The Eternal Question of a Prison Guard

This is a record of an interview with Xu Yongzai, who sought spiritual 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 long service as a prison guard in the underworld. Recorded by the chief writer, Shi Fa, on October 29, 2021.

Xu Yongzai speaks:

"Namo Amituofo. I am Xu Yongzai. Throughout my entire life, I was haunted by a single, persistent question: 'What is it that can exist forever?' I searched for the answer in every way I could imagine. I tried to look deep within my heart, to feel the core of my being, but I could never find a satisfying answer. I spent my whole life searching, yet my life simply slipped away. After I died and stood before the King of Hell, I dared to ask him this very question: 'I humbly ask you, King of Hell, life is so limited—is there anything that can exist infinitely?' The King of Hell remained silent, as if he were contemplating the depth of my inquiry. Eventually, he assigned me to serve as a prison guard in the tenth hall, where I was tasked with observing the cycle of reincarnation."

The Endless Cycle of Samsara

"In the hells, there are the beings known as Black and White Impermanence. For some, their spirits are already being interrogated in the tenth hall of hell while their physical bodies are still alive in the human realm, suffering retribution in hell for their past actions. When their time comes and they draw their final breath, the case is closed. Black and White Impermanence then bring their spirits back to face the final judgment, leading them to suffer in the hells, to be reincarnated in the animal realm, or to return as humans. Others only enter the hells for judgment after they have passed away. Every individual's experience is different, depending entirely on what they did while they were alive in the human world.

The King of Hell allowed me to witness the spirits entering the great wheel of reincarnation in the tenth hall. I saw spirits being cast into the wombs of sows, horses, and elephants. I saw them entering fish eggs and seashells. Of course, I also saw them taking on human skin and entering human wombs. I saw every variety of transmigration with absolute clarity. In that moment, I finally understood: my spirit was just like theirs, constantly spinning. The spirit is eternal, but it is trapped in this ceaseless, spinning cycle. Once I saw this clearly, my heart began to ponder another question: 'Is it possible for a person to stop this cycle?' I did not know whom to ask. From the tenth month of my service as a prison guard, I began to dwell on this. Today, seventy-five years into my service, I have finally found the answer: the Western Land of Ultimate Bliss. This pure, undefiled world is the eternal life of the spirit. I am so grateful to Practitioner Su for helping me find the ultimate answer. I am moved to tears. I kneel before the Buddha to express my deepest gratitude, and I thank Practitioner Su for leading us sixty prison guards to be reborn in the Western Land of Ultimate Bliss, granting us eternal life."

A Childhood Haunted by Whispers

"I am Xu Yongzai. From the moment I was born, I was exceptionally sensitive. Even the slightest sound from the outside world would make me cry. I was the third child in my family, and I was the most difficult to raise. Several times during my childhood, I nearly lost my life. Once, I fell from a high place, but fortunately, I landed on a pile of dry leaves; my mother rushed over, terrified. Another time, I choked on some food; my face changed colour instantly, I gasped for air, and I turned black. I nearly suffocated, which forced my mother to spend extra effort and care on me.

By the time I was learning to walk, I could hear many voices speaking. They were faint, rustling sounds—rising and falling. Sometimes, I would be woken up from my sleep by these noises, and I had no choice but to cry to express my protest.

As I grew older and learned to speak, I began to understand what the adults were saying, and gradually, I could understand what those noisy, invisible voices were saying as well. I once heard the voice of an old woman who was crying, saying, 'My son, my son, I miss my son so much!' She was crying so sorrowfully. Just as I was about to walk over to comfort her, she vanished. I also heard a group of people shouting 'Cheers!'—the sound was very boisterous. I heard the crying of children and the sound of horse-drawn carriages in the middle of the night. Many times, I heard these things with perfect clarity. I tried to tell my family about these experiences in simple language, but they never paid any attention to me."

The World of the Unseen

"One day, as I lay in bed preparing to sleep, I heard the sound of many people running in a hurry. I sat up quickly and looked around. To my surprise, I saw a group of people dressed in rags, their expressions filled with panic, as if someone were chasing them. I couldn't help but ask them, 'What are you running from?' One of the leaders shouted at me, 'An army is attacking! They are coming! Everyone, take your belongings and leave quickly!' No sooner had he finished speaking than they ran through the wall, and the room instantly fell into silence again.

My mother cooked some dishes and bought some dried goods, setting up a long table outside the house. I tugged on her sleeve and asked, 'Mother, what is this for?' She replied, 'The seventh lunar month has arrived; we must invite the 'good brothers'.' I asked, 'What are 'good brothers'?' She said, 'The good brothers are ghosts! When the gates of hell open in the seventh month, we must prepare food for them.' I nodded in understanding.

After my mother set everything up and lit the incense, I saw many people rushing in instantly. They all began to scramble to inhale the energy of the food on the offering table. My mother burned paper money, and a group of them began to fight over it. This scene reminded me of when my mother took me to the temple during the Lunar New Year; everyone was pushing and shoving to grab the first incense or the red envelopes. Because my mother was busy looking after us children, she couldn't join in the scramble, but I think that given her personality, she would have certainly rushed forward to grab them if she could.

Throughout the seventh lunar month, whenever there was food on the offering table, I saw ghosts fighting over it. My mother told me to try not to go out during the seventh month, and if I had to, I must return home before dark. I nodded and kept her words in my heart.

It wasn't until I was seven years old that I realised the various voices I had heard since childhood were the voices of ghosts. They once had bodies, but now they did not. Their habits and memories remained exactly as they were in the past. As a small child, I asked myself: 'Will I become like this in the future?' I answered myself: 'I suppose I will.' Then I asked myself: 'If I am going to become a ghost later, what is the difference between being alive and being dead?' I asked my mother this question: 'Mother, what is the difference between a living person and a dead person?' She said, 'The body of a dead person cannot be with the living.' I nodded and asked again, 'Mother, everyone has to die, right?' She said, 'Of course.' I said, 'Then if we all become ghosts after we die, can we be together?' She said, 'I don't know, but I don't think so.' I thought about what my mother said, and it was true. That old woman who was crying earlier seemed to be from a long time ago; her son should have died too, but she wasn't with him—she was still crying and looking for him. Many questions swirled within my young heart."

The Departure and the Final Truth

"When I was twelve, my mother went out to buy groceries and accidentally fell into a large ditch. By the time she was found, she had already stopped breathing. I cried, and our whole family cried so sorrowfully, but no matter how much we cried, she had already left us. At twelve, I could no longer see the space of the ghost realm. I was anxious. I knelt beside my mother's body, hoping to see her return, but several days passed. A wind blew outside the window, but I never saw her. I was so heartbroken; I didn't know where she had gone. I burned a lot of paper money for her, hoping she wouldn't run out of funds. Just like that, my mother left us, and I could never find her again.

After my mother left, I began to think about what life was all about. My siblings each had their own lives, and we gradually drifted apart. Life is just life; they never explored the meaning of existence as I did. My uncle died, my neighbours died; the people I was most familiar with in my childhood all left me. As I grew up, everyone seemed to change. I remembered those ghosts I saw when I was young—they lived their lives, became ghosts, and were still living in the past. To tell the truth, life is somewhat tragic. Those wealthy masters, despite their riches, were just as unable to control where they went after death.

Uncle Wang, who fished for a living, was only in his forties when he died in his sleep one day because he couldn't catch his breath. Vaguely, I saw Uncle Wang's spirit enter the ocean; it is possible he became a fish. Aunt Chunhua, who lived next door, was the most stylish woman in our village, but she fell gravely ill and died looking thin and withered. Seeing so many people die in different ways, I began to wonder how I would die.

I thought about it every day. I thought so much that many illusions appeared before my eyes. Many times, I couldn't quite distinguish which space I was actually living in. When I was thirty-eight, I heard a great commotion, with people shouting, 'Someone has died! Someone has died!' I hurried forward to see how this person had died, only to find my own corpse lying on the bed, foaming at the mouth. People covered their noses and said, 'It already smells; hurry and carry it out.' My body was wrapped up, and a few days later, they dug a large hole and buried me. I didn't even know when my spirit had left my body.

After my body was buried, I didn't know where I could go. Becoming a wandering spirit, I felt so helpless. I don't know how much time passed before Black and White Impermanence appeared and brought my spirit to the hells. When I was queuing for judgment, I saw many spirits; their eyes were all dull and listless. Black and White Impermanence shouted, 'Don't look around!' and I was brought before the King of Hell. I was interrogated hall after hall. I saw many karmic creditors accusing me, and my spirit appeared so ignorant. My death at thirty-eight was the result of the laws of karma and cause and effect from my past; although I hadn't done anything evil in that lifetime, I could not escape the karma of the past.

After the judgment, the King of Hell was very compassionate and allowed my spirit to remain in the hells to serve as a prison guard. Through my service, I saw things clearly and awakened my own heart. The King of Hell wanted me to tell my story so that those who are confused about life can understand the truth of reincarnation. My human body was wasted, but I hope that those who have the opportunity to read my story can actively do good deeds and cherish their lives.

Finally, I must mention that during this time, listening to Practitioner Su give Dharma talks, I realised that life is not something we can control; we are led by our destiny. Only those who are sincere and truly practice Buddhism can be reborn in the Western Land of Ultimate Bliss at the end of their lives. I hope everyone will reflect deeply on this. Today, I am grateful to Practitioner Su for leading us sixty prison guards to be reborn in the Western Land of Ultimate Bliss, granting us eternal life. I kneel and kowtow in gratitude to the Buddha and Practitioner Su for their compassion. Namo Amituofo."