ground. The executioners tied him up, pushed him down, chopped off his head, and kicked it 30-some steps away. His body also did not bleed, and it also called out, “Head, come here!”
But in that moment, Wukong plucked off a hair and turned it into a dog. The dog scampered onto the execution grounds, gripped Tiger Immortal’s head in its mouth, and ran off. It carried the head all the way to the river outside the palace and tossed it into the water. Uh, bye bye head.
Back at the execution ground, Tiger Immortal called three times for his head to come back, but the head was too far away to make it back. And unlike Wukong, Tiger Immortal didn’t know how to grow another head. Moments later, a red beam sprayed out from his body, and he lay dead in the dirt. As the crowd looked on, they saw the headless carcass of a tiger.
The officer overseeing the execution came in to tell the king, “Your highness, the senior preceptor had his head cut off, but he couldn’t grow another one, and died on the spot. Turns out he’s a headless tiger.”
The king turned pale and gazed at the remaining two priests without blinking. Deer Immortal rose and said, “My brother may have met his end, but how can he be a tiger? It must be that monk’s doing, turning my brother into an animal. I cannot spare him! I must compete against him on slicing open our bellies.”
The king collected himself and called out to Wukong, “Monk, my second preceptor wants to wager against you.”
Wukong replied, “I usually don’t eat cooked food. But a couple days ago, we ran into a generous benefactor who fed us. I ate too many steamed buns, and my stomach has been hurting these last few days. I must have intestinal worms. I was just about to ask your highness for a knife to cut open my belly, take out my innards and wash them clean, so that I’m fit to go west and see the Buddha.”
The king ordered his men to take Wukong back to the execution grounds. A bunch of soldiers swarmed on him, but Wukong waved them off and said, “No need for you to hold me. I can walk by myself. But I have one condition: Don’t tie me up. I need my hands to wash my innards.”
The king agreed, so Wukong swaggered back to the execution grounds. He leaned up against a wooden post, untied his shirt, and exposed his belly. The executioner tied him to the column with a couple ropes, and then used a small blade to cut a hole in his abdomen.
Wukong now pulled the hole open, yanked out his intestines, cleaned each one carefully, and put them back into his abdomen in neat order. He then held the skin in place over the hole, blew on it, and shouted, “Grow!”
And just like that, his belly looked like nothing ever happened. The king was shocked. He held up the pilgrims’ travel papers and said, “Sage monks, don’t delay your journey west. Here are your travel papers.”
Oh no you don’t. Wukong was like, I’m not going anywhere until somebody else here cuts open his belly as well. So the king told Deer Immortal to make good on his wager. Deer Immortal promptly reassured the king, “Don’t worry. I wouldn’t lose to him.”
So he too swaggered onto the execution ground. The executioners tied him to the post and sliced open his belly as well. And just like Wukong, Deer Immortal pulled out his intestines and started cleaning them. But just then, Wukong plucked another hair and turned it into a ravenous eagle. The eagle swooped down, grabbed Deer Immortal’s innards with its talons, and flew off to god knows where.
Left without his innards, Deer Immortal did not live for long. When the executioners pulled his corpse over, they saw the body of a white stag. The execution officer again rushed back inside the palace to tell the king, “The Second Preceptor had some bad luck. While he was slicing open his belly, a hungry eagle flew off with his innards and he died. Turns out he’s a white stag.”
“What? How could he be a stag?” the king said in fear.
Well, I mean, look: Tiger Immortal turned out to be a tiger, so is it any surprise that Deer Immortal turned out to be a deer? The last remaining priest was Goat Immortal — hey guess what animal he might be. He now got up and told the king, “My brother is dead, but how could he be an animal? It’s all this monk’s doing. Allow me to avenge my brothers!”
“How would you beat him?” the king asked.
“ I will wager against him on taking a bath in a cauldron of boiling oil.”
So the king ordered his men to heat up a giant cauldron and fill it with fragrant oil. Wukong said, “Thank you, your highness. I don’t usually bathe, and these last couple days, my skin has been itching. So a hot soak is perfect!”
Once the oil was boiling, the king told Wukong to go first. But Wukong asked him, “Should I do a civil bath or a martial bath?”
Um, a what now? To see what he means, 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