by Guo Xiaoting
The beggar looked at all the bread. “Don’t you want it, monk?” he asked.
“No, I don’t want it,” replied the monk. “You take it and eat it all.” The monk had given the steamed bread to the beggar because he was afraid it would be wasted. When he looked around, he could see that there was no one else to take it, and so he told the beggar to pick it up.
The monk then went up the mountain. As soon as he reached the shrine, he heard Liu Tong cry out, “Teacher, quickly save me!”
The monk immediately put his hand on top of his head and shut down the three golden lights of Buddha. As the monk leaped inside and looked around, Hua Qingfeng was just lighting the fire around Liu Tong. “You senseless Daoist necromancer! You pretend you are able to call up spirits and predict the future!” shouted the monk. “Because you intentionally and with no reason harm people, you force me, the monk, to come after you.”
Hua Qingfeng was so excited that he began whining and squeaking. He rasped out, “Who are you?”
“I am Ji Dian, Mad Ji, from the Monastery of the Soul’s Retreat at the West Lake,” answered Ji Gong. “Since you are a person who has left the world to join the faith of those who revere the three pure ones—Lao Tzu with his teachings, Pan Gu who brought the universe out of chaos, and the Pearly Emperor who rules the unseen world as you Daoists believe—then you certainly should be against killing, obscenity, recklessness, and intemperance. Now, though, you want to take the lives of people for no reason. How can I, the monk, tolerate your doing so?”
As Hua Qingfeng listened and looked at the ragged monk, he saw that he was not very tall, with a thin body and a face streaked with the dust of the road, roughly cut hair about an inch long, and clothes all tattered and torn. Hua Qingfeng thought to himself: “He’s nothing but a beggar monk, after all. Hearing is nothing like seeing, and seeing wipes out everything one has heard. I have heard people say that Ji Dian is a lohan. If so, there should be a golden light over his head. An immortal would have a white light and a demon would have black smoke. There is no golden light above his head, and no white light. He is just an ordinary human being.” How could Hua Qingfeng know that the monk had suppressed his golden light?
“Ji Dian,” said the Daoist, “you annoy me to death.”
“I annoy you to death?” the monk said. “Then die!”
“Ji Dian,” continued the Daoist, “you have a lot of gall, you beast! Some time ago you killed a student of mine. You burned him to death in his shrine. Then, not long ago, for no reason you disturbed things at the Iron Buddha Temple and caused the death of my friend Jiang, the python. He appeared to me in a dream and said that you had destroyed more than five centuries of his Daoist arts and that then you made my student, Golden Eye, slap his own face until he ruined his beard. Aren’t you like a moth drawn into a flame? You are seeking your own death! You should know your place! Unless you get down and knock your head on the ground in the kowtow and call me your ancestor, this hermit has the power to kill you!”
The monk laughed loudly. “My good Daoist, you’re talking complete nonsense. If you knelt and kowtowed to me and called me your ancestor three generations back, I couldn’t pardon you either.”
At those remarks, not only did the anger rise higher in the sorcerer’s heart, but the evil spread into his body. He seized his sword and aimed a blow at the monk’s head. The monk slipped from under it and managed to get behind his opponent, where he gave him a pinch. The Daoist was so angry that he was shouting, “Ah! Ah!” The monk’s slender body made it easier for him to move about, pulling, pinching, slapping, and shoving, while the Daoist’s sword could not touch him.
The Daoist was frustrated. He leaped away and said, “Ji Dian, you really are enraging me to death. Now the hermit will use one of his treasures to show you and make you know how dangerous he can be.”
So saying, he took out one of his treasures and scattered it on the ground while reciting a spell. He pointed and called out: “Great One, show your power.” Then, suddenly, a great wind arose. It came out of nowhere, blowing from east to west, driving boats on the rivers and on the West Lake in to the shore, filling the air with yellow dust, driving the clouds across the sky, blowing trees over, and rattling doors and windows.
The monk looked and saw that the wind was driving all sorts of wild beasts toward him. He pointed and said the six true words: “Om Ma Ni Pad Me Hum.” There was a streak of golden light and the wind ceased. The wild beasts were only painted on paper.
“Well now, Monk,” said the Daoist, “you have destroyed one of my treasures.” He pointed again and recited another spell. This time there was a swarm of poisonous creatures about to bite and sting the monk. The monk was laughing as he again said the true words and the poisonous things disappeared.
The Daoist could see that the monk had destroyed two of his treasures, and was desperate. When he recited the next spell, a ring of fire sprang up, encircling the monk.
CHAPTER 73
Monk and Daoist match their spells; the brethren depart for Changshan
WHEN the sorcerer Hua Qingfeng created the circle of fire around the ragged monk, he hoped to burn the monk with it. Unexpectedly, when the monk said, “Om Ma Ni Pad Me Hum,” the true words, and pointed, the circle of fire jumped from the monk to where the Daoist was standing and encircled him instead. Immediately the sorcerer’s clothes caught on fire. He ran inside the pagoda to escape the flames. The ring of fire encircled the pagoda and sent tongues of flame inside, pursuing the sorcerer. His beard and hair, as well as his black robe with the gold embroidery, were all in flames.
The Daoist then cried out, “Holy monk, save me!” Ji Gong, after all, had a Buddhist heart. He did not enjoy harming the sorcerer—as soon as the man begged to be saved, the monk immediately pointed and extinguished the flames.
Hua Qingfeng came out of the pagoda and raced away down the mountainside. The monk did not pursue him, but went to untie Yang Ming and the others. Cloud Dragon Hua had fled some time earlier.
As dawn broke, the four Daoist novices appeared, frightened and shivering. The monk was not angry at them, but said, “You have nothing to fear, but I must ask you whether there is anyone else in the shrine.”
“Yes, there are two of our novice brothers, but they are sick,” replied one of the novices.
“Good,” said the monk. “In a short time I shall cure them.”
Yang Ming and the others approached the monk and bowed with their palms pressed together prayerfully. “Thank you for saving our lives. If you had not come, we would all have been finished.”
“Yang Ming, Lei Ming, Chen Liang—there is something you three can do for me,” said the monk. “I am going to give you a letter to take to Ma Jahu in the Changshan district yamen.”
The body of the outlaw Chang Ying, known as the Black Wind Ghost, and that of the Daoist Golden Eye from the Iron Buddha temple had been wrapped in cloth and tied. Soon they would be carried to an open space, where it would be safe to build a large fire and burn them without causing a forest fire.
“Kong Gui,” the monk asked the Daoist, “do you think that you can be spared from your own abbey at least for a few weeks? Someone needs to stay here with these novices and the Veiled Mountain Shrine needs to be made a holy and cheerful place once again!”
“There are two brother teachers at my abbey, as well as the novices, so that will not be difficult,” replied Kong Gui. “I will send a letter to them to let them know that I will be here.”
“And I will write a letter recommending you,” said the monk, “in case you decide you would like to be the resident for a longer period.”
“And what will you do?” asked Kong Gui.
“I will stay with you until Liu Tong has recovered enough from his burns to travel, and then he can go with me to Changshan,” replied the monk. “Yang Ming, Chen Liang, and Lei Ming will be there at the Chang-shan yamen. I also told my two headmen, Chai and She, to meet me at Changshan. I think I have teased them long en
ough.”
Cloud Dragon Hua had not followed the path in his escape from the Veiled Mountain Shrine, and found the way difficult through the tangle of growth and the twisted trees. At length he had stopped and decided to spend the night sheltered by an overhanging rock. Later, his uncle had passed him in the darkness in great leaps, as if there were no obstacles in his path. He had been so close that Cloud Dragon Hua could smell the half-burnt robe and the singed beard and hair. He did not call out to him, however. Cloud Dragon Hua had had quite enough of his company!
In the morning, the sun rose quickly, warming the chilly mountain-side. Cloud Dragon Hua woke and stretched like a cat. After a while he caught a glimpse of Yang Ming, Lei Ming, and Chen Liang going down the path. For a moment Cloud Dragon Hua was tempted to call out to them. “Perhaps they might forgive me even now,” he thought, but decided not to take the chance.
“I must go to some place well away from Rising Ground Village where they almost had me,” he thought. Then he began to feel hungry, and he longed for a meal with a variety of the snacks called dim sum. There was a restaurant in Changshan where he had once had a breakfast that he had never forgotten. “Yes, that’s where I will go,” he thought. “I will go to Changshan.”
Promising again that they would not fail to follow Ji Gong’s instructions, the three heroes left the shrine and took the path down the steep sides of Veiled Mountain. Throughout the day they pressed onward for about thirty miles. However, just as men must have times of misery as well as times of happiness, they cannot always look through the clear air into the luminous depths of the infinite heavens. As the sun turned red, the scaly dragons stirred in the rivers, lakes, and seas; the white clouds filled the sky, and rain began to fall heavily about them. Thunder and lightning crashed and shook the earth and sky, while gales drove the rain before them.
Looking ahead, they saw a small village with a few households. As they ran into it, they saw a large gateway where they took shelter, thinking that when the storm became less violent they would go on. Then as night began to fall, the level village streets filled with water. The scene was frightening. A man came from within and said, “You three gentlemen must leave. I’m going to close this gate.”
Seeing that the rain was still falling, Yang Ming asked, “Please tell us. Is there an inn close by?”
“No,” answered the man. “Where would there be an inn in this small village?”
“Is there a temple?” queried Yang Ming.
“No temple, either,” replied the man.
“We are travelers from far away. With no inn, where can we stay? Please ask your master if we may stay here. Give us lodging for one night,” pleaded Yang Ming.
“That’s impossible,” countered the man. “It’s a case of your having to pay for another fellow’s bad behavior. The last time someone came asking to stay overnight, our master gave him a place to stay. In the morning he left before it was light, taking many things with him. He even took the bedclothes. Wasn’t this a case of burning paper and finding you had called up a demon? Now, as I look at you three people, you don’t seem like bad people, but I’m afraid our master won’t dare to let you stay.”
Yang Ming could see that it was not possible for them to leave, but he didn’t know what to say. “I have to agree that you must be careful, but we three are Yangtze escorts unexpectedly caught in this downpour and we beg the master of the household to help us. We turn to him out of the common friendship of humankind and ask his sympathy. You cannot judge everybody on the basis of one case.”
“If you three gentlemen will wait,” said the man, “I will go and talk with the master. It is not my responsibility to answer you.” With that, he turned and went back inside.
In a short time he returned and said, “The master of the household invites you in.”
The three immediately followed the man in to a square courtyard. Straight ahead, they saw one building of five sections. There were also two adjoining buildings of three sections each on the east and west sides. Raising the bamboo blind at the door of the north building, the three men went inside. There they saw the household master, a silver-haired man more than seventy years old wearing the kerchief of a yuanwai and a robe finely embroidered with flowers. When he saw the three enter, the yuanwai raised his clasped hands in greeting, saying, “Please, gentlemen, be seated. I heard just now one of my household men say that you are escorts, but I have not yet learned your honorable names.”
Yang Ming gave their names, saying, “And we have not yet received the honorable name of the household master whom we must have annoyed by coming today.”
“What kind of words are these?” the old man rebuked him. “Within the four seas all men are brothers, and so is everyone here, both old and young. My name is Jin. Please the three of you sit.”
Yang Ming looked around. The room had an atmosphere of study and refinement. The table and chairs were made from precious wood. There were pairs of scrolls with fine calligraphy and landscapes with figures, elegant vases, bronzes, and jade. It was a home of wealth.
A man entered and said, “Please have some tea. Our master Jin will soon have some wine prepared.” The household man prepared a table with cups and dishes and wine and food.
Jin Yuanwai spoke to the three escorts. “There is nothing worthwhile to eat. You will find this rough fare.”
“How can you say this, Yuanwai?” countered Yang Ming. “We three can hardly express our thanks.” With these words, the three sat down. The food was good and they all had a cup of wine, but they could see that the yuanwai’s face showed signs of concern that he could not conceal.
Lei Ming, who was by nature outspoken, said, “It is not right for you to entertain us when you are so uncontrollably troubled. Please do not bother with us.”
“My dear Lei Ming,” the yuanwai said, “if I were uncontrollably troubled, I would not have asked you in.”
“But I can see by your expression that it is difficult for you,” rejoined Lei Ming. “Why is that?”
“You gentlemen do not understand,” explained the yuanwai. “If my expression betrays me, it has nothing to do with our having this meal. I am troubled at heart. This year I am sixty-eight years old and I have no son, just a girl named Chiao An who is nineteen and not yet promised in marriage. An uncanny spirit has bewitched my daughter, causing her to be ill. According to her, the spirit is a female fox. I have pasted up a notice offering a reward of five hundred gold pieces to anyone who can drive it away. I have not found anyone who can do this, and that is why I am so sad.”
When Lei Ming heard this, he said, “This is nothing to worry about. My teacher can perform exorcisms.”
“And who is your teacher?” asked the old head of the household.
“My teacher is Ji Gong from the Monastery of the Soul’s Retreat,” replied Lei Ming, “and I can chase out ghosts myself.”
“How did you learn to perform exorcisms?” asked the old master.
“I studied under the Iron Crown Daoist on Dragon Tiger Mountain, along the Yangtze,” answered Lei Ming.
The old yuanwai was very happy to hear this and exclaimed, “Spirit Master Lei, since you can indeed do exorcisms, would you later on manifest your compassion? If my daughter could be saved, I would be most grateful.”
“Don’t be concerned about it,” Lei Ming said. “In a little while we will go back and drive out this goblin for you.”
The old man immediately ordered a servant to tell his daughter to leave her apartment so that the three could enter her room and drive out the uncanny spirit. The servant promised he would do so, and a little later returned to say, “The young lady has left.”
The old master took the three escorts to a three-section building on the north side of a courtyard. The escorts went in and looked around. The eastern section was the girl’s bedroom. In it there was an odor of perfume. The old master returned to the front part of the house.
“Brother Lei,” exclaimed Yang Ming, “you are insane!”
“No, I am not!” proclaimed Lei Ming.
“If you are not insane,” Yang Ming demanded, “tell me why you said you could chase ghosts.”
“Don’t worry about it,” said Lei Ming. “It looked to me as if the old man was being a little sparing with the food, but as soon as I said I could drive out evil spirits, you saw how he put out the chickens, ducks, fish, and meat. We had a good dinner. Now you and I have one of the best rooms in the place. If the goblin comes, we will leave the room.”
“How can you manage that?” asked Yang Ming.
“Don’t worry,” said Lei Ming. “I will stay here in this room. If the ghost doesn’t come, that’s it. If it does come, I’ll take my sword to it and see what kind of a hobgoblin it really is.”
“That’s good,” said Yang Ming. “As some holy person said, ‘If a person’s courage is steady and his heart is right, all those corrupt, magical things will go off to distant places, never to return. Harmony will be restored, everything will fall into place, and all will go well.’ I think we can stand firm enough to scare this goblin off.”
“Right!” said Lei Ming. “If someone has had ten years of good luck, the devils can’t touch him.”
“That’s true,” agreed Chen Liang. “I’ll stand behind the door with my knife.”
“And I’ll get into bed and pretend to be the young lady.”
“I’m still a little concerned,” said Yang Ming. “I’ll sit in this outer room.”
“Elder Brother Yang,” said Lei Ming, “you go into the west room and go to sleep. Don’t bother about it.”
Yang Ming went into the western section and sat down, but he did not dare go to sleep. The three waited and waited until the second watch. Then they heard a faint sound. Again they listened—this time they heard a step outside and then a voice that seemed to be coming through a wooden panel.
“Young lady, I have something to say to you, dear.” Then the ghostly being was in the room, saying, “Yun! I smell a stranger! Who dares to enter this room?”
