FILE PHOTO: The stone casket unearthed from the underground palace under the North Pagoda in Liaoning Province, engraved on four sides with images narrating Ne Zha commanding Yakshas to pursue and slay Vasuki’s Dragon King

At the beginning of 2025, the film Ne Zha 2 premiered to resounding success, sparking a flurry of interpretations and reflections. Analyzing this cultural phenomenon through the lens of mythology reveals the deeper historical and cultural forces underpinning Ne Zha’s enduring appeal.

Origin of Ne Zha

Although Ne Zha is a familiar figure in Chinese mythology, he is, in fact, the product of cultural synthesis—a figure imported from ancient India and transformed over centuries by Chinese civilization. The Ne Zha found in early Indian texts differs markedly from today’s image. More precisely, the Chinese version fuses two Indian deities: Nalakuvara (a Yaksha from the Ramayana, an ancient Indian Sanskrit epic) and Krishna (a deity from the Mahabharata, another ancient Indian Sanskrit epic). Additionally, motifs such as rebirth from a lotus flower, common in Buddhist sutras, also shaped Ne Zha’s formation.

Some scholars, citing the Tang Dynasty text Kaitian Chuanxin Ji, argue that Ne Zha emerged during the Tang period. However, this conclusion may not be fully accurate. The epic Buddhacharita, translated by the Indian monk Dharmaksema in 420 CE, already mentions that Vessavana [one of the Four Heavenly Kings in Buddhism, widely regarded as Ne Zha’s father] had a son named Nalakuvara. This indicates that Ne Zha had already appeared in Chinese texts as early as the Southern and Northern Dynasties.

Infusion with Chinese culture

Once introduced into China, Ne Zha’s image underwent continuous evolution, gradually absorbing the diverse elements of Chinese cultural life. In religion, he blended characteristics of the filial son from Zen Buddhist koans with the image of the Taoist immortal child. In literature, he drew from the brave warrior generals of zaju plays [a traditional dramatic form from the Yuan Dynasty], the rebellious magical pearl of traditional myths, and the wild boy of oral storytelling traditions. More recently, portrayals of youthful heroes in contemporary works of art have further enriched his image.

The many transformations of Ne Zha’s character can be understood through the archetypal criticism of Canadian literary theorist Northrop Frye, particularly his notion of mythical displacement. Frye argued that although the era that birthed myths has passed, myths endure like seeds, reemerging and flourishing across later literary landscapes—a process he termed “literary displacement.” The literary historical fact supporting this theory is that the myths of ancient Greece and Rome have become an inexhaustible source of material for Western literature since modern times. Literature has thus become the ground for myths to once again thrive and prosper. According to this theory, Chinese mythology has undergone a similar process of “displacement.” A series of mythological archetypes, such as Nüwa, Jingwei, Chang’e, and Yu the Great, have been reshaped time and again, creating a vibrant literary tradition. Viewed through this lens, Ne Zha’s continued reinvention becomes easier to understand. Unlike other mythological figures, however, Ne Zha’s foreign origins introduce a rare case of cross-cultural “displacement,” further enhancing the distinctiveness of his story.

Initially rooted in Indian mythology, Ne Zha’s character gradually localized within Chinese religious and literary traditions. In Indian mythology, Ne Zha exhibits several behaviors and character traits that later became closely associated with the Chinese version of the character, such as his Oedipal complex and the resulting patricidal tendencies, his identity as the son of Vessavana, and his powers to slay serpents. Over time, these traits were gradually replaced with more Chinese expressions in local religious texts. For example, Ne Zha’s father, originally Vessavana, was reimagined as Li Jing—the Pagoda-Bearing Heavenly King—who wields a magical pagoda capable of imprisoning spirits, demons, and gods. Drawing on Confucian ideals of filial piety, the antagonism between Ne Zha and his father was significantly softened. His dramatic self-sacrifice—dissecting his body [representing a willingness to endure suffering to correct his mistakes and honor family duty]—reflects a transformation of the Indian prototype in Chinese culture. It emphasized filial piety while downplaying his rebellious nature. Similarly, the Buddhist motif of serpent-slaying was transformed into a culturally Chinese narrative: taming dragons. These adaptations firmly embedded Ne Zha into the fabric of Chinese cultural and literary life.

In Zen Buddhist literature, his tale was further enriched through gatha (Buddhist verses) emphasizing gratitude toward one’s parents. During the Yuan and Ming dynasties, the flourishing narrative literature refined Ne Zha’s image, retaining and highlighting religious moral teachings while adding sophistication and literary artistry.

Central to the story of Ne Zha’s Havoc in the Sea is his confrontation with the Dragon King—a pivotal motif that evolved over centuries. Originally a snake-slaying narrative in Indian mythology, this motif underwent long literary and artistic development, ultimately crystallizing into a vivid story framework. As early as the Tang Dynasty, during the reign of Emperor Wuzong, Dunhuang murals such as “Vessavana’s Visit to Ne Zha,” “Dragon King Paying Homage to the Buddha,” as well as the Mogao Caves Meritorious Records depicted images of the Dragon King in the sea, the angry Ne Zha, and the Pagoda-wielding Heavenly King. In the Yuan Dynasty’s zaju play Erlang Shen’s Drunken Archery at the Magic Mirror and the Yuan Dynasty jade reliefs, one can find depictions of a single-horned, reverse-scaled dragon, along with scenes of Ne Zha battling the dragon at sea. The most exquisite depiction of this plot, however, appears on a stone casket believed to have held sarira, dating to the Liao Dynasty and unearthed from the underground palace under the North Pagoda in Liaoning Province in 1986. The stone casket, engraved on four sides with images narrating Ne Zha commanding Yakshas to pursue and slay Vasuki’s Dragon King, stands as a masterwork of Ne Zha’s Buddhist protector image.

As artistic expression of the Ne Zha story advanced, its religious significance gradually receded. From the Qing Dynasty onward, depictions of Ne Zha in opera and narrative literature shifted markedly. Two major trends emerged: the transition from written texts to stage performance, and the movement from serious religious themes to more secular, lighthearted narratives. The inherent religious dimensions of the character nearly faded away, and grand heroic tales such as dragon-slaying and self-sacrifice gradually gave way to lighter and more humorous secular representations. This trend is particularly evident in works like the Peking opera Chen Tang Guan and the Qing Dynasty play Investiture of the Gods. These secular depictions allowed for a deeper exploration of Ne Zha’s individual personality traits.

Ne Zha’s story has not merely endured but thrived, finding new life across artistic forms. From the 1955 comic book Ne Zha Conquers the Dragon King to the 1979 animated film produced by the Shanghai Animation Film Studio, Ne Zha’s tale has captivated generations, with both artistic forms achieving great success. More recently, cinematic adaptations have revitalized the story for a new era, distilling the traditional theme into the rousing motto: “My fate is determined by me, not by heaven.” These films deftly merge the personality elements of ancient myth with contemporary ideals of individualism, striking a powerful chord with young audiences. After centuries of transformation, Ne Zha—once an Indian mythological figure—has deeply taken root in Chinese culture and now shines on the global stage of literature and the arts.

Ning Jiayu is a professor from the School of Literature at Nankai University.

Edited by REN GUANHONG