續高僧傳 24

English (machine translation) 24

Language: English

24.1

Compiled by Shi Daoxuan, śramaṇa of Ximing Monastery in the Great Tang.

24.2

Defenders of the Dharma, Part Two; Five Main Biographies, Five Subordinate Accounts.

24.3

Biography 1: Shi Mingzhan of Zhiju Monastery on Mount Zhongnan under the Tang.

24.4

Biography 2: Shi Huicheng of Shengguang Monastery in the capital under the Tang (Daozhang).

24.5

Biography 3: Shi Zhishi of Da Zongchi Monastery in the capital under the Tang (Puying, Faxing).

24.6

Biography 4: Shi Falin of Longtian Monastery on Mount Zhongnan under the Tang (Huixu).

24.7

Biography 5: Shi Jajang, Great Monastic Rectifier (Daseungtong) of the Silla Kingdom under the Tang (Wonsung).

Shi Mingzhan, whose secular surname was Du, was a native of Shiyi in Hengzhou. From his youth he displayed unusual conduct. In the village of Longgui where he lived, of more than two thousand households, all held him in high esteem and spoke praises of him. At the age of fourteen he was conversant with the classics; at seventeen he was clear on the histories. The prefecture and county thus recommended him as an outstanding scholar. By nature he yearned to transcend worldly limits and did not comply with the official summons. He went to Yingjue Temple on Mount Feilong and left household life. His master, secretly marveling at his bearing, sent a letter to the Dharmabhāṇaka Daochang of Daji Temple in Ye, directing [Mingzhan] to rely upon his guidance and specialize in the study of the Mahāvibhāṣā [or Mahāprajñāpāramitopadeśa]. Soon he encountered the suppression of the Dharma and concealed his presence in Dongjun. At the beginning of the Sui, when the Dharma emerged once more, he was reassigned to dwell at Fazang Temple in Xiangzhou. He set his resolve with purity and brightness, never associating with improper sorts. In the leisure left by his primary vocation, he had no other involvements whatsoever. Internally he penetrated both the Greater and Lesser Vehicles; externally he synthesized the ancient canonical histories. The masters and chronicles, books and plain silk scrolls were what his heart took delight and familiarity in. Intending to observe the country's governance, he made his way to the Upper Capital. In the third year of the Kaihuang reign (583), an imperial edict summoned him to translate scriptures and reside at Daxingshan Temple. The congregation, seeing his virtue and prestige worthy of veneration, nominated him to oversee the temple's administration. Though he declined, he could not avoid it and thus took charge of managing it. In the second year of the Daye reign (606), the Emperor returned to the capital and, in the southern suburbs, grandly arranged his armed forces. At that time, there were corrupt monks who had violated the court's statutes, and the matter was reported to the sovereign. The Emperor was exceedingly enraged; he summoned all the monks to stand in rank before the imperial presence, standing firm and matching etiquette. An imperial edict descended rebuking them: "Statutes and regulations have long been promulgated; in principle you must render homage!" At that time, men and women of Huang-Lao [Daoism] bowed as soon as they heard it; only the gate of the Śākyan lineage stood solemn, none bowing down. As Zhan was held by all in high esteem for his religious renown, he replied: "If Your Majesty truly desires to revere and exalt the Buddha's teachings, the monks in principle have no reason to render homage. If, according to the regulations, we return to worldly life, then the Dharma robes are not fit for rendering homage to secular customs." The imperial edict said: "If it is unfitting because of the Dharma robes, why did they render homage to Emperor Wu of the Song?" Zhan said: "The ruler of the Song was a monarch without the Way; not bowing would have immediately incurred overt execution. Your Majesty possesses good governance and upholds righteousness, never entrapping the innocent; therefore we dare not bow." The Emperor did not yield to his words and simply dispatched an attendant to say to the monks: "Why do you not bow?" This was repeated five times. The clan of the Yellow Turbans bowed repeatedly without end; only Zhan and his fellow monks made deep bows with hands folded as before, raising their voices in response and exposition without any fear or intimidation. The Emperor then asked: "Who was the monk that just replied to the edict? Record his name and submit it to the throne, then order him to observe those being executed." The whole congregation of monks retired peacefully. The following morning, the officials recruited volunteers willing to face death to go to the palace gate and apologize. Zhan again took the lead; though he delivered words of submission and deference, the Emperor remained impassive and made no mention [of punishment]. He merely issued an imperial decree to offer vegetarian feasts to all the monks of the capital at the two Chanding Temples, twice presenting bundles of silk, which especially exceeded the regular standard. Later, returning his imperial carriage to the western suburbs, he looked back at the capital and said to the court ministers: "I said there were no true monks in the realm; now having tested them, one is enough!" From then on, [Zhan] was repeatedly consulted in primordial selections, and all public discussions pointed to him. An imperial edict commanded him to dwell at Chanding Temple in order to honor his supreme virtue. Because Zhan maintained an upright countenance, held firm to determinations, and did not shy away from the powerful and overbearing, the congregation again elected him as the administrator and sthavira. He put the monastic affairs in good order, providing completely for the needs of the time. When the Great Tang ruled the world, monastic officials were instituted; the selections and appointments of the bright and wise were justly settled without impediment. In the beginning of the Zhenguan reign (627–649), because Zhan was well versed in methods of governance and had a reputation at court, he was summoned into the inner palace and personally ascended the imperial couch. After dining, he answered the imperial inquiries, expounding broadly on the methods of rule of wise monarchs and benighted sovereigns since antiquity, and also presenting the great deliverance of the Buddhist gate with compassionate rescue as its foundation. The Emperor was greatly delighted and immediately issued an imperial edict: on the three [fast] months and six [fast] days of the year, slaughter was prohibited everywhere; and Buddhist temples were established in all locations where military campaigns had been fought. Promptly, seven places were constructed at the same time: such as Zhaoren in Binzhou, Ciyun in Jinzhou, Puji in Lüzhou, Hongji in Fenzhou, Zhaofu in Mingzhou, Dengci in Zhengzhou, and Zhaojue in Luozhou. All were provided stonecutters by the government, and bondservants were sent from the capital; all came about due to Zhan's instigation. Furthermore, using personal offerings received each year, he regularly fed a thousand monks; wherever Mahāyāna sūtras and treatises were needed, he copied them, continuing year after year without interruption. In order to repay his mother's kindness and as his advanced age was approaching, he built a mountain hermitage. He thereupon entered the Zhiju Temple on Mount Taiyi and lived in seclusion there. The faithful from the capital came to the forest from afar; those asking after the Way and receiving the precepts were even more numerous than in the past. He then reflected to himself: "In collecting my mind to return to stillness, am I still troubled by weariness? Let me venture my remaining years to return once more to the capital." A short while later he contracted an illness, which was still treatable. He said: "My life has reached its end; it can linger perhaps for one month. Why burden others with these withered bones?" He then invited all the eminent virtues to gather at Xingshan Temple, holding a vegetarian feast to bid farewell. Right and Left Vice-Directors of the Department of State Affairs Fang and Du, along with the entire court, all gathered. They brought materials to assist the offerings, and donations of alms piled up like mountains. Zhan performed a great renunciation, expressed repentance, and took his leave. On that very day, leaning on his staff with great effort, he left the capital and returned to Zhiju Temple. Exerting his utmost sincerity, he diligently focused his thoughts and contemplated the Western [Pure Land]. His mind became clear, bright, and sharp. He told his attendant: "Amitābha Buddha has arrived!" A moment later he added: "The two great bodhisattvas have also arrived. In the Contemplation Sūtra, I have fulfilled twelve [contemplations]; the remaining ones are not yet complete." Having displayed various auspicious signs, his countenance peaceful and serene, he suddenly passed away. His age was seventy; it was the twenty-seventh day of the tenth month in the second year of the Zhenguan reign (628). At that time, based on the verification of his foreknowledge, people knew his destiny was assured. Initially, before his death, he left instructions to cremate his body. When the jhāpita was completed, they found his skeletal remains round and complete, entirely without seams; atop his cranium, a bright purple glow shone brilliantly. He was subsequently interred beneath the cliff.

24.9

Shi Huicheng, whose secular surname was Liu, was a man of Pengcheng in Xuzhou. His ancestors were of the lineage of the fiery Han dynasty. His grandfather, Xin, had been General of the Real Front and Grand Protector of Langya under the Liang. His father, Ya, had been an aristocratic secretary in the Ministry of War under the Chen. His great-uncle, Zhiqiang, had renounced the world in his youth and served as the Great Saṅghapradhāna of Guangling under the Chen, excelling in mastery of the Tattvasiddhi-śāstra (*Chéngshí lùn) and the Mahāparinirvāṇa-sūtra. At the age of twelve, Cheng resolved to enter the Path, subsequently serving Qiang as his teacher. Submitting to his master at the seat of doctrinal debate, he fully explored its profound principles. At sixteen, he said to Qiang, "Remaining a thousand li from home, one is still called a home-dwelling śramaṇa. I ask to travel extensively throughout the capitals and commanderies to expand my hearing and seeing." Qiang agreed. He then went down to the capital of Yangdu and listened to Dharmabhāṇaka Zhizhao of Zhuangyan Monastery lecture on the Tattvasiddhi-śāstra. Immediately upon receiving full ordination, he attended the Benevolent Kings (*Kāruṇikarāja) vegetarian feast of Emperor Wu of Chen. Debating doctrine before the imperial presence, his eloquence was peerless; among several thousand people, the imperial favor alone turned to him. On the eighth day of the fourth month, the Chen ruler ordered a general gathering for doctrinal debate at Zhuangyan Monastery. Cheng at that time established the thesis that "the fruit of Buddhahood transcends the two truths." There was a dharmabhāṇaka who regarded himself as a heroic master and commanded fame east of the river; he had previously resided at Kaitai and later entered Jetavana Monastery. He asked, "Does the fruit of Buddhahood transcend the two truths, or do the two truths transcend the fruit of Buddhahood?" Cheng replied with a counter-question, "Does the dharmabhāṇaka leave Kaitai, or does Kaitai leave the dharmabhāṇaka?" The other said, "Just as a mandarin duck does not stay in a privy." Cheng responded in an instant, "Śakra Devānām Indra does not dwell with ghosts." The other said, "The kokila bird does not perch on a withered tree." Cheng retorted, "Just as the great ocean does not harbor a corpse." At that time, Master Zhao, sitting in his seat, sighed and said, "His unhindered eloquence has a sharp edge that is difficult to withstand!" In person before the emperor, he rewarded him with a Tianzhu patch-robed kāṣāya. Because of this, his renown echoed through and spread to neighboring states. Prince Guiyang of Chen, Assistant Director Mao Xi, Vice Director of the Left Jiang Zong, and others all expressed enduring reverence and admired his virtuous renown. At the end of the Chen dynasty, as its way fell into decay and the customs of the Sui swept widely from afar, the Grand Defender, Prince of Jin, established the Huidi Bodhimaṇḍa in Jiangdu and extensively sought out eminent virtues. Cheng received imperial orders inviting him to reside there, and was thereupon called a "family monk." Later, accompanying the Prince to court, he was repeatedly granted private audiences. At that time, Huiyuan of Jingying was widely celebrated for his renown in the Way, but they had never met. Passing by on an occasion when he was lecturing, Cheng entered into discussion; his doctrine was lofty, his phrasing elegant, and his voice startled the audience. Yuan looked over and said, "From where comes this Wu monk whose tongue intimidates others? Who could surpass this?" Hearing this, the Prince respected his eloquence all the more. When Huidi was first established, scholars from throughout the realm were recruited; all were acclaimed as "dragons and elephants" and questioned on doctrinal matters. At the initial grand assembly, when the wheel of Dharma was first set in motion, the Prince asked Cheng to do his utmost in debate without being constrained by seeing others as venerable. Cheng, having received his encouragement, gave free rein to peerless eloquence; breaching barriers and laying bare intentions, he overturned all their bastions. This greatly answered the Prince's expectations, and he specially rewarded him with a hundred bolts of silk. When Gaozu made an imperial progress east to Mount Tai and the imperial carriage stayed in Yiluo, he decreed that the monks of Wu from south of the river and the bhadantas from east of the pass ascend the hall to establish doctrinal propositions. Cheng was the first to ascend in response to the decree. Given the topic to debate, clever questions burst forth and pointed retorts pressed closely together; back and forth they came continuously, yet none failed to lose their footing and collapse. Gaozu fixed his gaze upon him in praise, and the assembled talents marveled at him. In the seventeenth year of Kaihuang, he built an incense tower at Yongfu Monastery in Yangzhou, adorned with gold and jade of rare match in the world. When the Prince of Jin acceded to the throne, he honored him all the more, and wherever the imperial carriage traveled, there was nowhere Cheng did not accompany it. In the sixth year of Daye, an imperial decree selected three bhadantas from each commandery to enter the Eastern Capital and perform the circumambulation of the Benevolent Kings Sūtra at the Four Quarters Hall. A special decree appointed Cheng as the Grand Lecturer. For three days and three nights, various discussions on the Way were raised; all were lucidly resolved, and none failed to be refreshed. Accompanying the imperial carriage to Zhangye, foreign kings all gathered. He was commanded by decree to lecture on the Suvarṇaprabhāsa-sūtra for King Qu of Gaochang. The words he uttered were pure and extraordinary, moving listeners to sigh and choke back tears. Qu spread his hair on the ground and bent down for Cheng to tread upon it. By the eighth year, when the emperor was at the Eastern Capital, two seven-story wooden stupas were jointly built for the two former emperors at the Western Capital. An imperial decree also directed Cheng to escort the relics to be interred at the stupa site. At that time, monastics and laymen from the four directions, the hundred ministers, and the feudal lords each presented precious treasures. South of the Northern Heavenly Gate road of Xingshan Monastery, more than thirty extraordinary sites were arranged; lofty banners and flower-decked canopies cast shadows rising into the sky, and jeweled trees and incense smoke looked like clouds and mist. Escorting the spiritual bones to Zhanding Monastery, all jointly requested Cheng to expound the Benevolent Kings Sūtra. For both Chinese and foreign, officials and commoners, the correct path advanced day by day, and all praised and extolled it. In the twelfth year, at the Eastern Capital, he made a sandalwood image of the state of Kucha, sixteen feet high, which was the very image that Kumārajīva had carried from the Later Qin. Because it repeatedly evoked auspicious signs, it was handed down and preserved; it is now at Pure Land Monastery in Luozhou. It coincided with the collapse of the Sui dynasty and the Tang emperor assuming the imperial register. In the fourth year of Wude, after the eastern regions were pacified, an imperial decree stated that regarding the monks in the rebel territories, truth and falsehood were hard to discern; only one monastery per prefecture was to retain thirty monks, and the rest were to return to lay life. The Emperor, seeing that many celebrated figures had gathered in Luoyang, submitted a memorial requesting about two hundred monks to dwell at Tonghua Monastery. Cheng and four others were decreed to reside in the capital. At that time, Cheng had been implicated in the affairs of the puppet Zheng regime. The Sovereign had long heard of his renown and paid special regard to him; he was granted exceptional solace and commanded to reside at Shengguang Monastery. The merit of the Prince of Qin was entirely dedicated to this monastery. In the eighth year of Wude, when the year was in Xieqia, the imperial carriage visited the National University to perform the Śākya-libation; three seats were set in the hall intending to expound the Three Teachings. The assembly again gladly put forward Cheng as the leading head. At that time, the talents and scholars of the five capitals and masters versed in the Three Teachings were arrayed like stars across the doctrinal hall and gathered like clouds at the ornate feast. The Son of Heaven issued an edict saying, "The teachings of Laozi and Confucius are the indigenous traditions of this land. The teaching of the Śākya arose later, so it is appropriate to treat it with the etiquette due a guest." He ordered Laozi first, Confucius next, and the Śākya tradition last. At that time, they looked at one another, their faces drained of color. Although Cheng took his seat, his mind was uneasy. The present emperor, then the Prince of Qin, attended the assembly in person; he looked straight into Cheng's face without ever turning his gaze, and repeatedly dispatched court envoys more than ten times with the instruction: "Simply expound the Buddhist tradition and make glorious the imperial virtue; do not worry about anything." Being the last to present his discourse, his penetrative comprehension reached clearly throughout. He then proclaimed the premise: "What is relied upon for noble honor between heaven and earth has its karmic causes, and must take the Buddhist Sage as its ancestor. Now that we are about to set forth the great principles, proper etiquette and propriety must be observed. All join your palms and devoutly kneel, so that teacher and student may be properly distinguished." No sooner had his voice ceased than from the Crown Prince on down to the ministers, all stepped down from their seats and knelt on both knees, waiting to listen to his exceptional debate. Cheng first proclaimed the imperial virtue, saying, "Your Majesty is majestic and magnificent, like the moon among the stars," and so forth. Next he set forth the Śākya tradition, and finally presented two challenges that simultaneously interrogated both [other] teachings. The profound ladder was widely extended, and the net of principles was held aloft; none failed to respond like wind following a sound, rising up like clouds to meet the occasion. Thereupon the Son of Heaven turned his favorable attention, revering and praising his Way, and the public ministers bowed and requested to follow the great endeavor. The Yellow Turban Li Zhongqing tied his tongue and had no reply; the academicians and libationers lowered their bodies at the camp gates. The Sun of Wisdom shone more brightly, and the Dharma Cloud spread anew. At that time, another decree was issued questioning Cheng, saying: "The Daoist Pan Dan has memorialized that Prince Siddhārtha could not attain Buddhahood, and only after seeking the Dao for six years did he succeed in becoming a Buddha. Thus the Dao can generate the Buddha, and the Buddha is accomplished through the Dao. The Dao is the father and teacher of the Buddha, and the Buddha is the son and disciple of the Dao. Therefore the Buddhist sūtras say, 'Seeking the unsurpassed, correct, and true Dao,' and also say, 'Experiencing and understanding the Great Dao, one gives rise to the unsurpassed aspiration.' In foreign languages, it is called Anuttara-bodhi, which in the Jin language is translated as 'the unsurpassed Great Dao.' If examined through this, the Dao is great and the Buddha is small; this can be known from the facts." Cheng replied in summary, saying: "Zhendan compared to Tianzhu is like the surrounding sea compared to Linzhou. Lao Dan only arose at the end of the Zhou, while the Buddha appeared prior to the beginning of the Zhou. Calculating their separation, it spans about twenty kings; discussing the time elapsed, it exceeds three hundred years. How could the Buddha of King Zhao's era retreat to seek the Dao of King Jing's time? By examining the hollow and verifying the real, this is sufficient to know. What Zhongqing previously described regarding the Dao—that there is a Grand Supreme Great Dao born before Heaven and Earth, surging within the profound void, resplendent atop the Jade Clarity, being the master of the Buddha—did not refer to Lao Dan of the Zhou. Moreover, before the Five Emperors, no Dao was heard of; only at the end of the Three Kings did the name Dan first appear. Only since Emperor Jing of Han has Daoist learning flourished. Searching present and probing antiquity, who is this Dao? Examining the Seven Classics and the Nine Schools, the canons for governing the state take the Zhouyi as the ancestral master: the Five Phases generate each other, and once the Two Modes are opened, Yin and Yang are divided. Thus it is said, 'One Yin and one Yang is called the Dao,' and 'The unfathomableness of Yin and Yang is called the divine.' Heaven and Earth are clear in their workings, and Yin and Yang have proof in living things; this is the natural order of principle. It is never said that there is a Dao born before Heaven and Earth. Since the Dao is unfathomable, how could it generate the Buddha? Thus Che Yin said, 'In oneself it is virtue; extended to things it is the Dao.' Yin Zhongwen said, 'Virtue is obtaining (de); the Dao is that by which one proceeds (you).' This means obtaining filial piety in the heart, and proceeding by it to accomplishment. The Lunheng says, 'Establishing oneself is called virtue; achieving fame is called the Dao.' Virtue and the Dao are like this. Could the Dao spoken of by your lordship differ from this? If it differs from this, it is not worthy of belief. How could there be one wearing a golden crown on his head, draped in a yellow hemp robe, with white hair hanging at his temples and holding a jade tablet in his hand, separately named Celestial Worthy dwelling atop Daluo, solely named the Great Dao ruling in the midst of the Jade Capital? The Classic of Mountains and Seas does not detail it, and the classics and histories do not record it. Daluo is merely a fabricated tale, and the Jade Capital is fundamentally a fictitious story." When his speech finished, he descended from the seat. The entire court fixed their gaze upon him. At this time, he alone held the authority of debate, while the other arts retreated into insignificance. Swaying his fan in a single gathering, he became a boat and rudder for ten thousand generations; worthy of admiration and worthy of a master, establishing merit and establishing deeds. In the short term he relied on the power of royal favor, and from afar he was protected by the grace of mindfulness. In the first year of Zhenguan, Cheng, having received this special mandate and duty to exalt the good, built a jeweled relic stupa at Shengguang Monastery on behalf of His Majesty; its image design was magnificent, fully equipped with spiritual transformations, and he also established a vaipulya bodhimaṇḍa, practicing and sitting in the three actions during the six periods of the day and night. On the twentieth day of the tenth month of the fourth year of Zhenguan, he passed away in his old chamber at the age of seventy-six. His disciple Daozhang, having previously received his bequeathed instructions, cremated him at the mouth of the valley in the South Mountains, privately collected the remaining ashes, and returned to Shengguang to build a stupa. Śramaṇa Falin composed an inscription for him, which appears in a separate collection. Cheng explained ignorance and relied on the Dao, taking the defense of the Dharma as his mind. Comforting creatures and pitying the destitute, his feelings and care were profound. His eloquence was unhindered, with both phrasing and doctrine shining forth; his written delivery flowed like a stream, surpassing rote recitation. After his passing, this singular mastery vanished without a trace. In his life he spanned three dynasties and the shifting reigns of six emperors; repeatedly ascending the inner palace halls, he came face to face with the Heavenly Countenance. His spiritual vigor was pure and luminous, shining through the ten-foot walls; those who saw his heroic virtue all deferred to him. Furthermore, high officials, prince dukes, consorts, concubines, and ordinary clans all received his perfumed anointing and expressed the rites of offering. He lectured on the Nirvāṇa, Prajñā, Golden Drum (Suvarṇaprabhāsa), Vimalakīrti, Bodhisattvabhūmi, and Tattvasiddhi several tens of times each. Zhang was Cheng's nephew. From his youth he had served him reverently; by nature honest and sincere, he was especially adept at bhāṇā chanting. His clear modulations were delicate and graceful, holding prestige at the time. Whenever he acted as the primary interrogator, he followed standard rules; later followers in the capital mostly strove to match his renown.

24.10

Śramaṇa Zhishi was surnamed Shao and was a native of Wannian in Yongzhou. As a small boy among children, he was unconventional and extraordinary; whenever there was conversation, he would invariably speak of Buddhist principles first. At eleven, he left household life and resided at Da Zongchi Temple. When he listened to expositions of the profound and abstruse, people at once regarded him as a vessel [of the Dharma]. In accordance with [even] minor conditions, he was able to penetrate broadly and far-reachingly. From the Mahāparinirvāṇa Sūtra and the Mahāyānasaṃgraha-śāstra to the Abhidharmakośa and the Abhidharma, he mirrored their profound meanings and unlocked their key mechanisms. Moreover, his mental power was firm and lucid, and his talent and spirit were heroic and refined.

In the years of Wude, when the state of Zheng had just been pacified, three great dharmabhāṇakas—Huicheng, Daozong, and Bianxiang—went west to the capital. The reigning emperor, then Prince of Qin, had a martial renown that illuminated the realm and his mind was devoted to revering the Buddhist order. He thereupon invited the aforementioned three virtues along with more than twenty monks of the capital who were skilled debaters to the Hongyi Palace for an all-night Dharma assembly. Zhishi was thirteen years old and sat at the very lowest seat. His Highness ordered him to engage in the debates; his words were so clear and outstanding that they astonished and surpassed anything previously heard. None of the newly arrived monks dared to follow in response. His Highness and the various princes sighed in unison with different voices, saying, 'This little master is the most exceptional and ardent; in the future he will certainly carry on and elevate the Three Jewels!'

Between Zhishi's brows was a white ūrṇā hair several inches long, its light illuminating his face and forehead. The śramaṇa Jizang stroked his head and smoothed the hair, saying, 'You possess an extraordinary mark and will surely follow in the footsteps of the Capable and Benevolent One (Śākyamuni). I only regret that I am old and shall not see your mature virtue.'

In the seventh year of Wude, the Xianyun were in fierce resurgence, repeatedly raising beacon fires; having previously arrived in the northern regions, government troops resisted them. There was a monk named Faya who had long been known to the emperor. Emperor Gaozu treated him with special deference, permitted him wives and concubines, and indulged his excesses. The monastic assembly was bewildered, none daring to speak out. Faya memorialized to request that a thousand valiant and robust monks from the capital temples be drafted to fill the military ranks, and an imperial decree approved it. Faya at once gathered and selected them, establishing a separate unit. Pressed by the imperial authority, all were silent and offered no resistance.

Zhishi was twenty-one years old at the time. Deeply discerning Faya's designs and fearing that extraordinary deviations would arise, which if brought to light would inevitably entangle the Great Dharma, he sent a letter to Faya, saying:

'You and I were born together in the Semblance Age, both belonging to a time of decline. We grieve for the confusion of the six destinies and pity the unawakened state of the four modes of birth. You frequently visit the Phoenix Palace and constantly behold the Dragon Countenance. In principle, you ought to sprinkle sweet dew on the imperial heart and shade the sentient beings with clouds of compassion. Why, then, give rise to the rebellious views of Sunakkhatta and stir up the evil mind of Devadatta, causing good reputation to perish in the present age and shameful conduct to be publicized to future generations? Could it not be that the court, harboring tolerance, examines and accepts simple advice, while you indulge this foolish impulse and express such stubborn views? Alas, how lamentable! It truly pains our kind!

'Moreover, when a tāla palm is severed, it never grows again; when broken stone is divided, there is no way for it to reunite. Quickly take your robes and bowl and leave the saṅghārāma early, so that the clear and the turbid may flow in separate streams, and the thoroughwort and the mugwort be distinguished. Let the courtiers cease their criticisms, and let the brahmacārins quiet their slanderous voices. May the waters of concentration, having been blocked, flow once more, and the lamp of wisdom, having been dimmed, shine again! These words are of the utmost import; I imagine you will follow them as water flows.'

When Faya received the letter, his fury grew even greater, and his supervision became increasingly pressing. He prepared military equipment, setting a date for their departure. Zhishi burst into his assembly, weeping aloud, and described this perversity, stating that ruining the great wheel of the Dharma was precisely the work of Māra. All the thousand monks involved cried out at the same time; those who heard it felt their hearts turn cold and shed tears. Zhishi then seized Faya and struck him several blows with his fists, announcing, 'I now subdue Māra, so that the heterodox and the orthodox may have proof.'

Faya reported the matter to the emperor, saying, 'This monk is exceedingly rough.' Zhishi was remanded to the judicial officials for harsh interrogation and was immediately fettered and imprisoned, yet from the beginning he showed no sign of fear. When they were about to impose punishment, Vice Director of the Left Xiao Yu and others submitted a memorial stating that he was known for his vigor. An imperial decree then ordered him dismissed [from the monastic order] and returned to lay life, while the chosen thousand men were all halted [from conscription] and returned to their temples. Although Zhishi was placed in the lay realm, military service was halted; his heart was joyful and untroubled, harboring not the slightest resentment.

In the first year of Zhenguan, an imperial decree sent Du Zhenglun, Attendant Censor of the Department of Written Ordinances, to inspect the Buddha-Dharma and purge impurities and abuses. Fearing that Faya would still carry on his earlier schemes and that abuses would reach pure followers, Zhishi sent a letter to the commissioner, saying:

'Zhishi, a monk sunken in lay life, states: In the year when I carried oranges in my bosom (in my youth), I ascended to the name of pure believer; in the year when I picked plums, I took on the rank of cessation and compassion (monkhood). Though shallow in wisdom and narrow in ability, I am moved by admiration for former worthies. I have observed that monk Faya of Huadu Temple enjoyed good causes in former lives and received retribution in this present birth, like Dao’an's journey to Qin or Huiyuan's entry into Jin. In principle, he should maintain the conduct of the goose-protecting [monk] and hold the heart of grass-tying [gratitude], thinking to repay the emperor's benevolence and requite the virtue of heaven and earth. Yet in the quiet court of a caitya, he constantly makes a slaughterhouse; within the grove of the vihāra, he permanently makes quarters for a wife and children. Stripping the robes of a thousand monks, the four seas felt grief that shook the earth; slandering the sūtras of the seven Buddhas, the myriad states lamented grievances that cried to Heaven. Since Han Mingdi's dream and Moteng's arrival in Luoyang, have the countless renowned men ever heard the like?

'The Emperor has received the abdication and shepherds the myriad regions, desiring that the royal way be solely pure and the ocean of the Dharma free of defilement. You, Sir, inscribed your name [in government] and accepted your commission, pledging your life to the Way. Eliminate the calamity to the sugarcane clan; uproot the hollow-bellied tree! Let the grove of dhyāna be lush and bright, and the park of wisdom branch out wide, so that luxuriant fruits and fine renown resound throughout the realm! How could one tolerate this evil and flattering man still carrying a bowl in the Jetavana, while discarding our uprightness and integrity, severing circumambulation around the sacred stupas? The Dragon Gate is deep and vast; I have no means to be granted an audience. The heavenly will hangs high; on what day will inquiries descend? May you, Sir, whose discernment is like a water-mirror and whose wisdom scrutinizes subtle obscurities, deign to save the frightened wings from the floral snare, and rescue the dried-up fish in the rut! In making this slight breach to state my case, I only add to my trepidation.'

Later, Faya was ultimately executed for wild arrogance. When Zhenglun reported the matter to the throne, an imperial decree was issued, saying, 'In the past, Zhishi rebuked and denounced Faya, foreseeing his rough rebellion. Since returning to lay life, he has not violated his monastic discipline. He should return to household-leaving as before.' He thus returned to his temple quarters, integrated his former studies, and investigated profound depths, winning praise in the capital.

In the eleventh year, when the imperial carriage traveled to Luozhou, an edict was issued saying: 'Lord Lao handed down models whose significance lies in purity and emptiness; Śākya bequeathed principles whose truth rests in cause and effect. If we examine their teachings, the traces of their guidance take different paths; if we examine their purpose, the customs of their broad benefits are identical. However, the movement of the Great Way began in high antiquity, its source emerging at the beginning of the nameless, its operations transcending the realm of physical form. Moving beyond the two modes of Yin and Yang, it encompasses and nurtures the myriad things. Therefore it can govern the state, bring about good order, and return to simplicity and purity. As for the rise of Buddhism, it was founded in the Western Regions; only reaching the Later Han did it cover the central lands. The principles of its divine transformations are manifold, and the conditions of its retributions are more than one. Down to recent times, reverence and faith grew ever deeper: people hoped for blessings in the current year, and families feared calamities in the next life. Because of this, those steeped in worldliness laughed out loud upon hearing the Mysterious School, while those fond of novelty vied to turn toward the True Meaning. At first it surged like waves through neighborhoods; in the end it swept over the imperial court like the wind. Thus the scriptures of foreign customs have flourished ahead of the myriad mysteries, while the teachings of the Central Lands have contrary to expectations fallen behind the One Vehicle. Wandering adrift and forgetting to return, this has continued for successive generations. Now that the imperial destiny flourishes, relying already on the blessing of supreme virtue, the great pacification of the world also depends on the merit of non-action. It is appropriate to make adjustments and propagate this mysterious transformation. From this time forward, in vegetarian feasts and offerings, walking and standing, and down to appellations, Daoist priests and female Daoist priests may precede monks and nuns, so that customs returning to the root may be reinforced, spread across the nine provinces, and bequeathed to ten thousand generations.'

At that time, the monastic community of the capital each submitted extreme remonstrances, the words of which are recorded in a separate account. Zhishi, reflecting that the Semblance Phase was sinking and the time of illumination was upon them, took ten great virtues including Fachang and followed the imperial carriage to the palace, submitting a memorial saying:

'Fachang and the others state: Fachang and the rest are at an age nearing sunset, only now encountering an era of great peace; our forms resemble reeds and willows, just meeting a sage and enlightened ruler. We have heard that a father has remonstrating sons and a ruler has remonstrating ministers. Although Fachang and the others have entered monastic life, we still remain among the ranks of subjects and sons. When there is an offense, we should not conceal it; how dare we not state it?

'We respectfully observe the edict stating that the state's ancestral lineage derives from [Laozi] under the pillar, and the custom of honoring ancestors was displayed in earlier texts; when proclaimed to the realm, there is no virtue to match it. Ordering Daoist priests to be placed above monks to be revered and accommodated—how could we dare refuse the edict? Yet upon examining the models handed down by Lord Lao, they concern governing the state and governing the family, and the garments he wore were never altered. He established no abbeys and directed no disciples. Residing under the pillar, he preserved wholeness of truth; concealing the dragon's virtue, he nurtured nature. The wise saw it and called it wisdom; the foolish saw it and called it foolishness. None but the Minister of Crime of Lu (Confucius) could recognize him.

'Today's Daoists do not follow his Dharma. The clothing they wear is entirely the remnant of the Yellow Turbans; they are originally not the descendants of Lord Lao. Practicing the defiled arts of the three Zhangs, they discard the wondrous gate of the five thousand words; contrary to expectation, like Zhang Yu, they recklessly interpret chapters and sentences. Since the Han and Wei, they have constantly transformed the floating populace through demonic ways, falsely claiming to be the posterity of Lord Lao, whereas in truth they are the shoots of heterodox ways. If their position is placed above monks, we truly fear that truth and falsehood will flow together, causing harm to the transformation of the state. If we do not memorialize this, how can we express the sentiments of subjects and sons? We have respectfully compiled Daoist scriptures and the various histories of the Han and Wei concerning instances where the Buddha came before the Dao, as listed before. We prostrate ourselves and pray that the heavenly compassion may condescend to inspect them.'

An imperial decree sent Cen Wenben, Vice Director of the Secretariat, to proclaim an order to the monks: 'The enlightened edict has long been in effect. Those who do not submit shall be beaten with rods.' The great virtues, all considering the peril to their lives, swallowed their breath and choked back their voices. Zhishi then stepped forward boldly, appearing first, and said, 'I do not submit to this principle. Under ten thousand blades, I will willingly accept punishment.' He was thereupon beaten with rods and released to return.

Harboring deep sorrow, he returned to the capital, concealed his traces in the metropolis, and resided in Sanyuan north of the Wei River. Devout companions revered him like clouds. Having no means to realize his sentiments and aspirations, he contracted a qi ailment. Knowing his life would not be long, he wished to take leave of old friends, but throughout his life he had never ridden a horse or carriage. He thus ordered four disciples each to take a corner of his bed and carry him to his original temple. His mental vigor remained unconfused. He summoned his acquaintances, grasped their hands, and bid farewell, saying, 'Being shallow and worthless, I falsely ranked among the monastic assembly. Now that this one lifetime has reached its end, what more is there to say? I only regret that this body dies in vain without having served the Dharma, which fills me with sorrow. Recently I dreamed that the immortal Asita appeared and said to me, "You shall constantly leave household life." I trust these were not idle words.'

A short while later, he passed away at Da Zongchi Temple at the age of thirty-eight, in the first month of the twelfth year of Zhenguan. During his life, Zhishi was able to avoid entering markets and marketplaces; he did not hold coins or jewels, and did not seek gain or travel. The three robes, bottle, and bowl never left his person; even when going back and forth within a single day, he never parted from them. His conduct was strict and austere, singularly principled. He gathered and guided people in many ways; hence from far and wide, both clergy and laity, and monks who had fled or gone astray, mostly came to rely on him. Seven śramaṇas personally attended him, all serving in proper order, and all praised him together.

Few made repairs and offerings to the ancient pagoda of Zongchi; Zhishi made incense and lamp offerings his own personal task. As his illness grew increasingly grave, not a drop of water passed his lips for over ten days. When an attendant offered him broth outside the proper time, Zhishi said, 'The Great Sage bequeathed admonitions; how could they be deceived? I have seen many who violate precepts at the point of death. How could I allow the sincerity of repeated kalpas to be ruined by a single swallow?' He thereupon held his breath and stopped. When asked about his funeral arrangements, he replied, 'It is like bending a bow and releasing an arrow; it falls wherever it may. Viewing mountains and waters, I have no mind of partiality; letting the time decide and weighing the place, keeping matters simple is what is essential.' He was thus buried in the monks' cemetery in the southern suburbs. This, too, was a sign of his reaching his true nature.

After his demise, the faithful of Sanyuan, across an area of over thirty li, all established spirit shrines for him. Every night four or five hundred people would gather and lament as if mourning their own parents, dispersing only after a hundred days.

24.11

Earlier, at Zongchi Monastery, there was a monk named Puying, who was likewise a person of fierce and upright character. He was conversant with the Nirvāṇa [Sūtra] and the Mahāyānasaṃgraha, possessing profound breadth in his attainments. When Fu Yi submitted his memorial [against Buddhism], the community of monks was bewildered and none dared to remonstrate. Puying therefore went to the Palace Library and the Astronomical Bureau during an official gathering. The directors and supervisors ordered [Fu] Yi to debate with him. [Fu Yi] had no words to respond or appreciate, but merely said, 'The monstrous words of a bald fellow require no exchange of pleasantries.' Puying said, 'When monstrosities arise, any state unites to punish them. How is it that when both the worthy and the holy are venerated together, you alone insult and demean them?' [Fu] Yi did not reply. Puying withdrew and composed the Po xie lun (Treatise on Refuting the Heterodox) in two fascicles. Carrying rough mats on his back, he went straight to the imperial court to present what he had written. At that time, the officials in charge [considered that] since the Sage Sovereign had opened good governance and permitted remonstrance, though lowly opinions were received, Fu Yi's memorial had not yet been acted upon, so as a matter of principle they would not transmit it upward. Puying then made numerous copies of the treatise and went daily to the court ministries. Confronting the high ministers and bureau directors, he raised objections to Fu Yi's memorial, dragging Fu Yi by the hand to debate the correct principle with him. [Fu Yi] had always been shallow in learning, relying on words borrowed from others, and he shut his mouth without responding. This [Puying] was also bold, unyielding, and stalwart, an outstanding monk who could not be suppressed. Faxing, who was Puying's master, was likewise a chaste and pure monk. They resided together at Zongchi Monastery, where Faxing was foremost among the community's leaders. His moral conduct was lofty and unmatched, standing apart from ordinary folk. Every day, during the six periods, he would constantly stand and pay homage before the statues, asking and answering questions himself as he entered the hall; even in comforting and dismissing [visitors], his responses sounded as if [the statues themselves] were present. His sincerity and exceptional integrity were hard for the assembly to surpass, and thus he was also referred to as 'Gaoxing' (Lofty Conduct). Whenever Faxing saw pagodas or shrines, he would certainly repair and protect them, adorning them with vermilion and white plaster to inspire the reverence of beings. If there were halls in the monasteries of the capital that were not yet painted, he would have them all illustrated and engrave the donors' clan names; Shengguang and Baoyi Monasteries were among these. At the beginning of the Wude era, there was not yet a good harvest; the monasteries were starved, and kitchen fires could not be sustained. As Zongchi Monastery was famous and eminent, Puying took the lead, gathering the monks and vowing to open a supply route for grain. Each person was rationed one ladleful, hosts and guests alike. Those who came to seek refuge at that time numbered nearly a hundred every day; from dawn until nightfall he was joyous and never complained of weariness. Yet when Faxing briefly conceived a slight thought of weariness or sloth, he immediately repented and told others, 'I have broadly opened the way to the karma of hungry ghosts! How could I burden myself by begrudging others their food?' Every morning he would go out the gate to welcome and accommodate travelers, initiating conversation with laughter and smiles, inquiring after them and receiving them. He prepared many almsbowls and shoes, arranging comfortable quarters, and never rested until times of abundance arrived. Later, he resided in the state of Chu, lecturing on the Yijiao lun (Treatise on the Sutra of the Buddha's Last Teaching), and there brought his life to a close.

24.12

Shi Falin's secular surname was Chen; he was a native of Yingchuan. His remote ancestors, following official postings, came to reside in Xiangyang. He underwent pravrajyā in his youth, and hunted through Confucian and Buddhist works, broadly mastering literary expressions and their meanings. From Jinling to the regions of Chu and Ying, he sought the Way and inquired after passages. From groves of letters to forests of talent, there was nowhere he did not seek out and visit. Yet his intent lay in the essential and unyielding; he did not pursue superficial elegance. He lived in the wilds and ate from the trees on the mountains of Qingxi and elsewhere; by day he received instruction in Buddhist sūtras, and by night he chanted and perused secular classics. Thus, regarding the inner and outer texts, their aims, and the warp and weft of inherited writings, he grasped their core conclusions and fully gave free rein to his aspirations. His manner was refined and elegant, yet he concealed his virtue and hid his form; only when his spirit soared and his brilliance shone did he display his divine strategies. During the disorder at the end of the Sui, he entered the passes to observe the transformation of the realm, drifting along the Eight Rivers and pacing through the Three Qin. He often discussed the reality behind the names of the Daoist schools of Huaili; previously, in the Jing and Chu regions, he had gathered the outlines of their writings, yet their secret methods and marvelous texts he had not yet explored. Unless he assumed their form and attire and soiled his original feelings, he would not be able to understand their masters and calm these entanglements. Thereupon he provisionally cast aside his Dharma robes and grew his hair for many years, outwardly mastering the Confucian gates and inwardly seeking the arts of Laozi. Thus, in the first year of Yining, he put on a cap and hempen cloth, following their dwellings. Falin was already conversant with Zhuangzi and Laozi, and his speech was pure and extraordinary. The Daoist companions submitted to his brilliance; they prostrated themselves and followed him wherever he went. Their affinity was unparalleled, and they pledged a bond of golden orchids. Therefore, the Daoist texts that had been kept secret were all presented to Falin for consultation and decision. This allowed the texts concerning Laozi's veneration of the Buddha to be comprehensively gathered and presented, and the false words of Zhang Ling and Ge Hong to be evaluated, graded, and catalogued. At the beginning of the Wude era, he returned to oversee the Buddhist order. Embracing his book satchel, he extended his light; distressed and unsettled, he sought the Way. Taking the view that the imperial realm adhered uniformly to orthodox teachings, and that just as licentious airs of Zheng and Wei can be easily admonished and corrected, he went to dwell at Jifa Temple in the capital. By the fourth year of Wude, the Grand Astrologer Fu Yi—who had previously been a Daoist and deeply resented the Buddhadharma—submitted a memorial with eleven articles urging the abolition of the Buddhadharma, claiming: 'The Buddhist scriptures are boastful and absurd; their words are bizarre and their affairs concealed. They harm the state and ruin families; we have never heard of them benefiting the world. We request that the barbarian Buddha's heterodox teachings be sent back to Tianzhu, and that all śramaṇas be dismissed back to their hometowns. Then the families and the state will flourish, and the teachings of Laozi and Confucius will prevail.' Gaozu tolerated Fu Yi's petty eloquence, and the court ministers were unable to counter it. At that time, it was feared that his heterodox course would be followed, leading to the general abolition of the great highway, and everyone was terrified. Thereupon an imperial edict was issued asking: 'You abandon the beard and hair given by your parents, and cast aside the official insignia and robes of ruler and minister. Within what gate does the benefit lie? Outside what sentiment does the profit reside? Where the balance of harm and benefit lies, please present your fine answers.' Falin was outraged by Fu Yi's words and listened intently to the bright edict. Hearing of this inquiry, he immediately stated in response: 'Falin has heard that the Ultimate Way transcends words; how could the nine schools debate it? The dharmakāya is without form; it is not what the Ten Wings can explain. Yet the four destinies are vast and drift drowned in the sea of desire; the three realms are teeming and tumble down the mountain of heterodoxy. The children are deluded and burn themselves; ordinary mortals sink and cannot emerge. The Great Sage appeared in the world for this reason; the Ultimate Man descended in spirit for this purpose. He thereupon opened the gate of liberation and revealed the path of peace. Thus, the royal lineages of central Tianzhu renounced affection and affection to undergo pravrajyā; the nobles of the Eastern Xia grew weary of glory and entered the Way. They vowed to transcend the two kinds of birth and death, and aspired to seek the one wondrous nirvāṇa; they propagated goodness to repay the four kindnesses, and established virtue to aid the three realms of existence. This is its benefit. They deface their form to fulfill their aspiration; hence they abandon their beard, hair, and beautiful appearance. They alter secular ways to accord with the Way; hence they cast aside the splendid attire of rulers and ministers. Though their form lacks service to their parents, inwardly they cherish filial piety; though their ritual diverges from serving the sovereign, in their hearts they harbor gratitude. Their grace extends to both foes and kin, fulfilling great compliance; their protection reaches the unseen and the manifest—how could it be bound by minor divergences? When persons of superior wisdom follow the Buddha's words, it brings benefit; when inferior and ordinary mortals fall short of the sacred teachings, it causes harm. Punishing evil causes the corrupted to renew themselves; promoting goodness causes capable people to be transformed. This is its general outline.' Yet Fu Yi's memorial had not yet been put into effect by the relevant offices. Fu Yi then made many copies of the memorial and openly circulated them near and far. In the alleys and neighborhoods of the capital, the mockery of 'shaven-headed rascals' spread everywhere; at banquet tables and gatherings, the slander of 'barbarian ghosts' was openly proclaimed. The Buddha-sun was obscured and dimmed; the awe of the Saṅgha was impeded and without force. At that time, of the Daoist and secular luminaries and nobility with broad capacity, more than one composed treatises; each explicated Buddhist principles and cited Indic texts, detailing karmic causes and conditions and discerning heterodoxy from orthodoxy. But since the sūtras were precisely what Fu Yi wished to abolish, how could citing what he abolished serve as proof? Though called 'destroying heterodoxy', in the end it was destroyed by heterodoxy. Falin possessed an upright spirit and profound insight, independently awakened across a thousand years; his caliber was naturally endowed, and his comprehensive comprehension was innate. Seeing that the authors had accomplished nothing, and trusting that using expedient means had authority, he composed the *Poxie lun* (Treatise on Destroying Heterodoxy). Its text stated: 'Zhuang Zhou said: "Within the six directions, the Sage acknowledges but does not discuss; beyond the six directions, the Sage accepts but does not expound." Laozi said: "Within the realm there are four greats, and the Way is one of them." Examining the intent of the *Book of Odes*, the *Book of Documents*, the rites, and music, and the priority of loyalty, valor, filial piety, and benevolence: they merely seek to arrange the ordinary human relations in proper order, intending to honor and serve ruler and father. The supreme virtue is merely to pacify superiors and govern the people; the essential way does not go beyond transforming customs and altering habits. Returning from Wei to Lu, did he ever speak words of liberation? The Six Treasuries and Nine Categories never proclaimed the ultimate meaning. Examining the various books recorded in the bibliographic treatise of the *History of the Former Han*, amounting to 13,269 fascicles, none failed to focus their efficacy on immediate benefits; none clearly expounded the distant path. Truly, they were confined within a single life, and did not transcend beyond the three periods of time! Consequently, when facing cause and effect, the principles remain dark as if before dawn; regarding karmic retribution, good fortune, and misfortune, the meanings remain unclear even to Confucius. These are all worldly schemes within the four corners of the universe and mundane maxims of the five constants; how could they avoid the churning of the four currents as a ground of defilement, or the tumult of the six destinies generating karmic deeds of worldly dust? Now, the true aspect is profound and dark, transcending the way of essential ways; the dharmakāya is tranquil and still, surpassing the mystery of mysteries. Only our Great Master embodied this wondrous enlightenment; the two extremes were suddenly cast aside, and the myriad virtues converged. It cannot be sought through realm or cognition; it cannot be grasped through form or name. Thus he was able to measure the dharmadhātu and arouse compassion, and survey empty space to establish vows. Therefore, he manifested birth in an impure land, born as a sage in a royal palace; he displayed a golden-colored body and emitted the sign of the jade urna. Spreading the clouds of compassion over Vulture Peak, the flames of the burning house were extinguished; fanning the wind of wisdom upon Cock's Foot Mountain, the mists of the dark paths were dispersed. When he walked, golden lotuses supported his feet; when he sat, a jeweled seat bore his body. When he went forth, the Lord of Heaven led the way; when he entered, the King of Brahmā followed behind. The śrāvakas and bodhisattvas stood solemn as if in imperial court ceremony; the eight classes and myriad spirits stood dense as guardians. When he expounded nirvāṇa, the earth manifested six kinds of shaking; when he preached prajñā, heaven rained down the four kinds of flowers. Adorned with a hundred blessings, he was like the full moon rising over the vast sea; illuminated by a thousand lights, he was like the gathered sun shining upon a jeweled mountain. With a single lion's roar, the heterodox teachers' vanguard was broken; when the Dharma drum was sounded once, the heavenly māras bowed their heads. Therefore he is titled Buddha, the Dharma King. How could he be compared in virtue or set alongside Laozi of the declining Zhou, or casually placed in the same rank as Confucius of the latter age? Thus, above heaven and below heaven, he alone is called the Honoured One, the Tamer; the three thousand great thousand worlds all look up to the moisture of his compassion. Yet the principle is deep and the purport distant; one awakens only by relying on the trap and the snare. The gates of teaching are skillful; one gains passage only by depending on masters and friends. Unifying his teachings, there are the eighty-four thousand treasuries, the texts of the two truths and the ten stages, the purports of the ocean palaces and dragon abodes, and the weight of ancient records and modern books. None fail to pour forth sweet dew across ten thousand generations, and bestow the ultimate way upon a hundred kings. Close at hand, they pacify the state and benefit the people; far off, they transcend the ordinary and realize the sage. Yet because the turn of the times had not yet matured, the responses of China and India were different: the Western regions first enjoyed the veneration of his voice and form, while the Eastern realms later received the benefit of seeing and hearing. When the cloud of compassion withdrew its moisture and the sun of wisdom retracted its light, the golden man was dreamt of in the Yongping era, and the spiritual relics were witnessed in the Chiwu era. Thereupon, during the governance of the Han, Wei, Qi, and Liang, the semblance teachings flourished vigorously; from the Yan, Qin, Jin, and Song onwards, famous monks appeared in succession. Some saved the world through spiritual powers; some inspired people through extraordinary traces; some opened minds through wisdom and understanding; some accommodated transformations through spiritual resonance. When Baizu faced the blade and was unhurt, the bequeathed Dharma began anew; when Zhi Shang divided his body in the circular gate, emperors and kings increased their faith. All this is detailed in the historical records—can it be scrutinized? Together, their merit covered future generations, transmitting the lamp for eternal kalpas. The discussants all said: "The Saṅgha merely continues the prosperity of the Buddha-seed; the Buddha secretly protects the state and confers blessings upon the imperial foundation. There is certainly no reason for abolition." Our Great Tang possesses the realm: answering to the time of the twenty-eight constellations, occupying the ninth-five position of sovereignty. It is about to revive the style of the ancient emperors and open the way of correct enlightenment, governing so as to achieve supreme peace and perpetuate pure transformation. But the cruel, poisonous, and foul words stated by Fu Yi are what heaven and earth cannot tolerate, and what human relations mutually cast aside. Fearing they would defile the imperial view, they cannot be fully inspected. We humbly pray that Your Majesty spread your all-embracing grace and bestow your nurturing benevolence, examining what is compliant and what is rebellious, deliberating on the true and the false. The Buddha entrusted the orthodox Dharma to the kings of states in the distance; Your Majesty ruling the realm is precisely the one to whom it is entrusted. I respectfully present one fascicle of the *Treatise on Destroying Heterodoxy* to respond to Fu Yi's words.' The text comprised over thirty sheets. Since Falin composed it, its brilliant composition surpassed all other writings: no worthy remained hidden in the wilderness, and no scholar was omitted at court. Every household kept a copy, and all recited it by heart; it was the essence of literary collections and the crown of letters. His splendid reputation thereupon spread far and wide, and deluded minds were enlightened and elevated by it. Falin also thought that as the fascicle of the treatise had just appeared, his intention lay in broad dissemination; unless he widely revealed its purport, ordinary folks would not have their ways corrected. He therefore presented it to the Crown Prince, the various princes, the dukes, ministers, marquises, and counts. Its literary principles were broadly distributed, and all achievements were praised; they deeply appreciated it. Thus Fu Yi's memorial was consequently shelved, and the Buddhist gate was reopened; this was truly Falin's achievement. Yu Shinan, Vice Mentor of the Eastern Palace, examined Falin's treatise and composed a preface for it. Yet Fu Yi was displeased and again secretly slandered him, inciting and fanning the Daoists to form a faction, each composing heterodox treatises to demean and disparage the Buddha and sages, blinding living beings and flaunting themselves before court and country. Good and evil were mingled, and the times became suspicious. In the spring of the ninth year of Wude, an imperial edict ordered that only three temples be established in the capital and only one thousand monks be maintained; the remaining temples were to be granted to princes and dukes, and the rest of the monks were all dismissed back to their hometowns. Once the strict edict came down, none dared to speak out. The five assemblies wept bitterly on Gaogai Street, and the four classes of people looked on and sighed in the city markets. At that time, clerics and laypeople were at a loss and had nowhere to turn. Fortunately, an emperor arose from the east, and the ominous vapors were cleared away; having long been accustomed to hearing the Dharma and fully grasping its essential tenets, he immediately declared a great amnesty and returned them to their spiritual dwellings. Thus, the Buddha-sun shone brightly once again in the Tang era, also thanks to Falin. Falin frequently experienced demotions and promotions, and vowed to maintain the Dharma; since the Way was thwarted by worldly sentiments, he relied upon compiling learning. Thereupon he searched through texts and gathered profound meanings, composing the *Bianzhenglun* (Treatise on Discerning the Correct) in one work of eight fascicles. Chen Ziliang of Yingchuan annotated it and composed a preface, stating: 'Formerly, when Confucius had a dream, the principles of the Ten Wings were clearly displayed; when Boyang went out of the pass, the meaning of the two chapters became manifest. Some hooked deep into attached images; some explored the subtle and obscure. What names and words cannot declare, and what yin and yang cannot measure, could still encompass heaven and earth and embrace ghosts and spirits; yet their Way did not extend over the great thousand worlds, and their words did not transcend the realm. How much more so for the dharmakāya, which is perfect and tranquil, wondrously transcending being and non-being; the ultimate principle is profound, its traces obliterating the true and the conventional. Its substance transcends the three characteristics, and its defilements exhaust seven rebirths; no-mind is mind, non-form is form—beyond the trap and the snare, how can it be spoken of? As when the Earl of the West was imprisoned at Youli, he displayed the subtle and refined; and when Sima Qian was castrated in the silkworm chamber, he fulfilled his former aspiration. Therefore the *Book of Changes* states: "When the makers of the *Changes* wrote in antiquity, did they not have sorrow?" The arising of this treatise truly had its reasons! The Daoists Li Zhongqing, Liu Jinxi, and others all composed vulgar writings slandering the orthodox Dharma, causing laypeople to give rise to heterodox beliefs. The Dharma master pitied their blindness and composed this treatise. It may be said that he stirred the sea of Dharma and brandished his literary spear. The sharpness of the Green Rooster vied in racing; the steepness of the Yellow Horse contended in gallop. None failed to see their leaves fall, branches break, clouds disperse, and mists roll away. However, this treatise plumbs the origins of the teachings of Buddhism and Laozi, and exhausts the principles of classification. Fearing that enthusiastic youths might not understand its meaning, this disciple recently paid homage, inquired after the path, and it brilliantly filled my eyes like the sun and moon entering my bosom; tranquil and responding to capacity, like a precious pearl illuminating things. Having awakened to the illusion of the four crossroads, I ceased wandering through a hundred cities. Thereupon, revealing what had not been heard, I annotated it.' Because his literary scholarship was superior and all the Confucians respected him, his guidance established standards and followers gathered like clouds. In the early Zhenguan era, the Emperor established Longtian Temple at the old site of Dahe Palace on the Southern Mountains. Falin naturally delighted in seclusion and went to reside there; praised by all, he was appointed to take charge of the temple duties. Leisurely in mountain attire, he chanted and sang in the forests and wilds. By the winter of the thirteenth year, there was a Daoist named Qin Shiying who, relying on occult arts to seek glory, presented his skills to the Crown Prince. Having long resented the Buddhist order, he secretly submitted that Falin's treatise slandered the imperial lineage and committed the crime of deceiving the sovereign. The Emperor angrily issued an edict to purge the monks and nuns; those current members of the Saṅgha were ordered to follow the Bequeathed Teachings. He then investigated Falin's person and interrogated him according to the law. Falin gripped his wrists and roused his spirit; not waiting for summons, he went alone to the official court, risking his life for the sake of the principle. He was bound in chains, and an imperial edict questioned him: 'The covenant of the Zhou clan placed those of different surnames behind; venerating ancestors and honoring relatives truly originates from antiquity. Why do you chase after shortcomings, hesitating between two ends, broadly citing specious words, and presenting disrespectful analogies, disparaging my ancestors and defaming my forebears? Seeking advantage over your sovereign in this manner, your crime cannot be pardoned.' Falin replied: 'King Wen was a great sage; the Duke of Zhou was a great worthy. They were careful to attend to their parents' funeral rites and follow them when gone with due sacrifices, yet boundless Heaven did not respond. The perfection of filial piety and fraternal duty reaches spiritual beings; though the Zhou had its clan, in principle they did not contend for precedence. Why is this? August Heaven has no favorites; in the end it only aids virtue. The ancients sided with principle and did not side with relatives; they did not consider who came first or who came later. Though a relative commits a crime, they must be punished; though an enemy has merit, they must be rewarded. When rewards and punishments accord with principle, the world is at peace. Laozi practiced and instructed in the Daoist ancestral teachings; his virtuous instruction extended to the common people, forgiving others and maintaining humility, his benevolent breeze manifesting across the four seas. He also said: "My master is named Buddha; Buddha means one who enlightens all people." The ancient sovereign of Tianzhu went west and passed away. Investigating Laozi's teachings, their beginning and end can be traced. In the *Rishou zhongjing* he instructed his disciples, saying: "My master entered well into nirvāṇa, continuously existing; now I shall pass away." Now Liu and Li have left writings slandering and destroying Laozi's master; the world cannot know this. I composed this *Bianzhenglun* in eight fascicles, briefly responding to the Daoists on over sixty points, all citing historical records and former words, truly not slandering the imperial house.' Thereafter, he debated on more than twenty matters, all based on Falin's words, and fully reported them in a memorial. An edict stated: 'In your *Bianzhenglun*, in the chapter on "Mutual Retribution of Faith and Slander", it says: "Those who are mindful of Avalokiteśvara will not be harmed when facing a blade." I grant you a reprieve of seven days to be mindful yourself. When the execution takes place, let us see whether you remain unhurt or not.' Falin was outwardly bound by shackles and inwardly pressed by the execution date; water and fire warred in his bosom, and there was no way to appeal. He therefore fixed his mind on the scriptures and teachings he had heard throughout his life and the names of the Three Sages, memorizing and reciting them in his heart, hoping for a manifest response. When the time limit expired, his spirit suddenly became brave and boundless across his chest; joy followed upon joy, and he instantly forgot the fear of death. Standing, he waited for the interrogation. Presently, the edict arrived, saying: 'Now the reprieve is over, and your execution is at hand. What have you been mindful of? Has your mindfulness shown spiritual efficacy?' Falin took up his brush and replied: 'Since the turmoil at the end of the Sui, the four seas boiled over; the plague of labor corvée spread, and weapons arose in rivalry. Armies were raised to attack one another, abandoning benevolence and relying on military might; ministers were flattering and sovereigns dissolute, failing to maintain righteous governance. They blocked the royal roads and obstinately held their corners. Since the August Emperor punished the guilty and comforted the people, clearing the land and seas, this has truly been the power of Avalokiteśvara, and all aided by the causes of Mahāsthāmaprāpta. Your virtue matches theirs, your course aligns with the highest sages: saving from untimely death in the imperial court, and sparing excessive punishment in the city markets. During these seven days, Falin has not been mindful of Avalokiteśvara; I have only been mindful of Your Majesty.' The Emperor ordered the Assistant Censor Wei Cong to question Falin: 'An edict commanded you to be mindful of Avalokiteśvara; why were you not mindful of him, but said you were only mindful of His Majesty?' Falin replied: 'I humbly understand that Avalokiteśvara's holy discernment manifests across the six destinies; above heaven and below earth, he is an exemplar for all. Now the Great Tang brightly rules the four seas; the nine barbarian tribes render service, and across the eight borders punishment is clear. The ruler is sage and the ministers are worthy, without injustice or excess. Now Your Majesty nurtures the common people like the sūtras describe; you are Avalokiteśvara. Since the spiritual discernment matches, I was only mindful of Your Majesty. As for the *Zhenglun* I composed, it is on par with the histories; if a single sentence is erratic, I submit to the axe. If Your Majesty follows loyalty and rectitude, Falin will not lose a single hair; if Your Majesty punishes the innocent in excess, Falin will suffer the grief of a prostrated corpse.' These matters were fully reported, and in the end no punishment was inflicted; an edict ordered him banished to a Buddhist temple in the Yizhou region. Reaching the Bodhi Temple at Bailao Pass, he died of illness, at the age of sixty-nine. The śramaṇa Huixu attended to his sufferings; their affection was as strong as snapping metal. Day and night they shared a quilt, comforting and serving him. When his life was about to end, he was upon Huixu's knees; Huixu wailed and collapsed, tears flowing like swift rain. He summoned the clerics and laypeople near the pass and buried him at the top of the Eastern Mountain, erecting a tall white stūpa and carving an inscription to record it. Passers-by who looked upon it and knew of him shed tears. Huixu was originally from Wugong in Yongzhou; he was skilled in classics and conversant with Buddhist principles, clarifying the *Mahāyānasaṃgraha* as an instruction for spreading transformation. Understanding the Way and opening up secular folk, his words were without bias; caring for traveling monks was his household rule. Originally residing in the capital, he later moved to Liangzhou and Yizhou; because Bailao was an intersection where people from all four quarters gathered, and clerics and laypeople lodging and traveling had nowhere to rely, Huixu resided at the temple at the mouth of the pass to receive distant guests. Thus travelers relied on him, and praises filled their ears. At that time, Assistant Censor Wei Cong investigated Qin Shiying's deceptions, and submitted an impeachment, stating: 'I consider that when the Great Way flourishes, the traces of emptiness and tranquility unfold; when the mysterious breeze is broadcast, the teaching of non-action thrives. Never has there been one who wears the yellow cap while his mind is identical to the vulgar and profane. The Daoist Qin Ying studied medical prescriptions slightly and was barely familiar with incantations. Relatives entrusted their lives to him, and the frail and ill cast themselves upon him; yet he committed adultery with their wives, no different from beasts. His sentiments violate orthodox teaching, his mind resembles jackals and wolves; indulging his greedy and contentious heart, giving free rein to heterodox and foul conduct. He hides wives and children in his house, and keeps young maids and boys at his gate; riding fat horses and wearing light furs, he comes and goes on the thoroughfares. Raising his eyebrows and shaking his sleeves, he has no fear of the legal net. His intense envy is not forgotten, yet disaster is looming. If this origin is not eradicated, the ultimate teaching will be undermined. I request that severe statutes be applied to punish his licentiousness and extravagance.' Qin Ying was sent to the Court of Judicial Review, and was ultimately executed for his madness and deception. Both public and private observers wondered why his death came so late. Falin's compositions—poems, rhapsodies, memorials, eulogies, stelae, petitions, elegies, Mahāyāna Dharma treatises, along with various commentaries, records, and biographies—totaled more than thirty fascicles. All resounded with the rhythm of metal and stone, and their literary thoughts were patterned like rich brocade; flowing, elegant, and agile, their flames rose ever serene. Furthermore, he was skilled at preaching according to capacities, setting forth words on the spur of the moment; his words matched musical notes, and his meanings agreed with profound texts. Truly, he is rare in the world, with few successors.

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續高僧傳 — 道宣, Classical Chinese