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.

Now it is told that the fifty wretched, broken little demons, carrying broken banners and broken drums, barreled into the cave and announced: “Great King, Tiger Vanguard could not stand up against that hairy-faced monk; he chased him back down the Eastern Slope.” Hearing it, the old demon grew exceedingly troubled. He sat with his head bowed, silent and thinking of a plan; then a little demon from the front gate called out, “Great King, Tiger Vanguard was struck down by that hairy-faced monk and dragged to the gate while cursing him.” When the old demon heard this, he grew even more distressed: “This wretch too is ignorant. I did not even eat his teacher. He turned and slew my house’s vanguard—detestable! detestable!” he said. “Bring out my armor. I have only heard stories about this Sun Wukong. Let me go out and see what kind of nine-head, eight-tail monk this is; bring him in, and let him meet my Tiger Vanguard in a life-death match.” The young demons quickly brought out the armor. The old demon finished his gear, lifted a three-pronged steel fork, and, leading his band of demons, leapt out of the cave.

The Great Sage stood outside the gate and saw the demon coming out. He looked truly fierce and valiant. See how he was arrayed:

A golden helm flashed in the sun, and a gold cuirass held the light. On the helm, a fluttering ribbon and a mountain-pheasant tail-trail swayed; a gauze robe covered the armor in a pale goose-yellow. The laced cuirass, coiled like a dragon, glittered with color; a heart-guarding mirror circled his eyes in radiant brilliance. His boots were of deer hide, dyed with flower-bark dye; his brocade skirt and willow-leaf velvet were finely set. In his hand he held a three-pronged steel trident, sharp as a fang. He was no less than the eminent holy heroes of old.

When the old demon came out, he roared, “Who is Sun Wukong?” The Wukong there, wearing a tiger-skin foot-gear and gripping his iron staff as a wish-granting wand, answered: “Your Grandsire Sun Wukong is here. Send out my Master.” The demon examined him closely, saw the Sage’s body was plain, his face gaunt and lean, less than four chi tall. He laughed: “Alas, alas. I had supposed you were some untoppled heroic brute, and yet you are such a skeleton-like sickly ghost.” The Sage laughed: “You whelp, you have no eye for men. Though my Grandsire is but small, if you dare to strike the trident-head at my crown, I’ll grow three chi higher.” The demon said: “You go on with a hard head—take one strike of mine.” The Great Sage showed no fear. The demon indeed struck once. He bent his waist and in an instant his stature lengthened three chi, off by about a full zhang. Startled, the demon lowered his fork and cried, “Sun Wukong, why do you use that body-guarding transformation in front of my gate? Don’t fuss with trickery—come up here, and I’ll see your methods face to face.” The Sage replied: “Whelp, there is an old saying: ‘If one keeps pity, do not raise one’s hand; once one raises it, do not spare.’ My grandfather’s staff hand is heavy and hard—I doubt you can stand this one blow.” The demon gave no room to speak, spun his trident and aimed straight at the Sage’s chest; but the Great Sage was quick both in knowing and speed, not clumsy though the master’s work is difficult, and easy in the work of family. He cleared with the iron staff, used the “Wulong Soaring Through Earth” stance, warded off the trident, and then struck at the crown. At the mouth of the Hwangfeng Cave, this was a fine slaughter:

The demon king flared with rage; the Great Sage displayed majesty. The demon king raged to seize the Sage against the vanguard; the Great Sage wrought power to seize the spirit and save the Elder. A fork met staff and staff answered fork. One was the all-commanding marshal of the mountain-gates, one the protector monkey king. At first all was dust-thick battle, then each moved to the center. He pointed the steel fork, sharp and keen; the 如意棒, black-crowned and golden-yellow. One thrust and a spirit went to the Court of the Dead; one strike and he would have met Yama. All depended on hand-speed and keen eyes, for strength of arm and body was required. The two sides fought as if forgetting life itself, and none could tell who was safe and who was wounded.

The old demon and the Great Sage fought for thirty exchanges and neither gained victory. The Sage then sought achievement and used the art of “body outside the body”: he plucked a clump of his hairs, chewed them to powder in his mouth, spat it upward, and cried, “Transform!” and transformed into a hundred and ten Sun Wukongs, all dressed alike, each holding an iron staff, surrounding the monster in midair. The demon grew afraid, and used an equal art: he sprang back, faced the ground, set his mouth wide open three times, and let out one breath. Instantly, a blast of yellow wind rose from nowhere in the sky. The gale was truly dreadful:

Cold, cold and wheeling, the whole world went strange; form and shadow fled in whirling yellow sand. It cut through groves and bent ridges, knocking pine and plum aside; it heaped dirt and hurled dust that split crags and embankments. Yellow River swells were dashed to the core, mingling into wild torrents like a whole shore in upheaval. The emerald heavens shook; the constellations of Dipper and Ox reeled; palaces of cosmic regiments swayed as if to fall. Five hundred Arhats clamored in the sky; Eight Great Vajras roared in disorder. Manjushri lost his blue-maned lion; Samantabhadra’s white elephant was hard to find. Zhenwu’s tortoise and serpent-spirits lost their ranks; the zitong mule’s saddle-straps flew off. Travellers’ cries shook heaven as they called out vows; officials in the market-hills sought every promised boon. Smoke and wave made life itself a flood; fame and profit-souls, ruined, drifted away in the waters. Celestial peaks and mountain caves went black and dim; islands of seas and immortal isles were dark as dusk. Laojun could not tend his alchemical furnace; the Star of Longevity folded up his dragon-whisk fan. The Queen Mother set out for the Peaches of Immortality, but one wind untied her skirt and loosened her waist-belt. Erlang lost his way of a whole Ganzu city; Nezha could not retrieve the sword from its casket. The Heavenly King could not see the palm-tower; Lu Ban had his golden drill suspended. Leiyin Pagoda collapsed in three tiers; the stone bridge of Zhaozhou split in two. A red sun turned without radiance; the host of stars across the sky grew dim and disordered. Birds of the South Mountain flew to the North Mountain; water of East Lake overflowed into West Lake. Male and female parted, no longer calling one another; mother and child, separated, could not cry out. Dragon-kings searched every sea for yakṣa; Thunder Lord ran here and there hunting lightning-flash. The tenth Yama sought his adjudicators; beneath the earth, Ox-Head pursued Horse-Face. This wind blew down Putuo Mountain, and even sent Guanyin’s Sutra rolling up from the shore. A white lotus rose and flew from the sea’s edge, and twelve halls of bodhisattvas were toppled by its gust. Pangū, to this day, has seen wind before, but none as inauspicious as this. Whu-la-la! Heaven and earth seemed in peril, as if cracking and caving apart; ten thousand leagues of river and land all shook.

The demon’s furious cyclone swept through, making the Little Master’s miniature Sun Wukongs of hair spin in midair like a spinning-wheel of thread. They could not seize a staff and had no way to gather their bodies together. In alarm, the Sage twitched his hairs and drew his form back in. Alone, he raised his staff and advanced to strike. Yet the demon split open his face and blasted another mouthful of yellow wind, rubbing both fire-eyes of his golden pupils shut so tightly he could not open them. Thus he could not use the staff and withdrew from the field in defeat. The demon gathered the wind and returned to the cave; this was not worth further recording.

Pigsy, meanwhile, saw the wild yellow wind rise and the heavens darken. He held the horse, guarded the shoulder pole, and lay in a hollow of the mountain, neither daring to open his eyes nor to lift his head, endlessly chanting Buddha’s name and making vows. He did not know how the Sage’s bout had gone, nor whether the Master still lived. As he stood in this anxious wondering, the wind suddenly settled and the sky cleared. He looked up toward the cave-mouth and saw no soldiers, no drums, no gongs. The pig-idiot dared not ascend the gate, and no one was there to watch horse and baggage; truly he was trapped both ways, sorrowful and alarmed. In that worry he heard Sun Wukong shout from the west, and only then did he incline his body and greet him: “Brother, what a gale! From where did you come?”

The Sage waved his hand: “Terrible! Terrible! I, old Sun, as I know humans, have never seen wind like this. That old demon wielded a three-pronged steel fork and fought me. We had fought over thirty rounds; the Sage used a trick of ‘body outside body’ and surrounded him. He grew frantic and so brought out this wind. It was truly savage, nearly tore me from my stance; I recalled my arts, then fled through it. Ha! What a wind! What a wind! Even I can summon wind and call rain, but I’ve never seen wind this evil.”

Pigsy said, “Senior Brother, how fine is that demon’s martial skill?”

The Sage said, “He is capable enough to be seen through. His fork-form is neat indeed, and we exchanged blows evenly. But it was the wind that was so ferocious; it is hard to defeat him.”

Pigsy asked, “So how can we save the Master?”

The Sage answered, “As for saving the Master, wait and see after we find a moment. I wonder if there is any eye-doctor around here—have him cure mine.”

Pigsy said, “How are your eyes?”

The Sage said, “That demon breathed one blast of wind at me and left my eyes sore and acidic; cold tears run from them this moment.”

Pigsy said, “Brother, it is already late on the lower mountain, and it is nightfall again. Don’t speak of eye doctors—there’s not even a night shelter.”

The Sage replied, “For shelter there is no difficulty. I judge this demon does not yet dare to harm our Master. Let us go to the main road and find a household for the night; after this one night, when dawn comes, we shall return and subdue the demon.”

Pigsy nodded: “Exactly, exactly.”

He led out the horse and shouldered the pole, came up from the mountain hollow, and went to the road’s edge. By then dusk deepened. From below, on the south slope, dogs began to bark. The two stopped to look, and there was a manor house, dim with scattered lights. The two did not concern themselves with whether there was a road or not; they brushed through the grasses and came straight to the gate. There they beheld:

Purple lichens spread thickly; white stones lay sallow and grey. Purple lichens thick upon the grass; white stones grey-green with half-green moss. A few tiny lantern-fire fireflies flashed, while a grove of wild trees stood rank and close. Fragrant orchids filled the air, and young bamboos had just been planted. Clear springs ran through winding gullies; ancient cypresses leaned against deep cliffs. The place was secluded and no visitors came. At the gate, only wildflowers bloomed in the dark.

They did not dare to enter uninvited, so they could only shout once: “Open the gate, open the gate!” There was an old man there, followed by several young farmers with hoes and brooms, all arriving together, and he asked, “Who’s there? Who’s there?” Sun Wukong bowed and said, “We are disciples of Tripitaka, the holy monk of the Great Tang in the Eastern Land. We are going west to bow to Buddha and seek the scriptures. We passed this mountain, and the Yellow Wind King carried off our master; we have not yet rescued him. Night has fallen, so we have come to your dwelling to borrow one night’s lodging and beg you to make it convenient.” The old man replied, “Do forgive us, do forgive us. This is a place with few people and many who are unknown. We have just heard a cry at the gate, so we feared fox spirits, tigers, and mountain brigands of that sort; these rustic lads are simple and unruly and may have rushed at strangers. We did not know you were both elders. Come in, come in.”

His companions brought in the horses and burdens and went straight inside, then tied the horses and set down the poles, and paid their respects to Old Zhuang and sat to exchange courtesies. A dark-headed servant then brought tea. After tea, several bowls of sesame rice porridge were set before them. When the meal was finished, he ordered bedding prepared for the night. Sun Wukong said, “I can stay awake if needed. May I ask, good sir, is there any eye medicine for sale here?” The old man asked, “Which of you elders has an eye ailment?” Wukong said, “To speak plainly, old man, we ordained folk have never been sick from childhood and have never known what it means to have an eye illness.” The old man said, “If you do not suffer eye pain, why ask for medicine?” Wukong said, “Today at the mouth of Yellow Wind Cave, while rescuing our master, that monster suddenly blew one gust of wind at us. The wind made my eyes burn and ache; now I am all watery-eyed, so I seek eye medicine.” The old man said, “Excellent, excellent! You, this elder, so young in years, how can you lie? That Yellow Wind King’s wind is most harmful. His wind is not to be compared with any spring-and-autumn wind, pine-and-bamboo wind, or any east, west, south, and north wind…” Bajie said, “Perhaps it is clasping-head wind, sheep-ear wind, hemp-wind, or crooked-tail wind?” The elder said, “No, no. It is called the Samadhi Divine Wind.” Wukong said, “How do you know that?” The old man said, “That wind can darken heaven and earth, makes ghosts and spirits grieve, splits rocks and makes cliffs fall. When it blows on a person, life departs at once. If you meet such a gust, do you think you can still live? Only immortals can pass through unharmed.” Wukong said, “Indeed, indeed. Though we are not immortals, even immortals are my juniors. This life is not easy to give up, yet it has made only my eyes ache.” The old man said, “Then by this account you are someone with a past. In this poor place I have no eye medicine to sell. But this old man, too, once suffered wind-cold tears in my eyes; long ago I met a strange man and learned one prescription, called Three-Flower Nine-Child Ointment, which can treat all wind-eye disorders.” Wukong, hearing this, nodded his head and said, “I would take some to try.” The old man agreed. He went inside and brought out a small agate jar, untied its seal, and with a jade hairpin drew out a little medicine, applying some to Wukong. He told him not to open his eyes and to lie calmly and sleep; by morning it would be fine. When done, he took back the stone jar and led the young lads back inside.

Bajie unpacked their bundles, spread the bedding, and made arrangements for Wukong to lie down. Wukong sat with his eyes closed, fumbling about. Bajie laughed and said, “Master, where is your bright staff?” Wukong said, “You dolt of a slow fool, why do you treat me as a blind man?” The fool chuckled softly and went to sleep. Wukong sat on the bedding, moved his inner energy through the circulatory arts, and only after the third watch did he finally sleep.

Without noticing, it was already near dawn of the fifth watch. Wukong wiped his face, opened his eyes, and said, “Truly good medicine—far clearer than usual.” Then he looked back over his shoulder. Ah! There was no house, no doorway, no windows there; only old locusts and tall willows, while the brothers were all sleeping on the green grassy mat. Bajie woke and said, “Brother, what is it that you’re crying out for?” Wukong said, “Open your eyes and look.” The fool raised his head at once. Seeing that the place was empty, he panicked and scrambled up saying, “Where is my horse?” Wukong said, “Is it not tied to the tree?” “Where are the luggage?” Wukong said, “Isn’t it by your head?” Bajie said, “The people here are so lazy that they moved it away; how could they do it without calling out to us? If the village head had known, he might have brought us some tea and fruit. It seems they feared we were looking for a proper household, so he must have moved everything away in the night. Alas! We have slept like dead men. How could they tear down his house and not hear even the smallest sound?” Wukong took a small breath and smiled. “Baji, do not make a fuss. Look there on the tree, what is that paper slip?” Bajie moved forward and peeled it off. It said four lines:

This is no mere house of mundane men; a Dharma-protecting shrine, a hermitage of conversion. This wondrous remedy cures your aching eyes; with all your heart, subdue the demon and hesitate no longer.

Wukong said, “That band of fierce spirits, after changing themselves into a Dragon-Horse form, had never summoned him. Yet now he comes back playing false and pretending innocence.” Bajie said, “Brother, do not put on airs. How did he mark your tally?” Wukong said, “Brother, you still do not understand. The Protective Dharma Hall, the Six Ding and Six Jia, the Five-direction Jiedi, and the Four Duty Magistrates, by command of the Bodhisattva, secretly protect my master. Since the day I made my declaration, it has only been since you appeared that I have used them, so I never had occasion to brand a summons.” Bajie said, “Brother, since he is guarding our master under the law and keeping it hidden, he cannot show himself plainly. That is why he transformed this shrine. Do not blame him. Yesterday he not only gave you eye medicine, and he also hosted us for a vegetarian meal, which could indeed be called a full display of care. Do not blame him. Let us go rescue the master now.” Wukong said, “What you say is right. From here to the mouth of Yellow Wind Cave is not far. You should not set out yet; stay in the grove and watch the horses and the baggage. I will go into the cave and inquire about our master’s condition, then contend with him.” Bajie said, “Exactly so. We need to secure firm certainty of life or death. If the master has died, each of us can then know how to proceed with his fate; if he has not died, we will all exert ourselves and apply our hearts.” Wukong said, “Do not speak wildly; I am going.”

He sprang up in one bound and went straight to his gate, but the door was still shut and closed for sleep. Wukong did not call out at the gate, and he did not wish to rouse the demons. Twirling the secret formula, he chanted a spell and transformed himself. His form became that of a small, elegant mosquito with mottled legs. As a proof there is this poem:

Small and restless in shape, with a sharp beak, A soft, shrill buzz, faint as thunder; curtains and gauze screens in a chamber yield easily, And it loves the warm air of a hot day. It fears only pungent incense smoke and flapping fans, Yet in pity for the glow of the lamp it returns, Light and tiny, it burrows swiftly, darting into the demon cave.

At once the little demon by the gate was snoring. Wukong stung him once on the face. The little demon rolled over, woke, and said, “My lord! What a big mosquito! One bite and I’ve got a huge knot.” He blinked open his eyes and said, “It is dawn.” He then heard a sharp sound, and the second gate opened. Wukong hummed in his little tone and flew inside. He saw the old demon ordering everyone to be alert at the gates and to gather weapons on one side of a hall. “If yesterday’s wind did not already blow Sun Wukong to death,” he said, “he will surely come back today, and when he comes, he will certainly lose his life.”

Wukong, hearing this, flew past the hall and came to the rear, only to see a gate there closed so tightly. He slipped through the gap in the door. It was a great open yard, bare and empty. In a corner, at a fixed wind-post bound with ropes and cords, Tripitaka was tied. The master’s tears were already flowing, his thoughts fixed only on Wukong and Sha Wujing, not knowing where they were. Wukong hovered, settled on the top of his head, and called, “Master.” The elder recognized his voice. “Wukong, are you trying to kill me? Where are you calling me from?” Wukong said, “Master, I am on your head. Do not let your heart be hurried; do not worry. We must first catch the demon, and only then can we truly save your life.” Tripitaka said, “Son disciple, when do you expect to seize the demon?” Wukong said, “The tiger demon that seized you has already been killed by Bajie. It is only the old demon’s wind that is ferocious, and we expect to take him this very day. Do not weep. I am going.”

Saying he would go, he hummed and flew to the front. He saw the old demon sitting on the upper side, assigning tally orders to the leaders from all sides. Then he saw a little demon at the cave entrance who had polished the command-banner and came rushing into the hall to report: “Great King, on mountain patrol just now, I had just come out the gate. Had I not run quickly, that long-faced, big-eared monk sitting in the woods would have caught me. I barely escaped. I did not see yesterday’s hairy-faced monk, either.” The old demon said, “Sun Wukong is not here; he was probably killed by the wind. No need to go there to ask for troops.” The demons said, “Great King, if that wind truly blew him to death, that is our good fortune. But we fear he was not blown dead; if he goes and summons divine troops, what are we to do?” The old demon said, “Fear what divine troops? As long as I still hold my wind power, only the coming of Lingji Bodhisattva would matter; nothing else is worth fearing.”

The Great Sage, perched on the roof beam, heard only that one sentence and could not contain his joy. He immediately sprang off, took on his true form, and came out into the woods, calling, “Brother.” Zhu Bajie said, “Elder brother, where have you gone? A moment ago I drove off a demon carrying a command flag.” Sun Wukong laughed: “You did well, you truly did well. Sun Wukong changed into an insect and entered his cave to check on Master, and it turned out Master had been tied to the Dingfeng stake and was crying. Sun Wukong told him not to cry. Then I flew back to the roof beam and listened again. I saw that flag-bearing demon enter, panting, to make his report, saying that only your chasing drove him away and that he had not seen me. The old demon, confused, was guessing wildly, saying I had been killed by the wind, and saying that divine soldiers had been called for me. He even implicated one person himself—how strange, how strange.” Zhu Bajie said, “Who did he expose?” Sun Wukong said, “He said he feared whatever divine troops could still his wind. Only Lingji Bodhisattva would be able to do that. But none of us knows where Lingji is dwelling.”

At that moment of discussion, a man appeared walking along the roadside. Look at what sort of old gentleman he was:

His body was sound, no cane or crutch in his hand; ice-beard and snowy hair were tossed in loose locks. Golden brilliance flashed from his face, yet his expression was half-dazed; His bones were thin, his sinews withered, yet his strength was hard. Bent-backed, head lowered, he walked in slow steps; a broad brow and ruddy face, yet almost childlike. Though he looked like a man by common reckoning, he seemed like a Star of Longevity stepping out of a cave.

Zhu Bajie, seeing him, was greatly pleased and said, “Senior Brother, they say: ‘To know the road below the mountain, one must ask those who go and return.’ Why not go ask this old man?” So indeed the Great Sage tucked away his iron cudgel, loosened his collar, came forward and called, “Old gentleman, my greetings.” The old man gave him a half-answer and a bow: “Where are you a monk from, and what business have you in this wild land?” Sun Wukong replied, “We are holy monks traveling west to fetch the sutras. Yesterday, we lost our Master here, so we have come to ask, if you know, where Lingji Bodhisattva lives.” The old man said, “Lingji is to the south, three thousand li from here. There is a mountain called Little Sumeru; in that mountain is a Dharma Hall, the place where the Bodhisattva expounds scripture. Did you come to take his teachings?” Sun Wukong said, “Not to take his teachings. I have a matter to trouble him with and do not know which road to take.” The old man pointed southward with his hand: “This goat-path is the way.” This made the Great Sage look back at the road, but as he did the old gentleman turned into a gentle wind and disappeared. Only a brief note remained by the roadside, with four lines:

In reply to the Great Sage Equal to Heaven: listen, this old man is called Li Changgeng. At Little Sumeru there is the Flying-Dragon Staff; It was through Lingji, in former days, that Buddha’s soldiers were received.

Sun Wukong took the note, turned and headed south on the road. Zhu Bajie said, “Brother, we’ve been unlucky these past days and have seen ghosts in broad daylight these last two days. Who was the old man who turned into the wind and left?” Sun Wukong handed the note to Zhu Bajie and read it aloud: “Who is this Li Changgeng?” Sun Wukong said, “That is an epithet of Tai Bai Jinxing.” Zhu Bajie, terrified, knelt and bowed to the sky, saying, “Benefactor, benefactor. If this old pig had not secured Tai Bai’s warrant before the Jade Emperor, who knows what my life would have become.” Sun Wukong said, “Brother, you too know gratitude. But do not show yourself. Stay hidden deep in this grove and watch carefully over the baggage and the horses. Wait for me while I go to find Mount Sumeru and summon the Bodhisattva.” Zhu Bajie said, “Understood. I understand. You go quickly. When the old pig learned a turtle trick, he only withdraws his head when the time to hide comes.”

The Great Sage leapt into the air, loosed the cloud of a jindou and flew straight south. His speed was true indeed: in the blink of an instant he passed three thousand li, and with a twist of the waist some eight hundred more. In a moment he saw a high mountain; in its middle rose auspicious clouds, and lucky omens fluttered thickly. In a hollow of the mountain there was indeed a monastery. He heard the temple bells and chime stones echoing, and saw a faint, misty incense smoke. The Great Sage came straight to the gate and saw a Taoist in a scarf of beads, silently chanting Buddha’s name. Sun Wukong said, “A Taoist, I bow.” The man bowed in return and asked, “From where does this lord come?” Sun Wukong asked, “Is this the Dharma hall where Lingji Bodhisattva lectures?” The Taoist answered, “This is the place. What is your message?” Sun Wukong said, “I beg your kind assistance in hearing me out: I am Sun Wukong, Great Sage Equal to Heaven, disciple of Master Tripitaka, monk Xuan Zang of Great Tang. I have a matter to attend to and must see the Bodhisattva.” The Taoist smiled, “Your lord speaks at great length; I cannot hold all that in memory.” Sun Wukong said, “Then just report this: Tripitaka’s disciple Sun Wukong of the Tang monk has arrived.”

The Taoist, as told, went to the hall and relayed the message. The Bodhisattva then donned his robe, added incense, and came out to receive them. As soon as the Great Sage stepped inside, he looked around and saw:

The hall was all brocade and brocade-like splendor, a room of commanding dignity. The disciples together chanted the Lotus Sutra while the senior monk softly struck a gold-cast hand bell. Before the Buddha were arranged heavenly fruits and heavenly flowers; on the tablet stood only plain vegetables and plain fare. Bright treasure candles flamed, long streams of golden fire shooting like rainbows; rich incense drifted in, and jade-colored smoke rose up in flowing colors. Just then, when the lecture had ended and the mind had become still, they entered meditative stillness; white clouds drifted in strips around the pine tips. In silence he gathered the wisdom sword that cuts off demon heads; Prajnaparamita, perfectly understood, rose exalted.

The Bodhisattva arrayed himself and came out to receive him. The Great Sage entered the hall and took a guest seat, then, as ordered, was served tea. Sun Wukong said, “No need to trouble to offer tea. My Master is in danger on Yellow-Wind Mountain; I have come specifically to ask you to exert your great power, subdue the monster, and save him.” The Bodhisattva said, “I received a command from the Buddha and am stationed here to detain the Yellow-Wind demon. The Buddha granted me a Dingfeng pill and a Precious Flying-Dragon staff. When I once caught him, I spared his life and let him return to hide in the mountain, warning him not to harm living beings. I did not know that today he sought to injure our Master, defying the Dharma command. That is my fault.” The Bodhisattva wished to keep the Great Sage for a retreat and conversation, but Sun Wukong politely declined. He then took the Flying-Dragon staff, and together with the Great Sage they rode the cloud onward.

Before long they arrived atop Yellow-Wind Mountain. The Bodhisattva said, “Great Sage, this demon fears me somewhat. I will stay and settle in the cloud heights. You go down and wrestle him, lure him out, and then I can apply my arts.” Sun Wukong obeyed, touched down on the cave, and without a word shattered the cave gate with his iron staff. He shouted, “Monster, return Master to me!” alarmed, the gate-demon hurriedly sent word. The demon replied, “This wild monkey is truly impudent. It refuses to bow and yet dares to break my gate. Once out, I will raise my divine wind array and surely blow him dead.” He then donned his gear, took up the steel fork, and came out through the gate. Seeing the Great Sage, he spoke no more and thrust the fork at his chest; Sun Wukong sidestepped it. Swinging staff to face him, they fought for several exchanges. The monster turned and faced the northeast, then reached for his mouth to summon wind, but from the empty sky above Lingji Bodhisattva flung down the Flying-Dragon staff. He muttered some incantation, and immediately it became an eight-clawed golden dragon, lifting both claws wide and seizing the demon, then lifting him by the head and tossing him two or three times against the mountain cliff edge, where he showed his true form: a yellow-furred marten.

Sun Wukong came up and raised his staff to strike, but the Bodhisattva blocked him and said, “Great Sage, do not harm his life. I still need him to be brought before the Buddha.” Then he said to Sun Wukong: “He was an old mouse of spirit who had attained the Way at the foot of Ling Mountain. He stole the clear oil from a glazed-glass lamp, the lamp-blackened, and fearing that Vajra would seize him, he fled. He then came here and formed a spirit, creating mischief. When the Buddha saw him, death was not his sentence, so I was ordered to detain him; but he still harms living beings and commits evil, so I took him up to Ling Mountain. Now he has again assaulted the Great Sage and betrayed Tripitaka. I am taking him to see the Buddha to make his crimes clear; that is the merit of this task.” At Sun Wukong’s words, he thanked the Bodhisattva, then the Bodhisattva departed westward without further remark.

Then again, Zhu Bajie, in that grove, was still thinking about the Great Sage when he heard a voice from below the slope: “Wuneng, brother, bring horse and carrying poles!” The pig monk recognized it as the Great Sage’s voice, hastily gathered himself, and ran out of the woods. “Brother, what matter is this?” he asked. Sun Wukong said, “I invited Lingji Bodhisattva. He cast forth a Flying-Dragon staff, seized the demon, and it turned out to be a yellow-furred marten spirit. I have taken it to Ling Mountain to present before the Buddha. You and I must go into the cave and rescue Master.” Hearing this, Zhu Bajie was delighted all at once.

The two of them burst inside. They used spiked maces and iron staff to beat to death a whole lot of crafty hares, fox demons, musk deer, and horned deer. Then they went to the back garden and rescued Master. Master came out of the gate and asked, “How did you two seize this demon, and how did you rescue me?” Sun Wukong set out all that he had done in summoning Lingji Bodhisattva to subdue the demon. Master could not sufficiently thank them. The brothers arranged some tea and a meal from the plain provisions in the cave, and only then did they leave the cave and take the broad road westward.

What happens next is still unknown; hear the resolution in the next installment.