Chapter 1: From Sacred Root the Source Breaks Forth; Through Self-Cultivation the Great Way Is Born

A verse says:

Before chaos split, heaven and earth were one confusion,
Vast and formless, hidden from all eyes.
Then Pangu broke the primal dark,
And from that hour the clear stood apart from the turbid.
All living things beneath the sky looked up to boundless mercy;
All created things unfolded toward the good.
If you would know the workings of creation through the ages,
Read this tale of the Western Journey, told to loose the world's afflictions.

Now it is said that the cycle of heaven and earth runs to one hundred twenty-nine thousand six hundred years in a single great age. One great age is divided into twelve assemblies, marked by the twelve earthly branches: zi, chou, yin, mao, chen, si, wu, wei, shen, you, xu, and hai. Each assembly lasts ten thousand eight hundred years.

Take a single day as an example. At the hour of zi, yang breath is born; at chou, the cock crows. At yin the light is still sealed away; at mao the sun rises. At chen, one has eaten; at si, affairs are arranged. At noon the sun stands in heaven; at wei it begins to slope westward. At shen comes the afternoon meal; at you the sun sinks. Xu is dusk; hai is the hour of settling into stillness. So too with the greater reckoning: when the assembly of xu draws to its close, heaven and earth grow dim and all things fail. Five thousand four hundred years later, at the opening of hai, darkness reigns and no creatures remain between sky and soil. This is what is meant by chaos.

Another five thousand four hundred years pass. The assembly of hai nears its end; what was lowest begins to stir toward a new beginning. As the age leans toward zi, light slowly returns. Shao Kangjie said:

"At midwinter, in the middle of zi, Heaven's heart does not shift.
Where the first thread of yang begins to move,
the ten thousand things are not yet born."

At that point heaven first took root. Five thousand four hundred years more, and the age reached the true assembly of zi. The light and the pure rose upward; there were sun and moon, stars and constellations. These four were called the Four Signs.

Thus it is said: heaven opened in zi. Another five thousand four hundred years passed. As zi drew to its end and chou approached, what had risen began to grow solid. The Book of Changes says: "Great indeed is Qian, the source of all. Supreme indeed is Kun, who receives and bears. The ten thousand things take life from them, obeying the will of Heaven."

At that point earth first congealed. Five thousand four hundred years more, and the true assembly of chou arrived. The heavy and the turbid sank and thickened; there were water and fire, mountain and stone and soil. These five were called the Five Forms.

Thus it is said: earth was established in chou. Then came another five thousand four hundred years, until chou ended and the first stirrings of yin began. The ten thousand things sprang up. The almanac says: "Heaven's breath descends, earth's breath ascends; heaven and earth mingle, and all creatures are born."

So heaven stood clear and earth fresh below, yin and yang joined, and all came into harmony. Another five thousand four hundred years passed, and in the true assembly of yin were born human beings, beasts, and birds. Heaven, earth, and humankind took their places as the Three Powers. Thus it is said: man was born in yin.

After Pangu's creation, the rule of the Three Sovereigns, and the ordering of human bonds by the Five Emperors, the world was divided into four great continents: the Eastern Victory Continent, the Western Ox Continent, the Southern Jambu Continent, and the Northern Kulu Continent. This book concerns itself only with the Eastern Victory Continent. Beyond the seas there lay a land called Aolai.

That land stood near the ocean, and in the ocean rose a famous mountain called Flower-Fruit Mountain. This mountain was the ancestral vein of the Ten Isles, the dragon-line of the Three Islands. It had stood since clear and turbid first separated, and taken shape when the primal haze was split apart. It was a mountain of rare grandeur, as a rhapsody bears witness:

Its power steadied the vast ocean; its majesty brought peace to the jade sea.
Where it steadied the vast ocean, tides heaped up like silver mountains and fish burrowed into their caves.
Where it brought peace to the jade sea, white surf rolled like snow and sea-creatures left the deep.
High above the quarter where water and fire meet, a noble summit rose in the Eastern Sea.
Red cliffs and monstrous rocks, sheer walls and wondrous peaks.
On the scarlet crags bright phoenixes cried in pairs; before the cut stone faces a lone qilin lay at ease.
Broidered pheasants called from the heights; from stone caverns dragons came and went.
Among the woods lived long-lived deer and fox-spirits; in the branches perched sacred birds and dark-plumed cranes.
Jade grasses and strange flowers never faded. Green pines and cypresses kept eternal spring.
Peaches of immortality were always fruiting; slender bamboo forever held the clouds.
One ravine was thick with vines and creepers; the grass on every bank shone fresh and green.
This was the pillar where a hundred rivers came together, the earth-root unmoving through ten thousand kalpas.

At the very crown of that mountain stood an immortal stone. It was three zhang, six chi, and five cun high, with a girth of two zhang and four chi. Its height answered to the three hundred sixty-five degrees of the heavens; its girth to the twenty-four divisions of the year.

It had nine apertures and eight holes, answering to the Nine Palaces and Eight Trigrams. No trees shaded it on any side, though fragrant orchids and mushrooms grew nearby to set it off.

Since the world's beginning it had received the pure beauty of heaven and earth, the essence of sun and moon. Over long ages it gathered a spiritual awareness. Within it an immortal embryo formed. One day the stone split open and gave birth to a stone egg, round as a ball. The moment it met the wind, it changed into a stone monkey, complete in all five features and all four limbs.

At once it sprang up, able to crawl and walk, and bowed to the four directions. Then from its eyes shot two beams of golden light that struck straight into the Palace of the Pole Star. This startled the Jade Emperor, the Most High Lord of Heaven, who sat enthroned amid golden towers and cloud palaces in Lingxiao Hall. Seeing those blazing shafts of light, he ordered Clairvoyant-Eye and Wind-Accommodating Ear to open the Southern Gate of Heaven and investigate.

The two officers obeyed, went out beyond the gate, looked closely, listened sharply, and soon returned with their report.

"By Your Majesty's command," they said, "we watched and listened at the source of the golden light. It came from the borders of Aolai, a small kingdom in the Eastern Victory Continent beyond the eastern sea. There stands a mountain called Flower-Fruit Mountain. On that mountain is an immortal stone. The stone gave birth to an egg; the egg, meeting the wind, became a stone monkey. It was bowing in the four directions, and from its eyes came golden beams that pierced the celestial mansions. Now it has taken water and food, and the light is already subsiding."

The Jade Emperor bestowed his mercy and said, "A creature born below from the pure essences of heaven and earth is no great wonder."

The monkey lived in the mountain and soon learned to leap and run. It ate grasses and trees, drank from the streams, gathered mountain flowers, and searched out fruit in the branches. Wolves and wildcats were its companions, tigers and leopards its neighbors, deer and stag its friends, macaques and apes its kin. At night it slept beneath the rocky cliffs; by day it wandered in the peaks and caves. Truly:

"In the mountains there are no calendars;
when cold gives way, no one knows the year."

One hot day, as the weather blazed, the monkeys gathered in the shade of the pines to escape the heat and amuse themselves. Just look at them:

They leapt from branch to branch, picked flowers and hunted fruit; they tossed pebbles and played games; they raced through sand hollows and built little pagodas. They chased dragonflies and caught insects, saluted Heaven and bowed to Buddha, tugged vines and braided grass. They picked fleas from one another, bit and pinched; they groomed their coats and pared their nails. One leaned, another rubbed; one shoved, another climbed atop him; one tugged, another dragged. Beneath the green pines they played to their hearts' content, and by the clear stream they splashed and washed.

After a while the troop went down into a mountain brook to bathe. The water rushed with such force it seemed melons were rolling and spray erupting everywhere. As the old saying goes, birds have the speech of birds, beasts the speech of beasts.

All the monkeys cried, "Who knows where this stream comes from? We've nothing to do today. Let's follow it upstream and find its source. Off we go for sport!"

At once they raised a clamor, dragging the young and calling to brothers and cousins as they all ran together, scrambling along the stream and climbing the mountain until they reached its source. There they found a flying waterfall and spring. And this is what they saw:

One white rainbow rising, a thousand fathoms of snowy surf in flight.
Sea wind could not break it; moonlight on the river only made it clearer.
Cold breath split the blue-green cliffs; the leftover stream moistened the emerald slopes.
Named a waterfall for its ceaseless whisper, it looked like a curtain hanging from the sky.

The monkeys clapped and shouted, "Fine water, fine water! So this runs all the way beneath the mountain and joins the waves of the great sea!" Then they said, "Whichever one of us has the courage to go in, find the source, and come out again unhurt, we will make him our king."

They shouted this three times when suddenly, from among the crowd, the Stone Monkey sprang out and answered at once, "I'll go! I'll go!"

A fine monkey indeed. For it was just his hour:
that day his name would shine,
his luck had come,
and the place that suited him was one fit for a king.

He squeezed his eyes shut, crouched low, and gave one leap straight into the cataract. When he opened his eyes and looked up, he found there was no water inside at all, no spray, no wave, but a bright, clear bridge. He halted, steadied himself, and looked again. It was an iron bridge. The water beneath it rushed through a cleft in the rock and streamed down in a hanging sheet, covering the entrance like a door.

He drew himself up and crossed the bridgehead, walking farther in. The place beyond looked almost like a human dwelling. It was a splendid spot. And this is what he saw:

Blue-green moss lay piled like clouds; white cloud floated like jade.
Light trembled in strips among mist and sunset glow.
Empty windows, silent chambers, smooth benches blooming with damp sheen.
Stalactites hung in the milky caverns like dragon pearls, with strange blossoms winding everywhere across the floor.
By the cliffside stove were traces of old fire; beside the table stood cups and jars with scraps still clinging.
Stone chairs and stone beds delighted the eye; stone basins and stone bowls were finer still.
Here and there stood one or two slender bamboos, and three or five plum blossoms.
Several pines dripped with rain, and the whole place looked just like a human dwelling.

After looking for some time, he sprang across the middle of the bridge and searched both sides. Right in the center he found a stone tablet. On it, in neat carved characters, was written:

"Blessed Land of Flower-Fruit Mountain,
Heavenly Grotto of Water-Curtain Cave."

The Stone Monkey was beside himself with joy. He hurried back, squeezed his eyes shut again, crouched, and leapt out through the waterfall. Landing before the troop, he gave a broad grin and cried, "What a blessing! What a blessing!"

The monkeys crowded around him. "What's it like inside?" they asked. "How deep is the water?"

"No water at all, no water at all!" the Stone Monkey said. "It's an iron bridge, and beyond the bridge is a place built by Heaven itself."

"How can you tell it's a place to live?"

The Stone Monkey laughed. "This stream runs beneath the bridge and pours down over the entrance like a hanging curtain. Beside the bridge are flowers and trees, and beyond them a stone house. Inside are stone nests, a stone stove, stone bowls, stone basins, stone beds, and stone benches. In the middle stands a stone tablet carved with the words, 'Blessed Land of Flower-Fruit Mountain, Heavenly Grotto of Water-Curtain Cave.' It's the very place for us to settle. And wide? It could hold hundreds, old and young alike. If we all move in there, we'll be spared the vexations of wind and weather. Inside:

"When the wind blows, there is shelter.
When the rain falls, there is safety.
No frost, no snow to fear;
No thunder ever heard.
Mist and glow shine there forever,
Lucky vapors rise and steam.
Pines and bamboo stay green year after year,
Strange flowers bloom fresh every day."

Hearing this, every monkey rejoiced. "You go first!" they cried. "Lead us in, lead us in!"

The Stone Monkey shut his eyes once more, jumped inside, and shouted, "Follow me in! In with you all!"

The bold monkeys leapt in at once. The timid ones stretched out their necks, pulled them back, scratched their ears, clawed their cheeks, yelped and fussed awhile, and then at last went in too. Once they crossed the bridge they all snatched bowls, seized basins, fought for the stove, scrambled for beds, shifted things this way and that. Such is monkey nature: never still for a moment. Only when they were worn out in strength and spirit did they stop.

Then the Stone Monkey sat upright in the place of honor and said, "My friends, if a man has no faith, I do not know what can be made of him. A little while ago you said that whoever could get in and out again unharmed should be made king. Well, I have gone in and come out, come out and gone in again, and found this heavenly cave where all of you may sleep safe and enjoy the blessings of a settled home. Why do you not make me your king?"

The monkeys heard this and at once bowed in complete submission. They lined up by age and rank, made their obeisance, and hailed him as their "great king of ten thousand years." From that time on the Stone Monkey rose to the throne, dropped the word "stone" from his title, and was thereafter known as the Handsome Monkey King.

A poem bears witness:

When the triple yang came full, the host of creatures was born;
Within an immortal stone lay sun-and-moon essence.
Borrowing the shell of an egg, a monkey took shape and touched the Great Way;
Taking a made-up name, he matched the elixir's completion.
Within, he saw not, for the formless leaves no mark;
Without, he joined the visible and knew the shaping of form.
Age after age all beings belong to this same order:
To call oneself king or sage is to let the wild heart run free.

The Handsome Monkey King took charge of the ape-monkeys, macaques, horse-monkeys, and all the rest, assigning among them ministers, aides, and attendants. By day they roamed Flower-Fruit Mountain; by night they slept in Water-Curtain Cave. Their hearts were wholly in tune. They did not join the flocks of birds nor mingle with the beasts of the field, but ruled by themselves alone, and their joy knew no bounds. Thus:

In spring they gathered flowers for food and drink.
In summer they searched out every fruit.
In autumn they stored yams and chestnuts against the season's turn.
In winter they dug for yellow essence root and passed the year in peace.

The Handsome Monkey King lived in carefree delight for three or even five hundred years. Then one day, in the midst of a happy feast with the troop, he suddenly grew troubled and let tears fall.

The monkeys hurried to bow before him. "Why does Your Majesty grieve?"

The Monkey King said, "Though I live in joy, there is one distant fear in my heart. That is why I am troubled."

The monkeys laughed and said, "Your Majesty is hard to satisfy. We meet in joy every day on an immortal mountain, in a blessed land, in an ancient cave, on a divine continent. We are subject neither to the qilin nor the phoenix, nor bound by the thrones of human kings. We are free and easy. This is immeasurable good fortune. Why brood over distant fears?"

The Monkey King said, "For now we are outside the laws of human kings and beyond the terrors of beasts. But when age comes and the blood grows weak, King Yama will be waiting in the dark. One day death will carry us off. Would we not then have been born into this world in vain, unable to keep our place forever among the living beings of heaven and earth?"

At these words every monkey covered his face and wept, all of them alarmed by impermanence.

Just then one among them, a long-armed gibbon, jumped out of the ranks and cried in a piercing voice, "If Your Majesty truly fears this, then the heart of the Way has begun to awaken in you. Among the five kinds of living creatures, there are only three classes not governed by King Yama."

"And who are they?"

"Buddhas, immortals, and sages," said the ape. "They slip beyond the wheel of rebirth. They neither live nor die and endure as long as heaven and earth, mountains and rivers."

"Where do these three dwell?" asked the Monkey King.

"Only in the human world," said the ape, "in ancient caves on immortal mountains."

The Monkey King was overjoyed. "Tomorrow," he said, "I shall leave you, go down the mountain, travel to the ocean's edge and the ends of the earth, and I will not rest until I have found one of these beings and learned the art of deathlessness, so that I may forever escape the doom of Yama."

Ah, that one resolve was enough to make him leap free of the net of rebirth and set in motion the making of the Great Sage Equal to Heaven.

The monkeys clapped and cheered. "Good! Good indeed! Tomorrow we will cross ridges and climb mountains, gather fruits of every sort, and spread a great feast to send our king on his way."

The next day they did just that. They picked immortal peaches, gathered strange fruits, dug wild yams and yellow essence roots, and brought fragrant orchids, sacred grasses, and marvelous blooms, every kind and every sort, laid out in perfect order on stone tables and stone benches, along with immortal wines and woodland delicacies.

And this is what they had:

Golden balls and crimson bursts, yellow rich and ripe.
Wax cherries bright as pearls, true in color and sweet in taste.
Plums split red and swollen gold, fragrant and tart on the tongue.
Fresh longans, sweet-fleshed and thin-skinned.
Litchis red as flame, with small pits in scarlet shells.
Green apples offered branch and all; loquats lifted with their yellow leaves still on them.
Rabbit-head pears and chicken-heart jujubes, enough to quench thirst, ease worry, and even sober a drunkard.
Fragrant peaches and soft apricots, sweet as jade nectar or heavenly wine.
Crisp plums and bayberries, tart and creamy as rich curd.
Ripe watermelons with red flesh and black seeds; huge persimmons in yellow skins, quartered and shining.
Pomegranates burst open, their cinnabar seeds like fire-bright crystal beads.
Split taro and chestnuts showed their hard-packed flesh like yellow agate.
Walnuts and ginkgoes to serve with tea, coconuts and grapes to make into wine.
Hazelnuts, pine nuts, Chinese torreya, and crab-apples heaped up on platters.
Tangerines, sugarcane, mandarins, and oranges overflowed the tables.
Yams roasted soft, yellow essence roots boiled tender.
Pounded poria and coix seeds simmered slowly in stone pots over a low flame.
Even if the human world has its rarest delicacies, how could they rival the carefree pleasure of mountain monkeys?

The monkeys seated the Handsome Monkey King in the place of honor, then arranged themselves below by age and shoulder-rank. One by one they came forward with wine, flowers, and fruit, and the whole troop drank deep for an entire day.

The next morning the Handsome Monkey King rose early and gave orders. "Children, break off some dead pine for me, weave a raft, cut a bamboo pole for a punting staff, and pack up some fruit. I am going."

So he boarded the raft alone, pushed off with all his strength, and drifted out over the great sea, borne onward by the wind until he crossed into the lands of the Southern Jambu Continent. Of that departure it may be said:

Heaven gave birth to an immortal monkey, lofty in the Way.
He left the mountain on a raft and rode the sky-born wind.
Across the seas he went in search of the immortal path,
With hidden purpose and a mighty will to make his mark.
If fate and affinity are yours, cast off the common wish;
Free of sorrow and care, you may yet meet the one who knows your heart.
No doubt a true knower waits somewhere ahead,
To break open the source and show how all teachings join as one.

His luck was plainly rising. From the moment he set out upon that wooden raft, a strong southeast wind blew for days on end and carried him at last to a northwestern shore in the Southern Jambu Continent. He tested the water with his pole, found it shallow, abandoned the raft, and leapt ashore. There along the coast he saw men fishing, hunting wild geese, digging clams, and boiling salt.

He went close, played them a trick, and made himself look like a tiger. The people dropped their baskets and nets and fled in every direction. Catching one slow fellow, he stripped off the man's clothes and put them on himself, learning to dress like a human. Then he swaggered through towns and prefectures, through markets and alleys, imitating human manners and human speech.

He ate by day, slept by night, and with a single mind sought the way of Buddhas, immortals, and sages, searching for some art by which one might live forever and never grow old. But all the people he met were only scrambling after profit and reputation. Not one among them gave a thought to life and death. Truly:

How long will men keep fighting over name and gain?
Up early, late to bed, never one moment free.
Mounted on a mule, they long for a steed;
Made prime minister, they dream of becoming king.
They wear themselves out for food and clothes,
Yet feel no fear when Yama comes to mark them down.
They labor for sons and grandsons, for wealth and rank,
And not one living soul is willing to turn back.

The Monkey King searched everywhere for the immortal path, but had no luck. In the Southern Jambu Continent he wandered through great cities and little counties for eight or nine years. At last he came to the great western ocean and thought, Surely beyond the sea there must be immortals.

So once again he made himself a raft and drifted across the western waters until he reached the lands of the Western Ox Continent. After searching for some time, he suddenly saw a high and beautiful mountain, with deep and shadowed groves. He feared neither wolf nor tiger, leopard nor beast, but climbed straight to the summit and looked around.

It was a fine mountain indeed:

A thousand peaks rose like halberds, ten thousand cliffs spread like folded screens.
Sunlight struck the mountain haze and lightly locked in the green; after rain the darkened slopes held a cold blue-black sheen.
Lean vines wrapped old trees; ancient ferries marked hidden tracks.
Strange flowers and auspicious herbs, slim bamboo and towering pines.
Those bamboo and pines stayed green for ten thousand years, shaming any blessed land.
Those strange flowers and lucky herbs never faded in the four seasons, rivaling the isles of immortals.
Hidden birds cried close at hand; springs rang clear along their channels.
Orchid and sweet flag curled through gorge beyond gorge, while moss grew on jagged cliffs everywhere.
The ridges rose and fell in dragon-vein perfection: some great one had to be dwelling here in secret.

While he was gazing, he heard voices somewhere deep in the wood. He hurried forward, slipped into the trees, and listened. It was singing. The song went:

"Watching chess till the axe-handle rots, chopping wood to the ring of the blade,
I stroll where clouds hang by the valley mouth.
I sell firewood, buy wine, and laugh myself into contentment.
Along the pale path in autumn heights, I lie with the moon on a pine root and wake at dawn.
Then I find the old forest again, climb ridges, cross hills, and take my axe to dead vines.
When I've cut enough for a load, I go singing to the market and trade it for three pecks of rice.
I know nothing of scheming or clever accounts. I have no glory and no disgrace; plainness keeps me alive.
Where we meet, one is either immortal or man of the Way, sitting quietly to discuss the Yellow Court."

The Handsome Monkey King heard this and rejoiced with all his heart. "So immortals truly hide here!" he cried.

He leapt inside and looked carefully. There was only a woodcutter, raising his axe to chop fuel. Yet the man was strangely dressed:

On his head he wore a hat woven like the sheath of a bamboo shoot just split from its husk.
His cloth coat looked spun from kapok fiber.
Around his waist was a cord like silk drawn from an old silkworm's mouth.
On his feet were sandals plaited from dried sedge.
In his hand he held a bright steel axe; from his shoulder hung a hemp rope for bundling wood.
Who could outdo such a woodcutter in splitting pines and cleaving dead trees?

The Monkey King stepped forward and called, "Old immortal, your disciple bows!"

The woodcutter, startled, dropped his axe and turned to return the greeting. "I dare not, I dare not," he said. "I'm a poor rustic with barely enough to eat and wear. How could I deserve the name of immortal?"

"If you're no immortal," said the Monkey King, "how did you speak immortal words?"

"What immortal words did I speak?"

"Just now, when I came to the edge of the forest, I heard you sing, 'Where we meet, one is either immortal or man of the Way, sitting quietly to discuss the Yellow Court.' The Yellow Court is a true scripture of the Way. If that is not immortal talk, what is?"

The woodcutter smiled. "To tell you the truth, that song is called 'The Courtyard Full of Fragrance.' An immortal taught it to me. He lives near my house. Seeing how hard my household life is, and how often I fret over it, he taught me to recite that song whenever trouble came: first, to ease my heart, and second, to lighten my distress. I had a few vexations on my mind today, so I was saying it over to myself. I never thought anyone would overhear."

The Monkey King said, "If your house stands beside an immortal's, why not follow him and learn the way? Wouldn't it be better to master the art of never growing old?"

The woodcutter said, "Mine is a bitter life. My parents raised me until I was eight or nine, just old enough to understand the world, and then my father died, leaving my mother a widow. I had no brothers or sisters, only myself. So I had no choice but to serve her morning and night. Now she is old, and I dare not leave her. Our fields are barren and we lack food and clothing. All I can do is cut two bundles of firewood, carry them to market, sell them for a few coins, buy a few measures of rice, and cook tea and meals to care for my old mother. For that reason I cannot practice the Way."

"By your own account," said the Monkey King, "you are a truly filial gentleman, and blessings will surely come to you in time. But I beg you, tell me where that immortal lives, so that I may go and pay him a visit."

"Not far, not far," said the woodcutter. "This mountain is called Mount Lingtai. In it there is a cave called the Cave of the Slanting Moon and Three Stars. In that cave lives an immortal called Patriarch Subhuti. He has taken countless disciples, and even now there are thirty or forty studying under him. Follow that little path south for seven or eight miles, and you will come to his place."

The Monkey King caught him by the arm. "Brother, come with me. If any good comes of it, I will never forget your kindness in showing the way."

The woodcutter said, "You really are impossible. Haven't you understood a word I've said? If I went with you, wouldn't my work be left undone? And who would care for my old mother? I have wood to cut. Off with you, off!"

The Monkey King, hearing this, could only take his leave. He came out of the deep wood, found the path, crossed a slope, and after some seven or eight miles caught sight of a cave-dwelling. Standing tall to look, he saw that it was truly a marvelous place:

Cloud-glow scattered its colors there; sun and moon cast shifting light.
A thousand old cypresses and ten thousand lengths of bamboo stood deep green in rain and mist.
Strange flowers spread like brocade beyond the gate; jade grasses breathed perfume beside the bridge.
The cliff-face thrust upward, dark and wet with moss; emerald growth trailed long down the hanging rock.
Now and then a crane cried; now and then a phoenix wheeled.
When the cranes called, the sound shook the far heavens; when the phoenixes rose, their five-colored feathers flashed like cloud-light.
Dark apes and white deer appeared and vanished. Golden lions and jade elephants came and went at will.
Look closely at this blessed ground and it seemed to outshine heaven itself.

He saw next that the cave gate was shut tight, still and utterly silent, with no trace of anyone. Then he turned and noticed a stone stele on the cliff, more than three zhang high and eight chi broad. On it were carved ten great characters:

"Mount Lingtai, Cave of the Slanting Moon and Three Stars."

The Handsome Monkey King was delighted. "The people here are plainly honest," he said. "There truly is such a mountain and such a cave."

After looking his fill, he did not dare knock. Instead he sprang up into the top of a pine, plucked pine nuts, and played there for a while. Before long, with a creak, the cave door opened and an immortal boy stepped out. He was strikingly handsome, with a pure and unusual face, nothing like an ordinary mortal. Of him one might say:

Twin loops bound his topknot; wide sleeves moved in the wind.
His body and bearing set him apart; his heart was empty of all dust.
He was a long-lived guest beyond the world, a deathless child of the mountain.
A single speck could not cling to him; the turning of ages meant nothing in his presence.

The boy came out and called sharply, "Who's making a disturbance here?"

The Monkey King dropped from the tree with a thump, stepped forward, bowed, and said, "Immortal lad, I am a seeker of the Way and a disciple who wishes to learn the arts of immortality. I would not dare cause trouble here."

The boy laughed. "So you're a seeker of the Way?"

"I am."

"My master had just left his couch and mounted the altar to preach when, before he had begun speaking, he ordered me out to open the gate. He said, 'A cultivator has arrived outside. Go receive him.' So I suppose you must be the one."

The Monkey King grinned. "I am, I am."

"Then follow me in."

The Monkey King straightened his clothes and composed himself, then followed the boy into the depths of the cave-heaven. There were layers of lofty towers and hall after hall of pearl and shell, too many quiet chambers and hidden rooms to describe. At last they came beneath a jade dais, where Patriarch Subhuti sat upright, while thirty little immortals stood waiting on either side below.

Truly:

Great Awakened Golden Immortal, stainless in form,
Patriarch Subhuti of the Western Wondrous Aspect.
Unborn, undying, moving in the triple-three;
Whole in spirit and breath, merciful beyond count.
Emptiness and stillness changing by their own nature;
Thusness and true essence acting as they will.
Solemn body enduring as heaven itself,
Great master who through kalpas has made the mind clear.

The Handsome Monkey King threw himself flat at the first sight of him, kowtowed again and again, and cried, "Master! Master! Your disciple bows with all his heart, bows with all his heart!"

The Patriarch said, "What man are you? Speak plainly of your home and name before you bow again."

The Monkey King said, "Your disciple is from Water-Curtain Cave on Flower-Fruit Mountain in Aolai, in the Eastern Victory Continent."

The Patriarch immediately shouted, "Throw him out! He's a liar and a cheat. What fruit of the Way could such a fellow ever cultivate?"

The Monkey King knocked his head on the floor without stopping. "Your disciple speaks honestly," he cried. "I have not uttered one false word."

"If you're honest," said the Patriarch, "how do you come from the Eastern Victory Continent? Between there and here lie two great seas and the whole Southern Jambu Continent besides. How could you possibly have reached this place?"

The Monkey King bowed again. "Your disciple drifted across seas and wandered the world. It took me more than ten years to find my way here."

"If you came step by step like that," said the Patriarch, "very well. What is your surname?"

The Monkey King said, "I have no temper."

"That's not what I asked."

"If people curse me, I don't get angry. If they strike me, I don't grow resentful. I just bow and let it go. All my life I've had no temper."

"I don't mean that sort of nature," said the Patriarch. "What was the surname of your father and mother?"

"I have no father or mother."

"Then were you born from a tree?"

"Not from a tree," said the Monkey King, "but from stone. All I know is that on Flower-Fruit Mountain there was an immortal rock. In the year it split open, I was born."

The Patriarch secretly rejoiced. "Then you truly are a creature generated by heaven and earth. Stand up and walk a little so I can see."

The Monkey King sprang up at once and capered awkwardly back and forth twice.

The Patriarch smiled. "Your body may be rough and ugly, but you look like a macaque that lives on pine nuts. I'll make a surname for you from your very shape. I might call you Hu, but if I strip the beast-radical from that character, what remains means old moon. Old yin cannot bring forth life. Better to call you Sun. Strip the beast-radical from sun and what remains speaks of child and thread, just fitting the original nature of an infant. Yes. Let your surname be Sun."

Hearing this, the Monkey King was wild with joy. He kowtowed toward the Patriarch and said, "Good! Good! Good! At last I have a surname. If Master will only be compassionate, now that I have a family name, I beg you for a personal name as well, so that I may answer when called."

The Patriarch said, "Within my school there are twelve generation names, by which disciples are assigned their place. You belong to the tenth generation."

"And what are those twelve names?"

"Guang, Da, Zhi, Hui, Zhen, Ru, Xing, Hai, Ying, Wu, Yuan, and Jue. Since your place falls at Wu, I will give you the Dharma name Wukong. Sun Wukong. Does that suit you?"

The Monkey King laughed aloud. "Good! Good! Good! From this day on I am Sun Wukong!"

And so:

He was born from primal chaos with no surname at all;
to break the stubborn void, he needed only Wukong.

But what fruit of the Way he would cultivate from that time onward is another matter, to be told in the next chapter.