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.

Say that Sun Wukong, serving Tripitaka, went westward. After traveling for several days, it was the cold winter of the twelfth month, the north wind piercing, the world slick with ice and bitterly cold. They were on steep roads of crags and precipices, along rugged ridges and dangerous high mountains. Tripitaka was on horseback, and from a distance he heard a hissing water roar filling the ear. He turned and called, "Sun Wukong, where is that sound of water?" Wukong said, "I remember this place is called Snake-Coiled Mountain Eagle-Grief Ravine, and it must be the water in the ravine." He had scarcely finished when the horse reached the ravine bank. Tripitaka pulled tight on the reins to look. Then they saw:

A narrow cold thread of water passed through the clouds, and clear, limpid waves shone red in the sun. The sound trembles; like night rain it is heard in the dark gorge, and the dawn colors flash, dazzling the sky. Waves rise a thousand zhang and fly, spraying jade-shattering spray; a deep pool roars, and the clean wind echoes. The flow returns toward ten thousand fields of misty waves; gulls and herons forget each other, and no fishhooks are to be seen.

The two disciples and master had just been looking when, in the ravine, a great cry sounded. A dragon shot out, driving forward waves and heaving the water, charging from the cliff and lunging to seize the elder. So startled was Sun Wukong that he dropped the baggage, lifted his master from the horse, and ran back. The dragon could not keep pace: it swallowed Tripitaka’s white horse, with saddle and bridle, in one bite, then lay submerged again in the water to hide its tracks. Wukong placed Tripitaka on a high knoll to sit, then ran back for the horse and load; only one pack-sling remained, and there was no horse in sight. He carried the pack to Tripitaka and said, "Master, that evil dragon has vanished without a trace; it only frightened away my horse." Tripitaka said, "Disciple, then how are we to find the horse now?" Wukong replied, "Do not worry, do not worry. I will go and see."

He gave a whistle, leapt into the air, and with his Fire-Eyed Golden Pupils scanned all around, shading his eyes with his hand. He still could not see even a trace of the horse. Alighting back from the cloud-rim, he reported, "Master, our horse is most likely swallowed by that dragon; I can see no sign of it anywhere." Tripitaka said, "Disciple, how big a mouth can that brute have, to swallow that great horse along with saddle and bridle? Likely it panicked and ran, slipping into one of the mountain hollows. Look again carefully." Wukong said, "You do not know my powers. In broad daylight these eyes of mine often see fortune and disaster along a thousand li. Within a thousand li, even a dragonfly opening its wings I can see; how is it that I do not see that horse?" Tripitaka said, "If it ate it, how shall we go on? Alas, these a thousand mountains and waters—how can we pass them?" As he spoke, tears fell like rain. Seeing him about to cry, Wukong could not bear the sudden vexation and shouted, "Master, do not look so swollen with panic—sit, sit still. Wait while Old Wukong goes and finds that brute, and make him return my horse." Tripitaka caught him and said, "Disciple, where will you go to look? Might he not rise secretly and hurt me as well? At that point we would lose both man and horse—what then?" Hearing this, Wukong’s anger grew even more. He shouted like thunder, "You are so useless, so useless! You want the horse, yet will not let me go. If you mean to stand guard over the baggage like this, then sit until you are old."

He was still bellowing and could barely still his rage when voices rang from the air: "Great Sage Sun, do not be angry; Tripitaka, do not weep. We are deities dispatched by Bodhisattva Guanyin, sent to protect the Journey One covertly." Hearing this, the elder hastily offered a bow. Wukong said, "Who are you all? Declare your names so I may keep account." The gods answered, "We are the Six Ding and Six Jia, the Five-Directions Jie-Di, the Four-Shift Gongcao, and eighteen Gālán that guard the Teaching, each taking turns on watch." Wukong said, "Who begins the watch today?" One of the Jie-Di answered, "The rotation goes: Ding-Jia, Gongcao, Gālán. Of the five-direction Jie-Di, only Golden-Head Jie-Di does not leave either side by day or by night." Wukong said, "Then the non-duty ones should step away. Leave the six Ding generals, the day-watch Gongcao, and all the Jie-Di to guard my master. I will go find the dragon in the ravine and make him return my horse." The gods obeyed. Tripitaka only then relaxed and sat on the cliff, then instructed Wukong to look carefully. Wukong said, "Just take comfort." The good monkey king tied up his cotton robes, lifted his tiger-skin skirt, gripped the Golden-Hooped Staff, steadied himself, came straight to the ravine, and, half in cloud, half in mist, stood above the water and shouted, "Mudskipper, return my horse! Return my horse!"

That dragon which had eaten Tripitaka’s white horse had lain at the middle of the ravine, hidden below, nursing its spirit and strength in secrecy. As soon as it heard someone shouting and abusing for the horse, it could not hold back the fire in its heart. In sudden agitation it sprang up, leaping across the waves, rose and cried, "Who is the one that dares wound me in this watercourse?" When Wukong saw it, he shouted with a roar, "Do not run. Return my horse!" He lifted the staff and struck him at once. The dragon spread fang and claw to seize him. The two fought for a brave and fierce bout by the ravine edge. They saw:

The dragon spread out keen claws; the monkey raised the Golden-Hooped Staff. He has hanging whiskers like white-jade strings; this one has eyes like red-gold lanterns. Under those whiskers pearl-bright mists spray in colored mist; in this one’s hand the iron staff whirls up wild wind. That one is the karmic child of the bewitched mother; this one is the fiendly spirit that dared affront Heaven. Both have met hardship, and now each, seeking success, must show his power.

They went back and forth, fought for quite some time, circled long; then the dragon grew weak in strength and numbed in sinew, unable to withstand. It made one turn and rushed back into the water, diving deep to the ravine bottom and not raising its head again. Sun Wukong cursed it without ceasing; the dragon only pushed as if its ears were stopped.

Wukong, unable to do anything else, could only return and tell Tripitaka, "Master, this monster has been brought out by Wukong’s cursing. He fought with me for a long time and, fearing battle, ran away; now he has hidden himself in the middle of the water and will not come up." Tripitaka said, "How can we be certain that it was he who ate my horse?" Wukong said, "By your own words—if it were not him, would he not have come out to challenge and fight me?" Tripitaka said, "When you fought the tiger earlier, you said you had methods to suppress dragon and tiger. Why today are you not able to suppress this one?" The monkey had no heart to endure being cornered, and when he heard Tripitaka put it in that way, he displayed his divine might and said, "Do not keep saying it; do not keep saying it. Let me meet him once more and finish this."

The Monkey King stepped forward and jumped to the ravine edge, then unleashed the power that can stir seas and turn rivers, and stirred the clear water of the ravine like the swollen, winding waters of the Yellow River at nine bends. The evil dragon, resting in the deep ravine, felt restless and uneasy. Inwardly it thought, "This is indeed twice-a-bad luck, a calamity that does not come alone. I only escaped the Heaven-ordered death danger less than a year ago. In this life of patient drift, I have now run into such a reckless demon; he comes to harm me." The more it thought, the more angry it grew. Unable to bear the humiliation, it bit its teeth and leapt out, shouting, "What sort of splashing demon are you to dare ridicule me so?" Wukong said, "Do not ask where I come from. If you return the horse, I will spare your life." The dragon replied, "The horse is in my belly—I swallowed it. How can I bring it out? If I do not return it, then what can I do?" Wukong said, "If you do not return the horse, watch my staff: I will beat you to death and end it, and that is enough to settle the horse's life." The two again fought hard under the cliff. After only a few rounds, the young dragon truly found it hard to withstand; with one sudden motion it changed into a water-snake and slipped into the grasses.

The Monkey King took up his staff, ran forward, and pushed through the grass to hunt the snake, but found no trace at all. In his anger the three-corpse gods of his being flustered and smoke rose from his seven orifices; he spoke a single cry of the "Om" spell and summoned the local At-fang Earth God and the Mountain God of that place, who came and knelt together, saying, "Mountain God and Earth God come to receive your summons." The traveler said, "Set out your staffs, come forth, and meet with me for five bouts of staff play so Old Sun may vent his temper." The two gods knelt and begged, "Great Sage, if it be your convenience, please allow these little gods to explain." The traveler said, "What is it you would say?" They said, "Great Sage, for so long you have been trapped, and these small gods do not know when you would return, so we never were able to meet you. We beg you, please forgive our fault." The traveler said, "If so, I will not strike you. I ask you: from what quarter did the strange dragon in Eagle-Downpour Ravine come? How did it seize and eat my master's white horse?" The gods replied, "Great Sage, you never had a master from the beginning. You are a Pure and Original One beyond both Heaven and Earth, who bows to neither. How could there be a master's horse for you?" The traveler said, "You do not understand it either. I have endured these five hundred years of suffering because of my former deceit. Now, through the compassion of Guanyin, I have been rescued by a true monk under the Tang court and told to follow him as disciple, going west to bow before Buddha and seek the scriptures. Passing through this place, I lost my master's white horse." The gods said, "So that is it. This ravine has always had no evil in it. It is only steep, deep, broad, and utterly clear; the water shines so pure that even crows and magpies dare not fly over. Because one sees the reflection of oneself, one thinks it is another bird of the same flock and often jumps headlong into the water; therefore it is named 'Eagle-Grieving Precipitous Ravine.' Only in recent times, when Guanyin went out to seek pilgrims, she rescued a jade dragon and sent him here, instructing him to wait for the scripture-seeking pilgrim and not to do evil. When he was hungry, he would come ashore and seize birds or magpies to eat, or catch a marten or deer for food. We do not know by what heedless folly he this day collided with the Great Sage." The traveler said, "The first time he brawled with Old Sun hand to hand, and we wheeled around for several rounds. The second time, when Old Sun cursed him, he did not come out again. So he used a spell that stirs rivers and upheaves seas, churning this ravine until it was muddied. Then he surged up and came on, still seeking to contend. He did not know the weight of my staff; unable to withstand it, he changed into a water snake and slipped into the grass. I came in pursuit, but no trace remained." The Earth God said, "Great Sage does not know. This ravine is connected by myriads of channels and pores, and thus its waves run deep and far. Surely somewhere here there is another hole into which he slipped. There is no need for you, Great Sage, to rage and search here. To seize this thing, simply ask Guanshiyin to come, and it will naturally submit."

The traveler saw this and called the Mountain God and Earth God to come together before Tripitaka, and told him all that had happened. Tripitaka said, "If you must go and invite the bodhisattva, when will you return? How can I, a poor monk, endure hunger and cold?" Before he finished speaking, a voice sounded from the dark sky from Jintou Jie Di: "Great Sage, you need not set out. A small god will go and invite the bodhisattva." The traveler rejoiced and called out, "You have my thanks, you have my thanks. Go quickly, go quickly." Jie Di leapt up on the clouds at once and shot straight toward the Southern Sea. The traveler instructed the Mountain God and Earth God to guard the master, telling the Gongcao in turn to go and seek alms food. After that he went to patrol the ravine banks; no need to set down that here.

Not long thereafter Jintou Jie Di flew in one sweep of cloud and arrived early at the Southern Sea. He followed auspicious radiance straight to Luojia Mountain, into the Purple Bamboo Grove, and through the golden-armed heavenly attendants, with the Wood Guardian and Huian, he conveyed the matter and gained audience with the bodhisattva. She asked, "What brings you here?" Jie Di said, "Tripitaka at Snake-Coiled Mountain, Eagle-Downpour Ravine, has lost his horse, and Sun Wukong is in a bind, unable to advance or retreat. When we asked the local Earth God, he said it was the demon-dragon sent by the bodhisattva here who swallowed the horse. The Great Sage has sent me to beg your arrival and to summon this demon-dragon to return his horse." Upon hearing this, the bodhisattva said, "This brute is in truth the son of Ao Run, lord of the West Sea. He burned the brilliant pearl in the heavenly hall; his father charged him with rebellion, and at court he committed a death offense. I saw him myself before the Jade Emperor and had him brought down, instructing him to serve as foot-strength for Tripitaka. How could he now eat Tripitaka's horse? In any case, let us go." The bodhisattva descended from the lotus throne, left the immortal cave, and with Jie Di rode on auspicious light across the Southern Sea. There is a poem as proof:

The Buddha taught the Mi Tuo Tripiṭaka, and the bodhisattva raised beneficence as a long rampart. Great marvelous speech of Mahā passes through heaven and earth, and Prajñā's true mantra saves spirits and ghosts. So the golden cicada can shed its shell once more, and therefore Tripitaka returns to practice again. Only because the road was blocked by Eagle-Downpour Ravine, the dragon son returned to truth and took horse form.

The bodhisattva and Jie Di arrived at Snake-Coiled Mountain not long afterward and hovered in midair, halting the auspicious clouds, and looked down. Sun Wukong was below on the ravine bank, still shouting and cursing. The bodhisattva told Jie Di to call him. Jie Di drove the cloud steed down without passing Tripitaka and came directly to the ravine edge, telling the traveler, "The bodhisattva has come." Hearing this, the traveler leapt skyward on cloud in haste and shouted, "You, so-called teacher of seven Buddhas, lord of compassion—why did you devise this means to hurt me?" The bodhisattva said, "I, for your brazen sake, this headbanded monkey, crude fool with the red rump—how many times did I spare your life? I drew forth a seeker of scriptures and taught him to rescue your life, and enjoined him to protect you. Why do you not thank me for saving you, yet come and raise such a commotion?" The traveler said, "You have made my lot pitiable. Once you set me free, I should have been allowed to roam and play unhindered. The other day at sea, when you met me, you struck me with a few hard words and ordered me to give my all and serve Tripitaka. Why then did you send him a flowered crown to make me put it on my head and suffer? You fixed this headband upon Old Sun, and taught the old monk to recite this spell of the Tightening Headband Spell, have him chant it over and over, so my head hurt again and yet again. Is this not your doing?" The bodhisattva laughed and said, "You monkey, you do not obey orders, you will not receive proper fruit. If I did not restrain you in this way, you would still deceitfully harass Heaven with no sense of what is right. If once more calamity erupts as before, who will then control it? Only if this demon-head is taken in hand could you enter my path of yoga." The traveler said, "As for this matter, let it be called my demonic role. Yet how could you send that guilty demon-dragon here to take spirit-form and make it eat my master's horse? This is again releasing evil to do evil, utterly unkind." The bodhisattva said, "That dragon—I myself petitioned the Jade Emperor to keep him here, solely to serve as strength for the scripture-seeker. How can an ordinary horse from the Eastern Land endure ten thousand waters and mountains, and how can it reach the Buddha-lands of Ling Mountain? It must have this dragon-horse for the journey." The traveler said, "For one so fearful of Old Sun that he hides and cannot break out, what can be done?" The bodhisattva said to Jie Di, "Go to the ravine edge and call out twice: 'Ao Run Dragon King, third prince of the Jade Dragon, come forth; the South Sea bodhisattva is here.' He will come."

Jie Di did exactly that, calling by the ravine twice. The little dragon leapt up with breakers and waves and rose from the water, transformed into a human figure, stepped upon a cloud-head, and in the air bowed to the bodhisattva saying, "Formerly the bodhisattva granted me the grace that saved my life; I have waited here long and heard no word of the scripture-seeker." The bodhisattva indicated the traveler and said, "Is this not the Great Disciple of the pilgrim?" The little dragon said, "Bodhisattva, this is my foe. Yesterday I was truly starving and did eat his horse. He had some strength, fought me to the point that mine was worn and I withdrew, and then he cursed me so badly I dare not come out again. He had not even mentioned the words 'seeking the scriptures.'" The traveler said, "You never even asked my surname and name, how could I have answered anything?" The little dragon said, "I did not ask where you came from, wild demon. You shouted, 'Who cares where or what place—return my horse at once.' Not once did you speak even half a word of 'Tang.'" The bodhisattva said, "That monkey-chief relies only on his own strength and is never one to praise another. This time, when he goes again, he has come to submit. If he were to ask, if he first utters the word 'Journey to the West'/'seeking the scriptures,' there would be no need to trouble the mind; he would bow of his own accord."

Sun Wukong rejoiced to receive the teaching. Guanyin came forward, took off the bright pearl from the little dragon’s neck, dipped a willow twig in sweet dew, brushed it lightly over him, blew out immortal breath, and called out, “Change!” The dragon at once changed back into the horsehair of his original steed. Then she instructed, “You must clear your karma-obstruction with your heart; once your work is complete, pass beyond ordinary dragons and I will return you to a golden-body true fruition.” The little dragon held a crossbone in its mouth and nodded assent in its heart. Guanyin told Sun Wukong to lead him to Tripitaka. “I am going back to the sea,” Sun Wukong said. He grabbed the Bodhisattva’s sleeve and would not let go. “I am not going, I am not going. The road to the West is that rugged and steep; how can I protect this mortal monk and reach the goal? With so much hardship and trouble, even old Sun’s life may not remain whole, so how could any attainment be completed? I am not going, I am not going.” Guanyin said, “You were not yet fully accomplished before, yet you were willing to apply yourself and awaken; today you escaped heavenly disaster, how can you suddenly fall into laziness? In our way, we realize the true with nirvana, and one must hold faithful hope in right fruit. If you should come to a place of wound and bitter discipline, I permit you to call on heaven to respond and on earth to awaken; once more, if you come to a time hard to survive, I will come in person to save you. Come this way back, and I will grant you another skill of this sort.” Guanyin plucked three willow leaves, put them behind Sun Wukong’s head, and cried, “Change!” They became three strands of life-saving fine hair. She told him, “If the time comes when there is no aid and no master, use them as circumstances require and they will save you from sudden calamity.” Hearing all these good words, Sun Wukong at last thanked the great compassionate Bodhisattva. The Bodhisattva then moved with fragrant wind curling around and colorful mist drifting, and went directly back toward Putuo Mountain.

Sun Wukong at once returned from the cloud and pulled the mane from the top of that dragon-horse to go meet Tripitaka: “Master, we have a horse now.” Tripitaka saw him and was greatly glad: “Disciple, how is this horse more fat and sturdy than before? Where did you find it?” Sun Wukong said, “Master, you are still dreaming. The Bodhisattva was invited just now by Golden-Head Jie Di. She came to the stream and transformed the dragon there into our white horse, the same in body and hair as before, only without saddle and reins. Old Sun pulled it here.” Tripitaka was greatly startled and said, “Where is the Bodhisattva? Let me go and thank him.” Sun Wukong said, “The Bodhisattva has already gone to the South Sea; do not delay.” Tripitaka then took up clods, burned incense, faced south, and bowed. After the bowing he rose, and with Sun Wukong prepared to depart. Sun Wukong drove away the mountain spirit and Earth Lord, instructed Jie Di and Gong Cao, and invited Master to mount. Tripitaka said, “How can one ride such a horse with no saddle or reins? Let us first find a boat to cross the gully, then make arrangements.” Sun Wukong said, “Master, you do not understand the times. In these wild lands where does a boat come from? This horse has long stayed here and must know the current. Just ride him across as if he were a boat.”

Tripitaka had no choice and so mounted the bridleless horse as instructed. Sun Wukong carried the packs. When they came to the streambank, they saw upstream an old fisherman drifting down, steering a raft made of dry wood poles with a pole. Sun Wukong saw him and beckoned with his hand: “Old fisherman, over here! I am going to the West to fetch the sutras. My master is in hardship at this place; come and ferry him once.” At once the old fisherman rowed close. Sun Wukong had Master dismount from the horse, while he supported him on each side. Tripitaka boarded the raft, led the horse by the reins, and set down the baggage. The old fisherman pushed off so fast it was like an arrow, and soon they had crossed Eagle-Sorrow Gorge and reached the west bank. Tripitaka told Sun Wukong to untie the pack, took out several paper coins of the Great Tang, and offered them to the old fisherman. The old man pushed hard with one stroke and said, “No money, no money.” Then he drifted away into the wide misty middle waters. Tripitaka felt vexed but only joined his palms and thanked him. Sun Wukong said, “Master, do not make polite greetings. Do you not recognize him? He is the water spirit of this stream. He did not come once to fetch old Sun; old Sun would have beaten him. Now that he spared us, enough! How could he dare ask for money?” Tripitaka seemed half willing, half unwilling to believe, and so again mounted the bridleless horse. Following Sun Wukong he went straight out on the highway and rushed westward. This is exactly so: “With Great Suchness one reaches the far shore; with sincere heart and awakened nature, one ascends to Ling Mountain.”

Then the master and disciples pressed on, and before they knew it the red sun had dropped in the west and evening light was deepening. But behold:

Pale clouds tossed and ruffled, the mountain moon dim and hazy. Frost color filled the sky with cold, and wind from all four sides pierced the body. When the lone bird flew off, the blue islets widened; at the bright glow of evening color, distant hills sank low. Sparse woods and a thousand trees gave out cries; on empty ridges, lone apes called. For the long road there was no trace of travelers; at night, homeward boats entered from ten thousand li away.

As they walked on, Tripitaka and Sun Wukong said nothing for some time before Tripitaka saw ahead a manor-like estate. Tripitaka said, “Wukong, there is a household in front. We can stay the night and travel again at dawn.” Sun Wukong raised his head and said, “Master, this is not a household estate.” Tripitaka asked, “How is it not?” Sun Wukong said, “A household has the ridgeline figures of fish and beasts; this is by all means a temple hall and nunnery.”

The traveling party spoke as they went and soon arrived at the gate. Tripitaka dismounted from the horse and saw three large characters above the gate: “Lishe Shrine,” and entered inside. Inside there was an old man, a string of prayer beads around his neck, who came with palms joined to welcome him and called, “Please sit, Master.” Tripitaka hastily returned the courtesy and went up to the hall to bow before the holy image. The old man called a youth to offer tea. After the tea, Tripitaka asked the old man, “Why is this temple called ‘Lishe’?” The old man said, “This place lies on the border of Habi country of the western lands. Behind this shrine is a household from a village; they came together with devout hearts and established this temple. ‘Li’ means a village territory, and ‘She’ is a local earth deity. On days of spring ploughing, summer weeding, autumn harvest, and winter storing, they make offerings of three sacrificial animals and fruits here, to honor the Earth God so that the four seasons remain auspicious, the five grains be abundant, and the livestock prosper. Hence the name.” Tripitaka nodded and praised, “Exactly as the saying goes, ‘Even three li from home is another village wind and custom.’ In my home village there is not such a practice.” The old man asked, “Where is your holy land, Master?” Tripitaka said, “I am a poor monk of the Great Tang in the Eastern Land, commissioned by edict to go west to the Buddha for sutras. As we passed Baofang, dusk was near, so we have taken refuge in this shrine for one night and will travel when morning light comes.” The old man was very pleased, uttered three words of greeting, and again called for the youth to prepare a meal. Tripitaka ate and then thanked him.

Sun Wukong, quick to notice, saw a rope for hanging clothes under the eaves, went over and tore it apart, and tied the horse’s feet with it. The old man laughed and asked, “Where did this horse come from?” Sun Wukong growled, “Old man, you do not know proper rank and ranklessness in your speech. We are pious monks going to the Buddha; would we steal a horse?” The old man laughed: “If it were not stolen, why would a horse come without saddle or reins and then tear apart my line for drying clothes?” Tripitaka placated him: “This impish one is only hot-tempered. If you wish to tie the horse, ask the old gentleman for a rope instead of tearing the clothesline. Old sir, do not be angry, do not be angry. This horse of mine, to be plain with you, is not stolen. Yesterday, coming from the east, at Eagle-Sorrow Gorge there was already a white horse with saddle and reins ready for riding. By chance a wicked dragon in that gorge had formed a spirit and swallowed my horse together with its saddle and reins in one mouth. Fortunately my disciple has some ability, and by luck Guanyin came to the bank, captured that dragon, and taught him to become our original white horse. Its hair was all the same, and so he carries me to the West to worship the Buddha. Today, after crossing the stream, we have not spent even a day and have already reached this holy shrine, and yet we still have no saddle and reins.” The old man said, “Master, do not take offense. I was only joking, but I never imagined your senior disciple would speak seriously. In my youth I had a little coin and could afford a good swift horse. Through years of repeated misfortune and the ruin of fire, I came here with no foundation left, so I became the shrine’s caretaker and serve the incense. Thankfully the benefactors of the manor behind this house feed me through the day. I still have a pair of saddle and reins here, the things I cherished in daily life, and though I am this poor I would not part with them. Only this morning I heard your words and even though even Guanyin would rescue a dragon and make it transform into your mount, this old man cannot withhold even a little help. Tomorrow I will bring those reins and send them to you, Master, with them fastened for your back, and beg you to accept them as a favor.” Tripitaka heard this and thanked him without end. Soon a youth brought out supper. Afterward the meal was done, lamps were lit on the palms, beds were laid, and everyone lay down to rest.

At dawn the next morning, Sun Wukong rose and said, “Master, that shrine-keeper promised us the saddle and reins last night; ask for them and do not let him bear it.” Before he finished speaking, the old man indeed brought out a full set on the veranda: saddle, saddle blanket, harnessing tools, and lead ropes—everything needed for a horse—arranged complete. “Master, here are the saddle and reins,” he said. Tripitaka rejoiced to receive them. He told Sun Wukong to take them up to inspect them on the horse and see whether they would fit. Sun Wukong went forward and examined each item one by one. They truly were excellent pieces. A poem could stand as proof:

The carved saddle shimmered with color, silver stars mirrored in its glow. The padded saddle-tree was layered in plush; the reins were bound with three strands of purple silk. The bit and chin strap at the bridle-end opened like clustered blossoms; gold-painted cloud fan-work showed beasts that seemed to dance. Iron rings and links were well-smoothed from use, and two hanging tufts knotted like wet tassels of hair.

Sun Wukong secretly rejoiced in his heart, buckled the saddle and bridle onto the horse as if they had been measured and prepared exactly for this moment. Tripitaka offered thanks to the old man, who rushed forward and said, “My fear and my fear. Why need you give thanks?” The old fellow did not stay a moment longer. “Venerable Tripitaka, please mount,” he urged, and the monk came out and into the gateway and climbed onto the horse. Sun Wukong took up the baggage. The old man then drew another whip from his sleeve—a short piece with a fragrant canestring handle, its tassel knotted with tiger-sinew cord—and offered it with a respectful bow by the roadside: “Venerable monk, I still have a rein-lash to give you, this is sent with my farewell.” Tripitaka took it while still on the saddle: “I receive your alms; I receive your alms.”

They had scarcely begun to exchange courtesies when the old fellow had already vanished. When he looked back, the roadside shrine was merely an open patch of ground. Then from midair came a voice: “Venerable Tripitaka, forgive my tardiness. I am the mountain spirit and earth god of Mount Loka. At the Bodhisattva’s behest I have sent the saddle and bridle for you all. You must press onward to the West, and never grow sluggish even for a moment.” Flustered, Tripitaka dismounted in a rush and, looking to heaven, prostrated himself again and again: “My disciple is but a flesh-eyed mortal in a mundane body. I do not know your exalted countenance. I beg your pardon for my offense. Please convey my obeisance to the Bodhisattva, whose boundless grace has sheltered me.” He went on bowing to heaven and counting no measure of it. By the roadside, Sun Wukong, the Great Sage, could not help but laugh, for he was delighted with the Monkey King’s joy, and in he came to tug at Tripitaka’s sleeve: “Master, rise up. He has gone far already; he can neither hear your prayers nor see your prostrations. Why do you go on kneeling?” The elder replied, “Disciple, while I bow like this, you do not even bow to him once; you just stand aside and laugh. What sense does that make?” Sun Wukong said, “How can you know? A fellow like him, half-hidden and half-shown, ought to be beaten a good beating. Only for the sake of the Bodhisattva’s face I let him off; enough of that. How dare he receive my obeisance? Old Sun, from childhood, has been a true rough fellow and does not know how to bow to people. Even seeing the Jade Emperor and Laozi, I would only give a token nod.” Tripitaka said, “You are no true son of a house; do not talk such empty words. Rise now; do not lose time on the road.” Only then did the master rise, pack up, and go westward onward.

From then on, for two months the road was tranquil, and what they met were Luo Luo, Hui Hui, wolf-beasts, monstrous vermin, tigers and leopards. Time passed swiftly; it was already early spring. The hills and woods showed brocade-green hues, grass and trees sent up young shoots of green. Plum blossoms had all fallen, and willow eyes were just beginning to open. The trio traveled while roaming in the spring scenery, and then saw the sun falling in the west. Tripitaka pulled in the horse and gazed afar; within a fold of hills were dim tower silhouettes, heavy palatial roofs and halls. He asked, “Wukong, what place is that?” Wukong looked up and said, “Not a palace—it must be a monastery. Let us hurry. We can stay there for the night.” Tripitaka, pleased, agreed and, releasing the Longma, rushed straight forward.

In the end, it was still unknown what place they were heading toward. Listen in the next chapter for the full account of how it turned out.