Chapter Sixty: The Manichaeans

“Thirteenth Brother, look at his foot—what are we to do?”
“Yes, like this he won’t be able to walk.”
“If we delay the journey, the master will be furious.”
Fang Thirteen came from a family with many siblings, and as he was the thirteenth child, everyone called him Fang Thirteen. Though his family was large, hardship meant few survived; most of his siblings died young.
Now, Fang Thirteen and his companions gazed anxiously at the injured man’s ankle, struck by Gao Second. All of them were poor villagers from She County, reliant on their own legs for travel—they couldn’t afford carts or carriages. With an injured ankle, how could they continue? It wasn’t just the journey at stake; if left untreated, the man might lose the use of his foot entirely.
“I have a little money here—let’s use it to fetch a doctor and get some medicine,” Fang Thirteen said, frowning.
“How can you?” protested an older man. “Thirteenth Brother, that’s your marriage money. If you spend it now, how will you marry?”
Fang Thirteen’s parents, seeing he’d reached twenty, had scraped together what little they could to arrange a match for him. On this trip to Lingnan, Fang Thirteen was trading lacquerware and gathering gifts for the betrothal.
His parents were poor folk, able to spare just this small sum. If it was spent now, his marriage might fall through.
“It’s nothing, really,” Fang Thirteen replied, waving his hand and gently pressing the injured man’s ankle. “I’m still young; if I can’t marry now, it’s no great loss.”
“You’re loyal, Thirteenth Brother,” said another man. “But you show loyalty, while others show no mercy.”
“Exactly! That fellow hit hard—why didn’t you accept his money, Thirteenth Brother?” another chimed in.
“You were too reckless, pushing him into the water,” Fang Thirteen shook his head. “How can I take his money after that?”
At his words, everyone fell silent. Li Third and Gao Second didn’t seem wealthy either—likely as poor as themselves. They realized Fang Thirteen, soft-hearted, couldn’t bring himself to accept Li Third’s compensation.
“But Thirteenth Brother, where will we find a doctor in this wilderness?” someone asked.
Fang Thirteen thought for a moment. “Carry him to Chen Family Village.”
...
“He’s badly hurt. Who did this?” asked Chen Cao, the master of Chen Family Village, after examining the injured man.
“A stranger,” Fang Thirteen replied, for he didn’t know who Gao Second was.
“Hmm.” Chen Cao glanced at the worried faces. “No need to fret. We happen to have a skilled healer here. She’ll take a look.”
Thirteenth Brother and his companions were delighted, and all thanked Chen Cao together.
...
The healer in Chen Family Village was not a physician but a priestess, dressed in black cap and white robes—and a woman at that.
She was about thirty, known as Madam Yu Fifth.
Madam Yu was indeed remarkable. With a few deft movements, the injured man could move his foot a little, no longer completely immobilized as before.
...
“It’s all right now, nothing serious,” Madam Yu said, rising. “Move around a bit, take some medicine, and you’ll recover.”
Fang Thirteen, overjoyed, produced several strings of coins and offered them. “Thank you, Immortal Lady. This is a token of our gratitude—please accept it.”
Madam Yu pushed the coins back to him. “I never charge for healing. Take your money.”
Her words moved Fang Thirteen and the others deeply. They bowed repeatedly, expressing their thanks for her kindness.
In poverty, people suffer contempt everywhere; without money, who will treat your illness? To find someone who heals without charge is rare indeed, and so their faces shone with honest, heartfelt smiles.
“Pity this world, stained by the dust of evil. To destroy evil and promote good—let there be light. What joy in life, what sorrow in death? Let the sacred fire burn my frail body. Twelve precious jewels, a song for all brightness; wondrous melodies guide the way, boundless pure lands.”
Madam Yu chanted softly and turned to leave.
“Immortal Lady… what do you mean?” Fang Thirteen and the others, puzzled, asked.
“Come with me,” she said, smiling gently.
Madam Yu led the way out of the hall, followed closely by Fang Thirteen and his companions, and even Chen Cao hurried after her.
...
“The Two Sects refer to Light and Darkness—Good and Evil, Reason and Desire. The Three Times are the beginning, middle, and end: in modern English, past, present, and future. In the beginning, there was neither heaven nor earth, only light and darkness: light was wisdom, darkness was ignorance, and they stood opposed. The middle is the present, when darkness grows stronger, greatly oppressing the light—indulging itself, causing disaster. At this moment, the King of Light appears to drive away the forces of darkness. The end is the future: after struggle, Light and Darkness return to their places, light to great brightness, darkness to deep shadow…”
Madam Yu Fifth sat atop a high platform, slowly expounding the doctrine of Manichaeism. Her presence was serene, majestic, dignified, and noble, her features softly aglow with a hint of holy radiance—almost as if she held a pure vase in her hand.
Manichaeism, also known as the Vegetable-Eating Demon Cult, or the Bright Faith, strictly forbids eating meat, venerates Mani as the founder, and the word “demon” comes from the sound of “Mani”—hence Vegetable-Eating Demon Cult.
Its teachings blend elements from Buddhism and Daoism. Followers abstain from meat, and when one family suffers, all members help. By not eating meat, expenses are low and needs easily met; by standing together, mutual help is ensured, and matters are resolved.
The doctrine emphasizes “kindness, friendship, and mutual support.” When lawsuits arise, members join forces, pooling money to bribe officials, ensuring victory.
For rural folk accustomed to plain fare, vegetarianism doesn’t alter their lifestyle but allows them to pray for blessings and avoid misfortune without extra cost, while also cultivating merit for the next life. Thus, the faith spreads quickly among villagers.
Manichaeism won the hearts of many poor and downtrodden, gaining numerous followers and supporters, including a few wealthy households such as Chen Cao.
Followers avoid the word “horn,” because some trace their origins to Zhang Jiao’s cult at the end of the Han Dynasty.
The Vegetable-Eating Demon Cult grew out of the Five Bushels of Rice movement, recites the Diamond Sutra, and shows strong Buddhist and Daoist influence.
Currently, the faith flourishes in the regions of Zhejiang, Jiangnan, and Fujian, and is spreading southward to Guangnan.
Villagers chant sutras, burn incense, eat vegetarian meals, and cause no trouble, so the Song court takes little notice and does not forbid its growth.
Leaders are called Demon Lords or Demon Princes; Madam Yu Fifth was just such a leader.
Fang Thirteen and his companions listened in rapt fascination, and from that day, they joined Manichaeism.
...
“Hah!” Fang Thirteen cried, striking a wooden post with his bracer, splitting it cleanly in two. Splinters flew, the force was fierce and startling.
Fang Thirteen practiced external martial arts; his muscles were solid, his bronze skin radiated health.
“What skill! Brother Fang, what martial art is that?”
It was early morning, and as Fang Thirteen finished his training, Chen Ke’er skipped over, clapping her hands and laughing.
“Little Lady Chen, you embarrass me—this isn’t martial arts, just a country bumpkin’s brute strength,” Fang Thirteen replied, grinning sheepishly.
“Ha! That’s no small strength,” Chen Ke’er said, hands behind her back. “But your moves are so simple, so clumsy.”
“I’m just a rustic fellow—not worthy of your family’s secret techniques,” Fang Thirteen said.
“Of course!” Chen Ke’er lifted her chin proudly. “I’m undefeated here at Chen Family Village!”
That was only because everyone let her win out of respect for the master, Fang Thirteen thought, nearly laughing aloud. Chen Ke’er’s skills were just fancy moves, while Fang Thirteen’s were battlefield techniques—deadly arts, not to be compared.
But he said nothing. Why argue with such a young girl?
“What’s wrong? Don’t believe me? Want to spar?” Chen Ke’er, seeing Fang Thirteen’s odd smile, challenged him.
Just as Fang Thirteen expected, Chen Ke’er rarely met an opponent, as everyone indulged her.
She was bored and eager to test her skills.
Recently, she’d met Li Third, but he was a frail scholar, knowing nothing of martial arts.
“I wouldn’t dare…”
Before he finished, Chen Ke’er had already struck a pose and launched a palm at him.
With a soft slap, her graceful hand landed squarely on Fang Thirteen. But her strength was lacking—like a dragonfly shaking an iron tree. Fang Thirteen barely moved, but Chen Ke’er’s hand stung from the impact.
“Ouch!” she cried. “What are you made of? Stone? That hurts!”
“I… I…” Fang Thirteen scratched his head, laughing honestly.
Chen Ke’er glared at him, fuming.
Like an iron ox—where does one even begin? she wondered silently.