Foreword: Silence and Testimony under the Moonlight of the Prefectural City
The red brick walls of Kaiyuan Temple in Tainan have stood silently under the moonlight of the “Prefectural City” for three hundred years. This ancient sanctuary has witnessed the rise and fall of the Zheng dynasty, the transition of Qing rule, and the religious innovations of the Japanese colonial period. However, deep in the memories of many old Tainan residents, Kaiyuan Temple once endured a thirty-year “period of silence.” That silence was not the meditative stillness of Zen, but a collective muzzling born of political terror.
During those silent years, one name was forbidden to be uttered: Kao Chih-teh, known by his dharma name Zheng-guang. He was the 46th abbot of Kaiyuan Temple, a brilliant graduate of Komazawa University in Tokyo, and the soulful leader of Taiwan Buddhism’s modernization. Driven by a reformer’s ambition, he sought to bridge the Dharma with modern scholarship. He founded the Yen-ping Buddhist Institute at Kaiyuan Temple and introduced the Japanese Taishō Shinshū Daizōkyō (Taishō Tripitaka), hoping to cultivate a new generation of scholar-monks capable of rational discourse. In those days, with his round-rimmed glasses and refined demeanor, he was one of the brightest lights in Tainan’s intellectual and religious circles.
However, on August 31, 1955, that light was extinguished at the execution ground in An-keng, Xindian. Caught in the crosshairs of the “Li Ma-dou and Kao Ping-ru” political cases, Master Kao was torn apart by an era that forced him to choose between mercy and law, family and loyalty. With a single gunshot in An-keng, his academic dreams came to an abrupt halt. His family was plunged into the tragedy of diaspora and the forced changing of their surnames. Even Kaiyuan Temple, to which he had devoted his life, hid his portrait out of fear, attempting to erase him from history.
This work was born to break that seventy-year silence. Our goal is not merely to trace the exoneration of a victim of injustice, but to restore the “texture of life” of a scholar-monk. The tragedy of Master Kao Chih-teh is the shared scar of Taiwanese intellectuals under authoritarian rule. He became a “Martyr of the Dharma,” using his life to guard the final threshold of Buddhist compassion.
As the mists of history dissipate and the yellowed archives are reopened, we can finally look through the moonlight of Tainan to see the monk once more—the man who, moments before his death, gazed toward the West while chanting mantras. He did not only forgive that cruel era; he transformed the darkness of a bullet into the luminous halo of wisdom. This is more than a biography; it is a long-overdue act of historical justice, dedicated to all those who waited for the truth in the dead of night.
Chapter One: Seeds in Yung-ching, Awakening in Tokyo
I. The Upasaka of the Changhua Plain: Eldest Son of the Kao Family
On April 8, 1896 (Meiji 29), Kao Chih-teh was born in Yung-ching, Changhua, to a family whose ancestral roots traced back to Tingzhou Prefecture in Fujian. His father, Kao An-chin, and mother, Madam Wu, raised four sons in the fertile lands of Yung-ching, with Chih-teh being the eldest. The family’s devout Buddhist faith exerted a profound influence on his future aspirations. During his youth, Chih-teh demonstrated exceptional intellect; he completed his public school education with ease and became an acting teacher at Haifenglun Public School (now Lufeng Elementary School) in Taichu Prefecture.
At this stage, his life mirrored that of many contemporary intellectual elites. He started a family with his wife, Chang Chih, and together they had six sons (Ke-chin, Rui, Zheng, Hui, Sheng, and Huang). While he played the role of a teacher in society, deep within he was a devoted Upasaka (lay devotee). He became a disciple of Master Miao-guo, the second abbot of Fayun Temple in Dahu, Miaoli, and was given the dharma name “Da-chan.” Though he had not yet committed himself fully to academic Buddhist research, his reflections on the Dharma had already moved beyond simple prayers for blessings, touching upon the exploration of the essence of life.
II. Loss and Resignation: The Turning Point of Detachment
The tranquility of his life was shattered by the death of his mother. Her passing led Chih-teh to a profound realization of impermanence—a pain that he transformed into a driving force for seeking the Way. He realized that remaining a lay devotee or a primary school teacher would no longer suffice to quench his thirst for the ultimate truth of existence. Thus, at the age of thirty, he made a decision that shocked his friends and family: he resigned from his stable public office to pursue advanced studies in Japan.
This was an incredibly difficult decision for that time. Under the personal guarantees of Master Jue-li, the founding abbot of Fayun Temple, and Dr. Chen of Yuanlin, Kao Chih-teh boarded a steamer for Japan, carrying both his family’s expectations and his own trepidation toward the unknown. His destination was Komazawa University in Tokyo, the highest institution of learning for the Sōtō sect of Zen Buddhism. This was not merely a pursuit of schooling, but a profound “Renunciation” (Dan-she-li) of his past life and faith.
III. The Baptism of Komazawa: Favorite Disciple of Kaiten Nukariya
Upon entering the Department of Buddhism at Komazawa University, Kao Chih-teh found himself in his element. There, he met the Zen thinker Kaiten Nukariya. Nukariya’s thought was deeply modern; he advocated for breaking the ascetic restrictions of traditional Buddhism and proposed that “practice should be observed from within the heart.” This Zen perspective, which integrated modern psychology and philosophy, deeply attracted Kao. Nukariya held this student from Taiwan in high regard, even granting him the additional dharma name “Bi-he” (Green Crane), symbolizing a character that was pure, noble, and detached from worldly trivialities.
In 1930 (Showa 5), Kao Chih-teh graduated with honors. In the Taiwanese Buddhist community of that era, intellectuals with such high academic credentials could be counted on one hand. He had not only mastered profound Buddhist theories but could also fluently navigate Japanese and modern academic language. He joined the ranks of the most learned elites in Taiwanese Buddhist history, prepared to bring the reformist ideals he had learned in Japan back to his homeland. The seed planted in Yung-ching had been awakened and nourished in the halls of Tokyo, ready to blossom in the ancient temples of the Prefectural City.
IV. Early Practice of a Scholar-Monk: Trials of the Nanying Buddhist Association
After returning to Taiwan, Kao Chih-teh did not immediately retreat into a monastery. He actively participated in educational activities in Taichu Prefecture and joined the Nanying Buddhist Association. He began contributing articles, such as “A Buddhist View of the Human Body,” to the Nanying Buddhism journal. In 1932, he was appointed editor-in-chief of the magazine. Though his tenure was brief, the experience honed his writing and his observations of the religious landscape in Taiwan. Later, he temporarily served as the executive director of the Yung-ching Credit Union, demonstrating his administrative capabilities in social affairs.
However, Buddhist research remained his spiritual home. In early 1935, he resolutely resigned from his position at the Credit Union to spend six months investigating Buddhism in Xiamen, Southern Fujian. This journey gave him a deeper understanding of the differences and connections between Buddhism on both sides of the Strait. Upon his return to Taiwan, he was invited to Kaiyuan Temple in Tainan, officially beginning the most brilliant—and most heavy—chapter of his life.
Chapter Two: Ascension to Kaiyuan and the Grand Vision of Yen-ping Buddhist Institute
I. Inheriting the Torch of Reform: From Lin Chiu-wu to Kao Chih-teh
In 1935 (Showa 10), Kao Chih-teh returned to Taiwan following his Buddhist survey in Xiamen, Fujian. At that time, Kaiyuan Temple in Tainan was at a critical crossroads. His close friend and fellow alumnus from Komazawa University, Lin Chiu-wu (Dharma name Zheng-feng), had passed away from illness, leaving his mission to reform Taiwanese Buddhism unfinished. Invited by the Venerable Master De-yuan of Kaiyuan Temple, Kao Chih-teh formally joined the temple as a teacher. He did not merely inherit Lin’s spirit; he leveraged his profound academic foundation to push the reform movement toward a more rational and intellectual level.
In the Nanying Buddhism journal, Kao began serializing one of his major works from his time in Japan, Zhu Xi’s Anti-Buddhist Theories. This work demonstrated his rigorous training in modern scholarship. He used the dialectic between Confucianism and Buddhism as an entry point to analyze the exclusion and misunderstanding of Buddhism throughout Chinese Confucian history. This represented a rare academic peak in Taiwan’s religious circles at the time, establishing his leadership as a “scholar-monk.” Beyond lecturing within the temple, he joined colleagues like Zheng Zhuo-yun and Wu Zhuan-yuan in touring towns such as Xinying and Baihe, striving to break superstitious folk habits and promote a fresh, rational view of faith.
II. The 46th Abbot: Transmitting the Lineage Amidst War
As his reputation grew, Kao’s role at Kaiyuan Temple became increasingly vital. In July 1943 (Showa 18), serving as the Vice Abbot, he represented Taiwan at the “Greater East Asia Youth Buddhist Convention” held in Tokyo. During the conference, he exhibited a high degree of self-awareness, emphasizing the potential of “Lay Buddhism” and calling for a courageous modernization of Taiwanese Buddhism. At the end of that year, he officially succeeded Master De-yuan as the 46th Abbot of Kaiyuan Temple, with his “Jinshan” (Inauguration) ceremony held on New Year’s Day, 1944.
However, his ascension coincided with the final years of World War II, when the Kominka (Japanization) movement reached its zenith. Kaiyuan Temple was forced to adapt to the times, becoming a “Kominka Training Center.” As Abbot, Kao had to navigate tightening colonial policies with extreme care to maintain the transmission of the Dharma. He held classes on Prince Shotoku’s Seventeen-Article Constitution and the Awakening of Faith in the Mahayana. While appearing to comply with the political climate on the surface, he remained steadfast in the study and teaching of Buddhist scriptures. This period of struggle gave him a profound understanding of the difficulty of religious survival within the fissures of politics.
III. The Grand Vision of Yen-ping Buddhist Institute: An Academic Fortress
In the early post-war period, as Taiwanese society began to rebuild, the Buddhist community saw an opportunity for reorganization. In 1946, Kao was elected as a director of the Taiwan Buddhist Preparatory Committee. Due to his exceptional cultural cultivation, he was chosen to attend the National Buddhist Representative Conference in Nanjing in 1947. This journey to mainland China broadened his horizons and solidified his determination to establish a comprehensive Buddhist education system in Taiwan.
On December 8, 1948, Kao Chih-teh formally founded the “Yen-ping Buddhist Institute” at Kaiyuan Temple, serving as its first President. The institute initially enrolled twenty students—a remarkably ambitious vision given the scarcity of resources in post-war Taiwan. He sought to combine the modern pedagogical methods he learned in Japan with the essence of Han Chinese Buddhism to cultivate a new generation of monks capable of independent thought and dialogue with modern society. This institute was not just a hall of scholarship; it was the base where he practiced his ideals of “Socializing and Domesticating Buddhism.”
IV. Transmission and Enlightenment: Yeh Ah-yueh and the Seeds of the Future
In Kao’s educational philosophy, the Dharma did not distinguish between gender or social class. He placed great importance on the aptitude and academic potential of his students. Under his tutelage, many exceptional young people were introduced to “Right Faith.” The most representative of these was Yeh Ah-yueh, who would later become Taiwan’s first female PhD in Buddhist Studies. Kao not only laid her foundation in Yogacara (Yogācāra) philosophy but also demonstrated through his own example what “Academic Buddhism” truly meant.
Furthermore, he practiced the concept of “Lay Buddhism” in his daily life, even arranging the marriage between his female disciple, Chang Xiu-zhi, and his eldest son, Kao Ke-chin, tightly weaving faith with family ethics. During this time, Kao was often seen bustling between the lecture halls and the scripture rooms of Kaiyuan Temple, wearing his signature round-rimmed glasses. He was affectionately known as “Megane-sen” (The Bespectacled Immortal). Gentle, refined, and sincere, he was at the pinnacle of his life and career. He believed that through education and scholarship, the bedrock for a century of Taiwanese Buddhist progress was being laid. However, the distant thunder of a political storm was already rumbling across the Strait, inching closer to this academic fortress in the Prefectural City.
Chapter Three: The Root of Misfortune—Kao Ping-ru and the Political Shadow
I. Ties of Blood: The Appearance of Kao Ping-ru
In 1950, following the central government’s relocation to Taiwan, the political atmosphere grew increasingly stifling. At this time, Master Kao Chih-teh’s cousin, Kao Ping-ru, was designated a key cadre of the underground Communist Party in Taiwan and placed on the most-wanted list for his fierce opposition to the “37.5% Arable Rent Reduction” policy. Driven into a corner while hiding from the authorities, Kao Ping-ru sought the protection of his elder cousin, Kao Chih-teh, relying on their familial bond.
For Kao Chih-teh, the core of the Dharma was “Great Compassion,” and Confucian ethics emphasized the sanctity of family ties. Faced with a relative with nowhere to go, he did not consider political affiliations or legal consequences; acting solely out of a “heart that cannot bear the suffering of others,” he allowed Kao Ping-ru a brief refuge at Kaiyuan Temple. However, in the political logic of that era—where it was “better to kill a hundred innocent people than to let one guilty person go”—this single act of mercy was interpreted as providing support to a traitor. According to declassified military archives, the appearance of Kao Ping-ru was the precise point where Kao Chih-teh was pulled into the political vortex.
II. Li Ma-dou and the Underground Temptation: Rejection and Implication
During his stay at the temple, Kao Ping-ru introduced Kao Chih-teh to Li Ma-dou, a major leader of the Communist underground in the Tainan region. Li attempted to exploit the Master’s high prestige and social status to recruit him into the “work” and the organization. Faced with Li’s persuasion, Kao Chih-teh displayed the calm rationality of a scholar-monk. He firmly believed that the reform of Buddhism should be achieved through education and intellectual enlightenment, not through radical political struggle or violent revolution.
Although Kao Chih-teh explicitly rejected Li Ma-dou’s invitation and refused to participate in political work, he could not escape unscathed in that high-pressure environment. His failure to report the encounter to the authorities after learning the truth was later characterized in the judgment as “knowingly failing to report a bandit spy”—a “evidence of silence” that could not be washed away. While the Master sought a spiritual Pure Land, politics insisted on dragging him into the mire.
III. Seeking Shelter: The Fugitive Youths Weng Wen-li and Liang Pei-ying
In addition to the involvement of his cousin, two youths influenced by the Communist Party’s Tainan City Working Committee, Weng Wen-li and Liang Pei-ying, also sought overnight shelter at Kaiyuan Temple during their flight. Master Kao Chih-teh upheld the ancient tradition of Buddhist temples serving as sanctuaries; he did not interrogate the youths who came to him for help, providing only basic food and lodging.
He practiced the “view of equality” taught by his mentor, Kaiten Nukariya, viewing these youths as sentient beings who had lost their way. However, in the investigation reports of the Bureau of Investigation, Kaiyuan Temple was described as a “source of leftist thought,” and Kao’s compassionate reception was twisted into the specific criminal act of “continuously harboring traitors.” These youths brought not only temporary trouble but a fatal political spark that quietly planted the seeds of disaster in this serene ancient temple.
IV. The Hidden Danger of Infighting: Factional Strife and the Shadow of Informants
As the Abbot of Kaiyuan Temple, Kao Chih-teh inevitably clashed with traditional forces or factions while pushing for reforms and managing temple property. The Tainan poet Shih Chun-chou once wrote in a sharp Taiwanese poem that “a slight discrepancy in the scales leads to kho-á-lāi (infighting),” pointing to the social complexity behind the Kao case. Beyond the overarching political pressure, internal grudges and the act of “informing” may have been the true hands that pushed the Master toward his end.
In the atmosphere of the time, a single secret letter of report was often enough to end a life. While the Master devoted himself to the introduction of the Taishō Tripitaka and teaching at the Yen-ping Buddhist Institute, he may have overlooked the darker side of human nature. The combination of this “internal strife” and “external politics” formed a fine, cold net that tightly ensnared a monk who only wished to focus on his studies.
V. Resignation and Recovery in Japan: The Brief Calm Before the Storm
In 1952, sensing the worsening situation and suffering from pleural effusion (fluid in the lungs) due to years of overwork, Kao Chih-teh resigned as Abbot of Kaiyuan Temple and traveled to Japan for medical recovery. At the home of his younger brother, Kao Chung-teh, in Tokyo, he found a brief peace and was invited to lecture at his alma mater, Komazawa University. This was the final period of his life where he could purely explore Buddhist studies, far from the clamor of politics.
However, even as he lectured in Japan, the domestic intelligence system did not stop monitoring the Kao family. Many relatives in Yuanlin were arrested, and Kao Ping-ru had already been captured. When Kao Chih-teh returned to Taiwan in 1953, he hid in his family’s vegetable garden to avoid involving the temple. It was only after his female disciple, Chen Jin-mei, informed him that “the problem was resolved” that he felt safe to step out of hiding, ready to resume his mission. He believed the “misunderstanding” had passed, unaware that it was merely a temporary silence before an even greater storm.
Chapter Four: The Sutras Across the Sea—The Enshrinement of the Taishō Tripitaka
I. A Grand Vision in Seclusion: Importing the Encyclopedia of Buddhism
In 1954, although Master Kao Chih-teh was in semi-seclusion after resigning as Abbot, his passion for elevating the standard of Buddhist studies in Taiwan had never cooled. He deeply felt the scarcity of academic resources in Taiwan at the time; if the educational energy of the Yen-ping Buddhist Institute was to be sustained, the most authoritative literature had to be imported. Consequently, in the name of the “Shentian Hall” (Shen-de Tang) in Tainan, he applied to the customs authorities to formally welcome a complete set of the Taishō Shinshū Daizōkyō (commonly known as the Taishō Tripitaka) from Japan.
Consisting of one hundred volumes, this collection represents the culmination of the Buddhist Dharma; in the Taiwan of that era, it was exceedingly rare and expensive. This was not merely an act of donating books; it was Kao Chih-teh’s final effort to preserve a complete system of knowledge for the “Prefectural City” and for Taiwanese Buddhism amidst the winter of authoritarian politics. He personally negotiated with Japanese alumni, brothers, and customs officials, overcoming numerous administrative hurdles until these hundred heavy volumes of sacred scripture finally crossed the “Black Water Ditch” (the Taiwan Strait) to arrive in Tainan.
II. May 17: The Final Feast at Shentian Hall
On May 17, 1954, Shentian Hall in Tainan (then under the leadership of Abbot He Ya-jiao) held an unprecedented “Enshrinement Ceremony” (Anzang Dianli). That day, more than two hundred eminent monks and lay practitioners from across Taiwan gathered. As the soul of the effort to import the scriptures, Master Kao Chih-teh appeared at the ceremony in high spirits. Dressed in clean monastic robes and wearing his signature round-rimmed glasses, he spoke to the faithful about the necessity of modernizing the Dharma.
For the two hundred witnesses present, this should have been a glorious moment in the history of Taiwanese Buddhist culture. Looking at the stacks of new scriptures still smelling of fresh ink, Kao Chih-teh was likely envisioning how to use the Taishō Tripitaka to revitalize the curriculum of the Yen-ping Buddhist Institute. However, he did not know that on the periphery of this solemn religious gathering, agents of the intelligence units had already cast a wide net. Their cold gazes pierced through the crowd, locked firmly onto the refined “Megane-sen.”
III. An Unexplained “Invitation”: The Misunderstanding That Never Ended
After the ceremony concluded smoothly, Master Kao bid farewell to the crowd, intending to return to his family’s vegetable garden to continue his practice. Unexpectedly, that evening, personnel from the Bureau of Investigation suddenly appeared at Shentian Hall. Their stated intention was to “invite” the former Abbot to clarify a few matters. Faced with this sudden arrest, Kao Chih-teh displayed immense cultivation and composure. To avoid alarming his female disciples and relatives, he did not even pack a bag, leaving behind only one sentence: “I’ll be back once the misunderstanding is cleared up.”
With that departure, he was never able to return to Kaiyuan Temple, nor could he ever stand before the newly arrived volumes of the Taishō Tripitaka. That sentence—”I’ll be back once the misunderstanding is cleared up”—became his final and most heartbreaking promise to his family and followers. In an age where the rule of law was not yet manifest, the disappearance of a human being often required only a single night of silence.
IV. Post-Arrest Severance: From Scholar-Monk to Political Prisoner
Immediately after being taken away, Kao Chih-teh was secretly transferred to Taipei and entered the detention center of the Military Law Bureau. There, all his academic connections to the outside world were forcibly severed. According to declassified documents from the Ministry of National Defense, he faced repeated interrogations centered entirely on his relationships with Kao Ping-ru and Li Ma-dou.
The elite monk who had dedicated his life to the modernization of Buddhism and had represented Taiwan at the national conference in Nanjing was now forced, in a cold prison cell, to face political calculations he had never been a part of. The volumes of the Taishō Tripitaka he had fought so hard to import lay silently on the shelves of Shentian Hall, while he himself had been labeled by the authorities as a major criminal for “harboring traitors.” This “Enshrinement Ceremony” became, ironically, his final public curtain call in the secular world; from then on, his figure vanished into the political black hole of the White Terror.
Chapter Five: A Stroke of the Red Pen—Life and Death in a Single Directive
I. Interrogation in the Black Prison: The Ordeal of the Military Law Bureau
Late into the night of May 17, 1954, after being taken from Shentian Hall in Tainan by Bureau of Investigation personnel, Master Kao Chih-teh was secretly transferred to the Military Law Bureau detention center on Qingdao East Road in Taipei. There, he was stripped of his monastic robes—the symbol of his dignity—and clad in a prison uniform; a number replaced his Dharma name. According to declassified archives from the Bureau of Military Justice, Kao Chih-teh faced a series of grueling interrogations targeting his social associations.
The core of the questioning focused on his relationship with his cousin, Kao Ping-ru, and whether he had deliberately harbored individuals like Li Ma-dou, Weng Wen-li, and Liang Pei-ying despite knowing their identities. Throughout his testimony, Kao Chih-teh maintained the honesty and integrity of a scholar-monk. He admitted that Kao Ping-ru had visited the temple and that Li Ma-dou had been introduced by his cousin, but he steadfastly maintained that these actions were rooted in familial affection and the Buddhist mission of salvation. He insisted he had no involvement in organizational activities or plots to overthrow the government. However, in an era where “reporting bandit spies” was considered the highest moral duty, his silence and compassion were translated into cold criminal charges by the military prosecutors.
II. The Initial Verdict: A Final Hope of Twelve Years
After months of investigation and trial, in late 1954, the military tribunal reached an initial verdict regarding the “Kao Chih-teh, Weng Wen-li, and Liang Pei-ying Case.” The primary military judge, considering Kao’s motives, determined that he had acted mainly out of familial ties and the tradition of the temple as a religious sanctuary. While he had technically violated the Statutes for the Punishment of Rebellion, there was no concrete evidence of direct participation in violence or insurgency.
Consequently, the initial recommendation was a sentence of twelve years in prison. When this news reached the Kao family and the disciples of Kaiyuan Temple, it was met with grief, yet it offered a sliver of hope. Figures in the Buddhist community, such as Lin Jin-dong, continued to lobby and submit petitions, hoping to prove that Master Kao was a pure scholar and monk. To Kao Chih-teh, twelve years of imprisonment might have been long, but it meant a chance to eventually return to his beloved Taishō Tripitaka and reignite the flame of the Yen-ping Buddhist Institute.
III. The President’s Red Pen: Chiang Kai-shek’s Mandate for “Strict Retrial”
However, when the document recommending the twelve-year sentence was submitted to the highest authorities for approval, it suffered a devastating reversal. On February 26, 1955, the document arrived on the desk of President Chiang Kai-shek. According to archive records, Chiang did not accept the judge’s recommendation. Instead, he personally wrote a directive in red ink:
“Kao Chih-teh has continuously harbored bandits… the gravity of the crime is extreme; return for strict retrial.”
These few words effectively used the highest executive authority to overturn the leniency of the initial court. In the political logic of an authoritarian regime, “return for strict retrial” was widely understood within the military justice system as a tacit command to “revise the sentence to the death penalty.” Chiang believed that because Kao Chih-teh was a highly influential leader in Tainan society, his sheltering of wanted fugitives necessitated the death penalty to serve as a deterrent to the local public and the religious community. The moment that red pen touched the paper, the impartiality of the law retreated, replaced by cold political liquidation.
IV. The Final Conviction: The End of the Scholar-Monk’s Journey
Following the directive from the highest level, the Military Law Bureau swiftly conducted a retrial. In mid-1955, the retrial overturned the original twelve-year sentence. Under the charge of “continuously harboring traitors,” Kao Chih-teh was sentenced to death and deprived of civil rights for life. This verdict was utterly “ngãi-giỏh” (awkward/unjust) to Kao; the document was filled with ideological jargon he found difficult to comprehend, blackening his lifelong pursuit of compassion and education as conspiracy and rebellion.
While awaiting execution, Master Kao exhibited remarkable serenity. He no longer harbored illusions about a system so full of misunderstanding and violence, turning all his energy toward internal spiritual practice. Still wearing those iconic glasses, he gazed at the documents that decided his fate under the dim light of his cell. He realized he had become a sacrificial lamb on the altar of the era. In prison, he silently prayed for his family, his disciples, and even for those who had signed his death warrant. With a spiritual stability (Samadhi) that transcended life and death, he waited for the first light of dawn at the An-keng execution ground.
Chapter Six: Dawn at An-keng—The Final Dignity
I. The Iron Gate Before Dawn: A Final Opportunity for “Dana”
August 31, 1955. A sweltering early morning in late summer in northern Taiwan. The heavy clang of the detention center’s iron gates shattered the pre-dawn silence. Master Kao Chih-teh—the refined “Megane-sen” who once spoke with such vitality from the pulpit of Kaiyuan Temple and who had been baptized in the modern Zen philosophy of Kaiten Nukariya—stood up calmly. To him, this day was not the end of life, but his final practice of Dana (giving) in this political purgatory: the relinquishing of his physical form to return to clarity.
While the military archives were filled with political labels like “harboring traitors,” these appeared distorted and absurd to a man who had spent his life immersed in the sacred sutras. He no longer argued. He simply adjusted his dark Chinese robe in silence. The sound of that gate was his signal to cross the shackles of secular power and walk toward the eternal Dharma Realm.
II. Refusing the Secular Fare: The Dignity of a Scholar-Monk
As was the custom, the execution guards presented him with his “last meal”—a plate of wine and meat. Master Kao calmly declined. Having upheld the monastic precepts throughout his life, he requested only a few sips of fresh water to purify his body and mind. Maintaining the dignity of a Buddhist scholar, he stepped out of his cell under the watchful eyes of the military police.
His pace was steady, without a hint of trembling, and devoid of the panic or fury typical of many on death row. He was embodying the spiritual stability (Samadhi) taught by his mentor, Kaiten Nukariya: that true practice is observed from within. In the final moments of his life, with a clarity that saw through the worldly cycle of “formation, existence, decay, and emptiness,” he demonstrated the inner freedom that a scholar-monk could maintain even under extreme oppression.
III. The Diamond Sutra on the Road to Death: A Silent Requiem
On the military truck heading to the An-keng execution ground, Master Kao chanted the Diamond Sutra in a low voice. The line “All that has a form is illusive and unreal” echoed softly within the jolting vehicle. He was not praying for a miracle for himself; he was performing a silent Chao-du (requiem) for this turbulent, suspicious, and cruel era.
At 8:30 AM on August 31, 1955, the truck arrived at An-keng by the Xindian River. It was the most somber execution site of that time. As the autumn dawn struggled to pierce through the mist, Master Kao was led off the truck, his hands bound behind his back, a white name tag reading “Kao Chih-teh” pinned to his chest. In the river breeze and morning fog, his figure appeared thin yet extraordinarily tall.
IV. Gazing Toward the West: The Final Silence of Forgiveness
Standing before the desolate mounds of the execution ground, Master Kao emanated a presence that made even the executioners hold their breath. He refused the blindfold and refused to kneel. Though bound, his eyes were fixed firmly on the West—the destination of his faith and the home of his soul. In that final silence, he was not pleading with the gods for his life; instead, with a perspective of compassion, he gazed peacefully at the soldiers before him and the killing system behind them.
It was as if he were asking the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas to forgive the ignorance and fear of the age. Upon the commander’s order, several piercing gunshots broke the silence of the Xindian River. A cold “bullet” (chhèng-chí) pierced his chest. The 59-year-old elite, who had once sought to integrate modern science with the Dharma, completed his most tragic yet most solemn curtain call in a pool of blood.
V. A Forbidden Name: Silence and Erasure After the Gunshots
When the news of his death reached Tainan, the entire city and Kaiyuan Temple fell into an unprecedented state of terror and silence. Under pressure from the authorities, the once-revered Abbot suddenly became a “traitor” whose name could not be spoken. Official files characterized his death as a deserved punishment, and Kaiyuan Temple, to protect its lineage from political fallout, was forced to hide his portrait and spirit tablet.
The once vibrant and flourishing Kaiyuan Temple began its decline. Kao Chih-teh’s name vanished from public discourse, and his lifelong writings and the Taishō Tripitaka he imported were left to gather dust in a corner, untouched by anyone. The authoritarian regime attempted to use physical elimination to completely erase his academic footprints from the history of Taiwanese Buddhism.
VI. The Historical Mark of a Martyr: Bullets Transformed into Moonlight
The final image of Kao Chih-teh at An-keng is the most heartbreaking silhouette in the history of Taiwanese Buddhism. As the poet Shih Chun-chou lamented, at that moment, through the lens of Buddhist compassion, the bullet was transformed into eternal and perfect moonlight (The bullet has already become that moon).
He used his life to perform the most difficult lesson of the Dharma: when compassion and politics collide, a monk should not bow his head but should instead become a “Martyr for the Dharma.” Though his body fell, his dignified stance—gazing West and forgiving the era—remained deeply engraved in the collective memory of Tainan’s older generations, becoming a faint but inextinguishable light in the dark of night.
Chapter Seven: The Great Silence—The Desolation of Kaiyuan Temple
I. A Forbidden Name: Official Erasure and Archived Oblivion
After August 31, 1955, the name Kao Chih-teh shifted from a mark of “prestige” to a “curse” in the Prefectural City of Tainan. As the gunshots at An-keng fell silent, the administrative machinery of the authoritarian regime went into full operation, attempting to expunge this scholar-monk from the pages of history. According to declassified Ministry of National Defense archives and the social climate of the time, Kao was branded a high-level criminal for “continuously harboring traitors.” Overnight, his lifelong academic achievements and religious contributions were labeled as “leftist” and “reactionary.”
The volumes of the Taishō Tripitaka and various Buddhist treatises—imported and proofread by his own hand and housed in Kaiyuan Temple and Shentian Hall—were subjected to searches and impoundment by intelligence units. Driven by fear, family members and disciples tearfully burned his manuscripts, letters, and academic correspondence with Japan’s Komazawa University to avoid bringing disaster upon their entire households. The elite who once represented Taiwan at the National Conference in Nanjing became a cold criminal entry in official records and a forbidden taboo in the hearts of the people.
II. The Retreat of Kaiyuan Temple: Hidden Portraits and the Silence of the Lineage
As the largest and most significant ancient monastery in Tainan, Kaiyuan Temple fell into a prolonged state of desolation following Master Kao’s martyrdom. To ensure the survival of the Dharma lineage and avoid being branded a “cradle of leftist thought,” the temple authorities were forced to adopt an extremely low-profile, almost self-mutilating, defensive stance. Among the portraits of past abbots enshrined in the Founders’ Hall, the image of Kao Chih-teh (Master Zheng-guang) was quietly removed. His spirit tablet was moved to an obscure corner, no longer displayed to the public.
This “silence” would last for more than thirty years. Once a vibrant center for modern education and reform, Kaiyuan Temple pivoted toward a traditional, conservative, and reclusive path to survive within the fissures of authoritarianism. The voices of teachers and students discussing the Dharma and debating logic at the Yen-ping Buddhist Institute vanished, replaced by the somber tolling of morning and evening bells and the fearful silence of devotees who dared not speak. Master Kao’s grand vision for the modernization of Taiwanese Buddhism became a severed history within the walls of his own temple.
III. The Extinguishing of the Academic Spark: The End of Yen-ping Buddhist Institute
The educational project Kao Chih-teh took the most pride in—the Yen-ping Buddhist Institute—was forced to close immediately following his arrest. This fortress, which had enrolled twenty elite students with the hope of cultivating a new generation of Taiwanese monastic talent, collapsed amidst the political storm. This was not merely a personal tragedy for Kao, but a monumental loss for Buddhist scholarship in Taiwan.
At that time, Taiwanese Buddhism was at a critical juncture between the Japanese colonial era and the post-war period. Kao Chih-teh represented a sophisticated path that combined Japanese-style rational analysis with the study of Han Chinese classics. His martyrdom meant this path was severed mid-stride. Fearing political persecution, many young student-monks returned to lay life or shifted toward purely ritualistic practices, no longer daring to engage in challenging or critical Buddhist research. The process of academicizing Taiwanese Buddhism was set back by decades due to this political incident.
IV. The Collapse of Social Relations: Self-Preservation in the Religious Community
The impact of Master Kao’s martyrdom resonated far beyond Tainan. After the failed rescue efforts led by figures like Lin Jin-dong, the Buddhist community across Taiwan felt the full cruelty of the authoritarian system. For the sake of survival, many religious leaders distanced themselves from Kaiyuan Temple, terrified of being labeled “bandit spy sympathizers.”
This “political cold front” forced the Buddhist community into a state of collective muzzling. Unlike the resistance shown by the Presbyterian Church in the face of political trials, the Taiwanese Buddhist community chose deeper submission and a lower profile following the “Kao Chih-teh Incident.” While this institutional suppression secured the temporary safety of temple properties, it caused local Taiwanese Buddhism to miss an opportunity to develop in synchronization with social modernization. Master Kao Chih-teh fell at An-keng, while the Kaiyuan Temple and the broader Taiwanese Buddhist tradition he left behind entered a long and stagnant slumber.
Chapter Eight: Dispersion and Guardianship of the Family
I. The Fear of Extermination: The Family’s Political Winter
On August 31, 1955, as Master Kao Chih-teh fell at An-keng, the political storm did not cease. Instead, it transformed into a direct and visceral terror that loomed over the Kao relatives in Yung-ching, Changhua, and Tainan. Under the threat of “guilt by association” (Lian-zuo) and the constant surveillance of intelligence units, the Kao family did not just lose their patriarch; they became “families of bandit spies,” avoided by neighbors and relatives alike.
Kao Chih-teh’s six sons—Ke-chin, Rui, Zheng, Hui, Sheng, and Huang—along with his daughter-in-law and former disciple, Chang Xiu-zhi, lived in constant fear of “liquidation.” For this family, survival was no longer a matter of livelihood, but a desperate struggle to evade the eyes of special agents and preserve the final remnants of the Master’s lineage.
II. Detachment for Survival: The Adoption of the Grandchildren
In their most desperate hour, to prevent the “Kao” surname from becoming a shackle for the next generation, the family made an agonizing but decisive choice: to put all of Kao Chih-teh’s grandchildren up for “adoption” (Chut-ióng). These children were sent to different families and given new names, attempting to vanish completely from the tracking of political files.
This “root-severing” survival tactic was the deepest tragedy for Taiwanese people of that era. When these young children left the Kao household, they were not even told that their grandfather was “Megane-sen,” a highly educated scholar from Komazawa University who had tried to revitalize Taiwanese Buddhism. They were taught to be silent and to forget the past, for the grandfather’s name was a taboo that invited death. This forced dispersion shattered the Master’s ideal of “Domesticating Buddhism” against the cruel weight of reality.
III. The Underground Roots of Mercy: The Silent Guard of the Nuns
Beyond the official archives, a faint but resilient force was guarding the family. During his life, Master Kao had cultivated deep ties with the community of nuns in Kaiyuan Temple and Southern Taiwan, particularly those of the “Da” and “Chuan” generations. Even during the strictest periods of surveillance, these nuns found secretive ways to provide relief to the scattered Kao kin.
In the early morning markets or the dead of night in narrow alleys, they would quietly hand over provisions or offer a place of shelter. To them, Master Kao was not the “bandit spy” found on wanted posters, but a martyred teacher and an elite of the Buddhist fold. This underground guardianship, born of pure faith and personal loyalty, became the family’s only solace during the long night, allowing the Master’s bloodline to endure through the cracks of darkness.
IV. The Erased Identity: A Vanished Patriarch and Hidden Scars
As the Kao children grew up, the name Kao Chih-teh was intentionally erased. No portrait of the Master was allowed on the family altar. On the anniversaries of his death, family members prayed in low voices behind closed doors, not daring to burn incense for fear of being reported by neighbors. This trauma of “disappeared identity” left a deep mark on the second and third generations of the Kao family.
The eldest son, Kao Ke-chin, and his wife Chang Xiu-zhi lived humble lives at the bottom of society despite their deep Buddhist upbringing. They watched as the Master’s manuscripts and belongings decayed over the humid years. To them, Kao Chih-teh was not just a historical figure, but a heavy shadow—permanently absent yet everywhere present. They held onto the Master’s final words, “I’ll be back once the misunderstanding is cleared up,” keeping a silent vigil for an entire generation in the alleys of Tainan.
V. The Historical Fracture: When Blood Forgets Its Source
This practice of adoption and dispersion caused a fracture in the family memory that lasted decades. Many descendants grew up knowing only that an ancestor had “died for political reasons,” without understanding his academic weight in the history of Taiwanese Buddhism. The gaze Master Kao directed toward the West at An-keng, which should have been a point of pride for his progeny, was translated by fear into years of silent dread.
However, the thirst for knowledge and the pursuit of equality inherent in their blood did not vanish with the change of surnames. Though scattered, Kao Chih-teh’s descendants continued to work diligently in their respective fields, waiting for the day the social atmosphere would change—waiting for the moment they could reclaim the name “Kao Chih-teh” and rightfully name him “Grandfather.”
Chapter Nine: The Faint Light of Legacy—The Academic Succession of Yeh Ah-yueh
I. The Embers of Yen-ping: An Indestructible Seed
In 1948, within the “Yen-ping Buddhist Institute” founded by Master Kao Chih-teh, a young and brilliant student was focusing intently on lectures regarding the Awakening of Faith in the Mahayana and Yogacara (Mind-Only) thought. Her name was Yeh Ah-yueh. Born into a traditional family in Chiayi, she had come to Kaiyuan Temple by a twist of fate and became one of Master Kao’s most esteemed students.
When Master Kao was arrested in 1954 and martyred in 1955, and the Yen-ping Buddhist Institute was forcibly disbanded in the political storm, all the students faced a major choice regarding their faith and their lives. While many chose to return to secular life or shift toward traditional rituals, Yeh Ah-yueh was different. The rigorous academic attitude she saw behind Master Kao’s round-rimmed glasses, and his insistence on the “modernization and academicization of Buddhism,” had been deeply engraved in her heart. To her, the teacher’s martyrdom was not just a tragedy, but a legacy that had to be carried forward with her very life.
II. Crossing the Sea for the Dharma: Retracing the Komazawa Path
In that stifling era, Yeh Ah-yueh deeply realized that the soil in Taiwan no longer existed to fulfill her master’s unfulfilled grand vision of Buddhist scholarship. In the 1960s, through tireless efforts and a steadfast will, she decided to follow in the footsteps of her mentor and travel to Japan for advanced studies. She entered Nagoya University and later transferred to the Graduate School of Humanities and Sociology at the University of Tokyo.
In foreign libraries, as she pored over scrolls comparing Sanskrit, Tibetan, and Chinese texts, she felt as if she could see the silhouette of her master studying hard at Komazawa University years before. She chose the most challenging field, Yogacara thought, as the core of her research—the very field Master Kao had most admired for embodying the rational logic of Buddhism. She knew well that every line of research she wrote was a voice for her mentor, who had fallen at An-keng and could no longer hold a pen.
III. Glory in 1972: Taiwan’s First Female PhD in Buddhist Studies
In 1972, with her dissertation A Study of Yogacara Thought, Yeh Ah-yueh successfully obtained a Doctorate in Literature from the University of Tokyo. At that moment, she became Taiwan’s first female PhD in the field of Buddhist academia. This honor belonged not only to her but also symbolized that the seed Master Kao had planted at the Yen-ping Buddhist Institute had finally blossomed into a brilliant flower in the halls of international scholarship.
Upon returning to Taiwan, Professor Yeh joined the Department of Philosophy at National Taiwan University (NTU), introducing the scientific methods of modern Buddhist studies to the campus. She did not wear monastic robes, but as a scholar, she practiced Master Kao’s ideal of “socializing and academicizing Buddhism.” When she lectured on Abhidharma and Yogacara thought, her rigor and purity were a reincarnation of Master Kao’s spirit. Although she still had to carefully navigate politically sensitive topics on campus at the time, she successfully preserved a clear stream of “local Buddhist research” within the academic world.
IV. Guardianship and Transformation: The Silent Testimony of the Manuscripts
Throughout her academic career, Professor Yeh silently commemorated her mentor in her own way. It is said that at certain critical moments in her research, she would consult the surviving lecture notes of Master Kao. Those fragments of words that had narrowly survived the turmoil were not just documents to her; they were the Dharma-body (Dharmakaya) of her mentor.
She transformed Master Kao’s emphasis on the Taishō Tripitaka into a pursuit of original Sanskrit texts. she firmly believed that only through the most precise textual criticism could the Dharma break free from the interference of superstition and politics and return to the “rational faith” that Master Kao had originally sought. The establishment of Yeh Ah-yueh’s status in the academic world indirectly protected Master Kao’s reputation, ensuring that later researchers opening the history of Taiwanese Buddhism could not skip over the buried glory of Kaiyuan Temple and the Yen-ping Buddhist Institute.
V. The Convergence of Spirits: A Historical Leap Across Two Generations
Master Kao Chih-teh guarded the baseline of compassion with his life, while Professor Yeh Ah-yueh guarded the heights of rationality with her scholarship. Together, the efforts of these two generations built a bridge for Taiwanese Buddhism to transition from “traditional religion” to “modern academia.”
When Professor Yeh looked at the younger generation of students freely discussing Buddhism in the classrooms of NTU, her thoughts likely remained with the figure who placed the Taishō Tripitaka in Shentian Hall and was promptly “invited away,” never to return. The academic flourishing her teacher never lived to see, she witnessed on his behalf; the treatises he never finished writing, she continued for him. This faint light pierced through the political black hole, ultimately becoming the most stable and enduring radiance in the field of Taiwanese Buddhist studies.
Chapter Ten: A Historical Completion—From “Spy” to Distinguished Scholar
I. Dawn After Martial Law: Opening the Sealed Archives
With the lifting of Martial Law in Taiwan in 1987, the thirty-year political winter finally began to thaw. The yellowed dossiers, once classified and locked deep within the vaults of the Bureau of Investigation and the Military Law Bureau, saw the light of day. The name Kao Chih-teh was no longer merely a cold criminal number written by intelligence officers; it became a vital piece of the historical puzzle that historians and religious scholars were eager to reconstruct.
Starting in the 1990s, with the implementation of the Compensation Act for Wrongful Trials of Sedition and Espionage Cases during the Martial Law Period, the “Kao Case” entered official re-examination. While formal government apologies and compensation could not bring back the life lost at An-keng, they served to officially wash away the stigma that had hung over the Kao family and Kaiyuan Temple for forty years.
II. Academic Re-positioning: The Return of the Scholar-Monk
In the field of historiography, scholars led by Jiang Can-teng, Su Rui-qiang, and Kan Zheng-zong provided a high appraisal of Master Kao through deep research into Nanying Buddhism magazine, Kaiyuan Temple archives, and his surviving manuscripts. Professor Jiang Can-teng publicly praised Kao Chih-teh as “one of the most outstanding scholars of Taiwanese Buddhism in the past hundred years.”
Scholars pointed out that his historical contribution lay in successfully introducing the rational methods of modern Japanese academia into the then-isolated world of Taiwanese Buddhism. His import of the Taishō Tripitaka, his academic critique of Neo-Confucian anti-Buddhist theories, and his experiments with “Domesticating Buddhism” were all visionary attempts far ahead of their time. He was no longer a vague “leftist” in a verdict; he was a leader with deep Buddhist knowledge, a rational spirit, and educational passion. His place in the modernization of Taiwanese Buddhism was finally granted full and just recognition.
III. The Rebirth of a Legacy: Recovering Memory at Kaiyuan Temple
At Kaiyuan Temple in Tainan, the history that was forced into silence began to revive. The portrait and spirit tablet that had been hidden away returned to their rightful places. The temple began to confront this period of martyrdom, integrating Master Kao’s deeds into the official temple history. The set of the Taishō Tripitaka—which had witnessed his arrest and was once blamed as the source of his misfortune—is now the temple’s most representative academic treasure, silently testifying to the Master’s resolve to “protect the Dharma through the scriptures.”
The descendants of the Kao family were finally able to return to the Prefectural City with their heads held high, offering incense before the Buddha hall their grandfather once led. The grandchildren who were once adopted out and renamed rediscovered their family identity through the oral histories of relatives and the records of scholars. They found that their grandfather was not a frightening taboo, but a dignified monk who sacrificed for compassion and martyred himself for the truth.
IV. The Poetic Transformation: From Bullet to Moonlight
In contemporary Taiwanese literature, the poet Shih Chun-chou provided the most tender summary of this tragedy. In his poetry, he lamented the Master’s helplessness when facing a verdict filled with “unjust (ngãi-giỏh) Han characters,” yet he celebrated the “round moon” the Master pursued in his heart.
This poetry serves as a cultural key to understanding Kao Chih-teh’s spirit: the bullet (chhèng-chí) of death was ultimately transformed, in the long river of history, into eternal moonlight. This light no longer bears the color of blood; instead, it symbolizes the “Great Perfect Mirror Wisdom” (Adarsha-jnana) that transcends politics and hatred. In that great misunderstanding of the era, Master Kao used his life to complete a final lesson on “selflessness” and “forgiveness.”
V. Epilogue: Eternal Witness Under the Moonlight of Tainan
Martyr for the Dharma: Cheng-guang Kao Chih-teh and His Era concludes here. Master Kao’s life was a microcosm of Taiwanese Buddhism’s transition from the Japanese colonial period to the modern era, as well as a common elegy for intellectuals and monks during the authoritarian years. He tried to change the world through education, only to be answered with violence; he tried to import scriptures to enlighten wisdom, only to lose his freedom as they were enshrined.
However, true influence cannot be extinguished by gunshots. Today, when people walk beneath the red walls of Kaiyuan Temple or pore over the Taishō Tripitaka in a library, they may catch a faint sense of that refined “Megane-sen” with his round-rimmed glasses. The gaze he directed toward the West has turned into the clearest moonlight in the night sky over Tainan, guarding every heart that seeks truth and compassion on this land.
[Appendix I] Full Table of Contents: Martyr for the Dharma
Preface: Silence and Testimony Under the Tainan Moonlight
Chapter One: Seeds in Yung-ching and Awakening in Tokyo
•The Lay Practitioner of the Changhua Plain: The Eldest Son of the Kao An-jin Family
•Maternal Loss and Resignation: The Turning Point Toward Detachment
•Baptism at Komazawa University: The Most Prized Disciple of Kaiten Nukariya
•The First Steps of a Scholar-Monk: Trials Within the Nanying Buddhist Association
Chapter Two: Ascent to Kaiyuan Temple and the Vision of Yen-ping
•Inheriting the Embers of Reform: From Lin Qiu-wu to Kao Chih-teh
•The 46th Abbot of Kaiyuan: Lineage Succession Amidst the Flames of War
•The Vision of Yen-ping Buddhist Institute: An Academic Fortress for Monastic Talent
•Passing the Lamp: Yeh Ah-yueh and the Seeds of the Next Generation
Chapter Three: The Roots of Misfortune—Kao Ping-ru and the Political Shadow
•The Shackle of Bloodline: The Appearance of Kao Ping-ru
•Li Ma-dou and the Underground Allure: Refusal and Entanglement
•Refuge for Young Exiles: Weng Wen-li and Liang Pei-ying
•Internal Strife: Factional Friction and the Clouds of “Informants”
•Resignation and Convalescence in Japan: A Brief Calm Before the Storm
Chapter Four: The Sutras Across the Sea—The Enshrinement of the Taishō Tripitaka
•A Grand Vision in Seclusion: Importing the Encyclopedia of Buddhism
•May 17: The Final Feast at Shentian Hall
•An Unexplained “Invitation”: The Misunderstanding That Never Ended
•Post-Arrest Severance: From Scholar-Monk to Political Prisoner
Chapter Five: A Stroke of the Red Pen—Life and Death in a Single Directive
•Interrogation in the Black Prison: The Ordeal of the Military Law Bureau
•The Initial Verdict: A Final Hope of Twelve Years
•The President’s Red Pen: Chiang Kai-shek’s Mandate for “Strict Retrial”
•The Final Conviction: The End of the Scholar-Monk’s Journey
Chapter Six: Dawn at An-keng—The Final Dignity
•The Iron Gate Before Dawn: A Final Opportunity for Dana (Giving)
•Refusing the Secular Fare: The Dignity of a Scholar-Monk Facing the Muzzle
•The Diamond Sutra on the Road to Death: A Silent Requiem for a Cruel Era
•Gazing Toward the West: The Final Silence of Forgiveness
•A Forbidden Name: Silence and Erasure After the Gunshots
•The Historical Mark of a Martyr: Bullets Transformed into Moonlight
Chapter Seven: The Great Silence—The Desolation of Kaiyuan Temple
•A Forbidden Name: Official Erasure and Archived Oblivion
•The Retreat of Kaiyuan Temple: Hidden Portraits and the Silence of the Lineage
•The Extinguishing of the Academic Spark: The End of Yen-ping Buddhist Institute
•The Collapse of Social Relations: Self-Preservation in the Religious Community
Chapter Eight: Dispersion and Guardianship of the Family
•The Fear of Extermination: The Family’s Political Winter
•Detachment for Survival: The Forced Adoption of the Grandchildren
•The Underground Roots of Mercy: The Silent Guard of the Nuns and Kin
•The Erased Identity: A Vanished Patriarch and Hidden Scars
•The Historical Fracture: When Blood Forgets Its Source
Chapter Nine: The Faint Light of Legacy—The Academic Succession of Yeh Ah-yueh
•The Embers of Yen-ping: An Indestructible Seed
•Crossing the Sea for the Dharma: Retracing the Komazawa Path
•Glory in 1972: Taiwan’s First Female PhD in Buddhist Studies
•Guardianship and Transformation: The Silent Testimony of the Manuscripts
•The Convergence of Spirits: A Historical Leap Across Two Generations
Chapter Ten: A Historical Completion—From “Spy” to Distinguished Scholar
•Dawn After Martial Law: Opening the Sealed Archives
•Academic Re-positioning: The Return of the Scholar-Monk
•The Rebirth of a Legacy: Recovering Memory at Kaiyuan Temple
•The Poetic Transformation: From Bullet to Moonlight in the Work of Shih Chun-chou
•Conclusion: Eternal Witness Under the Moonlight of Tainan
[Appendix II] Executive Summary: The Historical Significance of Master Kao’s Life
The life of Master Cheng-guang Kao Chih-teh is a heroic microcosm of the struggles faced by native Taiwanese intellectuals under the shifting tides of the 20th century. He represented the most modern and self-aware Buddhist elite of the Japanese colonial period, striving to elevate the Dharma from traditional rituals and superstition to a rational, scientific, and academic height. His martyrdom symbolizes the most violent collision between the “Great Compassion” of religion and the “Political Suppression” of an authoritarian regime.
The composed dignity he displayed at the An-keng execution ground ultimately transcended decades of political stigma and the fear of his kin, establishing him as an eternal mentor in the process of Taiwanese Buddhist modernization. Through this biography, we witness how a true scholar-monk, in a dark era, martyred himself for the Dharma, transforming a fatal bullet into compassionate moonlight that illuminates the academic and spiritual paths for those who follow.
[Appendix III] Chronological Timeline: Master Cheng-guang Kao Chih-teh
•1896 (Meiji 29): Born on April 8 in Yung-ching, Changhua. Father: Kao An-jin; Mother: Wu Zao.
•1926 (Showa 1): His mother passes away. Sensing the impermanence of life, he resigns from his teaching post at Haifenglun Public School and travels to Japan to study at Komazawa University in Tokyo under Kaiten Nukariya.
•1930 (Showa 5): Graduates from Komazawa University and returns to Taiwan. Begins his efforts to reform Taiwanese Buddhism and joins the Nanying Buddhist Association.
•1932 (Showa 7): Becomes the Editor-in-Chief of Nanying Buddhism magazine.
•1935 (Showa 10): Travels to Xiamen, Fujian to inspect Buddhist developments. Later that year, he is invited to lecture at Kaiyuan Temple in Tainan.
•1943 (Showa 18): Attends the “Greater East Asia Young Buddhists Conference” in Tokyo. In December, he succeeds as the 46th Abbot of Kaiyuan Temple in Tainan.
•1944 (Showa 19): Formally holds the Installation Ceremony (Jin-shan) on New Year’s Day.
•1947 (Republic of China Year 36): Represents the Taiwanese Buddhist community at the “National Buddhist Representatives Conference” in Nanjing.
•1948 (ROC 37): Formally establishes the Yen-ping Buddhist Institute on December 8, serving as its President to cultivate local monastic talent (including his student, Yeh Ah-yueh).
•1950 (ROC 39): His cousin, Kao Ping-ru, seeks help. Out of familial affection and religious compassion, the Master provides lodging for Kao Ping-ru and Li Ma-dou, unintentionally becoming entangled in the political storm.
•1952 (ROC 41): Resigns as Abbot of Kaiyuan Temple. Travels to Japan for medical convalescence and is invited to lecture at his alma mater, Komazawa University.
•1953 (ROC 42): Returns from Japan and lives in seclusion in his family’s vegetable garden to avoid political heat.
•1954 (ROC 43):
oMay 17: Holds the enshrinement ceremony for the Taishō Tripitaka at Shentian Hall, Tainan.
oThat Night: Arrested by Bureau of Investigation personnel and transferred to the Military Law Bureau detention center in Taipei (Qingdao East Road).
•1955 (ROC 44):
oFebruary 26: President Chiang Kai-shek personally writes the directive “return for strict retrial,” overturning the proposed 12-year sentence and mandating the death penalty.
oAugust 31: Executed by firing squad at the An-keng execution ground in Xindian. Before his death, he refuses wine, meat, and a blindfold, fixating his gaze toward the West while chanting. He was 59 years old.
•1955–1987: The Kao descendants face immense political pressure; all grandchildren are put up for adoption and their surnames changed. Kaiyuan Temple removes the Master’s portrait, and his history enters a thirty-year period of silence.
•1972 (ROC 61): His disciple, Yeh Ah-yueh, obtains her PhD from the University of Tokyo, fulfilling the Master’s vision of academic modernization.
•1987 (ROC 76): Martial Law is lifted in Taiwan.
•1990s: Exoneration of victims begins. The family receives state compensation, and the “rebellion” charges are formally cleared.
•2000s: Academia (led by scholars like Prof. Jiang Can-teng) re-establishes Kao Chih-teh as a preeminent scholar-monk of the century. Kaiyuan Temple restores his honor and re-hangs his portrait.