A Single Word of Meaning

Sunlight filtered through the tree canopy, casting long shadows over the vast execution ground. The heavy, gloomy air was thick with the metallic scent of blood mixed with damp earth. Hundreds of bandits lay bound and kneeling beneath the pillars, their faces pale and trembling before imminent death. A dense crowd gathered outside, their murmurs buzzing like a disturbed hive.

The official in charge stood on a high platform, his face ashen. He looked down at the condemned prisoners, then up at the sun climbing higher in the sky. The King’s decree demanded that all the bandits be executed today. But who would dare to behead hundreds of people? Even the most experienced executioners shook their heads, their expressions grim. “I have never killed so many at once,” one whispered, his hands shaking. “No one can do it.”

The official paced back and forth, sweat beading on his forehead. Suddenly, an idea struck him. He called for the leader of the notorious gang. “If you kill your own followers, I will spare your life,” he said, his voice hoarse. The bandit chief threw his head back and laughed harshly. “Kill me if you must, but do not expect me to commit such an unjust act.”

Helpless, the official ordered his guards to drag the chief away. As he continued to pace, searching desperately, his eyes landed on a strange figure among the prisoners. It was a man with teeth yellowed like copper, possessing a fierce face yet remaining eerily calm, even smiling faintly in the face of death. The official quickly commanded, “Bring that man here!”

“Will you kill these hundreds?” the official asked, staring directly into the prisoner’s eyes. “If you do, I will spare your life.” The man nodded immediately without hesitation. “Yes,” he replied, his voice dry and flat.

They handed him a sword. He took it and approached the first prisoner. With a single stroke, the man’s head rolled onto the ground. Blood sprayed across his face, but he did not blink. One after another, he cut relentlessly. When the blade dulled, he switched to another. Nearly three hundred heads fell, creating streams of blood that stained the wide expanse of earth red. The soldiers surrounding him fainted from horror, leaving only the executioner standing there, calm-faced, sword in hand, covered from head to toe in gore.

The official felt both relief and terror. He had never seen anyone kill with such cold-blooded efficiency. Another thought occurred to him: “There are still many prisoners waiting in jail; why not let him finish them too?” So, he assigned him more work. The next day, the man beheaded nearly a hundred more. Upon hearing this, the King appointed him as the chief executioner. From a bandit, he became a man with a salary, a title, and servants.

Years passed, and he grew old. No one dared to replace him, for everyone feared the gruesome nature of the job. One day, while executing the last prisoner, he needed three strokes to sever the neck. The victim’s relatives filed a complaint with the King. Consequently, the King ordered him to retire, granting him money and a house.

For the first time in his life, he rested. He dressed in fine clothes, lit incense, and enjoyed a meal of milk porridge with honey and pastries. Sitting peacefully, he savored his twilight years. Suddenly, he noticed a monk standing outside his door, dignified and beautiful in appearance. It was Venerable Shariputra.

He vaguely remembered the custom of making offerings to monks. He brought out the bowl of honey-sweetened milk porridge and poured it into the Venerable’s alms bowl. Then, he stood by, fanning him gently as he ate, filled with an unusual reverence. After finishing his meal, Venerable Shariputra offered a blessing: “In all things in this world, there is cause and effect (karmic law). If one understands cause and effect, lives purely, and places faith in the Buddha, the Dharma, and the Sangha, one walks the path of goodness. I wish for you to believe in cause and effect and take refuge in the Three Jewels, so that you may escape suffering (dukkha).”

Hearing these words, his entire body trembled. Sweat poured from his skin, and his limbs shook. He recalled his lifetime of killing—from being a bandit to serving as an executioner. “Venerable sir, my life has been filled with too much killing,” he choked out. Venerable Shariputra asked, “Did you kill of your own accord, or were you ordered by others?” He replied, “It was by order of the officials.” The Venerable said, “Then you bear no guilt. Be at peace. Everything follows cause and effect. Accept this calmly and place your faith in the Three Jewels.”

He sat down, calming his mind. Slowly, a profound sense of peace flooded his heart. Unexpectedly, he attained the fruit of Stream-Entry right there on the spot. His mind transformed completely, becoming holy and pure.

He asked permission to accompany Venerable Shariputra part of the way. Carrying the Venerable’s alms bowl behind him, he walked with a heart full of faith and respect. They walked until they neared the monastery. Only then did Venerable Shariputra turn and tell him to return. He knelt, offered the bowl, bowed three times, circled the Venerable three times, and departed.

On the way home, a Yaksha demon possessed a cow and charged at him, knocking him down. He died instantly. News spread, and Venerable Shariputra instructed the laypeople to bury him properly, for he had attained the stage of sainthood. Everyone was astonished. Monks went to ask the Buddha: “World-Honored One, how could a man whose hands were soaked in blood for a lifetime, who killed without blinking, attain the fruit of Stream-Entry so easily just by hearing one blessing from Venerable Shariputra?”

The Buddha replied, “Do not measure the teachings of the Tathagata by the quantity of lectures. Often, speaking much at the wrong time, under the wrong conditions, or lacking complete meaning is useless. It is better to speak a single word that is fully meaningful, timely, and aligned with conditions, bringing true peace and joy to the listener.”