Chapter 86: Monk Xuanzang—Escaping the Wolves’ Den Only to Enter the Tigers’ Lair

On the mountain top, Sun Wukong dragged Tang Sanzang along in his wake. Under the faint moonlight, Xuanzang’s face was pale and bloodless. Seeing the monk still lost in the horror of the earlier supernatural events, Sun Wukong said to him, “Hey, are you alright? Did I scare you? Look, there’s not a single inn within a hundred miles. I’ll go see if I can catch a rabbit or something. After all this running about, I’m starving.”

Xuanzang wanted to call after him, but before he could utter a word, Sun Wukong vanished like a shadow. Xuanzang shivered in fright.

Sun Wukong had barely been gone a moment when Xuanzang sensed something amiss around him. It felt as if a pair of eyes was lurking nearby, watching him intently. Could something sinister be hiding in the darkness? Xuanzang looked around cautiously.

Suddenly, the black undergrowth ahead quivered, and a huge, shadowy figure hurled itself at Xuanzang.

Startled, Xuanzang toppled backward, narrowly dodging the creature’s lethal pounce.

Heavens! It was a tiger!

Its eyes gleamed with murderous intent, and the very air seemed to freeze. Scrambling up in panic, Xuanzang saw clearly that it truly was a ferocious tiger attacking him. He had just escaped one danger, only to fall into another. Was fate determined to end him here? The journey west for the scriptures had only just begun—was it to end so soon?

With a furious roar, the tiger, having missed its prey, lunged at Xuanzang once more.

“Ah! My life is over!” the monk cried in despair.

Just as the tiger’s fangs were about to close around his neck, the air thick with the scent of death, Sun Wukong returned at the critical moment. He seized the tiger by the tail and flung it aside with one hand.

With a thud, the massive beast was tossed to the ground, stunned and unmoving.

Saved from the tiger’s jaws, Xuanzang, trembling, thanked Sun Wukong once more, “Thank you, Benefactor Sun, for saving my life again. I have nothing with which to repay your kindness. I hope—”

It was the first time Xuanzang had encountered a talking monkey, yet he felt no fear—if anything, there was a faint sense of familiarity.

“Wukong, be careful—”

Suddenly, the tiger, sprawled on the ground, sprang at Sun Wukong.

It happened in a flash.

“Come, Golden Cudgel! Beast, die!”

With a deafening crash, Sun Wukong brought down his staff, smashing the arrogant tiger to a bloody pulp—dead beyond doubt.

“Amitabha! Compassion, compassion! What a sin, what a sin!”

As Sun Wukong finished off the beast, Xuanzang began to recite sutras over its corpse.

Sun Wukong snorted disdainfully, “Monk, what are you doing? Crying crocodile tears for a mouse like a cat? That thing eats people! If I hadn’t shown up, you’d be tiger food by now. And you’re chanting scriptures for it? Are you out of your mind?”

Xuanzang, unruffled, replied, “Benefactor, you do not understand. All living things are equal; none are nobler or baser than another, and that includes animals.”

“Pah! Monk, you’re hopelessly stubborn. No wonder our Immortal tells me not to waste words with you, lest I bring trouble on myself.”

With that, Sun Wukong pulled a dagger from his Bag of Holding and sliced off the tiger’s hind legs. He gathered some wood and lit a fire.

Xuanzang noticed Sun Wukong wasn’t using tinder or flint to make fire, but instead wielded a small, strange, exquisite device.

He couldn’t help but ask, “Benefactor, what was that tool you just used? Why is it so peculiar?”

Sun Wukong was about to put the lighter away when he noticed the monk’s amazement. “You mean this? I got it from the Immortal. It’s called a lighter. Much more convenient than those old fire sticks or flint. It’s a real treasure—here, take a look.”

While Xuanzang studied the lighter, Sun Wukong busied himself skewering meat.

“So this is a lighter? Truly ingenious.”

Xuanzang furrowed his brow as he watched Sun Wukong prepare the skewers, but said nothing.

“Oh, right—you monks don’t eat meat or drink wine, do you?” Sun Wukong asked offhandedly as he turned the meat.

Xuanzang quickly chanted, “Amitabha,” and confessed, “Indeed, as monks, we must abstain from meat and wine.”

“Heh, what’s the harm in monks eating meat and drinking wine? The Big-Eared Tathagata in the West doesn’t have time to bother with you mortals. He’s far too busy.”

As for the Big-Eared Tathagata in the West, Sun Wukong never showed him any respect. The humiliation of being trapped under Five Elements Mountain had left Sun Wukong holding a grudge.

If not for the Immortal’s earnest persuasion—that if he escorted this Tang monk to the West and completed the journey, he would be granted the title of Fighting Buddha and removed from the registry of demons—he wouldn’t have bothered with any of this.

Wouldn’t it be better to enjoy the Immortal’s feasts and pleasures every day? That immortal life was the stuff of dreams.

“Monk, since you don’t eat meat, I’ll give you some fruit.”

Earlier, Sun Wukong had hurriedly gathered some wild fruit and tossed them into his Bag of Holding. Now he poured out a pile of fruit.

Xuanzang thanked him politely and ate in silence. The fruit was bitter and astringent, but in these wild mountains, with nowhere to beg for alms, he could hardly complain.

The roasted meat sizzled, sending out mouthwatering aromas.

Back at the farmstead, Sun Wukong had learned many wilderness survival skills from Chu Xiaoyu, the Immortal. Chu Xiaoyu had taught him how to live off the land, using whatever resources were at hand.

Now, these skills were proving their worth.

Sun Wukong devoured the meat hungrily, rummaging through his Bag of Holding in vain for a bottle of soda. Without it, the delicious roast seemed to lose its flavor.

He had come and gone in such haste, he hadn’t even stocked up. Now he truly regretted it.

Grumbling, he gnawed the last meat from a roasted leg and looked over at the monk, who sat cross-legged in meditation.

“Monk, let’s make a deal,” he said.

“Benefactor, please speak,” Xuanzang replied.

“On your journey to the West, you’re bound to face hardships and dangers. Take today’s weasel demon, for example—you’re just an ordinary human monk, no match for demons who have cultivated their powers.”

“My Immortal said you’ll face eighty-one tribulations on the road to the West, and there’s a real chance that one of the stronger demons could kill you—or even cook and eat you. If that happens, you’ll never complete your mission.”

Xuanzang listened quietly, a look of sorrow clouding his face. “Then, according to your words, Benefactor Sun, what should I do?”