《周易参同契发挥(原题俞琰)》Vol. 4

When cultivation begins only in old age, one’s Jing and Qi have often already been depleted and dispersed; Lead, an internal alchemy term often referring to kidney essence and related substances, is exhausted, and Mercury, a term often referring to the mind-spirit or vital energy, has diminished. Even with strenuous cultivation, one may only attain a comfortable old age. The Cui Xu Pian says: “The principle is plainly contained in just a few words, yet the paths of cultivation differ for the old and the young, as do their degrees of difficulty.” This is what it means.

Someone asked: “Lü Chunyang did not begin to hear the Dao until he was fifty, while Ma Ziran and Liu Langran both attained the Dao after the age of sixty-four. Why?” The reply was: “A house is easier to repair once it has fallen into disrepair; likewise, even depleted medicinal substances are not difficult to revive. As long as one understands the method of returning to the root and restoring the origin, Golden Treasures can be accumulated like a mountain. The key still lies in how one cultivates and nurtures oneself in daily life.”

By practicing the Nine Tripod Cauldrons, a nine-stage Neidan method based on the timing of the fire, one can, once the work is complete, transform one’s traces and vanish without a trace.

Here, the “Nine Tripod Cauldrons” refers to the nine stages of fire timing. When these stages are complete, one can transform and conceal one’s traces, seeming to ride the wind from nowhere and roam freely between Heaven and Earth. Lü Chunyang’s Song on Examining the Head and Pursuing the Way says: “The nine years of fire timing have all been passed through; suddenly, the Gate of Heaven opens above the head. The perfected person appears, displaying great spiritual powers; from then on, the celestial immortals come to offer their congratulations.” This describes that state.

Contain and preserve Jing and Qi, regulate and nourish Shen, and bring one’s own virtue into communion with the Three Primordials, the Daoist three fundamental forces or elements of Heaven, Earth, and humanity.

The upper, middle, and lower origins are the upper, middle, and lower Dantian (energy centers). After long cultivation and deep practice, the spirit can remain inwardly settled, and a calm, harmonious Qi (vital energy) fills the whole body. The bones and limbs, every part of the body and every opening, become connected and circulate freely, like the turning of the Celestial River. The Precious Treatise on Primordial Unity says: “As the years pass and practice deepens, there is no need to exert effort to set the circulation in motion; the wheel of Fire and the axle of Water revolve naturally without stopping.” This describes just such a state.

To nourish Jing (essence) and Qi and preserve the spirit means not to overwork the body or exhaust the mind. If the spirit is used too much, it declines; if Jing and Qi are depleted too greatly, they wither away. Day after day, Jing, Qi, and Shen (spirit) are then gradually lost, until one decays like plants and trees. Is this not sorrowful? Thus, those who practice Neidan (internal alchemy) keep the mind empty and still, do not cling to the body, concentrate on holding to the One, and nourish their innate nature. In this way they can preserve Jing and Qi, nurture their original Qi, and keep their spirit whole. Only when Jing and Qi in the three Dantian are abundant and the Qi of the Five Organs is full can one say that the Elixir has been completed.

Tan Jingsheng’s Book of Transformation says: “Sorrow brings tears to the eyes; pungency makes the nose run; resentment leads to weakness; anger gives rise to sores and abscesses. Whatever the mind thinks of, Qi gathers toward the corresponding place, and anything may thereby be nourished. If misguided thoughts draw the movement of Qi toward one place, the upright Qi will flow toward another.” Therefore, practitioners of the Dao should restrain sorrow and hardship, guard against anger, and master the art of harmonizing the breath. Only then can they gather in the root and know where the original spirit is stored. They should draw in their radiance, like a mussel keeping its pearl within and a stone concealing jade, becoming a place where pearls and jade are nurtured. This is indeed an essential teaching.

When Jing and Qi are abundant, the skin’s texture becomes firm and the sinews and bones grow strong.

“Shengli” refers to the skin’s texture. When cultivation has brought Jing and Qi to fullness and they permeate the skin’s texture, the blood is transformed into a nourishing fluid for the body. The Cui Xu Treatise says: “Now all the blood in my body has turned white, and I feel that the four seasons no longer bring the afflictions of cold and heat.” This means that the key to cultivation lies in nourishing the brain and marrow. The brain is where the marrow gathers. When the brain and marrow are full, Yang Qi overflows and circulates. Once the marrow in all the bones is replenished, the bones become firm and the sinews strong, and the troubles caused by cold and heat are dispelled.

All forms of pathogenic Qi can then be expelled, while upright Qi remains within.

People can cultivate longevity because they know how to draw in the pure Qi of Heaven and Earth. They can draw in this vital energy because they breathe. When the exhalation reaches deep into the body’s roots and the inhalation extends to its furthest reaches, the pure Qi of Heaven and Earth can be guided into the Dantian (the part of the body used for internal cultivation).

Human breathing corresponds to the movements of Heaven and Earth. The Book of the Supreme Ultimate’s World Order (Huangji Jingshi Shu) says that after the winter solstice, Heaven and Earth “exhale,” while after the summer solstice, they “inhale.” Zhang Guanwu explains: after the winter solstice, Yang Qi gradually grows and Yin Qi recedes; all things unfurl and come forth, so this is called “exhalation.” After the summer solstice, Yin Qi gradually grows and Yang Qi recedes; all things draw inward and return to storage, so this is called “inhalation.” Over the course of a day, the period after the hour of Zi is “exhalation,” and the period after the hour of Wu is “inhalation.” The time Heaven and Earth take to complete a year is equivalent to one human breath. In the great transformation of Heaven and Earth, a single Yuanhui cycle of 129,600 years is only equivalent to one year for Heaven and Earth.

From the perspective of Daoist alchemical cultivation, a person exhales 13,500 times and inhales 13,500 times a day; one inhalation and one exhalation together count as one breath. Practitioners believe that in a single breath, one secretly draws in the power of 13,500 years of Heaven’s cycles. A year, counted as 360 days, contains 4,860,000 breaths, through which one secretly draws in the power of 4,860,000 years of Heaven’s cycles.

By gradually refining the body’s turbid Qi, the practitioner transforms the body from Yin and turbidity into pure Yang. First Qi changes, then the blood, vessels, flesh, marrow, sinews, bones, and hair, and finally the bodily form itself. After nine years and nine transformations, Yin Qi is entirely exhausted and Yang Qi becomes complete. One can then live as long as Heaven and Earth: this is the Way of longevity and transcendence.

Wei Boyang says that expelling all kinds of perverse Qi and keeping the upright Qi ever present means maintaining the alchemical firing process day and night, refining away Yin Qi until it becomes pure Yang; only then can one attain longevity. The Cui Xu Pian says that golden light passes through the whole body and even the marrow becomes fragrant; the sinews and bones become like gold and jade, wholly transformed into pure Yang. When cultivation reaches the point where red blood turns white and Yin Qi disperses, the body naturally becomes healthy. In the context of Daoist Neidan, pure Yang symbolizes becoming an immortal, while pure Yin symbolizes becoming a ghost; those with equal parts Yin and Yang are ordinary people. If a person can refine Yang and eliminate Yin, they can become an immortal of pure Yang. As long as even a trace of Yin Qi remains unrefined, they cannot be called pure Yang.

Neidan cultivation, a method of refining and nourishing oneself through the body’s own Jing, Qi, and Shen, requires long accumulation before it can transform one’s form and substance and bring one to the immortal Way.

The principles of the Elixir Way take Heaven as their model and are vast and profound. Cultivation must continue without pause, and it is no easy undertaking. The Scripture of the Hidden Talisman says, “Observe the Way of Heaven and grasp the laws by which it operates: everything is contained in this.” Heaven’s ceaseless movement endures because day and night follow one another without interruption. If people observe the Way of Heaven and apply this cycle to their own cultivation, they too can persevere as steadily as the passage of day and night. The Way to long life and lasting vision is contained in this. A person whose body is no more than six feet tall can follow the Way of Heaven and bring the movement within himself into accord with it. Is this method of cultivation not truly vast?

The Book of Changes says, “Heaven moves with strength and ceaseless vigor; the noble person therefore strives onward without rest.” Heaven keeps moving because it is strong and vigorous. To keep one’s practice continuous, one should follow the firm strength of the Qian trigram and make one’s resolve steadfast. Perseverance is difficult in itself. Great affairs under Heaven begin with what is small, and difficult tasks begin with what is easy. A tree large enough to fill one’s arms grows from a tiny sprout; a nine-tiered platform is built up basket by basket; a thousand-mile journey begins with the first step beneath one’s feet. Thus the sages approach difficult tasks through what is easy and accomplish great things by beginning with what is minute. The key, too, lies in long accumulation.

The Scripture of the Yellow Court says, “Immortals and those who cultivate the Way are not born with miraculous powers. They store up Jing and Qi and cultivate themselves gradually, and only then become perfected beings.” In the language of Neidan cultivation, the Elixir Embryo begins to form in an instant; after a hundred days, the work starts to show results; after ten months, the Elixir Embryo is complete; after a year, there is some attainment; after three years, the work is accomplished in full. One continues until nine years of practice are complete and all worldly work has been brought to its end. Only then can one transcend the world and ascend to immortality. No one can reach such an attainment without long accumulation. To imagine that one can ascend to immortality from nowhere, without years of effort, is like expecting to dig a nine-ren-deep well with a single shovel or climb a ten-thousand-zhang-high wall in one step. How could that make sense?

The True Scripture of Pervading Mystery says, “Step by step, without stopping, even a lame turtle can travel a thousand miles. Add earth without ceasing, and a mound can become a mountain. If you stand by the river wishing for fish, you would do better to go home and weave a net.” If people who study the Way do not practice continuously, they will achieve nothing. Whether they can be diligent depends on whether they lack long-term resolve. Such resolve is the hardest thing to maintain. Wu Zongxuan’s Treatise on the Essential Principles of the Mystery says: “Among a thousand who understand the principles, only one resolves to seek the Way. Among a thousand who resolve to seek the Way, only one devotes himself wholeheartedly and advances diligently. Among a thousand who do so, only one can remain diligent over time.” That is why many study the Way but few succeed. If those who understand the principles can make a firm resolve, those who resolve can cast off worldly entanglements, those who cast them off can devote themselves and advance diligently, and those who advance diligently can sustain their efforts over time, then no one who studies will fail to attain the Way.

The world’s customs have declined, and the sages have long since passed away. Yet many who study the Way bring an impatient, competitive mindset to a path of stillness and Wuwei (non-action). They hope to see quick results, though the work must proceed slowly; they expect an immediate reward, though its response may take a long time. As a result, they often fail to persevere to the end. Their resolve is weak and their faith in the Way shallow: they practice in the morning, then change course by evening; they begin diligently, then stop midway; they enjoy brief pleasures and tire of sustained effort, yet still wish to share the lifespan of Heaven and Earth. Is this not a failure to understand?

The Scripture of Inner Observation says, “Knowing the Way is easy, but believing in it is hard. Believing in the Way is easy, but practicing it is hard. Practicing the Way is easy, but attaining it is hard. Attaining the Way is easy, but keeping it is hard.” If cultivating the Way were truly easy, the streets would be full of immortals. What would be remarkable about that?

A poem by Lü Chunyang says: “The Dantian is like three mu of farmland, but there are no seeds ready to grow. At sowing time, one must enlist the Red Dragon to plow. I once taught someone to sow these seeds, but if they do not know how to tend and nurture them, the Way will not grow.” Does this mean the Way is far from people? In truth, it is people who have turned away from the Way.

Some people notice only that the Awakening to Truth says, “The resplendent Golden Elixir can be completed in a single day; the words of the ancient immortals are indeed trustworthy.” They then use this line to mock the idea of long accumulation, without understanding its meaning. Zhang Ziyang quoted Han Xiaoyao to explain that cultivation can also have the wondrous effect of bringing results in a single day. He was addressing those who knew only how to endure three or nine years of hardship, but did not understand how to bring about timely results. The line does not mean that one can become immortal in a day, nor that long accumulation is unnecessary.

The Collected Works of the Highest Clarity says, “He taught me to practice for a brief moment: my bones and hair grew cold, and a flower of the heart formed into a single red pill. This is the Golden Elixir.” It also says that on the Mid-Autumn night of the first year of the Kaixi era, after burning incense and kneeling to receive the secret orally, one practiced according to the instructions for two or three days, and Heaven, Earth, the sun, and the moon seemed to soften like cotton. Yet the same book also says, “Even when one’s practice shows that lead and mercury have united, without understanding the firing process it is all in vain. In general, everything depends on circulating the firing process through the celestial circuit. Only after ten months is the Sacred Embryo complete. Even after the Elixir Head has formed, it may still disperse. One must understand the firing process to condense it firmly.” This shows that minor results in Golden Elixir cultivation may indeed appear in a brief moment, but the full, major work of Golden Elixir cultivation cannot possibly be completed in a single day.

Consider, too, the words of the ancients. Wang Yixuan said, “Nine cycles of refinement over one year can make one’s lifespan equal to Heaven and Earth.” He also said, “After a thousand days of circulating the firing process, the furnace opens and eight treasures appear.” Han Xiaoyao said, “After ten months, the work is complete, and one can unite with Heaven and Earth.” He also said, “Cultivate in accord with the Way of Heaven for three years, and maintain the golden substance of Wuwei for a lifetime.” Wang and Han were both perfected beings who attained the Way during the Tang dynasty. Would they have said such things casually?

Lü Dongbin said, “Through a thousand days of work, not a moment can be idle; after three years of the River Chariot’s circulation, one reaches Kunlun.” He also said, “When the Heavenly Talisman arrives at the Jade Capital, one must accumulate three thousand days of work.” Liu Haichan said, “The eight gates are sealed within the furnace and pass through nine-five; the medicine returns through seven cycles, a process that takes three years.” He also said, “When the nine cycles are complete, after a thousand days of firing, one can be entered into the registers of immortals.” Lü Dongbin and Liu Haichan were both renowned figures among the ranks of immortals. Would they have said such things casually?

In addition, Chen Chaoyuan said that nurturing the Elixir Embryo takes ten months and refining the Elixir takes three years. He also said that only after nine years of faultless cultivation can one refine the truth of pure Yang. Wang Liangqi said that cultivation in accord with the Way of Heaven takes a thousand days. He also said that when Lingzhi fills the three Dantian, a thousand days of work can extend one’s lifespan by ten thousand years. Xue Zixian said that when the Four Images return to Wu and Ji, diligent practice for ten months brings forth the infant. He also said that three years are needed for it to ascend. Liu Xugu said that one’s youthful appearance is preserved by stopping the firing process three times, and that when Embryonic Breathing is perfected, it accords with one full celestial circuit. He also said that the great work takes three thousand days, and that not a moment may be allowed to fall short. Chen Momo said that a hundred days are needed to refine the form of the Elixir, while the full process takes three years. Li Changyuan said, “Do not imagine that forming the Elixir takes only one day; in the end, the work still requires several years.” Chen Cuixu said that practice can show results in a brief moment, but the work takes more than three years to mature. He also said that after a thousand cycles of the firing process, one must understand the proper timing: only then will the Elixir Sprout grow and the mercury naturally become firm and dry.

Are all these people’s words nothing but absurdities meant to deceive later generations? Qiu Changchun’s Collection of the Han Dynasty says, “Even someone with little good fortune and heavy demonic obstacles will ultimately reach completion if they persist in practice step by step.” Fellow cultivators should strive diligently in their practice.

I worry for people in later generations, and for those who love the Dao. They can only follow the outward appearance of their predecessors, sketching and copying ancient writings, then compiling them into books for later readers to consult. This reveals only the branches and leaves while concealing the roots. They use the names of various minerals as pretexts, and set down many explanations in confusion and error. Scholars who obtain these books guard them throughout their lives as though they were precious caskets. Fathers pass them on to sons, and grandsons carry on from their ancestors; they are handed down from generation to generation, yet remain a puzzle, with no true understanding gained. As a result, officials abandon their posts, farmers neglect their fields, merchants leave their goods behind, and men of resolve are driven into poverty. I feel deep sorrow at this, so I have gathered and set down this text.

I have made the wording concise and easy to understand, and the account clear and free of needless complexity. I have set out each point in turn so that readers can check and understand it. Each measure has its fixed quantity, and the parts follow one another in order. Thus I have written these interwoven words as a path for opening the hidden workings within. Those with wisdom should consider them carefully and ponder them with full attention.

The Thirty-Nine Chapters on Pointing to the Mystery says: “If those who seek immortality cannot recognize true Lead and Mercury, then even if they have casually read thousands of alchemical texts, it will do them no good.” The “Lead” and “Mercury” mentioned in alchemical writings are metaphors. Students should draw parallels and extend what they learn from them. They must not cling to literal words and appearances, still less seek outside themselves instead of looking within.

The sages of antiquity took pity on later generations who loved the Dao. Fearing that they might fail to find the proper method, they offered guidance through clues drawn from ancient writings and composed diagrams and books to enlighten later students, hoping they would follow these clues back to the source. Yet when the ancients wrote their works, they often concealed the essential teaching and refused to state it plainly, revealing only surface clues through labels such as “the five metals and eight minerals.” Later readers obtained these books but did not investigate their meaning. They kept them treasured in their cases for a lifetime and passed them down from generation to generation, leaving people confused for ages. Some exhausted their supplies of cinnabar and mercury in their efforts to refine them, yet gained nothing. Some gave up official posts; others neglected their fields. Merchants lost their trades, and men of ambition had no means to support themselves. This is truly lamentable.

Seeing this state of affairs, Wei Boyang grew deeply concerned and therefore compiled the Cantong qi and circulated it among the people. Its discussions of weights and numbers are all grounded in evidence; not a single statement is made carelessly. The passages follow one another, with no idle words. Unfold its clues, and its essential points become visible. Its wording is concise and invites reflection; its explanations are clear and free of excess. Some see that it is divided into three sections and suspect that it contains too much. In fact, the three sections are one, and the one can be distilled into a single oral formula. This formula is scattered throughout the three sections, its wording varied and its gateway obscured, so that the secret teaching is not disclosed all at once. If the perceptive examine it carefully, ponder it repeatedly, and devote themselves to understanding it, they will naturally grasp its meaning.

“Take Heaven and Earth as your model: nothing is greater than Heaven and Earth. The mysterious way of communication extends for ten thousand miles.” The Dao is vast and boundless. If the wise examine it carefully, reflect on it repeatedly, and devote themselves to understanding it, they will naturally grasp its principles.

Nothing is more fitting than Heaven and Earth as a comparison for the vastness encompassed by the Dao. Heaven and Earth are the greatest images of the Dharma, manifestations that make its principles visible. In the sky, a dark river—the Celestial River—stretches from between the stars Wei and Ji to the region of Liu and Xing, crossing the celestial sphere for countless tens of thousands of miles. If those who cultivate Neidan (internal alchemy) take Heaven and Earth as their model and turn inward to seek, they will understand that their bodies, too, contain a Heaven and Earth of their own. There is no need to seek the dark river outside the body: it refers to the Celestial River.

Hegu is a constellation beside the Celestial River, between the lunar mansions Dou and Niu; Xingji is the Ox position on the celestial sphere. Hegu’s proximity to Xingji symbolizes the movement of Qi during alchemical cultivation: it rises from the Tail Cavity, a bodily site described in cultivation practice, passes through the barriers, and surges straight toward the Celestial Thoroughfare, the pathway along which Qi ascends. When Qi breaks through the barrier and emerges, how could the “people” within the body—here referring to its Qi, blood, and various activities—not be stirred? The lines from the Cui Xu Pian, “Above the Curved River, the Golden Crow flies; Chang’e already delights with Dou and Niu,” likewise use the sun, moon, and stars to depict Hegu’s nearness to Xingji. “Mountains, rivers, and the great earth blaze with fierce fire; amid them, all things give rise to wind and thunder” describes the intense changes that occur when Qi stirs within the body.

If one recklessly advances or retreats amid the scene of the Mao mansion, calamity will follow for nine years.

“Maomiao” refers to the regulation of the firing process—the control of the strength of the fire and the timing of its application during alchemical refinement. “Advance and retreat” refers to moving forward and backward, while “nine years” means nine revolutions. Compressed into a shorter span, nine years becomes one revolution each month. This is the meaning of the line in the Cui Xu Pian, “The work of nine revolutions takes nine months to complete.” Compressed further, even a quarter-hour can contain a small cycle of nine revolutions. The Collected Works on the Great Completion of the Golden Elixir means the same thing when it says, “The work of nine revolutions is accomplished in a moment.”

If the movement of the sun’s shadow or the advances and retreats of the firing process stray from their proper course, nine years of refinement may bring misfortune. The advances and retreats of the firing process must be free of the slightest error for the nine revolutions to guide the “yellow mare”—a Neidan metaphor for true Yang or the power that drives its circulation—steadily and without failure. Otherwise, the “purple river carriage,” a metaphor for the movement and circulation of Qi, will be thrown into disorder, bringing danger with it. The Wuzhen Pian says, “All depends, by and large, on the strength of cultivation; if the slightest deviation occurs, no Elixir can be made.” Clearly, the firing process must be handled with great care.

“The sovereign looks down in observation; the king withdraws from behind” describes the movement of the spirit-fire in Neidan cultivation. According to the Taishang Suling Jing, the human body contains “Three Ones”: above is the Heavenly Emperor within the body; in the middle is the Cinnabar Sovereign of the Crimson Palace, where the heart spirit resides; below is the Primal King of the Yellow Court, the region around the body’s Dantian. The Heavenly Emperor above is the Lord Taiyi in the Mud-Pill Palace; the Cinnabar Sovereign in the middle is the Son of Heaven of the Crimson Palace; and the Primal King below is the Primal Yang Lord of the Dantian.

By “the sovereign looks down in observation,” Wei Boyang means using the spirit-fire to shine into Kan—Kan represents Kidney Water and the Yang concealed within Yin—and to set the true Yang within it in motion. “The king withdraws from behind” means that, pressed by the firing process, the true Yang emerges from the Kan position. At this point, the River Chariot method is activated to guide the movement of Qi. The true Yang then rises and is used to transform the true Yin in the Li Palace, which represents Heart Fire.

“The gate and spear rise and fall; thus the circuit of Heaven moves in swift course.” Here, “gate and spear” refers to the gateways and mechanisms that regulate the movement of Qi in cultivation. When the gateways rise and fall in due measure, the circuit of Heaven—the process by which Qi circulates throughout the body—moves accordingly.

The celestial sphere turns without pause, day and night, like a spinning pellet. Its northern and southern ends are set at different heights, one high and one low; these form the pivot of its motion. The human body works in the same way: the Celestial Pass, the upper gateway through which the body’s movement proceeds, lies above, while the Earth Axis, the lower gateway, lies below. If the Celestial Pass can be made to turn and the Earth Axis to revolve, with the upper and lower responding to one another, then a complete circuit of Qi through the body can be made in a single inhalation and exhalation.

Rivers and streams do not run dry; their waters continually flow into the sea, where all streams converge. They can flow into the sea without drying up because the passages among famous mountains and great rivers are connected, allowing the waters to circulate back and forth. The human body works in the same way: when Qi flows freely, the waters of the eight pathways—the routes through which bodily fluids move—flow in reverse and converge in the Primordial Sea, a term in internal alchemy for the inner source or place of gathering.

The Yin and Yang energies of Heaven and Earth move back and forth between Zi and Wu. Wu is the midpoint of Heaven, and Zi the midpoint of Earth; Zi and Wu are where Yin and Yang meet, and Water and Fire come together. When the sun and moon reach this point, they seem to linger and pause. People today call the sun standing directly overhead “the noon pause,” a phrase that likewise suggests lingering. In internal alchemy, the rising and descending of Qi, its alternating movement upward and downward, also recurs between Zi and Wu. This follows the course of Heaven and Earth and is no different from their movement.

Yin and Shen are the roots of Yin-Yang transformation. When the Northern Dipper points toward Yin, spring comes to the world: Yang energy begins to arise, driving all things to grow and sprout. When it points toward Shen, autumn comes: Yin energy begins to bring decline, and all things contract and draw in. Thus Yin and Shen are the roots of Yin-Yang transformation and the gates through which all things grow and recede. In internal alchemy, Qi stirs from Yin and gathers from Shen, repeating this cycle without end, just as Heaven and Earth move. To move in step with the Northern Dipper’s rotation is like holding a balance to set the governing order of the celestial sphere.

The “Treatise on the Celestial Offices” in the Records of the Grand Historian says: The Big Dipper’s handle points toward the Dragon’s Horns, while its bowl lies crosswise opposite the Southern Dipper, with the Dipper’s Ladle near the front of the Three Stars. At dusk, people determined direction by the handle’s position. At midnight, the handle turned like the star Yaoguang, helping them keep track of celestial time and establish the sequence of the years.

The “Treatise on the Celestial Offices” also says: At dusk, observe the Dipper’s handle; at midnight, its bowl; and at dawn, the direction indicated by the Dipper’s Ladle. The Big Dipper is like the chariot ridden by the Celestial Emperor: it moves through the center of the sky and governs the four quarters. It divides Yin and Yang, orders the seasons, harmonizes the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water), moves the solar terms, and establishes the order of the years and seasons. All these are connected to the Dipper’s movement. The Suoyin commentary quotes the Spring and Autumn Annals: The Turning of the Dipper’s Pivot, which names the seven stars in order as Tianshu, Tianxuan, Tianji, Tianquan, Yuheng, Kaiyang, and Yaoguang. The first four form the Dipper’s Ladle, and the last three its handle.

When Wei Boyang says, “Following the Dipper, Yaoguang turns; holding the balance, one sets the origin of the year,” he uses celestial phenomena to explain Neidan (internal alchemy) practice. Within the human body and mind, too, there is a pivot that corresponds to Heaven. The movement of Qi (vital energy) begins at the Zi position and proceeds through the twelve temporal stations represented by the earthly branches. The Big Dipper lies at the center of the sky, just as the heart lies at the center of the human body. Heaven turns by means of the Dipper; in the human being, the heart serves as the pivot. Neidan practice uses the mind to guide the phases of the alchemical fire, just as the Dipper moves through the twelve stations in the sky. The Cui Xu Pian says: “Seize the marvel of Heaven’s workings; at midnight, watch the Dipper’s handle. A few drops of pearly dew—who will carry them to the tips of the rice blossoms?” This, too, speaks of understanding Heaven’s workings by observing the Dipper’s movement.

At Oushan—which this passage identifies as Mount Kunlun—the medicinal substance is raised and refined, with a blazing fire kindled below. The White Tiger, a Neidan term symbolizing Metal Qi, leads in front; the Azure Dragon, a term symbolizing Wood Qi, responds behind.

Fanshan is Mount Kunlun. As the ingredients rise, the fire in the Golden Furnace burns fiercely, while the medicinal liquid in the Jade Cauldron boils and churns. The tiger roars first, and the dragon answers, like a husband singing first and his wife joining in. The Collected Works on the Great Accomplishment of the Golden Elixir says: “When night is deep, the dragon roars and the tiger answers. Quickly set the River Cart in motion, without pausing even for a moment. Soon it will be sent to the crown of the Muddy Pellet; then kindle the fire in the Jade Furnace and refine it until it is like snow.” This is what the passage means. Here, “River Cart” refers to a method of cultivation that circulates the breath within the body, while the “Muddy Pellet” is an important acupoint inside the head.

The Vermilion Bird, a divine bird symbolizing fire, flies and frolics, its feathers bright with five colors. When a net drops over it, it is restrained and can no longer take flight. It cries out in grief, like an infant longing for its mother. Turned over and thrown into a boiling pot, its feathers are damaged and broken.

The Vermilion Bird symbolizes fire. As the ingredients turn and move within the cauldron, they set the Five Phases in motion, giving rise to the appearance of five colors. The bird was originally soaring upward, but the net covers it; within the cauldron, it is as if wind and clouds gather, and its cries sound like an infant’s wailing. Held down by the net and unable to fly, it can only draw in its body, fold its wings, and lie low in the cauldron. The Formula for the Great Elixir of the Red Dragon says: “The Vermilion Crow loves to fly high, but the toad catches it. Though its title is Maiden, its cry is like an infant’s. Once it was mighty and imposing; later, its strength gradually waned.” This describes just this process. Yuan Yangzi’s Song of the Great Dao says: “The Azure Dragon pursues the White Tiger, and the White Tiger follows the Azure Dragon. The red bird joins with it, making a deep, rumbling sound. Regulate the breath and turn the firing times, sending them to the Palace of Li. Cinnabar enters the belly, and the body naturally fills with vigor.” This speaks to the same idea.

Before even half a water clock has passed, the dragon’s scales, armor, and mane appear. Five-colored lights intermingle and shine, astonishing the observer; its transformations follow no fixed pattern. The ingredients in the cauldron churn and surge, boiling fiercely without cease. Layer upon layer, they pile up in succession, their jagged edges interlocking and bracing against one another. Their form resembles ice in midwinter, or something stretching sideways and exuding stalactite-like growths; their shapes are irregular and uneven, overlapping and supporting one another.

Before even half the water clock’s measured interval has passed, the dragon’s scales and mane begin to appear. After a moment of careful observation and cultivation, a subtle current of Qi flows through the Three Passes—the points through which Qi is said to move during cultivation. Yellow clouds form ranks, white sheep gather in flocks, and gold coins, golden flowers, and golden scales appear one after another. The five-colored visions shine brilliantly and change in unpredictable ways: wind stirs jeweled trees, filling the eyes with light; rain falls on jade flowers, as if snow were settling over one’s clothes; red clouds and purple mists shift without end.

Within the furnace and cauldron—a metaphor for the movement of Qi within the body during internal cultivation—the current surges like boiling water rushing onward, swelling without pause. The fire in the Dantian (energy center in the lower abdomen) blazes fiercely, while wind-like Qi rises in the Mudball Palace (a cultivation site within the head). The Three Fields, associated with Qi in the body’s upper, middle, and lower regions, fill up, as if a meal were nearly cooked and hot broth were roiling in the pot. The currents overlap and build layer upon layer, interweaving and supporting one another. Their forms resemble ice in midwinter, or stalactites growing between railings. As the currents mingle, gather, and brace against one another, a process of drawing out and adding to—the method of adjusting the fire in internal cultivation—gradually brings them to coalesce. It is like watering the yellow sprout until it breaks through the soil: the medicine forms of its own accord, and its essence is renewed along with it.

The Cui Xu Pian says: “The arduous work of cultivation takes no more than ten months in all; gradually one draws it forth, gradually it congeals.” If practitioners can devote themselves to internal cultivation without slackening, day or night, the elixir body will gradually transform with the passing days. When the timing of the fire is kept without error each night, the visions described above will appear in sequence.

When Yin and Yang are harmonized and matched, one becomes calm and detached, and they naturally remain together.

The Wuzhen Pian says: “When Yin and Yang of the same kind interact and respond, two and eight are matched, and they naturally unite and draw close.” This means that when the true breath—the long, fine breath cultivated in practice—continues without interruption, Yin and Yang naturally come into accord. When the mind is emptied and the spirit gathered, with one’s intention focused and free of distracting thoughts, Yin and Yang naturally remain together.

The Azure Dragon (the asterism of the seven eastern lodges) lies at the sixth degree of the Lodge of the Room. It corresponds to spring, the Zhen trigram, and the eastern Mao position. The White Tiger (the asterism of the seven western lodges) lies at the seventh degree of the Lodge of the Pleiades. It corresponds to autumn, the Dui trigram, and the western You position. The Vermilion Bird (the asterism of the southern lodges) lies at the second degree of the Lodge of the Bow. It corresponds to due south, the Li trigram, and the Wu position. The three come together in court, like family members who care for and help one another. Tracing things back to their source, there are only two: Water and Fire. As their transformations unfold, they appear as three and five. These three and five then join with the first degree of the Lodge of Danger, and ultimately converge in one place. The number of days used in cultivation is determined according to the method described above.

Among the twenty-eight lodges of the celestial circuit, the seven eastern lodges are called the Azure Dragon, and the seven western lodges the White Tiger. The celestial circuit is also divided into twelve sectors. The central sector of the three eastern sectors is called Great Fire, and that of the three western sectors Great Beam. Great Fire lies at the center of the three eastern sectors and corresponds to the Earthly Branch Mao, the Zhen trigram, spring, and the Five Phase of Wood. The fifth degree of the Lodge of the Room also lies within Great Fire. Hence the text says, “The Azure Dragon is at the Room, sixth degree,” corresponding to spring, Zhen, and Mao. Great Beam lies at the center of the three western sectors and corresponds to the Earthly Branch You, the Dui trigram, autumn, and the Five Phase of Metal. The seventh degree of the Lodge of the Pleiades lies within Great Beam. Hence the text says, “The White Tiger is at the Pleiades, seventh degree,” corresponding to autumn, Dui, and You.

“The Vermilion Bird is at the Bow, second degree; the southern Wu position of the Li trigram at the height of Yang” means that the Lodge of the Bow belongs to the south and is symbolized by the Vermilion Bird. The Lodge of the Bow spans eighteen degrees; the text singles out its second degree because, when the three hundred and sixty-five degrees of the celestial circuit are divided in half from the space between the northern Lodges of Emptiness and Danger, the first degree of the Lodge of Danger lies directly opposite the second degree of the southern Lodge of the Bow.

“The three come together in court” means that the vital energies of the three directions—the Azure Dragon, the White Tiger, and the Vermilion Bird—all return to the position occupied by the Black Tortoise. The Room, sixth degree, and the Pleiades, seventh degree, correspond to the numbers of Water and Fire in their completed form; the Bow, second degree, and Danger, first degree, correspond to their numbers in their nascent form. These numbers correspond to one another, like family members close to and supportive of one another. “Tracing things back to their source, there are only two” means that at the root there are no more than Water and Fire. Water and Fire transform within the cauldron, giving rise through their unfolding to three and five. Here “three and five” refers to the numbered positions of the Room, sixth degree; the Pleiades, seventh degree; and the Bow, second degree. Once the three converge, they join with the first degree of the Lodge of Danger and return to one place. This symbolizes forming the infant, a term for the state attained when the Elixir is complete in Neidan cultivation.

“Cultivate it according to the method given above; the number of days is likewise determined at the outset” means that the Great Elixir should be cultivated according to the method already described, kindling the Fire at the moment when the first Yang is born. Its subtle workings begin with the two lodges of Emptiness and Danger.

It first appears white, then turns yellow, while red shines through from within to without. This is called the First Crucible. When taken, it is as large as a grain of millet.

“First white, then yellow” means that at the beginning it resembles jade-like liquid scattering through the air, pure white as snow. Gradually, it takes on a golden hue, as though flowing golden liquid were filling an old dwelling. “Red shines through from within to without” means that a wondrous radiance seems to blaze across Heaven and Earth, while wind, thunder, clouds, and mist fill the mountains and rivers. The “First Crucible” refers to the first of the nine turns, the stages in which the firing process is regulated during alchemical refinement. “When taken, it is as large as a grain of millet” means that the elixir has only just congealed and taken shape, no larger than a grain of millet.

This comes about naturally; it is not a delusive or heterodox method of the Dao.

The immortals of old often said that the Great Way of the Golden Elixir—the state sought through Neidan cultivation—arises from nature. If it is called “natural,” why cling to some particular method or formula? Simply follow what is natural. It is not a delusive or heterodox method of the Dao.

The Great Way of the Golden Elixir is often said by the ancient immortals to prize “nature.” But if it is called natural, what methods or oral instructions could there be? Surely it is enough simply to let nature run its course. Why, then, seek a teacher’s instruction? In fact, it is not so.

The methods for cultivating the Great Elixir are exceedingly simple. Their wondrous workings rely neither on deliberate contrivance nor on repeated thought, and so they are called “natural.” Yet in cultivation one must still draw in the gaze and gather the hearing, settling the spirit within. The breath should be slow, gentle, and long, neither hurried nor sluggish, and never allowed to break off. In this way, Shen (spirit) returns to Qi (vital energy); Shen and Qi unite and bind together to form an embryo. Clearly, this does not mean leaving everything to nature and doing nothing at all.

The Jing of the Golden Casket and Dragon-Tiger says: “The secret of the natural is first to retain, then to forget.” To retain first and forget afterward means first to guide Shen into the Qi cavity, the place within the body where Qi is stored, and then to forget it in union with Qi. Through this practice, Shen naturally gathers and condenses, Qi naturally accumulates, and the breath naturally settles. This does not mean stilling the mind until it enters extinction, like a withered tree or cold ashes, without any vitality. Stillness of mind and entering quiescence, like a withered tree or dead ashes, may help one to realize the Great Dao; for cultivating oneself into a perfected being, however, it is not enough.

The Treatise on Pointing to the Mysterious says: “The effects of the natural can be achieved only through the natural; if you deliberately seek the natural, it ceases to be natural.” This is precisely the point. Even when the right moment arrives, Qi changes, the inner mechanisms are stirred, and the breath begins to sound, the natural process still contains the secrets of firing and advancing the fire. “Advancing the fire” refers in Neidan (internal alchemy) to applying the fire phases to propel cultivation and refinement.

The Wuzhen Pian says: “At the beginning of cultivation, there is doing, and people often notice it; when one reaches the state of non-doing, all can understand. People see only that non-doing is most subtle. How could they know that doing is its foundation?” If those who study the Dao do not yet understand the practice of “doing” in the methods of the Elixir, but rush to pursue natural non-doing, they are like people who neither sow nor weed, yet sit waiting for a harvest.

Moisture rises from the mountains and marshes, gathers into clouds, and turns into rain.

Timely rain falls from the sky, while clouds rise from mountains and rivers. Everyone knows these phenomena, but people may not know that rain in the sky is actually formed through the transformation of the Qi of mountains and rivers. The Qi of mountains, rivers, lakes, and marshes rises into the sky, gathers, and transforms into clouds. When Yin-Yang Qi comes into harmony, rain falls. Once formed, the rain returns to the earth. The process by which I refine and cultivate the Golden Elixir is no different from this. Wei Boyang, author of the Cantong qi (Token for Joining the Three), used this phenomenon to instruct later students, showing great skill in his metaphor.

When soil is exposed to the sun until its moisture is gone, it dries and cracks into dust. Fire is insubstantial and bright; it clings to wood to show itself as smoke and flame. When the smoke disperses and the flames die out, fire’s nature disappears, leaving ash that becomes earth. Soil originally forms near water; it is heavy and sluggish, and lies below. Once dried by the sun, its earthy nature is spent: it dries, cracks, and scatters into dust. Only by understanding this can one discuss the principles of Yin-Yang’s cycles of transformation.

Phellodendron wood yields yellow dye, while indigo plants yield blue-green. Treated leather becomes glue; sprouted grain, when fermented, becomes wine. Materials of the same kind are easy to process, while things of different kinds are difficult to fashion skillfully.

The Wuzhen pian (Awakening to Reality) says, “Using things of different natures is a waste of effort; better to let true lead accord with the essentials of cultivation.” True mercury and true lead meet and respond to one another because their Qi and natures are alike. They join and coalesce with subtle precision, like a husband and wife paired together. That is why success comes more readily when things of the same kind are brought together.

The Wuzhen pian says: “Using things of different kinds and exhausting every effort is futile; better to let true lead conform to the wondrous workings of the sage’s Way.” Here, “true mercury” and “true lead” refer to two essential substances in alchemy, and also serve as metaphors for Yin-Yang energies whose natures are in accord. When true mercury meets true lead, their energies respond to one another, and they wondrously blend and congeal—like a well-matched husband and wife. This is why they are called “of the same kind.”

Things of the same kind come together naturally, like huangbo bark yielding yellow dye, indigo plants yielding blue, animal hides becoming glue, or rice becoming wine. There is no need to force the process; it succeeds of itself. To abandon such corresponding things and seek something else is to experiment with materials of different kinds, and can only waste one’s effort.

Only this method of alchemy is the “Heavenly Treasure Great Luo Flying Immortal Golden Liquid Ninefold Great Return Elixir.” It is also the wondrous method of purity and stillness, Wuwei (non-action). Its secret is exceedingly simple: even ordinary men and women can practice it and thereby transcend the common world and enter the sacred realm. For this reason, the Way of Heaven sets strict precepts and forbids transmitting it lightly to unsuitable people. Those who study and practice in the world are unlikely to encounter this method unless their conditions are in accord with it.

Wei Boyang, known as Master Wei, did not conceal the Heavenly Treasure secret method. Instead, he wrote it out in the three parts of the Cantong qi, with detailed and careful wording, every passage precise and trustworthy. Its radiance is like the Milky Way, and its streams converge like rivers flowing into the sea. It is truly a precious guide for those who seek immortality throughout the ages. The Zhixuan pian says: “Many lines in the scriptures are true words; they have been passed down to guide those who have the capacity.” The Wujie pian says: “It is not that the Great Way and the immortals are reluctant to share their secret methods; it is simply that those who study the Way lack single-minded resolve.” Yet some believe the words of blind, ignorant teachers and recklessly claim that immortals are lying. Would immortals really lie?

The immortals of old left alchemical books in the human world to guide later students of the Way. Their discussions are clear and can be examined: readers can investigate them, and those who have already gained insight can use them to test their understanding. Most of the accomplished practitioners of antiquity did just this. Liu Haichan said that he had done his utmost to enter grottoes and seek out immortal scriptures; as long as he did not break his pledges, he eventually fulfilled his wish. Yang Xubai said that he had traveled through famous mountains and sacred sites, studying secret teachings and divine formulas in depth. Chen Momo said that he had read widely, visited worthy adepts, and traveled far and wide; on looking back, he found that all he had gained accorded with the sages’ classics.

Clearly, no one relies only on personal opinion without seeking out fellow practitioners, and no one merely clings to a teacher’s words without ever reading alchemical books. Shi Bingzhen put it well: practitioners of the highest rank in antiquity first read widely in alchemical texts and then sought out fellow practitioners. They compared their understanding against reason, so their conclusions did not diverge; they sought instruction suited to their level of practice, and the teachers they followed were not arrogant or ignorant. How can students of the Way in later generations disregard books entirely just because oral instructions are not written down?

If someone claims to have secret instructions handed down from another teacher, but their accounts of the alchemical substances and the firing process appear neither in the alchemical books of past or present nor in the Cantong qi, then that person is simply speaking falsely.

To understand a scripture thoroughly, ponder it repeatedly and compare its passages with one another. After reading it hundreds of times, its meaning will gradually become clear; after thousands or even tens of thousands of readings, its deeper significance may emerge. At times, the spirits may seem to offer a person insight, and the mind may suddenly understand. Trace the thread of the text from its opening, and in the end you may find the way to grasp it.

As the saying goes, read a book a hundred times and its meaning will reveal itself. If this can happen after a hundred readings, how much more so after a thousand or ten thousand? Through repeated recitation, even profound principles gradually become clear. Even without receiving secret instructions from a master, in time one may come to understand them on one’s own. Such insight often arises late at night or during quiet meditation. As reflection and careful contemplation accumulate, suddenly everything falls into place. This is what is meant by “the spirits seem to tell you, and the mind suddenly understands for itself.”

The Guanzi says: “Think, think again, and keep thinking. If it still does not make sense, even ghosts and spirits will make it clear. This is not the power of ghosts and spirits; it is that thought has reached the utmost sincerity.” This expresses precisely the same principle.

In recent times, Zhang Ziyang (Zhang Boduan, a Daoist practitioner of Neidan) entrusted the Wuzhen pian to the Attendant Gentleman Ma Chuhou of Fufeng and charged him with circulating the book, hoping that someone might grasp its meaning through reading. Thus, in his preface, Zhang says that the subtle teachings expressed in the Wuzhen pian—including the Great Elixir (the alchemical fruition sought through Neidan practice), its ingredients, and the firing times (a way of describing the use and regulation of Jing and Qi in Neidan practice)—have all been set out in detail. If a person eager to learn has an affinity with the immortals, reading this book may bring a sudden awakening, allowing them to follow the written words and grasp its principles. His earnest encouragement to later students accords with the meaning of Wei Boyang. It seems that the spirits’ guidance and inward understanding are indeed real possibilities. Otherwise, why would these two predecessors have said such things and misled later generations?

The Way of Heaven favors no one side; it regularly imparts its principles to the worthy and capable.

Tan Jingsheng passed The Book of Transformations to Song Qiqiu. Song, however, killed Tan, stole his book, and claimed it as his own. Before long, Song Qiqiu also met a bad end. This is an example of the Way being passed to someone unsuitable, bringing calamity upon both teacher and student.

Wu Shiyun passed the Way to Xu Jingyang. Xu later received the highest Way from Mother Chen, then passed it on to Wu Jue. All of them eventually achieved success in their cultivation of the Way. This is an example of the Way being passed to suitable people, bringing blessings to all involved. Heaven’s Way favors no one, yet it often helps the good. If the recipient is unsuitable, the Way will not spread without cause. How could the recipient’s worthiness or lack of it fail to bring fortune or calamity?

Alas, the ways of the world are not what they once were; each generation declines further, and I can no longer find good people. If I could still meet one person with a sincere and reverent heart, that would be enough. Heaven’s Way favors no one, yet it often helps the good. If the recipient is unsuitable, the Way will not spread without cause. How could the recipient’s worthiness or lack of it fail to bring fortune or calamity? Alas, the ways of the world are not what they once were; each generation declines further, and I can no longer find good people. If I could still meet one person with a sincere and reverent heart, that would be enough.

This subtle art must be examined with care; one must not speak recklessly or deceive others. Even after it has been passed down for millions of generations, it will remain clear and verifiable. Its radiance is like stars arrayed across the Milky Way, and its vastness like rivers flowing into the sea.

How many schools of minor, heterodox arts are there in the world? Surely far more than three thousand six hundred!

End of Volume Nine of Elucidations of the Seal of the Unity of the Three (Zhouyi Cantongqi Fahui).

Song on the Cauldron and Vessel

Take three for the circumference and one for the diameter.

The circumference of three and diameter of one refer to the treasured cauldron within my body. The Three Powers—Heaven, Earth, and humanity—are contained within it; the Five Phases—Metal, Wood, Water, Fire, and Earth—move within it, as do Lead, Mercury, and Earth. Here, the “cauldron” symbolizes cultivation in internal alchemy: it shows that the body is where Jing and Qi are refined and nurtured and Yin-Yang is set in motion. The Yinfu Jing says, “There is a vessel, from which the myriad forms arise.” This means that once this vessel exists, the myriad forms come forth from it. The many mysteries of the Golden Elixir all depend on this cauldron. To believe that the cauldron is not within one’s own body but in someone else’s is not the Way of still and pure cultivation.

Take four and eight for the cauldron’s mouth, and two inches for the width of its rim.

The opening is four cun and eight fen wide, symbolizing the inclusion of the Four Images and the Eight Trigrams. The lips are two cun long, symbolizing the Two Modes, which divide the upper and lower realms.

The cauldron is one chi and two cun long, symbolizing the year’s twelve months and the cyclical course of fire phases. The upper, middle, and lower parts of the cauldron’s belly should be equally thick, without any imbalance.

Keep the cauldron’s belly upright and, when seated, let the body remain relaxed and gentle.

When meditating, let the eyes look toward the nose and the nose point toward the navel. Keep the body upright and balanced, without leaning. The eyes should be half open and half lowered, not fully closed; otherwise, one may sink into dullness, as if trapped in a dark cave. Let the breath enter and leave through the nose to regulate and open the body’s gateways. The breath should neither stagnate nor become too hurried. If the breath grows too strong, the fire phases will become too vigorous; when they are too vigorous, the medicine will scatter.

Yin Qi is above, while Yang Qi moves downward.

With Yin above and Yang below, water and fire reach their state of mutual completion, with Yin and Yang in harmony. The Huanyuan pian says: “There is fire in the Sea of Sagara, and waves atop Kunlun Mountain. Who can understand how to put them to use? The key lies with the Yellow Woman.” In Neidan, the Yellow Woman symbolizes the harmonizing of Yin and Yang, bringing water and fire together. Without the Yellow Woman’s harmonizing action, water would only flow downward and fire only rise upward. How, then, could water and fire reach mutual completion?

The process of cultivation begins and ends with martial fire, while the middle stage uses civil fire. Here, “beginning and end” metaphorically refer to the last and first days of the lunar month, while “middle” refers to the full moon. The last and first days mark the point when Yin Qi reaches its extreme and Yang Qi begins to emerge, so martial fire is used. At the full moon, Yang Qi reaches its extreme and Yin Qi begins to emerge, so civil fire is used. However, the last and first days and the full moon are only metaphors; they should not be used to make calculations literally.

Use seventy at the beginning, thirty at the end, and two hundred and sixty in the middle, adjusting them evenly. “Three xun” means thirty days. Seventy, thirty, and two hundred and sixty add up to three hundred and sixty, symbolizing the days in the year’s complete cycle. Only after a hundred days of cultivation does the sacred embryo, a term in Neidan symbolizing the inner Elixir body, gradually take shape. Over its one hundred and six days of development, it too must be kept in balanced harmony.

Thirty days, plus seventy days and two hundred sixty days, make a total of three hundred sixty days, corresponding exactly to the number of days in a year’s celestial cycle. After one hundred days of practice, when the count is complete, the Sacred Embryo—the elixir body gradually congealed through Neidan cultivation—begins to stir with life. Once the Sacred Embryo has become active, another two hundred sixty-four days are needed to harmonize the climatic forces, keeping the warm Qi flowing without interruption. Then the work of refining the elixir will naturally be completed. The Cui Xu Pian says: “During the warming and nurturing, you must constantly protect and seal it. The Xun wind, a term symbolizing wind and the regulation of breathing, must continually blow into Kan. Whether walking, sitting, lying down, sleeping, or eating, maintain calm and naturalness. Take care lest the fire become too cool and slow the progress of the elixir’s refinement.” Beyond this, there is no other difficulty.

Yin Fire Is White; Yellow Sprouts from Lead

From the Zi hour to the Si hour is the timing of Yang Fire; from the Wu hour to the Hai hour is the timing of Yin Fire. The You position lies in the west, and the west corresponds to Metal, so it is said that “Yin Fire is white.” The Wuzhen Pian says, “The moon’s radiance shines all day over the western river,” meaning the same thing. Lead is produced within earth, and silver within lead. Silver is refined from lead and congeals into a Yellow Sprout, which is called true lead. The Jinbi Longhu Jing says, “Refine lead to obtain the yellow,” referring to this process.

The Two Sevens Gather, Aiding the Human

“The Two Sevens” refers to the seven lodges of the Azure Dragon in the east and the seven lodges of the White Tiger in the west. “The human” refers to the human position at the center. “The Two Sevens gather, aiding the human” means that the Dragon and Tiger join and gather at the center. In this way, Jiang of the Southern Sea, symbolizing the yin side, and Hu of the Northern Sea, symbolizing the yang side, meet in the land of Hundun. The elixir can then be cooked and refined. The Wuzhen Pian says, “The three families meet and form an infant,” and also, “The Five Phases must all enter the center,” expressing this meaning.

Nourish and Govern the Brain; Ensure Ascent to the Mysterious

The brain, that is, the Upper Dantian (energy center) located in the head and regarded as the dwelling place of the original Shen (spirit), is where the original Shen resides. If practitioners can gather and contain the original Shen, keeping it securely in its proper place, true Qi (vital energy) will naturally rise, and the breath will gradually settle. It is said that when one acupoint opens, many others open with it; once the main gateways are cleared, the remaining gateways can also be opened. The alchemical processes described as “leaving the womb and entering the mouth” and, after the work is complete, “leaving the womb and emerging from the shell” both depend on this practice. “Chanting in Stillness” says: “In Kunlun, the head or Upper Dantian, I mastered the true secret. I practiced every day without interruption. One day, when the work was complete, no one knew; all around me had become dazzling palaces, gleaming like the light of night.” This means that through long practice, the work gradually matures; it cannot be accomplished overnight.

The child dwells within and finds peaceful shelter.

A baby in the womb can survive in peace only through the deep protection and nourishment of the Kun Mother, which symbolizes the receptive, nurturing Yin force.

It comes and goes freely, without leaving the gate.

Here, “the gate” refers to the Gate of the Mysterious Female, a term in Daoist internal alchemy that symbolizes the portal through which Qi moves. “Coming and going freely” refers to the breath moving in and out. The breath never leaves the Gate of the Mysterious Female; Yin-Yang Qi can therefore become abundant and, from there, reach the divine.

It gradually grows; its nature and disposition become pure.

While walking, standing, sitting, or lying down, one must continually nourish and preserve the breath, letting it continue without interruption, as though present yet almost imperceptible. Over time, the breath gradually gathers. When the fetal Qi has congealed, the child appears, and its nature and disposition become increasingly refined.

It returns to unity and comes back to its original source.

The key to cultivating the great elixir is to embrace the origin and guard unity. At the beginning of cultivation, one works with Yin-Yang and the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water); at the completion of the work, one returns to chaos, the limitless state. This is called returning to unity and coming back to the original source.

Cherish and revere it, as a ruler and minister do.

Practitioners should cherish and carefully guard this inner work of cultivation as a minister attends to a ruler.

For a year, remain in the chamber; through wind and night, never slacken.

Practice in the chamber for a year, without slackening by day or by night. Cherish and revere the practice as a minister serves a ruler.

To complete one full cycle requires great diligence.

Bringing the practice to completion requires strenuous effort.

The Huánjīn Piān says: “After one or two years of arduous cultivation, one can enjoy lasting freedom.” Since ancient times, no one has become an immortal simply by working hard for a year in a quiet room. The Língyuán Dàdào Gē likewise says: “When one’s work and conduct are complete, one can roam freely; at the beginning of cultivation, one must be diligent and persevere.” Yet even while working with discipline, one must know how to relax and restore oneself, peacefully nurturing the primordial spirit—the fundamental source of a person’s spirit. These words are deeply meaningful.

During cultivation, one must guard oneself carefully and avoid dullness and confusion.

The Cuìxū Piān says: “By day, set the numinous banner in motion; by night, use the fire fungus. When applying the methods of drawing out and replenishing, take particular care to guard against danger. Without fellow practitioners to remind and correct one another, the heat within the furnace may easily be mishandled.” The higher one’s attainment, the more disturbances one encounters. At every moment of cultivation, one must avoid dullness and confusion; practitioners should remain clear-minded and alert.

The road is long, and the realm is deep and mysterious. If one can penetrate it, one can unite Heaven and Earth.

To apply the methods between the Mysterious Female and the Mysterious Male—the crucial place within the body where Yin and Yang meet and the internal elixir is born—is to travel eighty-four thousand li in a single day. Is that not a great distance? It is vast without limit, yet so subtle that nothing lies within it. Face it, and its beginning cannot be seen; follow it, and its end remains out of sight. Is that not a deep and mysterious realm? If one can penetrate it, one can set the transformations of creation in motion and harmonize Yin and Yang, bringing the five bodies described in cultivation into union with Heaven and Earth.

Moisten the soul and the po with a touch of knife and measure, an alchemical term for the medicine or its seed. Here, the soul and po are symbolized by the tiger and dragon, representing the two Qi of Yin and Yang. Carry the elixir seed to the summit of Kunlun Peak, the crown of the head in internal alchemy. There it transforms into jade fluid and flows into the mouth, as though the wind had fallen still and the waves grown calm: the tiger crouches and the dragon descends, signifying that Yin and Yang within the body are harmonized and the breath is settled.

In this way, one attains longevity and dwells in an immortal realm.

Once the Elixir is complete, practitioners can roam freely and at ease, no longer bound by constraints, while their spirit and vital energy continue to advance. Whether they live in the mountains and forests or amid the court and the bustling world, they can withdraw from worldly affairs and cultivate the Dao. Although Wei Boyang (Duke Wei) often lived among the crowds and the court, he said that each day he dwelt in an immortal village. In the end, the mountains and forests remain places of quiet.

Those who delight in cultivating the Dao should seek the foundation of the Elixir Way.

The “root” is the foundation of Heaven and Earth and the basis for refining the Golden Elixir. The Cui Xu Pian says, “Once you recognize where the Elixir’s foundation lies, whether it is released or drawn back, it is always that.” Without the personal guidance of someone who has attained the Dao, it may be difficult to recognize it. Those who delight in cultivating the Dao are fortunate indeed if they can find this foundation.

Examine the Five Phases—Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, and Water—and determine the measure of each.

When the Five Phases proceed in their usual sequence, they bring forth the myriad things; only when their operation is reversed are they used to refine the Elixir. Their proportions and methods must therefore be examined with care. If the measure of Fire is too great, its intensity will become harsh and dry; if the measure of Water is too great, it will overflow and become uncontrollable. Each measure must be clearly distinguished and accurately set.

Reflect on it carefully; there is no need for extensive discussion. Keep it deep within your heart and guard it with care; do not pass it on casually.

The Wuzhen Pian says, “Recently, golden light appeared throughout my body, yet I did not tell ordinary people of this method.” Quiet reflection brings understanding: this Daoist method was kept secret by sages of every generation. Those who obtain it need only keep it in their hearts and practice it for their own benefit. Why divulge it lightly and speak of it repeatedly? Yet while this may be prudent for oneself, how should one answer to the world and to generations to come? This is precisely why the Cantong Qi was written.

Riding a white crane and traveling in a dragon carriage, one roams through the Great Void—the boundless cosmos—visits the Immortal Lords, receives the celestial registers, documents recording one’s immortal status or divine charge, and is granted the title “Perfected One.”

After the embryo-elixir has been refined, one must still regulate and nourish the spirit so that the Original Spirit can separate from the physical form. At this point, some say they mount a white crane or ride a fire dragon, passing beyond the barriers of the Three Realms and reaching the Primordial Heaven—the highest celestial realm in Daoism. From then on, they roam freely and joyfully, their lives as long as Heaven and Earth; such beings are called perfected persons.

Yet every visible image is merely an illusory apparition. How could there truly be white cranes or dragon scales? If one mistakes an external image for the Buddha, one loses one’s original mind and falls into false views. And where, then, are the immortal lords? One should understand that white cranes, dragon scales, and the like are transformations brought forth by the numinous powers of one’s own Original Spirit. The so-called immortal lords are likewise the Three Pure Ones (Sanqing), already present within oneself. Why gaze so single-mindedly toward the outside world?

Some people fail to understand this principle and spend day and night vainly waiting for an imperial summons from the Heavenly Emperor. Some are even bitten by black tigers or swallowed by giant serpents. Is this not lamentable? When people in the state of Song dug a well, someone helped them; the story was later distorted into a tale that they had dug a person out of the earth. Xu Jingyang, an immortal in Daoist legend, attained the Dao together with his whole family, but later generations falsely claimed that they had ridden a tiled-roof house up into the clouds. Such is the extent of people’s appetite for strange and marvelous stories. These principles can be explained to the discerning, but are difficult to convey to ordinary people. The wise hear advice and follow it in their conduct; the foolish call it deception. Where can I find someone perceptive and open-minded with whom to discuss these matters in depth? Alas!

The Cantong qi ranges widely over many topics, without a sufficiently focused thread. Its arguments branch out broadly, yet do not fully address the finer points; in some places it is too brief to reach the heart of the matter. I have now compiled it anew, filling in what was omitted or missing and clarifying what is obscure, so that related passages connect with one another, their meanings cohere, and their conclusions do not conflict. I have therefore written it again and named it the Sanxiang lei, to elucidate the principles of nature and disposition in the Great Changes (the Zhouyi).

“Can” means three, “tong” means alike, and “qi” means to correspond. The title means that this book uses the Great Change (the Zhouyi) to explain the teachings of the Yellow Emperor and Laozi, and connects their principles with the art of the alchemical furnace and fire. The principles governing Yin-Yang change and the generative processes of creation are, in broad terms, the same.

Wei Boyang, a Daoist alchemist of the Eastern Han, feared that later students would fail to understand, so he wrote this book to explain the essentials of the Great Dao. Yet he also feared that its secrets might be revealed. Rather than state all its principles plainly, he drew on allusions and metaphors to set them out. Concerned, too, that the main text was too brief to explain its finer points, he appended the “Song of the Cauldron and Vessels,” a verse describing the alchemical furnace and its related principles. This song fills in what the main text leaves out and clarifies its more profound, difficult ideas. In this way, the three texts answer to one another and share a common meaning, in the hope that readers will find a path to understanding without straying from their central purpose.

The Cui Xu Pian, a Daoist alchemical classic, says: “The essentials of the six paths are cultivated in nonbeing; within them lies another true and certain beginning. The secrets of Heaven are simple yet subtle, and so they are scattered through the alchemical books and not readily disclosed.” Wei Boyang explains these ideas again and again, writing at length; this was likely his purpose. Otherwise, the essentials of the Great Elixir could be conveyed in a sentence or two. Why elaborate so extensively?

The Great Change concerns the natural dispositions of things, each following its own established order. The teachings of the Yellow Emperor and Laozi explore the principles behind them, enabling people to compare, grasp, and apply them. The art of the alchemical furnace and fire, too, rests on sound principles. These three paths all arise from the same root and lead to the same way.

The Dao is everywhere and can be embodied in all things. Three sages followed established principles to compose the Yi. The teachings of the Yellow Emperor and Laozi explored its subtle workings and developed the Way of the Elixir. The art of the furnace and fire draws on the workings of creation to carry out its refining. Some of these principles are set down in writing, some are understood through personal practice, and some are embodied in physical vessels. All involve observing the heavens above and examining the myriad things below, understanding the laws by which Yin and Yang combine, and learning from things both near and far to grasp the transformations of creation. From this arose the three paths. Though their routes differ, they ultimately converge in one place. This is why the Cantong qi is said to be “three things that correspond.”

Branches, stems, flowers, leaves, and fruit all grow from the tree’s root and spread outward. To understand the source, one must not go against the inherent nature of things. One may also take guidance from what lies farther away and apply it to what is at hand, thereby grasping the principles of transformation in the workings of creation. From this arise three principles. Their paths differ, yet in the end they return to one place. This is why the work is called Can Tong Qi.

Branches, stems, flowers, leaves, and fruit continue to grow and change, yet all remain rooted in the tree and do not lose their original nature. What is said here comes from sincere intent and careful examination; it contains no error.

The Dao is the root of all things, like the root of a tree. As the Dao unfolds, it forms branches and stems; thus came the Yi works composed by the three sages. As the Dao disperses, it appears as flowers and leaves; thus arose the theories of alchemical furnace and fire. When it reaches the stage of bearing fruit, it returns to the root. This is precisely the meaning of the Way of Huang-Lao: retaining its original nature, cultivating the Golden Elixir through inner alchemy, and nurturing the embryo of the sage. Wei Boyang set out these three related principles side by side with due seriousness. He did not do so for the sake of elaborate exposition, but to help students understand Yin-Yang and deeply grasp the workings of creation. His words came from sincere intent and careful examination; they contain no error.

I am a humble man of Yu Kingdom, a declining, obscure recluse in a secluded valley. I hold to simplicity and authenticity and have no liking for power or splendor. Slow-witted by nature and living in a remote, humble place, I give no thought to fame or profit. I hold firmly to tranquility and detachment, hoping for peace and stability in the world. Living quietly at ease, I therefore wrote this piece.

Wei Boyang lived during the Eastern Han. His personal name was Boyang, and his courtesy name was Yunya Zi. He was from Shangyu in Kuaiji. “Yu Kingdom” is the author’s way of concealing his true identity. He was born into a prominent family whose generations enjoyed wealth and status; later, he lived quietly at ease and wrote this piece.

Wei Boyang lived during the Eastern Han. His personal name was Boyang, and he was also known as Master Cloud Fang. He came from Shangyu in Kuaiji. “Official of the Yu Kingdom” is an indirect way of speaking. He was born into a powerful, eminent family whose members had held office for generations. He himself, however, did not serve as an official. He withdrew from the world to cultivate the Dao, quietly tending his practice and finding contentment in emptiness, stillness, and Wuwei (non-action). Learned and widely read, he understood the apocryphal texts. Calm and unassuming, he devoted himself to pursuing the Great Dao, regarding splendid carriages and robes as worthless as chaff.

No one knows who taught him, but he received the oral instructions for the Great Elixir—the methods for refining and cultivating the Golden Elixir. Taking the Zhouyi, or Book of Changes, as his model, he composed the three chapters of the Cantong qi (Token for Joining the Three). Concerned that the book had not fully expressed its meaning, he also wrote the Song of the Tripod and Vessel, filling in what the three chapters had left unsaid and explaining their deeper significance. He entrusted the book in secret to Xu Jingxiu, an official from Qingzhou, who concealed his own name when writing its commentary. In the reign of Emperor Huan, Wei Boyang passed the book to Chunyu Shutong, a man from his own commandery, and only then did it circulate in the world. Alas, this book clarifies the essentials of the Great Dao and reveals the mysteries of Heaven and Earth. Its arguments are both precise and comprehensive. Wei Boyang not only understood these principles but truly put them into practice.

Yet Wei Boyang still described himself as ignorant and worn-out. Such, by and large, is the humility and reserve of those who truly possess the Dao.

The Cantong qi sings of the Zhouyi and transmits the teachings left by three sages. Examining its meaning, we can see that its teachings are governed by a single underlying principle. Cultivation should accord with reason and bring the spirit into clear, unhindered expression. When wondrous transformations are set in motion, the Four Seas can be brought to peace. Set out these principles as a calendar, and later generations can follow them; govern affairs according to them, and the task is not difficult.

Guide inner cultivation and nurture one’s nature, and a yellow radiance—the sign of cultivation—will appear of itself. With deep De (Virtue/Power), one can return to the root and go back to the beginning. The way of return lies within one’s own heart and never leaves the self. By holding fast to the One—the Daoist way of keeping to unity and preserving one’s true nature—without letting go, one can endure.

Combine this with ingestion practices, including the use of elixirs, and lay out the two medicines, male and female. Remove the military force of Wudu and discard the Eight Minerals, the mineral ingredients used in traditional Waidan (external alchemy). Only through careful application can one refine what the world prizes. The book sets out three interwoven lines of teaching, their branches and trunks connected. Their names differ, but their roots all spring from the same tradition.

Fuxi drew the Eight Trigrams (Bagua), then doubled them to form the sixty-four hexagrams. King Wen of Zhou arranged the hexagrams, observed their symbolic images, and explained good and ill fortune through the hexagram and line statements. Confucius then composed the Ten Wings, ten works interpreting the Book of Changes (Yijing), to develop these ideas. Their purpose was to follow the principles governing nature and life and to bring together the laws by which Heaven and Earth operate. Thus, using the principles of the Changes to arrange the calendar gives it clear order and makes it easy to follow. Used as a standard for successive generations and as a guide to governing, those principles can be put into practice without needless complexity, making them a model for rulers throughout the ages. The principles of the Changes may be called vast and profound.

The Yellow Emperor observed the Way of Heaven and followed its workings. Laozi’s Virtue was deep, and his innocence was like that of a newborn infant. The Yinfu Jing contains more than three hundred characters, and the Daode Jing more than five thousand; their repeated discussions do no more than illuminate the mysteries of nature’s transformations. For this reason, those in the world who practice methods of alchemical cultivation also honor the Yellow Emperor and Laozi as ancestral masters. The learning of Huang-Lao may be said to have reached its highest point.

As for methods of ingesting and refining substances, once one grasps the mystery of Yin-Yang in combination, one can subdue ingredients such as lead and mercury. Materials of the “two yellows” category can be eliminated first, and all other ores set aside as well. Carefully distinguish the uses of the ingredients, then heat and refine them until they turn yellow or white, and a substance can be made. These things take shape between Heaven and Earth; how could the common world fail to regard them as treasures? The art of the furnace fire may be called wondrous and extraordinary.

The learning of the Changes, the teachings of Huang-Lao, and the art of the furnace fire are three lineages that proceed side by side, their branches and trunks connected. Their names differ, but their source comes from the same approach. This is the meaning of the title Can Tong Qi.

These words are not merely a piling up of phrases; they seek harmony in their wording and are arranged in paired passages. The opening reveals their true meaning. The text is concise, yet worth examining closely. If I were to elaborate on falsehoods, I would only invite unnecessary fault. I have therefore named it Can Tong Qi, so that readers may glimpse its first threads. Though the wording is spare, its meaning is profound; descendants in generations to come should follow it.

Wei Gong wrote the “Song of the Cauldron and Vessels” after the first three treatises. Its wording may seem trivial and awkward, yet it has its own merits. Was it written merely to achieve parallel phrasing and make the text look elegant? Surely it contains the most genuine truths. If it used falsehoods to deceive later generations, anyone with even a little understanding of the Dao would know better. Would Wei Gong have done such a thing? Besides, the Way of Heaven is clear, and fortune and misfortune are never far from us. Why use lies to mislead the world and generations to come, bringing upon oneself the offense of deceiving Heaven? The purpose of the “Song of the Cauldron and Vessels” is to fill in what the first three treatises leave out and explain their obscure, difficult principles. Though each line has only three words and the piece seems brief, its meaning is broad and complete, encompassing everything. It is indeed clear and plain, and can be put into practice. If later students cannot take it as their guide, where else can they place their trust?

“Follow the times and keep clear of harm; make your home among the hills. Come and go through vast, remote realms, keeping company with spirits and gods. Transform your form and become an immortal; return to stillness and silence. Even after a hundred generations, you may yet appear, roaming among humankind. Spread your wings and fly east, west, and south. When hardship comes, floods and droughts arrive in turn; branches and leaves wither, losing their lush splendor. By carrying and supporting one another, you can attain secure, long life.”

These are cryptic phrases by Wei Boyang, composed of three words each. Combine the word “wei” with “gui,” and they form “Wei.” Remove “yi” from “bai,” and “bai” remains. Join “bai” with “ren,” and the result points to “Bo.” The scripture also says, “Losing their lush splendor, they carry and support one another, attaining secure, long life.” These phrases, too, conceal a person’s name through similar methods of combining and separating written forms.

This is an example of how Wei Boyang concealed his real name in three word puzzles. The character “wei” is formed by combining “wei” and “gui.” Remove the bottom horizontal stroke from “bai” to make “bai,” then combine it with “ren” to form “bo.” The character “yang” is formed through further transformations: “tang” suffers drought and loses its water radical, becoming “yang”; “ruan” meets misfortune and has the relevant parts removed, after which it is combined with “yi” to form “yang.” Wei Boyang’s purpose was highly concealed.

During the Yuanfeng era, Lü Jifu served as governor of Shanzhou. Lü Dongbin came to the Tianqing Temple to ask for a writing brush and wrote two poems. One reads: “I am a recluse from Tiantai, with a home south of the stone bridge. A father and son are born with only two mouths between them; they love reciting poems but dislike keeping time.”

At the time, Lü Jifu’s son-in-law, Yu Zhong, explained: “‘Guest from Tiantai’ points to ‘bin’; ‘stone bridge’ points to ‘dong’; the two mouths together point to ‘lü’; and ‘loving to recite poems but not keeping time’ refers to composing verse. So the person who wrote this poem was probably Lü Dongbin.”

From this we can see that when ancient immortals wrote books and set forth their teachings, they devoted themselves solely to clarifying the Great Dao and guiding later generations, and had no desire to make their own names famous.

The text includes editorial notes: wording throughout has been corrected or supplemented according to the Siku Quanshu edition; “Zanxu” is the title of a section.

The Cantong qi (The Seal of the Unity of the Three), a Daoist classic written by Wei Boyang in the Eastern Han dynasty, may seem plain in its wording, yet the principles it contains are profound; its language is concise, but its meaning is subtle and deep. The book recounts how the Five Emperors began their great achievements and the Three Sovereigns established systems of governance and teaching. It explains that when the duties of ruler and minister are distinguished and the order between higher and lower ranks is guided by clear standards, even policies carried out in sequence may fail to bring peace and stability.

Following only the book’s methods for taking medicines may not bring long life; studying only the way of nourishing one’s nature may not extend one’s years. As for analyzing Yin-Yang, balancing proportions, examining the waxing and waning phases of the sun and moon, presenting symbols through the Bagua (Eight Trigrams), explaining generation and transformation through the union of male and female, clarifying change through firmness and yielding, movement and stillness, and distinguishing among things such as rice and salt while taking the Yi Jing as a basis—these concerns are indeed profound. I have therefore written a commentary on this book, in the hope of passing it on to worthy people of later generations. Only by understanding the “Great Image”—the overall pattern revealed by the changes of Yin-Yang—can one seek long life and strengthen oneself. Those who practice this Way should give it all the more careful attention.

This piece, titled “Preface of Praise,” was written by later generations to praise Wei’s book. At its end it says: “I have therefore written a commentary, to pass it on to worthy people of later generations. Only by understanding the Great Image can one seek long life and strengthen oneself. Those who practice this Way should give it all the more careful attention.”

This piece, titled “Praise and Preface,” was written by later readers to praise and introduce Wei Boyang’s book; it is not Wei Boyang’s own work. It also says, “Therefore I composed a commentary to pass it on to worthy people of later generations,” which likewise shows that the piece was not written by Master Wei himself. Zhu Xi, whose courtesy name was Huian, thought that some called it a “Postface,” while others called it “Master Wei’s Eulogy.” On closer inspection, its meaning suggests that it is a preface placed after an annotated edition.

The Peng preface records that Wei Boyang secretly entrusted the Cantong qi to Xu Congshi of Qingzhou and asked him to write a jianzhu—a gloss explaining and annotating the scripture. Xu Congshi concealed his name when annotating the book. By the time of Emperor Huan, he had passed it on to Chunyu Shutong, from the same commandery, and only then did the book begin to circulate. Peng Zhenyi believes that Xu Congshi’s annotated edition was later lost. He also points out that some Daoist books say the three chapters of the Zhenqi were written one each by Master Wei, Xu Congshi, and Chunyu Shutong. This is mistaken. Master Wei wrote in the book, “Now I have compiled it once more, making up what was missing,” which shows that all three chapters were written by Master Wei alone. When Liu Zhigu, a perfected person from Shu during the Tang dynasty, presented his Discourse on the Mysterious Pivot of the Sun and Moon to Emperor Xuanzong, he also discussed these matters in detail. The account that Xu Congshi wrote the commentary and Chunyu Shutong transmitted the book should therefore be credible.

The author says that he once examined these accounts closely, but so much time has passed that their truth can no longer be verified. One night, while sitting in stillness, he seemed to hear someone tell him: “Wei Boyang wrote the Cantong qi, and Xu Congshi annotated it. Because the book’s sections and order became jumbled, it came to contain four-character lines, five-character lines, and prose side by side.” After waking, the author carefully checked the text and found that both the upper and middle sections discuss Qian, Kun, Kan, Li, Tun, and Meng, and both list the numbers seven, eight, nine, and six. The upper section says, “The days and times serve as measures,” while the middle section says, “Carefully observe the days and times.” The upper section says, “Zhen receives geng in the western direction,” while the middle section says, “At the summit of the completion, Zhen emerges as a sign.” In addition, “wuwu and jiji” and “Hundun” appear three times, while “three and five” and “new moon and full moon” appear four times. The text contains many repeated meanings.

The author therefore considers that the account of “three people each writing one chapter” may not be entirely without basis. Yet the scripture and commentary have become mixed together, making it difficult to tell which passages belong to the scripture and which to the commentary. He had intended to sort the four-character lines, five-character lines, and prose into three sections, so that the scripture and commentary would no longer be confused and later students could read them more easily. But the book had already been compiled, and he made no further changes. He recorded only what he had heard at the end of the volume, leaving it for discerning people of later generations to investigate.