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.

Once, Great Sage Sun Wukong supported Tripitaka and, with Zhu Bajie and Sha Wujing, rushed up onto the Great Road, always traveling westward. Not long afterward, they suddenly saw a place of layered towers and pavilions, with grand palace-like buildings looming high. Tripitaka tugged the reins and said, "Disciple, look there—what place is that?" Wukong raised his head to inspect and suddenly saw:

Hills encircle halls and pavilions; streams wind about terrace platforms. Before the gate, mixed trees stand thick and wild, and beyond the dwelling wildflowers perfume the air richly. White egrets rest among the willows, pure as flawless jade out of the mist; orioles sing inside peach groves, yet seem to glow like gold in flame. Coupled wild deer, carefree, tread upon green mossy sward; pairs of mountain birds call and fly, crying together from red treetops. It is truly like Liu Ruan’s Terrace Cave and does not lag behind the Immortal Langyuan estate. Wukong reported: "Master, that place is neither a prince’s manor nor a rich household, yet it resembles a Taoist hermitage-temple. Only when we reach it shall we know for certain." Hearing this, Tripitaka whipped his horse onward. They came before the gate and looked closely. On the lintel was a stone plaque engraved with three characters: Huanghua Monastery. Tripitaka dismounted. Zhu Bajie said, "Huanghua Monastery is the abode of Daoists. It would be good for us to visit and speak with him; though our robes and his are different, our ways of cultivation are of a kind." Sha Wujing said, "That is true. First, let us look at the scenery inside; second, we should open a chance for alms. If the place is suitable, we can arrange some monastic meal for Master to eat."

As he instructed, the four entered together. On the two gate-posts they saw a pair of spring couplets: "House of immortals in yellow sprouts and white snow; flower-scented herb and jade blossom home of a feathered scholar." Wukong laughed: "This is a Taoist who burns reeds, forges medicines, keeps a furnace going, and carries a cauldron." Tripitaka pinched him and said, "Careful, careful. We do not know him, nor are we related; be courteous for the moment." Before he could say more, they entered the inner gate. There, the main hall was shut tight, and on the east gallery a Taoist sat making pills. Wukong glanced and muttered,

He wore a bright red crown with gold-work flashing, and a black, dense robe of pitch-dark cloth; he wore green patterned cloud-topped shoes, and tied about him a yellow, flowing Liu-Gong-style sash. His face was like cast-iron from a melon, his eyes like clear stars. His posture was tall and broad, almost with the look of a Western stranger; his lips and mouth flung open wide like a man of rough habits. His heart was hidden thunder ready to rumble—a true feathered Daoist who could subdue tigers and bring down dragons. When Tripitaka saw him, he called out in a loud respectful voice, "Old immortal, poor monk offers reverence." Startled, the Taoist looked up; seeing him, he dropped the pill in hand, straightened his garment, and came down the steps to receive them, saying, "Teacher-Father, pardon my failure to receive you properly. Please come inside." Master Tripitaka gladly mounted the hall. The door was pushed open: there were statues of the Three Pure Ones, and on the offering table were a brazier and incense. He took incense and placed it on the brazier, made three rounds of worship, and then exchanged courtesies with the Taoist. They then moved to the guest seats and sat with the disciples. He urgently summoned a Daoist youth for tea. Two youths appeared from the inner rooms, brought tea trays in, rinsed teacups, wiped tea-spoons, laid out tea snacks, and ran about in a flurry. This soon disturbed those few enemies inside.

It turned out that the seven female demons from Pansi Cave had been studying arts in this Taoist’s hall. Since they had put on their old garments and summoned their son, they had come straight to this place. They were then behind, cutting and mending clothing, when they saw the child fetching tea and asked, "Boy, has a guest really arrived, that you are so busy and pressed?" The acolyte replied, "Just now, four monks came in; the Master told me to bring tea for them." One of the women asked, "Was there a white, plump monk?" "Yes." She asked, "Was there one with a long mouth and big ears?" "Yes." The woman said, "Quickly take the tea out. Give your Master a glance and sign with your eyes, then bring him in. I have urgent words for him." As expected, the celestial youth carried out five cups of tea. The Taoist tucked in his robe, took a cup in both hands, and handed one to Tripitaka, then to Zhu Bajie, Sha Wujing, and Wukong. When tea was served and the cups taken away, the boy gave a signal. The Taoist then bowed and said, "Kindly be seated, everyone." He told him, "Child, lay aside the tea tray and attend." Then, "I will go and return shortly." At that moment, Tripitaka, the disciples, and one youth went out of the hall to look around. It is not to be retold here.

As for the Taoist, he went into the inner room. There he saw seven women kneeling together, all crying, "Brother, brother, listen to a word from your little sister." The Taoist raised each by hand and said, "When you came earlier, you had something to tell me. Today’s pills could not be prepared in the presence of yin people, so I did not answer then. Now there are guests outside. If there is anything to say, tell it slowly for now." The women said, "With respect, Brother, this matter exists only because of those visitors; only after they depart can we tell it, else it is useless to say it now." The Taoist laughed: "You can hear how virtuous these girls are—only speak when guests are present? Are you mad? Put aside that I am a quiet Daoist adept and not a mundane householder with wife and children and domestic business to finish even after guests depart. How can you be so unfilial and put up this pretense for me? Let me go out first." The women together caught his sleeve and said, "Brother, lower your anger. I ask you: where are those guests who came from ahead of the hall?" The Taoist spat and did not answer. The women said, "A little while ago, the boy entered to take in tea. I heard him say there were four monks." The Taoist, angry, said, "So what if they are monks?" The women said, "Among the four monks, one was white-faced and fat, and one was long-mouthed with big ears. Did you ask where they came from?" The Taoist said, "Among them there is such a pair. How did you know? Where did you happen to see them?"

The women said, "Brother, you did not know this predicament. Those monks are envoys from the Tang court going west to fetch the sutra. This morning they came to our cave to conclude their vegetarian rites. The girls heard Tripitaka’s name and seized him. We have long heard people say that Tripitaka is the true form of one who has cultivated through ten lifetimes; if someone eats but one piece of his flesh, longevity and life extension may come, so we took him. Then the long-mouthed, big-eared monk blocked us in the Purification Spring. He first snatched away our clothing, then used his arts and tried to force himself to bathe with us, and we could not stop him. He jumped into the water and changed into a loach-shaped fish, wriggling in and out at the seams of our thighs, intending lewd deceit, all the while utterly overbold. He then leapt out, revealed his true form. When we refused him company, he took up a nine-pronged hooked battle-axe and sought to kill us. Had we not some discernment, we would almost surely have fallen to his poisoned hand. He then set your foolish nephew to wrestle him, and we know not if either would survive. So we have come seeking elder brother, hoping, because you once and I were companions in the same hall, that you will this day take charge of our redress of grievance." Hearing this, the Taoist grew angry and changed color and voice: "So this monk is indeed so rude and lewd. Never mind—you all be at ease. I will dispose of him." The women thanked him: "Brother, if you take up the matter, we will all come to help you fight him." The Taoist said, "No need to fight, no need to fight. As the saying goes, ‘One blow and one can go down three points.’ You all come with me."

The women followed him on either side. He entered a room, fetched a ladder, circled behind a bed, climbed onto the beam, and took down a small leather chest. The chest was about eight cun high, one chi long, and four cun wide, and it was fastened shut with a small bronze lock. He then took from his sleeve a duck-yellow silk sweat-cloth, and on the cloth’s tassel he had tied a small key. He opened the lock and took out a packet of medicine. This poison was:

The dung of a hundred birds from mountain woods, gathered and swept into a thousand jin. Cooked in a copper pot; the heat and duration in the reduction are perfectly balanced. A thousand jin simmered into one ladle, and one ladle yields three parts refined. The three parts must be fried, then calcined, then smoked again. When made into this venomous drug, it is as precious as treasure and precious jade. If one tastes its flavor, one sees Lord Yama before one’s mouth. To the seven women the Taoist said, "Sisters, this treasure of mine—if eaten by a mere mortal, only one li is needed and he dies upon entering the belly; if eaten by an immortal, three li are enough to end him. These monks may have some Dao cultivation, so three li must be given. Fetch the scales quickly." One woman immediately took a weighing stone and said, "Weigh one fen and two li, divide into four parts." She took twelve red dates, broke them slightly, added one li to each, and divided the mixture into four tea cups; then she put two black dates together for one tea cup and set it on a tray. To the assembled women she said, "Let me ask him—if he is not from the Tang, stop. If he is from the Tang, have him change the tea; you, send this tea out by the child. When they drink it, all of them will die. Then we shall settle this grievance and release ourselves from worry." The seven thanked her beyond measure.

The Taoist had changed into another robe and, with courteous humility, stepped out, then invited Tripitaka and the others back to their guest seats, saying, "Master, please do not take offense. I just went to the back and told my young disciples to pick out some greens and radishes and prepare a vegetarian offering, so I was absent." Tripitaka said, "I, a poor monk, come with empty hands to bow; how can I trouble you to provide a meal?" The Taoist laughed. "You and I are both renunciates. Since we are near a mountain gate there are already three bushels of stipend-grain in one’s allowance. Why talk of empty hands? If I may ask, Master, from what treasure land do you come, and why have you come here?" Tripitaka replied, "I am Tripitaka, an envoy of the Great Tang court, sent west to the Great Thunderous-Sound Temple to fetch the scriptures. I have only just passed the Immortal Palace and have come in sincere devotion." On hearing this, the Taoist’s face brightened in joy. "You are a Dharma Master of loyal virtue and great merit. This humble Taoist did not know to wait for you—pardon me, pardon me." He called, "Child, quickly change the tea, and prepare the meal at once in one hall." The boy ran in, and the women called him: "There is ready fine tea here; take it out." Sure enough, the boy brought out five tea cups. The Taoist hurriedly took a cup with red dates in both hands and presented it to Tripitaka. Seeing Zhu Bajie with his broad build, he took him as the first disciple; seeing Sha Wujing, he took him as the second. Seeing Sun Wukong small in stature, he took him as the third. So the fourth cup was presented to Sun Wukong.

Sun Wukong saw at once and took the tea cup; he had already noticed that the cup contained two black dates. He said, "Master, let us exchange cups." The Taoist said with a smile, "I will not hide it, Venerable One. As a poor Taoist of the hills and fields I did not have fruit prepared in advance, so I went in person to fetch some. I had only these twelve red dates and made four cups for offering in this way. A poor Taoist should not host without an accompaniment, so I added two darkened dates as a side to each cup. This is my sign of respect." Sun Wukong laughed. "What is this talk? The ancients said, ‘A household man is not truly poor; in the wilderness, poor-ness can kill the poor.’ You are a householder; how can you call yourself poor? For us walking monks, that is true poverty indeed. I will trade. I will trade." Tripitaka heard and said, "Wukong, this immortal elder’s intention is only to honor guests. Just drink it and do not trade." Sun Wukong, with no choice, took it in his left hand, covered it with his right, and watched them.

Zhu Bajie, hungry and thirsty—and of course with a huge belly—saw that the cup had three red dates in it, and he swallowed them all at once. Tripitaka ate, and Sha Wujing ate, too. In one moment Zhu Bajie’s face changed color, Sha Wujing’s eyes filled with tears, and Tripitaka began to foam at the mouth. None of them could sit still; they fainted and dropped to the ground.

The Great Sage instantly knew it was poison. He lifted the tea cup and aimed to strike the Taoist in the face. The Taoist raised his robe sleeves to block and with a sharp sound knocked the cup down in shards. The Taoist snapped, "You monk—an utterly stupid village fellow! How could you break my tea cup?" Sun Wukong shouted, "You beast! Look at my three companions—what have we done to you that you would pour poison tea on our people?" The Taoist said, "You rustic brute bring disaster; how do you not see it?" Sun Wukong said, "We had only just entered your gate, arranged our seats, and spoken of our homeland. We did not even exchange lofty words. How could any disaster have been caused there?" The Taoist asked, "Have you ever held a sacrificial rite in Pan-si Cave? Have you ever bathed at Zhuo Gou Spring?" Sun Wukong replied, "Zhuo Gou Spring is the place of seven female monsters. Since you mentioned it, you must have had dealings with them; you must be a demon spirit too. Do not run—take my staff." The Great Sage pulled out the Golden-Hooped Staff from his ear, made it swirl in a flash, and aimed at the Taoist’s face. The Taoist spun around in alarm and dodged; then he drew a precious sword to meet him.

The two cursed and battered each other, and this at once startled the nearby female demons. All seven came rushing out together, crying, "Elder brother, do not worry your heart; let the younger sisters take him." When Sun saw them, his anger rose even more. He raised the iron staff with both hands, swept away his guards, and charged inside to strike in chaos. The seven women opened their chests, flaring their white bellies, and from their navel holes they produced spells. Threads of silk, like bones springing forth, surged up in tangled strings, and with them they raised a canopy over him. Sun saw the trick did not work out for him. He flipped over, intoned a spell, and with one earth-shattering strike smashed through the canopy and broke out. Calming his temper, he hovered in midair to observe. He saw the demon-silk cords flashing and weaving, crossing and interlacing like warp and weft, and in a moment they had covered the towers and halls of the Yellow-Flower Monastery so completely that no shadow remained. Sun said, "Dangerous, dangerous. So it is better not to have touched him earlier. This fellow has already sent trouble to Pig Bajie once or more; how can this be made right? My Master and my junior monk have both taken the poisoned tea. These demons are acting in one accord and one heart. I do not yet know what sort of beings they are. I will go ask the Earth God again."

The Great Sage pressed down Cloud Head, twisted the formula, and chanted the true-syllable spell "Om," bringing the old Earth God back. The old god, trembling, knelt by the roadside and prostrated himself: "Great Sage, you came to save your Master before—why did you return as well?" Sun Wukong said, "After rescuing my Master, not far ahead we encountered a Yellow-Flower Observatory. My Master and I went in to see it. The master there greeted us. While we were speaking, he served poisoned tea-drug to my Master and the others. I was fortunate not to have drunk it, so I struck him with the staff. After that he spoke of Pan-si Cave’s sacrificial feeding and bathing at Zhuo Gou Spring. Then I knew that fellow was a demon. I raised my hand to oppose him, but just then those seven women ran out and released silk ropes. Great Sage escaped by my own sense and eyes. You are the local deity here; you must know his true origin. Tell me plainly what kind of demon spirit he is, so I need not strike at random." The Earth God knelt and said, "That demon has not been here for ten years. I only saw him clearly three years ago after inspection, and then his true form was revealed—he is seven spider demons. The silk cords he throws are spider silk." When Sun Wukong heard this, he was very pleased. "By what you say, he is small indeed. Since this is so, go back. I will perform the rite and subdue him." The Earth God knelt again and withdrew.

Sun Wukong went back outside the Yellow-Flower Monastery, pulled up seventy hairs from his tail, breathed out immortal breath, and cried, "Transform!" He changed into seventy small Wukongs. Then he breathed immortal breath into the staff and cried, "Transform!" and it changed into seventy-one two-horned forked staves. Each small Wukong took one, while Sun kept one for himself. Standing outside, they all attacked and stirred the silk ropes together, gave the signal, and with one effort snapped every cord; each break had over ten catties of weight. From inside, seven spiders were hauled out, each with bodies as large as a bā-dǒu. One by one they clasped hands and feet and grabbed their heads, crying only, "Spare our life, spare our life." At that moment the seventy little Wukongs held down the seven spiders and refused to let them go. Sun said, "Do not beat them yet; just return my Master and my junior disciple." The demon shouted loudly, "Elder brother, return Tripitaka and you may spare my life." The Taoist ran out from inside, crying, "Little sister, I am going to eat Tripitaka. I cannot save you now." Sun Wukong flared with anger and said, "If you do not return my Master, then see what your sister is like." The Great Sage made the forked staff whirl and then changed it back into a single iron cudgel. With both hands raised, he beat the seven spider demons to pieces completely.

Then he shook his tail twice, drew back the hairs, stood alone with the staff, and rushed inside to strike the Taoist. The Taoist, seeing he had killed his sisters, felt deep reluctance of heart, yet went berserk and raised his sword in revenge. Both held grudges and unleashed all their divine arts. It was a fierce encounter, with this verse:

The demoness brandished a treasure sword; Great Sage raised the Golden-Hooped Staff. For Tang Master Tripitaka, first he taught the seven women to howl in fear. Now Great Sage unfurled his grand stratagems and made his splendor visible. With dazzling power he used subtle arts, flaunting the might of the Golden Captain. Great Sage’s divine light was magnificent; demon and immortal alike grew hard in nerve and spirit. His whole form flashed with arts, like flowered brocade; both hands whirled like a revolving spindle. Clang and crack sounded from sword and staff. Bleak wild clouds drifted across the sky. Their words and maneuvers, their counsels and countermoves, moved back and forth like a painted picture. He fought so fiercely that wind roared, sand flew, wolves and tigers feared it. The heavens dimmed, the earth darkened, and the stars seemed to lose their light.

The Taoist and Great Sage battled for five or six rounds of exchange, then gradually felt their strength fail. In a moment their tendons slackened; he loosened his waist sash, and with a sharp ringing sound he tore off his black robe. Sun Wukong laughed, "You little one, if you cannot beat someone, stripping to the skin won’t make it possible either."

The Daoist stripped off his robes, raised both hands, and then two flanks of his body revealed a thousand eyes, each eye hurling out golden light with terrible force:

Dense yellow haze; brilliant golden light, bright as a blaze. Dense yellow haze—below both flanks it seemed to billow like cloud; bright golden light from a thousand eyes, as though fire had been loosed. To the left and right he looked like a golden cistern, while east and west were like bronze bells. This was the power of a demon-immortal, the Daoist displaying divine feats: a flurry of eyes to bewilder heaven and hide sun and moon, a veil of heat and haze to scorch and haze men into confusion; it enclosed Great Sage Sun Wukong, equal to Heaven, within golden light and yellow fog. Sun Wukong was flustered and turned wildly within that golden glow, unable to step forward and unable to step back, like one spinning inside a barrel. Unable to bear the searing pressure, he growled and leapt upward, only to smash through the golden light and land in a backward somersault. He felt a sharp pain in his head. He thrust up his head and pawed it, as if the skin at the crown had been softened from the blow. He panted to himself in panic: "Ill-fated, ill-fated—my head is no good today. In ordinary times, axe and cleaver cannot harm me, yet this golden light has softened my skin and flesh. If nothing is done, it will surely turn to swelling and pus; even if it mends, it will still be a bad wound that may become tetanus." After a moment, again overwhelmed by heat and agitation, he calculated in dismay: "I cannot go forward, cannot go back, cannot go left, cannot go right, cannot go up without smashing into it again. What is to be done? Then let me go downward."

The Great Sage intoned a spell, shook his body, and transformed into a pangolin, also called a lingli-lin. In truth he was:

Four iron claws, drilling through mountain and shattering stone as if pulverizing flour; Scaled all over, this armadillo splits ridges and pierces rock like cutting scallions. Two eyes bright, shining like two trembling stars; One pointed mouth, harder than a steel auger, sharper than a gold drill. It is among medicinal creatures the pangolin kind, commonly called lingli-lin. He lowered himself and drove his head into the earth, burrowing straight down. He had tunneled for more than twenty li before he could break out. The golden light had covered only a bit over ten li. When he came to the surface in his own form, his strength was drained, his whole body aching, and tears would not stop from his eyes. Suddenly he cried out: "Master!" In those days, by your command we left the mountain to journey west and labored so hard together; In the vast and churning seas there was no fear, yet in the Yang-gou I am met by a storm.

At that moment, when Sun Wukong was in deep sorrow, he suddenly heard crying behind the mountain. He bent forward, wiped his eyes, and looked back. There stood a woman in full mourning dress. In her left hand she held a bowl of cool gruel-and-water rice, and in her right several strips of paper spirit money to burn. She came forward with each step sounding, crying all the while. Sun Wukong nodded and sighed, "It is just so: 'Eyes full of tears meet eyes full of tears; a heartbroken one meets another heartbroken one.' Who is this woman mourning? Let me ask her." The woman came nearer and faced him. Sun Wukong bent and asked, "Bodhisattva, who is it that you mourn?" Through tears she said, "My husband quarreled with the Master of Huanghua Monastery over the buying of bamboo poles. He gave him poisoned medicinal tea and killed him. I burn these paper notes to repaid the bond of husband and wife." Hearing this, Sun Wukong wept. The woman, seeing him, snapped, "How ignorant you are. I grieve and grieve for my husband; how do you dare to stand before me with tearful eyes and a sorrowful face, as if your heart were in sport with me?"

Sun Wukong bowed and said, "Bodhisattva, do not be angry. I am Sun Wukong, Great Sage, the senior disciple of Tripitaka, the imperial envoy-monk of the Great Tang in the Eastern Lands. We journey west and once rested at Huanghua Monastery. The Daoist there—I did not know who or what he was—became siblings with seven spider spirits. They in the Spider-Web Cave sought to harm my Master, and I with my junior brothers Zhu Bajie and Sha Wujing rescued him and got away. Those spider spirits came here to the Daoist and spread slander that we meant to deceive him. The Daoist then poured out poisoned medicinal tea to Tripitaka, Zhu Bajie, Sha Wujing, and even the four mounts, and all of us were caught in his monastery. I did not drink his tea. I smashed the teacup, and then he fought me. At that moment the seven spider spirits came out, spitting forth silk cords that bound me. By art I broke through. I questioned the Earth Deity and learned the Daoist’s true form. Then I used my splitting-body art to disturb the cords, dragged the demon out, and with one staff strike killed him. This Daoist then came to settle the feud and drew a precious sword to fight me. After sixty rounds we contended; he was defeated and, stripped of his robe, sent out a thousand eyes from both flanks, with ten thousand shafts of golden light, to seal me in place. That is why I was in a bind, unable to go or return, and only by transforming into a lingli-lin did I bore out through the earth. While I was in grief, I suddenly heard your crying, so I asked. When I see you burn these paper notes for your husband, while my Master has been lost and I have nothing with which to repay, I am ashamed and filled with sorrow; how could I have dared to play at teasing?"

The woman set down the bowl of rice-water and the paper money, and with that offering addressed Sun Wukong: "Do not blame me. I did not know you were one in peril. From what you said, you still do not recognize that Daoist. He is in truth a Hundred-Eyed Demon Lord, also called the Many-Eyed fiend. Since you have such transformations, have broken through the golden light, and fought for so long, you surely have divine powers; yet he is still not within your immediate reach. Go and invite a holy worthie: he can break this golden light and subdue the Daoist." Sun Wukong quickly kowtowed, "Bodhisattva, you know this origin. Please teach me. If that holy one is truly as you say, I shall go and ask him, and if he saves my Master I will also settle the revenge for your husband." The woman said, "I have already told you. Go ask him. If he subdues the Daoist, he can help you for vengeance; yet I fear he cannot save your Master." Sun Wukong said, "How could he not?" The woman replied, "That villain’s poison is the most vicious. Once he feeds a person poison, in three days the marrow rots through. By the time you go and return it may be too late; so he cannot be saved." Sun Wukong said, "As long as I can travel, no matter how far, I can do it in half a day." The woman said, "Since you can run like that, listen: from here it is a thousand li away. There is a mountain there called Purple-Cloud Mountain. In that mountain is Thousand-Flowers Cave. Inside is a holy man named Pilan Po, and he can subdue this monster." Sun Wukong asked, "Where does that mountain stand, and from which side do I go?" She pointed with her hand and said, "Straight due south from here." When Sun Wukong turned around, the woman had already vanished. He hurriedly bowed and said, "Who was that Bodhisattva? My disciple is dazed and could not identify her. Please, leave your name so I may offer thanks." From midair came a voice: "Great Sage, it is me." Sun Wukong lifted his head and saw it was Lishan Laomu. He rushed upward and thanked her there: "Old Mother, where did you come from, and for what reason did you instruct me?" Lishan Laomu said, "I have just returned from the Assembly at Dragon-Flower, and seeing your Master in danger, I took the shape of a mourning wife and, in the name of a widow’s grief, spared him from instant death. Go and invite him quickly. But do not reveal that I told you, for that holy man has peculiar ways with many persons."

The Great Sage thanked him, took his leave, and with a single thrust of cloud-power followed to Purple Cloud Mountain. He landed his cloud, and there before him was the Cave of a Thousand Flowers. Just outside that cave:

Green pines shield a land of beauty, and emerald cypresses encircle the dwellings of immortals. Green willows fill the mountain paths; strange flowers fill the stream channels. Fragrant orchids ring the stone rooms, and sweet grasses reflect against the rock recesses. Clear running water joins the brooks, and clouds veil the ancient trees in emptiness. Wild birds chirr loudly, and a shy deer steps slowly. Fine bamboo grows branch upon branch, each sprig splendid. Red plum leaves are fully opened. Chilly crows roost in old trees, and spring birds cry from the high paulownia. Summer wheat fills the wide fields, autumn grain lies everywhere on the ground. Through all four seasons no leaf falls; at all eight seasonal nodes flowers appear. Each growth gives forth auspicious omen, rising to the sky, and happy clouds stream upward to the empty vault. The Great Sage, delighted, walked forward in joy, scene after scene, never able to exhaust the boundless vistas. He entered straight inside; still there was not a soul. It was utterly still and quiet, not even a chicken-and-dog sound. In his heart he thought, “This immortal must have gone away from home.” After going a few li farther, he saw a female daoist nun seated on a couch. Look at her appearance: A five-coloured silk-brocade cap adorned her head; a robe woven with gold hung from her shoulders. Her cloud-sharp shoes ended in phoenix heads; at her waist were silk cords gathered with twin tassels. Her face was like an autumn visage, old with frost; her voice was as charming as a spring swallow before it mates. In her breast she long had known the Dharma of the Three Vehicles; in her heart she always cultivated the Four Truths. She had awakened to emptiness itself, to the true fruit of emptiness, and through refinement became clear and free. She was indeed the Bodhisattva in the Cave of Thousand Flowers, and her name, Pilan, was renowned. The Great Sage could not restrain himself and came forward calling, “Pilan Bodhisattva, my respectful greetings.” The Bodhisattva at once rose from the couch, joined her palms, and returned the greeting: “Great Sage, I failed to receive you.” “From where do you come?” The Great Sage said, “How did you recognize me as the Great Sage?” Pilan replied, “When you once threw Heaven and Earth into chaos, your likeness spread through the whole world; who does not know it? Who would fail to recognize you?” The Great Sage said, “So it is said, ‘Good news does not go out beyond the gate, bad news travels a thousand li.’ I have now returned to the Buddha’s Dharma—have you not known?” Pilan said, “When did you return to the Buddha? My congratulations, my congratulations.” The Great Sage said, “Not long ago, I escaped death and protected Master Tripitaka on the way to the Western Heaven. At the Yellow Flower Assembly, the Daoist there gave him poison in tea. I fought with that fellow, and he wrapped me in golden light. I broke free only by my powers. I heard that the Bodhisattva could dispel his golden light, so I came to ask your help.” The Bodhisattva said, “Who told you this? I attended the Yulan assembly and for three hundred years have not left home. I hid my name and I am unknown to any; how could you know?” The Great Sage said, “I am a local spirit and can inquire and find things wherever they are.” Pilan said, “Very well, very well. I did not intend to go, but since the Great Sage has descended here, the good of seeking the scriptures must not be cut off. I will go with you.”

The Great Sage thanked him and said, “I have been too ignorant to hasten matters of my own accord. I did not know what weapon you had with you.” The bodhisattva said, “I have an embroidered needle that can break that ruffian.” The Great Sage could not hold back: “Old mother, you misled me. Had I known it was an embroidered needle, there would be no need to trouble you. I could have asked Old Sun and he would have had a full load too.” Pilan said, “The stitched needle you possess is only steel, or iron, or gold—of no use. This treasure of mine is neither steel nor iron nor gold; it was refined by my son in the fire of the Sun-Eye.” The Great Sage said, “Who is your son?” Pilan said, “My son is the Officer of the Mao-ri Star.” The Great Sage was greatly startled. He looked ahead and saw the glowing golden light, then turned to Pilan: “That place of golden light is the Yellow Flower Monastery.” Pilan drew an embroidered needle from inside her collar. It was as thick as an eyebrow and five or six cun long. Holding it in her hand, she threw it into the air. In short time there was a crack; the golden light was broken. The Great Sage rejoiced, “Bodhisattva, marvelous, marvelous! Find it, find the needle.” Pilan held it in her palm and said, “Is this not the one?” But the Great Sage immediately pressed down his cloud and entered the hall. He saw the Daoist there with eyes squeezed shut, unable to move a step. The Great Sage shouted, “You demon of a wretch, acting blind on purpose.” He took a staff from his ear and struck. Pilan pulled him away: “Great Sage, do not strike—just see first after what happened to your master.”

The Great Sage went straight to the rear guest seat and saw that all three of them lay on the ground, spitting saliva and phlegm. The Great Sage wept and cried, “How can this be? How can this be?” Pilan said, “Great Sage, do not grieve. This outing of mine has, after all, brought in hidden merit. I have an antidote elixir here and will give you three pellets.” The Great Sage turned and bowed in request. The bodhisattva took out a torn paper packet and gave him three red pellets to hand over, instructing him to place them in their mouths. The Great Sage forced their jaws open and each one took a pellet. Before long, the medicine entered their bellies and all at once they retched and spewed, bringing out the poison-stench and regaining life. Zhu Bajie rose first and said, “I was nearly smothered to death.” Tripitaka and Sha Wujing were both awake and said, “Such dizziness too.” The Great Sage said, “You were all poisoned by the tea. Thanks to Pilan Bodhisattva, you are saved. Come, all of you, and give thanks.” Tripitaka bent low, straightened his robes, and thanked her.

Zhu Bajie said, “Master’s elder brother, where is that Daoist? Let me ask him why he harmed me so.” The Great Sage related from start to finish the earlier matter of the spider spirit. Zhu Bajie growled fiercely, “That fellow, being sister to the spider spirit, must be a demon.” The Great Sage pointed and said, “He is standing outside the hall pretending to be blind.” Zhu Bajie lifted his spade and rushed at him, but Pilan restrained him, saying, “Heavenly Skipper, calm your rage. The Great Sage knows my cave is empty of others; let me take him and post him at the gate.” The Great Sage said, “I am grateful for your kindness and do not mean to withhold my praise, but please make him show his true form so we can see it.” Pilan said, “Easy,” then stepped forward and pointed with her finger. The Daoist collapsed at once into the dust and revealed his true self: he was a centipede demon, seven chi long. Pilan lifted him with her little finger, mounted a fortunate cloud, and at once returned to the Cave of Thousand Flowers.

Zhu Bajie exclaimed in amazement, “This mother of ours can be this formidable—how could she subdue such a wicked thing?” The Great Sage laughed and said, “I asked what weapon could break his golden light, and she said she had an embroidered needle that her son had refined in the Sun-Eye. When I asked who her son was, she said he was the Officer of the Mao-ri Star. I figured the Mao-ri Star is only a rooster, and this old mother must certainly be a hen. Hens are best at subduing centipedes, and so she could bind this one.”

Tripitaka listened and made repeated full prostrations. He said, “Disciples, gather everything and go.” Sha Wujing then searched inside for some grain and prepared some offerings of vegetarian fare; all ate until full. They yoked the horses and loaded the shoulder-poles, then asked Master Tripitaka to set out. The Great Sage set a fire in the kitchen and in an instant burned the entire monastery to ash, then resumed his long stride away.

Tripitaka’s life was restored by Pilan’s grace, and purified in nature, he drove out the many-eyed demon.

As for what awaited further on the road ahead, listen as it is resolved in the next chapter.