This is a fresh, complete English translation of Wu Cheng’en’s public-domain one-hundred-chapter novel, produced with GPT-5.3-Codex-Spark assistance. It is an AI-assisted first edition, not a reproduction of an existing translation.

The king saw that Sun Wukong knew the art of calling up dragon-messengers and sacred powers, and he was just about to apply the precious seal to the release pass and hand it to Tripitaka so he could proceed west. The three Daoist priests, flustered, prostrated themselves in the Hall of Golden Luan and submitted a memorial. The king came down from the Dragon Throne and, waving his hand, asked, "Why does the Grand Master perform this great ceremony today?" One said, "Your Majesty, we have come here to uphold the state and preserve the peace of the land; for twenty years we have labored to guard this realm. This monk’s tricks, wielding power, have dragged him away and ruined our reputation. Could Your Majesty forgive us for the charge of killing men because of one bout of rain? Is that not making light of our efforts? Please hold the warrant for now and let my two brothers gamble with him once more to see how it is." The king was truly confused, shifting this way and that, then taking back the warrant, he said, "Grand Master, how will you gamble with him?" Huli Great Immortal replied, "I will gamble with him at seated meditation." The king said, "The Master is wrong. That monk is trained in the Zen teaching and must surely understand the gate of meditation before he dares to request the sutra by imperial decree. How could you gamble against him in that?" The immortal said, "My kind of seated meditation is unlike ordinary methods. It has another name, called Cloud-Ladder Manifesting-Saintly Power." The king asked, "What is Cloud-Ladder Manifesting-Saintly Power?" The immortal said, "Take one hundred table boards: stack fifty as a meditation dais and set them one above another. One may not climb by hand, nor mount a ladder or stool. Each rider sits upon a cloud, mounts the dais, and remains still for the appointed number of hours."

When the king saw the difficulty, he issued the command, "Monk, Grand Master wishes to gamble this 'Cloud-Ladder Manifesting-Saintly' seated-meditation with you. Can you do it?" Sun Wukong listened in silence, thinking. Zhu Bajie said, "Elder brother, why do you remain silent?" Wukong said, "Brother, I’ll tell you plainly. If it is kicking heaven, muddling wells, churning seas and reversing rivers, carrying mountains while chasing the moon, moving the Big Dipper and shifting the stars—those clever feats I can all do. Even beheading and cleaving skulls, opening bellies and gouging out hearts, and all strange bodily hardships, I do not fear. But when it comes to seated meditation, I am losing. Where can I have such stillness of posture? You could chain me to an iron pillar; I’ll keep climbing up and down, and you cannot expect me to sit still." Tripitaka spoke at once, "I can sit." Wukong exclaimed happily, "Excellent—excellent. For how long can you sit?" Tripitaka said, "When young, I followed a Zen monk and was taught Dharma. At the root of life and death one can quiet intention and still the spirit. In the gate between life and death, one may sit for two or three years." Wukong said, "If my master sits two or three years, we should abandon the pilgrimage. In no more than two or three hours, I think he will come down." Tripitaka said, "Disciple, he still cannot go up there." Wukong said, "You go ahead and promise this. I’ll send you up."

The elder monk then joined hands over his chest and said, "Your humble one can sit meditation." The king ordered it proclaimed and immediately had two platforms erected. The nation possessed strength enough to turn mountains; in less than half an hour they raised two platforms on either side of the Golden Luan Hall.

Huli Great Immortal descended from the hall and stood at the center of the steps. With one leap he stepped onto a cloud seat and went straight up to sit on the western platform. Sun Wukong pulled out a single hair and turned it into a decoy image, and with him beside Zhu Bajie and Sha Wujing he stood below. Then he made a five-colored auspicious cloud, lifted Tripitaka into the air, and went straight to the eastern platform to sit. He then gathered in his light and became a long-bodied jingling bug, flew to Zhu Bajie’s ear, and whispered, "Brother, watch Master carefully and do not speak to Old Monkey’s substitute." The Pig-Fisted one laughed, "I understand. I understand."

Huli Great Immortal sat for a long while on a decorated cushion and watched, and the two on the high platforms were still evenly matched. Then this Daoist gave his fellow-priest one helping move: he plucked one short hair from the back of his head, twisted it into a ball, and flung it upward, landing on Tripitaka’s head and becoming a large stinking bug that bit him. At first the monk only felt an itch, then pain. As seated meditation permits no movement, and moving means loss, he endured, unable to stand it, lowered his head and with his sleeve hem tried to scratch. Zhu Bajie said, "This is bad—Master’s wind has risen in his head." Sha Wujing said, "No, it is not that. His head wind has risen." Wukong heard this and said, "My Master is an upright, sincere man. Since he said he could sit meditation, he will sit without fail. If he cannot, then he truly cannot. A gentleman’s household does not speak falsehoods. You two keep quiet; let me go up and see."

A sharp "eeng" rang out; the Sage flew above Tripitaka’s head and saw a bean-sized stinking bug biting his Master. He hurriedly pinched it down and rubbed around to relieve him. Tripitaka himself seemed neither in pain nor in an itch, and sat upright as before. Sun Wukong thought, "On a monk’s shaven head even a louse cannot stay, so how can such a stinking bug remain there? It must be this Daoist’s trickery, harming my Master. Ha, since I do not even know how this is decided, I’ll punish him myself!" He flew up, dropped near the gold-beast head of the hall, then instantly changed into a seven-inch centipede and went straight to sting the Daoist in the hollow of the nose. The Daoist could not keep his seat, flipped and came tumbling down—nearly losing his life. Fortunately, many high officials and attendants crowded there pulled him up in time. The king, greatly alarmed, ordered the chief Minister to take him away to the Wenhua Hall to bathe and comb his hair. Sun Wukong once again took up his lucky cloud and carried Tripitaka down to the steps; already the elder monk had won.

The king then gave order to release them. Huli Great Immortal also submitted a memorial: "Your Majesty, my senior brother has a secret wind illness. Reaching such a height, he was struck by the sky wind, and the old ailment burst forth, so it was that the monk won. Do keep him here and let me gamble one more time with him in the game of Guessing by Dividing Panels." The king asked, "What is called 'Guessing by Dividing Panels'?" Huli said, "I have a method of divining things behind a partition. Let us see if the monk can match it. If he guesses rightly against me, let him go free. If he fails, then according to Your Majesty’s judgment choose his offense, and avenge the grievance of my brothers, so the grace of twenty years of preserving this country is not made impure." Truly confused, the king accepted this slander and ordered: bring a vermilion-red lacquered cabinet and have an attendant carry it to the hall. He ordered the empresses to place in it a precious item. After a short while it was brought out and set before the white-jade steps, and he told the monk, "Each of you now wager your power and guess what treasure is in this cabinet."

Tripitaka said, "Disciple, how can I know what is in that cabinet?" Sun Wukong drew in his light, changed once more into the long-bodied bug, and fixed himself to Tripitaka’s head: "Master, do not worry. I will go and look." The Great Sage flew lightly to the cabinet, crawled beneath its foot, and saw a narrow board crack. He crept through and found a red-lacquer cinnabar dish within, containing a set of court robes: the Mountain-and-River State-Emblem Coat and the Heaven-and-Earth Geology Skirt. He took it up and shook it loose. Biting the tip of his tongue until it bled, he sprayed a jet of blood, shouted "Transform!" and instantly became a tattered rag and a broken little bell. Before leaving he also left a splash of foul urine. He then came back through the board crack and flew to Tripitaka’s ear: "Master, guess only a torn rag and a small bell." Tripitaka said, "He said to guess a treasure—what treasure is this torn rag and little bell?" Wukong said, "Do not worry; just guess it correctly."

Tripitaka stepped forward one step and was just about to guess when Huli Great Immortal said, "I will guess first: in that cabinet is the Mountain-and-River State-Emblem Coat and the Heaven-and-Earth Geology Skirt." Tripitaka said, "No, no. In the cabinet is a torn rag and a little bell." The king said, "This monk is rude. He dares to mock that my realm has no treasure and guess a mere rag and bell!" "Take him!" the guards moved to seize him. In panic, Tripitaka raised his hands in prayer and shouted, "Your Majesty, pardon this poor monk for one moment. Let the cabinet be opened first. If it is a treasure, I take the blame; if it is no treasure, then do not still claim this poor monk has lost." The king ordered it opened. The chief minister opened it and lifted out the cinnabar dish; inside was indeed a tattered rag and a little bell. The king thundered in anger, "Who set this here?" From behind the dragon seat came one of the imperial empresses: "My lord, the imperial seamstress Zitong placed the State-Emblem Coat and Geology Skirt herself. I do not know how it turned into this." The king said, "Your consort may withdraw. I know it now. Objects used in the inner palace are only satin, silk, and patterned silk-brocade—how could there be such a rag and bell?" He ordered, "Lift it again. I myself will hide one treasure in it, and we shall test again." Turning toward the inner court, the king plucked a great peach from the immortal peach tree in the imperial garden, as large as a bowl, and put it into the cabinet before setting it down to be guessed.

Tripitaka said, "Disciple, we guess again now." Wukong said, "Do not fear; let me look once more." Again came the sharp cry, and he flew there, entered through the board crack again, and saw a peach—exactly what he needed. He resumed his true form, sat in the cabinet, bit through the peach clean, even emptying both cheek sockets, then placed the pit inside. He changed once more into the long-bodied bug, flew out, and settled on Tripitaka’s ear: "Master, you should guess a peach pit." Tripitaka said, "Disciple, do not make a fool of me. Before, with too quick a tongue, I was almost taken for punishment. This time we should guess a real treasure. What treasure is a peach pit?" Wukong said, "Do not fear—just win against him."

Tripitaka was about to speak when he heard Yangli Great Immortal say, 'I, your humble Taoist, first guessed it was a celestial peach.' Tripitaka said, 'Not a peach—a bare peach pit.' The king shouted, 'It is the immortal peach I placed myself. How can it be only a pit? The Royal Preceptor has guessed it right then.' Tripitaka said, 'Your Majesty, let us open it and see.' The palace officer lifted it again, opened it, and brought out the elixir tray. It was indeed only a pit, without skin or flesh. Seeing this, the king, alarmed, said, 'Master, do not gamble with him anymore; let him go. I hid that celestial peach with my own hands; now it is only a pit. Who could have eaten it? It must be that some ghost or god secretly aided him.' Hearing this, Zhu Bajie, smiling faintly at Sha Wujing, said, 'You still do not know how long he has been eating peaches.'

At that very moment, Huli Great Immortal, after bathing and dressing in Wenhua Hall, came up to the hall and said, 'Your Majesty, this monk has an art that carries things across. Bring the cabinet out again. I will break his arts and challenge him once more.' The king asked, 'What does the Royal Preceptor still wish to guess?' Huli said, 'The spell can counter objects, but not the human body. Hide this Dao-child inside; then he cannot exchange himself.' He did so: the little boy was hidden inside the cabinet, the lid closed, lowered, and the order was given, 'The monk must guess again—what is this treasure in this third round?'

Tripitaka said, 'It has come again!' The Great Sage said, 'Wait, I will go check again.' At once he flew again, crawled inside, and saw a small boy. 'What cleverness in this Great Sage,' he thought; 'indeed he is one of the rare clever boys under heaven.' He changed form at once and became an old Taoist, entered the cabinet, and called, 'Disciple.' The boy asked, 'Master, where did you come from?' The Great Sage said, 'I came by means of a disappearing art.' The boy said, 'What instruction have you brought?' The Great Sage said, 'That monk has seen you come in. If he were to guess a Dao-child, would he not lose again? I have come to settle with you: let me shave your head, and then we will guess monk.' The boy said, 'As long as master governs, if we win him all is well. If we lose, our reputation will fail, and the court will not honor us.' The Great Sage said, 'You are right. Come, if you beat him I will reward you handsomely.' He changed the Golden-Hooped Staff into a razor, hugged the child, and said, 'Good child, bear the pain and do not shout. Let me shave you.' In a moment the hair was cut off and packed into a knot at the bottom tie of the cabinet. After putting away the razor, he touched the boy’s smooth head: 'My child, your head already looks like a monk’s. Only the robes do not fit. Remove them, and I will transform you.' The boy removed a pale-greensilk cloud-crowned robe with brocade trim and crane-patterned edges. Wukong breathed out a breath of immortal qi and cried, 'Transform!' and it changed into an earthen-yellow straight robe, which he made him wear. Then he pulled two hairs and turned them into a wooden fish, putting it in the child’s hand: 'Disciple, listen well. If they call out that you are a Dao-child, never come out. If they call you monk, then push open the cabinet lid, strike the wood-fish, chant a Buddhist scripture, and crawl out. Only then will you succeed.' The boy said, 'I only know how to recite the Sūtra of the Three Officials, the Northern Dipper Sūtra, and the Sūtra for Dispelling Disasters. I cannot recite Buddhist scripture.' The Great Sage asked, 'Can you recite Buddha?' The boy replied, 'Amitabha Buddha—I cannot not recite that.' The Great Sage said, 'All right, all right. Just chant Buddha and spare me teaching you again. Remember this: I am leaving.' He changed again into a cicada-like insect, flew out, and whispered at Tripitaka’s ear, 'Master, you should only guess it is a monk.' Tripitaka said, 'This time he will certainly win.' The Great Sage asked, 'How can you be so certain?' Tripitaka said, 'The scripture says:

As they were speaking, Huli Great Immortal said, 'Your Majesty, for the third time it is a Dao-child.' The boy kept quiet and would not come out. Tripitaka joined his palms and said, 'It is a monk.' Zhu Bajie shouted loudly, 'Inside the cabinet there is a monk.' Suddenly the child pushed up the cabinet lid, struck the wood-fish, chanted Buddha, and crawled out. The two groups of civil and military officials cheered in unison. Caught in fear, the three Daoist priests kept silent, unable to speak.

The king said, 'This monk is helped by ghosts and gods. How can a Daoist enter a cabinet and turn into a monk? Even if one entered behind him by Imperial order, he could only have his head shaved; how could his clothing change to fit and his mouth speak Buddha as well? Master, let him go.' Huli Great Immortal said, 'Your Majesty, this is a match for one another; we have found a worthy opponent. The martial arts I learned as a boy on Zhongnan Mountain are enough for me to gamble with him once more.' The king asked, 'What arts?' Huli answered, 'The three of us each have some powers: we can cut off a head and set it back on again; open the belly, scoop out the heart, and have it regrow; and roll in a cauldron of boiling oil as if taking a bath.' The king was greatly startled: 'These three are roads to death.' Huli said, 'It is only because we have such powers that I dare make bold words; we must gamble with him and settle it.' The king cried, 'Monk of the Eastern Land, my Royal Preceptor will not release you. He still wants to gamble with you for beheading, opening the belly, and bathing in a rolling oil cauldron.'

The Great Sage was still in cicada form, running errands. At these words he gathered his hairs and revealed his true form, then laughed aloud: 'Fate, fate—this bargain has come right to my door.' Zhu Bajie said, 'These three things are all life-taking; how can you call that a bargain?' The Great Sage said, 'You still do not know my arts.' Zhu Bajie said, 'Elder Brother, your transformations alone are enough. What more skill can you have?' The Great Sage replied, 'Listen:

If my head is cut off, it can still speak; if my arms are hewn away, they can still strike. If my legs are severed, I can still walk; with the belly split open, the repair is wondrous and perfect. Like folk wrap food in dough—one pinch, one comes out whole. Bathing in a boiling oil pot is still easier, as if warm water for washing off grime.' Zhu Bajie and Sha Wujing laughed.

The Great Sage went forward and said, 'Your Majesty, this young monk can have his head cut off.' The king asked, 'How do you know how to decapitate?' The Great Sage said, 'When I was in monastic training, I once met a monk named Fangshang Zhi. He taught me a beheading method. I do not know whether it is good or not, but now let us try it.' The king laughed, 'He is young and does not know the way of the world. How can one try beheading? The head is the principal of the six yang; if it is cut off, one dies at once.' Huli said, 'Your Majesty, this is just what will draw out our qi against him.' The deluded king believed him and ordered, 'Set up the place of execution.'

At the command, three thousand Yulin soldiers were arranged outside the court gate. The king ordered, 'The monk should go first for beheading.' The Great Sage readily answered, 'I will go first, I will go first.' Folding his hands, he shouted, 'Royal Preceptor, forgive my boldness—I beg the first turn.' Turning back, he walked out. Tripitaka grabbed him and said, 'Disciple, be careful. This is no place for play.' The Great Sage replied, 'Why should I be afraid? Let go. I will go and return.'

The Great Sage went straight to the execution ground. The executioners seized him, bound him into a tight bundle, and pressed him upon a high earthen mound. At once there was a cry, 'Cut!' and with a hiss the head was chopped off. An executioner kicked him and he rolled away, like a rolling melon, for some thirty or forty paces. No blood came from the Great Sage’s body at all. From inside came the call: 'Head, come!' Alarmed, Huli Great Immortal, seeing such skill, recited a charm and invoked the local Earth Lords and spirits: 'Hold his head fast. If I defeat this monk and report to the king, I will build for you a great temple from your little shrine, and have your clay images remade as true gilded forms.' Because he had the Five-Thunder arts, those Earth Lords and deities obeyed him and truly held the Sage’s head in place unseen. The Great Sage called again, 'My head!' and it seemed rooted, unable to move at all. Wukong grew anxious, twisted his fist and struggled, and all the binding ropes snapped. He shouted, 'Grow!' and in a rush another head sprang from within his body. This terrified the executioners, and every Yulin soldier stood in fear. The execution captain hurried into court and reported, 'Your Majesty, the young monk had his head cut off, and yet it has grown one again.' Zhu Bajie smirked, 'Sha Wujing, did you know my brother has such skill?' Sha Wujing said, 'He has seventy-two transformations, so he has seventy-two heads.'

Before they could finish speaking, the Great Sage returned, crying, 'Master.' Tripitaka rejoiced, 'Disciple, was it hard?' The Great Sage said, 'Not hard at all—just a fine bit of play.' Zhu Bajie asked, 'Brother, can we use medicine for sword wounds?' The Great Sage said, 'Feel it yourself and see if there is any scar from the blade.' The fool reached out to touch him, and with stunned eyes laughed dumbly, 'Wondrous, wondrous! It is complete as before, not even a tiniest scar from a cut.'

The brothers were all rejoicing when they heard the king call out that the pardon scroll was to be issued: “You are pardoned of guilt. Go—go at once.” Sun Wukong said, “Though I accept this order, the Great Master must also come to the execution ground to have his head cut off first; only then should he be tested whether he can return.” The king said, “Great Master, that monk does not intend to spare you. If you gamble with him and win, do not make me be the one who trembles.” Huli could not resist and went. A few executioners bound him to the ground, and with one sweep cut off his head, then kicked it away. It rolled over thirty paces. No blood came from his throat, yet he called once, “My head!” Sun Wukong quickly pulled out one hair, blew a breath of immortal air, cried “Transform!” and turned into a yellow dog, ran into the field, bit off the Taoist’s head, and then ran straight to the bank of the royal waterway and tossed it away without further matter.

That Taoist cried out three times, but the head did not come back; Wukong’s trick did not work to bring it forth. Red light burst from his bones. He had only the art of calling rain and summoning wind, but how could that compare to Wukong, the true immortals’ peer? In a moment he collapsed in the dust. When the crowd looked, he had become a headless yellow-furred tiger.

The execution officer came again to report: “Your Majesty, the Great Master’s head has been cut off and does not grow back. He lies dead in the dust, a headless yellow tiger.” The king, hearing this, was pale with shock, staring without blinking at the two Taoists. Luli stood up and said, “My senior brother is already dead in life and fate has ended him; how can he be only a yellow tiger? It is that monk’s shameless trickery, disguising my senior brother and turning him into a beast. I will not spare him now; I will gamble with him—I demand my abdomen be opened and my heart gouged out.”

The king then came back to himself. He said, “Young monk, the Second Great Master still wishes to gamble with you.” Sun Wukong said, “I have not eaten grain and flame-cooked food for a long time. Some days ago, coming from the west, I met Master Zhai’s house and was told to eat, so I ate several stuffed buns. These days my belly pains me; surely worms are there. I wish to borrow Your Majesty’s knife, split open my belly, take out my entrails, and wash my spleen and stomach clean, then I can go west to meet Buddha in good order.” The king said, “Take him to the execution ground.” Many pulled at him to carry him, but Sun Wukong freed himself: “There is no need for people to drag me. I can walk on my own. Only this: do not bind my hands, for I need them to wash my organs.” The king ordered, “Do not bind his hands.”

Sun Wukong swayed and walked directly to the slaughter place, leaned his body against a great post, untied his belt, and exposed his belly. One executioner looped a rope around his shoulders and another around his legs, then flashed a short ox-ear knife and made a cut under the belly, boring a hole. Sun Wukong with both hands parted his belly and drew out his intestines. He took them out one by one, yet when enough time passed they remained coiled inside as before. He pinched the belly, blew a breath of immortal air, called, “Chang!” and it was instantly closed again.

The king was greatly startled, holding the pardon order in his hand, saying, “Holy monk, do not fail your voyage to the West. Take this writ and be off.” Sun Wukong laughed: “This writ is a small matter. Please have the Great Master also split and gouge himself—what do you think?” The king said to Luli, “This is none of my business. It is you who sought to oppose him. Go on, go on.” Luli said, “Do not worry. I am certain I will not lose to him.”

See how like the Great Sage Sun he was, swaying and swaying, entering the execution field straightaway. The executioners roped him and the short ox-ear knife flashed with a hiss, slitting open his belly. He, too, drew out the liver and intestines and handled them with his hands. Then Sun Wukong pulled out one hair, blew a breath of immortal air, and shouted, “Transform!” He became a hungry hawk, spread wings and talons, and in a rush swooped down to snatch all the five viscera and liver and carried them away to feast; no one knew where he flew. That Taoist was left as a hollow, open-bellied, blood-dripping thing, a withered soul without organs. The executioners kicked over the great post and dragged the corpse to look at it. Ah! It was a white-furred horned deer.

The frightened execution officer came again and reported: “The Second Great Master is most unfortunate. While he was having his belly split, a hungry hawk carried away all the internal organs and liver. He died there. His true form is also a white-furred horned deer.” The king asked, “How can that be a horned deer?” Yangli Great Immortal spoke again: “My brother is dead already. How can he now appear in beast form? It is that monk’s trickery harming us. I will repay the injury now.” The king asked, “What power do you have to defeat him?” Yangli said, “Let us gamble on going to bathe in a boiling-oil cauldron.” The king ordered that a large pot be brought, filled with fragrant oil, and both of you be sent to gamble. Sun Wukong said, “Much obliged. The young monk has not bathed in some time. In these two days my skin is dry and itchy. I will at least roll about a bit.”

The supervising official ordered the oil vat set, laid dry wood underneath, and burned up a fierce fire until the oil boiled. He said, “Let the monk enter first.” Sun Wukong put his palms together and asked, “Should I take the civil wash or the martial wash?” The king said, “What is civil wash? What is martial wash?” Sun Wukong said, “Civil wash means no robe off: with your hands crossed like this, go down and roll once, then come up, and do not let the robe become soiled with oil. If any trace of grease appears, that is losing. Martial wash means taking a rack and a towel, removing your robe, leaping in, and then turning as you like—cartwheels and all, standing like a dragonfly, as if it were mere sport.” The king asked Yangli, “Which will you choose—civil wash or martial wash?” Yangli said, “If it is civil wash, his robe may have been alchemically strengthened and will resist oil. Let it be martial wash.”

Sun Wukong stepped forward and said, “Forgive this boldness—I have taken the lead repeatedly.” He stripped off his plain robe, removed his tiger-skin skirt, and leapt high, landing in the pot, where he rose and fell in waves, splashing and tossing the oil like a man playing with water itself. Zhu Bajie saw this and bit his finger as he spoke to Sha Wujing, “We judged this monkey wrong. All the time we mocked him and argued with him, daring to taunt his tricks, not knowing he has such real skill. The two of them kept chirping and praising him without end.”

Sun Wukong looked on, skeptical: “That fool laughs at me. Truly, as the saying goes, ‘The clever have heavy labor, the clumsy have time to spare.’ This old monk is so adroit at his dances, yet the fool sits easy. Let me make him a rope and bind him, and see what fright he has.” Midway through his bathing, he sent up a spray of water, cooled himself at the bottom of the oil cauldron, changed into a jujube-kernel peg, and did not rise again.

The execution officer came close and reported again: “Your Majesty, the young monk has been boiled to death in the rolling oil.” The king rejoiced and ordered them to haul up the bones. The executioners put an iron sieve into the pot. The holes in that ladle were broad, and Sun Wukong had become tiny as a pin. Again and again he slipped through the holes; how could they retrieve him? Again the officer reported, “The monk’s body is slight and delicate, all of it fried into ash.” The king ordered, “Take three monks down.” Captains on both sides saw Zhu Bajie’s menacing face and first grabbed him by the ears, dragging him and binding his back at the pot.

Tripitaka cried out urgently, “Your Majesty, please pardon this poor monk for a single moment. Since I entered the way, my disciple has rendered clear and steady merit. Today he has collided with the Great Master and died in the oil pot, yet the one who dies first is counted as spirit. How can I, poor monk that I am, dare to cling to life? This is just as officers of the realm govern the people of the realm. If Your Majesty commands my death, how could this monk not obey? I only ask for a little mercy: grant me half a cup of cooling gruel and rice water and three paper horses, and let me stand at the oil pot to burn one sheet of paper, so my disciple and I may make one last confession; then I will receive punishment thereafter.” Hearing this, the king said, “Indeed, a person of the Central Kingdom has honor.” He ordered that some gruel-rice and yellow coins be brought to him, and they were given to Tripitaka.

Tripitaka said his blessing at the pot, “Disciple Sun Wukong:

Since I accepted the precepts and entered the Chan family, my love in escorting you to the West has run deep. I had hoped that together we would attain the Great Way, but now I had this, that today you go toward darkness. In life I only sought the meaning of the scriptures; after death I still keep remembrance of Buddha. A heroic spirit over ten thousand miles away must wait, a ghost in the netherworld, until it rises to Leiyin.” Zhu Bajie heard and said, “Master, not like this blessing. Sha Wujing, do you prepare the gruel and water for him, and let me pray.” While bound to the ground and panting, he said, “You careless, drunken monkey; ignorant Bima-wen. The doomed, carefree monkey—Bima-wen boiled in oil. Monkey, your camp is done, Bima-wen has no root left.” Hearing the fool’s chaotic abuse from beneath, Sun Wukong could not bear it and revealed his true form, standing in the oil pot, wet-red and bare beneath, saying, “What an awful brute! Who are you cursing?” Tripitaka said, “Disciple, you will frighten me to death!” Sha Wujing said, “Big Brother is practiced in feigning death cleanly.”

Before they could settle it, two groups of civil and military officers came up together to report: “Your Majesty, the monk is not dead; he has come out of the oil pot.” The execution officer, fearing the court might be deceived, said in alarm, “He is dead indeed; only the date is unlucky, and the young monk is showing his spirit.” Sun Wukong heard this and became furious, leapt out of the pot, wiped off the oil, put on his clothes, drew out his staff, and struck the execution officer on the head, turning him into a lump of flesh. He shouted, “What spirit am I to show now?” Terrified, many officials hurriedly untied Zhu Bajie and knelt, pleading, “Forgive us, forgive us.” The king descended from the dragon throne. Sun Wukong pulled him there and said, “Your Majesty, do not go. Let your Third Great Master go down into the oil pot too.” The emperor, in trembling fear, said, “Great Master, you have saved my life. Quickly go down into the pot, or the monk may strike me.”

Sun Wukong came down from the hall, took off his clothes as the Great Sage would, leapt into the oil cauldron, and bathed there with the same feigned ease as before. After releasing the king, he moved to the edge of the cauldron and told the fire tender to add more fuel. He reached in with his hand, and at once cried out, “Ah! the oil that was to be boiling is ice-cold.” He thought to himself: “It was hot when I bathed, yet now it is cold for him. I know now which Dragon King is protecting him here.” Instantly he sprang into the air, chanted the seed syllable “Om,” and summoned the North Sea Dragon King: “You, horned earthworm, scaled mud-gudgeon! How did you dare to aid the Taoist, holding a cold-drake beneath the pot so he could pretend to be holy and defeat me?” Hearing that, the Dragon King nodded nervously and replied, “Ao Shun dare not be of this aid. Great Sage, you do not know: this demon animal practiced austerities for a while and shed its former shell, yet it has only truly received the Five-Thunder rite; all else it learned were side methods, unable to return to the Immortal Way. This is the ‘Great-Burning Split’ he learned at Little Maoshan. The other two had already had their arts broken by you, Great Sage, and had shown their true forms. This one is a cold dragon he forged himself, able only to fool ordinary people with childish tricks—how could it deceive the Great Sage? The young dragon has now reclaimed that cold dragon; I will have it made to have its bones broken and its skin scorched.” Sun Wukong said, “Take him up at once and spare the blows.” The Dragon King raised a whirlwind, went to the edge of the oil cauldron, seized the cold dragon, and carried it back to the sea; no further account is needed.

Sun Wukong came down and stood in front of the hall with Tripitaka, Zhu Bajie, and Sha Wujing. They saw the Taoist master thrashing in the rolling oil pan, unable to climb out. He slipped in a moment, and in an instant his bones came apart, his skin was scorched, and his flesh turned rotten.

The officer in charge of executions came again to report: “Your Majesty, the Three-Realms Taoist master has also been boiled to death.” The king, tears spilling down his eyes, struck the imperial desk and wailed:

"A human body is hard to obtain, indeed hard; without true transmission one should not brew alchemy. Empty are charms that drive off gods and water-spells, with no Elixir of Longevity or life-preserving pills. In this perfect and mingling chaos, how can there be nirvana? By clever artifice alone one’s life finds no peace. Had I foreseen this cruel collapse so soon, why not have eaten in secret and settled in the mountains?" This is exactly: "What is gained by gilding and refining mercury from cinnabar? Summoning rain and wind is all in vain!"

In the end it was still unknown how Master Tripitaka and his disciples would manage, so let the next chapter resolve the matter.