This is a fresh, complete English translation of Wu Cheng’en’s public-domain one-hundred-chapter novel, produced with GPT-5.3-Codex-Spark assistance. It is an AI-assisted first edition, not a reproduction of an existing translation.

Buddha is the mind, and the mind is Buddha; from the beginning, Buddha and mind both are tied to form. If one truly knows there is neither object nor mind, then that is the True-Mind Dharmakāya Buddha. The Dharmakāya Buddha has no image at all, a single round radiance containing ten thousand forms. The body of no-body is the true body; the appearance of no-appearance is the true reality. It is neither color nor emptiness nor non-emptiness, neither coming nor moving toward nor turning back. No difference, no sameness, no being and no non-being—hard to abandon, hard to seize, hard to listen and behold. Within and without, spiritual light is equal everywhere; one Buddha realm is held in a single grain of sand. One grain of sand contains the Great Thousand World-Systems; one body-mind and all dharmas are one. One must understand the art of not-mind to know this; unsullied and unstuck, it becomes pure karma. With good and evil branching by the thousand, if no action is taken, this is Namo Shijie.

Liu Baqin and Tripitaka were frightened and flustered, and again they heard a cry: “Master, here it is.” Some of the household attendants said, “That shout must be the old ape in the stone casket at the mountain foot.” Taibao said, “It is him, it is him.” Tripitaka asked, “What kind of old ape is that?” Taibao answered, “This mountain was once called Wuxing Mountain; when my Great Tang emperor marched west to pacify the lands, he renamed it Liangjie Mountain. In earlier years I have heard the elders say this: when Wang Mang usurped the Han, heaven dropped this mountain and pressed down a divine monkey. It did not fear cold or heat, nor did it eat food or drink. An earth god kept watch over it and ordered it to eat iron pellets when hungry and drink liquid copper when thirsty. From then until now, it has not died from freezing or hunger. This must be that one. Venerable Master, do not be afraid. Let us go down the mountain and see for ourselves.” Tripitaka had no choice but to follow and led the horse down. After only a short distance, he saw that among the stone caskets there truly was a monkey, thrusting out its head and stretching out a hand in frantic waves. “Master, why did you come only now? You have come at the right time. Save me, and I will take you to the Western Heaven.” The elder moved closer and looked carefully. You may ask what he looked like:

Narrow beak and shrunken cheeks, golden eyes and fiery stare. Moss and lichen piled on the head, vines growing from the ears. Scant hair at the temples, more green grass than hair; beneath the chin no beard, green rushes instead. Mud between the brows, a hollow nose packed with earth, utterly disheveled; thick fingers and broad palms, coated with dust and grime. Yet his eyes kept turning, and his tongue and throat still spoke clearly. His words were quick and clear, though his body was wild and ragged. It was indeed the Great Sage Sun from five hundred years before, still trapped this morning by heaven's net.

Liu Taibao, truly bold-hearted, stepped forward, pulled away the grass at the monkey’s temples and the sedge under his chin, and asked, “What is it you want to say?” The monkey answered, “I have nothing to say. Tell that monk to come up; I have only one question for him.” Tripitaka asked, “What do you ask me?” The monkey said, “Are you the monk sent by the king of the Eastern Lands to fetch the scriptures from the Western Heaven?” Tripitaka answered, “I am. Why do you ask?” The monkey said, “I am Sun Great Sage, the one who threw havoc in Heaven Five Hundred Years Ago. For the crime of deceiving my superiors, I was pressed down here by the Buddha. Formerly there was Guanyin, who came under Buddha’s command to the Eastern Lands to summon a pilgrim for the scriptures. He told me to save myself no more by violence, to return and take refuge in the Buddha’s Way. He urged me to guard the scripture-seeker to the utmost, so that he might go west to worship Buddha; afterward there would be great blessing. So I have kept myself watchful day and night, my heart tied tight from dawn till dusk, waiting only for the Master to come and release me. I will protect your journey for scripture and be your disciple.” Hearing this, Tripitaka’s heart rejoiced: “Though you have such kindness, and though Bodhisattva has taught you well, you now wish to enter the monastic path—but I have no axe or adze. How can I rescue you?” The monkey replied, “No axe or adze is needed. If you only care to save me, I can come out myself.” Tripitaka said, “If I save you, how can you come out?” The monkey said, “On the top of this mountain is a gold-inscribed pressure seal of Buddha Tathagata. Go up, lift that seal, and I will come out.” Tripitaka said so, then turned and begged Liu Baqin, “Taibao, come with me up the mountain once more.” Baqin asked, “How can we know whether he is real?” From below the monkey shouted, “It is true—I will not lie.”

Liu Baqin could only call the household men and take the horses. He then supported Tripitaka and brought him back up the high mountain. They climbed by vines and kudzu and reached the very summit. There indeed was a brilliance of golden light in all directions, auspicious vapors flowing in hundreds of streams, and a great square stone. On that stone a sheet of paper had been pasted, bearing six gold characters: “唵嘛呢叭𠺗吽.” Tripitaka went forward, knelt, faced the characters, made several prostrations, and prayed toward the west: “My disciple Chen Xuanzang, by imperial order, seeks the Dharma. If indeed I am entitled to have a disciple, may I lift these gold words, rescue the divine monkey, and together realize the Spirit-Mountain; if I am not meant to have a disciple, this is but a ferocious and unruly brute seeking to fool a disciple. I do not seek auspiciousness from such deceit, and let me not be able to lift it.” He finished praying and bowed again. Afterward he stepped forward and gently pulled down the six gold characters. At once he heard a fragrant wind, and a hand struck and scraped the seal through the air; a voice rang out, “I am the officer who kept the Great Sage in confinement. Today his term has ended. We go before the Buddha to deliver this seal.” So frightened were Tripitaka and Liu Baqin’s whole party that they all looked up and bowed to the sky. Then they descended by the straight mountain path to the stone casket again. The monkey addressed Tripitaka: “The seal is lifted. Come out now.” The monkey joyfully called, “Master, please move aside a little. I am going out so you are not startled.”

Hearing this, Baqin led Tripitaka and their party eastward. After traveling five to seven li they heard the monkey cry out again: “Go on, go on!” Tripitaka walked yet farther downhill. Then there came a crashing roar—truly the mountain split and crumbled apart. All were terrified. The monkey had already reached the front of Tripitaka’s horse. He knelt there, wet-red and bright, and called, “Master, I have come out.” He made four prostrations to Tripitaka, then rose at once. Bowing deeply, he thanked both Tripitaka and Baqin: “You have gone far and labored to escort my Master; and Brother has also spared me the pain of weeds on my face. I am obliged.” Then he set about gathering the baggage and saddled the horse. When the horse saw him, its waist weakened, its hoofs shortened, and it trembled so that it could scarcely stand. This was because the monkey had once been Bima-wen, guardian of Dragon Horses in Heaven, with certain methods and powers; for that reason, ordinary horses were afraid of him.

Tripitaka, seeing his intention and finding him truly good-hearted, like a true monk, called out, “Disciple, what is your surname?” The Monkey King answered, “I am of the surname Sun.” Tripitaka said, “I shall give you a Dharma name for calling you.” The Monkey King replied, “Please do not take the trouble, Master. I already have a Dharma name: Sun Wukong.” Tripitaka said joyfully, “It suits the order to which we belong. With this appearance you are like a small bhikkhu. I will give you a mixed name and call you Xingzhe. Will that do?” Wukong said, “Good, good, good.” From then on he was also called Sun Xingzhe.

Then Baqin saw Sun Xingzhe gathering himself as if ready to set out in one mind and thought fixed. He turned around, made a deep bow to Tripitaka and said, “Venerable Master, you have in this place obtained an excellent disciple. I am truly glad, truly glad. This man can indeed go with you. I will report back.” Tripitaka bowed in thanks, saying, “I have delayed you with many steps. My gratitude is beyond words. Please send my sincere regards to your mother, the Elder Lady, and to Lady Jing. I have caused much disturbance in your residence; please accept my apology until I return.” Baqin returned the salute, and the two parted.

Now Sun Xingzhe told Tripitaka to mount the horse. He walked ahead carrying the luggage, bare-limbed, limping in quick sways. Before long, having crossed Liangjie Mountain, they suddenly saw a fierce tiger roaring and running at them with its tail lashing. Tripitaka on the horse was alarmed. The Xingzhe, at the roadside and smiling, said, “Do not fear him, Master; he is bringing me some clothes.” He set down the luggage, pulled a needle from his ear, and with a flick of the wind it flashed out as a iron bar as thick as a bowl’s rim. He took the treasure in his hand and laughed, “This good thing has not been used for more than five hundred years. I shall bring it out now and take a bit of clothing to wear.” Then he strode forward and shouted at the tiger, “Beast of karma! Where are you going?” The tiger squatted down in the dust and dared not move. He struck it once on the head, splitting it so the brain burst in ten-thousand scarlet drops, and from its teeth flew a few bead-sized chunks like jade. Tripitaka was so startled he rolled from the saddle, biting his fingers and crying, “Heavens! Heavens! The tiger Liu Taibao fought two days ago is a mottled one; he battled this one for half a day. Today Sun Wukong did not need to contest at all—one staff-blow and he turns it to gore. Truly, when there is strength there is always a stronger one!”

The Xingzhe dragged the tiger and said, “Master, wait a little and sit awhile; let me take off its clothing so I can wear it while we travel.” Tripitaka said, “Where could it have any clothing?” The Xingzhe said, “Do not worry about me; I can make do.” The noble king pulled out one hair, blew a breath of immortal air, and shouted, “Transform!” It became a sharp knife of ox-ear point. He pried open the tiger’s belly skin, then peeled downward and stripped off one entire skin. He chopped off the claw and nails, cut off the head, and cut out a neat square piece of tiger hide. Lifting it, he measured it and said, “It is a bit wide; one piece can make two.” He took up the blade and cut it into two pieces. He kept one piece and wrapped the other around his waist. From the roadside he tore a length of kudzu vine and bound it tight across his lower body to cover himself. “Master, come on, come on. When we reach a house, we can borrow needle and thread and stitch it later.” He twirled the iron bar once; once again it became like a small needle, and he put it back in his ear. He shouldered the luggage and asked Master to mount the horse once more.

The two proceeded. Tripitaka, from horseback, asked, 'Wukong, the iron staff with which you just struck the tiger—where is it now?' Wukong smiled and said, 'Master, you do not know. This staff, which came from the Dragon Palace in the Eastern Sea, is called the Celestial-River-Bottom Holy Iron, and is also called the Golden-Hooped Staff. In the old days when I rose in revolt against Heaven, it was of great use to me. It changes with me: when I wish it to be large, it becomes large; when I wish it small, it becomes small. Just a moment ago I changed it into the shape of a little embroidered needle and tucked it into my ear. It can be taken out only when needed.' Hearing this, Tripitaka rejoiced inwardly, then asked, 'The tiger just now saw you and you could have finished him. Why did you not act? Why did you let him go?' Wukong replied, 'I should not hide it from Master. Do not say he was only a tiger; he was a dragon, and at the sight of me he did not dare to be rude. I, old Sun, am no stranger to subduing dragons and taming tigers; my powers can turn rivers and stir seas. I read appearance and discern disposition, I listen and judge meanings. If I make myself great, I can stretch to the measure of the universe; if small, I can be held in a single hair. My transformations have no bounds, never fixed, ever hidden and revealed beyond measure. To strip this tiger skin, what rarity is there in that? If we come to a true difficulty, then watch me display my art.' Tripitaka heard this and became even more at ease, and he urged his horse forward.

The two disciples went on, talking as they walked, never noticing the sun setting. Then they saw:

Flickering slanting light threw its glow back, and cloud-clusters returned to the edges of heaven and sea. In a thousand hills, birds and small creatures cried densely in chorus, flocking to trees in search of night roosts. Wild beasts came in pairs, pair to pair, tribe to tribe, returning to their home. A hooklike new moon split the dusk. A myriad starlights spread their bright halos.

Wukong said, 'Master, let us quicken our pace. The light is getting late. There, on that side, the trees are dense; surely it is some household courtyard. Let us hurry and ask for the night there.' Tripitaka at once spurred his horse forward, and they rode directly toward the house. At its gate, he dismounted. Wukong dropped the baggage and went ahead, calling out, 'Open the gate! Open the gate!' An old man came out leaning on a cane and pulled the door open with a rough clatter. Seeing Wukong’s fierce appearance, with a tiger skin tied about his waist like a little thunder-god, he went pale, his legs weakened, his body numb, and he stammered, 'A ghost has come! A ghost has come!' Tripitaka came forward and steadied him: 'Good elder, do not fear. He is my humble monk’s disciple, not a demon.' The old man lifted his gaze and, seeing Tripitaka’s peculiar and noble face, only then composed himself, and asked, 'Which temple sent you, monk, to bring such a wicked man to my gate?' Tripitaka said, 'I am a monk from the Tang, going west to seek the Buddha’s scriptures. I happened upon this place at dusk and ask leave to rest one night in your hall, and depart before daylight tomorrow. The old man said, 'Even if you are from the Tang, this one is no man of your land.' Wukong raised his voice in anger: 'You old fellow, you cannot read a face at all! The Tang man is my master, and I am his disciple. I am no ordinary Tangese monk, no trickster either—I am the Great Sage, Equal to Heaven! In this village too, some people know me. I have even seen you before.' The old man asked, 'Where did you see me?' Wukong said, 'When you were a child, did you not carry wood before me? Did you not pick greens before my face?' The old man said, 'This wretch lies. Where did you live, and where did I live? When I came before you, did you have me carrying wood and picking vegetables?' Wukong said, 'My son is only talking nonsense. You do not recognize me. I am the Great Sage from the stone chamber of the Two Realms Mountain; look again and see.' Only then did the old man awaken and say, 'You are somewhat like him. But how did you come out like this?' Wukong then explained in full to the old man the Bodhisattva’s counsel and asked him to wait until Tripitaka showed his credentials and set him free.

The old man immediately bowed and invited Tripitaka inside, calling wife and children to come out, explaining the matter. All rejoiced to hear it, and he ordered tea. After tea, he asked Wukong, 'Great Sage, you also have quite an age on you, do you not?' Wukong asked, 'How old are you this year?' The old man said, 'I have passed one hundred and thirty years.' Wukong said, 'Then I am surely your great-grandson and later-born grandson.' He added, 'I do not remember when I was born, but I have already been under this mountain foot for more than five hundred years.' The old man said, 'Yes, yes. I remember my grandfather saying this mountain had fallen from heaven and pressed down a divine monkey. Only now have you shed that form. When I saw you as a child, there was grass on your head and mud on your face, yet I was not afraid of you. Now there is no mud on your face, no grass on your head, and you seem a little thinner. Add a big tiger skin at your waist, and how different can you be from a ghost or monster?' Everyone in that household, hearing this, all laughed heartily.

This old man proved a decent man, and promptly arranged a vegetarian meal. Afterward, Wukong asked, 'What is your surname, elder?' The old man replied, 'In our house we bear the surname Chen.' When Tripitaka heard this, he came down and respectfully offered his hands: 'Good elder, my humble monk is of the Hua line.' Wukong said, 'Master, if your surname is Tang, how are you of the same surname with him?' Tripitaka said, 'My secular name was also Chen. I am from Juxian Village, Hongnong Commandery, in Haizhou of the Great Tang. My Dharma name is Chen Xuanzang. Because the Great Tang Taizong bestowed upon me the title of a palace brother and made me Tripitaka, he took Tang as my surname, and thus I am also called Tang Monk.' The old man, hearing that they shared a surname, was delighted.

Wukong said, 'Old Chen, we have disturbed your household. I have gone without bathing for more than five hundred years. Please have some hot water boiled and bring tubs, so I and my disciples may wash before we leave and pay our thanks.' The old man at once ordered hot water and basins, and held lamp-welfare. The three travelers bathed and sat before the light. Wukong said, 'Old Chen, I have one more matter that burdens you: lend me a needle and thread.' The old man said, 'Yes, yes, yes,' and told his wife to bring needle and thread, then handed it to Wukong. Wukong then looked with a glance. Seeing Master bathing, he noticed a white cotton short straight robe laid there, not yet worn. He pulled it over and on to himself. He took off the tiger skin, sewed the edges at one spot, folded it into a horse-face shape, wrapped it about his waist, and tightened it with a rattan strap. Coming before Tripitaka he said, 'How does old Sun look today compared with yesterday?' Tripitaka said, 'Good, good, good. This way you look like a proper pilgrim.' Tripitaka said, 'Disciple, if you do not mind this old rag, then wear that short robe.' Wukong did a brief bow and said, 'My gratitude, my gratitude.' He went to find some straw and fed the horse. Then everyone had done what was needed, and Tripitaka, Wukong, and the old man all retired to rest.

At dawn, Wukong rose and asked Master to go on. Tripitaka dressed and told Wukong to gather the bedding and belongings. As he was about to depart, the old man had already prepared soup and a vegetarian meal. After breakfast they set out. Tripitaka mounted his horse, and Wukong led the way. They noticed no hunger, no thirst; they traveled through the night after dawn. It was early winter, and then they saw:

Frost has thinned a thousand woods, red leaves gone thin and dull. On the ridges, a few pines and cypresses still stand bright. Unblown plum buds spread faint fragrance. The short warm daytime, the first hint of spring; chrysanthemums gone, lotuses exhausted, and camellia bushes thick. Old icy bridges and ancient trees vie in branch against branch. A winding ravine murmurs with trickling spring water, while pale clouds float, nearly full of impending snow. A sudden north wind snatches at sleeves—how can one bear the evening cold?

The disciples had been walking some time when a piercing whistle sounded from the side of the path and six men burst out, each carrying a long spear or short sword, sharp blades and taut bows. With one loud cry they shouted, 'That monk, where are you going? Leave the horses and put down the luggage at once, and we will let you live!' Tripitaka was so frightened he nearly lost his soul and dropped off the horse, unable to speak. Wukong steadied him with his hand and said, 'Master, do not worry. It is nothing. They are only here to demand clothes and travel funds from us.' Tripitaka said, 'Wukong, what you say has a flaw. They told us to leave horse and baggage; you ask where their desire is for clothes and money.' Wukong said, 'You guard the clothing, luggage, and horses; let old Sun trade blows with them and see how it goes.' Tripitaka said, 'A single good fighter does not match two fists; two fists are no better than four hands. He has six burly men. How can one so small as you dare grapple with him all at once?'

The courage of the Walking Saint was naturally great, and he did not pause to argue. He strode forward, clasped his hands before his chest, saluted the six men, and said, "Gentlemen, for what reason do you block this poor monk's path?" One said, "We are the king of the six-path cutters, the upright keepers of this mountain. Our great names have long been widely proclaimed; you do not know them. Leave your goods behind quickly and we will let you pass. If you even utter one word of 'no,' we will smash you to pieces and grind your bones to dust." Sun Wukong said, "I too am a hereditary king, a mountain lord by long years, yet I have never heard of your grand fame." One said, "You do not know. Let me tell you: one is called Eye-Watching Joy, one is called Ear-Listening Anger, one is called Nose-Sniffing Love, one is called Tongue-Tasting Thought, one is called Mind-Seeing Desire, and one is called Body-Rooted Worry." Sun Wukong laughed, "So, you are six coarse thieves. You fail to recognize that this monk is your lord, and yet you block the road. Bring out the plunder you have robbed; I will split it evenly into seven parts and spare you." Hearing this, Joy rejoiced, Anger was angry, Love delighted, Thought pondered, Desire desired, and Worry worried. They all rushed forward in disorder, shouting, "This monk has no manners. You have no goods at all, yet you turn to us asking to share!" They brandished spears and swords and came as one, hacking at Sun Wukong in the front with clanging blows—bang and clang—seventy or eighty strikes. Sun Wukong stood in the middle as if unaware. One thief said, "Good monk, your head is truly hard." Sun Wukong laughed, "That is enough to pass as tolerable. Your hands are tired from all this beating. Now let old Sun take out a needle and play with it." One said, "This monk is one of those needle-acupuncture doctors in disguise. We are no patients; why does he speak of needling?"

Sun Wukong reached into his ear and pulled out an embroidered pin. As he flung it into the air, it became an iron rod, as thick as a bowl. He held it up and said, "Do not run. Let old Sun try a staff stroke on you." Those six thieves were terrified and ran in all directions. Snatching out distance in each step, he chased them down one after another and killed them all. He stripped off their clothes, took their travel money, and came back with a smile, saying, "Master, please continue on. Those thieves have all been annihilated by old Sun." Tripitaka said, "You have courted grave trouble. Though they are merely fierce men of the cut-road, even if you brought them before the court it should not be a crime of death. No matter how much skill you have, you only needed to drive them off. Why kill them all? This is taking life without cause. How can you be a monk? A monk, while sweeping the ground, fears to harm even ants, and will cherish moths under the gauze covering a lamp. How can you make no distinctions and slaughter everyone with one brawl? Not the smallest trace of compassion or goodwill of heart. While in the wilds, no one may inspect; if in a city, if someone bumps into you and you swing your staff wildly to injure people, I may become a scapegoat and be held to account—how could I escape?" Sun Wukong said, "Master, if I do not kill them, they will kill you." Tripitaka said, "This monk would rather die than do violence. I may die, but I am only one body. You, however, have slain six. How is this to be explained? If this comes before officials, it cannot be justified even if your father is in office." Sun Wukong said, "Do not dissemble, Master: when I, old Sun, reigned as king over Flower-Fruit Mountain in the age of monsters, I do not know how many people I killed. If we follow your way and carry this to the court, I could at least receive an indictment; then I could not be the Equal-Sky Great Sage." Tripitaka said, "It is precisely because you never curbed yourself, were violent and arrogant among men, deceived heaven and fooled those above, that you suffered the calamity of five hundred years ago. Now that you have entered the monastic life, if you still kill like before, mindlessly harming life, you cannot reach the Western Regions, and you cannot be a monk. Truly evil! Truly evil!"

This monkey in his whole life could not bear people being overbearing. Seeing Tripitaka only keep up a constant stream of nagging talk, he could not hold back the fire in his heart and said, "Since you insist that I cannot be a monk, that I cannot go to the Western Regions, no need to keep this endless babbling and abuse. I will simply return now." Tripitaka did not answer. He gave a bound, and said, "Old Sun, I am leaving!" Tripitaka hurriedly raised his head; he was already gone. He only heard a shout and he turned to the east. Leaving the elder all alone and forlorn, he nodded and sighed in self-reproach, grief and resentment unending: "This brute, so hard to instruct! I only say a few words to him; how is it he disappears without form or sign? Enough, enough, enough. I am not destined by my fate to take a disciple and enter this life. Now I seek him and cannot find him; I call him and he does not answer. Come and go, come and go." It is said: "Give your body and life in devoted risk to go westward; do not depend on another to decide for yourself."

The elder had to gather his belongings and set them on the horse. He neither rode the horse nor moved quickly—one hand on his Golden-Hooped Staff, one hand gripping the reins—he moved westward in a cold, lonely manner. Not long after, on the road ahead he saw an aged mother carrying a padded robe, and on it a flowered hat. As Tripitaka saw her coming near, he hurriedly pulled the reins, stepped to the right side, and gave way. The old mother asked, "Which region are you from, venerable elder, wandering here with such loneliness?" Tripitaka said, "I am a disciple from Great Tang in the Eastern Land, sent on official mission to the Western Buddha to beg the true scriptures." She said, "In the Western land of Buddha, at the Great-Resounding-Drum Temple, in the bounds of Tianzhu, the road is ten thousand and eight thousand li. You are one person alone, one horse, with no companion and no disciple. How can you possibly go?" Tripitaka said, "Today I have just received one disciple. He is violent and unruly by nature. I spoke to him a few words, but he would not accept instruction and so he left at once. She said, "I have this padded robe and a flower-embedded hat. They were my son's things. He became a monk for only three days before his life was cut short. I went to his temple and wept once, bade farewell to his master, and brought home these two garments as remembrance. Venerable elder, since you have a disciple, I give you this robe and hat." Tripitaka said, "I accept your high grace, but this disciple of mine has already gone; I do not dare to receive them." She said, "Which way did he go?" Tripitaka said, "I heard one shout and he turned eastward." She said, "Not far east is my home; surely he has gone there. I also have a spell, called the Heart-Settling Incantation, also known as the Tightening Headband Spell. Learn it in secret, hold it firm in your heart, and do not let anyone else know of it. I will catch up to him and call him back to you; then you can have him put on this robe and hat. If he refuses to obey you, recite this spell silently. He will dare not riot again, and he will dare not go away either." Tripitaka bowed his head in thanks. The old mother turned into a shaft of gold light and went east. Tripitaka knew this was a truth-word bestowed by Guanyin. He quickly pinched up earth, burned incense, and bowed toward the east with earnest prayers. Afterward he took the robe and hat, put them in his pack, sat by the roadside, and practiced that Heart-Settling Incantation, reciting it back and forth several times until he had memorized it perfectly and fixed it well in his heart.

It is said that Sun Wukong, leaving his master, rose on his cloud and turned straight toward the Eastern Sea. He pressed down the cloud-head and split the waterways, reaching the front of the Crystal Palace. The Dragon King was startled and came out to welcome him, then brought him inside to sit. After the courtesies, the Dragon King said, "I have lately heard you, Great Sage, have had much trouble. Congratulations! I suppose you have rebuilt the immortal mountain and returned to your old cave." Sun Wukong said, "I have such intentions too, but I have again become a monk." The Dragon King said, "A monk of what kind?" Sun Wukong said, "It was due to the Bodhisattva of the South Sea persuading me to do good, who taught me the path of true attainment. I follow the Tang monk of the Eastern Lands to the west to worship Buddha, have taken refuge as a monk, and am called Xingzhe." The Dragon King said, "This is truly something to rejoice in, to rejoice in. That is reforming evil and returning to the right, restoring good in the mind. If so, why do you not go west, and why return east again?" Sun Wukong laughed, "It is because Tripitaka does not understand human nature. There were several hairy thieves on the cut-road; I slew them. Tripitaka just kept on chattering and criticized me for many things. Do you think old Sun can stand this bottled-up anger? I left him and was going back to my original mountain; so I first came here for your summons—to beg a cup of tea." The Dragon King said, "Excellent, excellent." Then at once his dragon sons and dragon grandsons presented aromatic tea in offering.

After tea, the Monkey King looked behind him and saw a painting hanging on the back wall titled ‘Yi Bridge, Three Requests for Footwear.’ Sun Wukong asked, ‘What is this scene?’ The Dragon King said, ‘You, Great Sage, came later, so you do not recognize it. It is called The Three Requests for Footwear at Yi Bridge.’ Sun Wukong asked, ‘What does “three requests for footwear” mean?’ The Dragon King said, ‘That immortal is Huang Shigong, and this youth is Zhang Liang of the Han. Huang Shigong was seated on the Yi Bridge when he suddenly lost one shoe below the bridge, and he called Zhang Liang to retrieve it. The boy at once fetched it and knelt to present it. This happened three times; not one trace of arrogance or laziness appeared in Zhang Liang, so Huang Shigong came to love his diligence and, by night, bestowed Heavenly writings on him, charging him to support Han. In time he truly planned in the war chamber and won victory from a thousand li away. After peace was secured, he abandoned office, returned to the mountains, roamed with Chi Songzi, and awakened to Immortal Way. Great Sage, if you do not guard Tripitaka, do not labor wholeheartedly, and do not accept instruction, then in the end you are only a demon-immortal and cannot hope to attain the true fruit.’ Sun Wukong listened and was silent for half a while. The Dragon King said, ‘You, Great Sage, should decide this for yourself; seek no ease and do not ruin your future.’ Sun Wukong said, ‘Enough talking. Old Sun will go and protect him now.’ The Dragon King, rejoicing, said, ‘Since this is so, I dare not detain you. Go promptly in compassion, and do not stay away from your master too long.’

Seeing him urge him to go, the Monkey King quickly sprang up, left the Sea Storage, rode a cloud, and took leave of the Dragon King. As he went, he met the Bodhisattva of the South Sea. The Bodhisattva said, ‘Sun Wukong, why did you fail to accept instruction and not protect Tripitaka? What have you come here for?’ In panic, Sun Wukong, in the midst of the clouds, performed obeisance and said, ‘By the Bodhisattva’s kind words, there indeed came a monk of the Tang. He removed the pressure-seal and saved my life, and I became his disciple. Yet he blamed me as fierce and unruly, so I only slipped away; now I am going to protect him as well.’ The Bodhisattva said, ‘Go at once and do not miss your intent.’ Then they parted ways.

The Monkey King soon saw Tripitaka sitting by the roadside in silence. He came forward and said, ‘Master, why are you not walking? What are you doing here?’ Tripitaka lifted his head and said, ‘Where did you go? You tell me to go, and yet I do not dare to go; I dare not move even then, and here I only sit waiting for you.’ Sun Wukong said, ‘I went to the old Dragon King of the Eastern Sea to fetch tea.’ Tripitaka said, ‘Disciple, one who has left the world should not lie. Not even one moment after you left me, you already claim you went to the Dragon King’s house for tea?’ Sun Wukong laughed, ‘I will not hide it from the Master: I can ride a jindou cloud, and one jindou cloud goes ten thousand eight hundred li, so I can go and return at once.’ Tripitaka said, ‘I spoke too sharply just now; you resented it and gave me this trouble, then left me to starve and wait. You have the power to get tea; I, who cannot go there, can only stand and endure hunger here. You should feel troubled too, should you not?’ Sun Wukong said, ‘Master, if you are hungry, I can make some vegetarian alms for you by transformation.’ Tripitaka said, ‘No need to make alms. In my bundle there are still some dry rations, sent by Liu Taibao’s mother. Go and fetch a bowl and some water, and I will eat a little then continue walking.’

Sun Wukong unfastened the bundle and, in its middle, saw several coarse flour buns. He took them out and passed them to his master. He also saw a bright, glowing cotton robe and a gold-inlaid flower hat. Sun Wukong said, ‘Were these garments brought from the Eastern lands, Master?’ Tripitaka replied offhand, ‘Yes, they were what I wore when I was young. If I wear this hat, I can recite the sutras without study; if I wear this robe, I can perform ceremony without rehearsal.’ Sun Wukong said, ‘Good, Master, then let me put them on.’ Tripitaka said, ‘I only fear the size may not match; if it does, then wear it.’ So the Monkey King took off his old white robe, put on the cotton robe, which fit him exactly, and set the hat on his head. Seeing him so dressed, Tripitaka ceased eating the dry food and silently recited the Tightening Headband Spell once. Sun Wukong cried, ‘Head pain, head pain.’ The master chanted it two or three more times, and the Monkey King writhed until he tore the gold-inlaid flower hat. Tripitaka, fearing he might tear away the golden band, stopped. Without the chanting, the pain ceased. He touched his head and felt a golden wire-like line tightly clamping it—impossible to remove, impossible to pull free, already rooted in place. He then took a needle from his ear, threaded it into the band, and pulled it outward in random tugs. Tripitaka, fearing the band would snap, began chanting again. Sun Wukong still in pain, he stiffened like a dragonfly, rolled in the jindou cloud, ears reddened, face flaming, eyes bulging, body numb. Tripitaka, seeing this, held his breath and stopped chanting again. The pain left the Monkey King’s head. Sun Wukong asked, ‘My head pain—was it the Master who cursed me?’ Tripitaka said, ‘I am reciting the Tightening Headband Spell. When have I ever cursed you?’ Sun Wukong said, ‘Recite once more.’ Tripitaka did so. Sun Wukong immediately suffered again and cried, ‘No more, no more. Whenever you chant it, I hurt. How can this be?’ Tripitaka said, ‘Have you heard my instruction now?’ Sun Wukong said, ‘I have heard it.’ Tripitaka said, ‘Could you still be rude again?’ Sun Wukong said, ‘I do not dare.’

Though he agreed aloud, his heart still held ill will. He swept the needle back and forth, testing its width, and aimed at Tripitaka to strike. Frightened, the old monk chanted the spell two or three times more. The monkey fell to the ground, dropped the iron cudgel, could not raise his hands, and begged, ‘Master, I understand. No more chanting, no more chanting.’ Tripitaka said, ‘Why did you harbor treachery and dare strike me?’ Sun Wukong said, ‘I did not dare strike. Master, who taught you this method?’ Tripitaka said, ‘An old mother taught it to me just now.’ Sun Wukong grew angry, ‘No need for words. That old mother is surely Guanyin. How could that one harm me so? I will go to the South Sea and beat her.’ Tripitaka said, ‘Since this method was bestowed by that one on me, he surely knows it already. If you seek him out, when he chants, would you not die?’ Seeing the point, Sun Wukong truly did not dare to move. He turned back, knelt down, and pleaded with tears, ‘Master, this is the way he used to subdue me, commanding that I go west with you. I will not go to provoke him. You too must not speak as if in everyday scolding; just keep reciting. I vow to protect you and will never regret it again.’ Tripitaka said, ‘Then attend me and mount, and go west with me.’ Only then did that Monkey finally return fully to his senses; he steadied his spirit, tightened his cotton robe, prepared the horse’s harness, packed up the luggage, and raced on westward.

After this departure, there is more to be told. Listen to the next chapter for the full unfolding.