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.

What use is this effort in Chan, if your discipline is no better than a lame horse and a frenzied ape? Quickly cut them away. Hold fast and bind tight the life of five colours; if it pauses and stays even a little, it falls into the three destinies. If the freely governed divine elixir leaks and you let it go at your leisure, then the jade nature will soon wither. Anger, joy, sorrow, and brooding thought must all be swept clean; to obtain the profound and wondrous is exactly to be as nothing.

At first Tripitaka and the four companions left Yuhua City. The way was smooth, truly what one might call a village of bliss. After five or six days of travel, they saw another city. Tripitaka asked Wukong, "What place is this?" Wukong said, "It is a city. But I do not see banners on the battlements; I do not know where it lies. Let us go closer and ask." They reached the east gate quarter and saw teahouses and taverns clamoring on both sides, and a noisy place of rice markets and oil shops. Along the streets there were a few idle ruffians, idle youths with nothing to do. Seeing Zhu Bajie with his long mouth, Sha Wujing with his black face, and Wukong with his reddened eyes, they crowded around and stared, but did not dare come near enough to speak. Tripitaka clenched his hands with sweat in fear, worrying they might cause trouble. After passing several more alleyways, they had not yet entered the city when they saw a mountain gate with the three characters "Ciyun Temple" on it. Tripitaka said, "Let us come in here a little, rest the horses, and take a meal offering, shall we?" Wukong said, "Good, good." The four entered together. There they saw:

Magnificent are the jewel halls, and the great jeweled seats stand proud and towering. The Buddha pavilion rises above the high drifting clouds. In the still moon, the monks' cells are quiet. Rosy clouds drift in the far mist; the pagoda rises, remote and fine, while dark-green trees stand in secluded depth. Truly this seems a pure land, though it wears a false Dragon Palace; above the Great Hero Hall, violet clouds enshroud the air. Neither the twin corridors nor the unending passages are bereft of idle folk at play; a single tower is always open and guests are ever ascending it. Incense burns in the furnaces from time to time, and lamp-flowers gleam on the platform every night. Then came the sonorous gold bell of the abbot’s hall, answering the Buddhists who clearly and deeply chanted the scriptures. While the four were still looking, a monk came out beneath the corridor and bowed to Tripitaka: "Teacher, where do you come from?" Tripitaka answered, "Your disciple comes from the Tang capital of Zhonghua." The monk threw himself down in full prostration. Startled, Tripitaka helped him up: "Abbot, why do you render this great courtesy?" The monk pressed his palms together and said, "Among the virtuous here, all who recite the Dharma and chant the Buddha-Breathing teachings hope only for rebirth in your land of Zhonghua. Now on seeing your handsome bearing, robes, and cap, I know indeed that in former lives you cultivated this and so may enjoy this result, and therefore I bow at once." Tripitaka smiled: "How terrifying for me! I am only a traveling monk with no merit or luxury. If the abbot here can linger at ease, then truly that is happiness." The monk then led Tripitaka into the main hall; after he paid homage to the Buddha image, Tripitaka then summoned the disciples inside. Wukong and the other two had stood nearby with dark faces, one leading the horse and another bearing the baggage, since when that monk spoke with the master they had felt no place in his thoughts. Only when they heard Tripitaka call "disciples" did the three turn around. Seeing them, the monk cried out, "Goodness, what strange ugly faces your foremost disciples have!" Tripitaka said, "Though they are ugly, they are nevertheless potent in magic. They have protected me all along this road."

While this was being spoken, several monks came out from inside and bowed. The monk who spoke first said to those arriving later, "This teacher is a person of the Great Tang of Zhonghua, and those three are his senior disciples." The gathered monks were both glad and startled: "A teacher from the Great Tang of the central realm, why has he come here?" Tripitaka said, "I carry the holy command of the Tang king, going to Lingshan to worship Buddha and seek the scriptures. I have just passed Baofang and now hasten uphill toward the holy mountain: one aim is to ask about direction, and another is to take alms and a meal before departing." All the monks were overjoyed and invited them into the hall. In that hall were more monks preparing alms-offerings. The one who had entered first called out, "Come all of you and look at this person from Zhonghua. In Zhonghua there are handsome men and ugly men. The handsome are truly beyond description and painting; the ugly ones, though, are singularly strange." So all the monks here and the alms host came to meet them. After seeing them all, everyone sat down. After tea, Tripitaka asked, "What is the name of this place?" They replied, "This is Jinping Prefecture, a district outside Tianzhu." Tripitaka asked, "How far is your prefecture from Lingshan?" The monks said, "From here to the capital it is two thousand li; that is the distance we have traversed. Westward to Lingshan, we have not gone, and we do not dare presume to answer how much farther remains." Tripitaka thanked them.

After a short time, a meal was served. When the meal ended, Tripitaka prepared to leave, but the monks and the alms host together detained him: "Teacher, stay and make your home here one or two days. After Yuanxiao, there will be no harm in setting off." Tripitaka asked anxiously, "On the road one sees only mountains and waters, and fears meeting monsters and demons; I fear the time may all be wasted. I do not even know when the Yuanxiao festival arrives." The monks laughed: "Since you worship Buddha and place your heart on awakening in Chan, you do not need to be concerned. Today is the thirteenth day of the first month; by evening they try out the lamps. The fifteenth is Shangyuan. It is only on the eighteenth and ninth that the lights are finally thanked away and put out. In this place every household keeps good fortune; our magistrate cherishes the people and every quarter here is hung with high lamps, music and flutes sounding all night. There is even a Golden-Lamp Bridge, kept since antiquity and still flourishing. If the abbots of this place ask you to stay several days, this poor mountain monastery can surely shelter you." Tripitaka had no alternative and stayed. That evening he could only hear the temple bells and drums ringing like heaven above the Buddha hall, for the neighborhood devotees had brought lanterns to present to Buddha. Tripitaka and the others came out of the abbot’s hall and watched the lights, and then each retired for the night.

The next day the temple monks offered another meal. After eating, they all went out to pass the time in the garden. It truly was a wonderful place:

It is the first month, the year has reached new spring. The gardens are secluded and graceful; the scenes are lush and beautiful. Through all the seasons flowers and trees compete for wonder, while ridges and peaks in one stretch pile green upon green. Fragrant grasses stir on the steps; old plum branches begin to scent the air. Peach blossoms turn to tender red; willow buds return with fresh green. The Garden of Golden Valley is splendid, but make no boasts; the famed Wanchuan Scroll whispers of its own flowing wind. Across the stream, wild ducks appear and vanish unpredictably. A thousand stands of bamboo rise; poets still pause and deliberate. Peonies, peonies, azaleas, and smiling-flowers wake the hidden scheme of heaven; camellias, red plums, vernal welcoming blooms, and osmanthus uncover their splendid colors first. On shady cliffs, the old snow still holds its frost, while distant trees send out spring haze. Again one may see a deer at the pond, reflecting its image; a crane comes beneath a pine to listen as if to a qin. To the east are guest cabins; to the west, pavilions where travelers may lodge. To the south, assembly halls; to the north, a tower where monks sit in quiet meditation. Among the flower grounds stand one or two Nurturing-Nature pavilions with broad eaves arcing high. Within hills and streams there are three or four demon-refining chambers, with quiet benches and clear windows. Truly this is a place fashioned by nature itself for seclusion; why seek Penglai elsewhere? The disciples spent a whole day in play and contemplation, then after seeing the lamps in the hall, all went to watch the lantern displays. But they saw: A city of agate blossoms, crystal caves of immortals, and micastral palaces of crystal: layer upon layer of brocade-like magnificence, dense upon dense with lucid intricacy. The reflected light of the star-bridge trembles and stirs heaven and earth; a few trees of flame sway red. In six streets, flutes and drums; at a thousand gates, moonlike brightness; in ten-thousand households, a wind perfumed with incense. On many places, lofty tortoise-crag pavilions rise; fish-drakes rise from the sea, and phoenix-and-feng glide in the air. The lamp-light and moon-glow are alike, and the atmosphere is warm and harmonious. In the silk-brocade processions, all are delighted to hear reeds and songs. Carriages and horses thunder on: one can never get one’s fill of beautiful faces and jade-like features; gallant beauty and graceful elegance, a boundless fine scene. Tripitaka and the monks watched the lanterns in the temple, then went through the streets of the east gate quarter to join the festival crowds. They returned home only by the second watch of the night.

The next day Tripitaka said to the monks, "My disciple has a preexisting vow to sweep a pagoda. On this festive day of Shangyuan, please have the abbot open the pagoda gates so that I may fulfill this intention." The monks opened the gates at once. Sha Wujing took a kasaya and followed Tripitaka. Upon reaching the first level, he put on the kasaya, worshipped Buddha and offered prayers, then swept one level with a broom, removed the kasaya, and handed it back to Sha Wujing. ... He then swept the second level. Level after level, he swept straight on to the topmost point. On the tower, tiers and tiers of Buddha-images faced outward, and windows opened everywhere. Each level he swept was a level he also admired, admired, and praised. When all was done and he had come down, dusk had already darkened, and the lamps were all lit.

This night is truly the fifteenth of the Lantern Festival. The monks said, "Master, only last night we watched lanterns on the barren mountains and at the frontier watchposts; tonight is the proper day of the festival—let us go into the city and see how the golden lamps are displayed." Tripitaka gladly agreed, and the three companions and many monks from this temple entered the city to watch the lamps. Just then:

On this happy Three-Five night, the upper-lantern spring season is in tune. Flowery lanterns hang through the noisy city, and all sing together the songs of peace. Again I saw lamps glow on six streets and three markets, and a half-sky silver mirror rise. The moon rose like Fengyi lifting a blazing silver tray, and the lanterns seemed woven by immortals into a brocade spread on the ground. The lamp light, facing the moon, doubled its brilliance; the moonlight on the lamps added tenfold brilliance. One could not exhaust the star bridges of chained iron, nor could one fully behold the fire-trees and blossom-lights. Snow-flower lamps, plum-flower lamps, broke like spring ice. Embroidered-screen lamps, painted-screen lamps, amassed all five colors. Walnut lamps, lotus-lotus lamps, hung high on lofty lamp towers. Green-lion lamps, white-elephant lamps, mounted on high lamp frames. Shrimp lamps, turtle lamps, raised high before the stalls. Goat-lamps, hare-lamps, spirit-tuned beneath the eaves. Hawk-lamps, phoenix-lamps, linked together. Tiger-lamps, horse-lamps, moving side by side. Immortal-crane lamps, white-deer lamps, where the Star of Longevity rides in pride. Goldfish lamps, great-whale lamps, Li Bai ridden aloft. Ao-shan lamps, where immortals convene. Running-horse lamps, where generals clash in rank. Ten thousand household lamp-towers shone, a few tens of li of cloud-like, smoke-filled world. On that side, jade tassels and clasps clinked and flew in; on this side, rumbling carts of perfume passed. On the red-gowned upper rooms, by railings through curtains, with shoulders touching, hands clasped, pairs of beauties reveled in pleasure; by the Green-Water Bridge there was uproar and clamor, brocade clustered thick, wine-drunk laughter, and merry-playing guests in couples. Through the whole city, flute and drum sounded in tumult, and all night long music and song never ceased. There is verse to bear witness: In brocaded courts we sing of painted lotuses, In realms of peace, human crowds cluster. Lamps and moonlight bright on this Lantern night of the full moon, Rain is timely, wind in tune; the harvest will be abundant. Now was it truly an age when the Golden Guards were no longer restraining, all in tumult, and countless multitudes of people and hearth-flames. Dancers danced, tiptoe dancers, ghost-imitators, elephant riders—one crowd to the east, another to the west, impossible to see them all.

It was only as soon as they came to the Golden-Lantern Bridge that Tripitaka and the monks came close enough to see. It was in fact three golden lanterns. Each lantern was as big as a vat and cast light over a delicate, translucent two-story pavilion. All were braided of fine golden wire, with thin sheets of glassware supporting the frame inside. The light flashed like polished brightness, and the oil gave out fragrance. Tripitaka turned to the monks and asked, "What oil is this? How can such unusual fragrance fill the air?" The monks said, "Master, I do not know. In my prefecture there is a county called Mintian County, two hundred and forty li across. Each year in assigned levies there are two hundred and forty major oil households. The regular levies of the prefecture and county are manageable, but this one is especially burdensome: each household is assessed over two hundred taels of silver for the year. This is no ordinary oil—it is suhe-fragrant oil. Each tael of it is worth two taels of silver; each jin is worth thirty-two taels of silver. For each of the three lamps, each vat holds five hundred jin; three vats hold one thousand five hundred jin in all, costing forty-eight thousand taels in all. With incidental levies and charges there is above fifty thousand taels, and yet it burns only for three nights." Sun Wukong asked, "How can so much oil be spent in only three nights?" The monks replied, "In each vat there are forty-nine great lamp-horses. They are lamp-grass bundles wrapped in cotton with silk, thick as a hen's egg. Burned for this very night, if Buddha appears in person, then by tomorrow night the oil is gone and the lamps grow dim." Zhu Bajie laughed nearby and said, "It must be that even Buddha has taken away the oil." The monks said, "That is exactly the saying. In this city, from old times to now, this is how people speak. When the oil is exhausted, everyone says the Buddha took the lamp-offering, and naturally the five grains are plentiful. But if in a year it does not run out, then there is drought in that season and wind and rain are out of balance. So households must make this offering."

Just then, while the talk was still mid-sentence, there came the whoo of wind from midair. It startled those watching the lanterns, and they all scattered. Even the monks could not stand firm and said, "Master, let us return. The wind has come; that is Buddha's auspicious descent, to watch these lanterns here as well." Tripitaka said, "How do you know it is Buddha coming to see the lamps?" The monks answered, "Year after year, before the three watches are done, this wind comes. We know the Buddhas descend in blessing, and so everyone gives way." Tripitaka said, "My disciples are by nature to think on Buddha, bow to Buddha, and worship Buddha. Now that we have met this fair scene, if Buddhas truly descend, then to worship here is surely good." The monks implored him again and again, but could not turn him. After a short while, in the wind there indeed appeared three Buddha bodies, approaching the lanterns. Alarmed, Tripitaka ran to the top of the bridge and threw himself prostrate. Sun Wukong hurriedly pulled him up and said, "Master, these are not good men; surely they are demons." Before he could finish, the lantern light grew dim. With one sudden cry he lifted Tripitaka and rode the wind away. Alas, who knows what mountain or what cave this true demon came from, having for years feigned Buddha to watch the Golden-Lantern rite? Zhu Bajie, frightened, searched on both sides, and Sha Wujing called from both flanks. Sun Wukong said, "Brothers, do not shout here. My Master was filled with joy, and joy has turned to sorrow; he has already been taken by a demon spirit." The few monks, in fear, asked, "Sir, how do you know he was taken by a demon spirit?" Sun Wukong laughed: "You men of this world have been ignorant for years and were deluded, so you kept saying this was the true Buddha descending and accepted this lamp offering. The three who appeared with the wind were three demons. Even my Master could not recognize them. As he ascended the bridge-top to bow, they dimmed the lamps, took up the vessel that held the oil, and seized my Master as well. I was only a little late in moving, so those three turned into wind and fled." Sha Wujing asked, "Elder Brother, what are we to do now?" Sun Wukong said, "Do not hesitate. You two and the rest return to the monastery, guard the horses and luggage. Let Old Monkey use this wind to pursue."

Great Sage leapt at once onto a Jindou cloud, rose into midair, caught the rank wind-scent, and raced northeast. He pursued until near dawn, when the wind suddenly ceased. He saw a very steep mountain, truly severe and rugged, with real grandeur:

Layer upon layer were valleys and ravines, winding springs among them. Vines hung from jagged cliffs, pines and cypresses stood straight on bare crags. In the morning mist cranes called; in the dawn clouds geese cried. Lofty peaks stood rank upon rank, ridges thrust like spear rows, with rough stones stacked in dazzling masses. The summit rose ten thousand fathoms high, and sharp ridges piled into a thousand folds. Wild flowers and good trees knew spring had arrived, and cuckoos and orioles answered in fitting color. It could be majestic and imposing, truly cliff-rugged, ancient, strange, steep, and hard to pass. After lingering for long, no one spoke; only tiger and leopard voices rumbled in thunderous snoring. Fragrant deer and white deer came and went, jade rabbits and blue wolves went out and returned. Deep ravines streamed for ten thousand li, returning rapids striking stones with murmuring chatter. The Great Sage was searching the cliff face for a route when he saw four men driving three sheep down from the western slope, all calling together, "Open Tai." Sun Wukong, flashing his discerning eyes, peered closely and recognized them as the envoy officials of the four marks of year, month, day, and hour, disguised in hidden form. He drew out the Golden-Hooped Staff, snapped it once, broad as a basin in girth and two zhang long, and leapt from the cliff, shouting, "Where have you all gone hiding and shrinking your heads and necks?" The four duty officers, seeing him speak of wind signs, quickly drove off the three sheep and, revealing their true forms, slipped to the roadside and bowed, saying, "Great Sage, forgive us, forgive us." Sun Wukong said, "You have not been put to use by me in this time before. Since you saw Old Monkey in no hurry, each of you grew careless; not one of you came to pay me a visit. What is this? Why did you not secretly protect my Master in secret? Where are you all going?" They answered, "Your Master loosened his Chan composure and grew indulgent at Ciyun Temple of Jinping Prefecture; when fullness reaches its height, sorrow follows, and now he has been captured by demon spirits. He is under protection of Dharma guardians of the temple. We know the Great Sage pursued overnight and feared you might not know this wilderness, so we came to report." Sun Wukong said, "If you have delivered the news, why do you hide your names and run about with three sheep, shouting and crying?" The officers said, "These three sheep were set in order to answer the phrase 'Open Tai.' They are called 'Three Yang, Great Opening.' It is to break your Master's blockage." Sun Wukong, with angry intent, was about to strike them, then seeing this intent ceased, withdrew the staff and, changing anger into delight, asked, "Is this mountain a demon haunt?" The officers said, "It is indeed. This is Qinglong Mountain, with a cave called Xuaning Cave. Inside are three demons. The eldest is called King Bihan, the second King Bishu, and the third King Bichen. These demons have been here for a thousand years. From childhood they loved to eat suhe-fragrant oil, and in time they became spirits. They feigned Buddha images, deceived the officials and people of Jinping Prefecture, and set up this Golden-Lantern rite, using suhe-fragrant oil for the lamp fuel. Year after year, on this first month's fifteenth, they transform into Buddha forms and collect the oil. This year, seeing your Master, they recognized him as a holy monk, took him into the cave, and soon intend to cut and cook his flesh in suhe-fragrant oil. Be quick and use all your powers to rescue him."

The Pilgrim heard and dismissed the four Captains, then turned around the mountain brow in search of the cave dwelling. He had gone only a few li when he saw a stone cliff by the ravine. Beneath it stood a rock house with two stone doors, half open and half shut. By the gate was a stone stele with six characters: “Qinglong Mountain, Xuanying Cave.” The Pilgrim did not dare to enter at once; he set his feet and called out, “Demon! Send out my Master immediately.” A hoarse cry sounded there; the door burst open, and a troop of ox-headed fiends dashed out. One of them, thick-faced and dull, asked, “Who are you, to shout out in this place?” Sun Wukong replied, “I am the senior disciple of Tripitaka, the holy monk from the Great Tang in the Eastern Land, who goes west for the scriptures. While we passed through the lantern-gazing at Ci Yun Temple in Jinping Prefecture, your demon lord seized my Master. Send him back quickly and I will spare your lives; otherwise I will turn your whole den upside down and make all your spirits into pus and blood.”

Those small demons heard this and hurried inside to report: “Great King, there is misfortune—misfortune!” The three old fiends were holding Tang Sanzang deep in the cave’s far recesses, where, without wasting time on questions of right and wrong, they had ordered the young ones to strip off his robes, wash him clean in the rushing stream water, and then plan to cut him into fine pieces and fry him in butter and sesame oil. At that moment they heard the cry of calamity. The elder fiend, startled, asked what had happened. A little demon said, “In front of the outer gate, a shaggy-faced, thunder-mouth monk was shouting: ‘A monkey-monk took our lord’s Buddha image and says you have abducted his Master. Send my Master back at once and spare our lives. If not, he will overturn the nest and turn us all into pus and blood.’ Hearing this, the old demons all grew alarmed. “We have only just captured this fellow and have not yet asked his name or origin. You youngsters, put robes on him and bring him out; we shall examine him fully and learn who he is and from where he came.”

A crowd of fiends came up, untied Tang Sanzang, put robes back on him, and pushed him before the seat. Terrified, Tang Sanzang knelt beneath them and trembled, crying only, “Great King, spare my life.” The three demons spoke in one voice: “From where do you come, monk? Why did you not avoid the Buddha image and yet crash into my cloud-road?” Tang Sanzang knelt and said, “I beg your pardon, this poor monk came from the Great Tang by imperial decree of the emperor to NIRUTRA [the Western Region], to Long Sound Temple (Da Le Yin) to worship the Buddha and fetch the scriptures. Passing through Jinping Prefecture, I came to Ci Yun Temple and joined the alms-round. By your lord’s monkly grace, the temple monks let me stay through the Lantern Festival to watch the lanterns. At the Golden-Lamp Bridge I saw the Buddha image manifest before your lord. I am but mortal flesh and blood; seeing Buddha, I bowed, and in that I crashed into your lord’s cloud-road.” One fiend asked, “From the Eastern Land to here is a long way. How many are you in one group? What are your names? Speak plainly and I may spare your life.” Tang Sanzang said, “In the secular world I am called Chen Xuanzang. Since childhood I was a monk of Jinshan Temple. Later, by imperial edict, I was ordained as monk-official at Hongfu Temple in Chang’an. Then, when Chancellor Wei Zheng dreamed he cut the old dragon of the Jing River, the Tang Emperor journeyed to the Netherworld, returned to life, and held a great Water-and-Land assembly to deliver the dead from the dark realms. Therefore the emperor selected this poor monk as altar master and later as interpreter of the great canons. By good fortune Guanyin Bodhisattva appeared, transformed this poor monk’s mind, and said that at Great Sound Temple in the Western Heaven are the true Tripiṭaka scriptures, which can raise departed spirits toward Heaven. Thus I was sent. I was given the name “Tripitaka,” and because I bore the surname Tang, all now call me Tang Sanzang. I have three disciples. The first is surnamed Sun, named Wukong, the Pilgrim, once the Great Sage Who Equaled Heaven, now restored to true alignment. The second is surnamed Zhu, named Wuneng, Bajie, the former Heavenly Trellic Commander in former life. The third is surnamed Sha, named Wujing, a monk, formerly the general Juanlian in descending to the mortal world.” Hearing this name, the fiends were suddenly startled and said, “Is that Great Sage Who Equaled Heaven the one who threw the Heavenly Court into uproar five hundred years ago?” Tang Sanzang answered, “Yes, yes.” “The second is surnamed Zhu, named Wuneng Bajie, the former commander of Heavenly Skies. The third is surnamed Sha, named Wujing, who once served as General Jüanlian in descending here,” the first added, “are known as what you have heard.”

The three demon kings heard this and, each in alarm, said, “We have not yet eaten him. Younglings, tie Tang Sanzang with iron chains at the back. When we get his three disciples, we shall have enough for the meal.” So they summoned a mob of mountain-buffalo spirits, water-buffalo spirits, and yellow-buffalo spirits, each bearing arms, and they came out the gate, taking up drumbeats and banners. The three demon lords dressed themselves in orderly array and stepped outside, crying, “Who is this who dares to shout here?” Sun Wukong waited upon the stone brow and watched closely as they appeared: they were as follows.

Their faces were painted and ringed with bright eyes, two horns hard and jutting. Keen and sharp, four ears, spirit-orifices flashing with light. Their bodies were patterned in variegated design, all as if painted, all over in brocaded plumage like flying petals. The first, with a fox-fur flowered cap atop his head, had one flushed, raised snout steaming with fierce heat. The second wore light gauze, aflame like leaping fire, with four jewel-bright hooves that rang. The third roared with a mighty lion-like sound, thunderous as a drum; his fangs were sharp, like silver needles. All were brave and fierce; each held one of three weapons—one an axe, one a great knife—and the third carried across his shoulder a vine-whip cudgel. Also seen were many small and large ox-headed fiends, some tall, some short, some stout, some thin, all in varied size, all spears and clubs in hand. Three large banners were there, clearly written: “Bi-han Great King,” “Bi-shu Great King,” “Bi-chen Great King.”

Sun Wukong watched a while and could not bear it; he stepped forward and shouted, “You thieves and fiends! Do you recognize Old Sun?” One demon answered, “You are the Sun Wukong who once threw Heaven into chaos? I have heard your name but never seen you; even to behold you is shame for a heavenly god. So this is what kind of monkey-brute you are?” The Pilgrim was furious and cursed, “You oil-stealing, smooth-tongued fiend—stop your empty talk and return my Master at once.” He lunged forward and swung his iron staff. The three demon kings raised all three kinds of weapons to meet him. What followed in the mountain hollow was a grim battle:

Axe, steel sabre, and vine-whip flew up and down, while the Monkey King met them with one single staff. Bi-han, Bi-shu, and Bi-chen fiends, knowing the name of the Great Sage Who Equaled Heaven, made the spirits and ghosts fear when the staff rose; axes and knives flew, chopping in wild arcs. What a true image of Perfect Emptiness and Real Method the one who held it was, standing firm against three fiends in counterfeit Buddha shape. Those three oil-stealing, nose-slick fiends set this year to seize an envoy monk sent from the Emperor’s court. One, because of me he did not fear the long road to the Dharma; another, with that face, long had prepared incense and lamps. Ping-pang, only the clashing of knives and axes was heard; only the staff split the air with its sound. Ramming and crashing, they clashed in threes, parrying and blocking, each showing his skill. Once the fight reached dusk, no one knew which had yielded and which had prevailed. For one hundred and fifty exchanges Sun Wukong fought the three fiends, and as evening came the outcome was still undecided. Then Bi-chen Great King flicked his vine-whip once, leapt past the front, and gave the banner a shake. A horde of ox-headed fiends surged forward and surrounded Sun Wukong in their center, brandishing weapons and striking wildly. Seeing that all was not going well for him, Sun Wukong gave a ringing cry, mounted his cloud-kicking somersault, and withdrew in disorder. The demons did not chase. They called the fiends back, laid out the evening meal, and all ate heartily. They also ordered a bowl sent to Tang Sanzang, saying they would have the two together before setting everything in order. As for the Master, he kept an extended fast and, in sorrow, wept and sobbed; out of fear he did not dare touch even a grain of food.

Then Sun Wukong rode his cloud back into Ci Yun Temple and called, “Brothers-in-faith.” Ba Jie and Sha Monk were waiting and discussing together. Hearing the call, both came out to receive him. “Brother, how did you return so quickly in one day? What is the Master’s whereabouts?” The Pilgrim smiled and said, “Last night, hearing the wind of this affair, I hurried on, reached a mountain by dawn and went a short distance on, and saw nothing. By good fortune I heard from the four Captains that the mountain is Qinglong Mountain, and in it a cave called Xuanying Cave. Within are three fiends named the Bi-han Great King, Bi-shu Great King, and Bi-chen Great King. For years they have stolen oil, feigned Buddha images, and tricked officials and people in Jinping Prefecture. When they met us this time, they did not know what was right or wrong and even seized the Master. Sensing the whole matter, Old Sun ordered the Captains and others to guard the Master from afar in secret. I then moved close to the gate and shouted in reproach. Those three fiends came out together; each was like an ox-headed ghost. The first wielded a battle axe, the second a great sabre, and the third a vine-club. They brought out a whole crowd of ox-headed goblins, raised banners and drums, and fought with Old Sun for a full day until blood-slick and fierce. When the demon king raised his banner, the small fiends all joined. It grew late; fearing I could not force a victory, I rode my cloud-somersault and returned.” Ba Jie said, “Could this be the Ghost King of Fengdu causing a commotion?” Sha Monk asked, “How did you guess it was some uproar made by the Ghost King of Fengdu?” Ba Jie laughed, “Brother said they were ox-headed fiends—so I knew, no doubt.” Sun Wukong said, “No, no. In my judgment, those beasts were made from three rhinoceroses.” Ba Jie said, “If they are rhinoceroses, then seize him, saw off his horn, and you would fetch a good few taels of silver.”

Just then, amid the conversation, the monks said, “Sun Wukong, will you take the evening meal?” The Traveler said, “I can eat a little for convenience; if not, no matter.” The monks replied, “Elder Master, after all this day of fighting, are you not hungry?” Sun Wukong laughed, “How could I be hungry after this day’s going? Old Sun has gone five hundred years without food or drink.” The monks did not know he spoke truly and took it for a jest. Soon the food was brought, and the Traveler ate as well. He said, “Now get ready and prepare to sleep. Tomorrow we all go together to engage him, seize the demon king, and perhaps save the Tripitaka.” Sha Wujing spoke beside him: “Brother, your words do not suffice! As the saying has it, ‘Delay steals one’s wisdom.’ If this demon, this night, should not sleep and harms the Tripitaka, what then? It would be better if we go now and seize him while he is taken by surprise in this moonlight; only then can we save the Master. If we delay even a little, we may lose the moment.” Zhu Bajie, hearing this, stirred his strength and declared, “Brother Sha speaks well. Let us all take this moonlight and descend now to subdue the demon.” Sun Wukong followed their counsel and immediately ordered the temple monks: “Guard the baggage and the horses. Once we bring in the demon, we should present him before the magistrate here in this prefecture, prove him a false Buddha, and spare the poor common folk of Su Gai County from the drain of lamp oil. Would that not be the better way?” The monks obeyed. The three then rose upon auspicious clouds and left the city. It was just then that this verse fell:

Slack and careless, Zen uncouth, and wayward nature scattered; danger and misfortune, in time, veil the path of the mind.

After all, it remains to be seen how victory or defeat in this affair will turn out; wait to hear how it is resolved in the next chapter.