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 again it was said that in the kingdom of Biqiu, the king, his ministers, and the common people escorted Tripitaka and the four pilgrims out of the city, and even after twenty li they still would not let them go. Tripitaka reluctantly climbed down from the sedan, mounted his horse, and took his leave to depart; those sending him off watched until his figure vanished from sight, and only then turned back. The four-company had traveled a long while. Winter’s remnant had passed, spring was waning, and though the wild blossoms and mountain trees should have been in bloom, the scenes had not yet become full of fragrance. Ahead they saw another towering mountain with steep ridges. Troubled, Tripitaka asked, “Disciple, is there a road over that mountain or not? We must be careful.” Sun Wukong laughed, “Master, these are not the words of one who has long-traveled on the road; they are like those of a young noble looking at the sky from a well’s rim. As the old saying goes: ‘A mountain does not block the road; the road goes through the mountain.’ Why ask whether there is road or no road?” Tripitaka replied, “Though a mountain indeed does not block it, I still fear that monsters may be born among such sheer heights, and fiends may emerge from the deep thickets.” Zhu Bajie said, “Do not worry, do not worry. From this place it is not far to the Pure Land, and surely we will have peace and no trouble.”

The master and disciples had been speaking when, without noticing, they reached the foot of the mountain. Sun Wukong took out the Golden-Hooped Staff, climbed up the rocky bank, and called, “Master, this is the way that winds around the mountain, and it is very passable. Come on, come on.” The elder could only loosen the reins and let the horse go forward. Sha Wujing said, “Second Brother, carry the shoulder pole load.” So Zhu Bajie took it up on one shoulder. Sha Wujing held the reins, and the Master sat steady in the carved saddle while all followed Sun Wukong up onto the broad path of the cliff-side. Then they saw that mountain:

Mist draped the peak tops, and rippling streams surged through the ravines. Fragrance of a hundred flowers filled the road, and ten thousand trees pressed in dense clumps. The plum was green, the pearwood white, the willow green and the peach red. Where the cuckoo cries, spring is nearly gone; Violet swallows chatter as the social songs end. Jagged stones, pines with emerald canopies. The ridge-road is rugged, suddenly abrupt and exquisitely clear. Sheer walls and hanging cliffs stand steep and stern. Vines and undergrowth thicken among the roots and trees. A thousand peaks compete in beauty like spears in rows; ten thousand valleys clash in currents, their far waters surging. Tripitaka gazed calmly at the mountain scene, and hearing birds lament, homesickness rose in him again. He pulled the horse up and called, “Disciple! I, by heavenly tally, received command beneath a brocade screen. Fifteen lantern-watchings westward from the Eastern Land, then only then were Tang the King and heaven and earth set apart. At length dragon and tiger met in wind and cloud, and once more I and the disciples forced the horse onward. We have walked twelve peaks of Wushan, when shall I meet one worthy in this age?” Sun Wukong said, “Master, you are always clinging to homesickness, and it does you little credit as one who has left household life. Just keep walking and do not worry so much. As the old saying has it, ‘If one desires prosperity and rank, one must labor with one’s life on the line.’” Tripitaka said, “Though what you say is sensible, I do not know where exactly the road to the Western Buddha lands lies.” Zhu Bajie said, “Master, the Buddha will not part with the Tripitaka Sutra. He knows we must fetch it, so surely some matter has moved us here; otherwise how could we keep going as we have?” Sha Wujing said, “Stop this and follow Elder Brother. Persevere in your efforts; surely a day of arrival will come.”

At that moment, while the group was still speaking idly, they suddenly came upon a vast dark pine forest. Tang Monk grew afraid and called, “Wukong, we have only just crossed that rough mountain road, and now we meet this deep black pine wood. We must be wary.” Sun Wukong replied, “Why fear it?” Tripitaka said, “What are you saying? ‘Trust not the one who seems utterly upright; beware even the upright that is not upright.’ We have already passed several pine woods together, none as deep and far-reaching as this. Look:

East and west stand dense and close, while north and south keep their own long lines. East and west are crowded tight, rising to the clouds’ edge; North and south stand in line, encroaching into the blue vault. Dense thorns and thornbush encircle all, and knotweed binds and circles upward. Vines coil around kudzu, and kudzu returns the coil upon the vines. When the vines coil around kudzu, east-to-west travel is hard; when kudzu coils around vines, south-to-north trade cannot enter. Spend half a year in this forest and you will lose track of day and month; in a few li you do not even see the Big Dipper. In the shade are a thousand forms of scenery, in the sunlit places are ten thousand flower clusters. There are thousand-year pagoda trees, ten-thousand-year cypresses, hardy pines, wild peaches, wild peony, and drought lotus. Heap upon heap they rise in dense, confused masses, a disorderly splendor no immortal painter could finish. Again one hears a hundred birds: parrots whistle, cuckoos cry; magpies thread the branches, crows return their call; orioles dance, warblers tune their voices; partridges shout, and purple swallows converse; starlings learn to imitate human speech, and the barbet seems ready to read a sutra. There too a great beast swishes its tail, a tiger gnashes its teeth; a fox-wolf-maid, old as ages, howls with a wolf’s voice to rattle the wood. Even if the Heavenly King who once held a pagoda were to come, even if he came to exorcise fiends, he would lose his spirit too.” Great Sage Sun Wukong showed no fear at all. He used his staff to cleave a road ahead and led Tripitaka straight into the deep forest. Lightly and freely they went on for half a day, still having seen no way out. Tang Monk called, “Disciple, traveling west has brought us through endless perilous forests and ridges. By luck this place is calm and refined, and the way has been peaceful. The odd flowers and strange herbs here are truly beautiful. I shall sit awhile: first, to rest the horse; second, I am now hungry. Go there and make some alms-food and bring it.” Sun Wukong said, “Master, dismount. I will go make a little offering food and return.” The elder truly dismounted; Zhu Bajie tied the horse to a tree. Sha Wujing put down the baggage, took the alms bowl, and handed it to Sun Wukong. Sun Wukong said, “Master, sit steady and do not be afraid. I will be back soon.” Tripitaka sat beneath the pine shade, while Zhu Bajie and Sha Wujing wandered off to pick flowers and fruit in idle play.

Now Great Sage leapt with his staff and rose to midair, coming to a halt in the cloud-lit air. He turned and looked back, and saw in the pine forest subtle auspicious mists and luminous vapor. Then he cried out, ‘Good! Good!’ Why did he cry out? He was praising Tripitaka, saying that he was the reincarnation of Elder Golden Cicada, a true and worthy man of ten lifetimes’ cultivation, and that was why this auspicious radiance covered over him. “Were it not for me, old Sun, when five hundred years ago I caused havoc in Heaven, roaming sea and horizon, playing wild across the world; gathering cohorts of spirits and calling myself Equal of Heaven; subduing dragons and tigers, erasing my death record. I wore a three-tiered gold crown, dressed in golden armor, held the Golden-Hooped Staff in my hand, and wore cloud-walking boots on my feet. Beneath me stood forty-seven thousand demons, all calling me Great Sage. Yet now, having slipped out of that heavenly uproar and become a humbler being, I have become your disciple. If I see this halo of auspicious clouds and blessed vapor fixed above your head, then when we go back east of course there will be some blessing for us; old Sun too will surely gain a true and complete fruit.”

Then, amid that self-laudatory reverie, he suddenly saw, below to the south of the forest, a streak of black vapor surging upward like the rising of bare bones. Sun Wukong cried out in alarm, ‘In that black vapor there must surely be a demon. Neither Pigsy nor Sha Wujing would be able to exude such black qi.’ The Great Sage hovered in midair, trying to inspect it carefully but could not yet determine its nature.

Tripitaka was sitting in the forest, calming his mind and opening his nature, reciting the Great Prajñā Pāramitā Heart Sutra. He suddenly heard a piping cry of ‘Save me!’ Tripitaka was greatly startled and said, ‘Excellent indeed! How strange, in such a deep wood who calls out? It might be a wolf-crop, tiger or leopard, terrified and panicked—let me see.’ The elder rose, moved forward, and crossed over the thousand-year cypress, broke past the ten-thousand-year pines, clung to vine and climbed through tangles, and came near to look. He saw a woman bound to a tree: the upper half lashed by roots and vines to the trunk, the lower half buried in the soil. The elder set his feet and asked, “Woman-bodhisattva, what is your matter, bound here?” Alas, it was clearly a demon; yet with his ordinary mortal eyes the elder could not recognize it. When she saw him ask, tears streamed from her like springs. Look at her—peach-cheeked with tears, with a beauty to make fish sink and wild geese fall; starry eyes filled with sorrow, with a face whose beauty shamed moon and flowers. The elder, still unwilling to draw near, spoke again, “Woman-bodhisattva, what exactly is your crime? Tell poor monk, and I may save you.” The fiend answered with clever, pretty words and feigned sorrow, hastily agreeing: “Master, my home is in Binpo Country, over two hundred li from here. My parents remain at home; they are very righteous and kind, affectionate all their lives. At Qingming we invited our kinsfolk and close family, old and young, to sweep the ancestral graves. With sedan and horse escorting us, we all came out to a wasteland beyond the city. At the graves we laid out the rites; just after the paper horses were burned, gongs and drums sounded, and a band of ruffians burst forth with knives and cudgels, shouting and advancing in violence. Terrified, our souls nearly flew out of our bodies. My parents and relatives, mounted on horse or borne in sedan, each fled and saved their lives. I was young and could not run. Unable to move, I nearly fainted; they carried me off into the mountain. The Great King wanted me as his primary wife; the second king wished me as a wife; the third and fourth each coveted my beauty. In all, seven or eight scores of households argued together, all angry and contentious, so they bound me in the woodland and dispersed. Five days and five nights have passed; my life seems near ending, and soon I will die. I do not know what merit from former ancestors now answers me, but today I have met this teacher. Have boundless compassion, save my life. Below the nine springs, I will never forget this grace.” Speaking thus, she wept as rain.

Tripitaka’s compassion truly overcame him; he could not help but drop tears, his voice choked as he called, “Disciple.” Zhu Bajie and Sha Wujing were then in the forest seeking flowers and fruit. Hearing their master’s pitiful call, Bajie said, “Sha Wujing, Master has found a relation here.” Sha Wujing laughed, “Second Brother, stop your nonsense. We have walked so long and not met a single good person; where could this relation have come from?” Zhu Bajie said, “It is no relation. Why is Master crying with a stranger? I and you should go and see.” Sha Wujing truly returned to the old spot, led the horse and took up the load, then called at the side, “Master, what happened?” Tripitaka pointed with his hand to that tree and said, “Zhu Bajie, unbind that woman-bodhisattva and save her life.” Zhu Bajie, not distinguishing good from evil, moved immediately to act.

Now it is said that the Great Sage, Sun Wukong, again in midair, saw thick black vapour so dense that it completely smothered the auspicious glow. He cried, “Not good, not good! The black miasma covers the holy light. Could it be that a demon-evil has harmed my Master? Making an offering is a trifling matter. I must first go and see my Master.” He turned back with the cloud and alighted in the woods. There he saw Zhu Bajie loosely untying the ropes. Sun Wukong stepped forward, grabbed him by the ear, and with one hard drag sent him crashing down in a tumble. The fool looked up, got to his feet, and said, “Master told me to rescue a person. Why did you rely on your strength and throw me down like that?” Sun Wukong laughed, “Brother, do not untie him. He is a demon, making a racket to trick us.” Tripitaka barked, “You insolent monkey, you are making nonsense again. How could you, at once on seeing a woman, know she is a demon?” Sun Wukong said, “Master, you do not yet know; this is an old trade of old Sun’s, a method for getting human flesh to eat. How would you know it?” Zhu Bajie, with his mouth shut tight, said, “Master, do not believe this Bima-wun to fool you. This woman belongs to a household here. We came from the Eastern Land, far away, no kin and no acquaintance—how can one call her a demon? She sent us on ahead, we were turned away, and yet she turned a juggled trick, used magic and brought us back for some sly business.” Sun Wukong shouted, “Simpleton, do not babble. Since old Sun came west, where have you ever found room for idle kindness? You, this lustful and callous fellow, so forgetting righteousness and chasing gain, do not know right and wrong; you set him up to attract a daughter-in-law and tied him to a tree.” Tripitaka said, “Enough, enough. Zhu Bajie, your elder brother has never been slow to observe; if he says so, do not meddle. Let us leave.” Sun Wukong rejoiced and said, “Good, Master now has Heaven’s intent. Mount up and ride out of the pines, there will be houses where you can receive alms-food.” The four then strode onward together, leaving the monster behind.

The monster, still tied to the tree, ground his teeth in fury and said, “For years people have spoken of Sun Wukong’s vast powers; seeing him today, truly nothing he said was false. Tripitaka, a novice monk from the East, has not yet let out even a drop of vital essence. He intended to seize him and make him match with them and become a Tàiyĭ Jīnxian, yet this monkey saw through my arts and rescued him. If they had cut the rope, let me down, and I seized him at once, would he not be my man? Now he has been carried away by this fellow’s scattered babble—has it not become labor with no gain? Let me call him two more times and see what happens.” The demon did not move the rope. He spoke a few words of seeming kindness and, with a smooth wind, sent a shrill whisper into Tripitaka’s ear. You ask, “What did he call him?” He called out, “Master! You leave a living life unrescued and do not save it; how can you claim to seek scriptures by insincere worship of the Buddha?”

Hearing such calling again from the saddle, Tripitaka pulled the reins and said, “Wukong, go and rescue that woman and bring her down.” Sun Wukong said, “Master, after we were already walking on, why do you think of him again now?” Tripitaka said, “He is still calling there.” Sun Wukong asked, “Zhu Bajie, did you hear?” Zhu Bajie said, “My ears were covered; I did not hear it.” He asked again, “Sha Wujing, did you hear?” Sha Wujing said, “I am ahead bearing the load, not attending to it, and I did not hear either.” Sun Wukong said, “Old Sun also did not hear. Master, what did he call that I did not hear?” Tripitaka said, “His words have sense. He called, ‘Master, you leave a living life and do not rescue it. With what heart do you worship Buddha to take the scripture?’ and again, ‘To save one life is worth building a seven-storied pagoda.’ Go, save him at once; that is better than the pilgrimage and bowing.” Sun Wukong laughed, “When one embraces compassion so, there is no remedy for it. Since you left the Eastern Land and traveled west, you have crossed so many mountain ranges and met many demons. They often take you into their caves. I used my staff and killed them by the hundreds of thousands to rescue you. Today, for one demon’s life, you cannot bear to let him go?” Tripitaka said, “Disciple, the ancients said: ‘Do not refuse a small good; do not do even a small evil.’ Go save him.” Sun Wukong said, “If Master is determined, this is a load old Sun cannot bear. If I urge you, I dare not, for I would only provoke your anger. Do as you will and save him.” Tripitaka said, “Monkey, stop at once. Sit still. Let me and Zhu Bajie go save him.”

Tripitaka returned into the woods and told Zhu Bajie to loosen the upper half of the rope; using a spade he worked loose the lower half of the body. The monster staggered, fluttering his feet and clamping his skirt, and, happy and eager, followed Tripitaka out of the pine forest. On seeing him, Sun Wukong only kept on with a cold laugh. Tripitaka scolded, “You monkey-head, why do you laugh?” Sun Wukong said, “I laugh at you: you came upon an old friend and, in transit, happened upon a pretty woman.” Tripitaka scolded again, “You wild ape is speaking nonsense again. From the moment I left my mother’s womb, I have been a monk. Now I go west by command, devoutly worshiping Buddha and seeking scripture; I am no man of honor and profit. How is this lustfulness?” Sun Wukong laughed, “Master, though you have been a monk since childhood, you only read sutras and recite Buddha’s name and have never seen the proper laws. This woman is young and graceful. We are both ordained men and travel with her; if wicked men meet us, they may seize us and hand us to magistrates. Whether or not one calls it a matter of pilgrimage or Buddhist devotion, they will make it adultery. Even if none of that occurs, they still ask about carrying off a person. Master, with your travel-passes, you would be given a little death. Zhu Bajie would be questioned for penal exile. Sha Wujing also for standing in the square. Old Sun would not remain clean; even with my eloquence, after argument I would still be called in answer.” Tripitaka shouted, “Do not talk nonsense, not so indeed. I save this life; what trouble can it bring? I take him with us; any consequences are upon me.” Sun Wukong said, “Master, though you say the trouble is yours, you do not know: it is not you saving him but hurting him.” Tripitaka said, “I rescue him from the forest and secure his life. How could that hurt him?” Sun Wukong said, “At the moment he was tied in the grove, three or five days, ten days, even half a month without food, he could die of hunger and his whole body return to darkness. Now that you bring him out, you ride like the wind; we must all keep to your pace. Yet her feet are small and hard to move, how can she keep up with the steps? If in a moment you drop him back and she meets wolves, insects, or tigers and is swallowed up, would that not be harming her life?”

Tripitaka said, “You are right, this I overlooked. How should we handle it?” Sun Wukong laughed, “Carry her up and let her ride with you.” Tripitaka murmured, “How can I ride together with her?”—“How could he go there?” Sun Wukong said. Tripitaka said, “Have Zhu Bajie carry him.” Sun Wukong laughed, “The fool has good fortune indeed.” Zhu Bajie said, “‘A long road is no light burden.’ You ask me to carry one on my back—what kind of fortune is that?” Sun Wukong said, “Your mouth is so long; if you carry him, you can turn that mouth back and carry on private talk. Is that not useful?” Upon hearing this, Zhu Bajie thumped his chest and leapt, “No, no. If Master beats me a few times, I can bear the pain. But to carry him would not leave me with a clean heart. My elder brother can hide every wrong and even bury it. I cannot carry him.” Tripitaka said, “Enough, enough. I can still walk a few steps. Let me dismount, and slowly we shall all walk together. Have Zhu Bajie lead the empty horse.” Sun Wukong laughed, “The fool has a fair arrangement; Master will indeed watch over your handling of the reins.” Tripitaka said, “This monkey makes trouble again. As the ancients say, ‘A horse can go a thousand li; no one cannot go on its own.’ If on the road I walk slowly, will you then cast me off? If I walk slowly, you will too. Let us all go down the mountain together with this Bodhisattva-lady, and by the way to a retreat-temple or monastery, a house where people live, we can leave her there—that is also the rescue I have done.” Sun Wukong said, “Master has spoken well; go on quickly.”

Tripitaka led from the front. Sha Wujing shouldered the pack, Zhu Bajie led the empty horse and guided the woman, and Sun Wukong carried the iron staff. In less than twenty or thirty li, evening came on, and they saw a pavilion and hall complex. Tripitaka said, “Disciple, there must surely be a hermitage or monastery there. Let us lodge for the night and set out early tomorrow.” Sun Wukong said, “Master is right. Let everyone keep moving.” In an instant they reached the gate. He said, “You all stand a little apart. I will go in first to ask for lodging; if there is a place of convenience, have someone call you.” The group stood under the willow shade, while Sun Wukong alone held the iron cudgel and kept control of the woman.

The abbot drew nearer and pulled himself forward, and all he saw was the gate leaning in all directions, broken and scattered. When he pushed it open and looked, he could not restrain the desolation in his heart: the corridor was silent, the ancient monastery sparse and forlorn; moss filled the court, weeds of mugwort lined the path; only the fireflies’ flickering lamps moved through the dusk, and frog cries had taken the place of time-marking bells. At once the abbot burst into tears. It was truly so:

The halls had withered and collapsed, the corridor and wings lay leaning into loneliness. Piles upon piles of broken bricks and cracked tiles, and all was bent beams and split columns. Before and behind, only new grass grew; dust covered the rotten incense hall. The bell tower had fallen apart, the drum had no skin; the glazed perfume lamps were shattered. The Buddha’s golden form had lost all color, the arhats lay sprawled east and west. Even Guanyin was weathered into mud, and the willow-brushed pure vase had crashed to the ground. By day no monk was within; by night the foxes all kept their watch there. Only the wind’s roar sounded, like thunder; these were dens where tigers and leopards hid. Around, the walls were all fallen; there were no doors left at all to close. There is a poem as witness: For years no one has repaired this ancient monastery; it has fallen into ruin, poor and forlorn. A fierce wind has torn the temple facade apart; hard rain drenched the remnants atop Buddha’s image. The Vajra image lay broken and battered from endless soaking; the earth has no shelter to keep watch through the night. Worse yet, two things remain to be mourned: the copper bell lies on the ground, its tower no longer above it. Tripitaka steeled himself and entered through the two-tier gate. There he saw that both the bell- and drum-tower had collapsed, and only one bronze bell remained, driven into the ground, its upper half white as snow, its lower half dark indigo blue. In truth, with age and years, rain had bleached the upper half, and the lower had taken on verdigris from the breath of the soil. Tripitaka touched the bell with his hand and cried out, 「Bell, you once hung from lofty towers and thundered forth your voice; you once rang out and your sound traveled through painted beams afar. You once proclaimed dawn when the cock first sang, and you once sent evening down at dusk. I do not know where the daoist who turned you into bronze has gone, nor where the smith who cast you remains. I think both have returned their destinies to the courts of Yin, and they are gone without trace while you lie silent.」

The abbot spoke in a loud voice of praise, and without intending to, he startled the temple’s occupants. A daoist keeper of the incense nearby heard the human voice, rose up, picked a broken tile, and struck the bell. The bell gave a sharp clang. It made the abbot start with fright and stumble backward; he jumped up to leave, then caught his toe on a root and fell again with a crash. Lying in the dust he raised his head and called, 「Bell, I had only been grieving and sighing over you when suddenly a clear clink rang out. Perhaps, for no one has come this way on the road to the Western Heaven for so many years, you have become an enlightened spirit on your own.」

The monk hurried forward and caught him. 「Sir, please rise. This was not a bell becoming a spirit—the ringing came from my strike.」 Tripitaka lifted his head and looked at him. The man’s face was ugly and dark. Tripitaka said, 「Are you some woodland fiend or demon fiend? I am no common man; I come from Great Tang, and I have disciples beneath me who can bring dragons under control and tigers to kneel. If you meet them, your life may not endure." The monk knelt and said, 「Please do not fear. I am no demon. I am the one who tends the incense in this temple. When I heard your good words and praises, I tried to come out and receive you. But I feared perhaps an evil ghost had knocked, so I picked up a broken brick and struck the bell once, just to frighten and reassure the place before I dared step out. Please, sir, rise.」 Tripitaka then steadied himself and said, 「Abbot, you nearly frightened me to death. Bring me inside.」

The monk guided Tripitaka through and led him in; within, it was wholly different from outside. He beheld this:

Blue-green brick made walls like rainbows of cloud, green tile formed halls gleaming like glass. Golden ornament adorned the holy images, white jade formed the tiered terraces. Atop the Great Hero Hall blue light danced; beneath the Pi Luo Hall sharp vitality seemed to breathe. The Manjushri Hall was festooned with gathered hues of flying cloud, and the Wheel-Treasury Hall bore painted blossoms heaped with green. On the ridge of the triple eaves sat the point of a treasure vase; within the Hall of Five Blessings spread a plain embroidered canopy. A thousand green bamboos swayed near the meditation cots, and myriad emerald pines mirrored the Buddha gate. In the Emerald-Cloud Palace golden light poured out, and amid violet mists auspicious vapor drifted. At dawn one could scent fragrant wind across the four wild fields; at dusk one heard mountain-high drums like painted thunder. Could there not be morning sun to mend torn robes? Could one not sit by moonlight with the remaining sūtra passages? There was also, at the rear court, the light of a half-wall lamp; a thread of incense smoke lit the central court. Tripitaka, seeing it, dared not enter and said, 「You monk: how can the front be so pitiably wrecked, and the back so complete and proper?" The monk smiled: 「Sir, this mountain is full of powerful brigands, demons and evil ghosts. On clear days they range the ridges and plunder; when the sky turns dim they retreat here to hide in the temple. They overturn Buddha images to make seats and move timber to light their fires. The monks of this monastery are weak and cannot reason with them. So I left those broken outer rooms for those tough ones to use and, with the support of devotees, raised this newly formed temple. One part was kept apart, one part set anew; this is how things are done in the Western regions.」 Tripitaka said, 「I see.」

As they moved on, above the mountain gate they saw five large characters: 「鎮海禪林寺」. As he stepped inside, a monk came out. See his form:

On his head, a wool-brocade cap tilted to the left; a pair of copper rings hung by each ear-root. He wore a rough wool-knit robe; his eyes were white and bright, like silver. In one hand he shook a small hand-drum, while in his mouth he chanted foreign scriptures unclearly. Tripitaka did not at first recognize him—this was a lama monk from the western route. The lama monk came through the gate. Seeing Tripitaka with clear brows and handsome eyes, broad smooth forehead, ears hanging to the shoulders, and hands longer than the knees, he looked like a descending arhat, very fine and elegant. He stepped forward, grasped his sleeve, and with a face full of cheerful affection pinched his fingers and toes, rubbed his nose, and tugged his ears to show welcome. He led him into the abbot’s hall; after ritual bows, he asked, 「Venerable, where have you come from?」 Tripitaka said, 「This disciple is an imperial envoy of Great Tang, sent west to Tianzhu’s Great Thundering-Reverberation Temple to pay homage to Buddha and fetch the Dharma. By fortunate timing I reached this site late in the evening and hastened up to this monastery to pass one night; at dawn I depart. I beg a little aid.」 The monk smiled, 「Not an ordinary child, not an ordinary child. We did not take to the path of leaving home by choice. All of us were born of parents, and our fates struck the Huagai mark, so home could not hold us; only then did we break off and become ordained. Now that you are a disciple of the Buddha gate, do not speak of hollow emptiness.」 Tripitaka said, 「I speak the truth.」 The monk said, 「From the Eastern Capital to the Western Heaven, how long is that road? There are mountains, caves within the mountains, and spirits inside those caves. Looking at you, so single and so delicate, how could you be one to fetch the scriptures?」 Tripitaka said, 「Abbot, you see truly. How could a poor monk alone do it? I have three disciples. When I meet mountain I make a way; when I meet water I make a bridge; they guard this disciple, so I have come to this monastery.」 The monk grew alarmed: 「Master, do you not know that this place has tigers, wolves, demons, thieves, ghosts, and monsters that wound men? By daylight we do not dare to go far out, and before evening we have already shut the gates. Why keep your people outside at this hour?" He called, 「Disciples, quickly go and invite them in.」

Two young lama boys ran out. Seeing the Wanderer, they started and stumbled backward; seeing Zhu Bajie, they stumbled again. They jumped up and ran back, crying, 「Sir, this ill-fated hour has come and your disciples are nowhere to be seen; there are only three or four demons at the gatepost.」 Tripitaka asked, 「How do they look?" One young monk said, 「One has the face of the Thunder Lord, another a mortar-flat face, one has a blue visage with bared fangs. Beside them is a woman—she is, in fact, a handsome one with an oiled, powdered face." Tripitaka laughed, 「You do not know them. Those three ugly ones are my disciples. And that woman is the one I rescued, her life in peril, in the pine wood." The lama said, 「Master! Such a handsome master—how have you found such ugly disciples?" Tripitaka replied, 「They are ugly by any standard, and yet each is useful. Invite him in quickly. If you delay further, that Thunder-Mouthed one may soon create trouble. He is no ordinary child reared by living parents—he will force himself in at once.」

The young monk at once ran out, knelt trembling, and said, 「The noble lords, Master Tang has sent in his request.」 Zhu Bajie laughed, 「Brother, he has already invited us, yet why this panic?" The Wanderer said, 「They were frightened to see how ugly we look." Zhu Bajie said, 「Is that nonsense? We are naturally ugly—that is all." The Wanderer said, 「At least make that ugliness bearable.」 Zhu Bajie truly tucked his mouth inside his chest, bowed his head, and pulled the horse; Sha Wujing took up the shoulder pole; Sun Wukong followed behind with his staff, escorting the woman. The group went in together. They passed through the fallen corridor and entered the third gate; they tied the horse and put down the pole. In the abbot’s hall, they met the lama monk and took their seats. The lama brought out seventy or eighty young lamas from inside. After bows and greetings, they set in order the alms and arranged the monastic meal for them. It was just then that this line appeared:

Merit must be accumulated through compassion’s heart; when the Buddha’s law flourishes, monks shall praise one another.

In the end it remains unknown how they will eventually leave the monastery. Listen in the next chapter for how it is resolved.