CDJMM – Volume 3 – Chapter 18 Compassion of the Buddha (18)

Dark clouds pressed over the city. In Hanyang County, the air was damp and stifling, saturated with a tension that felt ready to snap at any moment—like the ominous stillness before a storm broke.

A-Hua was washing clothes by the river when she heard an older neighbor woman saying to someone, “We’re about to harvest the wheat. The barbarians will definitely come to loot again.”

A-Hua’s heart lurched, her face instantly turning pale. “But our county paid the protection fee. How could the barbarians still come?”

Hanyang County was only a small county under Beihuang City’s jurisdiction, with not many stationed troops. To keep the peace, the county magistrate collected extra taxes every year to hand over to the barbarians in exchange for the county’s safety.

The old woman gave her a look and sighed bitterly. “Girl, do you remember what happened to Widow Li’s household after her husband died?”

A-Hua had seen it with her own eyes. She immediately said angrily, “They said Widow Li had no son, so her husband’s relatives came to seize all her property. They not only emptied out her home but also drove Widow Li and Sister Li’er out!”

The old woman sighed again, her expression wooden. “To the barbarians, our whole county is like a household without men—easy prey. What use is giving them money? The human heart is never satisfied—they’ll just want to empty us out even more.”

A-Hua forced a smile. “How could our county be like Widow Li’s home? We do have men! Beihuang City has tens of thousands of soldiers stationed. How many barbarians could there even be?”

The old woman let out a cold laugh. “What difference does it make whether there are men or not? These years, have the barbarians ever stopped coming? Even with tens of thousands of soldiers guarding the border, a few thousand barbarians still come whenever they want.”

A-Hua had no response.

Every time the barbarians ravaged the area, Beihuang City’s soldiers only came slowly afterward to put on a show. Their presence was worse than useless. That was why the barbarians grew so bold—coming every autumn and winter to seize grain, livestock, and women.

A-Hua whispered, “But the barbarians have always gone to the neighboring counties to wreak havoc! We’re close to Beihuang City—surely they won’t dare come here.”

The old woman sighed again, and this time it was the woman speaking with her earlier who continued, “I heard from relatives in the neighboring county that because the barbarians looted too fiercely last year, many people ran away. And with this year’s drought, the harvest is terrible. The barbarians didn’t get enough—so of course they’ll come to our county next.”

A-Hua’s face turned completely white. Her lips trembled uncontrollably—she couldn’t speak.

Over the years, though their taxes were high, they had still paid willingly when they compared themselves to the misery suffered by counties ravaged by the barbarians.

But now even paying taxes was useless?

“Barbarians are here! The garrison has run! Everyone run!!”

“The city is breached! Run!!!”

Voices erupted from all directions, countless people shouting the news as they fled.

A-Hua shuddered violently at the thunderous cries. She stared blankly at the old woman and stammered, “Auntie… did I hear wrong?”

“The city is breached? That’s impossible, how could—”

“Girl! RUN!!” The old woman suddenly shoved her hard, roaring in panic, “Hide!!”

A-Hua stumbled and turned to run toward her home. Behind her, the old woman yelled, “Don’t take anything! Your life matters!”

A-Hua didn’t look back. “My parents are still inside!”

The moment she pushed open her courtyard gate, she heard the pounding of hooves and the screams and cries of neighbors.

What followed became a nightmare A-Hua would never forget for the rest of her life.

Three barbarians burst through the broken gate on horseback, grinning hideously and shouting in garbled speech.

The first to die was her little brother.

Perhaps because he cried too loudly, the barbarians raised their sabers and chopped off his head.

He was only five years old. His head was small—so when it hit the ground, it bounced away, lively and energetic, just like him. It rolled far, just like the little cloth ball he loved kicking around.

Next to die was her father.

Because her father charged forward after her brother died, one of the barbarians thrust a horse-cleaving saber through his chest—stabbed through, withdrawn, stabbed again… Blood sprayed out in bursts, as if it would never stop flowing.

In a daze, A-Hua remembered her father teaching her how to spear fish by the river when she was little. Neither of them could have imagined that one day, her father would become the fish skewered by others.

Then her elder brother died.

Because he rushed to save their father.

A horse’s hooves rose high and crushed his skull.

Her proud, upright brother lay on the ground with his eyes open, his head smashed to pulp. White brain matter and blood pooled everywhere. A-Hua suddenly remembered how every time their family bought pig offal, her brother always let her little brother eat the pig brain—“to nourish the mind,” so he could grow up to become a top scholar. Did brother know? He had now become pig’s brain under the barbarians’ hooves.

A-Hua stood frozen. Her mother’s and sister-in-law’s wails sounded distant, then close, then distant again. Her eyes burned, but she found she couldn’t blink. Her mouth opened, but only hoarse gasping came out.

In a blur, someone dragged her out of her mother’s arms and threw her to the ground. A weight pressed down on her, rough hands yanking at her clothes.

She turned her head slightly and saw her sister-in-law—eight months pregnant, lying on the ground—having her clothes torn off by a barbarian.

How could he? Sister-in-law was due any day, barely walking these days, always lying down to rest. How could a barbarian press down on her?

Her sister-in-law’s shrill scream poured over A-Hua like icy water. Suddenly everything snapped back—sensation, sound, sight, pain, and the crushing grief.

She cried hysterically, screaming like a wounded animal.

“Beasts! You beasts!! May you die horribly! You’ll get your retribution! Aaaahhhh! Heaven! Open your eyes! Strike these beasts down with lightning!”

The barbarian pinning her slapped her hard, then gripped her throat savagely. A-Hua’s eyes rolled back, consciousness dimming.

Was she going to die too?

She was a girl from a decent family—why should she die defiled by them?

A fierce wind howled. Countless green leaves whirled through the air. The black clouds churned, blotting out the sun. Distant thunder rumbled.

Violet lightning flashed inside the clouds, roaring like a giant battle-axe cleaving the world.

Amid the lightning and thunder, a voice suddenly resounded from everywhere, clear as if spoken right beside her ear—solemn, sacred, repeating over and over:

“Commit no evil, cultivate all that is good, purify your mind — this is the teaching of all Buddhas.”

“Commit no evil, cultivate all that is good, purify your mind — this is the teaching of all Buddhas.”

The barbarian on top of Ahua stopped what he was doing and raised the broadsword in his hand, shouting in clumsy Han language, “Who’s there?! Get out! Stop pretending to be ghosts!”

Torrential rain roared down, the dense curtain of water blurring everything around them. Amid the black downpour, a sphere of bright yellow light approached unhurriedly.

The barbarian climbed off Ahua, gripping his broadsword tightly, staring warily at the approaching yellow light. “Who?! Say something!”

The light drew nearer, gradually revealing the vague outline of a human figure.

The raging storm blurred Ahua’s vision. She squinted hard, barely making out the identity of the person—

A monk wearing bright yellow robes.

He walked toward them slowly, and in her daze, Ahua seemed to see lotus blooming beneath each of his steps, a faint fragrance drifting in the air. Behind him, golden light turned into all sorts of miraculous visions, as though a divine Buddha descended into a blood-soaked hell, coming to liberate all demons.

When she blinked again, the illusions were gone. The black rain continued pouring, purple lightning roared across the sky, and the monk stood alone, fragile like a small boat tossed in a storm—yet somehow, he seemed ready to ferry lost souls across the sea of suffering.

The barbarian muttered, “A monk?”

The monk said, “Amitābha. All beings of this world are inclined toward evil. The strong oppress the weak, harming and killing, devouring one another. Unaware of goodness, they later suffer the retribution they’ve earned. Between heaven and earth, this is the natural law. Though the consequences may not come immediately, good and evil will eventually return to their source.”¹

Ahua could not see his face clearly, but she felt his gaze—piercing, burning, pure—as if it wished to burn away all injustice. She then heard a sharp shout crash down like a thunderclap:

“Lay down your blade, good sir, and kowtow in repentance!”

Another bolt of violet lightning split the sky, illuminating the tiny courtyard. The barbarian who had just been assaulting Ahua lifted his bloodstained broadsword and sneered, like a demon from hell.

“You Han people talk too damn much. All that gibberish—useless nonsense! You want grandpa here to kneel to you? Let’s see whether my blade is harder, or your skull is!”

He swung the blade toward the monk.

The monk sighed compassionately, pressed his palms together, and said, “The world is full of suffering. Thus it is. All Buddhas are merciful and seek to save all beings. I have received the Buddha’s teachings and dare not disobey.

A massive shadow of condensed golden light appeared behind him—

A giant black hound, ferocious, wrathful, tilting its head back as it howled. It lunged effortlessly, biting the attacking barbarian cleanly in half.

The other two barbarians screamed and stumbled back, trying to flee, but the giant hound caught them with ease, ending their lives with one bite each.

The black hound glanced deeply at the monk. The monk nodded almost imperceptibly, and the hound turned, bolting toward the other parts of the village where screams and cries still echoed.

Ahua sat up, staring blankly at everything, feeling as though she were dreaming.

Was… it over?

The people who slaughtered her whole family—were all dead?

Was this retribution?

“Are you injured, young lady?”

Ahua turned her head and looked up—straight into a pair of clear, pure eyes like glazed glass, filled with divine light.

The storm howled, lightning crackled, the wind raged. The yellow-robed monk lowered his gaze to her, as if a deity seated upon lotus clouds had cast a brief glance toward the mortal realm.

Ahua trembled violently. Her heart felt as though it were on fire. Overwhelmed by emotion, she no longer knew what expression to make. She could only answer stiffly:

“I’m fine… I’m not hurt. Thank you—thank you, Master. Thank you, Bodhisattva…”

The young monk smiled gently at her, then stepped past her toward her mother and sister-in-law. Only then did Ahua notice— the monk’s robes were completely dry, soft, unstained.

The storm seemed to avoid him on its own, not daring to touch him.

A faint scent of sandalwood lingered in the air.

Ahua did not know why, but her heart finally calmed somewhat.

After steadying herself, she regained a bit of strength and staggered toward her mother and sister-in-law.

“Mother, Sister-in-law! Are you alright?”

Her mother, still trembling with fear, tugged at her torn collar and collapsed beside the bodies of her husband, son, and youngest child, crying uncontrollably.

Ahua swayed, dizziness washing over her. Just before she fainted, she heard her sister-in-law groan.

The slender woman lay on the ground, clutching her huge belly, groaning loudly—blood pooling beneath her.

Ahua no longer dared faint.

She scrambled to her sister-in-law’s side and grabbed her hand. “Sister-in-law! Are you alright? Don’t scare me!”

“This young lady is likely about to give birth,” the monk said.

Panic-stricken, Ahua immediately grabbed his leg like a drowning person grabbing a final lifeline, looking up at him with desperate hope. “Please save her! You must have a way—right? You’re a Bodhisattva, you must!”

The monk smiled and corrected her gently. “You misunderstand. I am not a Bodhisattva—just an ordinary monk.”

“No! You are a Bodhisattva! You can save her! My brother is dead already! My sister-in-law can’t die too!”

The monk—Le Jing—looked at the frantic girl and the elderly woman sobbing in grief. He sighed inwardly and said, “Go with your mother to prepare boiling water and clean scissors. We must prepare for the birth.”

Ahua snapped out of her panic and ran to her mother. Her mother, who had nearly lost her soul from crying, suddenly regained strength. Wiping her tears away roughly, she ordered:

“Go! Boil water! And prepare brown sugar water and egg cake for your sister-in-law—she’ll have no strength otherwise!”

Ahua and her mother rushed about frantically. When Ahua finally carried a bucket of hot water from the kitchen, she saw the young monk sitting cross-legged beside her sister-in-law, one hand resting on her belly, the other moving his prayer beads as he softly recited sutras with closed eyes.

As Ahua approached, she saw golden light flickering beneath the monk’s hand, and her sister-in-law’s expression had smoothed into peaceful calm. Her groans, once sharp, were now barely audible.

Though the monk’s eyes were closed, he turned precisely toward Ahua’s direction.

“The fetus has stabilized. It is almost time. Prepare for the birth.”

Ahua nodded vigorously. If her hands hadn’t been holding boiling water, she would have knelt and kowtowed endlessly. She could only express her thanks with clumsy words:

“Thank you, Bodhisattva… I’ll never forget your kindness. I’ll sincerely chant the Buddha’s name my whole life and worship you properly!”

The monk withdrew his hand, stood up, and said gently, “There is no need to worship me. As long as you accumulate virtue, do good deeds, and help others, that is the best repayment.”

Ahua nodded repeatedly.

The delivery went smoothly.

Ahua suspected it was because the monk had been reciting scriptures nearby the entire time.

In any case, without much difficulty at all—and before she even needed the sugar water or egg cake—her sister-in-law gave birth to a chubby baby boy. His loud cries and strong limbs showed he was healthy and robust.

The joy of a newborn’s arrival dispersed some of the sorrow looming over the courtyard. Ahua and her mother held the child, managing to smile amid all the suffering.

As the baby’s loud cries echoed, a massive black hound leapt over the courtyard wall.

The hound was covered in blood, flames like hellfire burning along its flank, and its sharp fangs dripping foul black ichor.

Yet when Ahua saw its fierce form, she felt no fear—only respect and an inexplicable sense of closeness.

The hound rushed to the monk’s side, crouching obediently, releasing a soft, dog-like whimper from deep in its throat.

The monk patted its enormous head. “Is everything taken care of?”

The hound growled once.

The monk lowered his eyes and smiled gently—like the Buddha smiling with a flower in hand. His features were clear and compassionate. Pressing his palms together, he chanted:

“The Buddha’s teachings spread wherever he walks; the realms and lands are transformed. The world grows harmonious, the sun and moon shine bright. Winds and rains arrive in season, calamities cease. The nation prospers, the people live in peace, weapons become unnecessary. Virtue is esteemed, benevolence upheld; courtesy and humility flourish. No thieves, no injustice, the strong do not bully the weak, and all find their rightful place.”

Ahua listened to the monk’s teachings, feeling as though she almost understood.

Then she realized—

The cries and screams outside had completely vanished.

Only peaceful quiet remained.

She blinked, and something clicked in her heart.

The monk patted the giant hound once more. Then he rose, pressed his palms together, and bowed slightly to Ahua. Before she could react, monk and hound dissolved like bubbles in rain.

From all directions came a solemn, sacred chant:

“May this merit
adorn the Buddha’s pure land.
Repay the fourfold grace above,
relieve the suffering of the three paths below.
May all who see and hear this
give rise to the Bodhi mind.
When this body ends,
may we be reborn together in the Land of Bliss.”

Ahua felt her whole body fill with warmth and calm. Her grief, pain, anger, and hatred—all her negative emotions—seemed to drift far away.

In the unseen world, countless pale spirits rose gently from corpses, their expressions peaceful, being guided to where they belonged.

Her mother trembled and asked, “Ahua… who was he?”

Ahua steadied herself and answered firmly:

“He was a Bodhisattva.”