《周易参同契分章注》

Commentary on the Chapters of the Cantong qi comprises three volumes and was written by Chen Zhixu during the Yuan dynasty. His courtesy name was Guanwu, and he styled himself Shangyangzi. He did not begin studying Daoist arts under Zhao Youqin until he was forty; he taught methods of immortal cultivation.

Chen Zhixu held that the Way of the Golden Elixir should be grounded in the Yinfu Jing and the Daode Jing, and supported by works such as the Jinbi and the Zhouyi Cantong qi. He also said that much of what appears in alchemical writings cannot be trusted. Those who truly receive the oral instructions, he maintained, must grasp their essentials from the Zhouyi Cantong qi and the Wuzhen pian. In his Poem for Clear-Sighted Readers, he wrote: “There truly is a method for long life and deathlessness, but ordinary people have little affinity for it and can hardly bear it. Lead, silver, cinnabar, and mercury each have their proper measure; Wei Boyang’s kindness is profound.” This shows how deeply he studied Wei Boyang’s Zhouyi Cantong qi.

This commentary is divided into thirty-five chapters, unlike Peng Xiao’s commentary, which has ninety. Chen Zhixu considered it inappropriate that Peng Xiao had moved the Song of the Crucible and Vessel to the end, so he retained its original position, after the chapter “The Models of the Law Accomplish the Work.” His explanations are also clear and accessible.

When discussing commentaries on the Zhouyi Cantong qi, Li Guangdi judged that among the available editions, only Zhu Changchun’s version included in the Han-Wei Collectanea came closest to the ancient text. A comparison shows that Zhu’s edition does not give the opening passage, “Heaven and Earth are the gateways of change…,” a separate chapter title. Thus, from “Heaven and Earth establish their positions” onward, the work is divided into thirty-four chapters, one fewer than in Chen Zhixu’s edition, while the remaining chapter divisions are the same. Zhu’s edition was probably copied from Chen Zhixu’s and then had its commentary removed. Li Guangdi did not investigate the textual history of this edition.

In the third month of the forty-fourth year of the Qianlong reign, the court respectfully revised and collated this work. The chief compilers were Ji Yun, Lu Xixiong, and Sun Shiyi; the chief proofreader was Lu Feichi.

This is the first of the three volumes, written by Chen Zhixu of the Yuan dynasty. The opening chapter is titled “General Introduction to the Great Changes, Chapter One.”

Heaven and Earth—the Qian and Kun trigrams in the Classic of Changes (Yijing)—are the gateway to the Yijing and the foundation of all the hexagrams. Kan and Li, the trigrams symbolizing water and fire, form the framework of movement and occupy its pivotal position, like a wheel hub and axle. Qian, Kun, Kan, and Li are like the two bellows and the nozzle that directs the air: they encompass and govern the patterns of change in Yin and Yang.

This is like a charioteer who follows the measuring cord and ink line, holds the reins, observes the rules, and travels along the ruts. By mastering the center, one can control changes on the outside. The waxing and waning of Yin and Yang is set out in the calendar, with months and solar terms as its organizing principles. The warp and weft interlace in coordination with the cycles of the sun’s movement, combining to form sixty stages.

The firm and yielding each have their inner and outer positions and correspond to one another. At dawn on the first day of each month, the Zhun hexagram takes its turn; by evening, the Fang hexagram succeeds it. One hexagram governs each period of day and night, rotating in sequence. When the Ji Ji and Wei Ji hexagrams arrive, the darkness at the end of the month alternates with the brightness at the beginning. When one cycle ends, it begins again. The movements of the sun and moon follow fixed cycles, while the activity and stillness of Yin and Yang unfold in an order of earlier and later.

Spring and summer follow the changes of the inner trigrams, progressing from the Zi hour through the Chen and Si hours. Autumn and winter follow the changes of the outer trigrams, from the Wu hour through the Xu and Hai hours. Changes in reward and punishment correspond to spring and autumn; the succession of dusk and dawn accords with cold and heat. The benevolence and righteousness expressed in the hexagram and line statements take on different states, such as joy and anger, as circumstances arise. In this way, they correspond to the four seasons, and the movements of the Five Phases proceed in due order.

Fuxi, the legendary sage ruler of high antiquity, observed the River Diagram and began drawing the Eight Trigrams (Bagua). The Yellow Emperor, Yao, and Shun followed the natural course of the Dao, and the world could be governed without their having to labor personally. The Book of Changes of the Xia dynasty was called the Returning to the Storehouse and began with the Kun hexagram; the Book of Changes of the Shang dynasty was called the Continuous Mountains and began with the Gen hexagram. The Zhou Changes, compiled by King Wen of Zhou, began with the Qian and Kun hexagrams. Confucius said in the Commentary on the Changes, “Qian and Kun are perhaps the gateway to the Changes. Qian belongs to Yang, and Kun belongs to Yin.” He also said, “When Qian is still, it is concentrated; when it moves, it is firm and upright, and so it generates the myriad things. When Kun is still, it is closed in; when it moves, it opens out, and so it enables the myriad things to grow abundantly.”

The Immortal Elder Boyang, Wei Boyang, author of the Daoist alchemical classic The Token for Joining the Three, deeply grasped the intentions of Fuxi, the Yellow Emperor, King Wen, and Confucius. He wrote The Token for Joining the Three, carrying on the Way of the sages above and guiding people for generations to come below. At the outset, he states that Qian and Kun are the gateway to the Changes and the parents of all the hexagrams. Shangyangzi explains: Qian belongs to Yang, so it is the “door” of the Changes; Kun belongs to Yin, so it is the “gate.” Taiji is like an undifferentiated embryo. Without the gateway of Qian and Kun, how could Heaven and Earth be established, the sun and moon shine, the myriad things be transformed and born, or sages put the Great Way into practice?

Qian moves and is firm and upright; when Yang reaches its extreme, Yin is born. Kun moves and opens out; when Yin reaches its extreme, Yang is born. Yin and Yang interweave, forming the Li and Kan hexagrams. Confucius said, “The Changes have Taiji, from which the Two Forms arise. The Two Forms give rise to the Four Images, and the Four Images give rise to the Eight Trigrams.”

The Qian hexagram follows the transformations of “nine.” It first joins with Kun to become the Fu hexagram. Zhen is then conceived within Fu, which becomes the Shi hexagram; Kan is conceived within Shi, which becomes the Qian hexagram; Gen is conceived within Qian, which becomes the Yu hexagram. Zhen arises from Yu, which then forms the Bi hexagram; Kan arises from Bi, which then forms the Bo hexagram; Gen arises from Bo. Thus the three Yang trigrams—Zhen, Kan, and Gen, also known as the three sons—are all conceived within Kun.

The Kun hexagram follows the transformations of “six.” It first joins with Qian to become the Gou hexagram. Xun is then conceived within Gou, which becomes the Tongren hexagram; Li is conceived within Tongren, which becomes the Lü hexagram; Dui is conceived within Lü, which becomes the Xiaochu hexagram. Xun arises from Xiaochu, which then forms the Dayou hexagram; Li arises from Dayou, which then forms the Guai hexagram; Dui arises from Guai. Thus the three Yin trigrams—Xun, Li, and Dui, also known as the three daughters—are all conceived within Qian.

Yin and Yang interweave and respond to one another. Qian joins with Kun again to form such hexagrams as Lin, Dun, Dazhuang, and Guai, showing Yang actively seeking Yin. Kun responds to Qian again to form such hexagrams as Dun, Pi, Guan, and Bo, showing Yin responding to Yang. Qian gives birth to the three daughters, and Kun to the three sons. The three sons and three daughters then pair off in turn, and the sixty hexagrams arise in sequence. This is what is meant by saying that Qian and Kun are the parents of all the hexagrams.

What does “Kan and Li form the frame” mean? When a Yang line is placed within a Yin trigram, the middle of Qian becomes open, forming Li; when a Yin line is placed within a Yang trigram, the middle of Kun becomes solid, forming Kan. Kan and Li therefore inherit the forms of Qian and Kun and constitute the framework of Yin-Yang transformation. The relationship between Qian and Kun, and Kan and Li, is like that between a wheel’s spokes and its hub: Qian and Kun are like the spokes, while Kan and Li are like the hub into which the spokes converge. Laozi said, “Thirty spokes share one hub.” This is where the teachings of the greater and lesser Boyang—the two levels of meaning attributed to Boyang—converge.

“Female and male” means female and male in the literal sense: pin is female, and mu is male. Pin therefore broadly denotes Yin, and mu broadly denotes Yang. The four hexagrams Qian, Kun, Kan, and Li pair female and male and act upon one another like bellows and a key; that is, they operate through the waxing and waning of Yin and Yang. The bellows are like the Yin gate, and the key is like the Yang gate. Qian, Kun, Kan, and Li together are like the bellows of Heaven and Earth.

What is generated by following this way of Yin-Yang transformation is called “things”; what is born through it as a human being is called a “person”; and whoever uses it to transcend the ordinary and attain sagehood is called a “sage.” Sages are skilled at grasping the work of creation and using Kan and Li. Using the Way of creation well is like a master craftsman building according to the measuring line and square: the work can then be completed. Using the Way of Kan and Li well is like a charioteer holding the reins and following the tracks: the destination can then be reached. A sage is someone who holds the transformations of the cosmos in mind, so that the myriad transformations arise through them; that is, someone skilled at governing external things from the center and versed in the measures of time and calendrical arts.

The “measures” accord with the seasons of creation’s unfolding, while the “calendar” records the cycles of the heavens. At the winter solstice, Yang begins to arise, corresponding to the Huangzhong pitch. The twelve double-hours begin at the Zi hour, and the circuit of the heavens begins from there. When the year’s cycle ends, Yang is born again in the Zi month. Each month has a solar term and a central qi, and two solar terms make roughly one month. Five days make one pentad, and six pentads make one month. Thus a month has roughly thirty days, and a day has twelve double-hours. If the twelve lines of two hexagrams correspond to one day, then two hexagrams govern each day. The sixty hexagrams correspond to the month, serving as the inner and outer aspects of Yin-Yang transformation.

“On the morning of the new moon, Tun takes charge; by evening, Meng should receive it” means that at dawn on the first day of the month, the Tun hexagram takes charge, and in the evening the Meng hexagram succeeds it. Tun has Zhen below and Kan above. Zhen is the eldest son and enables the Yang within Kan to carry out its generative work; therefore Tun is said to “take charge.” Meng has Gen above and Kan below. Gen is the youngest son and gathers the Yang within Kan, allowing it to nourish and warm; therefore Meng is said to “receive it.” One hexagram governs the day and another the night. All sixty hexagrams embody the principle of Yin and Yang alternately succeeding one another and mutually performing the work of generation and nourishment. The last and first days of the lunar month mark its end and beginning. At dawn and dusk one must carefully regulate the activity and stillness of the day, while the four seasons determine the year’s rewards and punishments. What succeeds should be rewarded, and what is damaged should be disciplined; joy and anger, reward and punishment, must all accord with benevolence and righteousness, so that the movement of the four seasons and Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water) follows its proper course.

This chapter gives an overview of the central principles of The Token for Joining the Three, explaining that Qian and Kun are the gateway to the Changes. It does not directly discuss Golden Elixir ingredients or the regulation of the firing process. Over a hundred people have commented on this book throughout history, yet few have truly penetrated its meaning. Zhenyizi Peng Xiao understood the discourse on ingredients and the firing process, but did not clarify the sequence of the book as a whole. He often interpreted every chapter as dealing with ingredients and the firing process, and every section as describing work with the alchemical cauldron. He feared that later readers would force interpretations onto the text without understanding that the Immortal Elder did not repeat himself. The upper section sets out the principles of Yin-Yang transformation and refining the Great Elixir; the middle section explains in detail the methods of reversal, nourishment, and protection; and the lower section uses images and numbers to describe the process of forming the Elixir. The three sections each follow their own sequence and should not be conflated.

Shangyangzi divided the text into sections for his commentary. He divided the upper section into fifteen chapters, corresponding to the meaning of attaining the Elixir at the upper bow; the middle section into fifteen chapters, corresponding to the Elixir’s completion at the lower bow; and the lower section into five chapters, corresponding to the completed number of the Five Phases. Arranging the chapters according to their meaning, he held that the Immortal Elder used mysterious language to point directly to the four essential keys of the Golden Elixir: its ingredients, the firing process, the vessel, and the work of creation. This would make them easy for later readers to understand, so that by cultivating according to these teachings they could pass from ordinary life to sagehood, becoming Buddhas or immortals. But the secrets conveyed orally and heart to heart between teacher and disciple could not suitably be written in a book.

The ancient sages taught later generations through their words without revealing the entirety of Heaven’s secrets, placing only the essentials within the scriptures. King Wen and Confucius transmitted the Way through the Changes; the Yellow Emperor and Laozi transmitted it through the Golden Elixir; Shakyamuni and Bodhidharma transmitted it through the Mahayana. With compassionate and skillful means, they guided people in the hope that all beings might understand the Great Way. The Changes, the Golden Elixir, and the Mahayana are steps and ferries that help beings reach the Great Way. But later generations cling to their own views, refuse to resolve to seek out an enlightened teacher, and fail to understand how things of the same Yin-Yang kind seek and respond to one another. They cling only to what they have heard and stray ever farther from the right path.

Some see the Changes and regard it only as a book of divination and the Najia method, without understanding its teaching that things of the same Yin-Yang kind seek one another. They see the cauldron and assume it means smelting metals and minerals; hear of “gathering” and assume it means sexual cultivation; hear of “active practice” and suspect some heterodox, evil method; hear of “non-action” and suspect empty stillness in meditation. They hear of the Mahayana and cling to the Chan school’s notion of emptiness, talking about it abstractly without examining the sages’ Way. Sages use the Yin-Yang methods of the world to cultivate beyond Yin and Yang; they use methods of the world to cultivate beyond the world. How could people like that be fit to discuss the subtle principles of The Token for Joining the Three?

Long ago, Wang Chongxi received the essential teachings of the Golden Elixir from Liu Haichan, one of the patriarchs of the Golden Elixir tradition, and succeeded in cultivating the Way. He lamented, “Among those who cultivate the Way in this world, only Zhang Pingshu understands it.” Zhang Pingshu, that is, Zhang Boduan, wrote the Wuzhen pian after meeting an enlightened teacher, instructing later generations. His profound meaning is expressed with clarity and urgency, and his mysterious words accord with those of the Token for Joining the Three. Shangyangzi says that after meeting an enlightened teacher, he traveled widely and sought instruction from many people, but what he heard was mostly slander and rigid attachment. The Cui Xu chapter also says, “Later, they went back to studying Chan, seeing through so many wild fox spirits.” Today, Zhang Pingshu is not the only one who understands this Way, but it is truly difficult to find someone who has realized it as Wang Chongxi did. Many discuss Chan and talk about the nature, showing off their verbal cleverness, but one in ten thousand can truly enter this gate and hear the sages’ Way. As the ancients said, those who talk about the Way are as numerous as cattle hairs, while those who truly understand it are as rare as rabbit horns—let alone those who can put the Way into practice.

Foolish people often fail to understand the essentials and laugh aloud when they hear them. Those with insight understand as soon as they hear, grasping the key point. If someone asks what this “aperture” is, one can tell them: it is the gateway through which Yin and Yang interact and transform. Such an explanation may only make them more doubtful.

The Chapter on Qian and Kun Establishing Their Positions, Chapter Two

Heaven and Earth each have their proper place, and the Dao of Yin-Yang operates between them. “Heaven and Earth” here symbolize the Qian and Kun trigrams; “establishing their places” means that Yin and Yang each occupy a position and work together. “Change” refers to the Kan and Li trigrams. Kan and Li are two ways in which Qian and Kun carry out their functions. They are not fixed in any one line position, but move back and forth through the space of the six lines, with no permanent place above or below. Hidden from view, they undergo transformations within; they embrace the myriad things and form the guiding principles of the Dao’s operation.

An object can function precisely because it contains empty space. Thus, one must infer the principles of the Dao by examining waxing and waning and change. If the workings of Kan and Li remain hidden and unseen, there is no way to observe them. This is no invention made from nothing: every claim has a basis. Citing verifiable effects and assessing subtle transformations, one can then draw analogies and clarify the written characters, using them as evidence to explain the principles.

Wu in the Kan trigram symbolizes the essence of the moon; ji in the Li trigram symbolizes sunlight. Sun and moon together form “Change.” Yin and Yang, firmness and yielding, work together. The energy of Earth flourishes in each of the four seasons and runs through them from beginning to end. Blue-green, red, black, and white each occupy a direction, yet all are shaped by the workings of wu and ji in the central palace.

The “Appended Statements” of the Ten Wings say, “Heaven is exalted and Earth is low; thus Qian and Kun are established.” The Immortal Elder cites these words and explains the principles through analogy and the analysis of written characters: wu in the Kan trigram symbolizes the essence of the moon, while ji in the Li trigram symbolizes sunlight. Sun and moon together form “Change,” and firmness and yielding correspond to each other. The energy of Earth flourishes in the four seasons and runs through them from beginning to end; blue-green, red, black, and white each occupy a direction, while all depend on the workings of wu and ji in the central palace.

The Xici says, “Heaven is exalted and Earth is low; thus the positions of Qian and Kun are established.” The Immortal Master explains that Heaven and Earth each have their place, and the transformations of the Yi operate within them. “Heaven and Earth” here symbolize Qian and Kun; “establishing positions” means arranging the corresponding positions of Yin and Yang; and the Yi refers to Kan and Li, through which Qian and Kun carry out their functions. The Immortal Master explains these principles repeatedly because he fears that people will find them difficult to believe and understand.

The Xici also says, “Yin and Yang are distinguished, and soft and hard alternate in their use; thus the Yi forms its figures through six line positions.” Qian uses nine and Kun uses six, yet both are “used” without occupying fixed line positions. In the Qian hexagram, the use of nine means that all six lines are Yang and undergo change. Its text says, “When a host of dragons appears without a leader, good fortune.” This means that a noble person follows the Way and brings their De (Virtue/Power) to fulfillment. In the Kun hexagram, the use of six is explained by the text “It is beneficial to remain steadfast.” This describes Kun’s nature: like the Earth, a wife, or a minister, it follows and supports others rather than completing things on its own, and brings the Qian Way to its conclusion in its place. Thus, Kun, if it were only Yin and did not correspond with Qian, could not bring things to completion. By using six to receive Qian, Kun can respond to it.

Through their transformations, Qian and Kun each enable the myriad things to receive their nature and life. Qian is the source of initiation. By using nine to ride upon and carry Kun, Yang contains Yin, becomes empty, and forms Li. Kun is the source of the Great One. By using six to receive Qian, Yin contains Yang, becomes full, and forms Kan. Kan and Li thus each embody the substance of Yin and Yang. Their transformations and workings bring forth the myriad things without pause. The sun and moon in the heavens continually wax and wane, pass through darkness and new moon; Yin and Yang within the human body also continually change, sometimes returning to Taiji (the Supreme Ultimate), sometimes shifting unpredictably. The Way of the Yi flows without end. If Qian and Kun were destroyed, the Way of the Yi could no longer appear. For this reason, the sages cleansed their thoughts, stored their spirit deep in the hidden and subtle, and put the Way of the Yi to work in reverse.

Every hexagram in the Zhouyi, composed by King Wen, has six lines. Hence it says, “The six positions form a pattern,” and also, “It circulates through the six empty spaces.” Yin and Yang come and go, wax and wane, and change without fixed measure; ascent and descent, fullness and decline are likewise without constancy. In the Qian hexagram, the first line changes to form Gou, and successive changes continue until Kun is formed. In the Kun hexagram, the first line changes to form Fu, and successive changes continue until Guai is formed. The three male and three female hexagrams also alternate and transform with one another. Each of the sixty-four hexagrams undergoes accumulated changes; a hexagram, together with changes such as the wandering-soul and returning-soul forms, can yield eight hexagrams. Further layers of change extend from one hexagram to sixty-four, and from sixty-four to 4,096 possible transformations. Fu and Gou engender one another, each receiving Yin and Yang. The ceaseless generation of all things under Heaven comes from the Way of Yin and Yang.

This Qi of Yin and Yang is sometimes hidden within the human body, sometimes concealed within various forms, sometimes transforming at the center and encompassing all things, and sometimes carrying out growth and destruction, thereby becoming the guiding principle of the Way. Without the two functions of Qian and Kun governing this subtle Way, the Way might come to an end.

How are “nonbeing” and “being” distinguished? Taiji divides into the Former Heaven and the Later Heaven. The Former Heaven is “what is above form, called the Way”: it proceeds from being into nonbeing. The Later Heaven is “what is below form, called a vessel”: it proceeds from nonbeing into being. Laozi says, “The nameless is the beginning of Heaven and Earth; the named is the mother of the myriad things.” Haichan says, “From nonbeing into being, all proceed this way; from being into nonbeing, how many can manage it?” By examining the functions of Kan and Li as they wax and wane and transform, one understands that everything in the Later Heaven consists of tangible vessels and will eventually perish. Only the Way of the Former Heaven can enable a person to endure and enter the realm of the sages. Confucius said, “Before Heaven acts, one does not oppose it; after Heaven acts, one follows the timing of Heaven.” Ordinary people follow the Way of the Later Heaven, so the cycle of birth and death goes on without end. The sages know how to put the Way of the Former Heaven to work in reverse: they attain knowledge, investigate things, rectify the heart, and cultivate the person, thereby enduring without perishing. To calculate what has already passed is to proceed along the ordinary course; to know what is yet to come is to proceed in reverse. Thus the principle of the Yi lies in tracing things backward.

“To speak without careless invention” means not to make up words indiscriminately. The writings of the various schools reflect their authors’ different talents and learning, and vary in quality. This book concerns the root of the Way, so not a single sentence should be added casually, lest later generations be led astray. “To discuss without empty invention” means that the Immortal Master modeled his work on the Three Sages, drew upon the images of Yin and Yang, the sun and moon, and consulted related works. He composed this book as a path to guide people.

What does it mean to “cite verification and show results”? Stories such as the Yellow Emperor ascending to Heaven, Chao Fu and Xu You living in reclusion with lofty integrity, Laozi transforming the barbarians and becoming a Buddha, and the chickens and dogs of the Prince of Huainan ascending to immortality along with him are examples showing that the cultivation of the Way has verification and results. What does it mean to “compare and measure the spirits”? It means examining celestial signs, such as the conjunction of the sun and moon, which appear on a gengzi day, to show that people must observe the marvelous principles of the Way for themselves. What does it mean to “infer by analogy and form characters”? For example, the character dan (elixir) contains the “moon” component, while water symbolizes the Kan trigram; the sun and moon combine to form the character yi, pointing to the principle of attaining the Way. What does it mean to “use the underlying principle as proof”? It means that when Yin reaches its extreme, it turns into Yang, and when Yang reaches its extreme, it turns into Yin. Following the changes of Yin and Yang gives rise to human beings and the myriad things; putting Yin and Yang to work in reverse enables one to refine the Yin Elixir.

“Kan, Wu, the essence of the moon” means that the north, in its proper position, belongs to Kan. Kan contains true Earth, called Yang Earth; the lunar mansion Nü governs it, and Yang essence is hidden within. “Wu” is a gate, and the moon’s disk is concealed there. It is like a hornless rabbit, white within and black without, symbolizing Yang within Yin, female without and male within. “Li, Ji, the radiance of the sun” means that the south, in its proper position, belongs to Li. Li contains true Earth, called Yin Earth; the lunar mansion Liu governs it, and Yin radiance lies hidden within. “Ji” is a gate, and the sun’s disk is concealed there. It is like a three-legged crow, black within and white without, symbolizing Yin within Yang, female within and male without.

The ancients combined the characters for “sun” and “moon” to form yi, showing that the Yi is Yin and Yang. If one speaks only of Yin and Yang, the meaning of the character yi remains unclear; if one speaks only of the Yi, Yin and Yang remain unseen. Without Earth, the myriad things cannot sprout and grow; the sun and moon, too, rely on Earth to nurture them. As the sun rises in the east, it passes through Di Earth; as it travels west, it passes through Wei Earth; south, through Liu Earth; and north, through Nü Earth. When the sun and moon obtain Earth, their light can endure; when Earth draws on the power of the sun and moon, its De grows more abundant. Earth’s function turns with the four seasons: in spring it assists birth, in summer growth, in autumn harvest, and in winter storage. Each season has its own day that governs its timing, while Earth remains firmly established in the central palace. From beginning to end, it connects the four directions and brings the functions of the myriad things to completion. Though blue-green, red, black, and white each occupy the east, south, north, and west, all receive the Earth of Wu and Ji, combine their De, and bring forth marvelous transformations.

This chapter explains that Yin and Yang each have their positions and functions, but both must rely on Earth. It does not discuss collecting and refining the Dragon and Tiger, lead and mercury, or Metal and Water to form the Elixir. Earlier, it says that Yin and Yang each take their places in correspondence; later, it says that each occupies a direction. In this way, the Immortal Master’s meaning is explained step by step. Other interpretations that disregard this sequence and freely split apart and recombine the text make the scripture disordered. If later readers think the Immortal Master repeats himself, it is because they have not recognized the order in which his subtle words unfold.

The Changes is based on taking images. Among its symbols, none is clearer or more prominent than the sun and moon. By investigating hidden transformations, we can understand how the myriad things change: as Yang Qi recedes, Yin Qi arrives. Like spokes converging around a wheel, the two gather and revolve in turn, now emerging, now entering, now expanding, now contracting.

The Changes has three hundred and eighty-four lines. The correspondences are selected according to the images of the lines; these correspondences refer to the sixty-four hexagrams. The period from the dark moon, at the end of the lunar month, to the new moon on the first day corresponds to the Zhen hexagram. At this time, one receives the correspondences revealed by the hexagram’s lines.

At this time, Heaven and Earth join their Jing and Qi, and the sun and moon respond to one another. Yang Qi disperses subtle, mysterious Qi, while Yin Qi transforms and nurtures, containing yellow Qi. Yin and Yang meet amid primordial chaos, and from this the myriad things begin and lay their foundations. They continually cultivate and nourish them, as the embryo gradually coalesces into form. The many kinds of living beings are born from this process; all, until they can wriggle and move, have their source in it.

Confucius said, “Nothing in the world reveals change and the way things flow more clearly than the four seasons; nothing makes the signs of Heaven more plain than the sun and moon.” The Immortal Elder then explained and developed this idea: this book takes the sun and moon as its model and uses them to symbolize Yin-Yang. The sun and moon hang in the sky and change through the new moon, on the first day of the month, and the full moon, around the fifteenth. Yin and Yang move through the world in orderly and reverse courses, growing and bringing things to maturity.

The sun belongs to pure Yang Qi and is called the Great Yang; the moon belongs to the essence of pure Yin and is called the Great Yin. The heavens have a circumference of 365 and one-quarter degrees. When the celestial sphere completes one circuit in a day and night, this is called a day. The sun moves one degree each day, so thirty degrees make a month. The Great Yin moves a little over thirteen degrees each day, and its completion of a circuit of the heavens is also called a month. The sun’s movement through one degree is one day.

What does it mean to “probe the spirit’s workings in order to understand transformation”? Nothing is more wondrous in its spiritual workings than Heaven and Earth; nothing is more marvelous in its transformations than Yin and Yang. According to this book, the Way of Heaven moves to the left, circling once each day over a distance of more than 550,000 li. Earth lies within the movement of Heaven’s Qi, like a plank floating on water, and does not turn along with it.

The sun’s wondrous workings are the primal Qi of Heaven and Earth. Its body is bright and transparent; all things rely on its blazing Yang Qi to grow, ripen, and bear fruit. Its diameter is a little over 845 li. The sun does not travel along the Yellow Way or the Celestial Equator. Instead, it moves in and out of the region between them: when the days are longer, it travels north of the equator; when they are shorter, it travels south of the Yellow Way. “North and south,” and “inside and outside,” are terms used because the Purple Tenuity Enclosure, a star cluster, and the Emperor’s Seat lie in the north. Thus the north is called “inside” and the south “outside.” The sun’s wondrous workings are unfathomable.

The Great Yin’s wondrous workings are the finest Yin Qi between Heaven and Earth. The moon’s body is completely dark; all things rely on the transformative action of its Yin Water to take shape and be nourished. Its diameter is a little over 670 li. It too does not travel along the Yellow Way or the Celestial Equator. The Yellow Way and the equator are like two intersecting rings, separated from each other by twenty-four degrees. The moon travels between them, about six degrees from the Yellow Way. Though the moon’s body is dark, it appears bright when struck by sunlight.

Yuanji Zi, a Daoist figure, offers the example of a black leather ball. Place the ball beneath the eaves where sunlight can reach it: the sunlit surface of the ball will cast light onto a dark wall. The moon works in the same way: the parts struck by sunlight are bright, and those not struck by it are dark. The moon therefore always has one bright side and one dark side.

At the full moon, the sun and moon face one another: the moon is in the sky at night, while the sun is below the earth. The moon’s sunlit side faces the human world, while its unlit side faces the sky and cannot be seen. At the dark moon and the new moon, the sun and moon share the same celestial longitude, and the moon passes below the sun. Its sunlit side faces the sky, while its dark side faces the earth. Only when the moon is about twenty-five degrees from the sun can people on earth see a faint glimmer. As the distance grows, more of its bright surface becomes visible. When it is more than ninety degrees from the sun, people see half the moon’s face illuminated; this is called the “quarter.” After the full moon, the illuminated area gradually shrinks. The moon’s body does not itself wax or wane; these changes arise only from how much sunlight it receives.

Some foolish people imagine that, when the sun and moon face one another, the moon is hidden by the earth. They do not understand how vast and distant the heavens are, nor that although the Qi of Yin and Yang may be separated by an obstruction, it can still communicate unseen. The parts of the moon’s face that seem blemished are shadows cast by Heaven and Earth. The sun is large and the moon small; the sun is far from Heaven, and the moon farther still. The mysteries of the moon’s changes cannot be fully explained; this too is part of the Great Yin’s wondrous workings. This is what it means to “probe the spirit’s workings in order to understand transformation.”

The hour of the Rat marks the first birth of Yang; by the hour of the Snake, Yang Qi reaches its greatest strength, and when Yang reaches its utmost, Yin is born. The hour of the Horse marks the first birth of Yin; by the hour of the Pig, Yin Qi reaches its greatest strength, and when Yin reaches its utmost, Yang is born. Cold and heat alternate, while warmth and coolness balance one another. When Yin reaches its limit, Yang begins to arise; as Yang withdraws, Yin arrives. Yin depends on Yang as spokes gather around a wheel: only when the spokes come together can the wheel turn. When Yin Qi gathers in, Yang Qi unfolds.

The Zhouyi has 384 lines. Those who select talismanic numbers according to the positions of the lines say that a hexagram has six lines, and each line has three tallies; a day corresponds to two hexagrams, making thirty-six tallies in all. Yin and Yang do not need much time to join, nor must they exhaust the full function of a line. A double-hour, for example, has three tallies, but only one of them is used. When that tally activates, one Yang is born beneath Kun, forming the Zhen trigram. Zhen has one Yang lying beneath two Yin lines, so it is said, “Zhen comes forth to receive the tally.”

At this time, Heaven and Earth join, and essence and Qi respond to one another. All things receive life from the void. The sun and moon maintain their courses; the crow in the sun and the rabbit in the moon—ancient symbols of the sun and moon—join together and cannot be separated. Yang is firm and upright, bringing about change; Yin is gentle and open, embracing and nurturing. Yin and Yang meet in the depths of primal chaos, like male and female joining for the first time. Creation begins here, and its foundation is laid. The term “quanyu” means a beginning: in ancient times, the weighing scale was made starting with its weight, and a cart was made starting with its carriage. Here it refers to the beginning of creation, when all things are nurtured. “Quan” also means temporary, while “yu” means stable. The term thus indicates that even a brief period of work must be carried out steadily, without losing balance and toppling over.

Cultivate a single breath of Qi so that the foundation is nourished and strengthened; gather and distribute Yang essence to form the body. This chapter describes the first division of Taiji and the beginning of Yin and Yang’s orderly movement, as well as the generation of human beings and all things. Thus all the many forms of life arise from this beginning, even the smallest insects.

People in the world do not understand the principles of the postnatal, orderly course. They also mistake the sayings “Tun in the morning, Meng at dusk”—which use the morning and evening hexagrams to describe the timing of cultivation—and the metaphors of foundations and Yin’e, which liken the beginnings of things to the roots and joints of plants, for accounts of the transformations within the furnace and cauldron of returning the Elixir.

Chapter Four: The Sage Observes Above.

Confucius praised the vast and profound state of chaos before Heaven and Earth were divided. He held that the beginnings of all things since ancient times had their source in the De of Qian and Kun, which symbolize Heaven and Earth, Yin and Yang. The poem “Guanju” opens the Book of Songs, and the rites of marriage were established from it. When the Qi of Yin and Yang mingle, all things grow like shoots emerging at the New Year. Sages do not appear from nowhere: they look upward and observe the signs revealed in the heavens.

The celestial patterns advance and recede, bend and extend, and move back and forth in step with the seasons. Thus the Book of Changes (Yijing) encompasses the fundamental patterns of the Way of Heaven. The Returning Hexagram, which symbolizes the first stirrings of Yang Qi, marks the beginning of the sprouting of all things: its first line is the eldest son, inheriting the father’s body; the Yin lines, by contrast, take their foundation from the mother, revealing the basis on which all things grow. The waxing and waning of Yin and Yang correspond to the twelve pitch standards, an ancient system for setting musical pitches and matching them to the seasons; their rising and falling also accord with the course of the Northern Dipper.

On the third day of the month, the first light of the Moon appears. This corresponds to the Zhen trigram and receives Geng. On the eighth day, the Moon corresponds to the Dui trigram and receives Ding; at the first quarter, its straight edge is taut like a cord. On the fifteenth day, the form of Qian is complete: the Moon is full, corresponds to Jia, and occupies the east. The toad and jade rabbit are images the ancients used to symbolize the Yin and Yang essences within the Moon, while the radiance of the Sun and Moon shines back and forth. The phases of the Moon change in accordance with the trigrams and the seasons: the toad symbolizes the Moon appearing at its appointed times, and the jade rabbit symbolizes moonlight streaming forth. After the seventh and eighth days, the Moon gradually wanes, its crescent curving downward.

On the sixteenth day, the Moon turns to the next phase of its cycle, corresponds to Xin, and can be seen in the early morning. The Gen trigram corresponds to Bing and occupies the south. On the twenty-third day, the last quarter corresponds to Kun and receives Yi. By the thirtieth day, the Moon sets in the northeast, as if it has lost its companion. When the month ends, the Qi of Yin and Yang alternate, and Yang Qi rises anew. The dragon symbolizes Yang Qi; Ren and Gui pair with Jia and Yi. Qian and Kun encompass this cycle from beginning to end.

The numbers seven and eight together make fifteen, as do nine and six. Together, these four numbers form the Moon’s thirty-day cycle. Yang Qi withdraws and hides, while the Eight Trigrams move in ordered formation like the stars in the sky, never departing from their proper central alignment.

Primordial essence, the subtle source of Heaven and Earth’s workings, is too hidden to see directly. Its changes can only be calculated and verified through signs. In ordinary times, observe the heavens, consult their patterns, and establish standards as guides; use these to divine good and ill fortune. Commands must follow the seasons, without missing the proper moment for changes in the hexagram lines. Look upward to the River Diagram, an ancient diagram of numbers and images; examine the terrain and waters below, and study human affairs through them. Bring the Three Powers—Heaven, Earth, and humanity—into accord: in action, follow the rhythms shown by the hexagram images; in stillness, rely on the explanations in the hexagram statements and judgments. When the patterns of Qian and Kun are put into effect throughout the realm, the realm can be governed. Another version reads, “Can one afford to be careless?” This reading is not adopted here.

Confucius says in the Commentary on the Book of Changes: “The Changes contains the Taiji (Supreme Ultimate); from the Taiji arise the two forms, Yin and Yang.” With these words, Confucius describes the beginning of the formation of Heaven and Earth. Before Heaven and Earth were separated, all was in a state of undifferentiated, subtle mystery. The Primordial Sovereign’s opening of Heaven and Earth recalls the time when Pangu first divided them.

The Classic of Poetry opens with “Guanju” because it speaks of relations between men and women and the way of husband and wife, the foundation of human relationships. When Confucius arranged the Classic of Poetry, he placed the way of husband and wife first in order to set Yin-Yang relations straight, so they would accord with the proper Way and not stray into error. In the Commentary on the Book of Changes, he begins with Qian and Kun for the same reason: to show that firmness and yielding must work together. The Appended Statements says: “The Changes accords with Heaven and Earth, and therefore can encompass the principles governing their workings. Looking up to observe the celestial patterns and down to examine the features of the earth, one can understand the patterns of darkness and light. Tracing things back to their beginnings and following them forward to their ends, one can understand the principles of life and death.”

“Tracing things to their origins” means following the patterns of Yin and Yang so that the myriad things may come into being. Thus, when the Qi of man and woman joins, one understands how life is produced. “Returning to the end” means reversing the workings acquired after birth and returning to the Way before birth, moving from the ordinary to the sacred. The phrase “the first year, and then growth begins” therefore expresses an understanding of how to transcend the ordinary condition of life and death.

Once, Zilu asked Confucius what death was. Confucius replied: “You do not yet understand life; how can you understand death?” Sages welcome questions and examine matters closely. Sadly, Zilu did not pursue the principles of life and death, and so did not prompt an explanation of the Changes’ deepest meaning. Later generations were thus left without an account of how to live by following the natural course, cultivate by reversing it, and practice the Way of harmonizing with De, investigating things to the utmost, fully realizing one’s nature, and thereby attaining understanding of Heaven’s mandate.

When sages are born into the world, they look up to observe the celestial patterns, look down to examine the features of the earth, and carefully study the workings of Yin and Yang: Yin is called “tally,” and Yang is called “mandate.” The “Heavenly Tally” here refers to the Yin Qi between Heaven and Earth; the “Heavenly Mandate” is the Yang Qi between Heaven and Earth. In the human body, Yin Qi is called the “fire tally,” while Yang Qi is called “nature and life.” As Yin and Yang wax and wane, the “tally” marks the times for advance and retreat. Only when the tally and its signs accord with the seasons will action avoid being mistimed.

The principles of the Changes run through the “Heart of Heaven.” The Heart of Heaven is the proper position represented by the Qian hexagram, and also the portal through which Yang Qi first arises. Qian represents Yang, while the Heavenly Tally represents pure Yin. When Qian Yang first arises beneath two Yin lines, it forms the Zhen hexagram. Zhen represents the eldest son; in the Fu hexagram, one Yang line lies hidden among five Yin lines. Kun represents the mother, hence the saying, “From the mother, the foundation is established.”

The Huangzhong pitch, the first of the twelve ancient musical pitches, corresponds to the earthly branch Zi. The pivot of the Dipper, the North Star’s pivot and its rotation, likewise begins with the establishment of Zi. Both correspond to the moment when one Yang first arises. On the evening of the third day of the lunar month, the moon’s faint light appears in the southwest. At the first quarter on the eighth day, the moon corresponds to the Dui hexagram: its light has grown halfway, balancing brightness and darkness like a taut cord. At the full moon on the fifteenth day, the moon is complete, as if Yang Qi filled the hexagram and formed Qian. Before dawn on the sixteenth day, the moon begins to wane in the west. At the last quarter on the twenty-third day, Yin Qi gradually increases and only half the moon’s light remains. On the thirtieth day, the moon is completely dark: its white light has withdrawn, darkness is at its height, and the moon turns toward the northeast. This is called “losing one’s companions.” The northeast corresponds to the Gen hexagram and is also called the “ghost road.” The text further maps these lunar phases onto the movement of Qi in the human body. When Yin Qi is at its height and Yang is about to be exhausted, one Yang begins to arise again. This cycle of Yin and Yang is explained by pairing Ren and Gui with Jia and Yi.

Beginning with the Qian hexagram, the sequence passes through Fu and then proceeds according to the numerical order of seven, eight, nine, and six, finally returning to Kun; the Qi of Yin and Yang thereby withdraws and is stored away. This shows how the directions and movements of the Eight Trigrams work together: Qian and Kan occupy the north; Gen and Zhen return to the east; Xun and Li turn back toward the south; Kun and Dui return to the west. The stars shift and revolve accordingly, while the pivot of change remains at the center. This central position is the Heart of Heaven, also called the Great Central Pole: a subtle and mysterious original substance that cannot be seen directly.

Heaven brings forth sages, who investigate and measure the workings of Heaven and Earth, verify them through actual changes, and take the tally and its signs as evidence. They observe the forms of the sun and moon and infer their patterns. Like officials who oversee astronomy and set up a gnomon, they use the sun’s shadow as a measure to determine the seasons, examine the solar terms, and infer good and ill fortune. Every time they issue a command, they must accord with the season. By following changes in the hexagrams and their lines, they can know when Yang Qi will arise. Above, they examine the Yellow River Map and discern the Way of Heaven symbolized by Qian. Below, they set out the features of the land and study the Way of Earth symbolized by Kun, as well as the subtle principles of changes in Metal and Water. Then they examine the human heart within, so that actions accord with the season and follow the rhythm of the hexagrams. The movement of Zhen in the Fu hexagram arises from stillness before birth; action, in turn, must follow the principles shown by the hexagram statements.

The Qian origin is vast: clouds move and rain falls, and the myriad things grow and transform. The Way of Qian is all-embracing and great; the Way of Kun is yielding and steadfast. Once the celestial patterns have been discerned, the features of the earth ordered, and the human heart set right, the gate of Qian and Kun can put the Way of Yin and Yang into operation, allowing all things between Heaven and Earth to follow their natural order.

This chapter uses the sages’ study of antiquity and observation of the heavens to explain how the sun and moon join and how Qian and Kun put Yin and Yang to work. It teaches people to distinguish Yin from Yang, understand advance and retreat, recognize the transformations of creation, act in accordance with the seasons, and carefully regulate movement and stillness. In this way, the workings of Heaven and Earth within the body can also be brought into harmony. The chapter is not describing the compounding and replenishing of ingredients in the furnace and cauldron of dragons and tigers.

The essentials of governing affairs lie in eliminating old abuses, renewing institutions, bringing even the most subtle details under proper control, and extending benefits widely. The key is to grasp what is fundamental and guide change, like holding the head of a net so that every strand falls into order. The Yin-Yang trigrams change within, and good or ill fortune appears outwardly. The Five Planets move either in harmony or out of alignment, and one must respond to their changes in keeping with the seasons. When celestial signs become abnormal and the sun, moon, and stars fall into disorder, Wenchang, the stellar office responsible for documents and inspections, records the matter and demands an account. The senior ministers who assist the ruler and the officials each attend to the affairs under their charge.

The sun’s course accords with the Five Phases, while the moon follows the measures of the six pitch standards. Five multiplied by six makes thirty; when the sun and moon complete one circuit, they begin a new cycle. Governance must address both the roots and the outcomes, for these are the threads on which the state’s survival or ruin depends. If a ruler grows arrogant, indulgent, and excessively self-satisfied, departing from the right way, or if ministers act wickedly and sycophantically, behaving improperly, the waxing and waning of the sun and moon will fall out of balance and bring calamity. Those who enforce the law should expose faults and hold people accountable, so that the one who occupies the position of the Celestial Pivot—the North Star, symbolizing the ruler—may correct himself and appoint his subordinates with composure. If he issues decrees in the Bright Hall, the place where ancient rulers governed and deliberated, the state will avoid calamities caused by straying from the right way.

The Immortal Master uses the difficulty of governing affairs as a metaphor for the difficulty of cultivating the Elixir method. From this we can see that governing the people is no easy task; in Elixir cultivation, too, one experiences how hard it is to rein in the mind, which is like an “intent horse.” One must shed old habits, correct oneself in the position of the Celestial Pivot, and appoint subordinates with ease. By arranging cultivation as one would issue decrees in the Bright Hall, one can avoid straying from the right way.

The Immortal Elder uses the practice of refining elixirs as a metaphor for governing the state: understand how difficult it is to refine an elixir, and you will see that governing the people is no easy task; understand elixir refinement, and you will know that thoughts are as hard to rein in as a galloping horse. Removing old habits and accumulated stains, and renewing everything, is where the governance of affairs begins. This is called “renewing the cauldron.” Restraining anger, curbing desire, and striving to learn from good conduct are the foundations of self-cultivation. This is called “discarding the old and adopting the new.”

Whether governing the state or cultivating oneself, one should begin with what is most subtle and hidden within oneself, restraining and putting one’s own conduct in order. Only then can affairs be brought to success and the mind and body properly cultivated. Confucius said, “To govern by virtue is like the North Star: it remains in its place, and the other stars revolve around it.” Virtue is not only the way of governing; it is also the root of every kind of good conduct. How could those who cultivate the elixir lack virtue? Benevolence and compassion, discernment and sincerity are the highest virtues. Respect, generosity, keeping faith, diligence, and kindness are the ways to conduct oneself among others.

Anyone who wishes to cultivate the elixir should first cultivate kindness and diligence. Kindness makes people willing to follow. The Immortal Elder’s phrase “opening, easing, and spreading the treasure” means extending generosity widely: outwardly, winning the people’s goodwill; inwardly, preserving one’s true Qi (vital energy). This is a crucial point in cultivation. By giving generously on a regular basis, one can grasp the guiding principles of teaching and transformation. The “guiding cord” is the key to upholding the laws and standards. When one is skilled at directing teaching and transformation, those who enforce the law will not be burdened by the laws themselves.

The trigrams stir within the heart, and good or ill fortune manifests in response outside. This is like the movements of the Five Planets: their harmonious or contrary courses reveal good or ill fortune in due time. The stars’ responses to change and their deviations in motion convey the same idea. “Yi” means to change or shift. When the text says that the Seven Lodges in the four directions move out of order and shift from their paths, it uses changes in their apparent positions as seen from above and below to describe celestial phenomena.

The Wenchang star, or Wenchang constellation, is the principal star of the Taiwei Enclosure. The Dipper’s bowl, formed by six stars arranged like a basket, is called the Southern Pole’s governing star. It oversees the registers of longevity recorded by the body’s Vermilion Bird spirit. The Star of Vacuity and Essence is the guiding authority of the Three Terraces. In the human body, it corresponds to the lord of the Bright Hall and directs the teaching of the people. The Star of Hidden Light in the Grotto’s Depths is an attendant star of the Purple Tenuity Enclosure, namely the two Venerable Emperor stars. Within the body, it corresponds to the spirit of the Black Tortoise. It is said that anyone who sees this star may live a thousand years. The other constellations also each have their own duties, like the body’s joints, channels, and spirits, each in charge of its own domain. Elixir cultivation concerns the workings of creation and transformation; for this reason, it is said to be harder than governing a state.

The scripture also compares the constellations to the human body: the sun joins with the Qi of the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, and Water), turning toward different directions as the seasons change. In the months of Zi, Chou, and Yin, the sun and the five planets join in the north; in Mao, Chen, and Si, in the west; in Wu, Wei, and Shen, in the south; and in You, Xu, and Hai, in the east. At the winter solstice in the time of Yao, the sun was in the Lodge of Vacuity. The Han dynasty’s “Great Beginning Calendar” placed it in the Ox Lodge; the Tang dynasty’s “Great Expansion Calendar” placed it in the Eastern Dipper; and from the Song dynasty onward, it was placed in the Southern Winnowing Basket. This gradual shift in the lodge where the sun stands at the winter solstice is called the precession of the equinoxes. When the sun receives the Qi of Fire and Earth, its essence and radiance grow stronger; when it receives the Qi of Metal and Water, its brightness becomes clearer.

The moon moves according to the Six Lü, the twelve musical pitches made up of the six yang Lü and six yin Lü. Lü are yang and Lü are yin; five and six together make eleven. The sun and moon each travel thirty degrees, and after completing their circuits, they meet again. Hence the phrase, “When the degrees are complete, they begin anew.” The sun and moon move back and forth in cycles, forming the first quarter, full moon, last quarter, and new moon. The world consequently experiences the alternation of cold and heat, while people undergo birth, old age, sickness, and death. Trace things back to their beginning, and you can endure; grasp their beginning and end, and you can escape extinction.

The ruler may be compared to the heart, and the ministers to the body. The heart is the master of the self, while the body is the form that bears it. If the heart becomes arrogant and complacent, or the body struggles against external things and fails to follow the proper rules, it is like the moon’s phases going awry: its waxing and waning become irregular, bringing calamity. The spirit that enforces the laws will then question the one in command and call them to account for their errors.

The Celestial Pivot, namely the Wenchang star mentioned earlier, is also called the Southern Pole Star. It follows the proper course and appoints its subordinates with ease and composure. The Bright Hall star is like a minister who assists the ruler, diligently carrying out good governance so that disorder does not arise in the state. The state, too, may be compared to the human body. When the body is settled and its breath is harmonized, the Dao is not obstructed.

This chapter uses governing the state as a metaphor for cultivating oneself and refining the elixir: when a ruler appoints people well and governs appropriately, the realm is at peace; when a cultivator devotes themselves to establishing their life, the Way of the Elixir can be fulfilled. Other versions have no phrase “renewing the cauldron and discarding the old” after “the beginning of governing.” This book has circulated for a long time, and later readers, not understanding its hidden meaning, introduced errors into many versions. Zhu Xi once corrected several hundred characters, but his revisions were not entirely sound. Without meeting a true teacher, it is difficult to distinguish what is genuine from what is false.

The foundation of cultivation lies first in nurturing one’s own mind and nature. Only when the mind is settled and tranquil, returning to emptiness, can one’s original nature become clear and inner light illuminate the body and mind. Close the sensory openings—the ears, eyes, mouth, and others—so that the mind and spirit do not scatter outward, and strengthen the spiritual root within. The Three Lights—the Daoist term for the lights of the sun, moon, and stars—sink inward and remain unseen, gently nourishing the Jing and Qi within the body, like nurturing a “child pearl,” a metaphor for Neidan cultivation.

This practice is invisible, yet close at hand and readily attainable. The Yellow Center, meaning the body’s center and inner hub, gradually opens and flows freely; the principles of Qi nourish the whole body, eventually moistening the skin. A proper beginning allows cultivation to bear fruit from start to finish. Even once the foundation has been established, do not treat this method as the sole rule and use it to obscure things from the world. Its profound principles are subtle and hidden, and ordinary people do not know them.

“Cultivating oneself” means tempering oneself without interruption throughout one’s life. Confucius said, “The exemplary person first brings himself to stability, and only then acts; first brings his inner life to peace, and only then speaks; first puts his relationships in good order, and only then makes requests.” The sages thought deeply and looked far ahead. Fully understanding the ways of human affairs, they held that one must be cautious in all three matters: action, speech, and seeking. This is the path to sagehood and an important principle of cultivating oneself.

Cherishing Jing and Qi is cultivating oneself. Facing external things without letting them stir the heart is refining oneself. Remaining tranquil while responding appropriately to the world is refining oneself. Accumulating De and accomplishing worthy deeds is also refining oneself. “Hard practice” means persevering in the discipline of these matters; “mature practice” means repeating them until they become second nature. Those who cultivate the Elixir must first refine themselves, enduring hardship and humiliation. When they enter the chamber to practice, the six senses—the eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind—must have settled, and the thoughts must be thoroughly matured. Even what one once tried deliberately to forget no longer needs deliberate forgetting. Only then can cultivation truly begin.

The Great Learning says that the foundation of learning lies in illuminating one’s virtue, knowing others, and abiding in the highest good. This accords with the principles of refining oneself. Only by knowing where one should stop can one become settled; only after settling can one become tranquil; after becoming tranquil, one can be at ease; after becoming at ease, one can think things through; and after thinking things through, one can attain results. This is the essential method of stillness and emptiness. The “emptiness” spoken of here is not a hollow void in which nothing exists. A Daoist master said that a spark of precelestial Qi comes from emptiness: this is the utmost state of stillness and emptiness. To seek the source, one must look into the root of one’s own life, and thereby come to know one’s true Jing and true Qi.

“Concealing one’s brightness” means that people are often driven by their cleverness and talents, thereby depleting their Shen and Qi. Those who truly cultivate gather in their cleverness and put aside contrivance. They use the heart to observe themselves, do not cling to outward form, and forget the self. They quiet the senses, guard the spiritual root, draw back the gaze, and warm and nourish the “child pearl,” a symbolic term in internal alchemy. In this way they can reach the state described as “the yellow center communicating with principle, the skin and flesh made lustrous.” The preliminary correction described earlier is refining oneself; the further work that follows is refining the Elixir at the furnace. The path of refining oneself comes first; the work of cultivation in the chamber comes afterward.

The self is also called “Wu.” The “guarding” spoken of here concerns protecting this crucial point. If one penetrates the meaning of the character “Wu,” one can grasp Wei Boyang’s intention. Confucius said, “My Way is threaded through by one principle.” Laozi said, “Attain the One, and all things are accomplished.” Buddhists too say, “The myriad teachings return to the One.” The water in the saying “Heaven’s One generates water” must arise from the One; this One is the central line of the Kan trigram. Guard this point, and Jing and Shen gather together; lose it, and Shen and Qi become scattered. Once a person truly understands this One, they can take hold of themselves; once they attain this One, the myriad transformations can arise from within.

The mystery of the One is difficult to understand without a teacher’s transmission, which is why it is concealed and its wonder unknown to ordinary people. The Elixir method of the Immortal Master first requires “firmly establishing the spiritual root,” that is, refining oneself and gathering Shen; next comes “warming and nourishing the child pearl,” that is, accumulating Jing and Qi. Only when the work of refining oneself has become mature can one refine the reverted Elixir. Ordinary people fail to understand that refining oneself is the foundation, yet presume to practice directly the so-called “obtaining the medicine in half an hour,” hoping to succeed by this means. This is truly foolish.

The Scripture on Clarity and Stillness says that observing the heart within, form without, and the myriad things at a distance all ultimately lead to emptiness. One must not cling even to “emptiness”; then one must not cling to “nonbeing,” until one reaches clear, profound stillness and no longer clings even to “stillness.” Ordinary readers might think that this means they have let go of everything and attained liberation. Yet the scripture goes on to discuss desire: how do desires arise? When desires do not arise, that is true stillness; only true stillness can respond to external things. On close examination, being able to respond to external things from within true stillness is merely the starting point of cultivation. As for refining the Elixir, this is still far from the threshold.

Some people give alms and build pagodas; others practice the so-called “Three Peaks Gathering and Crossing,” using sexual union as a method of cultivation; some sit in stillness and recite scriptures, pursue Wuwei, or perform prayers and sacrifices. These practices may count as turning toward goodness, but that does not mean their practitioners understand the cultivation of the Dao. The work of cultivating oneself must not be deficient in the slightest.

Lü Dongbin said that to cultivate the reverted Elixir one must first refine oneself, then wait for the right moment. Master Mud Pill said that without mutual understanding in words, one cannot be considered a fellow practitioner; without sufficient work, matters cannot be brought to completion. Zhang Ziyang said that anyone who wishes to cultivate the Nine-Turn Golden Elixir must first refine oneself and hold firm to the heart. How could one fail to take seriously the teachings handed down from generation to generation by sages and worthies?

After receiving guidance from Master Yellow Chamber, Perfected One Great Void went to Mount Wuyi as instructed, ready to begin cultivation. At first, while refining himself, he encountered one obstacle after another. Great Void declared firmly, “Drive out the demons and cut off the sharp points of the six ghosts.” Then he settled his breathing and sat. As soon as he noticed a thought beginning to stir, he cut off the root thought arising from desire. After that, he learned to observe. The work of refining oneself must be reflected on again and again.

This chapter discusses only the cultivation of oneself; it does not discuss the “Golden Tiger,” the “Cauldron Chamber,” or similar matters. Interpreting the “Three Lights” as Yang Fire, Yin Talisman, and the Golden Embryo would depart even further from the chapter’s original meaning.

Those who have attained a higher level of cultivation accord with nature. They do not act deliberately or rely on observation and seeking. Those at a lower level take deliberate action and continually exert the mind. When the upper aperture is closed, this is called “being”; when the lower aperture is closed, this is called “nonbeing.” Here, “nonbeing” serves to receive the “being” above. A wondrous De (Virtue/Power) resides above, within these two apertures; the two Qi (vital energy) of Yin and Yang join in accordance with their proper measure.

Know the white and keep to the black, and the spirit of illumination will come of itself. “White” refers to the essence of Metal; “black” refers to the foundation of Water. Water is the pivot of the Dao (the Way), its number is called “one,” and it is the beginning of Yin and Yang. Within the mystery lies the yellow sprout, which governs the Five Metals. The “River Cart” of the north—a metaphor in Daoist Neidan (internal alchemy) for the movement of essence and Qi—also comes from this.

Lead is black on the outside, yet within it contains golden radiance. It is like someone clad in coarse cloth while carrying jade within, appearing outwardly dull. Metal is the mother of Water: the mother lies hidden, and the child is conceived within her. Water is the child of Metal, concealed in the mother’s womb. The subtle state reached by a perfected person in cultivation seems both present and absent, as if dwelling in a deep and shadowy place, at times sinking and at times rising.

Essence and Qi withdraw and spread out, each keeping to its own place. When gathered by the proper method, they can be transformed from white to vermilion. In refining, the outer layer serves as a guard, while the true essence rests within. It is about an inch across, blending and holding together in mutual constraint. It was born before Heaven and Earth and is lofty and precious. Walls and gateways stand beside it, shaped like the Penghu island in the immortal realm of Penglai. It is enclosed on all sides, its gates shut; passages extend in every direction, yet progress through them is hesitant and difficult.

Guard it closely and firmly, blocking what is false and deviant. Let the winding paths within and without join and pass through one another, so that nothing unexpected can intrude. Then the mind will be free of thought and spared worry and exhaustion. Spirit and Qi fill the body, and external things cannot detain them. Those who keep them flourish; those who lose them decline. Whether a person is moving, still, or at rest, they remain by that person’s side.

Superior De refers to a person who cultivates the Dao and is naturally endowed with complete Virtue, and who can respond to all things and leave nothing undone. Around the age of sixteen, a young man’s true Jing has not yet been lost, and his body and mind remain whole. Such a person can cherish and preserve his true Jing, preventing it from dissipating. If he also encounters a clear-sighted master who teaches him the way of Wuwei cultivation, his life can be prolonged. This is the “person who leaves nothing undone,” a complete person endowed with Superior De. He embodies the sage’s state of transforming through Wuwei and accomplishes the great person’s work through Wuwei.

Inferior De refers to one who follows the workings of creation and makes use of the opportunities found in all things. For most people around the age of sixteen, if their true Jing has not yet been lost, they are said to be “pure Qian” (in the imagery of the Book of Changes, the Qian trigram represents pure, complete Yang). When desire stirs, the Yang line in the middle of the Qian trigram enters the Kun trigram, and the Qian form is no longer pure and whole. The mind, too, changes from empty clarity to “Li” (the Li trigram represents Yin and Yang mixed together). From then on, true Jing dissipates day and night. How much of one’s original life-root can remain? Only the perfected person begins the practice of restoring wholeness according to the sage’s way before Jing and Qi are exhausted, thereby becoming an immortal. This is the person of Inferior De, one who follows the workings of creation. He embodies the sage’s way of following one’s nature and accomplishes the spirit person’s work through purposeful action.

Those of Superior De attain that nothing is left undone through Wuwei. They receive the complete nature of Taiji (the fundamental state from which all things arise) and accomplish the work of postcelestial cultivation; hence the saying, “Do not seek through observation.” Those of Inferior De act purposefully and with intention. By making use of the workings of creation, they accomplish the work of prenatal cultivation; hence the saying, “Its use never ceases.”

The immortal master said, “At the beginning, when there is purposeful action, no one can see it. When one reaches the stage of Wuwei, everyone knows. Yet people see only the mystery of Wuwei; who understands that purposeful action is the foundation?” These words express the essential principles of Golden Elixir cultivation, but putting them into practice is not easy. The perfected person resorts to this method only when there is no other choice. Thus Laozi said, “Fine weapons are inauspicious things, used only when there is no choice.” This is precisely the point.

“Upper closure” is called “being.” The upper closure belongs to Kun, whose Virtue is stillness and restraint. Here, “being” refers to Wu Earth in the Kan trigram, which contains the prenatal, undivided Qi. “Lower closure” is called “nonbeing.” The lower closure belongs to Qian, whose Virtue is stillness and single-mindedness. Here, “nonbeing” refers to Ji Earth in the Li trigram, which harbors the postcelestial natural Water.

The scripture says: “Always remain without desire, and you will observe the subtle wonders of things. Always remain without desire, and you will observe their openings. These two arise from the same source, though they have different names; together they may be called the Mysterious. The Mysterious and yet more Mysterious is the gateway to all wondrous principles.” The sages’ mysterious words are not deliberately obscure or remote. People have simply found it hard, from ancient times onward, to see what lies beneath them. Understanding these principles often requires a teacher’s guidance. Even a great sage like the Yellow Emperor—without Guangchengzi’s instruction, could he have understood this Dao on his own?

The “opening” mentioned here is something the sages could not describe in words; they could only indicate its general location. Fuxi drew the trigrams and used Qian and Kun to locate this opening. King Wen clarified it further, and Confucius explained the meanings of Qian’s strength and Kun’s opening in the Commentary on the Changes. Laozi called it “the Gate of the Mysterious Female” and said it was the root of Heaven and Earth. Buddhists call it “the Treasury of the True Dharma Eye” and “the Wondrous Mind of Nirvana.” All these expressions point directly to this opening.

Those with the highest capacities may grasp it on their own, but without a teacher’s instruction they are unlikely to understand how it works. Commentators use “Nonbeing” to refer to one’s own nature and “Being” to refer to Wu, or earthly, emotion: if one’s nature can nurture Wu emotion, that emotion will become attached to nature and return to it. A divine De resides above. This refers to the precelestial One Qi (original vital energy) that comes from emptiness; this is divine De. The Immortal Elder also says: “The method of these two apertures: Metal Qi, too, accompanies them.” This is the key to the entire book, and even later readers of great wisdom may not be able to understand it fully on their own.

The Elder of Yunfang says: “The gate through which I am born is the door through which I die. How many awaken, how many understand? At night the iron man thinks it through with care: long life and deathlessness are made by human effort.” Are “the gate through which I am born” and “the door through which I die” not these two apertures? The earlier discussion of Qian and Kun, and the transformations of the Sun and Moon, leads here to a clear indication of the Mysterious Pass, with Metal and Water used to explain the stages of cultivation. Once practitioners of Elixir cultivation understand this opening, they must also discern what Metal Qi is and what role “accompanies them” plays. Only when they understand it completely can they refine the Elixir.

“Know the white, keep to the black” means to recognize that Jing and Qi are pure and untainted—this is “knowing the white”—and to keep to the foundation symbolized by black, awaiting the timely emergence of Water Qi—this is “keeping to the black.” When Water Qi first arises, it is called precelestial; because it is utterly true, it is also called divine illumination. When white and black unite, the Qi of Metal and Water becomes abundant. When Ji Earth restrains Water and purifies Metal Qi, Metal and Water fill the furnace and cauldron; hence it is said that divine illumination descends of itself.

Water is the pivot of the Dao, and its number is One, because Water is born from Heaven’s One and marks the beginning of Yin-Yang. “The Mysterious contains the Yellow Sprout” means that the Mysterious Water contains the sprout of the Elixir. The scripture compares this with the Commentary on the Changes: “Although Yin possesses beauty, it contains it within as it follows the work of the king.” The Mysterious can refer to Water, while the Yellow Sprout refers to the Elixir. Within black lead lies white Metal; within the River Cart lies the Yellow Sprout. It is like a scholar concealing a fine jade while wearing coarse clothes, thereby avoiding harm. Metal is the mother of Water: Dui Metal gives birth to Kan Water, and the central line of the Kan trigram belongs to Metal, so Metal is called the mother of Water. Water, in turn, is the child of Metal: Ren and Gui Water arise from the west, while the central line of Dui returns to Kan; thus the child is said to be concealed in the mother’s womb.

“The Perfected One, in utmost subtlety”: the Perfected One refers to Qian in its original state. Qian’s spirit is wondrous and unfathomable, its form seeming to exist and not to exist. “Great Abyss” symbolizes Kun, which can sink or rise and leaves no trace that can be seen or heard. Qian can transform, and Kun can give birth and nurture. Once Qian and Kun have generated things through transformation, each is distributed and keeps to its own place.

“Gathering it, it resembles white” means that lead contains something silvery white. When making the National Elixir, it can be made to appear vermilion; when refined by itself, it becomes white lead powder. The gathering and refining of Waidan is similar: the outside must be protected so that it appears glossy and vermilion, while its inner substance remains true. The commentator goes on to explain the formation of the Elixir through Metal giving birth to Water and Metal and Water containing one another.

“Square and round, an inch across, blended and held together” refers to a substantial thing within the deep and subtle, like the precelestial state before Taiji divided. The true One Qi of the precelestial state is concealed before Taiji, existing “before the image of the emperor”; hence it is called lofty and exalted. Beside it are walls and gates, shaped like Penghu, the legendary mountain of the immortals. Qian, too, is likened to walls or Penghu. These images are metaphors for the cauldron and vessel within the human body.

“Enclosed all around and shut fast” means that the vessel is tightly sealed and protected on every side. “Passages in all four directions, carefully arranged” means that the points of entry and exit must be arranged with care and guarded closely from outside. “Guarded and kept secure” means that not even for a moment may one be careless. Entry and exit must follow rules; the boundary between inside and outside must be clearly set, blocking harmful Qi so that true Qi can dwell within. Even winding passages must be connected and open, and a clean, orderly place must be prepared to prevent mishaps.

From “enclosed all around and shut fast” onward, the Immortal Elder gives one instruction after another on methods of protection. During cultivation, the mind must also be free of thoughts and worries, and one must avoid sorrow and exhaustion. In this way, Shen and Qi can fill the chamber of the cauldron without being depleted. If they are kept secure, they flourish; if their protection fails, they decline. Even a little slackness can lead to collapse. Whether active, still, resting, or at ease, one must not be indulgent or negligent, so that the Qi of the Golden Cauldron remains stable and its forces stay in balance.

This chapter directly explains the function and embodiment of the two apertures, and clarifies the role of Metal and Water. Only upon reaching this passage do practitioners realize how difficult the first step on the path can be. Those of lower capacity who cultivate the Way of deliberate action must rely entirely on refining the self—tempering the mind and nature. If this work is even slightly incomplete, divine illumination will not descend.

Distinguishing the Orthodox from the Deviant (Chapter Eight)

To judge whether a cultivation method is right or wrong, one must see whether it accords with the Orthodox Way. Some people imagine the inside of the body as a maze of intricate scenes, continually dwelling on visions in their minds. They also follow prescribed steps to tread the Dipper and pace the stars—that is, to imitate the movements of the constellations—calculate the Six Jia, a system of calendrical timing and occult numerology, and determine auspicious days. They practice secret rites of Yin-path suppression, meant to ward off calamities and evil influences. These practices disturb one’s original essence, leaving the breath turbid and the belly rumbling. They expel vital energy while drawing in harmful influences; they cannot sleep peacefully by day or night, and refuse to rest for an entire month. Their bodies grow ever more exhausted, their minds grow dazed, almost as if they were demented, and Qi and blood surge through the hundred vessels, leaving them unable to become calm and settled.

Others pile up earth to build an altar and make reverent offerings morning and evening, hoping that ghosts and spirits will appear in visible form or respond to them in dreams. Delighted by these experiences, they assume they are certain to prolong their lives, only to die suddenly, their bodies left to rot in the open. Such practices often go against the natural order and abandon the essential rules of the Way.

There are more techniques than anyone can count, in thousands upon thousands of varieties. Many depart from the teachings of the Yellow Emperor and Laozi, twisting into perversity and failing to accord with the Nine Heavens, the levels of the celestial realm in Daoist teaching. Those who understand need only examine their essential points to see clearly where the Orthodox Way lies. If they cultivate diligently, without pause day or night, then after three years of consuming the prescribed substances and practicing cultivation, they can make their bodies light and roam far away, cross through flames without being burned, and enter water without wetting their clothes or bodies. They can vanish and reappear at will, and live in lasting peace and joy, free from worry. Once their Daoist arts are perfected and their De (Virtue) complete, they conceal themselves and wait for the right moment. When the Grand Unity (Taiyi), a revered Daoist deity, summons them, they move to the Central Continent. When their merit and virtue are complete, they ascend to Heaven and receive talismans and celestial scriptures.

Practitioners must understand the true principles of the Great Dao. Without knowing how to bring Yin and Yang together and unite Kan and Li, most other methods belong to heterodox paths.

For example, these are said to be practices that stray from the orthodox Way, and are especially inferior: visualizing the five internal organs, combined with breathing exercises that use sounds such as “xu” and “he”; performing star-stepping rites and mudras outdoors while chanting spells; practicing bedroom arts and using the woman’s “three peaks” as objects for gathering and refining; or following the “Way of Nine and One,” practicing sword techniques, performing the “Five Matters,” and receiving Qi from external surroundings in ways that disturb one’s original essence. Other heterodox methods include exhaling stale breath and inhaling fresh breath, fasting and taking in Qi, sitting in meditation for long periods without sleeping day or night, or setting up an altar to make offerings and summon spirits to appear. Such practices disrupt the orthodox Way. They can leave the spirit dazed, Qi and blood in turmoil, the mind restless, and the nights filled with dreams. Though these methods are countless, in the end they achieve nothing.

These practices go against the teachings of the Yellow Emperor and Laozi. If one does not seek out a true teacher and grasp the subtle principles of the union of Yin and Yang, one may bring punishment from the Nine Capitals upon oneself. How, then, could one form the “pearl the size of a millet grain”—the tiny inner alchemical substance? One sets out to prolong life and may instead shorten it.

If a person of understanding encounters the teachings transmitted by a true master, they should grasp them in a flash of insight, practice diligently without pause, day and night, and devote themselves to seeking and refining the “medicine,” the symbolic substance of Neidan cultivation. After three years of secret practice, they may travel wherever they wish; after nine years, they may hope to lighten their body and ascend through the air. After twelve years of accumulated practice, they will be beyond harm from water and fire, able to dwell without worry in a grotto and feast in the Jade Pool, enjoying lasting happiness. Even after completing the practice, they should remain hidden and keep their achievements concealed, continue accumulating De, and await the right time.

If one’s name is recorded in the registers of the Three Heavens, the Great One (Taiyi) will summon the accomplished practitioner to an immortal office and move them to the Central Continent. With still greater merit, one may ascend through the Three Realms, receive promotion and rank, be granted registers, and take up celestial documents. The immortal sages Zhang Daoling, Ge Xuan, Xu Xun (Jingyang), Fuqiu Gong, Zhongli Quan, and Lü Dongbin are all models of this path. Later generations of Daoist practitioners should follow in their footsteps.

In this chapter, the Immortal Master emphasizes how sharply different the outcomes of delusion and understanding, heterodox and orthodox paths, are. The crooked path brings condemnation from the Nine Capitals; the orthodox path brings the completion of merit and practice, followed by ascension. This is an inevitable principle and need not be doubted. The specific point of entry and the sequence of cultivation will be explained later.

Chapter Nine: The Two Strings of the Dragon and Tiger

The timing and degree of fire in alchemical practice cannot be applied at will. The Immortal Master uses the Yi to explain this.

The “Crescent Moon Furnace” is a vessel for refining the elixir, also called the Taiyi Divine Furnace. It is a Yin furnace, shaped like a newly risen crescent moon. The “White Tiger” refers to the entity associated with the Dui palace in the west. It belongs to the po-soul and represents the west—that is, “the other” and the Jade Pool. Its power is fearsome and can injure or harm people, yet it also contains the power to nourish all things. Those who cultivate the elixir must revere and fear the White Tiger. Only after subduing it can they make it the key to the process of refinement, so that it no longer harms people. King Wen’s Yi says, “Treading on the tiger’s tail: it does not bite the person. Success.” This means that one steps on the tiger’s tail, yet the tiger does not bite, and matters proceed smoothly. It also says, “The path underfoot is level and broad; for the recluse, steadfastness brings good fortune.” Confucius explains that the heart can be joyful while responding in accord with the Way of Qian; he also says that proceeding according to one’s proper place and steadfastly upholding one’s aspirations in solitude can bring good fortune.

The Li trigram is the sun, and within the sun is cinnabar, called the “Flowing Pearl.” The “Azure Dragon” refers to the entity associated with the Zhen palace in the east. It belongs to the hun-soul and represents the east—that is, “oneself” and the Golden Cauldron. The Azure Dragon possesses the power of transformation; when stirred into resonance, it can bring things to fruition, moving like clouds and sending down rain so that all things grow. People in the world do not understand its ceaseless generative function and are often harmed as a result. If they revere it, bring it into harmony, and subdue it, they can harness and use it.

“To raise the east and join it with the west” means bringing the eastern Azure Dragon together with the western White Tiger: the hun and po souls draw together, and Metal and Wood are no longer separated. The “upper crescent” takes the number eight of Dui, and the “lower crescent” takes the number eight of Gen. When the vital essences of the two crescents unite, the forms of Qian and Kun are complete. The union of Wu and Ji signifies the harmonizing of Yin and Yang. “The Way of the Yi is upright and does not incline” means that the two sides are balanced, each at two parts of eight, and together make one jin, symbolizing the completion of the alchemical method.

“One jin” here is the number of completion. The ancients used units of weight to describe the process of accumulating from small amounts to large ones: ten portions of powder make one pill, and one pill is the size of a millet grain; a little more than one millet grain is called a daogui, and sixty-four millet grains make one gui. The text then lists conversions involving the units lei, zhu, qian, liang, and jin, noting that measures recorded in different books do not agree. The ancients also matched numbers of zhu with the numbers of hexagram lines.

When gold enters a fierce fire, its color does not change; its essence and radiance still emerge naturally. Since Heaven and Earth were first opened, the Sun and Moon have not lost their brightness, and gold has not grown lighter. The Sun and Moon retain their original shapes.

Gold originally arises from the Moon. At dawn on the first day of each month, it receives the Sun’s light, then returns to its mother. At the end of the month, the Sun and Moon come together and the moonlight fades, as though hiding its own outline. Since Heaven and Earth were first opened, the Sun and Moon have remained bright, gold has not grown lighter, and the Sun and Moon have kept their familiar shapes.

Gold sinks into a deep, still emptiness and restores its original nature. Its mighty radiance appears, and the alchemical cauldron grows hot and bright in turn. The changes in gold, the Sun and Moon, and the alchemical cauldron describe the transformation of material substance and luminous nature in the process of alchemy.

The Immortal Master—meaning Wei Boyang, the author of the Cantong qi—was not speaking vaguely in the earlier passages. Only here does he clearly explain the role of “gold” in alchemy: without the function of this “gold,” the elixir cannot be refined. The “Golden Elixir” mentioned here is neither the gold found among worldly treasures nor gold mined from earth and rock. It is a wondrous substance produced through the transformations of the Five Phases and the changes of Yin-Yang in the workings of Heaven and Earth, as though it were formed in the great furnace of change that is Heaven and Earth.

Some teachers today, unaware of the true meaning, are at a loss as soon as they hear the term “Golden Elixir.” They speak of cultivation, yet refuse even to hear its name and will not examine the Cantong qi closely. Instead, they mislead others. The Immortal Master has already explained the wondrous function of this “gold” with clarity. Some readers, rather than investigating Yin-Yang and the nature and function of true gold, speculate that the text describes firing a furnace and tending a flame. This is a pity. Unless its meaning is explained to people, as time passes the book will seem ever more profound and obscure. Unable to glimpse the way in, people will abandon it; where, then, will they find the essentials of cultivation?

Those with keen insight should understand that this “gold,” in the primordial chaos before Taiji had separated into distinct forms, originally belonged to Qian, and so is called “Qian gold.” As the great cycle is about to turn, Qian gold seems to repay the creative power of chaos by joining with Kun. It rushes into Kun’s palace and is therefore called “gold within Kun.” Once Kun receives this gold, its interior becomes solid and it turns into the Kan trigram. Kun’s three lines are originally empty in the middle, and Kun is called “earth”; when gold fills that middle space, the image of Kan is formed. Kan lies in the northern region of Gui Water, so Kan belongs to Water. With gold hidden in Water, it is called “gold within Water.”

Gold within Water is a treasure of the prenatal state and cannot remain for long in the postnatal position of Kan. It therefore transforms into Dui. As though leaping out through Kan’s northern gate, Dui takes its place in the western position of You. There this gold gradually grows. Since the You position belongs precisely to Dui, this gold carries out the alchemical Way within Dui and is called “Dui gold.”

Those who cultivate the Golden Elixir should seek out what is hidden and subtle, trace things back to their source, examine their beginnings and endings, and investigate their roots and first stirrings. To refine the Golden Elixir, they must find this gold. It is not to be sought in Qian, Kun, or Kan, but specifically in Dui. Dui and Kun are of the same kind, like the moon; hence the scripture says, “When things are of the same kind, the work is easy to carry out; when they are unlike, skill is hard to achieve.” Things of the same kind unite, and the work proceeds with ease; unlike things are difficult to bring together skillfully. The wonder of Dui is that it takes the place of Kun in carrying out the Great Way. In cultivating the Golden Elixir, any path apart from Dui gold is merely a side path and cannot lead to realization. The Yellow Emperor, Laozi, and the ancient sages and immortals all used this gold to realize the Way.

In the Zhouyi, expressions such as “the fifth line of the second Xun hexagram” and “three days before Geng, three days after Geng” are also explained through the Dui trigram in Confucius’s Commentary on the Changes: yielding and following what is firm, and the noble person clarifying a command before putting it into practice. Geng belongs to Metal. The scripture’s phrase “on the third day, the moon emerges at Geng” speaks of the same principle. Shakyamuni, too, relied on this gold to attain Buddhahood and was therefore called the “Golden Immortal.”

The gold within Dui and the celestial Taiyin, the moon, share the same substance and give rise to light; their functions correspond. The moon in heaven is called Taiyin. Because Dui gold has the same function, it is also called “Shaoyin” and “gold within Yin.” The celestial Taiyin receives the sun’s radiance and brings about the changes of the seasons. The Shaoyin within Dui carries forward the Way of creation, enabling life to arise throughout the vast world. The Immortal Master penetrated the teachings of the sages who came before him, understood the source of this gold, traced its wondrous transformations, and explained its miraculous changes.

Worldly gold can endure without decay: placed in fire, its color becomes even purer, and prolonged refining does not diminish its weight. How much more so with Dui gold, produced in the furnace of creation that is Heaven and Earth. The moon’s radiance waxes and wanes, and Dui gold likewise has its generation and transformation. Thus the scripture says that its form is like the new moon. At the new moon, when Sun and Moon meet, the Moon receives the Sun’s mandate and displays a ray of Yang light in the Gengshen direction. This refers to the Taiyin in heaven. The human Dui gold, too, responds to the timing of the new moon: on the third day, in the position of primordial chaos, it gives rise to the initial Yang elixir. This refers to the Shaoyin within the human being. Hence the scripture says, “Gold originally arises from the Moon; at the new moon, it receives the Sun’s mandate.”

The phrase “gold returns to its mother” refers to the fact that gold belongs to the Dui hexagram, whose mother hexagram is Kun. Dui cannot hold this gold forever; in due season, the gold’s function becomes manifest. The Commentary on the Judgment for the Kun hexagram says, “Containing its pattern, it may remain steadfast; in due season, it manifests.” This means that inner virtue is held within until the right moment for it to emerge. Here lies the subtlety understood by the sages. Once the gold has manifested its function, Dui returns to its mother, Kun. It is like the moon at the dark of the moon and at the new moon, when its entire body is hidden beneath the sun’s light. After one, two, and then three days, it follows its course, and its radiance gradually appears again.

Gold’s return to its mother is also like the true essence of gold sinking into the deep, empty void, temporarily hidden from sight. The process of worldly operation passes through “from one comes two; from two comes three.” When the cycle of fate turns again, the gold is generated anew. For this gold to be generated again, it must recover its original nature. Its original nature is the function of Qian: the firm, vigorous, and upright nature of Qian. It resides in Kun; Kun resides in Kan; Kan in turn resides in Dui. Once Dui gold unfolds its nature and recovers its original qualities, it sends the gold back to Qian’s palace. Qian’s golden cauldron receives its seed again, and the Golden Elixir is refined. This elixir is therefore called the “Golden Liquid Elixir of Return,” and the cauldron is called the “Radiant Golden Cauldron.” The term Xi is also written as Xi or Xi; all these forms convey the meaning of a fierce, blazing fire. This book on the Golden Elixir says that the Sun, Moon, and stars, the celestial dragons and true sovereigns, and the spirits of creation all protect it. It should therefore be treated with reverence and care.

Kan (associated with Water and situated in the north) lies due north and has the number one; Li (associated with Fire and situated in the south) lies due south and has the number two. Kan contains Wu Earth, whose number is five; Li contains Ji Earth, also numbered five. Wu Earth governs the Gate of Kan and holds the innate, true One Qi; Ji Earth resides at the Portal of Li, where it gathers the postnatal, most authentic Jing-Qi.

Zi is in the north, the direction of the Kan Trigram, and its number is one. Wu is in the south, the direction of the Li Trigram, and its number is two. The Kan Trigram contains Wu Earth, whose number is five; the Li Trigram contains Ji Earth, also numbered five. Wu Earth guards the gate of the Kan Trigram and governs the primordial, true One Qi. Ji Earth dwells at the door of the Li Trigram and stores the postcelestial, supremely true Mercury. To obtain primordial Qi, one must first understand Wu Earth; to use postcelestial Mercury, one must first bring Ji Earth to a settled harmony.

Zi and Wu correspond to one another, and when Wu Earth and Ji Earth are brought into harmony, the essences of two and five wondrously unite and congeal. Flowing Wu Earth enters the cauldron of Ji Earth and joins with it. The two kinds of earth congeal together, which is why they are called “gui.” “Entering the stone, it becomes Kun” means that it enters the position of Kun and becomes the foundation that bears all things. Qian and Kun are the parents of all the stones. Without Kun, the order and waxing and waning embodied by the Dui Trigram could not be brought about. Zi and Wu answer one another; Wu and Ji nourish one another; Lead and Mercury unite and congeal like husband and wife.

Yellow earth is Wu Earth. Wu Earth can generate the Metal of the Dui Trigram, so it is the source of Metal. The “flowing pearl” refers to Wood Mercury. Lead water can nourish the Mercury within Wood, so the flowing pearl is born of water. Lead water is restrained by Wu Earth, which guards the central palace, preventing water from flowing out recklessly. The Vermilion Bird refers to what is within the Li Trigram—that is, the essence of Fire. Only when the heart Qi is calm, the breath regulated, and the pulse steady can the relative strength of Water and Fire be adjusted.

Water overcomes Fire, Fire overcomes Metal, and Metal overcomes Wood; the work of all four ultimately returns to thick earth. Thick earth is Ji Earth. The “Three Natures” are Wu Earth, Metal, and Water. The gate of the Kan Trigram is Wu Earth, while the middle line of the Kan Trigram corresponds to Dui Metal. Metal generates the Water of Taiyi, and Wu Earth in turn restrains Water: this is how the three converge. The nature of Wood is Ji Earth. The door of the Li Trigram is Ji Earth; after Wu Earth, Metal, and Water have converged, the Wood nature of Ji Earth gradually restrains them, and they ultimately transform into the Great Elixir. Hence the saying: “Their original natures share the same ancestral root.”

“Giant victory” means sesame. Sesame is commonly eaten as food and can already help prolong life. How much more so the Returned Elixir, refined from Metal, Water, Wu Earth, and Ji Earth: it is a supreme treasure between Heaven and Earth, and those who cultivate and consume it can live long. Here, “conceal” means to make primordial Qi subside and return to storage; “eat” means to swallow an elixir the size of a millet grain. Later readers mistakenly wrote “take” instead of “conceal,” and so failed to understand the subtlety of concealment. Thus the immortal master says: “Conceal the Qi and do not take medicine; if you take medicine, you must conceal the Qi. Taking medicine does not bring long life; to attain long life, you must conceal the Qi.” The key lies in the word “conceal”: one must reverse the course of natural transformation so that Qi returns to storage within.

The Qi of Earth circulates through the four seasons, which correspond respectively to Chen, Xu, Chou, and Wei. Earth has days of great strength in each season. In the final month of each season, Earth is strong for eighteen days, a period called “roaming.” In summer, Fire generates Earth, and Earth’s Virtue is at its strongest. Metal fears Fire, so Earth Qi continues to exert its influence in the autumn month of Shen. The ancients said that both Water and Earth are born in Shen because Earth is generated by summer Fire, while Water comes into being within the Three Enclosures. Water gradually restrains Fire, and Earth thereby generates Metal. At the beginning of autumn, Earth’s Virtue is strong for nine days; then Geng Metal begins to grow. In the month of Xu, Earth Qi grows strong again for nine days, after which the other Five Phases take their turn governing.

“Guard the boundaries and establish the rules” means that the Di Earth lodge in the east guards the boundary of the Azure Dragon; the Wei Earth lodge in the west constrains the White Tiger; the Liu Earth lodge in the south regulates the gate of Li Fire; and the Nu Earth lodge in the north stabilizes the gate of Kan Water. In this way, the Qi of Cinnabar and true Gold can be subdued and returned to the body’s five viscera. When the Elixir Qi first arrives, the breath spreads like mist and moistens the body like rain. As the Elixir Qi steams through the body, it gradually reaches the limbs. Once Shen Qi is abundant, the complexion improves, teeth grow back, and hair turns black. The body recovers its youth from old age, and its withered form is transformed. From then on, one is spared the decline and death of ordinary life. In the end, both body and spirit attain a wondrously subtle state.

The Perfected One of Purple Radiance says: This chapter teaches that, at the beginning of refining the Elixir, Wu Earth and Ji Earth must first be brought into harmony. Only then can Metal and Water be gathered and refined into an elixir.

Only things of the same kind can combine and become one. Put white lead into fire and its color changes; in the end it returns to lead. When ice and snow meet warm water, they melt and reveal their original nature as water. Gold entering mercury turns white, then regains its red color when exposed to fire. People are often confused by desire and lose touch with their nature. If they can preserve their nature, they may speak of long life. Here, “returning to one’s original nature” means that when things encounter the conditions suited to them, their original qualities emerge.

Why say that sand is primary in gold, yet must be blended with mercury? A practitioner who understands the workings of creation and is versed in Yin-Yang will know that refining the Golden Elixir begins by taking the cinnabar of the Li trigram and blending it with mercury from the Jade Pool. Water from the Kan trigram is then used to balance the fire of the Li trigram. When water and fire support one another, metal and sand can unite as one. These transformations depend on things of the same kind acting upon one another and follow throughout the principle of Yin and Yang, female and male, being matched.

To refine an elixir that can confer immortality when ingested, one must use things of the same kind. This is the sound principle. To grow crops, one sows grain; to hatch chickens, one uses eggs. In both cases, things of the same kind assist one another, allowing them to develop naturally. How could fish eyes pass for pearls, or mugwort for catalpa trees? Only things of the same kind can follow and unite with one another; things with opposing natures are difficult to refine into treasures. Sparrows cannot produce phoenixes, nor can foxes and rabbits give birth to horses. Water cannot be made to burn upward, and fire cannot be made to moisten downward. The movement of Yin and Yang must follow the laws of nature.

Thus the Immortal Master taught people to seek out an enlightened teacher, investigate what belongs to the same kind, and bring Yin and Yang into accord. Only then does the Way of the Elixir have a sound basis. “Investigating what belongs to the same kind” does not mean mixing metals, stones, and plants indiscriminately, nor does it mean resorting to deviant methods such as sexual practices for harvesting and replenishing vital energy. Without understanding the principle that things of the same kind unite, one who follows such methods will labor in vain, even if they meditate in the marketplace for a thousand years. Mistaking fish eyes for pearls and mugwort for catalpa trees is simply a failure to recognize the nature of things.

Many people who study the Dao pride themselves on their intelligence, yet have never met an enlightened teacher. They rely only on guesses about ancient texts, speculating freely about the quantities of ingredients and methods of refining. They pound and refine Qiang stone, chalcanthite, mica, alum, magnetite, sulfur, and other substances. They also heat and refine Yuzhang clay, the Five Metals, and the Eight Stones, treating stone and metal as auxiliary ingredients for the elixir. But these substances all have different natures. How could they be of the same kind as oneself and unite into one?

Such efforts often fail a thousand times over. Those who seek immortality instead fall into confusion and error; some remain uncertain into old age, departing from the right path and entering a deviant one. Their understanding is like peering at the sky through a bamboo tube: they cannot grasp the vastness of heaven and earth or the road that lies ahead. When white lead and black lead are refined, exposure to fire still reveals their nature. Ice and snow freeze into cold water, then return to water’s source when warmed. Gold and mercury turn white when combined, then regain their red color in fire. These changes show that refining the Elixir requires an understanding of the nature of things and of how Yin and Yang combine.

The Venerable Purple Jade said that when he first received private instruction from the Perfected One of the Great Void, the Perfected One asked him, “Is the Cantong qi used to understand the Book of Changes, or to put the Book of Changes into practice?” The Perfected One of the Great Void replied, “The Book of Changes speaks only of the two things, Yin and Yang. To understand them and put them into practice is to be a sage.” The Book of Changes says, “In the southwest, find companions,” meaning to walk with those of the same kind. The Cantong qi says, “Things of the same kind follow one another; what is of a contrary nature cannot become a treasure.” First understand the principle, then put it into practice: only then can one be called a sage.

The scripture also recounts the story of Zhang, the Minister of the Nine Rivers. Zhang was devoted to refining and ingesting elixirs. He believed that after taking them for many years he would surely ascend to the heavens, and so he treated Lü Dongbin, the legendary Daoist immortal who came to visit him, with little courtesy. After Lü Dongbin left, Zhang saw a poem inscribed on the seat. It criticized him for failing to understand that the Returning Elixir has no physical form, yet swallowing metals and stones and thereby harming his body. According to the story, Zhang later went blind and remained so until his death. The tale warns practitioners against stubbornly treating metals and stones as elixirs of the same kind, and against trusting misleading claims at the cost of their money and energy.

Some people persist in their delusion and willingly let teachers who do not understand the principles mislead them. They ingest and refine substances throughout their lives without ever correcting their course. Their understanding is narrow: they neither seek out enlightened teachers nor study widely, yet they claim to possess far-reaching insight. In doing so, they squander their own intelligence and natural gifts.

Fuxi was the first sage to understand the Great Dao. He began drawing the Eight Trigrams (Bagua), taking Heaven and Earth as his models. King Wen then developed the trigrams and wrote the statements for the hexagrams and their lines. Confucius, with the gifts of a sage, composed the Ten Wings to explain them further. These three sages were all born of Heaven and appeared in their proper times, one after another. Their eras, talents, and undertakings differed, but their merit and virtue were equal. Each inherited the work of those before him, and in developing its principles, examined them carefully and drew fine distinctions. What can be seen is easy to assess; principles whose signs cannot be seen are difficult to gauge. Their deeds could all serve as models for later generations, and they established the Classics for the world.

I had no foreknowledge. Only through studying under a teacher and receiving guidance did I gradually come to understand these principles. My mind suddenly opened, as though I had opened my eyes inside a cold tent and climbed to a high terrace to look into the distance. What is recorded in the Six Hundred Chapters of the Fire Record is also in accord with these principles; there is no difference between them. The scriptures explain these matters repeatedly and with great care because people in the world are unwilling to think deeply or trace principles back to their origins and connections.

The hidden and the manifest have always coexisted between Heaven and Earth. These words are meant for the worthy; how could I dare to write them down lightly? Yet if I keep silent and cut off the transmission of the Dao, I will be blamed and reproached. If I set down what I know on bamboo and silk, I fear revealing Heaven’s secrets. I hesitated and sighed again and again, weighing the matter carefully, but in the end I still wrote down these limited reflections. The Way of cultivation has its own rules, and it cannot be laid out in full. I can only give a general account of its main points, so that its order and connections may become clear.

This chapter describes how earlier sages, including the Yellow Emperor and Lao Jun, transmitted the Way of the Changes. It criticizes later scholars who failed to grasp its meaning yet arrogantly presumed their own superiority and slandered the ancients. The author holds that such conduct carries grave guilt.

The text says that the earliest sage was Fuxi, also known as Pao Xi or Fuxi. The Appended Statements of the Zhouyi records that when Fuxi governed the world, he looked up to observe the patterns of the heavens and down to examine the features of the earth. He studied the markings of birds and beasts and the things on the ground, taking examples from himself nearby and from all things at a distance. He then began drawing the Eight Trigrams (Bagua), using them to comprehend the powers of the spirits and to classify the qualities of the myriad things. Later, King Wen of Zhou developed the images of the hexagrams and wrote the hexagram statements; Confucius then composed commentaries to explain the principles of the Changes.

The Book of Changes originally consisted of two volumes of main text: Fuxi’s drawn trigrams, King Wen’s hexagram statements, and the Duke of Zhou’s line statements. After the main text, Confucius wrote ten commentaries known as the “Ten Wings,” writings that supplement and clarify the Book of Changes. They comprise the Upper and Lower Tuan Commentary, the Great Image Commentary, the Small Image Commentary, the Upper and Lower Appended Statements, the Commentary on the Words of the Text, and the three Upper, Middle, and Lower sections of the Discussion of the Trigrams. They are called “Wings” because they aid understanding of the principles of the Changes. The sages kept the main text and commentaries separate to show their respect for the sages of earlier generations and to prevent the commentaries from being mixed into the main text.

The author then reviews how later generations arranged the Book of Changes. He argues that Fei Zhi, Zheng Xuan, Wang Bi, and others altered the order of the main text and commentaries, repeatedly throwing the book into confusion. Fei Zhi placed the Tuan statements beneath each hexagram; Zheng Xuan moved the Commentary on the Words of the Text to follow the Qian and Kun hexagrams; Wang Bi then placed the image commentaries after the statements for each line. The author laments that the version of the Changes circulating today has become Wang Bi’s arrangement, rather than the original Zhouyi.

In the Song dynasty, Li Tao, Chao Shuozhi, Ouyang Xiu, and others tried to collate ancient versions. Li Tao held that the twelve-volume Zhouyi was first disrupted by Fei Zhi and Zheng Xuan and then extensively altered by Wang Bi. Chao Shuozhi rearranged the two volumes of main text and the ten volumes of the Ten Wings, but believed that the Middle and Lower sections of the Discussion of the Trigrams had been lost. Ouyang Xiu likewise argued that after the Qin dynasty’s burning of books, the main text of the Book of Changes survived because it was used for divination, while the Ten Wings became scattered among the people. Although someone later found an ancient version of the Changes, the Middle and Lower sections of the Discussion of the Trigrams were damaged and unreadable. The author considers unreliable the later claim that the Sequence of the Hexagrams and Miscellaneous Hexagrams filled out the Ten Wings. Cheng Yi, too, recognized that these two sections were lost and held that the Sequence of the Hexagrams did not express the deeper meaning of the Changes. Zhu Xi later rearranged the main text and commentaries in an effort to restore Confucius’s old edition, but the author laments that even after two hundred years it had not been fully restored.

The author explains that without the Ten Wings to clarify the Changes, its principles are difficult to understand: without comprehending its language, one cannot grasp the underlying patterns of things; without understanding transformation, one cannot recognize the “transformation of Metal and Water,” an alchemical term for symbolic changes such as those of Metal and Water in cultivation; without understanding the making of implements, one cannot understand the purpose of the cauldron and furnace; and without distinguishing good fortune from misfortune, one cannot understand the principles of following and resisting. The Appended Statements says that the Changes contains four kinds of wisdom belonging to the sages. When a gentleman has something to undertake or an action to take, he may consult the Changes and receive a response like an echo. Whether the matter is near or far, hidden or profound, he can know what lies ahead. “Hidden and profound” here refers to realms that are elusive and difficult to discern, obscure and far-reaching.

The Immortal Master, an honorific for an ancient immortal, says that the Ten Wings serve to aid understanding of the Changes. The achievements of these sages benefited later generations, but scholars who lack good fortune, virtue, and wisdom may be held back by all kinds of obstacles and fail to understand. Fuxi, King Wen, the Duke of Zhou, and Confucius arose one after another, setting examples for later generations to develop and establish. The author maintains that attaining the highest Dao depends not only on personal intelligence and insight; it also requires guidance through a teacher’s lineage. Even someone skilled at reasoning and inference may remain unable to grasp the truth, as though a barrier stood in the way. If such a person meets a wise teacher, studies attentively, and receives guidance, understanding can suddenly open up—like a curtain being drawn aside in a room, or a view widening upon reaching a high terrace.

The author advises those who study the Dao to begin by studying the Cantong qi. Only when they truly understand every sentence and every chapter can they be said to have a reliable foundation. If even one sentence remains unclear, they should not readily believe or accept it. The author condemns as deception the claim that one can attain the Dao without this book and by some other path, because he holds that the Cantong qi carries forward Fuxi’s Dao as interpreted by King Wen, the Duke of Zhou, and Confucius. The Yellow Emperor’s Yinfu Jing, Laozi’s Daode Jing, and the cultivation lineages of Daoist figures such as Zhang Daoling, Ge Hong, Xu Xun, and Fuqiu Gong all accord with this Dao. The Wuzhen pian of Perfected Person Ziyang, the writings of Yuanduzi, and Questions on the Golden Elixir also take the Cantong qi as their foundation; the teachings of Buddhist scriptures and Daoist scriptures likewise accord with it.

If someone repeatedly claims to have received a transmission from one person, who in turn received it from another, yet cannot explain how these lineages relate to the crucial principles of the Cantong qi, the author considers such people blind guides who may even bring upon themselves the causes of hell. They say in reply that the highest Dao is not found in books, unaware that cultivation can begin only by carefully examining the true contents of the Cantong qi.

The text also mentions “six hundred entries on the firing process” and “seasonal correspondences of the line symbols,” referring to formulas in alchemical cultivation concerning the firing process, timing, and the correspondences between seasons and hexagram lines. The author says that these subtle and secret teachings run throughout the book, and that readers should carefully trace their origins and understand how the hidden and manifest connect. The Cantong qi was written for the worthy to study. The author does not wish to disclose all the formulas carelessly, and instead outlines the main principles and indicates the topics in brief. Yet if nothing were said, how could the path of cultivation be passed on? Therefore, while transmitting the essential points, he also holds some things back, and repeatedly sighs over this difficulty. The text uses “hesitation” as a comparison, mentioning a wary animal that, when it hears a sound, repeatedly climbs up and down a tree, unable to decide. This depicts wavering uncertainty. The author says that when writing this work, he too was hesitant and apprehensive, weighing the matter again and again.

Use gold to form a barrier so that, once water enters, it can flow through safely. Gold is counted as fifteen, and the number for water is the same. When refining in the furnace, carefully calibrate the weights down to the smallest measure: with five parts of water in reserve, the two can be brought together to obtain true gold. The weight of the gold should be restored to its original measure.

The third ingredient is not put into the fire. Joined with the other two, the three ingredients contain one another, producing transformations of unfathomable subtlety. Solar Qi steams within them from below; in an instant, they first melt and then solidify. This is called the “Yellow Chariot” (a substance formed in the alchemical process). If it is left to decay only when the years are nearly spent, it will merely damage one’s lifespan. Its form resembles gray earth, or dust before a bright window. Pound and blend it, then place it inside the red gate. Seal the joint tightly, making sure the closure is complete and secure.

Build a fierce fire beneath it and tend the flames diligently, day and night without pause. Begin with a gentle fire, allowing the ingredients to be nurtured; finish with a fierce fire. Observe with particular care, examining and adjusting the heat and cold, and proceed through the twelve stages in sequence. At the end of each stage, personally inspect the fire and the changes taking place.

When the Qi is exhausted and life is nearing its end, its appearance turns purple and its radiance becomes striking; at last, the Reverted Elixir (the pill produced by alchemical refining) is complete. Grind it into a fine powder and take one pill, a measure as small as a knife-tip (an ancient unit for a tiny quantity). Its effect is most wondrous.

Only now does the Immortal Master turn to the practical work of refining the Elixir: entering the quiet chamber, approaching the alchemical furnace, beginning to form the Elixir, and placing the ingredients in the cauldron. Those with a sound foundation should understand that this book presents its teachings in a deliberate sequence. They should not read it casually as just another general account of the Cantong qi. This chapter is crucial. Without its detailed explanations, how could later practitioners know where to begin refining the Elixir?

Practitioners who have not received a master’s guidance cannot understand how subtle and profound this book is. When they reach this passage, they often find it as dry as chewing wax, with no idea how to begin. They can only guess that it describes the calcination of the five metals and eight minerals. In the end they gain nothing, and instead blame the sage master for speaking insincerely. This is truly regrettable. I will now offer a brief explanation to dispel the doubts of later readers.

“To make gold a dike” means that practitioners engaged in the Ninefold Return Golden Elixir, a method of Daoist internal alchemy, must understand that “gold” here is the Metal of the Dui trigram in the west. They must first seek this Metal of Dui with a sincere heart, place it in the ritual enclosure, and guard and seal it carefully at all times to prevent leakage, waiting for water to arise within the gold. The water that appears must be examined closely: is it precelestial water or postcelestial water? Postcelestial water is turbid and cannot be used to refine the Return Elixir. Even if the water is precelestial, one must wait until it is clear before using it. The verse says, “The Jing is clear; the Wei is turbid”: the Jing River is clear, while the Wei River is turbid. Practitioners must wait until the Jing water is clear, keeping watch steadily without disturbing it. “When the water enters, remain at ease” means that once the water appears, one should wait for it calmly. This clear water contains true gold. Zhou Xingsi wrote, “Gold is born in the beautiful waters; this is purity at its utmost,” expressing the same idea.

The relative weights of the gold and water must also be determined before they can be used. The Metal of Dui is said here to weigh about fifteen liang, close to one jin, as a standard measure. When the gold reaches fifteen liang, it can produce the beautiful water. The statement that the quantity of water is “likewise” does not mean that the water also weighs fifteen liang. It means that the amount of water must be proportionate to the gold: the amount produced by fifteen liang of gold provides the measure. That is why the Immortal Master says that the precise quantities are determined only when one approaches the furnace. If fifteen liang of gold has already produced five parts of water, there is too much to use; this is what “five parts of water are excessive” means. The water is truly usable when the Metal of Dui has just produced two parts, hence the phrase “the two are taken as true.” The precise quantity of these two parts, too, is determined only at the furnace. Gold is measured at about fifteen liang; if the water has reached three parts, it is unsuitable, hence “when it reaches three, it is not admitted.”

When the quantities and timing of the gold and water coincide exactly, one must immediately unite them with two parts of fire. Gold, water, and fire combine: the fire is nourished by the gold and tempered by the water, and so the Return Elixir congeals. It can then undergo transformation and manifest wondrous powers. Nothing is more important to the practical work at the furnace than this.

The sages therefore used the year to determine the month, the month to calculate the day, and the day to select the hour that corresponds to the hexagram lines. Then, within that hour, they determined the firing process and carried out the talismanic procedure. “Carrying out the talisman” means practicing in accordance with the calculated season and firing process. The sages of old regarded refining the Golden Elixir as a great undertaking, so they calculated the timing and devised a method of “gathering and concentrating”: the seventy-two pentads of the year were compressed into one day, the three hundred and sixty hexagram lines into one month, and the thirty-six talismans into a single day and night. A day is divided into twelve double-hours, each of which contains six pentads, yet the work of seeking the Elixir takes only as long as two pentads. Each double-hour contains one hexagram line, yet the work takes less than half that time. Each double-hour contains three talismans, yet the work requires only the time of one. This is what is called “a single talisman, a single decision,” and it is also what the Yellow Emperor meant by “the Yin Talisman.”

Hence the saying: “People know that there are wondrous things, but they do not know what is wondrous about Wuwei.” During the time of a single talisman, practitioners gather the three thousand six hundred proper Qi and draw it inward against its natural course, bringing it into the embryo. At that moment, it is like seizing the transformations of Heaven and Earth and gathering the essence of the sun and moon: the axis of Earth seems to lie within the heart, and the gate of Heaven seems to be held in the hand. The Qi of the Dragon and Tiger, the two cords, meets; gold and water congeal into one. The tortoise and snake coil together in the alchemical furnace; the Raven and Hare travel along the Yellow Path, black and white reflecting one another, hardness and softness alternating. Auspicious Qi gathers in the Jade Furnace, and purple radiance shines like the sun. Mars stands in the west, while the fire of the Vermilion Bird rises into the sky. Water is urged to move the gold, then fire is driven into the cauldron. The fire is subdued and the ingredients steamed and refined until they finally congeal into an Elixir called the Yellow Chariot.

When the gold and water are first refined, the dike must be guarded according to the months and years. But when they are joined to form the Elixir, the work takes only the time of a single talisman. If it takes too long, the nature of the Elixir is damaged; if the timing is even slightly off, longevity is harmed. The purpose of refining the Elixir is to prolong life and attain true immortality. A hair’s breadth of error can instead shorten life. That is why the Immortal Master warns later practitioners to be scrupulously careful.

“Dust on a bright window” is a metaphor for the Elixir’s minute subtlety. “Pounding and refining” refers to the interaction and refinement of Yin-Yang. “Holding it inward” means protecting it and drawing it into the body. The “red-colored gate” is the gate of the Qian trigram, through which the Elixir returns to the spirit chamber. “Sealing it firmly” means closing the breath. “The points of meeting” refer to the nine apertures. All must be guarded securely so that nothing is lost.

“Flames spread below; day and night the sound is steadily maintained” describes how, when the Yang Elixir has just entered the body, it responds to the fire of the Li trigram and circulates throughout the body day and night. At this time, the hundred joints and all the spirits of the body are set in motion by it. Practitioners should diligently maintain inward stillness: let the voice fall silent, the mind grow calm, the breathing become even, and the pulse settle. Only then will the Elixir begin to congeal.

When the Elixir first begins to congeal, it should be cultivated with a gentle fire. The beginning and end of the refining process, however, both require a strong fire. A strong fire is used at the beginning to refine the self, and at the end to warm and nourish it. Hence the Song of the Tripod and Vessels says, “Strong fire at the beginning and end; gentle fire in between.” Practitioners must observe closely and adjust the firing process with care; they must not be negligent. Nivan says, “Without sufficient work, it will not become round.” The Venerable Ziyang also says, “Regulate the firing process by entrusting it to Yin and Yang.”

The practice proceeds in twelve cycles, circulating repeatedly until “the lead is spent, the mercury dried, the Seven Po souls dead, and the Hun soul transformed as well.” This means that the movement of Qi gradually settles and the spirit and soul undergo transformation; it should not be taken to mean that the physical body actually dies. At this point, the Elixir turns a purplish, golden-red color and becomes the Return Elixir. It is extremely small, a single pellet the size of a grain of millet. “Knife-tip measure” likewise describes a minute quantity. Though small, the Elixir’s wondrous powers are beyond words.

This chapter explains in detail how to begin the practice, but its subtle and mysterious aspects must be transmitted orally by a master. Who could succeed merely by following written instructions? The former sage Zhu Xi wished to hear the highest Dao, but he did not receive a master’s transmission. He greatly valued this book. In a letter to the Vice Minister Yuan late in life, he said that the Cantong qi was not originally intended as a commentary on the Book of Changes. Rather, it borrowed the method of najia—matching the stems and branches and the trigrams with the phases of the moon—to convey the timing of advancing and withdrawing in cultivation. The author argues that Zhu Xi was widely learned, but, lacking a master’s guidance, he understood the book as being about najia. In fact, the book is intended to clarify the principles of the Book of Changes, as its title, The Zhouyi Cantong qi, itself indicates. The timing of advance and withdrawal in Elixir cultivation does not use the najia method.

Zhu Xi also said that, while traveling, he had brought no other books, so he read the Cantong qi repeatedly and at last grasped the general sense of its wording. He had read it many times before but had always found it meaningless and put it down after a few pages. Only now had he begun to make sense of it, though he still did not know the ingredients and key principles involved. Its mysterious language and hidden teachings cannot be fully understood through reflection alone. Zhu Xi repeatedly found the book uninteresting, while blind teachers persisted in guessing and speculating about it.

Zhu Xi also said that he had long wished to learn this Way but had received no transmission and could find no way to begin. If even sages faced this difficulty, could their intelligence surpass that of Confucius and Mencius? Without a teacher in the lineage, how could they understand it? People today consider themselves satisfied, making reckless guesses and practicing recklessly. Compared with their predecessors, their offense is far greater. Zhu Xi further said that if he had received a master’s guidance and fully understood the sages’ principles in the Book of Changes, he would never have stubbornly regarded the Zhouyi as merely a book of divination.

The numerical principles of the Five Phases can be explained briefly and in outline; there is no need for an elaborate account. When water strikes fire, the flames are suddenly extinguished. The Sun and Moon often eclipse one another between the new and full moons. When water grows powerful, it overwhelms Kan, which belongs to Yang; when fire weakens, Li, which belongs to Yin, causes the daylight to grow dim. These are natural principles of Yin and Yang acting upon and responding to one another.

“Name” identifies the condition of a thing; “designation” explains its nature. Only when Metal returns to its original nature can it be called the “Returning Elixir.” I do not dare invent these claims from nothing; I follow the written records of the ancient sages. Titles in old books such as Dragon and Tiger, The Yellow Emperor’s Fine Golden Flower, Huainan’s Refining of Autumn Stone, and Yuyang’s Addition of Yellow Sprouts are names of alchemical texts and terms. “Golden Flower,” “Autumn Stone,” and “Yellow Sprouts” also refer to the substances or ingredients used in refining and cultivation. The worthy can preserve and put these teachings into practice; those unsuited to them should not follow this path.

From ancient times to the present, the principle has always returned to the One. Scholars who discuss and seek this Way should apply themselves more earnestly, keeping its essentials in mind and reflecting deeply on them. The crucial words have been stated plainly and clearly; I have not been deceived.

The numerical principles of the Five Phases touch on cultivation and refinement teachings such as “Golden Flower,” “Huainan’s Refining of Autumn Stone,” and “Yuyang’s Addition of Yellow Sprouts.” The worthy can preserve and practice them; those unsuited to them should not follow this path. The Way of past and present returns to the One. Students should apply themselves, keep the teachings in mind, and consider them deeply. The most important principles have been made perfectly clear; I have not been deceived.

The numerical principles of the Five Phases—Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, and Water—can, when fully worked out, be summed up as “three and five returning to one.” In refining the Golden Elixir, lead, mercury, silver, cinnabar, and earth are assigned to the Five Phases and coordinated with Yin and Yang. Water can extinguish fire, symbolizing how Yin can diminish Yang. Eclipses of the sun and moon usually occur at the new or full moon, showing Yin and Yang waxing and waning, and encroaching upon one another. When Yin and Yang are harmonized, respond to one another, and nourish one another, the Way of union naturally takes shape.

Metal and Water belong to the same category, called “emotion”; Wood and Fire belong to the same category, called “nature.” Emotion resides in the northwest, while nature governs the southeast. The southeast is called “I,” and the northwest “the other.” The emotion of Metal and Water naturally comes from outside and restrains Wood and Fire; the nature of Wood and Fire, in turn, revolves inward and congeals into the Golden Elixir. This is what is meant by “Metal comes to return to the origin of nature.” Only upon reaching this stage can it be called the “returning elixir.” These two statements express the central teaching of the Cantong Qi.

I would not dare invent teachings out of thin air; I follow the writings of the sages. The Immortal Master (Wei Boyang) received the essential instructions handed down by the sages and understood the wondrous purport of the ancient version of the Longhu Jing. He practiced according to its principles and formed the Elixir, then wrote this book and passed it on to later generations. He also gave examples: the Elixir refined by the Yellow Emperor was called “Golden Flower”; the Elixir refined by the King of Huainan was called “Autumn Stone”; and the Elixir refined by Yuyang was called “Yellow Sprout.” After the Elixir was completed, they ascended; though each used a different name, all were in fact referring to the returning elixir, the primordial Qi, and things of the same kind. Later readers heard “Golden Flower” and guessed it meant five metals; heard “Yellow Sprout” and guessed it meant eight minerals; heard “Autumn Stone” and guessed it was something made from urine and feces. How could they know that the ancient sages had simply given the Elixir expedient names? The Elixir they refined did not lie beyond Yin and Yang, on some separate path.

This Way can be diligently practiced only by the sages. From antiquity to the present, there has always been only this one Way. When sages of the Three Teachings put their methods into practice, they too must follow the principle that things of the same kind join together. Thus, the Way of past and present is formed by a pair of Yin and Yang; this is also what people discuss and seek. Beyond this, there are no other arts. Later practitioners should reflect deeply and seek guidance from a clear-sighted master. They will then understand that the principles of this book are plainly revealed and that it does not deceive.

Shangyangzi says: The Cantong Qi is divided into three sections and discusses essence and function; its effects are extraordinarily subtle. “Can” means joining with the underlying substance of Heaven and Earth’s transformations; “tong” means making use of the generative action by which things of the same kind produce one another; “qi” means corresponding to the effects of generation and transformation. The first section describes the entire process of refining the Elixir; the middle section sets out its subtle and hidden essentials; the last section supplies the symbolic images of the Way that were left out. The first section corresponds to and agrees in meaning with the Shangjing of the Longhu Jing. People suspect that later writers compiled the Longhu Jing on the basis of the first section of the Cantong Qi, and argue that the Longhu Jing should also have three books—the upper, middle, and lower scriptures. If it had no middle or lower scripture, they ask, how could it be called the “Upper Scripture”? How could ordinary people understand the intentions of the sages? “Upper Scripture” can also mean the foremost scripture; this was never something ordinary people could fathom. Moreover, the book contains an ancient inscription bearing the name “Dragon and Tiger,” enough to prove that it is a text from antiquity. Why doubt it? Hence it is called the Jinbi Guwen.

In his preface, the Perfected Peng Xiao says that it is unknown from whom the Immortal Master received instruction, but that he obtained the ancient version of the Longhu Jing and fully grasped its wondrous purport. He then composed the three sections of the Cantong Qi on the basis of the Zhouyi. Later, feeling that its subtleties had not been fully explained, he wrote a further section, “Supplementing What Was Omitted,” to expound more fully the mysteries of the Elixir scriptures. Accounts of the Immortal tradition also record that the Immortal Master first received instructions from the Perfected Yin Changsheng and later took Xu Congshi as his teacher, thereby mastering the subtle essentials in full. When his book was finished, he secretly transmitted it to Xu Congshi in Qingzhou. Xu concealed his name and wrote a commentary on the book. This shows that the transmission of this text has a genuine lineage.

More than a hundred people have written commentaries on this book. Among them, the explanations of Peng Xiao and Wang Dao are good. Peng Xiao received teachings from a master, and speaks about them in detail in writings such as the Mingjing Tu and the Cantong Xu. Yet his commentary on this book remains fragmentary and disordered, and his views sometimes differ from one another. Wang Dao’s explanation, too, contains excellent insights. On close inspection, the language of the Longhu Jing, though ancient and profound, is not as clear and precise as that of the Cantong Qi. The Cantong Qi’s language is deep and mysterious. Without a sage master personally pointing out and impressing upon one the practical methods of practice, who would dare to speculate freely? The line “Metal comes to return to the origin of nature” is immediately followed by “I would not dare speak falsely; I follow the writings of the sages.” From this we can see that the ancient sages must have received instruction from masters; otherwise, how could they dare to expound these teachings without a basis? Without a lineage of transmission, they could not have written this book, much less made it accord with the transformations of Heaven and Earth.

The sages left this book among humankind out of their sage hearts and Dao vision. It is like a ladder leading to Heaven or a raft for crossing a river, a support for practitioners. If this book did not exist in the world, people would stray into deviant paths, led by teachers who do not understand the truth and by strange doctrines invented out of thin air by ordinary people, and would ultimately fall into delusion. Without this book, the world would lack the right path of cultivation and the Way of the sages. What, then, could practitioners throughout the world rely on to fulfill their work? This deserves deep reflection: the Immortal Master can truly be said to have come by Heaven’s will.

Commenting on a book generally means explaining what is obscure and difficult, so that later readers may understand it. A commentator must therefore grasp the meaning of the whole work and surpass those who came before in insight and understanding, with a thorough command of its ideas. The commentary should also be clearer than the original. Otherwise, one passage remains unexplained and another is left unclear; instead of helping, the commentary obscures the understanding of later readers and narrows their perspective. Do not assume that later generations must be inferior to earlier ones. If Heaven brings forth a sage or wise person who wishes to correct old interpretations and save later learners, but that person is obscured by confused explanations, they will be unable to distinguish the right from the wrong and return to the proper path.

This may be acceptable for other classics, but this book is different. Boyang personally met the two Perfected Ones, Yin and Xu, and inherited the true method of the highest Way. The writing is ancient in style and forceful in expression; the meanings it conceals are profound and subtle, and not a single character is written casually. It contains much about the wonders of the Golden Elixir method and the use of the vessel and the points of practice. With the single phrase “Metal comes to return to the origin of nature,” Boyang has already summarized the entire teaching.

The Confucian scholars of the Song dynasty did not understand this layer of meaning. They refused to explain the principles of the Zhouyi and treated it only as a book of divination. In doing so, they obscured the intentions of the sages Fuxi, King Wen, the Duke of Zhou, and Confucius, and concealed the principles of Qian and Kun, advance and retreat, and the workings of transformation. They also wronged the profound truth that Boyang inherited and expounded. If the key points are not revealed now, the intentions of the four sages will be difficult for all generations to know, and the Great Way of the Yi will be difficult for all generations to understand. In truth, the most important principles have already been stated with great clarity: every word is plain and precise, and tells the people of the world exactly what they need to know.

Qian and Kun (symbolizing the Yin and Yang forces of Heaven and Earth) work together in strength and gentleness, embracing one another. Yang Qi takes the lead, while Yin Qi receives; the feminine and masculine aspects of Yin and Yang depend on each other. Only when Yin and Yang join can the essential Qi of creation unfold. Kan and Li (symbols of Water and Fire, often used to represent Yin and Yang) take precedence, their radiance shining out and spreading in all directions. Their mystery is profound and difficult to fathom, and no diagram can fully express it.

The sage observes the changes of Yin and Yang, seeking out and arranging the foundations from which all things come into being. The Four Images of Yin and Yang mingle and return to chaos, ultimately entering emptiness. The sixty hexagrams are arranged in sequence like a carriage. The dragon-horse draws it, and the enlightened ruler guides it in accord with the seasons. When circumstances are in harmony, the carriage proceeds smoothly along a level, straight road. But if it takes a crooked path, the road grows perilous, and the state may be overturned and brought to ruin.

The first fifteen chapters have already explained the sequence and full course of alchemical practice. This section goes on to describe its finer points, setting them out chapter by chapter and explaining the process by which the Ninefold-Returned Great Elixir is formed.

The first fifteen chapters of the preceding section have explained the sequence and overall course of the alchemical process. This section goes on to clarify its subtleties and, chapter by chapter, sets out the principles for coordinating the Ninefold-Returned Great Elixir, a stage of cultivation in Daoist internal alchemy. Later practitioners must investigate these principles deeply and understand them thoroughly; they must not treat them carelessly or vaguely. Even the slightest deviation may prevent the Elixir from forming.

Shangyangzi divided the middle section into fifteen chapters to discuss fifteen separate matters. This chapter explains four things in particular: Yin-Yang, Jing (essence), and Qi (vital energy).

The Book of Changes (Yijing) says: “Qian is the yang substance; Kun is the yin substance. Yin and yang unite in De (Virtue/Power), while firmness and yielding each take form.” This means that Qian belongs to yang and Kun to yin. When yin and yang unite, firmness and yielding each assume their own form. Qian’s De is firm, vigorous, balanced, and pure; Kun’s De is yielding, compliant, and steadfast. This is the way of the Golden Elixir, in which Qian and Kun are joined; only a noble person can cultivate it.

Confucius once said that he had never seen anyone truly strong. When someone offered Shen Cheng as an example, Confucius replied, “He has desires—how can he be called strong?” The true meaning of strength is profound. Even if petty people manage to display firmness for a time, they may not be able to remain balanced. And if they cannot be balanced, how could they make their nature pure?

Firmness belongs to Qian, whose movement proceeds directly, and so is easy to understand. Yielding belongs to Kun, whose movement opens and unfolds, and so is easy to follow. What is easy to understand invites closeness; what is easy to follow brings things to completion. Closeness and accomplishment allow one’s work to grow broad and enduring: this is the De and achievement of sages and worthies. To settle oneself between firmness and yielding and bring the two into harmony—this, perhaps, is the way of the Golden Elixir.

The De of Qian’s yang is to hold fast; the De of Kun’s yin is to receive and contain. Male and female depend on one another, coordinating through Jing and Qi. As Jing and Qi extend and spread, male and female support one another.

The Book of Changes says that Jing and Qi gather to form things, while the wandering apart of the hun and po souls brings change. When this process follows the natural course, it gives rise to human beings and the myriad things; when it is turned around, it can refine a person into a Buddha or an immortal. Here, “following birth” and “reversing the process” describe the direction of cultivation.

Why are Kan and Li placed first? When Qian’s firm, vigorous Qi joins with Kun, the middle of the Qian trigram becomes empty, forming Li. When Kun receives Qian, the middle of the Kun trigram becomes full, forming Kan. Thus Kan and Li follow Qian and Kun, occupy the foremost place in the transformations of yin and yang, and embody firmness and yielding each taking their proper positions. Li contains the light of the sun, and Kan the radiance of the moon; their light shines downward. These principles are profound and subtle, beyond measurement, and cannot be fully represented in diagrams. Only sages can infer and examine them, then explain and record them. This is the same idea expressed earlier: “The original Jing is hidden and subtle, difficult to fathom; it can be shown only through tested results and corroborating signs.”

These four—Yin-Yang, Jing, and Qi—intermix and are contained within the aperture of emptiness, the crucial place in internal alchemical cultivation that is still and formless. From there the transformations of the sixty-four hexagrams unfold, providing the means by which the process turns.

Kun symbolizes the ox and the carriage; Qian symbolizes the dragon and the horse. When the De of Qian and Kun are joined, the dragon and horse can draw the carriage. The world is thereby brought to order, and a wise ruler can govern the age. The Golden Liquid Returned Elixir, an internal alchemical term for the Elixir produced through cultivation, follows the same principle. The dragon symbolizes the water of the east, and the horse the fire of the south. With the western Metal Tiger joining the dragon and horse, the water of the northern Black Tortoise is born. When Jing and Qi gather and are contained, they form a shape that can be harnessed.

When Yin-Yang is in harmony, things proceed with the current; when the road is level and straight, one does not stray from it. This is like a wise ruler who governs by the right way without burdening the people; the harmonizing Qi responds at the proper time. If the ruler departs from the right way, or lets treacherous petty men deceive him about worthy people and resent those with talent, the state will fall into danger.

The text draws on history as a warning. After Zhang Jiuling was dismissed, Li Linfu and Yang Guozhong rose to power, and the An Lushan Rebellion began to take shape. When Qin Hui held power, Yue Fei was killed, and the lost territories of the Yan and Yun regions could not be recovered. Upright men devote themselves to the state and fear that power may no longer rest with the ruler. Petty men care only for their own interests and fear that power may not belong to them. Noble and petty people have always existed in the world. Noble people should be kind and tolerant; petty people should follow the right way and listen to noble people. Then the state will not be imperiled, and the world can be at peace.

In cultivation, the first requirement is harmony. When things are harmonious, they are more likely to proceed smoothly and yield the expected results. The Book of Changes says: “The good fortune of harmonious joy lies in acting without doubt.” Once things have been brought into harmony, one must also set the heart straight, make one’s thoughts sincere, and carefully guard against possible dangers. Only then can one avoid obstacles that would ruin the work of refining the Elixir. Alchemical cultivation demands care: even the slightest error must not be taken lightly. The following twenty-eight chapters will explain these four matters in greater detail.

When a gentleman lives at home and speaks words grounded in goodness and reason, even people a thousand miles away will respond. This illustrates how a ruler, though dwelling deep within the palace, can issue commands that influence the whole realm.

In administering government, a ruler should follow the rhythms of Yin-Yang, acting as one would when storing things away and waiting for the proper moment. He must not go against the sequence of the trigrams’ qi and the months. The days associated with the Zhun hexagram designate Zi and Shen as times for defense, and Yin and Xu as times for action; each of the other sixty hexagrams likewise has its corresponding days. These are just two examples; the full system cannot be explained in detail here. Whether establishing penal laws, practicing benevolent government, or teaching De (Virtue), one should act at the right time. Going against the seasonal sequence brings danger; following it brings good fortune.

To act in accordance with the calendar requires single-minded sincerity and meticulous care: observe the days closely and examine the waxing and waning of Yin-Yang. Even a slight error can bring regret and calamity. If the timing of the winter and summer solstices is thrown off, the seasons fall into disorder: the depths of winter become scorching hot, while frost and snow fall in midsummer. The balance of day and night at the spring and autumn equinoxes is also disrupted, and the time shown by the clepsydra no longer matches the season. Floods and droughts occur in turn, winds and rains lose their balance, locusts swarm, and all kinds of anomalies follow one after another, even such disasters as mountains collapsing and the earth splitting open.

A ruler’s intentions in governing have far-reaching effects: nearby, they shape his own words and conduct; farther away, their influence spreads across the land. Good governance can bring blessings and establish peace; poor governance can invite calamity and provoke war. All these outcomes arise from thoughts in the heart. Action and stillness alike should follow established methods and principles. Each of the four seasons should fulfill its proper role, and Yin-Yang should work in harmony. Firmness and yielding should each remain in their proper place and not be confused; the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water) should each stay within their bounds and not be arbitrarily increased or diminished. The Dao of Change moves in cycles without end, flowing on through alternations of contraction and expansion.

This chapter explains that when first entering the chamber to practice alchemical cultivation, one must be cautious in every respect and make thorough preparations. The sage uses the “gentleman” in the Commentary on the Appended Phrases of the Classic of Changes to make the point: “When a gentleman speaks well within his chamber, those a thousand miles away respond—how much more so those nearby?” A gentleman’s words and actions are of central importance: they affect honor and disgrace, and can move Heaven and Earth. Before acting, one should think carefully; before speaking, one should weigh one’s words. Only then can one grasp the changes.

Shangyangzi says that the Dao is originally without words, yet making its principles clear cannot be done without speech. “Without words” means that a person of De (Virtue/Power) knows to speak with care. Those who cultivate the Dao and practice alchemy, all the more, must not speak casually. Laozi said, “Those who know do not speak; those who speak do not know.” People who trust in their own small cleverness but do not truly understand the principles often seek fame through discussion and debate. A genuine teacher can see the falsity and shallowness in this and will not lightly discuss secret essentials.

Ziyang Gong says that even with a cauldron before him and knives and saws at his body, he would not dare disclose the alchemical method. Yet if someone is sincere and truly suited to cultivating the Dao, how could one refuse to explain it to them? Still, when entering the chamber to gather the medicine, one must especially avoid speaking carelessly. But if one says nothing at all, how can one obtain the medicine one needs? Here, “medicine” refers to the essential substances used in Neidan (internal alchemy), not ordinary medicinal herbs.