In the early spring of the lunar year of Yichou (mid-February 2005), udumbara flowers were found blooming at two places in the Republic of Korea—Yongjusa Temple on Gwanaksan Mountain, in Uiwang-si, Gyeonggi-do, and at Sumi Zen Temple at Haeryong-myeon, of Suncheon-si, Jeollanam-do. The flowers, a rare type of epiphyllum, had appeared on the faces of the Buddha bronze sculptures there. As a Chinese idiom goes, “Epiphyllum blossoms for only a brief moment.” And the udumbara is no ordinary epiphyllum: it blossoms only once every three thousand years. According to the Buddhist canon, the blooming of the udumbara signifies that the Noble King of Law Wheel, or “Noble King of the Turning Wheel,” has come to the human world to impart heaven’s Law.
Word of the blooming reached Qimen county of Anhui province, China, where there lived a farmer with the surname of Wen and given name of Chuandeng. Upon hearing news of the udumbara flowers, Chuandeng, who lived alone in a modest home, wondered to himself, “It has been said that the udumbara would bloom with the birth of the Buddha Maitreya. Long have I been a pious Buddhist, and my parents have just passed. Why not leave home and travel about. I might be fortunate enough to happen upon a wise monk whom I could take as my master; I could thus spend what remains of my life in devotion to the Buddha. And a chance to hear Buddha Maitreya preach, of course, would be a divine blessing.” Looking through the belongings in his house, he found no items of value save for a sword, passed down from his forefathers. The sword, measuring one foot two inches long, its blade razor sharp, could be used as a gift to his newfound master. Chuandeng thus headed off, sword in hand, a little money on him, toward the nearby Huangshan Mountains in hopes of finding an enlightened master.
Upon reaching Guangming Peak, a scenic spot nestled in the mountains, Chuandeng saw a tourist guide addressing his group. He overheard the guide. “A few years ago a cave was found in these mountains in which there are halls, limestone columns, rooms, ponds, and murals—each a work of nature,” he said. “If you have time, I can show you where they are.” The group appeared to be in high spirits and agreed at once to the proposal, setting off with their guide down the trail. Chuandeng, having nothing better to do at the moment, quietly tailed along.
Inside the cave, the guide told the tourists, “The cave was discovered in 1999. It’s rather extraordinary. At first, people found a lot of finely crushed rock at the entrance of the cave, which piqued their curiosity to dig further. To their surprise, the further they dug, the more crushed rock they found. Not only that, they also found many bones of cattle amidst the rocks, which confounded the locals. No one could find a plausible reason for why the cave was filled with crushed rock and cattle bones. The locals, themselves baffled, dubbed the cave ‘Thousand-Year Mystery Cave.’ Moreover, there were murals inside the cave that seemingly made no sense to observers. Word of the unusual cave reached as far away as Beijing, and Jiang Zemin made a special trip here in 2001.”
After the guide finished, the group scattered about and stood marveling at the murals. It was cold inside the cave, though it was by then early spring. As Chuandeng peered at the murals he felt the old sword, hung from his waist, begin to vibrate. It was giving off a humming sound. Wondering what was happening, he drew the sword out and saw that, miraculously, water was flowing on it, moving from handle to tip. The sound being given off grew louder and louder, as if the sword was about to take flight. Chuandeng’s hair was by now standing on end. He was worried others might see the strange spectacle. He hurriedly sheathed the sword and stepped out of the cave.
No sooner was Chuandeng out of the cave than did he trip and stumble over something as he turned right. Rising to his feet he turned and discovered an old monk in yellow robe sitting close to the cave’s entrance, one hand erect before his chest. Chuandeng quickly offered an apology for his fumbling.
The old monk, seemingly undisturbed, asked, “Why such haste?”
“Nothing really,” Chuandeng replied. “It’s just that it is really chilly in there and I wanted to come out and get some sunshine.”
The old monk paused for a moment, then began, “It’s incredible. Most people on this earth, mediocre and in a haze, know not the danger posed by this cave. They even see it as a tourist spot. You, however, being bestowed with great spiritual faculties, can detect the subtle and knew to leave the cave early enough.”
Chuandeng, sensing understatement in the old monk’s words, knew him to be no ordinary man. Chuandeng said, “I myself didn’t know that the cave was dangerous. The sword I carry was humming and vibrating. I left the cave for fear that others would see it.”
“May I have a look at the sword?” asked the monk.
Chuandeng didn’t hesitate, and handed over the sword. The monk in turn drew it from its sheath and studied it. The monk then asked, “Are you aware of the sword’s origin?”
“No,” Chuandeng quickly replied. “But it’s a treasure that has been passed down in my family over the generations—allegedly going back twenty-five hundred years.”
The monk nodded his head. “Is your family name Wen?”
Chuandeng was taken by surprise. “That’s right! How did you know, master?”
The monk then explained. “The sword has a storied past. In the Spring and Autumn Period (770–476 B.C.) the swordsmith Ouyezi forged three swords for the Kings of the state of Chu—namely, Longyuan, Tai’a, and Gongbu—which passed through the hands of Ping, the King of the state of Chu; Wu Zijuan; and Fu Chai, the King of the state of Wu. The states of Wu and Yue were at odds in those years, and the King of Yue, Gou Jian, was captured by King Fu Chai and made to live in a house of stone and raise horses for three years before he could return to his native state; never did he cease in planning his revenge. Gou Jian had two generals, Fan Chong and Wen Zhong. General Wen presented seven plans to Gou Jian, and using but three of them Gou managed to conquer the state of Wu. Meanwhile, King Fu Chai of Wu was besieged by General Fan’s troops, and under duress slit his own throat using the Gongbu sword. He left a message to General Fan, declaring, ‘When hares die out, dogs will be cooked; when the fowl vanish, arrows and bows will be shelved; and when enemy states surrender, advisers will be discarded.’ With the sword now in his possession and heeding Fu Chai’s words, Fan thus counseled General Wen Zhong: ‘The long-necked and bird-mouthed King of the Yue, a man capable of swallowing insult but not able to see others thrive, was someone with whom to work but not to share one’s joy. Now you and I have fulfilled our missions. We might be better off if we were to return home and go into hiding.’ General Wen Zhong didn’t heed the advice, however, and so Fan Chong left the Gongbu sword with Wen and took his wife, Xishi, with him and left the land to enjoy a life of ease together. As had been anticipated, the narrow-minded Gou Jian envied Wen Zhong for his talent, and had him put to death. I deduced from the sword that if it was passed down through a family line, your family name should be Wen and the sword must be the Gongbu sword—a sword possessed of its own intelligence.”
Chuandeng was filled with respect for the monk upon hearing the story. He then asked, “Why would the sword hum and vibrate in the cave? What did you mean when you said, ‘Most people on this earth, mediocre and in a haze, know not the danger posed by this cave’?”
The monk replied, “This is a secret that can be revealed only to a sincere Buddhist.”
Chuandeng folded both hands before his chest, showing his piety. “To be honest with you, master, I left home carrying this sword in hopes of finding a wise monk who might help me understand its origins and the stories behind it. I would like to follow you, if you would be willing, as your apprentice. I don’t have anything valuable on me except this sword, which I would like to present to you as a gift.”
The monk smiled. “If that is really how you feel, then you are a man who is not caught up in money and fame. It should be all right to tell you. But I can’t be your master. There is only one person in this world who can offer you salvation.”
The monk paused for a moment, looking off into the distance, before continuing.
“The blossoming of the udumbara flowers on the Buddha statues in South Korea indicates that the Noble King of the Turning Wheel has descended to the world to transmit heaven’s teachings, taking the form of Buddha Maitreya. No one knows the backgrounds of this figure, the Noble King of the Turning Wheel. Buddha Shakyamuni called him ‘the ultimate King who is King to all Kings.’ When Buddha Shakyamuni was transmitting his teachings, he referred to ancient India as ‘a nation drugged by five poisons.’ Twenty-five hundred years have since passed, and the world’s religions have reached their period of decline; the ten evils spread now throughout the world. The human world is merely symptomatic. All realms, human and divine alike, as well as the higher realms of Law, are within the last phase of the life of the universe. No being from within, divine or otherwise, can deliver the universe from destruction. No one but a God who is outside the universe itself would have the immense power needed to recreate a universe so vast. The Noble King of the Turning Wheel is the universe’s only hope for survival. ”
Enraptured by the monk’s revelations, Chuandeng inquired further. “So, this Noble King of the Turning Wheel will reincarnate as a human, as Shakyamuni once did, right?”
“Not exactly,” the monk responded. “When people discovered the blossoming of the udumbara flowers they figured that the Noble King of the Turning Wheel had not yet been born. But the fact is, he has already been imparting his teachings for thirteen years, here, in this world.”
Chuandeng counted on his fingers, and asked in astonishment, “Do you refer to Falun Dafa?”
“You are quick,” the monk said with a smile. “You will know more details once you see for yourself. Let’s now talk about the Thousand-Year Mystery Cave. As the Noble King of Law Wheel imparted his teachings, the warped beings found in this universe formed an army of old forces that are extremely evil. It was they who created a figure named Jiang Zemin who would violently abuse the Dafa in the world. Jiang Zemin’s soul is a toad. The Mystery Cave resembles a large toad. Its flat entrance, like a plate placed face down, is a toad’s mouth, and the inside is the toad’s belly. The hunched top of the cave, with its green circles, is the toad’s back. Just now you shivered from cold inside the cave for the reason that it is full of damp, cold air, and populated by rotten ghosts who are hidden to the naked eye. Your sword vibrated because it was anxious to slay the wicked entities. ”
It then struck Chuandeng that the murals in the cave were related to toads. He asked, “The tour guide told the group that Jiang Zemin had been here and stayed in the cave for some time.”
“That’s correct,” the monk answered. “In his efforts to suppress Falun Gong, Jiang Zemin lost too much of his vital energy to take it. In May of 2001 Jiang came here to this toad cave, nestled in the Huangshan Mountains, on the verge of death, hoping to replenish black energy. He spent some 200 million yuan of the country’s money on his trip—and this, while the locals, forced to build roads for him, had a hard time making ends meet. The cost of shipping Jiang fresh fruits alone ran into the hundreds of thousands. Countless armed police were posted along the trail leading up to the cave. Jiang was carried up the trail in a chair made of bamboo and rope, constructed specifically for him. ”
“What will become of Jiang Zemin?” Chuandeng asked. He had never been fond of Jiang, and was now anxious to know.
The monk replied, “Retribution is imminent. The Noble King of the Turning Wheel, a being at once gracious and merciful, gave Jiang a window of opportunity to repent, even though Jiang persecuted Falun Gong. Yet Jiang chose to commit still more crimes and sins. By September of 2000 he had squandered his chance through his own actions. Although Buddha Law is all-merciful, its dignity is to be upheld by the meting out of punishment as necessary. That September Jiang’s soul was thus condemned to incessant hell. What is active in the world today is merely Jiang’s human shell, propped up by rotten ghosts. Falun Gong practitioners know Jiang for what he is, and thus, fittingly, they call him ‘Ghost Jiang.’ The skin of this Ghost Jiang has now developed jaundice and blackleg. One eye is half-shut now and one foot limp. He should expect greater retribution still in the time to come. From antiquity on through this day, those who have suppressed Buddha Law have each been condemned to hell, being sent through the Gate of No Return, forbidden to ever be reborn.”
Chuandeng replied, “This Ghost Jiang, then, is like the female ghost that took on a human body in Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio .”
At this, the monk laughed. “Those ghosts would at least be buried under the skin of beauties, whereas Jiang was bloated and grotesque, resembling a giant toad. The ghosts propping him up had a tougher chore.”
The monk was silent for a moment. He then continued, “The rotten ghosts—who are divided into those who are adept at speech, those who are adept at song, and those who can play musical instruments—didn’t bother with Jiang when nothing significant was happening. Because Ghost Jiang was devoid of any soul or spirit, he appeared to be incoherent and on the verge of dying. So when Ghost Jiang needed to meet with foreign dignitaries or make his case against Falun Gong, his physical body would, acting under the control of the rotten ghosts, become fluent at spewing slander and launch into song and dance. ”
Chuandeng asked, “What point is there in keeping this monster alive?”
The monk replied, “Humans are shortsighted, Heaven has a vision. An enlightened person, full of wisdom and possessed of vast knowledge, looks at human history as a drama. The clown has not played out his role yet. He might be needed on stage for one last scene.”
Chuandeng was curious. “When will that be?”
The monk replied, “Heaven’s way is subtle and mysterious. You will know when the time comes.”
Chuandeng wanted to know more. “A moment ago, you mentioned an ‘incessant hell.’ What is that? ”
“Incessant hell is expansive, huge,” answered the monk. “The word ‘incessant’ refers to never-ending punishment in hell. There are five ‘incessants’: first, incessant time, which means non-stop, around the clock suffering; secondly, incessant space, which means every inch of the body is subjected to torture, leaving no spot untouched; thirdly, incessant torture apparatuses, which means different implements of punishment are employed without end; fourthly, incessant status, which means all are tortured equally, irrespective of gender or social status in one’s previous lives; and fifthly, incessant state, which means the condemned are ceaselessly in a state of dying from suffering, only to keep regaining consciousness and continue on suffering. There is no end to the suffering that the condemned go through in the process of destruction, layer by layer. Nothing in this entire cosmos is more horrific.”
A chill went through Chuandeng. Cold air rushed out from his body.
The monk was clearly aware. “You’ve just been hit by ghostly wind. There is too much commotion here. Why don’t we go up to Lotus Peak for a rest? I will be protecting you tonight. Afterward you had best go down the mountain and find Falun Buddha Law.”
The next morning Chuandeng awoke to the rising sun, but found no trace of the monk. Looking out, he saw mountain peaks enshrouded by a sea of clouds. Tiandu Peak, off in the distance, was bathed in sunshine. Chuandeng knew this was a sign the world would again, one day, become bright. Convinced of what the monk had told him, Chuandeng went down the mountain and soon found the book Zhuan Falun . He thus embarked on the path of self-cultivation.
One day in the future, the Global Coalition to Bring Jiang to Justice, in collaboration with chief justices of various countries, is holding a public trial of Jiang on Tiananmen Square. At the time, the truth about Falun Gong has become known around the world. The jury reads an indictment against Jiang, one thousand pages long, and sentences him to death on grounds of treason, embezzlement, torture, crimes against humanity, and genocide, among other charges.
Immediately after the pronouncement, a rope descends from the sky and binds Jiang tightly from head to toe. Jiang hangs in the air suspended on a hook, upside down. Wind and thunder erupt. Lightening strikes Jiang, hitting every inch of his body. Smoke abounds. Jiang’s clothing, hair, flesh, organs, and bones burst into flames. In no time Jiang vanishes in the fire.
By this time, Wen Chuandeng has done spiritual cultivation for some time and has witnessed Jiang’s end on Tiananmen Square. Grateful to have been born into the world in the time when the Noble King of Law Wheel was imparting Heaven’s teachings, and to have managed to gain the way and cultivate himself, Chuandeng composed the following poem:
Countless springs did I incarnate here, in this human world
So many times has the azure sea changed to dust
Great was my fortune, to gain the Law and follow the Lord Buddha
Merrily I bore the pain, diligent, returning to my true self
Immortality and eternal youth are the fruits of this self-cultivation
My body, born of practice, has turned indestructible, like diamond
I have fulfilled my grand vow, assisting the Master as he turns the Wheel
Eliminating the demonic, mending the cosmos
Savoring the verse, Chuandeng was startled by the boisterous sound of fireworks, gongs, and drums. A festive mood has engulfed the city. Chuandeng now fully understands what the monk meant by “the clown still needs to play out his role.” Still in thought, Chuandeng finds before him a strand of yellow ribbon, trickling down from the sky. Catching it in his hands, Chuandeng sees on it a six-line poem that reads:
The ClownThe three-legged toad made a fool of himself in this world
All ten evils did he demonstrate, no scheme left untried
Every disgraceful thing did the sinister clown do
Not a virtue or talent to his name, he pretended to be a hero
Five thousand years of Chinese civilization, everything ready
Save for one last scene with the clown
(Copyright © 2005 The Epoch Times)
