《周易参同契分章注(陈致虚)》

Qian and Kun are the gateways of the Yi and the parents of all the hexagrams. Kan and Li form the guiding framework and support the whole structure, like an axle bearing the wheels and keeping the central shaft true. Kan and Li, together with two other hexagrams, make up the four mating hexagrams—the four basic hexagrams in which Yin and Yang are paired. They are likened to the bellows’ air valves, driving the movement of Yin-Yang Qi.

The patterns governing Yin and Yang are like the rules and ink lines a craftsperson uses to set a vehicle’s course: holding the reins and following the tracks, one must establish oneself at the center to command what lies outside. These patterns are reflected in the calculations of the calendar and solar terms. Each month is divided into six stages. The sun and moon move in alternation, corresponding together to the sixty hexagrams, while the Qi of firmness and yielding each has its inner and outer aspect.

At dawn on the new moon, the first day of the month, the Tun hexagram takes charge; by evening, the Meng hexagram succeeds it. One hexagram governs each period of day and night, taking turns in sequence. When the month ends, the cycle begins again. The movements of the sun and moon form a cycle, and the activity and stillness of Yin and Yang each have their appointed times.

In spring and summer, the flow of Qi is concentrated inward, extending from the Zi hour (midnight) through the Chen and Si hours. In autumn and winter, it turns outward, extending from the Wu hour through the Xu and Hai hours. The principles of reward and punishment correspond to the changing seasons of spring and autumn; the brightness and darkness of day and night accord with the cold and heat. The benevolence and righteousness expressed in the hexagram and line statements also appear as shifts in joy and anger with the seasons. Only by following the course of the four seasons can the Five Phases—Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, and Water—each take its proper place.

The traditional commentary says: Fuxi observed the River Map and began drawing the Eight Trigrams. The Yellow Emperor, Yao, and Shun governed through Wuwei (non-action), bringing peace to the realm. They took the Dao of Qian and Kun as their model. The Xia dynasty’s Guicang placed the Kun trigram first; the Shang dynasty’s Lianshan placed the Gen trigram first; and the Zhouyi, compiled by King Wen of Zhou, placed the Qian and Kun trigrams first. Confucius says in the Yizhuan: “Qian and Kun are probably the gateway to the Yi!” Qian belongs to Yang, and Kun belongs to Yin. He also says that when Qian is still, it is undivided, and when it moves, it is firm and upright; thus it brings forth the myriad things. When Kun is still, it gathers in, and when it moves, it unfolds; thus it broadly nurtures and brings forth the myriad things.

The immortal adept Boyang (Wei Boyang) deeply understood the intent of Fuxi, King Wen, and Confucius. He wrote the Zhouyi cantong qi, carrying on the teachings of these three sages and passing them down to later generations. At the very beginning, the text states: “Qian and Kun are the gateway to the Yi, the father and mother of all the trigrams.” Shangyangzi explains that Qian belongs to Yang, so it is the gateway of the Yi; Kun belongs to Yin, so it is the door of the Yi. The Taiji—the primal state before Heaven and Earth were divided and before Yin and Yang were distinguished—must pass through this gateway of Qian and Kun. Only then can Heaven and Earth take their places, the sun and moon shine, the myriad things transform and arise, and sages put the Great Dao into practice.

Qian moves and is firm and upright, thereby giving rise to Yang Qi; Kun moves and opens out, thereby giving rise to Yin Qi. Yin and Yang interweave to form the Kan and Li trigrams. Confucius says: “The Yi contains the Taiji; the Taiji gives rise to the Two Modes, Yin and Yang; the Two Modes give rise to the Four Images; and the Four Images give rise to the Eight Trigrams.”

The Qian trigram uses nine as its operative number. Its Yang Qi first joins with Kun to form the Fu hexagram. Within Fu, the Zhen trigram takes shape, and this develops into the Shi hexagram. Within Shi, the Kan trigram takes shape, and this develops into the Qian hexagram. Within Qian, the Gen trigram takes shape, and this develops into the Yu hexagram. Zhen arises from Yu, and Yu develops into the Bi hexagram; Kan arises from Bi, and Bi develops into the Bo hexagram; Gen arises from Bo. In this way, the three Yang trigrams—Zhen, Kan, and Gen—are all conceived and brought forth by Kun.

The Kun trigram uses six as its operative number. Its Yin Qi first joins with Qian to form the Gou hexagram. Within Gou, the Xun trigram takes shape, and this develops into the Tongren hexagram. Within Tongren, the Li trigram takes shape, and this develops into the Lü hexagram. Within Lü, the Dui trigram takes shape, and this develops into the Xiaochu hexagram. Xun arises from Xiaochu, and Xiaochu develops into the Dayou hexagram; Li arises from Dayou, and Dayou develops into the Guai hexagram; Dui arises from Guai. In this way, the three Yin trigrams—Xun, Li, and Dui—are all conceived and brought forth by Qian. Yin and Yang interweave and pair with one another according to their kind.

Qian joins with Kun again to form the Lin hexagram, which then develops into Tai, Dazhuang, and Guai. This is Yang Qi seeking Yin Qi. Kun responds to Qian again to form the Dun hexagram, which then develops into Pi, Guan, and Bo. This is Yin Qi responding to Yang Qi. Thus, Qian gives rise to three Yin trigrams, and Kun gives rise to three Yang trigrams. After this, the three masculine trigrams and three feminine trigrams join in sequence, and the sixty-four hexagrams take shape one by one. This is what it means to say that Qian and Kun are the father and mother of all the hexagrams.

The phrase “Kan and Li form the framework” means that when a Yang line enters a Yin trigram, the middle of Qian becomes empty and turns into Li; when a Yin line enters a Yang trigram, the middle of Kun becomes solid and turns into Kan. Thus, Kan and Li carry on the substance of Qian and Kun and form the framework for the movement of Yin and Yang. The relationship between Qian and Kun, and Kan and Li, is like that between the spokes and the hub of a wheel: Qian and Kun are like the spokes, arranged around the hub and axle of Kan and Li; Kan and Li gather Qian and Kun together. Laozi says, “Thirty spokes share one hub.” This too describes how Yin and Yang, in their greater and lesser forms, come together.

Among the paired terms “female and male,” female refers to the feminine and is a general term for the Yin category; male refers to the masculine and is a general term for the Yang category. Taken together, the four trigrams Qian, Kun, Kan, and Li are represented by the image of female and male. They are like a bellows and its piston, bringing forth the myriad things through the waxing and waning of Yin and Yang: the bellows symbolizes the gate of Yin, and the piston symbolizes the gate of Yang. Qian, Kun, Kan, and Li are like a bellows operating between Heaven and Earth. What is brought forth by following this principle of generation is called the myriad things; what is brought forth as a human being is called a person; and those who use it to transcend the ordinary and become sages are called sages.

Sages are skilled at following and working with the transformations of nature, and at using the Dao of Kan and Li. Those who are skilled at directing the transformations of nature are like accomplished artisans who use a measuring square and an ink line to set things straight: whatever they do can be brought to completion. Those who are skilled at using Kan and Li are like charioteers who hold the reins and travel along the track: wherever they go, they proceed smoothly. Sages can grasp the changes of the cosmos and bring forth the myriad things within themselves. They are skilled at holding to the central principle in order to govern external things, and they understand the systems of pitch pipes, calendars, and divination.

In the systems of pitch pipes and calendars, the pitch pipes correspond to the seasons in the cycles of transformation, while the calendar records the movements of the heavens. Around the winter solstice, the first Yang begins to arise, corresponding to the Huangzhong pitch pipe. From the hour of Zi through the hour of Hai, one full cycle of the heavens is completed. Thus, when the year ends, Yang Qi is reborn in the month of Zi. A month has six periods: two solar terms make a month, each five-day period makes one hou, and six hou make a month, which is therefore about thirty days. A day is divided into twelve double-hours, matched with the twelve lines of two hexagrams. Two hexagrams correspond to one day, forming the warp and weft of Yin and Yang’s movement; sixty hexagrams correspond to the changes of Yin and Yang over the course of a month.

At dawn at the beginning of the month, the Tun hexagram presides; by evening, the Meng hexagram takes over. Why is this arrangement used? Tun has Zhen below and Kan above: Zhen is the eldest son and can revive the Yang Qi within Kan, enabling it to perform its generative work. This is why Tun presides. Meng has Gen above and Kan below: Gen is the youngest son and can gather the Yang Qi within Kan, enabling it to perform its warming and nurturing work. This is why Meng takes over. One hexagram presides over each part of the day, and Yin and Yang alternate in their operation through the sixty hexagrams, together carrying out the work of nourishing and bringing forth the myriad things.

The dark of the moon and the new moon mark the end and beginning of a month; at dawn and dusk, one must carefully attend to the changes between movement and stillness within the day; and the four seasons determine the principles of reward and punishment throughout the year. Reward those who accomplish good, and punish those who ruin their affairs. Only by keeping benevolence and righteousness, joy and anger, in their proper measure can one accord with the principles of the four seasons and the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water).

The overall meaning of this chapter is that the book takes Qian and Kun, symbols of Yin and Yang, as the gateway to the Yijing. It sets out the general principles of Yin-Yang transformation and creation; it does not directly discuss the substances and firing process of the Golden Elixir in every chapter.

More than a hundred people have written commentaries on the Cantong qi, yet few have truly explored its deepest meanings. Zhenyizi Peng Xiao understood the substances and firing process, but did not clarify the order of the whole book. As a result, he treated every chapter as a discussion of substances and firing, and every section as a method of alchemical cultivation. Some of his explanations may have been later additions. The Immortal Master did not write repetitively: the first part discusses Yin-Yang transformation and the aim of refining the Great Elixir; the middle part explains in detail the methods of reversal, warming and nourishing, and preventing mistakes; the final part draws on images of things to describe the process of forming the Elixir. The first part develops its argument in sequence, while the middle part breaks it down into sections. They should not be conflated.

Shangyangzi divided the book into chapters and commented on each: the first part has fifteen chapters, symbolizing the Elixir’s attainment at the upper crescent; the middle part has fifteen chapters, symbolizing the Elixir’s completion at the lower crescent; and the final part has five chapters, symbolizing the Five Phases reaching their full number. He brought similar passages together into single chapters and, following the Immortal Master’s intent and order of exposition, used mysterious language to explain the subtle principles of the Golden Elixir, the medicinal substances and firing process, the vessel, and Yin-Yang transformation. This made it easier for later readers to understand and follow the methods of cultivation, progressing from the ordinary to the sage. The secret methods passed from teacher to disciple through oral instruction and heart-to-heart transmission, however, could not suitably be written in a book.

People in the world are shallow in capacity and virtue, and easily fall into slander. Thus the sages of antiquity taught through their words, but did not reveal the precious Dao of Heaven in full. Instead, they entrusted it to the classics. King Wen and Confucius transmitted the Dao through the Zhouyi; the Yellow Emperor and Laozi transmitted it through the Golden Elixir; and Shakyamuni and Bodhidharma transmitted it through the Mahayana teaching. With compassionate hearts, they used many skillful means to guide people toward understanding the Dao. These teachings are truly ladders and ferries for sentient beings in their cultivation, able to lead them toward lasting liberation.

Sadly, later generations clung to their own opinions, refused to resolve to seek out enlightened teachers, and failed to understand how things of the same kind in Yin and Yang respond to one another. They practiced only what they had heard, and so strayed ever farther from the right path. Some saw the Zhouyi and assumed it was merely a book of divination and the Najia method, not understanding the principle by which things of the same kind in Yin and Yang unite. Some saw references to the “vessel” and guessed that they meant Waidan, the external alchemy of smelting metals and minerals. Some heard of “gathering” and guessed that it meant sexual techniques of intercourse and combat. Some heard of “action” and suspected that it referred to heterodox, deviant methods. Hearing of Wuwei, they assumed it meant only sitting in meditation and entering emptiness. Hearing of the Mahayana, they became fixated on the Chan Buddhist teaching of emptiness and did no more than talk about it. In truth, the sages’ Dao uses Yin-Yang cultivation to transcend Yin and Yang, and uses worldly methods of practice to go beyond the world. If one cannot understand even this, how can one claim to grasp the subtle principles of the Cantong qi?

In the past, Wang Chongxi grasped Liu Haichan’s essential teaching on the Golden Elixir and attained the Dao. He lamented that among the practitioners of the Dao in the world, only Zhang Pingshu truly understood it. Zhang Pingshu, also known as Zhang Boduan, met a sage teacher in Chengdu and wrote the Wuzhen pian to instruct later generations. Its meaning is clear and practical, and its mysterious expressions and profound language accord with the Cantong qi. After meeting a sage teacher, Shangyangzi traveled widely and sought instruction from many people, but later felt that most of those he encountered offered only empty talk. Nimaru says in the Cuixu pian: “Later, I still went off to practice Chan, and saw through so many wild fox spirits.” Today, people like Zhang Pingshu are hard to find, and even someone who truly understands, like Wang Chongxi, is hard to come across. Those who discourse on Chan and human nature, showing off their cleverness, are everywhere; but among a hundred million, scarcely one can enter this gate and hear the sages’ Dao. Wang Chongxi’s words are therefore profound, and Nimaru’s words are even more deeply moving.

The ancients said that those who talk about the Dao are as numerous as hairs on an ox, while those who truly understand it are as rare as horns on a rabbit. How much rarer, then, are those who can put the Dao into practice? The sages of earlier times also said: “Most foolish people do not understand; as soon as they hear it, they laugh. Those of the highest capacity understand inwardly; as soon as they hear it, they grasp the essential point.” If someone asks about this “aperture”—the key point where Yin and Yang meet in cultivation—one can use the image of an aperture as a metaphor. But if one goes on to say, “The aperture is the gateway of Yin and Yang,” that may only arouse even greater suspicion.

Heaven and Earth established the positions of Qian (Heaven) and Kun (Earth), and the transformations of the Changes unfold between them. “Heaven and Earth” here symbolize Qian and Kun; “establishing their positions” means arranging the places where Yin and Yang correspond. “The Changes” refers to Kan, symbolizing water and the moon, and Li, symbolizing fire and the sun. Kan and Li are the two ways Qian and Kun carry their functions into effect.

Kan and Li have no fixed positions among the lines. They circulate through the six voids—the six positions in a hexagram that symbolize Heaven, Earth, and the four directions—coming and going without a set place, with no regular pattern of ascent or descent. They lie hidden and concealed, bringing about change within, embracing the myriad things. They are the guiding order of the Dao. The Dao governs what has form through what is formless; an object can function precisely because it contains empty space. Thus, by observing the waxing and waning of Yin and Yang, one can see how Kan and Li work unseen.

These statements are not made up at random, nor is the argument groundless. They can be established through examination, verification, and inference, and measured against the principles of the spirit. The scripture also explains its meaning through analogy and synthesis: Kan corresponds to Wu and symbolizes the moon’s inner essence; Li corresponds to Ji and symbolizes sunlight. When the sun and moon unite, this is called “the Changes.” The firm and the yielding correspond to one another. Earth flourishes at the end of each season, joining and connecting the beginnings and ends of the four seasons. Blue-green, red, black, and white each occupy a direction, yet all are governed by the central palace, the central direction. This is the function of Wu and Ji.

The Xici says, “Heaven is exalted and Earth is low; from this, the Qian and Kun trigrams are established.” The Immortal Master, Wei Boyang, continues, “Heaven and Earth each rest in their proper place, and within them the Way of change moves and operates.” Chen Zhixu explains that Heaven and Earth symbolize Qian and Kun. “Each resting in its proper place” means that Yin and Yang occupy their respective positions and work together. The “Yi” spoken of here refers to the Kan and Li trigrams; Kan and Li are how Qian and Kun put their functions into effect. The Immortal Master explains this in detail and with earnest care, perhaps fearing that people would find it difficult to believe or understand.

The Xici also says, “Yin and Yang divide and transform, alternately manifesting as yielding and firm; thus the six lines of the Yi form the hexagram images.” The two functions of Qian and Kun are called “using the nine” and “using the six.” These describe functions, not fixed line positions. “When using the nine, a host of dragons appears without a head: auspicious” means that a noble person follows the Dao and brings De to completion. “When using the six, it is beneficial to remain steadfast for the long term” means that Kun’s De accords with the Great Dao and also embodies the way of a wife, a minister, and the Earth. Earth does not bring all things to completion on its own; it receives the Dao of Heaven and thereby brings all things to their fulfillment. If Kun, as solitary Yin, existed alone, it could accomplish nothing. Thus “using the six” must receive Qian. Qian’s “using the nine” pairs with Kun, as if finding kindred support in the southwest.

Through their transformations, Qian and Kun each set the nature and life of all things in proper order. Qian takes “Great Beginning,” the beginning of all things, as its basis. “Using the nine” rides upon and receives Kun; Yin is contained within Yang, and emptiness gives rise to Li. Kun takes “Great Unity,” the undivided source, as its basis. “Using the six” receives Qian; Yang is contained within Yin, and fullness gives rise to Kan. Kan and Li thus reveal the essential nature of Qian and Kun, while also putting their functions into effect through change. They contain and nurture all things, and their operation never ceases. This is like the sun and moon in the sky, continually passing through the moon’s first quarter, full moon, last quarter, and new moon; it is also like Yin and Yang within the human body, changing without pause and never remaining fixed.

The principles of the Yi continually shift and transform. If Qian and Kun lose their functions, the Way of change can no longer appear. The sages therefore cleanse their hearts, gather and conceal their spirit, and apply the Way of the Yi by proceeding in reverse. Each hexagram in King Wen’s Zhouyi has six lines; hence the saying “the six positions form a pattern,” and also “circulating through the six empty positions.” Yin and Yang come and go, wax and wane, without any fixed state; the upper and lower parts of the hexagram images, and their fullness and decline, also continually change. Qian changes from its first line into the Gou hexagram, transforming step by step until it becomes Kun. Kun changes from its first line into the Fu hexagram, transforming step by step until it becomes Guai. The three masculine trigrams and the three feminine trigrams also alternate and transform in relation to one another.

All sixty-four hexagrams can transform step by step. Through changes such as the wandering-soul and returning-soul forms, one hexagram can give rise to the eight trigrams. As the transformations continue to accumulate, one hexagram can change into sixty-four, and the sixty-four can in turn be developed into 4,096 combinations. The Fu and Gou hexagrams nurture one another, each containing both Yin and Yang. All things under Heaven continue to generate and flourish through the operation of Yin and Yang.

The Qi of Yin and Yang sometimes lies hidden within the human body and sometimes is dispersed among different forms. Sometimes it dwells within and transforms, containing all things; sometimes it extends widely, giving life and taking life, and becomes the guiding order of the Great Dao’s operation. Without the two functions of Qian and Kun to govern change, the Great Dao would nearly cease.

“To govern the formed through the unformed” is like a vessel whose inner emptiness allows it to serve a purpose. Why are the unformed and the formed treated as two distinct states? The Taiji, the undivided source before the differentiation of all things, has a precelestial and a postcelestial aspect. What is precelestial? That which is above form is called the Dao; it proceeds from existence into nonexistence. What is postcelestial? That which is below form is called a vessel; it proceeds from nonexistence into existence. Laozi says, “The nameless is the beginning of Heaven and Earth; the named is the mother of all things.” Haichan, the Daoist Liu Haichan, says, “Everything proceeds from nonexistence into existence; but how many understand how to return from existence to nonexistence?”

Once you understand how Kan and Li wax and wane and transform, you will know that postcelestial things all have form and substance, and undergo growth, decline, and extinction. The precelestial Dao, by contrast, has a nature that endures and can attain the state of a sage. Confucius says, “If one acts before Heaven’s time, Heaven does not oppose it; if one acts in accord with Heaven’s time, one is following Heaven’s time.” Ordinary people merely follow postcelestial changes, and so cycle ceaselessly through birth and death. Sages skillfully apply the precelestial Dao in reverse: they extend knowledge, investigate things, rectify the heart, and cultivate the self, thereby attaining enduring life and imperishability. “To infer what has already happened is to proceed with the current; to foresee what is yet to change is to proceed against it. Thus the principle of the Yi lies in reasoning backward.”

The statement “words are not carelessly fabricated” means that the writings of the various schools each reflect their authors’ aptitudes, and vary in quality. This book, however, is a foundational work of the Great Dao; not a single sentence may be altered casually, lest later generations be misled. The statement “arguments do not arise without cause” means that the Immortal Master followed the three sages, took Yin and Yang as his basis, modeled his work on the sun and moon, and also consulted analogous things. He composed this book as a means of guiding people into the Dao.

“Citing examples to demonstrate efficacy” means giving examples of the results of cultivating the Dao, such as the stories of the Yellow Emperor ascending to Heaven; Chaofu and Xuyou withdrawing from the world and attaining lofty freedom; Laozi transforming the barbarians and becoming a Buddha; and Liu An, King of Huainan, attaining the Dao, after which his chickens and dogs ascended to Heaven. “Assessing and measuring the divine and luminous” means verifying it through clear and precise signs, such as the sun and moon joining in brilliance on a gengzi day. The scripture says, “To apply it in a wondrous and illuminating way depends on how each person understands it.”

“Inferring patterns from categories and interpreting written forms” means using the shapes of characters to explain principles. For example, the character for “cinnabar” is said to arise from the character for “moon”; water symbolizes the Kan trigram; the character for “Yi” conveys the joining of the sun and moon; and the character for “head” is also used to express the meaning of attaining the Dao. “Using principles as evidence” means relying on the principles of Yin and Yang’s transformation: when Yin reaches its extreme, it turns into Yang; when Yang reaches its extreme, it turns into Yin. Following the changes of Yin and Yang gives rise to people and all things; applying Yin and Yang in reverse makes it possible to refine the Golden Elixir.

“Kan, Wu, and the moon’s essence” means that the north corresponds to the Kan trigram, within which lies true Earth, belonging to Yang Earth. The lunar mansion of the Maiden governs this process; Yang essence lies hidden within, and by taking Wu as its portal, one can refine the Golden Elixir. Where the moon’s disk is found, the “hornless hare” lies hidden. It is black on the outside and white within, symbolizing Yang within Yin: Yin on the outside, Yang within.

“Li, Ji, and the sun’s light” means that the south corresponds to the Li trigram, within which lies true Earth, belonging to Yin Earth. The lunar mansion of the Willow governs this process; Yin light lies hidden within, and Ji serves as its portal. Where the sun is found, the three-legged crow lies hidden. It is black within and white on the outside, symbolizing Yin within Yang: Yin within, Yang on the outside.

The ancients formed the character for “Yi” from “sun” and “moon,” because the Yi concerns Yin and Yang. Yet speaking only of Yin and Yang makes it difficult to see the full scope of change in the Yi; speaking only of the Yi makes it difficult to distinguish Yin from Yang. Without Earth, all things cannot sprout; the sun and moon, too, rely on Earth to nurture their transformations. As they travel east, the sun and moon pass through the Earth mansion of the Net; as they travel west, through the Stomach mansion; south, through the Willow mansion; and north, through the Maiden mansion. When the sun and moon obtain Earth, their brightness endures; through the sun and moon, Earth’s virtue and work are also brought to fullness.

The Qi of Earth is distributed through the four seasons and circulates among them. Sprouting in spring and growing in summer are Earth’s functions; gathering in autumn and storing away in winter are Earth’s power. Thus each season has days when Earth’s Qi is in command, while Earth remains established at the center, running through all four seasons from beginning to end and bringing their work to completion. Though blue-green, red, white, and black correspond respectively to the east, west, south, and north, all receive the functions of the two Earths, Wu and Ji, and together bring about the efficacy of Yin-Yang transformation.

This passage says that Yin and Yang each have their own positions and remain apart. In practical application, they must be brought into harmony through Earth. It does not discuss the collection and refinement of the Dragon and Tiger, Lead and Mercury, or Metal and Water to form the Elixir. The preceding text describes the positions where Yin and Yang come together; the following text explains how each returns to its own direction. Other commentators did not explain the Immortal Elder’s (the author of the Cantong qi) original intention or distinguish the layers of meaning. They mixed different ideas together, leading later readers to think that the Immortal Elder repeated himself at unnecessary length. In fact, these subtle words follow their own order.

Chapter Three: The Sun and Moon Hang as Images

“Change” means taking images. Among the celestial signs between Heaven and Earth, none is brighter or more worthy of contemplation than the sun and moon. By investigating subtle transformations, we can understand how things change: as Yang Qi recedes, Yin arrives; Yin and Yang meet and gather, revolving like a wheel, now appearing, now vanishing, now expanding, now contracting.

The Book of Changes has three hundred and eighty-four line statements. Symbols are selected to correspond to the images of the lines; here, “tallies” refers to the sixty-four hexagrams. From the dark moon, the last day of the lunar month, to the new moon, the first day, we can observe the changes of Yin and Yang. On the new moon, the Zhen hexagram, which symbolizes the stirring of Yang Qi, begins to receive the tally of Heaven’s timing. At that moment, Heaven and Earth mingle their essences, and the sun and moon join in harmony. The masculine Yang spreads its mysterious Yang Qi, while the feminine Yin nurtures and enfolds the Yin essence that gives life to all things. Yin and Yang blend and unite, and from this all things begin to sprout and establish their foundations. Their ceaseless transformation nourishes the outlines of bodily forms, gathering essence and Qi until bodies gradually take shape. All things arise through this process, and every crawling, moving creature comes from it as well.

Confucius said, “Among the patterns by which things change and move, none is more evident than the four seasons. Among the celestial signs suspended high in the sky and plainly visible, none is more conspicuous than the Sun and Moon.” The Immortal Elder, Wei Boyang, further explained this principle, citing the classics and historical sources to make it convincing. This book uses the movements of the Sun and Moon as metaphors for Yin-Yang: suspended in the sky, the Sun and Moon have new moons, full moons, and conjunctions; moving through the world, Yin-Yang proceed forward and backward, bringing forth transformation and life.

The Sun belongs to pure Yang Qi and is called “Great Yang”; the Moon belongs to pure Yin essence and is called “Great Yin.” The circuit of the heavens spans about 365¼ degrees. In each day and night, the heavens make one revolution, which is called a day. The Sun moves one degree each day, covering about thirty degrees in a month. The Moon moves a little over thirty degrees each day and likewise circles the heavens in what is called a month. Because the Sun travels one degree each day, its cycle is called a day.

What does it mean to “plumb the spirit and thereby understand transformation”? Of all the workings of spirit, none is more marvelous than Heaven and Earth; of all transformations, none is subtler than Yin-Yang. The Way of Heaven moves to the left, circling once each day and traveling more than 550,000 li. The Earth rests within the Qi of the heavens’ movement, like a board floating on water, appearing to remain still.

The spirit of the Sun is the original Qi of Heaven and Earth. The Sun itself is bright and clear, and all things grow and ripen through its warm, radiant Yang Qi. The commentary gives the Sun’s diameter as about 845 li. Its path does not follow the ecliptic and celestial equator exactly, but moves in and out across the ecliptic. When the days are longer, the Sun lies north of the celestial equator; when they are shorter, it lies south of the ecliptic. The terms “north” and “south,” “inside” and “outside,” refer to the Purple Tenuity Enclosure, a region of celestial stars, and the throne of the Emperor in the north. Thus the north is called “inside” and the south “outside.” The Sun’s marvelous workings are beyond fathoming.

The spirit of the Moon is the most refined substance between Heaven and Earth. The commentary says that the Moon’s body is entirely dark in itself, and that all things are conceived and nourished through its Yin and Water functions. Its diameter is about 670 li. Its path, too, does not follow the ecliptic and celestial equator exactly. The ecliptic and equator are like two intersecting rings, separated by twenty-four degrees; the Moon travels between them, about six degrees from the ecliptic. Though the Moon’s body is naturally dark, it appears bright when struck by sunlight.

Yuanduzi once used a ball coated in black lacquer to explain the phases of the Moon. Hang the ball beneath the eaves in sunlight: the side facing the Sun reflects light onto a dark wall, while the side turned away from the Sun gives off no light. The Moon works in the same way: the part struck by sunlight is bright, while the part turned away is dark. At the full Moon, the Sun and Moon stand opposite one another. At night the Moon is in the sky while the Sun is below the Earth; the Moon’s illuminated side faces the world, and its dark side faces outward, so we see a full Moon. At the dark Moon and new Moon, the Sun and Moon lie along the same celestial longitude, with the Moon below the Sun. Its illuminated side faces the sky and its dark side faces the Earth, so the Moon cannot be seen. Only after the Moon has moved about twenty-five degrees from the Sun do people on Earth begin to see a faint glow. As the distance grows, the illuminated portion gradually increases. When the Moon is more than ninety degrees from the Sun, people see half its face lit; this is called the “bow.” After the full Moon, the visible light on its face gradually diminishes. Thus the Moon’s body does not truly wax and wane; what changes is how much of it is illuminated by the Sun.

Some people think that at the full Moon the Sun and Moon face one another across the Earth. This view comes from not understanding the great heights and distances of the celestial bodies, or how Yin and Yang Qi can remain connected unseen even when something stands between them. The marks that appear as blemishes on the Moon’s face are explained in the commentary as shadows cast by the Earth. The Sun is much larger than the Moon and lies far from the heavens; the Moon, too, is at a great distance. The transformations of Great Yin cannot be fully exhausted: this is the marvel of the spirit of Great Yin. What has been described above is how one understands transformation by investigating marvelous workings.

Among the Twelve Earthly Branches, Zi marks the beginning of Yang Qi’s growth, which reaches its height at Si. When Yang Qi is at its peak, Yin Qi begins to arise. Wu marks the beginning of Yin Qi’s growth, which reaches its height at Hai. When Yin Qi is at its peak, Yang Qi begins to arise. Cold and heat alternate, and warmth and coolness take their turns. When Yin reaches its limit, Yang begins to sprout; as Yang recedes, Yin follows. Yin depends on Yang like spokes arranged around a wheel: as the wheel turns, Yin Qi gathers in and Yang Qi extends outward.

The Book of Changes has 384 lines. In the system that assigns tally markers to the lines, each hexagram has six lines, each line has three tally markers, and two hexagrams are worked through each day, making thirty-six tally markers in all. The meeting of Yin and Yang need not take a full double-hour, nor use up the entire period allotted to a line. For example, a double-hour has three tally markers, but only one is used in practice. With each tally marker, one Yang line emerges at the base of Kun, the hexagram of pure Yin, forming Zhen, the hexagram with one Yang line below two Yin lines. Zhen represents the newly arisen Yang that can subdue Yin. Hence the saying, “Zhen comes and receives the tally”: the arrival of Zhen means it receives the tally marker.

At this time, the vital essences of Heaven and Earth join, and all things receive their breath and are born in the void. The Sun and Moon hold one another in place; the Crow and Hare, symbols respectively of the Golden Crow in the Sun and the Jade Hare in the Moon, join and remain inseparable. Yang is firm and manifest, while Yin is yielding and opens the way for change. Yang carries out the work of transformation; Yin, like a yellow covering, contains and nourishes. In darkness and undifferentiated chaos, Yin and Yang meet and female and male first unite. Thus Creation begins to lay its foundation.

“Quan yu” means a beginning. In ancient times, people began making weighing instruments with the quan, or counterweight, and began making carts with the yu, or carriage body. Here the terms describe the beginning of Creation’s gestation. Another interpretation says that quan means “temporary” and yu means “secure”: the initial union of Yin and Yang happens in a brief moment, but its workings must be stable and dependable, without error.

Yin and Yang nurture a single Qi, nourishing the foundation at its first emergence. They gather and spread Yang essence, eventually forming a body.

This chapter speaks only of the moment when the Taiji (Supreme Ultimate), the source from which all things transform and arise, first divided, when Yin-Yang began to move in sequence, and how human beings and all things came into being from this process. Thus everyone is born from it, without exception—not even the tiniest wriggling creature.

People in the world do not understand how postnatal Yin-Yang moves in sequence and how all things grow. They wrongly interpret the metaphors of “Tun at dawn and Meng at dusk” and “the foundations of Yin’e” as describing changes in the furnace and cauldron of returning-elixir alchemy, a Daoist practice. This is incorrect.

The Sage Looks Up and Observes the Heavens (Chapter Four)

Confucius then praised the vast, undivided scene at the beginning of Heaven and Earth, before the myriad things had separated: the De of Qian and Kun (Heaven and Earth, Yin and Yang) is vast and profound. Examining ancient legends, we can trace it back to the time of the Primordial Sovereign, a legendary ruler of antiquity. The union of man and woman, symbolized by “Guanju,” marks the first stirrings of life among the myriad things. The complementary Qi of Yin and Yang, expressed in the coming-of-age and wedding rites, gives rise in turn to the beginning of a new year.

Sages do not appear from nowhere. They look up to observe the celestial patterns and reveal the signs that confirm the Dao of Heaven. The celestial patterns advance and recede, while Yin and Yang contract and expand in response to the seasons. Thus the Changes (Yi) encompasses the workings of the Dao of Heaven: the Return hexagram marks a new beginning, as Yang Qi first emerges. The eldest son inherits his father’s foundation while relying on his mother to establish the basis for new growth. The waxing and waning of Yin and Yang correspond to the pitch pipes, which mark musical tones and seasonal periods; their rising and descending follow the direction of the Northern Dipper’s handle.

On the third day, the Moon appears as a fine, bright crescent, corresponding to the Zhen trigram and the western Geng position. On the eighth day, it corresponds to the Dui trigram and the Ding position: the Moon is at first quarter, its arc straight as a taut cord. On the fifteenth day, the image of the Qian trigram is complete; the Moon is full, corresponding to the eastern Jia position. The toad and the rabbit’s essence are ancient descriptions of what is seen in the Moon. They also refer to the Moon’s Yin-Yang qualities: the toad corresponds to the Qi of the trigrams and the seasons, while the Jade Rabbit symbolizes the Moon’s release of light.

By the twenty-first day, this phase of the Moon’s cycle is nearing its end, and the Moon gradually wanes and sinks. Beginning on the sixteenth day, the Moon enters another phase: the Xun trigram corresponds to the Xin position and symbolizes dawn; the Gen trigram corresponds to the southern Bing position. The twenty-third day is the last quarter. On the thirtieth day, the Moon corresponds to the Kun trigram and the Yi position, disappearing in the northeast. As one seasonal period ends, another follows; Yin and Yang alternate in an unending cycle. Ren and Gui pair with Jia and Yi, and Qian and Kun thus govern the beginning and end of Yin-Yang’s transformations.

Seven and eight add up to fifteen, and nine and six correspond to one another. Together, the four numbers total thirty, marking the completion of a lunar month as Yang Qi gradually draws to a close and is stored away. The arrangement of the Eight Trigrams corresponds to the movements of the sun, Moon, and stars. Though transformations continue without pause, they never stray from the center and the proper course. The primordial essence, the subtle source from which all things arise, is hidden from view; its patterns can only be verified through calculation and observation of the celestial signs.

In daily life, observe the heavens and imitate their patterns. Set up a gnomon, an instrument for measuring the sun’s shadow and determining the seasonal periods, as a standard; use it to observe the seasons and judge what is auspicious or inauspicious. When issuing commands, follow the seasons and do not miss the proper moment indicated by changes in the hexagrams and their lines. Look upward to examine the Yellow River Chart, an ancient diagram of numbers and symbols, and downward to trace the shape of the land and the flow of water. Then consider the human heart, bringing together the three powers of Heaven, Earth, and humanity. In action, follow the hexagrams and seasonal periods; in stillness, rely on the meaning of the scripture’s words. Only when the Dao of Qian and Kun is put into practice can the world be governed.

The Book of Changes says, “Change has the Supreme Ultimate, from which the two primary forces, Yin and Yang, arise.” Here Confucius describes Heaven and Earth before they separated, when all was still in primordial chaos. The qualities of Qian and Kun appear as a state of chaos, emptiness, and subtle mystery. “Primordial Sovereign” refers to the beginning of Pangu’s opening Heaven and Earth, reflecting Confucius’s intention to investigate antiquity.

“Guanju” describes the proper way between man and woman and marks the beginning of the rites of marriage. When Confucius compiled the Book of Songs, he placed the way of husband and wife at the opening to set the relationship between Yin and Yang straight and keep it from going astray. When he wrote commentaries on the Book of Changes, he began with Qian and Kun for the same reason: to explain that firmness and yielding must be matched. The Appended Statements says, “The Changes accord with Heaven and Earth, and so can encompass the Way of Heaven and Earth. Looking upward, one observes the patterns of the heavens; looking downward, one examines the forms of the earth. In this way, one understands the patterns of darkness and light. Tracing things back to their beginnings and following them forward to their ends, one understands the principles of life and death.”

What does it mean to trace things back to their beginnings? It means following the patterns of Yin and Yang through which people and all things come into being. Marriage is therefore the pivot at which Yin and Yang join; to understand this is to understand how life arises. What does it mean to follow things forward to their ends? It means reversing the precelestial Way and passing beyond the ordinary to enter the realm of the sage. It is like primordial Qi first budding, then growing and flourishing. To understand how to reverse this process is to understand the principle of death.

Once, Zilu asked Confucius what death was. Confucius replied, “If you do not yet understand life, how can you understand death?” The sage was skilled at asking questions and examining things closely. It is a pity that Zilu did not then ask further about the principles of life and death, so that the Way of the Changes might be made clear and later generations might understand that Yin and Yang have both a forward course of arising and a reverse course of returning. They would also understand the meaning of harmonizing with the Way and following its Virtue, as well as the cultivation by which one probes things to their furthest reach, fulfills one’s nature, and thereby comprehends Heaven’s mandate.

The sage was born into the world to look upward at the heavens and downward at the earth, examining Yin and Yang in fine detail: Yin is called “tally,” and Yang is called “mandate.” Here, the Yin Qi between Heaven and Earth is called the “heavenly tally,” and the Yang Qi the “heavenly mandate”; within the human body, Yin Qi is called the “fire tally,” and Yang Qi “nature and life.” As Yin and Yang wax and wane, contracting and extending in transformation, the “tally” marks the right moment for advancing or retreating. By grasping the tally and responding to the moment, one avoids missing the season. Thus, the principles of the Changes are encompassed within the heart of Heaven.

The heart of Heaven is the proper position of the Qian hexagram; the hour of Zi is the portal through which the Yang Qi of the heart of Heaven begins to arise. Qian symbolizes Yang, while the heavenly tally belongs to Yin. At first, Qian Yang emerges from beneath two Yin lines, forming the Zhen hexagram. Zhen is the eldest son, born of the mother Kun; in the Fu hexagram, one Yang line lies hidden among five Yin lines. Kun symbolizes the mother, so Yang Qi relies on the maternal body to establish the basis for its emergence.

The pitch pipes correspond to the movement of the Northern Dipper: the Huangzhong pipe corresponds to the Zi position, and the Dipper’s cycle also begins with the establishment of Zi. Both mark the first budding of a Yang line. On the evening of the third day, the moon shows a faint glimmer of light. Its light gradually appears in the southwest, while Yang Qi stirs beneath the lunar body, in the northern Zhen position. Hence the phrase, “Zhen, at Geng, receives from the west.”

On the eighth day, at first quarter, the moon takes the form of Dui and receives the Qi of Ding Fire. Yang Qi has risen halfway, and the boundary between light and dark across the moon’s face lies straight as a cord. On the fifteenth day, at full moon, the sun is in the west and the moon in the east. The lunar hare seems to pour forth all its light; Yang Qi fills the hexagram body, making it Qian. At dawn on the sixteenth day, Xun appears at the Xin position. The Yin tally envelops the Yang Qi so that it does not disperse. On the twenty-third day, the Yin tally has enveloped more than half the moon, and its light has waned to last quarter. On the thirtieth day, at the Kun-Yi position, the lunar body is completely dark: its white light has vanished, and blackness is complete, as though its radiance had turned toward Heaven. In the northeast, it “loses its companions”—that is, the moonlight disappears.

The northeast belongs to the Gen position, the quarter of the Ji Water star; Gen also symbolizes the gate of ghosts. As this corresponds to the human body, when Gui Water is full and circulating, Qi is depleted to some degree. When the cycle ends and Gui Water is exhausted, one Yang line begins to arise again. For this reason, Ren and Gui are paired with Jia and Yi, symbolizing the renewed beginning of Qian Yang and the reappearance of the Fu hexagram. The Yin and Yang line values of seven, eight, nine, and six are worked through to thirty; when the cycle ends, Kun takes shape and true Qi returns to storage.

From this we can understand how the Eight Trigrams are distributed by direction: Qian and Kan occupy the north; Gen and Zhen, the east; Xun and Li, the south; and Kun and Dui return to the west. They are interwoven with the stars in the heavens, shifting and moving in relation to one another without ever losing the proper center. The “center” is the heart of Heaven, also called the Supreme Center: the substance of primordial essence, so subtle that it cannot be seen.

Heaven brings forth sages to investigate, examine, and measure these patterns. They test them through the effects of their operation and use the tallies of the seasons as evidence. They observe the forms of the sun and moon and infer the patterns within them, as an astronomer sets up a gnomon to serve as a standard, determine the seasons, and discern good and ill fortune. All commands must accord with the seasons; from the signs of the hexagram and its lines in motion, one can know when Yang Qi will begin to arise.

Looking upward, one examines the Yellow River Diagram and understands how Yin and Yang meet within the image of Qian. Looking downward, one sets out the forms of the earth and closely examines the subtle transformations of Metal and Water within the body of Kun. Then one examines the human heart and issues commands in accordance with the moment. Action follows the rhythms of the hexagrams, with the Fu and Zhen hexagrams carrying forward the generative force of the precelestial realm; in stillness, one keeps to the hexagram statements. Great Qian Yuan sets things in motion: clouds move, rain falls, and all things take shape. The Way of Qian contains and embraces the vastness; the Way of Kun is yielding and holds to what is right. Once the celestial patterns have been understood, the forms of the earth determined, and the human heart set straight, one can open the gates of Qian and Kun and put the Way of Yin and Yang into practice. Then Heaven and Earth, human beings, and all things can each follow their own nature and be brought into order.

In this chapter, examples of sages studying antiquity and observing the heavens explain how the sun and moon come together and how Qian and Kun—symbols of Heaven and Earth, Yin and Yang—operate. The author hopes that people will learn to distinguish Yin and Yang, understand when to advance and when to withdraw, grasp the changes of creation, and set their minds aright. In this way, they can apply the principles of Qian and Kun and the Way of Yin and Yang, allowing all things under Heaven to follow their own nature.

This chapter again uses the observation of the heavens to explain the union of Yin and Yang and the operation of Qian and Kun. If people can distinguish Yin and Yang, judge when to advance or withdraw, understand change, and act in accordance with the forms and rhythms of things, while carefully managing movement and stillness, then they too can achieve the harmony and order of Heaven and Earth. The subject here is self-cultivation and following nature, not an alchemical method of adding and withdrawing ingredients in the furnace of the Dragon and Tiger.

Chapter Five: Rulers and Ministers in the Conduct of Government

To govern affairs, one must first eliminate old abuses and reform the institutions. Government orders should be thorough and clear, and resources and benefits should be put to use. One must grasp the essentials of governing the state and direct the main principles of instruction and transformation. Changes in Yin and Yang first appear in the images of the lines—that is, the symbols expressed by the lines of a hexagram—and good or ill fortune then manifests in the world. The movements of the five planets—Metal, Wood, Water, Fire, and Earth—whether orderly or irregular, also exert their effects as the seasons change. When the Twenty-Eight Lunar Mansions, the star regions into which the ancients divided the sky, move out of order, deviations and fluctuations arise.

The star official Wenchang, symbolizing the governance of documents and affairs of state, oversees records and supervises the senior ministers who assist in government. Officials at every level likewise manage the affairs under their jurisdiction. The sun’s course accords with the essences of the Five Phases, while the moon follows the six yang pitch standards among the twelve ancient pitch standards, which were used to determine musical tones and also to calculate the calendar. Five multiplied by six gives thirty, representing the moon’s thirty degrees in a month. After completing one circuit, it begins again.

By tracing things from beginning to end, one can see the course of change between survival and extinction. If a ruler is arrogant, self-indulgent, and excessively complacent, he departs from the right Way. If ministers are corrupt and sycophantic, their conduct strays from the law. Anomalies in the moon’s first-quarter phase, full moon, waxing, and waning symbolize disorder and ill fortune. The officials responsible for enforcing the law investigate faults, offer criticism, and report problems to the ruler.

The North Star, the celestial pole, remains centered and aligned. The ruler should set himself aright and appoint his ministers with composure. When the Bright Hall, the ancient place where government orders were issued and court assemblies held, is used to promulgate instruction and policy, the state can avoid the calamities that follow from departing from the right Way.

The commentary says that the Immortal Elder uses the difficulty of governing a state as a metaphor for the difficulty of cultivating the alchemical Dao. From this we can see that bringing a disorderly populace under control is no easy task; likewise, in alchemical cultivation, it is difficult to restrain the mind, which is as hard to control as a galloping horse.

Casting off the worldly habits acquired in the past and revitalizing everything is the beginning of governing affairs. This is “renewing the old.” Restraining anger, curbing desire, and striving to learn from good conduct are the foundations of self-cultivation. This is “reforming what is old.” Whether governing affairs or cultivating oneself, one should begin with oneself. The most subtle and hidden places especially require restraint and correction first. Only then can affairs be governed properly and one’s own person cultivated and preserved.

Confucius said, “In governing affairs, take De (Virtue) as the foundation.” It is like the North Star, which remains in its place while the other stars revolve around it. De is not only the foundation of good governance; it is also the source of every kind of virtue. How could someone cultivating the alchemical Dao lack virtue? Benevolence, care for others, understanding, and trustworthiness are the highest virtues. Respect, generosity, reliability, diligence, and kindness are gateways to the Dao. Those cultivating the elixir should especially begin with kindness and diligence: with a kind heart, people will willingly follow. The Immortal Elder’s phrase “open, expand, and distribute the treasures” means bestowing kindness outward, so that the people are pleased, while inwardly cherishing and protecting one’s own true Qi. This is the essential instruction.

Only by repeatedly bestowing kindness and benefits can one grasp the guiding principles and central pivot of instruction. The “guiding pivot” is the key that governs the standards. One who is skilled at directing instruction need not be constrained by the laws when enforcing them. When the signs of the hexagram lines change within, good and ill fortune appear without. This is like the Five Latitudes—the five great planets associated with Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, and Water—when their courses become irregular: good and ill fortune then appear in accordance with the heavens’ timing and respond to human affairs. The term “diverging and departing” has the same meaning here: “diverging” means changing, and “departing” means shifting from one’s course. In other words, when the seven lodges in the four directions move in disorder and stray from their paths, they display changes of orientation, as if bowing and rising.

The Wen Chang star is the principal star of the Taiwei enclosure. It is the group of six stars in the Dipper’s ladle, shaped like a basket, and is called the “star that governs the Southern Pole.” According to the commentators, it corresponds to the spirit of the Vermilion Bird within the human body and records the registers of those who attain long life. The Xu Jing star is the star that keeps the records and coordinates of the Three Terraces; it is also their leader. It corresponds to the lord of the body’s Bright Hall and directs the virtues that guide people. The Dong Wei and Yin Guang stars are the assisting stars of the Purple Tenuity enclosure, also known as the two honored stars of the Emperor. They correspond to the spirit of the Black Tortoise within the human body. The commentary says that anyone who can see this spirit may live for a thousand years. The spirits in the other regions each govern their own corresponding parts. Alchemical cultivation concerns the workings of creation and transformation, so the commentators say it is even more difficult than governing a state, and go on to use the constellations as metaphors for the human body.

“The sun joins the essences of the Five Phases” means that the direction in which the sun aligns with the five planets differs from month to month: in the Zi, Chou, and Yin months it is in the north; in the Mao, Chen, and Si months, in the west; in the Wu, Wei, and Shen months, in the south; and in the You, Xu, and Hai months, in the east. The commentary also lists the constellations in which the sun stood at the winter solstice in different eras: in the time of Yao, the Xu lodge; during the Han dynasty’s Taichu era, the Qian Niu lodge; during the Tang dynasty under the Dayan calendar, the Eastern Dipper lodge; and, from the Song dynasty onward, the Southern Winnowing Basket lodge. This gradual shift in position over the centuries is called the precession of the equinoxes. When the sun receives the aid of the Fire and Earth phases, its radiance grows stronger; when it receives the aid of Metal and Water, its light becomes clearer and brighter.

“The moon receives its measures from the six pitches” means that the moon’s course is marked according to the six yang pitches and six yin pitches—the ancient system of twelve musical tones, with six yang tones called lü and six yin tones called lü. The lü and lü are paired in groups of five and six, making eleven together; two such groups total thirty, roughly the number of degrees in a month. When the sun and moon complete a circuit and meet again, this is why the text says, “When their measures are complete, they begin anew.” The sun and moon move in cycles, giving rise to the waxing crescent, full moon, waning moon, and new moon. The world likewise experiences the changing seasons of cold and heat, while people pass through birth, old age, illness, and death. Tracing things back to their beginning can prolong life; grasping their end can prevent extinction.

The commentators also compare the relationship between ruler and ministers to that between the heart and the body: the heart is the ruler, the body its minister; the heart represents “self,” and the body represents external things. If the heart becomes proud and self-satisfied, or the body pursues external things in competition, failing to follow the proper standards, the courses of the sun and moon become irregular, and changes in fullness and decline bring misfortune. The spirit who enforces the law then reproves and questions the offender about their faults. “Celestial Pole” here refers to the Wen Chang star mentioned earlier, also called the Southern Pole. The Celestial Pole upholds the proper Way, follows its course, and calmly directs its subordinates. The Bright Hall is the star of the high ministers, responsible for diligently carrying out good governance. The “state” spoken of here may also be a metaphor for the human body: when the body is settled and the breath is harmonious, it will not obstruct the cultivation of the Dao.

This chapter uses the governance of a state as a metaphor for cultivating the self and refining the Elixir. When a ruler appoints suitable people and issues sound policies, the realm can be brought to peace. Likewise, a practitioner must cultivate the self and devote themselves fully to fulfilling their destiny for the Dao of the Elixir to reach completion. The “other state” mentioned here also refers to the human body: when the body is at ease and the breath is harmonized, the cultivation of the Dao is less likely to be hindered.

In another textual version, the chapter begins with “governing the realm” and omits the phrase “renewing the vessel and replacing the old.” This book has circulated for a long time, and later copyists failed to understand its subtle language, so many versions contain errors. Zhu Xi once revised several hundred characters, but his corrections were still not entirely sound. Without guidance from a true master, it is indeed difficult to distinguish authentic from spurious passages and clarify their differences.

Chapter Six: Refining the Self and Establishing the Foundation (Cultivating Nature and Setting the Groundwork)

Cultivation begins by nurturing oneself inwardly, bringing the heart-mind to a state of calm, stillness, and emptiness, free of distracting thoughts. Let the original essence remain concealed and the spirit draw inward, then use the heart-mind to turn inward and observe the body. Gather in the senses, keep the spirit centered, and strengthen the foundation of cultivation. The “Three Lights” are the sun, moon, and stars. Their sinking from sight here describes the stilling of external scenes and distracting thoughts. At this point, gently nurture the “pearl of the child” (a metaphor for the internal Elixir). It cannot be seen, yet it is close at hand and readily attained.

As the inner “Yellow Center” (the balanced place at the center of body and mind) gradually opens, its nourishment spreads throughout the body and moistens the skin. Cultivation must begin uprightly before it can gradually reach completion. Though the foundation has been established, one must not cling to it with complacency. Use “the One” (the cultivation principle of maintaining single-minded focus) to screen out external disturbances, and the world will find it difficult to know.

“Nurturing oneself” means cultivating oneself and refining one’s character throughout life. Confucius said, “A gentleman first cultivates himself well, then acts; first brings his thoughts to peace, then speaks; and first steadies his relationships, then makes requests.” Action, speech, and seeking—these three are all crucial paths toward the way of the sage, and they show the importance of nurturing oneself.

Cherishing Jing and Qi and replenishing the original Qi is nurturing oneself. Facing external circumstances without being stirred by them is refining oneself. Remaining inwardly calm while responding to whatever arises is also refining oneself. Accumulating virtue and accomplishing worthy deeds likewise belong to refining oneself. The word “refining” here means both working hard in cultivation and practicing repeatedly until one becomes proficient. Those who cultivate the elixir must first refine themselves. Only by learning to endure hardship and humiliation can they steady and mature body and mind when they truly enter the practice of the elixir methods. Further cultivation is possible only when they are free of concerns and no longer need to make a deliberate effort to dispel stray thoughts.

The Great Learning says that the Way of Great Learning lies in manifesting bright virtue, renewing the people, and resting in the highest good. All these ideas accord with refining oneself. Knowing where one should stop allows the mind to settle. Once the mind is settled, it becomes tranquil; once tranquil, it becomes at ease; once at ease, it can reflect; and with thorough reflection, one gains understanding. This accords with the essential principle of stillness and emptiness. “Emptiness” here does not mean that nothing exists. A celestial master said that the primordial One Qi, the original Qi that precedes the formation of the acquired state, comes from emptiness. This describes a state realized through stillness and emptiness.

“Returning to the source” means seeking the origin of one’s own life, and thereby recognizing that true Jing and true Shen (sometimes called “true Qi”) are the foundation of the body. “Concealing brightness” means that people are often governed by their cleverness and intellect, thereby depleting their Shen and Qi. Those deeply engaged in cultivation, by contrast, rein in artifice and calculation, turn inward to observe the body, and forget the self outwardly. They keep the senses from chasing external things, thereby protecting the numinous root, gathering the mind and spirit, and gently nurturing the “pearl child,” a symbolic term in internal alchemy. In this way, inner harmony and free flow can be achieved, and the body nourished.

The opening passage speaks of refining oneself; the cultivation that follows is work done at the furnace. To carry the Way of refining oneself through to its end, one must first turn inward to observe the body, forget the self outwardly, gather the senses, protect the numinous root, and focus the mind and spirit for gentle nurturing. “One” refers to oneself, and also to Wu. Understanding this character allows one to grasp the inner method of Wei Boyang, author of the Cantong qi. Confucius said, “My Way is threaded through with one principle.” Laozi said, “Attain the One, and all things are accomplished.” In Buddhism, it is said, “All teachings return to the One.” One should also understand that the Water in “Heaven’s One generates Water” is born from the One; this One refers to the central line of the Kan trigram. When one gathers and draws inward, Jing, Qi, and Shen can coalesce. When the mind and spirit are scattered, one’s numinous nature and original Qi disperse. If people understand this One, they can grasp Heaven and Earth; if they attain this One, the transformations of the myriad things can unfold within themselves.

The subtle meaning of the One is difficult to understand without a teacher’s guidance. That is why it is said to be concealed and unknown to the world; its mystery comes precisely from how difficult it is to know. In the elixir methods, “firmly establishing the numinous root” means refining the body, refining oneself, and focusing the mind and spirit. “Gently nurturing the pearl child” means gathering Jing and Qi. Only after the work of refining oneself has become proficient can one refine the Return Elixir. People who do not understand the importance of refining themselves yet imagine they can obtain the medicine and complete the elixir method in a short time are acting foolishly.

The Scripture on Clarity and Stillness says: Observe your mind inwardly, your body outwardly, and then look far beyond to external things; in the end, all you see is emptiness. Do not cling even to “emptiness,” and there will be nothing left to empty. Do not cling even to “nonbeing,” and you will reach a state of clear, constant stillness, where silence is free of attachment. Ordinary readers may think this means complete repose and liberation. But the scripture goes on to discuss desire: only when desire does not arise is there true stillness; only after true stillness can one respond to external things. A closer reading shows that responding to external things from a state of stillness is merely a beginner’s practice. As far as elixir cultivation is concerned, it is still far from the point of entry.

Some people give food in charity and build Buddhist pagodas; others practice sexual techniques for harvesting and replenishing essence, sit in austerity while reciting scriptures, speak only of Wuwei, or perform prayers and sacrifices. Such practices may count as acts of goodness, but to call them cultivation of the Dao is to claim a path of entry they have not yet found. The work of nurturing oneself cannot be omitted at all. Lü Dongbin said that the Sevenfold Return and Elixir requires first refining oneself and waiting for the right moment. The Realized Man of the Mud Ball Palace said that those whose words do not accord are not fellow practitioners, and that without sufficient practice one cannot achieve fulfillment. Zhang Ziyang said that to cultivate the Ninefold-Transformed Golden Elixir, one must first refine oneself and guard the mind. How could one fail to take seriously the teachings passed down by the sages of every generation?

After receiving instruction from Master Yellow Chamber, the Realized Man Taixu went to Mount Wuyi as directed, preparing to begin cultivation. At first, as he refined himself, obstacles and demonic disturbances arose one after another. Taixu firmly declared that he would drive out the demons and spirits and cut down the Six Ghost Peaks; then he regulated his breathing and sat in meditation. As soon as this thought arose, his attachment to romantic love was severed. Later students should reflect carefully on the matter of refining oneself.

This chapter discusses only the nurturing of oneself; it does not mention the Golden Elixir methods involving Metal, the Tiger, the cauldron, or the chamber. It is also incorrect to interpret the “Three Lights” as the Yang Fire, Yin Talisman, and Golden Embryo.

The highest virtue follows things as they are and does nothing; it seeks the Dao without deliberate observation or striving. A lesser virtue takes action, so that cultivation and application never cease. When the upper aperture is closed, this is called “being”; when the lower aperture is closed, it is called “nonbeing.” Here, “being” and “nonbeing” name different states in cultivation. “Nonbeing” serves to nourish the “upper,” where a wondrous virtue resides. The methods for using these two apertures work in harmony with Metal Qi.

Know the white and hold to the black, and the numinous Qi will arrive of itself. “White” refers to Metal essence; “black” refers to the foundation of Water. Water is the Dao’s pivot, and its number is called “one.” Yin and Yang begin here, and within the mystery, the Yellow Sprout takes shape—the nascent vital energy symbolized in Neidan cultivation. It is the sovereign of the Five Metals and is also called the Northern River Chariot, a symbol in Daoist internal alchemy for carrying and circulating vital energy.

Thus lead is black on the outside, yet contains Golden Blossoms within—the purest Metal Qi. This is like wearing coarse cloth while holding a precious jade, appearing ordinary, even dull. Metal is the mother of Water, and the mother is concealed within her child’s womb; Water is the child of Metal, and the child is hidden within its mother’s womb. Here lies the wonder of a Realized Person: the Golden Blossoms remain concealed, never displayed, while the exterior appears ordinary; Metal and Water contain one another and give rise to one another. The Realized Person’s state is subtle and difficult to fathom, seeming both present and absent, like an image in an abyss, at times sinking and at times rising.

Metal and Water recede and separate, each keeping to its proper place. The substance gathered is white, but turns red after refinement. Refine it further so that its outer layer serves as protection while its true essence remains within. The refined substance is about one inch square, its parts mingling and coalescing.

It existed before Heaven and Earth and is lofty and precious. Walls and gates surround it, and its form resembles Penghu, the legendary mountain of immortals. Though enclosed on every side with its gates shut, it still has passages. Guard it carefully and defend it securely, keeping evil Qi from entering. The inner and outer parts bend toward one another and remain connected, warding off unforeseen events.

In cultivation, the mind may be free of distracting thoughts, but this must not lead to worry or exhaustion. Shen and Qi fill the body, and external things cannot make them stagnate. Guard it, and it will flourish; lose it, and it will decline. Whether moving, sitting quietly, or resting, let it remain with you always.

Upper De refers to a person whose virtue is complete: someone who follows nature and, through Wuwei (non-action), leaves nothing undone. Around the age of sixteen, before their innate Jing and Qi have been depleted, a person of Upper De knows how to cherish and preserve them, keeping body and mind from being diminished. If such a person then meets an enlightened master who teaches the methods of Wuwei cultivation, they can extend their life. This kind of person is called “one who leaves nothing undone,” the fully realized person of Upper De. When sages teach people through Wuwei, and people of great De accomplish their work through Wuwei, they are speaking of this same principle.

Lower De refers to someone who knows how to draw upon the workings of creation—in other words, someone who cultivates by means of active methods. For ordinary people around the age of sixteen, while their innate Jing and Qi have not yet been released, the state is called “pure Qian.” Once desire stirs, the middle line of the Qian trigram shifts into the Kun position. Qian is no longer pure, and the image of the mind consequently changes to Li. From then on, Jing and Qi are depleted day and night. How much of the innate Qi originally held within them can remain? A true practitioner does not wait until it is exhausted, but practices the sages’ methods for restoring one’s original nature and making body and mind whole again, seeking to become an immortal. This is a practitioner of Lower De, someone who draws upon the power of creation. It is the principle by which sages follow their nature, and the method by which spiritual beings accomplish their work through active cultivation.

Upper De acts through Wuwei and leaves nothing undone: it attains the complete substance of Taiji (Supreme Ultimate) and brings the effects of later cultivation to fruition. Hence the saying, “It does not seek through scrutiny”: it does not rely on deliberate searching to obtain its aim. Lower De, by contrast, acts deliberately, using methods to draw upon the workings of creation and bring the effects of earlier cultivation to fruition. Hence the saying, “Its function never ceases”: its workings continue without interruption.

An immortal master said: “At the beginning of cultivation, one acts, but outsiders cannot see it. Once one enters the realm of Wuwei, people understand its marvels. People see only the importance of Wuwei; they do not understand that active practice is its foundation.” These words lay bare the essential principles of Golden Elixir cultivation. Cultivation is no easy task; true practitioners resort to active methods only when they have no other choice. Laozi said, “Weapons are inauspicious instruments, used only when there is no choice.” This is exactly the point.

“When the upper aperture is closed, it is called ‘Being’”: closing the upper aperture is called “Being,” and corresponds to the Kun trigram. Kun’s virtue is stillness and restraint. “Being” refers to Wu Earth within the Kan trigram, which contains innate, undivided Qi. “When the lower aperture is closed, it is called ‘Nonbeing’”: closing the lower aperture is called “Nonbeing,” and corresponds to the Qian trigram. Qian’s virtue is stillness and concentration. “Nonbeing” refers to Ji Earth within the Li trigram, where natural, postcelestial mercury is concealed. These are the two apertures and the two corresponding functions.

The Jing says: “Constantly without desire, one observes its mystery; constantly with desire, one observes its apertures. These two arise together but have different names; together they are called the dark. Dark upon dark, they are the gateway to all mysteries.” Sages do not have two kinds of thought. Their mysterious words are not deliberately obscure; it is simply that, throughout the generations, people have found it difficult to grasp their meaning. For this reason, a master must transmit them. The Yellow Emperor was a sage of the highest order, yet without seeking instruction from Guangchengzi, he might not have understood this principle.

Sages have done all they can to explain this aperture in different ways. Fuxi drew the trigrams and identified it through the images of Qian and Kun. King Wen elaborated on the trigrams and clarified their principles. Confucius explained the strength of Qian and the opening quality of Kun in the Commentary on the Changes. Laozi called it “the Gate of the Mysterious Female” and said it was the root of Heaven and Earth. Shakyamuni called it “the treasury of the true Dharma eye” and “the wondrous mind of nirvana.” All these expressions point directly to this aperture. People of the highest capacity may be able to understand the aperture for themselves, but without a master’s guidance, they will still find its function difficult to understand.

“Nonbeing nourishes the ‘upper’”: here, “Nonbeing” refers to Ji nature, and “Being” to Wu emotion. If Ji nature can nurture and guide Wu emotion, emotion will willingly cleave to nature, and emotion and nature will unite. “Above, the spirit and its virtue dwell” means that the innate One Qi comes from the void; this is the virtue of the spirit.

The immortal elder solemnly added: “The method of these two apertures: the metal Qi also responds in harmony.” These two lines are the key to the Cantong qi; even later scholars of great learning may not be able to understand them on their own. The elder Yunfang said: “The gate through which I am born is also the door through which I die. How many are awake? How many have truly awakened? At night, this ironhearted man ponders it carefully: whether one lives long and never dies is something a person can bring about.” The “gate through which I am born” and the “door through which I die”—could they be anything other than these two empty apertures?

What came before explained only the principles of creation through Qian, Kun, the sun, and the moon. Here, at last, the Mysterious Pass is established, and the two elements of cultivation, metal and water, are identified. This shows that the text’s sequence is not vague or general. Having understood this aperture, practitioners of the Elixir must next investigate metal...

What, exactly, is Qi—the original vital energy and refined breath spoken of in Daoism—and what role does “mutual support” play? Only by deeply understanding these principles can one refine the Elixir.

“Know the white and guard the black” means recognizing the purity and brightness of metal, free of impurities; this is “knowing the white.” It also means guarding the foundation of what is black and waiting for water to emerge from it at the proper time; this is “guarding the black.” When water first begins to form, it is called “precelestial.” Because it is utterly true and pure, it is also called “divine illumination.” When white and black come together, metal and water flourish. When they meet “Ji Earth”—Earth in the terminology of the Five Phases—it can regulate the water and refine the metal. When metal and water fill the furnace and vessel, it is said that “divine illumination comes of itself.”

Why is water called the “pivot of the Dao,” and why is its number called “one”? Water is born from “Heaven’s One,” and so it is regarded as the beginning of the generation of Yin-Yang. The phrase “the dark contains the yellow sprout” means that the hidden, dark water holds the yellow sprout, the nascent Elixir of alchemical practice. The Yi Jing says, “Though Yin possesses beauty, it keeps it within as it follows the ruler’s affairs.” Here, the Great Origin is used as a metaphor for water, and the yellow sprout as a metaphor for the Elixir. Since the Elixir is hidden in the water, the phrase “the dark contains the yellow sprout” is used.

Within black lead is hidden white metal; within the River Chariot—a term in alchemy that here refers to the vessel or process that carries or circulates the substances—is hidden the yellow sprout. This is like a scholar concealing jade in his breast while wearing coarse clothes on the outside, thereby avoiding misfortune. Metal is the mother of water: Metal in the Dui trigram generates Water in the Kan trigram, and the middle line of Kan also belongs to Metal. Hence the phrase “the mother hides in the child’s womb.” Water is the child of Metal: Ren and Gui Water arise in the west, and the middle line of Dui belongs to Kan. Hence the phrase “the child is concealed in the mother’s womb.”

“The True Person is supremely wondrous”: the True Person here refers to the original substance of the Qian trigram. Qian’s workings are mysterious and hard to fathom; its form sometimes appears and sometimes vanishes. The “Great Abyss” symbolizes the Kun trigram. Kun’s workings can sink or rise, and its form is likewise beyond sight and hearing. Thus Qian transforms, while Kun nourishes the myriad things. Once their creative work is complete, Qian and Kun take their separate places, each keeping to its proper position.

Gathering and refining the white substance means taking the silvery quality contained in lead. When used to refine the inner Elixir, it eventually turns red; refined on its own, it becomes white lead pigment. The gathering and refining of the outer Elixir is broadly similar. However, Waidan usually requires covering and protection: its exterior should appear ruddy like cinnabar, while its interior must retain its true whiteness.

“Square and round, an inch across, mixed together and held fast” means that even in the depths of obscurity and trance, something substantial is present. Before Taiji divided and Heaven and Earth took shape, it contained the precelestial, true One Qi. Since it exists before Taiji, it is described as the sovereign that precedes the myriad things, and thus is called “lofty and supremely honored.” Walls and gates surround it, and its shape resembles Penghu, the fabled mountain of immortals. The image of Qian, too, resembles a wall or Penghu. These images all serve as metaphors for the vessel: the equipment used in alchemical practice and the practitioner’s own place of cultivation.

“To enclose all around and keep shut” means to cover and protect the whole perimeter securely. “At the four passages, proceed with caution” means to guard the outer openings carefully. Protection must be thorough, without even a moment’s carelessness. “Block and cut off what is devious and harmful” means to control entry and exit according to the prescribed rules, mark the boundary between inside and outside, and instill caution, so that the pure white substance can remain safely within. “Connecting curved chambers” refers to setting up the ritual space and making careful preparations to prevent mishaps.

The scripture further warns that, alongside close protection, one must keep the mind free of thoughts and worries. Do not become anxious or worn out; let Shen and Qi fill the chamber without being depleted. Hence it says, “Those who guard it flourish; those who lose it perish.” Even a slight lapse can bring ruin. Whether moving, sitting in meditation, or resting, one must not indulge in carelessness or slackness. In this way, the Qi in the Golden Cauldron remains stable and harmonizes with the practitioner, while regulating and restraining one another. Hence the phrase “it is always together with the person.”

This chapter directly identifies the essential nature of the “two apertures” and explains the roles of Metal and Water. Only when practitioners reach this passage in the Cantong qi do they understand that the first step in cultivation is precisely the hardest to accomplish. Those of limited natural capacity who practice active methods rely entirely on refining the self—nurturing and training body and mind. If this work is even slightly inadequate, the numinous spirit will not descend.

Chapter Eight: Distinguishing the Deviant from the Orthodox

Some people take inner observation and visualization to be cultivation. They walk according to the patterns of pacing the Dipper and treading the stars, and calculate the Six Jia by the days and hours. They practice Yin methods, reject the Way of Nine and One, and disturb the original embryo. Using breathing techniques to draw in Qi, they make their stomachs and intestines rumble, exhale vital Qi, and inhale harmful influences. They stay awake day and night, resting neither at the end nor the beginning of the month. Their bodies grow increasingly exhausted, and their expressions become dazed, almost like those of a mad person. Qi and blood surge restlessly throughout the body, leaving them unable to become calm and clear.

They also pile up earth to build altars and worship devoutly morning and evening, hoping that spirits will appear in visible form or respond to them in dreams. Their hearts fill with joy, and they assume they will surely extend their lives. Instead, they die young, their bodies exposed to decay. Their various practices often go against reason and depart from the essential principles.

Such methods are too numerous to count, with a thousand branches and ten thousand forms. Yet they all violate the teachings of the Yellow Emperor and Laozi and stray by winding paths from the Great Dao. Those who understand see their underlying purpose clearly and suddenly recognize the correct path of cultivation. If they practice diligently, without slackening day or night, and take the elixir for three years, they can lighten their bodies, ascend and travel far in every direction. They can pass through fire without being burned and enter water without getting wet; they can appear or vanish, and remain at ease and free of worry for a long time.

After completing the Dao and perfecting their De, practitioners must still withdraw into seclusion and wait for the right moment. Taiyi, the highest divine being honored in Daoism, will then summon them to move to the Central Continent, where the immortals dwell. Once their merit is complete, they may ascend and receive the registers and charts conferred by the heavens.

The commentary says that practitioners must understand the orthodox method of the Great Dao. Without the fundamental principle of Yin-Yang working together and Kan-Li—the symbols of water and fire, Yin and Yang—mingling and transforming, all other practices belong to deviant paths. Examples include inwardly observing the five organs; visualizing and practicing breathing sounds such as “si” and “he”; treading the positions of the stars, performing ritual steps, and making hand seals; as well as practicing bedroom arts, the so-called “three peaks of controlling women,” the Way of Nine and One, or the five sword methods. If these practices are not grounded in Yin-Yang cooperation and the transformative action of Kan-Li, but instead disturb the body’s original cells—the vital essence and Qi at its root—through contact with external influences and the absorption of Qi, they are impure practices, the lowest form of deviant cultivation.

Exhaling vital Qi and inhaling corrupt Qi, enduring hunger while consuming Qi, sitting in meditation for a set number of years, staying awake day and night, establishing altars to worship spirits, and seeing apparitions of ghosts are also deviant practices that disturb the Great Dao. They make the mind and spirit disoriented, throw the circulation of Qi and blood into agitation, unsettle the heart, and fill the nights with confused dreams. Though their methods are countless, they often lead to nothing. Such practices violate the teachings of the Yellow Emperor and Laozi, and those who follow them neither seek the method of Yin-Yang affinity from a true teacher nor avoid taking roundabout paths that invite calamity. How could they ever condense a Golden Elixir the size of a grain of millet? They mean to prolong life through cultivation, yet end up shortening it.

If a person of clear understanding encounters guidance from a true teacher, they should grasp the teaching at once and practice according to its method, working diligently without slackening. They should seek the elixir day and night, devote themselves to taking it, and cultivate in secret for three years. After that, they may travel far afield. After nine years of cultivation, they may hope to lighten their body and ascend through flight. With twelve years of accumulated practice, water and fire can no longer harm them; they can dwell in a cave without worry and enjoy lasting peace at the Jade Pool. Once they attain the Dao, they should live in seclusion and keep their presence hidden, continuing to accumulate De and await the right time. Their names will be entered in the Three Heavens, and the Great One, a revered Daoist deity, will summon them, confer an immortal office, and move them to the Central Continent. If their merit and De are profound, they may ascend through the three realms, rise in the ranks of immortals, and receive an immortal register and talismanic charts. The perfected sages Zhang, Ge, Jingyang, Fuqiu, Zhong, and Lü all attained the Dao in this way; later sages and perfected beings should follow the same path.

The Immortal Master emphasizes in this chapter that, in cultivating the Dao, one will encounter the distinction between losing one’s way and attaining understanding, and between deviant and proper paths. Those who take a deviant path will be condemned and punished by the Nine Capitals—the legendary abode of the immortals. Those who follow the proper path can ascend to heaven once their practice and merit are complete. This is an inevitable principle, so there is no need to worry about it. The practical question of where to begin cultivation and how to arrange its stages will be discussed later.

Chapter Nine: The Two Chords of the Dragon and Tiger

The timing of the fire is not arbitrarily devised; it can be explained through the changes of the Yi. The Crescent Moon, a state shaped like a curved moon, serves as a metaphor for the furnace and cauldron. The White Tiger, a term from alchemy symbolizing images associated with Metal and Yin, is central to the refining process. The Mercury Sun, a Yang image represented by mercury, is like a flowing pearl, accompanied by the Azure Dragon, an alchemical term symbolizing images associated with Wood and Yang. When the Azure Dragon of the East joins with the White Tiger of the West, the hun and po souls restrain and gather one another.

The upper chord corresponds to the Dui trigram, whose number is eight; the lower chord corresponds to the Gen trigram, also numbered eight. When the vital essences of the two chords unite, the forms of Qian and Kun—the trigrams representing Heaven and Earth in the Yi—come into being. The two eights together correspond to one jin. In accordance with the principles of the Yi, this allows transformation to remain upright and free from deviation.

Chen Zhixu says that only at this point does the Immortal Elder begin to explain the furnace and vessel, the Dragon and Tiger, and the energies of the two phases. The text calls them the “Reclining Moon Furnace,” whose shape resembles a newly risen crescent; the “White Tiger,” the “upper bow,” Dui, and the Po. All belong to the West and represent “the other” and the “Jade Pool.” It also calls them the “Mercury Sun,” the “Flowing Pearl,” the “Azure Dragon,” the “lower bow,” Gen, and the Hun. All belong to the East and represent “the self” and the “Golden Cauldron.”

The Reclining Moon Furnace is the Great Unity Divine Furnace, also called the Yin Furnace, because its shape curves upward or downward like a new moon. The White Tiger belongs to the Dui palace in the West. When Heaven and Earth first separated, it originally belonged to “the other.” The White Tiger is mighty: strike it, and it responds. It holds deep and expansive power, enabling all things to grow. Though it can wound and kill, it also contains a vast and majestic force. The Book of Changes says, “Treading on the tiger’s tail: it does not bite the person. Success.” It also says, “Walking on a level path, the hermit who maintains what is right will have good fortune.” Confucius explains that this is because joy enables one to respond to Qian. He also says that acting according to one’s proper role and moving forward means carrying out one’s own aspiration alone. Those who practice the alchemical method know they must revere and fear this Tiger, and so should subdue it first. Once subdued, it can serve as the crucial element in the refining process and will no longer harm anyone.

Li symbolizes the sun and also Mercury, which contains cinnabar and is called the “Flowing Pearl.” The Azure Dragon belongs to the Zhen palace in the East. After its foundation has been made firm through the cycles of tribulation, it belongs to “the self.” The Azure Dragon’s power can transform; it responds, connects, and reaches through. It can raise clouds and bring rain, setting all things in motion and enabling them to grow. The Book of Changes, in the second line of the Qian hexagram, says, “The dragon appears in the field. It is favorable to meet a great person.” Confucius says this is because the dragon’s virtue is upright and centered. People in the world do not understand the Azure Dragon’s power of ceaseless generation and often suffer harm from it in turn. If they understand and revere it, then harmonize and subdue it, they can master and make use of it.

When East and West come together, they form a harmonious union that accords with ritual propriety. Dui and Gen each have the number eight; Wu Earth circulates and returns to Ji Earth. The Hun and Po draw together, and Metal and Wood are no longer separated. When the essences of the two bows unite, the forms of Qian and Kun are thereby brought to completion. To keep the Way of Change stable, the “two eights” must be balanced and combined into one jin. Here, “one jin” refers to the number of complete fulfillment.

The various units of weight are built up gradually from smaller measures: ten fen make one wan, and a wan is the size of a millet grain; a little more than one millet grain is called a daogui, and sixty-four millet grains make one gui. Ten millet grains make one lei, and ten lei make one zhu; two zhu and four lei make one qian, ten qian make one liang, and eight zhu make one zi. The Shuowen says that six zhu make one zi, while the Jianyun says that eight liang make one zi. Neither account is reliable. Three zi make one liang, or twenty-four zhu. Sixteen liang make one jin, which contains a total of 384 zhu; four liang make one lüe. The ancients divided zhu and liang into finer measures to correspond with the numbers of the hexagram lines.

Gold enters a fierce fire without changing its color or losing its essence and brilliance. Since the creation of Heaven and Earth, the light of the Sun and Moon has never diminished. Gold never loses its original weight, and the forms of the Sun and Moon remain as they always were.

Gold originally arises with the Moon. On the first day of each month, the Moon receives the Sun’s light and begins to shine. At the end of the month, the Sun and Moon seem to unite, and Gold returns to its mother. It conceals its original form and sinks into the deep, still void. When Gold recovers its original nature, the Awe-Inspiring Golden Cauldron—the vessel used in alchemical refining, symbolizing the instrument of transformation—blazes with light.

The commentary says that it is only here in the Cantong qi that the function of “Gold” is clearly explained. This Gold is essential to refining the elixir, which is why it is called the Golden Elixir. It does not mean the gold or silver mined from earth and stone, but the “Gold” generated by the transformations of Heaven and Earth and the Five Phases. The commentator holds that the Golden Elixir spoken of by ancient sages and immortals is founded on this Gold. Some who teach the Dao speak only of the Golden Elixir without understanding what it refers to or truly grasping the meaning of the Cantong qi.

The commentator explains the transformations of this Gold as follows: it originally belongs to Qian and is called “Qian Gold.” When Qian and Kun join, Gold enters Kun, turning Kun’s central line from yielding to solid and forming the Kan trigram. It is therefore called “Gold within Kun,” or “Gold within Water.” This Gold is concealed within Kan and later shifts into the Dui trigram, where it is called “Dui Gold.” The commentator holds that those cultivating the Golden Elixir should seek Dui Gold, because Dui corresponds to the Moon and symbolizes the crucial turning point in the Elixir’s transformation. No other explanation can take its place.

The commentator also uses the Moon’s waxing and waning to explain the movement of Dui Gold. On the third day of the month, the crescent Moon appears, as if receiving the Sun’s light. Correspondingly, Dui Gold begins to reveal the first signs of Yang energy on the third day, marking the start of the alchemical process. At the end of the month, Dui Gold returns to its mother, Kun, just as the Moon disappears into the Sun’s light. Gold’s essence then sinks into the deep, still void, awaiting the time to arise again.

When Dui Gold is generated anew, it recovers its original nature as Qian Gold and eventually returns to the Qian palace. The Golden Cauldron in Qian receives its seed again, and the Golden Elixir is refined. This elixir is called the “Golden Liquid Restored Elixir,” and the cauldron used to refine it is called the “Awe-Inspiring Golden Cauldron.” Xi is also written as “Xi” or “Xi”; here, all three forms indicate a blazing fire. The commentator concludes that cultivating the Golden Elixir is bound up with the transformations of Heaven and Earth. The Sun, Moon, and stars, along with heavenly dragons and spirits, all lend their protection, and so the practice should be approached with reverence.

The numbers of Zi and Wu—the paired directions and times associated with Yin and Yang—add up to three; Wu and Ji, the Heavenly Stems associated with Earth in the Five Phases, together make five. When three and five are brought into harmony, the eight minerals used in alchemical preparation act according to their prescribed measures. Breath receives and nourishes breath; the mind gathers itself in quiet contemplation, as though Yin and Yang had become a married couple.

Yellow Earth is the father of Metal, while the Flowing Pearl—mercury—is the son of Water. Water regards Earth as the force that controls it, and Earth holds its place, preventing Water from flooding. The Vermilion Bird, the spirit essence of Fire, balances and regulates the waxing and waning of Water and Fire. When Water grows too strong, Fire is extinguished; both Water and Fire return to the embrace of thick Earth. The three qualities thus come together and return to their common nature and source.

Even great-seed sesame, which the ancients believed could prolong life, can extend one’s years; the Reverted Elixir, refined through alchemical preparation, is all the more fit to take. Metal is firm in nature and does not easily decay or rot, making it a treasure among all things. Those who practice alchemy and ingest it can prolong their lives.

Earth moves between the seasons, keeping the boundaries in place so that each thing follows its proper order. Golden sand enters the five viscera, seeming to disperse like smoke and spread like wind and rain. Its power steams through the whole body and reaches the limbs, giving the complexion a healthy glow. White hair turns black, and lost teeth grow back; an old man regains the vigor of his prime, and an old woman becomes a young woman again. Those who transform their appearance and escape the world’s calamities are called perfected beings.

The Zi position lies in the north, at the proper position of the Kan trigram, and its number is one. The Wu position lies in the south, at the proper position of the Li trigram, and its number is two. At the center of Kan is Wu Earth, whose number is five; at the center of Li is Ji Earth, also numbered five. Wu Earth presides over the gate of Kan and governs the primordial, true One Qi. Ji Earth guards the door of Li and gathers the postcelestial, utterly true Mercury. To obtain primordial Qi, one must first open a passage through Wu Earth; to use postcelestial Mercury, one must first bring Ji Earth to rest, so that the two can be harmonized.

Zi and Wu respond to one another, while Wu and Ji are brought into accord; the essences of two and five then wondrously meet and congeal. Wu Earth flows toward Ji Earth, like kindred substances joining in a crucible. Because the two earth energies congeal together, this is called “Gui Earth.” The Eight Stones belong to Kun. Qian and Kun are the parents of all stones; without Kun, one cannot obtain the guiding principles and waxing and waning represented by the Dui trigram. Zi and Wu answer one another, Wu and Ji nourish one another, and Lead and Mercury unite and congeal like husband and wife.

“Returning Earth” refers to Wu Earth. Wu Earth can generate the Metal within the Dui trigram, so it is the father of Metal. “Flowing Pearl” refers to the Mercury within Wood. Lead Water nourishes the Mercury within Wood, so Flowing Pearl is the child of Water. Lead Water is restrained by Wu Earth: when Wu Earth guards the central palace, Water will not flow outward without control.

“Vermilion Bird” refers to the Fire within the Li trigram, its vital essence. When the mind is calm and the breath even, the pulse settles, making it possible to regulate the relative strength of all the forces. Water overcomes Fire, Fire overcomes Metal, and Metal overcomes Wood. Once these four forces have all been diminished, their efficacy returns to thick Earth. Thick Earth refers to Ji Earth.

The “Three Natures” are Wu Earth, Metal, and Water. Wu Earth is the gate of the Kan trigram, and the middle line of Kan is Dui Metal; Metal in turn gives rise to Taiyi Water. Metal generates Water, while Wu Earth can restrain Water, so these three forces come together. The nature of Wood corresponds to Ji Earth, which is the door of the Li trigram. When Wu Earth, Metal, and Water unite with Ji Earth, which corresponds to their innate nature, Wood is gradually overcome and ultimately transformed into the Great Elixir. This is why they are said to “share the same nature and ancestral source.”

“Giant Victory” means sesame seeds. Sesame cooked as a grain and eaten regularly can prolong life. How much more so the Reverted Elixir, refined from Metal, Water, Wu Earth, and Ji Earth—the supreme treasure between Heaven and Earth. When practitioners ingest and refine it, they can live as long as the sun and moon. “Subduing” means bringing primordial Qi under control; “eating” means swallowing an elixir the size of a millet grain. Later generations mistakenly wrote “taking” in place of “subduing” and so failed to understand the subtlety of the original term. A master of the immortals said, “Subduing Qi is not the same as taking in Qi; one must subdue Qi before taking it in. Taking in Qi alone cannot bring long life; to attain long life, one must subdue Qi.” The key lies in the word “subdue”: it means reversing and applying the workings of cosmic transformation.

The movement of Earth is distributed across the four seasons. The “four seasons” referred to here are the four Earth months of Chen, Xu, Chou, and Wei. In the final month of each season, Earth has days when its influence is at its peak; these are called “wandering.” In summer, Fire generates Earth, and Earth’s virtue is at its strongest. Metal fears Fire, so in the Shen month of autumn, Earth first grows strong. The ancients said that both Water and Earth arise in the Shen position: Earth is born from summer Fire, while Water arises in the positions of the Three Enclosures. As Water swells and restrains Fire, Earth is able to generate Metal. Thus, at the beginning of autumn, Earth’s virtue first flourishes for nine days, after which it generates Geng Metal. In the Xu month, Earth retains the remaining nine days of its allotted period of strength.

“Guarding boundaries and setting the rules” refers to the Earth lodges among the constellations of the four directions, each of which protects its own boundary. The Earth of the eastern Di lodge guards the bounds of the Azure Dragon; the Earth of the western Wei lodge regulates the might of the White Tiger; the Earth of the southern Liu lodge restrains the gate of Li Fire; and the Earth of the northern Nü lodge stabilizes the gate of Kan Water. In this way, the vital essences of cinnabar and true gold can be restrained and gathered back inside the human body.

When the elixir Qi first enters, the breath disperses like mist and moistens the body like rain; the elixir Qi rises and spreads throughout the limbs. Once Shen and Qi are abundant, the complexion becomes radiant, teeth grow anew, and hair turns black, as though one had returned to youth. The body’s withered and haggard appearance is transformed, and one is forever freed from the calamities of the world. When both body and spirit attain a wondrous state, one becomes a Perfected One of Purple Radiance.

This chapter says that before alchemical work begins, one must first harmonize the “two soils of Wu and Ji” (Wu and Ji represent Earth and often refer to the Yin-Yang and Qi dynamics that must be brought into harmony during alchemy). Only then can one gather and refine “Metal and Water,” two key substances or forces in alchemical practice, and complete the elixir.

Chapter Twelve: Things of the Same Kind Join as One

When white lead powder is put into a fire, its color changes, and in the end it returns to lead. Ice and snow melt when they meet hot water, becoming water again. Metal takes sand as its root and is harmonized with mercury; its transformations depend on its nature, with beginning and end passing into one another.

To refine an elixir for ingestion and transcendence, one should pair things that share the same nature. Crops are sown with grain seeds; chicks are hatched from eggs. When things are aided in accordance with their shared qualities, they readily come into being on their own and are easy to refine. How could a fish’s eye serve as a pearl? Mugwort cannot grow into a catalpa tree. Only things of the same nature can respond to one another; when things do not match, they cannot be refined into a treasure. Swallows and sparrows cannot give birth to phoenixes, and foxes and rabbits cannot raise horses. Water does not burn upward, and fire does not moisten downward.

Today, many who study the Dao pride themselves on their lofty understanding and fine natural gifts. Yet they have not encountered the true opportunity, and so they waste their alchemical fire and money. They speculate from the words alone and make claims at will, without reliable leads or evidence, and without any way to judge or grasp what they are doing.

They repeatedly pound and refine stone gall, mica, alum, and magnetite; roast sulfur with Yuzhang wood; mix clay and mercury and refine them together; and treat the five-metal copper produced in the furnace as the crucial aid. Yet these substances all have different natures. How could they possibly combine into one? They try a thousand times and fail ten thousand; thinking themselves clever, they only grow foolish. They refine from childhood until their hair turns white, yet remain uncertain all along. Turning away from the right path, they stubbornly follow a mistaken road, and in the end stray from the proper course into error.

With a field of vision as narrow as looking through a tube, one cannot see the whole picture or infer the principles one should follow next.

White lead is made by refining black lead; when exposed to fire, it returns to its original nature. Ice and snow form when cold water congeals; when heated, they return to water’s source. Gold turns white when placed in mercury, then regains its reddish-yellow color in the fire. People are thrown off their nature by desire; if they can preserve their nature, they can attain long life.

What does it mean to “take sand as the principal ingredient,” and what does it mean to “combine it with mercury”? Those who practice should understand the principles of creation and transformation and know the changes of Yin-Yang. To refine the Golden Elixir, first take the cinnabar represented by the middle line of the Li trigram and combine it with the mercury of the Jade Pool. Then take the water of the Kan trigram to balance the fire of Li. When the water and fire of Kan and Li aid one another, gold and sand can unite as one. Their transformation depends on genuine materials of the same nature; the whole process is grounded in the pairing of Yin and Yang, male and female.

The key to refining an elixir that can be ingested to attain immortality lies in using “things of the same kind.” This is indeed essential: to grow grain, one must sow grain seed; to hatch a chick, one needs a chicken’s egg. If you seek to become an immortal or a Buddha but cannot find something of the same kind, then even if you scour every market and sit in meditation for a thousand years, your efforts will be in vain. Those who do not investigate the principle of like-kind ingredients but instead take various deviant paths—such as bedroom arts, in which people cultivate through sexual union, or “Three Peaks harvesting and combat,” a bedroom art practiced under the guise of gathering and replenishing—are going astray. This is like mistaking a fish’s eye for a pearl or mugwort for precious timber. How could they understand that transformation depends on things that truly share the same nature? Sparrows cannot produce phoenixes, nor can foxes and rabbits bear horses; they are not of the same kind. Water cannot be made to burn upward through transformation, nor can fire be made to moisten downward through its action, for the movement between Yin and Yang must follow the natural Dao.

The Immortal Elder taught people to seek a true master because alchemy requires investigating things of the same kind and coordinating Yin and Yang; only then can one speak of the alchemical method. When I, the Elder of Purple Jade, first received private instruction from the Perfected One of Great Void, I asked him, “Does the Cantong qi explain the Yi, or does it explain how to put the Yi into practice?” The Perfected One of Great Void replied, “The Yi speaks of only two things: Yin and Yang. To understand them and put them into practice is what makes a sage. Thus the Yi says, ‘In the southwest, find companions,’ meaning to travel with those of the same kind. The Cantong qi says, ‘Those of the same kind follow one another; when their natures differ, no treasure can be made,’ meaning that only things of the same kind can unite; when their natures conflict, they cannot be refined into a treasure.” To understand the principle first and then put it into practice: this is what makes a sage.

Later generations included people who trusted in their own exceptional intelligence but sought no true teacher. Relying only on ancient books, they guessed at the matter: some used stone gall from Shaozhou to refine gold; others burned and refined elixirs from cinnabar and mercury from Chenzhou. They also pounded and treated the five metals, smelted the eight minerals, took the “Three Yellows” to be of the same kind, and used refined red copper as an auxiliary ingredient. These minerals and metals are not truly of the same kind. How could they resonate with the practitioner’s Qi and enter the body?

Long ago, Zhang, the Minister of the Secretariat in Jiujiang, refined and took elixirs. Lü Dongbin took pity on him for blindly believing in deviant methods and went to try to save him, disguised as a sorcerer. Zhang, convinced that his long use of elixirs would surely enable him to ascend to heaven, treated others with little courtesy. Lü Dongbin then departed, leaving a poem at the banquet: “How pitiful Zhang, Minister of the Secretariat in Jiujiang: he took elixirs, lost his sight, and his spirit and vital energy withered. He never considered that the returning elixir has no material form, yet he swallowed minerals and metals—what great folly!” Zhang later did indeed lose his sight, and eventually died.

All these people prided themselves on their intelligence yet remained stubbornly blind. They willingly let themselves be misled, mistaking gold and minerals for the kind of substances used in cultivation. They spent all their money refining and ingesting elixirs, and some never came to their senses in their entire lives. They were like people looking at the sky through a tube. How could they know that true immortals and sage teachers exist in the world? People cling to their habits, unwilling to humble themselves and seek instruction widely or to visit teachers in many places. With such narrow understanding, how could they hear of or discern lofty truths? Yet they raise their heads and call themselves great men. In truth, they are merely complacent and self-satisfied, wasting the gifts of their own intelligence.

Among the greatest sages of antiquity, Fuxi stands foremost. He was the first to draw the Eight Trigrams (Bagua), taking his model from the transformations of Heaven and Earth. King Wen of Zhou was the foremost among rulers: he arranged the hexagrams and developed the explanations for their lines. Confucius was outstanding among the many sages and worthies; he composed the Ten Wings to explain and supplement the Book of Changes (Yijing).

These three sages were all brought forth by Heaven. They arose in succession, each appearing in response to the needs of his time. Their learning differed in its order and depth, but their merit and virtue had no higher or lower measure. Their works, too, inherited from one another; in developing them, each examined matters carefully and weighed them with precision. Things with visible form are easy to assess, but changes without signs are hard to predict. What they accomplished became a model for later generations to follow and established the canonical texts for the world.

I had no innate ability to foresee how things would unfold. I came to understand only by learning from a teacher. The clarity in my mind is like opening the curtains on a cold night, or climbing to a high terrace with eyes closed and looking down over the near and far. Though the Record of Fire (Huojì) has six hundred chapters, the principle it conveys is one and the same. The scripture repeats these teachings with solemn insistence, yet few people take the time to reflect on them. If we trace their origins, we find that darkness and light, what is hidden and what is revealed, are connected from the beginning.

I have privately shared these words with worthy people. How could I presume to set them down lightly in writing? Yet if I keep silent and cut off the transmission of the Dao, I fear I will incur blame. If I write what I know in books, I fear I will reveal Heaven’s secrets. Thus I hesitated and sighed, considering the matter again and again, before setting down these modest reflections. The method of refining the Elixir is like shaping vessels from clay: it follows set rules, and its every detail cannot be explained. Here I have outlined only the main points; the particulars can still be discerned in broad outline from what I have said.

The commentary says: The first eight chapters discuss circumstances in which people departed from the Dao of the Yellow Emperor and Laozi, who were two great sages. Only in this chapter does the text explain in detail how Fuxi, King Wen, and Confucius composed the canonical texts and transmitted their teachings. Since the method of refining the Elixir cannot be laid out in full, only its main points are summarized, allowing readers to discern the particulars.

The commentator says: The eighth chapter discussed going against the teachings of the Yellow Emperor and Laozi. The Yellow Emperor and the Lord Lao (Laozi) were both great sages. Here the text goes on to explain how the three sages Fuxi, King Wen, the Duke of Zhou, and Confucius established teachings and handed down instructions. It also shows why the sages of earlier times and those of later generations are held in reverence. Looking back at later scholars of lesser learning, we often find people who understand nothing yet are arrogant and quick to slander the sages and worthies. How great must their offense be?

The Jing says, “Among the most accomplished sages, Fuxi comes first.” Fuxi was also called Baoxi or Fuxi. Confucius’s Commentary on the Changes, which explains the commentaries to the Zhouyi, says: In ancient times, the clan of Baoxi ruled the world. They looked up to observe the signs in the heavens and looked down to examine the features of the earth. They studied the markings of birds and beasts and the many patterns found on the land. They drew examples from what was close at hand, in their own bodies, and from what was distant, among the myriad things. Then they began to draw the Bagua (Eight Trigrams), in order to illuminate the virtues of the spirits and to classify the forms of the myriad things. Later, King Wen established the forms of the hexagrams and developed the statements for the changing lines, explaining the meanings of hexagrams such as “In the southwest, one gains friends.”

Why were the Ten Wings composed to support the Yi? Fuxi drew the trigrams, King Wen wrote the hexagram statements, and the Duke of Zhou wrote the line statements. Together these make up the two parts of the Zhouyi proper. After the main text, Confucius composed commentaries to support and explain it; these are collectively called the Ten Wings. They include the Upper and Lower Tuan Commentaries, the Great Image Commentary, the Small Image Commentary, the Upper and Lower Appended Statements, the Commentary on the Words of the Text, and the three sections of the Commentary on the Trigrams. Though these commentaries explain the Yi, they are called “Wings” because their role is to support the main text. The sages honored those who came before them, each following their established model: the Jing remained the Jing, and the commentaries remained commentaries. This arrangement was meant to help later students understand that Confucius did not presume to rise above the sages of earlier times or alter the main text at will.

The transmission of the Yi passed from Shang Qu to Fei Zhi, Meng Xi, Liang Qiu He, and others. Fei Zhi held that the Tuan Statements were meant to explain the main text, so he placed the two Tuan Commentaries beneath the individual hexagrams. In the commentator’s view, this disrupted the arrangement of the sacred text. Fei Zhi did not understand Confucius’s intent: not to presume above earlier sages or disturb the main text. If the main text could be rearranged at will, Confucius would have separated the explanations and placed them elsewhere. Fei Zhi’s teachings passed to Zheng Kangcheng (Zheng Xuan), who followed his approach. Zheng also moved the Commentary on the Words of the Text to follow the Qian and Kun hexagrams. Later, Wang Bi continued the methods of Fei Zhi and Zheng Xuan, moving the Image Commentary, which explains the line statements, to follow each line statement and adding phrases such as “The Image says” and “The Tuan says.”

The commentator says that over several centuries the Zhouyi was rearranged three times: the sequence of the main text was disrupted, and the Wings lost their original form. Fei Zhi began this process, and Zheng Xuan and Wang Bi carried it on. In the commentator’s view, the version of the Yi now in circulation is the Yi as arranged by Wang Bi, no longer the original Zhouyi.

Worthies of successive generations often sought to restore the ancient form of the Zhouyi and its commentaries. In the Song dynasty, Li Tao, Chao Shuozhi, Ouyang Xiu, and others collated the Zhouyi in an effort to recover the old text. Li Tao said that the original sequence of the twelve sections of the Zhouyi had first been disrupted by Fei Zhi and Zheng Xuan, then extensively altered by Wang Bi. He therefore collated the text anew and called it the Ancient Yi. Chao Shuozhi also reassembled an ancient version, setting out the main text in two sections and the Ten Wings in ten sections. He held that two sections of the Commentary on the Trigrams had been lost.

Ouyang Xiu said that when books were burned in the Qin dynasty, the main text of the Yi survived because it was used for divination, while the Ten Wings became scattered among the people. When Emperor Wen of Han made an extensive search for books, the surviving parts of the Ten Wings were the Tuan Commentary, the Image Commentary, the Appended Statements, and the Commentary on the Words of the Text. During the reign of Emperor Xuan of Han, someone excavated a tomb and found a complete copy of the Yi, which was presented to the court. The middle and lower sections of the Commentary on the Trigrams had already been damaged and could not be read. This suggests that two sections of the Ten Wings really were lost. Later scholars claimed that the Sequence of the Hexagrams and the Miscellaneous Hexagrams were part of the Ten Wings. The commentator considers this incorrect: their language is shallow, and later scholars merely repeated one another’s claims. Cheng Yi explicitly pointed out that the Sequence of the Hexagrams was not the essence of the Yi and did not accord with the Great Dao. Zhang Zai later tried to refute Cheng Yi with forceful arguments, but the commentator considers his case unconvincing. Cheng Yi alone recognized that two sections had been lost.

Zhu Xi said that the Qian hexagram was the only one in the original Zhouyi that Wang Bi had not rearranged. He also said that the two sections of the Zhouyi comprised Fuxi’s drawn trigrams, the statements of King Wen and the Duke of Zhou, and the ten commentaries composed by Confucius, making twelve sections in all. Because Confucian scholars had disrupted their arrangement, Zhu Xi reorganized them into two volumes of main text and ten volumes of commentaries, hoping to restore the old form established by Confucius. The commentator laments that more than two hundred years have passed between Zhu Xi’s time and his own, yet the Zhouyi still has not truly been restored to its former shape. There must be a reason for this.

Without the Ten Wings, how could the principles of the Yi be explained, the hexagram and line statements understood, changes discerned, or the patterns for making implements derived? Those who cultivate the Dao but do not understand the meaning of the statements cannot grasp how nature and feeling interact. Those who do not understand change cannot comprehend the transformations of Metal and Water. Those who are unskilled in making implements cannot master the function of the cauldron and furnace. Those who do not understand good and ill fortune cannot grasp the principles of going with or against the flow. The Commentary on the Changes says that the Yi contains four aspects of the sages’ Dao; this is precisely what it means.

When a junzi is about to undertake something or act, they may consult the Yi, and the guidance they receive will answer like an echo. However distant or hidden the matter, they can use it to discern what is to come. The “hidden” here refers to a realm that is indistinct, obscure, and difficult to grasp. If a junzi can discern what lies ahead even amid such subtle obscurity, who could do so without the most exquisite understanding in the world? The Immortal Master said that the Ten Wings support the Yi; this statement fully expresses the principle.

The sages’ efforts extended their beneficence to later generations. But later students who lack deep merit, De, and wisdom may not be able to receive these teachings. They are often blocked by all kinds of obstacles and unable to see or hear. The three sages appeared in succession, creating the classics and developing their principles, and became models for all generations. The Great Dao is made clear through sages and wise teachers; it cannot be mastered by insight alone. It must be transmitted by a teacher. Even someone intelligent and thoughtful may find it hard to penetrate the teachings if the mind seems veiled. But when a person of benevolence and wisdom studies with full attention and suddenly understands the teacher’s guidance, their mind opens wide, as if curtains in a room had been drawn aside and everything became clear; or as if, after climbing a high platform with their eyes shut, they suddenly found themselves able to see.

If a person does not seek a teacher, how can they awaken on their own? In seeking a teacher, they can first use the Cantong qi to test them: only if the teacher can explain every sentence and understand every chapter can they be called a true teacher. If even one sentence remains unclear, it is hard to have confidence in them. If someone sets this book aside and claims there is another path to attaining the Dao, the commentator says that they are deceiving people. Why? Because this book inherits the Dao of Fuxi and takes King Wen, the Duke of Zhou, and Confucius as its authorities. The Immortal Master says, “The Master is the foremost of all the sages.” Who, ten thousand generations later, could surpass Confucius? The three hundred characters of the Yellow Emperor’s Yin Talisman Classic and the five thousand words of Laozi’s Classic of the Dao and De accord with the purpose of the Cantong qi. Only by understanding this principle can one grasp how they relate to one another. The Old Patriarch, the Celestial Master, Ge the Immortal, Xu Jingyang, Fuqiu Gong, and other perfected immortals all entered the path through this teaching. Books such as the Ziyang Perfected One’s Wuzhen pian and Yuanduzhi’s Jindan Nanwen also take the Cantong qi as their foundation. When compared with Buddhist scriptures and Daoist texts, these too accord with it.

If someone says they received teachings from one person, whose own lineage came from someone else, and speaks on and on, yet cannot explain many passages of the Cantong qi when questioned, the commentator condemns such people as “seeds of hell.” They claim instead that the Great Dao is not found in books, blindly leading others astray. The commentator says that one must first use the Cantong qi to test whether their claims are true; only then can one begin cultivation.

Moreover, the book conceals the six hundred chapters of the Fire Record, along with key instructions that match the seasons and the line patterns. Its language is secret and subtle, and it discusses these matters solemnly from beginning to end. Unless one thinks carefully and traces their sources, one cannot understand why it requires both the realms of the hidden and the manifest to follow its principles. This book is taught only to the worthy; how could it be revealed lightly? To spell out every oral instruction and make it public on bamboo and silk would expose the secrets of Heaven. Thus the author hesitated and sighed repeatedly before composing this work. The commentator explains the word “hesitation” by invoking a timid beast: it lives in the mountains and, when it hears a sound, climbs a tree, going up and down again and again, unable to decide what to do. The Immortal Master says that while writing, he too hesitated and drew back, like someone crossing a river who fears the bank on the other side. Only after weighing the matter repeatedly did he write this text. Even so, when explaining it to later generations, he still withheld some of its methods. The oral instructions could not all be written down; he gave only a brief outline, allowing readers to glimpse the general direction.

Build a waterproof embankment with metal, so that when water enters, it can flow safely within. The quantity of “metal” is fifteen, and the quantity of water is the same. When refining in the furnace, weigh the ingredients precisely: the water should exceed five parts by a little. Metal and water are regarded as the foundations of alchemical refinement, and the quantity of metal remains at the original standard. Another three parts of material are kept out of the furnace; the fire is taken as two parts and combined with them. The three substances contain and blend with one another, bringing about wondrous transformations.

The Sun’s Qi beneath the furnace—the fiery energy used in alchemical refinement—lies hidden and steams for a while. The substance first turns to liquid, then congeals; this is called “Yellow Chariot.” After it has been refined for some time, its properties are damaged, and it looks like ash and earth, or dust on a bright window. Pound and mix it, then place it inside the red furnace door. Seal the furnace opening tightly, making the closure firm and without gaps.

A strong fire burns beneath the furnace without pause, day and night. Begin by refining and nurturing with a gentle fire, then switch to a fierce fire at the end. During refinement, observe carefully and adjust the fire’s heat and coolness with precision. Proceed through twelve stages, inspecting closely at the end of each one. When the substance’s Qi is nearly spent and its form seems lifeless, its color turns purple and shines brightly: the “Returned Elixir” has been refined. Grind it into a fine powder and take one pill, an amount no larger than a “knife-point measure,” an ancient unit of very small quantity. Its effects are said to be wondrous.

The commentary says that only at this point does the Immortal Elder—Wei Boyang, the author of the Cantong qi—explain how to enter the sealed chamber, approach the alchemical furnace, begin forming the Elixir, and place the ingredients in the vessel. Those whose foundations in cultivation are deep should recognize that the book’s explanations follow a sequence, rather than being arranged haphazardly. This chapter of the Cantong qi is especially important. Without its detailed instructions, later readers would not know how to begin alchemical work; without guidance from a true teacher, they would also find the text obscure and profound. Those who reach this passage still without a clue often guess that it describes smelting the five metals and eight minerals. They end up accomplishing nothing, then blame the sage master for speaking deceptively. This is truly regrettable.

The commentary offers a few clues, but does not resolve every question. “Use metal as a barrier” means that those who practice the Ninefold-Return Golden Elixir (a method found in Daoist internal or external alchemy) must understand that “metal” here refers to the Metal of the Dui trigram in the west. First discern the true mind and seek this “Metal of Dui.” Place it on the ritual altar, guard it carefully and continually, and seal it firmly while waiting for it to produce water. The water that emerges must be examined closely: is it precelestial water or postcelestial water? Postcelestial water is turbid and cannot be used to make the Elixir. Even precelestial water must be left to clear before it can be used. The verse says, “The Jing is clear, the Wei turbid”—the Jing River is clear and the Wei River is turbid. The alchemist must wait until the water is as clear as the Jing, then remain quietly watchful without disturbing it. This is what “when the water enters, let it flow undisturbed” means.

Clear water contains true metal. Zhou Xingsi wrote, “Metal is born in the beautiful waters of Li,” meaning that metal comes from the waters of Li; this symbolizes water at its utmost clarity. One must also know the metal’s weight in order to use it. The Metal of Dui here weighs about fifteen liang, with a weight close to one jin serving as the standard. Hence the line, “The metal is reckoned at fifteen.” Only when the metal reaches fifteen liang can it produce the beautiful waters of Li.

“Water’s measure is likewise so” does not mean that the water also weighs fifteen liang. It means that the quantity of water must correspond to the metal: fifteen liang of metal should produce a matching amount of water. The Immortal Elder repeats this instruction to emphasize that the proportions of metal and water are to be determined at the furnace. If fifteen liang of metal has already produced five fen of water, there is too much water and it cannot be used. This is what “five fen of water is excessive” means. The water is truly usable only when the metal has just produced two fen. This is the meaning of “the two are taken as true.” These two fen of water must be matched with the original fifteen liang of metal, hence “the metal’s weight remains as it was at first.” If the water has reached three fen, it is also unsuitable: “the third is therefore not admitted.” When the proportions and timing of metal and water are exactly right, two parts of fire must immediately be brought together with them. This is what “fire, two parts, joins them” means.

When metal, water, and fire are combined, the fire receives the Qi of metal while being restrained by water. The Return Elixir then forms and gains the power to transform, taking on the form of a numinous being. Nothing is more important to beginning the work at the furnace than these instructions.

The sages therefore first chose a month of the year in which to set the metal in place. Within that month, they determined the day and observed the water’s timing; within the day, they chose the hour to correspond to the hexagram lines; and within the hour, they established the fire’s timing and proceeded according to the talismanic schedule. “Following the talisman” means carrying out each stage according to the prescribed timing and heat of the alchemical work. The ancients condensed the year’s seventy-two seasonal markers into one day, arranged the three hundred and sixty hexagram lines across one month, and distributed the thirty-six talismans among the twelve two-hour periods of a day. By this analogy, one two-hour period contains six seasonal markers, but the Elixir requires the fire of only two; it contains one hexagram line, but the Elixir requires not even half a line’s worth of work; it contains three talismans, but the Elixir requires only the brief time represented by a single talisman. This is “a single talisman, a single decisive moment,” and it is also the meaning of the Yellow Emperor’s Yinfu jing. The saying, “People know that the numinous is numinous, but do not know how what is not numinous becomes numinous,” points precisely to this mystery.

During the brief interval represented by this one talisman, the alchemist gathers 3,600 portions of upright Qi and draws them inward, back into the womb. At this moment, it is as though one seizes the transformations of Heaven and Earth and draws upon the essence of the sun and moon: the earth’s axis is held by the mind, and the heavenly gate is opened in the hands; the Qi of the paired Dragon and Tiger trigrams joins, and the essences of metal and water become one; the Tortoise and Snake coil around the alchemical furnace, while the Crow and Hare—the symbols of the sun and moon—meet on the Yellow Path; black and white reflect one another, and hardness and softness alternate. The Jade Furnace stores auspicious signs, and violet light illuminates the sun; Mars guards the far western boundary, while the Vermilion Bird blazes in the sky. Water is urged to move metal, then fire is urged into the vessel. The Elixir called the “Yellow Carriage” is formed by continuous refinement through the Qi of the sun.

At first, the refinement of metal and water is reckoned in months and years. But when metal and water combine to form the Elixir, the necessary work takes only the time of a single talisman. Delay for too long can damage life and ruin the Elixir; even a slight error in the fire’s timing can shorten one’s lifespan. This method is meant to prolong life and cultivate one’s transformation into a perfected being. Yet the slightest deviation can instead injure one’s longevity. The Immortal Elder therefore warns later students to work with great care and precision.

“Dust in a bright window” is a metaphor for the Elixir’s extreme fineness. “Pounding and refining” means refining Yin and Yang together. “Holding it and bringing it in” means protecting the Elixir and drawing it inside. The “Red Gate” is the gate of the Qian trigram, through which the Elixir enters the spirit chamber. “Sealing it firmly” means closing the breath. “The point of conjunction” refers to the body’s nine apertures. All these places must be guarded securely, with nothing allowed to escape.

The rising flame below, turning continuously day and night, indicates that as soon as signs of the Yang Elixir appear, the body suddenly receives the fire of the Li trigram. The fire’s Qi then circulates through the whole body day and night, governing every joint and all the spirits. At this point, one must diligently maintain inward stillness, keeping the voice quiet and the mind at peace, the breath even and the pulse steady. Only then does the Elixir begin to coalesce. In the early stages of refinement, one uses a gentle fire. At the beginning and end, however, one uses a vigorous fire: first, the vigorous fire refines the self; finally, it warms and nourishes the Elixir. Thus the Song of the Vessel and Its Implements says, “Vigorous fire at the beginning and end, gentle fire in between.”

“Observe the signs with heightened care” means that one must not be careless or negligent. The Perfected One of the Muddy Pellet says, “Without sufficient work, it will not become round,” referring to the same principle. “Examine and regulate the cold and warmth” means not to be misled by external things. The Perfected One of Ziyang says, “Adjust the timing of the fire by relying on Yin and Yang,” speaking of the regulation of the fire’s timing.

The practice proceeds through a cycle of twelve stages, repeated again and again, until mercury is added and lead withdrawn, lead is nearly spent and mercury is dry, the Seven Po souls disperse, and the Hun soul changes. In other words, the Qi dwindles and life nears its end; both body and souls undergo transformation. At this stage, the Elixir’s color changes to a vivid red with the sheen of purple gold. Crush it and take one pill: its quantity is minute, as fine as a pinch of powder and small enough to form a single pellet.