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.

Although the Great Sage, Sun Wukong, had been driven away by Tripitaka, he still could not stop missing him and sighing to the fullest. Soon he saw the sea to the east and called out, I do not remember taking this road; it has already been five hundred years! Then he saw the sea:

The rippling waters spread wide, and the great waves rolled on. The rippling waters blended into the heavenly river, the great waves running through the veins of the earth. When the tide rushed in, it surged and swelled, flooding the ringed coves. When the tide rushed in, it surged and roared like thunderclaps in early spring; the waters flooding the coves were like a raging wind in the heat of summer. Old Fuyu riding a dragon went and came with brows forever knit; the immortal child on a crane passed back and forth again and again, and truly came in worry. Near the shore there was no village, beside the water only few fishing boats. The waves coiled up a thousand years of snow; the wind rose as though autumn had come in the sixth month. Wild birds came and went as they pleased; shore birds drifted up and down. No angler was in sight; only gulls sounded beside the ear. Fish in the deep played in delight; wild geese passed beyond the sky in sorrow.

The Great Sage made a single bound and leapt over the Eastern Sea, arriving quickly at Flower-Fruit Mountain. He landed on Cloud-Head and opened his eyes to look around: all the flowers and grasses on that mountain were gone, the rosy clouds had disappeared entirely; peaks and cliffs had tumbled, and the trees and woodland were blackened and withered. How could things have become so? It was because he had raised havoc in Heaven and been brought up to the upper realms, and this mountain was ruined when the Eminent God Erlang, with the Seven Brothers of Meishan, set it on fire. Sun Wukong grew still more pitiful. There was an ancient verse that bore witness to this fallen mountain scene:

I looked back upon the immortal mountain and two tears fell; gazing at its ruin, my grief grew even deeper. Then I had thought the mountain unscathed; only now do I know that the earth herself was damaged. How blameworthy was the Marshal Erlang who destroyed it; how angry that he trampled on men while claiming lesser status. He committed murder and unearthed your ancestral burial places, destroying the foundation of your elders' graves. All heaven's rosy mists were gone, every cloud and wind swept away and scattered thin. On the East Ridge one hears no striped tiger's cry; on the West Hill where can one still hear the white ape's wail. In the North ravine fox and hare leave no traces; in the South valley deer and wild boar have vanished. Azure stones burned to thousands of lumps of clay; blue sands turned into heaps of mud. Outside the cave all the tall pines slumped, and before the cliffs the green cypresses were few. The spruce, fir, locust, arborvitae, chestnut, and sandalwood were scorched; peaches, apricots, plums, plums and jujubes are gone. Mulberry and willow die and so cannot raise silkworms; reed and bamboo are scarce and birds can hardly rest. Elegant stones at peak tops turned to dust; even the springs in ravines dried and became grass. Before the cliff the black soil swallowed orchids and orchids; by the roadside scarlet vines and ivy sprawled upward. Where do the birds of former days now fly? To what mountain did the beasts now go? Leopards abhor snakes and bad vipers, in ruined places now only decline remains; cranes avoid snakes, and even in the shattered wilds the birds have gone. Perhaps because yesterday my mind was full of wicked thought, these present hardships have now come upon me.

The Great Sage was still in deep sorrow when he heard a sound on the fragrant-grass slope and within Manjing Hollow. With one bound, seven or eight young monkeys sprang out and rushed forward in a crowd, surrounding him and kneeling in homage. He shouted, Grand Sage sir, have you come home today? Sun Wukong asked, Why did you all stop your tricks and mischief and hide yourselves? I have been away long, and do not see one sign of you at all. Why? Hearing this, the monkeys each wept and spoke: Ever since the Great Sage was seized and captured in the upper heavens, we have suffered under hunters. It has been hard to endure. How could we stand against crossbows and strong bows, yellow hawks and fierce dogs, snaring nets and hooked barbs? Each one of us therefore guarded his life and dared not show himself for play and noise, and instead sank deep into the cave, hid in the ravine and waited far from our nests. When hungry we slipped to the slope to snatch grass to eat, and when thirsty we came to the stream below and drank clear spring water. Only now we heard the Grand Sage's voice, and came at once to receive him, hoping that he would lift us up and support us. Hearing this, Sun Wukong grew all the more sorrowful and asked, How many of you are left on this mountain? The young monkeys replied, Counting old and young, only a few thousand. Sun Wukong said, I had once had forty-seven thousand demons on this mountain; where are all of them now? The monkeys said, Since your departure, this mountain was set afire by Marshal Erlang, and most were burned dead. We crouched in wells, burrowed in ravines, hid beneath the Iron-Plate Bridge, and thereby kept our lives. When the fire ended and smoke cleared, we came out, and there was no more Flower-Fruit Mountain to sustain us. Many left to survive elsewhere. The half that remained endured hardship here. In these two years, hunters robbed half of even this remnant. Sun Wukong asked, Why did those hunters take you? The monkeys said, Speaking of those hunters, they are truly hateful. The ones they shot with arrows and poisoned, or whose bodies they killed with toxic darts, were carried away and stripped and deboned, then cooked with sauce, vinegar steamed, oil-fried, salt-sautéed, and eaten like ordinary side dishes. And those trapped in nets, caught in hooks, were taken away alive and forced to perform: make them jump through hoops, do wrestling feats, stand like praying dragonflies, tumble and clown, and do every kind of monkey trick in the streets to make spectacles for crowds.

Then Sun Wukong heard these words and grew more furious, asking, Who is in charge inside the cave? The monsters replied, Marshal Ma and Marshal Liu, and Generals Bong and Ba are in charge. Sun Wukong said, Go and inform them that I have come. The young demons rushed inside and announced, Grand Sage sir has returned home. Hearing this, Ma, Liu, Bong, and Ba came hurriedly out, knelt and bowed, and welcomed him into the cave. Sun Wukong sat in the middle. The assembled monsters knelt before him, and one of them spoke: Grand Sage sir, we heard not long ago that you saved your life and were taking Tripitaka westward to fetch scriptures. Why have you not gone west and instead come back to your native mountain? Sun Wukong replied, My young ones, you do not know. Tripitaka does not discern wise from foolish. For your sake all along I caught monsters and subdued demons, using every trick and effort through my life and slaying fiends again and again. He said that I was doing evil and violence, would not take me as his disciple, drove me back here, and wrote a decree stripping me of my post and saying I would never be admitted again.

All the monkeys applauded and laughed, saying, Fate, fate! What is this monkly business? Come home first, and for a few years take us along and let us play. Bring coconut wine at once and share it with Grand Sage sir. Sun Wukong said, Do not drink yet. I ask you about the hunter men: when did they first come to our mountain? Marshals Ma and Liu said, Great Sage, no matter the time, they are here every day, always causing trouble. Sun Wukong asked, Why is he not here today? Ma and Liu answered, We are waiting for him to come. Sun Wukong ordered, Young ones, go out and bring me the charcoal-burnt broken stones from the mountain. Pile them up for me in heaps of two to three dozen, and piles of fifty or sixty as you can; I have a use for them. Those monkeys were all one troop of one-named peaks and with scattered haste carried up many heaps. Sun Wukong saw them and told them, Young ones, all return and hide within the cave, and let Old Grandson Wukong perform magic.

The Great Sage went to the summit and looked. He saw in the southern half booming drums and clanging gongs; above there came more than a thousand mounted men and horses, all with hawks and dogs, all bearing swords and spears. He examined them closely—rugged men, truly fierce and brave. He saw:

Fox-skin cloaks covered shoulder and crown, silk brocade bound waist and chest. Wolf-tooth arrows stood in their pouches, jeweled carved bows hung at their hips. Men were like mountain tigers on the hunt; the horses were like dragons leaping across ravines. In bands they drove their dogs, with hawks braced upon full saddles. Wicker baskets lifted cannon-works, and bright-blue sea-guard birds flew with them. Hafted poles with heavy shafts, and spear-forks with a thousand prongs. Ox-heads blocked the roads with nets, and rope loops for Yama were attached. All together they shouted wildly, scattering like stars across the sky.

When Sun Wukong saw those people come laying waste on his mountain, he grew fiercely angry. He pinched a spell-sign in his hand, uttered mantras, inhaled once from the ground in the northeast sector, and with a shout blew it forth, raising a wild gale. At once a raging wind. The great wind appeared:

Dust rose and earth was flung, trees toppled and forests shattered. Ocean waves rose like mountains and surged in boundless folds of waves. Heaven and earth darkened and swayed, the sun and moon turned dim and dull. A gust roared like a tiger's cry, and suddenly entered the bamboo like a dragon's growl. Ten thousand vents screamed with heaven-breathed wind; flying sand and rolling stone tore through and wounded all.

With this gale, Sun Wukong made the broken stones ride the wind and whirl and dance through the air. He was sorry for those more than a thousand mounted men and horses; each one became:

Stone-battered aconite heads broke to powder, and sand and sea-horses all flew wounded. Servant-officials and soldiers at Gui Ridge were in wild panic, blood staining cinnabar-red earth. The root of monkshood cannot return to its native land, and how can areca nuts go back to their homes? Bodies and carcasses, made light as powder, lay on the mountain field, while Lady Hong waited at home. Poetry says: If men are dead and horses fallen, how can they ever go home? Lone wandering ghosts and spirits scatter like nettles. Pity the heroes who have been shaken and scattered; they could not tell the good from the bad, and their blood dyed the sand.

Sun Wukong landed on Cloud-Head, clapped his hands and laughed aloud: Fate, fate. Since I submitted to Tripitaka and became a monk, he keeps telling me this: For a thousand days of doing good is still not enough, but one day of doing evil leaves much evil of its own. Truly such are his words. While I followed him, I killed several evil spirits, and he blamed me for doing violence. Today, when I came home, this is the result with these hunters. He called, Young ones, come out. The storm had gone. Hearing the Great Sage's call, the monkeys all leapt out one by one. Sun Wukong said, Go down below the southern mountain and bring here all the clothes of the dead hunters. Wash the blood from them and wear them for warmth. Push all the dead men's bodies into that precipice of a thousand-zhang abyss. Drag the fallen horses here, skin them and make boots to wear, cure and salt the flesh, and eat it slowly over time. Take those bows, arrows, spears, and sabers and use them to drill in martial arts. Gather all the multicolored banners and flags for my use. Each monkey answered in assent.

Sun Wukong unhooked the banner and washed it clean, then made one mixed-hued flowered flag and wrote on it the fourteen characters, “Restore Flower-Fruit Mountain, Repair Water-curtain Cave, Great Sage Equaling Heaven.” He raised a pole and hung the banner outside the cave. Each day he recruited demons and gathered beasts, heaped up hay and stored grain, and made no mention of the two words “Monk.” His benevolence was broad, and his methods lofty, so he went to the Dragon King of the Four Seas and borrowed some sweet immortal rainwater to wash the mountain green. In front he planted willows and elms, in back pines and cypresses, peaches, plums, jujube, and plum-blossom trees; nothing was left undone. He lived in carefree freedom, happily tending to work and dwelling in peace—there is no need to set it down in detail.

Tripitaka, listening to his own unruly fancy, let his heart settle as he put on the saddle and mounted. Zhu Bajie went ahead to clear the way, while Sha Wujing carried the baggage as they went west. After crossing Baihu Ridge, they suddenly came upon a stretch of woodland where vines twined and grapples of wild creeper hung about, the cypresses and pines all green and dark. Tripitaka called out, “Disciple, this mountain path is rugged and truly hard to walk; yet also the pine thickets are thick and the trees are close-set and dense, so be careful, for demon spirits and fierce beasts may be near.” See that foolish monk? He stirred himself and called for Sha Wujing to lead the horse while he himself used a crowing-adze to clear a path, guiding Tripitaka straight into the pine forest. As they walked, the Elder pulled up on the horse and said, “Wuneng, I am truly hungry today. Where can I find some alms-broth for me to eat?” Wuneng replied, “Please dismount, Master; stay here while I go in search.” The Elder dismounted. Sha Wujing put down the shoulder pole, took out his bowl, and handed it to Zhu Bajie. “I am going,” said Wuneng. “Where are you going?” asked the Elder. “Never mind,” said Wuneng, “once I set out, I can dig through ice and take fire, go seeking alms for a bowl, even press oil from snow and cook rice to bring back.”

See how he left the pine grove and went westward for more than ten li, still not striking a single household. Truly it was a place of wolves and tigers with no sign of human dwellings. The boor had walked hard and inwardly mused, “When the Monkey-Rider’s turn came, the old monk had what he asked for. Today the burden falls on me. Truly there is the saying, ‘Only when one is household head does one know the price of fuel and rice, and only when one rears a child does one understand a mother’s and father’s love.’ There is no place where I can beg alms now.” But drowsiness then came on him from fatigue. “If I should return at once and tell the old monk that I found nowhere to convert and beg, he will not believe the distance I have traveled. I must spend a while more; only then can I answer him properly. Enough, enough—let me lie down in this patch of grass and sleep.” So the boor lowered his head into the grass and slept. He only stirred in a drowsy half-waking haze and then, as happens to one worn out from walking, he dropped his head and slept on in a deep, heavy snooze.

Let us not say more about Zhu Bajie sleeping here. The Elder, in the forest, felt heat rise to his ears and his eyes to twitch; body and heart were uneasy. He called back at once to Sha Wujing, “Wuneng went to beg alms; why is it so late still and he has not returned?” Sha Wujing answered, “Master, you have not understood. Seeing how many monasteries and monastic benefactors are to the west, and with that big belly of his, how would he think of you? He will come only after he has eaten his fill.” Tripitaka said, “That is right. If he should be lingering there, greedy for alms, what chance do we have of finding him? Night is coming on; this is no place to lodge for the night. We must find a place to stay.” Sha Wujing said, “No matter; Master, sit here a while, and I will go seek him.” Tripitaka said, “Yes, yes. Alms or no alms, that is secondary. Finding a place to stop for the night is what matters.” Sha Wujing took up his precious staff and went straight out of the pine woods in search of Wuneng.

The Elder sat alone in the forest, deeply bored and weary, and forced himself to spirit. He rose quickly, gathered the baggage in one place, and tied the white horse to a tree. He took off the broad-brimmed hat he had worn, set down his staff straight, smoothed his black robes, and stepped slowly through the dim woods, trying to scatter his gloom. The Elder looked over wild grasses and hills, and the birds crying homeward to their nests only troubled him more. In truth that wood was a place of deep grass and narrow paths, and because his thoughts were disordered he had lost the way. First he had wished only to cool his vexation, and second to seek Zhu Bajie and Sha Wujing. Yet the two of them walked the direct westward road; after turning about for a while, the Elder drifted toward the south instead. As soon as he came out of the pines he lifted his head and saw a glittering gold flash on the side, and colored vapors billowing upward. Looking closely, it was a treasure pagoda, its golden crest agleam. It was merely the western evening light reflecting on that golden summit. He said, “My disciples have such poor merit for Dharma in this place. Ever since leaving the Eastern Land I have vowed to visit temples and burn incense, bow to Buddhas, and, whenever I meet a pagoda, sweep it clean. Is that not a golden pagoda of brilliant light? Why did I never pass by it before? Beneath it there must be a monastery and within there monks, so I will at least go see it. As for this baggage and this white horse, this place seems scarcely traveled, so there is no harm here. If there is convenience for a halt, then when my disciples arrive they will come and we can rest together.”

The Elder suffered a passing stroke of ill luck. See how he quickened his steps and reached the side of the pagoda. Thereupon he saw:

Stone cliffs rose ten thousand zhang, and the mountain flung itself up to the blue sky. Roots bound into the earth, thick and deep; peaks thrust into heaven. On both sides, thousands of mixed trees; before and behind, vines twined for more than one hundred li. Blossoms reflected on grass tips, wind cast shadows; running water, cloud-caves, a moon without a stem. Fallen timber crossed the deep ravines as a transverse beam; withered vines hung, fastening the shining summit. Beneath the stone bridge rolled and rolled a clear spring; on the dais stood long-bright white dust. From afar it was like a paradise of the three divine isles; near at hand, a glorious realm like Penglai. Fragrant pines and violet bamboos circled a mountain stream. Crows and magpies, monkeys and langurs passed through the steep ridges. Outside the cave gate came and went processions of beasts. In the woods, flocks of birds flew in and out in ordered bands. Green fragrant grasses shone; bright wild flowers bloomed. This place was clearly an evil domain, and the Elder’s bad luck had carried him straight into it.

The Elder took a step forward, and only when he reached below the pagoda gate did he see a patched bamboo curtain hanging there. He pushed it aside and entered; lifting his eyes at once, he saw on a stone bed a monster lying on his side. See what he looked like:

His face was blue-black, his fangs white, and he had a huge open mouth. The side-locks on either side were wild and tangled, all stained red; three or four broad purple beards rose thickly, like the buds on a cluster of litchis. His beak-like nose arched like a parrot’s; his star-like eyes were bright and searching. Two knuckles were like the monk’s alms bowl; two blue legs clung like weathered logs from a cliff’s edge. He wore, askew across his shoulders, a pale yellow mantle like a robe, outshining a woven brocade kasaya. He held a knife that flashed with sharp light; the stone he rested upon was fine, smooth, and without flaw. He had once set little devils in ant-like ranks; he had once, as an old fiend, sat in wasp-like courts. See his majesty and imposing presence; he barked and shouted and cried out a title. He had once, at the full moon, poured wine in a three-person cask; he had once, at one breath, tipped both armpit bowls with a gust and poured tea. See his vast powers: in a wink he could stride to heaven’s edge and roam the ends of the world. In wild woods birds of the thicket screamed; in deep brushlands dragons and snakes made their lairs. Celestial maidens sowed fields that yielded white jade; wayfaring adepts crouched by hidden fire and nourished cinnabar. A small cave gate, yes, could not by itself reach the Avīci hell. Yet this dazed demon was indeed a cow-headed yaksha. The Elder, seeing this sight, recoiled in fright, with his whole body numbed, his two legs soft and weak, and hastened to withdraw himself and flee. Just as he had turned, the demon’s spiritual strength proved truly fierce; he spread wide his pair of golden ghostly eyes and shouted, “You little ones, who do you see outside the gate?” One young demon poked his head out and peered out; seeing the shaven-headed Elder, he ran in to report, “Great King, outside is a monk. He has a broad round head and face, ears hanging down to his shoulders; smooth, fresh flesh all over, a fine soft skin like silk. A fine monk indeed.” Hearing this, the big one laughed out, “That is what is called ‘a fly upon a snake’s head—food that comes of itself.’ All you little ones, hurry and rush in, seize him and bring him to me; I offer heavy rewards.” The little demons, all at once like a swarm of bees, crowded in together. Tripitaka saw it all. Though he moved with all the urgency of an arrow, his feet went as fast as flying, yet fear and trembling shook him, his legs went soft and wooden, his steps failed him. The mountain path was rugged, the woods were deep, and dusk had come; there he could scarcely move an inch when they lifted him straight off. It was exactly as if: A dragon in shallow water is toyed with by a shrimp. A tiger fallen on the plain is bullied by dogs. Though good undertakings are often worn by obstacles, who is like Tripitaka in going westward?"

The little demons set the monk outside the bamboo curtain and, joyfully calling out, announced, "Great King, we have the monk." The old demon also peered in and saw Tripitaka’s head held high, his bearing dignified; indeed he was a fine monk. He thought to himself, “A monk this accomplished must be a personage from above; he is no ordinary villain’s catch. If I do not put on a show of authority, how will he submit?” Suddenly, affecting the mien of a predator, he raised his red whiskers, made his bloodied hair stand up to the sky, and split his eyes wide. He shouted, "Bring that monk in!" The little demons answered in a loud chorus, "Yes!" and shoved Tripitaka forward at once. As the saying goes, one does not hold one’s head high while under a low eave. Tripitaka had to clasp his hands together and salute. The demon said, "Where are you from, monk? From where? To where are you going? Speak quickly." Tripitaka said, "I am a monk of the Great Tang, sent by imperial decree to go west and seek scriptures and precepts. Passing through your honored mountain, I have come to the stupa below to pay my respects; I did not mean to disturb the august presence and beg forgiveness. When I return to the Eastern Land with the scriptures from the west, my fame will be forever honored." At this the demon laughed coarsely. "I said he must be a man from above, and indeed you are. I was just about to eat you. Very timely, very fortunate. Had it been otherwise, I would not have missed the chance to let you go! You are food for my mouth by nature; of course you have come to be struck down. Even if you run, you cannot go; even if you beg, you cannot slip away.\n\n\"Take that monk and bind him.\" Then the little demons rushed forward at once, wrapped ropes around him, and tied him fast to the soul-anchoring post."

The old demon grasped his knife and asked again, "Monk, how many are in your party? How can one person even dare to go to the Western Heaven?" Tripitaka, seeing the knife in his hand, answered plainly, "Great King, I have two disciples: Zhu Bajie and Sha Wujing. They both went into the pine grove to prepare our meal of austerity. Our baggage load and one white horse are all left there in the grove." The demon said, "Everything falls into my lot. Two disciples, plus you three, and the horse makes four. That is enough for one feast." A small demon said, "We will go fetch them." "Do not go out," said the old demon. "Close the front gate. Those two, in coming for alms, will surely look for their master; if they do not find him, they will surely come to my gate. As people say, ‘Business that comes to the door is easy business.’ Wait and catch them slowly." The little demons shut the front gate.

Let us not speak yet of Tripitaka’s misfortune. Sha Wujing left the wood to look for Zhu Bajie; even after going some ten or more li there was not a village in sight. He stood on a high bank, watching closely, when he heard voices in the grass. He thrust his staff into the deep grass and parted it; it was Zhudabajie, talking in his sleep. Wukong?

Sha Wujing caught him by the ear and only then woke him. "You fool! Did Master instruct you to make the ascetic meal, and did he say you could just sleep here?" The fool, all at once, woke up in confusion and asked, "Brother, what time is it?" Sha Wujing said, "Rise quickly. Whether there is a proper meal or not, Master told you and me to find a place to pass the night."

With his bowl in hand and his pickaxe-spade gripped, the fool followed Sha Wujing straight back. When they returned to the grove, Master was gone. Sha Wujing reproached him, "It is because your laziness in joining the ascetic meal that Master has surely been taken by a demon." Zhu Bajie laughed, "Brother, do not blurt nonsense. This wood is a refined and pleasant place; there are certainly no demons here. Master is probably too restless to stay still and has gone elsewhere to inspect the wind and cloud. Let us go and look for him." The two of them took up the horse and the pack, gathered their cloaks and iron staff, and left the pine grove to search for Tripitaka.

On this occasion, Tripitaka was not yet destined to die. The two had searched for a while and found nothing, when suddenly a yellow-golden flash appeared directly to the south. Bajie said, "Brother, only one with fortune is truly fortunate. See, Master has gone to that place. That radiance is a treasure pagoda. Who would dare to neglect such a one? He must be offering a banquet; he has paused there to enjoy it. Let us not dawdle either—we should hurry and get there before he is done." Sha Wujing replied, "Brother, we cannot guess good or ill so quickly. Let us first go and see."

When the two arrived at the gate, they found, "Ah, the gate is closed." On the lintel lay a white jade slab engraved with six great characters: "Wanzi Mountain Bowo Cave." Sha Wujing said, "Brother, this is no temple but a demon’s lair. If Master is here, no one can behold him." Zhu Bajie said, "Brother, do not fear. You tie up the horse, guard the luggage, and I will ask whether anyone is inside." He raised his pickaxe-spade, came forward, and shouted, "Open the gate! Open the gate!" A small demon who guarded the door pulled it open and, at the sight of them, darted back inside to report, "Great King, there is business at the door." The old demon asked, "What business?" The little one said, "Outside the cave gate is a monk with a long mouth and big ears, and a monk with an inauspicious face. They are asking for the gate to be opened." The old demon rejoiced: "Ah, it is Zhu Bajie and Sha Wujing come to seek him. He would dare to seek, too, and yet he has found my very gate? Since he has such ferocious features, do not treat him lightly." He said, "Bring him my outer robe." The little demon returned with it, buckled on his steel knife, and strode out in haste.

Now at the gate, the two stood and waited. You may see how the demon appeared:

Green-faced, red-whiskered, his red hair streamed in the wind. Golden plate-armor glittered about him in radiant sheen. A shell- and pearl-banded girdle wrapped his belly and cinched his waist; across his chest an armored strap and cloud-tied stride. Still he stood before the mountain, wind raging around him, while beyond the shore the sea-waves surged. His two ink-blue, darkened hands were broad and brutal, gripping the life-searing, soul-taking saber. If you wish to know his name and lineage, call out two characters: Yellow Robe.

The yellow-robed old monster came out and asked, "Which way monk are you, shouting at my gate?" Zhu Bajie answered, "My child, do you not recognize me? I am your lord. I am a monk of the Great Tang, dispatched to go west. My master is Tripitaka, the one sent by the imperial court. If he is within your house, send him out at once, or I will drive my spade in and smash my way in." The demon laughed. "Yes, yes, yes—there is a monk of the Great Tang in my house. I have not kept him waiting; I have arranged for him to eat human-flesh buns. You two come in and share one as well, why not?"

Bajie, taking him at his word, was about to enter, but Sha Wujing grabbed him and said, "Brother, he is deceiving you. When was it that you ever ate human flesh?" Only then did the fool wake up to himself, snatched out his pickaxe-spade, and rushed forward to strike the demon face to face. The monster sidestepped, and his steel saber flashed to meet him. Both revealed their divine arts, and the two bounded into the clouds and fought there. Sha Wujing abandoned the baggage and white horse, raised his precious staff, and rushed in to help. There, the two fierce monks and one vicious demon, in the sky, fought in a battle fit to be remembered:

The staff rose to meet the sword; the pickaxe and blade locked crosswise. One demon-general truly wielded might; two holy monks revealed divine forms. The nine-toothed spade was a real hero, and the anti-demon staff truly raged ferociously. Left and right, front and rear, all came and clashed, yet the Yellow Robe was not afraid. See how his steel blade flashed, silver-bright as it wheeled; truly his magical power was broad and vast. Their fighting filled the air with fog, cloud, and haze, while half the mountain cracked and cliffs split. One fights for reputation and will not stop; one fights for his master and is utterly fearless.

They went on and on in midair, striking and answering for dozens of rounds, with no clear victor and no side giving way. With life itself at stake for each of them, the contest was, in truth, hard to decide. In the end, none could yet tell how Tripitaka would be saved. Listen, and in the next chapter, hear how it is resolved.