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, as the tale continues, Tripitaka and his disciples packed up at first light and proceeded onward. Zhenyuanzi had become as a brother to the Great Sage, and the two were so in accord that neither would let go of the other; he made continual arrangements to care for him, and so they stayed on for five or six days at a stretch. The Venerable had taken the miraculous restorative pill and seemed to have changed his whole frame; his spirit felt clear, his body strong and healthy. His resolve to obtain the Tripiṭaka was firm, and he would not delay his journey. In the end he set out.

After parting and taking the road, the master and disciples soon saw a high mountain before them. Tripitaka said, "Disciple, the mountain ahead is steep and dangerous. I fear the horse cannot pass. All of you, be very careful." Sun Wukong replied, "Master, do not worry. We will handle it." The great Monkey King took his staff and crossed it before the horse, hewed out a path through the mountain, and climbed to a high cliff, where the view seemed endless:

Peaks of rock and crag pile upon one another; ravines and gullies wind in looping courses. Tigers and wolves move as ranks, roe deer and stags travel in herds. Countless goats and muntjacs cluster close together; foxes and rabbits gather densely across the whole mountain. A thousand-chi python, a ten-thousand-chi serpent. The great python breathes sorrowful mists; the long snake sends out strange wind. Thorns and briars snarl by the path, and on the ridges the pines stand fair and upright. Ivy fills the eye, and fragrant grasses stretch to the sky. Shadows fall toward the northern Cangming, while in the south the clouds open like the handle of the Northern Dipper. Through all ages it retains its primal energy, ancient and primeval; ten thousand peaks stand in stately ranks, and the sun itself grows cold in their light.

The Venerable, mounted on horseback, was startled at once. Great Sage Sun Wukong displayed his arts, waving his iron staff and roaring once. The sound frightened the wolfish beasts into flinging themselves away, and tigers and leopards ran off in panic.

The companions entered this mountain and, as they were at a rugged stretch, Tripitaka said, "Wukong, I am hungry today. Go make some alms food for me somewhere." Wukong, with an ingratiating smile, said, "How clever you are, Master. In the middle of this mountain there is no hamlet ahead, no inn behind. Even if we had money, there is nowhere to buy food. Where can I go to fetch a meal?" Tripitaka felt displeased inwardly and barked, "You monkey! In the Two-Realms Mountain, you were sealed by Buddha in a stone casket. You can speak, but your feet could not move. Yet I saved your life, bestowed the vows upon you, and made you my disciple. Why will you not apply yourself? Why keep a spirit of laziness always?" Wukong said, "My disciple is also quite zealous; how could I be lazy?" Tripitaka said, "If you are so zealous, why do you not transform alms food for me? How can I carry on with my stomach empty? Besides, this mountain is full of poisonous mist. How shall we still reach Leiyin?" Wukong said, "Master, do not be angry, do not speak too sharply. I know your status is lofty and your pride quick to stir; if I had offended you, I would have to utter the Tightening Headband Spell. You sit the horse and stay steady. I will look for a house where I can obtain alms and prepare food."

Sun Wukong leapt up and vaulted into the clouds, hooked his hands into the cool cloud-surface, and opened his eyes to look around. The western road, poor thing, was utterly desolate, with no village or homestead in sight; it was exactly the sort of place where trees and woods appear often and signs of people are rare. After looking a long while, he saw, far to the south, a high mountain. On its sunny side there was a bright red patch. Sun Wukong dropped the cloud edge and said, "Master, there is something to eat." Tripitaka asked what it was. Wukong said, "There is no house here where I can transform cooked rice. On that southern mountain there is a red patch; it must be ripe mountain peaches. I will pick a few and bring them for your hunger." Tripitaka replied joyfully, "For an ordained monk to have peaches to eat would indeed be most meritorious." Wukong took a bowl, rose up with radiance, and in an instant he seemed to billow like a thunder-cloud, with cold wind whistling around him. In a short moment he flew southward and plucked peaches there; what followed is not set down.

There is a saying: where a mountain is high, monsters arise; where a ridge is steep, spirits take form. In truth, this mountain did have a demon. When Great Sage Sun Wukong arrived, he disturbed the creature. Riding the shadowy wind through the clouds, the demon saw the Master sitting below and exclaimed in delighted wonder: "What fate! What fate! For years people have spoken of the Tang monk of the Eastern Land who seeks the Great Vehicle. This is no mere man; he is an incarnation of a Golden Cicada Child, a primordial body from ten lifetimes of cultivation. If anyone could eat even one piece of his flesh, they would gain long life and longevity. So today he has truly come!" The demon stepped forward to seize him, but seeing two great generals guarding the Master at his left and right, it did not dare close in. It asked who these two generals were. It was Zhu Bajie and Sha Wujing. Though neither had remarkable skill, Zhu Bajie was the Marshal of the Heavenly Canopy and Sha Wujing the Curtain-Pulling General; the force of their authority had not yet fully ebbed, so the demon dared not approach. The demon said, "Let me toy with him first and see what comes of it."

The holy monk dismounted beside the rock face, and suddenly a maiden in skirt and hairpin came near. Her green sleeves swayed lightly, cradling jade-bud splendor; her Xiang skirt sat slanting, revealing a golden lotus. Dew beaded upon her powdered face like blossoms wet with morning rain; dust swept her brows, smoky as willow-girl haze. He watched closely, fixing his eyes, and saw her come all the way to his side.

When Tripitaka saw her, he said, "Zhu Bajie, Sha Wujing, Wukong just said this region was wild and uninhabited. Do you see how someone has come out here from somewhere?" Zhu Bajie said, "Master, you and Sha Wujing sit still; let old Bajie go and have a look."

Beneath her icy skin lay jade-like bones, and at her collar the cream of her breast shone. Her willow-dark brows were thick with green-black tint, and her apricot eyes flashed with silver stars. Her face was moon-bright and graceful, her nature naturally clear. Her figure seemed to hide a swallow among willows; her voice sounded like an oriole trilling in the woods. With half-turned cheek she cast forth a dawn-bloom blush, while peonies had just opened as spring weather played.

When Zhu Bajie saw how bewitching she was, the simple brute felt ordinary human desire stir in him and could not stop himself from babbling: "Lady Bodhisattva, where are you going? What is it that you carry in your hands?" He clearly faced a demon, but he could not recognize it. The woman answered again and again: "Master, this blue jar holds fragrant rice, and the green bottle holds fried gluten. I have come only for one reason: by vow, I have come to offer alms to monks." When Zhu Bajie heard this, he was overjoyed, spun around in a pig-like dizzy wind, and ran back to Tripitaka: "Master, good men are surely rewarded by Heaven. You were hungry, and I, your senior brother, went to procure alms; that monkey has gone off plucking peaches and making sport. He has eaten too many peaches and has gotten a little noisy and a little light-headed. See, is this not a Bodhisattva who has come to offer us alms?" Tripitaka did not believe him: "You oaf, your chatter is nonsense. We have gone this far and met not one worthy person. From where would a begging Bodhisattva come?" Zhu Bajie said, "Master, are you sure about this?"

When Tripitaka saw her, he leapt up at once, joined his palms before his chest, and said, "Bodhisattva, where do you live? Whose household are you from? What vow has brought you here to offer alms to monks?" It was clearly a demon, yet even the Venerable did not recognize it. On seeing Tripitaka ask her ancestry, the girl at once played a show of gentle feeling and used flowery words to trick him: "Master, this mountain is called White Tiger Ridge, where serpents fear to return. Just beneath, to the west, is my home. My parents live at home; they listen to the sūtras and are known for doing great alms for monks from near and far. Yet because they have no sons, they prayed to the gods for blessing and gave birth to me. They raised me to marry into another household, but fearing they would have no support in old age, they chose a son-in-law and brought him here to care for us." Tripitaka said, "Bodhisattva, your words are off. The sacred canon says: 'While parents live, one should not wander afar; if one does, one wanders into peril.' Your parents still live in your hall, and you have even taken a husband. If you have a vow, send your husband home and all is in order; why then do you roam these mountains? And you have no maid or attendant to follow you. This is not proper for one keeping the way of a wife." The woman, smiling coyly, quickly returned with flirtatious words: "Master, my husband is in a hollow to the north of this mountain, along with several guests, weeding the fields. This meal was cooked by my maid to feed them. Because these are the hot fifth and sixth months, and there is no one to command, and my parents are old, I came myself to bring it. By chance I met three travelers from afar, and remembering my parents' love for the Dharma, I offer this meal to the monks as alms. If you do not reject it, please accept this humble offering." Tripitaka said, "Excellent, excellent! My disciple has gone off to pluck fruit and will return. I dare not eat. If this monk eats your meal and your husband learns of it, he will scold you—would he not make this poor monk bear blame too?" The woman, seeing Tripitaka would not eat, nevertheless blossomed all over with joy and said, "Master, the alms my parents give is not a small matter for me, and my husband is even better. He spends his life repairing bridges and roads, caring for elders and the poor. Yet if he hears this meal was given to you, his feeling for me as wife will be even different, more intimate than usual." Tripitaka still would not eat.

By the side, Zhu Bajie was already irritated to the point of fury. The dim-witted fellow pursed his lips and grumbled, "There are countless monks under heaven, and never have I seen an old monk so soft as me. The rice that is already cooked, I won’t eat unless it’s more than enough—wait till that monkey comes and finishes it, then I’ll eat my share." He refused to argue, tipped the jar over in one go, and was about to eat. Just then the Great Sage came down from the top of the southern mountain, carrying a few peaches, one bowl and a one-jin scoop. He opened his fiery golden eyes, recognized that the woman was a demon, set down the bowl, drew out his iron staff, and struck her at the crown. The startled Elder pulled him back and said, "Wukong, who are you going to hit now?" Wukong said, "Master, do not take this woman before you as a good person. She is a demon, come to cheat you." Tripitaka answered, "You monkey-head, you once had some judgment then, why babble now? This lady-bodhisattva has such kindness, bringing this food to feed us. How dare you call her a demon?" Wukong laughed, "Master, how much do you really know? When Old Sun made mischief in Water Curtain Cave, if he wanted to eat human flesh he took these forms: gold or silver, a noble pavilion, a drunken man, or a lustful woman. If some infatuated fool came for me, I would enchant him into my cave and indulge my whim—steamed or boiled for my use; if I could not finish him that way, I dried him to keep him from dampness. Master, if I had arrived late, you would surely have fallen into her snare and met her poisoned hand." Tang Sanzang would not believe him and insisted she was kindhearted. Wukong said, "Master, I know you. You have seen her face and surely stirred mortal longing. If that is so, tell Zhu Bajie to fell a few trees, ask Sha Wujing for some straw, and I will act as carpenter and make a shelter here; you can consummate your marriage with her, then we can all go our ways. Is that not a worthy task? Why must we still trudge on to fetch this scripture?" The Elder was a naturally soft-hearted monk and could not bear those words; he flushed from scalp to ears.

As Tang Sanzang stood in discomfort and shame, Wukong’s temper flared again. He drew his iron staff and struck the demon’s face. The monster had a trick and used a corpse-resurrection art. When she saw the staff coming toward him, she roused her spirit, moved away first, and sent a fake corpse head to the ground, which Wukong smashed. Terrified, the Elder trembled and muttered, "This monkey has no manners. Though I have warned him again and again, for no cause he hurts people." Wukong said, "Master, do not blame me; come and see what’s in this jar." Sha Wujing held the Elder forward. When he looked closely, there was no fragrant rice at all—only a jar of long-tailed maggots; not flour either, only several green frogs and toads, all hopping about. Then the Elder had some faith. But Zhu Bajie, unable to bear it, muttered from the side, "Master, about this woman: she is just a peasant woman of this area, out bringing food to the fields, and met us on the road. Why call her a demon? Brother’s staff is heavy; he came and tried a strike, and unexpectedly he killed her. He feared, if you chanted the Tightening Headband Spell, that she might deliberately cast an illusion spell, turn things into this kind of form, and blind your eyes so you would not chant."

From that one word by Tripitaka, misfortune seemed to arrive. As expected, he believed Zhu Bajie’s prompting, formed the hand-seal, and chanted the spell. Wukong cried out, "Headaches, headaches. Don’t chant, don’t chant, if you have something to say, say it." Tripitaka replied, "What is it to be said? A monk should always be practical, with benevolent thought always present—when sweeping, one fears to harm ants; one treasures even moths beneath a gauze-lamp shade. Why do you keep rampaging step by step, killing this ordinary person without cause? What use is it to bring back the Buddhist canon? Go back." Wukong asked, "Master, where do you want me to go back to?" Tripitaka said, "I do not want you to be my disciple." Wukong said, "You may not want me as a disciple, but then how will your journey to the Western Heaven be completed?" Tripitaka said, "My life is written in Heaven. If that demon should steam me and eat me, or boil me, that is not beyond reckoning. In any case, can you save the life span that is mine? Go back quickly." Wukong said, "Master, I can return, that is fine, only I have not yet repaid your grace." Tripitaka said, "What grace have I given you?" Hearing this, the Great Sage hurriedly knelt and knuckled his head to the ground: "Old Sun once wrecked the Heavenly Court and incurred a bodily crisis, and I was pinned beneath the Two-Realms Mountain by the Buddha. By Buddha’s grace, Guanyin gave me the precepts and discipline, and Master saved me. If I do not go with you to the Western Heaven, people will say I forgot a kindness and never repaid it, a name of blame through ten thousand ages." But this Tang Sanzang was a compassionate holy monk; seeing Wukong’s plea, he relented and said, "If that is what you mean, then I forgive you this time. Never be insolent again. If you still do evil, I will chant this spell backwards twenty times." Wukong said, "You may have me chant it thirty times if you wish; I just will not strike anyone now." Then he hurriedly attended Tripitaka, mounted with him, and offered the peaches he had gathered. Tripitaka, once mounted, ate a few himself to appease hunger.

The demon rose into the sky, life spirit gone. Wukong’s strike had not killed her; she had simply slipped out of her form. In the clouds she bit her teeth and hissed in rage: "For years I heard tales of his arts; today they are truly no exaggeration. Tang Sanzang did not recognize me and was about to eat. Had he only lowered his head to sniff once, I could have pulled him in a single grasp—then would he not be mine? Yet he happened to come, wrecked my operation, and nearly got him hit by my staff. To spare this monk would truly be labor for nothing. I will go down again and sport a bit with him."

The trickster demon then descended on a dark cloud and from beneath it changed at the forward slope into an old woman, eighty years old in appearance, leaning on a bent bamboo cane and walking with a wheezy cry at each step. Zhu Bajie saw her and cried out in alarm, "Master, this is bad—the old mother has come searching for someone." Tripitaka asked, "Searching for whom?" Zhu Bajie said, "Surely the daughter is what Brother Wukong said he killed. This must be her mother come to find him." Wukong said, "Brother, do not speak nonsense. That woman was eighteen; this old woman is eighty. How can a woman of sixty more still give birth? She must be false. Let the old Sun go and inspect."

" > She assumes the form of an old woman, white as frost the two temple locks.

Her walking is slow and dragging; her steps are timid and wavering. Her frame is weak, thin, and gaunt; her face is like a dried vegetable leaf. Her cheekbones lift upward, her lips turned downward. Old age is not like youth; her whole face is pleated like folded lotus leaves."

Wukong saw through her and recognized her as a demon. He did not bother with argument; he raised his staff and struck at the top of her head. As before, when she saw the staff coming, she snapped back to life, cast off her true spirit and withdrew it, leaving behind another false corpse head. Wukong struck that down as well beside the mountain path.

At once Tang Sanzang, startled, leapt from the horse, laid himself down by the roadside, and without another word chanted the Tightening Headband Spell in reverse for a full twenty times. The spell tightened Wukong’s head like a squeezed gourd, and the pain was almost unbearable. He rolled over and pleaded, "Master, stop chanting—just tell me what there is to be said." Tripitaka said, "What is it? A monk who hears good words will not fall into hell. I have tried to persuade you, yet why do you only commit acts of violence? You killed one ordinary person, and then killed another one. What does this mean?" Wukong said, "She was a demon." Tripitaka answered, "This monkey lies! Are there really that many demons? You are one naturally inclined toward good yet intent on evil. Go." Wukong said, "Master, you send me away again? If I return, I could return—but there is one part that does not fit." Tripitaka asked, "What does not fit?" Zhu Bajie said, "Master, he wants to split your luggage with you. After doing monkhood behind you for these years, he cannot go back empty-handed; give him two of those old worn shirts or torn hats from your bundle."

Upon hearing this, Wukong flew into a rage and barked, ‘You sharp-mouthed good-for-nothing! Wukong has always followed your precepts as a monk and has not a trace of jealousy or greed. How can you even talk of dividing luggage?’ Tripitaka said, ‘If you are not jealous or greedy, then why should you not go back?’ Wukong said, ‘I will not deceive you, Master. Five hundred years ago, when I flourished as a hero in Water Curtain Cave on Flower-Fruit Mountain, I subjugated the evil spirits of seventy-two caves, with forty thousand seven hundred lesser fiends under me. I wore a purple-gold crown, a saffron-yellow robe, a lanyin-belt at my waist, cloud-walking boots, and held the Ruyi Golden-Hooped Staff in my hand. I had truly once been a man. Since I took Nirvana pardon, shaved my head, and became a true monk to serve you, I became your disciple, and when you tightened this band on my head I could scarcely hope to face my old countrymen if I returned. If you truly do not want me, then chant the loosen-spell once, remove this hoop, entrust it to you, and place it on another’s head; then I would be at ease and could still go on with this journey with you. Is it not that these people have no other intent?’ Tripitaka was greatly startled and said, ‘Wukong, I once received only a hidden copy of the Tightening Headband Spell from the Bodhisattva; there is no loosening spell at all.’ Wukong said, ‘If there is no loosen-spell, you still need take me along and we can go on.’ The elder, helpless, said, ‘Get up. I forgive you this once, but do not become violent again.’ Wukohnsaid, ‘I will not dare again. I will not dare again.’ Then he knelt, attended to his master, mounted behind him, and they pushed on along the road.

That fiend had not, after all, been slain by the Great Sage’s second stroke of the staff. In midair, he praised him without end: ‘What a Monkey King! You still have eyes. I changed forms again and again, yet he recognized me. The monks go fast; once they pass this mountain and go forty li westward, they will be beyond my control. If some other demon carries them off, they will laugh until their mouths split and break my own heart. I will go down and mock him a little.’

The villain turned. In a gust of eerie wind from below, he transformed at the foot of the slope into a true old gentleman:

White hair like Pengzu, Beard as dark-blue as the Star of Longevity. A jade clapper rang at his ear, and a golden speck shimmered in his eye. A dragon-head cane in hand, a light robe like a crane’s wing upon him, Prayer beads pinched in hand, and he muttered a Namo sutra.

Tripitaka, seeing him from horseback, was overjoyed and said, ‘Amitabha Buddha! The Western land is truly blessed. Even that old fellow cannot climb the path, yet still he chants as he moves ahead.’ Zhu Bajie said, ‘Master, do not praise him yet. He is the root of disaster.’ Tripitaka asked, ‘How is he the root of disaster?’ Zhu Bajie replied, ‘Brother Wukong killed his daughter and his old wife. This is just his old father come to search for them. If we should clash with him in his arms, Master, you will die for it and bear grave guilt; I, Zhu Bajie, will be judged to hard service; Sha Wujing will be ordered into official punishment. If Great Sage slips away with a flight spell, will it not still drag the three of us through sorrow?’

Hearing this, Wukong said, ‘This blunt fool, with such nonsense, has it not frightened Master? Let old Wukong go and inspect once more.’ He tucked his staff at his side, stepped forward, and faced the monster, calling out, ‘Old man, where are you going? Why walk and yet keep chanting?’ The demon, having mistaken him for an easy one by the star-name Dingpan, took Wukong for no threat and answered, ‘Great Master, I am an old man who has lived here all my life. I have always been pious, feeding monks, reading sutras, and chanting the Buddha’s name. Fate gave me no son. I had only one little daughter and took in a son-in-law. This morning she carried food to the fields, and I think she must have fallen into the tiger’s mouth. My old wife came first to search for her and has not returned. I had no idea where she had gone. I came only to look; indeed the poor creature was grievously hurt and I could do nothing. I gathered his remains and buried them in a proper mound.’ Wukong laughed, ‘I am an old master of tiger-making; how did you hide that ghost in your sleeve to fool me? You deceived everyone, and I see through it. I know you are a fiend.’ The fiend was startled into silence. Wukong drew out his staff and thought, ‘If I do not strike him, he may make a breeze and haul away Master, and then I will spend my strength rescuing him again. If I strike him, and Master recites that spell, the saying goes, “Even a tiger does not eat its cub.” So I can use my wit and fluent tongue to fool him for a while and then be done.’ The Great Sage chanted and called to the local land-god and mountain spirit: ‘This fiend has mocked my Master three times. This time I will kill him. Be my witnesses in midair and let him not flee.’ The gods who heard, who could disobey? all responded from the cloud banks. At the raising of the staff, the Great Sage knocked the fiend down, ending his spirit-fire at once.

Back on horseback, Tripitaka trembled in fear, scarcely able to speak. Zhu Bajie laughed at his side: ‘Good Wukong, you have stirred up a storm. In only half a day’s distance you have already killed three men.’ Tripitaka was about to recite the spell when Wukong hurried before the horse and called, ‘Master, do not recite, do not recite. Come and see his true form.’ There was only a heap of chalk-white skulls there. Tripitaka exclaimed in great alarm, ‘Wukong, this man is dead—how has he become a pile of bones?’ Wukong said, ‘He was a lurking-ling spirit acting as a jiangshi. Here he had led men astray and ruined them; when I struck him down, his true nature appeared. On his spine there are characters reading, “White Bone Wife.” Tripitaka even believed him. Zhu Bajie at the side interjected, ‘Master, his heavy club and cruel strike kill people; perhaps when you recite that phrase he intentionally changes shape into this form to blind your eyes.’ Tripitaka, being soft-eared as always, believed him and resumed the recitation. Wukong could not endure the pain and knelt by the roadside, crying, ‘Do not recite, do not recite—say what you came to say at once.’ Tripitaka said, ‘Monkey-head, what more is there to tell? A monk doing good is like grass in a spring garden: you do not see it rise, yet it grows from day to day. A doer of evil is like a whetstone: you do not see it diminish, yet it wears down day by day. In this wild wilderness you have killed three people in a row with no one to report it and no opponent to accuse you. If we reach a city, a place with crowds of people and smoke of life, and you seize your wailing-bone staff and beat people about not knowing right from wrong, you will bring a great calamity and tell me how I am to escape. Go back.’ Wukong said, ‘Master, you wrong me. This brute is plainly a fiend; he meant to hurt you, and I have just slain him to remove your danger, but you do not know it. Yet you believe that stupid jibe from Zhu Bajie and have again chased me off. There is a saying: nothing should pass through three attempts. If I do not leave now, I am truly a base and shameless one. I am going, I am going. I am going now, only no one under you can restrain me.’ Tripitaka grew angry: ‘This unruly monkey grows more insolent. If it seems only you are human, then are Wuzheng and Wujing not human?’

When that Great Sage heard Tripitaka speak of Zhu Bajie and Sha Wujing as men, he could not hold back his grief and pity. He cried, ‘Alas! When you set out from Chang’an, Liu Beiqin sent you onward. At Two-Worlds Mountain, you saved me and I bowed to you as my master. I passed through ancient caves, entered deep forests, captured demons and spirits, gathered Zhu Bajie, won Sha Wujing, and endured ten thousand hardships. Today, with willfully clouded eyes, you treat me like a fool and bid me return home. This is just as they say: “When the birds are gone, hide the bow; when the rabbit dies, cook the dog!” Enough, enough, enough—only there is this Tightening Headband Spell added to it.’ Tripitaka said, ‘I will recite no more.’ Wukong said, ‘That is hard to know. If we reach a place where poisonous demons torment and cannot escape, and if Zhu Bajie and Sha Wujing cannot save you, then at that moment, remembering me, you will not help but chant it again. Even if it is ten thousand li, my head too will ache; if I ever again meet you then, I would rather not have that intention.’

Tripitaka, hearing him, grew more annoyed and dismounted from the saddle in a rush. He told Sha Wujing to take out paper and brush from the pack, and at the stream took water, ground ink on a stone, and wrote a letter of dismissal, handing it to Wukong with these words: ‘Monkey-head, keep this as proof. Do not be my disciple any longer. If I meet you again, I will fall into Avici Hell.’ Wukong at once took the letter and said, ‘No need to swear, old Wukong will go.’ He folded the document and tucked it in his sleeve, yet again spoke gently to Master: ‘Master, I too set out with you and was instructed by the Bodhisattva. Halfway now, this venture is lost and no merit gained. Please sit and allow me to take a bow, so that I can leave in peace.’ Tripitaka turned away and ignored him, muttering to himself, ‘I am a good monk and do not receive a rogue’s courtesy.’ Seeing Master refuse him, the Great Sage used an outer trick, plucked three hairs from the back of his head, blew out immortal qi, and cried, ‘Transform!’ He became three more Wukongs, four in all, and surrounded Tripitaka from four sides as they knelt. The elder could not dodge right or left and at last he too received one bow.

Sun Wukong jumped up, shook himself, drew in his hairs, and once more instructed Sha Wujing: “You are a fine young brother, but only keep watch over Zhu Bajie’s words and whispers, and be doubly careful on the road. If at any time a demon seizes the Master, then say that Old Sun is his senior disciple; the Western Hair Monster, having heard of my methods, would not dare to hurt my Master.” Tripitaka said, “I am a good monk; I won’t speak your villain’s name. Go back now.”

The Great Sage saw the Elder beg three or four times, and he would not be moved or return to kindness, so in the end he had no choice but to go. Look at him:

He wept, knelt in head-bowed prostration, and took leave of the Elder, sorrowful, leaving instructions with full intent to Sha Wujing. He brushed the grass before the slope with one hand, then with both feet kicked up and overturned the vines at his feet. He rose to heaven and dropped to earth like a turning wheel, foremost in leaping over seas and flying mountains. In but a moment his figure was gone from sight; in an instant he hurried back along the old way.

See how he held in his anger, parted from Tripitaka, loosed the Jindou Cloud, and headed straight back to Flower-Fruit Mountain’s Water Curtain Cave. All alone, desolate and heartbroken, he suddenly heard a roar of water in his ears. When the Great Sage looked about in the air, it proved to be the booming of the Eastern Ocean’s tide. As soon as he heard it, he thought of Tripitaka again and could not keep back tears from falling down his cheeks; he stilled both cloud and stride and only after a long while went on.

In the end, no one yet knows what will come of this journey back; listen to the next chapter for resolution.