Chapter 53: Bestowing the Universe Pouch upon Wukong

Having finally been rescued and brought back to the farm, Sun Wukong knelt on the ground for a long time, his body trembling as he sobbed uncontrollably. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined his Immortal Master would be so powerful and formidable. He, once pitifully and heroically suppressed beneath the Five-Finger Mountain, had endured five hundred harrowing years of lonely confinement. Sun the Monkey, already resigned to despair, had given up all hope, prepared to drag out the rest of his miserable life with no expectation of deliverance.

But as fate would have it, when the carriage meets the mountain a path appears, when the boat reaches the bridge it straightens itself out—a new dawn had broken where all once seemed lost.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

After knocking his head on the ground countless times—so much that his monkey brow was swollen—Sun Wukong finally stifled his tears. With a loud, urgent cry, still kneeling, he said, “Disciple thanks the Immortal Master for your rescue. I will never forget your grace for as long as I live. From this day forward, my pitiful life is yours. I will obey your every command without question or hesitation.”

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Sun Wukong continued to kowtow, his head thudding against the ground.

Nearby, Iron Fan and Fat Ox wiped away tears of joy. Thanks to the Master's intervention, their eldest brother had finally been freed from his sea of suffering and would no longer have to endure the five centuries of heavenly punishment.

It was truly wonderful—the eldest brother had finally come home.

The monkey kept kowtowing while Chu Xiaoyu sat calmly, serene as ever.

Only when the monkey’s head was sore from exhaustion did Chu Xiaoyu speak at last, his tone languid, “Wukong, rise and speak.”

“Disciple dares not,” Sun Wukong replied, not daring to get up. He crawled slowly over, still kneeling, then wrapped his arms around Chu Xiaoyu’s leg, pressing his tear-streaked, ecstatic monkey face against the Immortal Master’s thigh, gently rubbing back and forth as if to absorb the Master’s powerful aura.

Since even the Tathāgata had been forced to retreat, it was clear just how fierce and incomparably mighty the Immortal Master’s Dao truly was. Henceforth, who in all the Three Realms and Six Paths would dare challenge him?

Sun the Monkey’s heart was ablaze with excitement.

“Er... you naughty monkey, what are you doing now? Don’t tell me you’re using my trouser leg as a handkerchief for your snot?” Chu Xiaoyu teased.

Iron Fan couldn’t help but burst into laughter. “Master, your words are so witty.”

“The ground’s filthy. Hurry, get up,” Chu Xiaoyu said.

Now, Sun Wukong had no choice but to rise, trembling slightly, and stood respectfully to the side.

Chu Xiaoyu regarded Sun Wukong and said, “This ordeal was, from the start, your destined calamity—there was no way to avoid it. But perhaps... because of a small flutter of my butterfly’s wings, your original path has been upset. Sigh, whether this is a blessing or a curse, I truly cannot say.”

“Er... why do you say such things, Immortal Master?” the monkey asked, bewildered.

“Yes, Master, what do you mean by that?” Fat Ox also looked confused.

Iron Fan echoed their curiosity. “Master, is there some hidden twist to all this?”

Chu Xiaoyu nodded, forced to give away a bit of the plot ahead. “Indeed, that’s how it is. Originally, you, monkey, were meant to be suppressed beneath the Tathāgata’s Five-Finger Mountain for a full five hundred years, until one day a monk from the Tang Dynasty—named Xuanzang, also known as Tripitaka—would pass by on his way to the West to fetch the scriptures.”

“That five-hundred-year term was established by the Tathāgata. Yet I have broken this predestined arrangement ahead of time, and as for whether, five hundred years hence, that Tang monk will still pass by this place, I cannot predict.”

At present, it was clear the script for Journey to the West had already veered wildly off its original course.

Now, the world of Journey to the West was indeed in disarray. After the flutter of this tiny butterfly’s wings, who could say what would come of it?

Sun Wukong frowned in contemplation, unable to resist asking, “Immortal Master, by your words, does that mean the monk from the Tang was coming specifically to rescue me? Is that so?”

“Well... if things had followed the original script, it would have been exactly that. But now that I’ve rescued you in advance, I can’t predict what will happen next.”

Whether, five hundred years later, a monk from the Tang Dynasty would still journey west to fetch the scriptures, Chu Xiaoyu could not be sure. But if history flowed as it ought, then the Tang Dynasty would certainly produce a monk named Xuanzang who would go west for the scriptures. That was a certainty—history could not be changed.

“Master, there’s no need to worry about things that haven’t happened yet, especially when we’d have to wait five hundred years. That’s such a long time!” Iron Fan pouted. “Anyway, the important thing is that our eldest brother has been saved by Master, and tragedy has turned into a happy ending. I think everything is wonderful now.”

“Heh, what’s five hundred years? If you all stay on this farm for five hundred days—just over a year—those five hundred years will pass in the blink of an eye,” Chu Xiaoyu smiled.

One day on the farm equaled one year in the world of Journey to the West; time slipped by as quickly as a white steed passing a crack.

Fat Ox mulled this over, then suddenly asked, “Master, there’s something about all this I don’t quite understand.”

“What is it? Speak your mind.”

“Well, it’s like this—since the Tathāgata suppressed eldest brother beneath the Five-Finger Mountain, he must have already calculated that after five hundred years a monk would go west for the scriptures, right?”

“Yes, is there a problem with that?”

“Well, not really, but I am curious—how could the Tathāgata predict what would happen five hundred years into the future? How could he be sure that when five centuries had passed, a monk from Tang would definitely travel west?” Fat Ox pressed on, eyes full of curiosity. “Master, if you were to compare your ability to predict the future with the Tathāgata’s, who would be superior?”

Iron Fan rolled her eyes. “Oh, you really are a silly ox! Master could rescue eldest brother from the Five-Finger Mountain and there was nothing that big-eared fellow could do about it. He was powerless before Master, so of course our Master is the greatest! That’s such an obvious comparison. You really are hopelessly slow-witted.”

“Hehe, my head has never been as quick as yours,” Fat Ox admitted sheepishly.

“Immortal Master, if as you say, after five hundred years a monk from Tang does come, what will happen then?” the monkey asked, uncertainty clouding his heart. Being trapped beneath the Five-Finger Mountain was supposed to be his fate, but thanks to Chu Xiaoyu, events had veered off course. Was this truly a good thing or a bad one? Even Sun Wukong was starting to feel lost.

“Enough. What’s done is done. Don’t let your minds wander needlessly. Wukong, come—I have something for you.”

Chu Xiaoyu lifted both hands, and a mysterious bag appeared. “This is the Universe Pouch. It can contain all things under heaven. It was this pouch that rescued you, and now I bestow it upon you.”

“Ah! Disciple is eternally grateful for the Master’s gift!” Sun Wukong exclaimed, dropping instantly to his knees, his head hitting the ground in fervent gratitude.

The Immortal Master’s affection for him was as vast and relentless as the surging Yangtze River.

Sun Wukong’s acquisition of this treasure filled Iron Fan and Fat Ox with envy—they could have died from longing.

They wished desperately to snatch it for themselves, to own such a pouch that could hold the world. But alas, they were not the Master’s disciples. Even if they pleaded to be taken as students, the Master would not accept them.

Ah! All they could do was dream, and nothing more.