During the Trần Dynasty, the custom of believing in spirits and demons was widespread. Shrines to gods and Buddhist pagodas were found everywhere, such as the Hoàng Giang Pagoda, Đồng Cổ Pagoda, An Sinh Pagoda, An Tử Pagoda, Phổ Minh Pagoda, and Ngọc Thanh Temple, erected abundantly in all places. The number of people who cut their hair to become monks and nuns was almost half that of the common population.
Especially in the region of Đông-Trào District, this devotion was even more excessive. Pagodas were built in such numbers that large villages had more than ten, and even small villages had five or six. They were enclosed by fences and ramparts on the outside and adorned with gold and crimson lacquer on the inside. Whenever people fell ill, they placed their faith only in the supernatural; during seasonal festivals, the altars and prayer ceremonies were bustling with activity. The gods and Buddhas seemed to respond, for whatever was prayed for was granted, and the sacred responses were extraordinary. Because of this, the people grew even more respectful and faithful, never daring to be irreverent.
During the reign of King Giản Định of the Trần Dynasty, war raged year after year, and many places were burned. Of the pagodas that remained, not even one in ten survived. And those that did remain were battered by wind and rain, falling and leaning precariously, standing desolate and drooping amidst fields of wild grass and dense thickets.
After the Ngô (Ming) army retreated, the people returned to restore their livelihoods. An official named Văn Tư Lập came to serve as the district magistrate. Seeing the scenes of desolation and ruin, he rallied the male residents of the villages to cut thatch and gather bamboo to repair the temples somewhat.
After serving in the district for a year, he saw that the people suffered from a plague of theft. From chickens, pigs, geese, and ducks to fish in the ponds and fruit in the gardens, indeed, anything edible was stolen. Tư Lập lamented, saying:
“I hold the position of a local magistrate, yet I lack the clarity to discern the villains and the firmness to subdue the wicked. Because of my leniency, things have gone wrong. This is my own fault.”
However, Tư Lập thought that these petty thefts were not yet a matter of great concern, so he only ordered the villagers to keep careful watch every night. For about a week, although they watched, they saw nothing, yet the petty thefts continued as before. Gradually, the thieves showed no fear, to the point of entering kitchens to steal jars of wine and entering bedrooms to harass people’s wives and children. When everyone rushed to surround and capture them, the villains had already vanished, and nothing was seen.
Tư Lập laughed and said:
— “So it turns out all this time we have wrongly suspected human thieves. In truth, it is the work of demons and ghosts, stirring up mischief and creating trouble. All these recent disturbances stem from this.”
After that, he invited skilled sorcerers from all around, asking for talismans to suppress the spirits. But the more talismans and exorcisms were used, the worse the harassment became.
Tư Lập was greatly frightened. He gathered the villagers to discuss, saying:
— “You all used to worship the Buddha with great reverence. For a long time now, because of the wars, you have neglected the incense, lamps, and prayers. That is why these evil spirits run rampant, and the Buddha does not come to your aid. Why not go to the pagodas now and plead with the Buddha? I think this is a prudent measure, which might perhaps help us.”
Everyone then went to burn incense and pray at the pagodas, vowing:
“We living beings have revered Heaven and Buddha, taking refuge [in the Dharma] for a long time, and relying wholeheartedly on the Buddha’s law. Now demons and ghosts have risen, harassing the people and bringing harm even to the livestock. Yet the Buddha sits looking on silently. Is this not, perhaps, too much compassion? We bow and beg you to show mercy, display your power and punish them, so that spirits and men do not mix, and the people and animals may all be at peace. All living beings would be immensely grateful. However, the chaos has only just ended, and our livelihoods are not yet restored. An inch of wood, a sliver of tile are difficult for us to procure. Wait until we are prosperous again, and we vow to repair the pagodas to repay this merit.”
That very night, the rampant thievery was even worse than before.
Tư Lập did not know what to do. He heard of a certain Teacher Vương in Kim Thành District who was skilled in I Ching divination, so he went to have a hexagram cast. Teacher Vương cast the divination and said:
Riding a fine horse,
Wearing coarse cloth robes,
A leather quiver, tin-tipped arrows,
This is truly a divine man.
He then advised:
— “If you wish to end this affliction, tomorrow morning, you must go from the left gate of the district office and head south. When you see a person dressed as such, carrying those items, it is certain that this person can remove the harm. You must earnestly invite him, and even if he refuses, do not listen.”
The next day, Tư Lập and the village elders followed Teacher Vương’s words exactly, watching and waiting. The road was full of people coming and going, but they saw no one matching the description. The sun was setting, and everyone was discouraged and about to return home, when suddenly a man emerged from the mountains, dressed in coarse cloth, carrying a bow and riding a horse.
Everyone ran out and prostrated themselves before him. The man asked in surprise; everyone explained their intentions. The man laughed and said:
— “Why do you gentlemen believe so strongly in divination? Since childhood, I have been a hunter. My body never leaves the saddle, my hands never leave the bow and arrow. Yesterday I heard that on An Phụ Mountain there are many fat deer and fine rabbits, so today I intended to go hunting. What do I know of setting up altars like a sorcerer or shooting invisible ghosts?”
Tư Lập thought to himself: “This man must be a master of magic. Because he does not wish to be famous for his occult arts, fearing it will bring trouble upon himself, he wanders leisurely in the mountains and streams, hiding himself in the pleasures of the bow and horse.” He thus resolved to invite him, no matter what.
The other man, seeing he could not refuse, reluctantly agreed. Tư Lập invited the man back to the district office, lodging him in the guesthouse. The bed, mats, and curtains were all very luxurious. He cared for him reverently, as if he were a deity.
The man thought to himself:
“They treat me with such reverence only because they believe I have the talent to exorcise ghosts. But in truth, I have no such talent. How can I bear to enjoy their hospitality? If I do not find a way to escape soon, the day will come when I am shamed.”
That day, at about midnight, taking advantage of everyone being fast asleep, the man tiptoed out of the district office. When he reached the west side of the plank bridge, the sky was dim, and the late-night moon had not yet risen. He saw several figures with large bodies, cheerfully walking up from the fields. The man hid in a concealed spot, crouching to watch what they would do.
After a moment, he saw them reach down and stir up a pond. Then, whether they caught large fish or small, they tossed them into their mouths, chewing and swallowing them whole. They looked at each other, laughed, and said:
— “These small fish are delicious. One must eat them sparingly to savor the pleasure. Are they not far better than the bland incense and flowers that people usually offer us? It’s a pity that only now have we come to know these flavors.”
One of them laughed and said:
— “We are truly big-headed but foolish. All this time we have been deceived by mortals. Who would take a sticky rice cake of a few scraps of rice to fill a belly that weighs a thousand cân, all while guarding the gate for them? If we didn’t have nights like tonight and just continued our vegetarian fast as before, it would truly be a wasted life.”
Another said:
— “I have always eaten savory food; I am not abstinent like you gentlemen. But right now, the populace is destitute; they have nothing to offer us. My stomach is hungry, my mouth craves. I haven’t known the taste of meat for a long time, no different from Confucius in the state of Qi who did not taste meat for three months. However, tonight the air is freezing and the water is cold; it’s hard to stay here long. Why don’t we just go up to the sugarcane garden and imitate General Hổ Đầu (Tiger Head) of old.”
After that, they led each other up, entered the sugarcane garden, and began pulling up stalks to peel and suck on them.
The man, who was still hiding in his spot, immediately nocked an arrow to his bow. He shot out suddenly, striking two of them in quick succession. The villains cried out a few muffled groans and then fled in a rush. After about a few dozen paces, they all vanished from sight. But at that moment, their voices could still be heard scolding each other:
— “I told you the date and hour were not auspicious, that we shouldn’t go! You didn’t listen to me. Now you see.”
The man shouted loudly. The nearby villagers awoke with a start. They lit lamps and torches and split up to give chase in every direction. They illuminated bloodstains splattered on the ground and followed the trail westward.
After about half a dặm, they reached an abandoned pagoda. Entering, they saw two statues of the Dharma Protectors (Hộ-pháp) listing precariously inside. In the back of each statue, there was an arrow embedded deeply. Everyone shook their heads and clicked their tongues, considering it a strange event the likes of which had never been seen. They immediately pushed the two statues over. At that moment, a voice was heard, saying:
— “We just thought to fill our bellies; who knew it would lead to our bodies being shattered? But this plot was hatched by that old Water God (Thủy-thần). He was the mastermind and escaped disaster, while we followed him and must suffer the consequences. It is truly lamentable.”
After that, they sent men to the Water God’s shrine. They saw that the earthen statue of the god had suddenly changed expression. Its face was ashen, as if covered in indigo dye, and a few fish scales were still stuck messily to its lips. They then proceeded to destroy that statue as well.
The District Magistrate Văn Tư Lập emptied his coffers to reward the man. The man returned home heavily laden. From that day on, the evil spirits vanished without a trace and were never seen or heard from again.
From Truyen Ky Man Luc by Nguyen Du