《续仙传》

Throughout history, people have heard of immortals, but ordinary people have rarely witnessed for themselves the stories of immortals ascending to heaven, disappearing, or transforming. The sages of old said that if one asked a thousand people about those who had attained the Dao and become immortal, one might not hear even a single account. Histories also rarely record matters concerning immortals, so many such stories have not been passed down. A closer look at the purpose of historical writing shows that it uses the principles of ruler and minister, father and son, good and disorderly government, loyalty and filial piety to instruct later generations. If it extols the void and the natural too much, people may lose their moral restraints. The Records of the Grand Historian tells of three sacred mountains in the sea, where immortals dwell in palaces of gold and silver and herbs of immortality grow. When people tried to approach the mountains, the wind blew their boats away, and they could never reach them. This account, too, was meant to admonish the world.

The affairs of immortals are vast and wondrous, beyond human reckoning. At the beginning of cultivation, one must guard the One and refine Qi (vital energy)—gathering and steadying the mind and spirit, and cultivating the breath. One must strictly observe the methods, persevere diligently, and neglect no detail, however small. Once cultivation has borne fruit, one can undergo countless transformations and move among ordinary people: some live in seclusion in the mountains and forests, while others come and go in towns and cities. Most who ascend to immortality travel to the islands and mountains of the sea. Those with profound cultivation and merit become immortal officials; those of lower rank can still become immortal commoners. Across the Ten Continents, immortal communities often number in the hundreds of thousands of households. They cultivate fields of sacred fungus and measure their harvest by the acre, just as people in the human world grow rice. Immortal officials govern the immortal commoners and also oversee affairs between immortals and ordinary people.

Some undergo transformation like cicadas shedding their old shells and taking on new forms. They nourish their breath and strengthen their bodies in rocky caverns, then ascend to immortality. This shows that becoming a true immortal is no falsehood.

I, Shen Fen, have long admired the arts of the Dao, though I am ashamed that I have not shed my accumulated habits. From childhood into adulthood, I committed to memory all I heard from eminent people, as well as what I witnessed and learned over many years. The official histories do not record these matters, and the stories are scattered among the people. Moreover, after the upheavals of the Zhonghe era, many texts remained lost. If no one takes up the brush to record these things, those who know of them will grow fewer as time passes. This would be a great loss, and in the future not even a trace might remain. I have therefore compiled these accounts into three volumes, hoping they will serve as material for discussion among gentlemen who cherish this Way and those who cultivate it, and help bring the affairs of true immortals to light.

The Continuation of the Biographies of Immortals, Volume One

Compiled by Shen Fen, Court Gentleman for Consultation and former magistrate of Lishui County.

There were sixteen people who ascended to immortality, including three female immortals.

Xuanzhenzi

Xuanzhenzi’s surname was Zhang and his given name was Zhihé. He came from Shanyin in Kuaiji. Widely learned and skilled at writing, he passed the jinshi examination and was also a gifted painter. He could drink a great deal without getting drunk, even after three dou of wine. He cultivated the true Dao and nurtured his breath. It was said that snow would not chill him when it fell on his body, and that his clothes would not get wet when he entered water. He traveled throughout the land, visiting its mountains and waters.

He was close friends with Yan Zhenqing, Duke of Lu. When Yan served as governor of Huzhou, he often drank with his guests and composed “Fisherman’s Songs” with them. Zhihé was the first to respond in song. He wrote: “White egrets fly by Xisai Mountain; peach blossoms drift on the stream, where mandarin fish grow plump. A blue bamboo hat, a green straw cape—no need to go home in the slanting wind and fine rain.” Yan Zhenqing then exchanged verses with Lu Hongjian, Xu Shiheng, Li Chengju, and others. Together they composed more than twenty songs, praising and admiring one another’s work.

Zhihé brought out brush, ink, and white silk, and painted the mountain and water scenery alongside the verses. In no time, he had completed five paintings. The flowers, trees, birds, fish, mountains, and waters in them were all wonderfully rendered, rare in any age. Yan Zhenqing and his guests passed the paintings around and marveled at them.

Later, Yan Zhenqing traveled east to Pingwang Post Station. Zhihé was in high spirits from drinking and gave a display on the water: he spread out a mat, sat alone on the surface, drank wine, and chanted poems. The mat sped back and forth across the water as if someone were rowing it, while clouds and cranes circled overhead. Yan Zhenqing’s friends and relatives, his subordinates, and the onlookers were all astonished. Zhihé waved to Yan Zhenqing from the water to bid him farewell, then ascended to immortality and departed. Some people still treasure his paintings to this day.

Lan Caihe

Lan Caihe was from an unknown place. He often wore a worn-out blue robe with six pleats and a black wooden belt more than three inches wide. He wore a boot on one foot and went barefoot on the other. In summer, he stuffed cotton padding inside his robe; in winter, he wore only a single layer even in the snow, and his breath steamed like vapor.

He often walked through the city singing, holding a large clapper more than three feet long, and lived by begging. After drinking himself drunk, he would often sing to a beat as he walked, while the old and young followed to watch. Quick-witted and humorous, he answered questions at once and often made people laugh until they fell to the ground. He seemed mad, yet somehow did not.

As he walked, he swung his boot and sang:

“Step, step, sing along—I am Lan Caihe. How long can this world endure? A youthful face is like a flower on a tree; the years pass swiftly as a shuttle. The ancients have departed one after another and will never return; the people of today keep arriving, ever more numerous. At dawn I ride a phoenix up to the blue sky; by dusk I see mulberry fields turned into white waves. Bright sunlight hangs high in the heavens, and golden and silver palaces rise majestically.”

He sang many songs, most of them tinged with the immortals’ way, and people could not fathom their meaning. He strung the money people gave him onto a long cord and dragged it along the ground. Sometimes the coins spilled, but he never looked back. When he met the poor, he gave them money; sometimes he took it to taverns as well.

He traveled throughout the land. Someone who had seen him as a child met him again when their own hair had turned white, yet his appearance remained just as it had been. Later, while singing and dancing in the area around Haozhou and Liangzhou, he became drunk in a tavern and heard the calls of cloud cranes and the sound of sheng and xiao flutes. Then he rose lightly into the clouds. He cast down his boot, robe, belt, and clapper, and gradually disappeared into the distance.

Zhu Ruzi

Zhu Ruzi was from Angu, Yongjia. As a child, he became a disciple of the Daoist Wang Yuanzheng and lived at Dayan Rock. Tao Hongjing once lived in seclusion there and wrote the Zhen’gao, so the rock is also called Zhen’gao Rock. A mountain called Tao Mountain lies to its west.

Zhu Ruzi served Wang Yuanzheng diligently and longed deeply for the Way of the immortals. He often climbed the ridge to gather huangjing, a herb commonly used in Daoist dietary practices, and consumed it for more than ten years.

One day, while washing vegetables by a stream, he suddenly saw two dogs, shaped like flowers, chasing each other along the bank. Curious, Zhu Ruzi followed them. The dogs disappeared into a thicket of goji bushes. When he returned, he told Wang Yuanzheng what had happened. Wang Yuanzheng was also amazed, so they went together to investigate.

They saw the two dogs playing and leaping about again. As they approached, the dogs once more vanished into the goji thicket. Wang Yuanzheng and Zhu Ruzi dug there together and uncovered two goji roots shaped like flower-patterned dogs, hard as stone. They washed the roots and took them back to boil. Zhu Ruzi kept feeding the fire and watched the pot for three days and nights. He tasted the broth and found it very sweet, so he drank it continuously. When he saw that the roots had softened, he told Wang Yuanzheng, and the two of them took the roots and ate them.

Before long, Zhu Ruzi suddenly ascended into the air and flew to a mountain peak. Wang Yuanzheng was astonished. After a long while, Zhu Ruzi bid him farewell and departed on a cloud. To this day, local people still call that peak Tongzi Peak.

Later, Wang Yuanzheng also finished eating the goji roots. No one knows how many years he lived. He, too, lived in seclusion to the west of the rock. People cutting firewood on Tao Mountain would occasionally catch sight of him.

“Yijun Wang Lao” is the title of the next section.

An elderly man named Wang was from Yijun County in Fangzhou. He lived in the countryside, loved cultivating the Dao, and often performed good deeds without seeking reward. His wife shared his interests, and together they remained diligent in doing good.

One day, an old Daoist wearing plain clothes and a cord around his waist came to their home. Wang and his wife warmly invited him inside and treated him with respect. The Daoist stayed for more than a month, talking and drinking with Wang every day. The two got along very well.

Before long, the Daoist suddenly broke out in sores all over his body. Wang sought doctors and medicine for him and tended to him even more attentively, but the sores grew worse by the day. Nearly a year passed. The Daoist told Wang, “These sores need no ordinary medicine. Soak me in several hu of wine, and I will recover.” Wang carefully brewed the wine. Once it was ready, the Daoist had someone pour it into a large ceramic vat. Saying that he would add medicine and soak in it, he climbed inside. Three days later, he emerged with black hair and beard, his youthful appearance restored and his skin smooth as congealed fat. Wang’s whole family was astonished.

The Daoist told Wang, “This wine can be drunk. It can enable people to ascend to heaven.” Wang believed him. At first the vat held more than five hu of wine; when they looked again, only two or three sheng remained. The wine was clear and fragrant, unlike ordinary wine. It was harvest time, so Wang, his wife and children, and the people helping thresh the wheat all drank some. Everyone became drunk. The Daoist drank a little too, then asked Wang, “Can you ascend to heaven?” Wang replied, “I am willing to follow my master anywhere.”

At that moment, an auspicious wind suddenly rose, and green clouds billowed upward. The house, the trees and plants, the entire family, and even the chickens and dogs all ascended together. The sound of threshing could still be faintly heard in the air. People in several nearby villages saw what happened and marveled. Only the cat and the rats were left behind and did not fly away. When the wind died down, the hired helper who had come to thresh the wheat was left beneath a tree in another village. Afterward, he too stopped eating and eventually attained immortality. Thirty li west of Yijun County there is a place called Ascension-to-Immortality Village, said to have taken its name from this event.

Hou Daohua said that he came from Mount Emei. He later arrived at the Yongle Abbey in Hezhong Prefecture. His behavior was wild and unrestrained, and the Daoist priests all looked down on him. But Daohua knew how to use an axe to repair buildings, and he personally fixed whatever was damaged in the abbey. No matter how steep the mountain paths or how hard to reach the place, he would go there.

He also took on all the lowly, hard chores. When guests arrived, whether Daoist priests or laypeople, he carried water for them, heated water, washed their feet, and did their laundry. He also planted vegetables and watered the garden, enduring every hardship to provide for everyone. The others looked down on him all the more, driving him away and scolding him, treating him like a hired hand or servant. He only seemed happier.

Daohua often read the classics and histories, never putting down the book in his hands. After reading a text once, he could recite it from memory. When someone asked what use there was in reading such things, he replied, “There are no foolish, muddleheaded immortals in Heaven.” Everyone laughed when they heard this.

More than ten years passed. A strange light began appearing regularly on the main hall’s ridge beam, and people saw it. Some said that during the Kaiyuan era, after Celestial Master Liu had succeeded in refining an elixir, he tested it on a dog. The dog died, so no one dared take the elixir; it was then hidden in the ridge beam. Everyone thought this was just a wild rumor.

One day, a violent storm damaged the hall. Daohua climbed onto the beam and noticed a hollow spot in it glowing with light. He chiseled open the wood and took out a box. The box had three layers, and the innermost small gold box held an elixir. He swallowed it and threw down the box. Nothing happened to him at first, so everyone said he was a fraud.

One day, Daohua returned from the market drunk. In front of Yongle Abbey stood a pine tree with an umbrella-shaped canopy, admired for its beauty. Wearing wooden clogs, he climbed the tree and cut off all its branches. The Daoist priests repeatedly tried to stop him, but he would not quit. He only said, “These branches will get in the way when I ascend to Heaven.” Everyone had long considered his behavior mad, and this made them angrier still.

Just then, the magistrate of Yongle County came to the abbey and saw him cutting the pine. He was astonished. The Daoist priests told the magistrate what had happened, and the magistrate berated and humiliated Daohua. Daohua accepted this as cheerfully as ever.

Seven days later, Daohua rose early, bathed, and changed his clothes. He burned incense and said, “The immortal envoy should be coming to receive me.” He bowed repeatedly toward the sky. The others still did not believe him. Before long, someone reported that cloud-riding immortal cranes were circling above the pine in front of the abbey, accompanied by the loud sound of flutes and reed pipes. Daohua suddenly flew to the top of the pine and sat there. Only after a long while did everyone grow alarmed.

The officials of Yongle County and the Daoist priests and laypeople hurried over to behold him and pay their respects. The magistrate who had once humiliated Daohua kowtowed until his forehead bled. Daohua waved goodbye to the crowd and said, “By the Jade Emperor’s decree, I have been appointed a Gentleman of the Immortal Terrace, in charge of the Hall of Good Faith at the Shangqing Palace. Now I must depart.” Soon, a company of immortals in the clouds arrived playing music, with banners faintly visible. Daohua then flew off through the air.

The officials of Mahua County bowed and kowtowed until they were bleeding. Daohua waved to bid farewell to the Daoist priests and laypeople who had come to see him off. “I have received an edict from the Jade Emperor, the heavenly sovereign revered in Daoism, appointing me as a courtier of the Immortal Terrace and placing me in charge of the Hall of the Good-Faithful at the Shangqing Palace. Now I must go.” In an instant, immortals appeared among the clouds playing music, their banners faintly visible, and Daohua rose into the air and departed.

Ma Ziran

Ma Xiang, courtesy name Ziran, was from Yanguan County in Hangzhou. For generations, his family had served as low-ranking clerks in the county, but Ma Xiang alone loved the Confucian classics and literature. He traveled widely with Daoist priests, then later returned to the Jiangnan region.

Once, while drunk in Huzhou, he fell into Shuxi Creek. He emerged the next day with his clothes completely dry. Sitting on the surface of the water, he drifted downstream and said that Xiang Yu had just summoned him to drink together, and that he had nearly become drunk. By the time he returned to the creek bank, a crowd of onlookers had gathered. Reeking of wine and behaving as if mad, Ma Xiang drew people along behind him wherever he went.

At times, he thrust his fist into his nostril and pulled it out, leaving his nose perfectly intact. He once pointed at the creek and made it flow backward for a long time; when he pointed at a willow tree, it drifted back and forth along the creek; when he pointed at a bridge, it broke apart and then joined together again.

Later, Ma Xiang traveled to Changzhou, where Ma Zhi happened to be serving as prefect. Ma Zhi had long heard of his reputation, so he invited him to meet and was astonished by him. Ma Zhi asked, “Fortunately, Daoist brother and I share a surname. Would you be willing to become my brother, so I can study Daoist arts under you and receive your protection?”

Ma Xiang said, “What is your surname, sir?” Ma Zhi replied, “Fufeng.” Ma Xiang joked, “You are a Fufeng horse, while I am a horse and a cow in the wind. We need only be friends; there is no need to claim kinship just because we share a surname.” He meant that the two had nothing to do with each other. Ma Zhi still kept him at the government office, becoming ever more convinced of his extraordinary powers.

At a banquet, Ma Zhi asked him to demonstrate a minor art. There at the table, Ma Xiang filled a porcelain vessel with soil and planted melon seeds. In moments, vines sprouted, blossomed, and bore fruit. He picked the melons and gave them to everyone. The guests all said they were fragrant and sweet, unlike ordinary melons and fruit.

Ma Xiang also reached into his clothes and socks and brought out a great many coins. When the guests examined them, they were all copper coins. He gathered the coins together and threw them into a well. At a call from him, they flew out one by one. Someone collected them, but the coins soon disappeared again.

Ma Zhi said that the city had many rats. Ma Xiang wrote a talisman and had it posted beneath the southern wall. Then he tapped a plate with chopsticks and gave a long whistle. Rats came running in dense throngs and crouched beneath the talisman. He called over a large rat and said, “Though you are small creatures, you too were born of Heaven, which provides you with food. Why burrow into people’s homes and disturb the prefect day and night? I feel compassion for you and do not wish to kill you all. You should lead your kind and leave this place.”

The large rat turned and led the way. All the rats bowed their heads in apology, then streamed out of the city in numbers too great to count. From that day on, there were no more rats in the city.

Later, Ma Xiang traveled south through Yuezhou and passed by Dongyan Chan Monastery. Three hundred monks were taking their meal there. Ma Xiang was traveling with Wang Zhiwei, a Daoist priest from Muma Rock in Yongkang County, Zizhou, and Wang Yansou, his disciple. When the monks saw them arrive, they remained seated and ate. They neither greeted the visitors nor offered them hospitality, but gave them only a little food. Ma Xiang did not eat. He urged Wang Zhiwei and Wang Yansou to finish quickly and leave. Before the monks had finished eating, the three had gone out, and Ma Xiang urged his companions to hurry on.

The three reached an inn south of Zhuji County, more than seventy li from the monastery. Late that night, someone came asking where the Daoist priests were staying. The innkeeper replied that there were three of them. The visitor was delighted and asked to come in and pay his respects. Two monks entered. They bowed and wept as they pleaded, “The monks did not recognize the Daoist master and failed to welcome you properly yesterday, which made you angry. Now two hundred monks cannot get out of bed. We two oversee the affairs of the monastery, so we escaped the punishment. We have come specially to beg your forgiveness.”

Ma Xiang simply lay there asleep without answering. Wang Zhiwei and Wang Yansou laughed beside him. Only after the monks had pleaded repeatedly did Ma Xiang say, “From now on, do not treat anyone with contempt. Return to the monastery and sit down, and the monks will be able to get out of bed.” When the two monks returned, all the others were indeed able to move again.

The next day, Ma Xiang continued south. It was spring, and he saw a household’s garden filled with tender shoots of Chinese cabbage. He asked for some, but was refused and heard insulting words. He asked Wang Yansou to bring paper and brush. Wang Zhiwei urged him, “They have no obligation to give you vegetables, so there is no reason to argue. Besides, why should a Daoist practitioner concern himself with such things?” Ma Xiang smiled and said, “I’m not going to argue. I’m just having a little fun.”

Wang Yansou brought the paper and brush. Ma Xiang painted a white egret. After he sprinkled it with water, the bird flew into the garden and pecked at the vegetables. The owner chased it away, but after flying off it came back, again and again. Ma Xiang then painted a dog. It ran after the egret, trampling the garden into a mess. The owner saw the Daoist priests laughing and realized this had all begun because he had refused to give them vegetables. Fearing they might perform other arts, he began to plead with them. Ma Xiang said, “I didn’t do this to get your vegetables. I only meant to play a trick on you.” He then called the egret and the dog. They flew up together and settled in his arms. When they looked at the garden again, not a single plant had been damaged.

Ma Xiang traveled farther south to Mount Huotong, reaching the area around Changxi County. When he sought lodging at an inn one night, every room was full. The innkeeper joked, “There’s no room. If you Daoist priests can sleep on the wall, I’ll take you in.” It was already late, and Wang Zhiwei and Wang Yansou were eager to find somewhere to stay. Ma Xiang said, “You two sleep where ordinary guests sleep. I’ll sit here until dawn.”

After everyone had gone to bed, Ma Xiang leapt onto a roof beam, hooked one foot over it, and slept upside down. The innkeeper got up during the night, lit a lamp, and saw this. He was greatly astonished. Ma Xiang said, “If I can sleep on a beam, why should sleeping inside a wall be difficult?” Then he went into the wall and did not emerge for a long time. The innkeeper hurriedly apologized and begged forgiveness, inviting Wang Zhiwei and Wang Yansou to rest in a quiet room inside the house. Only then did Ma Xiang come out. At dawn, the innkeeper earnestly asked them to stay, but Ma Xiang suddenly vanished. Wang Zhiwei and Wang Yansou walked several li ahead to look for him, and found him already waiting by the roadside.

They returned from Mount Huotong to the Tianbao Monastery east of Yongkang County. A dead pine stood in the monastery grounds. Ma Xiang pointed to it and said, “This pine is more than three thousand years old. Before long, it will turn to stone.” Later, it did indeed become stone. Suddenly, wind and thunder erupted, and the stone pine split into several pieces. After Yang Fa was demoted to prefect of Weizhou, he moved two pieces of the stone pine to the prefectural offices and sent the other two to the Nine Pines Courtyard at Longxing Monastery. The stone sections stood six or seven feet high and measured more than three feet across. Their surfaces retained the scaly pattern of pine bark, and they remain there to this day.

When sick people came to seek help, Ma Xiang had no medicine. He simply struck the painful area with a bamboo staff, then pointed the staff at the person’s abdomen or other afflicted part and blew toward its tip. The staff made a thunderous sound, and the sick person recovered. Some people suffered from deformities that bent their legs, knees, waists, or backs, and came to see him leaning on a cane. He struck the affected area with a bamboo staff, and when they put down their canes, their bodies could straighten.

When people gave Ma Xiang money or goods, he repeatedly refused. If he could not refuse them, he accepted the gifts and then passed them on to poor families. Wherever he went, whether to a Daoist temple or a mountain cave, he often left poems inscribed there.

When he climbed Mount Qinwang, he wrote:

Where can one seek the Great One’s first division of the cosmos?
Only the cycles of time remain, changing the human heart.
Across the Nine Heavens, sun and moon shift from dawn to dusk;
Across ten thousand li, mountains and rivers change with past and present.
Wind stirs the water’s light, swallowing distant hills;
Rain thickens the mist, shrouding the high woods.
Qin Shi Huang vainly planned to drive the mountains away;
The vast sea only deepened and spread ever farther.

Later, Ma Xiang returned to visit his elder brother. His brother was away, but his sister-in-law and nephew were at home. Ma Xiang told them, “My brother and I share this house. I’ve come back to divide it, and I only want the eastern garden.” His sister-in-law and nephew were astonished. Their uncle had been away for many years and had not even seen his brother yet, so why was he talking about dividing the family property? Surely kin should not treat one another so heartlessly. Ma Xiang stayed for three days. His sister-in-law and nephew saw that he ate nothing, drinking only wine. When his brother still had not returned, Ma Xiang died during the night.

The next day, his brother came home and asked his wife and son what had happened. They told him the whole story. Grief-stricken, he said, “My younger brother has practiced the Dao for many years. He did not come back this time to divide the house. He was entrusting himself to me so that I would no longer worry about him.” The family prepared his body for burial. That night, the coffin suddenly made a sound. Everyone in the household thought it strange, so they placed it in the garden. This was the tenth year of the Dazhong era of the Tang dynasty.

The following year, the governor of Dongchuan reported that the Daoist priest Ma Ziran had ascended to Heaven in broad daylight before many witnesses in Zitong County, Jianzhou. Ma Xiang had once told people, “I have just attained immortality in western Zhejiang. Now, by edict of the Jade Emperor, I am to ascend to Heaven here.” After this report reached the court, the emperor ordered officials to investigate in Hangzhou. They opened the grave and examined the coffin. It contained nothing but a bamboo staff.

Wu Tongwei

No one knows where Wu Tongwei was from. He was a Daoist priest, clear-eyed and composed. He often sat quietly in contemplation, sometimes reciting poems, sometimes drinking to excess, and frequently traveling among the famous mountains of Hongzhou. People saw him for many years; then, after more than a decade without seeing him, they met him again and found that he looked even younger than before. Even those with deep insight could not fathom the reason. He took and refined elixirs, and his whereabouts were unpredictable. Later, while drunk in a tavern, he flew up and departed.

Xu Qi

Xu Qi said he was from Gaoyang. In his youth, he passed the civil service examination at the jinshi level, but despite taking the examinations repeatedly, he never earned a degree. In his later years, he studied the Dao on Mount Wangwu, then traveled among the Five Sacred Mountains and the famous mountains and grottoes throughout the land. From Mount Emei, he passed through the two capitals, then traveled from Jingxiang and Bian-Song down to the Huai and Yangzi regions. He visited every place, including Maoshan, Tiantai, Siming, Xiandu, Weiyu, Wuyi, Huotong, and Luofu.

Wherever he went, he inscribed the words “Xu Qi has come here from Mount Emei in search of Master Crescent Moon” on sheer cliffs or house walls that others could scarcely reach. Everyone who saw his writing marveled at its uncanny quality, yet no one ever discovered who Master Crescent Moon was.

Later, he often traveled around the Lujiang area. Once, while drunk, he recited: “Before the garden flowers, this is truly a land of drunkenness. I would gladly overturn the Queen Mother’s cup of wine from the Nine Radiances. The grass immortals clap their hands and call me frivolous, so they banish me to the human world to be a wine-loving madman.” Someone, curious, asked him about this. He replied, “I am a celestial immortal. I was feasting in Kunlun, but was banished for behaving improperly.” Everyone laughed at him, thinking him mad. Later, on a spring day, he adorned his head with flowers, waved flowering branches as he danced, climbed to a tavern and sang drunkenly, then rode the clouds upward and departed.

Jin Keji

Jin Keji was from Silla. At this point, the original repeats the lines from Xu Qi’s story about “feasting in Kunlun, behaving improperly, and being banished” and “singing drunkenly in a tavern before riding the clouds upward and departing,” then gives only the name “Jin Keji.”

Geum Gak-gi was a native of Silla who traveled to Tang China to take the imperial examinations as a guest candidate. Quiet by nature, he enjoyed Daoist arts and did not pursue luxury. At times he practiced breath cultivation and body refinement—training through regulated breathing and the nurturing of Qi—believing that he was refining an elixir of immortality. He was learned and had a strong memory, and his writing was elegant and graceful. Handsome in appearance, he also carried himself and spoke with a distinctly Chinese air.

Before long, Geum Gak-gi passed the jinshi examination. He then withdrew to Ziwu Valley on Mount Zhongnan, intent on a reclusive life. He planted many rare flowers, trees, and fruit trees with his own hands. Often he would burn incense and sit in silence, as if absorbed in thought, while continually reciting the Dao De Jing and various scriptures of the immortals. Three years later, he wished to return to his homeland, so he boarded a ship and sailed away across the sea. Later he came back to Mount Zhongnan, dressed in Daoist robes, and continued his retreat, devoting himself to doing good deeds in secret. He seldom refused anyone who came to him with a request. He worked diligently and with concentration, though others found it difficult to get along with him.

In the twelfth month of the eleventh year of the Dazhong era (857), Geum Gak-gi suddenly submitted a memorial stating, “I have received an edict from the Jade Emperor, a revered Daoist deity, appointing me as vice minister of the Yingwen Terrace. On the twenty-fifth day of the second month next year, I am to ascend to Heaven.” Emperor Xuanzong of Tang found this extraordinary and sent palace envoys to summon him to court, but Geum Gak-gi firmly declined. The emperor then asked to see the Jade Emperor’s edict. Geum Gak-gi explained that it was held by another immortal and could not remain in the human world. Xuanzong therefore bestowed on him official robes, four palace women, incense and medicines, gold and silver, and fine silks. He also assigned two palace envoys to attend him.

Geum Gak-gi, however, lived alone in a quiet chamber and had little contact with the palace women or the envoys. Each night, the envoys heard people talking and laughing inside. When they secretly peered in, they saw celestial officials and female immortals seated opposite one another on dragons and phoenixes, with numerous attendants around them. The palace women and envoys did not dare disturb them.

On the fifteenth day of the eleventh month, the spring sunshine was bright and the flowers and grasses were flourishing. Just as foretold, five-colored auspicious clouds appeared in the sky, along with calling cranes and white doves, while the sounds of flutes, mouth organs, bells, and chimes rang out. Feathered canopies, jade carriages, and banners filled the heavens, as a grand procession of immortals escorted Geum Gak-gi on his ascent. Court officials and commoners crowded the valley to watch. All gazed upward, bowed in reverence, and marveled at the sight.

Song Xuanbai’s origins are unknown. He was a Daoist priest, more than seven feet tall, with fine brows and eyes, regular features, a full figure, and fair skin. He spoke with great refinement, and people took an instant liking to him.

He possessed Daoist arts. In summer he wore padded clothes, while in winter he wore only a single layer. As he walked through the snow, the air within a radius of more than ten feet around him seemed to shimmer with heat, and no snow could settle on his body. A point of his finger could put out a lamp. When he pointed at someone, that person felt a sudden chill, as if a draft had blown straight through them. When he pointed at the plants in a courtyard, they rustled and shook.

He often traveled among famous mountains. From Maoshan he went to Xixuan Monastery in Runzhou, and later visited Mount Kuocang and Mount Xiandu. He practiced fasting from grain to cultivate his Qi (vital energy), yet loved to drink wine. Sometimes he ate meat, consuming five jin at a sitting, along with a basin of suzhai. After grabbing the meat with his hands, he would drink two dou of wine and then eat a white plum. Someone who obtained a small piece of suzhai from him said that it tasted unlike ordinary food and instead had a strange fragrance that lingered on the teeth and tongue all day. Many who ate the suzhai never fell ill afterward, and most lived to the age of eighty or ninety.

Whenever Xuanbai arrived somewhere, he would use gold and silk to acquire two or three beautiful concubines for the duration of his stay, then leave them behind when he departed. People believed he knew the arts of replenishing the brain and restoring the original essence.

Later, he traveled to Yuezhou during a severe drought. The people there were setting up an altar to pray for rain and making offerings to the Dragon God. The drought had lasted for more than ten days, and the blazing sun showed no sign of easing. Xuanbai believed that rain came at the command of Heaven, and that it could not be sought without submitting a petition to the Celestial Court. So he stayed at Xuanzhen Monastery, burning incense and praying. That night, abundant rain fell. The people of Yuezhou greatly revered him, believing him to possess supernatural powers.

He later traveled south to Xinzhou, where he again encountered a drought. The local Daoist priests knew that Xuanbai could summon rain, so the prefecture asked him to perform his art. He immediately set to work, sending nails flying into the eyes of the City God. The prefect, Wei Delin, saw that Xuanbai kept women and had used nails to pierce the City God, and judged him a deluded madman. He planned to punish and humiliate him. But as the attendants stepped forward, their hands and feet became immobile, and they all fell to the ground; even the executioner’s rods broke of their own accord. Xuanbai smiled at Wei Delin and said, “My lord, do you not know that Liu Gen was punished for wanting to kill Zumi?” Only then did Wei Delin grow afraid. Xuanbai offered a brief prayer, and rain soon came. Wei Delin treated him with courtesy and saw him off.

Xuanbai performed many other wondrous arts, too numerous to record one by one. Later, he reached Nancheng County in Fuzhou and ascended to Heaven in broad daylight.

He Zizhen

He Zizhen’s origins are unknown. He was a Daoist who lived on Mount Song. Well versed in literature, he admired the ways of antiquity and devoted himself diligently to the Dao, often burning incense as he practiced. Though he was not old, no one knew his age. Daoists and ordinary people alike said they had seen him many years before, but no one found this strange.

One day, the sky filled with cloud-borne cranes and clear, melodious immortal music rang out. He Zizhen suddenly ascended and departed. At the time, the recluse Chen Tao was in Shudu. Seeing the people of Luoyang look up at the sky and bow in reverence, he was amazed and wrote this poem in praise:

“Zijin rode a phoenix past ancient Luochuan; Lord He attained immortality, as though the Golden Peach had ripened once more. Beneath Mount Song, the Three Pure Ones (Sanqing), the Daoist tradition’s three highest deities, played immortal music; five-colored clouds gathered before the imperial gardens. Red-crested immortal birds dipped low and danced to welcome the vermilion festival banner. Immortals sang to one another, pausing beside a fragrant banquet. Who would weep in sorrow at this sight beneath the midday sun? Within the Taiji (Supreme Ultimate), the source of the cosmos in Daoist thought, the years stretch on for ten thousand years.”

The Old Man Who Sold Medicine

No one knew the name of the old man who sold medicine. When someone asked what he was called, he replied only, “This is my true name.” The original text then includes the line, “From childhood, people weep together in daylight; within the Taiji, time lasts ten thousand years,” followed by “The Old Man Who Sold Medicine.” Here, the passage can be interpreted only on the basis of the surviving text: the old man used “The Old Man Who Sold Medicine” as his name, and his actual name was unknown.

Maiyao Xi did not know his real name. When people asked, he would answer only, “I know that ‘Xi’ is my true name.” Some had seen him since childhood and met him again in old age, yet his appearance had not changed.

He often carried a large gourd and sold medicine. When people came seeking medicine for their ailments, he gave it to them without hesitation, whether they paid or not, and the medicine always worked remarkably well. Those who had no illness and asked for medicine only for amusement would inevitably lose it after receiving it. As a result, people dared not ask him for medicine lightly and revered him like a deity.

He often got drunk and collapsed in the streets and marketplaces, and gave all the money he received to the poor. Someone once jokingly asked him, “Do you have a Great Restoration Elixir for sale?” He replied, “I have one pill. It costs a thousand strings of coins.” Everyone laughed, thinking him mad and eccentric. He often laughed and scolded people in the marketplace: “You have money but won’t buy medicine to take; instead, you’re going to make yourself a dirt bun!” People did not understand what he meant and laughed even harder. “Dirt bun” meant a grave; he was saying that people refused to buy medicine, yet would eventually die and be buried in the earth.

Later, while selling medicine in Chang’an, he shook his gourd and found it empty, with just one pill left. The pill was astonishingly large and shone with light. He placed it in his palm and said to the crowd, “In the hundred years I have spent selling medicine, I have encountered billions of people, yet not one has been willing to spend money to buy medicine and take it. How sad. Now I have no choice but to take it myself.” As soon as he swallowed the pill, five-colored clouds rose beneath his feet. A gentle breeze stirred, and he soared into the sky.

Deng Qushe

Zheng Qushe was from Longqiu in Quzhou, and lived at the foot of Jiufeng Mountain. He entered the Dao as a young man and traveled widely to study Daoist arts, practicing with such dedication that he never grew weary. In his thirties, he moved to Anhe Abbey in Songyang County, Chuzhou. Ye Jingneng had once practiced the Dao there, and the place was also his home. Five li north of Anhe Abbey stood Maoshan, a mountain more than fifty zhang high. According to legend, Zhang Tianshi of the Han dynasty and Ye Jingneng had both lived and practiced the Dao there. Admiring their deeds, Zheng Qushe climbed the mountain and built himself a hut.

In time, the Daoist priests at the abbey gradually moved down the mountain. Local people built houses and halls for them, enshrined Laozi, a deity revered in Daoism, and painted images of Zhang Tianshi and Ye Jingneng. Morning and evening, they burned incense, practiced cultivation, and paid their respects. Southeast of the mountain lay a natural stone, more than two zhang wide and as smooth as a whetstone. Zheng Qushe often sat on it, hands clasped, meditating in silence.

One day, he received a vision of a divine being who told him, “Zhang Tianshi had two swords for slaying demons and a bottle of elixir, hidden beneath this stone. You may take them.” Zheng Qushe thanked the being and replied, “This stone was formed by nature; no human strength could move it. I know that my cultivation is shallow. I seek only to uphold the true Dao, entrust myself to the mountains and forests, and cultivate in quiet, long sustained by the protection of the spirits. How could I presume to take the swords and elixir?” The divine being said, “If you cultivate diligently and do not falter, the swords and elixir will soon be delivered to you.”

Three years later, the divine being indeed brought Zheng Qushe the swords and elixir. The swords were Zhang Tianshi’s Seven-Star Swords. The elixir was kept in a bottle inside a stone casket. More than a dou of pills spilled out; each was about the size of a hemp seed, red and bright. Zheng Qushe took the pills himself and shared them with sick people, who all recovered.

At that time, Hua Zao, a native of Lishui County, had gathered local people and occupied the mountain’s defensible high ground after the wars and famine of the Zhonghe era. The regional governor of eastern Zhejiang reported the situation to the court, which appointed Hua Zao prefect in an effort to quell the conflict. A treacherous man, Hua Zao heard that Zheng Qushe had obtained elixir and treasured swords, and imprisoned him in an empty room. It was the height of summer. Hua Zao gave him no food or water for a month, assuming he was dead. But when the door was opened, Zheng Qushe looked calm, his face pale and radiant, and he seemed healthier than when he had been locked inside. Greatly astonished, Hua Zao sent him back to the mountain but kept the swords and elixir.

One night, amid fierce wind and thunder, the swords and elixir suddenly vanished. Hearing that this was the work of immortals, Zheng Qushe returned to the place beneath the stone. He lived on the mountain for fifteen years, often saying that he saw dragons, tigers, and strange birds moving around the courtyard. The Daoist priests of Anhe Abbey would climb to the summit to burn incense and make offerings; they too saw traces of dragons, tigers, and birds, and marveled at them. For many years, Zheng Qushe ate nothing. If anyone defiled or offended the mountain, fierce beasts would appear in spring and winter to frighten people, while in summer and autumn people would be bitten by venomous snakes.

Zheng Qushe also said that he often saw thunderstorms gathering halfway up the mountain, with dragons bringing rain and the Thunder Duke, the Lightning Mother, and many spirits and deities present. Sometimes they came to meet him on the mountain and treated him with great respect. When Daoist priests happened to stay there overnight, they would hear Zheng Qushe talking with someone in his meditation room until dawn. Those who secretly peered in saw the whole mountain filled with a strange fragrance, accompanied by the sound of jade pendants. Zheng Qushe sat upright, with four people seated opposite him. Some wore far-traveling crowns and crimson robes; others wore their hair in coiled buns, with long locks hanging down, and dressed in green-blue garments. Their attendants were jade boys and jade maidens, radiant with light, while divine beings wandered nearby. The priests did not dare disturb them.

When the priests occasionally returned to the abbey, they spread word of what they had seen and heard. Another fifteen years passed, and Zheng Qushe told them, “I fear I must leave this mountain. We will no longer be able to meet often.” One day, colored clouds, phoenixes, and cranes suddenly appeared at the summit. Music sounded continuously in the sky, and the birds circled without leaving. A ceremonial procession arrived as well, with banners and divine officials riding dragons and deer. All shone in five colors; some rode phoenixes and luan birds to welcome Zheng Qushe as he ascended to heaven and departed. Many monks and laypeople at the foot of the mountain witnessed the scene with their own eyes. Later, a wildfire destroyed the buildings on the mountain, but the sacred traces told of in legend remained. Daoist priests still hold Zhaijiao purification rites there today.

Xie Ziran was a Daoist nun from Huayang in Shu. She entered the Dao as a child. Her master showed her the Immortal Scriptures of the Yellow Emperor and Laozi, which describe the Way of the Yellow Emperor, Laozi, and the immortals. After reading them once, she felt as though she had read them many times; after a second reading, she could recite them from memory. As she grew up, her expression was clear and composed, and her speech was extraordinary. She loved playing the zither and writing, and was also skilled at composing prose. She often held up Zhuo Wenjun’s conduct as an object of scorn. In daily life, she burned incense, cultivated herself, and gazed toward and prayed to the Queen Mother of the West and Magu. She admired the discipline of Lady Wei of Mount Heng.

At the age of forty, Xie Ziran set out on a long journey. She visited Mount Qingcheng, Mount Damianshan, Mount Emei, and Daoist temples and places of cultivation such as the Thirty-Six Quiet Abodes and the Twenty-Four Administrations. Later she left Shu, passed through the capital, Luoyang, and reached the Huai and Yangtze regions. She spared no effort to visit every renowned mountain, grotto, and sacred site.

When she heard that the Daoist Sima Chengzhen lived on Yuxiao Peak on Mount Tiantai and cultivated the Dao in a state of noble purity, she went to see him and studied under him for three years. Afterward, she lived alone in the wilderness. Each day she went up the mountain to gather firewood, then returned to prepare meals for Sima Chengzhen. She also often brought incense and fruit and earnestly devoted herself to asking him about the Dao.

Sima Chengzhen was astonished by her perseverance and hardship. “I have no particular cultivation of De,” he said. “How can I deserve such service from you? What is it that you truly seek?” Xie Ziran replied, “I have traveled ten thousand li to meet you because I seek the Dao that frees one from the secular world and transcends life and death. I seek nothing else.” Sima Chengzhen thought that women Daoists were rarely taught the highest Daoist methods. Fearing that passing them on too readily would show irreverence toward the Great Dao, he answered vaguely and did not agree to teach her at once.

More than a year passed. Xie Ziran sighed, “My enlightened master has not accepted me. Perhaps this is simply my fate.” Whenever she climbed Yuxiao Peak, she could see the vast sea and felt that Penglai did not seem far away. She therefore wanted to search for an immortal teacher. She took leave of Sima Chengzhen, saying that she was going to Penglai. She gave away all her possessions, wore only simple cloth clothing, and ate nothing. Carrying a mat, she plunged into the sea and drifted on its surface. As it happened, a Silla ship passed by and took her aboard.

A few days after boarding, she saw that the seawater was blue-green. At sunset, distant waves rose and fell against one another, seeming like dark flames that stretched to the horizon. The ship appeared to be sailing through fire. More than a year later, the wind drove the ship into a stretch of sea where, one after another, they encountered waters the color of ink, powder, cinnabar, and sulfur. Suddenly the wind shifted, and the ship entered a bay. There stood a mountain that shone gold in the sunlight. Its vegetation was lush, fragrant mists filled the air, and all the wild animals and birds were yellow. When the people aboard climbed the mountain, they found that every stone, large or small, was sulfur. The merchants hurriedly threw away their other cargo and filled the ship with sulfur.

As the ship passed through these stretches of differently colored water, the people aboard prayed devoutly each time they crossed one. After that, the ship drifted with the wind, and no one knew where they were. More than a month later, a crosswind struck the ship again, leaving the people at sea frightened and unsettled. Suddenly, far off, a great mountain rose out of the water, with more than a thousand red banners arrayed along its summit. The sailors said it was a whale raising its dorsal fins. Later, on a clear day, they saw a column of vapor shoot straight into the sky, rising to a height of more than a hundred li, with what looked like a violent storm around it. The sailors explained that the whale had an opening in its head, and that when it breathed, its exhalation formed this sight. The people also saw strange beings, monstrous animals, ghosts, and spirits at sea, all changing their forms in countless ways.

Xie Ziran burned incense and prayed silently, imagining Penglai. Before long, the ship came alongside a mountain. Trees, flowers, and birds flourished there, and veils of mist curled through the air like springtime. The sailors climbed the mountain to look around and saw many buildings and homes in the distance. Xie Ziran asked, “Could this be an immortal mountain?” The sailors said that the crew could go ashore to rest and set out again when the wind was favorable.

As the others wandered about the mountain, Xie Ziran went off alone. There she found several Daoist masters, attended by servants dressed in blue. A tree stirred in the wind, making a sound like metal and stone striking one another, and the flowers and grasses filled the air with their fragrance. Colorful luan birds, white cranes, blue-green chickens, and five-colored dogs wandered through the courtyard. One of the Daoist masters wore a flower crown and a robe like rosy clouds; his bearing was dignified and his appearance handsome. A blue-clad attendant ushered Xie Ziran inside, and she paid her respects with reverence.

The Daoist master asked where she wanted to go. Xie Ziran replied, “I am going to Penglai to seek a teacher and obtain the method that frees one from the secular world.” The master smiled and said, “Penglai lies beyond the Weak Waters, three hundred thousand li from here. No ship, nor any human ingenuity, can reach it. Only those who ascend through flight and become immortals can get there. Sima Chengzhen of Mount Tiantai is listed on the Cinnabar Terrace and lives at Chicheng. He is the good teacher meant for you. Return and seek him.”

Soon the wind rose, and the sailors urged everyone to board, saying that a favorable wind had arrived. After the ship set sail, a crosswind blew it for three days. At last it returned to the coast of Taizhou. Gladly, Xie Ziran went once more to Mount Tiantai. She recounted everything that had happened in detail to Sima Chengzhen and apologized for leaving him earlier. Sima Chengzhen said, “When I have chosen an auspicious day, I will establish an altar and initiate you.” He then transmitted to her the Shangqing methods, the practices of the Daoist Shangqing tradition.

Later, Xie Ziran returned to Shu. During the Zhenyuan era, she ascended in broad daylight. The military governor Wei Gao reported the event to the court.

Pei’s Daoist name was Xuánjìng. She was the daughter of Pei Sheng, magistrate of Weishi County, and the wife of Li Yan, a county commandant in E County. Bright from childhood, she was taught the classics and poetry by her mother and could recite whatever she had read. In adolescence, she learned the customary duties of women and took care with her appearance, yet inwardly she differed from ordinary people and had a particular love of Daoist arts. She asked her parents to let her live in a quiet room, wearing a robe and cap as she devoted herself to cultivating the Dao. Her parents, who also revered Daoism, understood her wish and agreed. Each day she burned incense and bowed before images of Daoist deities.

Her parents arranged for a maid to keep her company, but she would always send the maid outside. Living alone, she sometimes seemed to be conversing with another woman. When her parents secretly looked in, however, they saw no one else in the room. They asked her about it, but she never would say. Her mind was pure and tranquil; even with her family, she always observed propriety and composure, never acting carelessly or disrespectfully.

When Pei Xuánjìng was twenty, her parents planned for her to marry Li Yan. Hearing this, she was deeply unwilling. She wanted only to leave home, enter the Dao, and cultivate the true Dao in hopes of transcending the world. Her parents tried to dissuade her, saying that when a woman reached adulthood she should marry, as required by ritual norms; the proper time must not be missed, and those norms must not be breached. Besides, Lady Wei of Mount Heng, a legendary female immortal, had once married too, then later left her descendants behind and ultimately became a high immortal. So her parents urged her to marry Li Yan. She devoted herself to fulfilling the duties of a wife.

Before a month had passed, she told Li Yan, “I have always cultivated the Dao, and the divine beings do not permit me to be your wife. Please let me leave this worldly life.” Li Yan himself had long been drawn to Daoist arts. He found her words extraordinary and began practicing alone in a quiet room, burning incense. One night, he heard people laughing and talking in her room. Though puzzled, he did not dare disturb her. He peered through a crack in the wall and saw the room filled with light and an unusually rich fragrance. Two women, about seventeen or eighteen years old, were there, their hair arranged in phoenix-shaped coiffures and their colorful robes making them graceful and lovely. Several lightly and elegantly dressed attendants stood nearby. Xuánjìng was conversing with the two women. Li Yan found the sight astonishing and withdrew.

The next morning, Li Yan asked Xuánjìng about it. She said, “It did happen. They were celestial musicians from Kunlun who came to visit me. The high immortals already knew that you had been spying. They used magic to prevent you from noticing them. If they come again, do not spy on them, or you may be punished by the spirit officials who govern the order of Heaven. My karmic bond with you is shallow, so I cannot remain in the human world for long. The Dao Lord considers that you have no descendants yet; when the high immortals come, I will plead your case.”

One night later, a celestial maiden descended to Li Yan’s residence. A year afterward, she came again and gave Li Yan a boy, saying, “This is your son. Xuánjìng is about to depart.” Three days later, clouds of five colors swirled down. The celestial maidens began playing music, and a white phoenix carried Xuánjìng up into the sky, flying toward the northwest.

Qi’s Daoist name was Xiaoyao, “Free and Untrammeled.” She came from Nangong in Jizhou. Her father made his living teaching children to read. When Xiaoyao was in her teens, she was quiet and detached, had little interest in play, and longed in her heart to study the Dao. Her parents knew of her aspirations and often performed good deeds in secret.

Her father gave her the Admonitions for Women to read. Afterward, she said, “These are merely things ordinary people ought to do.” She then took up the Laozi and scriptures of the immortals, reciting them every day without pause.

When she reached marriageable age, matchmakers who heard that her heart was set on the Dao thought it an ill omen. When she was twenty, her parents nonetheless married her to Ji Xun, a man from their hometown. His family lived by farming and weaving. Her in-laws were strict and scolded her for neglecting silkworm raising and farm work. Morning and evening, Xiaoyao devoted herself to purification, cleansing her body and mind, and cultivating stillness and concentration, paying no attention at all to making a living. Ji Xun also rebuked her repeatedly.

Xiaoyao asked her in-laws to let her return to her parents’ home. Once there, her parents pressed her to go back to her husband’s family. She then said that she could not take part in worldly life, and hoped to live alone in a quiet room and cultivate the Dao, thereby repaying her in-laws. Ji Xun and her parents were all doubtful, so they settled her in a room.

Xiaoyao cleansed herself only with fragrant water, abstained from food and drink, and sat in quiet contemplation, chanting: “I smile as the blue sea is about to turn to dust, and take leave of the gathered immortals before the flowers of the Queen Mother of the West. A thousand years from now, I shall return to Heaven; in my heart, I hold dear the people of this world.”

The Ji family and their neighbors took her for a strange and deranged woman. At night, they heard voices speaking inside the room. When they went in at dawn to look, they found Xiaoyao sitting alone, calm and composed. Three days later, early one morning, the whole family suddenly heard the roof split with a peal like thunder. Only the clothes and shoes she had worn remained inside. Looking up, they saw radiant clouds and mists gleaming in the sky. Phoenixes and cranes flew and called out, immortal music rang through the air, and fragrant cakes and colorful ceremonial banners were arrayed aloft. Xiaoyao stood among the immortals in the clouds, speaking her words of farewell clearly.

Ji Xun hurried to notify Xiaoyao’s parents. When they arrived, they too saw her. The people of the city ran over to watch, all astonished and full of admiration.

This concludes the upper volume of Xu Xian Zhuan (Continued Biographies of the Immortals).

The text that follows consists of collation notes recording variant readings between the Siku Quanshu edition and another edition, as well as characters added or emended on the basis of the Siku Quanshu edition. Next comes the middle volume of Xu Xian Zhuan, attributed to “Shen Fen, Gentleman for Court Audiences, formerly county magistrate of Lishui,” and listing twelve figures in the category “Hidden Transformation,” headed by Sun Sixuan.

Sun Simiao was from Huayuan in the Jingzhao region. He entered school at the age of seven and could recite more than a thousand characters each day. As he grew older, he discussed widely the teachings of the various schools, including the Zhuangzi and Laozi. During the reign of Emperor Xuan of Zhou, when the court was beset by turmoil, he withdrew to Mount Taibai to cultivate the Dao, regulate his breathing, preserve his health, and seek a way to transcend the world. He was learned in astronomy and calendrical science, devoted himself to the study of medicine, and was skilled at reading people’s voices and complexions. He was exceptionally compassionate. In his daily life, he always did his utmost to perform good deeds quietly, cultivate himself, and make helping others his highest achievement.

Once, while traveling, he saw someone about to kill a small green snake that had already been wounded and was bleeding. Sun Simiao approached the man, took off his clothes as payment, and rescued the snake. He applied medicine to its wound and placed it in the grass. More than a month later, while traveling again, he encountered a young man dressed in white, accompanied by many attendants, horses, and carriages. The young man dismounted and bowed to him. “My younger brother was saved by you,” he said. “Our parents wish to meet you.” Sun Simiao often used medicine to save people, so he paid little heed to the words. But when the young man pleaded repeatedly, Sun Simiao agreed to ride another horse and travel with him at great speed.

They arrived at a walled city in spring, when flowers and trees were flourishing and the scenery was bright. The residences were splendid, and many people came and went; the place looked just like the home of a king. The young man invited Sun Simiao inside. There he saw a dignified, handsome person wearing a white cap and deep red robes, with many attendants around him. The man welcomed Sun Simiao warmly and thanked him. He said he had always been grateful to Sun Simiao and had sent his son to bring him there. His younger son had been injured by someone while out, and had survived only because Sun Simiao had given up his clothes to save him. Many members of the household and family were grateful for this act of rescue.

Before long, Sun Simiao was invited into an inner chamber. A middle-aged woman came out with a child dressed in green, and the mother and child repeatedly bowed their thanks. The woman said the child was mischievous and had been injured by someone while out; Sun Simiao had saved him from danger. Recalling that he had rescued a small green snake, Sun Simiao realized with surprise that this was no ordinary household. He also heard the attendants and palace women call the man in the white cap “the ruler” and the woman “the consort.” He quietly asked someone about the place and learned that it was the Water Palace of Jingyang, the legendary underwater residence of the spirit of the Jing River.

The ruler in the white cap ordered a banquet to be prepared, with music and dancing to entertain Sun Simiao. Sun Simiao said that he practiced fasting from grains and nourishing Qi through breath regulation, and drank only wine. After hosting him for three days, the ruler asked what he wanted. Sun Simiao replied that he lived in the mountains, taking pleasure in cultivating the Dao, visualization, and refining Shen (spirit). Though he could see many things before him, he felt no desire for them. The ruler offered him pearls, gold, and silver, but Sun Simiao firmly declined. The ruler asked, “Would a cultivator of the Dao truly set no store by these things? What, then, should I give you in thanks?” He ordered his son to bring thirty medicinal prescriptions bestowed by the Dragon Palace. “These formulas are truly suited to a person who cultivates the Dao,” he said. “They can be used to help the world and save people.” He then sent Sun Simiao back to the mountains with a carriage, horses, and attendants. Sun Simiao tried the prescriptions one by one, and they all proved highly effective. Later, he compiled thirty volumes of the Prescriptions Worth a Thousand Gold, which included some of the Dragon Palace formulas. He also wrote one volume of the Classic of the Pulse, in which he described diagnosing illnesses from people’s voices and complexions. These works became widely circulated.

When Emperor Wen of Sui governed on behalf of the court, he summoned Sun Simiao to serve as a doctoral official at the Imperial University, but Sun Simiao did not take up the post. He once told someone, “In fifty years, a sage will appear. I will assist him and bring relief to the people.” Emperor Taizong of Tang summoned him to the capital. Seeing how youthful he looked, the emperor exclaimed, “This shows that people who cultivate the Dao truly deserve respect. Can the stories of immortals such as Xianmen really be false?” Taizong wanted to grant him an official title, but Sun Simiao firmly declined. In the early years of Emperor Gaozong’s reign, he was again summoned to serve as an Admonition Grandee, and again he declined. By then he was over ninety, yet his sight and hearing had not declined.

Lu Zhaolin of Fanyang was highly esteemed, but he suffered from a serious illness. Reflecting that people’s natural endowments differed and that he did not understand why lifespans varied so greatly, he asked Sun Simiao, “By what principles do famous physicians cure illness?”

Sun Simiao replied, “I have heard that those who are skilled at discussing the Way of Heaven must verify it through the circumstances of human life; those who are skilled at discussing humanity must also take the Way of Heaven as their foundation. Heaven has four seasons and Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, and Water), and cold and heat alternate and transform. When their movement is harmonious, they become rain; when their force is intense, they become wind; when they congeal, they become frost and snow; when they spread out, they become rainbows. These are the regular patterns of Heaven and Earth. Humans have four limbs and five organs, wakefulness and sleep, and the intake and release of breath. The movement of Qi and blood forms the flow within the body; as it circulates, it becomes nutritive Qi and defensive Qi, which sustain the body and protect it. It appears in the complexion and issues forth as the voice. These, too, are the regular patterns of the human body.

“Yang Qi performs its functions, while Yin Qi forms the body. This is a law shared by Heaven and humanity. When this balance is disturbed, stagnation produces heat, and obstructed movement produces cold. Congealing forms growths; sinking inward forms abscesses and sores. Labored breathing brings on breathlessness and weakness; depletion leaves the body dry and withered. Illness appears in the complexion and also changes the body’s form. The same principles apply when we consider Heaven and Earth: disorder in the movement of the five planets, confusion among the stars, irregular courses of the sun and moon, and the flight of comets are grave illnesses of Heaven and Earth. Cold and heat arriving out of season are signs that their movement is obstructed. Stones standing upright and trees shaking are growths produced by Heaven and Earth. Collapsed mountains and sunken ground are their abscesses. Violent winds and torrential rain are labored breathing; untimely rain and dried-up rivers and plains are their depletion.

“A good physician uses medicines and acupuncture to clear obstructions and treat illness. A sage harmonizes Heaven and Earth through the Dao and De, while also attending to human affairs. Thus, some human illnesses can be cured, and calamities of Heaven and Earth can also be dispelled.”

He also said, “One’s courage should be great, and one’s thoughts cautious; one’s judgment should be thorough and flexible, and one’s conduct upright. The Book of Songs says, ‘As if approaching a deep abyss, as if treading on thin ice.’ This speaks of caution. It also says, ‘Stalwart are the warriors, the shield and wall of the lords.’ This speaks of great courage. To remain unmoved by profit and untroubled within when something violates what is right—these are standards of benevolence. To act at once when the moment is right, without delay or hesitation, is a sign of thorough and flexible judgment.” Sun Simiao was exceptionally learned and a master of medicine; the principles and methods he knew were too numerous to recount.

During the reign of Emperor Gaozong, when Empress Wu was at the height of her power, the court appointed Sun Simiao as a Gentleman of Service and assigned him to the Imperial Pharmacy. He did not accept. On the fifteenth day of the second month of the third year of Yonghui, he rose at dawn, bathed, dressed neatly, and sat upright. He said to his grandson, “I have been burdened by entanglements with the world. I withdrew to a cavern to cultivate; now I am about to ascend to the Land of No-Where and serve at the Golden Palace. I can no longer respond to summonses and travel back and forth.” Before long, he stopped breathing and died. He left instructions that he be buried simply, with no grave goods and no animal sacrifices. More than a month later, his complexion had not changed. When he was placed in the coffin, his body was so light that it seemed only an empty robe remained. It was said that he had undergone “corpse liberation,” the Daoist transformation in which the body sheds its mortal form as a means of transcendence.

Zhang Guo lived in seclusion on Mount Tiao in Changzhou and often traveled through the areas of Fenzhou and Jinzhou. People at the time said he had mastered the secret arts of longevity. Local elders claimed they had seen him as children and that he had said he was already several hundred years old. Emperor Taizong and Emperor Gaozong of the Tang summoned him several times, but he never answered their calls. When Empress Wu Zetian summoned him from the mountains, he pretended to die in front of the Tuonü Temple. It was midsummer, and before long his corpse was crawling with maggots. When the news reached Wu Zetian, she believed he was truly dead. Later, however, people saw him again in the mountains of Changzhou.

In the twenty-third year of the Kaiyuan era, Emperor Xuanzong of the Tang sent Pei Wu, a court official responsible for conveying imperial commands, to Changzhou by post horse to welcome Zhang Guo. In Pei Wu’s presence, Zhang Guo suddenly stopped breathing and died. Pei Wu burned incense and prayed, conveying the emperor’s wish to seek the Dao. After a while, Zhang Guo gradually came back to life. Pei Wu did not dare press him and returned to report what had happened. Xuanzong then ordered Xu Qiao, a Secretariat Drafter, and Lu Chongxuan, a court official, to bring the imperial edict and welcome Zhang Guo. Zhang Guo accompanied Xu Qiao to the eastern capital, Luoyang, where he was lodged at the Jixian Academy. Later, he was carried into the palace and received with great honors. The highest ministers and officials all came to pay their respects.

When people asked Zhang Guo about matters beyond the ordinary world, he always answered in strange and wondrous words. He often said that he had been born in the bingzi year during the reign of Emperor Yao. No one at the time could discover his true origins. He also said that he had served as an Attendant to the Emperor, an official who assisted the ruler, during Yao’s reign. Zhang Guo was skilled in embryonic breathing, a Daoist method of regulating the breath and nurturing Qi. He could go for many days without food, though he sometimes drank fine wine and Sanhuang Yuan, a Daoist elixir.

Xuanzong kept Zhang Guo in the palace and offered him wine. Zhang Guo declined, saying that a mountain recluse like himself could drink no more than two sheng, but one of his disciples could drink a whole dou. Delighted, Xuanzong ordered the disciple to be summoned. Before long, a young Daoist, about sixteen or seventeen years old, flew down from the eaves of the hall. He was handsome, with a serene manner, clear in his replies, and respectful in his bearing. Xuanzong invited him to sit, but Zhang Guo said, “My disciple usually stands beside me to attend me, so it would not be fitting to give him a seat.” Xuanzong glanced at the young man and was even more pleased, so he offered him wine. The disciple drank a whole dou without becoming drunk. Zhang Guo advised, “It would be best not to give him any more. If he drinks too much, something may go wrong and spoil Your Majesty’s pleasure.” Xuanzong nevertheless urged him to continue. Suddenly, wine poured from the top of the young Daoist’s head. His hat fell to the ground and turned into a comb. Xuanzong and his consorts laughed, but on closer inspection they saw only a gold comb on the floor. When they turned it over, they found that it could hold a whole dou of wine. An examination showed that the comb had originally been in the Jixian Academy. Zhang Guo’s wondrous arts were tested many times, too often to recount them all.

Xuanzong then issued an edict: “The Master Zhang Guo of Changzhou has transcended the ordinary world. His conduct is lofty and his mind profound; he has lived hidden among the dust of the world and has now answered the summons to come to the capital. No one knows his age; one might call him a sage from the age of Fuxi. He understands the essential workings of the Dao and has fully awakened to its profound principles. We now bestow on him the ceremonial welcome of an ‘edict on crane paper,’ honoring his virtue of rising above the world like a cicada shedding its shell.” Xuanzong appointed Zhang Guo Senior Grand Master of the Silver and Azure Luster and bestowed on him the title “Master Who Penetrates the Mystery.”

Citing old age and poor health, Zhang Guo asked to return to Changzhou. Xuanzong gave him three hundred bolts of silk, arranged for two disciples to attend him, and provided post station transport. When they reached Changzhou, one of the disciples accompanied him into the mountains. In the early years of the Tianbao era, Xuanzong issued a special edict summoning him again. On hearing the news, Zhang Guo suddenly died. His disciple buried him, but when the tomb was later opened for inspection, the coffin was found to be empty.

Xu Xuanping had recently gone into the mountains with a group of people. In the early Tianbao era, Emperor Xuanzong of Tang once again issued a special edict searching for him. At last, word of him reached the court, but he suddenly died. His disciples buried him. Later, when someone opened the coffin to look inside, they found it empty.

Xu Xuanping was from She County in Xin’an Commandery. During the Jingyun era of Emperor Ruizong of Tang, he withdrew to a mountain hollow south of Chengyang Mountain and built a thatched hut to live in. No one knew what medicines or foods he took; they only knew that he never ate meals. He looked about forty years old, and ran as swiftly as a galloping horse. Sometimes he carried firewood on his back to sell, often with a hanging gourd ladle and a crooked bamboo staff. Whenever he got drunk, he would stagger home, singing to himself:

“At dawn I shoulder firewood and go to sell;

With the sun sinking west, I return with wine.

Passersby, do not ask where I am bound:

Through the white clouds, deep into the green mountains.”

For more than thirty years, he sometimes helped people in danger and sometimes treated their illnesses. People from the city often went looking for him, but never found him. They could only see a poem inscribed on the wall of his thatched hut:

“Thirty years withdrawn from the world,

I built my dwelling on the southern peak.

In the quiet night, I dine with the bright moon;

At leisure in the morning, I drink from the green spring.

Woodcutters sing on the hillside,

Valley birds play before the rocks.

So joyful, I know not that I am old;

I have forgotten the years and their cycles.”

The poem says that he had lived in seclusion on the mountaintop for thirty years, keeping company with the bright moon at night and drinking from the mountain spring at dawn. He listened to woodcutters singing on the slopes and watched mountain birds play among the rocks. He was so happy that he forgot his age. Many people loved to recite the poem. Those traveling to Chang’an also copied it out and inscribed it at the post stations on the roads to Luoyang, Huazhou, and Tongzhou.

During the Tianbao era, after Li Bai left the Hanlin Academy, he traveled east. At a post station, he read the poem and, after reciting it, exclaimed, “This is a poem written by an immortal!” He asked people about it and learned Xu Xuanping’s story. Li Bai then went to Xin’an, crossed streams, and climbed the mountains. After searching for him many times without success, he inscribed a poem on the wall of the thatched hut:

“I recited the poem at the post station

And came to seek the dwelling of a perfected man.

Mist veils the ridges, hiding the sage’s tracks;

Cloud cliffs divide us, as though we were worlds apart.

I peer into the courtyard: all is desolate;

Leaning on my staff, I pace in vain, full of sorrow.

I hope you will become an immortal crane and fly to the edge of the sky,

Then return again after a thousand years.”

That winter, a wildfire destroyed the thatched hut. After that, no one knew where Xu Xuanping had gone.

More than a hundred years later, in the seventh year of the Xiantong era, an elderly woman from the household of Xu Mingnu often went into the mountains with companions to gather firewood. One day, alone in the southern mountains, she saw a man sitting on a rock, eating a very large peach. He asked her, “Are you from Xu Mingnu’s household? I am Mingnu’s grandfather, Xuanping.”

The old woman said she had often heard people say that he had become an immortal many years before. Xuanping told her, “Go back and tell Mingnu that I am in these mountains.” He also gave her a peach and told her to eat it there and not take it out of the mountains. He said there were many tigers and wolves in the mountains, and the mountain god treasured the peach. The old woman ate it, found it exceedingly sweet, and soon finished it. Xuanping told her to follow the woodcutters home.

The old woman told Xu Mingnu’s relatives that she had met Xuanping. They all found the story extraordinary, and word spread throughout the commandery. Afterward, though the old woman grew older, her face became younger and younger, and her body lighter and stronger than before. During the Zhonghe era, wars and famine followed one another, and the residents could find no peace. Xu Mingnu’s family moved away to escape the unrest, but the old woman went into the mountains and did not return. Even now, woodcutters sometimes see her: she wears clothes woven from vines and moves as swiftly as if flying. When people chase after her, she climbs into the trees and vanishes.

Liu Shang was from Pengcheng and lived in Chang’an. From childhood, he loved learning and had an excellent memory, devoting himself to writing. His composition “Eighteen Songs of a Nomad Flute” circulated widely; even children and women could recite it. He passed the jinshi examination and moved with extraordinary speed, as if flying. When people pursued him, he would climb into the trees and then make his escape.

Liu Shang later held various central government posts and served as a court official. By nature, he was drawn to Daoist arts. Whenever he met a Daoist, he would become his student and seek instruction, diligently practicing alchemy and breath cultivation—that is, regulating the breath through inhalation and exhalation. He often lamented that life was short and the body grew weaker with age: rushing about in the morning and stopping at dusk amounted only to toil in vain. What benefit were worldly honors and official rank to him? In ancient times, worthy men often sought the Dao while serving in government, and many thereby transcended the mundane world. Now that he had started a family and was no longer burdened by marriage, could he really be less capable than Xu Yuanyou? So he feigned illness, resigned from office, and set off eastward to enter the Dao.

When he reached Guangling, Liu Shang encountered a Daoist selling medicine in the street. A crowd had gathered, and people said the medicines he sold were quite effective. The Daoist spotted Liu Shang among them and looked deeply astonished. He packed up his stall, took Liu Shang by the hand, and led him upstairs to drink. The Daoist spoke of events across the dynasties from the Qin and Han onward as though he had witnessed them himself. Liu Shang was utterly amazed and honored him as his teacher. The Daoist then remarked that the way of the immortals was not easily attained. That evening, Liu Shang returned to his lodging. After the Daoist went downstairs, he suddenly slipped out of sight.

Liu Shang was even more astonished. The next day, he went back to the street to look for the Daoist and found him still selling medicine. The Daoist was delighted to see Liu Shang and again took him to a tavern upstairs, where they talked and drank at length. When they parted, the Daoist gave him a small medicine pouch and recited a teasing poem: “You came to Yangzhou with nothing to do; hand in hand, we climbed to the tavern. I give you this medicine pouch as a parting gift—what more could you seek beyond a thousand years?” Liu Shang committed the poem to memory, and they parted at dusk. After that, Liu Shang searched for the Daoist many times but never saw him again.

When Liu Shang opened the pouch, he found a gourd wrapped in layer upon layer of covering. Inside were nine pills, each about the size of a hemp seed or millet grain. He took them according to the formula the Daoist had taught him. At once, he felt refreshed and no longer hungry; his body grew light, and his mind became clear.

Later, Liu Shang crossed the river and visited Mount Mao. Some time afterward, he went to Zhanggong Cave in Yixing. In spring, he was particularly fond of the scenery around Huaxi, so he built a dwelling at Hufuzhu and lived in seclusion in the mountains. Local woodcutters have even seen him there to this day, calling him “Liu the Court Official,” but no one knows where he went afterward. According to legend, he became an earthbound immortal, one who attained the Dao and became immortal while living among ordinary people.

Liu Lu, courtesy name Gang and childhood name Yige, was Liu Zhan’s elder brother. The Liu family was poor, but Liu Lu was devoted to Daoist arts. Daoists often passed through his home. One of them, seeing that Liu Lu seemed unlike other people, asked, “Do you know what the Dao is?” Liu Lu replied, “I do.” The Daoist said, “Your nature is still burdened with worldly thoughts, and the foundations of your cultivation are not yet pure. How can you force yourself to begin studying the Dao right away?” Liu Lu asked, “Will you accept me as your disciple?” The Daoist said, “Are you willing to take me as your master?” Liu Lu replied, “How could I possibly be unwilling?” And so he became the Daoist’s disciple.

The Daoist told him to live in the mountains in search of the Dao, without wearing a cap or tying up his hair. Liu Lu wore his hair in two tufts and dressed in plain cloth, following the Daoist into Mount Luofu, a famous mountain in Guangdong. Liu Lu and Liu Zhan both studied and wrote, but Liu Lu was naturally austere and aspired to a reclusive life, while Liu Zhan envied fame, rank, and wealth. Liu Lu once told him, “If I fail the examinations, I’ll withdraw to the mountains. If you pass, you’ll have to toil in the world of dust, and I fear your heart won’t be as free as mine. Still, be cautious about wealth and rank: what I say will come to pass in forty years.” Liu Zhan replied, “The way of the immortals is distant and hard to find. Did Qin Shi Huang and Emperor Wu of Han not pursue it with all their might? Court office, though, is close at hand. I can follow in the footsteps of men like Ma Zhou and Zhang Jiayizhen.”

After this, Liu Lu devoted himself even more fully to cultivating the Dao and lived in seclusion on Mount Luofu. Liu Zhan passed the jinshi examination, held a succession of prominent and prestigious posts, and eventually rose to become chancellor, earning a reputation for skillfully harmonizing affairs of state and assisting the court. Not long afterward, he was banished and traveled south to Guangzhou, where he moored his boat by the river. Suddenly, a boy with his hair in two tufts and wearing plain cloth came hurrying through a downpour. Yet his clothes and shoes were not wet. He said he wished to see Liu Zhan. The attendants were astonished and asked who he was. He said only, “Yige has arrived.” They relayed this to Liu Zhan. After asking what the boy looked like and hearing their description, Liu Zhan cried out in amazement and invited him in.

Liu Lu looked about twenty, while Liu Zhan had grown visibly old. Now a disgraced official, Liu Zhan was overcome with both sorrow and joy at seeing his elder brother. Liu Lu comforted him: “You and I are brothers, bound as closely as hands and feet. How could I not grieve for you? What I said long ago has now come to pass; forty years have gone by.” Even more moved, Liu Zhan asked, “Can I still return to cultivating the Dao?” Liu Lu said, “You have enjoyed imperial favor and held a high office responsible for harmonizing Yin and Yang. How could your thoughts and actions not have worn you down? If I, your younger brother, had not already ascended to become a celestial immortal, how could I save you? I have come today only to say farewell, not to save you.”

The two then boarded the same boat and spoke of what each had experienced since they parted.

One night, he suddenly disappeared. Even now, people in Mount Luofu still see him from time to time. Zhan then went south and later died in the place to which he had been exiled.

Luo Wanxiang

Luo Wanxiang’s place of origin is unknown. He was gifted in literature, well versed in astronomy, and especially proficient in the Yijing (Classic of Changes). His conduct was unusual, and he remained steadfast in his principles. Wearing plain cloth garments, he traveled throughout the land.

He lived for a long time on Mount Wangwu. Later, he traveled south to Mount Luofu and remarked, “This is the Grotto-Heaven of Zhuming, a blessed Daoist realm from legend. Ge Zhichuan (Ge Hong) once lived here and practiced alchemy. Though Deng Yue is not here to urge me to stay, I may as well settle here for a while.” He grew fond of the scenery around Shilou and built a thatched hut at the foot of the mountain.

He often ate huangjing, a medicinal herb commonly used in Daoist cultivation, and practiced breath cultivation for decades, regulating his breath and drawing it in and out. At times, he traveled to places such as Zengcheng Quanshan and Bushui to gather herbs. He also went into the cities around Fuzhou and Guangzhou to sell medicine and drink wine, appearing unpredictably. Sometimes he could eat enough at one meal to feed more than ten people; at other times, he ate nothing, and no one knew how many years had passed for him. He was cheerful in appearance, light and vigorous in body, and could walk three or four hundred li in a day. Even when he strolled at an ordinary pace, a galloping horse could not catch up with him.

Later, he returned to his thatched hut at Shilou and never came out again, living in seclusion in the mountains. In time, people no longer knew where he had gone.

Li Jue

Li Jue was from Jiangyang in Guangling. His family had lived in the city for generations and made their living selling yao. Li Jue was upright and cautious by nature, unlike ordinary people. At fifteen, he went with his father on a trading journey to sell yao.

Li Jue was from Jiangyang in Guangling. His family had lived in the city for generations, making their living by selling cloth. He was upright and careful by nature, unlike most people. At fifteen, he began trading with his father. When his father had to go away on business, he entrusted the shop to Li Jue.

When someone came to buy cloth, Li Jue handed over the cloth and the measuring vessels, the dou and sheng, and let the customer measure it out. He paid no attention to whether cloth prices were high or low at the time. For each dou he sold, he earned only two coins, which he used to support his parents. Over time, the household’s clothes and savings gradually became plentiful. His father found this puzzling and asked how it had happened. Li Jue told him the truth.

His father said, “There are many others in our trade, and none of them fails to make a large profit by giving less when selling and taking more when buying. The authorities inspect measuring devices each spring and autumn, but in the end it is hard to put an end to such abuses. I have long taken this as normal practice. I use the same set of measuring vessels for both buying and selling, and have assumed that they have caused no discrepancy over the years. You let the customers measure for themselves; I cannot match you. But with food and clothing so plentiful, could it be that the spirits have been secretly helping us?”

Later, Li Jue’s parents died. He continued in the same trade until he was over eighty. By then, Li Jue had been appointed chancellor and put in charge of the military and civil administration of Huainan. When Li Jue, the commoner from Jiangyang, heard that the new military governor shared his name, he was astonished and changed his name to Li Kuan.

A few months after taking office, Chancellor Li Jue was observing a purification fast when, one night, he dreamed that he had entered a cavern dwelling. Spring filled the cavern; flowers and trees flourished, phoenixes flew and cranes danced, auspicious clouds and rosy mists swirled, and pavilions stretched far into the distance. Walking alone beneath the pavilions, he saw a smooth, gleaming stone wall bearing the names of many people in gold characters. Among them was “Li Jue,” written in characters more than two feet high. The chancellor was delighted. He thought, “I was born in a clear and orderly age, have held important offices throughout my career, and now serve as chief minister. Surely I have accumulated merit for the realm. Since my name is in this cavern dwelling, I must have been admitted among the immortals.”

As he was rejoicing, two young immortals emerged from either side of the stone wall. Li Jue asked where he was. They replied, “This is the Huayang Cavern Heaven, a realm of immortals spoken of in Daoist tradition.” Pointing to the names on the wall, he asked whether the name there referred to him, the chancellor. One of the young immortals said, “It is not the chancellor. It belongs to a commoner from Jiangyang.” Astonished, Li Jue pressed him to say who the man was. The young immortal replied, “He is a commoner from Jiangyang, within the chancellor’s jurisdiction.”

After daybreak, Chancellor Li Jue recalled the dream carefully and was even more amazed. He asked Daoist practitioners, but no one knew whom the dream referred to. He summoned officials from Jiangyang to inquire, but none could identify the man. So he ordered a search throughout the city and its outskirts for anyone with the same name. Several days later, after making inquiries in many places, they finally found Li Kuan, who had once been called Li Jue. When the chancellor heard, he sent a carriage to bring him to the residence, arranged a place for him to stay, and, after fasting and bathing, paid his respects to him as a Daoist elder and fellow practitioner. The chancellor and his family honored and served Li Kuan, bowing to him morning and evening.

Li Kuan was calm and unassuming, with an exceptional appearance. His beard was more than a foot long, white and striking. When he was sixty, a Daoist practitioner had taught him fetal breathing, a method of regulating the breath and cultivating Qi. From then on, he also went for long periods without eating. Chancellor Li Jue held him in even greater respect. After more than a month, the chancellor asked, “What Daoist arts have you cultivated in your life? What medicines have you taken and refined? I once dreamed of names written on a stone wall in a cavern dwelling, and the young immortal pointed to you. That is why I brought you here and honored you as my teacher. I hope you will pass your methods of cultivation on to me.”

Li Kuan demurred, saying that he knew nothing of Daoist arts and had never taken medicines for cultivation. The chancellor bowed again and respectfully asked what he had practiced throughout his life. Li Kuan considered himself an ignorant commoner, so he recounted in detail how, when selling cloth, he had let customers measure it themselves and never taken advantage of anyone.

After questioning him repeatedly, the chancellor sighed and said, “This is something ordinary people find hard to do. The hidden merit you have accumulated is far beyond anything I can match.” He added, “This shows that people of wealth and rank in this world may lose merit through their everyday actions, while even those in poverty and low station can receive protection if their hearts are upright. Names written in the registers of the immortals serve precisely to warn people in the world.”

The chancellor also asked Li Kuan how he had come to practice fetal breathing and go without food. Li Kuan told him the truth again. The chancellor then learned fetal breathing from him. Li Kuan later lived to be over a hundred and remained exceptionally light and nimble. One day, he suddenly told his descendants, “I have spent many years lodging in the human world. Though I have cultivated Qi, it has brought you no benefit.” That night, he died. Three days later, his coffin cracked. When his family opened it, they found that his belt and clothing were still fastened, but his body had shed its mortal form like a cicada leaving its old shell. He had undergone corpse liberation, a Daoist mode of transformation into an immortal in which the physical body is left behind.

Wang Kejiao was from Kunshan in Suzhou. He made his living by farming and fishing, and lived in Zhaotun Village, south of Songjiang. Even in his thirties, no one knew him to be anything out of the ordinary. He often caught large fish and, pleased with himself, killed them with a wooden mallet. He would cook them, mash garlic into them, and eat them, often saying, “There is no greater pleasure than this.”

One day, he rowed his fishing boat, beating the oar and singing loudly as he sailed into the river. After traveling several li, he suddenly saw a brightly painted pleasure boat drifting in midstream. Aboard were seven young Daoist adepts, each wearing a jade crown and robes in colors like rosy clouds, no two dressed alike. More than ten attendants were with them, their hair curled like clouds. Four other men, wearing yellow crowns, were also on the boat.

One of the seven called Wang Kejiao by name. As Kejiao stood there in amazement, his fishing boat had somehow drawn close to the pleasure boat. A Daoist ordered an attendant to bring him aboard. In front of each of the seven Daoists stood a blue jade plate. The wine vessels and fruit were crystal clear and gleaming, unlike anything Kejiao had ever seen. More than ten female musicians held instruments. Kejiao stood at the far end of the banquet and bowed to the seven. They looked him over, and one said, “This man has fine bone structure and the makings of an immortal. But he was born into a poor, ordinary family, and worldly life has already worn him down.”

Someone told an attendant to pour Kejiao some wine, but the wine would not flow into his cup. When the attendant reported this, the Daoist said, “Wine is a thing with spiritual power. If it could pass his lips, it would transform him from the inside out. That it will not pour in is the course of his fate.”

Another said, “Give him chestnuts.” Someone took two from the banquet and had an attendant bring them to Kejiao. They were green with a reddish tint, shining like dates, and about two inches long. When Kejiao bit into one, he found a pit inside, unlike any chestnut in the human world. The flesh was crisp and sweet, and it took him a long time to finish eating it.

Someone said, “Wang Kejiao has now seen us; he may leave.” They ordered a man in yellow to take him ashore. When Kejiao could not find his fishing boat, the man in yellow said, “There is no need to look for a boat. Just close your eyes, and you will arrive.” Kejiao shut his eyes and heard the wind, water, and trees roar around him. When the man in yellow told him to open his eyes, he was already on shore, and the man had disappeared. Before him rose range upon range of mountains, with pines and paulownias towering into the clouds. He sat on a roadside stone and saw a gate tower, with people coming and going through its entrance.

Before long, more than ten woodcutters and monks arrived and asked who he was. Kejiao told them everything about the pleasure boat. They asked when he had left home, and he said it had been that morning, the third day of the third month. The woodcutters and monks were astonished. “Today is the ninth day of the ninth month. More than half a year has passed since the third day of the third month.” Kejiao asked where he was. The monks told him he was in front of Waterfall Temple on Mount Tiantai; to reach Huating by water and land would be more than a thousand li. Kejiao was deeply startled.

The monks invited him back to the temple and prepared a meal for him. Kejiao said only that he was already full and did not want to smell food; he would drink only water. The monks found the affair extraordinary, so they wrote down what had happened and reported it to Tangxing County, then to Taizhou, until the account eventually reached Commissioner Wang Feng.

Wang Feng had long been a believer in Daoism. After summoning Kejiao, he judged the event to be beyond ordinary experience, for the transformations of immortals were impossible to fathom. Kejiao was more than seven feet tall, had an appearance unlike other men, and spoke with clarity and refinement. Wang Feng exclaimed, “He is truly a perfected one.” Since they also shared the same surname, Wang Feng treated him with even greater respect, prepared Daoist robes for him, and sent people to Suzhou to check his household registration.

The local authorities reported that Kejiao had gone out onto the river in his fishing boat on the third day of the third month and had not returned. His family found the boat and assumed he had drowned. They had already summoned his spirit and buried him. Wang Feng submitted the matter to the court, which issued an edict declaring it wondrous. Later, Kejiao returned to his hometown and recounted his experience in detail. When he went with the villagers to the riverbank, he could still point out the place where he had first seen the pleasure boat.

After eating the chestnuts, Kejiao stopped eating the five grains. His movements seemed guided by divine assistance, and he no longer farmed or fished. He took his wife and children to Mount Siming and lived there for more than twenty years. Later, he appeared again in Mingzhou, selling medicine and having people buy wine. He gave away all the money he received. He said the medicine had been passed down by Hu Gong, and the wine by the Lady of Yuhang. The medicine cured illness with great efficacy, while the wine made people drunk with ease. People throughout the streets and lanes of Mingzhou called him “Immortal Wang,” saying that his medicinal wine was unrivaled in the world. Both monks and laypeople painted his portrait. When someone fell ill or was troubled by an evil spirit, hanging the portrait nearby would bring a cure.

More than thirty years later, Kejiao entered Mount Siming again and never came out. Even now, people occasionally catch sight of him.

Li Sheng, courtesy name Yunju, claimed to be from Jiangxia. He was born in the jiawu year of Emperor Dezong’s reign in the Tang dynasty. Clever from childhood, he later studied a wide range of classical texts. He excelled at writing and was quick-witted, able to compose polished prose as soon as he spoke. Refined and austere in temperament, he once studied with a Daoist on Mount Shaoshi the methods of refining Qi and nourishing the body—that is, cultivating oneself through regulated breathing and care of the body. He often traveled from place to place in plain cloth robes.

At the time, Yuan Ji was serving as surveillance commissioner for eastern Zhejiang, while Bai Juyi held office as the local governor of Qiantang. Both were old friends of Li Sheng and admired his literary talent and Daoist arts, so they invited him to stay as their guest. At a banquet, they asked him, “You were born in a peaceful age. Why don’t you seek official rank and wealth, and why have you worn plain clothes for so long?” Li Sheng replied, “The court has not summoned me; even if it did, I would not go.” He then recited a poem: “Born among Confucians in an age of peace, I prize the dark cultivation and disdain the lowly plain robe. Who would chase fame and profit along the roads of the world? I would serve the Jade Emperor and return to the Upper Clarity realm.” Yuan Ji and Bai Juyi were both astonished. They entertained him with poetry and wine and persuaded him to stay for more than a year. Later, Li Sheng left again to travel, and no one knew where he went.

In the gengzi year of Emperor Xizong’s reign, after Huang Chao captured the capital, the realm fell into turmoil. Only the Jiangnan region remained relatively calm. Tian Tou, commander at Wanling, had long been fond of Daoist arts. An old man from Wanling said that he had seen Li Sheng as a child, and that Li Sheng’s appearance had not changed at all since then. Everyone found this astonishing. Tian Tou therefore invited Li Sheng to visit and treated him with exceptional respect.

Li Sheng’s complexion was radiant and his movements light; he looked no more than forty. His hair and beard were very black, his pupils square, and his teeth sharp, like a row of date pits. He liked to eat stone lotus seeds and could bite through a whole sheng measure’s worth in moments, splitting each one in two—a feat no one else could imitate. He could drink two dou of wine without getting drunk, and could also abstain from grain and nourish his breath. Even in snow, wearing only a single layer of clothing, his face remained rosy. He would also often point his middle finger toward a lamp, causing the flame to lean as if blown by the wind, sometimes more than a zhang away. When people asked about his methods of ingesting substances and his arts of longevity, he always answered in indirect and vague terms.

Later, he suddenly said to people, “I am weary of this world of war and turmoil. It would be better to leave.” By then, Zhaozong had been usurped by Zhu Quanzhong. When Li Sheng heard of it, he was deeply indignant. The next day, his breathing suddenly stopped, yet his complexion did not change. People placed him in a coffin, but found only empty clothes inside. He was then 147 years old. Less than a month later, Tian Tou was defeated in battle, and calamity spread to Li Sheng. It seemed Li Sheng had foreseen this and left in advance. He had told others as much, and people all missed him, believing him to be a sage. Later, someone saw him again in Shu.

Ye Qianshao, courtesy name Lucong, was from Jianchang in Hongzhou. In his youth, he became a disciple of the two perfected lords Xu Hao and Xu Zhenjun, Daoists of Xishan. He practiced fasting from the five grains and taking in Qi through regulated breathing and exhalation.

Once, while living alone in the mountains, he was suddenly caught in high winds, torrential rain, and thunder and lightning. A man dressed in white bowed to him and said, “Your cultivation of Dao and De is now complete, and your rank in the register of immortals has risen. You are still to serve spirits and ghosts in the human world and further establish merit. A divine being is about to descend. You may meet him without fear.” Ye Qianshao then burned incense, clasped his hands, and sat quietly.

Before long, a vermilion-robed Perfected Official, a celestial official dressed in red, descended on clouds, followed by more than ten divine generals. They all wore swords and carried talismans bearing the symbols of the dragon and tiger, and many spirits and ghosts accompanied them. Two officials, one in yellow and one in green, each held a scroll of records. The divine generals lined up and bowed to Ye Qianshao. The Perfected Official said to him, “By the Mandate of Heaven, I give you this scroll of records. The divine generals, officials, and soldiers are also at your service, to help you save the people.” Ye Qianshao bowed and accepted the heavenly text. When he opened it, he found it resembled a military register in the human world. From then on, the officials who kept the records obeyed whenever he summoned them.

After that, when Ye Qianshao let out a long cry, wind rose through the forests. When he sighed and prayed for rain, rain fell across the fields. When he pressed his foot to the ground, thunder rumbled beneath it. When he traced a gesture through the air with his hand, dazzling lightning appeared.

He traveled throughout the world, often seeming mad and appearing drunk in towns. At times he would suddenly shout and drive something away. When people asked why, he would say, “I saw a fire break out in one place, and a long drought in another, so I sent rain to help.” When people checked, they found that his words had come true. Whenever he passed through a district or county suffering drought, people often asked him to pray for rain. He would set up an incense table, pray briefly, and rain would fall. If someone asked him to summon thunder, he would stamp his foot, and a rumble would rise from underground. When rain continued for days and people asked him to stop it, he would perform his rite, and the sky would clear at once. In winter, during a drought, people asked him for snow. He would stand in the sun wearing only a single layer of clothing and no shoes, chanting as he cried out. Before long, wind and clouds gathered, and heavy snow fell through the night.

Ye Qianshao also used talismans to treat illness. He did not wait for people to ask for help; whenever he saw someone sick, he took pity on them and offered aid. Those troubled by malign spirits recovered as soon as they heard his name. Those who received a talisman from him never suffered a return of their illness.

In the eleventh year of the Xiantong era, he traveled to Haozhou and heard that the prefect Liu Fang had suddenly suffered a stroke and was close to death. None of the famous physicians could cure him. Ye Qianshao entered the city leaning on a staff and said, “I have come this time to bring you back to life.” He then drew three talismans and affixed them to Liu Fang’s shoulder, face, and leg. “Drive the pathogenic wind out through the soles of your feet,” he said. “You will recover in three days.” Sure enough, the pathogenic wind left through the soles of Liu Fang’s feet like a stream of air, and after three days he was back to normal.

Liu Fang was learned and talented, and had long been fond of Daoist arts. As an official, he had also benefited the people through good governance. He said to his guests and subordinates, “All my life I have honored the Daoist teachings. Then, without warning, I was struck by a sudden illness, and fortunately a sage came to save me in response to my devotion. Dong Feng once brought Shi Xie back to life; perhaps that can be compared with what happened here. This is truly a reward for the power of the Daoist arts.” The people of the district all regarded Ye Qianshao as a divine being.

Liu Fang welcomed him to the prefectural residence, hoping to become his disciple, and offered him a generous gift of gold and silk in thanks. Ye Qianshao, however, left at once, and no one could find him again. Later, someone saw him in the Jing-Xiang region. When he spoke of what had happened in Haozhou, he merely smiled. More than ten years later, he again lived in seclusion at Xishan, and people continued to say they had seen him even in later years.

Xu the Angler’s original name is unknown; he called himself a native of Penglai in the Eastern Sea. He spoke with clarity and elegance, often quoting the teachings of the various masters and schools, as well as histories. Quick-witted and skilled at writing, he would often recite: “I once saw Qin Shi Huang build a stone bridge. The sea god hurried to respond, raising towering waves. Though Penglai lies across the sea and is hard to reach, ascending straight to the Three Pure Ones (Sanqing) is not far.” The Three Pure Ones are the three revered deities in Daoism, and also the highest heaven where they dwell.

He often hung a gourd from his waist and rowed a small boat around the waters of Ezhou, traveling upstream as far as the Three Xiang Rivers and downstream past the Five Lakes. He would take fish to the markets along the river and trade them for wine, then talk with people about poetry and the Dao before departing. White-haired elders said they had seen him over many decades, yet his appearance had never changed.

Some people jokingly asked him to stay and agreed on what kind of fish he should catch and how much it should weigh. Before long, he caught a fish that matched their terms, astonishing everyone. When someone fell ill and went to him, he would take medicine from his gourd and treat them. The pills were only as large as hemp seeds or millet grains. He would not let people swallow them directly; instead, he would grind them with wine and rub the mixture onto the area between the heart and abdomen. The illness would then be cured at once, with remarkable efficacy.

When asked whether the medicine could be eaten, he said, “It can, but once you take it, you will lose your appetite.” Those devoted to the Dao who took a pill went ten years without eating, though they still had to drink wine and water to keep their bodies functioning freely. After taking the medicine, their complexions grew more ruddy, and their teeth and hair showed no signs of decline. Many people obtained this medicine, and all lived to the age of eighty or ninety. Qian Lang of Mount Lu took it many times, and so lived to a ripe old age.

Even today, fishermen on the rivers and lakes sometimes catch sight of Xu the Angler. When they chase him, his little boat speeds away like a flying thing, and they cannot get close. It turns out that he was a water immortal, one who dwells beneath the waters.

Qian Lang, courtesy name Neiguang, was from Nanchang in Hongzhou. In his youth, he lived and studied on Mount Xi. Exceptionally learned, he devoted himself to Confucian studies. Through diligent self-discipline and study of the Five Classics, he earned distinction in the examinations. He later held a succession of official posts and became known for his integrity and honesty. Wherever he served, he left a record of good works that benefited the people, and people of his time spoke highly of him.

During the reign of Emperor Wenzong of Tang, Qian Lang served as deputy commissioner of Nan’an. He later became a Court Gentleman of the Imperial Treasury, then withdrew from public life to Mount Lu. Deeply interested in Daoist arts, he took a Daoist priest from Mount Dongyue as his teacher. He learned a practice of taking medicines and cultivating the Dao to seek longevity through “restoring the brain and returning to the origin.”

During the reign of Emperor Zhaozong of Tang, Qian Liu, Prince of Pengcheng of Qiantang, admired Qian Lang for attaining the Dao and living a long life. He invited him to Qiantang, treated him with great respect, and served him attentively. By then Qian Lang was more than 150 years old, yet his face still looked young and his body remained light and vigorous. Several of his great-great-grandsons had entered government through their study of the classics and risen to high ministerial office; their hair was already entirely white. Qian Lang, by contrast, still looked like an infant newly out of swaddling clothes. Qian Liu urged him to pass on his secret art. Qian Lang lived in Qiantang for more than twenty years.

One day, Qian Lang suddenly took his leave, saying, “I have lived in the human world for many years. I have just received a summons from the Shangqing realm, the Daoist land of immortals, and must now depart.” Before long, his breath ceased. Several days later, his face remained serene and joyful, as if he were still alive, and a fragrant scent filled the room. When people lifted him into his coffin, he had already undergone “corpse liberation,” the Daoist transformation in which the physical body is left behind and the spirit departs to become an immortal. His great-great-grandson told others, “My great-grandfather was already 170 years old.”

End of Volume Two of Further Accounts of Immortals.

Sima Chengzhen, whose courtesy name was Ziwei, was learned and talented, and excelled at writing and seal script. His distinctive seal script was known as “Golden Scissors Script.” He lived in seclusion on Jade Empyrean Peak on Mount Tiantai, calling himself “Master White Cloud,” and practiced methods of ingesting substances to nourish life. Wu Zetian summoned him several times, but he never answered the summons.

Emperor Ruizong of the Tang admired Daoism and repeatedly honored Sima Chengzhen. Eventually, Sima answered the summons and entered the court. Ruizong asked him about Yin-Yang arts and numerical techniques. Sima replied, “The Laozi Jing says: ‘Reduce, and then reduce again, until there is Wuwei.’ People often cannot even reduce their engagement with the things they see and know right before them. Why, then, probe into all manner of unorthodox arts and techniques, only to add to one’s worries?”

Ruizong asked, “If cultivating oneself through Wuwei brings stillness and nobility, how should one practice Wuwei in governing the state?” Sima replied, “A state is like a person’s body. The Laozi says that when the mind is empty and still, the breath harmonizes with quietude and emptiness, and one follows the natural character of all things, one can be free of selfishness—and the world will be well governed. The Book of Changes says that the Sage’s De accords with Heaven and Earth. From this we can see that, in governing the world, one’s words will naturally be trusted, and things can be accomplished without deliberate action. The essential principle of Wuwei is precisely the key to governing the state.” Ruizong greatly admired him and wanted him to remain at court, offering him a high-ranking office, but Sima firmly declined. Before long, he asked to return to the mountains. Ruizong gave him precious clothes and bedding and saw him off. Many ministers and officials wrote poems in his honor. The attendant Xu Yanbo selected more than twenty of the finest poems, compiled them into a collection, and wrote a preface. The collection, titled Record of the White Cloud, was passed down through the generations.

Lu Cangyong had lived in seclusion on Mount Zhongnan in his youth, but later entered official service and rose to high office. Seeing Sima Chengzhen preparing to return to Mount Tiantai, he pointed to Mount Zhongnan and said, “There are many fine places here, too. Why must you go all the way to Mount Tiantai?” Sima replied calmly, “In my view, this is a place for becoming an official by taking a shortcut.” Lu Cangyong looked ashamed when he heard this.

Emperor Xuanzong of the Tang summoned Sima Chengzhen and established a ritual chamber for him on Mount Wangwu, where he could live. Sima excelled at both seal script and clerical script, and his “Golden Scissors Script” was especially distinctive. Xuanzong ordered him to copy the Laozi in three scripts and correct its text. Sima once cast the “Image-Containing Mirror” and the “Thunderous Radiance Sword” and presented them to the emperor. Xuanzong also sent Wei Tao, Minister of the Court of Imperial Sacrifices, to Sima’s residence to establish a shrine and perform sacrifices according to ritual, and bestowed generous gifts upon him.

After returning from the Feng and Shan sacrifices on Mount Tai, Xuanzong asked Sima Chengzhen, “Which spirits govern the Five Great Mountains?” Sima replied, “The Five Great Mountains are lofty peaks that can raise clouds and bring rain, and the state looks to them for aid. But the places where numinous immortals dwell are governed by other celestial officials.” Xuanzong then issued an edict to build temples for celestial officials on each of the Five Great Mountains.

The Daoist nun Jiao Jingzhen once crossed the sea to Penglai in search of a teacher. On a mountain, she met a practitioner who told her, “Sima Chengzhen of Mount Tiantai is listed on the Elixir Terrace and dwells on Red City Mountain. He is a true and excellent teacher.” When Jiao Jingzhen returned, she became Sima’s disciple and soon ascended to Heaven. She later descended to the human world and told Xue Jichang, “The Master’s rank in the Dao is higher than Tao Dushui’s. He will become a Perfected One of the Eastern Florescence and Highest Clarity.”

During the Kaiyuan era, Celestial Master Wenjing and Sima Chengzhen attended the Thousand-Autumn Festival purification rite at the Hall of Long Life. After the nighttime liturgy had ended, the two rested separately on either side of a cloud screen. Before long, the Celestial Master suddenly heard a childlike voice reciting scripture from behind the screen, clear as the sound of gold and jade striking together. He gathered up his robe and quietly went to look. On Sima Chengzhen’s forehead he saw a patch of light the size of a copper coin, illuminating the entire mat. The Celestial Master moved closer to listen and realized that the sound of recitation came from within Sima’s head. He returned to his place and told his disciples, “The Huangting Jing says that nine Perfected Spirits dwell in the Palace of the Muddy Pellet, each in its own chamber, within a space only one inch across. It also says that the Left Spirit Lord speaks wondrous words. This describes the Master’s condition.”

Sima Chengzhen had more than seventy disciples. One day, he suddenly said, “I am going to look east from Jade Empyrean Peak toward Penglai. Numinous Perfected Ones will descend to welcome me. The Blue Lad of the Eastern Sea and the Lord of Eastern Florescence have summoned me, and I must set out.” Before long, he passed away and transformed, leaving this world like a cicada shedding its skin. His disciples could only bury his clothes and ceremonial cap. He lived to the age of eighty-nine. Xuanzong posthumously bestowed on him the title Grand Master of Silver and Azure Radiance, gave him the honorific “Master of Orthodox Unity,” and personally composed his stele inscription. Wei Qumou wrote his biography.

Sima Chengzhen’s works included Secret Essentials for Cultivating the Real, Diagrams of the Offices of Heaven and Earth, Treatise on Sitting in Oblivion, and Register for Ascending to Perfection. They have been passed down to later generations.

Cao Dexiu said that he had come to Jiangxi to travel from Qingyu Mountain in the Eastern Sea. People had known him for more than thirty years, yet his appearance had never changed. He often went among ordinary people. When someone fell ill, he treated them with talismans and medicines, and everyone he treated recovered.

In one household, a daughter in her twenties was about to be betrothed when she was suddenly tormented by an evil being. Her family tried every method of treatment, but her condition only worsened. Her father went to see Dexiu and described his daughter’s illness in detail. Dexiu asked, “Is your home near a mountain stream? Is there a deep pool or an underwater cave there?” The father replied, “There is.”

Dexiu continued, “When your daughter was strolling by the stream in spring, a jiao—a fabled water spirit—caught sight of her. It has already seized her vital spirit and drawn it into its own cavern. You can cast one of my talismans into the pool; before long, there will be a response.” After the talisman was cast into the pool, suddenly the mountain stream…

De Xiu added, “A woman was walking by a stream in spring when a jiao—a legendary water spirit—spied on her. It had already drawn her vital essence into its cave. You can take one of my talismans there and cast it into the pool. Before long, its power will become evident.”

After the talisman was cast into the water, the pool suddenly churned, and three thunderous booms rang out. A moment later, something surfaced. It was more than two zhang long, shaped like a black snake, with a head as large as a ladle. Its head had split open, and it was dead, bleeding. When the woman’s father returned home, he found her clear-minded and completely recovered. He brought gifts to thank De Xiu, but De Xiu said, “I only set out to save people and cure the sick. What would I do with these things?” He refused them outright.

De Xiu often told people, “If someone in your family falls ill, you need not bring gifts. Come to me for a talisman and medicine. Just prepare a dish of river fish and a jug of fine wine to welcome me, and tell me what ails the person. The illness will naturally be cured.” The people of the region followed his instructions, and every case proved successful. They all revered him as a divine being.

Later, De Xiu suddenly told everyone, “I am going to leave here and enter the Tianbao Grotto on the Western Mountain. Next spring there will be a severe epidemic among the cattle. I will leave behind a talismanic sign for you to copy and pass on. When the epidemic comes, welcome me with fish and wine, then write the sign and paste it on the cattle’s horns. That will naturally avert disaster.”

Later, the cattle did indeed suffer a widespread epidemic. Throughout the region, those bearing the sign escaped harm, while those without it died. People all missed De Xiu, but never saw him again.

The biography of Wang Yuanzhi says: Cao Dexiu was an astrologer in the Western Jin. He later served as a Gentleman of the Secretariat in the Liang dynasty and attained the Way of long life and immortality.

Lüqiu Fangyuan

Lüqiu Fangyuan, whose courtesy name was Dafang, was from Susong in Shuzhou. Clever and eloquent from childhood, he had mastered the classics and histories by the age of sixteen. He studied the Book of Changes with Chen Yuanwu on Mount Lu, and at twenty-nine sought instruction from Zuo Yuanze at Xianglin in refining the Great Elixir, a term in Daoist internal alchemy (Neidan).

Zuo Yuanze thought highly of him and said, “Have you not heard Laozi say, ‘My greatest trouble comes from having this body’? The body arises as activity from non-action; now, to return to the root is called non-action (Wuwei). To speak of ‘nothing’ easily leads to emptiness; to speak of ‘something’ easily leads to constraint. Attachment to either existence or nonexistence brings one to a standstill. Only when you cling to neither, and your mind is clear and free of thought, do you approach the Great Dao.

“Buddhism calls this state Chan; Yan Hui called it ‘sitting in forgetfulness’—forgetting the body and discriminating thought, and resting in harmony with the Dao. The Book of Changes says, ‘Without thinking or acting, still and unmoving; when stirred, one understands the principles of all things under Heaven.’ In the end, these teachings are one. The scripture also says, ‘Look toward it, and you will not see its beginning; follow it, and you will not see its end.’ What can this be? If you can understand it in silence and verify it for yourself in spirit, what more is there to seek? It is a pity that you have such outstanding talent; you were well suited to become a model for the Daoist tradition.” Fangyuan bowed in thanks and departed.

Later, he went to Hidden Truth Rock on Mount Xiandu and followed Liu Chujing, learning the arts of cultivating truth and transcending the world. At thirty-four, he received Fulu (talismans and registers)—the credentials and associated rites of Daoist ordination—from Ye Cangzhi at Yuxiao Palace on Mount Tiantai. Ye Cangzhi transmitted to him all manner of sacred texts and secret teachings.

Alongside maintaining the One and circulating Qi, Fangyuan was especially fond of reading the various philosophical schools and histories. He often remembered a book after reading it just once. He would say, “Ge Zhichuan (Ge Hong) and Tao Zhenbai (Tao Hongjing) are both my teachers and friends.” He edited the Taiping Jing, arranging it into thirty chapters and fully elucidating its essential teachings. His reputation grew steadily, and his teachings spread throughout the Huai and Yangtze regions.

In the second year of the Jingfu era under Emperor Zhaozong of Tang, Qian Liu, Prince of Pengcheng in Qiantang, admired Fangyuan’s virtue and visited him at Dadi Cave in Yuhang, where he built him a residence. Emperor Zhaozong summoned him to court several times. From celestial signs, Fangyuan divined that the Qin region would soon fall into decline and that the Tang dynasty’s fortunes would inevitably change. He therefore compared himself to the Four White-haired Elders of Shangshan, recluses who had refused to serve, and steadfastly remained in the mountains instead of answering the summons. Zhaozong then issued an edict commending him, bestowed robes and titles upon him, and named him “Master of Wondrous Being” and “Master of Mysterious Unity,” charging him to uphold the Daoist tradition, spread its teachings, and enlighten the uninformed. Stories of his miraculous deeds spread widely through Wu and Chu, and students came flocking from near and far.

He had more than two hundred disciples. Xia Yinyan of Kuaiji, Dai Yinyu of Qiao, Zheng Yinyao of Xingyang, Ling Yinzhou of Wu Commandery, Sheng Yinlin of Guangling, and Zhang Yinzhi of Wudu all inherited the essential teachings of the Dao and became deeply versed in them. Cheng Zixiao of Guangping was summoned to serve in the government of Qin, while Nie Shidao of Xin’an spread the Dao in Wu. Hu Qian’guang of Anding, Kong Zonglu of Lu, and eight others received the essential instructions for “contemplating truth and refining the spirit.” Other disciples traveled among the sites associated with sages or lived as recluses in famous mountains; their histories cannot all be recorded here.

On the fourteenth day of the second month in the second year of the Tianfu era, Fangyuan bathed, burned incense, and sat upright. He died at noon. His expression was peaceful, his body relaxed, and a rich fragrance lingered for three days. His disciples carried him into a coffin according to customary rites, but found only his clothes inside: his body had undergone shijie, or “corpse liberation,” a Daoist mode of becoming immortal by shedding the physical body. He was buried beside Dadi Cave, on White Deer Mountain. Later, people saw him several times on Mount Xiandu and Mount Lu. He said, “I left Dadi Cave and withdrew to Tianzhu Source on Mount Lan.”

Nie Shidao, courtesy name Tongwei, was from She County in Xin’an Commandery. Naturally bright, unpretentious, and upright, he was modest and cautious in speech and conduct. He was renowned for caring for his parents with filial devotion and was deeply respected in his community. As a young man, he studied under a cousin of the court official Fang Wailang Dehui. When Dehui left the capital from his post as a provincial official and came to serve as a local administrator in Xin’an, he chose a scenic site on Dong Mountain, east of the commandery seat, and built a residence there called the “Mountain Retreat for Inquiring into Governance.” Shidao served him with great diligence.

At thirteen, Shidao began wearing Daoist robes and a Daoist cap. At fifteen, he received Fulu (talismans and registers conferring Daoist rank and authorization for practice) and studied the essentials of cultivating the Dao. Later, while traveling in the mountains of Jixi, he said that he had read the Inner Traditions and knew how to cultivate through consuming pine resin. He and a fellow Daoist climbed Baizhang Mountain to gather it. The mountain was named for its sheer cliffs. From its summit, one could look out in every direction from a height of more than a thousand ren. One night, Shidao slept beneath a pine tree on the summit. The moon shone clear and bright when he suddenly heard the faint sound of celestial music drifting from purple clouds to the southeast, slowly passing over Shijin Mountain. Shijin Mountain was as high as Baizhang Mountain. Though the two were more than thirty li apart, their summits faced each other across the distance and seemed close at hand. When the music reached Shijin Mountain, three soft drumbeats sounded, followed by the instruments of metal and stone, sheng mouth organs, and flutes. The strings and gourd pipes rang out in bright harmony, accompanied by the drums. He could not make out the melody, but the music seemed lofty and clear, unlike anything heard among mortals. It continued from the third watch of the night until cockcrow. Later, when he asked people at the foot of the mountain, he learned that everyone had heard it that night. His companion marveled: “We were gathering numinous herbs when we suddenly heard celestial music. Could this not be a response to our efforts? It is also an auspicious sign that you will attain the Dao.”

Afterward, Shidao returned from his travels and went to Mount Heng, where he paid homage at the Jade Clarity Altar, the Radiant Heaven Altar, and the Emerald Jade Altar. Later he reached Langzhao Immortal Abbey and entered the Grotto of Numinous Origins. It was spring. He had heard that the place where Perfected Cai once lived was nearby, and that its flowers and trees were extraordinary; woodcutters sometimes still saw Perfected Cai there. Delighted, Shidao went without food for seven days, then set out alone at dawn to search the mountain. He walked slowly, and the fragrance of flowers grew so strong that he lost track of time. Before he knew it, evening had come. He suddenly arrived at a great stream and saw a woodcutter sitting on the sand. Shidao hurried toward him, but the woodcutter shouldered his firewood and prepared to cross the stream. Looking back, he asked, “What brings you here alone?”

Shidao replied, “I am devoted to studying the Dao and seeking immortals. I heard that Perfected Cai lives in seclusion on this mountain and hope to pay him a visit.” The woodcutter said, “Lord Cai lives deep in the mountains. Ordinary people cannot reach him.” Shidao answered, “I have climbed cliffs and made my way through the vines to get here. If there is a path, why should I fear the distance?” The woodcutter said, “It will soon be dark. Go on ahead. Beyond this mountain, there are people to the east who can give you lodging.” Shidao tried to follow him, but the woodcutter immediately crossed the stream. The water looked shallow, yet when Shidao stepped in, he found it deep and swift and did not dare cross. The woodcutter said, “You will not be able to cross this stream until fifty years from now.” Shidao watched him walk across the water, and in an instant he was gone.

Shidao circled around to the eastern side of the mountain and walked for more than ten li. In the distance, he saw three thatched huts surrounded by a fence, with chickens and dogs nearby. As he approached, he saw a man with a bluish-white complexion, dressed like a farmer, about thirty years old, living there alone. The man was astonished to see Shidao in the depths of the mountains and asked what he had come for. Shidao said he was seeking Perfected Cai. The host asked, “Did you meet a woodcutter on the way?” Shidao said he had. The host replied, “That was the Daoist Cai. He passed by here just now.” Hearing this, Shidao bowed and prayed: “I am ignorant and foolish. I saw an immortal sage but failed to recognize him; such must be my fate.”

Night fell, and the woods grew dark. With nowhere to stay, Shidao had no choice but to remain there. The host asked him about his journey from Xin’an in search of an immortal, then invited him inside and had him sit on a bed beside the brazier. The host said there happened to be no food in the mountains and that he was going out to find some, but had not yet returned. Shidao said he had already gone without food for many days and needed nothing to eat. Beside the brazier he saw a cooking pot and several yellow porcelain boxes. The host said, “You may eat what is in the boxes. Help yourself.” Shidao opened one and found tea inside. “Pour hot water over it and drink,” the host said. The tea smelled unlike ordinary tea. After a while, Shidao wanted more. But when he opened the box a second time, its lid would not come off. He tried the other boxes one by one, but could not open them either. He felt that this was no ordinary farmhouse, but did not dare ask.

The host slept in another room. The sun had risen high, yet he still had not got up. Shidao heard him say in his sleep, “This place is remote and quiet. If you suddenly fall ill, no one will be here to care for you. There are many households in the village ahead; you can go there.” Shidao set off and walked several li, but saw no homes. All around him were steep cliffs. He had no choice but to turn back, yet he could no longer find the place where he had stayed the night before. After walking more than thirty li, he suddenly came upon an old man. The old man greeted him warmly, invited him to sit on a rock, and asked why he had entered the mountain. Shidao told him everything that had happened.

The old man said, “Lord Cai and his son both live in seclusion on this mountain. The place where you stayed last night was the home of Lord Cai’s son.” He continued, “Your Daoist energy is strong, but your immortal bones have not yet been fully formed. You will still suffer from hunger and thirst, so how could you remain in the mountains for long?” Then he broke off a blade of grass and gave it to Shidao. It looked like a ginger shoot, was more than a foot long, and tasted sweet when chewed. The old man also told him to drink from a spring. As Shidao raised his head after drinking, the old man had disappeared.

Shidao lamented bitterly, but after eating the grass he felt full of strength, and his body was lighter and more vigorous than when he had arrived. He wanted to follow the mountain path back and search for the place where he had stayed the night before, but found the road blocked by brambles and vines and could go no farther. He had to return to Langzhao Immortal Abbey. The Daoists there were all astonished to see him.