Tripitaka and his disciples continued their westward journey. Summer soon came to an end, and autumn’s chill arrived. A cool breeze occasionally made their bodies shiver.
The Ominous Mountain
Tripitaka saw ahead a mountain so high that its peak seemed to pierce the void, nearly touching the stars and even halting the sun’s course. Deeply concerned, he turned to Wukong and said:
“Have you seen that mountain ahead? It is so tall, I wonder if there is any way to cross over it.”
Sun Wukong replied:
“As the old saying goes: even the steepest mountains have passes, and even the deepest rivers have ferries. How could this mere pile of rocks have no way around it? Just keep moving forward and don’t worry too much.”
Tang Monk smiled with relief, spurred his horse, and pressed on toward the formidable obstacle.
The Mysterious Old Man
They had traveled a few kilometers when they encountered an old man with completely white hair. A string of beads hung from his neck, and he leaned on a dragon-headed staff as he walked.
As soon as he saw the pilgrims, he raised his voice and called out:
“Hey, Master heading West! You must stop your horse at once! You cannot go forward! There are devils in this mountain who devour all who dare to pass through!”
Upon hearing this, Tripitaka turned pale with fear, eventually falling off his horse and lying motionless on the grass, unable to move.
Wukong rushed to him and said while helping him up:
“Don’t be afraid. I am here to protect you from anything. Sit here quietly and don’t worry about anything else. I’ll go speak with him.”
When they reached the spot where they had seen the old man, they were surprised to find he had vanished. This prompted Sha Wujing to reflect:
“He must certainly have been a monster who exaggerated the power of those devils on purpose, just to scare us more than we already were.”
Wukong comforted him and said:
“Just stay calm. I’ll take a look and see what’s going on.”
Scouting the Peak
He had barely finished speaking when he leapt straight to the mountaintop. To see better, he pushed aside some vines and wild grapevines with his hands but found not the slightest trace of human presence. He then loudly remarked:
“I’m sure the old man had nothing but the intention to frighten me. If there truly were any monsters here, they would have already come out of hiding to ride the wind, throw their spears, or practice martial arts. How come not a single sound…”
He couldn’t finish his sentence. At that very moment, he heard the unpleasant clanging of bells and a wooden clapper from the other side of the mountain.
Turning quickly, he spotted a little demon carrying a banner over his shoulder marked with the word “war.” The demon imp wore bells around his waist and continuously struck a wooden clapper while moving from north to south.
Wukong carefully observed him and estimated the imp was nearly four meters tall.
The Demon Messenger
Smiling with satisfaction, the Monkey King muttered to himself:
“It must be a messenger. The best thing to do is approach him quietly and find out what he keeps murmuring.”
He made a magical hand sign, shook his body slightly, recited the appropriate incantation, transformed into a fly, and closely followed the small demon.
As soon as the imp entered the main path, without ceasing for a moment to strike the wooden clapper, he murmured mechanically, as though reciting a memorized lesson:
“We patrolling this mountain must be extremely cautious of that Sun Wukong, for he is capable of transforming himself into something as small as a fly.”
The Monkey King thought to himself, deeply impressed:
“He must have seen me somehow. Otherwise, how could he possibly know my name and that I have the power to transform into an insect?”
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