Zhuang Guangyu, a villager of Liyang, dreamed of a monster with horns growing out of its head, which knocked at the door and came in and said: “I am King Ox-Head. God has commanded me to be offered blood food in this region. Carve a statue of me and worship me, and there will certainly be a response.”
Zhuang woke and told the villagers. The village was suffering from an epidemic, and they all said: “Better to believe it than not.” They raised several tens of thousands of cash, put up a three-room thatched hall, and set up an ox-headed, human-bodied figure seated inside.
After that the epidemic entirely cleared, prayers for sons were quite effective, and the cult flourished. And so for several years.
Then the son of a villager named Zhou Manzi caught smallpox, and Zhou went to the temple. First he set out a sacrifice of animals for the god, then he cast the divining blocks, and got a great auspicious reply. Zhou was delighted and promised to put on a play as thanks.
Within a few days the boy died after all.
Zhou was furious. “I relied on my son to plough for me and feed me. Better that I die than my son.” He took his wife and a hoe and mattock and charged the ox head, smashed its body to pieces, and destroyed the temple.
The whole village was terrified and expected some dreadful retribution. But after that it was silent, and nobody knows where King Ox-Head went.
