“Brother,” said Friar Sand with a smile, “stop telling him all that. He'll brag about it to make himself superior. We'll know how high the mountain is when we've climbed it.”

The idiot started chasing Friar Sand and brawling with him in a playful way, and the master's horse galloped as if on wings. They were soon at the foot of a precipice up which they made their way painfully slowly. This is what the mountain was like:

The wind rustling in the woods,

Water gushing along the beds of ravines.

Crows and sparrows cannot fly across it;

Even gods and immortals find it hard.

Scars and gullies endlessly twisting;

Clouds of dust blowing where no one can go;

Rocks in strange and fascinating shapes.

Clouds like vast expanses of water,

While elsewhere birds sing in the trees.

Deer carry magic fungus in their mouths.

Apes pick peaches.

Foxes and raccoon dogs spring around on the cliffs,

Large and small deer play on the ridge.

Then comes the spine-chilling roar of a tiger,

And the way is blocked by leopards and wolves.

Sanzang was terrified by what he saw, but Monkey's powers were enormous. With his gold-banded cudgel and a mighty roar he sent the wolves, tigers, leopards and other wild beasts running then cleared the way for the master to reach the top of the mountain. Once they were over the summit ridge and had started going down the gentle Western slope they saw divine light and coloured clouds over some imposing buildings from which came the muffled sounds of bells and stone chimes.

“Look and see what that place is, disciples,” said Sanzang. Monkey raised his head, shaded his eyes with his hands, and on careful examination saw that it was a fine place:

Magnificent architecture,

A famous monastery.

The valley of emptiness is full of the earth's vibrations;

Heavenly fragrance pervades the stillness.

Rain in the bluish pines obscures the buildings;

Mist around the green bamboo protects the preaching hall.

Through coloured clouds one can make out the dragon palace;

The infinite worlds are seen in shimmering light.

Red balustrades and doors of marble,

Painted and carved beams.

Incense fills the hall in which the scriptures are taught;

The moon hangs over the window where the mysteries are passed on.

Birds sing in red trees,

Cranes drink from a spring in the rocks.

The flowers as fine as those of the Jetavana;

All the doors open on the brilliance of Sravasti.

Beside the towering buildings the gates face crags;

Slow is the rhythm of the bell and chime.

A light breeze blows into open windows,

And under the rolled-up curtains is a smoky haze.

Among the monks emotions are all calm;

Peace reigns in the absence of worldliness.

A land of immortals unsullied by earth's dust,

This splendid monastery of the pure land.

When he had taken a good look at it Monkey went back to report, “It's a monastery, Master, but for some reason there's something evil about the auspicious dhyana atmosphere. The place looks like the Thunder Monastery but the distance to here is wrong. Whatever we do we mustn't go rushing inside. If we do we may run into something nasty.”

“But if it looks like the Thunder Monastery this must surely be the Vulture Peak,” said the Tang Priest. “Don't try to frustrate my sincerest wish and put off what I've come for.”

“But it isn't vulture peak,” said Monkey. “I've been there several times and this isn't the way.”

“Even if it isn't there must be good people living here,” said Pig.

“Don't be so suspicious,” said Friar Sand. “The road goes straight past the gate, so we can find out at a glance,”

“You're right,” said Monkey.

Whipping on the horse, the venerable elder arrived at the monastery gate, above which the words THUNDER MONASTERY were written.

This came as such a surprise to him that he fell to the ground from the horse, saying abusively, “Wretched macaque! You'll be the death of me. Here we are at the Thunder Monastery and you're still trying to trick me.”

“Don't be angry, Master,” said Monkey with a forced smile. “Take another look. There are three words over the gate. Why did you only read two of them out, then get angry with me?” Still shaking, the master climbed to his feet again for another look and saw that there were in fact three words written there: LESSER THUNDER MONASTERY.

“Even if it is the Lesser Thunder Monastery,” Sanzang said, “there must be a Buddha in here. The three thousand Buddhas of whom the scriptures speak can't all live in the same place, just as the Bodhisattva Guanyin lives in the Southern Sea, Samantabhadra lives on Mount Emei and Manjusri on Mount Wutai. I wonder which Buddha's holy seat this is. As the saying has it,

Wherever there's a Buddha there are scriptures;

Everywhere you go you'll find some treasures.

Let's go in.”

“No, we mustn't,” said Monkey. “This place looks thoroughly sinister. Don't blame me if this leads to disaster.”

“Even if there is not Buddha here there's bound to be a statue of a Buddha, and I am under a vow to worship every Buddha statue I pass,” Sanzang replied. “I won't blame you.” He then told Pig to get out his cassock, put on his mitre, neatened his clothes up and strode forward.

As he did so a voice from inside the gate called out, “Tang Priest, you've come from the East to worship our Buddha, so why are you still being so casual about it?” Sanzang at once started kowtowing, as did Pig while Friar Sand knelt. The Great Sage hung back, holding the horse and looking after the luggage. Once they were inside the inner gates they reached the Buddha Hall, outside of which were drawn up the five hundred arhats, the three thousand protectors, the four vajrapanis, the eight Bodhisattvas, nuns, lay people, and countless holy monks and lay brothers. Everywhere was the scent of flowers and auspicious vapors. The venerable elder, Pig and Friar Sand were all so overwhelmed that they kowtowed at every step until they reached the hall. Monkey alone did not bow.

“Sun Wukong,” came a shrill shout from the throne, “why don't you kowtow when you see the Buddha?” Nobody realized that Monkey had spotted as he took a careful look around that this was all false.

Letting go of the horse and putting down the luggage he shouted as he brandished his cudgel, “Evil beasts! What a nerve! How dare you try to ruin the Buddha's good name by pretending to be him! Stay where you are!” He raised his cudgel in both hands and was just about to strike when a pair of bronze cymbals came out of the sky to join together with a mighty crash, enclosing him completely from head to toe. Pig and Friar Sand grabbed desperately for their rake and staff, only to be so closely surrounded by the arhats, protectors, holy monks and lay brothers that they could not move. They and Sanzang too were all captured and roped up tightly.

Now the Buddha on the lotus throne was a demon king and all the arhats and others his little devils. They now put off their Buddha disguises, so that they looked once more like the evil creatures they really were, and carried the three of them round to the back to be kept under guard while Monkey was sealed inside the cymbals, never to be released. The cymbals were then set on a pedestal, and here he was to be turned to pus and blood within three days and nights, after which the other three were to be steamed in an iron steamer and eaten. Indeed:

The green-eyed macaque saw that it was false;

The dhyana monk worshipped the appearance of the Buddha.