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.

A lyric says:

Sweep the mind over and over, and slowly wipe away the dust of feelings. Let no pit or trench swallow Pilu into ruin. Keep your true nature ever pure and clear, and only then may one speak of the primal source. The lamp of nature must be examined and refined; let the wind of Caoxi breathe and exhale. Do not let the breath-sound of ape and horse grow coarse. By breathing on and on day and night, only then is one’s true work made evident. This lyric, titled 《南柯子》, tells of Tripitaka escaping the icy disaster of the river to Heaven and crossing the shore upon a white turtle. The four pilgrims, following the great road and facing west, continued on. They met the signs of deep winter; all they could see was the forest glow, faint in the haze, and the mountain bones jagged while the water beyond shone clear.

As the four pilgrims pressed on, they suddenly met a huge mountain that blocked the road. The path was narrow, the cliffs steep, the rocks many, and the ridges high; men and horses could not easily pass. Tripitaka, in his saddle, drew back the reins and called, “Disciples.” At once Sun Wukong came with Zhu Bajie and Sha Wujing and stood respectfully before him. “Master, what is your command?” Tripitaka said, “Look at the mountain ahead. There may be tigers and wolves causing mischief, and strange beasts may injure people. Today we must be very cautious!” Sun Wukong said, “Do not worry, Master. The three of us, though brothers, are of one heart and one mind, resolved to seek the truth and restore what is right. We can use the arts for casting out monsters and subduing demons. What should we fear from tigers, wolves, and demon-beasts?” Hearing this, Tripitaka at last allowed himself to continue with a lighter heart. At the mouth of the ravine they urged their horses up the cliff, lifted their heads to look closely, and praised the mountain:

Jagged and towering, high in a rigid mass, Jagged and towering, it cleaves toward the heavens; Jagged and towering, steep-cut and upright, it blocks the blue sky. Strange stones piled in chaos look like crouching tigers; Dark pines hanging askew seem like flying dragons. On the ridges birds call in tender and beautiful tones, By the cliff-front the plum trees exude a strange fragrance. The streamlet murmurs and runs out cold, Clouds on the summit grow dim and menacing. There is drifting snow, and biting wind as well, Hungry tiger roars roar and crash through the mountain. Crows in the cold find no tree to alight upon, Wild deer seek lodgings and leave no certain trace. Alas for travelers, for advancing is hard; Brows wrinkled in worry, faces hidden in the clouded cold.

The four pilgrims pressed through the snow and frost and drove on despite the cold, crossing the sheer ridges and peaks. From far away they saw tower pavilions standing high in a mountain hollow, their houses quiet and tranquil. Tripitaka, cheerful on horseback, said, “Disciples, this day we are hungry and cold. It is lucky that in that hollow there are towers and buildings; surely they are villagers’ dwellings or a monastery. Let us go there to receive alms and have a meal before moving on.” When Sun Wukong heard this, he widened his eyes and saw in the near distance ominous dark clouds and swirling evil qi. He turned back to Tripitaka and said, “Master, that place is not good.” Tripitaka said, “When I see towers and pavilion halls, how could it not be a good place?” Sun Wukong laughed and replied, “Master, how can you know? Along the Western road there are many demons and evil spirits who can enchant dwellings. No matter whether it is houses, towers, or halls and pavilions, they can all transform them all and trick people. You know of ‘the nine kinds born of the Dragon,’ and within them there is one named shen. When shen qi radiates light, it can appear as mansions, towers, and shallow pools. If it meets a great river in haze, it can put forth exactly such forms. If birds or magpies were to fly up and soar, they will surely come to rest their wings there. Even should you count one ten-thousand against thousands and thousands, that single breath can swallow all. Among such illusions this is the most damaging. That side is of harsh and frightening aspect. We must not enter.”

Tripitaka said, “If we cannot enter, I am truly hungry.” Sun Wukong said, “If Master is truly hungry, please dismount and sit here on this flat ground. I will make some alms food elsewhere for you to eat.” Tripitaka dismounted as told. Zhu Bajie held the reins. Sha Wujing set down the baggage, then unwrapped the bundle, took out the bowl, and handed it to Sun Wukong. Sun Wukong took the bowl in hand and told Sha Wujing, “Good brother, do not go forward. Guard Master well, keeping him seated here. When I go and make the meal, return and then we can head west again.” Sha Wujing agreed. Sun Wukong turned to Tripitaka: “This place has far more misfortune than good fortune, so do not urge us onward. Stay where you are; I will go to make alms.” Tripitaka said, “No need for many words. Go quickly and return quickly. I will wait here.” Sun Wukong turned to leave, then came back and said, “Master, I know you cannot sit still long. I will give you a way to keep safe.” He then took up the Golden-Hooped Staff, flourished it once, and drew a circle around the flat ground. He asked Tripitaka to sit in the middle. He ordered Zhu Bajie and Sha Wujing to stand to his left and right, and to place the horse and baggage close by. Facing Tripitaka with joined palms, he said, “The circle old Sun drew is stronger than a bronze wall and an iron barrier. Beasts, tigers, leopards, wolves, insects, monsters, devils and ghosts—they dare not come near. As long as you do not leave this circle and stay seated in its center, you will be unharmed. If any of you steps outside, the outcome is certain and fatal. A thousand times, a thousand times—be careful, be sure.” Tripitaka obeyed, and all the four sat upright.

Sun Wukong rose on the clouds and headed south to make alms, and soon saw ancient trees towering high, with a village at their foot. He landed and looked carefully, and only saw:

Snow presses down on faded willows; ice seals the square pools. Sparse bamboo shakes green, and lofty pines gather dense jade-hue. A few thatched cottages half covered in silver, one small bridge set at a slant in chalk-white brick. By the fence, spiderwort-like flowers of narcissus just peep forth, and beneath the eaves long frozen icicles hang down. Piercing cold wind sends a strange fragrance, and snow spreads so thickly that one cannot see where the plum blossoms open. As Sun Wukong walked through the compound, he heard a sharp sound: the wooden gate opened and a gray-haired elder emerged, dragging a staff, wearing sheepskin on his head, in patched monastic robes, with straw shoes on his feet. Leaning on his staff, he looked up toward heaven and said, “The northwest wind has risen; tomorrow it will be clear.” He could barely finish when a little dog, a hound-like mongrel, darted out behind him and barked wildly at Sun Wukong. The elder then turned around, saw Sun Wukong holding a bowl, and made a greeting: “Venerable sir, I am an upright monk from the Great Tang in the Eastern Land, on an imperial mission to the Western Heavens to bow before Buddha and seek the scriptures. I have just passed through Baofang, and my master is famished in the saddle. I have come to your household to ask for alms food.” Hearing this, the elder nodded and set down his staff: “Venerable elder, do not prepare alms. You have taken the wrong road.” Sun Wukong said, “You are right.” The elder said, “The road to the Western Heavens is straight north from here. If you go this way, it is a thousand li away. Why are you not going along the main road?” Sun Wukong laughed, “Yes, it is straight north. My master is now seated on the main road waiting for me to make alms.” The elder replied, “The monk speaks nonsense. If your master is waiting for alms on the road a thousand li away, even if he can walk back, he cannot arrive in less than six or seven days, and in another six or seven to return. Would he not starve?” Sun Wukong laughed and said, “To be plain with you, I parted from my master not even for a cup of hot tea, yet already I reached this place. Now that I have made alms, I still must hurry onward for the noon meal.”

On hearing this, the elder grew frightened and said to himself, “This monk is a ghost. A ghost.” He drew back quickly and went inside. Sun Wukong grabbed him by the sleeve: “Venerable, where are you going? Make alms quickly!” The elder said, “It is not proper, not proper—do not visit another house.” Sun Wukong replied, “You are not being sensible at all. You said there is a thousand li between here and there; if I visit another house still, is there not another thousand li again? Truly you would starve my master.” The elder said, “I won’t lie to you. In my family, with six or seven mouths to feed, we have only just sifted three sheng of rice into the pot, and it is not yet cooked. Go elsewhere and visit some other house, then come back.” Sun Wukong said, ‘An old saying goes, “Visiting three houses is not as good as staying in one.” I’ll wait here for a moment.” The elder, seeing how firmly he was held, became angry and raised his staff to strike. Sun Wukong openly showed no fear and let him strike him on the bare head seven or eight times, all the while treating it like a trivial scratch. The elder said, “You are the monk who bumps his head around.” Sun Wukong laughed, “Elder, however you strike, just remember to count the blows accurately: one strike, one sheng of rice. Count it slowly and exactly.” Hearing this, the elder threw down his staff in haste and ran inside, bolting the gate and crying, “A ghost! A ghost!” The whole household, in terror, locked both front and back doors.

Sun Wukong saw the doors shut and thought to himself, “This old rogue just said he had sifting only three measures of rice into the pot—I do not know whether that is true or false. As the saying goes, ‘The Way may convert the wise and bring the dull one to awakening.’ I will wait and see.” At once the Great Sage twirled his spell and used an invisibility-escape technique, going straight into the kitchen to look. There he found, in the pot, steam rising thickly; half a pot of dry rice was already cooking. He dipped his bowl in at once, filled it to the brim with rice, and then mounted the clouds and returned, nothing further to report.

Back at the circle where Tripitaka sat waiting many times, he had still not seen Sun Wukong return. Leaning forward in sorrowful expectation, he said, “Where has this monkey gone to make alms?” Zhu Bajie at his side laughed, “How far do you think he has gone to play? He says he is making alms, yet he has us all sitting in confinement here.” Tripitaka asked, “What do you mean by sitting in confinement?” Zhu Bajie said, “Master, you do not know. The ancients spoke of drawing a prison on the ground. Old Sun drew a circle with his staff that is stronger than iron walls and bronze ramparts. If a tiger, wolf, or demon-beast arrives, how can that stop them? They will only be given over and eaten for nothing.” Tripitaka said, “悟能, how do you intend to handle it?” Zhu Bajie said, “This place shelters neither wind nor cold. If we follow my advice, we should keep along the road and keep moving west. When master goes to make alms and rides on the clouds, he will surely come quickly. Then he may eat and we can go on. Sitting here for this length of time leaves my feet terribly cold.”

When Tripitaka heard those words, it was the moment the inauspicious star arrived. So he followed Zhu Bajie, and all three left the enclosure together. Zhu Bajie led the horse, Sha Wujing carried the load, and Tripitaka, dreading the wind, sat himself on the threshold and continued on foot. Before long they came to a tower-and-pavilion place, but it was really a house facing south with its back to the north. Outside the gate stood pale, chalk-white walls and a drooping lotus-shaped, five-colored gate tower. The gate stood half-open, half-shut. Zhu Bajie tied the horse to a stone drum by the gate post; Sha Wujing set down the load; Tripitaka, feeling the wind, sat on the gate limit. Zhu Bajie said, “Master, this seems to be the residence of a marquis or duke, a house of great people. There is no one outside the front gate; they are likely all inside by the hearth. You all sit, and I’ll go in to take a look.” Tripitaka said, “Be careful, do not barge in on others.” Sun Wukong said, “I understand. Since I entered the true Zen gate, I have learned some courtesies, not like a rough village brute.”

Sun Wukong tucked a crowbar into his waist, smoothed his blue-brocade robe, and entered with decorum and restraint. It was a layout of three large halls, with high hanging screens and curtains, utterly silent, with no trace of people and no table, chairs, or fire. He passed through a screen-door and went further inward; there was a long corridor. Behind it stood a tall hall. In the upper room, the lattice window was half open, and a yellow silk curtain could just be seen. Sun Wukong said, “Someone may be cold and still asleep.” He made no distinction between in and out, and strode straight up the stairs. When he lifted the curtain with his hand to peer in, Sun Wukong was shocked and staggered back a step. Inside that enclosure, on an ivory bed, lay a white-cold heap of bones. The skulls were large as a basin, and the upper leg bones were four or five feet long. Sun Wukong steadied himself; tears came down his cheeks and he nodded toward the skulls, sighing:

In that age and that court, a marshal’s body—what realm, what empire had him as a great general? In those days heroes contended for force and victory; today, cold and pitiful, bone and sinew are all that show. No wife or child comes to attend him; only rank-and-file soldiers burn incense. To behold such things—truly a lament—how regretful that one sought fame by kingly conquest and power. He had only just sighed when a glimmer of flame flashed behind the curtain. Sun Wukong said, “Perhaps someone tending incense is behind there.” He turned quickly and went around. It was only light through a window frame of the upper level. In a side room stood a painted table, and on the table were scattered several embroidered padded garments. Sun Wukong lifted them and found three brocade vests.

Sun Wukong did not care what was proper and what was not; he came down from the hall and went out to the gate, saying, “Master, there is no sign of human life here. This is a dead house. Old Pig went inside, straight to the upper room. Behind the yellow silk curtain there is a pile of bones. At the side of the tower there are three brocade vests; I took them. They will serve as a change of fortune for us on this stage. It is cold now, and they are exactly for this use. Master, take off your thin jacket and wear one underneath for warmth, so that you may be at ease and not chill.” Tripitaka said, “No, no. The Law says: ‘Whether taken openly or taken in secret, both are theft.’ If someone were to realize and catch us, by law we would be charged with theft before officials. Return them all at once and put them where you found them. We will sit here a while out of the wind and then leave when Sun Wukong comes. A monk should not be one who loves such little things.” Zhu Bajie said, “There is no one in any direction; even a dog or a chicken would not know. Since we know it, who can accuse us? What witness can there be? Like a thing picked up, who can speak of public theft or private theft?” Tripitaka said, “What are you doing, you fool? Even if man does not know, what of heaven? The Jade Emperor taught: ‘In a dark room with a guilty mind, the divine eye strikes like lightning.’ Send it back at once and do not cling to what is unfit to take.”

Sun Wukong would not in the slightest consent, and he smiled at Tripitaka: “Master, I, being a man, have also worn a few vests before and have never seen brocade so fine. If you won’t wear one, let old Pig try one first and test the new cloth on his back. When senior-brother comes, we’ll take it off and return it.” Sha Wujing said, “If that is so, I’ll wear one too.” The two removed their outer robes and put on the vests. As soon as they tightened the ties, neither knew how they came to stand unsteadily; down they both fell with a thud. Those vests, it turned out, were superior to restraints and fetters: in an instant they tied their arms and torsos together like bonds. Alarmed, Tripitaka stamped and complained, then hurried to untie them, but it could not be undone there. The three of them shouted without ceasing, and before long it had already alarmed the demon lord.

It was as it was: that house was indeed a demon spirit’s converted trick, who all day took people there. He was seated inside the cave when he suddenly heard voices of complaint and resentment, and he hurried out to see. He at once saw several people bound. The demon called his minions and they came, then gathered the tower and hall and restored the structure’s forms. He seized Tripitaka, hauled the white horse, lifted the luggage, and took Zhu Bajie and Sha Wujing all together into the cave. The old demon sat high upon a raised platform; the attending demons pulled Tripitaka near the edge of it and made him kneel on the ground. The demon asked, “What monk are you, and how dare you be so daring as to steal my clothing in broad daylight?” Tripitaka, crying, answered: “Your poor monk is a pious envoy of the Great Tang of the Eastern Capital, commissioned to travel west and fetch the sutras. My hunger pressed me, so I sent our senior disciple to beg alms and he did not return. I failed to follow his words and by mistake I came, seeking shelter from the wind, into this immortal court. It was these two disciples who are greedy and brought out these garments. Your poor monk would not dare to think crookedly; he will send them back to where they belong. He would not listen to what I said and insisted I wear this cursed vest to test my back. Unaware, I am now taken. Have mercy. Spare this life of mine, let me complete my quest for the true scriptures, and keep his memory forever in gratitude in the Tang for ages.” The demon laughed: “I am used to hearing people say that one who eats a bit of Tang monk flesh finds white hair black again and missing teeth regrown. Since today you came uninvited, you may still hope for mercy. What is the name of your senior disciple? Where did he go for alms?” Upon hearing this, Zhu Bajie spoke up and praised: “My master-brother is Sun Wukong, the Great Sage Equal to Heaven, who threw the heavens into turmoil, Greatly Valiant in Heaven, five hundred years ago.”

When the demon lord heard that it was Sun Wukong, Great Sage Equal to Heaven, he inwardly grew some afraid. He spoke nothing aloud and in his heart thought, “For long I have heard this fellow has boundless miracles; now he appears before me unannounced.” He commanded: “Young ones, bind Tripitaka; take the two treasures from those two and tie them with two other ropes as well. Lift them behind me. I shall seize your Great Disciple and with one stroke wash him clean, then steam and eat him at once.” The little demons answered and bound all three, lifting them behind. The white horse they tied to the manger-head, and the luggage they put into the house. All the demons sharpened their weapons, preparing to seize the monk-traveler. “Not worth recording here,” as there is nothing to add.

It is said then that Sun Wukong had taken a bowl of alms food from a household in the south hamlet, rode the cloud back by the old route, and came straight to a level place on the hillside. He pressed down the cloud head; already Tripitaka was nowhere to be found. He did not know where they had gone. The circle scratched by his staff remained, but only man and horse were missing. Looking back at that tower-and-pavilion place, it was gone as well, and only odd mountain stones remained at the root of the hill. The Monkey, alarmed, said, “There is no need for more words—they must have met with that murderous hand.” He quickly followed the horse tracks and rushed westward.

After five or six li, just as he was in a state of deep sorrow, he heard voices beyond the north slope. Looking, he saw an old man wrapped in felt, a warm cap pulled over his head, wearing a pair of half-new, half-old oil boots, holding a cane whose tip was shaped like a dragon’s head. Behind him followed a young servant with a branch of withered plum blossom, reciting as he walked at the slope front. Sun Wukong set down his bowl and greeted him directly: “Sir, humble monk offers reverence.” The old man immediately replied with courtesy: “Where does this abbott come from?” Sun Wukong said, “We are from the Eastern Land and travel west to the Buddha for sutras, four practitioners in one company. Because my master became hungry, I went to beg alms. I told the three to sit and wait on this flat place on the hillside. After I returned, they are gone; I do not know which path they took. Did you see them?” The old one, with a cold laugh, said, “Among your three, is there one with a long face and broad ears?” Sun Wukong said, “Yes, yes, yes.” “And is there one with an ill-omened face, leading a white horse, with a white-faced fat monk?” Sun Wukong said, “Yes, yes, yes.” The old man said, “You have taken the wrong road. Do not go searching for them; each of you should save your own life and depart.” Sun Wukong replied, “That white-faced one is my master and that odd-looking one is my junior brother. We set out together with one devout heart to fetch the scriptures in the west; how can I not search for them?” The old man said, “I only just passed this way and saw them turn onto the wrong path and enter the mouth of a demon.” Sun Wukong asked, “Please, good sir, tell me what demon it is and where he dwells, so that I may go and retrieve them and continue west.” The old man said, “This mountain is called Jindou Mountain. Before it is Jindou Cave, and in that cave lives a one-horned rhinoceros king. That king’s magic is vast and his force formidable. These three, this time, have certainly no life left. If you seek them, you may not even protect your own life. It would be better not to go. I dare not restrain you, and I dare not detain you; I only rely on the measure in your own heart.

The Great Sage again knelt and offered his thanks: 'I am greatly indebted to your guidance, Sir. How could I not follow after being taught?' He gave him this monastic meal and then carried away the empty bowl and basin himself. The old man set down his cane, took the bowl, and handed it to a servant, then revealed his true form. The two of them knelt together and kowtowed, saying, 'Great Sage, this humble spirit dares not hide anything. We are the Mountain God and the Land God, and we wait here to receive you. I accept this alms, bowl and all, so that Great Sage may keep his body light and cast spells well. After I rescue Tripitaka from danger, I will return this alms to him, and only then will Great Sage appear as the most respectful and filial.' The Great Sage shouted, 'You wild-haired goblin, beg for a beating. Since you knew I had come, why did you not welcome me early, and yet hide your head and tail like this? What kind of sense is that?' The Land God replied, 'Great Sage is hasty by nature; this humble spirit dared not rush in for fear of offending your majestic face, so I concealed my form and only then informed you.' The Great Sage calmed down and said, 'Take my warning to heart. Keep hold of the bowl carefully. I will go and deal with that demon.' The Mountain God and Land God received the instruction.

The Great Sage then tied up a tiger-sinew strap, pulled up his tiger-skin skirt, took up the Golden-Hooped Staff, and went straight toward the mountain front in search of the demon-cave. As he passed over the cliff, he saw the scattered stones shining and in the green cliff there were two stone doors; outside them many little demons were brandishing spears and fencing with swords. Truly:

Smoke and mist congeal in auspicious forms, Green moss and lichen heaped high. Crags and strange rocks stand in lofty ranks, Rugged, winding paths coil upon themselves. Monkey cries and birdsong resound, and the scene is beautiful, with luan and phoenixes circling as if in Penglai. Toward the sun, a few plum trees just bloom, Warmth makes a thousand bamboo shafts glow green. Beneath the sheer cliff, in the deep ravine, snow drifts lie piled, And in the ravine below, the water is ice-stiffened. Two groves of pine and cypress, proud for a thousand years; A few clusters of camellias blossom all red. The Great Sage, unable to take in the whole sight at once, pulled open the path to the gate and called out loudly: 'You little demon, run inside and tell your cave lord that I am Sun Wukong, the Great Sage equal to heaven and earth, disciple of Tripitaka of the Tang. Quickly have him send out my Master, lest you all lose your lives.'

Those small demons rushed into the cave to report: 'Great King, in front there is a monk with a shaggy face and hooked mouth who says he is Sun Wukong, Great Sage of Heaven, and he has come to take his master.' On hearing this, the demon king rejoiced inwardly: 'Just the one I was hoping for. I left my own palace and descended to the dusty world, and have not yet tested my martial skill. Today he has come; surely he is my opponent.' He ordered the little demons to bring out weapons. In the cave, all the major and minor demons became alert, and quickly each raised a two-zhang spear tipped with steel and passed it to the old monster. The old monster gave command: 'You brats, keep perfect order. Those who advance will be rewarded; those who retreat will be beheaded.' The demons took this order and came out with him from the cave, crying, 'Which one is Sun Wukong?'

The Great Sage glanced in the corner and saw that the demon king was frightfully ugly:

A single horn, uneven; two eyes gleamed and flashed. On his crown, coarse ridged skin jutted forth, and at the roots of his ears dark flesh shone. His tongue swayed as it worked toward his nostrils, his mouth was wide and teeth yellow and blunt. His fur was blue like indigo, knotted sinews hard as steel. Like a rhinoceros he could scarcely be seen in water, like an untamed bull that has never plowed. No moon-bright cloud ploughing craft was needed, yet he had the arrogance to shake heaven and rattle earth. Two smoke-dark, indigo-blue arms, all masculine force, held up a steel spear. Looking closely at such ferocity, one cannot say the name Rhinoceros King in vain. The Great Sage stepped forward: 'Your old uncle Sun is here too. Return my Master at once, and neither of us will be harmed. If you dare say a single word of refusal, I will see you lie where you have no grave!' The demon king shouted, 'You reckless beast monk! What ability do you have that dares to make such boasting?' The Great Sage said, 'You blasphemous brute! You have not yet seen the arts of old Sun.' The demon king said, 'It is your master who stole my clothes; indeed I captured him, and now I mean to steam him and eat him. What sort of mighty man are you to dare come to my gate to claim him?' The Great Sage said, 'My Master Tripitaka is a loyal and upright monk; how could he have stolen any demon object?' The demon king said, 'I enchanted a fairy estate by the mountain path. Your Tripitaka slipped inside, lust stirred in his heart, and he stole my three-banded, embroidered padded vest with the silk lining and wore it. Seeing this sign of theft, I seized him. If you truly have the arts, then match me in combat: if you can hold me for three rounds, I will spare your Master's life; if you cannot best me, I will send you straight to the netherworld.'

The Great Sage laughed. 'You braggart creature! There is no need for such talk. Speak of proving power only—this is exactly my wish. Come up here and taste my staff.' That brute did not fear the brawl and drove forward, splitting his steel spear to meet him. This was a deadly bout. You see:

Golden-Hooped Staff raised, long spear raised to meet it. The Golden-Hooped Staff rose and flashed, shining like a gold snake shot from lightning; the long spear rose and shone, bright as a dragon leaving the dark sea. At the gate the little demons beat drums, opening array and lending wind to the cheers; on this side the Great Sage employed his powers, displaying a wide-ranging mastery. He lunged once with spear, and my side answered with the staff, skill unmatched; this was heroes meeting heroes—truly, one worthy enemy finds another. The demon king exhaled purple vapour like rolling smoke; this Great Sage's eyes flashed, drawing patterned clouds. Only because Tripitaka of the Great Tang was in danger, the two houses clashed long in a quarrel with no righteousness. The two of them fought for thirty rounds without deciding a victor. The demon king saw that Sun Wukong's staff work was complete and even, one strike and return without flaw, and he exclaimed repeatedly, 'Good monkey, good monkey, truly this is the very skill that once threw the heavenly court into chaos.' The Great Sage also admired the demon's spearwork, no disorder in it, right-hand block, left-hand shield, full of counters, and called out, 'Fine demon, fine demon. You are truly a demon lord who stole elixirs.' They fought for another twenty rounds. Then the demon king set the tip of his spear against the ground and shouted for the little demons to rush in. Those reckless fiends each took up knife and staff, sword and spear, and encircled the Great Sage in the center. The Great Sage did not fear at all and called out, 'Good! Good! This suits my intent.' He made one Golden-Hooped Staff move, forward to meet, back to brace, east to block, west to clear. That crowd of demons would not think to retreat. The Great Sage, unable to contain his impatience, flung his Golden-Hooped Staff and cried, 'Shift!' It instantly became a hundred and a thousand iron staffs, like darting snakes and climbing pythons, flying through the air in wild falling. Seeing this, those demons scattered in fright, cramped their necks, and shrank their heads, all running for refuge back into the cave. The old demon king sneered, 'That monkey, do not be uncouth, watch this technique.' He then quickly took from his sleeve a bright, blazing, white-rimmed ring, tossed it into the air, and called out, 'Take hold!' With one clattering sound, the Golden-Hooped Staff was gathered into one rod and snared and taken. So Sun Wukong, left with empty hands, turned and fled to save his life. The demon king returned in victory to the cave, while the Great Sage, half-dazed, lost his bearings as a fighter. This indeed says: For every chi by which the Way ascends, the demon rises a full zhang taller. Wild nature and clouded heart make one mistake even his own home. Regrettable that the Dharma-body had no seat of stance; at that moment, his will in action ran awry.

In the end, this encounter’s outcome is still unknown; listen for its resolution in the next chapter.