《纯阳帝君神化妙通纪》

Record of the Divine Transformations and Wondrous Efficacy of the Imperial Lord of Pure Yang recounts the manifestations of divine powers by the Imperial Lord of Pure Yang, Lü Dongbin, and his teachings to people in the world.

The author says that the Dao sometimes guides ordinary people through divine powers and sometimes aids virtuous people with elixirs. It teaches flexibly in response to circumstances, spreading its teachings widely with compassion so that all things ultimately return to the same root. The Dao’s intention is utterly sincere and its benevolence profound. It possesses many virtues yet does not claim any one virtue as its own. By realizing the original state of “non-emptiness,” one can understand the deep and wondrous principles by which all things come into being. The subtleties of the Dao cannot be fully expressed in words; speculation alone cannot bring true understanding. One must contemplate it silently, with complete sincerity.

Humbly acknowledging his limited understanding, the author consulted the scriptures and gathered accounts from Tang and Song histories and biographies. He removed exaggerated material and compiled 120 stories of divine transformations in six volumes. After completing each chapter, he added poems and verses and presented the events in order. He titled the book Record of the Divine Transformations and Wondrous Efficacy. He hopes that like-minded readers, upon opening the volume, will understand what it describes as if viewing the celestial patterns, quietly contemplate the Dao’s subtle depths, reach its source, and fully comprehend its profound mysteries. The Dao of the Imperial Lord of Pure Yang is wondrous and perfectly integrated: it is the true primordial Supreme Dao. The author composed this book with sincere intent and hopes that discerning readers will judge it fairly and contemplate it in stillness, avoiding misguided paths and reaching the realm of the Great Dao. It is respectfully prefaced by Miao Shanshi, the old Kaizi of Zhonghe, Jinling.

Imperial Proclamation

The emperor declares: When the Great Dao manifests its name, it can bring about the transformations of primordial wonder and Wuwei (non-action). The Way of utmost truth protects all things and ultimately achieves accomplishments without claiming mastery. I, mindful of my ancestors…

The Emperor said: When the Great Dao (the Way) manifests itself in a name, all things can follow their original nature and come into being. The perfectly true Dao embraces all things and ultimately achieves the efficacy of natural governance without interference. I have inherited the foundation laid by my ancestors and examined the political and religious teachings of past dynasties; I have long admired the ways of the mysterious tradition. From the time Donghua (Donghua Dijun, a legendary Daoist deity) passed down his teachings to the time Chongyang (Wang Chongyang, founding patriarch of the Quanzhen school of Daoism) brought enlightenment, the true nature of successive generations of perfected ones has remained undimmed and been transmitted from age to age. When there is a response, communication follows, and their influence reaches far and wide.

Earlier dynasties repeatedly praised and ennobled them, yet I still feel that the honors were insufficient. I have therefore specially ordered the Confucian ministers to devise further honorific titles: Donghua is to be called Dijun, with the additional title “Zifu Shaoyang”; Zhengyang, Chunyang, and Haichan are to receive the title Zhenjun; and the Seven Perfected Ones from Danyang onward are to be called Zhenren. These titles will be entered in the records and passed down to later generations. Alas, Zhang Daoling of the Han dynasty and Ye Fashan of the Tang dynasty were both granted the title Celestial Master (Tianshi), an enduring honor in Daoism. If no fixed precedent is established now, accounts in later generations will differ. Perhaps this may give some expression to my admiration for the worthy figures of the past.

The Eastern Flower Patriarch may posthumously be granted the title “Donghua Zifu Shaoyang Dijun.”

The Perfected Zhongli Zhengyang may posthumously be granted the title “Zhengyang Kaiwu Chuandao Zhenjun.”

The Perfected Lü Chunyang may posthumously be granted the title “Chunyang Yanzheng Jinghua Zhenjun.”

The Perfected Liu Haichan may posthumously be granted the title “Haichan Mingwu Hongdao Zhenjun.”

The Perfected Wang Chongyang may posthumously be granted the title “Chongyang Quanzhen Kaihua Zhenjun.”

Let Zhang Zhijing, the Perfected One of Radiant Enlightenment, Embodying the Dao with Sincerity and Clarity, and Chief Patriarch of the Quanzhen teaching, carry out this decree.

Issued in the first month of the sixth year of the Zhiyuan era.

The imperial edict of the Emperor, who holds Heaven’s mandate.

It was once said that the Most High, a revered Daoist deity, expounded the teaching of Complete Perfection (Quanzhen), guiding it to follow the natural principles by which Heaven and Earth operate. The scriptures on which it rests likewise accord with the great principles of Yin-Yang transformation. From the manifestations of Lord Donghua, one of the patriarchs revered by the Quanzhen tradition, through the later spread of its teachings, many generations passed between the appearance of realized adepts, from the Han through the Tang dynasties. After the Song, the Daoist lineage continued through flourishing dynasties.

These adepts revealed and propagated the Gate of the Many Mysteries, taking the fundamental Dao of the Origin as their bulwark. Some, having grasped the principle, were no longer bound by appearances, cultivating insight into the subtle pivot of spiritual efficacy. Others commanded the stars and rode dragons, soaring through the heavens. They could not be heard or seen; keeping company only with the transformative workings of creation, they came and went in freedom and ease. Their manifestations may also be understood as appearances in response to the proper time.

Now let these deeds be recorded and passed down to later generations, in praise of their mighty merit. Why not confer honors upon them in successive ranks, so that the tradition of the lineage may endure? As the founding patriarch, Lord Donghua should be considered separately for special honors. The remaining adepts are to be honored in accordance with precedent by the responsible officials.

The Perfected Lord Zhongli, who awakened to the Way and transmitted it as the Opening of the Yang, may be granted the title:

Imperial Lord of the Opening of the Yang, Awakening to the Way and Setting Forth Its Teachings.

The Perfected Lord Lü, who expounded the Orthodox Way and awakened the people through the Pure Yang, may be granted the title:

Imperial Lord of the Pure Yang, Expounding the Orthodox Way, Awakening the People, and Bestowing Blessings.

The Perfected Lord Liu, who awakened to understanding and spread the Way as the Sea Toad, may be granted the title:

Imperial Lord of the Sea Toad, Awakened to Understanding, Spreading the Way, and Bestowing Pure Blessings.

The Perfected Lord Wang, who opened and transformed the world through Complete Perfection as the Double Yang, may be granted the title:

Imperial Lord of the Double Yang, Opening and Transforming the World through Complete Perfection, and Assisting the Supreme Pole.

This document is to be entrusted to Miao Daoyi, the Perfected One of Harmonious Composure, Uprightness, and Bright Simplicity, Grand Master of the Daoist Gate who Expounds the Way and Presides over the Teaching, to retain and carry out accordingly.

A day in the second month of the third year of Zhida.

The Pure Yang Imperial Lord may be granted the title:

Imperial Lord of the Double Yang, Opening and Transforming the World through Complete Perfection, and Assisting the Supreme Pole.

This document is to be entrusted to Miao Daoyi, the Perfected One of Harmonious Composure, Uprightness, and Bright Simplicity, Grand Master of the Daoist Gate who Expounds the Way and Presides over the Teaching, to retain and carry out accordingly.

A day in the second month of the third year of Zhida.

Record of the Divine Transformations and Wondrous Efficacy of the Pure Yang Imperial Lord, Scroll One

Collated and arranged by Miao Shanshi of the Daoist Gate.

According to records in the Daoist tradition, Lü Dongbin’s surname was Lü, his given name was Yan, and his courtesy name was Dongbin. He was from Yongle County in Hezhong Prefecture during the Tang dynasty. His great-grandfather, Lü Yanzhi, rose to the post of military governor of eastern Zhejiang. His grandfather, Lü Wei, was naturally kindhearted and exceptionally gifted in literature. He delighted in doing good and following the Dao, and quietly performed many good deeds. He held various posts, including vice minister of rites, and eventually became governor of Tanzhou. After his death, he was posthumously honored as Grand Commander of Shanzhou.

Lü Wei had four sons: Wen, Gong, Jian, and Rang. Lü Wen studied the Spring and Autumn Annals and wrote elegant, substantial prose. He once served as a vice director in the Ministry of Revenue and eventually became governor of Hengzhou. Lü Gong valued integrity and enjoyed discussing current affairs at length; he eventually served as an investigating censor in the Palace Secretariat. Lü Jian was versatile and once served as an acting censor. Lü Rang was virtuous and skilled in government administration. He held several posts, including vice director of the Crown Prince’s household, and eventually became governor of Haizhou. Lü Dongbin was Lü Rang’s youngest son.

At the hour of the Snake on the fourteenth day of the fourth month in the fourteenth year of the Zhenyuan era under Emperor Dezong of the Tang (798), people saw a white crane descend from the sky and fly into the curtained room, where it disappeared. Lü Dongbin’s mother was asleep at the time and also dreamed of an unusual omen. She awoke with a start, and Lü Dongbin was born. The room was suddenly filled with a strange fragrance that lingered for an entire day.

As a child, Lü Dongbin was composed and taciturn, and did not care for boisterous play. As he grew older, he stood more than six feet tall and had an appearance that suggested the bearing of an immortal: phoenix-like eyes, long, shapely eyebrows, a high nose bridge, and a yellowish-white complexion. He had a large, bean-sized mole at the corner of his left eyebrow and another beneath his right eye; faint tortoise-shell patterns could be seen on the soles of his feet. By nature he was earnest, filial, and intelligent. He knew the scriptures of Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism well, and often recited the Book of Changes, the Dao De Jing, and the Yinfu Jing.

He liked to wear a Huayang headcloth, the kind often worn by Daoist priests, and loose, wide-sleeved yellow-and-white robes fastened with a broad sash. At times he also wore a relaxed Daoist robe. Later, he had no wish to marry and often longed for a quiet, simple life. He disliked splendid adornments and wealth and honors. From childhood, he had resolved to cultivate immortality and follow the Dao.

The ancients said, “The Great Dao—the fundamental principle underlying Heaven, Earth, and all things—is originally present in everyone, and is fully manifest in all things.” Yet after birth, people are often entangled in all kinds of desires and gradually lose themselves in the pursuit of fame and profit. If they lack good fortune and their ancestors have not accumulated deep stores of virtue, they will drift ever farther from the Dao. Thus, the Immortal Master said that attaining the Great Dao and cultivating oneself into a perfected person often depend on the deep hidden virtue accumulated by one’s ancestors—good deeds done quietly and without expectation of reward—as well as the spiritual insight, firm resolve, and decisiveness one has carried over from past lives. With these, cultivation is more likely to bear fruit. This is no empty claim.

The records in this chronicle say that the Lord Emperor was by nature sincere and kind, compassionate and filial, intelligent and perceptive. He needed to read the scriptures of the Three Teachings—Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism—only once to grasp their meaning fully. Is this not evidence of spiritual insight from a past life and steadfast resolve? His grandfather once served as governor of Shaanzhou, delighted in doing good, and revered the Great Dao. During his tenure, he accumulated much hidden virtue, and all four of his sons attained high standing. His father, Lü Rang, was sincere and benevolent, earned renown for his governance, and was deeply respected and loved by the people. His reputation reached his superiors, who appointed him to an official post serving the Crown Prince. The Lü family’s honesty and good deeds moved a true immortal to descend into the world. Is this not the blessing left behind by a family that has accumulated goodness?

Once he came of age, the Lord Emperor refused to marry, cherishing his spirit and vital essence. Does this not show that he valued his body and carefully guarded the life bestowed on him by his parents? He devoted himself to cultivating the Way, with a clear and tranquil mind and an open, natural disposition. He nurtured his expansive vital energy, accepted Heaven’s mandate, and earned a name that would endure through later generations. Is this not a way of honoring his parents by embodying complete virtue and manifesting the Great Dao? Later, he inherited the lineage of the Mysterious Origin (Laozi), took his place among the immortal traditions of the Purple Palace, and became a sage master revered by both Heaven and humanity. His spiritual powers and transformations were unfathomable; at times he appeared, at times he vanished. How could he be measured by the ordinary standards applied to worthy people and sages?

Some have wondered why different accounts give different places of birth and residence for the Lord Emperor. On careful consideration, this may be because his father moved among several places during his official service. It is also possible that some authors, wishing to claim this eminent figure as a native of their own region, gave accounts that differ. A study of the evidence today places the Lord Emperor’s former residence at Jiufeng Mountain in Yongle Town, Hezhong Prefecture. The site of the residence still exists, and the Chunyang Wanshou Palace now stands there. Yongle County was renamed Yongle Town during the Xining era of the Song dynasty. I base my conclusion on this evidence, though I cannot claim there is no possibility of error. I hope readers who share this path will no longer have doubts.

Dreaming of Yellow Millet, and the Second Time He Was Guided to the Dao

In the fifth year of the Yuanhe era under Emperor Xianzong of the Tang, Lord Lü was twenty-one. He went to Chang’an to sit for the imperial examinations and lodged at an inn. One day, a Daoist adept came to the inn. He had an unusual, dignified appearance, a fine long beard, wide-open eyes, and wore a crane-feather cloak over a long robe. His bearing was extraordinary. He walked straight in, greeted Lord Lü, and sat down. As they talked, he urged him to enter the Dao.

Lord Lü said, “Let me first secure an official post and bring honor to my ancestors. There will still be time to follow a master and cultivate the Dao afterward.”

The adept smiled and asked him to have a vegetarian meal prepared. Lord Lü told his servant to cook, but felt tired and wanted to sleep for a while. The adept took a pillow from his sleeve and said, “This is a wish-fulfilling pillow. If you rest your head on it, the things you have long hoped for will come to pass.” Lord Lü laid his head on the pillow and fell asleep.

Suddenly, a messenger arrived with an order appointing him the top scholar in the examinations. From then on, he began as a minor official in the provinces and gradually rose through the ranks at court. He served in distinguished posts, including those in the Censorate, the Hanlin Academy, and the imperial archives, sometimes demoted and sometimes promoted. He married two daughters of wealthy and powerful families in succession, and his family flourished, with many descendants holding high office. Nearly forty years passed this way. At last, he served alone as prime minister for another ten years, wielding great power.

Then, suddenly, he was charged with a grave crime and his property was confiscated. His wife and children were scattered, and he was exiled to Lingnan, left alone in poverty, destitute and haggard. As he rode through snow and wind, sighing over his misfortune, he suddenly awoke from the dream. The adept beside him laughed and said, “The yellow millet has not even finished cooking, and you have already dreamed a dream of Huaxu, that legendary realm of perfect contentment.”

Astonished, Lord Lü asked, “Master, how did you know what I dreamed?”

The adept said, “You just dreamed of passing through many turns of fortune and decline. Fifty years went by in no more than a moment. There is no need to rejoice when you gain, or grieve when you lose. Only when you truly awaken will you understand this great dream. A hundred years in the human world are no more than a dream.”

Lord Lü suddenly understood. “Even a high office and a fortune beyond measure,” he said, “are, seen this way, merely a play directed by the workings of creation. What is there to cling to?” He bowed twice and said, “You are no ordinary person. I ask you to enlighten one as ignorant as I am.”

The adept replied, “Since you have seen through illusion all at once and understood that fame and profit are empty shadows in the air that bind the spirit, turning your heart toward the Dao will be easy.”

Lord Lü said, “I have indeed gained some understanding. The Book of Changes speaks of ‘wandering souls bringing about change’ and discusses the principles of life and death. I hope to understand how to fulfill one’s nature and attain one’s destiny. Master, please take pity on me and show me the way of cultivation.”

The adept was silent for a long while, then said, “When all principles are brought together, the mind naturally becomes clear and lucid. When the seven emotions subside, one’s nature naturally becomes whole and radiant. Once the mind is still and clear, one’s original nature can shine forth. If that nature is empty and luminous like jade, why regard the wandering soul as the source of change? When one’s nature accords with the vast emptiness, it is still, clear, and boundless, without arising or perishing. Why worry about life and death? From this, one knows that I was never born. How, then, could there be such a thing as death?”

Lord Lü pondered for a long time, then at last understood deeply. He bowed again in thanks and said, “In a former life, I was fortunate enough to meet an immortal. Just now, as I listened to your subtle teaching, I seemed to forget myself.”

The adept said, “What I have explained to you is the subtle principle of fully realizing one’s nature. As for the ultimate matter of the wisdom-life, the foundation of a Daoist’s cultivation of nature and life, I can teach it to you later, when you have truly become free and transcendent.”

After thanking him, Lord Lü asked, “Master, what is your surname and given name?”

The adept replied, “My surname is Zhongli, my given name Quan, and my courtesy name Yunfang. I live at Crane Ridge, on Seven-Star Mountain in the Zhongnan Mountains. Come and find me one day.” With that, he drifted away.

Lord Lü felt bereft, yet his heart was glad. The next day, he returned to his hometown.

Zhuangzi suddenly awakened through his dream of becoming a butterfly; the Pure Yang Emperor, however, came to fully understand his own nature through the dream of the yellow millet. The Nanhua Jing says: “Only after a great awakening can one recognize that all this was originally a great dream.” The Pure Yang Emperor awakened completely in an instant. He understood that all sorts of illusions were empty and illusory, and that only his true nature shone forth clearly. This teaching is truly subtle.

Third Manifestation: Practicing Charity Widely and Quietly Accumulating Hidden Virtue

When the Emperor returned to his hometown, famine had struck. He gave away all his family’s property and grain to relieve the hungry and poor, saving nearly thirty-two thousand people. The village elders and his relatives were delighted, but urged him to keep some of the family property for his descendants.

The Emperor sighed and said: “People lose their way because their minds are clouded and they forget their own nature. They then become attached to illusory things and fixate on money, giving rise to emotions such as anger, hatred, and love, and ultimately sinking into suffering. I am not trying to force any of you. I have simply gained a little insight myself and know that these things are not worth clinging to.”

He then composed a poem and showed it to the village elders and his relatives:

“Smash the embroidered gourd; trample the zither.

With a carefree sweep of my sleeve, I leave the Confucian school.

The true reality of the Great Beginning, the primal state before Heaven and Earth took shape, is pure as jade;

The true suchness of the Primordial Origin, the source of the cosmos, is brilliant as gold.

The alchemical fire surges straight into the clouds, beyond even the gods’ measure;

The sword’s edge pierces deep beneath the earth, beyond the reach of spirits and ghosts.

Ever since awakening from the dream of the yellow millet,

I have come to see that all my former efforts were in vain.”

After this, he bade farewell to his hometown and resolutely set off for Zhongnan Mountain to seek his master. No one could persuade him to stay.

When the Lord Emperor parted from his family, a famine had broken out. He gave away all his family’s possessions and grain to aid the poor, saving twenty to thirty thousand people. The elders of his village and his relatives respected him, but also urged him to keep some of his family’s wealth and provide for his descendants. The Realized One sighed and said, “People lose their way because of what is in their own minds. When the mind is clouded, it mistakes illusory things for real ones and becomes attached to wealth. This gives rise to conflict, anger, and distress, and eventually leads to suffering. I do not mean to defy the elders of my village. I have simply awakened fully to the truth that life is like a dream: even one’s own body is temporary, so why cling to possessions?” He then wrote this poem, took leave of the secular world, and entered the Daoist path.

“Smashing the gourd and treading on the zither” means breaking free of attachment to external things. “Shattering the illusory form” means seeing through the body’s impermanence. “Ice melts away, along with sound and color” means that phenomena such as sound and color vanish like melting ice and are not worth clinging to. He drifted away from the Confucian tradition, escaped the restraints of fame and profit, and transcended disputes over right and wrong.

“The true aspect of the Great Beginning is pure as jade” means that the original, true state is spotless and pure. “The primordial truth of the Origin is bright as gold” means that the Dao’s true nature has shone unchanged from ancient times to the present and will never perish. “The cinnabar flame surges to the sky” describes the radiant manifestation of inner spirit; “the sword’s peak enters the earth” describes wisdom hidden deep, beyond the reach of demons. Only after awakening from the dream of yellow millet—a brief dream that serves as a metaphor for life’s fleeting glory—did he understand that neither dreams nor waking states should be clung to. His true spiritual nature had never been clouded. He also realized that all his former efforts to pursue fame and rank had been in vain: ten years of writing were no more than a painted cake, and several enterprises were like flowers in the air.

Someone altered the poem by deleting four lines and changing “Awakening from the dream of yellow millet” to “Seeing the Yellow Dragon.” This gave rise to a tale in which the Lord Emperor used a flying sword to kill a Yellow Dragon. The author considers this account absurd. Lines in the poem such as “A world hidden in a grain of millet, Mount Sumeru contained in a mustard seed, mountains and rivers boiled in a pot,” as well as the Sixth Patriarch’s Buddhist saying, “The kalpa-fire burns at the bottom of the sea,” are metaphors for the wisdom of true emptiness and the wondrous workings of spiritual nature. They must not be used to invent tales of spirits and monsters and deceive the people.

The author also criticizes the claim that “the Blazing Buddha subdued the Nine Luminaries.” The Nine Luminaries is a collective term in Daoism and traditional astronomy for nine celestial bodies, each with its own course and measure of movement. Luminaries such as Jupiter were also believed to be connected with human destiny. The author asks: if the stars follow their own laws, why would the Buddha punish them? And if they were truly subdued, would their movements not change? He considers such claims utterly absurd: they falsely describe celestial phenomena and disparage China’s immortals and sages. Those who invent them will eventually face retribution.

The Record of the Realized One’s Miraculous Transformation says that the Realized One’s “wisdom sword” cut through the Three Corpses and Six Thieves—the afflictions of greed, anger, lust, and other impulses that obstruct cultivation. It did not cut off anyone’s head. Master Chaochan had no grudge against the Realized One, so why would an immortal kill him? Zhu Xi also said, “A gentleman is benevolent and still restrains himself. How could an immortal take someone’s head?” The author cites this to show that the story cannot be trusted.

The Daoist text Scripture of Western Transformation records more than thirty cases of immortals guiding Buddhist monks toward the Dao. Emperor Renzong of the Song once praised them, saying, “In the east, Confucius brought people to enlightenment; in the west, the Golden Immortal did so.” Perfected Han once guided the Chan master Huichan into the Daoist path, and he became the Perfected Feng Zunshi. The Perfected Ziyang once guided the Chan master Daoguang into the Daoist path, and he became the Perfected Zishen. Patriarch Lü also guided more than ten virtuous monks. The author maintains that these accounts are grounded in fact and were not invented to glorify Daoism. Rather, some prejudiced people make up stories to conceal the truth; among them are even those who have visited Buddhist monks themselves.

Records of the Marvelous Transformations of the Pure Yang Emperor (Chunyang Dijun Shenhua Miaotong Ji), Volume Two. Edited and arranged by Miao Shanshi of the Daoist tradition. In his fourth incarnation, he underwent the trial of five demonic ordeals.

Just as Lü Dongbin (the Pure Yang Emperor) was about to leave his hometown, he suddenly saw that all his family members had died of illness. Though grief-stricken, he prepared only the things needed for their funerals. After a while, his family members all rose again, restored to their former state. This was the first trial.

One night, several dozen bandits suddenly arrived, each carrying a knife or staff, and demanded that he hand over his belongings. After a while, the household…

As Lü Dongbin (the Pure Yang Emperor) was about to leave his hometown, he suddenly saw that all his family members had fallen ill and died. He felt no grief and simply prepared the things needed for their funerals. Before long, those who had “died” all returned to normal. This was the first test.

One day, dozens of bandits suddenly appeared at night, each carrying a sword or club, and demanded that he hand over his possessions. In moments, all the valuables in the house had been stolen. Lü Dongbin showed no change in expression and let them take everything. This was the second test.

Later, he left his village. After traveling two or three stages, he lost his way. As dusk fell, he saw a light in the distance and headed toward it. There were two thatched huts, and an old man was preparing to go out with a fishing net. Lü Dongbin approached, saluted him, and asked to stay the night. The old man said he lived alone and planned to go fishing that night. After refusing several times, he finally opened the door and let Lü Dongbin in, saying, “Scholar, make yourself comfortable. I’m going fishing.” Then he told Lü Dongbin to lock the door.

Soon afterward, a woman of about twenty knocked. Thinking she was a relative of the old man, Lü Dongbin opened the door. Carrying a bundle, she came in and bowed, saying that she had lost her way in the night and hoped to stay until morning. Lü Dongbin replied, “This is not my home. I’m only lodging here by the fisherman’s permission, so I dare not let you stay the night.” She said they were both travelers who would leave after one night, so why refuse her? It was late and dark, and she had nowhere else to go. She tried every kind of coquettish enticement, then said that her family owned much land and property and that she had brought many gold and silver treasures. She was willing to marry the scholar and would not treat him poorly. Lü Dongbin sat quietly, unmoved, as she tried every way to tempt him. When day broke, he suddenly opened his eyes and found himself sitting beneath a large tree. He smiled silently, got up, and continued on his way. This was the third test.

Later, he reached a ferry crossing just as the spring waters were rising and rushing fiercely. A small boat happened to arrive, and he asked to be taken across. When it reached the middle of the river, a fierce black wind suddenly sprang up. Huge waves surged, thunder and lightning crashed, and rain poured down. The small boat lurched and capsized. Lü Dongbin closed his eyes and sat still, leaving life and death to fate, his mind steady as a mountain. Near the far bank, the boat sank, but he managed to swim ashore. Someone asked him why he had reacted that way. He smiled and said nothing. This was the fourth test.

Another night, he stayed at an inn. At around the third watch, countless grotesque ghosts and spirits suddenly appeared. Some tried to beat him; others tried to kill him. Lü Dongbin sat upright and paid them no heed. After a while, several yaksha escorted a prisoner covered in blood, his flesh mangled, and brought him before Lü Dongbin with a sword in hand. The prisoner shouted, “You killed me in a former life. Today I’ve found you—pay me back with your life!” Lü Dongbin said, “A life for a life is only right. What is there to say?” He stretched out his neck and waited to be killed. Suddenly a voice from the sky rebuked them, and the ghosts and spirits immediately scattered and vanished.

At that moment, a man clapped his hands and laughed. “I am Yunfang”—the legendary immortal Zhongli Quan. “I have often lamented that people with the capacity to become immortals are hard to find, and that worldly attachments are hard to cast off. I seek those who can follow the Dao more urgently than ordinary people seek me. So I tested you with five trials, and nothing moved you. You are ready to be taught. Yet your cultivation of merit is not complete. For now, I will pass on the secret formula for refining yellow and white”—the alchemical art of turning substances into gold and silver—“so that you can aid the world and benefit others. When your merit is complete, I will return and guide you.”

Lü Dongbin said, “I have received the formula for the refinement.” Then he asked, “Will the gold and silver made by this method change over time?” Yunfang replied, “After three thousand years, they will return to their original substance.” Lü Dongbin said sadly, “Then people three thousand years from now will surely be misled by them. I do not wish to do this.” Yunfang said, “With a resolve like yours, you have already fulfilled all three thousand eight hundred acts of merit.”

People often appear honest and sincere while remaining hard to read within. The Nanhua Jing says that there are ten ways to examine a person; the Xici Commentary to the Zhouyi also says that a person’s sincerity or deceit can be discerned from four kinds of speech. How much more difficult, then, is it to study the Dao and cultivate immortality, aspiring to the state of a sage! A classic says, “When you take things too lightly, you often encounter greater difficulties.” If even sages find the task difficult, how much more should we?

Look at ourselves: we grow angry when faced with adversity and delighted when things go our way. Worldly thoughts and habits, along with familiar old patterns, still show themselves everywhere. Our inborn temperament and the nature of our vital energies remain, and our dispositions shaped by custom have not changed in the slightest. Yet we boast shamelessly, raise our brows and glare, brandish a fly whisk, take up a mallet, clench our fists and raise our fingers, then beat, scold, and shout. We behave wildly and without restraint, while claiming that this is our natural state and that we have suddenly transcended everything. This is like hiding filth while crying that we have been wronged, or covering our ears while stealing a bell: we are only deceiving ourselves, and it is truly pitiful.

The True Lord Zhengyang repeatedly tested the True Lord Chunyang through hardship and good fortune alike. Chunyang’s mind remained fixed on Yuxu—the Daoist realm of stillness and emptiness—and did not waver. Later, Zhengyang tested him with the arts of turning base metals into gold and silver, claiming that they could be used to establish great accomplishments. Chunyang refused to practice them as well. Pleased, Zhengyang clapped his hands and welcomed him as a disciple.

Yet we are inattentive, careless, and self-satisfied. With only a little virtue and a small measure of cleverness, we imagine that we have already awakened completely and can bring our cultivation to an end. When we hear that Chunyang remained unmoved through trial after trial, how can we fail to feel alarmed and ashamed?

The Perfected Master Zhengyang asked, “I live in Crane Ridge Grotto Heaven on Mount Zhongnan. Would you like to accompany me there?” The Pure Yang Emperor replied, “I would be honored to serve you, Master, and travel with you.” The Perfected Master took his hand, and they set off together. They had gone only a few steps when he suddenly felt himself borne through the clouds, carried by the wind over mountains and rivers. In an instant, they arrived at Crane Ridge.

Two tigers stood before the grotto. The Perfected Master ordered them away. Soon the grotto gates opened, and celestial soldiers and attendants came out to welcome them. Inside, precious jade trees and wondrous flowers stood amid auspicious clouds and radiant vapors. These surrounded vermilion gates with golden studs, jade terraces and treasure halls, steps of precious stone, and golden pavilions. Two immortal youths escorted the Perfected Master into the jade hall and invited him to take the seat of honor, while the Emperor sat beside him. The hall was as gentle as spring, and its scenery was extraordinary. After a while, more than ten immortal youths brought in Yuanhe jade nectar—a sweet, dewlike wine drunk by immortals—and fruit from the immortals’ realm.

When they had finished drinking, they sat at ease and talked. The Emperor rose from his seat and respectfully asked, “What is this Grotto Heaven called?” The Perfected Master replied, “This is where my master, the Donghua Emperor, a revered Daoist deity, once lived. It is called Shaoyang Grotto Heaven.”

The Emperor bowed again and asked, “How many levels are there in the cultivation of immortality? How far must one cultivate to reach this place?” The Perfected Master said, “There are fifteen ranks of immortals in the cultivation of the true. Here I will briefly describe a few.

“If you understand that all things in the world are subject to arising and passing away, and know that every illusory appearance is empty, the mind attached to the dust of the world will at once fall still, and your original nature will become clear and complete. This is called a Clear and Numinous Ghost Immortal.

“If you follow the rhythms of ascent and descent in Heaven and Earth, and discern the subtle changes in the waxing and waning of Yin-Yang; if you use body and mind as the crucible and refine Jing and Qi as the medicines; if you see through the Five Aggregates, the five elements that make up body and mind, and quiet the seven emotions, then, after long practice, your body will grow light and healthy, and your form will seem to drift weightlessly. This is called a Numinous and Luminous Earth Immortal.

“If you can dispel sensual desires and sever craving, attachment, and fixation, your mind will become clear. You will recognize that your original nature is empty, still, and formless. Take Taiji as the furnace and Heaven and Earth as the cauldron; refine and nourish original Jing, regulate original Qi, and gather original Shen, until the three treasures of Jing, Qi, and Shen unite and return to a pure, singular, wondrously mysterious essence. In this way, you can transcend the ordinary traces of form and reach a state beyond the perception of ghosts and spirits, where transformation has no bounds. This is called an Immortal.

“If Shen and Qi unite in a wondrous way, bringing about transformations beyond measure, body and mind return to a formless wholeness, and nature and life merge into a realm of emptiness and stillness. Your being will accord with the vastness of space and reach true emptiness without lapsing into nothingness. You will roam freely in the limitless, journey through the precelestial realm, and suddenly transcend the realm of emptiness and naturalness, arriving at the true realm of Jade Clarity. This is called a Celestial Immortal.”

The Emperor asked, “Taken together, are these what is meant by the Great Dao?” The Perfected Master replied, “The Great Dao has no form or name; it cannot be asked about, nor can it be answered. It is so vast that it has no bounds, yet so small that there is nowhere it is absent. It fills the cosmos, moves and transforms, and runs through past and present. It neither changes nor shifts, and has nothing to do with life or death. It does not deliberately create, yet all things transform of themselves; it displays no divine powers, yet its mysteries reveal themselves. The Great Dao is subtle and profound, clear, empty, and natural. Words cannot explain it fully. You should devote yourself to cultivation.”

Suddenly, two immortals arrived, wearing golden crowns and robes of rosy clouds, with jade ornaments at their waists and garments like clouds. They carried a jade edict written in gold and, under orders, summoned Zhongli, the Envoy of the Nine Heavens’ Golden Palace who selects immortals, to attend an immortal assembly at the Jade Pool of the Upper Palace on Penglai. After the Perfected Master accepted the edict, the Realized One offered this poem:

“Once you attain the Dao, meeting again is not easy;

I hear you are heading east to ascend the immortal altar.

Your staff seems to carry the colors of spring, with a wine flask hanging from it;

A cloud drill crowns your head, beneath the hat of the Five Sacred Peaks.

The turtle that has drunk the sea’s waters is unknown to worldly folk;

The talismans that burn up mountains are unseen even by ghosts and spirits.

After you leave, I fear I will grow old;

Please grant me one bone transforming pill to aid this poor man.”

The Perfected Master seemed concerned that his teacher might depart in haste and not return. Smiling, he took a scroll from his sleeve and gave it to the Realized One. It was the Scripture of Numinous Treasure on Ascending to the Mysterious and Dispelling Calamity to Protect Life. He reminded him once more, “This scripture was transmitted by my master, the Donghua Emperor. It explains the mysteries of true emptiness and layered profundity, and lays bare all illusory appearances, including form and sound. You should study it with care. I will return before long. Take care, take care.”

“‘The Valley Spirit never fades’ means that one’s inner spiritual clarity remains bright and undimmed; this is called ‘spirit.’ When primordial Qi (vital energy) circulates and permeates the body, it is called ‘treasure.’ When primordial Qi penetrates the Mysterious Pass—the vital aperture leading to the innermost depths of cultivation—and rises to the higher realm, this is called ‘ascending into the mystery.’ When the mind and breath become one, remaining calm and pure, this is called ‘preserving life.’

“The scripture says that people are often held back by worldly concerns and deluded by sights and sounds. If they can reach a state of knowing emptiness without clinging to it, and knowing forms without becoming absorbed in them, this is called ‘illumination.’ Only then can they grasp subtle principles. By understanding the method of primordial emptiness, seeing through all obstacles, and entering the Gate of the Myriad Wonders, one can naturally awaken to understanding, cast off every doubt, and avoid clinging to the view of emptiness. These words are concise and essential. They bring together the principles of nature and principle, encompassing the core teachings on nature and principle in the Three Teachings, as well as the true emptiness of the Great Treasury. It is a pity that some people recite them every day without carefully pondering their true meaning, and instead produce a host of confused interpretations. The Perfected Master first taught the methods for cultivating into a ghost immortal, an earth immortal, and a spirit immortal, and only afterward transmitted this scripture; surely there was a deeper purpose. Those who aspire to become immortals should read it sincerely and ponder it again and again.

Chapter Six: Clarifying the Mystery and Embodying the Dao

More than a month after Perfected Master Zhengyang (an immortal of the Daoist tradition) had attended the assembly, he returned to the grotto-heaven. The Emperor greeted him joyfully and bowed to the Perfected Master. The Master said, “You have spent several quiet days here. Have you come to any understanding? Do you wish to return?”

The Emperor replied, “My ties to the world of dust have been severed, and worldly thoughts have faded away. Since my heart is set wholly on the Dao, why would I still long for my homeland?” The Perfected Master nodded in approval and offered him reassurance.

The Emperor asked, “The depths of the hun and po souls are hard to fathom, and the highest principles are profound and hidden. How can one preserve one’s true nature?” The Perfected Master replied, “Though the lamp of wisdom is faint, it can still settle the spirit. When spirit and Dao blend as one, how could they fail to accord with the true Dao? The golden form and jade substance arise from the spirit itself. As for the principles by which the ritual image ascends, these must be transmitted through oral instructions.”

The Sovereign Lord bowed once more in gratitude. Golden light filled the cave, serene and tranquil. After bowing nine times, he knelt and said, “I have studied the alchemical scriptures of various immortals, but they use different names for the trigrams, and I have many questions. Please explain them in detail, Master.”

The Master said, “The mind is originally clear and unobstructed. Where could confusion come from? Before Heaven and Earth were formed, before even your parents were born, even the word ‘Dao’ was only a name assigned out of necessity. How could there have been trigrams or different names? Since you have questions, go ahead and ask.”

The Sovereign Lord asked, “The alchemical texts speak of cultivating the Golden Elixir. What is the Golden Elixir?”

The Master replied, “‘Golden’ is a metaphor for firmness; ‘elixir’ is a metaphor for completeness. The Golden Elixir is your original nature, complete and clear, firm and indestructible.”

The Sovereign Lord asked, “Are nature and life one thing or two?”

The Master replied, “You cannot say they are entirely one, nor can you say they are two. A spark of numinous awareness is the original nature; a spark of original Qi (vital energy) is life, which must be continually nurtured. If you cultivate nature without nurturing life, nature has no foundation and cannot settle. If you cultivate life without nature, it cannot flow freely or become stable. When nature and life merge, they are like a flawless piece of pure jade. ‘Nature’ and ‘life’ are also names assigned out of necessity.”

The Sovereign Lord asked, “What are water and fire?”

The Master replied, “The original spirit is compared to fire, and original Qi to water. When spirit and Qi merge, water and fire aid one another.”

The Sovereign Lord asked, “What are true Yin and true Yang?”

The Master replied, “A spark of original essence within the body is true Yin; a spark of original Qi is true Yang. When essence and Qi merge closely, Yin and Yang unite as one.”

The Sovereign Lord asked, “What are Kan and Li?”

The Master replied, “They are symbols for the Yin and Yang, water and fire, mentioned earlier. Yin containing Yang is called Kan; Yang containing Yin is called Li. Take the single Yang within Kan and restore it to the single Yin within Li, and the pure Yang body of Qian is formed.”

The Sovereign Lord asked, “What does ‘a single Yang arises’ mean?”

The Master replied, “It is when original Qi within the body begins to stir. When stillness reaches its utmost, movement appears: this is the arising of a single Yang. That is why it is said, ‘When the moment arrives, awareness knows’—it refers to this very time. Then the mind should become deeply still and its stray thoughts cease. Hold the light within and turn your gaze inward; the Three Palaces will rise and descend naturally. The Three Palaces is a term for the places within the body where Qi moves during cultivation. The Dao De Jing says, ‘Continuous, it seems to exist; use it, but never exhaust it.’ This means to maintain it continuously without exerting deliberate force. In this way, completeness and purity are attained by following what is natural. To cling to particular hours, such as Zi or Wu, or to directions, and deliberately arrange one’s practice is reckless action. So, if you do not understand the constant Dao and act presumptuously, you will invite danger.”

The Sovereign Lord asked, “What is the firing process?”

The Master replied, “Wisdom of the heart is like fire; the movement of Qi is like the timing. When the mind and breath depend on one another, maintained continuously and gently nurtured until firm, this is gentle firing. When emotions arise and thoughts stir, gather them in with resolute intent: this is forceful firing.”

The Sovereign Lord asked, “What are the ingredients?”

The Master replied, “Original Qi and original essence.”

The Sovereign Lord asked, “What are the furnace and vessel?”

The Master replied, “The body is the jade furnace; the mind is the golden vessel.”

The Sovereign Lord asked, “What is the Mysterious Pass?”

The Master replied, “It is an exceedingly hidden and subtle pivot, also called the highest pass, ‘mystery within mystery.’ The place where the original spirit gathers is called, by necessity, the Valley of Spirit; the place where original Qi comes to rest is called, by necessity, the Mysterious Female. The Mysterious Female is a metaphor for the wondrous aperture within the body, like a hollow, still, formless valley. When the original spirit settles there, you can say neither that it truly exists nor that it is entirely absent. The Dao De Jing says, ‘The Valley Spirit never dies; this is called the Mysterious Female.’ It describes this subtle state.”

The Sovereign Lord asked, “What are the Azure Dragon and White Tiger?”

The Master replied, “Nature belongs to Wood, so it is compared to the Azure Dragon; emotion belongs to Metal, so it is compared to the White Tiger. Metal overcomes Wood, so excessive emotion often harms one’s original nature. If you can sincerely gather in your emotions and return them to your nature, Metal and Wood will harmonize as one, and the Dragon and Tiger will naturally be subdued.”

The Sovereign Lord asked, “What are the tortoise and snake?”

The Master replied, “They are symbols for water and fire, Yin and Yang, mentioned earlier.”

The Sovereign Lord asked, “What are lead and mercury?”

The Master replied, “Lead and mercury are metaphors for the mind and Qi. The mind is like mercury: difficult to settle. If you can calm the breath and nurture the original mind, deluded thoughts will quiet down and nature will become fully clear. By emptying the mind and nurturing the vast, vital Qi, the breath will grow calm and the root of life will not be depleted. Lead can subdue mercury, so the sages used these two substances as metaphors to make the principles of cultivating the true Dao easier to understand. The Eight Trigrams and the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water) are also borrowed metaphors, used to guide people back to their source. The Four Images and the Three Powers are likewise names established out of necessity to explain the way of perfect integration and clarity.”

“If you can let go of deluded thoughts, calm your breathing, gather your spirit, and unite Qi and spirit, you will realize that mind and nature share the same source. ‘A body beyond the body’ is also a way of describing the extraordinary state attained through cultivation. All these discussions are like clouds in empty space, dust on a mirror, or wind’s reflection on water. You should understand them fully and put them into practice, allowing everything to happen naturally.”

The Perfected One bowed in gratitude.

The “Chapter on Images” says: This master-ancestor’s dialogue is a formula secretly transmitted through the generations, as the sacred masters’ intentions were joined in understanding. It was taught only to people of benevolence and virtue who were committed to cultivating the Dao, with the warning that it should not be shown casually to ordinary people. In my foolishness, I was fortunate enough to encounter it and silently grasp its inner transmission. I contemplated it with reverence, then burned incense and performed nine prostrations, as if offering thanks to the void. Every sentence in the text is like writing in gold and jade, each word precious. Its principles are the most subtle and exquisite in the cultivation of the Real. It contains the methods for illuminating the mind and nurturing one’s nature, as well as the wondrous workings of the wisdom-life and the true void. Whenever I reflect on these teachings, I often sigh inwardly.

The Lingbao Bilü and Zhong-Lü Chuandao Ji circulating in the world are full of error and absurdity, written by people who covet fame and pursue the extraordinary. Some say that the Lingbao Bilü was written by Shi Jianwu, but I do not know whether this is true. Others excerpt material from forged books and compile it into collections or accounts, using it to substantiate events and principles, and treating it as the foundation for transmitting the Dao. Such people are as shallow as frogs at the bottom of a well. They mistake a thief for an elder brother and stone for clay; they are like the blind leading the blind. Their shamelessness is truly beyond measure. I dare say no more. Those able to distinguish genuine treasures will know.

Secret Seal Sword Method, Transformation Seven

While sitting in meditation, Master Zhengyang Zhen said to the Pure Yang Emperor, his disciple: “Cultivating one’s true nature and realizing the Great Dao depend entirely on wisdom and steadfast resolve. To enter the profound and subtle realm, one must first possess a resolute and decisive will. Only then can one penetrate the beginning and end of things, remaining untouched by the changes of Heaven and Earth. By wielding the power and workings of the Great Dao, one can also reach a state beyond the divination of ghosts and spirits.

“Thus the sage holds a precious sword and reverses the pivots of the celestial movements, using its keen blade to destroy demons and monsters outright. This is a metaphor drawn from swordsmanship.

“This sword takes the purest original Qi from the source of Heaven and Earth and joins it with precelestial Qi. It uses Qian and Kun as its furnace and scabbard, the white primordial Qi as its tongs and hammer, the fire of wisdom to forge it, and the numinous spring to sharpen it. Taiji forms its guard; uprightness and harmony, its hilt; beauty, goodness, and keen edge, its blade; and purity, its scabbard. Empty, luminous, and radiant, it is pure and unyielding. It can set the workings of creation in motion and uphold the commands of benevolence and authority. Once raised, it knows no distinction between past and present; when lowered, it has no sequence of before and after. The spirits and ghosts of the Six Heavens submit to it, and the demons of the Three Realms beg for mercy.

“This sword can dispel the hindrances of affliction, sever grasping desire and attachment, cut through the seven emotions, slay the six thieves—the six sensory cravings that confuse the mind—quell anger, and eliminate delusions and mistaken thoughts. Whatever comes before it is resolved at a stroke. Kept within oneself, it can transcend life and death and unite with the precelestial; used to govern the world, it can stabilize the state and bring peace to all under Heaven. It is luminous and beneficial, at once perfectly integrated and upright. The treacherous and wicked grow fearful at the sight of it; those who follow heterodox paths tremble as soon as they hear of it. You should persevere in your cultivation, bring it to completion, and proceed directly to the vast realm of the Great Void.”

After receiving this sword method, the Pure Yang Emperor bowed respectfully in thanks. He concealed his brilliance, hid his traces, and secretly descended upon Huafeng. Reluctantly, he gave it the name “Precelestial Spirit-Escaping Sword.”

A practitioner in the Daoist tradition who was skilled at choosing the right times for cultivation obtained this sword formula. After pondering it again and again, he was filled with joy, and so composed “Song of the Wisdom Sword”:

The sword formula taught in the Purple Pole Cavern depends neither on Yin-Yang energy nor on iron for its forging. It is made by nurturing and blending primordial Qi (vital energy) from before Heaven and Earth. Once you master this method, you can destroy demons and monsters. Even after the sword has been nurtured, you must keep refining and cultivating it. Its edge surpasses that of swords famed for warding off evil, and of the Great E.

Grip this sword, and the Dragon and Tiger will submit; return it to its case, and the Dark Spirit will be at peace. It cuts away the Three Corpses—impurities within the body that, according to Daoism, obstruct cultivation—and destroys the Five Thieves, the five inner forces that disturb mind and body. It sweeps away the Seven Emotions and six desires. The demons of greed, attachment, and other afflictions all vanish; the mind demons of dullness and distraction are completely destroyed. It subdues the Dragon and Tiger and brings peace to the Dark Spirit.

This sword can bring all things to life and bring all things to an end. Its power to create and destroy is as swift as a flash of lightning or a spark from the stars. When something appears before you, it can be resolved with ease; as soon as worry or doubt arises, the sword’s edge sweeps it away.

I, Patriarch Lü (Lü Dongbin), obtained this sword and opened up Heaven and Earth, bringing them into unity. It severs the entanglements of birth and death, making the practitioner’s true body as hard as metal and stone. It can vanish or appear at will, changing in ways beyond measure. It can revive those near death and bring withered bones back to life. Why would an immortal use it to take someone’s life? The wild fox spirits cleverly invent stories to deceive the ignorant; and when has a vermilion phoenix ever been startled by the color black?

It subdues heavenly demons and suppresses heterodox paths; a single sweep of the sword can clear away every kind of method. This is a treasure that commands awe and brings peace to the world, beyond all measure in value; it is a supreme treasure that clears the cosmos and endures without end.

This precious sword is always with the practitioner. Even when hidden, it remains effective; when revealed, it embodies benevolence. It is clear and flawless as fine jade, and limpid as crystal, without a trace of dust. The sword has always existed within the Great Dao. The Most High personally bestowed it upon Donghua, the Lord of Donghua. Patriarchs and immortals of every generation have passed it down in secret. Whoever obtains it will shine like the stars in wisdom and wondrous power.

Draw the sword, and it is like a golden flash of lightning; press it down, and it is like a jade dragon. As it moves freely in and out, the Six Spiritual Powers—the six kinds of supernatural ability described in cultivation—come into view. Its snow-bright blade shines in the realm of the Limitless, and its frost-cold edge illuminates the Great Void. It can pacify the world and set the state and household in order; with a light lift, the world is made clear and peaceful. Loyal and worthy sages come to seek refuge, while treacherous and wicked people are cut down.

Without this sword, Buddhas, patriarchs, and immortals would find it hard to attain the Great Dao. With it, they move freely and reveal the Six Spiritual Powers, sweeping away human desires and preserving the natural order. They level the clouds and winds, then ascend into the Highest Clarity, the Daoist realm of serene transcendence.

End of Volume Two of The Record of the Divine Transformations and Wondrous Powers of the Pure Yang Emperor.

The Pure Yang Emperor’s Record of the Divine Transformations and Wondrous Powers, Volume Three

Corrected and arranged by Miao Shanshi, disciple of the Daoist tradition. Poetic images.

Transformation Eight: Seclusion at Huafeng

Master Zhengyang (Zhongli Quan) passed the oral instructions on to the Emperor and finished explaining the method of the Wisdom Sword, which answered a range of difficult questions. He then said, “The immortals of the Ten Continents have arrived at the Jade Capital, the dwelling of the Celestial Emperor. I too will soon pay court to the Celestial Worthy of Primordial Beginning. You probably cannot remain here for long. You may go to Feathered Valley on Huafeng to cultivate yourself. Await the right moment, and help people in the world as circumstances allow. When our work and virtue are complete, we will meet again.”

He then inscribed a poem at the mouth of the cave: “Spring fills the sky; dew drips from the flowers. The rising sun shines on sea and mountain; the clouds drift home.” He added, “After I leave, cultivate well among the people. When your merit and virtue are complete, you too will ascend to the Jade Void, the realm of the immortals, as I have.”

The Emperor bowed again and said, “My aspiration differs from yours, Master. I must first save every living being in the world; ascending to Heaven can wait.” His master replied, “Do your best. Though your heart is sincere and compassionate, alas, living beings have little affinity with you and heavy karmic burdens. On this journey, you will probably guide about five hundred disciples, but only three or five will truly inherit our Dao. When we meet again, let us cherish one another.”

With that, he departed on clouds with the two immortals Shi Taiyu and Zheng Siyuan, accompanied by ceremonial standards of gold and jade and celestial music. The Emperor watched them go with deep reluctance, then traveled to Feathered Valley on Huafeng to live in seclusion and cultivate. The valley was rich in trees and springs. There he cultivated freely for more than forty years and at last attained the fruit of the Dao.

Thus, Master Yong wrote in an inscription: “Lü Dongbin lived in seclusion at Feathered Valley in Huayin for more than forty years.” The Instructions on the Elixir of the Azure Youth Emperor, included in the Daoist Canon, also records that the Tang dynasty presented scholar Lü Dongbin received Zhongli Quan’s guidance in the mysteries of the Dao and learned the method of refining the body through the Golden Elixir. Later, he lived at Huafeng in the Zhongnan Mountains to cultivate. When his practice was complete, both body and spirit attained a wondrous state, and his supernatural transformations became impossible to fathom.

Li Qi said that when he served as a gentleman-in-waiting during the Xiangfu era, he saw Lü Dongbin demonstrate the divine sword method in the Guanzhong region. Lü was then over a hundred years old, yet his face looked like a child’s, and he moved as swiftly as if flying. After that, he would sometimes disappear and sometimes reappear, wandering freely through Hunan, E-Yue, Mount Lu, and other places. No one knew where he went; even ghosts and spirits could not fathom his movements.

The Illustrated Guide to Cultivating the True and Pointing to the Mystery records that Lü Dongbin once traveled through Jiangzhou and climbed the Yellow Crane Tower in Wuchang. At noon on the twentieth day of the fifth month, he transformed into a three-tiered red tower and rose upward. He left behind this poem:

The lingzhi (immortal herb) has neither seeds nor roots. Food and drink alike can help a person return to their original nature and recover vitality.

So long as one can keep company with the clouds and rosy mists and pass the years in peace, letting the sun and moon run their course between Heaven and Earth.

The infant-like Original Spirit—the pure, uncontrived awareness spoken of in cultivation—depends only on the mother within Yang energy. The “old woman,” a cultivation term for the Yin side, should pay homage to the revered deity above the crown of the head.

Hold fast to a single De, unchanged through the ages; after death, leave no tomb for descendants to visit in remembrance.

People say: “Sage immortals and divine beings transform unpredictably. They have no fixed dwelling, and their traces are hard to find, so their appearances and disappearances are impossible to fathom. In some places, shrines, Daoist monasteries, or temples have been built, and accounts of their deeds in mountains and rivers have been recorded. Yet when people wish to write inscriptions for these deeds, they often cannot find a suitable author. What is more, some accounts have titles but no solid evidence behind them. They rely only on the author’s limited, one-sided observations, without comparing sources from different times or distinguishing truth from falsehood. Others invoke an emperor’s name falsely and invent stories to support their claims. For example, the book Pavilion Overlooking the River says that the emperor often concealed his name for fear of being recognized. To claim that he would deliberately reveal his clothing and appearance, while also changing them at will, is plainly unbelievable. This shows how falsehoods are passed from one person to another.”

Knowing my own limitations, I have checked the facts against historical records, collections of scriptures, and other writings, and have arranged them in order. I hope that those who aspire to understand the Great Dao will read this and discern the truth without further doubt. The emperor’s later ascension to Heaven from the three-tiered red tower was also a manifestation of divine transformation. Unfortunately, the exact year was not recorded, though fortunately a poem was preserved.

The Ninth Transformation: Seal of Hidden Illumination.

The Pure Yang Imperial Lord (Lü Dongbin) set his sights high and would not serve princes or kings. He stood apart from worldly affairs, far beyond the dust of the mundane world. Thus no one under Heaven dared treat him as a subject, and even princes and kings could not claim to be his equal friends. After leaving his master, he lived in seclusion around Huafeng and Yugu for more than forty years. Only toward the end of the Tang dynasty did people gradually learn of his deeds.

He once guided Li Qi in the practice of the Dao. Li Qi lived to the age of one hundred and fifty before he died. The Pure Yang Imperial Lord helped more than a hundred people attain immortality. His whereabouts were sometimes known and sometimes hidden, and he went by more than one name.

During the Five Dynasties period, he again lived in seclusion on Mount Hua, at a place called “Yuanjia Palace.” He wore a hemp robe, and people called him the “Hemp-Robed Daoist.” Using the principles of the Yi and methods of cultivation, he guided Master Chen Xiyi (Chen Tuan), as well as Liu Xuanying, chancellor of Yan, also known as the Imperial Lord Haichan (Liu Haichan). Both became his disciples. When the Imperial Lord Haichan first met the Imperial Lord Zhengyang (Zhongli Quan), Zhengyang used the image of “dangerously stacked eggs”—a pile of eggs on the verge of collapsing—to awaken him. Liu came to realization at once and entered the Dao; later, he lived in seclusion on Mount Hua, cultivated, and attained the Dao.

Later, the Pure Yang Imperial Lord wrote the Heart Changes and gave it to Master Xiyi. This is the work now known as the Hemp-Robed Heart Changes. He also wrote three chapters of the Secret Essentials of the Immortal Lineage and passed them on to Lord Liu Haichan. Among those in the Daoist tradition who have grasped the Great Dao, masters and disciples pass on secret methods through shared understanding and oral instruction. These teachings are preserved today in the Precious Record of the Golden Lotus.

In the early Song dynasty, the Pure Yang Imperial Lord left Mount Hua and gave Master Xiyi a poem as a warning:

Few people travel the road above the blue sky; there is no need to lament the rise and fall of success and failure.
Your surname may appear on the golden list, but fortunately your immortal name is already recorded in the Jade Capital.
When clouds return to the sea, the dragon may live a thousand years; when snow fills the boundless sky, only the cry of an immortal crane is heard.

Later, someone remarked, “Many thanks to the enlightened and sagacious court, which has repeatedly issued edicts summoning the Master.” As it happened, Taizu and Taizong later issued three edicts summoning Master Chen Xiyi.

Afterward, the Pure Yang Imperial Lord returned to Huafeng, but Master Chen Xiyi had already ascended to immortality. He then left these lines:

The Way of Heaven is vast, and its net seems wide-meshed; I leave you these words of counsel, here at Mount Hua.
After the cold stars fade, only a crescent moon remains; when spring snow arrives, ask again about the boundless Great Void.
The perfected adepts of the Three Caverns have returned to the Purple Palace, the realm of immortals; a thousand-year-old crane has become Mount Cangwu.
Since I left the Master, across the world from north to south and east to west, few have been true men of resolve and responsibility.

Xiangzhang says: The Pure Yang Emperor transmitted the subtle principles of the Changes and “Mind Changes”—a method of observing and working out the principles of the Changes through the mind—to Master Xiyi. Xiyi later transmitted them to Shenfang, Shenfang to Mu Xiu, and Mu Xiu to Zhou Wu. After people departed from the master’s teachings, truly outstanding figures became rare throughout the north and south.

Xiangzhang also says: The Pure Yang Emperor transmitted the subtle principles of the Changes and Mind Changes to Master Xiyi. Xiyi transmitted them to Shenfang, Shenfang to Mu Xiu, and Mu Xiu to Zhou Lianxi. Zhou Lianxi passed them to the two Cheng brothers, Cheng Hao and Cheng Yi, who in turn passed them to Sima Guang. The Sea Toad Emperor—Liu Haichan, a Daoist immortal—also studied the Changes, expounded the Way of the Immortals, and transmitted his teachings southward to Zhang Ziyang. Zhang Ziyang wrote works such as the Commentary on the Unity of the Three According to the Zhouyi, and passed them to Shi Tai. The transmission continued for three generations to Zhuge Yuchan, then for two more generations to Master Qing’an Li Yuansu.

The Pure Yang Emperor also transmitted the principles of the Changes northward to the Chongyang Emperor, Wang [surname]. Wang Chongyang taught his disciples the principles of the Changes, the Yellow River Chart, and the Luo River Writing—diagrams and numerical patterns in the traditional study of the Changes. He used them to guide and educate his followers, cultivating ten disciples and seven perfected ones, including Danyang. Thereafter, golden lotuses blossomed and jade trees flourished, and outstanding figures arose in every generation. All these lineages inherited the teachings left by the Pure Yang Emperor.

During the Five Dynasties, Li Shouzheng rebelled and occupied Hezhong Prefecture. Emperor Taizu of Zhou led the campaign in person, and Zhao Taizu and Emperor Shizong of Zhou also joined the siege. The Immortal Mayi and Zhao Hanwang looked toward the city and said, “How could Li Shizhong hold this place for long?” Zhao Hanwang asked, “Why?” The Immortal Mayi replied, “Outside the city are three currents of imperial qi.” Before long, the city was captured.

Duke Wenxi Qian Ruoshui had a clear and upright bearing. Master Xiyi thought he had the makings of an immortal and went to ask the Immortal Mayi about him. After examining Qian, the Immortal Mayi said, “He has no immortal bones; he can only become a high-ranking minister.” This proved true. Both of these accounts are recorded here.

The Tenth Transformation of the Responsive Divine Emperor

In the spring of the second year of the Jianlong era, Emperor Taizu of Song, Zhao Kuangyin, founder of the Song dynasty, was feasting and taking a rest at the Dragon Pavilion in the imperial gardens. By chance, he saw an immortal in feathered robes approaching from the southeast. Startled, Taizu rose to greet him, bowed, invited him to sit, and asked where he had come from. “I have come from Mount Penglai,” the immortal replied. Taizu then asked his name. The immortal drew two circles in the air with his hand and said, “Your Majesty was once the God Sovereign of the Vermilion Mound, according to Daoist legend. Do you remember?” Taizu fell silent.

The immortal continued, “Your Majesty will prosper throughout the realm through the virtue of Fire. The realm will soon be at peace, so there is no need to worry. You should refrain from killing and govern the realm through the quiet purity of Wuwei (non-action). Only then will peace endure.” They spoke for a long time, and Taizu responded only by nodding in agreement. What they discussed afterward was kept secret and never passed down.

Taizu ordered his attendants to bring wine and fruit to entertain the immortal, but the immortal declined. In haste, Taizu removed his jade belt and ochre robe—the ochre-colored garment worn by emperors—and offered them to him. Smiling, the immortal rose lightly into the sky and departed. Only then did Taizu realize that his visitor was Lord Lü, Lü Dongbin. He ordered a portrait to be painted and enshrined in the Taiqing Tower. Chen Jingyuan, an official of the Daoist clergy on the Left Street, circulated the portrait. The portrait later seen by Teng Zijing was said to bear a striking resemblance to it.

Poetic image: The rise and fall of the Five Dynasties, the period of division from the late Tang to the early Song, lasted for fifty years. Heaven brought forth a mighty and heroic ruler to pacify the realm. The perfected immortal offered his counsel with reverence, advocating quietude and Wuwei; the enlightened ruler accepted it sincerely and naturally followed Heaven’s will. The jade belt and ochre robe symbolize the emperor’s dignity, while the blue headscarf and crane-feather cloak, garments worn by Daoists, reveal the mystic qualities of the Daoist. Smiling, the immortal floated away—but where did he ultimately go? Looking back, beyond the clouds and sky, still greater heights stretch onward.

Seeking Tea at the Stone Tea Stall, Transformation Eleven: “Stone tea stall” refers to a tea shop run by the Shi family; “seeking tea” means coming to ask for or obtain tea. This is the eleventh story in the accounts of Lü Dongbin’s miraculous transformations.

In the final years of the Later Zhou, a family surnamed Shi in Bianjing ran a teahouse. Their daughter, who was still young, had no taste for luxury and served tea to the customers. The Lord Emperor Lü appeared in the guise of a beggar and came to sit in the best seat each day, asking for tea. His clothes were tattered, and he was so filthy that people could hardly bear to go near him. The young woman, however, showed no distaste. Instead, she served him the finest tea. Her parents grew angry and beat her, but she continued to serve the Lord Emperor Lü.

After more than a month, the Lord Emperor Lü said to her, “Would you drink the tea I have left?” She thought it was too dirty to swallow and poured it onto the ground. Suddenly, she smelled a wonderful fragrance. She quickly licked up some of the tea and at once felt her mind clear and her body refreshed. The Lord Emperor Lü said, “I am Master Lü, not a beggar. It is a pity you did not drink all the tea I left. Still, which would you wish for: wealth and status, or a long life?” The young woman replied, “I come from a humble family and don’t know what it means to be noble. It is enough for me to have a comfortable life and live a long time.”

After the Lord Emperor Lü departed, he never returned. The young woman later married a military officer in charge of a camp, and then became the wet nurse to a grandson of the Prince of Hao. The prince’s grandson whom she had nursed later married a woman from the family of the uncle of Empress Gao, the Empress Xuanren Shenglie. In accordance with their agreement, the young woman received Yangmu as her fief and lived to the age of 135.

The poem says: There is no need to praise Lu Tong’s seven bowls of tea; what is there to boast of in wearing a gauze cap? My ancestor, the Lord Emperor Lü, exhaled dragon’s saliva, the sweet dew drunk by immortals, and in an instant golden flowers covered the ground. The woman of the Shi family devoted herself to raising a prince’s grandson and was rewarded with wealth, well-being, and robust health even in old age. If the Chan master Zhaozhou, famed for his “Go drink tea” saying, had tasted this, surely he too could easily have stepped among the clouds and rosy mists.

The twelfth transformation: Saving the old pine-tree spirit.

At the foot of White Crane Mountain in Baling County, Yuezhou, there were two ponds concealing giant pythons. Beside the ponds stood an old tree, its branches and trunk all withered, its trunk hidden beneath vines and weeds. Emperor Lü (Lü Dongbin) passed by. A figure descended from the treetop and bowed to him, saying, “I am the spirit of a pine tree. I am fortunate to meet you, Master, and hope you will deliver me.”

The Emperor said, “You are a demon spirit. How can I speak with you about the Dao? Have you ever done anything to accumulate merit?” The pine spirit replied, “The two giant pythons in the pond often harm people. Many times I have taken human form and stood by the water, urging people to keep their distance. In this way, I have saved several hundred lives.” When the pythons appeared, the Emperor transformed them into two swords, sealed them, and sank them into a spring.

The Emperor composed a poem: “I walk alone, I sit alone; no one in the world knows me. Only the old tree spirit on the southern mountain clearly knows that an immortal has passed by.” Today, an old tree before Baling Hermitage has withered, yet a single new branch has grown beside it. Tradition says this was brought about by the power of the divine elixir, and so people call it the “Young Pine.” There is also a huge stone there, black as ink. It is said to be a trace left when the Emperor transformed ink into stone.

A poem praises him: “The True Immortal walks at any moment and sits at any moment, wondrously concealed from sight in the shadows—who could ever see him? Knowing that the old tree had become a spirit and saved many people, he deliberately passed by the pond at his leisure. With a single great Elixir cast from his hand, the two giant pythons vanished on the wind. The traces beneath Lü’s Immortal Pavilion remain to this day, and the efficacy of his numinous merit endures through the ages.”

The Thirteenth Transformation: Guo Xi’an, again.

Guo Shang’ao was reborn from an ancient tree spirit. One day, Emperor Lü deliberately disguised himself as a beggar, his face caked with grime, his clothes in tatters, and pus and blood running from his body. He came every day to drink tea but never paid a single coin. Customers buying tea held their noses and kept away, and for more than a month Guo had no business. Though anger showed on his face, Guo still brought out fine tea to serve him.

Emperor Lü said, “You are worth teaching. I am Lord Lü. In a former life, you were an ancient tree spirit. Do you remember?” As if waking from a dream, Guo replied, “I am fortunate to have met you, sir. Please teach me the Dao.” Emperor Lü said, “If you wish to learn the Dao, you must not fear life or death. First, receive a blow from my sword.” Guo readily agreed. Emperor Lü raised his sword and brought it down toward Guo’s head. Guo cried out, and Emperor Lü vanished at once. Disheartened, Guo thereafter wandered from place to place. One day he unexpectedly met Emperor Lü again, and at last attained the Dao.

Later, Zhao, an official in Cizhou, paid reverence to Guo Shang’ao. Every day Guo told him, “Tomorrow at noon I will depart. Please prepare a small coffin, make a hole at its head, and pass a bamboo pole through the hole.” Zhao agreed. At noon the next day, Guo indeed sat upright and died. Zhao did as he had instructed: he set the coffin on the riverbank, passed a bamboo pole through the hole, and piled stones around it in layer upon layer for protection. In autumn, heavy rain caused the river to flood. Zhao opened the coffin to inspect it and found only torn cotton wadding inside; there was no body.

The poem says: In a former life, the tree spirit accumulated hidden virtue; reborn as a human, he lived in seclusion among ordinary people. A single sword stroke in this life ended his worldly ties, and the opportunity cultivated in a former life enabled him to understand the Daoist arts several years later. His worldly feelings dispersed, and his mind became boundless; his nature was perfectly clear, and body and mind merged with the Great Void. Why, then, appear again in the guise of torn cotton wadding and reveal another strange wonder? He deliberately left behind a trace to exalt the Daoist legacy of Patriarch Lü.

Zhong Chuan, Military Commissioner of Pinglu, was known as the Frail Elder. Lord Lü appeared before him wearing a cloth headwrap and a white robe, accompanied by a young shepherd leading a yellow calf. They stood in the courtyard. The Frail Elder saw that Lord Lü had a spacious, far-reaching bearing and moved with unhurried grace. Sensing that he was no ordinary man, he pointed to the shepherd and asked, “Can a Daoist compose poetry? Could he improvise a poem for us?” Lord Lü replied, “There is no need to trouble me with that. The boy can do it himself.”

The shepherd took up a brush and wrote:

“Green grass spreads across the level plain for six or seven li;

The flute plays three or four notes in the evening breeze.

After returning at dusk with a full meal,

He lies beneath the moonlight without even removing his straw rain cape.”

The poem means: Green grass stretches across the vast plain for six or seven li. A few clear notes of a flute drift on the evening breeze. After returning at dusk and eating his fill, the shepherd lies down in the moonlight without taking off his straw rain cape.

After they parted, people saw Lord Lü carrying two large urns suspended from a pole and singing as he walked out through the city gate. Someone reported to the Frail Elder that the two urns were Lü Gong. The Frail Elder hurried after him, but never saw him again. Some people today possess Lord Lü’s calligraphy. Its strokes have the soaring force of a luan bird in flight and a phoenix spreading its wings. It is truly beyond the work of an ordinary person.

Poem’s portent: When Lord Lü appeared as a shepherd boy, he had already revealed his renown. He departed singing loudly, leaving behind an extraordinary reputation. The Frail Elder gave chase but failed to catch him because he had dismissed the wondrous signs revealed before his eyes and failed to understand them.

A Warning to Ding Wei, Transformation Fifteen

Ding the Duke of Jin was named Ding Wei and styled Companion of Poyang. When Lord Lü went to visit him, he said, “I am the grandson of Lü Wei of the Tang dynasty.” Ding Wei’s appearance closely resembled that of Li Deyu, and their later fortunes were also much alike. When Ding Wei heard the visitor mention his own name, he took offense and did not receive him with courtesy. Later, Ding Wei indeed committed a grave offense and was banished overseas, just as Li Deyu had been.

Poem’s portent: Ding, Duke of Jin, was quick-witted and capable, but regrettably stubborn and benighted in character. He failed to grasp the warning Lord Lü conveyed through his reference to Li Deyu. To this day, he has no face to meet Kou Laigong.

A Prophecy for Vice Minister Zhang, Transformation Sixteen

When Zhang Gong Ji was living at home in his early years, the Lord Emperor—a title of respect for Lü Dongbin—once visited him. He asked for paper and brush, then wrote a poem in clerical script, a style of Chinese calligraphy, obliquely hinting that Zhang Gong would one day assist the court. The poem ended: “When the work is done, it will be the year of breaking the melon.” Later, Zhang Guo took part in court affairs and died at the age of sixty-four. In popular interpretation, “breaking the melon” meant eight times eight, or sixty-four, so people took the line as a prophecy.

By using “the year of breaking the melon,” the immortal’s poem offered a warning, directly pointing out that the prime of life cannot last. Sadly, Zhang Gong never understood its meaning. In the blink of an eye, he died at sixty-four.

The Seventeenth Transformation: Converting Cao Guojiu

According to his biography, Cao Guojiu was the son of Prime Minister Cao Bin and the younger brother of the late Empress. Handsome in appearance, he wore his hair tied up and had a refined, lively manner. By nature, he was calm and even-tempered, with a kind and pure disposition. He had no liking for wealth or status and especially admired a life of quiet and emptiness.

Cao Guojiu is said to have been the son of Chancellor Cao Bin and the younger brother of the empress. Handsome in appearance, he kept his hair neatly combed and moved with graceful agility. By nature, he was quiet and even-tempered, with a pure and kind disposition. He had no fondness for wealth or splendor and greatly admired a life of stillness and emptiness. By the age of twelve or thirteen, he could understand the scriptures of the Three Teachings—Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism—after reading them just once. From childhood, he often visited the palace, where the emperor and the imperial consorts loved and respected him.

The emperor often spoke with him, and Cao Guojiu would always talk about stillness, naturalness, and governing through Wuwei (non-action). The emperor was pleased by what he heard and once bestowed on him a yellow robe and a red sash. Cao Guojiu merely bowed in thanks and said little. One day, he took his leave of the emperor and empress. When the emperor asked where he was going, he replied, “A Daoist goes wherever his heart leads; the whole world is open to him.” The emperor and empress tried several times to persuade him to stay and offered him a horse with a saddle and attendants, but he refused them all. The emperor then gave him a gold plaque engraved with the words: “Wherever the Imperial Uncle goes, it is as though I have gone in person.” After that, he would often be gone for several days at a time, living on what he received by begging with his alms bowl.

Once, he reached a ferry crossing on the Yellow River and asked the boatman how much it cost to cross. When the boatman demanded the fare, he said, “I am a monk; I am exempt from service fees.” The boatman cursed him and drove him off the boat. Cao Guojiu then took the gold plaque from inside his robe and handed it to the boatman in place of the fare. Those on board recognized the emperor’s own inscription on the plaque and cried out, “Long live the emperor!” The boatman was terrified.

A Daoist in ragged clothes who was aboard the boat rebuked him: “Since you have left home to pursue the Way, how can you still rely on your authority to frighten and oppress others?” Cao Guojiu bowed deeply and said, “How could this disciple dare to rely on authority?” The Daoist asked him, “Can you throw the gold plaque into the water?” Cao Guojiu immediately cast it into the deep water, and everyone was astonished and bowed in admiration. The Daoist told him to come ashore and said, “Come with me.” Cao Guojiu agreed and followed him to shore.

They walked several miles and rested beneath a large tree. The Daoist asked, “Do you know Dongbin?” Cao Guojiu replied, “This disciple is an ordinary mortal. How could I know an immortal?” The Daoist sighed and said, “I am Lü Dongbin. I have come especially to guide you.” Cao Guojiu bowed again, then followed Lü Dongbin, received the wondrous Dao instructions, cultivated, and attained the fruit of immortality. A collection of his writings, the Immortal Texts, is also said to have been passed down in the world.

This poem praises the Pure Yang Emperor: he was exceptionally gifted and naturally unpretentious, with an air and spirit that were extraordinary without effort. His vision reached far, his heart held no selfish desires, and his thought encompassed Heaven, Earth, and humanity, unstained by even the slightest impurity. When Heaven bestowed a Golden Talisman on the Emperor, he only smiled faintly. His master passed on the Jade Formula, a secret oral teaching of the Daoist tradition, inspiring him to pursue the Dao and preserve his youth. The poem also mentions “the green source, the compassionate father who sought Tang virtue; the empress who accumulated unity, two perfected immortals,” praising two immortals who attained the Dao. The allusions in these lines, however, cannot be identified with certainty from the available text alone.

The Eighteenth Manifestation in Which He Transforms Cao Xiangu means the eighteenth time the Pure Yang Emperor appeared to transform Cao Xiangu.

According to The Biography of Cao Xiangu, the Pure Yang Emperor traveled to an ancient temple in Henan. Late at night, the faint figure of a monk who had already passed away appeared before him and bowed. The Emperor asked who he was. The monk replied, “I am the eighteenth incarnation of Cao Xiangu.”

According to the Biography of Immortal Maiden Cao, the Perfected Lord Chunyang once traveled to an ancient temple in Henan. Late that night, the indistinct figure of a monk who had already passed away appeared and came forward to bow to the Lord.

The Lord asked who he was. The monk replied, “I was once the abbot of this temple, and in the past I was quick to respond to Chan riddles.” The Lord said, “It is a pity that you are now only a yin spirit.” The monk sighed and asked, “Why is that?” The Lord said, “I, the Perfected Lord Chunyang, can respond freely to changing circumstances, and everyone can see me. You, however, cannot.”

The monk was not entirely convinced. The Lord then said, “If you do not believe me, a household is holding a vegetarian feast tonight. Shall we go and attend it together?” The monk agreed, and the two went to the household. The host welcomed them and seated them. Before long, a serving of vegetarian food was brought out. The Lord said, “There are two of us. Please bring another serving.” The host brought out a second serving. When the Lord had finished eating, he rose and gave thanks. The monk, however, could only draw in breaths and ate nothing. The host asked the Lord, “Sir, you asked us to prepare two servings of vegetarian food, but where is the other guest?” The Lord deliberately replied, “For some reason, this man has failed to show up again.” Then he left.

Only then did the monk understand. He bowed to the Lord again and asked for his guidance. The Lord said, “To unite nature and life and perfect both body and spirit, you must rely on the original Qi bestowed by your parents. Only through cultivation can you attain this. You must return to the human world once more.” The monk feared he would lose his way again. The Lord said, “I will personally come to guide you.” He then directed the monk to be reborn. Following the Lord’s instructions, the monk went to the capital and entered the womb of Empress Cao, becoming a baby girl.

The Lord saw this from afar and worried that, living in a wealthy family, she would find it difficult to escape. He therefore used his powers to make her ugly. Three days later, fearing that the emperor would see the child and bring shame upon her, the empress found an excuse to send her to be raised by her maternal grandmother. As the girl grew up, she remained ugly. Later, she put on a hairpin and a cap and became a Daoist nun. Afterward, the Lord came to awaken and guide her. Immortal Maiden Cao suddenly understood and respectfully asked him about the mysteries of cultivating the Dao. The Lord taught her the secret wonders of the Mysterious Pass, a crucial method in cultivation. Through this, she attained accomplishment in cultivation and brought both nature and life to perfection. From then on, she wrote with ease, and the records of her teachings and her poems have been passed down to the present day.

The verse means that once one understands the original mind and realizes one’s nature, cultivation reaches completion. Even when returning all things to their source, one remains unattached to any state. The myriad changes of a hundred years ultimately come to emptiness and stillness; where, then, does this one numinous, luminous nature abide? When nature and life are cultivated together and brought into harmony, body and mind become one, allowing a person to transcend the world of dust. If He Xiangu had not met a true master, how could she have realized true emptiness and roamed the realms of the immortals?

The Nineteenth Transformation: Guiding He Xiangu

He Xiangu was a young woman from the Lingling area. When she was thirteen, she went into the mountains with her female companions to gather medicinal herbs and tea. Before long, she became separated from them and lost her way alone in the mountains. Beneath the eastern peak, she saw a man with a thick, long beard and narrow eyes, wearing a tall hat and green robes. This was the Pure Yang Emperor (Lü Dongbin).

He Xiangu hurried forward to pay her respects. The Emperor took out a peach and said, “You are still young and like to eat fruit. If you eat this whole peach, you will one day ascend and become an immortal. If you do not finish it, you will have to remain in the human world.” He Xiangu ate only half. The Emperor pointed out the way home, and she returned. She thought only one day had passed, but in fact more than a month had gone by.

From then on, He Xiangu no longer felt hungry and never fell ill. She could also foresee the good and ill fortune of human affairs. Later, she departed by “corpse liberation,” a Daoist method of leaving the body behind and ascending to immortality.

The Emperor once said to He Xiangu, “I once went to the market in Huayin to sell medicine. I placed one elixir among ten thousand ordinary pills. When someone came asking for medicine, I would casually take one from the medicine gourd and give it to them, to see whether they could receive that elixir.”

End of Volume Three of The Marvelous Record of the Divine Transformations of the Pure Yang Emperor

The Marvelous Record of the Divine Transformations of the Pure Yang Emperor, Volume Four

Corrected and arranged by Miao Shanshi of the Mysterious Gate, a general term for Daoist schools.

The Twenty-Fifth Transformation: Visiting Jine Temple

The Emperor came to Jine Temple in Siming and found the abbot’s quarters quiet and deserted. After a while, a young attendant came out. The Emperor asked, “Why is it so quiet here?” The attendant said, “Don’t say…”

Emperor Lü Dongbin came to Jine Temple on Siming Mountain to visit Abbot Xiao Ran, a Chan master. Before long, a young attendant came out. The emperor asked, “Why is it so quiet here?” The boy replied, “Quiet is not the word for it—even emptiness has nowhere to rest.” The emperor praised his answer and wrote this poem on the wall:

Jine Temple has a gate, yet no key is needed to pass through;

I see a young immortal, barefoot.

I ask why the abbot’s quarters are so quiet;

He says even emptiness has nowhere to rest.

Hearing this, I laugh with delight:

Can the master here be an ordinary person?

I came to visit, but did not get to see him;

My longing lingers, as though dust had settled in my heart.

I turn to leave, with vast waves stretching before my eyes;

The road leads to Penglai, the immortal isle, too far to make out.

May those who long for one another climb the stone tower together,

And wait until the sea’s snow clears and a thousand peaks appear in the dawn light.

The Xiangri then offers a poetic interpretation:

The cavern gate opens and closes without a key;

Coming and going are unobstructed by nature—why cling to taking a step?

Forget both movement and stillness, and you will be free of constraint;

Even in the samadhi of the embodied form, the spirit remains calm and at ease.

There is no anger to trouble you, nor any need for joy;

Meet others through the way of Zhongfu, inner sincerity, without a trace of deceit.

The Heaven of one’s nature is clear and still, without the slightest obstruction;

The ground of one’s spiritual nature is spacious and quiet, entirely free of dust.

The boundless sea of suffering surges on, vast and remote;

The brief span of life lies dim and far away.

The stone tower seems shattered as the snow first clears;

How long can this exquisite, tranquil scene remain bright?

Here are Transformations Twenty-Six through Thirty-Three; the original text is missing from Transformation Twenty-Six onward.

“Dao Yin Kangjie, Transformation Thirty-Four.”

Shao Yong, known as Master Kangjie, had the courtesy name Yaofu. One day, while sitting quietly, he suddenly smelled an unusual fragrance filling the room. His mind, too, grew clear yet hazy. He cast a divination and obtained the Dui trigram. Dui symbolizes the mouth, and two Dui trigrams stacked together make two “mouths.” He said, “The immortal Lü is here.” He then straightened his desk, set out a tablet honoring Perfected Pure Yang—the honorific title of Lü Dongbin—and waited respectfully. After a long while, a servant came to report that a Daoist was at the gate asking to see him. Shao Yong hurried outside, bowed, and welcomed the Daoist into the hall.

The Perfected One sat in the center of the room, overturned the table holding the offering tablet, and asked, “How did you know I would come?” Shao Yong explained the reason truthfully. The Perfected One said, “Since you knew I was coming, surely you also know where I am going. Where am I going now?” Shao Yong was at a loss for words. He bowed to the Perfected One, offered wine and fruit, and respectfully asked for guidance.

The Perfected One said, “Just now, a thought stirred in my mind, and you knew it. Now I have returned to stillness, and you are at a loss.” Shao Yong suddenly understood something and bowed again. The Perfected One stopped him. “What have you understood that you are so quick to thank me?” Shao Yong replied, “Before a single thought arises, even ghosts and spirits have no way of knowing. If it does not come from me, then from whom could it come?” The Perfected One said, “That is a principle of the nature and its underlying order. But you have not yet attained the wisdom of true emptiness and the life of insight—the state of realizing the empty nature and awakening to life’s root.”

Shao Yong bowed again and earnestly asked his teacher to point out what he could not yet understand. The Perfected One said, “Mencius spoke of nourishing the vast, flowing Qi with an upright heart, and also said that this is difficult to explain in words. It is not truly difficult to explain; it is simply difficult to meet the right person. Your conduct has long been virtuous, and you have accumulated much hidden goodness, so I came especially to guide you. You have just understood one aspect of the school of nature, which teaches the cultivation of mind and the realization of one’s nature. How could I bear not to pass this teaching on to you? Yet although your understanding is clear, you have not shed the burdens you have accumulated.”

Shao Yong pleaded again and again, so the Perfected One transmitted the oral formula to him. After bowing in thanks, Shao Yong offered him wine once more. At dusk, the Perfected One drifted away, and the unusual fragrance lingered in the hall for half a month.

From then on, Shao Yong rarely went out. He put aside worldly distractions, cultivated the vast, flowing Qi, and accepted his fate. In time, his practice grew ever more refined. He wrote in a poem: “At the winter solstice, Yang Qi begins to stir midway through the Zi month; the mind of Heaven has never changed. When the first Yang is born, the myriad things have not yet appeared. Dark wine, the plain water used in ancient sacrifices, has a faint taste; the Great Sound is silent, heard only as a subtle murmur. If you do not believe these words, go and ask Fuxi.”

The Thirty-Fifth Manifestation of the Spirit-Alerting Lord Chen

Chen Gong Zhizhong built a grand mansion. When it was completed, his relatives and friends gathered there for a feast. Chen Gong had always followed Daoism and was easygoing and virtuous.

During the banquet, a ragged Daoist arrived. He was Lü Dongbin. Chen Gong asked, “What can you do, sir?” The Daoist replied, “I have a celestial performance that I’d like to play for everyone.” He took a scroll painting from his waist and hung it on a pillar. It depicted twelve celestial maidens, each holding a musical instrument. At the Daoist’s call, the maidens in the painting came forward one after another as if they were real. Two of them led the way, carrying banners, while the others played music.

Each had jade-like skin and exquisite features. Their bearing and singing were captivating. They wore crowns adorned with the Seven Treasures and six-zhu robes—legendary celestial garments so light and thin they weighed almost nothing—and were decked in gold bracelets and jade pendants that chimed with every movement. Each had a grain-sized yellow jade bead on the tip of her nose. Their bodies seemed weightless and illusory; in the end, they were clearly not ordinary mortals. The music rang out, rising straight into the heavens, and its melody was wonderfully strange.

After the piece had been played three times, Chen Gong asked, “Who are these women?” The Daoist replied, “They are the Jade Maidens of the Six Jia and Six Ding, Daoist deities. When people succeed in cultivating the Dao, the Three Hun and Seven Po souls and the spirits of the Five Viscera and Six Bowels within their bodies all take on forms like these. Would you like to cultivate the Dao too?” Chen Gong thought this was an illusionist’s trick and felt deeply displeased.

The Daoist then said to the maidens, “You may return.” At once, they went back into the scroll. The Daoist took it down, opened his mouth, and swallowed it. Then he asked for paper and a brush and wrote this poem:

“Once I passed through three thousand kalpas in heaven;

Then I spent five hundred years among humankind.

At my waist, a sword blade flashes with violet lightning;

In the furnace, Elixir flames rise in smoky clouds.

I have just ridden a white deer across the sea;

Then mounted an azure ox and entered the grotto-heavens.

These trifles are merely a casual jest;

No one knows that I am an immortal.”

At the end of the poem he signed, “Written by the Valley Guest.” The Daoist departed and soon vanished. Chen Gong was convinced that “the Valley Guest” was Lü Dongbin. He bitterly regretted what had happened and even wanted to gouge out his own eyes. Not long afterward, Chen Gong died.

The Visit to Xu Shenweng: Transformation Thirty-Six

After attaining the Dao, Xu Shenweng of Hailing could foresee people’s good and ill fortune, so his house was always full of visitors. When Lü Huiqing went to visit him, a Daoist was sitting in the place of honor. He did not rise to greet Lü Huiqing and even spoke rudely to him. Annoyed, Lü Huiqing asked, “Who are you?”

“I belong to the same Lü clan as you,” the Daoist replied. Then he scattered the ashes from an incense burner on the ground and wrote a poem in them with his finger:

“Within the cauldron lie Kan and Li, symbols of Yin and Yang, Water and Fire; within the pot, another world unfolds. My breast is filled with the clear wind and bright moon. One breath is enough to seem to swallow all of empty space. In this dusty world, who recognizes me? When I open my mouth to answer, I have already played three notes on my flute amid the primordial clouds. Beyond Yueyang Tower, the sky stretches far and high, and the evening clouds glow red. Laughing, I ride a yellow crane and come for a while to the east of Hailing. I sweep my sleeve, laugh aloud, and turn to leave; phoenix-bell and jade-pendant chimes ring as the wind sweeps past the tall pines. If you wish to know where I have gone, you might ask the immortal elder.”

The Daoist clapped his hands and laughed, then departed. No one knew where he had gone. Later, Lü Huiqing asked Xu Shenweng about him. Xu said, “That was Lü Dongbin.” Only then did Lü Huiqing understand what the Daoist had meant by belonging to the same clan, but it was too late for regret.

Lü Huiqing Mentioned Again: Transformation Thirty-Seven

During the Yuanfeng era, Lü Huiqing served at Tianqing Abbey in Dan Prefecture. On the seventh day of the seventh month, an extraordinary visitor arrived and wrote two poems on a sheet of paper. The first read:

“Drifting alone across the four seas, I am like a wild man; two jars of frost and snow are enough to revive the spirit. Now I have gathered and joined the two things, Kan and Li; the elixir of the Dragon and Tiger is refined, and the mercury set in motion.”

The second read:

“The wild man was once a guest from Tiantai; south of the stone bridge stands his old home. Father and son were each born with two ‘mouth’ components in their names; they love to chant songs and care little for keeping the beat.”

Lü Huiqing’s son-in-law, Yu Zhong, explained the second poem as follows: the word “guest” in its first line could be understood as “visitor”; “stone bridge” in the second line could be read as “cave”; the “two mouths” in the third line combine to form the character Lü; and the fourth line’s fondness for singing points to the word “chant.” The poem thus concealed the meaning “Visitor, Cave, Lü, Chant”—that is, Lü Dongbin, who had written it.

Healing Teng Zhong’s Illness: Transformation Thirty-Eight

During the Yuanfeng era of the Northern Song, a Daoist who called himself “Guest of the Valley” drank with a commoner named Teng Zhong in the eastern capital. When they parted, the Guest of the Valley gave Teng Zhong a pill. Teng Zhong had long suffered from a chronic illness and had once vowed to fast, cultivate the Dao, and seek a cure. Now that he had met a perfected person who bestowed a pill upon him, he took it and recovered.

Two years later, Teng Zhong encountered the Guest of the Valley across the water, east of Kaiming Bridge in Yangzhou. Sitting by the water, the Guest of the Valley called to him. Teng Zhong made his way around a bridge pillar to reach him. When he arrived, he saw that the man before him looked just as he had on their first meeting. Only then did he realize that the Guest of the Valley was Lü Dongbin. Overcome with melancholy, he feigned madness and died soon afterward.

The Thirty-Ninth Transformation: Visiting Chen Xuande

Chen Xuande once met the Lord, who gave him a pair of enormous shoes and a divine elixir. Wearing the shoes enabled him to travel swiftly, while taking the elixir could slow the aging process. Chen Xuande composed two poems. The first is incomplete. The surviving text describes cultivation and regulation, and the use of the inner fire phase—the stages of fire within the body in Neidan practice. It also mentions the aid of square shoes, a clear and refreshing spirit, and Daoist images such as Lingbao, the Ten Directions, and the Primordial Ultimate. The poem further describes a perfected person’s arrival, when, in a hazy vision, one glimpses such scenes from the realms of the immortals as mushroom cakes and feathered canopies. The second poem evokes a day of simple delight, memories of ten years past, and the springtime scenery of Jiangnan and a spring-bright lake. It also mentions inscribing dragon script, a vehicle for immortals, and serving as a scribe in the Office of the Numinous Terrace, recording the names of immortals.

Later, Chen Xuande died through corpse liberation, a legendary Daoist means of attaining immortality in which the practitioner dies and leaves the body behind, while the spirit departs, freed from its physical form.

The Fortieth Transformation: The Portrait at Shenguang Temple

While traveling at Shenguang Temple in Shanyang, the Lord borrowed brush and ink and painted his own portrait on the wall north of the Hall of the Three Pure Ones. The portrait had well-formed brows and eyes and an unusual appearance, unlike the images of Lü Dongbin known in the world. Above it were the seven lords of the Northern Dipper, with their hair loose and jade tablets in hand, standing to one side.

The Lord also drew a talisman more than ten feet tall and wrote on it: “Made in the second year of Yuan You. Whoever can understand where I set down my brush may speak with me about the Dao.” People scraped powder from the talisman and took it to treat illnesses, and it often proved effective.

At Lingshi Temple on the southern shore of West Lake in Hangzhou, four Daoists arrived one day asking for a vegetarian meal. The monks had already stopped serving meals, and lunchtime had passed, so they refused to receive them. One of the Daoists left a six-character verse:

“Several times through the southern hollow, springs and rocks;

Layer upon layer, mist and clouds on the western peak.

Whom shall we take as our guide when we climb?

Yan, with Li Jia and Xiao Yun by chance.”

Some interpreted the first line as concealing the character “Lü,” the second as concealing “Dong,” and the third as concealing “Bin.” The fourth, they said, gave the names of three people. The poem thus meant that Lü Dongbin was traveling with three companions. The characters were written in reverse on the threshold, and no amount of scraping could remove them.

The Forty-Second Manifestation: Converting a Monk at Jingde Temple

At the Emei Cloister of Jingde Temple in the Eastern Capital, a monk from Shu came to serve as abbot. He was known as the “Daoist of Emei.” He strictly observed the precepts and did not leave his abbot’s quarters for twenty years.

One day, an unusual visitor came to the temple, wearing a blue headscarf and a white robe. The Daoist welcomed him warmly, and the two spoke at ease until midnight, when the visitor departed. They agreed to meet again on that same date the following year. The young attendants all saw the visitor.

At noon on that date the next year, the Daoist asked for water to bathe. He then sat upright and died. At dusk, the visitor returned, sighed repeatedly, and soon vanished. The next day, people saw a poem high up on a wall beside the main hall. Its strokes swept and danced like a phoenix in flight and a luan bird soaring. It read:

“The sun sinks low; the west wind is cold.

Will my old friend come tonight or not?

I stand until the shadows of the parasol trees are spent.”

In small characters beside it were the words “composed together in the province.” It was said that the strokes and structure of these characters concealed the two characters of “Dongbin.”

In Hengpu and the Dayu Mountains, a wealthy family’s son admired Daoist arts. He built a hermitage and welcomed wandering Daoist priests for many years. One day, after the group had just completed a grand Yellow Register rite—a major Daoist Zhaijiao purification ritual for averting calamity, seeking blessings, and delivering the souls of the dead—a Daoist in ragged clothes suddenly arrived to ask for a meal. The group treated him poorly, and someone even insulted him. The Daoist then inscribed a song lyric on the wall:

“On a brief visit to Hengpu, a white crane flies in—who will speak with me?

By the mountain ridge, a household once saw cold plum blossoms bloom time and again.

Spring comes and spring goes; a person is here amid falling flowers and flowing water.

Flowers blanket the path ahead; the hidden immortals remain unknown to all.”

Beneath the lyric he signed, “Yuanxin Chang, in old age.” His calligraphy showed three distinct styles of brushwork. After writing, the Daoist entered the Cloud Hall and did not emerge for a long time. When the group went in to look, he had vanished. They examined the writing on the wall and found that the characters had sunk deep into it. Only then did they realize that the character “Chang” could be divided into “ri” and “yue,” which together concealed the character “Lü.” The Daoist had been Lord Lü, Lü Dongbin. They all sighed with regret.

The Forty-Fourth Transformation: Delivering Lord Zhongxian

In his later years, Han Qi, Lord Zhongxian, took pleasure in receiving practitioners of Daoist arts. The Divine Lord arrived in ragged clothes, his face covered in grime, and asked to see him. Han Qi looked down on him and asked, “What can you do?” The Divine Lord replied, “I can make ink.” Han Qi told him to give it a try. The Divine Lord dug a pit in the earth, and everyone who saw him was astonished.

The Divine Lord kneaded the soil from the pit into ink and said, “It is ready.” Then he left. After a while, Han Qi picked up the ink and saw that it was actually fine gold, engraved with the character “Lü.” Even when the gold was split open, the inscription still reached deep inside it. Han Qi regretted not recognizing Lord Lü sooner. Later, when he encountered Lord Lü again, he received his guidance and devoted himself to cultivation for three years. After that, he shed his corpse—a Daoist term for a cultivator’s departure from the physical body to become an immortal—and became a Purple Palace Perfected One, an immortal who dwells in the heavenly Purple Palace.

The Forty-Fifth Transformation: Visiting Jiang Hui and Composing a Poem

Jiang Huizhi, a Daoist from Quanzhou, had lofty aspirations and exceptional character. Lü Dongbin went to visit him, but Jiang Huizhi happened to be away. Lü Dongbin therefore wrote a poem on the wall:

“Drunk, I rise to dance and sing aloud, as though amid immortal mountains upon the sea. With a heavenly gourd I gather sweet dew and bathe in the Golden Elixir. At night I lean out to gaze into the autumn sky, where cranes can pierce the heights; amid ten thousand miles of west wind, a sword flashes with cold light.”

After the poem he signed, “Written by the Yuanshangguan, who came to visit Jiang.” Then he left. The characters had sunk deep into the wall. When Jiang Huizhi returned, he was greatly surprised. “The palace character is Yuan Shang,” he said. “This must be Lü Fang.” He hurried after him, but could not find him.

Bestowing Medicine on Huang Jue, Transformation Forty-Six

Huang Jue was skilled at writing poetry, but his official career never went as he had hoped. One day, he escorted a guest to the city gate. When they arrived, he discovered that the guest had already departed, and it was too late to catch up. While traveling, Huang Jue met a feather-robed adept, a Daoist, and offered him the food and wine he had prepared when seeing off his guest.

When the meal was over, the adept raised his cup, dipped it in water, and wrote the character “Lü.” Then he said, “Next year, I will see you in Jiangnan.” With that, he floated away. Only then did Huang Jue realize that he had met Lü Dongbin.

The following year, Huang Jue was indeed transferred to Jiangnan, where he saw Lü Dongbin again. Lü Dongbin gave him seven large coins, ten medium-sized coins, and three small coins, saying, “The number cannot be increased.” He also gave him a few inches of medicine and told him to grind it with wine and take it every New Year’s Day; this would keep him free from illness for a year. Huang Jue did as he was told. By the time he was seventy-three, the medicine was nearly gone. He wrote a poem: “The calendar by my bed has few days left. Counting on my fingers, I see that this year I am seventy-three.” Before long, he died.

Transcending Li the Imperial Physician, Transformation Forty-Seven

In the Eastern Capital, there was a physician named Li Decheng who excelled at medicine and revered Daoism. Kindhearted, he often helped the poor and accumulated hidden virtue—good deeds done without seeking recognition.

During a bitterly cold spell, he met a poor Daoist priest dressed in thin clothes, his skin blue with cold. The priest invited Li Decheng to drink at a tavern, then went straight to the seat of honor. Li found this strange. The tavern keeper said, “Please pay for the wine first.” Pointing to the three wine jars in the shop, the priest replied, “There is enough money for a measure of wine in each jar.” The keeper did not believe him at first, but when he checked, he found it was just as the priest had said. He brought them three measures of wine.

The priest poured and drank. Li took only one jar, while the other two emptied by themselves. The priest told him, “This is only a small magical feat. I am Lü Dongbin.” Li was astonished and delighted. The priest wrote a quatrain:

“The Son of Heaven, supreme beneath the ninefold heavens,

And the five ranks of lords, illustrious at court—

What can compare with a commoner who asks nothing of the world,

And entrusts neither life nor destiny to worldly powers?”

Li Decheng did not grasp the poem’s meaning. Lü Dongbin gave him a single pill and said, “Take this, and you will live a long life.” Then he left. After taking the pill, Li’s hair never turned white and his teeth never fell out. He lived to the age of 107.

Inscription Left at a Nunnery: The Forty-Eighth Manifestation

Inside Anyuan Gate in the Eastern Capital stood a Buddhist nunnery. Patriarch Lü Dongbin once went there, hoping to guide someone to the Dao, but the bond between them was still too slight, and that person did not come. So Lü Dongbin wrote a poem on the east wall of the nunnery’s eastern gate. The ink penetrated more than three inches into the wall, and the brushwork was vigorous and powerful. The poem read:

“The Azure Dragon pauses here, lingering awhile;

The night is still, the clouds at ease, yet he has not arrived.

I know that one bound to me by fate is soon to shed the old self and be renewed;

For now, I leave this true trace, to be passed on to Tiantai.”

Only half of the character for “lingering” was written in the poem. It is said that this was intended to point to Lü Dongbin himself.

In one year, most of the people of Tokyo came down with malaria. Emperor Lü (Lü Dongbin) used his powers to treat them, and the patients all recovered. At that time, an elderly woman surnamed Ma prepared tea and a vegetarian meal for a Daoist. Her children and grandchildren were all ill. One day, a Daoist came to her home. She welcomed him warmly and asked him to cure her family. He said, “Wait for me to return tomorrow morning.”

The old woman waited for him from early morning. The Daoist put medicine inside a red gauze pouch and had those who were sick hold it. Their illness would then clear up on its own. One pill could cure a hundred people; after curing a hundred, it would lose its efficacy. The old woman followed his instructions, and her children and grandchildren recovered. She then used the medicine to help others. Once it had treated a hundred people, it indeed stopped working. When she opened the medicine pouch, there was no medicine inside. Only the three characters “Lü Dongbin” remained.

The Fiftieth Transformation: Saving the Mother of a Filial Son

In Tonglu, Shen Zhizhen, a local official, had a mother suffering from a severe abscess on her back. Every treatment had failed. He prayed with all his heart, and his filial devotion moved Heaven. The Emperor appeared at night to treat her and said, “Your utmost filial devotion has moved Heaven. Heaven has commanded me to come and save your mother. Had I come one day later, she could not have been cured.”

The Emperor then taught him the recipe for Lingbao Salve: take five fructus trichosanthis (also called guālóu) and five pieces of the finest frankincense, each the size of a date. Grind them separately into a fine powder, then add one jin of white sugar syrup and simmer everything together into a salve. Take three qian at a time, dissolved in warm wine. This salve can treat severe abscesses on the back, as well as various serious sores, ulcers, and fistulas. Shen Zhizhen’s mother soon recovered after taking it. Shen then had a portrait of Lü Dongbin made and respectfully offered worship to it morning and evening.

The Lord Emperor transformed into a scholar surnamed Hui, a man who had never entered official service, and came to Dayun Temple. He joined the monks in taking vegetarian meals in the Cloud Hall for more than a month, then said to them, “The temple’s meals are prepared very well; they simply lack flour.” With that, he departed. Ten days later, he returned with a small amount of flour, cooked it himself, and fed several hundred monks to their fill.

The monk Zhiming invited the scholar to drink tea and quoted a couplet by Ding Jingong: “Flowers scatter as the monk’s whisk sweeps them away; clouds follow the guest’s rounded cup.” The scholar said, “These lines are well written, but they do not convey all the marvels of tea.” He then composed a poem:

“One tender shoot and one bud: tea of the finest kind;

The monks take great care in making it.

In a shallow hare’s-fur bowl, its fragrant clouds are white;

As the crab-eye bubbles rise, snow-white waves billow.

It drives sleepiness from the mat and table,

And fills the body with fresh energy.

The secluded tea bushes grow freely beside hidden cliffs,

Unwilling to move their roots to the capital.”

The poem praises the tea as precious and carefully made. In the hare’s-fur tea bowl, its fragrant steam appears white; as the water boils, it surges like waves of snow. Drinking tea dispels drowsiness and refreshes the body. The tea plant prefers to grow among quiet mountain cliffs and does not wish to be transplanted to the capital.

The monk offered this poem: “Those who seek the Real have already attained the Way; only a man as extraordinary as Lord Lü could be their equal. His travel pack holds nothing but poems, while the furnace refines only medicinal silver. His nature is as generous as that of the ancients; his spirit and energy are warm as spring. When the time comes to take the cloud bridge, how may we remain close to you?”

The scholar replied: “I am a traveler who has journeyed three thousand miles, with no home to return to; I am one whose path has wandered like clouds and water for seven hundred years. When cultivation is complete, Penglai can become a retreat; when the Dao arts are perfected, tiles and stones can turn to gold. The chest for welcoming guests is always stocked with fine wine, and springtime dwells in the furnace for refining medicines. If you accumulate De and seek a teacher, why worry that you will not meet a worthy guide? Since ancient times, Heaven and Earth have favored no one with special closeness.”

He then gave the monk a pill, saying, “Take this, and you can live forever without dying.” Then he bade farewell and left. In time, the monk too became an immortal.

“Inducing Hou Yonghui,” Transformation Fifty-Two

While traveling at Jianji Abbey on Mount Lu in Jiangzhou, the Lord leaned against the steps and sharpened his sword. The Daoist Hou Yonghui asked him, “Sir, why are you sharpening your sword?” The Lord replied, “To rid the world of every injustice.”

Hou Yonghui found his words unusual, so he brought out wine and fruit to share with him. “Sir, your bearing is so refined that you must be someone from beyond the mortal world.” The Lord said, “Let us drink our fill first. There is no need to ask about my origins.” Once he was drunk, the Lord dipped his chopsticks in the wine and wrote a poem, “A Poem Written While Sharpening the Sword,” on the wall:

“How can I fear the labor of honing my sword’s edge? At dawn I open the sword case, and the jade-dragon blade rings out. The sword’s Qi in my hand is fierce and cold; its gleam seems three feet long. On stone, the sword reveals its spirit, winding like a snake. The blood of the treacherous flows silently away with the stream; the stains left by the wicked all disappear. I shall sweep away the world’s injustices and rise with you to the highest heavens.”

At first, no writing could be seen on the wall. After a while, the characters suddenly gathered into view, as though they had emerged through the wall. Greatly astonished, Hou Yonghui asked him to explain the sword arts. The Lord said, “There are Dao swords and ritual swords. The Dao sword has no form; the ritual sword serves as a means of protection. The arts used by those who practice ritual swordsmanship can be seen even by ordinary people, and can only drive away demons and ghosts.”

Hou Yonghui asked, “If one now uses the Dao sword to kill treacherous people among the crowds, would that not also fall into worldly thinking?” The Lord replied, “The Dao sword is a sword of loyalty. It cuts away only the evil thoughts and delusions in one’s own heart. The ritual sword, like a protective art, is different: Shen is its mother, and Qi its child. When the mind’s intent is steady, Qi gathers; when the mind’s intent scatters, Qi disperses with it. If you cherish the spirit and nurture primordial Qi, you can use it to destroy what is improper—that is, the evil beings among the ghosts and spirits.” Here, “Qi” refers to the vital energy cultivated in Daoist practice.

Hou Yonghui said, “These are truly the words of an immortal. May I ask your name?” The Lord replied, “My name is Lü Yan.” With that, he cast himself into the air and departed, riding through the sky. A long time passed, but he did not reappear, and Hou Yonghui could only sigh in sorrow.

The Fifty-Third Transformation in the Game of the Rainbow Bridge

One day, a ragged Daoist came to Suzhou’s Chuihong Bridge. He took wine in the pavilion on the bridge and drank alone at his ease, spending the entire day chanting and singing.

At the Drooping Rainbow Bridge in Suzhou, a Daoist arrived one day in tattered clothes. In the bridge pavilion, he took some wine and drank alone, at ease for the whole day. He recited poems and gave long cries, with a free and unworldly air. People estimated how much he drank: from morning until evening, it far exceeded what an ordinary person could manage, yet the wine seemed never to run out. When someone asked his name, the Daoist took ash from the incense burner before the Buddha and inscribed a poem on a pillar:

A soaring bridge spans the water; a rainbow’s reflection sinks into its clear depths. At dawn, orange trees are veiled in mist, and a fishing village lies faintly hidden in the haze. Looking back through past and present, people and events change, and all things in the world turn over; between Heaven and Earth, only the rivers and mountains endure. Wearing a rain hood and a wind hat, who across the four seas knows me? With sword in hand, I have ridden through the air and traveled back and forth many times. The Jade Dragon’s cry has yet to fade when I tread the moonlit waves, cool and clear, on my way home. Who has locked the Purple Pole Grotto-Heaven, that Daoist realm of immortals? Pointing to the mist-wreathed peaks, I say: there is my home. Let moss cover the ground as it will; year after year, I do not return.

When he had finished, he signed his name and said, “I am Dongbin.” The people were astonished and chased after him, but in an instant he had vanished.

Visiting Master Xue the Alchemist: Transformation Fifty-Four

Daoist Xue of the Taiping Abbey in Jiangzhou had lofty aspirations. The Lord Emperor passed by and presented him with a poem:

The down-and-out Daoist Xue, though advanced in years, has no white beard.

At ease, he dwells among the clouds and searches for stone inscriptions in the snow.

You praise my capacity for wine and disparage my little poems as commonplace.

You do not know what sort of person I am; let my fellow Daoists laugh if they please.

A note in small characters at the end of the poem reads: “Written by the Returning Daoist when he visited Master Xue the Alchemist with three companions.” Only then did people learn that Dongbin had sometimes used the title “Returning Daoist.”

At Tianqing Abbey in Fuli County, Suzhou, there was a Daoist who, in his youth, enjoyed discussing the Zhuangzi and the Laozi and had an unusually playful nature. One morning, a Daoist peddling medicine came to the abbey. This was Lü Dongbin. The two spent more than a month together, but although Lü Dongbin hoped to guide him to the Dao, they never found common ground. As he was leaving, Lü Dongbin inscribed two poems on the door in large seal script, an ancient style of calligraphy with rounded, flowing strokes. The characters seemed to dance across the surface.

The first poem read: “The autumn day is bleak; leaves flutter down one after another. I have sat for a long time in the shadow of the pines in the courtyard. Clouds and mist conceal the crane’s carriage; I do not know where it is bound. I have missed the appointed visit to the immortal grotto to pay homage at the court of the immortals.”

The second poem read: “A cinnabar talisman is inscribed on the elbow, able to protect for a thousand years; in my mouth I recite the Huangting Neijing Jing, a Daoist classic on visualization and nurturing the spirit. On the ancient altar grounds of the Crane Abbey, pine shadows enfold everything. All is silent, without a trace of anyone, and the gates have long remained closed.”

After Lü Dongbin left, people eagerly chiseled pieces of the writing from the door and used them to treat illnesses; most of the sick recovered. The inscriptions had penetrated more than an inch into the wood, and the ink had not faded.

Guiding Hou, the Courtesan (Transformation 56)

In Yanzhou, a courtesan surnamed Hou ran an inn with her family. Lü Dongbin disguised himself and came to ask her to grant him a “wan” (the source gives this term, but its meaning is unclear). He left early and returned late, drunk every time, and went more than a month without paying a single coin.

Hou invited him to drink tea. Lü Dongbin said, “I met Master Zhongli, who said you could discuss the Dao with me.” Hou did not understand what he meant, so she offered him wine. Lü Dongbin kept asking for more, and Hou gradually grew displeased.

Lü Dongbin held out his arm for her to see. A golden hairpin could just be made out on it, and he took one off and gave it to her to buy wine. Coveting the hairpin, Hou asked, “After you finish drinking, will you sleep here?” Lü Dongbin replied, “All right.” He then lay down and fell asleep, snoring like thunder. In the middle of the night, Hou approached the bed. Lü Dongbin warded her off with his hand and rebuked her, telling her to leave at once.

At daybreak, Hou found that Lü Dongbin had vanished. She examined her back and discovered that where his hand had blocked her, the character “Lü” had been left, sunk deep into her flesh. Realizing something, Hou said, “This must be Lord Lü. Could a mistaken thought in a previous life have brought me to my present circumstances? Did Lord Lü come to guide me?” She cut off her hair, sold her fur coat, and went in search of Lü Dongbin. Later she met him again and received the Daoist teachings. In the end, she withdrew into seclusion, and what became of her is unknown.

Transformation Fifty-Seven: Enchanting the Palace Secretary

Jia Shixiong, a Palace Secretary, owned an ancient iron mirror and once considered polishing it until it shone. The Lord (Lü Dongbin) said he was a visitor returning for a second call and came to see him. At first, the Lord spoke only of the Dao, but Jia Shixiong did not understand. The next day, the Lord asked to demonstrate his skill. He took a little medicinal powder from a bamboo tube, placed it on the mirror, and then took his leave, saying, “I’ll come back for the mirror after a while.”

The traces of the powder soon disappeared. Jia Shixiong saw only a poem written on the door of his residence, Taiping Temple: “In his hand, a green serpent soars straight up into the sun; in the grotto, immortal fruit shines bright, keeping spring alive forever. Know that the cloud-borne guest from beyond the world is no ordinary mirror polisher.” The poem answers Jia Shixiong’s original plan with the phrase “mirror polisher,” suggesting that the visitor was no ordinary craftsman but an immortal who had transcended the world.

Transformation Fifty-Eight: Enchanting Kuang Ruogu

Kuang Ruogu, a Daoist priest at the Elder’s Abbey on Mount Qingcheng, had a pure and noble bearing and practiced with strict discipline and immaculate observance of the precepts. He often treated illnesses with talisman water of the Celestial Heart (the “Three Lights, Correct Blackness,” a term referring to water used in talismanic rites), with excellent results. Any money or silk he received as gifts, he gave away to those in need.

A Daoist priest at the Temple of the Elder of Mount Qingcheng, Kuang Ruogu, was noble and distinguished in bearing, strict in observing the precepts, and pure in conduct. He often treated people’s illnesses with Tianxin talisman water and the method of the Three Lights and Correcting Blackness, with excellent results. He shared the money he received from patients with the poor.

The Lord manifested as Master Bin and came to visit, staying at the temple for more than a month. The talismans he drew would often turn into dragons and snakes at a breath, rising into the clouds and mist. When he treated ghosts and summoned spirit generals, spirits and ghosts would invariably take visible form and speak with people. His steps made the ground rumble like thunder; his eyes flashed like lightning. His breath became clouds, and when he blew, it turned to rain. He was also skilled at painting. Without brush or ink, he would hold ink in his mouth and spray it onto paper or silk; images of mountains and rivers, flowers and trees, palaces, birds and beasts, and people would appear of their own accord, needing only a light touch to bring them out. He sold his paintings and used the money to buy wine to drink with Ruogu. Though Ruogu usually drank a great deal, Master Bin often got him drunk.

One day, Ruogu asked Master Bin, “Your conduct is unlike that of ordinary people. You must be one of the immortals. Could you teach me the Daoist arts?” Master Bin replied, “You are missing one of the seven stars of the Northern Dipper beneath your left foot. How could you attain the Dao? You will have to live through one more lifetime first.” Astonished, Ruogu said, “Master Bin is truly a sage! I have a black mole on the sole of my left foot, arranged in the shape of the Northern Dipper, with one star missing. No one has ever known this.” Ruogu then asked how long he would live. The Lord wrote the three characters “ninety-four” upside down on the wall and drew two circles around them before leaving. Only then did Ruogu understand that the two circles formed the character “Lü,” hinting that the Lord’s surname was Lü. Ruogu later lived to the age of ninety-four, when he died, just as the prophecy on the wall had foretold.

The poem’s meaning is this: During the Yuanxi era, the Master cultivated the profound Dao, responding to circumstances and acting in accordance with nature. Ruogu proudly and rashly asked to pursue the Dao, and was told he would have to live through one more lifetime. “Without green” is likely a mistaken writing of “without affinity,” meaning that in this life he had no affinity with the Dao.

The Fifty-Ninth Manifestation: Crossing Over Master Zhai of the Green River

Master Zhai, a writing master from the Green River, enjoyed associating with occult practitioners—people who studied esoteric arts. The Lord went to visit him.

Zhai, the brush maker of Lüjiang, liked to receive wandering adepts who sought the Dao and immortality. The Lord Emperor came to visit, and Zhai invited him into his home, treating him with great courtesy. The two continued to meet for more than a year.

One day, the Lord Emperor took Zhai out on the river. He split a brush tube in two and set the pieces floating on the water. Then he stepped onto one piece and asked Zhai to do the same. Afraid, Zhai did not dare approach. The Lord Emperor smiled, walked across the water to the bank, and vanished. Only then did Zhai realize that he was an extraordinary being.

More than ten days later, the Lord Emperor visited again, bringing food for Zhai himself. But all of it was rotten and foul-smelling. Zhai covered his nose and declined to eat. The Lord Emperor sighed and said, “If you cannot bear unpleasant food, I will give you two jars of meat sauce.” Then he left and disappeared. When Zhai opened the jars, he found them filled with fine gold dust—the tiny grains obtained by washing gold ore. The “two jars” were not two great vats.

A poem summing up the story’s meaning says: The Lord Emperor visited and reminded Zhai for more than a year. Sadly, though Zhai’s De was far from shallow, he failed to recognize his opportunity. He dared not step onto the little boat made from a brush tube, and he found the food too foul to eat. Though he had the chance, he did not make his way to the immortal capital.

The Sixtieth Transformation: Guiding the Courtesan Huangying

Huangying, a courtesan of Guangling, in the area of present-day Yangzhou, Jiangsu, was quite beautiful, and wealthy patrons often came to her door. She was also generous in helping the poor. One day, a scholar named Lü came seeking lodging. He was actually Lü Dongbin. Huangying saw that his clothes were worn and his body filthy, and refused to take him in.

The scholar Lü wrote two poems on a screen. The first said: “An ugly woman and Xi Shi were born of the same body; alas, what differs is only old age and youth, intimacy and distance. Years from now, the old woman with white hair and skin wrinkled like a parrot’s feathers will be the very person who today is beautiful, her face radiant as a flower.” The second said: “Flowers bloom and fade, bringing the same joys and sorrows; flowers and people are alike. When a flower blooms on the branch, beware the guest who may pluck it. When it falls to the ground, who will care for it?”

After finishing the poems, the scholar Lü suddenly vanished. Huangying understood what had happened and regretted it so bitterly that she wished she could gouge out her own eyes.

The forms in which immortals come and go are only temporary transformations, gathered together for a time. Craving wealth and becoming absorbed in physical beauty can make one lose the genuine affection inherent in one’s original nature. Who, in the end, governs a person’s conduct and speech? Who can grasp the master deep within the heart?

It is also said: “Spend the whole day smiling and seeking pleasure—how much hidden virtue can you possibly accumulate? Fortunately, good deeds had been done, moving a true immortal to come to the rescue. Sadly, the person’s blessings were too meager, and he did not receive the immortal’s care.”

Transformation Sixty-One: Wandering in Yueyang

When the Lord Monarch traveled through Yueyang, he assumed the name of a medicine seller. Each pill in his medicine was worth a thousand pieces of gold, yet no one bought any for three days. So he climbed Yueyang Tower and, before everyone, swallowed a pill. Suddenly, he stood suspended in midair. Only then did the crowd realize their mistake and want to buy his medicine. The Lord Monarch smiled and said, “The Dao is right before you; Penglai, the legendary island of immortals, is only a few steps away. Those who hesitate will miss their chance even when it is right before them.” He then recited a poem:

“At dawn I roamed the Northern Sea; by dusk I reached Cangwu.

In my sleeve I hid a green snake; my courage was bold.

For three days, no one in Yueyang recognized me.

I raised my voice in song and flew across Lake Dongting.”

The poem means that immortals roam through heaven and earth, flying like phoenixes among the parasol trees. Whether they appear or conceal themselves, they cling neither to cleverness nor to folly. Their spiritual medicine can save the people, yet the people do not recognize it; the breeze of the immortals’ De (Virtue) sweeps across the rivers and lakes.

Transformation Sixty-Two: Rescuing Director Zhao

Zhao Yingdao, director of the Wensi Institute, fell gravely ill. Weak and weeping, he said farewell to his family and friends: “I am close to death. I can let go of everything in the household, but I cannot bear to leave my aged parents. I don’t know what to do.” Before he could finish, a Daoist knocked at the door and said to Zhao Yingdao, “Your illness will not be hard to cure.” The Daoist took two sheets of paper and drew a square hole on each, about two feet across. He handed them to Zhao Yingdao and said, “At night, burn one sheet to ashes, mix the ashes with an incense infusion, and apply it to the affected area. Keep the other sheet for helping someone who comes later.” Then he left.

Zhao Yingdao applied the medicine, and by morning he had recovered. Astonished and delighted, he tried to find the Daoist, but the man was nowhere to be found. Only then did he understand that the two square holes the Daoist had drawn, when joined together, formed the character “Lü.”

Zhao Gong’s virtue of respectfully caring for his mother moved Heaven, and the Compassionate Worthy accordingly revealed a trace of the immortals. After his mother recovered, Zhao Gong set out to seek immortals and inquire into the Dao, but the Compassionate Worthy had already departed. He did not understand why; only later did he realize that, after offering aid, the Worthy had passed on the inner method of cultivating the Dao.

The Sixty-Third Transformation: Luring Cui, the Presented Scholar

After passing the examinations, Cui, a presented scholar, traveled through Baling and stayed at an inn, where he sang the tune “Qinyuanchun.” At the time, the Divine Lord Lü (Lü Dongbin) was wandering at ease through Puxi, concealed among the townspeople. Hearing the song, he asked Cui what he was singing. Cui replied that it was a new tune popular in the capital.

The Divine Lord Lü said, “I’ll compose a response too, but I cannot write. I’ll sing it to you; write down the words for me.” Cui wrote them down as he spoke:

“The Seven Returns and Nine Reversions Elixir—a way of describing Yin-Yang cycles in Neidan cultivation and the refining of the Elixir. To cultivate this Elixir, one must first refine oneself—cultivating body and mind and clearing away distracting thoughts—and await the proper moment. When Yang first stirs and the night grows deep, with the water clock running long, gently nurture the lead cauldron until its light shines through the curtains. The creative energies of Heaven and Earth circulate and interact; the Dragon and Tiger unite, symbolizing the joining of Yin and Yang energies. The work of advancing the fire is like drawing the Ox and Dipper constellations into motion. Above the Qu River, the moon shines clear, and a crow flies past; then drink a knife-tip measure, a small amount of Elixir or the essence gained through cultivation. Who would believe that, within emptiness, an infant could be nurtured? One must discern the purity or turbidity of the water source, and the relation between Wood and Metal. Without a master’s guidance, this matter is difficult to understand. The essentials of the Great Dao are deep and subtle, and Heaven’s secrets lie far beyond reach; even if you hurry to begin cultivating, you are still too late. The road to Penglai awaits the completion of three thousand meritorious deeds; only then may you ride the clouds alone.”

Cui asked his name. The Divine Lord Lü replied, “I was born at the river mouth and raised at the mountain pass. Now I am a hermit who guards the valley.”

The next day, Cui told the prefect what had happened. “That was Lü Dongbin,” the prefect said, and he hurriedly sent someone to invite him. When the messenger knocked, someone answered from inside, but the voice gradually receded. He called again, and no one responded. Pushing the door open, he found the room empty. On the wall was a poem:

“The infant within has now been nurtured; for a while, I’ll dwell contentedly in the mortal world. For no reason, a pedantic scholar delights in wagging his tongue, while I must make my way into the depths of the white clouds.”

Cui and the prefect sighed with regret, then composed a response to the Divine Lord Lü’s verses:

“When Yang stirs within, the moment for cultivation has arrived. In utmost stillness, movement begins without a sound, and the earth’s thunder energy trembles faintly. Break open the Jade Gate, the crucial aperture in cultivation, and the heart of Heaven will shine, clear and bright. Draw down the curtains and let the True Fire circulate gently; the sacred spring flows again, and the Valley Spirit, the undying spirit spoken of in Daoism, rests undimmed—why fear danger and hardship? The wondrous workings of Nature are like three rivers rushing forth, a dragon leaping through the nine heavens, and a great bird soaring high. The two Yin-Yang soils unite to form a tablet of jade; the heart’s longing clings tenderly, like a mother protecting her child. This state is elusive and hard to describe: it falls neither into emptiness nor clings to form. Deep and subtle, it cannot be grasped by thought or knowledge. When nature and life are settled and the Elixir is complete, one can embody Quanzhen and realize the Dao. Strive diligently in cultivation; do not delay through your own neglect. When your merits and practice are complete, Heaven, Earth, and humanity—the Three Powers—will be joined, and all principles will return to unity.”

The Sixty-Fourth Manifestation: Bestowing an Elixir in Chengdu

One day at the medicine market in Chengdu, a Daoist with ragged clothes and a grime-covered face held a pellet of elixir and called out loudly in the marketplace: “I am Lü Dongbin. Whoever is willing to bow to me may take this elixir.”

Everyone took him for a madman. They gathered around to mock him, and some even bullied him. The Daoist paid no attention and walked back and forth through the market several times. When night fell, he thought that no one was willing to bow to him, so he sat on the brazier in front of the Wuxian Lingguan Temple. Children competed to throw roof tiles and stones at him. The Daoist laughed and said, “People of the world long so much to see me, yet when they do, they fail to recognize me. Such is fate.” With that, he swallowed the elixir himself. Before long, clouds of five colors surrounded his body, and in an instant he disappeared. Only then did everyone feel remorse.

The poem says: “A single Golden Elixir can save those who are destined for it. The immortal has clearly pointed out the true path, yet the people still cannot understand. The people of the world have little good fortune and treat their destined encounters lightly; even when they see a true immortal, they do not understand its mystery.”

The Sixty-Fifth Manifestation: Winning Over Chen Danran

Chen Danran was a wealthy Confucian scholar who had long admired Daoist arts. For many years he had invited wandering masters of the arts of the Dao to stay at his home, but had never met anyone who truly understood the Dao. The Lord Emperor therefore disguised himself as a servant and came to work for him.

Chen Danran was a wealthy scholar who by nature loved Daoist arts. For many years he had hosted many wandering Daoist priests, yet he had never encountered a true master. Lü Dongbin (an immortal in Daoist legend, titled the Emperor Lord of Pure Yang) transformed himself into a hired laborer and tended Chen’s garden and orchard for more than a year, working far harder than ordinary people. Chen Danran liked him very much, but still regarded him only as a hired laborer.

One day, Chen Danran was discussing the Yinfu Jing (Classic of the Hidden Talisman) with a Daoist friend. When they came to the passage “When Heaven activates the killing mechanism, dragons and snakes rise from the land; when man activates the killing mechanism, Heaven and Earth are overturned,” he did not understand the meaning of “killing mechanism.” The hired laborer said loudly from beside them, “One who lets the generative mechanism continue without end cannot, on the contrary, truly attain long life; one who single-mindedly seeks death cannot truly die either. Only one who is already alive yet knows how to cut off the generative mechanism, and who before dying begins to learn death, can attain long life.” Chen Danran was greatly astonished and asked him, “Are you really a hired laborer? Who taught you to say these things?” Then he asked him to explain further, but the man still spoke in abstruse and difficult terms. The Daoist friend thought that he was merely a rustic field laborer who had by chance heard these words somewhere and did not really understand the principle in them.

After a while, the hired laborer suddenly took his leave from Chen Danran, saying, “I must go on a long journey and will return on the fifth day of the fifth month next year.” After he left, there was no news of him at all. Later, one of Chen’s fellow townsmen was visiting Baling and met Lü Dongbin. Lü Dongbin asked him to convey a message to Chen Danran: “I am Dongbin. You are not yet fit to receive the Dao; after I have observed you, if you are still unsuitable, I will not come again.” Having said this, he walked into the bamboo grove in front of the Lü Immortal Pavilion and immediately disappeared.

At noon on the Dragon Boat Festival the following year, Chen Danran suddenly died.

The poetic meaning is roughly this: Chen Danran had sought a master and admired the Dao for many years, yet the true immortal had already come to his side—had he thereby formed an immortal affinity? The immortal clearly set forth the profound principle of “life” and “killing,” yet Chen Danran remained calm and unmoved, gaining nothing.

“The Sixty-Sixth Transformation: Luring the Prefect into a Game of Chess” means “the sixty-sixth manifestation, in which he lured the prefect into a game of chess.” The following text begins with the words “Wuchang Tai”.