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.

Great Sage Sun Wukong had just bent his waist to spring off when he startled everyone at the Guanyin Abbey: all the abbots there, from the oldest to the youngest, along with the head monks, lucky boys, and wandering priests, one after another stood up facing Heaven, bowing and saying, "Elder, it is truly a holy one who rides the clouds and fog and descends to this world; how is it that fire could not injure him? Shame on that old skin-flayer who could not know people—today he himself has harmed himself." Tripitaka said, "Please stand up, everyone; do not resent this. If the kasaya robe is recovered, all will be settled. But if we cannot find it, my disciple has an ill-tempered nature; I do not know how your lives will turn out—perhaps not one of you will be spared." Hearing this, the monks, each with heart and gall growing cold, prayed and made vows to Heaven: if they found the robe, each life would be preserved; nothing more was said.

The story turns to the Great Sage. He rose into the air, twisted his waist once, and soon came to Black Wind Mountain. He settled among the clouds and looked closely: it truly was a fine mountain, and it was springtime as well. It appeared as follows:

Ten thousand ravines rushed in rivalry, a thousand cliffs contended in beauty. Birds cry, but no men are seen; fallen blossoms still perfume the trees. After rain, the sky stretches to the emerald cliffs, wet and gleaming; when the wind comes, pines roll and green screen-barricades spread. Mountain grass sprouts, wildflowers bloom, cliffs and crags stand steep and sheer. Ivy grows, fine trees glow, high ridges and broad slopes stretch in balance. No hidden recluse appears—where then to find a woodcutter? By the ravine’s edge two cranes drink; on the rocks, wild monkeys run wild. Towering heaps of dark-green ridges rise in coiled ranks; grand blue-green heights hold and play with the light of mist.

As the Sage was still admiring the landscape, he suddenly heard voices ahead on the fragrant-grass slope. He moved with light steps in stealth, slipped beneath a rock face, and peered in from below. It was three demons seated on the ground: foremost, a black-skinned brute; to the left, a Taoist priest; to the right, a white-robed elegant scholar. They were talking grandly together, speaking of setting cauldrons, fixing furnaces, kneading sand and refining cinnabar, of White-Snow and Yellow-Sprout teachings of the heterodox outer Way. Midway through, the black brute laughed and said, "Tomorrow is my mother’s day of mourning; the two gentlemen should both honor me with a visit." The white-robed scholar said, "Every year on the Great King’s birthday you and I have honored him together; how could there be no way this year?" The black brute said, "Last night I obtained a treasure called the Brocade-Bordered Buddha Robe. It is truly a fine item. Tomorrow I will use it for my birthday banquet, host a great feast, and invite mountain officials from all over to celebrate the robe—shall we call it a Buddha-Robe Festival?" The Taoist priest laughed, "Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful. Tomorrow I’ll come first to pay my respects on the birthday, and the next day I’ll attend the feast."

When the Sage heard him speak of a Buddha robe, he took it at once to be his own. Unable to restrain himself, he leapt from the cliff, lifted his Golden-Hooped Staff in both hands, and shouted, "You rogues and devils! You stole my kasaya and now talk of a Buddha-Robe festival? Return it at once to me!" He cried, "Do not run!" and swung the staff, striking one blow to the head. Startled, the black brute turned into wind and fled; the Taoist took to the clouds and ran. The white-robed youth was struck dead by one blow. Dragging it forward, the Sage found it was only a white-flower snake demon. He took it up and snapped it into five or seven pieces, then went straight into the deep mountain to look for that black brute. Passing sharp peaks and skimming steep ridges, he came again to a sheer cliff where a cave-hall rose up. It looked like this:

Mist and rosy cloud drifted faintly, all else dim and far; pines and cypresses stood thick and dense. The mists floated, filling the gate; pines and cypresses embraced the blue-green doors. A bridge crossed on withered cypress logs, and at the peak ivy wrapped about. Birds came from the cloud-gorge with red petals in their beaks; deer padded through fragrant thickets to a stone terrace. Green willows by the bank gave way to orioles, and beside the bank peach blossoms fluttered with powdery butterflies. Though the wild land has nothing to boast of, it outshines what lies beneath Mount Penglai.

When the Sage reached the doorway, he found both stone doors shut tight. Above stood a long stone slab carved plainly with six bold characters: "Black Wind Mountain, Black Wind Cave." He immediately raised the staff and cried, "Open the gate!" A small demon who tended the door came out and asked, "Who are you, that you dare strike my Immortal Cave?" The Sage abused him: "You miserable beast bringing ruin on yourself! What place is this that you call an Immortal Cave? Who told you to call it an immortal spot? Go right in and report to your black brute. Tell him to bring out my master's kasaya at once, and I may spare your whole nest of lives." The little demon hurried inside and reported: "Great King, the Buddha-Robe feast cannot be held. At the gate is a monkey monk with a thunderlike muzzle and matted hair come to claim the kasaya." The black brute who had been chased from the hillside had locked the gate and was not yet steady when seated; hearing this, he inwardly thought, "This fellow, I do not know where he has come from. Such impudence—how dare he storm my gate?" He ordered his armor put on, quickly strapping up, then taking down a spear with black tassel and stepping out. The Sage stood outside waiting. Wukong held the iron staff and watched closely. He saw the monster was truly menacing:

A blackened bowl-shaped iron helmet blazed with red lacquer, and black-gold armor shone in splendour. A black gauze cloak swaddled him to the wind-fluttered sleeves, with long black-green silk ribbons and tassels. In his hand he bore one black-tasselled spear; on his feet a pair of black-hide boots. His eyes flashed like lightning, and this was indeed the Black Wind King of the mountain.

The Sage laughed softly: "This fellow is just like someone at a burning kiln, a true charcoal-burner by trade, no different from a coal-maker by life—how did he come to be so black all over?" The monster barked, "What kind of monk are you, to dare to be so brazen here in my place?" The Sage took up the iron staff and came up before him, crying in one great roar, "No idle talk. Give back your old grandfather’s kasaya quickly." The monster said, "From which temple are you? Where did your kasaya fall that you come here to claim it?" The Sage said, "My kasaya had been left in the back Dharma Hall of the southern Monastery of Guanyin. In that place fire broke out, and when you caused the commotion you looted and stole it, preparing this Buddha-Robe celebration in your life to welcome your own birthday. How can you deny it? Return it quickly and you may keep your life. If you even utter a single, single word of refusal, I will overturn Black Wind Mountain, level Black Wind Cave flat, and grind every demon in this cave of yours into powdered grain."

The monster, hearing this, let out a cold laugh: "You insolent monkey! So that fire last night was yours after all, was it? You were the one wreaking havoc on the abbot’s roof, and I took a kasaya—you now ask for it as if to seize it. Where do you come from? What is your name? How great are your powers, that you speak so boastfully by the mouth?" The Sage replied, "You cannot even recognize your own great-grandfather. Your so-called old grandfather is Sun, surname Sun, disciple of the Monk Tripitaka from Great Tang; Master of Perfected Path, my name is Sun Wukong, the Great Traveler. If you ask about my powers, I will speak and your soul will scatter and die before your eyes." The monster said, "I do not know your arts. Speak them, and I will hear." The Sage laughed. "Stand firm, little son, and listen. I am as follows:

Since I was young, my spiritual skills were lofty; with the wind I changed forms and displayed prowess. I cultivated my nature and practiced true cultivation through sun and moon, leaping out of the cycle of rebirth to save my life. With one thread of sincere heart I once sought the Way; on Mount Lingtai I gathered healing herbs. On that mountain there was an old immortal elder, whose years were eighty-one thousand. Old Wukong took him as my master, and he showed me one road to long life. He told me that within the body lies the elixir; seeking it only outside is wasted labor. He transmitted the supreme heavenly immortal formula; without its root, one can scarcely endure. Turning back inner light to illumine the mind, I sat at peace; inside my body sun and moon turned to Kan and Li. In all things I thought of nothing, and all craving was set aside; the six senses became clear and the body was made firm. To grow old and then become young again can be done, and the path to transcend and become holy is not far. In three years, faultless, I formed a true immortal body, unlike ordinary folk who must suffer and burn away. Over the Ten Continents and the Three Islands I roamed, and circled sea corners and sky horizons once. I deserved to be over three hundred and more years old, and yet could not by that alone rise and fly to the highest ninth heavens. As treasure that subdued the Dragons when I went down to the sea, I gained the Golden-Hooped Staff. At Mount Flower-Fruit I commanded as lord; in Water-curtain Cave I assembled the demon host. The Jade Emperor issued decrees and proclaimed me equal to Heaven’s heights, the very summit in rank. Several times I stormed the Lingxiao Hall; more than once I stole peaches from Queen Mother of Heaven. Ten thousand heavenly soldiers came to subdue me, ranks and files tightly set with spears and blades. I drove them back, and the Heavenly King returned to the upper world; Nezha, in pain, fled leading his forces. The True Manifested Lord could transform, yet old Wukong still risked it all and made them fall. The Dao Ancestor, Guanyin, and the Jade Emperor watched from South Heaven Gate while I slew the demon host. Yet with Old Jun’s help I was taken; Erlang seized me and carried me to the Heavenly Courts. My body was bound to the demon-subduing pillar, and I was ordered for heavenly soldiers to decapitate me. Cut by swords and struck by hammers I could not be broken; then they even called lightning and fire to burn. Old Wukong truly had such arts; not one-half of a grain did I fear. He sent me to Old Jun’s crucible to be forged, where six divine Ding fires cooked me slow and hard. When the sun was full and the furnace opened, I leapt out and ran around the skies with my staff in hand. Wherever I moved, there was no barrier; I threw down havoc through all Thirty-three Heavens. The Buddha Tathagata brought down His law-power, and the Mountain of the Five Elements pinned my waist. It held me tight for a full five hundred years, until I luckily met Tripitaka from the Tang dynasty. Now I return in righteousness to the West, ascending to Leiyin to see the Jade-hued Buddha. Go and ask the four seas of heaven and earth, and ask of all ages—I am renowned as the foremost demon among the ages."

The demon heard and laughed: "So you are that Bimawen who made trouble in Heaven, are you?" The Great Sage hated being called Bimawen more than anything. Hearing those words, he grew furious and shouted, "You thieving fiend! You stole the robe and did not return it, and only wounded old Master. Do not run—fight me with the staff." The black man moved aside, drew a long spear, and came straight on. Their duel was fierce.

The Golden-Hooped Staff, black-sheer spear; the two at the cave-mouth displayed brute strength. With one split-face lunge and one strike that hit arm and crown. This one tossed the dark club broadside, that one thrust three spears in rapid succession. A white tiger scrambled up the slope to test its claws; a yellow dragon coiled in the road and turned in haste. They spat bright mist and flung rays of light; these two demon-sages could not be measured. One was the Great Sage who had corrected Heaven, the other a Great King-turned-demon, black as pitch. This mountain quarrel began only for one matter alone—the coveted robe.

The monster and Wukong fought more than ten rounds and neither gained the upper hand; slowly the sun climbed to noon. The black man held up his spear before the iron staff and said, "Sun Wukong, let’s both hold back. Let me eat first, then I’ll gamble with you in battle again." Wukong replied, "You villain, how dare you call yourself a man? A true fighter asks for food after half a day? I, Old Monk, have held down five hundred years under the mountain root and have not once had tea or water—why should I feel hungry now? No excuses. Do not run. Return my robe first, then go eat." The black man feinted with the spear and withdrew into the cave, barred the stone gate, gathered his lesser demons, and set up a banquet, wrote invitation slips, and invited demon kings from other peaks to celebrate together—no need to describe it further.

Wukong tried to force the gate but could not open it, so he had to return to Guanyin’s temple. The temple’s monks had already buried the old monk, and all were in the abbot’s hall attending Tripitaka. Morning liturgy had ended and the noon meal was already laid out. As they were adding broth and changing water, Wukong descended from the air. The monks saluted and welcomed him into the abbot hall to see Tripitaka. Tripitaka said, "Wukong, you have come—what of the robe?" Wukong said, "There is a reason. I had no ground to wrong these monks; it was that black demon of Black Wind Mountain who stole it. Old Sun sought him in secret and found him with a white-robed handsome scholar and an old daoist, talking before a grassy slope. It was a monster that declared itself outright. Suddenly he spoke: tomorrow is his mother’s mourning day; he was inviting evil spirits to hold his birthday, and by night he had obtained a brocade Buddha robe, planning a grand feast to celebrate the robe and calling it a robe-appreciation gathering. Old Sun rushed forward, struck once, and that black man dissolved into wind and fled; the daoist vanished too, while only the white-robed scholar was killed—he was a white-flower snake spirit turned to power. I hurried to his cave-mouth and called him out to settle it with me. He admitted that he had recovered it. We fought for half a day and still no winner. He went back into the cave and wanted to eat, then shut the stone gate and stayed in, unable to face another fight. I have brought this report to you now. Since we have the robe’s whereabouts, I am not afraid he will not return it."

All the monks heard this; those with palms joined joined them, those who knelt knelt, and everyone called out, "Namo Amitabha Buddha! Today we have found the location, and now only have we found life again." Wukong said, "Do not be too happy yet. I have not recovered it yet, and our Master has not left the monastery. Only when the robe is returned and I can send Master out in safety will you all find peace. If there is even the slightest oversight, old Sun is a rough master to provoke! Have you served my Master good tea and good meal? Have you fed the horse good fodder?" The monks answered with one voice, "Yes, yes, yes. Not even a grain of neglect has touched our treatment of Master." Tripitaka said, "Since you left for this half-day, I have had three rounds of tea and two alms meals; no one dared delay me. But you must still use your strength and bring back the robe." Wukong said, "No need to panic. Since we know where it is, we will surely seize this fellow and return the robe to its rightful owner. Rest easy, rest easy."

At that moment, the head monk of the upper compound prepared another vegetarian offering and invited Wukong to take his meal. He ate a bit, mounted his auspicious cloud, and went searching again. As he walked, a small demon came along the main road, pressing a rosewood box beneath his left arm. Wukong sensed the box must contain some written summons; he lifted his staff and in one sweep struck him. The blow was mercifully irresistible and made him tumble like a meat cake. He dragged the body to the roadside, opened the box, and indeed found an invitation. It read:

In service and reverence, Xiongpi kneels and offers deepest bows, submitting to Great Elder Danfang of the Golden Pool, Hall of the Elixir. Time and again you have bestowed grace; my gratitude is deep. To recover lost blessings in the dark is hard; once rescue failed and I suffered, yet surely the immortal craft has no other harm. By chance I have obtained one Buddha robe, and I wish to host a refined banquet with floral drinks and offerings, to be admired in clear esteem. When the time comes, by a thousand requests I beg you to come with your immortal conveyance and attend briefly. Respectfully submitted. Prepared in advance two days.

When Wukong saw it, he laughed aloud: "That old flayer will not be spared a single hair's worth of loss; he has surely allied himself with a demon spirit. No wonder he has lived two hundred and seventy years—surely that demon taught him some breathing formula and granted him this long life. Old Sun still remembers his face. I will turn into that monk and go into his cave to see where the robe is kept. If I can get it, I will take it back at once and save effort."

The Great Sage intoned the spell, turned with the wind in an instant, and truly became just like that old monk. He hid the staff, adjusted his stride, and came straight to the cave entrance calling, "Open the gate!" The small demon opened it; seeing this form, he hurriedly reported inside: "Great King, Elder Jinchi has arrived." The monster was greatly startled: "I had just sent a junior earlier to send him the summons; it is not yet time there, how could he come so quickly? It must be the little one failed to meet him; surely it is Wukong come to recover the robe. Manager! Hide the Buddha robe; do not let him see it."

Wukong entered the front gate and saw in the courtyard pines and bamboos interwoven with green, peach and plum competing in bloom, clusters of flowers opened and orchids scenting the air. It was, indeed, an abode of heavenly delight. He also saw a couplet above the two doors reading: "In stillness, hide deep in mountains without worldly care; in seclusion, a fairy cave delights in the truth of heaven." Wukong thought privately, "This fellow too is a spirit washed clean of dust and worldly dust, one who accepts his fate." He passed through the gates, entered the outer hall and then another until the third gate; all was carved beam and painted eaves, bright windows and colored doors. There stood the black giant dressed in a black-green felt tunic, with a dark-blue cloud-pattern silk mantle, a black-brimmed soft horn cap, and deer-skin soft-soled boots. Seeing Wukong enter, he adjusted his cloak and turban, descended the steps and greeted him: "Old friend of Jinchi, we have lacked a visit for many days. Please sit, please sit." Wukong offered greeting and courtesy. They sat, and then tea was served. After tea, the demon bowed and said, "I earlier sent a short summons: tomorrow we meet for a gathering. Why have you come today as though to see us now?" Wukong said, "I came in to pay respects and happened upon that matter on the road. Seeing there is a Buddha-robe banquet, I came at once and ask to have audience." The monster laughed. "Old friend, you are mistaken. This robe is Tripitaka’s. He stayed where you were and wore it here—did you not see? And yet you come to inspect it?" Wukong said, "I, a poor monk, only borrowed it; at night I had not yet unwrapped it, then Great King took it. Later we were in the ruined wild hills and lost our household goods in the fire. Tripitaka’s disciple is bold and fierce, so in the turmoil he searched every side and could not find it. Surely it came under your great fortune; therefore I have come to see for myself."

At that moment a patrol demon came running to report: "Great King, disaster! The junior who carried the invitation invite was struck dead by Wukong by the roadside. He held a folded script and changed form to become Elder Jinchi to trick the robe from you." The monster thought, "I already wondered how this elder could arrive so soon and so swiftly today; it must indeed be him." He leapt up, seized his spear, and charged at Wukong. Wukong tore free his club, revealed his true form, caught the spear-tip, and leapt out from the main hall. The fight surged from the courtyard to outside the front gate. The demons in the cave were terrified, all the old and young alike lost their soul of courage. This clash on the mountain was more terrible than before.

The monkey king, bold as a fake monk, this black man hid the Buddha robe in secret in his heart. In words and replies he was subtle and clever, changing with each moment and never missing the occasion. The robe was sought to be seen but could not be seen; this subtle treasure is wondrously profound. A small patrol demon announced the calamity; the old demon blazed with anger and showed divine might. Flipping back from the Black Wind Cave, spear and staff contended to distinguish right from wrong. Staff blocks long-spear; the clash rang clear, the spear met iron staff with bursting light. Wukong’s transformations are rare among humans; a demon with such sorcery is uncommon in the world. This one wants to celebrate to bring home the robe; that one will not willingly let the robe return. This bitter battle cannot be settled and cannot be separated; even a living Buddha descending in mortal form could not unwind this circle.

The two moved from the cave mouth up onto the ridgeline, and from the ridgeline above the clouds, spitting mist and exhaling wind, flying sand and rolling stones. They fought until the red sun sank to the west, no victor in sight. The monster said, "Sun, stay your hand. Evening is near and this cannot be held out now. Go on, go on—come at dawn tomorrow, and then we will decide who lives or dies." Wukong shouted back, "Boy, do not flee. If you wish to fight, fight like one who fights. You cannot set it off with the evening as excuse." Seeing him with neither head nor face, he kept striking with the staff. The black giant transformed into a wind-form, returned to his own cave, slammed the stone gate shut, and would not come out.

Sun Wukong had no good scheme to handle the matter, so he returned to Guanyin’s temple and dismounted from the cloud, calling, "Master." Tripitaka’s eyes were fixed on him with anxious hope; when he finally saw him before him, he was overjoyed. Yet when he noticed Wukong had no cassock in hand, he was again worried. "Why has the cassock still not come back this time?" he asked. Wukong took a small note from his sleeve and handed it to Tripitaka: "Master, that monster and this dead old peeled-skinned fellow were once friends. He sent this note through a small demon, inviting him to the Robe-Offering Gathering. So Wukong killed that small demon, took the form of that old monk, entered his cave, and fooled him into sharing a full measure of tea. When I asked him to show the cassock and hand it over, he would not take it out. While we were still seated, a mountain patrolman suddenly came running a wind-borne message, and he and I fought. We fought until dusk, with neither side above the other. Seeing the sky darken, he slipped away into the cave and fastened the stone gate shut. Wukong had no choice, so he returned for the moment." Tripitaka said, "How do your skills compare with his?" Wukong replied, "I am not much stronger either; it was only a fight to a standstill."

After Tripitaka read the note, he gave it to the abbott and said, "Can your master, perhaps, also be a demon spirit?" The abbott hurriedly knelt and said, "My lord, my master is a human. That Black Great King has cultivated the human path; he comes often to the temple to expound the sutras, and he taught my master some methods for nourishing spirit and regulating the breath, so they call each other friends." Wukong said, "This group of monks has no demon air at all. They all have round, broad heads and square feet, only plumper and taller than old Wukong. They are no demons. Look at the note: it says 'Shisheng Xiongbi'; this must be a black-bear spirit." Tripitaka said, "I have heard the ancients say: 'The bear and the ape are alike.' They are both beasts. How could this one become a demon?" Wukong laughed. "Wukong is also beast-kind; after becoming the Great Sage Equal to Heaven, what is the difference? In this world, anything with nine orifices can cultivate and become immortal." Tripitaka asked again, "You just said his skill was even with yours; how did you manage to prevail and recover my cassock?" Wukong said, "Do not mind, do not mind. I have a way to deal with him."

When the discussion ended, the monks served the evening meal and invited the master and disciples to eat. Tripitaka ordered the lamps to be lit and went to the front meditation hall to rest. All the monks slept leaning against wall and pillar, making rough shelters with blankets, each one settling down; only the rear hall was left for the abbots of the upper and lower courts. At that hour the night was still, and this was seen:

The Milky Way shows its reflection, and the jade firmament is without dust. The whole sky blazes with stars; a lone water-ripple’s trace draws inward. All sounds are stilled, a thousand hills hold no birdsong. At the brook the fisher-fires die away, on the pagoda the Buddha lamps grow dim. Last night the Dharma bells and drums rang, This evening only a single cry of weeping is heard.

That night they slept in the meditation hall. Tripitaka lay thinking of the cassock and could not rest. Suddenly he turned over and saw a pale light through the window; he rose in haste: "Wukong, dawn has come. Go quickly and find the cassock." Wukong leapt up in one bound. Seeing all the monks standing nearby, offering tea and hot water, Wukong said, "You all attend carefully to my master. Wukong is leaving now." Tripitaka got out of bed and held him: "Where are you going?" Wukong answered, "I think this whole affair is due to Guanyin Bodhisattva’s neglect. She has this monastery here, has accepted the household incense from these people, and yet allowed that black demon to live nearby. I will go to the Southern Sea and seek her, tell her to come herself, and have her demand the cassock back from the demon." Tripitaka asked, "If you go, when will you return?" Wukong said, "Soonest by the time of the morning meal, latest by noon. See that those monks attend on him properly. Wukong is off now."

In an instant he reached the Southern Sea, settled on a cloud, and looked about, and saw:

The vast sea spreads wide, its waters rising to the sky. Auspicious radiance wraps heaven and earth; blessed vapors illumine hill and river. A thousand folds of snowy waves roar toward the blue zenith; ten thousand layers of misty surge roll across bright daylight. Water flies in every direction, and waves thunder all around. Water flies in every direction, rolling with thunderous peals. Do not talk of the water’s force; look instead to the center. A hazy five-hued mountain of treasures rises, crimson, yellow, purple, black, green, and blue. There appears the true blessed realm of Guanyin: behold, the Southern Sea Mount Lopakha. A fine place—the peaks rise high, their summits piercing emptiness. In the middle are ten thousand kinds of strange flowers and a hundred kinds of auspicious grasses. The wind shakes jeweled trees; the sun lights the golden lotuses. Guanyin Hall has tile roofs of glazed porcelain; Tide-Voice Cave has doorways inlaid with tortoiseshell. In the shade of green willows parrots chatter; in the purple bamboo grove peacocks call. On veined stone stand the stern Dharma Guardians; before the agate bank stands a powerful wood-carrying guardian.

Wukong gazed at that wondrous scene only briefly, then went straight to the foot of the bamboo grove. Heaven’s attendants were already waiting and said, "Bodhisattva recently declared before everyone that the Great Sage had returned to virtue, and this has been much praised. You are now protecting Tripitaka—how could you have come here with time to spare?" Wukong said, "Because of guarding Tripitaka, we met trouble on the road, so I have come to report this to Bodhisattva directly." The attendants went to the cave entrance and reported; Guanyin summoned him in. Wukong followed the ritual and went down to the Precious Lotus Terrace and bowed. Guanyin asked, "Why have you come?" Wukong said, "Master, on Tripitaka’s road he encountered Your nuns' temple. You have accepted worldly incense there and let a black-bear spirit live near it. It made him steal my master’s cassock, and though he repeatedly asked I have not let me have it. I have come now to ask that it be returned." Guanyin said, "Monkey, your words are disorderly. Since the bear spirit stole your cassock, why do you come to me to reclaim it? It is you, this ill-fated monkey, who flaunted a treasure, let petty folk behold it, then turned violent, called wind and fire, burned my Liuyun Lower Courtyard, and then came to me to make mischief." Wukong, seeing that Bodhisattva spoke as one who knew past and future, hurriedly bowed: "Bodhisattva, forgive this disciple’s fault; certainly it is as you say. Yet since that demon refused to give up the cassock, and my master must recite the spell as well, Wukong cannot bear the ache in his head and so came to beseech you. By your compassion, help me take that demon and bring back the robe to continue westward." Guanyin replied, "That demon has many powers, though not less than yours. Very well, I will go with you and see for myself, for the sake of Tripitaka’s face." Wukong thanked her and bowed again. Then he invited the Bodhisattva out, and together they rode the auspicious cloud, quickly arriving at Black-Wind Mountain, descending from the cloud and searching the way for the cave.

As they walked, there appeared ahead on the slope a Daoist carrying a glass tray, within which sat two pills of immortality, walking straight forward. Wukong collided with him full in the chest, drew out his staff, and struck him once on the head, so blood and brain burst from his skull and mouth. Guanyin was greatly startled: "Monkey, you are as unruly as ever. He did not steal your cassock, he did not know you, and he had no grudge with you. How could you kill him?" Wukong said, "Bodhisattva, you cannot identify him. He is a friend of that black-bear spirit. Yesterday he sat talking with a white-robed scholar on Fragrant-Grass Slope. The day after tomorrow is the demon's birthday, when he has invited them all to celebrate the Robe Ceremony. Today he came first to pay birthday tribute; tomorrow he will attend the robe rite. So I know this is the one who came today on the demon’s behalf." Guanyin said, "If this is all, then it is enough." Wukong then lifted up that Daoist to inspect him and found it was a grey wolf. Beneath the tray were carved four characters: "Made by Lingxuzi."

Wukong laughed: "Fortune indeed; fortune indeed. This helps old Sun and spares the Bodhisattva toil. This fiend essentially confesses on its own and gives us an opening." Guanyin said, "Wukong, how is this to be explained?" Wukong said, "I have a saying, Bodhisattva: 'When you have a plan, use the enemy’s plan against him.' I wonder if Bodhisattva will follow my device?" Guanyin said, "Speak." Wukong replied, "Bodhisattva, these two elixirs in the tray are our tokens to the demon; and the four words carved on its back, 'Made by Lingxuzi,' are the tag that links us to him. If Bodhisattva agrees to follow me, I can make this whole affair a scheme and no weapons need be raised, no campaign fought—the demon is ripe for this now, and the cassock will appear before us. If Bodhisattva does not agree, then Bodhisattva goes west, Wukong goes east; Tripitaka will only be left empty-handed." Guanyin smiled, "This monkey is a sly-tongued one." Wukong said, "No audacity; it is merely a plan." Guanyin asked, "How is your plan arranged?" Wukong said, "The words 'Made by Lingxuzi' on the tray mean the Daoist is called Lingxuzi. If Bodhisattva follows me, she should become that Daoist. I will eat one of these pills and transform, taking one size larger. Then Bodhisattva should hold this tray with both pills and go to the demon to offer birthday homage, giving the larger pill to the demon. When the demon swallows it at once, old Sun will then move in and handle it from inside. If he refuses to hand over the cassock, Wukong will tear out an inner robe from his own gut at once." Bodhisattva had no way around it and could only nod assent. Wukong smiled, "How does that sound?"

At that moment the Bodhisattva, through vast compassion, immeasurable Dharma power, and a myriad forms, with mind joining intention and intention joining body, in a moment of seeming apparition, became the Immortal Lingxu:

The saintly wind of a crane-lined robe sighs, and she drifts as though stepping into the void. Old as pine and cypress is her face; her beauty is beyond the ages. She goes and goes and yet never stays; the suchness of thusness is ever apart in itself. All in the end returns to one Dharma; only the impure body stands apart in opposition. Wukong looked and said, “Wondrous! Wondrous! Still a demon-god, or still a bodhisattva in demon form?” The Bodhisattva laughed: “Wukong, bodhisattva and demon are one thought; in their original nature they are both without any fixed being.” Wukong understood at once. He turned and changed into a tiny immortal pill: Motionless on the rotating plate, round and bright, with no edge to hold. Three-three and hooked-leakages join; six-six, the old master does not yet count it. The golden flame turns pale-yellow as it burns; the Buddha’s white daylight-glow appears. Outside are lead and mercury, not to be measured by easy reckoning.

Wukong changed into that pill, but it remained a little larger than before. The Bodhisattva, certain in his mind, took the glass tray and went straight to the demon-cave gate, and what he saw truly was:

The cliffs are deep, the caves perilous, clouds rising upon the ridges; pines and cypress dark-green, with wind hissing through the woods. Deep ravines and dangerous caves: truly a place where evil spirits lurk, where mortal folk are few. Dark pines and bright cypress also suit true immortals who live apart in withdrawn ways. There are ravines in the mountain and springs in the ravine; rippling water sings softly like a muted zither, enough to cleanse the ear. There are deer upon the cliff and cranes in the woods; in the lone recesses subtle celestial tones stir, also fit to delight the heart. Here a demon-immortal has a destined share of descending to Bodhi, and a vast, immeasurable vow of compassion hangs down in pity.

The Bodhisattva looked and inwardly rejoiced, saying, “Though this wayward beast has occupied this mountain cave, it still bears some trace of the Way.” Already in his heart he had grown compassionate.

When they reached the cave entrance, all the small demons guarding it seemed to recognize him, crying, “Lingxu Immortal has at last arrived,” and summoning him inward as he was led in. One demon had already come out to the gate and said, “Lingxu, what grace that your immortal chariot has come to honor us; this poor dwelling is lit with splendor.” The Bodhisattva said, “This humble Taoist presents one immortal pill; may Your Majesty receive long life of a thousand years.” After the two had knelt and bowed, they sat, then spoke of what had happened the previous day. The Bodhisattva did not respond in turn, but quickly lifted the pill tray and said, “Great King, first see my poor wish.” He set aside one large pill and handed it to the demon: “May the Great King live for a thousand years.” The demon also pushed a pill toward him and gave it to the Bodhisattva, saying, “May it be shared together with Lingxu’s Master.” After the exchange, when the demon tried to swallow, the medicine rolled down by itself smoothly. His true form appeared; he lurched and rolled to the ground. The Bodhisattva returned to his true form and asked the demon to bring a Buddha robe. Wukong had already left by the Bodhisattva’s nostril. The Bodhisattva, fearing the demon might be disrespectful, hurled a hoop onto his head. He rose and picked up his spear to stab. But Wukong and the Bodhisattva had already taken to the air and were chanting the true mantra. The monster still had an unbearable headache in his skull; he threw down the spear and rolled wildly on the ground. In midair the handsome Monkey King laughed, while on the ground he had rolled the black-bear demon about in ruin.

The Bodhisattva said, “Wicked beast, can you take refuge now?” The monster replied with his mouth full, “I have a heart to take refuge; I only beg that you spare my life.” Wukong, fearing delay, wanted to strike at once. The Bodhisattva quickly stopped him: “Do not injure his life; I have use for him elsewhere.” Wukong said, “A monster like this—if we do not kill him, where could he be of any use?” The Bodhisattva said, “Behind my Luojia Mountain there is no one to watch. I will take him to be a Great Guardian of the Mountain.” Wukong laughed: “Surely you are a compassion-bright savior who never harms a single spirit. If this old Sun had such a spell, I could recite it a thousand times by his mother’s name, and all these black bears would be taught a lesson.” The monster had lain insensible for so long and could not endure the righteous pain; he could only kneel in the dust and plead, “Spare my life, and I will return to the right fruit.” The Bodhisattva at once descended with auspicious light and, touching his head in turn, bestowed the precepts, then told him to take up the long spear and follow at one side. The black bear’s one wildness for this day was set, and his endless perversity was then brought to stillness.

The Bodhisattva instructed, “Wukong, go home now. Serve Master Tang well, and hereafter do not be lazy and bring trouble.” Wukong said, “Deeply moved by the Bodhisattva’s far journey here, your disciple should send you off with homage.” The Bodhisattva said, “No need.” Wukong then lifted the kasaya robe, knelt and gave his farewell. The Bodhisattva also took the bear-beast with him and turned back toward the Great Sea. This is proved by a verse:

The holy radiance hangs in hazy gold, a thousand lights in variegated brilliance, truly worthy of praise. He saves all people of the world, bending down in pity, and throughout the Dharma realm he manifests the golden lotus. Coming now, he comes mostly to carry the mission of transmitting the Sutra; leaving, there remains no flaw or blemish in his course. The subdued demon made true and returned to the Great Sea, and the empty gate regained its brocade kasaya once more.

At this point it is not yet known what happens next; listen, then, for the unfolding of the next chapter.