The King Who Conquered the World and Two Supreme Philosophies

A king at the height of his power sent men to gather every teaching of the world, yet on his deathbed he only had time to hear two truths: impermanence (anicca) and cause and effect (karmic law).

The evening breeze drifted through the royal garden, carrying the fragrance of strange flowers deep into the forest. Fading sunlight slanted through the leaves, and specks of light danced upon the lush green grass. Birds sang sweetly, then fell silent as a majestic figure walked across the carpet of grass. It was a king, a jeweled crown glittering upon his head, his dragon-and-phoenix embroidered robe fluttering gently in the wind. With a wave of his hand, the palace maids bowing low quickly withdrew, and the court officials hurried to hide in the shadows of distant trees. No one dared come near, for his authority at that moment was sharp as a drawn sword.

"All of you, withdraw. I wish to be alone."

His voice rang out cold, and the air seemed to freeze. Footsteps rustled over dry leaves, then drifted farther and farther away. The king stood alone amid the flowers, and suddenly his chest tightened with a strange feeling of emptiness.

So many years had passed since he ascended the throne and led his armies to conquer the whole world. Some kingdoms cost him countless soldiers and generals before they fell; others surrendered the moment they saw his banners approaching. His dominion stopped only where the vast ocean began, or at mountain peaks too high for horses to cross. Now his power knew no bounds, his treasuries overflowed with wealth, and countless people bowed beneath his iron hand. Yet standing at that summit, he suddenly wondered: was there anything higher still left to conquer?

He strolled among the fragrant flowers and unfamiliar grasses, his brow slightly furrowed. His hand gripped the hilt of his golden sword, and his heart beat fast for no clear reason. A question tore at his mind: if life keeps pressing ever forward, what lies beyond power? He stopped, turned, and called to the courtier standing huddled in the distance.

"I have conquered the whole world, yet my heart is not satisfied. Tell me, is there anything higher than this throne?"

The courtier trembled and bowed his head, stammering:

"Your Majesty, I... I believe nothing is higher than your power. But if Your Majesty desires it, perhaps it would be the teachings of the world?"

The king nodded, his eyes brightening as if he had found a spring in the desert. He waved his hand:

"Exactly. I shall conquer wisdom. Give the order: search every corner and crevice of the land, and gather every philosophy for me!"

When the decree was issued, the ministers met at once, mapped out routes, and provided funds for the expedition. Groups of envoys rode through the winds to every corner of the world. Wherever there was a distinguished scholar, they came to record his words; in any village with a learned philosopher, they journeyed far to listen; in deep caves where hermits practiced in seclusion, they climbed rocks and clung to mossy walls to write down their teachings. Month after month, year after year, bamboo scrolls piled up until they filled the storehouses. But time waits for no one. The king began to waste away; fits of dry coughing broke the silence of the night, and his skin turned pale and clammy. Lying on his golden bed, his veined hands clutched the edge of the mat, his eyes staring fixedly at the door.

"Where are the teachings? I have not seen a single scroll!"

The royal physician knelt down, his voice choked:

"Your Majesty, please steady your heart. We have gathered nearly everything. Please take this precious medicine to prolong your life, so that you may read it all."

The king sighed, knowing that "steady your heart" was often an omen of what was to come. His illness grew deeper. One by one, envoys trickled back with bamboo scrolls, piling them into heaps taller than a man. When nearly all had arrived, the courtier led the delegation in to report:

"Your Majesty, the teachings of the world have been almost fully gathered. Only a few messengers remain out of contact."

The king ordered himself to be carried there. The hall was larger than any assembly chamber, and the scrolls filled it from one end to the other. He whispered hoarsely:

"How long would it take me to read all of this?"

The minister replied:

"Your age is advanced and your illness grave. Before you could read even a small part, you might... Please allow us to gather the scholars and condense it."

For two long years they worked, until the pile of scrolls was reduced to the size of a table's surface. The king lay dying, his eyes fixed on the new pile:

"Even this I cannot read. Condense it to a single scroll!"

A month later, the highest minister brought in two bamboo scrolls. The physician tried to stop him, but the king was already gasping, his eyes dull. The minister raised the first scroll:

"The first supreme philosophy: all the world is impermanence (anicca)."

The moment the king whispered "I have heard it," his breath ceased and his heart stopped. The minister's hands shook as he reached for the second scroll, but the king had already passed away. Sobs filled the room, and amid the grief-stricken silence, the minister choked out the words:

"The second philosophy: all things are governed by karma and cause and effect (karmic law)."

That was the turning point: all that power, all those years of sending men to search the world, and he only had time to absorb a single word — impermanence (anicca) — before closing his eyes. All those bamboo scrolls turned to meaningless dust, for truth does not lie in quantity.

Later, when the Buddha's disciples heard this story, they sat in meditation contemplating the impermanence (anicca) of the body, watching the breath that cannot be controlled, understanding that feelings of joy and sorrow are only fleeting. They did not need to march armies across the world, nor wait for their final breath. Right from the temple gates, their teachers taught: the world is impermanent, governed by cause and effect (karmic law). As they applied this, their hearts grew light, and they no longer created foolish karma. Their lives became peaceful and free, beyond praise and blame.

The Meaning of the Story

The king spent his entire life conquering the world only to hear, at the very end, the two supreme philosophies: impermanence (anicca) and cause and effect (karmic law) — and he managed to hear only one before he died. The Buddha's disciples are taught these two truths from the very beginning, and so are far more fortunate than the king, yet we often take them for granted and fail to apply them in our practice. The Buddha's way is the path of seeing things as they truly are; grasping impermanence (anicca) and karma, and putting them into practice, opens the spiritual heart and carries us beyond illusion toward non-self (anatta).

Compiled from a dharma talk by Venerable Thích Chân Quang