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.

The Dharma-mastery is born from the heart, and it ends when the heart is extinguished. Birth and death are decided by whom? You must tell it apart for yourself. Since all is already one’s own heart, why heed another’s words? Only with hard effort can one wrench blood from iron. A woolen rope through the nostrils, pulling the knot tight in empty space. Tie it to the Tree of Non-Action, and do not let it lurch and worsen. Do not take the thief to be a son; let the heart teachings be utterly forgotten. Do not let him deceive me; I will strike once first with a single fist. The present mind is no-mind as well; then this manifest Dharma ceases too. When one sees neither man nor ox, the azure sky shines pure and bright. As round as the autumn moon, the two are hard to distinguish.

This verse reveals that Tripitaka had fully understood the Multitude-of-Minds Sūtra, and the gate had opened. The elder kept it constantly in recitation and remembrance, and a single gleam of sacred light shone through.

It was then that the three companions on the road ate the wind and slept by the waters, under moon and stars, and by then had reached the scorching days of early summer. Behold:

Flowers have faded; the butterflies move without feeling or care. The tall trees ring with the loud noise of cicadas. Wild silkworms have formed their cocoons and the pomegranate blazes bright; New lotus appears in the marsh.

That day, while they were on the way, dusk came suddenly, and beside the mountain path there appeared a village house. Tripitaka said, “Sun Wukong, look: the setting sun hides like a fire-mirror on the western hill, while the moon rises in the east as an ice wheel. It is lucky that there is a household by the road. Let us borrow lodging for one night and set out again in the morning.” Zhu Bajie said, “You are right. I, this old pig, am a little hungry too, so let us go to a house and beg some vegetarian fare; with that, we shall have strength to carry the packs.” Wukong said, “You sentimental home-lover—you have been away from home only a few days and already begin to complain.” Zhu Bajie said, “Brother, I am not like you, drinking the wind and smoking the incense. Since I’ve followed you all these days, I’ve swallowed almost half a belly of hunger. Can you understand that?” Tripitaka said, “Zhu Bajie, if your heart is still set on home, you are not one who has become a renunciant; go home.” The idiot, alarmed, knelt down: “Master, do not listen to my senior brother’s words. He may have some grievance buried in him. I have not complained at all, but he says I did. I am a fool of straightforwardness. I only said my belly was hungry and wished to seek a household for alms; he called me a homesick ghost. Master, I have taken the Bodhisattva vows and, through your compassion, have been allowed to attend on you to go west. I have no repentance in my vow. This is what is called enduring hard discipline through resentment. How can you say I am not one who has left home?” Tripitaka said, “If this is so, rise up.”

Then that fool sprang to his feet. He muttered continuously and, lifting the pack-frame on his shoulder, obeyed with all his heart and followed on. They came quickly to the front of the house by the roadside. Tripitaka dismounted; Wukong took the reins, and Zhu Bajie set down the load, and all three stood under the green shade. Tripitaka, leaning on his nine-ringed staff, adjusted the rattan-and-lichen raincape with a press of his hand, and hurried first to the gate. He saw an old man leaning askew against a bamboo bed, softly muttering Buddha’s name. Tripitaka, not daring to speak loudly, called gently, “Homeland benefactor, my respects.” The old man sprang up with a start, hurriedly straightened his robe hem and came out with courtesy: “Elder, my welcome was poor. From where do you come? Why come to my poor house?” Tripitaka said, “I am a poor monk from the Great Tang of the Eastern Land. I bear the holy edict and come from Leiyin to worship Buddha and seek the Sūtra. I arrived late in this precious hour and wished to borrow one night at your homestead. I beg you to permit it with convenience.” The old man waved his hand and shook his head: “You cannot go; to the West is no easy way to obtain a Scripture. If you seek scripture, go east instead.” Tripitaka was silent and fell into deep thought: “The Bodhisattva pointed westward, how can this old man bid me go east? Where in the east could there be a sūtra?” He stood, shy and tongue-tied, unable to answer for a while.

Yet Wukong’s disposition was naturally fierce and unruly. He could not bear it and stepped forward to shout: “Old man, for one so advanced in years you understand nothing at all. We are renunciants who came from afar seeking lodging; do not answer such dull words so fierce against me. Your house is indeed narrow and there is no room to sleep; we can sit under a tree and spend the night, not troubling you.” The old man caught at Tripitaka: “Master, you do not speak. But your disciple—his head twisted and jaw jutting, his mouth like Lei Gong’s, red eyes—he looks a leper-like demon. Why does he dare to rush and collide with this old man?” Wukong laughed: “You, old man, truly have no eye for men. As with a handsome fellow of no real substance, handsome to look at and not fit to eat. Though I, old Sun, am small, I am quite sturdy, skin wrapped round with cords of tendon.” The old man said, “You must have some arts.” Wukong said, “I do not dare to boast, but it passes my reckoning.” The old man asked, “Where is your home? Why did you shave your head and become a monk?” Wukong said, “Great-Sun’s ancestral home is the Water-curtain Cave on Flower-Fruit Mountain, in the Kingdom of Aolai to the east of the sea, in Dongsheng-continent. From childhood I learned to be a spirit-beast and was named Wukong. By skill I became the Great Sage Equal to Heaven. Because I would not obey Heaven’s decrees, I rose in rebellion against Heaven’s court and caused a calamity. Now the disaster is passed through, and I have turned to the robe of a monk, going west to seek true merit. To protect our Tang emperor’s disciple here on the road to worship Buddha in the West, why should mountain peaks and risky roads, wide waters and wild waves frighten me? I can catch monsters and subdue demons, pin tigers and seize dragons, kick Heaven and stir wells; I know a little of that sort. If in your house there is anything like hurling bricks, breaking tiles, pots and pans at the door, old Sun can still bring it to order.”

Hearing these words, the old man burst into laughter: “So you are a seasoned beggar-monk with a ready-tongued mouth.” Wukong said, “Your son is indeed a ready-tongued one. These days, because I have gone this far with my master, I have been too lazy to speak.” The old man said, “If you were not tired and not lazy to speak, you’d chatter and deafen me. Since you do have such powers, you may still go west. You may. How many of you are traveling with you? Come inside this thatched hut for the night.” Tripitaka said, “I am greatly indebted to the old benefactor for not driving us off. We are three companions.” The old man said, “Where is that group?” Wukong pointed: “This old man’s sight is weak; is that not the one standing under the shade?” The old man truly squinted, lifted his head to look closely, and when he saw Zhu Bajie’s face at close range he grew frightened, stumbling backward step by step before running inside in panic, crying out, “Close the gate! Close it! A demon has come!” Wukong caught up and restrained him: “Old man, do not be afraid. He is not a demon; he is my junior brother in Dharma.” Trembling, the old man said, “Very well, very well—each monk as ugly as the next.” Zhu Bajie came forward: “Old gentleman, if you judge by looks you miss the mark. We are ugly through and through, yes, but we are useful.”

The old man was still at the gate talking with the three monks when, to the south of the estate, two young men came with an old mother and three or four little boys and girls, clothing bundled up, bare-footed, returning from transplanting seedlings. Seeing a white horse and a carrying pole with luggage at his gate in uproar, they did not know what had happened and all pressed forward to ask: “What are you doing?” Zhu Bajie turned his head, slapped his ears a few times, and stretched his long muzzle. The people were so frightened they swayed and staggered, toppling and falling in all directions. Alarmed, Tripitaka called out repeatedly, “Do not fear, do not fear. We are not villains—we are monks on a journey for the scriptures.” Only then did the old man come out, supporting the old mother: “Old auntie, rise; do not be frightened. This master comes from the Tang dynasty. His disciple’s face is ugly, but he is fierce of look and gentle at heart. Bring the men and women and children in.” Then the mother was led along with the two youths and the children into the house.

Tripitaka nevertheless sat on the bamboo bed in the gatehouse and complained: “Disciple, both of you are ugly in face and rough in speech, and you frightened this household terribly. They are seven losses and eight harms, and you have made sins on my behalf.” Zhu Bajie said, “Not hiding anything from my master, old Pig has improved a good deal since following you. In former days at Gao’s Old Estate, if I sent my face forward one scoop and shook my ears from side to side, I would often frighten twenty to thirty people dead on the spot.” Wukong laughed: “You don’t blurt nonsense, and make your ugliness neat.” Tripitaka said, “You hear what Wukong says? A person’s appearance is innate; how do you ask him to tidy it?” Wukong said, “Put that spade-mouth in your bosom and do not bring it out. Put those fan-eared ears against your back and do not shake them. That is how he is made neat.” And Zhu Bajie truly put his mouth away and tucked his ears back, bowing his head, standing to either side. Wukong brought the luggage inside the gate and tied the white horse to a post.

Only then the old man brought a youth and a wooden tray, holding three cups of clear tea to offer. After tea, he had them begin the meal. The youth then brought an old table with holes and without varnish, placed two broken stools with split legs in the courtyard, and asked the three to sit in the cool place. Tripitaka asked, "Venerable, what is your surname?" The old man answered, "My surname is Wang." "How many children do you have?" he asked. "Two sons and three grandsons." Tripitaka said, "Congratulations, congratulations." Again he asked, "How many years has nature granted you?" "I am sixty-one," came the reply. Sun Wukong said, "Good, good, good. He has met the age of sixty again." Tripitaka asked once more, "Venerable, why did you say at first that the scriptures from the Western Heaven were difficult to obtain?" The old man answered, "The scriptures are not difficult to obtain; it is only that the road is perilous and hard to travel. From here westward is only about thirty li, a mountain called the Eight-Hundred-Li Yellow Wind Ridge, and there are many demons in that mountain. That is why I called it difficult. As for this young monastic of yours, they say he has many arts, yet he still can get through." Sun Wukong said, "No problem, no problem. With old Sun and me, your junior monk companion, no demon, whatever its kind, will dare to provoke me."

As they were speaking, the son came carrying the meal and set it upon the table, saying, "Please take your alms." Tripitaka, palms joined, began chanting the food-ritual verses. Zhu Bajie had already swallowed one bowl. Before Tripitaka had finished a few lines, that boor had eaten three bowls. Sun Wukong said, "That simpleton of a glutton must have run into a hungry ghost." Old Wang, sensing the matter well, saw him eat so fast and said, "This senior monk must be truly famished; quickly add more rice." Zhu Bajie truly had a huge appetite. He did not even raise his head and in one stretch ate nearly ten bowls. Tripitaka and Sun Wukong each ate less than two bowls. Zhu Bajie did not stop, and kept eating. Old Wang said, "In such haste there are no side dishes, I dare not press you on a heavy request. Please bring one more ladle." Tripitaka and Sun Wukong both said, "Enough." Zhu Bajie said, "Old man, why all this dithering? Who are you arguing with and talking about five yáo and six yáo? If there is rice, just keep bringing it." In one sitting he ate all the food prepared by the whole household, and he still claimed he was only half full. Only then did they put out the hearth, and under the gate pavilion they arranged a bamboo bed and boards for sleeping.

At daybreak the next morning, Sun Wukong shouldered up the horse and Zhu Bajie adjusted the shoulder-pole. Old Wang again told his mother to pack some pastries and soup and water for the road, and only then did the three offer thanks before leaving. The old man said, "If some unforeseen matter occurs on the road, you must return here to our thatched hut." Sun Wukong said, "Old man, no idle talk. We are ordained folk; we do not take to going back by another route." So he mounted the horse, lifted the load, and rode westward.

Alas! From this departure, indeed there was no good road toward the Western Lands, and surely evil spirits and demons would soon bring great calamity. The three had gone less than half a day when they met a high mountain, and it seemed exceedingly perilous. Tripitaka brought his horse to the cliff edge and peered obliquely; truly there was this:

Tall was the mountain; steep was the ridge. What rose was cliff, and the ravine was immeasurably deep. The spring resounded, and the flowers shone with color. That mountain: high though it was, its peak met the blue sky. This ravine: though deep, in its bottom one could glimpse the underworld. Before the mountain stood white-cloud masses like bones, and towering odd rocks held them fast; beyond count were cliffs that carried away souls by the thousand-zhang, ten-thousand-zhang drops. Behind the bluff lay a winding, coiling Cave of the Hiding Dragon, and within it rocks dripped with a ding-ding-dang sound. Elsewhere one saw antlered deer with odd, awkward gait, foolish-looking muntjac staring at people, red-scaled snakes winding in loops, and white-faced monkeys making rough sport. At dusk were mountain-tiger lairs and water-drakes that rose in morning surf like waves breaking from streams; when approaching their cave mouths came a loud lu-la-rattle. In the grass, birds burst up with drumming wings; in the woods, beasts scurried with snuffling strides. Suddenly a rush of wolf-snails passed, and people’s hearts thumped and trembled in fright. It was truly that: the cave-mouth ringing, the cave-mouth slanting; the cliff crashing, the mountain collapsing in echoes. The blue-green embankment was dyed like ten-thousand-zhang jade, green gauze covering heaps upon heaps of mist.

The master drew his silver dun to a slower pace, Sun Wukong, the Great Sage, let his clouds stand and walked, and Zhu Bajie, Wuneng, moved the load slowly. While they were still looking at that mountain, a sudden roaring whirl of wind broke out. Tripitaka, on the horse, was startled in heart and said, "Wukong, the wind has risen." Sun Wukong said, "What fear is there of this? This is only the four-season qi of Heaven and Earth." Tripitaka said, "This wind is very sinister; it is unlike the sky wind." Sun Wukong said, "How can you know it is unlike the sky wind?" Tripitaka said, "Look at this wind:

Vast and towering, surging and whirling, it rises in a wild sweep, Its emptiness stretches beyond measure, lifting into blue ether. Crossing the ridges one hears a thousand trees roar; entering the woods one sees ten thousand culms shake. On the banks, willows by the bank shake from root to top, and in the courtyards blossoms are blown, leaves driven in flight. Fishing boats with nets are tightly moored, and guest skiffs with their sails down have all cast anchors. Halfway along the road, messenger-men lose the path; in mountain groves, woodcutters cannot bear to carry their loads. In the groves of heavenly fruit, monkeys scatter; in thickets of strange blossoms, deer run in panic. Before the cliffs, fir and cypress tumble headlong; beneath the ravines, bamboo and rush leaves wither one by one. Dust from the disturbed earth spurts in grains, and river and sea are churned alike in huge, roaring waves. "

Zhu Bajie stepped forward and grabbed Sun Wukong. "Senior brother, the wind is truly fierce. Let us slip aside somewhere first." Sun Wukong laughed. "Brother, that will not do. If one hides whenever the wind is strong, and then happens to meet a demon face to face, what then?" Zhu Bajie said, "Brother, have you not heard, 'Avoid lust as you avoid enmity; avoid wind as you avoid arrows'? If we dodge a while, it is no loss to anyone." Sun Wukong said, "Do not speak yet; wait until I catch a fistful of this wind and smell it." Zhu Bajie laughed. "Brother, again you are making up empty claims and pulling my leg. Wind can be caught and smelled like that? Even if you could catch it, it would fly off through the holes anyway." Sun Wukong said, "Brother, you do not know that old Sun has a method to seize wind." The Great Sage let the gust pass over him, seized the tail of the wind and sniffed it. There was a fishy taint in it. He said, "Indeed it is not a good wind. The flavor of this wind is not that of a tiger wind. It must be a demon wind, and surely there is something strange in it."

Before he could finish, below the mountainside appeared a tiger with a mottled coat and tail tucked tight, hooves flying as it leaped out. Tripitaka was so startled that he lost balance in the saddle, fell from the white horse, and leaned by the roadside, truly like a soul about to fly away. Zhu Bajie dropped the baggage, drew his cleaver-and-spike cudgel, and would not allow Sun Wukong to advance first. He shouted, "Spawn of a demon, where do you think you’re going?" and rushed forward, striking at its head. The tiger rose straight up, lifted its left forepaw, clawed at its own chest, and with one slick scratch pulled off its skin so it stood upright by the roadside. You should see how terrifying it looked. Its form:

Its blood-warm, red-sheared body was naked beneath; its crimson-lustrous, bent limbs and limbs were knotted and fierce. Its two temple-blazes flared up in loose tufts, its hard, straight brows stood like two knives. Four white-steely fangs shone, and its two golden eyes flashed like fire. With proud, rising energy it roared, voice hard and mighty. Its deep-throated, vehement cry split the air. It shouted, "Wait, wait. I am not some other. I am the advanced vanguard on patrol for the Great King of the Yellow Wind. Under my king’s strict command, I patrol this mountain to seize a few ordinary men and make them for sacrificial wine. You who are monks, from where do you come that you dare use weapons against me?" Zhu Bajie shouted back, "You wretch! You do not recognize me. We are not mere passersby of the world. We are disciples of Tripitaka, the elder brother of Great Tang in the East, on imperial command to go west and pay Buddha for the sutras. Clear off to another side at once and give way so as not to frighten my master, and I will spare your life. If you rage on like this, one strike of my spade and you will be left without mercy!" The demon gave him no chance to continue. It rushed close, cast one blocker to catch him at the face. Zhu Bajie dodged, then swung his cleaver at it. The monster, with no weapon of its own, turned and ran; Zhu Bajie followed. At the base of the slope amid tangled rocks, it drew out two red-bronze sabers, raised them quickly, spun and faced him. The two fought back and forth at the front of the slope, charging and colliding as if in a gambling match.

Sun Wukong helped Tripitaka to his feet and said, "Master, do not be afraid. Sit still for now. Let old Sun assist Zhu Bajie and beat down that monster so we may go on." Tripitaka only then sat up, trembling, and in his mouth recited the "Heart Sutra of Great Mind"; no further details are needed.

Sun Wukong snatched up his iron rod and shouted, "Take him!" At this, Zhu Bajie recovered his spirit, and the monster fell back from the contest. Sun Wukong said, "Do not spare him; make sure you catch up." The two raised their spiked hammers and their iron staff and chased downhill together. The demon panicked and, using the Golden Cicada-shedding trick, rolled around, showing its true form and remaining a fierce tiger still. Sun Wukong and Zhu Bajie were not ones to let him go and chased the tiger, determined to cut its root and end it. When the beast saw them come very near, it once again clawed its own chest, tore off its skin, and draped it over a tiger-couching rock, then shed its true body and turned into a violent gust of wind, rushing back toward the path. Suddenly it saw Tripitaka still reciting the "Heart Sutra of Great Mind," grabbed him in that long wind, and snatched him away. Alas for Tripitaka: his destiny in the river of life is fated for many grindings and tribulations; in the gate of Nirvana, progress is hard.

That demon hauled Tripitaka to the cave entrance, held back the wild wind, and told the gatekeeper: "Go report to the king. The tiger vanguard has caught a monk and is waiting outside for your command." The cave chief transmitted the order and told them to bring him in. The tiger vanguard, with two red-copper daggers tucked into his waist, held Tripitaka in both hands and knelt before the king. "Great King, your humble little officer, by Lord Jun’s order, was patrolling the mountain when I happened upon a monk. He is Master Tripitaka of the Great Tang, going west to revere Buddha and seek the scriptures. I have captured him and brought him to you as a token to offer at your table," he said.

When the cave chief heard this, he was startled. "I have heard before from others that Master Tripitaka is the holy monk commissioned by the Great Tang court to fetch the scriptures; he has a disciple named Sun Wukong, with boundless powers and a mind of extraordinary wisdom. How could you have taken him?" the vanguard replied, "He has two disciples. The first wields a nine-pointed spiked mace, long-mouthed and big-eared; the other carries a Golden-Hooped Staff, and he has fire-eyes with golden pupils. While I was pursuing them, they were grappling with me. The younger one used the Golden Cicada-Reliquary trick, slipped away, and took this monk and brought him to offer you, a small gesture to mark our respect." The cave chief said, "Do not eat him yet." The vanguard said, "Whether to eat or not to eat, why call it a matter of small merit?" The cave chief said, "You do not understand. It would not matter if we eat him, but I only fear his two disciples may come and make trouble. Better tie him to the wind-binding stakes in the rear yard. After three or five days, if those two do not come to disturb us, then first we keep his body unblemished, and second we need not endure his cries. We can then, in no hurry, cook him by boiling, steaming, braising, or frying and enjoy him at our leisure." The vanguard was very pleased. "Your Majesty is far-sighted and far-reaching; your reasoning is sound," he said, and ordered, "You men, take him away."

Around him, seven or eight of the binding men came and took Tripitaka away, handling him like a hawk taking a sparrow, winding him in ropes. The monk was the wretched Tripitaka, in this misfortune thinking of his disciple Wuneng. He cried out, "My disciples! I do not know where you chased the demon on the mountain or where you subdued the spirits, and I have been taken by this evil head and suffered this poison. When will we meet again? How bitter this is! If only you had come sooner, my life might still have been saved; if you come too late, there will be no hope at all." While sighing and lamenting, he wept tears as if rain.

At that moment the Great Sage and Pigsy hurried the tiger down the mountain slope. They saw the tiger run and topple, falling in a collapse before the cliff. The Great Sage struck him hard with his staff, and the impact shook his own hand with pain. Pigsy then thrust a spiked cudgel, causing the iron teeth to fly up. It was merely tiger skin stretched over a lying tiger stone. The Great Sage cried out in alarm: "Something has gone wrong—something has gone badly! We have fallen for his trick too!" Pigsy said, "How has he tricked us?" The Great Sage said, "That is the Golden Cicada-Shedding trick: he covered the stone with tiger skin and escaped. We should return and check on our Master, or we may lose him by evil hands." They turned back quickly, only to find Tripitaka no longer there. The Great Sage shouted like thunder, "What now? Our Master has been taken!" Pigsy held the horse and said through tears, "Alas, alas! Where shall we search?" The Great Sage raised his head: "Do not weep, do not weep. One tear and your fighting edge is dulled. This mountain is all we have; let us search it through and through."

The two of them ran straight into the mountain, crossed ridges and scaled passes, and went on a long way until they saw below the cliffs a cave-lair rising from the rock. They studied it carefully and found it truly perilous, yet beautiful. The scene was:

Layered battlements of peaks in tiers; winding ancient ridges like old paths. Green pines and emerald bamboos leaned close together; willow and parasol trees drifted in soft green light. Strange boulders stood in pairs before the cliff; secret birds called in paired whispers within the woods. A distant ravine streamed and struck the cliff wall; tiny spring droplets spread over the sandy embankment. Wild clouds drifted in patches; heavenly grasses spread in delicate threads. Cunning foxes and sly rabbits darted in tangled flurries. Antlered deer and fragrant muntjacs stood in proud rivalry. Old vines hung slanting from split cliffs; thousand-year cypresses hung half over deep ravines. Lofty and grand, they seemed to outshine Huashan; falling blossoms and crying birds rivaled the terraces of heaven.

The Great Sage said, "Elder brother, you can leave the baggage in the hollow of Cangfeng Mountain, loosen the horses, and keep out of sight. I will go to that gate myself and take it as a wager fight with him. I must catch the demon first before we can rescue the Master." Pigsy said, "No need to instruct me. Please go at once."

The Great Sage adjusted his tight robe and tied his tiger-skin waist-wrap, drew his staff, and rushed to the gate. On the door were six large characters reading, "Huang-Feng Ridge, Huang-Feng Cave." He set himself in a T-stance, lifted his staff, and shouted in a loud voice, "Demon, send out my Master at once, else I shall overturn your nest and level your dwelling." The little demons, frightened, trembled and ran inside to report in unison, "Great King, disaster has struck." The Yellow-Wind demon, who was presiding there, asked, "What has happened?" One of them replied, "Outside the cave gate there is a monk with a face like a thunder-god’s bristled mouth, holding an iron staff as thick as a great tree trunk, demanding to be recognized as your monk." The cave lord, in alarm, immediately called for the tiger vanguard: "I told you to patrol and only bring back mountain cattle, wild boars, fat deer, and wild goats. Why did you bring a monk of Tang here and then invite his disciples to come and make this noise? How are we to handle this?" The vanguard replied, "Great King, do not worry. Rest easy and do not be anxious. Though I am but a small and unworthy officer, I can lead fifty young captains out there and bring that one called Sun Wukong in for you to taste." The cave lord said, "Besides the senior and junior captains, I have five to seven hundred junior officers. Choose as many as you like. As long as you seize that Wukong, we can then safely dine on the monk and I will even make you my brother. But if you fail to take him and instead injure yourself, do not come crying that I blamed you." The tiger demon said, "No fear, no fear. I will go."

Sure enough, he gathered fifty robust young demons, set the war drums and banners rocking, and came out through the gate with two red-copper blades in hand, shouting, "Who is this monkey monk from where, to make such loud noises here?" The Great Sage snapped back, "You stripskin beast! What sort of shell-shedding trick is this, in which you seized my Master and then ask who I am? Send my Master out at once, and your life may be spared." The tiger demon said, "Your Master is mine, to be a whole-course banquet for our king. Turn back, and if not, we will seize you and feed you too—why not buy one and spare two?" The Great Sage grew furious within, grinding his teeth together with a clacking cry. Fire-red eyes widened and burned. He drew forth his iron staff and roared, "What great arts have you? Dare you speak such words? Do not run. Face this cudgel." The vanguard swiftly raised his blade to meet it. This clash was no gentle matter. Both unleashed their strengths, and they fought to kill:

That monster was a true goose egg; Wukong was a goose-egg stone. The red-copper blade met the Beautiful Monkey King, like stacked eggs striking stone. How can a magpie contend with a phoenix? How would a turtle-dove dare challenge hawk or kite? The demon blew out wind-dust, filling the whole mountain; Wukong exhaled a fog of cloud to dim the sun. Back and forth they clashed three or five times without pause, and the vanguard’s waist grew weak and lost its strength. He turned, defeated, seeking to flee, but Wukong drove him hard to the point of death.

The tiger demon could no longer stand it and turned to run. Because he had spoken boldly before the cave lord, he did not dare to return indoors but fled up the mountain slope. The Great Sage was not one to release him; gripping the staff, he pursued with all his force, roaring and bellowing without cease until he reached the hollow of Cangfeng Mountain. There he looked up and saw Pigsy there with the horse. At the sound of the roar, Pigsy turned around and saw the tiger demon being driven hard; he dropped the horse, raised his spiked cudgel, and drove it diagonally into the back of the tiger. The poor vanguard tried to slip out by a yellow-silk net and tried to jump away, but he was met again by a fish-caging spirit. Pigsy’s one cudgel blow made nine fresh wounds, and blood poured out; his brain was drained dry. There is a poem to prove it:

For three or five years I returned to the true way, kept precepts in pure fasts, and awakened to true emptiness. With a sincere heart I sought to guard Master Tripitaka; this was the first merit of one who first shouldered the monk’s vows.

The pig stepped and pressed his foot on the demon’s back, then lifted both hands and struck again with his spiked cudgel. The Great Sage, seeing this, said with joy, "Brother, this is exactly it. He gathered a few dozen lesser demons to gamble with old Wukong and I beat him. He could not run back to the cave, so he came here to die. If you had not joined, he would have fled again." Pigsy asked, "Was it he who snatched the Master away with the wind spell?" The Great Sage said, "Yes, it was. This demon has the Master in the cave to serve as a dish for that monstrous king. Old Sun was angry and took this fight out here, and you saved my life by ending him. Brother, this merit is yours. Go back and keep watch of the horse and the luggage. Let me drag this dead tiger away, then I will return to that cave entrance to continue the battle. Only if we take that old demon can we truly rescue Master." Pigsy said, "You are right. You go, you go. If you defeat this old demon, come back here, and I will block him with my body and finish him."

Then the Great Sage, one hand gripping the iron staff and the other dragging the dead tiger by the body, went straight to the cave mouth. It is said:

A master in peril faces a demon; calm nature in harmony brings the chaos-demon to its knees.

After this we still do not yet know whether he will bring the demon under control and save Tripitaka. We shall hear the full resolution in the next chapter.