《周易参同契注(陈显微)》

Whatever takes on a definite form will eventually be destroyed with time; only Heaven and Earth remain undestroyed. Whatever gathers essence will eventually disperse with time; only the sun and moon remain undispersed. Whatever depends on Wood, Fire, Earth, or Water will ultimately have its substance corrupted; only true gold remains uncorrupted. Whatever belongs to sand, stone, plants, or trees will eventually decline and perish; only the true Elixir—the wondrous, numinous medicine sought through alchemy—does not die.

Heaven and Earth, the sun and moon, true gold, and the true Elixir are the most wondrous presences among all things. Thus the immortals call it the Golden Elixir; the name was not chosen casually. The Golden Elixir takes Heaven and Earth as its substance and models its workings on the movements of the sun and moon. Heaven and Earth are the heavens and earth within our bodies; Kan and Li, the names of two hexagrams in the Book of Changes often used to symbolize Water and Fire, are the sun and moon within our bodies. The ascent and descent of Heaven and Earth follow a set order in time, while the union of Kan and Li occurs at its corresponding moment. Once this supreme treasure has been refined, it can be kept for a long time as soon as it is attained. This is surely why it is undestroyed, undispered, uncorrupted, and deathless.

The Way of the Golden Elixir is vast and boundless. It encompasses Heaven and Earth and transcends both ordinary measures and physical form; no other wondrous method or any of the three thousand six hundred paths of cultivation can compare with it.

The sages of antiquity revered the preciousness of the Dao and its teachings, fearing that they might fall into unsuitable hands. They therefore often transmitted them only through a teacher’s wordless instruction to a disciple, without writing them on bamboo slips or in books. Wei Boyang of the Eastern Han worried that the Great Dao had remained hidden for too long, and sympathized with those who aspired to seek the Dao but had no teacher. Drawing on the Ancient Text of the Golden Casket, Jade, Dragon, and Tiger, which he himself had received, he used symbols and metaphors to explain its meaning and further reveal the mysteries of alchemy. In this way, he helped those who had not yet understood, and gave the work the title The Seal of the Unity of the Three in Accordance with the Book of Changes.

The writing is archaic and its meaning profound, so readers often find it difficult to understand. Xu Congshi, Zhang Sui, and Peng Zhenyi each explained it through symbols and metaphors and wrote commentaries on it. Of the commentaries that survive today, only Peng Zhenyi’s remains accessible. Although his explanations are detailed, the true essentials remain concealed. Some recent popular commentaries force teachings from unorthodox schools onto the text; compared with Peng Zhenyi’s commentary, they are even more erroneous and liable to mislead later students. They are not reliable guides.

Mr. Chen, known as Master Baoyi, was naturally gifted and had a thorough understanding of the study of nature and life. In the Guiwei year of the Jiading era (1223), at Duliang in the Huai region, he met an accomplished adept and fully grasped the true intent of Golden Elixir cultivation. At the beginning of the Baoqing era, he came to Beixia and guided younger students with compassion. It was then that he obtained The Seal of the Unity of the Three in Accordance with the Book of Changes. He read it without a trace of doubt, then withdrew from social contact and practiced behind closed doors for many years. His skill grew ever deeper, and his attainment of the Dao became increasingly evident.

He then wrote a commentary based on his own practice. Its language penetrates the subtle and profound, and its explanations are clear; its phrasing is concise, yet it brings the principles to light. Like Cai Mo recognizing a divine dragon and Bian He identifying genuine jade, it gives the Way of the Elixir a trustworthy foundation. Cheng Yi once said that the world holds three exceptionally difficult tasks: governing a state while seeking Heaven’s blessing to prolong its fortunes, cultivating the body to attain longevity, and studying and cultivating oneself to become a sage. The effort required for all three is fundamentally the same, and each can reach a state that transcends the transformations of nature. The Dao transmitted by Mr. Chen is not merely a way of cultivating the body. If later students read this work attentively, investigate it deeply, and come to understand it, they will see that some aspects of the Dao described by Mr. Chen cannot be conveyed in words. The Book of Changes says, “The wondrous and the discerning depend on the practitioner.” I have long admired Mr. Chen’s writings, which reach the summit of their subject, and had also heard that he intended to write a treatise. For this reason, I have composed this piece.

The Master was named Xianwei, with the courtesy name Zongdao. Later, when he withdrew from the world, he took the name Shaowei. He was from Huaiyang and was known as Master Baoyi. His works, The Treatise on Establishing the Sage, Xianwei’s Random Sayings, and The Book of Master Baoyi, have all been handed down. On the first day of the fifth lunar month in the first year of the Duanping era of Emperor Lizong of the Song, Zheng Boqian, Daoist Master Tianbi Hu of Dongyuan in Jinhua, respectfully wrote this preface.

Explanation of the Cantong qi (The Seal of the Unity of the Three), volume one, explained by Chen Xianwei, Master Baoyi. Upper section:

The Qian and Kun hexagrams are the gateways of the Book of Changes and the parents of all the other hexagrams.

The Jinbi Jing says: “The spirit chamber” is the crucial place in alchemical practice, the root from which the various ingredients arise and transform. Wei Boyang says that Qian and Kun are the gateways of the Yi and the foundation of all the hexagrams; these two statements mean the same thing. Without the spirit chamber, the Elixir cannot be refined. Without Qian and Kun, the Yi cannot be understood.

The Qian and Kun hexagrams are pure and complete forms. The Six Children—that is, the six hexagrams Zhen, Xun, Kan, Li, Gen, and Dui—arise through transformations of the pure forms of Qian and Kun. The Daoist Master Mayi says that when Qian and Kun interweave, they produce the Six Children. Since the Six Children arise from Qian and Kun, and all sixty-four hexagrams also develop from them, Qian and Kun are called the foundation of all the hexagrams. Qian and Kun are originally pure Yang and pure Yin. Once the Six Children arise, these pure forms change and can no longer be called wholly unmixed Qian and Kun. Chen Xiyi says: “Though the forms of the hexagrams have changed, through refinement they can still recover their purity.” From this we can understand that changed forms, through refinement, can return to their pure form and enter the Dao; likewise, the various ingredients, through refinement, can return to the spirit chamber and form the Elixir.

However, the “many stones” do not mean external minerals, but the many hexagrams within the human body. The “spirit chamber” is likewise not an external object, but Qian and Kun within the body. To refine the Great Elixir, one must first establish within the body a spirit chamber symbolized by Qian and Kun. Once the spirit chamber is established, all transformations take place within it.

Kan and Li—symbolizing water and fire respectively, and corresponding to the Kan and Li hexagrams in the Yi—form the boundaries of the furnace and cauldron. It is like a well-aligned wheel hub, which allows the spokes to be set securely in place.

Once Qian and Kun—the two hexagrams that symbolize Heaven and Earth—are settled, Yin and Yang naturally join. Qian descends and joins Kun, forming Kan; Kun ascends and joins Qian, forming Li. With Kan and Li in place, the transformations of the myriad things unfold.

Chen Xiyi said: The sun symbolizes Heaven, and its dark aspect descends in the west to meet Earth; the moon symbolizes Earth, and its dark aspect rises in the east to meet Heaven. This resembles the union of man and woman and the joining of Jing and Qi. As the sun and moon move back and forth, they produce cold and heat, bring about the four seasons, divide day from night, and establish the distinct positions of Yin and Yang.

Heaven and Earth themselves do not directly produce cold and heat; these arise from changes in the distance between the sun and moon. Heaven and Earth themselves do not directly produce the four seasons; these take shape as the sun and moon shift north and south. Heaven and Earth themselves do not directly produce day and night; these are formed by the rising and setting of the sun and moon. Heaven and Earth themselves do not directly produce darkness and brightness; these changes come with the sun and moon’s conjunction. Though the principles of Yin and Yang are subtle, they depend on the sun and moon; though Heaven and Earth’s creative transformations are vast, they depend on Kan and Li. Thus, although the hexagrams transform in different ways, their scope still does not extend beyond what Kan and Li represent.

The lines of the hexagrams circulate and transform through the six positions, like the spokes of a wheel: though each is different, their rotation depends on the hub at the center. The central lines of Kan and Li are the single Yang line in the middle of Kan and the single Yin line in the middle of Li; they move up and down within the six lines.

The Laozi says, “Thirty spokes converge on one hub; it is the empty space at the center that gives the wheel its use.” Those who understand this principle can set the “sun and moon” within themselves—the Yin and Yang Qi of the body—in motion. Ordinary people do not understand its workings and go against the Yin-Yang changes within creation; they cannot avoid the danger of collapsing walls and spokes coming loose from the wheel. How, then, could they keep the wheel’s rim and hub properly aligned?

The four hexagrams Qian, Kun, Kan, and Li are called the “four Yin-Yang counterparts,” like four hexagrams representing the union of female and male. They are essential for understanding the transformations of Yin and Yang. They encompass the principles governing Yin-Yang’s movement, just as a craftsperson makes objects by following the straightedge and inked line, or a charioteer steers by holding the reins and following the tracks: only by mastering the underlying rules can one guide outward changes properly.

The Qian hexagram is pure Yang and belongs to the “male”; the Kun hexagram is pure Yin and belongs to the “female.” Kan contains Yang within Yin, while Li contains Yin within Yang, so these hexagrams represent Yin and Yang in interaction. In the other sixty hexagrams, Yin and Yang are distributed with varying emphasis. They cannot express pure Yin, pure Yang, and the interaction of Yin and Yang as these four do, so they are not called “Yin-Yang counterparts.” Qian and Kun are the foundation of this system of principles; Kan and Li are its application. Understand the foundation and application of the four hexagrams, and you can follow their standards like a craftsperson or charioteer, acting in accord with nature and without error.

The mathematical patterns of Yin-Yang transformation are reflected in the systems of pitch and calendar and in numerical cycles. A month has thirty days; after setting aside the four Yin-Yang counterpart hexagrams, sixty hexagrams remain. Matched with the days, they are used two per day: one as the “warp” and one as the “weft,” a metaphor for arrangements that work together. For example, the morning uses the Tun hexagram and the evening the Meng hexagram, followed by Xu in the morning and Song in the evening, proceeding in sequence until Ji Ji and Wei Ji. The arrangement of firm and yielding lines within and across each hexagram also changes accordingly: what is above in the morning may be below in the evening; when a firm line is on the outside, a yielding line is on the inside. Add Ji Ji and Wei Ji to the four hexagrams discussed earlier, and all sixty-four hexagrams of the Zhouyi can be used to explain this system of change. This is why the way of the “Great Elixir,” the goal of Daoist Neidan cultivation, is thought to be something that can be explored through the Yi. It also explains the purpose of the Cantong qi.

At dawn on the first day of the lunar month, the Tun hexagram takes its turn; by evening, the Meng hexagram follows. One hexagram is used for the day and another for the night, in sequence. The Jiji and Weiji hexagrams proceed in turn until dawn at the end of the month. When the cycle is complete, it begins again. This is what the Cantong qi explains. The day and time—reckoned by the sexagenary cycle—set the limits for this process; activity and stillness each have their proper times.

Ma Yi says: “The waxing and waning of Yin and Yang are all expressed in the hexagram images. One must not look only at the words. Only by discerning the meaning within the outward images can one truly understand the principles of the Yijing.” He also says that hexagrams have two kinds of relationships, inversion and opposition, which are key to understanding their sequence. Inverted hexagrams—those turned upside down—have profound meanings; opposed hexagrams—those with their Yin and Yang lines exchanged—are especially subtle. When the Tun hexagram is inverted, it becomes Meng. From Xu and Song onward, most of the sequence follows inverted forms, as with Yi and Xiaoguo. Hexagrams that can be transformed into another by inversion are instead arranged by opposition. Thus Daguo follows Yi.

The cycle begins at dawn on the first day of the month with Tun and Meng, and runs through to Weiji at dawn on the month’s final day, then repeats. This shows that morning belongs to Yin and evening turns to Yang; activity takes place by day, while stillness is maintained at night. In cultivation, Yin and Yang alternate, with host and guest taking turns in command. The movement of Qi wanes and waxes, grows full and diminishes, so one must carefully judge advance and retreat, generation and dissolution. Advancing the fire—guiding Qi through intention and impelling Yang Qi’s movement—must not go wrong for even a moment. Withdrawing the tally—gathering the Qi and letting it settle into stillness—must be equally precise. In adjusting and replenishing, one must distinguish what floats from what sinks; in directing the process, one must identify dawn and dusk correctly. Practitioners should use the hexagram images to seek their underlying principles, then grasp their meaning without becoming bound to the images. This is also what the Wuzhen pian means when it says: “Once you grasp the meaning here, stop seeking the images; if you investigate every line, you will only impose your own intentions.”

In spring and summer, the inner trigrams govern the process, from the Zi hour until the Chen and Si hours. The Wuzhen pian says: “Once you grasp the meaning here, stop seeking the images; if you investigate every line, you will only impose your own intentions.” In autumn and winter, the outer trigrams govern, from the Wu hour until the Xu and Hai hours.

A hexagram consists of two parts, inner and outer. The inner trigram has three lines (the horizontal strokes that make up a hexagram), corresponding to spring and summer in the year, and to the hours after Zi (midnight) and before Wu (noon) in the day. The outer trigram also has three lines, corresponding to autumn and winter in the year, and to the hours after Wu and before Zi. The inner trigram takes Yang and the outer takes Yin, symbolizing the union of the Qian and Kun hexagrams that forms the Tai hexagram. Nourish Yang in spring and summer, and Yin in autumn and winter. After Zi, advance the fire (increase the intensity of the fire in cultivation); after Wu, withdraw the tally (draw the fire back in accordance with the proper timing). These principles are consistent.

Rewards and punishments correspond to spring and autumn; darkness and brightness follow the cold and the heat. The statements attached to the hexagram lines contain principles of benevolence and righteousness, and people express joy and anger as the seasons change. By following the four seasons in this way, the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water) each find their proper place.

Rewards belong to Yang, punishments to Yin; benevolence belongs to Yang, righteousness to Yin; joy belongs to Yang, anger to Yin. In the morning, put Yang’s principles into practice, corresponding to spring and summer; in the evening, put Yin’s principles into practice, corresponding to autumn and winter. As long as one follows the patterns of the four seasons, one naturally accords with the principles of the Five Phases. This does not mean one should actually busy oneself with rewards and punishments, speak of benevolence and righteousness, or deliberately display joy and anger. Rather, Wei Boyang uses these things to explain the growth and decline of Yin and Yang.

Moreover, the Elixir is the essence of utmost Yang (the pure Yang vital energy sought through Neidan cultivation). If even a trace of Yin Qi remains unrefined, the Elixir cannot be formed. Those who cultivate the Dao should be careful in their actions, stillness, speech, and silence. Cherishing life and caring for all things, showing compassion and forgiveness, caring for others, being loyal, trustworthy, and harmonious, remaining calm and genuine, and avoiding falsehood all belong to Yang. Killing and harming living things, cruelty and jealousy, blaming and bullying others, arrogance and stubbornness, lust, and deceit and breach of trust all belong to Yin. By abandoning Yin conduct and cultivating Yang De, Yin Qi gradually fades away. When Yin is exhausted and Yang is pure, one can naturally attain true realization.

Once Heaven and Earth had been established, the transformations of the Yi unfolded within them. Heaven and Earth symbolize Qian and Kun; “setting their positions” means arranging the places where Yin and Yang are paired. Here, the Yi refers to Kan and Li, the two forces through which Qian and Kun function. They have no fixed line positions, but circulate among the six empty places—the vacant positions occupied by the six lines in a hexagram. Their comings and goings are uncertain, their movement up and down has no set pattern, and they remain hidden and difficult to fathom; yet change takes place within them. They encompass the myriad things and serve as the guiding principle of the Dao’s operation.

Chen Xianwei’s commentary says that this passage is Wei Boyang’s own explanation. Qian and Kun are likened to the spirit chamber, the fundamental place where refinement, cultivation, and transformation occur. Yin and Yang are assigned complementary positions, allowing Kan and Li to unite within them and bring about change. The “Yi” here is Kan and Li—that is, the sun and moon. The sun and moon are the transformations between Heaven and Earth, while Kan and Li are the transformations within the human body. Qian and Kun are the fundamental forms; Kan and Li are the forces that make them function. Kan and Li have no fixed positions but flow through the six empty places, coming and going without certainty, moving up and down without a set pattern. Hidden and difficult to fathom, they nevertheless transform things within themselves and produce the most precious treasure. Just as the interaction of Yin and Yang generates the myriad things, Kan and Li are the guiding principle of the Dao’s operation.

Using the formless to govern the formed is like a vessel, whose hollow interior allows it to serve its purpose. Thus, when one investigates the changes in the waxing and waning of Yin and Yang, Kan and Li become concealed and are no longer visible.

The Jinbi Jing says: “Being and nonbeing constrain one another; the fire of the Vermilion Bird, the divine bird symbolizing fire, burns in the air. Purple radiance shines brighter than sunlight, and cinnabar and mercury alike disappear.” Wei Boyang’s words clarify the central teaching of the Jinbi Jing: the symbolic “fire of nature, empty at its core” constrains the precious “water of life.” The essence of fire is originally empty; it appears only when it encounters things. Emptiness, clarity, and freedom from self are all qualities of fire.

When fire operates within the cauldron of the Great Void, purple flames spread across the sky and red light illuminates the four directions. Golden offices and jade towers transform into countless scenes, while divine beasts and numinous dragons appear in myriad forms. These images refer to lead and mercury, that is, Kan and Li, which symbolize water and fire respectively. They do not simply cease to exist; yet once their work is complete, where do they go? Thus, if we trace the process of their waxing, waning, and transformation, Kan and Li ultimately disappear.

The words of the scripture were not invented at random, nor did its argument arise from nothing. It uses visible signs as evidence and measures them against the principles of the divine. Its wording is formed through analogy and grounded in the fundamental principles of things. Kan corresponds to Wu and symbolizes the essence within the moon; Li corresponds to Ji and symbolizes sunlight. Together, the sun and moon are called “Yi,” and firmness and yielding are paired with one another. Earth flourishes in the four seasons, connecting and linking the beginning and end of things.

The three kinds of Qi—blue-green, red, and white—each occupy a direction, yet all receive the influence of the central palace, the central position or force. This is the work of Wu and Ji.

The Najia method in the Zhouyi—the method of assigning the Heavenly Stems to the trigrams—says that the Kan trigram is paired with the six Wu stems, and the Li trigram with the six Ji stems. Kan symbolizes the moon, and Li the sun, so it is said: “Wu of Kan is the moon’s essence; Ji of Li is the sun’s radiance.” The characters for “sun” and “moon” combine to form Yi, “Change.” This explains the meaning of the character through the principle of correspondences among things, to corroborate the meaning of the classic; it is not an invention without basis. The principles of the Yi, then, cannot be separated from the sun and moon. Is the art of alchemical refinement not likewise rooted in Kan and Li?

Both Kan and Li contain true Earth, whose power flourishes in all four seasons. The Yi and the radiance of the sun and moon, too, cannot be discussed apart from Wu and Ji. The ancients said that the Golden Elixir can return precisely because Earth runs through the entire process. Water, Fire, Wood, and Metal each occupy a direction, yet all are shaped by the virtue of central Earth. Zhang Ziyang, discussing the Four Images and Five Phases, also said that they all depend on Earth’s function. How essential is the role of Earth! The Five Phases ultimately return to Earth, and Earth is the mother of Metal—the root from which Metal is born. From this we can see that only after the Five Phases transform into Metal can they, through the action of central Earth, unite with the workings of Heaven and Earth.

The images of the sun and moon hang high in the heavens, their radiance plain to see. By investigating subtle transformations, one can understand the patterns by which change unfolds. As Yang Qi withdraws, Yin Qi arrives, like the spokes moving with a wheel. Yin and Yang alternate in their comings and goings, cycling through opening and closing.

The Jinbi Jing says, “The Way of the Elixir manifests through the brilliance of Fire; it probes the subtle and follows change.” Read alongside the Appended Statements of the Yi, this shows that the Great Way of the Yi is revealed in the celestial images of the sun and moon. The Fire spoken of here is also Kan and Li. By probing their mysteries and using them to grasp the timing of the fire, one can understand the subtlety of transformation. The key to Earth’s virtue lies in enabling the seeds of the Five Phases to give rise to yellow sprouts—a term in alchemy for the first signs of the Elixir’s formation. Of these, nothing is more important than the sun and moon. The Way of the Golden Elixir becomes manifest through Metal: when Metal’s essence flourishes, the Jade Rabbit, symbol of the moon, shines brightly; when the virtue of Fire flourishes, the Golden Crow, symbol of the sun, burns more intensely. Practitioners who understand these transformations must grasp the principle that Yang Qi withdraws as Yin Qi arrives, and that Yin and Yang cycle like a wheel. They use the images of the Yi’s hexagrams and lines as their measure, allowing Yin and Yang to enter and depart from one another in alternating openings and closings. By observing the movements of the sun and moon, they can accord with nature and take the workings of Heaven and Earth as their model.

The Changes (Zhouyi) has three hundred and eighty-four lines. Their transformations are used to draw symbolic correspondences and match them with the tally numbers; here, “tallies” refers to the sixty-four hexagrams. From the last day of each lunar month until dawn on the first day, the Yang energy symbolized by the Zhen trigram begins to stir, and the corresponding hexagram tally is taken up. At this time, the essence and Qi of Heaven and Earth unite, and the sun and moon mingle. Yang energy spreads the mysterious power of life, while Yin energy gathers and transforms essence and Qi. As Yin and Yang intermingle and join, all things begin to establish their foundations. Through sustained nurturing and inward replenishment, the spirit is gathered so that the foundation can take shape. All things then come forth and transform; every bright and vigorous expression of life arises from this.

The Changes has three hundred and eighty-four lines, and the ingredients used in refining the elixir are likewise measured in three hundred and eighty-four zhu. Each portion consists of twenty-four zhu, corresponding to the process by which Yin energy gathers and transforms essence and Qi. As Yin and Yang intermingle and join, all things establish their foundations; through sustained nurturing and inward replenishment, the spirit is gathered so that the foundation takes shape. All things unfold and transform in accordance with this, and bright, vigorous life also arises from it.

Here, the line images of the Zhouyi are matched with the weight of the ingredients. The process of refining and cultivation is explained through the union of Yin and Yang and the gathering of the spirit to nourish the foundation. Zhu is an ancient unit of weight.

The Classic of Changes contains 384 lines, and the ingredients used in alchemical practice are also measured as 384 zhu. Twenty-four zhu make one liang, so 384 zhu equal sixteen liang, corresponding precisely to the number “two eight.” In alchemy, practitioners follow the patterns of Yin and Yang waxing and waning, ascending and descending, as shown by the lines of the Classic of Changes. They take images from the hexagrams as talismans and regulate the firing process according to what those talismans indicate. Here, “talisman” means the drawn lines of a hexagram; it does not refer to separately made Fulu. In the language of the Classic of Changes, these are called “hexagrams”; in the language of alchemy, they are called “talismans.” Thus, the talismans spoken of here are the sixty-four hexagrams.

When Yang energy first begins to arise, the image appears as the Zhen hexagram. The firing process then advances in accordance with the talismanic image of the first Yang line coming into being. At this time, Jing and Qi are refined and nurtured in the spirit chamber, a symbol of the place of inner cultivation. Metal and Fire turn and shift in relation to one another. The masculine Yang is symbolized by the dragon, and the feminine Yin by the tiger. “Spreading the dark and bestowing” refers to the dragon soaring into the Dark Heaven and bringing down rain and dew. “Governing the Yellow and transforming” refers to the tiger entering the Deep Earth and transforming into Metal. The dragon ascending to Heaven and the tiger entering Earth symbolize the merging of the two Qi, Yin and Yang.

In this way, the foundation is established and its boundaries nurtured and maintained. “Yin’e” refers to the edge or outline of a thing. Once Shen and Qi have gathered, the body takes shape naturally. All things arise from this, whether vast as Heaven and Earth, fine and lightly moving, or anything endowed with form and Qi. If this subtle impulse is released outward, it follows the path from root to branch, through which the myriad things ceaselessly generate and renew themselves. If it is gathered inward, it follows the path of returning to the root and restoring the origin, in pursuit of longevity and transcendence.

Thus Confucius praised primordial chaos, the state in which Heaven and Earth had not yet separated and the cosmos was just beginning to emerge, saying that the De of Qian and Kun is vast and open. Looking back to antiquity, one can trace its origin to the Primordial Sovereign, the original Qi at the beginning of creation. The Guanwei established the beginning of Heaven and Earth. As Yin and Yang Qi joined and mingled, all things began to sprout and flourish in the year of the Origin.

Before form and Qi (vital energy)—the shapes and breaths that make up all things—have come into being, this is called “Primordial Vastness.” When form and Qi are both present but have not yet separated, this is called “Undifferentiated Wholeness.” The Classic of Changes says, “The Changes contain the Taiji (Supreme Ultimate), from which the Two Modes arise.” Here, “the Changes” are like Primordial Vastness, while the Taiji is like Undifferentiated Wholeness. Qian and Kun emerge through the transformations of the Taiji: taken together, they are the Taiji; considered separately, they are Qian and Kun. Thus, before Qian and Kun separate, the state is called Undifferentiated Wholeness; after they separate, it is called Heaven and Earth. In praising and expounding the Classic of Changes, Confucius began by presenting Qian and Kun as its gateway, using their open, luminous, empty, and still qualities to contain the Dao of the beginning, when all was Primordial Vastness.

The poem “Guanju,” and the meanings of the capping and wedding ceremonies, both take their imagery from the union of Yin and Yang. Before Qian and Kun separate, the state is called Undifferentiated Wholeness; when Yin and Yang unite, it is called the beginning. The Liezi says, “Taichu is the beginning of Qi; Taishi is the beginning of form.” Thus, “Guan” means establishing the beginning.

The Golden Elixir is made when the Primordial Lord (a revered deity in Daoist texts) takes the subtle Qi from the time before Qian and Kun had separated and Yin and Yang had divided, transforms it into true mercury, and refines it into the true Elixir. It is therefore called “the Primordial One Qi” and “the utmost essence of the undifferentiated origin.” Another saying puts it this way: “There is something formed in undifferentiated unity, existing before Heaven and Earth.” The Jinbi Jing says, “The Primordial Lord begins refining mercury; the spirit chamber contains the empty vastness. From dark and white Qi the Golden Lord is born, standing lofty as the beginning.” This is what it means.

“First year” means the very first year, and also refers to the beginning of cultivation. Once cultivation begins, the Yellow Sprout—the sign that the Elixir is first taking shape—gradually grows, and the Golden Elixir is then refined. Those who cultivate the Dao should seize the right moment and conditions, apply themselves to seeking the supreme treasure, and bring the Elixir’s seed to completion. Once they have obtained this seed, they can naturally and silently grasp the workings of Heaven, swiftly transcending the ordinary and becoming sages. People in the world are confused and unenlightened; they do not understand the workings of Heaven and often rely on their own ideas. Some mistake the path; others wrongly believe they must seek outside themselves, not knowing that the wondrous supreme treasure is born within emptiness.

Before Qian and Kun separate and Yin and Yang are distinguished, there is a particular moment for this. Those who study the Dao should devote themselves wholeheartedly to the Great Dao. If one day they encounter a teacher who transmits the oral instructions, or suddenly understands after reading this book attentively, one will recognize that moment. Only then can one seek the supreme treasure from emptiness and obtain the numinous substance from the indistinct and elusive.

Someone asks, “Can there really be anything within emptiness and the indistinct and elusive?” The answer is: “Have you never seen a yangsui mirror draw fire or a fangzhu vessel draw water? Fire and water both appear from nowhere. People simply do not yet know that emptiness itself contains a natural, wondrous power: it cannot be seen or heard, nor can it be grasped by hand.”

The sages did not come into the world in vain. They looked up and observed the heavenly patterns, discovering the laws revealed in the sky. The celestial bodies advance and retreat, bend and extend, changing with the seasons. Thus the Yi encompasses the laws governing the movement of the Dao of Heaven.

People simply do not know that empty space already possesses a natural, wondrous power: it cannot be seen, heard, or touched.

“Revealing the heavenly signs” here refers to the celestial patterns shown by the movement of the sun and moon. Their advance and retreat, bending and extending accord with the waxing and waning, rising and descending of Yin and Yang in the Yi hexagrams. Thus the Yi is said to encompass the intent of the Dao of Heaven. The sages who composed the Yi rendered a great service and embodied great De for all under Heaven. How could they have been born in vain?

The Fu hexagram, which symbolizes the first stirrings of Yang energy, marks the beginning of all things’ sprouting. The eldest son inherits the father’s substance and relies on the mother to establish the initial foundation. The waxing and waning of Yin and Yang correspond to the Twelve Pitch Pipes, an ancient system for setting musical tones and coordinating them with the calendar; their rising and descending follow the movement of the Northern Dipper’s pivot.

On the third day, the moon appears as a bright crescent. It corresponds to the Zhen hexagram, receives the Heavenly Stem Geng, and is associated with the west. On the eighth day, it corresponds to the Dui hexagram and receives the Heavenly Stem Ding. The moon is at first quarter, its boundary between light and dark straight as a cord. On the fifteenth day, the moon is full; it corresponds to the Qian hexagram, receives the Heavenly Stem Jia, and is associated with the east. The toad and Jade Rabbit symbolize the moon’s Yin essence, while the energies of the sun and moon shine forth together. The toad’s form corresponds to the seasonal stages of the hexagram energies, and the Jade Rabbit gives off a refined radiance.

After seven or eight seasonal stages, the moon’s fullness comes to an end, and it begins to wane and descend. On the sixteenth day, its course enters the next stage. It corresponds to the Xun hexagram, receives the Heavenly Stem Xin, and can be seen in the early morning. The Gen hexagram corresponds to Bing and lies in the south. On the twenty-third day, the moon is at last quarter. By the thirtieth day, it corresponds to the Kun hexagram, receives the Heavenly Stem Yi, and is associated with the northeast; its light has vanished. When one seasonal stage ends, the sequence passes in turn to the next. The old form recedes, and new Yang energy rises once more, like a dragon.

The Great Dao manifests in the transformations of Heaven and Earth, but the laws of these transformations are exceedingly difficult to discern. If one can see through them and grasp their hidden workings, one can seek out the mysteries of the Great Dao and put its power to use. Who could do so without being a true immortal or sage? The sages and perfected ones of ancient times held compassion for all under Heaven. They succeeded one another in transmitting the Dao, renewing the life of the Dao they had received.

The Great Dao manifests through the transformations of nature, whose patterns are exceedingly difficult to discern. Whoever can see those transformations clearly and infer their workings can explore the mysteries of the Great Dao and put its power to use. Who could achieve this except a perfected person or sage who has attained the Dao?

The ancient sages’ concern for all under Heaven and their wish to benefit everyone are beyond imagining. Having discerned the workings of nature, they used that understanding to benefit themselves; having grasped its mysteries, they used them to benefit others. The principles one understands can, of course, be contemplated inwardly. But to teach them to others, one must rely on images and written words, so that people may grasp them silently. Of all the things between Heaven and Earth that reveal the wondrous workings of nature, nothing is clearer than the sun and moon. And among the classics, nothing records the principles of nature in greater detail than the hexagrams of the Book of Changes (Yijing). Compare the sun and moon’s movements and changing phases with the patterns of change in the hexagrams and their lines, and you will find that the two confirm one another and share the same principles. This is why the Cantong qi was composed: to draw on the principles of the Book of Changes, integrate the mysteries of nature, and bring them into accord with the Way of the Great Elixir.

When Yang first arises, the corresponding hexagram is Fu (Return), with Zhen below and Kun above. Zhen represents the eldest son, Kun the mother, and Qian the father. Fu was originally the pure Kun hexagram. One Yang line comes from Qian and changes the lower trigram into Zhen; hence the saying, “From the mother, the first signs take form.” Zhen already contains the substance of Qian, but it is still faint. As Yang lines gradually increase until there are three, the form of Qian is complete; hence the saying, “The eldest son inherits the father’s substance.”

According to the correspondence between the waxing and waning hexagrams and the twelve pitch pipes of the ancient musical system, one line is added each month. Following the rhythm of the Dipper’s pivoting movement, one line advances with each double-hour. On the third day of the month, the moon shows a faint light in the western Geng position, corresponding to the first arising of Yang in the Zhen hexagram. The Na Jia method of the Book of Changes, which assigns the heavenly stems and earthly branches and the cardinal directions to the hexagrams, pairs the six Geng with Zhen. In this way, the principles of nature confirm one another.

On the eighth day, the moon reaches its first quarter in the southern Ding position, corresponding to the second Yang line arising in the Dui hexagram. Na Jia pairs the six Ding with Dui. On the fifteenth, the full moon is in the eastern Jia position, corresponding to Qian, which is paired with the six Jia. At this point all three Yang lines are present in the hexagram, and the toad and jade rabbit in the moon are both at their height. The toad is regarded as the essence of Metal Qi, so it gradually grows strong as the hexagram’s Qi follows the sequence of the seasons. The jade rabbit symbolizes the spirit of the Mao Wood phase; gazing toward the sun, it emits light. Seven and eight add up to fifteen, completing the cycle formed by three and five. The full moon then begins to wane: what had been expanding begins to contract, what was high grows lower, and what had been rising turns downward.

On the sixteenth, Yin first arises and begins to govern. At dawn, the moon appears in the western Xin position, corresponding to Xun, which is assigned Xin. On the twenty-third, the moon appears at dawn in the southern Bing position, corresponding to Gen, which is assigned Bing. On the thirtieth, the moon sets in the eastern Yi position, corresponding to Kun, which is assigned Yi. When one cycle ends, Yin and Yang alternate, and Yang again takes charge. Continuing from the previous hexagram form, it gives rise to the “Dragon”; the Dragon is Zhen.

Among the Eight Trigrams (Bagua), Kan and Li are not included in the correspondences between lunar phases and the six hexagrams described above. Their function is expressed through the coming and going of Yin and Yang, and their rising and falling, within the other six hexagrams. The function of Kan and Li is truly vast.

Ren and Gui pair with Jia and Yi, while the Qian and Kun trigrams encompass the beginning and end of things. The number of the Lesser Yang, seven, and the number of the Lesser Yin, eight, sum to fifteen; the number of the Greater Yang, nine, and the number of the Greater Yin, six, also sum to fifteen. Together, the four numbers make thirty, corresponding to the days in a month. When the month is drawing to a close and the sun and moon disappear from view, Yang Qi wanes and lies concealed. Afterward, Yang Qi begins to emerge again, and the cycle repeats. The Eight Trigrams are arranged like stars, revolving and shifting without ever straying from the center.

In the system of assigning the Ten Heavenly Stems to the Eight Trigrams, the Qian trigram is paired with the six Jia and six Ren, and the Kun trigram with the six Yi and six Gui; each of the remaining trigrams is paired with just one stem. Thus the statement that Ren and Gui pair with Jia and Yi, and that Qian and Kun encompass beginning and end, explains that both Qian and Kun contain true Water. The Lesser Yang, seven, and the Lesser Yin, eight, make fifteen; the Greater Yang, nine, and the Greater Yin, six, also make fifteen. Together, these four numbers make thirty, corresponding to the days in a month. Seven, eight, nine, and six represent the Four Images: the four states of Yin and Yang, young and old. The principles of the Zhouyi accord with the principles of natural transformation. As the month nears its end and the sun and moon disappear from view, Yang Qi is exhausted and concealed; then a single Yang begins to rise again, cycling on and on, ending only to begin anew. If things revolve and shift without losing their central balance, they accord with natural transformation without error and respond to the changes in the hexagram lines without violating their principles.

Original essence, the subtle, primordial vital energy, is hidden and difficult to see, yet it can be understood by seeking, inferring, and carefully examining its signs. Observe how it manifests in ordinary times and infer its form. Set up a gnomon, a post for measuring the sun’s shadow, as a standard, and use divination to determine what is auspicious or inauspicious. Issue commands in accordance with the seasons, without missing the moment when the hexagram lines change. Study the patterns of the Yellow River Chart above and distinguish the contours of the land and the courses of its waters below. Also examine the human heart, and compare your findings with the Three Powers of Heaven, Earth, and humanity, bringing them together for verification. In action, follow the changes of the trigrams; in stillness, adhere to the Image Commentary and the hexagram and line statements. By acting in accordance with the principles of Qian and Kun, one can bring order to the realm between Heaven and Earth. How, then, could one fail to be cautious?

Primordial essence—the most fundamental and numinous essence-energy—is an exceptionally wondrous treasure. It arises within the Void Origin, the still and empty source. When it manifests, its form can be seen; when it withdraws, it is subtle and hard to discern, leaving no trace. To seek it, one must perceive Yin-Yang, investigate the patterns of creation and transformation, infer their signs, and follow the laws by which Heaven and Earth move.

In stillness, observe the celestial phenomena and consider their forms. In action, set up a gnomon to divine good and ill fortune. Look upward at the heavens and downward at the changing tides, discerning the human mind through them. One must also follow the rhythms of the hexagram lines to move Yang Qi: in action, do not miss the moment when the lines change. To move Yin Qi, contemplate the Images and Texts—the passages in the Book of Changes that explain the hexagrams and their lines. In stillness, do not stray from the principle of yielding, storing within, and keeping one’s radiance contained. In this way, the workings of Qian and Kun, symbols of Heaven and Earth and of Yin and Yang, can be put to use within oneself, and primordial essence can be sought and obtained. What is more, when the winds from the eight directions are harmonious, sweet dew descends; when Yin and Yang are at peace, sweet springs well up. These are all signs that Heaven and Earth are in good order. Harmony brings good fortune; discord invites calamity. How, then, could one fail to be vigilant?

The foremost task of governance is to direct and restrain what is subtle and hidden, and to open, unfold, and distribute its treasures. The essential methods of the Dao are like the authority of governance: they command the framework and pivot of transformation. When the hexagram lines stir within, good and ill fortune appear without. The orderly or disorderly courses of the Five Planets—the five celestial bodies—bring timely responses and set changes in motion. When the Four Sevens—the twenty-eight lunar lodges, divided into four groups of seven—fall out of order, the lodges shift from their proper places and become disarrayed.

Cultivation begins like the start of governing affairs: one must cut off harmful and wanton conduct, set aside cravings and desires, and gather in the primordial Qi so that it becomes compact and firm and does not leak away. Then the precious Qi naturally spreads through the Golden Embryo, the state symbolizing the gestation of the internal elixir, and Shen Qi arises in the Jade Chamber, a symbol of the inner place of cultivation. Even the slightest error is like mishandling affairs of state: changes will arise in response, and celestial phenomena will fall out of order. The key is to regulate the firing times—the moments governing advance and retreat, speed and slowness in cultivation—with precision, and to observe the movement of the Dipper’s handle. When the hexagram lines change within, good and ill fortune appear without; if the Five Planets go astray, the constellations will likewise fall into disorder.

Wenchang, the star official in charge of records and overseeing all the officials, directs the whole bureaucracy. The Three Terraces, the stellar positions symbolizing ministers who assist the ruler and harmonize Yin-Yang, supervise and hold the ministers accountable for their work. Officials at every level each manage the affairs within their jurisdiction.

The elixir is placed in the spirit chamber, the inner or symbolic space used for refining it, just as a ruler establishes a state. To govern a state, the ruler should model himself on the positions of the Three Terraces and the record-keeping office of Wenchang in the celestial patterns. The ministers sit together to discuss the Dao and harmonize Yin-Yang, enabling each official to perform their proper duty; thus supervision belongs to the Three Terraces. The record-keeping office of Wenchang assesses people and distinguishes the capable from the unworthy, enabling each official to make full use of their abilities; thus overall direction belongs to Wenchang. When all officials fulfill their duties, the people and all things can live in peace, and the realm can be at peace. In refining the elixir, likewise, the timing and measures of the firing process assigned to each trigram must be faultless, so that transformation proceeds smoothly and the sacred embryo—the inner elixir embryo cultivated in practice—can grow. Yet the key to governing a state lies in the ruler’s actions, while refining the Golden Elixir depends on the mind’s attunement and application.

The sun joins with the essence of the Five Phases, while the moon moves according to the Six Pitch Pipes, the ancient system of pipes used to establish pitch and gauge the seasons. Five multiplied by six makes thirty degrees. When one cycle of movement ends, another begins. One must trace the process from beginning to end and grasp the patterns by which things flourish, decline, endure, and perish. At times, a ruler may become arrogant and complacent, rising too far and departing from the right way; at other times, ministers may be corrupt and flattering, acting outside the law. If the moon’s first quarter, full moon, waxing, and waning fall out of order, anomalies and misfortune will follow. The officials responsible for enforcing the law then censure and investigate; if they handle the matter improperly, the ruler will bear the blame.

This passage uses the numerical symbolism of “five” and “six” to explain the roles of Water and Earth in alchemical practice. Earth is associated with the number five, as is the Sun; the number of the Five Phases is also five. Water is associated with the number six, as are the Moon and the six musical pitches. The ten Heavenly Stems, from Jia to Gui, may be called the “ten days.” Five of these Stems are yang and five are yin, so the number of the Sun is taken as five. There are twelve lunar pitches, divided into six yang pitches and six yin pitches, so the number of the Moon is taken as six. Five multiplied by six makes thirty degrees. When the cycle of degrees is complete, it begins again, symbolizing the recurring cycle of the dark moon and new moon, as the end and beginning of the lunar month alternate.

Metal and Fire wax and wane in relation to each other through this alternation of the dark moon and new moon. To behave like a ruler who is arrogant and complacent, rising to excess and violating the course of things, is to have too much Earth: its measure is out of balance. To behave like a minister who is treacherous and flattering, acting outside the proper bounds, is to make the weight of Water unstable. Improper increases or decreases in measure lead to imbalance, change, and danger. This cannot be blamed on Fire; the fault lies with Earth. The Scripture of the Golden Elixir says, “This is not Fire’s fault; Earth should be punished.” This is what it means.

The North Star (Celestial Pivot) occupies its proper place and rests serenely above, allowing all things to settle into their own positions. It is like the Hall of Light, the ancient place from which emperors issued their commands, administering the state without obstruction. The practitioner turns from this image to inner cultivation: becoming still and empty, returning to the root, gathering in the light, and observing the body inwardly. The practitioner should close the sensory apertures and firmly nourish the numinous root, the inner foundation on which cultivation depends. The three lights of the Sun, Moon, and stars should sink inward and be gathered in, gently nurturing the pearl of the Golden Elixir. Though it seems formless and invisible, it is close at hand within oneself and easy to seek.

The Elixir resides in the “Spirit Chamber,” the inner place where the Elixir is nurtured and the spirit is stored. It is like the Northern Dipper dwelling in the heavens, with the stars each settled in their proper places; it is also like a ruler issuing commands to govern the realm. When the Elixir remains still in a centered and settled state, all things naturally fall into accord. When the practitioner sits upright in silence and maintains stillness through Wuwei (non-action), body and mind likewise become peaceful and harmonious. This is the principle of governing through the Dao of Heaven.

The refining of the Elixir should follow the same pattern: gather in the light that shines outward, turn it back to illuminate the heart, and nurture the root through silent stillness and Wuwei. The sun, moon, and all things seem to grow quiet together, their radiance no longer showing. The primordial spirit, like an infant, and the Mysterious Pearl, a treasure symbolizing the Neidan (internal alchemy), gradually grow through constant gentle nurturing, without allowing them to be diminished. Within practice that seems to be Wuwei, wondrous effects naturally appear; the true state has no visible form. The eyes cannot see it, and the ears cannot hear it, yet it lies close within oneself and need not be sought outside. The key is whether the practitioner quietly accumulates De (Virtue/Power) through good deeds.

The inner yellow Qi (vital energy), symbolizing centered and pure energy, gradually flows in an orderly way and nourishes the body, making the skin supple and lustrous. Once the beginning is set straight, the inner self gradually becomes full and beautiful; once the foundation is established, the extremities have something to rely on.

“Yellow” is the color of the central palace, and the “Elixir” is its treasure. The “Wenyan” commentary on the sixth line of the fifth position in the Kun hexagram of the Zhouyi (Book of Changes) says: “The noble person is yellow within and well-versed in principle; occupying the right position and abiding in the body, beauty is within and extends through the limbs, manifesting in one’s work: this is beauty at its utmost.” This means that a noble person is pure and clear within and stands upright; inner virtue flows outward through the body and one’s work. If the body holds within it the Great Elixir, a precious treasure, its spirit and bearing will naturally be different. It is therefore understandable that the skin, too, would be nourished.

Broadly speaking, anyone who wishes to become an immortal must first possess the virtue of a noble person. If one has yet to attain even the character of a noble person and has not fulfilled the way of being human, how much less has one attained the Way of the immortals? Thus Lord Wei cites the Zhouyi’s teaching on being centered and maintaining correctness to show how inner cultivation becomes visible outwardly. Those of the highest capacity, on hearing this, accumulate good deeds and merit, and then seek immortality; those of middling capacity can at least become good and noble people.

“One” conceals itself, so that the people of the world cannot know it.

Only those who understand the saying “Attain the One, and all things can be accomplished” can grasp the subtle principle of the One—but how difficult this principle is to know! Only by truly knowing what the One is can one attain it. The One spoken of here is the “True One,” not the number one. The True One comes from the Dao (the Way); the numerical one is the one in the saying, “Heaven’s One gives birth to Water.” Once you know that the True One comes from the Dao, there is nothing secret or obscure about the path of the Great Elixir, the state sought through Daoist internal alchemy. Thus the scripture uses “One” as an indirect and veiled expression; people simply do not understand its meaning.

Those of higher De (Virtue/Power) cultivate by following their nature, without deliberate observation or striving. Those of lower De act deliberately and exert themselves without pause. When the upper aperture closes, this is called “being.” When the lower aperture closes, this is called “nonbeing.” To offer nonbeing to the upper is because the upper is where the wondrous De resides. The two apertures of Qian and Kun work together, and Metal and Qi (vital energy) depend on one another.

Heaven’s way moves downward, manifesting brightness and radiance. Earth’s way moves upward, yet appears low and obscure. Though the way of Kun moves upward, its nature is still and quiet. Stillness is Wuwei (non-action), and cannot be achieved through deliberate seeking. The way of Qian moves downward, and its nature is constantly active. Activity is deliberate action, vigorous and unceasing.

The upper aperture closing is called “being”: this refers to the way of Kun moving upward. When it closes, Water is generated, and Water has form. The lower aperture closing is called “nonbeing”: this refers to the way of Qian moving downward. When it closes, Fire is generated, and Fire has no form. “Offering nonbeing to the upper” means that Qian can guide Kun, causing Kun to move upward. “The upper is where wondrous De resides” means that Kun contains and conceals the treasure of the True One. Qian’s downward movement can generate Kun Qi; Kun’s upward movement can generate Qian Metal. The key lies in using the two apertures of Qian and Kun in coordination. When the upper and lower unite and flow freely, Metal increases and Qi is generated along with it. As Qi increases, Metal grows stronger. Thus Metal and Qi truly depend on one another. These are the two wondrous workings of Qian and Kun.

Those who understand how to display “white” while holding fast to “black” will find the spirit-brightening Qi arriving of its own accord.

Know the white and hold to the black, and the wondrous effects will appear of themselves. Here, “white” refers to silver and “black” to lead. “Knowing the white and holding to the black” means refining silver from lead; it is believed that through this process, wondrous results arise spontaneously. Silver is the essence of metal, while lead is the foundation of water.

Water is the pivot of the Dao. In the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water), water’s generating number is one: it is the beginning of Yin-Yang and secretly contains the “yellow sprout,” a term in alchemy for the subtle Qi from which the elixir first arises. Water is not the “True One” itself, yet it can perform the function of the True One. Thus, alchemy takes water as its foundation and seeks among the myriad things the root that can return to oneness. The use of lead is based on this principle.

Water’s generating number is one and its completing number is six. Viewed through the completing number six, water also contains an element of earth. Lead is therefore black on the surface yet contains the “golden essence” within, with the subtle capacity to conceal the yellow sprout. Water is located in the north and moves toward the south, rising from below and carrying its treasure upward like a river cart, an ancient water-powered transport device. Hence it is called the “river cart.”

“To wear coarse cloth and carry jade within” means to be clothed outwardly in rough fabric while keeping precious jade inside. It serves as a metaphor for lead’s lowly appearance concealing a treasure such as silver. The workings of creation often shield the precious with the lowly, nurture brightness in darkness, and preserve honor through humility. Someone who appears unrestrained on the outside may also harbor a treasure within. The true essentials are often kept hidden, as a skilled merchant does not readily display valuable goods. This passage by Wei Boyang speaks mainly of lead, while also touching on silver.

Silver is Metal, and lead is Water. Metal can generate Water, so Metal is called the mother of Water, and Water the child of Metal. Silver is hidden within lead; thus the mother is concealed within the womb, and the child lies within the mother’s womb. The embryonic body of the Golden Elixir lies within lead, just as the True Person—the inner, wondrous reality referred to in cultivation—rests hidden in the depths. At times it appears, at times it vanishes, now sinking, now rising. When the work of lead is complete, the Water recedes and the depths grow clear, and the True Person appears. Then each settles once more in its proper place. This passage describes the relationship among lead, silver, and the embryonic body of the Golden Elixir during the process of alchemical refinement. The Jinbi Jing says, “In the ash pool, the fire’s timing is urgent; lead sinks, and silver rises.” It means the same thing.

When the substance is gathered and refined, it is white; after further refinement, it becomes vermilion. The completed Elixir body serves as an outer guard, with white surrounding a steadfast core that rests in peace. It is about one inch across, its interior and exterior blending together and congealing as one. This is the primordial celestial image revealed by Master Wei (Wei Boyang): the Elixir body seems to have come into being before Heaven and Earth, exalted and precious, beyond conception.

Around the Elixir body are walls and gates, shaped like Penghu, the legendary mountain of immortals in the sea. It is enclosed on every side, its gates shut fast, yet passages connect within it, winding and accessible. It is guarded with care against mishap. To guard it, keep the mind and spirit settled; do not let thoughts become troubled, or allow worry and strain to take hold. Let Shen and Qi fill the chamber so that external things cannot linger within. Keep it guarded.

The spirit chamber, the inner room that houses and protects the original spirit, is enclosed by walls and gates and takes the shape of Penghu, the legendary mountain of immortals. Its outer boundary is tightly guarded, while its passageways extend in every direction, winding and turning as they go. Firm, close protection can keep out evil and delusion; the winding, interconnected towers are meant to guard against the unexpected. In practice, one may quiet the mind until it holds no thoughts, yet it is difficult to keep it free of worry and strain. The spirit and Qi fill the chamber, and external things cannot hold them there. Guard the spirit and Qi, and they flourish; lose them, and they decline. Whether moving, sitting quietly, or resting, the spirit and Qi should always remain with you.

Within the spirit chamber, the inner images contemplated or realized in practice are already complete, and the world of Heaven and Earth takes shape there. Outside, golden wheels surround and shield it like walls and gates. The world lies at the center, beautiful as Penghu and strong as silver mountains and iron ramparts, so that it can keep out evil and delusion and ward off the unexpected. Jade towers and halls connect in every direction, allowing free passage through the realm of spiritual powers. At this point, one can quiet the mind until it holds no thoughts, yet still find it hard to escape worry and strain. One should protect Great Harmony, the calm and pure original Qi, as carefully as a vessel filled to the brim with water. As a thought arises or subsides, the Dharma Body, the inner true body described in cultivation, moves with it. The spirit and Qi fill the whole body, yet are difficult to protect. Guard them and they flourish; lose them, and they decline. Those who study and practice should apply themselves.

These are not orthodox methods of cultivation. Some turn their gaze inward and visualize, perform ritual steps and walk among the stars, and follow the Six Jia cycles and the days of the calendar. They also use yin methods, a form of Yin-Yang technique, to suppress the Nine-One and disturb the original embryo, the abode of original Qi. They swallow breath and agitate the intestines, exhale upright Qi and inhale harmful influences, staying awake day and night and never resting between the dark and new moons. Their bodies grow ever more exhausted, their minds become dazed, as if they had lost their wits; their hundred pulses churn, leaving them unable to settle into stillness. They build earthen mounds and altars, making offerings to spirits morning and evening. When they see apparitions of spirits or receive signs in dreams, they rejoice inwardly, convinced that they will surely prolong their lives. Instead, they die young and their bodies decay. Their practices often violate the right Dao and disrupt its essential principles. Though such techniques number in the thousands and tens of thousands, in the end they all depart from the tradition of the Yellow Emperor and Laozi, and run counter to the Nine Capitals, the Daoist abodes of perfected beings or system of Daoist methods.

There are countless cultivation methods circulating in the world. Even after surveying all kinds of texts, those who study the Dao need only distinguish the orthodox from the deviant and examine what is right and wrong. Some close their eyes and look inward, imagining the vital energies of the five organs shining; some step the celestial patterns, hoping to draw down Heaven’s vital energy; some make offerings at appointed hours, while others practice occult methods. Some exhale vital energy and inhale malign energy; others fill their original cells with turbid energy and absorb vital essence. They continue day and night without pause, month after month without rest. As a result, their bodies grow weaker and their minds become clouded. Some set up altars to make offerings to ghosts and spirits; others use dreams to summon divine beings. Though these arts are many, none is the true path. They mean to prolong life, yet instead hasten their deaths, damage their bodies, and squander their allotted lifespan. It is truly lamentable. How could they know that the Golden Liquid Elixir of Return (a Neidan term for achievements such as refining Jing into Qi and refining Qi into an elixir) can transform and raise a person aloft together with the fleshly body received from their parents? Those misguided arts mentioned earlier all violate the Daoist methods of the Yellow Emperor and Laozi. Judging by their conduct, their practitioners will instead incur guilt in the Office of the Nine Capitals, the Daoist realm of the underworld.

Those who understand grasp the intent behind these teachings and suddenly recognize the right way to cultivate. They then practice diligently, day and night without slackening. After three years of taking in and refining the elixir, they can lighten their bodies, rise into the air, and travel far in every direction; they can cross flames without being burned and enter water without getting wet. They can appear and disappear at will, and from then on enjoy lasting peace and freedom from sorrow. Once their cultivation succeeds and their De is complete, they conceal themselves and await the right time. Taiyi, a revered Daoist deity, then summons them to dwell in the Central Isles, a realm of the immortals. Their work complete, they ascend and receive their immortal registers and talismanic commissions.

Those in the world who understand the intent expounded by Lord Wei know how to cultivate so that they may be free from worry. Once their cultivation succeeds and their De is complete, they conceal themselves and await the right time. Taiyi then summons them to dwell in the Central Isles. Their work complete, they ascend and receive their immortal registers and talismanic commissions.

People in the world who understand the principles, if they grasp the central teaching set out by Lord Wei Boyang, author of the Cantong qi (Token for Joining the Three), will understand the methods and reasons for cultivation. They will then practice diligently, without pause day or night. In less than three years, they can complete the cultivation of the Elixir Way and reach a state in which they can enter water and fire, travel far with a lightened body, transform with numinous freedom, and wander at ease.

Yet after the Way is achieved and De is complete, one should conceal one’s traces, accumulate merit and good deeds, and await the summons of the Primordial Lord of Great Unity, a revered Daoist deity. One should then move to the Central Continent, receive Heaven’s mandate and an immortal register, and, when one’s merit is complete, ascend to become an immortal and return to the Purple Palace, the dwelling place of immortals. It is said that when merit reaches three thousand, one may become a Great Luo Golden Immortal; when it reaches eight hundred, one may become a Great Luo Immortal Guest. This refers to the different ranks of accomplishment in practice.

The Fire Record, a record of the timing and intensity of the fire in alchemical practice, was not invented without basis; it uses the principles of the Yi (Book of Changes) to explain its meaning. The Crescent-shaped Vessel, an implement shaped like a crescent moon, serves as an image for the cauldron. The White Tiger, an alchemical term symbolizing the Metal Qi of the West, is central to the refining process. The Mercury Sun, an alchemical term referring to mercury-like substances or the associated timing of the fire, is like a flowing precious pearl, accompanied by the Azure Dragon, an alchemical term symbolizing the Wood Qi of the East.

When the Qi of the East and West are joined, the hun and po souls naturally draw together. The upper crescent corresponds to the Dui trigram and the number eight; the lower crescent corresponds to the Gen trigram, also numbered eight. When the two crescents unite, Jing and Qi gather, and the forms of Qian and Kun take shape. The two eights combine to make one jin, and thus the workings of the Yi are set right and kept in balance. Each jin contains three hundred and eighty-four zhu, corresponding also to the number of lines in the hexagrams of the Yi.

In ancient times, many alchemical writings discussed the stages of the firing process and the effects of alchemical practice. They were called the Huojì (“Records of the Fire”) and numbered about six hundred works. Their aims all remained within the bounds of the Zhouyi (Book of Changes). Therefore, the contents of the Huojì can be explained by interpreting the Zhouyi.

The Zhouyi has 384 line statements. Alchemists used them to symbolize the firing process of the celestial circuit, the two upper and lower crescents, and the measure known as “two eights make one jin”: one jin contains 384 zhu, corresponding exactly to the 384 lines. The Qian trigram has 192 line images and numbers, and the Kun trigram has 192 as well. When Qian and Kun unite, the Dao of Yin-Yang is complete.

The “Crescent Moon Furnace” refers to the function and substance of the One Aperture of the Mysterious Pass, the crucial aperture spoken of in cultivation. This aperture is like a circle half black and half white, shaped like a half moon; hence its name. Once you understand that the Crescent Moon Furnace symbolizes the furnace and cauldron, you have grasped more than half the principles of refining the Great Elixir.

The White Tiger below is the key to setting the firing process in motion. Above, the Azure Dragon rises with the force of clouds surging upward. Between them, true mercury transforms into flowing, pearl-like liquid. Thus the Azure Dragon of the East and the White Tiger of the West unite, while the Yin soul and Yang spirit restrain one another. In the Golden Cauldron, wondrous methods are set in motion; in the Jade Furnace, the sacred medicine is gently nurtured. This is a method of cultivation that reverses the workings of creation and transforms Heaven and Earth. Who could understand its mysteries without the highest attainment?

When metal is cast into fierce flames, neither its color nor its radiant essence is harmed. Since Heaven and Earth first opened, the light of the sun and moon has not diminished, the weight of gold has not changed, and the moon has kept its form. Gold originally arises from the moon: on the new moon, the first day of the lunar month, it receives the sun’s token. At the end of the lunar month, gold returns to its mother and joins with the moon. It conceals its outward shape and sinks into emptiness; when gold recovers its original nature, radiance appears in the cauldron.

The sun, moon, and gold are the most enduring. Since Heaven and Earth were first formed, the sun and moon have kept their forms unchanged, and their brightness has never diminished. True gold has always had the same weight, and its color has never faded. This is because the three are originally one. People see that when the Qi of gold is abundant, the moon grows brighter, and so they know that gold is born from the moon. Yet they do not know that the moon’s brightness originally comes from the sun.

When the sun and moon meet, the moon gathers in its light and sinks into the void. Only by receiving the sun’s transforming influence can it produce gold. Gold’s nature originally comes from the sun, which is why it is hard and heavy: it truly bears the sun’s color and possesses the sun’s nature. Most things melt and are destroyed when exposed to fire. Gold alone enters fire without losing its luster; it grows harder through repeated hammering and turns redder when smelted in a great furnace. This is because fire is the Qi of the sun, while gold is the sun’s essence. When gold enters blazing fire, it recovers its original nature. Thus, when the fire in the crucible burns fiercely, gold grows harder and redder through repeated refining, its color grows brighter, and its radiance shines splendidly, delighting the eye.

Zi and Wu combine to form the number three; Wu and Ji combine to form the number five. Once three and five are brought into harmony, the eight minerals can each take their proper place according to the governing order. Their breaths nourish one another as they quietly await the gift of grace, like a husband and wife joined together. Yellow earth is the father of gold, and flowing pearls are the mother of water. Water is restrained by earth: earth holds it down so that it cannot move recklessly. The Vermilion Bird is the essence of fire; it harmonizes water and fire and settles their contest. When water grows too strong, fire is extinguished. Once water and fire have both perished, they ultimately return together to the deep earth. When these three natures meet, they return to a common source.

Here, Yin-Yang, the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water), and alchemical terminology are used to describe how gold, water, fire, and earth transform and restrain one another. “Crucible and furnace” refers to the vessel used to refine elixirs; “eight minerals” refers to the mineral materials used in alchemy.

The Eight Minerals are substances used in Waidan (external alchemy). “Three and Five” is a metaphor for how the ingredients work together: Zi represents water and has the number one; Wu represents fire and has the number two, so Zi and Wu together make three. Earth has the number five, so Wu and Ji are also represented by “five.” The phrase “Three and Five in harmony” means that water, fire, and earth come together. They cooperate and restrain one another like husband and wife, or like ruler and ministers, just as the Eight Minerals are blended to regulate one another.

Earth generates metal, so it is metal’s father; earth overcomes water, so it is water’s “ghost”—the force that subdues it. The Flowing Pearl refers to mercury: born from the sun, it becomes metal when it congeals. Metal, fire, and earth come together, cooperating with and restraining one another. Earth generates metal and is therefore its father; earth overcomes water and can therefore subdue it. Metal, in turn, generates water, so the Flowing Pearl is also called the mother of water. Pour water over it and the fire will not burn fiercely; hold it down with earth and the water will not overflow. This shows that water, fire, and metal ultimately return to Wu and Ji earth: water subsides when it meets earth, fire is quenched by earth, and metal returns to its father when it meets earth. Since earth is metal’s father, fire is metal’s ancestor. Thus, when the three qualities come together, they all return to their source and common ancestor.

Giant Victory Seed—that is, hemp or sesame—is believed to prolong life, and even the elixir of return, a pill made through external alchemy, can be taken by mouth. Metal is hard and does not readily decay or rot, so it is regarded as a treasure among the things of the world. When adepts take it, their lives can be prolonged.

Earth moves through spring, summer, autumn, and winter, maintaining the boundaries and order of all directions. Golden sand enters the Five Viscera, spreading like mist and coursing like wind and rain. Its medicinal power rises through the limbs and gives the complexion a healthy glow. White hair turns black, and fallen teeth grow back. The old become strong and youthful again, and elderly women become young maidens. Those who transform their bodies and escape the calamities of the world are called Perfected Ones.

Sesame, also called giant victory, is one of several medicinal substances. Taking it can already prolong life; how much more so the divine elixir, which is pure Yang essence and as firm in nature as vajra? Among all things, gold is the most precious treasure. If one can take it, would one’s lifespan not be extended many times more than by taking the medicinal substances?

The four directions represented by Chen, Xu, Chou, and Wei belong to Earth. This shows that Metal, Wood, Water, and Fire all depend on Earth to take form. The five internal organs number five. Though they receive the Qi of Metal, Wood, Water, and Fire, in truth they too depend on Earth Qi for nourishment. Metal is produced by Earth. When true cinnabar is taken into the abdomen, its Metal Qi enters the five organs, causing the whole body to be fumigated and refined as if in a furnace. Water Qi then flows downward from above, filling the body with mist. At this time, the four limbs and the hundred vessels are warmed throughout, like all things nourished by spring rain. The body is naturally renewed: the face regains its youthful appearance, the bones are transformed, and one seems to return to youth. The complexion becomes bright and radiant, the spirit joyful; white hair turns black, lost teeth grow back, old men become vigorous, and elderly women regain their youth. Once the body has been transformed, worldly calamities can be avoided. The mind remains clear day and night, and the spirit is no longer clouded.

Only when both the Dharma body—the body perfected through cultivation—and the illusory form—the physical body—are fully realized, and both the Yin soul and the Yang spirit, the two spiritual aspects of Yin and Yang, reach a subtle and wondrous state, can one be called a perfected person. Then, though living amid the dusty world, one is not bound by the Three Realms—the Realm of Desire, the Realm of Form, and the Formless Realm. Though dwelling in a turbid age, one’s movements are difficult to fathom. If one wishes to depart, one can go straight to Pengzhou, the fabled realm of the immortals; if one lets the mind roam freely, one can pass directly beyond the worldly realm.

When lead white, a white powder made from lead, is heated in a fire, its color changes and eventually it turns back into lead. Ice and snow melt when they meet warm water and become water again. Gold has sand as its foundation and is tempered with mercury; things change according to their inherent nature, and their beginnings and endings follow one another.

Those who seek to become immortals through ingestion and cultivation should choose materials with the same or similar qualities. To grow grain, one sows millet; to hatch chicks, one uses eggs. When things of the same kind follow nature, they are readily brought forth. But passing a fish’s eye off as a pearl, or making a wooden box out of mugwort, cannot yield a genuine treasure. Only things of the same nature can respond to one another; those whose natures do not accord are hard to bring to completion. Thus, sparrows and swallows do not produce phoenixes, foxes and rabbits do not rear horses, water flows downward and does not burn upward, and fire rises and does not moisten what lies below.

Different things sometimes respond to one another without any prior arrangement; this happens naturally and inevitably. Lead white is originally made by heating lead. Put it back in the fire, and its color deteriorates as it turns once more into lead. Ice and snow are originally water that has solidified; when warmed, they melt back into water. Even the most precious things have a nature that tends downward and moistens.

Things of different natures sometimes respond to one another without any prior arrangement; their interaction happens naturally, as though it could not be otherwise. White lead, a pigment made by firing lead in ancient times, changes color when put back into the fire and turns back into lead. Ice and snow, formed when water congeals, melt back into water when heated.

The finest treasure originates in the Sun’s true essence. As this essence gathers and first forms cinnabar, it already contains true mercury, the mercury found within cinnabar in the language of ancient alchemy. Once true mercury is separated from cinnabar, it is called quicksilver. Refined in a great furnace under the Sun’s power, quicksilver congeals into silver over many years; only after a much longer time does the silver transform into gold. Thus gold takes cinnabar as its root. Cinnabar is called “divine sand” because it represents spirit; quicksilver is called “essence,” and is also known as “water-silver.”

In alchemical practice today, one first seeks the Yang essence and transforms it into cinnabar. Quicksilver is then combined with the cinnabar; the two are ground and blended, then fired and refined into gold. Only after the gold has formed is lead used to nourish and refine it. The generation and transformation of true essence come from the Sun, but it can arise only through union with the Great Yin. Therefore, true lead must be obtained for it to be suitable for consumption. True lead is born of the Great Yin, which is why it is said to belong to the same category as gold. When gold receives true lead, it is like a child nourished by its mother. The two support one another, making refinement easier to complete. This is like planting grain with millet seed, or having a hen hatch an egg: things of the same kind share a similar nature, respond to one another, and depend on one another.

If this principle is not understood and materials of a different kind are sought instead, all the effort and labor will be wasted. A sparrow cannot produce a phoenix, and a fox or hare cannot nurse a horse. Water cannot take the place of fire in cooking, nor can fire take the place of water in nourishing and moistening. Once this principle is understood, when cinnabar and quicksilver combine, essence and Qi can be generated; when water and fire join, their functions of rising vapor and moistening can be achieved. Then fire beneath water can still rise, while water above fire can still descend and moisten. Without the most subtle principle under Heaven, who could accomplish this?

Many people in the world study the Dao, confident in their own learning and ability, yet never encounter the true opportunity. They waste furnace fuel and money in vain. Relying only on the words of books, they speculate about the methods of the Elixir and act as they please, without a clear understanding or any sense of the proper measure and method. They pound and process substances such as qiangshi gall, mica, alum, and lodestone; roast sulfur and Yuzhang wood; and mix and refine clay. They also place “five-stone copper” beneath the furnace as a supporting pivot. These materials are all different in nature—how could they easily be brought together as one? Even after repeated attempts, they often fail again and again. Hoping to transform the substances into an Elixir, they instead fall into confusion. Such attempts made on a chance can never succeed; only a sage truly understands the principle.

Some people cultivate for many years and, even when their hair has turned white, still become doubtful halfway through. They turn away from the right path and remain trapped in confusion, leaving the proper way for a deviant one. It is like peering at the sky through a tube: the view is narrow, and it is hard to grasp how the Great Dao will proceed.

The principle of the Golden Elixir—the mystery of the Golden Elixir in Daoist Neidan or Waidan—is so subtle that it seems to surpass the transformations of nature and the reach of ordinary thought. Without meeting someone who truly understands this Dao, speculation on one’s own is futile; to treat external substances as the key to forming the Elixir is even more misguided. Clinging to mistaken views and turning from the right path cannot be called wisdom. Those who study the Dao are often unwilling to seek teachers and companions with determination or to study diligently. Some begin but do not persevere; others grow doubtful halfway through. They put things off until their hair has turned white and their strength has faded, yet achieve nothing. This is because they observe the Great Dao from a narrow perspective while imagining themselves accomplished and remaining satisfied with what they know.

The sun and moon shine clearly, Heaven and Earth extend without limit, the seasons of cold and heat come and go, and day and night alternate. These natural changes all reveal the workings of the Great Dao. Yet without meeting someone who truly understands this Dao, it remains difficult to interpret and grasp them correctly. Those who seek to learn should first build up good deeds and merit, hoping thereby to attain a spiritual response and a fitting encounter. They must not deceive themselves or others, lest they reach a mountain full of treasures only to leave empty-handed.

The most outstanding of the sages was Fuxi. He was the first to draw the Eight Trigrams (Bagua), using them to model Heaven and Earth. King Wen of Zhou was the foremost among rulers: he arranged the hexagrams, worked out the positions of the lines, and wrote the line statements. Confucius, the foremost among the sages, composed the Ten Wings—the ten commentaries that explain the Book of Changes (Yijing)—to illuminate it further. Fuxi, King Wen, and Confucius were all figures shaped by Heaven. They arose in succession, each appearing in response to the needs of his time. Their abilities differed in degree, but their merit and virtue had no fundamental difference. Later works carried on what came before: deriving the hexagrams and lines and composing the line statements all extended the work of earlier generations.

Confucius, the foremost among the sages, composed the Ten Wings to illuminate the Book of Changes. Fuxi, King Wen, and Confucius were all figures shaped by Heaven. They arose in succession, each appearing in response to the needs of his time. Their abilities differed in degree, but their merit and virtue had no fundamental difference. Later works carried on what came before, deriving the hexagrams and lines with meticulous care, like weighing the tiniest measure. Things with visible form are easy to assess; matters without signs are difficult to plan for. The works they established were fit for later generations to emulate, and they also set the canonical writings in place for the world. Wei Boyang had no innate gift for understanding these principles in advance. He gained insight through a teacher’s guidance. His understanding became clear as though a curtain had been drawn aside: one opens one’s eyes, climbs to a high terrace, and sees what lies before one.

Wei Boyang had exceptional natural gifts, yet he still needed a teacher’s guidance to gain insight. He therefore lamented that the subtle principles of the Golden Elixir, being without form or trace, are truly difficult to assess. Though the three sages Fuxi, King Wen, and Confucius entrusted these principles to the Book of Changes, using the Eight Trigrams to investigate the mysteries and explain the transformations of creation, the images they drew upon were already manifest, and their words made the observable workings clear. Measured against these, the principles in The Kinship of the Three (Zhouyi cantong qi) still belong to the realm of what can be seen in the world.

The sages carefully examined the finest distinctions and set them down in the classics, so that scholars might follow visible traces to investigate what is hidden and seek out deeper meanings. Yet the mysteries to which the classics point lie beyond their words, and the principles themselves exceed what the hexagrams can express. Without The Kinship of the Three, how could the deepest and most obscure matters be brought to light? Wei Boyang therefore drew upon the Book of Changes, a work that probes the principles of things and fully clarifies human nature, to explain how to leave confusion behind and approach sagehood. It is like holding a written contract in one’s hand, or drawing aside the curtain before one, so that the truth becomes clear. This insight came through the transmission from teacher to student, not through innate foreknowledge.

From this we can see that although Heaven’s secrets are profound and far-reaching, everyone has the chance to understand them. The Great Dao is not hidden away from transmission; in every generation, there are people who can attain the Dao. Do not assume that only those born with the bones of an immortal in a former life can seek the Dao. Whoever is willing to apply themselves and sincerely pursue learning can achieve it. Read Wei Boyang’s expressions of humility, both before and after this passage, again and again, and you will understand the compassionate intent behind the teachings of the perfected beings of earlier generations.

The Huojì comprises six hundred sections, yet the principle it expounds is in fact always the same. Its repeated admonitions and solemn explanations are there because people have not reflected carefully. If we trace the origins of these passages, we find that their profound and apparent meanings are connected from the outset. I speak of them only to the wise; how could I dare set them down lightly? Yet if I remain silent, I fear I may sever the Daoist teachings and incur blame. If I write my thoughts on bamboo and silk, I worry that I may divulge Heaven’s secrets. Torn between these concerns, I can only sigh and, with reverence, set down these reflections. Tao Leng’s method has its own basis. I cannot bear to disclose it all, so I offer only an outline, to make the principles of the practice clear.

Those in the world who study the alchemical classics, the Purple Books (Daoist scriptures), and theories of firing times (theories about timing and the degrees of advance and retreat in alchemical work) are often perplexed by advance and retreat and by the use of the civil and martial fires. Different texts describe the beginning, ending, and stages of practice in different ways, so few readers are free of doubt. The various scriptures often speak of six hundred sections recording the operation of the firing times. In truth, their wording differs, but their intent is the same; their forms vary, while their function is shared.

Once you understand the principle of alternating between the Tun hexagram at dawn and the Meng hexagram at dusk, you can understand the changing cycles of day and night, like the heavenly bodies moving along their courses. Though the scriptures explain this repeatedly and in detail, they are in essence earnest admonitions to later students. The six hundred sections correspond to the three hundred days of a year, and their teaching concerns nothing beyond the changes of the two hexagrams of advance and retreat. The key to the practice is to remain constant in sincerity and devotion from beginning to end, keeping the mind and will pure, without the slightest deviation.

The words of the sages are not deliberately obscure; people simply refuse to reflect carefully. Lord Wei (Wei Boyang) composed further passages on this subject, but their teaching follows the same principle. He analyzed the outline in greater detail and clarified its method, making it easier for later students to understand. His care was profound.

Build a dike with metal, and water can flow safely within it. The quantity of metal is fifteen, and the quantity of water is the same. Near the furnace fire, weigh their amounts carefully; of the five portions, the water is slightly greater. Metal and water are regarded as the two true substances, and the weight of the metal remains as it was at the beginning. No third substance is added; the fire’s share is two, and it joins them. The three substances contain and sustain one another, producing transformations wondrous and hard to fathom.

Beneath the furnace is “black sun” (the black phase of the fire within the furnace); it lies hidden as the substances are gently refined for a time. First they turn to liquid, then congeal—this is called “yellow earth” (the yellow substance formed during refinement). If the refining continues until the year draws to a close, it will damage one’s nature and shorten one’s life. The body will turn to ash and earth, like dust before a bright window.

To refine the Great Elixir (a Neidan term for the elixir obtained through cultivation), first build a city wall of pure gold all around, so it can contain True Water without leaking. Some call it the “Golden Embankment,” others the “City Wall”; both names mean the same thing. To build the Golden Embankment, one need only understand that the Four Symbols and the Five Phases all depend on Earth to take form. Then Metal will arise naturally. Once you know how to use the true Earth of the Five Phases, you can refine the true Metal of the Five Phases. Metal is the mother that nourishes Earth; after the true Metal of the Five Phases is refined, it can contain the true Water of the Five Phases. Metal is the child that nourishes Water.

When Water, Earth, and Metal gather together, they form a shape about one inch square, within which the infant appears. The infant is an image in Neidan cultivation that symbolizes the Elixir body. When it is set in motion and made to rise, golden light fills the room and surges upward, as if a carriage were moving. Hence it is called the “Yellow Carriage.” When observing it in the furnace, the Metal weighs no more than five fen; it is all right to add a little more Water.

“The three do not enter; Fire and two go with them” means that Wood three and Fire two do not enter. This is like the human hun-spirit, which has no fixed form of its own and appears only by lodging in things. The work of cultivation lies solely in refining the three substances of Water, Earth, and Metal. Once these three have gathered into a treasure, the hun-spirit will naturally undergo wondrous transformation along with them. Water enters the vessel of Metal as a condensed liquid; steamed and refined by the breath of the sun below, it then transforms into the “Yellow Carriage.” When the firing times are right and its wondrous efficacy is complete, it will undergo countless transformations, producing phoenix carriages and dragon chariots as well.

At the moment of shedding the embryo—a Neidan expression for the Elixir body’s maturation and separation from its former bodily form—the shape flickers like dust motes caught in sunlight through a bright window. What Wei Jun revealed was precisely the sight of successful cultivation and its manifest transformations. Sadly, people in the world do not understand and make reckless guesses. They have not even seen it in a dream, yet dare to speak rashly. Only those who have reached this state for themselves can understand.

Pound, refine, and blend the materials repeatedly, then send them into the “Red Gate,” a symbol of the stage reached by the fire in the alchemical process. Seal the joints tightly so that the whole is secure and intact. Keep a fire burning beneath it without pause, day or night. Begin with a gentle fire, then gradually increase its strength. Observe with greater care, adjusting the heat and coolness precisely. Let the process turn through twelve divisions in this way; when each cycle ends, continue the operation without interruption.

When the breath is nearly spent and life seems about to end, let the hun and po souls rest. The color gradually turns purple, and the medicine is clearly refined into the Returned Elixir. Take only a little of its powder—just “one yuan” or “one daogui,” ancient measures for a tiny amount—and its effects are wondrous.

This passage describes the skill of cultivation and refinement: setting in motion the subtle pivot between Heaven and Earth, working the materials as if pounding and refining them, until they enter the southern “Red Gate,” which corresponds to Fire among the Five Phases. Then seal it firmly so that Water and Fire can meet. This work continues day and night: first refine upward with a civil fire, a gentler heat, then refine downward with a martial fire, a stronger heat, moving through the twelve double hours in an unbroken cycle. When a day’s cycle is complete, continue the work until the Qi mechanism is spent and life seems on the verge of ending. The whole body returns to its root, and the myriad openings fall silent. It appears to be death, but is not true death. After passing through this utter stillness, it revives; its golden radiance turns purple, taking the form of purple powder. Take only a tiny amount, no more than a daogui, and it can manifest at any time and in any place, changing in ways that are hard to fathom, wondrous beyond comprehension.

The numerical patterns of the Five Phases can be worked out simply, without needless complication. When Water surges against Fire, the flame suddenly goes out. The Sun and Moon alternate and obscure one another; this change commonly occurs at the dark moon and the new moon, the end and beginning of the lunar month. When Water grows strong, Kan Water, the trigram that symbolizes Water and Yin, diminishes Yang. When Fire weakens, Li Fire, the trigram that symbolizes Fire and Yang, is like daylight falling into darkness. Yin and Yang mingle and nourish one another: this is the natural way of their interaction.

To compare the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, and Water), fire is quickly extinguished when it meets water. Yet the sun and moon are associated respectively with Fire and Water. At each conjunction of the new moon—when the moon passes between the sun and Earth and is invisible from the ground—they meet without harming one another. Why? The mutual interaction of Yin and Yang in Heaven and Earth, and the eclipses of the sun and moon, follow definite patterns and occur at appointed times; they are not calamities caused by powerful water overcoming weakened fire. Those who can discern these times and put them to use can grasp the changes of Heaven and Earth and gather the transformations of the myriad things within themselves. Though Water and Fire overcome one another, they can unite like husband and wife. Though Metal and Wood are separated, they can connect naturally. Yet no one in the world can see or understand this principle. How lamentable.

Names serve to define feeling, while courtesy names reveal one’s nature. Only when Metal returns to its original nature is it called “Returning Elixir”—the Neidan formed when one’s nature returns to its root. I dare not make claims out of thin air; I have merely followed the written accounts of the sages. Ancient books call it “Dragon and Tiger”; the Yellow Emperor called it “Golden Flower.” The Prince of Huainan refined “Autumn Stone,” while Wang Yang added “Yellow Sprout.” The wise can cultivate in accordance with these teachings; the unwise should not follow them. From antiquity to the present, the principle has been one and the same. Though people speak with one another, what they seek is also the same. Those who study the Dao should strive harder and reflect carefully. The most essential principle has already been stated clearly and plainly; there is no deception here.

This passage explains the origin of the name “Returning Elixir”: “returning” refers to feeling, while “elixir” refers to nature. The statement that “Metal returns to its original nature” means that the “Metal Lord,” a symbolic term in Neidan, originally arose from my own nature. Now I lead it to find its source again and return to its beginning, where it unites with the “Maiden Ni,” another symbolic term in Neidan, forming an elixir embryo like an infant. That is why it is called the Returning Elixir. The poem of Perfected Ziyang says: “The Metal Lord is originally the son of the eastern household; sent to lodge in the western neighbor, he is born anew. Recognize him, call him back, and let him return to be nurtured; join him with Maiden Ni, and they will form a bond of kinship.” Though the names used across the ages differ, the principle they refer to is the same.

The upper juan of Zhouyi Cantong Qi Jie (Commentary on the Cantong Qi) concludes here. The notes below explain textual differences among editions: some characters and phrases have been corrected or supplied on the basis of the Siku Quanshu edition, while others have been deleted or repositioned accordingly. The annotations “the same applies below” and “the same corrections are made without further comment where they recur below” indicate that the same editorial treatment is applied to later occurrences without listing each one separately.

For example, “kuang guo” was originally written “wei guo” and has been corrected on the basis of the Siku Quanshu edition. Likewise, “che fu” was originally “zhong fu” and has been corrected from that edition. The characters “yang” and “ri,” missing from the original text, have been supplied from the Siku Quanshu edition. Some words and phrases also differ in form among editions: “guan hun” has been changed to “guan hun” with the character for marriage written differently, “si shi” to “si shi” with the character meaning “await” used, and “wei wei” to “wei rao.”

Some entries record omissions, additions, errors, or changes in word order. The phrases “ji wu qi shi,” “xiao xi,” and “sheng yi” have been supplied on the basis of the Siku Quanshu edition. The character “ye” has been deleted or added according to that edition, and one passage has been moved to a more suitable position. The editors also point out that the original readings in both editions may be incorrect. For instance, they judge that “ti fen yi yi yuan” and “fen ti yi yi jiu” should both be corrected to “fen ti yi yi wan.”

These entries are chiefly textual notes, documenting how the editors compared the base text with the Siku Quanshu edition to correct, supplement, or standardize the wording of the classic.

An Explanation of the Zhouyi Cantongqi, Volume Two, is Bao Yizi Chen Xianwei’s commentary on the Zhouyi Cantongqi.

The Qian trigram is strong and vigorous, while the Kun trigram is yielding and receptive. They work together and contain one another. Yang Qi receives the Dao of Heaven, and Yin Qi receives Yang Qi. Yin and Yang are like male and female: each depends on the other. Only when Yin and Yang support one another can they set the workings of creation in motion, allowing Jing and Qi to unfold and flow freely.

The Kan and Li trigrams stand at the beginning, from which light emerges and spreads through all things. The transformations of Yin and Yang are subtle and profound, beyond measure and impossible to depict fully in a diagram. Through observation and careful assessment, the sages arranged and combined, in sequence, the fundamental principles governing the generation of all things. The Four Symbols—the forms of change such as Yin and Yang, hardness and yielding—blend into unity and enter directly into the realm of emptiness.

The sixty-four hexagrams cycle in sequence like the structure of a carriage. A dragon-horse draws the carriage, while an enlightened ruler grasps the right moment. When Yin and Yang are in harmony, all things move in accord with the natural course, and the road is level and straight. If one strays onto a crooked path, the road becomes steep and difficult, and may even bring a state to ruin and peril.

Qian and Kun—the Qian and Kun hexagrams in the Classic of Changes, symbolizing Heaven and Earth as well as Yang and Yin—combine strength with yieldingness, blending and accommodating one another. Thus Yang Qi gives forth naturally, while Yin Qi receives and stores naturally. Yang is like the male, responsible for giving; Yin is like the female, responsible for receiving. Yang alone cannot produce life, and Yin alone cannot bring forth the myriad things. Only when male and female depend on one another, and Jing-Qi (essence and vital energy) unfolds and circulates, does creation take shape. Human conception likewise always results from the union of Yin and Yang. For this reason, discussion should begin with the Qian and Kun hexagrams.

Yet the scripture places Kan and Li—the Kan and Li hexagrams, symbolizing Water and Fire and corresponding also to the Moon and Sun—at the beginning because Qian and Kun symbolize Heaven and Earth, while Kan and Li symbolize the Sun and Moon. Heaven and Earth each have their fixed position and cannot unite by themselves; what can join and become one between them is the Sun and Moon. Thus Qian and Kun are the foundation and vessel for refining the elixir, while Kan and Li are the elixir’s operation. By placing Kan and Li at the beginning, the scripture means to show that the operation of the great medicine lies entirely in Kan and Li. In this sense, Qian and Kun are the cauldron—the vessel in which the elixir is refined—and Kan and Li are the medicine.

The operation of Kan and Li, however, moves up and down within these two foundations, Qian and Kun, changing unpredictably. How could it easily be depicted in a diagram? Seeking to investigate this mystery and explain it to those who study the Dao, the sages had people observe how the Yang and Yin lines shift positions among the sixty hexagrams: sometimes above, sometimes below, in ways deep and hard to fathom. In the face of such changes, one should govern them calmly and effortlessly, as a wise ruler handles a carriage and its horses, using the sixty hexagrams as the vehicle. Then one can travel steadily and advance along the Dao at an unhurried pace. Passing through the hexagrams in sequence from beginning to end also prevents one from encountering danger or obstruction. Hence the saying: “When things are harmonized, they can be followed; when the road is level, one will not stray.” If one does not understand this principle and recklessly takes a crooked path, there is danger of overturning. Liu Haichan, a Daoist figure, said, “Do not let the Purple River Cart overturn.” The Purple River Cart here refers to a crucial method in the process of cultivation. His meaning is the same: even when the road is level, one must guard against danger and proceed with care.

When a gentleman lives at home and speaks in accordance with the good Dao (the Way), people a thousand miles away will respond. This saying can serve as a metaphor for a ruler of a state with ten thousand chariots: living in the depths of his palace, he issues orders and mobilizes chariots and horses, and people in distant places act accordingly. It also shows that although the path of cultivation may seem smooth, one must guard against danger and proceed with care.

When a gentleman is indoors and speaks appropriately, people a thousand miles away respond. So it is with a ruler of a state with ten thousand chariots: he lives in the depths of his palace, issues orders, mobilizes chariots and horses, and acts in accordance with the rhythms of Yin-Yang. A cultivator should keep the implements needed for cultivation safely stored, wait for the right moment, and never violate the correspondence between the trigrams and the months. The Zhun Hexagram corresponds to the hours from Zi to Shen, and the Meng Hexagram to the hours from Yin to Xu; each of the other sixty hexagrams also has its own corresponding times.

For those who practice the alchemical method, withdrawing into stillness to cultivate throughout the year is especially difficult. Even a small action can have far-reaching effects, just as every gesture and word of a ruler in the palace of a state with ten thousand chariots bears on the harmony of Heaven and Earth and Yin-Yang. This is aptly illustrated by the I Ching’s saying: “When a gentleman lives in his chamber and speaks well, people a thousand miles away respond.” A cultivator should follow the rising and falling of Yin-Yang, deciding when to advance or withdraw according to Punishment and Virtue—the forces of decline and growth represented by Yin-Yang. One should be as cautious as someone carrying a precious treasure, protecting their eyes, nurturing a fetus, or holding a vessel filled to the brim. Wait for the right moment, and do not violate the patterns linking hexagrams to months: the Zhun Hexagram extends from the hour of Zi to that of Shen, and the Meng Hexagram from Yin to Xu. The other hexagrams each have their own sequence of times. Two hexagrams correspond to each day, and one line corresponds to each double-hour. To distinguish Yin from Yang, first distinguish day from night; to distinguish day from night, observe the changes in the brightness and darkness of Qi (vital energy). Once these changes in Qi are clear, the correspondences between hexagrams and lines can also be determined. This is what the I Ching means by “understanding the principles governing the movement of day and night.”

Here only two examples of such correspondences have been briefly presented; they do not yet provide a complete account. One should judge Punishment and Virtue according to the principles established: practice benevolence when benevolence is called for, and practice De (Virtue/Power) when De is called for. Violate the patterns and danger follows; follow them and good fortune results. Act in accordance with the calendar, with sincerity, focus, and care. Observe the changes between day and night attentively, and discern the waxing and waning of Qi with precision. Even the slightest deviation from the proper way may bring regret and misfortune.

“The Two Images” refers to the two hexagrams Zhun and Meng. Those who have not fully grasped their principles dare not disclose all the secrets of the alchemical firing process. After meeting a discerning teacher and understanding the oral instructions, students should begin their practice at the appointed time and congeal the Elixir Seed, the foundation on which Neidan first takes shape. At this stage, they must follow the calendar, guard the practice with utmost sincerity and care, and remain attentive day and night to the waxing and waning of Yin-Yang. When Yang Qi arrives, advance, as if putting benevolence into practice; when Yin Qi arrives, withdraw, as if carrying out punishment in accordance with what is right. To follow the timing brings good fortune; to oppose it brings misfortune. The slightest mistake can invite regret and harm, like weeds growing among seedlings or dust settling on a bright mirror. Even those who refine cinnabar worry that fire and water may be improperly combined. How much greater the need for care when refining the Great Elixir of Golden Liquid?

Solar terms such as the winter and summer solstices alter the measure of Yin-Yang’s movement. How much more, then, must one keep to the proper measure and work with precision when refining the Great Elixir of Golden Liquid? If the practice is mishandled, all manner of abnormalities may result: bitter cold in midwinter, frost and snow in high summer; disorder in the shifts of Yin-Yang at the spring and autumn equinoxes, and times that fail to accord with the clepsydra, the ancient water clock. Winds and rains fall out of balance, floods and droughts cause alternating devastation, locusts ravage the land, and strange phenomena appear one after another—until even omens show in the sky and mountains collapse and the earth splits.

A filial child who applies the heart with sincerity can move the highest Dao. The effects of cultivation may arise nearby, from within oneself, or travel far across different regions. At times it brings calamity; at times, blessings. It may usher in peace, or provoke war. Each of these outcomes depends on a person’s inner state and the thoughts they hold.

The Winter Solstice and Summer Solstice mark the points at which Yin-Yang Qi begins to arise and recede. If the process is carried out at the wrong time, celestial patterns become abnormal, bringing calamities such as snow in summer or thunder in winter. The Spring and Autumn Equinoxes are the seasons when Yin and Yang meet and divide. If the process is mishandled, celestial patterns may again become abnormal, causing mountains to collapse, the earth to split, and floods or droughts to bring disaster—calamities too numerous to count. This happens because practitioners of alchemy mistime the firing process or make errors in its operation, damaging the True Embryo—the foundation formed through cultivation in the alchemical tradition—and the order of the world, so that both collapse and are ruined. Here, “filial child” is a metaphor for the True Embryo, while the “Supreme Polarity” (the balanced order that governs all under Heaven) is a metaphor for fortune and misfortune. The world may thereby enjoy peace or fall into war; disaster may be brought upon it, or blessings may be bestowed. All these outcomes are connected to what the alchemist’s inner state calls forth while applying the firing process. The methods of alchemy and the principles of governing worldly affairs are connected: the results called forth by governing the world follow one another like a shadow its form or an echo its sound. How much more so when alchemy draws upon the transformations of Heaven and Earth, aligns with their De, and moves in time with their workings?

The movement and stillness of Yin and Yang each follow their own rules. In practice, one must avoid error as carefully as when using a carpenter’s square and marking line to check straightness and angles. Each of the Four Seasons has its proper time, and the Qi cultivated must correspond to it. Hardness and softness must be clearly distinguished, each keeping to its own bounds without mixing with or encroaching upon the other. The Qi of the Five Phases must not be increased or diminished at will. The Way of Change—the pattern of Yin-Yang transformation—moves in cycles, at times bending down and at times extending, changing back and forth.

As described above, applying the firing process brings fortune or misfortune. Therefore, in cultivation, movement and stillness should follow their regular patterns, without deviation, like the use of a marking line and square. Follow the proper seasons of the Four Seasons so that the two Qi of Yin and Yang remain in harmony. Let their waxing and waning, bending and extending, each keep to its own bounds; in this way, errors can be avoided.

Between the dark moon and the new moon—the end and beginning of the lunar month—the firing process should be kept centered in accordance with the tally. Yin and Yang blend in a state of primordial chaos, not yet divided, and follow one another. The nourishing fluids spread and moisten, allowing the Qi of transformation and generation to flow freely. These transformations of the spirits of Heaven and Earth cannot be fathomed. The practitioner settles themself by reference to the Winnowing Basket and Dipper (the celestial constellations that indicate directions in the sky). The movement of Qi turns and proceeds to the right, revolving like a wheel, from which the radiance of essence shines forth.

At the turning from the last day of the lunar month to the first, Yin and Yang Qi should unite and circulate within the body in accordance with their rhythm. Their movement begins in the northeast, corresponding to the Xu and Ji lunar lodges. These symbolize emptiness and subtle obscurity, like the primordial chaos of Heaven and Earth at their beginning, beyond measurement. The two Qi follow one another like female and male; fluids moisten, flow, and bring forth transformation. At this time, one should use the changes of Yin and Yang to calm body and mind, letting the movement of Qi turn like a wheel and stir new life. Hanshanzi’s poem says, “If its root cannot be revealed, the fruit will fall.” This means that root and function are distinct.

The Zhen trigram represents Yang Qi’s first stirrings, symbolizing the beginning of its growth. The initial Yang is established by the third stage; on the eighth day, the Dui trigram comes into operation. The Qi of the Five Phases cycles and flows, Yin and Yang correspond, and their traces lie hidden and gathered away. In cultivation, one must not force the work to make them appear. Yet the movement of Qi can also radiate its own light, thereby nourishing the root. The methods of practice also differ: Yin Qi moves according to the rhythm of eight.

By the third stage, on the ninth day, Yang Qi becomes manifest, calm like the “dragon appearing.” Above the Mao and Bi lunar lodges, Yang Qi is again concealed, like the “dragon hidden.” When the Zhen trigram stirs into action, the firm power of Yang must not overreach, and the yielding Qi must not retreat. Its movement sometimes turns back and reverses, revealing clear changes.

By the third and fifth stages, De (Virtue/Power) is complete, and the substance of the Qian trigram takes shape. At the ninth position in the third line, one should be as cautious as “alert in the evening,” avoiding harm to the spiritual talisman. Waxing and waning gradually alternate, and in the end things return to their beginning. The Xun trigram carries on this succession; the practitioner must hold firm, harmonize, and maintain it. At the ninth position in the fourth line, Yang Qi may appear or lie hidden, and both advance and retreat can be perilous. The Gen trigram governs stopping and advancing: one must grasp the right moment and not pass beyond the proper stage. On the twenty-third day, wait in accordance with the cycle’s appointed time.

At the ninth position in the fifth line, the flying dragon ascends to Heaven, occupying the honored place and finding joy. The sixth position in the fifth line is then carried forward by the Kun trigram, bringing the cycle to a close and linking its beginning and end. It gently nourishes the many Qi, allowing vitality to gather; in the world, it is like the mother of all things.

Over the course of a day, the firing process—the adjustment of timing and heat in alchemical cultivation—turns with the movements of the celestial bodies: it rises from the Zi hour, then begins to descend at the Wu hour, passing in sequence through the six lines. Though its traces cannot be seen, the practitioner silently senses and sets in motion within the mind these transformations of creation. The elixir also rises and descends between above and below as the hours and days pass, never ceasing, and so has no fixed position. This accords with the principle in the Book of Changes that Yang Qi arises and Yin Qi wanes.

The Book of Changes is called the ancestral source of the Dao of the Elixir because the sages first understood the principle of the Golden Elixir, used it to cultivate themselves, and transcended the ordinary to enter the realm of the sages. Later, they entrusted this principle to the Book of Changes and passed it on to future generations. Thus, the work’s fundamental source lies in the Great Elixir, and the Way of the Great Elixir is the ancestral source of the Book of Changes.

At dawn on the first day of the lunar month, the Fu hexagram corresponds to the moment when Yang Qi begins to flow. Breath moves in and out without obstruction; a marker is set up to reveal the faint first stirrings of firm Yang. The Yellow Bell, the first of the twelve ancient pitch standards, corresponds to the Zi month, when signs of Yang Qi begin to appear. A gentle, warm Qi spreads through the world, allowing the myriad beings to settle and grow.

The Zi hour at midnight is when the firing process begins. At first, the single Yang has not yet sprouted, and the firing process has not begun; Yin Qi gathers, as if a crowd had no leader. Once the firing process starts, Yang Qi begins to flow, and gentle warmth spreads, steaming the cauldron used in alchemical work. Signs of illumination appear, becoming the guiding force behind the growth of the myriad things. At this time, the practitioner should inwardly sense when to advance the fire, taking the faint stirrings of firm Yang as a sign. Qi moves back and forth, gathering and releasing smoothly, without obstruction. From then on, cultivation is gradually intensified until Yang Qi is fully abundant, like the pure Qian hexagram; the treasure is then completed through gentle nurturing. Special care is needed at the very beginning of Great Elixir cultivation. A verse by an earlier master says, “On a cold night, draw near the fire; shelter all until dawn.” This refers to spreading gentle warmth so that the myriad beings may settle and grow.

The furnace fire of the Lin hexagram begins to spread, and the path leading to brightness and uprightness is now open. Its radiance gradually grows stronger, becoming brighter with each passing day. At the hour of Chou, Yang Qi gathers like the pitch of Dalü, one of the twelve pitches, and the rising and descending of Yin and Yang fall into proper order.

The hour of Chou is the stage for advancing the second Yang fire cycle, in which Yang fire is gradually advanced according to the hours during internal alchemy practice. At this time, the light grows stronger, the mysterious path opens, and upright Qi becomes manifest. Yang Qi arises from below, so it must be gathered below. Practice should therefore begin low. Once this line of the hexagram has passed, gradually raise the gaze, following the changes in the movement of Qi. This is why the text says, “gathering uprightness, first low, then rising”: gather low first, then rise.

Rising upward forms the Tai hexagram, in which the forces of firmness and yielding flourish together. Yin and Yang mingle: lesser Yin recedes, and Yang arrives. At the hour of Yin, the movement of Qi gathers and flows, advancing in time.

The hour of Yin is the stage for advancing the third Yang fire cycle. Here, the forces of firmness and yielding divide, and Yin and Yang each occupy half: water is above and fire below. Jing water rises, while Shen fire moves upward from below. What rises seeks to rise still further, while what surges upward tends to descend. Yin and Yang thus join; lesser Yin recedes and greater Yang arrives, and the workings of transformation gather here as well.

The process gradually passes through the Dazhuang hexagram and reaches the threshold of the hour of Mao. Elm seeds fall in profusion, returning to their source. The forces of punishment and virtue—the powers of decay and growth—are evenly matched, and from this point day and night begin to divide equally.

The hour of Mao is the stage for advancing the fourth Yang and entering the bathing phase, a period in internal alchemy when Yang Qi has advanced to this point and is briefly harmonized and rested. Day and night are now equal, and the forces of growth and decay each occupy half. In spring, all things flourish, yet the elm seeds alone fall at this time. The elm seeds correspond to the stars, which fade from sight as dawn approaches. By comparing the Golden Elixir with the myriad phenomena, the text explains that these phenomena, too, arise through the movement of the sun and moon.

In the Guai hexagram, Yin Qi recedes as Yang Qi rises and advances. The feathers are cleansed, and long-accumulated dust is shaken away.

The hour of Chen is the stage for advancing the fifth Yang fire cycle. At this time, the five Yang lines rise and the source of water becomes clear. It is like a bird emerging from the water, shaking and washing its wings as it prepares to soar into the sky.

The Qian hexagram is firm, vigorous, and bright, its power spreading in all directions. At the hour of Si, Yang Qi reaches its limit and meets Yin Qi within it.

At the hour of the Snake, the source has become clear and pure. It is like a bird emerging from the water, shaking and cleaning its wings as it prepares to rise with force and soar into the clouds.

The Qian hexagram (the hexagram of pure Yang) is firm, vigorous, and bright, its power extending in all directions. At the hour of the Snake, Yang Qi reaches its limit, and Yin and Yang meet at the center.

The hour of the Snake is the stage for advancing the six Yang fires—the period in cultivation when Yang Qi gradually increases. At this point, the pure-Yang Qian form takes shape, like a full moon or water filled to the brim: radiance flourishes, and spirit is abundant. It is upright and unbiased, complete and without flaw, its light shining in every direction and illuminating all ten quarters.

The Gou hexagram (the hexagram in which Yin first appears) begins to show its first signs, like stepping on frost for the first time, or like a cold spring at the bottom of a well. At the hour of the Horse, Yang is host and Yin is guest, while Yin Qi takes advantage of the moment and advances. The guest Qi is governed by Yin Qi, so Yin Qi becomes the host.

The hour of the Horse is the stage for retreating the single Yin tally fire—the period when Yin Qi begins to increase and Yang Qi correspondingly declines. At this point, Yin is host and Yang is guest. If one does not understand that the guest is within the host and the host within the guest, even a slight error can have serious consequences. Do not assume that a thread of Yin Qi has only just begun and is therefore harmless. The cold spring at the bottom of a well and the first frost underfoot may eventually develop into solid ice. This is why the predecessors repeatedly explained the distinction between host and guest.

The Dun hexagram (the hexagram of withdrawal) leaves its place in the world and gathers in essence and Qi. It cherishes De while awaiting the right moment, dwelling peacefully in obscurity.

The hour of the Goat is the stage for retreating the second Yin tally fire.

The Pi hexagram (the hexagram of obstruction) separates above from below, leaving them unable to communicate, and prevents new shoots from growing. Yin Qi extends, Yang withdraws, and Yang’s status and name fade along with it.

The hour of the Monkey is the stage for retreating the third Yin tally fire.

The Guan hexagram (the hexagram of observation) calls for weighing the situation and observing the conditions of mid-autumn. It allows young life to be nurtured and withered things to flourish again. The shoots of shepherd’s purse and wheat, too, emerge from the earth in keeping with the season.

The hour of the Rooster is the stage for retreating the fourth Yin tally fire and for bathing—the period of cultivation and restraint as Yin Qi gradually grows. Shepherd’s purse and wheat follow the times of day and season, so in the eighth month they sprout and put out leaves. The solar soul—the Yang energy associated with the sun—forms its embryo at the hour of the Rooster. Wood Qi lies hidden at this time and is bathed at this time as well; hence the hour of the Rooster is called the bathing stage.

The Bo hexagram (the hexagram of stripping away) depicts limbs decaying and the physical form dissolving. Once essence and Qi are exhausted, the utmost spirit is lost as well.

The hour of the Dog is the stage for retreating the fifth Yin tally fire.

When the Dao reaches its end, it turns back and returns to the root of Kun, the hexagram that represents pure Yin. It always follows the patterns of the Earth, receiving the Way of Heaven and spreading it throughout the world.

The Hai hour is the stage of withdrawing the sixth layer of the Yin Talisman. The primal Qi that brings forth life has been exhausted, and the wondrous mechanism vanishes with it.

The Xu hour is the stage of withdrawing the fifth layer of the Yin Talisman.

When the Dao reaches its end, it turns back and returns to the root of Kun. It always follows the patterns of the Earth, receiving the Way of Heaven and spreading it throughout the world.

The Hai hour is the stage of withdrawing the sixth layer of the Yin Talisman.

Returning to the root, it always follows the patterns of the Earth, receiving the Way of Heaven and spreading it throughout the world.

The Hai hour is the stage of withdrawing the sixth layer of the Yin Talisman.

The Dao’s profound and distant principles may seem separate from one another, yet they are also interconnected. Following a set pattern, it brings forth the myriad things and is the source of Yin-Yang transformation. Heaven and Earth are vast and subtle, elusive and difficult to fathom; no one can say where they began. At first, they seem to have lost their way, yet later they become the root that governs all things. Even what is level can turn sloping: this is the Dao’s natural pattern. Change and succession, growth and decline, cycle back and forth, each following the other. It ends with Kun and begins again with Fu, like an unbroken ring. A ruler who governs by this pattern can preserve it for a thousand years.

A lodestone can attract iron, a yangsui—a bronze mirror used to make fire—can draw forth flame, and a fangzhu, a vessel for collecting water, can condense moisture from the air. These all show how Yin and Yang respond to each other and connect even across an obstruction. How could anyone easily discern their beginnings? At first, the practice of alchemy may seem obscure and hard to understand. Only when the firing process—the careful regulation of timing and degree in cultivation—has ended and the Elixir’s power has matured does one understand that one, too, can attain a noble state, like a ruler who governs all things. Is this not the pivot of transformation that ends with Kun and begins with Fu? Lord Wei explained this point repeatedly and with great clarity.

To cultivate one’s nature, lengthen life, and postpone its end, one must carefully consider how things conclude while also tracing them back to their beginnings. The body received by a person has its root in what was originally nothingness. Primal Jing, dispersed like clouds, takes Qi as its support and forms the beginning of life.

Every living being with blood and vital energy has its own nature, and every nature comes from the right way.

To cultivate one’s nature, lengthen life, and postpone its end, one must carefully consider how things conclude while also tracing them back to their beginnings. The body received by a person has its root in what was originally nothingness. Primal Jing, dispersed like clouds, takes Qi as its support and forms the beginning of life.

Every living being endowed with blood and Qi has its own nature, and that nature originally comes from what is upright. Each being also has its own life, and life is bound up with passion and desire. Nature is upright from the beginning; yet beings may lose their original nature, fall into deviant ways, and even become violent people, snakes, or other strange beings, changing their nature and turning toward evil. This does indeed happen. Life, by contrast, is originally connected with passion and desire. If one can illuminate the mind and see one’s nature, and fully understand the myriad things, one will know that the lives of all beings take shape through sexual desire. Thereafter, if one can refine Jing into Qi—a vital process in Daoist cultivation—one can enter the realm of the sages and transcend the ordinary, transforming one’s original life into an upright life. Only by understanding that nature is originally upright can one cultivate it; only by understanding that life can be set right can one extend it. Consider this: when people first receive their physical form, they possess an upright nature. But when their parents unite and their Jing and Qi mingle to conceive them, does this arise from upright nature or from passion and desire? The Scripture of Perfect Enlightenment says that life comes into being through desire; this means the same thing as the passage here.

Yin-Yang is the governing principle of life’s movement, and the Hun and Po souls reside within it. The Yang spirit is called the Hun; the Yin spirit is called the Po. Each soul serves as the dwelling place of the other. Nature governs within, like the strong inner citadel of a city; emotion governs without, like its walls and outer ramparts. When the city’s defenses are secure, its people can live in peace. At this stage, emotion joins with Kun and Qian, which respectively symbolize Yin and Yang. Qian symbolizes Yang: it moves and is firm, spreading Qi and setting Jing in motion. Kun symbolizes Yin: it is still and receptive, becoming the dwelling place of the Dao. After firm Yang has acted, it yields; soft Yin then transforms and nourishes. “Nine returns and seven reverses; eight returns and six abides” refers to the back-and-forth transformations of Yin-Yang and the Five Phases in cultivation, as their Qi returns to its corresponding positions. The male belongs to white, the female to red; Metal and Fire restrain one another, and thus Water can stabilize Fire, setting the Five Phases in motion. The highest goodness is like water, clear and without blemish. The form of the Dao is indeed difficult to describe: it changes and spreads, and in the end each thing exists on its own.

Human emotions and nature arise from Hun and Po; Hun and Po in turn come from light and darkness, light and darkness from the sun and moon, and the sun and moon from Yin-Yang. The sages investigated these principles by following the patterns of Qian and Kun (symbols of Heaven and Earth), firmness and yielding, movement and stillness, and opening and closing. Thus the Way of the Great Elixir, the goal of Daoist internal alchemy, accords with the principles of the Book of Changes. Its central principle is simply to take Yin-Yang as the standard: the sun rises at Mao hour, around five to seven in the morning; as the sky brightens, the power of Hun flourishes. The sun sets at You hour, around five to seven in the evening; as the sky darkens, the power of Po flourishes. Hun is the Yang spirit, and Po is the Yin spirit. Daytime is where Hun moves about; nighttime is where Po comes to rest. In the end, these changes all follow the two patterns of light and darkness.

In the brightness of day, a person makes use of Hun and Shen, expressing “nature” (xing); in the darkness of night, a person returns to Jing and Po, expressing “life” (ming), the root of existence. Life gives rise to emotion, so Jing and Po are likened to a city’s outer walls; nature gives rise to the mind, so the mind and Shen are likened to the defenses atop the city walls. Only when the outer walls are sturdy and intact can body and mind be at peace. In this condition, intention can be applied to the outer world, Qian and Kun can join, and the patterns of firmness and yielding, movement and stillness, and opening and closing can be fulfilled.

Then a current of Qi circulating through the whole body courses through a realm vast as open space. Its transformations of rising and descending intermingle and merge, until all become “true Earth,” an alchemical term for the root that governs the center and harmonizes the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water). The Qi of the Five Phases—Nine Metal, Eight Wood, Seven Fire, Six Water, and so on—circulates back and forth, ultimately returning to Earth. When they return to Earth, the Five Phases are complete, and all things come forth and transform. The scripture goes on to say that the male takes on a white appearance and the female a red one. The Qi of the Five Phases gathers, bringing Metal and Fire into mutual restraint: Fire refines Metal, and Metal in turn controls Water. This is like water boiling in a jade cauldron, or a metal cauldron set in a furnace and fiercely heated by the fire. The scripture mentions only Water, Metal, and Fire because all three are governed by Earth; and when Fire is mentioned, Wood is naturally included as well. Once the work of transformation is complete, lead congeals and mercury gathers in the cauldron, with Water playing a particularly important role. The most precious treasure is without flaw; the most genuine substance blazes with vitality.