The Master of Horses and the Language of Spirits

This is a record of an interview with Zou Renyu, a former prison guard who sought deliverance at the Hsiang Kuang Pure Land Buddhist Centre in Australia. He now resides in the Western Pure Land of Ultimate Bliss. This account reflects upon his life approximately three centuries ago. Recorded by the chief writer, Shi Fa, on January 31, 2021.

Zou Renyu speaks:

"Namo Amituofo. I am filled with infinite gratitude. The grace of Practitioner Su has granted me the opportunity for rebirth in the Western Pure Land. I thank the compassion of the Buddha, and I am deeply grateful to Practitioner Su. On this magnificent and auspicious day, I offer my humble kowtows to express my boundless thanks for the Buddha's grace.

A Childhood Gift: The White Horse

I once believed my life would be utterly ordinary, and I had prepared myself for a mundane existence. Little did I know that a sudden, life-altering change would transform me into a high-ranking commander at a military equestrian training ground. The reason for this was simple: I could hear what horses were saying. It was a secret language, a bridge between my heart and theirs.

When I was about three years old, my parents took me to the bustling markets of the capital. Suddenly, a commotion broke out as the wealthy young masters of the city rode past on their magnificent horses. It was the first time I had ever seen such creatures. As my parents pulled me aside to safety, I stared at each horse with intense curiosity. Suddenly, a voice resonated in my mind: 'Child, I am that white horse. Can you save me? My foal is about to be born, but I do not want these young masters to discover it. They are travelling to the Changbai Mountains and will pass by an inn. I believe I can hold on until then. Please, you must come to help me and take my foal away.'

A Bond Beyond Words

The white horse quickly told me the name of the inn. Using the stubbornness of a child, I pestered my parents until they took me to dine at that very place. Upon arrival, I searched everywhere until I found the white horse huddled in a dark corner. Seeing its frail state, I realised it was using its last ounce of strength to protect its child, just as my parents protected me. Sensing my approach, the horse sighed in relief and whispered, 'Thank you.' It then fainted from exhaustion. A small foal quietly poked its head out from beneath its mother. From that day on, the little white horse never left my side.

When I returned to the inn with the foal, my parents were shocked. I gestured for them to be silent, and they understood, asking no further questions. It was only on the journey home that I explained what had happened. My parents struggled to process the information; they could hardly imagine that their child could speak to a horse, let alone that I had brought one home! My parents eventually cautioned me: 'Child, do not tell anyone about this, and do not let others discover you have this ability.' They feared I would be exploited by those with ill intentions. Back home, I kept the foal in the backyard. We grew as close as brothers. I would share my food and toys with him, and he would respond in kind. I named him Baiju. He was gentle and possessed great spiritual intelligence. We remained inseparable for over a decade.

The Burden of Conscription

From the age of three, my life had quietly shifted. To protect me from misfortune, my parents became extremely cautious, even forbidding me from speaking to strangers. They only hoped for a peaceful, healthy life for me, not fame or fortune. To this end, we moved away from our town to a quiet village, living a life detached from the affairs of the world. Perhaps it was the pull of Causal Conditions, but years later, the village underwent a massive conscription. I was selected. My parents were heartbroken, but they could not resist the pressure of the authorities. I was forced to part from them at the age of five.

I took Baiju with me as I followed the troops. Throughout the journey, he looked after me. When I grew tired, he would say, 'Climb onto my back; I can carry you.' That was the first time I rode a horse. Baiju patiently taught me horsemanship, careful not to let me fall. Because our spirits were connected, I mastered the art of riding quickly, which became the foundation for my later role as a commander. From the age of five, I lived in the military camp, forced into rigorous day-and-night training. The imperial court demanded elite soldiers, and we were punished severely for any minor mistake, often forced to stand in horse stances under the scorching sun. Ten years passed, and the court was highly satisfied with our progress.

The Battlefield and the Truth

Living away from home for so long, I often wondered, 'Are my parents doing well?' Baiju remained my constant companion. My master once tried to separate us, but I refused so vehemently—even going on a hunger strike for days—that he finally abandoned the idea. Baiju was the only family I had on the battlefield. For over a decade, he helped me through so much. Whenever I wanted to give up, his encouragement kept me going. I had thought I could only hear his voice, but with his help, I gradually learned to communicate with other horses on the battlefield. I could even train them, a secret I kept to myself.

Eventually, war broke out. All the elite troops were deployed. Despite our years of training, this was our first real battle. I rode Baiju, whose agile speed helped us dodge countless enemy attacks. When other horses panicked, I gave them clear instructions, calming them and restoring order. We won the battle. My horsemanship was discovered after that battle. The general ordered me to train the horses. Initially, the older officials in the training ground looked down on me, thinking I was just a young upstart, and refused to let me handle the actual training. I did not get angry; I simply trained with Baiju and spoke to the other horses, passing the time for a year.

A Legend in the Equestrian Field

One day, the general inspected the stables and, not seeing me, learned I had not been given any training duties. He was furious, dismissing all the old officials and ordering their immediate execution for disobeying military orders. I was terrified and rushed to plead for their lives, confessing my abilities to the general and explaining that I had been training the horses all along. The general’s anger subsided. The officials were spared, though they were stripped of their ranks and assigned to cleaning duties for the rest of their lives. They were so grateful to be alive that they thanked the general for his mercy.

From that day on, I became the highest commander of the equestrian training ground, and my ability became a legend. Throughout my life, our troops were always victorious. Because I could communicate with horses, I could not only command our own mounts but also influence the enemy's horses. Often, the enemy's formation would collapse because their horses refused to obey commands. Horses are highly spiritual animals; they must be treated with gentleness. They are not mere slaves. If treated harshly, they will resist, just as the enemy's horses did, leading to their defeat.

The Foundation of Respect

One should treat all things with a peaceful heart. When I communicated with the enemy's horses, they would tell me, 'We live such hard lives. They give us no respite, beating and scolding us daily, and forcing us through grueling training. We would rather die on the battlefield than continue this suffering!' Because of this, it was easy to persuade them, and we won. Respect is the ultimate bottom line in treating all things. Without basic respect, one will ultimately fail on the battlefield. I believe this is a crucial concept. So many animals and beings in this world possess spiritual intelligence; we must show them the utmost respect. That is the only correct way to behave.

I am grateful to Heaven for giving me this ability to hear animals, which allowed me to understand these truths. I passed away in my sleep at the age of thirty-six, and Baiju followed shortly after. At the moment of death, my consciousness remained clear. I saw my soul leave my body and float in the air, only to be drawn toward a dark force. In my final moments, I saw Baiju staring at me; he knew my life was ending. Our bond was so deep that we could sense every change in each other.

From the Underworld to the Pure Land

After being pulled away by the dark force, I arrived in another world—the underworld. Prison guards from the gates of the Yama Palace appeared and brought me before King Yama for judgment. He showed me my entire life and asked, 'Do you have anything to say?' I smiled and replied, 'I have nothing to say.' After reviewing the records, King Yama decided to keep me in the underworld to serve as a prison guard. Although I had not performed many great good deeds, my efforts to train warhorses had helped minimize the chaos of war. He allowed me to stay to accumulate merit, so that one day I might escape the cycle of rebirth.

I thanked King Yama and began my work. After about three hundred years, I encountered the teachings of Practitioner Su. I was deeply moved; every word was the ultimate truth of life. I listened intently to every Dharma talk, including those broadcast online. In the underworld, one can connect to the digital space, and I am very grateful for Practitioner Su’s dedication to spreading the Dharma. I hope that one day, I too can be like Practitioner Su, spreading the Dharma to benefit all beings. I am grateful for this opportunity to be liberated. I thank the compassion of the Buddha and the grace of Practitioner Su. I could never have imagined that I, too, could be reborn in the Western Pure Land of Ultimate Bliss. Thank you, Practitioner Su and the Hsiang Kuang Pure Land Buddhist Centre. On behalf of the prison guards who were saved today, and all sentient beings, I offer my kowtows to the Buddha and Practitioner Su. My gratitude is boundless and beyond words. I hope to be diligent so that in the future, I may also help save the world. Namo Amituofo."

Interview recorded by the Buddhist disciple Shi Fa.