The Flowing Pantheon: A Study on the Origins of the Wutong Deity and the Five Road Deities of Wealth, with a Discussion on the Pluralistic Harmony of Daoism

Abstract

The origin of the Wutong deity, a controversial figure in Chinese folk religion, has long been an unresolved academic issue, hindering a clear understanding of its complex godhead and its derivative cults, such as the Five Road Deities of Wealth. This study aims to provide a comprehensive etymological solution to this long-standing problem. Through a systematic investigation combining cross-cultural linguistic analysis, comparative mythology, and socio-historical contextualization, this paper traces the deity’s evolution from its prototype to its final forms. The study argues that the Wutong deity’s prototype is the Buddhist Yakṣa General Pañcika, known in early China as the “Wudao Dashen” (Great Deity of the Five Paths). Its core godhead was formed by inheriting Pañcika’s attribute as a wealth deity, while degrading his myth of prolificacy into a licentious characteristic by conflating it with indigenous stereotypes of Yakṣas. Its name resulted from an orthographic corruption of “Wudao” to “Wutong,” and its “one-legged” image from a phono-semantic misreading of its transliterated name, “Banzhijia (半支迦).” This transformation was catalyzed by the severance of the Tangmi (唐密) lineage and the concurrent rise of commercialism in Song-dynasty Jiangnan. This evolutionary chain reveals the complete process by which a foreign deity was seamlessly integrated into the indigenous Chinese belief system, a “Flowing Pantheon,” through misreading and reconstruction, vividly illustrating the pluralistic and harmonious nature of Chinese religion.

1. Introduction

The Wutong deity, a highly controversial and complex figure in Chinese folk religion, has been widely worshiped in Jiangnan, the southeastern coastal areas, and beyond since the Tang and Song dynasties. However, despite the abundance of literature since the Song, Yuan, Ming, and Qing dynasties and a considerable body of modern research, the true origin of the Wutong deity remains unrecorded in early texts, leading to a lack of academic consensus. This ambiguity regarding its origin directly results in the difficulty of providing a unified and effective explanation for its complex divine nature, which encompasses both benevolent and malevolent aspects. Furthermore, this ambiguity has led to the equivocal and confused state of derivative beliefs such as the Wuxian (五顯) and the Five Road Deities of Wealth (五路財神). Even today, various combinations of the Five Road Deities of Wealth persist in folk belief, a phenomenon that researchers often attribute to the arbitrary nature of folk religion, while the underlying factors remain elusive.

Existing scholarly research on the origin of the Wutong deity can be broadly categorized into the following theories:

(1)

The Mountain Spirit/Demon Theory. This school of thought posits that the Wutong deity originated from indigenous Chinese beliefs in mountain spirits, particularly those related to the Shanxiao (山魈) legends of the south. Hong Mai, in his Yijian Zhi (夷堅志), explicitly defined the Wutong as “monstrous beings of wood and stone, such as Kui (夔), Wangliang (罔兩), and Shanxiao,” noting their characteristic of “metamorphic bewitchment (Hong, Mai. Xinbian Fenlei Yijian Zhi (新編分類夷堅志). Japanese Cabinet Library edition. Ren Collection (壬集), juan 4, p. 10.).” Lu Can (陸粲) of the Ming dynasty further emphasized this connection in his Gengsi Bian (庚巳編), stating that the Wutong are “old demons of the deep mountains, of the same kind as Shanxiao and Muke (木客),” and added, “The Yijian Zhi says: ‘One is called the one-legged Wutong (獨腳五通).’ I believe this is the same as the one-footed Kui mentioned in the Zuo Zhuan (左傳) (Lu, Can. Gengsi Bian (庚巳編). 1617 ed., Juan 5, p. 1).” This perspective has been adopted and expanded upon by modern scholars. Ursula-Angelika Cedzich (1995) argues that “from the beginning both terms denoted the same kind of spirits—the ancient Shan-hsiao,” suggesting that these spirits were later adopted into the Buddhist system (Cedzich 1995). Richard von Glahn’s monograph, The Sinister Way: The Divine and the Demonic in Chinese Religious Culture (2004), also extensively discusses the Wutong cult, noting: “Buddhist theologians and Daoist sorcerers thus invariably associated the Wutong with diabolical Shanxiao. In the popular mind, too, the Wu-tong, especially in the personae of Wulang (五郎) and the ‘one-legged Wutong,’ were indeed identified with the Shanxiao.” (Von Glahn 2004, p. 186). The book also links the Wutong to the Five Epidemic Ghosts (五方疫鬼) and Five Pestilence Emissaries (五瘟使者), arguing that the Wutong deity evolved from a Demon into a Deity. While this theory is compelling, its primary reliance on later-period sources and associative links leaves its evidentiary foundation for the deity’s ultimate origin insufficient.

(2)

The Buddhist “Five-Supernatural-Powers Immortal” (五通仙人) Theory. Proponents of this view argue that the name and some divine abilities of the Wutong deity were adapted from the Buddhist concept of the “five supernatural powers” (pañcābhijñā). A poetic line by Shi Jianwu 施肩吾 (style name Huayangzi 華陽子) of the Song dynasty, “The Wutong was originally a vassal of Buddhism,”1 first established the connection between the Wutong and Buddhism. Jia Erqiang 賈二強 (Jia 2003) systematically argued for the view that the Wutong deity evolved from the Buddhist “Five-Powers Immortal,” suggesting that this concept was gradually integrated into folk belief along with the process of Buddhist secularization (Jia 2003). Pi Qingsheng 皮慶生 (Pi 2008) endorsed this view (Pi 2008). Luo Bing 羅兵 and Miao Huaiming 苗懷明 (Luo and Miao 2020), however, disagreed with this conclusion, proposing that the Wutong belief has an alternative origin, but did not elaborate further on this point (Luo and Miao 2020).

(3)

The Personification of the Five Elements Theory. This theory suggests the deity originated from the personification of the Five Elements (五行Wuxing) philosophy, a view traced back to the Northern Song scholar Li Gou (李覯) by the Qing scholar Quan Zuwang (全祖望), who quoted Li’s record: “The idea that the Wutong are the gods of the Five Elements originates from Li Xujiang (李盱江)… ‘The land of Jiangnan is hot and humid, prone to pestilence… It is said that the Wutong have power in such matters… This is because epidemics are fundamentally caused by the malevolent Qi of the Five Elements, and the Wutong, as the gods of the Five Elements, are thus able to wield control over them to determine life and death.’“ (Quan, Zuwang. Jieqi Ting Ji Waibian (鮚埼亭集外編). Sibu Congkan edition. Juan 47, entry “Za wen mu (雜問目),” p. 32). Ding Xiqin 丁希勤 (Ding 2009) also supported this theory, further associating it with the five viscera (五臟) and considering the deity “a theological symbol of the human body’s five viscera and six bowels.” (Ding 2009)

Synthesizing the various perspectives mentioned above, it is evident that the scholarly discussion surrounding the origin of the Wutong deity has formed several theories, including the Mountain Spirit/Demon Theory, the Buddhist Five-Supernatural-Powers Immortal Theory, and the Personification of the Five Elements Theory. Each theory approaches the complexity of the Wutong belief from a different angle. However, when these theories are examined within a more rigorous logical framework and historical context, it becomes apparent that while each offers valuable insights, they all face irreconcilable theoretical difficulties. This is particularly pronounced when attempting to explain the two most central and unique attributes of the Wutong belief: its ability to bestow wealth and its licentious nature.

The most influential “Mountain Spirit/Demon Theory” suffers from a severe evidentiary gap and a logical leap. This theory directly equates the Wutong deity with the Shanxiao and Muke of the south, based mainly on the shared “one-legged” image and the subjective identifications made by Song dynasty scholars like Hong Mai. The fundamental flaw in this argument is its oversimplification, drawing an analogy based on a single superficial characteristic. A survey of literature on mountain spirits from antiquity to the Tang dynasty reveals that while figures like the Shanxiao, Kui, and Wangliang were associated with causing trouble, bewitchment, or pestilence, they never possessed a stable, clearly defined godhead of bestowing wealth or being licentious. To trace a newly emerged deity from the Song dynasty, who suddenly possessed powerful functions as a god of wealth and sex, back to an ancient monster based solely on a “one-legged” feature is highly speculative. The identifications made by Hong Mai and others are themselves worthy of scrutiny: were they based on confirmed folk knowledge, or were they the subconscious classification by the scholar-official class of an untraceable and popular illicit cult (淫祀) into the pre-coded, derogatory category of “mountain spirits”? This may reflect more of a cultural categorization strategy and an elite’s pejorative attitude than an objective genealogical investigation. As Ursula-Angelika Cedzich herself admitted, she “lacks first-hand evidence,” making her conclusion more of a hypothesis.

Next, the “Buddhist Five-Supernatural-Powers Immortal Theory” is trapped in a discrepancy between name and substance. This theory seizes upon the nominal similarity of “Wutong” to establish a connection. However, apart from the name, there is almost no common ground between the two in terms of godhead, mythology, or belief practices. The Buddhist “five supernatural powers” (pañcābhijñā: divine sight, divine hearing, knowledge of the thoughts of others, remembrance of past lives, and supernormal locomotion) represent a state and ability achieved through meditative practice. It is a highly spiritual and philosophical concept, far removed from the secular, materialistic wealth-bestowing function and carnal licentiousness represented by the Wutong deity. To equate an abstract spiritual attainment with a concrete personified deity is too forced to be convincing.

Furthermore, the “Five Elements Personification Theory” appears even more as a far-fetched interpretation, lacking support from a historical-genetic perspective. While it is true that contemporaries like Li Gou used the concept of the Five Elements’ qi to explain the Wutong’s connection to epidemics, this is clearly a later philosophical rationalization rather than its origin. The Five Elements theory had been prevalent since the Warring States period. As a mature cosmological and philosophical system, it had been integrated with numerous deities and magical arts over a millennium, yet it never independently gave rise to a specific cult named “Wutong.” If the Wutong deity were truly the god of the Five Elements, we cannot explain why this belief only emerged and grew explosively during the Tang and Song dynasties. This contradicts the fundamental logic of how a belief develops.

Collectively, the limitation of existing research lies in its failure to adhere to the fundamental logic of belief evolution. A belief, especially in a society with an already mature pantheon, does not typically arise ex nihilo. As the sociologist Maurice Halbwachs’s theory of “collective memory” suggests, any new social memory, including religious belief, requires a pre-existing “social framework” to which it can attach.2 A belief whose origins can be traced to antiquity but which remains dormant for a millennium only to suddenly emerge with a new face (bestowing wealth, being licentious) in the Tang and Song dynasties does not conform to the laws of transmission and evolution of collective memory. A more plausible explanation is that the “seed” of this new belief was “implanted” in a more recent historical period, and this “seed” itself contained the genetic material necessary to generate its core godhead.

Therefore, the inquiry into the origin of the Wutong deity must answer several interconnected questions: First, was there a prototype deity that was highly popular during the Tang-Song period and shared the core godhead of the Wutong? Second, is it possible that the name, image, and legends of this prototype were “misread” or “reinterpreted,” eventually evolving into the Wutong? Third, can this evolution perfectly and uniformly explain all the seemingly contradictory features of the Wutong, such as “wealth-bestowing,” “licentious,” and “one-legged”?

Based on a critical reflection of the shortcomings of existing research and an adherence to the internal logic of belief evolution, this study will take a new path, attempting to prove that the Buddhist deity, the Wudao Dashen, Pañcika, is the “deity” obscured by history and misreading, who can perfectly answer all the questions mentioned above.

2. Discussion

2.1. The Reconstruction of the Godhead: Inheritance and Derivation

2.1.1. The Lineage of the Wealth Deity

To argue that the Wutong deity’s core godhead of “bestowing wealth” originates from Buddhism, we must first examine its position within a grander and more illustrious belief system: the Buddhist pantheon of wealth centered around the Northern Heavenly King, Vaiśravaṇa. This paper posits that the prototype of the Wutong belief is a key member of this system, the chief of the Yakṣa generals—Pañcika.

Within the Buddhist mythological genealogy, Pañcika’s attribute as a wealth deity is not an isolated phenomenon but is deeply rooted in the ancient Indian tradition of Yakṣa worship. Long before the advent of Buddhism, Yakṣas were powerful nature spirits widely revered in Indian folk beliefs. As guardians of mountains, forests, and treasures, their identity was dualistic: they could be fierce wilderness spirits or generous benefactors. Importantly, the association between Yakṣas and wealth is ancient. In ancient India, the most renowned god of wealth, Kubera, held the title of “King of Yakṣas” (Yakṣarāja).3 Alice Getty’s monograph, The gods of northern Buddhism, introduces Kubera as follows: “ACCORDING to Hindu mythology, Kuvera was the son of a sage called ‘Viśravas’; hence his patronymic, Viśravaṇa or Vaiśravaṇa. He is said to have performed austerities for a thousand years, in reward for which Brahmā gave him immortality and made him god of Wealth, guardian of all the treasures of the earth, which he was to give out to whom they were destined.” (Getty [1914] 1988). Buddhism later incorporated this mature spiritual system, and Kubera became the Dharma-protector we know as Vaiśravaṇa, his core function as a wealth god fully preserved and promoted.

It is also a significant fact that in India and the greater Indian cultural sphere, the figures of Pañcika and Kubera are often conflated and difficult to distinguish. As Alice Getty states: “It is extremely difficult to decide which forms are Pañcika when without the lance or not surrounded by children, and which are Kuvera. As a general rule it may be said that Pañcika never holds the nakula, while Kuvera may carry either the mongoose or the money bag. Since the form of Pañcika with lance and money-bag was unknown outside of Northern India, he was possibly confounded by the common people of the caravans, because of the money-bag, with the ‘Jambala’ form of Kuvera, which was especially popular in Nepal; and very probably on account of his lance, he became absorbed into the ‘warrior’ form of Kuvera or Vaiśravaṇa and was thus worshipped later in Japan under the name of Bishamon (毗沙門).” (Getty [1914] 1988, p. 158). As the “chief of the eight great Yakṣa generals,” Pañcika commanded a legion that was, in essence, a corps dedicated to guarding and dispensing wealth. Robert DeCaroli (2004) notes, “They were viewed as the steward deities of the earth and the wealth buried beneath.” (DeCaroli 2004).

This connection of Pañcika to wealth is clearly expressed in Gandhāran art. In numerous extant sculptures, Pañcika is often depicted alongside his consort, Hārītī (also known as the Mother of Demons), forming a classic iconographic pair symbolizing fecundity and abundance. Pañcika is typically shown holding a spear and wearing armor, signifying his power to protect wealth, while the couple is often accompanied by children and symbols of prosperity like a cornucopia or a money bag. The two figures “were very popular in Gandhara in the latter part of the second century, and their statues are many.” (Marshall 1960, pp. 104–5). Art is the visual manifestation of belief, and these repetitive, highly stylized images offer strong evidence that in the minds of the devotees of that era, Pañcika’s status as a deity of wealth and abundance was clear and deeply ingrained.

When we shift our focus from India and Central Asia to Chinese society during the Tang and Song dynasties, a clear trajectory of functional inheritance emerges. The anecdotal literature, novels, and local gazetteers of the Song, Yuan, Ming, and Qing periods are replete with accounts of how the Wutong deity brought “unexpected windfalls” and “illicit gains” to his followers. A case recorded in Hong Mai’s Yijian Zhi, where a devotee’s “coins and cash filled the coffers and increased daily,” (Hong, Mai. Xinbian Fenlei Yijian Zhi 新編分類夷堅志. Geng Collection 庚集, juan 1, p. 11.) is a typical example of such narratives. Wutong devotees spanned all social strata, but were especially numerous among merchants, gamblers, and common people eager to change their fortunes quickly. What they sought was a form of wealth that transcended ordinary effort, a miraculous intervention.

This intense societal desire for unexpected wealth provided fertile ground for the localization of Pañcika’s cult. In an era of burgeoning commodity economy, increased social mobility, and unprecedented desire for riches, a powerful foreign deity capable of direct intervention and bestowing windfalls held immense appeal. As the general under the command of the Heavenly King of Wealth, responsible for direct execution of his will, Pañcika’s image and function closely met the popular psychological expectation for an efficient, efficacious, and action-oriented wealth deity. Thus, the explosive growth of the Wutong cult, which evolved from Pañcika, from the Song dynasty onward was not without a source. It was the result of discovering and activating an Indian deity who had long been introduced and possessed the requisite divine attributes, all within a specific socio-economic context. The Wutong deity’s function of bestowing wealth is a direct inheritance and localized manifestation of Pañcika’s ancient lineage as a god of wealth.

2.1.2. The Cultural Decoding of the “Licentious” Characteristic

If the Wutong deity’s “wealth-bestowing” attribute is a direct inheritance from its Buddhist prototype Pañcika’s lineage as a wealth god, then its controversial “licentious” trait stems from a deeper, more complex process of cultural decoding and value renegotiation. I argue that this seemingly “evil” attribute was not fabricated out of thin air but is the product of a dual logic: firstly, the degradation and secularization of the core motif of “sacred fecundity” from the myth of Pañcika and his consort, interpreted within a specific Chinese social and ethical context; and secondly, the superimposition of the “lustful demon” label that the Yakṣa category had acquired during its localization in China.

The myth of Pañcika and his consort Hārītī is key to understanding this evolution. In Buddhist narratives, Hārītī was originally a malevolent Yakṣinī who devoured human children but was converted by the Buddha and became a protector of children. Pañcika, as her husband, was the father of her vast progeny, with scriptures mentioning “five hundred sons” or even a thousand. The Da Yaocha Nü Huanxi Mu Bing Aizi Chengjiu Fa (大藥叉女歡喜母並愛子成就法), translated by Amoghavajra during the Tang dynasty, states: “There was a great Yakṣinī named Huanxi, of beautiful appearance, with five thousand attendants, who always resided in the country of China to protect the world. She was the daughter of the great Yakṣa General Sāgara… and was married to the great Yakṣa General Pañcika, giving birth to five hundred sons of great power.”4 While the myth’s core purpose is to glorify the transformative power of the Dharma, two powerful elements within its narrative—(1) the unimaginably large number of offspring, symbolizing an extreme and unrestrained life-giving force, and (2) the profound and intense amorous bond between the couple—were highly susceptible to being decontextualized from their original religious didacticism and reinterpreted as standalone cultural symbols during cross-cultural transmission.

When this myth, replete with primal vitality and potent sensuality, entered Chinese society, particularly under the influence of the Confucian-dominated social order and the Song-Ming Neo-Confucian mainstream value of “preserving heavenly principle and extinguishing human desire,” a profound cultural reinterpretation became inevitable. In Indian culture, vitality, fertility, and even desire (Kāma) could be viewed as sacred, cosmically creative forces. However, within the Confucian framework that emphasized self-restraint and ethical order, any powerful desire that transcended norms and control was easily stigmatized. The vigorous reproductive capacity was secularized into “lasciviousness and debauchery,” while the deity’s own intrinsic passions were projected outward as an intrusion into the human world.

Crucially, this degradation was not isolated—it aligned with the pre-existing image of the Yakṣa in China, creating a logical synergy. By the Tang dynasty at the latest, the image of the Yakṣa had already begun to mutate in its localization, acquiring connotations of “lustful demons” or “seducing spirits” in the popular imagination. The Taiping Guangji (太平廣記), compiled by Li Fang and others in the Northern Song, contains several Tang dynasty tales that clearly reflect this. The following examples serve as proof:

The woman said: “Formerly, when I was alone, a yakṣa over ten feet tall, very strange, leaped down from the roof into my chamber and said to me, ‘Do not be afraid.’ Then he took me and ran to the stupa.”

(from Xuanshi Zhi)5

The senior official Du Wan’s elder brother was a county sheriff in Lingnan. On his way to his post, his wife contracted a virulent miasma and died within a few days… Upon his return north, he went to the rock to retrieve his wife’s remains. When he looked into the cavern, only the reeds were still there… Further up the rock was a path, which he followed for over a hundred steps to a stone grotto. Inside, his wife was naked, her features so savage as to be unrecognizable. She held a child in her arms, and beside her was another child, resembling a rākṣasa. Only after being called repeatedly did she awaken. Unable to speak, she drew on the ground with her hand, writing: “I was reborn and captured by a yakṣa. These two children are the ones I have borne.”

(from Guangyi Ji)6

In a county near Ruzhou, fifty years ago, a villager lost his daughter. Several years later, she suddenly returned home, saying that she had initially been taken away in her sleep by a creature. When she awoke, she found herself in an ancient pagoda with a handsome man, who said: “I am a celestial being, and it is fated that I should take you as my wife for a certain period. Do not be suspicious.” He also warned her not to peek outside. Twice a day, he would descend to fetch food, which was sometimes still warm. After several years, the woman waited for him to leave and secretly peeked out. She saw him soaring through the air, with fiery hair, blue skin, and ears like a donkey’s. Upon landing, he reverted to human form. The woman was terrified and drenched in a cold sweat. When the creature returned, he sensed her fear and said: “You have peeked at me. I am in truth a yakṣa, and you and I share a karmic bond. I will never harm you.”

(from Youyang Zazu)7

In the three stories cited above, the three women were, without exception, bewitched and possessed by a yakṣa. These tales demonstrate that in the Chinese narrative tradition, the Yakṣa was no longer purely a Dharma-protector but had been endowed with the negative attributes of preying on women.

Thus, we witness a process of cultural degradation through which the deity’s original attributes were reinterpreted. Firstly, Pañcika and his consort’s astonishing reproductive capacity was transformed from a symbol of sacred fecundity into mere lasciviousness and debauchery. In folk narratives, its sanctity as a sign of abundance was stripped away, simplified, and understood as a purely carnal, unrestrained sexuality. In the popular imagination, a father of five hundred children was inevitably associated with potent sexual prowess and a voracious appetite. Secondly, the intense amorous bond between Pañcika and Hārītī underwent a similar degradation, shifting from a depiction of deep spousal love to a narrative of abducting common women. This intrinsic desire, which formed the humanistic basis for their transformation into Dharma-protectors in the original myth, was, in Chinese folk tales, projected and externalized as an intrusion into the human world. The deity’s own desire was re-narrated as a desire for mortal women, thus evolving into the licentious narrative of the Wutong deity preying on women and abducting wives and daughters.

Therefore, the Wutong deity’s “licentious” trait was not baseless but a cultural decoding and value reversal of its prototype’s myth. This process was an inevitable refraction and distortion of a foreign myth under a new cultural lens. It reflects how indigenous Chinese society used its own ethical standards to measure, judge, and even “discipline” a foreign deity. By reinterpreting the “prolific” and “passionate” elements of the Pañcika myth in a negative and secular light, folk society not only added an intriguing “sensational” element to this new deity but also completed a form of cultural appropriation, detaching it entirely from its original Buddhist context and transforming it into a local deity with a distinct indigenous character, so much so that later generations found it difficult to discern its true origins.

The foregoing deep dive into the two core godheads of the Wutong deity, “wealth-bestowing” and “licentious,” aims to establish the inseparable homologous relationship between its belief core and the Buddhist deity Pañcika. This seemingly contradictory combination of godheads, I argue, did not arise from nothing but is the unique product of foreign religious elements undergoing a complex process of “selective inheritance” and “subversive reconstruction” within the Chinese cultural sphere.

On one hand, the Wutong deity’s “wealth-bestowing” function is a direct inheritance of its prototype Pañcika’s lineage as a wealth god. Pañcika is rooted in the tradition of ancient Indian Yakṣa belief, and his attribute as a “god of wealth” is clear and solid. This godhead was precisely “discovered” and “activated” against the backdrop of the rise of the commodity economy and the increasing desire for wealth among the people in the Tang and Song dynasties, forming a solid foundation for the establishment and widespread dissemination of the Wutong deity cult.

On the other hand, its controversial “licentious” characteristic is a more profound cultural decoding. It is woven from two logical threads: first, the secular and negative degradation of the “sacred fecundity” and strong passion motifs in the myth of Pañcika and his consort; second, it resonates logically with the “lustful demon” label that the Yakṣa category had already acquired in China. Ultimately, a deity symbolizing abundance and protection in Indian culture was reshaped under the new ethical lens of Chinese society into a complex figure possessing both material temptation and moral risk.

Having thus resolved the core issue of the Wutong’s divine nature, we find that its inherent contradictory godhead precisely confirms its hybrid identity, a blend of foreign and native, sacred and secular. However, the identity of a deity includes not only its inner godhead but also its external name and image.

2.2. The Confusion and Misreading of Terminology: The Renaming of the Deity

2.2.1. Wutong and Wudao

Having established the homologous relationship of the godhead’s core, we now address a more direct question: how did this foreign deity acquire the new name “Wutong” in China? This renaming was not a simple scribal error but a composite process involving prototype identity confirmation, the disambiguation of erroneous concepts, and visual as well as semantic confusion. The starting point is an important yet often overlooked title for Pañcika in Chinese Buddhist texts: the Wudao Dashen (Great Deity of the Five Paths, 五道大神).

In numerous Chinese translated sūtras and related documents, the Wudao Dashen is a deity closely associated with the underworld, reincarnation, and Dharma protection. In the Suvarṇaprabhāsottama Sūtra (金光明經), translated by Dharmakṣema (曇無讖) during the Northern Liang dynasty (397–439 CE), the Wudao Dashen is a subordinate of King Yama:

In the past, Zhang Judao (張居道), a governor of Wenzhou… suddenly fell gravely ill, became mute, and subsequently died, though his heart remained warm. The family did not bury him immediately. After three nights, he revived, sat up, and asked for food. Relatives and neighbors, near and far, rushed to see him, and Judao recounted his experience:… An emissary presented a document, and King Yama called out the name… The King then ordered the Wudao Dashen to check the records of transformations.8

Further evidence comes from the Record of the Taozhai Cangshi Ji (陶齋藏石記) compiled by Duanfang (端方), which includes an inscribed wooden tablet of Wangjiangfei Yiwu Shu (王江妃衣物疏). This artifact, now housed in the National Museum of China, was unearthed in Linqu (臨朐), Shandong, in the late Qing dynasty and is dated to the fourth year of the Wuping era of Northern Qi (572 CE). It explicitly mentions the Wudao Dashen:

At the time of Princess Jiang’s passing, the Celestial Emperor holds flowers, awaiting to welcome her spirit… I command you the subordinate scribe-official of the underworld. The Wudao Dashen, and the officials of the territories: Princess Jiang’s funerary garments, valuables, and personal belongings shall not be detained at any place they pass. If there is any detention or questioning, may shatter your bodies and heads like the branches of an Aśoka tree in Sahāloka.9

This text clearly shows that in the late sixth century in the Shandong region, it was believed that the Wudao Dashen was a powerful gatekeeper deity that the souls of the deceased had to pass through on their way to the underworld. This, along with the earlier funerary inventory of Xiaozī (孝姿) from Turpan (543 CE) which “respectfully informs the Wudao Dashen (敬移五道大神),”10 and the depiction of the deity on the Fannuzi (樊奴子) stele from Shaanxi (532 CE) (Sun 2021, pp. 127–28), forms a consistent chain of evidence. It proves that during the Northern and Southern Dynasties, the belief in the Wudao Dashen had spread from the Western Regions to the Guanzhong area and further to eastern North China, as his function as a psychopomp and gatekeeper of the underworld deeply entrenched in popular belief.

In numerous Buddhist scriptures, including ritual texts for assemblies and feeding hungry ghosts, the Wudao Dashen often appears immediately after the Son of Heaven Yama or King Yama as an important member of the underworld system. In the Shou Pusa Jie Yi (受菩薩戒儀) by Huisi (慧思) of the Southern Chen dynasty (557–589 CE), when invoking the celestial deities, the General of the Five Paths is listed alongside the Son of Heaven Yama and the Lord of Mount Tai:

With one mind, we respectfully invite: the dharma-realms of the ten directions, the six destinies and four modes of birth, the Son of Heaven Yama, the Lord of Mount Tai, the Celestial and Terrestrial Bureaus, the controllers of destiny and records, the lads of transgression and merit, the good and evil officials of the underworld, the General of the Five Paths, and the emissaries of pestilence. May all, by the power of the Three Jewels, universally descend upon this ritual space (daochang), partake in the goodness of the precepts, and bear witness to this meritorious deed.11

In Tangmi ritual texts, such as the Azhaboju Yuanshuai Dajiang shang Fotuoluoni Jing Xiuxing Yigui (阿吒薄俱元帥大將上佛陀羅尼經修行儀軌) translated by Śubhakarasiṃha (善無畏) and the Fo Shuo Jinpiluo Tongzi Weide Jing (佛說金毘羅童子威德經) translated by Amoghavajra (不空), the Wudao Dashen is also invoked as an important member of the underworld system.12 In the Yanluo Wang Gong Xingfa Cidi (焰羅王供行法次第) composed by Amoghavajra, it is even more explicitly stated that the “General King of the Five Paths” is a key subordinate of King Yama, able to “determine good and evil” and “strike from the register of death and add to the register of life”:

Furthermore, for those who perform good deeds, a white lotus flower will bloom from their mouths, its fragrance pervading [the courts of] the Lord of Mount Tai and the General King of the Five Paths, who always follow the King’s [Yama’s] teachings and are able to determine good and evil.13

If one wishes to save a life whose fated time has come, one may make special offerings to King Yama and the General of the Five Paths, and thereby have the name struck from the register of death and added to the register of life.14

According to the research of Zheng Acai 鄭阿財 (Zheng 2008), the Wudao Dashen appears not only in the vows at the end of sūtras like the Jinguangming Zuishengwang Jing (金光明最勝王經), the Guanyin Jing (觀音經), and the Sifen Jie (四分戒), but also in texts such as the Qiqing Wen (啓請文), the Jietan Sanshi Huixiang Fayuan Wen (結壇散食回向發願文), the Sanshi Wen (散食文), and the exorcistic lyrics of the Erlang Wei (兒郎偉) performance (Zheng 2008). Moreover, he is featured in Buddhist sūtras and ritual manuals related to the belief in Dizang (Kṣitigarbha) and the Ten Kings of the Underworld. Additionally, multiple Dunhuang manuscripts titled Dizang Pusa Shi Zhai Ri (地藏菩薩十齋日) record that the fifteenth day of each month is when the Wudao Dashen descends to the mortal world for inspection. These documents collectively outline the image of a powerful underworld deity with clear functions, immense power, and a close connection to the folk concepts of life, death, and fortune.

At the same time, it is crucial to note that the name of the Wudao Dashen did not remain confined to Buddhist texts. It quickly entered the sphere of popular culture, where it was endowed with a vivid and concrete image in the popular literary works of the Tang and Five Dynasties period, and was thereby thoroughly solidified.

In the collection of strange tales Ming Bao Ji (冥報記), composed by Tang Lin (唐臨), the Minister of Personnel during the Yonghui era (650–655 CE) of the Tang dynasty, a syncretic Buddhist-Daoist underworld bureaucracy is constructed through the words of a ghost, which states: “The Dao is the Celestial Emperor, who presides over the six paths; this is called the Celestial Bureau. King Yama is like the Son of Heaven among men; the Lord of Mount Tai is like the Director of the Department of State Affairs; the Wudao deities are like the various ministers.”15 This record is of valuable as it integrates the Wudao deity into the Daoist underworld system centered on Mount Tai and assigns him a high-ranking position equivalent to the ministers of the six ministries in the human world. This indicates that the belief in the Wudao Dashen had already taken shape at that time and, in the popular conception, had become an indispensable part of the Daoist underworld bureaucracy. In the Tang dynasty bianwen (變文) tale, Da Muqianlian Mingjian Jiu Mu Bianwen (大目乾連冥間救母變文), the image of the Wudao Dashen as an underworld official is even more distinct:

The General of the Five Paths is of a fierce nature, / His golden armor gleams, his sword’s light flashes. / Attended by millions on his left and right, / All are swift of hand and foot. / His shouts are like the startling crash of thunder, / His angry glare like the dazzling flash of lightning. / Some have their bellies split and hearts torn out, / Others have the skin flayed from their faces. / Though Mulian is a saint, / His soul is also shaken with terror at the sight. / Mulian weeps, thinking of his dear mother, / His supernatural powers as swift as wind and clouds. / If one asks of the critical posts in the netherworld, / None surpasses this great general. / Lances are arrayed on his left and right, guarding the great path, / Staffs are stood up to the east and west, by more than ten thousand men. / Even if one casts one’s gaze to the southwest, / One sees the imposing Deity of the Five Paths. / Guarding this road for countless kalpas, / He determines the punishments for armies of souls.16

When Mulian searched the underworld to save his mother, it was the “General of the Five Paths” who guarded the critical crossroads of reincarnation. This is a majestic and fearsome martial image, and his function is clearly defined as “guarding this road for countless kalpas, determining the punishments for armies of souls.” All souls of sinners must pass through him, and he inspects them according to official documents and tallies. The importance of this bianwen lies in providing us with a sample of the “General of the Five Paths” from Tang dynasty folk society: he is not only imposing in appearance but also a powerful official with real authority, an indispensable link in the underworld bureaucracy. Furthermore, in the contemporary bianwen tale, Han Qinhu Huaben (韩擒虎话本), the Wudao Dashen also appears as an official of the underworld (Wang, Zhongmin, et al. (eds.) 1957. Dunhuang Bianwen Ji 敦煌變文集. entry “Han Qinhu Huaben”, vol. 2, pp. 205–6.). Glen Dudbridge (1996) points out: “as early as the beginning of the third century AD, Chinese Buddhists were exposed to a ‘Great God of the Five Paths’… By the sixth century, documents show that he had become a fearsome figure in the lower Yangzi basin and its eastern seaboard, enjoying a flourishing popular cult.” (Dudbridge 1996)

It is evident that by the Tang and Five Dynasties period, the image of the Wudao Dashen had already been shaped and solidified in popular culture. Due to his powerful functions and widespread recognition, he was soon absorbed by Daoism, which was actively constructing its own underworld pantheon, becoming a deity recognized and worshiped by both Buddhists and Daoists.

In the Taishang Xuanci Zhuhua Zhang (太上宣慈助化章), compiled by the renowned late Tang and Five Dynasties Daoist master Du Guangting, we see the institutional integration of the Wudao Dashen by Daoism:

We request from the Celestial Bureau an edict for the Lord under the command of the Wudao Dashen of Mount Tai, one person, and one hundred and twenty generals.17

This not only reaffirms that the Wudao Dashen is under the jurisdiction of the highest Daoist divine system, the “Celestial Bureau” (天曹), and the core of the underworld, “Mount Tai” (太山), but also equips him with a specific quota of subordinate officers. This signifies that the Wudao Dashen had been thoroughly and meticulously incorporated into the Daoist celestial bureaucracy.

Entering the Song and Yuan dynasties, with the flourishing of Daoist talismanic schools, especially the Lingbao (靈寶) and Qingwei (清微) schools, the name of the Wudao Dashen appeared frequently in Daoist rituals of fasting and offering (Zhaijiao 齋醮). In numerous rituals for delivering the souls of the deceased and praying for the absolution of sins, the Wudao Dashen was repeatedly invoked as a key executive officer of the underworld. Several examples can be cited as proof:

At that time, the Heavenly Worthy of Salvation from Suffering, displaying great compassion, to eliminate all sinful karma for all sentient beings and to save them from perdition, ordered the performance of fasting rituals and the giving of alms, to widely establish merit and virtue and to cultivate vast fields of blessings. He summoned the dragon-kings and earth spirits, the kings of the four Brahma heavens, the asura kings, the various celestial emperors, the Son of Heaven Yama, the Lord of Mount Tai, the controllers of destiny and records, the Wudao Dashen, and the wardens of the prisons. All came to respectfully pay homage, kowtowing and prostrating themselves.

(from Taishang Jiuku Tianzun Shuo Xiaoqian Miezui Jing 太上救苦天尊說消愆滅罪經)18

The Master ascends the platform, offers incense, and the officiating minister announces… We burn incense and report to… the Great Emperor of Fengdu of the Northern Yin and Mysterious Heaven, the Great Emperor Fusang of the Eastern Glow and Vermilion Forest, the True Lords of the Ten Halls of the Spring of Gloom, the underworld officials of the Nine Tumuli and Six Caverns, the great deities of the Four Seas, Four Great Rivers, Three Rivers, and Nine Streams, the great deity of the Obscure and Cold Waters, and the Wudao Dashen.

(from the Lingbao Lingjiao Jidu Jinshu 靈寶領教濟度金書)19

The Luminous Treasure Talisman of the Supreme Eastern Green Forest Palace of the Great Sovereign of Myriad Blessings, which engenders virtue from the Eastern Florescence Green Palace, proclaims to the ten directions of the infinite worlds, the Three Officials, Nine Bureaus, one hundred and twenty offices, the inspector-officials of the Five Emperors, the Bureaus of the Mounts of Fengdu, the Nine Hells of the Spring of Gloom, the Wudao Dashen of the Obscure and Cold Waters, the officials of the river sources, and the masters of the gloomy passes, to deliver the deceased soul of So-and-so, to release them from the hells, to pardon their transgressions and faults, to wash away their grievances, so they may be reborn in the Eastern Heaven of the Great Sovereign of the Yellow Aeon, in accordance with the command.

(from Shangqing Lingbao Dafa 上清靈寶大法)20

In other scriptures such as the Fengdu Miezui Jing (酆都滅罪經) and the Lingbao Wuliang Duren Shangjing Dafa (靈寶無量度人上經大法), the Wudao Dashen is also listed alongside the True Lord Controller of Destiny (司命真君) and the Great Deity of the Obscure and Cold Waters (溟泠大神).

This series of Daoist documents from the Tang to the Song and Yuan dynasties proves that the Wudao Dashen had long crossed the boundary between Buddhism and Daoism, becoming a “shared deity” within Buddhism, Daoism, and even folk belief. His mighty power as the controller of the critical juncture of life, death, and reincarnation made him an indispensable deity whom both major religions could not ignore and vied to incorporate when constructing their views of the underworld. It is precisely this dual identity, holding a place in both major orthodox religions, that provided the most solid foundation and the broadest channels for his subsequent linguistic corruption and godhead reconstruction in the wider folk society.

When we trace his origins back further, we find that the earliest record of the Wudao Dashen appears in the sūtra Taizi Ruiying Benqi Jing (太子瑞應本起經):

(The Prince) mounted his horse and, with Chandaka, rode several tens of li. Suddenly, he saw the master, the Wudao Dashen, named “Benshi” (賁識), who was exceedingly fierce and strong. He held a bow in his left hand, an arrow in his right, and wore a sharp sword at his waist. He resided at a crossroads of three paths: the path of heaven, the path of humans, and the path of the three evil destinies. This is where the souls of the dead must pass. The Prince approached and asked, “Which path should I follow?” Benshi, terrified, dropped his bow, released his arrow, unfastened his sword, and hesitatingly pointed to the path of heaven, saying, “This is the path to follow.”21

In his paper “From Gandhāra to China: A Study of the Wudao Dashen” (2021), Sun Yinggang (孫英剛) makes a breakthrough assertion based on detailed textual and iconographic analysis: the Wudao Dashen, Benshi, is none other than Pañcika from Gandhāran Buddhist art and Chinese translated sūtras; “Benshi” is a transliteration of the Sanskrit Pañcika. His research reveals that “after Buddhism’s introduction to China, Pañcika, as a chthonic deity of the Gandhāran region, was translated as the Wudao Dashen, entering China’s belief system and becoming a deity in charge of the Chinese afterlife.” (Sun 2021). This conclusion perfectly connects Pañcika, the prototype of the wealth and sexual deity we discussed in the previous chapter, with the Wudao Dashen, the starting point of the linguistic evolution, providing a solid basis for our argument.

The root of Pañcika’s name, pañca (पञ्च), is the Sanskrit word for “five.” The suffix -ika (इक) is a common Sanskrit suffix meaning “related to” or “belonging to.” This name undoubtedly corresponds directly to Pañcika’s role as the Wudao Dashen in Buddhist mythology.

With the prototype’s identity firmly established as the Wudao Dashen (Great Deity of the Five Paths), that is, Pañcika, we can more forcefully analyze and refute another long-standing erroneous view: that the Wutong deity originates from the Buddhist “Wutong Xianren” (五通仙人 Five-Supernatural-Powers Immortals). The Buddhist “five supernatural powers” (Skt. pañcābhijñā) refer to the five supernormal abilities attained through meditative practice: divine sight, divine hearing, knowledge of the thoughts of others, remembrance of past lives, and supernormal locomotion. (See Hui Yuan 慧遠 Weimo Yiji 維摩義記, Juan 3, “Fo Dao Pin 佛道品”. CBETA, T38, no. 1776, p. 489c.) Those who possess these abilities can be Buddhas, Bodhisattvas, Arhats, or celestial beings and immortals of advanced spiritual cultivation. Thus, Wutong in Buddhism is an abstract concept related to spiritual attainment and ability, not the name of a specific personified deity. Although “Wutong Xianren” and “Wutong Shen” differ by only one character in their names, they have almost nothing in common in terms of godhead attributes and belief connotations. The former is otherworldly, ascetic, and spiritual, while the latter is worldly, licentious, and materialistic; the two can in no way be conflated. Furthermore, the Five-Supernatural-Powers Immortals have never been associated with ghosts, the underworld, wealth, or licentiousness.

At this point, the logical chain for the formation of the name “Wutong Shen” becomes clear: its true origin is the Wudao Dashen, as an incarnation of Pañcika. In the long process of manuscript transmission and copying, the characters for “dao” (道) and “tong” (通), due to their high degree of structural similarity, were prone to visual confusion and scribal error. This phenomenon of corruption due to orthographic similarity was particularly common in folk manuscripts and popular literature. An example frequently cited by previous researchers can illustrate this point. A line from the Stele Inscription for the Master Lingyou of the Great Wei (大溈靈祐師銘) composed by the Tang dynasty author Zheng Yu (鄭愚) reads: “Oxen Avīci, Ghosts Wutong, spying and capturing, seen in the west and east. (牛阿房，鬼五通，專覷捕，見西東。)” (Ji, Yougong. Tangshi Jishi (唐詩紀事). Jigu Ge edition. juan 66, p. 18). Based on the preceding research, it can be inferred that Wutong here must be an error for Wudao. This error could have arisen from the author’s own confusion between the two, or it could have been caused by a later scribal mistake. In either case, it demonstrates that Wutong and Wudao were extremely easy to confuse.

Of course, the reason this corruption was widely accepted and eventually solidified was not merely due to accidental scribal errors; there was also a deeper semantic selection mechanism at play. Compared to the doctrinally heavy Wudao, the term Wutong, implying vast supernatural powers, was far more appealing to the popular Chinese imagination of an omnipotent deity. At the same time, this misread name “Wutong” happened to superficially collide with the pre-existing Buddhist concept of the Wutong Xianren, further strengthening the illusion of a kinship relationship with Buddhism and making this renaming seem more legitimate. Therefore, the name Wutong Shen was the result of a successful indigenous identity construction, based on the true prototype of the Wudao Dashen, driven by visual scribal errors, and facilitated by a superficial confusion with the concept of the Wutong Xianren.

2.2.2. ”Banzhi” and “Ban-zhi”

If the evolution from Wudao to Wutong was primarily a scribal error occurring at the level of manuscript transmission and visual cognition, then the Wutong deity’s other distinct and peculiar iconic feature—the “one leg” (獨腳)—more likely originated from a cross-linguistic auditory misinterpretation during oral transmission. This misinterpretation ultimately materialized an abstract name, derived from a Sanskrit transliteration, into a concrete and memorable physical characteristic. This is the One-legged Wutong mentioned by many researchers, and some scholars have used this one-legged feature as primary evidence to argue that the prototype of the Wutong deity was the one-footed Shanxiao.

To solve this puzzle, we must return to the Wutong’s prototype, Pañcika. In Chinese translations of Buddhist texts, this Yakṣa general has several transliterated names. For instance, in sūtras translated by the Tang dynasty monks Bodhiruci (菩提流志), Amoghavajra (不空), and Yijing (義淨), such as Yizi Foding Lunwang Jing (一字佛頂輪王經), Bukong Juansuo Shenbian Zhenyan Jing (不空羂索神變真言經), Fomu Da Kongquemingwang Jing (佛母大孔雀明王經), Fo Shuo Dafangguang Manshushili Jing (佛說大方廣曼殊室利經), and Genben Shuoyiqieyoubu Pinaiye Zashi (根本說一切有部毘奈耶雜事), he is consistently transliterated as “Banzhijia” (半支迦), which is phonetically identical to Pañcika but written with different characters. Other transliterations include “Banzhijia” (般支迦), “Banzhijia” (半只迦), “Banzhijia” (半之迦), and “Sanzhijia” (散脂迦). Here, “Ban-zhi” (般脂) or “Ban-zhi” (半支) are all transliterations of the first part of his Sanskrit name, Pañci-.

The key lies in what happens when these purely phonetic symbols left their original Buddhist scriptural context and entered the wider, uninitiated folk society of China, which was unfamiliar with their Sanskrit origins. A “folk etymological” misreading was highly likely to occur. This linguistic process, known as Folk Etymology or analogical reformation, provides a compelling framework for understanding this change. As defined by linguists, Folk Etymology is an “arbitrary change in the form of a word of opaque formation which serves to make that word more transparent in form, if not necessarily in its semantics” (Trask 2000, p. 124). In essence, when encountering an unfamiliar or seemingly meaningless foreign word, people subconsciously reshape it based on a mistaken association with a phonetically similar and more concrete word in their native language, thus giving the new form a “rational” explanation (Campbell 1999, pp. 100–2).

Following this logic, we can clearly deduce the genesis of the Wutong deity’s “one-legged” image:

(1)

Phonetic Substitution: In Middle Chinese, the pronunciation of “Banzhi” (半支) was identical to that of “Ban-zhi” (半肢), meaning “half-limbed.” For an ordinary folk believer, when hearing a deity called “Banzhi” or “Banzhijia,” the obscure transliteration “Banzhi (半支) “ was far less comprehensible and memorable than the visually evocative “Ban-zhi (半肢) “, which could directly form an image in the mind. This homophony is not merely a modern speculation but is firmly grounded in historical phonology. According to the phonological system of the Guangyun (廣韻), the authoritative rime dictionary of the Song dynasty which reflects late Middle Chinese pronunciation, both characters belong to the same phonological category: level tone (平聲 pingsheng), zhi rime (支韻), and the zhang initial group (章母). Modern reconstructions of Middle Chinese pronunciation by various prominent linguists, including Bernhard Karlgren, Wang Li (王力), and Li Fanggui (李方桂), consistently assign identical phonetic values to both characters (e.g., reconstructed as tśie or tɕie). This provides empirical linguistic evidence that “Banzhi” (半支) and “Ban-zhi” (半肢) were indistinguishable in the speech of the Tang and Song dynasties. Thus, an unconscious phonetic substitution likely occurred in oral transmission.

(2)

Semantic Concretization: The term “half-limbed” directly points to physical incompleteness. In indigenous Chinese legends of spirits and monsters, one-footed beings like Kui (夔) from the Classic of Mountains and Seas (Shanhai Jing) were already familiar archetypes. This pre-existing visual prototype of one-legged monsters in the native culture provided fertile ground for the concretization of the term “Ban-zhi (半肢).” Once people began to understand this deity through the lens of “half-limbed,” he was naturally imagined as a being with only half of his limbs, most intuitively represented as being one-legged.

(3)

Textual Corroboration: This deduction perfectly explains why scholars of the mountain spirit theory fixated on the “one-legged” feature and linked it to the Shanxiao. Their observation was correct—the Wutong deity indeed had a popular one-legged image; their attribution, however, was mistaken. They failed to realize that this one-legged image was not derived from the Shanxiao itself but was the product of a phono-semantic misinterpretation of a Buddhist deity’s name. It should be noted that the Shanxiao described in the Classic of Mountains and Seas (Shanhai Jing) does not have the image of being one-footed.

Therefore, the Wutong deity’s “one-legged” image is not an original trait of the belief but rather a vivid byproduct of its localization in China. It is a prime example of an auditory misinterpretation triggered by cross-linguistic phonetic transcription, which was ultimately visualized and materialized within a context rich with indigenous cultural imagination. Through this transformation from “Banzhi (半支)” to “one-legged,” the Buddhist General Pañcika was also thoroughly localized in terms of his image, paving the way for his ultimate emergence as an independent folk deity.

2.2.3. The Possible Impetus from Wudao to Wutong

The transformation of the Wudao Dashen into the Wutong deity, if attributed solely to linguistic misreadings, would still lack an explanation for its specific historical timing and the internal dynamics of its godhead reconstruction. We must place this shift within the dual context of Chinese Buddhist history and socio-economic history during the Tang-Song transition. I posit that the concentrated emergence of the Wutong cult in the Song dynasty was very likely the result of the combined effects of the disruption of internal Buddhist (especially Tantric) transmission models and the structural changes in the Song dynasty’s socio-economic landscape—a profound process of belief “rupture” and “reconstruction.”

Firstly, the disruption of the transmission of Tangmi (唐密) created the preconditions for the belief’s folk re-creation. During the Tang dynasty, the cult of Pañcika, alongside his chief deity Vaiśravaṇa, was deeply integrated into the Tangmi pantheon and its state-protection rituals. However, the Tangmi lineage suffered a devastating blow during the Huichang (會昌) Persecution of 845 CE. Compounded by the fact that various regimes from the late Tang to the Five Dynasties did not value Tantric Buddhism as much as the mid-Tang court had, Tangmi ceased to exist as a state-level ritual system. This led to the virtual severance of the Tangmi lineage in mainland China, which was heavily reliant on complex rituals and master-disciple oral transmission.

A crucial consequence of this historical background is that the Yakṣa cult, as a component of Tangmi, lost its elite, institutionalized transmission path. After the Yakṣa belief was detached from its supporting, complete Esoteric ritual framework and the interpretation of the monastic class, mainstream beliefs like the cult of Vaiśravaṇa could still survive in the form of the Four Heavenly Kings, but it would have been difficult for a subordinate figure like Pañcika to sustain his cult. A plausible speculation is that, to continue to exist, his cult had to seep from the crumbling monastery walls into the more resilient and vibrant world of folk society. It was during this process of going underground that a profound renaming and godhead reconstruction occurred: the name was changed from “Wudao” to the more ambiguous “Wutong” for survival; and its prolific mythological core was re-understood as a licentious characteristic by assimilating it with existing literary stereotypes of “licentious Yakṣas”.

Secondly, the socio-economic structural changes in the Song-dynasty Jiangnan region provided a significant social demand and geographical incubator for the deity’s “wealth-bestowing” core. If the decline of Tangmi was the internal cause of the belief’s transformation, then the unprecedented commercial prosperity of the Jiangnan region in the Song dynasty was the decisive external environment that shaped the Wutong deity’s core godhead. A notable phenomenon is that the legends and worship of the Wutong deity, from the Song dynasty onwards, were highly concentrated and popular in the Jiangnan region, centered around modern Jiangsu, Zhejiang, Huizhou, and Fujian. This region was precisely the economic center of China during the Song dynasty. With the southward shift of the national economic center, the urban economy of Jiangnan flourished, its handicraft industry and foreign trade were highly developed, the volume of currency circulation was enormous, and the social status of merchants rose significantly. The entire society’s concept of wealth and way of life underwent profound changes, and the pursuit of wealth reached an unprecedented height.

In this specific regional and temporal context, the populace urgently needed a powerful and efficacious wealth deity who could directly respond to their desire for riches. At this very moment, the cult of Pañcika, now “drifting” in folk society after the collapse of the Tangmi system, possessed a potent wealth-bestowing ability derived from Tantric Buddhism that perfectly matched this intense demand of the Jiangnan region. This can explain a key paradox: why was Pañcika’s wealth attribute not prominent in early Chinese translated sūtras but became the core identity of the Wutong deity in Song-dynasty Jiangnan? It was because in the Tang dynasty, his function was more geared towards “protecting the nation and averting disasters” at the state level, whereas in the Song dynasty, in the most commercialized society of Jiangnan, this function was thoroughly secularized and individualized, transformed to fulfill the desires of individuals and families (especially the merchant class) for riches.

Thus, we can see a clear logical chain: the Buddhist persecutions of the Tang-Song transition and the resulting changes in Buddhism led a wealth-bestowing deity to lose his elite transmission, forcing him into folk circulation. Simultaneously, the commercial boom in Song-dynasty Jiangnan and the intense popular desire for wealth provided a new, vast social stage for this deity, amplifying his most important attribute and ultimately creating the Wutong God, a new local deity with wealth at its core and deeply rooted in the soil of Jiangnan.

In conclusion, the concentrated emergence of the Wutong cult in the Song dynasty was most likely a successful belief reconstruction, catalyzed by the momentous religious event of the decline of the Tangmi lineage, which coincided with the societal backdrop of burgeoning commerce in the Jiangnan region.

The linguistic and godhead transformations of the Wudao Dashen into the Wutong not only redefined its identity but also laid the groundwork for its subsequent genealogical fission—driven by state efforts to legitimize ‘illicit cults’ and folk demands for functional wealth deities.

2.3. The Derivation of the Pantheon and the Openness of the Daoist Divine System

2.3.1. Genealogy Derivation: From Wutong and Wuxian to the Five Road Gods of Wealth

In the evolution of Chinese folk beliefs, the name, godhead, and even genealogy of a deity often undergoes constant re-creation in response to socio-historical changes and the needs of devotees. In its long history of transmission, the Wutong deity experienced a profound “genealogical fission” from a single deity to a divine group, ultimately giving rise to the Wuxian deity and the Five Road Gods of Wealth, two more far-reaching and stable branches of belief. This process clearly demonstrates how folk beliefs achieve powerful adaptability through means such as legitimization via state-sanctioned worship (正祀), fission and reconstruction, and functional transformation.

The first stage of this evolution was the purification from an “illicit cult” (淫祀) to an orthodox deity, marked by the official enfeoffment and legitimization of the Wuxian deity. As previously discussed, the Wutong deity possessed both righteous and malevolent aspects from its inception. Its ability to bestow wealth made it widely popular, but its licentious nature also led to repeated denunciation and proscription by the scholar-official class. In order for this vibrant folk belief to be accepted by mainstream society and the state, a process of “recruitment” and “reformation,” involving both bottom-up and top-down interventions, began in the Song dynasty. Local elites and state powers stripped away its licentious attributes and syncretized it with Daoist immortals or local legendary figures from Wuyuan, creating an origin story more in line with orthodox values.

The landmark event in this purification campaign was the series of imperial titles bestowed upon the deity by the court. According to the Zudian Lingying Ji (祖殿靈應集), as cited in the Soushen Ji (搜神記), the process of imperial enfeoffment for the Wuxian deity accelerated dramatically between the Xuanhe era of the Northern Song (宣和1119–1125) and Jiading era of the Southern Song (嘉定1208–1224). During this period, the deity’s rank progressed from marquis to duke and ultimately to an eight-character king. Critically, the state formally renamed the original “Wutong” temple as “Lingshun” (靈順, Numinous Compliance),22 a symbolic act that signaled the cult’s official incorporation into state-sanctioned orthodoxy.

Thereafter, the name “Wuxian” (五顯) gradually replaced “Wutong” (五通), becoming its officially recognized name as an orthodox deity. This name change from “Tong” to “Xian” reflects a profound value shift: from a mysterious and wild folk deity to a state-sanctioned one of manifest merit and virtue. The fact that Ming dynasty literati like Zhu Yunming (祝允明) and Tian Rucheng (田汝成) painstakingly distinguished between “Wuxian” and “Wutong” is a reflection of this historical process in the elite consciousness (Zhu 2015).

Simultaneously, during this process of legitimization, a profound genealogical fission occurred to provide the newly promoted Wuxian deity with a more respectable origin story. The account in the Zudian Lingying Ji (祖殿靈應集) of “five deities descending from heaven” is the primary manifestation of this fission. This narrative reflects that as the belief transitioned from a singular, ambiguous folk deity to a state-recognized one, people, possibly for reasons of belief reconstruction or perhaps simply due to a literal interpretation of the number “five,” split the previously singular deity into a group of five “majestic as princes and marquises.” This not only perfectly explained the number “five” in his name in a way easily acceptable to the folk but also sacralized and localized his origin, completely severing his ties to any negative associations with demons or illicit cults.

The second stage of evolution was the birth of the Five Road Gods of Wealth (五路財神), a functionalist deity group. As the Wutong/Wuxian deity’s wealth-bestowing attribute became his most popular feature in the prosperous commercial society of Song-dynasty Jiangnan, a functional focus began. The number “five” in the names Wutong and Wuxian was now linked to the most relevant spatial concept for commerce: the “five roads” or directions (east, west, south, north, and center), becoming an important characteristic of a wealth deity.

It is also important to note that the synonymy between “dao” (道, path) and “lu” (路, road) was a key factor in the transition from the Wudao Dashen to the Wulu Shen (God of the Five Roads). The Ming dynasty text Bushi Quanshu (卜筮全書) states: “If one offends the well spirit, water will be in the first yao (爻) and he will encounter a ghost… If one is on the road, one should seek the protection of the God of the Five Roads.”23 It is clear from this that one should seek the protection of the God of the Five Roads when encountering ghosts. Combined with the previous statement that the Wudao Dashen is a subordinate of King Yama, it can be inferred that in the Ming dynasty, the God of the Five Roads was equivalent to the Wudao Dashen. According to the research of Berezkin and Goossaert (2020), “Most sources of the Ming and Qing dynasties lump the Wuxian together with the pernicious Wutong. The motif of exchanging women for wealth remained central to stories (at least among literati) about the Wutong cult even in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. State officials attempted to eradicate the Wutong cult, which they proclaimed ‘illicit’ several times. Nevertheless, the Wutong remained popular in several regions of central and southern China, especially in Jiangnan.” (Berezkin and Goossaert 2020) Therefore, when local governments later completely suppressed the Wutong deity, the alternative name “God of the Five Roads” officially took the stage. The Qing dynasty text Tufeng Lu (土風錄) by Gu Zhangsi (顧張思) records: “Merchants opening a shop must worship the God of the Five Roads (Wulu Shen), which in the old days was called ‘Wuxian’… During the Kangxi reign, Tang Wenzheng 湯文正 (Bin 斌), governor of Jiangsu, destroyed the shrine on Mount Shangfang, and thus its name was changed to ‘Wulu’, also called ‘Caishen’ (God of Wealth).”24 This clearly shows the transition path from the Wutong deity to the Five Road Gods of Wealth, allowing the Wutong belief to persist under the guise of the latter. According to the Xianfeng-era Xingyi Fu Zhi (咸豐興義府志): “The Wuxian Temple is popularly known as the Temple of the Five Road Gods of Wealth, and some say it is the same as the unorthodox Wutong deity.”25 This connects the beliefs of the Wutong, Wuxian, and Five Road Gods of Wealth, and through the preceding discussion, we can clearly observe the path of transmission and transformation among them.

Finally, once the Five Road Gods of Wealth was established as a five-member wealth pantheon, its specific composition became highly open and localized. It provided a structural template of “five,” which could be filled with content from local cultures. Thus, we see different versions: in the Daoist pantheon, it is Marshal Zhao Gongming (趙公明) and his four subordinates; in folk legends, it might be five historical figures or five sworn brothers who became rich through commerce. This “variation on a theme” is a vivid example of the creative fusion of a unified belief motif with diverse local cultures.

In summary, from the singular Wutong deity to the Wuxian deity, and then to the Five Road Gods of Wealth, we see a clear path of indigenous re-creation: first, the purification completed through official enfeoffment; second, the fission completed to reshape its origins during the purification process; and finally, the functionalization and name change completed under social demand and political pressure. Through this series of evolutions, a foreign deity of Buddhist origin was ultimately thoroughly transformed, decomposed, and reintegrated, becoming one of the most vibrant genealogical lines of wealth deities in Chinese folk belief.

2.3.2. The Flowing Pantheon: The Pluralistic Harmony of Daoism

The entire evolutionary history—from the singular Buddhist Dharma-protector Pañcika (Wudao Dashen), to the Daoist system’s Wudao Dashen, to the ambivalent folk deity Wutong, then to the state-sanctioned, fissioned group of five Wuxian deities, and finally to the widely influential Five Road Gods of Wealth—is not just a series of identity transformations but also a mirror reflecting the inherent openness and inclusivity of Daoism itself. It powerfully demonstrates that the traditional Chinese religious, particularly Daoist, divine system is not a closed, rigid dogma but a constantly open and powerfully integrative “Flowing Pantheon.” Permeating this process is a pluralistic and harmonious wisdom, full of tension yet endlessly vibrant.

The openness manifested by this Flowing Pantheon is a characteristic of the cultural ecosystem, where the boundaries between different religions and folk beliefs are often blurred and permeable. A deity of Buddhist origin can be seamlessly incorporated into a narrative framework dominated by Daoist underworld concepts (like Mount Tai and Fengdu) and be assigned corresponding official titles. This is not a one-way conquest by a single religion but a testament to the powerful acculturation capacity of the Chinese religious ecosystem itself. Similarly, vibrant folk beliefs can continuously find pathways into the discourse of orthodox religion. The core driving force of the Wutong cult—the popular desire for wealth—could ultimately be accepted and interpreted by Daoism, establishing effective communication between elite religion and folk needs.

More importantly, this evolutionary process reveals a harmonious wisdom full of tension and a powerful capacity for cultural integration. The “harmony” here is not simple assimilation but the ability to seek dynamic balance amid contradictions and collisions, ultimately achieving creative transformation. The entire chain of evolution from the Wudao Dashen belief to the Wutong and Five Road Gods of Wealth beliefs is filled with creative “misreadings”, and the Chinese religious environment, particularly folk society, seems to possess an innate mechanism for turning linguistic errors into opportunities for creating new deities and meanings. These errors were not seen as flaws to be corrected but became valuable opportunities for the evolution of belief. Faced with the contradictory godhead of the Wutong, which combined wealth-bestowing and licentious traits, Chinese society adopted a clever strategy of resolution and diversion. On one hand, it purified the deity into the Wuxian, conforming to mainstream values through official enfeoffment and syncretism with orthodox Daoist deities. On the other hand, it retained and reinforced his powerful utilitarian function as the Five Road Gods of Wealth in the folk sphere. This model of pluralistic coexistence satisfied both the didactic needs of the state and the practical demands of the populace. In this long evolution, Daoist theological theories and its pantheon provided an ideal framework and language for the upgrading of folk beliefs, perfectly acting as a bridge between elite and popular culture. This was an active, transformative process. For example, Du Guangting’s framing of the Wudao Dashen as a “Celestial Bureau” subordinate (lines 674–676) did not merely “adopt” a Buddhist deity but reframed it as an agent of Daoist cosmic order—linking its underworld authority to Daoist notions of karmic retribution. It could elevate the status of folk beliefs with sophisticated rituals and a bureaucratic pantheon to gain official recognition, while also incorporating the most basic folk desires (like the pursuit of wealth) into its grand narrative of “practicing the Way to save the world,” thus legitimizing and sacralizing them.

The evolutionary history of the Wudao Dashen to the Wutong, Wuxian, and Five Road Gods of Wealth profoundly illustrates the essence of the “Flowing Pantheon.” This pantheon “flows” because the Chinese religious ecosystem has always maintained an openness to both internal and external influences; it retains its essence amidst this flow due to its powerful integrative capacity and its profound wisdom in seeking dynamic harmony in multicultural encounters. This is not just a study of a deity’s origins but also a key to understanding the enduring vitality of living Chinese religion and its interactive model with society.

3. Conclusions

This paper, taking the enigma of the origin of the highly controversial folk deity Wutong as its starting point, has undertaken a multi-disciplinary genealogical tracing that spans a millennium. Through a systematic investigation across multiple dimensions—including linguistics, godhead, history, and society—this study aims to reconstruct the complete process of how a Buddhist deity of foreign origin, within the indigenous cultural soil of China, underwent rupture, misreading, reshaping, and derivation, ultimately transforming into an enduring cult of a wealth deity.

The core argument of this research is that the true origin of the Wutong deity is not an indigenous mountain spirit or an abstract philosophical concept (like the Five Elements), but the Yakṣa General Pañcika, who was introduced to China with Buddhism and whose significant early incarnation in China was the Wudao Dashen. The argument first establishes the most essential homologous relationship between the two by examining the core of the belief—the godhead. The Wutong deity’s primary function of bestowing wealth is a perfect inheritance of Pañcika’s lineage as the chief general under the Buddhist god of wealth, Vaiśravaṇa. Meanwhile, his notorious licentious character is a secularized and negative reinterpretation of the sacred fecundity motif in the myth of Pañcika and his consort, which resonated with existing Chinese literary stereotypes of Yakṣas. This decoding at the level of the godhead uniformly explains the deity’s seemingly contradictory dual attributes.

Having established this internal connection of the godhead, we further revealed the mechanisms of his external identity change. A dual linguistic misreading played a pivotal role: the name “Wudao” was corrupted to “Wutong” due to orthographic similarity, a visual error that occurred in manuscript transmission; meanwhile, Pañcika’s transliterated name “Banzhijia (半支迦)” was misinterpreted phonetically and semantically as “half-limbed (半肢)” due to its near-homophony, giving rise to the auditory and visual misreading of the “one-legged” image. This transformation was driven by complex historical forces: the successive Buddhist persecutions in the late Tang and Five Dynasties period, which destroyed the elite transmission of Tantric Buddhism, caused the cult of this Tantric-colored deity to lose state support and forced it to adopt a new identity for survival in the folk sphere. Simultaneously, the unprecedented commercial boom in the Jiangnan region during the Song dynasty created a vast social demand for the deity’s wealth-bestowing attribute. The convergence of this internal religious rupture and external social demand catalyzed a profound reconstruction of the belief.

This study further traced the subsequent derivation of this belief system. As the Wutong’s variant, the Wuxian deity, received imperial recognition and “fissioned” into a group of five righteous gods through syncretism with local legends, a more mainstream belief form was established. In the folk sphere, especially under the pressure of official proscription, its wealth-bestowing function was further purified and amplified, eventually evolving into the enduring cult of the Five Road Gods of Wealth. This complete evolutionary chain—from a singular deity to a plural divine group, and then to a functional god of wealth—not only establishes the genealogical link between the Wutong and the Five Road Gods of Wealth for the first time systematically but also proposes a comprehensive model for understanding the deep localization of foreign religious elements in China.

Ultimately, this remarkable history of a deity’s transformation vividly illustrates the essence of the Chinese religious ecosystem as a “Flowing Pantheon.” This pantheon “flows” because it remains perpetually open to foreign cultures and folk creativity; it retains its essence amidst this flow due to its powerful capacity for integration and its profound wisdom in seeking dynamic harmony amidst multicultural collisions. In this process, Daoism, with its inclusive theological framework and folk-oriented ritual practices, played a crucial role as an integrator. The evolution of the Wutong deity is not merely the history of a single spirit but also a powerful testament to the immense vitality, adaptability, and creativity of Chinese culture itself.

Of course, this study relies primarily on literary and ritual texts (e.g., Yijian Zhi, Buddhist sūtras, and Daoist canons), which tend to reflect elite or normative perspectives rather than unmediated folk belief. The conclusions drawn are therefore based on the textual remnants of a complex, multi-layered historical process. Archeological evidence—such as the discovery of sculptures of Pañcika from the Tang and Song dynasties in the Jiangnan region, or excavated Wutong temple inscriptions that might reveal transitional forms of the belief—could further validate the proposed evolutionary chain but remains scarce in current datasets. Future research could apply this misreading and reconstruction paradigm to other obscure deities in the Chinese pantheon, which may reveal more about the intricate processes of cross-religious and cross-cultural fusion.