The divine ox steals and eats lingzhi.

Back then, when Sun Bin was studying at Yunmeng Mountain, he was diligent and eager to learn. Not only did he win the deep affection of his master, Guigu Zi, but he also gained the admiration of the Queen Mother of the West, who entrusted him with the task of guarding the lingzhi herbs on the northern cliff of the Peach Garden.

During his spare time from studying martial arts, Sun Bin would daily take the little Taoist boy to patrol the mountain cliffs, leading along a green ox as he sowed a variety of millet called Sui Lou Xiu in the northern Taoyuan field. The so-called Sui Lou Xiu is such that as soon as the seeds are sown ahead, the millet grains behind them ripen and mature right away. The little Taoist boy would follow closely behind the plow, collecting the ripe millet grains as they came in.

As time went on, the little Taoist apprentice began to feel that sowing millet and tending the blue ox weren't really all that tricky—and he himself grew eager to give it a try. One day, as he was once again in the peach orchard sowing millet, the little apprentice turned to Sun Bin and said, “Master, may I try holding the seed drill?” Sun Bin pointed down toward the cliffside and said, “There’s a thousand-year-old Lingzhi mushroom planted by the Queen Mother herself halfway up that cliff. I’m supposed to keep watch over it. That blue ox has a very stubborn temper—what if you can’t handle it properly and it accidentally swallows the Lingzhi mushroom? If the Queen Mother finds out, what am I going to say?” From then on, the little apprentice never mentioned learning how to sow the fields to his master again.

One day, Sun Bin had some business to attend to and was about to leave. Before setting off, he repeatedly instructed the little Taoist boy to watch the gate carefully and not to run around or fidget unnecessarily. As the little Taoist boy watched his master ride away on auspicious clouds, he felt an irresistible urge to try out his own skills in plowing the fields. Yet, remembering his master’s words, he didn’t dare to act on his own initiative.

The green ox seemed to have read the little Taoist novice’s thoughts right through. Suddenly, it spoke up: “Little brother Taoist novice, since our master isn’t home, today is the perfect time for you to give plowing a try!” Upon hearing this, the little Taoist novice asked happily, “Green Ox buddy, would you like to come along with me?” The green ox immediately replied, “Of course I’d love to!” After a brief pause, it added, “But you’ll have to promise me two conditions.” The novice asked, “What two conditions?” The green ox said, “First, when you’re plowing, you can’t use any magic spells.” The novice said, “That’s easy—I don’t even know how to cast spells yet!” “Second,” the green ox continued, “you can’t pull on my nose rope.” The little Taoist novice readily agreed to both conditions. Overjoyed, the green ox let out a loud bellow toward the sky.

And so, the little novice monk shouldered the seed drill and led the ox along the back of the Azure Dragon, heading straight for North Peach Orchard. Imitating his master’s example, he hitched the azure ox to the drill and began plowing along the furrow, moving from south to north.

That green ox was originally a divine ox from heaven. Because it had behaved improperly in the Heavenly Palace, the Jade Emperor sentenced it to work as a farmer for Sun Bin on Yunmeng Mountain as punishment. The ox had long known that the Queen Mother of the West cultivated灵芝草 on Yunmeng Mountain. Just thinking about that precious灵芝 made its mouth water with desire. Yet, whenever Sun Bin plowed the fields, he held tight onto the ox’s nose rope while simultaneously using magic spells—so the ox didn’t dare to act recklessly at all. Before starting to plow today, the little Taoist boy had made two promises to the ox, and now the ox was determined to gobble up that thousand-year-old灵芝. As soon as it reached the northern cliff edge, the green ox jerked its head upward, stretched its neck, and extended its tongue halfway down the cliff face—just in time to lick the灵芝 plant. With a mighty pull, it yanked the entire plant out by the roots, swallowing it whole and sending it down its throat.

As soon as he swallowed that mouthful, Qingniu suddenly felt his whole body grow hot and dry, with an unbearable thirst. His horns kept swaying restlessly, and he let out a series of loud, frantic mooing sounds from sheer irritation. Suddenly, he remembered the spring water in Duanwang Lake at the foot of the mountain. Ignoring the little monk’s repeated warnings, he grabbed the plow and, with a single whoosh, dashed down the northern cliff. The iron plowshares on the three legs of the plow dug into the mountain cliff, actually carving out three deep trenches.

The Green Ox ran in one breath all the way to the edge of Duanwang Lake and drank every drop of water in the lake in one go. Yet, he still couldn’t quench his thirst. For a moment, he couldn’t recall where else there might be water. Overcome by unbearable thirst, he gradually collapsed by the side of Duanwang Lake and could no longer stand up.

The green ox was so parched with thirst that it died a painful death and transformed into a small hill—today known as Jinniu Ridge.