From the Depths of Hell to the Western Pure Land

This is a record of an interview with Yang Hong-cheng, who sought deliverance at the Hsiang Kuang Pure Land Buddhist Centre in Australia. He now resides in the Western Land of Ultimate Bliss. This account reflects upon his life and his subsequent journey through the realms of existence. Recorded by the chief writer, Shi Fa, on January 7, 2022.

Yang Hong-cheng speaks:

"Namo Amituofo. Today, I am able to be reborn in the Western Land of Ultimate Bliss. I am filled with such profound, overwhelming gratitude. I never imagined that such a day would come for me; it all feels so sudden, so miraculous. The transition from the dark, suffocating depths of the hells to the radiant, boundless beauty of the Western Land of Ultimate Bliss is such a monumental, life-altering shift that I am still adjusting to the sheer magnitude of it. Yet, within my heart, I feel a sense of peace and beauty that I have never known before. I must express my deepest, most sincere gratitude to King Yama for granting me this precious opportunity, and to the Buddha for leading me here, and to Practitioner Su for her boundless, infinite compassion.

A Childhood Shadowed by Endless Violence

My life was incredibly difficult. That hardship did not stem from my external environment, but rather from the fact that my heart could never find a way out of the darkness. I was born into a violent home. Whenever my father drank, his temper would flare, and he would inevitably seek someone out to vent his frustrations. In our home, that person was usually my mother. Every few days, she would be covered in bruises and wounds from his beatings. It was a cycle of terror that defined our existence.

My father was quite successful at earning money; he was a small-scale wholesaler of general goods. He had gone to great lengths to win my mother's hand. At the time, my mother was merely a seamstress, yet she possessed a natural elegance and was well-liked by everyone. My father first saw her while touring a factory with a friend, and he immediately began a relentless pursuit. My mother was only twenty years old then. Having never encountered a man so aggressive in his courtship, she was stunned and bewildered by his intensity.

The Illusion of Security and the Fragility of Life

My mother's family background was humble, and she was responsible for supporting her two younger siblings. My father had thoroughly investigated her situation before he even began his pursuit. After only a few dates, he promised her that he would take over the responsibility of raising her siblings, covering all their tuition and living expenses, so that she would no longer have to work. My mother did not know how to react to such an unexpected offer. Three months later, my father went to her home to propose to her parents, promising to give her happiness and care for her siblings. Her parents were relieved and urged her to accept. Though she was hesitant, her filial piety compelled her to follow their wishes.

Four months after they met, my mother married him and moved to the city. Suddenly, she had no need to work and had help with the housework. She felt quite uncomfortable, as if her only daily task was to wait at home for my father. Initially, my father treated her very well, bringing home the finest things he could find. My mother, however, had no real affection for him at the start; she had married him solely because of her parents' advice. My father knew this, which is why he showered her with such constant attention, hoping to win her heart through material gifts.

The Descent into Darkness and Despair

It was not until my mother became pregnant with my older sister that her heart truly opened to him. Their relationship was sweet for several years. However, as my father sought to expand his business, he began to attend social functions frequently. For a long time, he returned home late every night, reeking of alcohol, his speech and mannerisms completely changed. The man who had once been so attentive became a stranger to us.

At first, we did not think much of it. But soon, this became a nightly occurrence. My mother even began to smell women's perfume on him. When she questioned him while he was sober, he dismissed it lightly, claiming it was just the scent of the hostesses at the places he had to entertain. My mother chose to believe him, clinging to the hope that things would return to normal.

A year passed, and my father began to show signs of mental instability even during the day. He could not function without alcohol; it became a daily necessity. Even when he had no social engagements, he would drink. When my mother finally tried to counsel him, he struck her in a drunken rage. She fell heavily to the floor. We three children were terrified and rushed to protect her. When I looked up, my father was already fast asleep on the sofa. That was the first time I had seen him like that, and the image haunted me.

The Scars of a Broken Home and the Search for Meaning

After that incident, my father's condition worsened. He began throwing things, flying into uncontrollable rages, and even screaming at us children. Whenever he returned home, the entire family would be gripped by tension. Once, when he was drunk, he beat my mother and then tried to strike me. My mother crawled across the floor and grabbed his legs, causing him to fall. He was unable to stand for a moment, and that was how I escaped. It was a life lived on the edge of a knife.

My mother considered taking us away, but she had no money of her own and had not worked in years. Supporting three children alone seemed impossible, so she hesitated. Finally, when she was forty-one, she was beaten to death by my father in a fit of rage. That scene of violence remained buried deep within the hearts of us three children, a trauma that would take a lifetime to process.

After my father killed my mother, he was taken away, and we were placed in a temporary shelter by social workers who tried to help us heal. But the scar was already deeply embedded in my soul. When no relatives were willing to take us in—my father's brother was struggling, and his sister, a government official, feared the scandal would affect her career—we were separated and sent to different foster homes. My sister was sixteen, I was eleven, and my brother was nine.

Finding a Path to Healing and Service

The night before we were separated, we held hands and wept, wishing each other well. The sorrow of that moment was unbearable. My foster parents were a music teacher and a physical education teacher who had a younger daughter. Because they could not have a son, they decided to adopt. They were kind to me, but I could not let go of the past. I would hide in my room, keeping it dark, staying in a corner to feel safe. They gave me endless care and respected my need for space. They learned what I liked to eat and cooked for me, encouraging me to join them. Eventually, I felt comfortable enough to spend time in the living room. They treated me like family, and gradually, I began to join them for outdoor activities. They would take me out into the sun every day, hoping to wash away the darkness in my heart.

Five years after joining the He family, my heart began to open. I tried to contact my siblings, but I could only find my brother, who was doing well in school. My sister remained unreachable. The love I received from my foster parents inspired me to pass that selfless love forward. I became a social worker, helping families in crisis. As I helped others heal their wounds, the pain in my own heart began to fade. When I felt strong enough, I decided to visit my biological father in prison, where he was serving time for my mother's death.

The Truth of Cause and Effect Revealed

When I saw my father, I was already a grown man. He wept, apologizing for shattering our childhood. He thanked my foster parents and asked about my siblings. After that conversation, I felt a sense of rebirth. I used my own experiences to help others, successfully guiding many through their own life crises. Later, I married, and to thank my foster parents, I had one of my sons take the He surname so their family line could continue.

I worked as a social worker for over thirty years. At forty-five, while handling a high-risk case, I suffered a severe head injury and became paralysed. I lived in that state for three years before I breathed my last at forty-eight. In truth, when I became paralysed, my soul had already been sent to be reborn as a dog to repay the debts of my past. Only after my body truly died was I brought before the court of King Yama. It was there that I learned the truth of my life's suffering.

In a past life, I was a thug who specialised in destruction, extorting protection money and shattering countless families. My mother in this life was the very subordinate who led the beatings in that past life; that is why my karmic creditors attached themselves to my father to kill her. My father had been the gang leader, and one of his subordinates, who loved to drink, had been cast out by him, harbouring deep resentment. That resentment was what made my father's life and relationships so unfulfilled.

A Final Gratitude and the Promise of Peace

Once the truth was revealed, I chose to accept it and repent. King Yama granted me the position of a prison guard, allowing me to serve the public, for which I am very grateful. I also thank King Yama for allowing me to wait in line to be reborn in the Western Land of Ultimate Bliss. I have arrived. Thank you to everyone who has helped me, and I hope that this society can become more stable. Thank you."

Namo Amituofo.