Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Here follows the tale of Lu Zhishen. He had crossed several hillsides and come upon a great pine forest, with a mountain path running through it. He followed that path and had walked barely half a *li* when he raised his head and saw a ruined temple, its wind-bells clanging. He looked at the mountain gate—above it hung an old vermilion plaque, with four gold characters on it, faded and dim, reading "The Earthen Jar Temple." He went another forty or fifty paces and crossed a stone bridge, and there before him stood an ancient temple, clearly of great age. He passed inside the mountain gate and examined it carefully—though it had once been a great monastery, it was terribly dilapidated. He saw:

The bell tower collapsed, the halls in ruins.

The mountain gate overgrown with moss, the scripture halls covered with green lichen.

The Buddha Sakyamuni—his knees pierced by reeds, as if still on Snow Mountain;

The Bodhisattva Guanyin—her body wrapped in brambles, as if keeping vigil on Incense Mountain.

The devas were all damaged, birds nesting in their arms;

The god Indra tilted askew, spiders spinning webs in his mouth.

Headless arhats—even these dharma bodies suffered calamity;

Shattered-arm vajra guardians—what use had they for supernatural power?

In the kitchen, rabbit holes hid; on the Dragon Flower Platform, fox tracks marked the ground.

Lu Zhishen entered the temple and went to the visitors' quarters. He found the gate gone, the surrounding walls completely collapsed. Zhishen thought to himself, "Such a great temple—how could it have fallen into such a state?" He went straight to the abbot's quarters and saw swallows' droppings covering the ground. The door was locked, the lock thick with cobwebs. Zhishen planted his staff in the earth and called out, "A traveling monk has come seeking a meal!" He called for half a day, but no one answered. He went back to the kitchen and found the cauldrons gone, the stoves collapsed. He set down his bundle before the Kitchen God's image, took up his staff, and went searching everywhere. Behind the kitchen he found a small room where several old monks sat on the ground, their faces yellow and emaciated. Zhishen shouted, "You monks—how unreasonable! I've been calling and not one of you answers!" The monks waved their hands. "Don't raise your voice," they said. Zhishen replied, "I'm a traveling monk, just asking for a meal. What harm is there?" An old monk said, "We haven't had a bite of food in three days. Where would we find food to give you?" Zhishen said, "I'm a monk from Mount Wutai. Surely you can manage to give me half a bowl of congee." The old monk said, "You're a monk from where the living Buddha dwells—we ought to feed you. But the monks of this temple have all scattered, and there isn't a single grain of food left. We old ones have truly been hungry for three days." Zhishen said, "Nonsense. A place this large—you mean to tell me there's no food at all?" The old monk said, "This is no ordinary place. Because it's a monastery open to monks from all directions, a wandering monk came with a Taoist and took charge of the temple. They destroyed everything it had. The two of them stopped at nothing and drove all the monks out. We old ones couldn't walk, so we remained here—that's why we have no food." Zhishen said, "Nonsense. One monk and one Taoist—what could they possibly do? Why didn't you go to the authorities?" The old monk said, "Master, you don't know—the magistrate's office is far away, and even the soldiers can't control them. That monk and that Taoist are formidable—they're killers and arsonists. They've taken up quarters behind the abbot's hall." Zhishen asked, "What are their names?" The old monk said, "The monk's surname is Cui, his Dharma name Daocheng, and his nickname is 'The Cast Iron Buddha.' The Taoist's surname is Qiu, he's the second in his family, and his nickname is 'The Flying Yaksha.' These two are nothing like Buddhist or Taoist clergy—they're just bandits from the green woods who use monastic robes to conceal their true nature."

As Zhishen was questioning them, he suddenly caught a whiff of fragrance. He took up his staff and crept around to look. He saw a clay stove covered with a grass lid, steam billowing up from it. Zhishen lifted the lid and saw a pot of millet congee cooking. He cursed, "You old monks are so unreasonable! You said you hadn't eaten in three days, and here you have a whole pot of congee cooking. Why did you lie?" The old monks, caught out by Zhishen's discovery, could only cry out in distress. They grabbed bowls, plates, ladles, and buckets and snatched them away. Zhishen was hungry, and with nothing else to be done, he wanted to eat the congee but didn't know how to manage it. Then he noticed a broken lacquered table by the stove, covered only in dust. Zhishen saw it and, "necessity being the mother of invention," leaned his staff against the wall, gathered some grass from beside the stove, and wiped the dust from the table with his hands. He lifted the pot with both hands and poured the entire contents of the congee onto the table in one tilt. The old monks all rushed to grab the congee, but Zhishen shoved them—some fell, some fled. Zhishen then scooped up the congee with his hands and ate it. After only a few mouthfuls, the old monks said, "We truly haven't had food in three days. We just managed to beg some millet from somewhere and hastily cooked this congee—and now you're eating ours." Zhishen had eaten five or seven mouthfuls when he heard this, and he stopped eating.

Then he heard someone singing outside. Zhishen washed his hands, took up his staff, and went out to look. Through a broken wall he saw a Taoist priest wearing a black cloth cap and a cotton robe, a multicolored sash at his waist, and hemp sandals on his feet. He carried a pole with two baskets—one was a bamboo basket showing the tails of fish, with lotus leaves covering some meat; the other basket held a bottle of wine, also covered with lotus leaves. He sang as he walked:

"You are in the east, I am in the west;

You have no husband, I have no wife.

I without a wife can still manage—

But you without a husband, how lonely and distressed!"

The old monks rushed out, waving their hands and whispering to Zhishen, pointing: "This Taoist is the Flying Yaksha Qiu Xiaoyi." When Zhishen saw them pointing and heard their words, he picked up his staff and followed at a distance. The Taoist, unaware that Zhishen was trailing him, walked straight into the back wall of the abbot's quarters. Zhishen followed him inside and saw, beneath a green locust tree, a table spread with dishes, three cups, and three pairs of chopsticks. In the middle sat a fat monk with brows painted black as lacquer, a face smeared like ink, a body of rough flesh, and a black belly showing below his chest. Beside him sat a young woman. The Taoist set down his bamboo basket and also took a seat. Zhishen walked up to them. The monk started in alarm, jumped to his feet, and said, "Please, brother, sit and share a cup with me." Zhishen hefted his staff and said, "How did you two ruin this temple?" The monk replied, "Brother, please sit and let this humble monk explain." Zhishen glared and said, "Speak! Speak!" The monk said, "In the past this was a fine temple, with broad estates and a great number of monks. But those old monks below the corridors drank and caroused, took money and kept women. The abbot forbade them, but they drove the abbot out by lodging accusations against him. So the temple fell into ruin. The monks all scattered, and the lands were all sold. This humble monk and this Taoist have newly come to take charge of this place and were about to restore the gate and repair the halls." Zhishen said, "Who is this woman? Why is she drinking wine here?" The monk said, "Brother, allow me to explain: this lady is the daughter of Wang Youjin from the village up ahead. In the past her father was a patron of this temple. Now his household has fallen on hard times and is in great distress. All his family is gone, and her husband is ill, so she came to our temple to borrow rice. This humble monk, out of regard for our patron, offered her wine to show hospitality. There is no other motive. Brother, do not listen to those old beasts." Having heard these words and seeing how deferential the monk was, Zhishen said, "Those old monks have made a fool of me." He took his staff and returned to the kitchen. The old monks had just finished eating their gruel and were sitting there. Seeing Zhishen come out in a fury, they pointed at the elder monk and said, "So it was you who ruined the temple's property, and you still lie to our faces!" The old monks all spoke up at once: "Brother, do not listen to him. He is keeping a woman there even now. Just now he saw that you carried a staff and a monk's knife, while he had no weapons, so he dared not fight you. If you don't believe us, go and see for yourself how he will deal with you. Brother, think it over: they drink wine and eat meat, while we don't even have gruel to eat. We were afraid you might have eaten with them just now." Zhishen said, "That makes sense." He reversed his staff and went back behind the abbot's quarters, but the side gate had already been shut. Zhishen flew into a rage, kicked it open with one foot, and charged inside. There he saw Cui Daocheng, the Iron Buddha, wielding a broad saber, rushing from inside to the locust tree to attack him. Zhishen saw him, let out a great roar, and swung his staff to engage Cui Daocheng. The two fought for fourteen or fifteen bouts. Cui Daocheng could not match Zhishen. He could only parry and block, dodging the staff, unable to hold his ground, and was about to flee. The Taoist Qiu, seeing that Cui could not hold on, drew a broad saber from behind and strode forward to stab. Zhishen, in the midst of fighting, suddenly heard footsteps behind him but dared not turn to look. In a flash he saw a shadow and knew someone was trying to strike him from behind. He shouted "Take this!" Cui Daocheng, flinching in alarm, thought the staff was coming at him and leaped out of the fray. Zhishen turned around just in time to face all three of them at once. Cui Daocheng and the Taoist Qiu then combined their forces and fought him for more than ten bouts. Zhishen, on one hand, had an empty stomach; on the other, he had traveled a great distance; and thirdly, he could not withstand the two of them at the height of their strength. He could only feign an opening, drag his staff, and flee. The two of them, gripping their sabers, chased him straight out the temple gate. Zhishen fought them for another ten bouts, then pulled out his staff and ran. They pursued him as far as the stone bridge, sat on the railings, and pursued no farther.

Zhishen walked until he was far away. When his breathing finally settled, he thought to himself: "My bundle is still in front of the Supervisor of Offerings. I came away without taking it. I have not a single coin for the road, and I am starving. What am I to do? If I go back, I cannot overcome them. The two of them against me alone—I would throw my life away for nothing." He walked aimlessly forward, each step more sluggish than the last. After several miles, he saw ahead a great forest of red pines. He beheld:

Twisted branches scattered and tangled, coiled like thousands of bare-footed old dragons;

Straggling uncanny shadows, standing like tens of thousands of great crimson-scaled serpents.

From afar they resembled the whiskers of a judge of the dead; up close they were like the hair of demons.

Who had sprinkled fresh blood upon the tips of the grove? It looked as if cinnabar had been spread across the treetops.

Lu Zhishen looked at it and said, "What a fearsome stretch of woods." As he gazed about, he caught sight of a man slipping among the shadows of the trees, peering out, glancing around, spitting out a mouthful of phlegm, and then melting back into the depths. Zhishen said, "I'd wager this little skunk is a highwayman waiting here for business. When he saw this monk, he reckoned it was bad luck, spat, and slunk off. Well, the bastard's got no call to complain—he ran into this monk, and I've got a bellyful of foul temper with nowhere to vent it. I'll just strip that fellow's clothes and trade them for wine." He hefted his monk's spade and strode straight to the edge of the pine grove. "Come out, you skunks in those woods!" he roared.

The man in the woods heard him and laughed. "I'm the one with bad luck, and he comes looking for trouble!" He leaped out of the woods with a broad-bladed sword in hand, turning as he came, and shouted, "Bald donkey, you're a dead man—I didn't even come looking for you!"

Zhishen said, "Let me make myself known to you." He swung his spade and rushed at the man. The fellow leveled his broad-bladed sword to fight the monk, but just as he was about to advance, a thought struck him. "This monk's voice sounds awfully familiar," he said. "You there, monk—your voice is very familiar. What's your name?"

Zhishen said, "I'll fight you three hundred rounds first, then I'll tell you my name."

The man flew at him in a rage, wielding his broad-bladed sword to meet the monk's spade. After a dozen exchanges, the man secretly thought, "What a fierce monk!" After another four or five rounds, the man called out, "Hold on—I have something to say."

Both men leaped back out of the fray. The man asked, "What is, in truth, your name? Your voice is so familiar."

When Zhishen had told him his name, the man threw down his broad-bladed sword, turned, and dropped to one knee. "Do you recognize Shi Jin?"

Zhishen laughed. "So it's Brother Shi!"

They both bowed again, then went together into the woods and sat down. Zhishen asked, "Brother Shi, since we parted at Weizhou, where have you been all this time?"

Shi Jin answered, "The day after we parted at the wine shop, I heard that you had killed Zheng the Butcher and fled. The constables learned that I had helped old Jin and his daughter along with you, so I also left Weizhou to look for my teacher Wang Jin. I went as far as Yanzhou but couldn't find him. I returned to the Northern Capital and stayed a while, but my money ran out, so I came here to find some traveling funds. I never expected to meet Brother here. How did you come to be a monk?"

Zhishen told him everything that had happened from the beginning. Shi Jin said, "Since you're hungry, I have some dried meat and roasted cakes here." He took them out and gave them to Zhishen to eat.

Shi Jin then said, "Since your bundle is at the temple, let's go get it together. If they still refuse, we'll finish those bastards off."

Zhishen said, "Right." After eating their fill, they each took their weapons and returned to the Earthenware Jar Temple.

When they reached the temple, they saw Cui Daocheng and the little Qiu still sitting on the bridge. Zhishen bellowed, "You scoundrels, come on—this time it's a fight to the death!"

The monk laughed. "You're a beaten man under my hand. How dare you come back for more?"

Zhishen was furious. He raised his iron spade and charged across the bridge. The Living Iron Buddha flew into a rage and rushed down from the bridge with his broad-bladed sword. For his part, Zhishen was emboldened by having Shi Jin at his side, and fortified by the meal, his strength and spirit surged. After eight or nine exchanges, Cui Daocheng began to weaken and could barely keep his feet. When the Flying Demon Qiu saw the monk losing, he brandished his broad-bladed sword and came to help.

Shi Jin, watching from the woods, leaped out with a shout: "None of you get away!" He flipped up his hat brim, raised his broad-bladed sword, and went to engage the little Qiu. The four of them fought in two pairs.

Zhishen and Cui Daocheng were locked in a furious duel when Zhishen saw his opening and roared, "Take this!" With one sweep of his spade, he knocked the Living Iron Buddha off the bridge. The Taoist, seeing the monk fall, lost all will to fight, feinted, and tried to flee. Shi Jin shouted, "Where do you think you're going?" He caught up with him and drove his broad-bladed sword into his back. With a thud, the Taoist fell to one side. Shi Jin stepped in, reversed his blade, and hacked away relentlessly.

Zhishen rushed down from the bridge and struck Cui Daocheng across the back with his spade. Pitiful—both those thugs were reduced to a dream in the Southern Branch! Truly: "Sins of the past come due all at once."

Zhishen and Shi Jin bound the bodies of little Qiu and Cui Daocheng and threw them into the ravine. The two then re-entered the temple. The old monks in the monks' kitchen, having seen Zhishen defeated and fearing that Cui Daocheng and little Qiu would come to kill them, had already hanged themselves.

Zhishen and Shi Jin went straight through the side gate at the back of the abbot's quarters and found that the woman who had been carried off had thrown herself into a well. They searched through eight or nine small rooms inside—there was no one there. They found the bundle, still unopened. Seeing it was there, Lu Zhishen slung it on his back as before. Searching further, they found three or four bundles of clothes on a bed. Shi Jin opened them—all clothing. He packed the best pieces along with some gold and silver into a bundle and slung it over his shoulder. They went to the kitchen, where they found wine and meat, and both ate their fill.

In front of the stove they bound together two torches, raked open the furnace, and lit them. The flames leaped up as they set fire to the back rooms first, burning all the way to the front gate. They bound several more torches and went to the back eaves of the Buddha hall to set it alight. As luck would have it, the wind picked up, and the fire roared and crackled, climbing until it filled the sky.

Zhishen and Shi Jin watched for a while until fires blazed on every side. They said, "The Garden of Liang may be fine, but it's no place to linger. We two had best be on our way."

The two men pressed on through the night. As the sky began to lighten faintly in the distance, they caught sight of a cluster of houses—it appeared to be a small town. They made their way toward it, and at the foot of a single-plank bridge stood a tiny wineshop. Observe:

The wicker gate half shut, the coarse cloth awning hanging low.

Sour wine jars by the earthen wall, a painted immortal in ink upon the dusty wall.

A village lad measures out the wine—no Sima Xiangru washing dishes here;

An ugly woman tends the bar—not the Zhuo lady of old.

Large characters on the wall, inscribed by the village schoolmaster in his cups;

A rain cape on the rack, pawned in high spirits by a fisherman from the wilds.

Shen and Shi Jin entered the village wineshop, drank wine, and told the keeper to buy some rice and meat and cook them a meal. As they drank, they recounted many things that had happened on the road. After eating, Shen asked Shi Jin, "Where are you headed now?" Shi Jin replied, "I have no choice but back to Mount Shaohua to join Zhu Wu and the other three. I'll throw in with them for a while and figure things out later." Shen said, "Brother, I understand." He opened his pack and gave Shi Jin some gold and silver. They secured their bundles, took their weapons, and settled the wine bill. Leaving the shop, they departed the town and walked no more than five or six *li* until they reached a fork in the road. Shen said, "Brother, we must part here. I'm headed to the Eastern Capital—don't see me off. To reach Huazhou, take that road. We'll meet again someday. If you find someone traveling that way, send word back and forth." Shi Jin bowed and took his leave; each went his own way, and Shi Jin departed.

Shen continued alone to the Eastern Capital. After eight or nine days on the road, he soon caught sight of the city. Entering its gates, he beheld:

A thousand gates and ten thousand households, their vermilion and emerald splendors mingling;

Three markets and six streets, thronging with gentlemen in their finery.

Phoenix pavilions arrayed in nine tiers of gold and jade,

Dragon towers gleaming with panels of glass.

Along flower-lined willow lanes, countless famed beauties radiant and lovely;

In the pleasure houses, boundless singing girls of charm and grace.

Wealthy households gather for dice games,

Young lords and princes come to buy laughter.

Shen, seeing the bustle and clamor of the Eastern Capital's markets, entered the city and carefully asked a passerby, "Where is the Temple of the Grand Minister?" The townsman replied, "Just ahead—the Zhou Bridge." Shen picked up his iron staff and walked on, soon arriving before the temple. Entering the mountain gate, he saw it was truly a magnificent monastery! Observe:

The mountain gate towering high, the Buddhist halls serene and still.

An imperial plaque inscribed in bold characters above the entrance,

Two fierce guardian kings flanking the gate.

Five great halls, their dragon-scale tiles laid in rows of blue;

Four walls of monks' quarters, their tortoise-back bricks fitted with floral inlays.

The bell tower stands tall, the sutra pavilion rises lofty.

The banner pole soars to meet the blue clouds,

The jeweled tower seems to brush the azure sky.

A wooden fish hangs suspended, a cloud-shaped board hangs high.

The lamps before the Buddha glow bright,

Incense smoke curls and swirls within the brazier.

Banners and canopies unending—the Guanyin Hall joins the Patriarch's Hall;

Sacred umbrellas connected—the Assembly of Water and Land leads to the Arhat Court.

At all times the Dharma-protecting devas descend from the heavens,

Year after year the demon-subduing venerable ones arrive.

Shen entered the temple, glanced along the east and west corridors, and went straight to the reception quarters. A monk happened to see him and reported to the guest master. Presently the guest monk came out. Seeing Shen's ferocious appearance, carrying an iron staff, a monk's knife at his waist, and a large pack on his back, he was already half afraid of him. The guest monk asked, "Brother, where do you come from?" Shen set down his pack and staff and made a respectful salutation; the guest monk returned it. Shen said, "This humble monk comes from Mount Wutai. My master, the true Elder, has a letter here, instructing me to come to this exalted monastery and seek a position under Elder Qing, the abbot." The guest monk said, "Since the true Elder has written a letter, we should go together to the abbot's quarters." The guest monk led Shen straight to the abbot's quarters. Shen opened his pack and took out the letter, holding it in his hand. The guest monk said, "Brother, why don't you show proper respect? The abbot will appear presently. You should remove your monk's knife and take out the seven sitting cloths and the stick of incense to pay your respects properly." Shen said, "Why didn't you tell me sooner?" He immediately removed his knife and took out a stick of incense and seven sitting cloths from his pack, but for a while he didn't know what to do with them. The guest monk draped his kasaya over him and told him to spread the sitting cloths first. In a moment, Abbot Zhiqing emerged. The guest monk stepped forward and reported, "This monk has come from Mount Wutai with a letter from the true Elder." Abbot Qing said, "It has been a long time since the true Elder sent a letter." The guest monk called to Shen, "Brother, come quickly and pay your respects to the abbot." Shen first placed the stick of incense in the burner, bowed three times, and presented the letter. Abbot Qing took it, opened it, and read. In detail it set forth the reasons Lu Zhishen had left secular life and become a monk, and why he had come down the mountain to seek refuge at this exalted monastery. It earnestly requested that he be received with compassion and given a position, and that no excuse be made. "This monk will certainly attain enlightenment in time." When Abbot Qing finished reading, he said, "The monk who has come from afar may go to the monks' hall to rest for now and have some vegetarian food." Shen thanked him, gathered up the seven sitting cloths, took his pack, and followed a young monk, carrying his staff and knife.

Elder Qing summoned the two ranks of many officiating monks to the abbot's quarters and said, "All of you monks are here. You see how my elder brother, the Chan Master Zhizhen, lacks all sense. This monk who has come is originally an officer from the Military Commandery. He killed a man and became a monk. A second time he caused a disturbance in the monks' hall, so they found it hard to keep him. They couldn't settle him anywhere, and so they pushed him over to me. If I were not to take him in, my elder brother gave me such earnest instructions — 'You must not refuse him' — but if I let him stay here, and he disrupts the pure rules, how can that be tolerated?" The guest-master said, "Even this disciple and the others have observed that this monk looks nothing at all like a person who has left the household life. How can this monastery settle him?" The prior then said, "This disciple has been thinking it over. There is only that vegetable garden behind the retired officials' quarters outside Zaozimen. It is constantly encroached upon by military men from the garrison and those twenty-odd ne'er-do-wells outside the gate, who let loose their sheep and horses and make a terrible racket. An old monk lives there as abbot — how would he dare to control them? Why not send Zhishen there to take charge? He would surely dare to keep them in hand." Elder Qing said, "The prior speaks rightly." He ordered the attendant to wait in the guest room of the monks' hall until Zhishen had finished his meal, and then to summon him.

The attendant did not go for long before he led Zhishen to the abbot's quarters. Elder Qing said, "Since you have been recommended to this monastery by my elder brother, the true elder master, to take up residence and serve as an officiating monk, this humble monastery has a large vegetable garden outside Zaozimen, next to the Temple of the Mountain Deity. You may go there to take charge and manage it. Every day you will have the farm workers deliver ten loads of vegetables, and the remainder will be for your own use." Zhishen said, "My original teacher, the true elder master, told this minor monk to come to a great monastery and seek a position as an officiating monk. But why not make me a prior or a supervisor? Why do you send me to manage a vegetable garden?" The chief seat said, "Brother, you don't understand. You have just arrived to take up residence, and you have not yet rendered any merit. How could you be made a prior? Managing the vegetable garden is itself a great position." Zhishen said, "I won't manage a vegetable garden. I only want to be a prior or a supervisor." The guest-master said again, "Listen while I explain to you: among the officiating monks in the Buddhist community, each has his own duties. For example, this minor monk serves as guest-master, and only manages the reception of traveling officials and visiting monks. As for the weinuo, the attendant, the secretary, and the chief seat, these are all pure offices and not easy to obtain. The prior, supervisor, overseer, and hall-master — these all manage the permanent assets of the monastery. You have only just arrived at the abbot's quarters; how could you be given a superior position? Then there is the one who manages the treasury, called the treasury-keeper; the one who manages the hall, called the hall-keeper; the one who manages the pavilion, called the pavilion-keeper; the one who manages alms-gathering, called the alms-keeper; the one who manages the bathhouse, called the bath-keeper — these are all managing officers, mid-level positions. Then there is the pagoda-keeper who manages the pagoda, the rice-keeper who manages the rice, the tea-keeper who manages the tea, the latrine-keeper who manages the latrines, and the vegetable-keeper who manages the vegetable garden — these are all working officers, the lowest level of positions. If you, brother, manage the vegetable garden well for a year, you will be promoted to pagoda-keeper; manage well for another year and you will be promoted to bath-keeper; manage well for yet another year, and only then will you become a supervisor." Zhishen said, "If that's how it is, then there is a path to advancement. I will go tomorrow." Elder Qing, seeing that Zhishen was willing to go, had him stay the night in the abbot's quarters. That very day his appointment was decided, and a notice was immediately written. A man was first sent to the retired officials' quarters in the vegetable garden to post up the treasury notice, to be handed over the next morning. That night each one dispersed. The next morning, Elder Qing ascended the Dharma seat, affixed the Dharma seal, and appointed Zhishen to manage the vegetable garden. Zhishen went before the seat, received the Dharma seal, took leave of the elder, shouldered his bundle, strapped on his precept sword, took up his Chan staff, and with the two monks who had escorted him to the monastery, went straight to the quarters outside Zaozimen to take charge. A poem says:

A drifting leaf, a wandering trace, into Dongjing he came,

Traversing mountains and forests for dozens of journeys.

The ancient temple this time has passed through the flames of calamity,

From this the Central Plain will be stirred to the clash of weapons and swords.

At Xiangguo Monastery he once more takes up residence,

In the vegetable garden he will tend and cultivate for now.

Since of old the white clouds have neither gone nor stayed,

How many transformations follow, freely crossing and roaming.

Now, near the vegetable garden there were some twenty or thirty good-for-nothing gambling wastrels and ne'er-do-wells who habitually stole vegetables from the garden to sustain themselves. They had come to steal vegetables when they saw a new treasury notice posted on the quarters' gate, which read: "The great Xiangguo Monastery hereby appoints the monk Lu Zhishen to take charge of the vegetable garden. From tomorrow onward he shall manage it, and no miscellaneous persons are permitted to enter the garden and cause disturbance." When those wastrels saw this, they went to discuss it with the other ne'er-do-wells, saying, "The great Xiangguo Monastery has sent a monk, some Lu Zhishen, to manage the vegetable garden. Let us take advantage of his being new and stir up a disturbance. With one beating we'll knock him down and make him submit to us." One among them said, "I have a plan. He doesn't know us yet, so how can we just go and stir up a disturbance? When we see him come, we'll lure him beside the dung pit, pretending to pay him our respects. Then we'll grab him with both hands by the foot, flip him head over heels, and pitch him into the dung pit — just a little joke on him." The wastrels said, "Good! Good!" Having settled their plan, they waited to see him arrive.

Lu Zhishen arrived at the ward's residential quarters, settled his bundle and luggage, leaned his monk's staff against the wall, and hung up his daggers. Several of the estate workers came to pay their respects, and all keys and seals were handed over in full. The two monks took their leave of the old abbot and returned to the temple. Now then, Zhishen stepped out to the vegetable garden grounds and gazed about at the plots. He saw that twenty or thirty rascals, carrying fruit boxes and wine offerings, came laughing and saying, "We heard a new monk has taken charge as abbot. We neighbors from the streets have come to celebrate." Zhishen, unaware of their scheme, walked straight up to the manure pit. The rascals rushed forward together, one grabbing his left foot, another his right, hoping to topple Zhishen. But let it be said: when Zhishen's foot lifted, the tigers of the mountain trembled in their hearts; when his fist fell, the dragons of the seas lost their courage. Indeed, what had been a quiet garden plot was now arranged into a small battlefield. How then did these rascals try to topple Lu Zhishen? Listen to the next chapter for the explanation.