The disciples gasped. Then they turned on Wukong.

“You idiot! You angered the master!”

“Beg him to forgive you! You’ll never learn anything now!”

They avoided him after that. Wukong, however, didn’t mind one bit. In fact, he was grinning.

He knew exactly what those three knocks meant: a secret signal.

“Midnight,” Wukong whispered to himself, “rear door, come alone.”

The old monkey may have been a clown, but he wasn’t dumb.

That night, Sun Wukong lay down as usual, eyes closed, pretending to sleep. There were no clocks in the mountains, no bells to chime the hour—so he timed it the old-fashioned way: by syncing his breath to the rhythm of time, counting silently until the third watch.

When the moment felt right, he quietly sat up, slipped on his robe, tiptoed past his snoring brothers, and crept toward the back gate. Sure enough, the door was left slightly ajar.

He grinned. “Heh, told ya. It was a setup.”

Wukong slipped through the door and padded silently down the path to Master Master Bodhi’s quarters. The master lay on his side, back turned, looking for all the world like he was asleep.

Wukong didn’t make a sound. He just knelt down respectfully and waited.

A moment later, Master Bodhi rolled over and murmured softly, as if talking in his sleep:

“The Way is deep, the path is steep—without a true guide, it’s all wasted effort.”

Wukong immediately chimed in:

“Master, I have been waiting for you.”

Master Bodhi opened one eye, sat up slowly, and threw on his robe with theatrical flair.

“You monkey,” he said, mock stern. “Why aren’t you sleeping with the others? What are you doing sneaking around?”

Wukong bowed deeply.

“Last day, you told me to meet you at the back gate at midnight for the real teachings. So… here I am.”

Master Bodhi’s eyes twinkled. Smart monkey. Got the message.

“Since you’ve got the brains to read between the lines, I’ll teach you the true path.”

That night, Master Bodhi whispered to him the secrets of internal alchemy—how to refine spirit and body, how to unite essence and breath. Wukong memorized every word, his mind sharp as a blade.

Before sunrise, he bowed in thanks, snuck back to his sleeping mat, and flopped down like nothing had ever happened. When the sky turned pale, he even shook his fellow disciples awake:

“Up, up! Time to train!”

From that day on, he began secretly cultivating the Way. Three years flew by in the blink of an eye.

One morning, Master Bodhi stepped onto the platform to give a lecture. Midway through, he called out:

“Where is Wukong?”

Wukong jumped to his feet.

“Here, Master!”

Master Bodhi asked,

“What have you been practicing lately?”

Wukong bowed.

“My foundation is steady. My spirit flows. I’m starting to get it.”

Master Bodhi nodded.

“Not bad. But beware the Three Disasters.”

Wukong blinked.

“Disasters? But… I thought immortals didn’t die?”

Master Bodhi sighed.

“Even if you gain the Way, the heavens test you. After 500 years, you’ll be struck by lightning. Another 500, your body will ignite from within—your three souls and seven spirits will burn. Another 500, a deadly wind will blow into your nose and mouth, and poof—you’ll be scattered smoke.”

Wukong broke into a cold sweat.

“Master, I beg you! Teach me how to dodge these disasters!”

Master Bodhi shook his head.

“The technique isn’t easy. You’re a monkey. It might not work on you.”

Wukong rubbed his furry chin.

“True, I may lack a proper chin, but hey—extra monkey mouth, right? That’s gotta count for something!”

Master Bodhi burst out laughing.

“You cheeky thing. Fine. I’ll teach you transformation.”

He leaned in and whispered the secret formula.

“There are 36 Heavenly Transformations and 72 Earthly Variations. Choose.”

Wukong’s eyes gleamed.

“Why choose when you can have more? I’ll take the 72!”

Within days, Wukong had the basics down. He could shapeshift into anything—beast, tree, bird, bug—you name it.

One morning, Master Bodhi took the disciples out to enjoy the scenery. Suddenly, he asked:

“Wukong, how’s your practice coming along?”

Wukong puffed out his chest.

“I can fly now!”

He bent his knees, sprang into the air, flipped three times, and landed like a gymnast.

Master Bodhi chuckled.

“That’s just cloud-hopping. Real flying is riding the wind across the four seas in a single day.”

Wukong frowned.

“That sounds hard.”

Master Bodhi gave him a serious look.

“Nothing is hard if your heart is in it.”

Wukong dropped to his knees.

“Please, Master, teach me!”

Master Bodhi nodded.

“Very well. I’ll teach you the Cloud Somersault. Chant the spell, and one leap will carry you 108,000 li.”

The other disciples whistled.

“Lucky monkey! Doesn’t even need to walk anymore!”

Back in the cave, Wukong practiced obsessively. Before long, he could vault across mountains and oceans like it was child’s play. His true journey to immortality had begun.

Then, one warm day between spring and summer, the disciples gathered under the pines for a bit of shade and chatter.

Someone grinned.

“Hey, Wukong, what kind of cosmic luck did you rack up to learn all that secret stuff? You’ve got disaster evasion and 72 transformations under your belt!”

Wukong scratched his head modestly.

“Master’s a great teacher. I just worked hard, that’s all.”

“C’mon,” another said. “The weather’s perfect, give us a show!”

Wukong’s eyes sparkled.

“Sure! Pick something.”

They huddled.

“Turn into a pine tree! Right here!”

Wukong chuckled, made a few hand signs, muttered a chant, and with a crackle of magic—poof!—he became a tall, majestic pine, needles fluttering, bark flawless.

The crowd burst into applause.

“Amazing! He really nailed it!”

Their cheers grew louder and louder—so loud, in fact, that they woke Master Bodhi.

The master appeared with his walking stick, face like a thundercloud.

“What’s all this racket?!”

The disciples froze, instantly silent, scrambling to bow.

Wukong slipped back into monkey form and shuffled into the crowd, grinning.

“Just, uh, discussing cultivation, Master. Nothing serious.”

Master Bodhi glared.

“The path of the Way is rooted in stillness. You call this stillness? Monkey mouths flapping all over the place?”

The scolding was real, but Wukong just scratched his head, sheepish but secretly proud. After all, if you’re going to get in trouble, it might as well be for being amazing.

The disciples all dropped to their knees in panic.

“Forgive us, Master! It was Sun Wukong. He turned into a pine tree just now! We got a little carried away. Please don’t be angry.”

Master Bodhi waved them off. “Enough. Go.”

Then he called out, “Wukong, get over here.”

Wukong rushed forward and knelt.

Master Bodhi narrowed his eyes. “Tell me, who exactly were you trying to impress by turning into a tree? You think I taught you these spells so you could show off? Use your head. If people find out what you can do, they’ll want to learn too. If you refuse, they’ll resent you. If you agree, you’ll invite trouble. Either way, you might not live to regret it.”

Wukong dropped his head and kowtowed repeatedly. “You’re absolutely right, Master! I was wrong!”

Master Bodhi let out a long sigh. “I won’t punish you, but you can’t stay here anymore. It’s time you left.”

Wukong froze. His eyes welled up. “Master… if you kick me out, where am I supposed to go?”

Master Bodhi shrugged. “Where you came from.”

Only then did Wukong realize: “I’m from the Water Curtain Cave of Mount Huaguo in the Kingdom of Aolai.”

Master Bodhi nodded. “Then back you go. It’s safer there. If you stick around here and make trouble, even I won’t be able to save you.”

Wukong bowed low. “I’ve been gone for twenty years. I miss home, yes, but I’m even more grateful to you. I really don’t want to leave.”

Master Bodhi waved him off, clearly done with the sentiment. “Cut the tears. Just stay out of trouble and don’t drag me into anything.”

Wukong had no choice but to bid farewell to his fellow students. As he turned to leave, Master Bodhi called after him one last time.

“Listen carefully. You will stir up trouble one day, no doubt about it. But if you so much as mention that you were my disciple, I’ll know. And when I find out, I’ll skin you, smash your bones, and send your soul to the darkest pit of hell. Got it?”

Wukong nodded like mad. “Yes, yes! I’ll tell everyone I figured it all out on my own!”

He bowed one last time, summoned his somersault cloud, and shot off into the sky. In the blink of an eye, he was back in the Eastern Continent. Before he could even finish one meal’s time, Mount Huaguo and the Water Curtain Cave were right before him once more.

The Monkey King had come home and his heart was a swirl of emotions.

End of this chapter. Thank you for reading!

This is just the serialized version of Journey to the West (modern retelling). If you want to read the full book faster, check out the complete, easy-to-read English and Chinese (Simplified & Traditional) version on Amazon.

Enjoy Chinese literature? You can also explore my other full, easy-to-read classics like Water Margin, The Injustice to Dou E, and more on Amazon.