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.

After Tripitaka and his disciples arrived at Zhenhai Chanlin Temple, the monks met them and arranged a vegetarian meal. After the fourfold assembly had eaten, the girl also gained enough strength from the food. Dusk slowly came, and lamps were lit in the abbot’s hall. The monks gathered in groups beneath the lights: some asking Tripitaka the story of his journey to fetch scriptures, others openly gazing at the girl. Tripitaka said to the lama monk he had first met, ‘Abbot, tomorrow we leave Baoshan and go west. How is the road ahead?’

The monk knelt on both knees. Startled, the Patriarch pulled him up: ‘Abbot, please rise. I am only asking the route—why do you kneel?’

The monk replied, ‘Master is traveling west tomorrow. The way is level and safe; there is no need to worry. Only there is one awkward matter. I meant to say it as soon as I entered, but I feared it might not be proper. Now that the meal is done, I dare speak plainly: Master comes from afar and the road is long and hard. It is best he rest tonight in the junior monks’ quarters. This lady-bodhisattva, however, is not convenient; I do not know where to place her to sleep well.’

Tripitaka said, ‘Abbot, do not suspect us; do not think my disciples and I carry any evil intent. This morning, passing through the Black Pine Grove, we found this woman bound to a tree. My junior disciple Sun Wukong would not rescue her; it was I who, out of bodhicitta, saved her. We brought her here, and she may go wherever you direct.’

The monk thanked him: ‘Since Master is so broad-hearted, let her sleep in the Hall of the Heavenly King—behind the image of the Heavenly King—with a straw mat arranged for her.’

Tripitaka said, ‘Very good, very good.’ The novice monks then led the girl behind the hall to sleep. Tripitaka stayed in the abbot’s hall and let all the abbots rest as they wished; then everyone dispersed. Tripitaka instructed Sun Wukong, ‘You have labored enough. Sleep early and rise early.’ So all of them slept in one place, daring not to leave, guarding the master at his side.

Night deepened, and now it was that:

The jade rabbit rises, and all ten thousand sounds fall silent; the heavenly streets are still, no footsteps stirring. The Silver River gleams, star-lit and bright; from the watchtower drums call the change of watches.

That night’s further talk is omitted. By dawn, Sun Wukong rose and told Zhu Bajie and Sha Wujing to pack bundles and horses and asked that Master travel on foot. At this time the Patriarch still clung to sleep, not yet awake. Sun Wukong came close and called, ‘Master.’ The master lifted his head a little but gave no clear answer. Sun Wukong asked, ‘What does Master say?’

The Patriarch groaned, ‘Why is my head hanging like this and my eyes so swollen? My skin and bones all ache.’

Hearing this, Zhu Bajie reached out and touched him; he seemed to be running hot. The foolish monk said, ‘I know it. Last night there was poor rice and many bowls of it at the meal; it went straight to his head when he slept, and he is now sick from overfeeding.’

Sun Wukong barked, ‘Nonsense! Let me ask Master what is truly the matter.’

Tripitaka said, ‘In the middle of the night I rose to relieve myself and had not put on my hat. I think the wind got in.’

Sun Wukong said, ‘That can be so. Can we travel now?’

Tripitaka said, ‘At this moment I cannot sit up; how can I mount a horse? It is just that we might miss the road.’

Sun Wukong said, ‘What is that saying? There is a saying: “One may call oneself a teacher for a day, yet for life one is a father.” We who are your disciples are, in every way, your sons. It is also said: “To raise a son is not to buy him with gold and silver; one may raise affection simply by seeing the proper scene.” Since your body is unwell, why speak of missing the schedule? To endure a few more days is nothing.’

The brothers served the master faithfully. Without noticing, midday came, then dusk again; one fine night had just passed when morning pressed in again.

Time passed quickly. By the next day, three days were already gone.

That day the master rose and called, ‘Wukong, in these two days my illness has pressed heavily on me; I have not asked you: has anyone sent food to that near-to-death bodhisattva?’

Sun Wukong laughed, ‘What is that to you? Care first for your own illness.’

Tripitaka said, ‘That is true. Help me up, bring out my paper, brush, and ink, and borrow an inkstone from the temple.’

Sun Wukong said, ‘In what way?’

The master replied, ‘I want to draft a letter and seal it. You must carry it to Chang’an and present it before Emperor Taizong.’

Sun Wukong said, ‘Easy enough. I, old Wukong, am poor at other arts, but if it is carrying a letter I am first among men below heaven. Have the letter prepared properly and give it to me. I can carry it to Chang’an in one go, hand it to the Tang king, and in another go return with it; your brush and ink will not even be dry by then. But I have no idea why you must send it. First, read the letter’s meaning to me; once I have heard it, I will write it again, and that will not be too late.’

The Patriarch, with tears, dictated:

Your humble monk bows in reverence, thrice prostrating, saluting the long-lived sovereign, Let both civil and martial offices read this, and let the four hundred ministers all know. In former days I departed the Eastern Land by imperial command, hoping to behold the World Honored One on Mount Ling. Unforeseen difficulties met us on the road; who would have expected disaster to appear midway. The monk is sick with deep malaise and cannot press onward; the Buddha’s gate is profound, joining on to Heaven’s gate. I have the scripture yet no life to bear it, laboring in vain—I humbly report that now I should be sent another envoy.

Sun Wukong could not hold back a loud laugh: ‘Master, you are not up to this; at only the least illness you conceive such thoughts. If your sickness were truly grave, if you were about to die or live, ask me alone. Old Wukong has ways of his own. Ask which Yanwang dares to think of it, which judge dares to pass an order, which ghost messenger dares to come to fetch you. If I am annoyed, I will take out the nature with which I once made havoc in Heaven: I’ll knock him into the netherworld with my staff, seize the ten Yama kings, and pull their tendons one by one—there will be no mercy.’

Tripitaka said, ‘Disciple, my illness is severe. Do not speak such grand talk.’

Zhu Bajie came forward and said, ‘Elder brother, Master is in poor shape. You keep saying he is well, which is very awkward. Let us at once decide: sell the horse, rent the packs, buy a coffin and send off the funeral fire.’

Sun Wukong said, ‘You talk nonsense again, dumb-brother. You do not know. Master is Buddha’s second disciple, called Gold-Cicada Abbot in former times. It is only because he once treated the Dharma lightly that he is to endure this great hardship.’

Zhu Bajie said, ‘Brother, if Master has been careless with the Dharma, then being stripped and sent back to the Eastern Land, entering this world of right and wrong, and in courts of argument taking human form by faith, then vowing to go west to seek Buddha for scripture, getting bound by demons, hanged by demon-kings, and enduring many torments—that alone is enough. How can we then also make him fall ill?’

Sun Wukong said, ‘You do not understand. Master did not hear the Buddha’s teaching; he dozed off once, then on the next descent his left foot stepped on a single grain of rice. That is why this three-day illness has come.’

Zhu Bajie cried out in surprise, ‘Like old pig, when it eats with mess and splash, one can never know how many ages of illness it causes!’

Sun Wukong said, ‘Brother, the Buddha has no compassion for your mortal life, and you do not know. As people say:

In the noonday sun, one hoes the fields and the sweat drips into the earth beneath the grain, Who knows that each bowl of food comes from each grain hard-earned? Master will be no worse than yesterday; he will be well tomorrow.’

Tripitaka said, ‘Today I am not as yesterday—I am very thirsty. Go where there is cool water and fetch some for me to drink.’

Sun Wukong said, ‘Good. If Master asks for water, that means he is already improving. I will go and fetch it.’

He took up the bowl at once and went behind the monastery to the Xiangji kitchen to fetch water. He then saw that those monks, one by one, had swollen-red eyes, crying with choked sobs, yet they dared not wail aloud. Wukong said, 'You monks are so soft-tempered. We have stayed here for only a few days. When we depart, we will still repay you for the firewood by the day, as agreed. Why are you all so foul-bellied and helpless?' The monks knelt in alarm and said, 'No offense, no offense.' Wukong said, 'Why do you so much as hesitate? Do you think the broad-mouthed, big-stomached old monk in my troop has eaten too much and injured your own merit?' The monks replied, 'My lord, this barren mountain has a hundred and more monks, big and small. One person can feed Your Reverence for a day; one person can still sustain one for a hundred days. How could we act in deceit and count over meals?' Wukong said, 'If you do not count, why then cry and weep?' The monks said, 'My lord, we do not know what demon from this mountain has entered this temple. At night we send two novice monks to strike the bell and beat the drum; after hearing the ringing and drumming they do not return. The next day we search and find only a monk-cowl and monastic sandals thrown in the rear garden, with bones left behind—the people were eaten. In three days of your stay, six young monks in this temple have vanished. So my brothers, though unwilling, are frightened and cannot help weeping. Because your honored teacher is ailing, we dared not tell him, and we could only let tears fall in secret.'

When Wukong heard this, he was both alarmed and pleased. 'No need to say more. It must be a demon in this place. Let me capture him and clear him away.'

The monks said, 'My lord, a demon that is no true demon will still not show power. He will certainly ride cloud and vanish in mist, certainly go in and out of the dark and shadowed realms. The ancients said well: “Do not trust even in one whose face is upright; beware of people without humanity.” Do not blame us for saying this: if you can seize him, then you will remove this root of disaster from our wild mountain; that would be a blessing over three lives. If you fail to catch him, there will be serious and untoward consequences.'

Wukong said, 'What untoward consequences?'

Those monks said, 'Let us not hide it from your lordship. Though this mountain has a hundred and some monks, all of them were ordained when children. Their hair is grown long and rough, their robes are thin and patched and torn. At dawn they wash their faces, fold their hands and bow in devotion to the Way. At night they gather themselves, light incense, and with sincere hearts bite their lips as they chant Amitabha. Lifting their heads, they behold the nine grades of the Buddha-lotus, the Three Vehicles, the charitable ark of compassion, and the clouds of Dharma, and pray to see Śākyamuni in the Deer Park so that he lowers his head and sees their minds; they receive the Five Precepts, ferry the great thousand-world expanse, and through lives upon lives in the myriad dharmas pray to awaken to blunt emptiness and form emptiness. Lay followers come and go, the old and the young, the tall and the short, the fat and the lean: one by one they strike the wooden fish and ring the bronze bell, bow and bow; two fascicles of the Lotus Sutra, one tract of the Repentance of King Liang. The lay people, both new and old, raw and ripened, village and city alike, all join their hands, close their eyes, and quietly, silently descend into meditation on the meditation mat; they shut the gate beneath the moon. Let orioles sing and birds quarrel, they do not mount the great Dharma-vehicle of my expedient compassion. Therefore they cannot subdue tigers, nor bring down dragons; they do not know demons, they do not know spirits. If you were to rouse that demon, our hundred-and-ten monks would only be able to feed him one full meal. First, we would fall again into the round of sentient life. Second, these chan-clerical traces would be erased. Third, in the Buddha’s assembly even half a spark of radiance would be lost. Those are several very bad consequences.'

Hearing the monks’ words, Wukong grew angry from the heart; wicked heat surged near his gall, and he shouted, 'You monks are all very slow-witted! You only know that demon, and yet you do not know how your old Sun behaves?' The monks softly replied, 'Truly we do not know.'

Wukong said, 'I will tell you a bit of my conduct today, listen well. I have once in Flower-Fruit Mountain subdued tigers and brought down dragons. I once stormed Heaven and roiled the Heavenly Court. Hungry, I nipped two or three of Old Lord Laojun’s pills; thirsty, I lightly called down six or seven measures of the Jade Emperor’s wine. Opening my two gold eyes, neither white nor black, heaven darkens and the moon turns hazy. Grasping the Golden-Hooped Staff, neither too short nor too long, I arrive without shadow and go without track. What is there to fear of big devils or small monsters? Let them even be weary and pus-filled, I can still burn them down.

When one chases, they run; when one chases, they tremble; when one chases, they hide; when one chases, they panic. When one catches them, then I file, I burn, I grind, I pound. It is just like the Eight Immortals crossing the sea: only I display the divine powers.

Monks, let me show you this demon. Then you will recognize me, your old Sun.'

The monks listened and silently nodded in agreement: 'This bald rogue opens his great mouth and boasts; he must have some background.' They all muttered approval again and again. Only the lama monk said, 'Hold for a moment. Your teacher is gravely ill; do not take this demon too suddenly. The saying goes: “One who rises to a feast and is not drunk is not satisfied; a hero before the melee, if not dead, is already wounded.” While the two of you grapple in combat, if your master should be endangered through your doing, things will not turn out right.'

Wukong said, 'Good point, good point. I will first give Master some cool water and then return.' He took up the bowl, filled it with cool water, and returned from the Xiangji kitchen to the abbey hall, calling out, 'Master, here is cool water.' Tripitaka, at the very moment of troublesome thirst, lifted his head, took up the water, and drank one full draught. Truly, when one is parched, even one drop was like nectar; the medicine had found the right prescription and the illness lifted at once.

When Wukong saw that Master’s spirit was becoming clear and his brows and eyes unfolding, he asked, 'Master, can you eat some rice soup?' Tripitaka said, 'This cool water itself is like a divine elixir; the illness is gone by half. I can eat a little soup and rice.' Wukong called out repeatedly and loudly, 'My Master is better. He wants soup and rice.' He ordered those monks to prepare things in haste: wash the rice and cook it, knead dough and bake cakes, steam momo, and make flour gruel, and set out four or five tables.

Tripitaka ate only half a bowl of rice porridge. Wukong and Sha Wujing used only one place each; the rest was all swallowed by Zhu Bajie in one belly-full.

He removed the kitchen fire and lit the lamps; the monks all dispersed.

Tripitaka said, 'How many days have we been staying here?' Wukong said, 'It has been three full days. Tomorrow by evening, it is already the fourth day.' Tripitaka said, 'Three days have wasted a lot of our road distance.' Wukong said, 'Master, that does not count as losing distance. We will leave tomorrow.' Tripitaka said, 'Yes, yes. With even this much illness, we are helpless.' Wukong said, 'If we leave tomorrow, let me at least catch that demon tonight and bring it to you.' Tripitaka exclaimed, 'Catch what demon now?' Wukong said, 'There is a demon in this temple. Let old Sun catch it.'

Tripitaka said, 'Disciple, my body is still sick; how can this thought arise again in your mind? If that monster has powers, and you fail to take him, then you too might be harmed.' Wukong said, 'You are always intent on frightening men into fear. Old Sun has subdued demons everywhere; where do you think I am weak? I need not strike a blow first, but if I do, I must win.' Tripitaka pulled at his sleeve: 'Disciple, as the saying goes, “When a chance is expedient, be expedient; where one can spare, spare. Who is better: to hold worry in the breast, or to let good intent rest? What is higher—fighting for face, or enduring injury with dignity?”'

Seeing that his master had pleaded again and again and would not let him exterminate the demon, Wukong spoke frankly: 'Master, I do not hide the truth from you. That demon has already eaten people here.' Tripitaka was greatly startled: 'What people have he eaten?' Wukong said, 'In the three days we stayed, he has already eaten six young monks from this temple.' The Elder said, '“When a rabbit dies, the fox grieves, for all creatures grieve for their own kind.” Since he has eaten monks of this temple, I too am a monk. I let you go, only be careful and be very attentive.' Wukong said, 'No need to say more. Once Old Sun has his hand on him, he will be gone.'

Before the lamp-light, Sun Wukong ordered Zhu Bajie and Sha Wujing to watch Tripitaka. Then, eager and restless, he leapt out of the abbot's hall, went straight to the Buddha Hall, and when he looked, the sky had stars while the moon was not yet up; the hall was dark as night itself. He blew out true fire, lit the glazed lamps, beat a drum on the east side and struck a bell on the west. When the sound died, he changed shape in an instant into a small young monk of only twelve or thirteen years, wearing a yellow silk rag robe and a white linen outer coat, tapping a wooden fish with his hand while reciting sutra. By the first watch there was no sign of movement. By the second, as the waning moon only just rose, he heard only the roaring of wind. That wind:

Black fog veils the sky; grief clouds darken the earth. In the four quarters it is like ink flung across, one wash of indigo. First it whirls dust and flings up soil; then it topples trees and crushes groves. With dust and earth lifted, starlight appears; toppled trees and wrecked woods make moonlight dim. It blows so hard: Chang'e clutches the suro tree, the Jade Rabbit circles and searches for the medicine basin; the Nine-star officials all close their doors, and the Dragon Kings of the Four Seas lock theirs as well; in the temples, city gods seek small ghosts; heavenly maidens in the air do not know how to ride the clouds; in the underworld, Yama looks for Ma Mian, while the judges run about chasing their headscarves. It shakes the stones atop Kunlun, and whirls the waves of rivers and seas into one disorderly flood.

Only after the wind had passed did a scent of sandal and musk fill the air and the jingle of jeweled ornaments sound. Sun Wukong bent slightly and looked up: it was a beautiful maiden straightway stepping into the Buddha Hall. The Monkey kept chanting, muttering "wuli-wula," and all the while recited only the sutra. The woman came near and hugged him. “Little elder, what sutra are you reciting?” Wukong answered, “One I vowed to recite.” She asked, “Everyone else is sleeping at ease; why are you still reciting?” He said, “I vowed it—how could I not recite?” She embraced him, kissed him, and said, “Come play with me in the back.” Wukong deliberately turned his head aside and said, “You understand very little.”

She asked, “Can you read faces?” Wukong said, “A little.” She asked, “What do you see in mine?” He replied, “I see someone who bore a child in secret and was driven out by her parents-in-law.” She said, “Wrong, wrong! I was not driven out by my parents-in-law, nor did I secretly bear a child. My fate in my former life was thin: I was married to a young man who did not understand the bridal chamber, so I fled my husband. Now the stars are bright and the moon is clear; those destined for each other may meet though a thousand miles apart. Come with me to the back garden, and let us join as phoenix mates.” Wukong thought, “Those foolish monks were lured by lust and so lost their lives. Now she has come to deceive me too.” He answered, “My lady, I am still young and know nothing of lovemaking.” She said, “Come with me, and I will teach you.” Wukong laughed inwardly: “Very well. I will follow and see what she intends.”

The two held shoulders and hands, came out of the Buddha Hall, and went straight to the back garden. The demon made Sun Wukong trip over a foot-lift, sending him to the ground. She cried wildly, "heart of my heart, brother," and with her hand reached to pinch his testicles. Sun said, "You little one, you truly want to eat Old Sun, don't you?" He caught her hand and, using a small dropping technique, he flipped and threw her into a whirling tumble onto the ground. The demon still cried out, "Heart of my heart, you can even make your mother tumble," and so on. Sun thought, "If I do not seize the moment and strike now, when else? As the old saying goes: 'The first strike is strongest; the later strike meets trouble.'" So he spread one arm, bent at the waist, leapt up, showed his true form, lifted the Golden-Hooped Staff, and smashed her at once. The demon was shocked. She thought, 'This little monk is this dangerous?' She opened her eyes and saw that he was Tripitaka's disciple with the surname Sun. Even then she did not fear him. You ask what kind of demon this was:

A gold nose, hair dusted white like snow. Burrows made as gates and rooms; wherever she settles, it is secure. Three hundred years of life-force she has fostered, and she has gone to Lingjiu three times. After one offering of incense flowers and candles, she was sent from the Buddha down to the heavenly offices. She is the beloved daughter of Pagoda-Bearing King; Prince Nezha recognizes her as a sister. She is no bird that fills the sea, no turtle bearing a mountain. She fears not Lei Huan's sword, nor does she fear Lü Qian's knife. She comes and goes as she pleases, letting the Han waters run wide; up and down, no matter how mountains stand up in lofty heights. Look at that moon-like face, flower-like and delicate. Who could tell this is an old rat spirit showing off its bragging craft?

Full of herself and proud of her powers, she raised both blades in her hands, they rang out, clashing and weaving left and right, eastward and westward. Although Sun was the stronger, he still could not yet bring her down. Eerie wind rose; the waning moon gave only dim light. Behold in the rear garden a fierce battle:

Dark wind rose from the earth, and the fading moon tossed a dim gleam. In quiet Brahma-space, through shadowed ghost corridors, the back garden became a field of war. Great Saint Sun, heaven-born holy; Hairy Maiden, queen among women: neither yields in contests of divine arts. One twisted wrath in his heart, the other opened wise eyes in new adornment. With both hands their swords flew; who could call that a female bodhisattva? One staff strike was cruel as a living Vajra-great. At each clash the Golden-Hoop flashed like a bolt of lightning; in a moment the white iron sparked like stars. A jade tower caught green jade; the golden hall shattered, pair of mandarin ducks undone. Monkeys cried under the moon; geese called to a long Chu sky. Eighteen arhats watched and secretly cheered, while thirty-two heavenly kings grew flustered.

Sun Wukong, spirit unshaken, made no error with his staff. The demon spirit, feeling she could not defeat him, knit her brow, formed a plan, and pulled back to run. Sun shouted, "You ragged one, where are you going? Come back and submit!" She paid no mind and kept retreating. When Sun rushed close at once, she took off her flowered sandal from her left foot, blew out a breath of immortal air, chanted a spell, and cried out, "Change!" At once she took her true form, made her two swords whirl forward; her true body flashed once, dissolved into a clear wind. Was she not Tripitaka's very disaster-star? She collided straight into the abbot's chamber, lifted Tripitaka onto the crown of a cloud and fled. It was all dim and remote; in the briefest moment she arrived at Mountain Pit of Emptiness, entered the bottomless cave, and told her attendants to arrange a plain wedding banquet; no need to set that part down further.

Sun Wukong, anxious and restless from fighting, slipped through a gap and with one staff blow knocked the demon down. But it was only a flower sandal. He realized he had fallen for her trick, and quickly turned back to look for Tripitaka—where was the Master? There, Zhu Bajie and Sha Wujing were still muttering "wu li wu la." His chest full of rage, he cared nothing for consequences and raised his staff again and began striking in a rage, shouting, "I'll beat you dead, I'll beat you dead!" Zhu Bajie panicked and had nowhere to run. Sha Wujing, however, was a great general of Lingjiu and seeing how many matters there were, spoke gently and came forward, kneeling: "Elder Brother, I understand. You think to beat us two to death, yet not go to save Tripitaka and simply return home." Sun replied, "If I were to beat you both to death, I can then go save him." Sha Wujing said with a smile, "Brother, what is that kind of talk? Without the two of you it is impossible: a single thread does not tie a line, one hand cannot sound a drum. Brother, who will guard the baggage and the horses? Better learn to split gold wisely like Guan and Bao; do not imitate Sun and Pang in outwitting each other. As the old saying goes: 'To hunt a tiger, brothers by blood are needed; on the field of battle there must be father and son as soldiers.' For now, Brother, hold your hand from striking. At dawn, with a single heart we will join forces and go to search for our Master." Though Sun Wukong possessed immense powers, he was not without judgment. Seeing Sha Wujing's earnest plea, he returned to sense and said, "Zhu Bajie, Sha Wujing, you both rise. At daybreak we seek the Master. Use all your strength for it." Hearing he was spared, Zhu Bajie wished heaven would lower half the day, and said, "Brother, all this blame is on old Pig." The brothers thought long; they did not get sleep. They wished they could nod and call out the sun of Fusang and with one breath blow the whole sky of stars away.

The three sat until daybreak, packed to go. A temple monk already blocked the gate and asked, "Your Grace, where are you going?" Sun Wukong replied with a laugh, "It is hard to explain. Yesterday I boasted before the crowd that I would take that demon; not once did I catch it, and instead Tripitaka has vanished. We are going to search for him." The monks, afraid, said, "Your Grace, this boy-like matter has only brought trouble on the Teacher. Where are we to go seek him?" Sun said, "There is a place where he can be found." They hurriedly said, "If you are going, do not rush, first have some morning gruel." and quickly brought two or three bowls of soup and rice. Zhu Bajie ate it all cleanly and said, "Good monk, when we find our Master, we shall come back here and play some more." Sun Wukong said, "You still come back here to eat? Go and see whether that woman is in the Heavenly King's Hall." The monks answered, "Your Grace, she is gone, gone. She stayed the night, and by the second day she was no longer here."

Sun Wukong, in high spirits, took leave of the monks and ordered Zhu Bajie and Sha Wujing to lead the horses and shoulder the packs, then headed east. Zhu Bajie said, "Brother, you made a mistake. Why are we going east again?" Sun Wukong said, "Can you not understand? The woman we tied in the black pine woods the other day—the one I, Old Sun, with Fire-Eyed Golden Pupils had seen through and you all took for a virtuous one—she is the same one who fed on monks today and also who carried off Tripitaka. You did well to rescue that Bodhisattva-maiden. Now that he has taken the Master, we must continue searching along the old path as well." The two brothers exclaimed in admiration, "Very good, very good. Truly there is refinement inside a rough shell. Go on, go on."

The three hurried into the forest, and saw this:

Clouds were dense and soft; mist spread everywhere. Layer upon layer of rock, and the road coiled in turns. Fox tracks and rabbit tracks crossed each other. Tigers, leopards, jackals, and wolves kept burrowing and darting back and forth. Within the woods there was no demon’s shadow; no one knew where Tripitaka was now. The Great Sage grew anxious, drew out his staff, and by a shift of his body took the form in which he once wreaked havoc in Heaven: three heads and six arms, six hands, brandishing three staves, he lashed about the grove in loud uproar. Zhu Bajie said, "Sha Wujing, Senior Brother is in a rage; since he cannot find Tripitaka, he is now wind-whirling in anger." In fact the Great Sage, as he kept striking along the way, had brought out two old men: one a Mountain God, one an Earth God, who came forward kneeling and said, "Great Sage, the Mountain God and Earth God come to report." Zhu Bajie said, "Good-natured spirit, by striking one stretch you beat out two mountain and earth gods; strike one more stretch and you might even beat out Tai Sui too." Wukong asked, "Mountain God, Earth God, you two are so impudent, colluding here as thieves. When thieves seize their prey, they offer pigs and sheep in sacrifice to you, then join with demons and in a gang carry away my Master. Where is he hidden now? Speak plainly at once and spare me a beating." The two gods, flustered, said, "Great Sage, you have mistaken us. The demon is not on my little god-mountain and not under my jurisdiction. But only at night, where the wind moans, the small gods know a little." Wukong said, "If you know, then tell me everything in order." The Earth God said, "That demon who took your Master went off straight to the south; it is nearly a thousand li from here. There is a mountain there called Xian Kong Mountain. In that mountain there is a cave called Bottomless Cave. It was the demon of that mountain that used his transformations to carry him off this way." On hearing this, Wukong was inwardly startled. He sent the Mountain God and Earth God away with a shout, withdrew his tantric body, returned to his true form, and said to Zhu Bajie and Sha Wujing, "Tripitaka has gone far away." Zhu Bajie said, "If he is so far, we should rise on the clouds and rush after him."

Good simpleton, a wild wind rose first. Then Sha Wujing mounted the clouds; the white horse, being of dragon lineage, carried the baggage and even drove through wind and fog. The Great Sage at once sprang up into a great charge and came flying southward. Soon they saw a great mountain blocking the cloud path. The three held the horse fast and steadied the cloud hooves. They saw that mountain:

Its summit touched the blue heavens, and its peaks met the high sky. Around it grew ten thousand trees of many kinds, and flying birds came and went, chattering. Tigers and leopards moved in ranks; serow and deer ran in thickets. On the sunny side, fairy flowers and precious herbage spread fragrance; on the shaded side, old snow ice would not melt. Uneven steep ridges, knife-cut cliffs and hanging cliffs. Straight, lofty peaks, and circling bends around deep ravines. Pines stood dense and thick, stones glimmered; the onlooker in that place was chilled in spirit. No wood-gathering woodcutter could be seen; no immortal-errand boy collecting herbs appeared. Right before one’s eyes, tiger and leopard could raise fog; foxes all over the ground stirred the wind into disorder. Zhu Bajie said, "Elder Brother, this mountain is so steep and harsh; surely there are fiends and demons here." Wukong said, "No need to speak. Where mountains stand high, monsters are natural; where ridges are harsh, could there be no spirits?" Then he said, "Sha Wujing, you and I stay here. Let Zhu Bajie go down first into a mountain hollow and ask around. See whether the path is passable, whether there is truly a lair, then see where a gate is opened. Investigate all these carefully, and then we can all go together to seek Tripitaka and save him." Zhu Bajie said, "You unlucky old pig, take me first before you." Wukong said, "You have had this on your own words through the night; how can you then make such a demand?" Zhu Bajie said, "No shouting. Let me go." The fool set down his axe, shook out his clothing, and jumped off the high mountain, empty-handed, to search for the path.

From this point on, still no one knows how all this ends. Listen for the resolution in the next chapter.