Chapter 71: The Netherworld Divine Envoy Youliang

This temple was originally a small monastery. There were two monks residing there, both of whom She Li knew. Upon hearing that they wished to borrow the place, the monks readily agreed. The stammering monk added that no other monks should be present to observe, lest his true method be revealed. The two monks, straightforward and practical, took a few coins and left the temple, watching from afar and leaving the place to them.

She Li said, “Monk, everything is ready. Why don’t you begin?”

The monk appeared slightly helpless. He pressed his palms together, began to circumambulate the ox, and chanted, “Wuo wu ren xing, wuo shi hu tu, wuo na chun lü, wuo ma zhi ji…”

She Li had listened to only two lines before he burst into laughter. The monk shot him a glare and stopped chanting. She Li could only bow and gesture for him to continue. The ox handler was puzzled and leaned in to whisper, “Sir, why are you laughing?”

“Listen to his chants. What do they sound like to you?”

“Buddhist scripture—I’ve never understood them. It’s always paramita this, Sudatta that.”

“Don’t you hear? He’s repeating, ‘I am without humanity, I am truly muddleheaded, I am a foolish donkey, I curse myself.’”

The ox handler, after listening, stifled a laugh. “To me, that last line sounds like he’s saying, ‘I have no balls.’”

The two exchanged glances and smiled, but saw the monk circling the ox eight times clockwise and then eight times counterclockwise. He turned and declared, “It’s done. The scripture has been recited.”

“That’s it? That simple?” the ox handler blurted. “Does the ox now know its past and present lives?”

The monk replied with certainty, “It knows.”

“Then… why can’t I see any difference? It looks the same as ever.”

She Li saw the monk’s grave expression and sensed he wasn’t lying, yet the ox showed no change. He scoffed, “Monk, you’re just putting on airs. If this ox truly knows its past and present lives, why doesn’t it call you ‘son’?”

“The ox has a transverse bone in its throat; it cannot speak,” the monk said earnestly. “Except for demons accomplished in cultivation, when have you ever seen beasts speak?”

“So, it’s all a trick. Monk, I have no time for this. I must go sell the ox.” The handler reached for the halter.

“The ox cannot speak, but there is a saying about the deep affection of a cow for its calf,” the monk said. “Wait just a moment.”

She Li had his own plans and held back the handler. The monk pressed his palms together, stood before the ox, hesitated briefly, and then called out, “Father.”

He immediately knelt and bowed before the ox.

This scene amused She Li and the ox handler, but the next moment, their laughter froze.

The ox lowered its head to the monk’s bald pate, sniffed, and then, with great tenderness, extended its tongue and licked the monk’s bald head! The gesture was as affectionate as could be. The monk retreated on his knees two steps, and the ox followed, trying to lick him again. The monk continued to retreat, and the ox relentlessly pursued him, following him into the temple!

The halter was still in the handler’s hand, but he was so bewildered by the spectacle that he muttered, “It’s real! It’s actually real!” without noticing the halter slip from his grasp.

She Li drew in a sharp breath. Could there truly be spirits and ghosts in this world?

The monk picked up the halter and rose. The ox obediently followed him as they exited the temple together. The monk said, pressing his palms together, “My incantation has disturbed the local deities. It’s unwise to linger here. I take my leave—Sir, I shall pray for your fortune. Thank you for your generosity.”

With that, the monk led the ox away, leaving the handler and She Li staring at each other in astonishment, both feeling the day’s events utterly incredible.

She Li cleared his throat, about to speak, when suddenly the handler pointed behind him in terror. “Sir, Black and White Impermanence!”

She Li, his nerves already unsettled from the bizarre events, turned and saw hovering in the air a figure pitch-black from head to toe, except for the whites of his eyes, and beside him, a figure as pale as death. She Li cried out, intending to rub his eyes for clarity, when a sudden pain struck the back of his neck. He heard a chilling laugh, and his senses faded away.

When he finally awoke, it was now completely dark, though it had been broad daylight before. Flickering candles lit the surroundings, and by their glow, he saw that he was still in the temple, but the images of gods and Buddhas had vanished. At the center, behind the incense table, sat a man in splendid robes, crowned, his face indistinct. On either side stood Black and White Impermanence, just as he had seen before losing consciousness—one with a lolling tongue, the other with bloodstained fangs.

Below them, a fiendish ghost wielded a great blade, as if poised to strike at any moment. The one kneeling, trembling at the foot of the altar, was the ox handler.

“You are a cattle thief. What do you have to say for yourself? Normally, the mortal authorities would deal with you. But today, the monk bridged the worlds of Yin and Yang, so I, the King, have sent Impermanence to seize your soul. You shall be cleaved in two and thrown into the oil cauldron, to suffer three years of frying. Since you showed a glimmer of goodness today, after three years you will return to the world and be reborn into the animal realm…”

Hearing the pronouncement, She Li trembled in terror. The older he grew, the more superstitious he became, and the spectacle he had just witnessed only deepened his belief in spirits and gods. He was convinced he had been brought to the underworld, witnessing a judgment by the City God or Yama.

He saw the fiend raise the blade and strike. Blood spurted everywhere, and She Li squeezed his eyes shut in fright. The ox handler’s anguished cries filled the air—“I’ve been cut in two!” “My intestines, my intestines!” The screams made She Li shudder uncontrollably.

Then, a great force pulled him forward, forcing him to his knees before the altar.

“Kneeling below—are you She Li?” The voice from the altar was stern and powerful. She Li dared not raise his head, knocking it against the ground in desperate supplication. “Spare me! Spare me!”

“The thief has already confessed under punishment. He says he’s long been in collusion with you: he steals cattle from distant villages, and you sell them. She Li, is this true?”

She Li was dumbfounded.

He had only met the handler that day; how could they have been in cahoots? He had suspected the fellow was a thief, else why sell such a sturdy ox, but he merely wanted a bargain—when had he ever conspired with a thief?

“Injustice! Injustice! I have never known that man. May the King see clearly—I do not know him!”

“By the laws of the underworld, those who incite thieves to steal cattle are equally guilty, and one grade worse. You are to be sawed into four pieces and fried for five years.” The altar god’s voice was flat, unmoved by his pleas.

“Master, King, I am wronged! I swear I never stole cattle, nor colluded with a thief…”

“The Yaksha ghost went to your house and saw forty-seven head of cattle. Yet the Book of Blessings in the underworld records no such number for your household. Wronged? Not in the slightest!”

“Ah? King, King, among those cattle, thirty-seven are not mine! They belong to my nephew, Chen Qianli, merely entrusted to my care… King, it truly was not I who conspired with the thief!”

He knew the underworld kept the Book of Life and Death, recording all fates and fortunes; the Book of Blessings must be similar. With the fiend raising the saw, She Li hurriedly confessed the true source of the cattle.

“Is this so?”

“It is, truly! I dare not deceive. If I utter a single falsehood, may the King slice me to bits—I would have no complaint!”

The altar king pondered a moment, then a sheet of paper drifted down from above, inscribed with elegant calligraphy: as She Li had said, thirty-seven head were the property of his nephew, Chen Qianli, entrusted to his care.

“In that case, sign and seal this document. If I discover any falsehood, I shall send Impermanence to seize you again.”

She Li, narrowly escaping death, was drenched in sweat. A fiendish ghost produced a brush from who knows where, and She Li signed his name and pressed his handprint on the paper. Only then did he sense something was amiss, but he could not grasp what.

Just then, the fiend snatched the paper away, and laughter erupted all around. She Li grew increasingly uneasy, feeling something had gone terribly wrong. He glanced up to see the crowned figure on the altar laugh, “It is done. Let the scene be dismissed.”

With a rustle, the temple was suddenly flooded with light. It was not night outside, nor was this the underworld. They were in the same temple as before, the statues merely moved aside for the moment.

The man on the altar took off his crown, revealing a young, handsome face. She Li gasped—for in the dimness he had not seen clearly, but now it was obvious: the robes were those of a performer, not a true official’s regalia!

He looked around in panic. The White Impermanence removed his long tongue, which was nothing but a strip of red paper, and wiped the makeup from his face, revealing a middle-aged man She Li did not recognize. The fierce ghost took off his monstrous hat, uncovering a bald head—it was the sinister monk.

Only Black Impermanence remained unchanged, smiling foolishly.

“You… you…”

“Chen Qianli, come greet your uncle,” said the man from the altar.

A voice responded from outside, and Chen Qianli walked in, greeting She Li with a perfunctory bow. Then he turned and bowed deeply to the altar man. “Thank you, sir!”

“You wretch, you vile beast! You colluded with outsiders to trick me?” Now She Li understood. He leaped at Chen Qianli, raising his hand to strike, but Chen Qianli caught his arm and twisted it behind him.

Though She Li was ten years older and still in his prime, he was no match for Chen Qianli’s strength.

“Uncle, you are clever indeed. Out of thirty-seven cattle, you left me only three worn-out beasts!” Chen Qianli said harshly. “Now, what have you to say?”

“I… I… I’ll fight you to the end!”

She Li cried out, but instead of attacking Chen Qianli, he lunged for the altar, where the document lay.

His mind was clear. The entire elaborate ruse had been for the sake of that document; if he could seize it, all their efforts would be for naught. He was certain he would not fall for the same trick again!

But before he could reach the altar, Chen Qianli seized him from behind. Yet, thinking of thirty-seven cattle, She Li let out a roar, summoning all his strength. He dragged Chen Qianli along, advancing step by step toward the altar.

But Ye Chang, who had played the part of Yama on the altar, was not about to let him succeed. Ye Chang deftly picked up the document, folded it, and tucked it into his robe with a smile. “You two are uncle and nephew. If you took this to court, as the saying goes, ‘The yamen’s gate opens to the south, enter without money and you’ll be flayed.’ You’d both be skinned alive by the clerks and constables. Am I right?”

Chen Qianli nodded repeatedly, and even She Li, though fuming, had to admit the young man was right.

“I’ve heard, She Li, that you have only this one nephew, and Chen Qianli only this one uncle. If you wish to be enemies for life, it’s simple—send this document to the authorities. But if you still have some familial feeling and wish to see each other at New Year, I have a suggestion.”

“My cattle—my cattle! No matter how eloquent you are, you cannot take my cattle!” She Li shouted.

“She Li, if you desire utter ruin, keep shouting. I may not saw you and throw you in oil, but the authorities have crueler methods,” Ye Chang said with a smile. “Don’t think this is only about thirty-seven cattle. In court, you may lose all your remaining livestock as well!”

She Li, recalling the chain of tricks just played on him, realized the young man likely had more in store. He loved a bargain, but he was no fool. His prior shouting had been out of greed, but now he fell silent, glaring at Ye Chang.

“I’ll mediate for you,” said Ye Chang. “These thirty-seven cattle are descended from the five originally entrusted by Chen Qianli. Thus, they rightfully belong to him. But for ten years, you have worked hard, tending them day and night. That must not go unrewarded. Of the thirty-seven, twenty-two go to Chen Qianli, fifteen to you as a token of gratitude. What do you both say?”

Chen Qianli, delighted to recover twenty-two cattle, could not ask for more, having started with only five. She Li, though pained, saw that he had not lost everything, and now could claim the cattle openly. He glared at Ye Chang but made no objection.

Thus, matters were settled. Ye Chang told She Li to fetch the cattle, while he and the others waited in the temple. Chen Qianli followed She Li out, but soon both returned, unable to quell a shared curiosity.

“Why did the ox lick the monk’s bald head?”