The Monkey King sought the immortals, but found none. He wandered the Southern Continent, traversing the Great Wall and visiting small counties, for eight or nine years. Suddenly, he reached the Western Ocean. Thinking there must be immortals there, he built his own raft and sailed across the Western Sea until he reached the Western Continent of Niuhe. After landing and searching for a long time, he suddenly saw a beautiful, high mountain with deep, secluded forests. Unafraid of wolves or tigers, he climbed to the top. Indeed, it was a magnificent mountain—a thousand peaks arrayed like halberds, ten thousand fathoms like a screen. Sunlight reflected off the mist, lightly locking in the verdant green; rain had cleared, the dark green held a cool blue. Withered vines entwined old trees, an ancient ferry marked a secluded path. Rare flowers and auspicious herbs, tall bamboos and pines. The tall bamboos and pines, evergreen for ten thousand years, rivaled this blessed land; the rare flowers and auspicious herbs, blooming in all seasons, surpassed even Penglai. The calls of secluded birds were near, and the clear sound of springs gurgled. Layer upon layer of valleys were surrounded by orchids and magnolias, and moss grew on every cliff. The undulating peaks and auspicious veins were auspicious; surely a hermit lived there, hiding his name.
As they were watching, they suddenly heard voices coming from deep within the forest. They hurried into the woods and listened intently. It was the sound of singing: "Watching chess, the axe handle rots; chopping wood, the sound echoes; strolling slowly by the valley's edge. Selling firewood and buying wine, laughing wildly, indulging in self-satisfaction. On the high autumn path, facing the moon, I rest my head on a pine root, and sleep until dawn. Recognizing the old forest, climbing cliffs and crossing ridges, I take an axe to cut withered vines. Gathering a load, I sing as I go to the market, exchanging it for three bushels of rice. There is no strife, the price is fair. Without scheming or calculation, without honor or disgrace, I live a tranquil life. Where we meet, they are either immortals or Taoists, sitting quietly, discussing the *Huang Ting Jing*."
Hearing this, the Monkey King was overjoyed and exclaimed, "So the immortal was hiding here!" He immediately jumped inside and looked closely. There stood a woodcutter, chopping wood with an axe. His attire was extraordinary—he wore a bamboo hat made from the sheath of a newly sprouted bamboo shoot; his clothes were made of cotton; his waist was bound with a sash made from silkworm silk; and his feet were shod in straw sandals. He wielded a steel axe and carried a hemp rope. No woodcutter could match his skill in plucking pine trees and splitting withered branches!
Upon hearing the extraordinary language in the man's singing, the monkey thought to himself that there was hope. Overjoyed, he no longer cared whether his appearance was frightening and quickly stepped forward, calling out, "Old Immortal, your disciple will begin!"
The woodcutter hurriedly dropped his axe, turned around and bowed, saying, "I am not human! I am not human! I am a poor man with no food or clothing, how dare I accept the title of 'immortal'?"
The monkey said, "You're not a god, so how can you speak like one?"
The woodcutter said, "What nonsense am I spouting?"
The monkey said, "I had just arrived at the edge of the forest when I heard you say, 'Where we meet, there are either immortals or Daoists, sitting quietly and expounding the *Huang Ting Jing*.' The *Huang Ting Jing* is the true word of morality; what else could it be but a deity or an immortal?"
The woodcutter laughed and said, "To tell you the truth, this poem is called 'Man Ting Fang,' and it was taught to me by a deity. That deity lived next door to me. He saw that my family was struggling and I was always troubled, so he taught me to recite this poem whenever I was troubled, partly to relax and partly to relieve my worries. I was thinking about some shortcomings, so I recited it. I didn't expect you to hear it."
The monkey said, "Since your home is next to the immortals, why not cultivate under their tutelage? Wouldn't it be great to learn the secret to immortality?"
The woodcutter said, “My life has been full of hardship. I was raised by my parents from a young age until I was eight or nine years old before I could understand human affairs. Unfortunately, my father passed away, and my mother became a widow. I have no brothers or sisters, only myself. I have no choice but to serve her day and night. Now that my mother is old, I dare not leave her. However, my fields are overgrown and I lack food and clothing. I can only chop two bundles of firewood, carry them to the market, sell them for a few coins, buy a few bushels of rice, cook for myself, and prepare some tea and rice to support my elderly mother. That is why I cannot practice cultivation.”
The monkey said, "According to you, he is a virtuous man who practices filial piety, and he will surely be blessed in the future. But I hope you can point me to the abode of that immortal so that I can pay him a visit."
The woodcutter laughed and said, “Not far, not far. This mountain is called Lingtai Fangcun Mountain. There is a cave called Xieyue Sanxing Cave in the mountain. There is a deity in that cave named Subhuti Patriarch. The Patriarch has countless disciples. Even now, there are still thirty or forty people who cultivate under him. If you follow that path and go south for about seven or eight miles, that will be his home.”
The monkey grabbed the woodcutter and said, "Brother, come with me. If you benefit from this, I will never forget your kindness in guiding me."
The woodcutter said, “You stubborn fellow, you don’t understand at all. I just explained it to you like this, and you still don’t get it? If I go with you, won’t it disrupt my business? Who will take care of my old mother? I need to chop wood, so go ahead, go ahead.”
Upon hearing this, the monkey had no choice but to take his leave. However, he did not see the woodcutter afterward, as the woodcutter seemed to have vanished.
Emerging from the deep forest, following the path, and crossing a hillside, after about seven or eight li, I indeed came upon a cave dwelling. Standing up to look, I realized it was truly a wonderful place. There, I saw—smoke and clouds scattered in vibrant colors, the sun and moon shimmering in the light. A thousand ancient cypress trees, ten thousand bamboo groves. The thousand ancient cypress trees, half-hidden in the rain, shimmered with a verdant green; the ten thousand bamboo groves, shrouded in mist, were a deep, hazy blue. Outside the gate, exotic flowers bloomed like brocade; by the bridge, fragrant herbs exuded their sweet scent. The rocky cliffs jutted out, moistened by green moss; the hanging walls were covered with tall, verdant lichen. From time to time, I heard the cries of cranes, and often saw phoenixes soaring. When the cranes cried, their voices resounded far and wide; when the phoenixes took flight, their plumage shimmered with five-colored light. Black apes and white deer appeared and disappeared, golden lions and jade elephants roamed freely. Looking closely at this blessed land, it truly rivaled paradise!
The cave entrance was tightly shut, quiet and deserted. Suddenly turning around, he saw a stone tablet standing on the cliff top, about three zhang high and eight chi wide, with ten large characters on it: "Lingtai Fangcun Mountain, Xieyue Sanxing Cave." The Monkey King was overjoyed, saying, "The people here are truly honest; such a mountain and such a cave truly exist." He stared at it for a long time, but dared not knock. Instead, he jumped onto a pine branch, picked pine cones, ate them, and played around.
A moment later, a sound was heard, and the cave door opened, from which emerged a celestial boy. He was truly handsome and extraordinary, with a unique appearance, unlike any ordinary mortal. He wore his hair in a double-strapped bun, and his wide robe flowed in the wind. His appearance and body were distinct, and his heart and form were both empty.
A long-lived guest beyond worldly affairs, a child of eternal life in the mountains. Untouched by a speck of dust, letting the cycle of life unfold as it may.
The boy came out of the door and shouted, "Who dares to disturb us here?" The monkey jumped down from the tree and bowed, saying, "Immortal boy, I am a disciple seeking the Dao and learning immortality, and I would never dare to disturb you here." The boy smiled and said, "Are you a seeker of the Dao?" The monkey said, "Yes." The boy said, "My master just descended from his seat and ascended the altar to preach the Dao. Before he could explain the reason, he told me to come out and open the door, saying, 'There is a cultivator outside, please go and greet him.' I suppose it must be you?" The monkey smiled and said, "It is me, it is me." The boy said, "Come in with me."
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