Chapter Two: The Little Fox

A thousand years ago, the sky was blue—an endless expanse of clear azure.

That blue was light, like a piece of sapphire crystal, evoking a sense of purity and freshness. Gazing upon it, the heart seemed to empty itself, with nothing but the vast blue sky before the eyes.

Swallows darted by, beating their sleek black wings, their glossy feathers adding delicate ink-like brushstrokes against the blue canvas.

The air was crisp, carrying faint scents of fresh grass and blossoms.

Clouds of varying shapes drifted gently with the breeze, making the sky seem even more pristine and vivid.

On closer inspection, tiny sparks flickered among the clouds; the occasional clash of weapons echoed faintly, moving from one place to another—distant yet stirring.

Amid the clouds, atop a peak of white vapor, stood a figure tall and proud. Wearing a phoenix-winged purple-gold crown, clad in golden chainmail armor, his feet adorned with lotus-fiber cloud-walking shoes, and gripping the stabilizing sea needle, his staff pointed unwaveringly toward the Southern Heavenly Gate.

Before the gate stood another figure, dressed in silver battle robes, holding a triple-pronged, double-edged blade. A blood-red cloak billowed from his shoulders, and a third eye gleamed between his thick brows. Beside him crouched a sleek black hound, small-headed, long-legged, slender-waisted, resembling a cheetah in form. Together, the man and the beast—five eyes in total—fixed their gaze on the figure on the cloud peak. No, it was more fitting to call him a monkey.

“Sun Wukong, after centuries apart, what mischief do you seek now? Feeling restless again?” Yang Jian spoke arrogantly.

“Three eyes, after all these years, your attitude still irks old Sun. You don’t even kneel before me, daring indeed. Ever since becoming the Victorious Fighting Buddha, you’ve been meditating in one place, and my hands have been itching from boredom,” Sun Wukong replied, scratching his monkey cheek and waving a hand with a grin.

“No wonder your strength has dropped so much; you’re barely keeping up with me now. Hmph,” Yang Jian snorted coldly.

“Yang Jian, brat, I’m Buddha now. I was holding back for your sake—immortals and Buddhas are family, I don’t want to quarrel with you. But since you push me like this, it seems I’ll have to teach you a lesson for the Jade Emperor today.” Sun Wukong bared two sharp fangs with a mischievous grin.

“Enough talk. Take this!” Yang Jian raised his triple-bladed spear and surged forward like a streak of silver light.

“Take my staff!” Sun Wukong lifted the stabilizing sea needle with both hands, swinging it down with great force.

...

After three hundred rounds, neither could claim victory.

Yang Jian flung his triple-pronged blade toward Sun Wukong. Mid-flight, the blade transformed into a roaring three-headed dragon as it sped forward.

“Grow!” Sun Wukong gripped the lower end of his staff, which began to increase in size.

“Bang!”

With one heavy strike, the three-headed dragon was sent flying backward, reverting to its blade form.

Yang Jian flew forward, caught the blade, and stabbed it into the ground, halting its movement by friction.

“Well played,” Sun Wukong chuckled as he soared away.

“That impish monkey never changes,” Yang Jian muttered, shaking his head as he sheathed his weapon, mounted the howling hound, and returned to his post.

Sometimes, he hoped this mischievous monkey would visit more often to spar, breaking the monotony and helping him identify his shortcomings, thereby fueling his own cultivation.

After flipping several somersaults, Sun Wukong rode his cloud somersault to his beloved homeland—the Fruit Mountain.

“Hm, the aura of demons here is strong,” he said, scratching his hand before leaping off the cloud.

Fruit Mountain remained as beautiful as when he left—lush trees casting deep shade, vibrant grasses in bloom, distant mountain vistas, sunrises over the sea, the vast ocean stretching endlessly, dotted with sailing ships.

Familiar scents of peaches drifted into his nostrils. Approaching a peach tree, he leapt up and plucked two peaches, devouring them ravenously.

The sweet fragrance filled his mouth. Though not as exquisite as the Heavenly Peaches of the Celestial Court, they bore the unique taste of home.

“Monkeys, my descendants, I’m back!” Sun Wukong tossed aside the peach pits and shouted excitedly.

Regrettably, no monkeys appeared.

What’s wrong? Has something happened to Fruit Mountain?

At that moment, a small white fox darted out.

The little fox fixed its shiny, round black eyes on Sun Wukong for a long moment, then shed a single tear in a remarkably human way. It lay down, and a flash of white light enveloped it.

The fox transformed into a woman of unparalleled beauty.

---

“Wretched demon! How dare you wreak havoc on my Fruit Mountain! Take this, old Sun’s staff!” Since accompanying Tang Sanzang on the pilgrimage, Sun Wukong had developed a habit: whenever he saw a demon, he wanted to strike it down.

The little fox quickly dodged.

“Little monkey, it’s me,” the fox called out while evading.

“Who are you? Why are you on my Fruit Mountain?” Sun Wukong lowered his staff and stared at her.

“Have you forgotten? You told me to wait for you.” A glimmer appeared in the fox’s dark eyes as a crystal tear slid down her smooth cheek, falling to the ground.

“You’re the little fox from beneath the Five-Finger Mountain?” Sun Wukong studied her carefully. Though he had encountered many pretenders who feigned innocence and sorrow to deceive, he saw no ulterior motive in this fox’s eyes. Her white dress seemed so familiar—where had he seen her before?

An amber necklace hanging around her neck stirred memories of the little fox who had accompanied him for nearly four centuries.

Long ago, after wreaking havoc in the Heavenly Palace, he was punished by the Buddha and imprisoned beneath the Five-Finger Mountain for five hundred years—a fate worse than death for a restless monkey.

For the first hundred years, he struggled desperately to escape, but the mountain seemed alive, growing heavier whenever he tried to grow stronger; when he exerted force, it resisted equally.

Eventually, the mountain’s weight became unbearable, and after a century, he ceased struggling.

Yet, for a mischievous monkey to sit still quietly was impossible. He found ways to entertain himself—pulling grass, teasing passing animals, gazing at the stars.

In the first year, the nearby peach trees bore fruit. The enticing scent made his mouth water, yet he could not reach the peaches.

The second year, bananas ripened on the mountain. He looked up expectantly, hoping they might fall into his open mouth.

The third year...

...

Covered in dirt and with vacant eyes, he lay there as weeds wrapped over his body.

Suddenly, a large pink peach appeared before him.

“Hm?” Sun Wukong shook his head and blinked hard. This couldn’t be a dream—peaches were coming to him willingly.

As he reached for the peach, he noticed beneath the fruit a pair of small white furry paws.

“Little fox.” Sun Wukong looked up to see a small white fox staring at him with its shiny black eyes.

“How did you end up trapped under the mountain?” the fox stuck out her pink tongue in playfulness.

“Wasn’t it the Jade Emperor and the Buddha conspiring against me?” Sun Wukong sniffed the familiar peach aroma, brought the fruit to his lips, and bit into the rosy flesh. The translucent, sweet fruit reminded him of pleasant memories—his first peach in a hundred years.

Looking down at the peach, he hesitated to finish it.

Perhaps I should have the little fox pick more for me, he thought, looking up—but the little fox was gone.

Feeling a bit lonely, Sun Wukong licked the peach and nibbled it slowly.

A rustling sound came by his ear.

Looking up, he saw the little fox dragging a large lotus leaf, heavy with peaches and bananas, toward him.

After much effort, the fox finally brought the towering pile of fruit before him, then pointed at it with her white paws before lying down to rest.

“Thank you, little fox,” Sun Wukong said happily.

Over the following days, the fox stayed by his side, helping gather fruit and listening to tales of Fruit Mountain, the East Sea Dragon Palace, and the Celestial Court.

When storms raged, the fox brought lotus leaves to shelter him from wind and rain.

Days passed, and though Sun Wukong remained youthful and vigorous, having consumed many immortal peaches and pills and having trained under Master Bodhi, the little fox aged differently. A fox’s lifespan at most was fourteen years; now thirteen, she no longer had the strength to fetch fruit. She simply lay quietly beside him.

Sun Wukong had been to the underworld and tasted medicine, so he sensed the fox’s life fading.

No, this hard-won friend cannot just die like this.

He infused his immortal energy into the little fox to reverse her fate and help her cultivate.

After tireless efforts, the little fox revived, lively once more.

But Sun Wukong’s power had waned greatly from sharing his energy, and the day of divine punishment approached. Every fifty years, the Celestial Court sent the Thunder God and Lightning Mother to chastise him until he achieved enlightenment.

The fox’s awakened intelligence, combined with natural cleverness, soon discerned Sun Wukong’s predicament and asked about it.

“If it were before, that lightning would be mere tickles,” Sun Wukong scoffed, glancing disdainfully at the sky.

“I’ll find a way to help you,” the fox promised, then dashed off.

Two days later, she returned clutching several pieces of scrap iron.

“Why bring iron?” Sun Wukong asked.

“I met a thousand-year-old turtle by the sea. It told me about a divine iron once seen in the East Sea that could attract lightning. The East Sea is too far, but I found these nearby. Not sure if they’ll work,” the fox said, pawing at the small metal pieces.

“Divine iron from the East Sea?” Sun Wukong scratched his cheek, puzzled—he’d never seen such iron there.

Could it be...

“Little fox, the divine iron from the East Sea is with me,” Sun Wukong said excitedly.

“Where? Where?” the fox asked eagerly.

“In my ear. Help me get it out.” Sun Wukong tilted his head, his hand pinned by a stone, barely able to reach his mouth, let alone his ears.

The fox hesitated but then retrieved a tiny needle from his ear.

“This is the divine iron? So small! How could it attract lightning?” the fox doubted, offering the needle to Sun Wukong.

“Watch, I’ll perform a trick.” Sun Wukong tossed the stabilizing sea needle far away; it planted itself firmly in the ground.

“T-t-t-t-tower.” A colossal pillar rose before the fox.

She rubbed her eyes in disbelief, then scampered to the staff and tapped it with her paw.

“It really is divine iron!” she exclaimed excitedly.

On the night of divine punishment, the fox crouched beside Sun Wukong, refusing to leave.

It was for her that Sun Wukong had expended his immortal energy, weakening himself to avoid the punishment. If the divine iron failed, she was determined to endure the punishment with him.

Lightning tore through the darkness as the divine punishment descended.

Three hundred years later, the little fox stood atop the Five-Finger Mountain, gazing into the distance.

A monk approached—a square-headed, large-eared man with a benevolent face, clad in robes, holding a nine-ring staff, mounted on a white horse.

“He’s coming, he’s coming—the pilgrim,” the fox said excitedly, leaping down and running swiftly to Sun Wukong’s side.

“Help me bring him here,” Sun Wukong’s eyes sparkled with life, finally ready to break free from the mountain’s bonds.

...

“Master, little fox, stand back. I’m coming out now.”

With a thunderous rumble of rolling stones, a monkey burst forth from the mountain.

“Old Sun is out again!”

“Little fox, wait for me at Fruit Mountain. After I accompany the Master to obtain the true scriptures, I’ll come find you.”