“What's that mountain over there, Mr. Cui?” he asked; and the judge replied, “That is the Dark Mountain of the underworld.”
“However shall we cross it?” Taizong asked in terror.
“Have no fears, Your Majesty; your subjects will lead the way,” answered the judge. Taizong followed them shivering and trembling, and when they had climbed the mountain he looked around him. He saw that it was
Jagged,
Precipitous,
High as the Sichuan ranges,
Lofty as Lushan.
It is not a famous peak of the world of light,
But a crag of the underworld.
Ogres hidden in the clumps of thorns,
Evil monsters lurk behind the cliffs.
Your ears hear no calls of animals or birds,
The eyes can only see fiends.
A dark wind howls,
As black fog spreads.
The dark wind that howls
Is the smoke breathed from the mouths of magic soldiers;
The spreading black fog
Is the vapour belched out by hidden trolls.
Wherever you look the prospect is appalling;
All you can see to left or right is unbridled evil.
To be sure, there are hills,
Peaks,
Ranges,
Caves,
And gullies.
But no grass grows on the hills,
There is no sky for the peaks to touch.
No travelers cross the ranges,
The caves hold no clouds,
No water runs in the gullies.
Before the cliffs there are only goblins,
Below the ranges are trolls.
Savage ghosts shelter in the caves,
Evil spirits hide in the gullies.
All around the mountain
Ox-headed and horse-faced demons howl and roar;
Half hidden from view,
Hungry ghosts and desperate spirits sob to each other.
The judge who claims men's lives
Cannot wait to deliver the letter;
The marshal who chases souls,
Shouts and roars as he hastens along with his documents.
The swift-footed ones
Swirl along like a tornado;
The catchers of souls
Stand as thick as clouds.
Thanks entirely to the protection of the judge, Taizong crossed the Dark Mountain.
As they continued on their way they went past very many courts, and from each of them piteous sounds assailed his ear, while the evil ghouls there struck terror into his heart.
“What place is this?” asked Taizong.
“It is the eighteen layers of hell that lie behind the Dark Mountain,” the judge replied.
“What are the eighteen layers?” asked Taizong.
“Listen and I will tell you,” the judge replied.
“The Hanging-by-the-Sinews Hell, the Hell of Injustice, and the Hell of the Pit of Fire.
Loneliness and desolation,
Misery and suffering.
All those here committed the thousand lower sins,
And were sent here for punishment after death.
The Fengdu Hell, the Tongue-extraction Hell, the Flaying Helclass="underline"
Howling and wailing,
Terrible anguish.
They offended against Heaven by not being loyal or filial;
They have Buddha-mouths but snake hearts, so fell down here.
The Grinding Hell, the Pounding Hell, the Hell of Drawing and Quartering.
Skin and flesh ripped and torn,
Lips rubbed away till the teeth show.
In the blindness of their hearts they did evil things;
For all their fine words they harmed others in secret.
The Ice Hell, the Skin-shedding Hell, the Disemboweling Hell.
Filthy faces and matted hair,
Frowning foreheads and sad eyes.
They all used false measures to cheat the foolish,
Thus piling up disasters for themselves.
The Oil-cauldron Hell, the Hell of Blackness, the Hell of the Mountain of Knives.
Shivering and trembling,
In terrible agony;
Because they used violence against the good
They cower and hunch their shoulders in their suffering.
The Hell of the Pool of Blood, the Avichi Hell, the Hell of the Steelyard Beam,
Where skin is pulled away from the bone,
Arms are broken and tendons cut.
Because they killed for gain,
Butchering living creatures,
They fell into these torments that will not end in a thousand years;
They will always lie here, never to escape.
Every one of them is tightly bound,
Knotted and roped.
Red-faced demons,
And black-faced demons,
Are sent with their long halberds and short swords.
Ox-headed fiends.
And horse-faced fiends,
With iron clubs and brazen hammers,
Beat them till their wincing faces flow with blood,
As they call on Heaven and Earth and get no answer.
Let no man alive have any illusions:
The devils carry out their orders and release nobody.
Good and evil will always be rewarded:
It is only a question of time.”
Before they had gone much further a group of devil soldiers holding banners knelt down beside the road and said, “The Commissioners of the Bridges welcome you.” The Judge shouted to them that they were to rise and led Taizong across a golden bridge. Taizong saw that there was a silver bridge beside it over which some loyal, filial, worthy, just, and upright people were passing, led by banners. There was a third bridge on the other side with an icy wind roaring across it and waves of blood boiling below amid unbroken howls and wails.
“What is that bridge called?” Taizong asked, and the Judge replied, “Your Majesty, that is called the Bridge of Punishment, and you must tell people about it when you return to the world of the living. Below the bridge there are
A narrow, precipitous path
Over a mighty, rushing river.
It is like a strip of cloth across the Yangtse,
Or a fiery pit rising up to Heaven.
The icy vapours freeze one to the bone;
Nauseating stenches assail the nostrils.
There is no boat to ferry you
Across the crashing waves.
All who appear are sinful ghosts
With bare feet and matted hair.
The bridge is many miles long
And only three fingers wide;
The drop is a hundred feet,
The waters are infinitely deeper.
Above there are no railings for support,
While trolls snatch their victims from below.
In cangues and bonds
They are driven along the dangerous path by the River of Punishment.
See the ferocity of the divine generals by the bridge;
Watch how the ghosts of the wicked suffer in the river.
On the branching trees
Hang silken clothes in blue, red, yellow and purple;
In front of the precipice
Squat lewd and shameless women who swore at their parents-in-law.
Copper snakes and iron dogs feast on them at will,
As they constantly fall in the river, never to escape.
There is a poem that goes:
As ghosts wail and spirits howl
The waves of blood tower high.
Countless ghouls with heads of bulls and horses
Guard the bridge with great ferocity.
The commissioners of the bridges had gone away while he was speaking. Taizong's heart was once more filled with horror, and he nodded his head and sighed silently in his distress, then followed the judge and the Marshal. Before long they crossed the evil River of Punishment and passed the terrors of the Bowl of Blood. Then they came to the City of the Unjustly Slain. Amid the hubbub, shouts of “Li Shimin's here, Li Shimin's here,” could be made out, to the terror of Taizong. He saw that his way was blocked by a crowd of maimed and headless spectres.
“Give us back our lives,” they were all shouting, “give us back our lives.” The panic-stricken Taizong tried to hide, yelling, “Help, Judge Cui, help, help.”
“Your Majesty,” the judge replied, “these are the ghosts of the kings and chieftains of the sixty-four groups of rebels and the seventy-two troops of bandits. They were all killed unjustly, and nobody has given them a home or looked after them. They cannot get themselves reborn as they have no money for the journey, so they are all uncared-for cold and hungry ghosts. If Your Majesty is able to give them some money I can save you.”