Strange Arts

In the Dali era (766-779 AD), there was a magician who came from the south and stayed at Zhiqi Temple in Jingzhou. He was fond of wine and was rarely sober. During a grand vegetarian feast at the temple, with thousands of attendees, the magician suddenly said, "I have a talent that can delight you more than clapping tiles or juggling pearls." He then mixed pigments in a vessel, shuffled his feet and stared, muttered a spell of a few dozen words, drank water, and spat it onto the wall several times. This created a transformation scene of Vimalakīrti visiting the sick, with five colors blending perfectly as if freshly painted. After half a day, the colors began to fade, and by evening, they were completely gone. Only a single flower on the gauze cap of the Golden Grain Tathagata and the robe of the elder Śāriputra remained for two days. It was temple monk Weisu who told me about this, but I have forgotten the magician's name.

220 Prime Minister Zhang Wei Gong Yanshang, while serving in Shu, encountered a monk named Nantuo. This monk had mastered the illusory powers of samadhi—walking through fire and water, penetrating metal and stone, and transforming without limit. When he first entered Shu, he traveled with three young nuns. Sometimes he would get wildly drunk and sing madly, and a garrison commander was about to have him executed. But when the monk arrived, he said, "Though I dwell in the monastery, I have other skills in medicine and magic." He then pointed to the three nuns, saying, "These three excel at song and dance." The commander, now showing respect, kept them around for wine and meat. That evening, he hosted guests and drank heavily with the monk. The monk borrowed a sleeveless jacket, a woman's headdress, and cosmetics, and began teaching the three nuns to perform. During the feast, they cast flirtatious glances and exchanged playful banter, their charm unmatched. As the drinking neared its end, the monk said to the nuns, "You may now perform a dance for our host." They slowly advanced, dancing in pairs, their sleeves trailing like swirling snow, moving swiftly with graceful falls—an unparalleled display of skill. After a long while, the music stopped, but the dance continued. The monk shouted, "Are you women possessed?" Suddenly, he snatched the commander's sword. The guests, thinking he was drunk and mad, fled in panic. The monk drew the blade and struck down the nuns, who fell to the ground, blood splashing several spans. The commander, terrified, ordered his attendants to bind the monk. The monk laughed and said, "No need to be hasty." He then lifted the nuns, revealing them to be three walking sticks, and the blood was merely wine. On another occasion at a drinking party, he had someone cut off his head and nail his ears to a pillar—but no blood appeared. His body remained seated at the table. When wine was poured, it flowed into the wound on his neck, his face flushed as he sang, and his hands kept time. When the party ended, he rose, picked up his head, and reattached it, leaving no trace of a wound. He often predicted people's fortunes and misfortunes in vague riddles; only after the events occurred did people understand. In Chengdu, a commoner hosted him for several days. When the monk wished to leave, the man locked him in to keep him. The monk then walked into a corner of the wall. The man hurriedly pulled at him, but he gradually disappeared into the wall, leaving only the corner of his robe, which soon vanished. The next day, a painted image of the monk appeared on the wall, bearing a likeness to him. Day by day, the color faded. After seven days, only a dark trace remained; on the eighth day, even that trace vanished. The monk, meanwhile, had already reached Pengzhou. Later, no one knew where he went.

221 During the Yuanhe era, Lu Zao, a Gentleman of the Bureau of Forestry, once visited his cousin at Dingshui Temple. For the temple monks, he prepared honey pastries and seasonal fruits. A monk from the neighboring temple, who was also an acquaintance of Lu, was invited to join them. After a long while, the monk arrived with a man named Scholar Li, and they all sat in a circle, chatting and laughing boisterously.

The host monk then told his attendant to brew fresh tea. As the tea was being served around the circle, it reached everyone except Scholar Li. Lu, feeling this was unfair, asked, "Why hasn't Scholar Li been served tea yet?" The monk smirked and replied, "Does a scholar like him even need to know the taste of tea?" and then poured the leftover tea for him.

The neighboring temple monk interjected, "This scholar is a magician, Abbot—you shouldn't speak lightly of him." The host monk retorted, "What’s there to fear from such a worthless fellow?" Suddenly enraged, Scholar Li said, "I have never met you before, Abbot. How do you know I am a worthless character?" The monk shot back arrogantly, "Someone who hangs around wine shops and gambling dens—how could he be a decent sort?"

Scholar Li then addressed the other guests: "I'm afraid I must act rashly in front of you all." He put his hand inside his sleeve, pressed it against his knees, and shouted at the monk, "Roughneck monk, how dare you be so rude? Where is your walking stick? Strike him!" Immediately, a bamboo staff that had been leaning behind the monk’s door suddenly jumped out and started beating the monk repeatedly. Although the others tried to shield him, the staff found every gap and struck with precision, as if wielded by an invisible force.

Scholar Li then commanded, "Pin that monk against the wall!" The monk was forced against the wall, hands folded, face pale and breath short, only begging for mercy. Scholar Li added, "Monk, get down the steps!" The monk scrambled down the steps and threw himself to the ground many times, his nose bleeding and forehead bruised without end.

The crowd pleaded for him, and Scholar Li said slowly, "If it weren't for the presence of gentlemen here, I wouldn't spare this nuisance." He then bowed to the guests and left. The monk couldn't speak for half a day, as if possessed by something evil. No one ever understood what happened.

222 At the end of the Yuanhe era, Zhang Yan, a courier from Yancheng, was delivering official documents to the capital. When he reached Songzhou, he met a man and asked to travel together. The man stayed overnight in Zhengzhou and then said to Zhang, “If you let me take care of you, you can cover several hundred li in double time.” He dug two small pits, five or six inches deep, and had Zhang stand with his back to them, letting his heels hang over the edges. Then he needled both of Zhang’s feet. At first, Zhang felt no pain. The man then stroked his legs from the knees down to the shins several times, and black blood filled the pits. Zhang suddenly felt his steps become light and swift, and by noon they reached Bian. The man then wanted to stay at Shanzhou, but Zhang declined, saying he lacked the strength. The man said, “You could temporarily remove your kneecaps without any pain and then travel eight hundred li in a day.” Zhang was afraid and refused. The man did not insist and said, “I have business and must reach Shanzhou by evening.” With that, he left, walking as if flying, and vanished from sight in an instant.

223 There was a man called Fei the Chicken Master, whose eyes were red and lacked black pupils. He was originally from Pu Prefecture. When Duan Chengshi first saw him in the early Changqing era, he was already over seventy years old. Sometimes, to dispel disasters for others, he would use a chicken and set up a sacrifice in the courtyard. He also would take a river stone the size of a chicken egg, have the sick person hold it, then stamp his feet, exhale, and shout—the chicken would spin around and die, and the stone would split into four pieces. Duan Chengshi’s old servant, Yong’an, initially didn’t believe in him. Once Fei said to him, “You are about to suffer a great calamity.” Then he rolled a talisman into a pill and forced him to swallow it. Next he removed the left shoe and sock from Yong’an’s foot, and the talisman opened up on the sole of his foot. He also said to another servant, Canghai, “You are going to fall ill.” He had him bare his back and face the door, then drew on the outside of the door with a brush over and over again, shouting loudly, “Pass! Pass!” And the ink penetrated through to his back.

224. Monk Bian of Changshou Temple said that once, in Mount Heng, a villager was bitten by a venomous snake and died instantly, his hair coming loose and a swelling rising over a foot. His son said, "If only Old Zan were here, there'd be nothing to worry about!" So he went and brought Zan. Zan surrounded the corpse with ashes, leaving four openings, and said first: "If the snake enters through the feet, there will be no saving him!" Then he paced back and forth, clenching his fists firmly, but for a long time the snake did not come. Zan became furious, took several *sheng* of rice, pounded it into the shape of a snake, and cursed it. Suddenly, the rice snake wriggled out the door. After a while, the rice snake led a real snake that entered through the dead man's head, went straight to the wound, and sucked on it. The corpse gradually lowered, the snake's swelling shrank, and it died. The villager then revived.