Tang Monk rode hastily eastward and soon came upon Bajie and Sha Wujing, who asked in surprise:
“Where are you going, Master? Don’t you realize you’re heading in the wrong direction?”
Tang Monk’s Urgent Warning
“Hurry and tell your eldest brother not to abuse the power of his iron rod. It would be a shame if he ended up killing all those bandits,” urged the master, pulling at the reins of his mount.
“I’ll stay here while I go talk to him,” said Bajie, rushing off in a frenzy.
“Don’t kill them all!” he shouted with all his might.
“The Master wants you to show mercy!”
Unfortunately, he arrived a little too late, and the two bandit leaders had already been killed by the Monkey King.
Tang Monk’s Fury
Not long after, Tang Monk and Sha Wujing arrived. The Master was visibly very angry.
Feeling deeply upset, he began hurling insults at the Monkey King, calling him a cursed monkey and a principle-less ape.
Unable to bear the grim sight any longer, the Master ordered Bajie:
“Dig a hole with your rake and bury them. In the meantime, I will recite a prayer for their souls.”
Bajie replied:
“You’ve got the wrong person, Master. I didn’t kill them—it was Wukong. He’s the one who should bury them, not me. I’m no gravedigger!”
Tired of the Master’s constant punishments, the Monkey King confronted Bajie, saying:
“Bury them already, you lazy oaf! If you keep dragging your feet, I’ll show you what my iron staff feels like!”
After Tang Monk finished his prayers, the four continued walking westward. Though he said nothing after the burial, it was clear the Master anger lingered.
The Village Encounter
Soon they spotted a small village to the north of the road they were following. Tripitaka pointed toward it with his whip and said:
“Let’s go ask for lodging.”
“All right,” replied Wukong.
When they reached the village, Tripitaka dismounted from his horse.
An old man came out, returned the Master’s greeting, and asked:
“Where are you coming from?”
Tripitaka replied:
“From the court of the Tangs. By the explicit wish of the Emperor, I am heading westward to the Western Paradise to obtain sacred scriptures. While passing through these beautiful lands, night began to fall, so we decided to approach this respectable village to ask for shelter.”
The old man smiled and said:
“There’s an enormous distance between that place and here. How did you manage to cross all those mountains separating your kingdom from here? You must have waded across countless rivers as well.”
Tripitaka responded:
“I do not travel alone. I am accompanied by three disciples.”
“Where have they gone?” the old man asked again.
“They are the ones standing by the roadside,” answered Tripitaka, pointing with his finger.
The old man turned his head in that direction, but upon seeing how ugly they looked, immediately turned around and ran back into his house. Fortunately, the Master caught hold of his clothes and said:
“Please give us shelter for tonight. As soon as dawn breaks, we will resume our journey—I promise.”
The old man was so frightened he could barely speak. His body trembled. Summoning incredible willpower, he finally managed to shake his head and wave his hands as he said:
“No, no! It’s impossible! Those people aren’t human—they’re monsters!”
“Don’t be afraid,” Tripitaka tried to reassure him with a smile.
“They are not monsters, as you suppose. They were born looking just like that.”
As he tried to calm the old man, a woman appeared with a boy about six years old.
“If you get scared by ugliness,” said the woman to the old man, “what will you do when you meet a wolf or a tiger?”
The woman took the child into one of the back rooms and started preparing a vegetarian dinner for the guests.
“What is your surname, sir?” asked Tripitaka then.
“Yang,” replied the old man.
“How many sons do you have?” Tripitaka asked again.
The old man replied:
“Just one. The boy who follows my wife everywhere is our grandson.”
“If it’s not too much trouble, I’d like to greet your son,” said Tripitaka.
The old man commented bitterly:
“People like him are not worthy of your greetings. Life has been hard on me, and sometimes I feel I haven’t raised him properly. My son no longer lives with us.”
“Where does he live now, and what does he do?” Tripitaka inquired once more.
Shaking his head, the old man sighed:
“It pains me to speak of it! I wish he would take up something honorable! Unfortunately, he respects nothing. All he cares about is stealing, killing, and setting fire to everything he finds.”
The Bandits’ Return
Indeed, Yang family’s son belonged to the gang of criminals who had tried to rob Tang Monk. After the Monkey King had killed their leaders, each fled wherever he could, but around the fourth watch of the night, they regrouped and took refuge in Mr. Yang’s house.
Upon hearing the sound of knocking at the door, the old man quickly dressed and said to his wife:
“It’s him! He’s back!”
His wife replied:
“If it’s him, why don’t you just go open the door?”
The bandits rushed into the house shouting:
“We’re starving! Bring us something to eat, come on!”
Yang’s son ran to wake his wife so she could prepare some rice.
Since there was no firewood left in the kitchen, he went to the backyard pen and saw the horse. When he returned to his wife, he asked:
“Whose is that white horse in the pen?”
She replied:
“It belongs to some monks from the Eastern Lands who are seeking scriptures. They arrived last night asking for shelter, and the elders let them sleep in the back barn.”
Hearing that, Yang’s son ran joyfully to meet the other rascals, clapping and laughing:
“You won’t believe our luck! The monks who killed our leaders are here. They’re in the back barn, sleeping peacefully.”
“Is that true?” exclaimed the rest of the bandits in unison.
“Let’s go get those bald fools and chop them into pieces. Besides avenging our leaders, we can take their horse and everything else they carry.”
Yang’s son replied:
“Why the rush? While the rice cooks, let’s sharpen our knives well. We’ll go after those miserable men once we’ve filled our bellies.”
When the Old Yang (the old man) heard them speaking this way, he ran to the barn where Tang Monk and his disciples were sleeping and told them:
“My son has just arrived with a group of bandits. Upon discovering you were here, they’ve decided to kill you. Hurry up, gather your things, and escape through the back door.”
Final Confrontation
When the bandits finished eating and sharpening their knives and spears, it was nearly the fifth watch of the night. They rushed toward the barn, but found it completely empty. Hastily lighting torches and lanterns, they searched everywhere but found no trace of the monks. Finally, they noticed the back door was open and exclaimed together:
“They escaped through here!”
They launched into a brutal pursuit. Around sunrise, they finally spotted Tang Monk. Hearing distant shouts and voices behind him, the Master turned around and saw a pack of more than thirty armed men approaching, wielding knives and spears.
“They’re catching up to us! What can we do?” he exclaimed, discouraged.
The Monkey King said:
“Stay calm. Right now I will finish them off.”
“Do not harm them, Wukong. Just scare them away,” ordered Tripitaka, pulling his horse to a stop.
Of course, the Monkey King had no intention of listening. He quickly turned around and faced his pursuers, saying:
“Might I ask where the gentlemen are rushing off to so fast?”
The bandits shouted:
“Cursed baldy! Return our leaders’ lives, or we’ll finish you off!”
As they surrounded the Monkey King, they kept stabbing at him with knives and spears. Wukong gave his iron staff a slight shake, and instantly it grew as thick as a rice bowl.
His strikes were devastating—those hit directly died instantly; those struck sideways took a bit longer to expire.
Only a few fortunate ones managed to escape. The rest had to go and meet King Yama, whether they liked it or not.
Monkey King ignored Tripitaka’s order to “only scare them” and slaughtered most with his iron rod.
Expulsion of the Monkey King
When Tripitaka saw the carnage, he felt so disgusted that he fell off his horse.
“Cursed ape!” he shouted, furious.
Tang Monk remained thoughtful for a moment and began reciting the Tightening Spell.
Wukong immediately began feeling unbearable pain in his head—the color drained from his face, his eyes popped out of their sockets, and he partially lost consciousness.
Rolling on the ground like a wounded animal, he kept crying out:
“Please stop chanting the spell, for heaven’s sake!”
But the Master repeated it more than ten times in a row and showed no sign of stopping.
“Pardon me if I’ve offended you in any way! Scold me however you like, but please stop chanting the spell! I beg you!” he cried, increasingly desperate.
Finally, Tripitaka yielded to his pleas and said:
“I do not wish to scold you, because from this moment on, you are no longer my disciple. Return to the place from which you came.”
“Why are you casting me aside, Master?” asked the Monkey King.
Tripitaka retorted:
“There is no compassion in your heart, cursed monkey. You are no pilgrim but a murderer. You have destroyed so many lives. Time and again, I’ve tried to show you the error of your ways, yet my words vanish into your ears like wind. Why should I keep you by my side? Begone from my sight at once, or I’ll chant again!”
“Please, don’t! I’ll leave this instant!” cried the Monkey King.
Before the words had fully left his lips, he leaped into the air with a thunderous swoosh and vanished into the clouds.
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