The Severed Dragon's Arm

Along the banks of the Lam River, where the Hong Linh mountain range stands watch, there is a mountain called Nui Quyet—"quyet" meaning majestic and venerable. Legend holds that this was the land Scholar La Son Phu Tu selected for King Quang Trung, a place with "allied forces, a mountain" that crouches like a tiger and hides like a dragon, serving as its protective guardian.

This land was known by the ancients as "dragon land"—not a dragon flying in the sky, but the mountain's form, undulating like a sleeping dragon. The dragon's arm extended towards the river, where the clear, gentle waters flowed, bringing fortune and prosperity to the entire region.

But then one day, the provincial government decided to build a bypass road around Vinh city, running along the Lam River to connect with the Ho Chi Minh Highway. The design plans were approved: to cut across the arm of Nui Quyet to make way for the road.

"Cut it here," an engineer pointed to the map. "This will shorten the distance by three kilometers and save billions of dong."

"But I've heard that's dragon land," someone said with concern. "Should we do this?"

"It's superstition," the engineer dismissed. "We need roads. We need development."

And so the excavators began to work. Rocks shattered and flew, earth was torn up, and the dragon's arm that had once gently sheltered the land was cut through layer by layer. Strangely, right after the "arm" was severed, the weather turned erratic: prolonged heavy rains led to continuous landslides, and the harvests failed.

An elder from the village, who had lived his whole life at the foot of the mountain, still went to its peak each evening to offer incense. Seeing the scene, he shook his head, tears tracing lines down his wrinkled cheeks. "The dragon's arm has been cut," he whispered. "Heaven and earth are angry."

The road was completed, and vehicles sped along it smoothly. Yet the local people still felt a deep unease. They could not put it into words, but the feeling was like losing a beloved family member—even though everything seemed normal, something profoundly vital was missing.

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In a later dharma talk, Venerable Thich Chan Quang recounted this story as a lesson for those who do not know how to "read the language of the land."

"We like to 'dig wherever we touch,' like those involved," he said, his tone somber. "Precious land has its reasons. Mountains do not rise here by chance, nor do rivers flow there by chance. All are the language of heaven and earth, written long ago."

"For example," he continued, "the moon is four hundred times smaller than the sun, but the sun is also four hundred times farther from the earth than the moon is. Thus, from earth, they appear the same size. There is no coincidence."

"Nui Quyet," he went on, "is the dragon's arm that holds the prosperity for the entire region. When we cut it down, we are not merely destroying a mountain; we are destroying a piece of the 'language' of heaven and earth."

"Each person," he looked around, "has a different voice, a different appearance, containing a different destiny. That is a pre-written language; the question is whether we can read it. Similarly, the land has its own language."

"Therefore," he concluded, "before quarrying stone, blasting mountains, or building roads, we must ask: do heaven and earth permit it? Does it align with their 'language'? We must stop 'digging wherever we touch' as we have been doing."

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The story of Nui Quyet, though simple, is a profound reminder: heaven and earth have their own laws, and humans must learn to "read" and "listen" to their language before acting. Not every desire for development aligns with the "language" of heaven and earth. When we break this harmony, the consequence is not just material loss, but the loss of "heavenly energy"—the vital spirit of the land that grants humanity peace and prosperity.

**The Meaning of the Story**

Heaven and earth have their own "language"; all natural phenomena have reasons and laws, none by chance. Humans must learn to read this language before acting, especially in matters of land use and construction. Indiscriminately destroying these "languages" of heaven and earth (such as blasting mountains or filling rivers) not only causes environmental consequences but also shatters natural harmony, affecting the "heavenly energy"—the vital spirit of the land—causing people to lose their inherent peace and prosperity. The lesson is: we must respect the laws of heaven and earth, act in harmony with nature, not in opposition or through reckless exploitation.

*Compiled from a dharma talk by Venerable Thich Chan Quang*