“In former times,” they said, “when our King ordered the Buddhists to pray for rain, their prayers were not answered.  Then the Taoists prayed, and copious showers fell.  Since then all the Buddhist priests have been our slaves, and have to carry the building materials, as you see.  We must assign them their work, and then will come to you.”  Sun replied:  “Never mind; I am in search of an uncle of mine, from whom I have not heard for many years.  Perhaps he is here among your slaves.”  They said:  “You may see if you can find him.”

Restraints on Freedom

Sun went to look for his uncle.  Hearing this, many Buddhist priests surrounded him, hoping to be recognized as his lost relative.  After a while he smiled.  They asked him the reason.  He said:  “Why do you make no progress?  Life is not meant for idleness.”  They said:  “We cannot do anything.  We are terribly oppressed.”  “What power have your masters?” “By using their magic they can call up wind or rain.”  “That is a small matter,” said Sun.  “What else can they do?” “They can make the pills of immortality, and change stone into gold.”

Sun said:  “These are also small matters; many can do the same.  How did these Taoists deceive your King?” “The King attends their prayers night and day, expecting thereby to attain to immortality.”  “Why do you not leave the place?” “It is impossible, for the King has ordered pictures of us to be hung up everywhere.  In all the numerous prefectures, magistracies, and market-places in Slow-carts Country are pictures of the Buddhist priests, and any official who catches a runaway priest is promoted three degrees, while every non-official receives fifty taels.  The proclamation is signed by the King.  So you see we are helpless.”  Sun then said:  “You might as well die and end it all.”

Immortal for Suffering

They replied:  “A great number have died.  At one time we numbered more than two thousand.  But through deaths and suicides there now remain only about five hundred.  And we who remain cannot die.  Ropes cannot strangle us, swords cannot cut us; if we plunge into the river we cannot sink; poison does not kill us.”  Sun said:  “Then you are fortunate, for you are all Immortals.”  “Alas!” said they, “we are immortal only for suffering.  We get poor food.  We have only sand to sleep on.  But in the night hours spirits appear to us and tell us not to kill ourselves, for an Arhat will come from the East to deliver us.  With him there is a disciple, the Great Holy One, the Equal of Heaven, most powerful and tender-hearted.  He will put an end to these Taoists and have pity on us Buddhists.”

The Saviour of the Buddhists