《周易参同契解》

The Explanation of the Zhouyi Cantong Qi consists of three volumes and was written by Chen Xianwei of the Song dynasty. Chen Xianwei, whose courtesy name was Zongdao, styled himself Baoyizi, “Master Who Embraces Unity,” and was from Huaiyang. During the Jiading and Duanping eras, he served as a Daoist priest at You Sheng Abbey in Lin’an. His disciple Wang Yi published the book in the first year of the Duanping era, and Chen Xianwei wrote the preface himself.

The order of the sections generally follows Peng Xiao’s version. The song “Ode to the Crucible and Vessel” also follows Peng Xiao’s version and is appended at the end of the third volume. The book is divided into upper, middle, and lower parts, without further subdivisions into chapters; this arrangement follows the account in Ge Hong’s Biographies of the Immortals.

The seventy characters beginning “At the midpoint of winter” appear beneath the passage “Branches, stems, and leaves” in both Peng Xiao’s and Chen Zhixu’s versions. This book instead places them after the section “The sun’s flowing pearl.” Chen Xianwei made this change to the established order of sections on the basis of another passage in the scripture that explains the sequence of the Four Images.

At the time, the view that ancient books contained disordered strips and should be rearranged was widespread. Wang Bai and others continued to promote it, and its influence gradually spread, even reaching the sphere of technical arts. Chen Xianwei’s commentary is relatively detailed and remains one of the better versions among the various commentaries on the Cantong Qi. It has therefore been included as one account of Neidan (internal alchemy), in much the same way that works by Wu Cheng and others were included in compilations of commentaries on the classics.

Respectfully collated and submitted in the tenth month of the forty-sixth year of the Qianlong reign. The chief compilers were Ji Yun, Lu Xixiong, and Sun Shiyi; the chief proofreader was Lu Feichi.

Anything that depends on a concrete form will eventually be destroyed over time; Heaven and Earth, however, will not be destroyed. Anything formed by gathering essence will eventually disperse; the sun and moon, however, will not disperse. Anything formed by relying on Wood, Fire, Earth, and Water will ultimately have its substance ruined; true gold, however, will not decay. Anything of the kind represented by sand and stone, plants and trees, will eventually lose its life; true cinnabar, however, will not die.

Heaven and Earth, the sun and moon, true gold, and true cinnabar are the most wondrous things among all things. This is why immortals call the object of cultivation the Golden Elixir: the name was not chosen casually. The Golden Elixir takes Qian and Kun as its fundamental form and the sun and moon as its guiding principles. Qian and Kun are Heaven and Earth within our bodies; Kan and Li are the sun and moon within our bodies. As Qian and Kun rise and descend, the firing process takes place; when Kan and Li unite, the moment of conjunction arrives. Once the supreme treasure has been refined, it can be kept forever as soon as it is attained. Perhaps this is why it is not destroyed, dispersed, ruined, or extinguished?

The Way of the Golden Elixir is boundless: it contains Heaven and Earth and transcends age and form. None of the other 3,600 illusory arts can compare with it. The union of Kan and Li is its moment of conjunction; once the supreme treasure has been refined, it can be kept forever as soon as it is attained. Perhaps this is why it is not destroyed, dispersed, ruined, or extinguished? The Way of the Golden Elixir is boundless: it contains Heaven and Earth and transcends age and form. None of the other 3,600 illusory arts can compare with it.

The sages of antiquity revered the preciousness of the Dao and feared its methods might fall into the wrong hands. They therefore often transmitted it mind to mind rather than writing it on bamboo slips. In the Eastern Han, Wei Boyang worried that the Great Way would remain buried for a long time, and felt compassion for those aspiring to cultivate the Dao who had no teacher to guide them. He therefore drew on the symbols and parables of the ancient Jinbi Longhu Jing to expound what he had understood, composing the Zhouyi Cantong Qi. The language of this book is archaic and its meaning profound, so people often find it difficult to read. Xu Congshi, Zhang Sui, and Peng Zhenyi all wrote commentaries on it; today, only Peng Zhenyi’s commentary is available. Yet although his explanations are detailed, the essential methods of the Dao remain obscure. Recent popular commentaries often force in the teachings of heterodox schools, making them even more misleading than Peng’s commentary. They can lead later students astray and are not worth following.

Master Baoyi, Chen Jun, was naturally intelligent and deeply versed in the Dao of nature and life. In the guiwei year of the Jiading era, he met a realized master in Duliang, near the Huai River, and received the complete true instructions for the Golden Elixir. At the beginning of the Baoqing era, he came to the capital and, moved by compassion and a desire to help others, guided younger students. Afterward, he read the Zhouyi Cantong Qi and understood it without difficulty. He withdrew from social engagements and cultivated in seclusion for more than a year; his practice grew ever deeper, and his attainment became increasingly evident. He then set down in an explanatory commentary what he had learned through personal practice. His words probe the finest details, yet his explanation of the principles is not cumbersome, making the teachings clear and intelligible. Just as Cai Mo discerned the divine dragon and He Shi recognized the genuine jade, the way of the Elixir thereby gained a trustworthy guide.

In the past, Master Cheng Yi of Yichuan said that the world holds three exceptionally difficult tasks: governing a state in order to ask Heaven to prolong its destiny; cultivating the body in pursuit of long life; and studying and practicing diligently in order to become a sage. The effort required for all three is the same: each can transform the workings of creation. The Way practiced by Master Chen today is not merely a matter of preserving the body. If later students read this book thoroughly, investigate it deeply, and personally grasp its teachings, they will understand that some aspects of the Way Master Chen describes cannot be fully expressed in words. The Book of Changes says, “Its miraculous workings are made clear through discernment; the matter rests with each person.” I have long admired the Master’s teachings, which reach the utmost heights, and had already heard of his purpose in writing this book. I therefore compose this preface.

The Master’s given name was Xianwei and his courtesy name was Zongdao. Later, when he lived in seclusion, he took the name Shaowei. He was from Huaiyang and was known as Master Baoyi. His Lisheng Pian, Xianwei Zhiyan, and Baoyi Zi Shu have all been handed down. On the first day of the fifth month in the summer of the first year of the Duanping era of the Great Song, Zheng Boqian, the Daoist of the Heavenly Wall Gourd at Dongyuan Cave in Jinhua, respectfully composed this preface.

The Great Dao is vast and boundless. Even the workings of Heaven and Earth cannot go against it, and even the holy cannot fully fathom it. Heaven and Earth depend on it to come into being, yet sages find it difficult to name. It cannot be probed by thought, discussed in words, understood by intellect, or distinguished through learning. To apprehend it by one’s nature is still like being separated from it by Heaven and an abyss—how much less could one seek it through personal feelings?

Only when it is said that “the Dao gives birth to One” can the Dao’s mystery be approached through the One. The One is that which came into being in an undivided state and existed before Heaven and Earth. How great is this One! It is the mother of Heaven and Earth, the root of creation, the ancestor of the myriad things. All things possess this One, yet in the end they cannot thereby endure forever.

The Pass Guardian Yin Xi, who according to legend received the Dao from Laozi, said: “The principles by which Heaven and Earth take shape are all contained in a single thing; and each thing, in turn, contains Heaven and Earth within itself.” Thus every thing and every body each has a complete cosmos of its own. Within the human body, Yin-Yang, nature and life, the hun and po souls, waking and sleeping, movement and stillness, life and death—all are formed from two opposing aspects. But where, exactly, is the One that these two aspects share? Laozi said: “Understand the One, and you will understand all things.”

This One is the Golden Elixir. The Golden Elixir is the wondrous Dao by which life returns to its origin, comes back to its source, and restores its mandate. To refine the Elixir is to harmonize Heaven and Earth and unite Kan and Li—the water and fire trigrams of the Bagua (Eight Trigrams)—to gather Yin and Yang, and bring man and woman together so that what was divided becomes one again. The many transformations that arise from duality—such as the Nine Palaces, Eight Trigrams, Seven Luminaries, Six Positions, Five Phases, Four Images, and Three Powers—must all return to the One and then be condensed and refined into the Elixir.

The “gold” in Golden Elixir symbolizes the Qi of the Five Phases reaching its culmination. The Five Phases generate one another: Heaven gives birth to Water, Water generates Wood, Wood generates Fire, Fire generates Earth, and Earth generates Metal. When Metal is formed last, the Qi of the Five Phases and the workings of creation are complete. Metal can be melted into water and can produce fire when struck; its flexibility resembles wood, and its color resembles earth. It combines the qualities of water, fire, earth, and wood. It does not decay over ten thousand years; after a hundred refinings it grows stronger still. It is a supremely precious substance, firm and purely Yang. Heaven is purely Yang, so Qian is called Metal; the One is purely Yang, so it is called the Golden Elixir; Shen is purely Yang, so it is called the Golden Immortal. The principle is the same in each case.

Buddhists say that the human body is formed from the temporary union of the four great elements—earth, water, fire, and wind—and that through practice one attains a golden body and immeasurable life. Earth, water, fire, and wind—that is, the elements earth, water, fire, and wood—are not firm in themselves, so they are easily destroyed. Only a body dense and solid in substance is indestructible like vajra. This accords with the Golden Elixir described in this Dao, and so the Elixir is named “gold.”

The sages knew that what has divided into two can return to the One, and that the One can in turn return to the Dao. They therefore mastered the principles of the Nine Returns, Seven Reversals, Eight Returns, Six Abidings, gathering the Five, clustering the Four, joining the Three, and uniting the Two. Extended outward, these principles accord with the workings of the Golden Elixir in everything from the three hundred and sixty-five degrees of the celestial circuit, the twenty-eight lunar lodges, the seventy-two pentads, the twelve celestial regions, and the eight seasonal divisions and four seasons, down to every transformation in creation. Who could know such principles, unless they were supremely numinous and holy?

Though the workings of Heaven are hidden, those with the proper affinity have never been absent from generation to generation. A single thought of wholehearted sincerity can resonate with Heaven and Earth. If a person has a pure and undivided nature and an earnest heart set on the Dao, is willing to relinquish worldly affairs to seek the way beyond the world, diligently studies the arcane principles, examines the scriptures of the immortals and probes the writings of the sages, humbly seeks out fellow practitioners and sincerely searches for a teacher, that person will surely meet someone of insight who can transmit the oral instructions. There may be people who aspire to the Dao but fail to find a teacher; there has never been anyone without such an aspiration who nevertheless found one.

True immortals and supreme sages have mostly written books to guide later students. In the Eastern Han, the Perfected Wei composed the three-part Cantong qi, or Token for Joining the Three, based on the Zhouyi. In it, he alone fully disclosed the arcane secrets, describing the lineage of the Supreme Dao and the essence of the Great Elixir. In recent times, few students of the Dao have seen this ancient book. To obtain it now is to have found the ancestor of the Elixir scriptures. Its account is thorough and precise, yet it conceals the workings of Heaven deep within; its meaning is subtle, yet it clearly sets them forth through images, numbers, and symbols.

Since this scripture first appeared, many people, past and present, have written commentaries, yet none has clarified Lord Wei’s original intent. For this reason, Zhang Ziyang, a Daoist practitioner of Neidan, deeply lamented that people in later generations, led astray by their own conjectures, presumed to annotate the scriptures of the ancient sages. It was the many errors that arose in commentaries on this book that prompted his lament.

Alas, the great medicine of the Golden Elixir is rare and difficult to encounter; it is no worldly affair. What the book teaches is profound and secret; it is no worldly method. If one has not met a true teacher and has not penetrated its hidden, profound meaning, yet presumes to interpret the sages’ scriptures merely on the strength of extensive reading, is that not to profane the High Perfected, mislead later students, and invite ridicule for fabricating things from thin air?

By good fortune, I met a true teacher many years ago. Whenever I read this book, I have delighted in its detailed exposition. Since entering the chamber to cultivate the Dao and accomplishing the Great Work, I have taken pleasure in traveling among people and visiting fellow practitioners. I have also often examined and distinguished the worthy from the foolish, and scrutinized what is orthodox and what is deviant. When I consider how few people in recent times have attained the Dao, and how fewer still have awakened to it, I feel deep sorrow: even when the workings of Heaven have been revealed, they are not necessarily easy to grasp.

Two or three Daoist friends heard of this and urged me to write a commentary on the book. They said: “For a thousand years this book’s meaning has remained obscure, and the commentaries of the various schools are inadequate. Those who understand the Great Dao are also rarely found. If you do not write a commentary now, who will clarify Lord Wei’s Dao?” I replied: “Did Lord Wei not say that if one reads it a thousand or ten thousand times, the spirits will naturally disclose its meaning? As long as students learn with diligence, why add unnecessary words? Besides, I spend my days in idleness. How would I find the time for writing?”

From then on, whenever those two or three Daoist friends gathered to discuss the Dao, they would bring up one or two passages and ask me to explain them. Over the course of eight or nine years, I explained the book orally in Qiantang, and before I knew it, I had nearly finished it. One day they showed me their notes, saying only that a few passages were missing and that they hoped I would complete the earlier text and write a preface. I gladly agreed, filled in the commentary as the thoughts came to me, and wrote this preface to explain the principles of the Golden Elixir.

On the full-moon day of the second month in the first year of Duanping (1234), Chen Xianwei, the Master Who Embraces the One, wrote this preface.

Qian and Kun, the pure Yang and pure Yin hexagrams that represent Heaven and Earth, Yin and Yang, in the Classic of Changes, are its gateway and the foundation of its many hexagrams. The Scripture of Golden Radiance says that the spirit chamber, the central furnace chamber used in alchemical refinement, is the pivot of alchemy and the root of its various ingredients. Wei Boyang says that Qian and Kun are the gateway of the Classic of Changes and the foundation of its many hexagrams. The two statements mean the same thing.

Without the spirit chamber, the Elixir cannot be refined; without Qian and Kun, the Classic of Changes cannot be understood. Qian and Kun are originally hexagrams of pure Yin and pure Yang. The six children—Zhen, Xun, Kan, Li, Gen, and Dui—arise through transformations of Qian and Kun. The Daoist Master Mayi says that only through the interweaving of Qian and Kun are the six children produced; these six are the hexagram forms that result from the transformation of Qian and Kun. Since the six children arise from Qian and Kun, all sixty-four hexagrams also come from them. Thus Qian and Kun are called the parents of all the hexagrams.

The parents are originally forms of pure Yin and pure Yang. Once the six children have arisen, those pure Yin and pure Yang hexagram forms have changed and can no longer be regarded as pure in their original state. Chen Xiyi says that by refining the transformed hexagram forms, one can return them to their pure state. This shows that through refinement, transformed states can return to purity and thereby enter the Dao. In the same way, the various ingredients can, through refinement, return to the spirit chamber and be made into the Elixir.

The “many stones” mentioned here are not minerals from outside the body, but the many hexagram images within the human body. The “spirit chamber” likewise is not an external object; it refers to Qian and Kun within the human body. To refine the Great Elixir, one must first establish Qian and Kun as the spirit chamber. Once the spirit chamber is established, transformation takes place within it.

Kan and Li, the hexagrams that represent water and fire in the Classic of Changes, form the surrounding frame. Their movement is like that of a wheel hub, and they stand true like an axle.

Once Qian and Kun—the Qian and Kun trigrams of the Classic of Changes, symbolizing Heaven and Earth—are established in their positions, Yin and Yang naturally interact. Qian descends and joins with Kun, forming Kan; Kun ascends and joins with Qian, forming Li. With Kan and Li formed, the transformations between Heaven and Earth begin to unfold.

Chen Xiyi says: The sun represents the Qi of Heaven. It descends from the west and joins with Earth. The moon represents the Qi of Earth. It rises from the east and joins with Heaven. This resembles the union of man and woman, when their Jing and Qi respond to one another. As the sun and moon travel back and forth, cold and heat arise, the four seasons take shape, day and night are divided, and Yin and Yang are established. Heaven and Earth themselves do not directly produce cold and heat; these come from the changing distance of the sun and moon. Nor do Heaven and Earth themselves directly form the four seasons; these come from the sun and moon’s movement north and south. Day and night, darkness and brightness, likewise arise from the sun and moon’s appearing, disappearing, and meeting.

Though Yin and Yang are subtle, they cannot be understood apart from the sun and moon. Though the transformations between Heaven and Earth are vast, they cannot be understood apart from the Kan and Li trigrams. Thus, although the transformations of the many trigrams differ, their root remains in the central lines of Kan and Li, which move among the six line positions. It is like the many spokes of a wheel: its turning depends on the hub at the center.

The central lines of Kan and Li are the single Yang line in Kan and the single Yin line in Li. They move up and down among the six lines. Laozi says, “Thirty spokes share one hub; it is the empty space at the hub that makes the wheel useful.” Those who understand this principle can set the “sun and moon” within themselves in motion. Ordinary people who do not understand it go against the Yin-Yang transformations of creation and may fall into the danger of collapsing walls and detached spokes, unable to keep even the wheel’s frame and axle steady.

The four trigrams of the feminine and masculine, which symbolize the union of Yin and Yang, are likened to the bellows’ air valves; together they encompass and govern the way Yin and Yang move. This is like craftsmen and charioteers following the measuring cord and ink line, holding the reins and bridle, setting the square and compass true, and keeping to the wheel tracks. Only by taking one’s stand at the center can one master what lies outside.

Qian is the purely Yang “masculine hexagram,” while Kun is the purely Yin “feminine hexagram.” Kan contains Yang within Yin, and Li contains Yin within Yang. The intermingling of the feminine and masculine is expressed precisely in these four hexagrams, which is why they are called the “four feminine and masculine hexagrams.”

In the other sixty hexagrams, Yin and Yang are distributed with different emphases: in some, Yin is above and Yang below; in others, Yang is above and Yin below. Their Yin and Yang are not pure, so they cannot express the union of the feminine and masculine as directly as these four hexagrams do. Qian, Kun, Kan, and Li therefore encompass the way Yin and Yang transform, and may be likened to the bellows of the alchemical furnace, which stoke its fire. Qian and Kun are the bellows’ fundamental form; Kan and Li are their operation. Understanding the form and operation of these four hexagrams is like a craftsperson making an object with a ruler and a marking line, or a driver holding the reins and following the tracks: one must grasp the principles inwardly and apply skill in action to have a chance of avoiding error and following nature.

The number of hexagrams is also matched to the calendrical system, the monthly ordinances, and the solar terms. A month is reckoned as thirty days; apart from the four feminine and masculine hexagrams, exactly sixty hexagrams remain. These sixty are paired with the days, two hexagrams for each day, one serving as the “warp” and the other as the “weft,” corresponding respectively to the vertical and horizontal order. In the morning, the Tun hexagram is used; in the evening, Meng. In the morning, Xu is used; in the evening, Song. The sequence proceeds in this way through to Jiji and Weiji. The inner and outer trigrams of each hexagram, along with their firm and yielding qualities, also alternate according to the morning and evening sequence: morning occupies the upper position, evening the lower; firmness is on the outside, yieldingness within.

Including the four hexagrams Qian, Kun, Kan, and Li discussed earlier, all sixty-four hexagrams of the Zhouyi can be used to explain the Dao of alchemical cultivation. The principles of the Great Elixir—the highest attainment sought through Neidan cultivation—can therefore be explored with the help of the Yi. This, too, was the purpose behind the writing of the Cantong qi.

On the morning of the first day of the month, the Workings are governed by the “Tun” hexagram; by evening, the “Meng” hexagram takes over. One hexagram is used for the day and another for the night, proceeding in sequence. As the month draws to a close, just before dawn, the “Ji Ji” and “Wei Ji” hexagrams bring the cycle to an end, after which it begins again. The cycle follows the days, and the arrangements for activity and stillness likewise differ between morning and evening.

Ma Yi said, “The waxing and waning of Yin and Yang must be shown through the hexagram lines; it cannot be confined to the hexagram statements. Only by grasping the meaning beyond those statements can one truly understand the principles of the Book of Changes.” He also said, “The reversed and complementary hexagrams are of greatest importance. Turning a hexagram upside down reveals profound changes; examining its counterpart also brings subtle insights.” For example, when the “Tun” hexagram is turned upside down, it becomes “Meng.” From “Xu” and “Song” onward, most hexagrams are arranged according to their reversed forms. Those that cannot be reversed, such as “Yi” and “Xiao Guo,” are arranged according to their counterparts. Thus “Da Guo” follows “Yi”: these are complementary hexagrams.

The cycle runs from “Tun” and “Meng” at the start of the month to “Ji Ji” and “Wei Ji” just before dawn at its end, then repeats. This shows that morning belongs to Yang and evening to Yin; activity belongs to daytime, while nighttime is for quiet cultivation. Closeness and distance alternate, host and guest take turns, and Yin and Yang wax and wane, filling and emptying. The chances for advancing or withdrawing, choosing or relinquishing, and giving life or taking it also shift in turn. Advancing the Fire—strengthening Yang and progressing in cultivation—must not go wrong for even an instant. Withdrawing the Talisman—drawing back one’s effort and following Yin—must not deviate in the slightest. In “drawing off and adding,” the adjustments to one’s practice, one must distinguish what floats from what sinks and carefully observe dusk and dawn when putting them into effect. Those who study the Dao can seek its meaning through the hexagram images; once they have grasped that meaning, they need not cling to the images. The Wuzhen pian says, “Once the meaning is understood here, do not cling to the images; pursuing each line without end will only exhaust you.” This is precisely the point.

In spring and summer, practice according to the inner trigrams—the lower three lines—from the hour of the Rat through the hours of the Dragon and Snake. In autumn and winter, practice according to the outer trigrams—the upper three lines—from the hour of the Horse through the hours of the Dog and Pig. Each hexagram has inner and outer parts. Its three inner lines symbolize spring and summer in the year, and the hours after the Rat and before the Horse in the day. Its three outer lines symbolize autumn and winter in the year, and the hours after the Horse and before the Rat in the day. The inner trigram takes Yang, the outer trigram Yin. The image of the “Tai” hexagram, formed through the union of Qian and Kun, expresses the nourishment of Yang in spring and summer and of Yin in autumn and winter. Advancing the Fire after the hour of the Rat and withdrawing the Talisman after the hour of the Horse follow the same principle.

Rewards and punishments should follow the seasons, like the succession of spring and autumn; dusk and dawn should accord with changes in cold and heat. The benevolence and righteousness described in the hexagram statements and line statements should likewise be expressed at the proper time. The expression of joy and anger should follow the same principle, in accord with the patterns of the four seasons and the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, and Water).

Reward belongs to Yang, while punishment belongs to Yin; benevolence belongs to Yang, while righteousness belongs to Yin; joy belongs to Yang, while anger belongs to Yin. In the morning, one should set Yang Qi in motion to accord with spring and summer; in the evening, one should set Yin Qi in motion to accord with autumn and winter. By following the patterns of the four seasons, one can naturally grasp the principles of the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water). This is not a call to cling to the outward acts of rewarding and punishing, benevolence and righteousness, or joy and anger. Lord Wei uses these ideas as metaphors for the changes of Yin-Yang and the forces of life and death.

Moreover, the Elixir is the essence of pure Yang. As long as even a trace of Yin Qi remains unrefined, cultivation cannot ultimately succeed. Those who cultivate the Dao must be careful in all things, whether moving or still, speaking or silent. Cherishing life and caring for all beings; being benevolent and generous, compassionate and faithful; and being harmonious, tranquil, sincere, and free of deceit—all these belong to Yang. Taking pleasure in killing living beings; being cruel, jealous, greedy, and miserly; acting arrogantly and oppressively, or being stubborn and fierce; indulging in desire and being false and insincere—all these belong to Yin. By abandoning Yin and cultivating Yang, Yin Qi will gradually recede. When Yin Qi is wholly gone and Yang is pure, one can naturally attain the Dao.

Heaven and Earth each rest in their proper place, and the Changes—the movement of Yin-Yang transformation—flow between them. Heaven and Earth are symbols of Qian and Kun; “establishing their positions” means arranging the places where Yin and Yang correspond and join. The “Changes” spoken of here refer to Kan and Li, trigrams from the Book of Changes that symbolize the union and transformation of Yin and Yang. Kan and Li are the two functions of Qian and Kun. These functions have no fixed line positions: they circulate through the Six Empties, the six positions symbolizing the space of transformation, coming and going without pattern and having no constant place above or below. Deep and hidden, difficult to perceive, they bring forth transformation within themselves, encompass all things, and form the guiding principles of the Dao’s operation.

Here, Lord Wei explains that Qian and Kun are like the Spirit Chamber, the symbolic space used for alchemical cultivation. Yin and Yang each occupy their place, allowing Kan and Li to unite within it and complete their transformation. The “Changes” are Kan and Li, which are also the sun and moon. The sun and moon manifest the transformations of Yin and Yang in the cosmos, while Kan and Li correspond to those transformations within the human body. Qian and Kun are the underlying substance; Kan and Li are its functioning. Kan and Li have no fixed place: they move back and forth through the Six Empties, with no constant position above or below. Subtle and difficult to fathom, hidden and hard to find, they nevertheless bring about transformation and generate the supreme treasure. This is like Yin and Yang interacting to give rise to the myriad things, forming the guiding principles of the Dao’s operation.

The formless governs the formed, just as a vessel can serve its purpose precisely because it contains empty space. Therefore, one must observe the waxing and waning of things. The functions of Kan and Li may not be apparent, yet they operate through transformation.

The Golden Splendor Scripture says, “Being and nonbeing constrain one another. The Vermilion Bird, symbolizing fire, burns in the sky; purple radiance illuminates the daylight, and the cinnabar and mercury then disappear.” Wei Boyang’s words clarify the intent of the Golden Splendor Scripture: to use the fire of nature—the true fire within one’s inherent nature—and true emptiness to constrain the water of life, the vital essence and Qi within life. The fire of the supreme treasure is empty in its very nature; it appears only when it encounters things. Empty, luminous, and without self—these are all qualities of fire.

When fire moves within a cauldron vast as the Great Void, purple flames spread across the sky and red light shines in every direction. Golden palaces and jade towers transform in myriad ways, while divine beasts and dragons soar without cease. These images refer to lead and mercury, that is, Kan and Li—the two trigrams representing water and fire in the Changes. They are not entirely nonexistent. Yet once their work is complete, where do they go? Thus, when we investigate the waxing and waning of transformation, Kan and Li ultimately vanish.

Claims are not made up at random, and arguments do not arise from nothing. We must test and assess subtle transformations through actual signs and effects, then infer and analyze the written words, using principle as evidence. According to the Changes method of assigning the Heavenly Stems to the trigrams, Kan corresponds to the six Wu stems, and Li to the six Ji stems. Kan symbolizes the moon, hence “Kan Wu, the moon’s essence”; Li symbolizes the sun, hence “Li Ji, the sun’s light.” The characters for “sun” and “moon” combine to form the character “Changes.” These deductions are grounded in principle, not invented.

The foundation of the Changes cannot be separated from the sun and moon. How, then, could alchemy fail to take Kan and Li as its basis? Both Kan and Li contain the earth of Wu and Ji. The ancients said, “Only because both sides hold true earth within them can the Golden Elixir return.” Earth flourishes at the end of each of the four seasons and runs through beginning and end alike. Green, red, white, and black represent Wood, Fire, Metal, and Water. Though each occupies its own direction, all depend on the action of the central palace’s Wu-Ji earth.

The Changes is a book that draws on images. Among the things suspended in the heavens and clearly visible, none is more striking than the sun and moon. By plumbing the subtle transformations, we can understand how the myriad things change: Yang Qi departs, Yin Qi arrives, and the two gather together and circulate in cycles. Earth is the mother of Metal. Once we understand that the Five Phases all return to earth, we can also understand how they transform into Metal. In this way, we can grasp the workings of creation in the central palace, and nurture the Yellow Sprout—a sign that the Elixir is beginning to form—in the Later Earth, the earth of the land.

The Changes (the Zhouyi) uses the images of the hexagrams to express its principles. Nothing makes the movements of the sun and moon clearer or more evident than their visible courses. By probing deeply into subtle changes, one can understand how the myriad things transform: as Yang Qi departs, Yin Qi arrives. They gather and turn in cycles, like a wheel in motion, advancing and receding, alternately opening and closing.

The Jinbi Jing says: “To make the principles of alchemy clear, nothing is more evident than metal and fire; by probing deeply into what is subtle, one can respond to change. When Yang Qi rises, Yin Qi recedes.” Wei Boyang drew on the principles of the Changes and the Appended Statements to explain them by comparison. The Great Changes reveal their hexagram images through the sun and moon; the Great Elixir reveals its workings through metal and fire. Here, metal and fire are Kan and Li, the hexagrams that symbolize water and fire. When the essence of metal flourishes, it is like the Jade Rabbit—the moon—growing brighter; when the power of fire flourishes, it is like the Golden Crow—the sun—burning more intensely. Practitioners probe these hidden workings and understand their changes, setting Yang Qi in motion and allowing Yin Qi to wax and wane as the two gather and revolve, alternately entering and departing, opening and closing. They take the line images of the Zhouyi as measures and signs, and observe the changing brightness of the sun and moon to regulate the firing times—the control of heat and timing in alchemy. In this way, they can follow the pivotal workings of Heaven and Earth and employ the subtle principles of transformation and creation.

The Changes has three hundred and eighty-four lines, from which corresponding tallies are selected according to the line images; here, “tallies” refers to the sixty-four hexagrams. From the last day of the lunar month to dawn on the first day, the Zhen hexagram, which symbolizes the stirring of Yang Qi, begins to receive the corresponding tally. At this time, Yin and Yang in Heaven and Earth unite, and the sun and moon bind one another. Yang Qi spreads the mysterious Qi, while Yin Qi nurtures the Qi of Yellow Harmony. The two Qi meet amid primordial chaos and begin to establish a foundation. Gradually, they foster the edges and contours of form, gathering spirit to shape a body. In this way, the many things are brought forth, until even the smallest signs of life appear; nothing is not born from this process.

The Changes has three hundred and eighty-four lines, and the ingredients of the elixir likewise total three hundred and eighty-four zhu. Twenty-four zhu make one liang; three hundred and eighty-four zhu make sixteen liang, corresponding to the number “two eights.” All things are born from this.

The Book of Changes has 384 lines, and the medicines are also represented by 384 zhu. Since 24 zhu make one liang, 384 zhu amount to 16 liang; this is the numerical principle of “two eights.” By relying on the line images, one can observe the patterns by which Yin and Yang rise and descend. Images taken from the hexagrams serve as talismans, and the firing times are carried out according to what those talismans indicate. The “fire talismans” mentioned here are the drawn images of the hexagram lines; they are not a separate kind of talisman. In the Book of Changes, they are called “hexagrams”; in alchemy, they are called “talismans.” Thus, “talismans” refers to the sixty-four hexagrams.

When Yang Qi first arises, the image is the Zhen hexagram, and the firing process advances one Yang-line talisman. At this time, the spirit chamber—the inner place where Jing and Qi are refined and nurtured—cultivates Jing and Qi, while Metal and Fire circulate together. Masculine Yang is likened to a dragon, and feminine Yin to a tiger. “Spreading the dark and bestowing” describes the dragon rising into the mysterious heavens and bringing down rain and dew; “transforming and enclosing the yellow” describes the tiger entering the deep earth and giving birth to Metal. These images portray the joining of Yin and Yang as they move between heaven and earth.

Next, one lays the foundation and gradually tends and nurtures it, like caring for the roots and edges of plants. Once spirit and Qi have gathered, the body naturally takes form. All living beings with form and Qi, from the vastness of heaven and earth to the smallest insects, come into being in this way. If this point of life’s generative power arises outside the body, it is the way of extending life from its root to its branches and ensuring its continual propagation. If it arises within the body, it is the way of returning to the source and moving toward longevity and transcendence.

Thus, Zhongni (Confucius) praised Hongmeng, the primal undivided state at the opening of heaven and earth, and Qian and Kun, saying that their De reaches through emptiness. He traced them back to ancient beginnings and placed them in the age of the Primordial Sovereign. “Guanju,” the opening poem of the Book of Songs’s “Zhou Nan” section, established the beginning; the capping and wedding rites joined the Qi of Yin and Yang. With the first year, the myriad things began to sprout and grow.

Before bodily form and breath—the Daoist term Qi (vital energy)—have taken shape, this state is called “Primordial Undifferentiation.” When they have taken shape but have not yet divided, it is called “Undivided Wholeness.” The Book of Changes says, “The Changes contain the Supreme Ultimate; from it the Two Modes arise.” Here, “the Changes” are like Primordial Undifferentiation, and the “Supreme Ultimate” is like Undivided Wholeness. Qian and Kun, symbols of Heaven and Earth and of Yin and Yang, describe the state after the Supreme Ultimate has divided: joined together, they are the Supreme Ultimate; separated, they are Qian and Kun. Thus, when Qian and Kun are spoken of together, the state is called Undivided Wholeness; when spoken of separately, it is called Heaven and Earth.

When Confucius explained the Book of Changes, he began with Qian and Kun, for they embody a profound, empty stillness and contain the state before Primordial Undifferentiation has divided. The poem “Guanju,” which opens the Book of Songs, also expresses the meaning of union in marriage. Here it is used to illustrate the mutual union of the two Qi of Yin and Yang. Before Qian and Kun separate, the state is called Undivided Wholeness; when Yin and Yang unite, it is the beginning state of the myriad things. The Liezi says, “The Great Beginning is the beginning of Qi; the Great Origin is the beginning of bodily form.” Thus “Guanju” symbolizes the beginning of the myriad things.

The Golden Elixir, the essence formed through Neidan (internal alchemy) cultivation, is made when the Primordial Lord of Great Unity, a Daoist deity, takes the primordial Qi from the time before Qian and Kun divided and Yin and Yang separated, transforms it into True Mercury, and refines it into the True Elixir. Hence it is called “the one Qi of the precelestial” and “the utmost essence of primordial unity.” It is also described as “something formed in undifferentiated wholeness, born before Heaven and Earth.” The Scripture of Gold and Jade says, “The Primordial Lord begins refining mercury; the spirit chamber contains the hidden void. Mysterious white gives rise to the Golden Lord, who stands majestic, establishing the beginning of the myriad things.” This is the meaning behind those words.

“First year” means the very beginning year. When cultivation begins, the first year can bring forth the Yellow Sprout, a sign of Neidan practice, and the Golden Elixir is refined from it. Those who study the Dao should attend to timing and circumstance, begin their practice, and gather the supreme treasure to form the Elixir’s seed. Once this seed has formed, they will naturally resonate silently with the workings of Heaven, transcend the ordinary, and enter the sacred realm.

People in the world are foolish and do not understand the workings of Heaven. They act on their own guesses: some stray onto deviant paths, while others mistakenly seek things outside themselves. How could they know that the wondrous supreme treasure is born in the midst of emptiness? Before Qian and Kun divide and Yin and Yang are distinguished, there is a fitting moment for it. The most important thing for those who study the Dao is to be wholly sincere and single-minded, and to turn toward the Great Dao. If one day they meet a teacher who transmits the oral instructions, or suddenly understand after reading this book closely, they will grasp the moment. Only then will they know how to gather the supreme treasure from emptiness and obtain the numinous substance from the indistinct and elusive.

Someone asked, “Can there really be something in emptiness and the indistinct and elusive?” The reply was, “Have you never seen a fire mirror used to draw fire, or a moon mirror used to draw water? Fire and water both appear from nowhere. People simply do not know that within the void there is an innate, wondrous function: it cannot be seen, heard, or touched.”

Sages were not born without cause. They looked upward at the celestial patterns and saw signs of the Dao of Heaven revealed there. These patterns advance and retreat, bend and extend, changing in accordance with the seasons. Thus the sages knew that within the empty expanse there is a natural, wondrous activity: it cannot be seen, heard, or touched.

The “Heavenly Tally” mentioned here refers to the signs of the sun and moon’s movements. The sun and moon advance and retreat, bend and extend, in accord with the patterns of Yin and Yang rising and falling, coming and going, and alternating in the hexagrams of the Yi. The sages therefore understood that the Yi encompasses the heart of the Dao of Heaven, and on this basis composed the Yi. The sages made great contributions and embodied great De in the world. How could they have been born without cause?

The Fu hexagram—one of the sixty-four hexagrams of the Yi, symbolizing the beginning of Yang Qi’s return—is the starting point of the growth of all things. It is like an eldest son inheriting his father’s form, and like a mother establishing the foundation of life. The waxing and waning of Yin and Yang correspond to the seasonal changes marked by the pitch pipes; their ascent and descent follow the turning of the pivotal mechanism of the Northern Dipper.

After three days, Yang Qi becomes visible, forming the Zhen hexagram, associated with Geng and the West. By the eighth day, the Dui hexagram forms, associated with Ding; at this point, the first-quarter moon is straight as a taut string. On the fifteenth day, the form of the Qian hexagram is complete and Yang Qi reaches its fullness. It is associated with Jia and the East. At this time, the moon’s essence, represented by the toad and the jade rabbit, shines together with the Qi of the sun and moon. The toad represents the moon moving according to the stages of the hexagrams; the jade rabbit represents the moon’s inner vital essence emitting light.

This completes the eight stages of the first half of the month. The momentum then turns and gradually declines. On the sixteenth day, the cycle enters the second half of the month; the Xun hexagram is associated with Xin, and the sky begins to brighten. The Gen hexagram lies on the inner side, symbolizing the moon’s movement southward. The twenty-third day is the last quarter. By the thirtieth day, the Kun hexagram is associated with Yi and lies in the northeast; the moon’s radiance has vanished. One cycle ends, Yin and Yang alternate, and a new form returns to life in its wake, like a dragon appearing once more.

The Great Dao (the fundamental pattern of the cosmos) appears through the changes of nature, yet those changes are exceedingly difficult to fathom. If one can see through nature’s changes and discern their pivotal points, one can investigate the mysteries of the Great Dao and put its workings to use. Who besides true immortals and sages could accomplish this?

The sages and perfected ones of antiquity were moved by a benevolent wish to benefit all under Heaven, and their state of attainment was beyond measure. They discerned the pivotal points in nature’s changes, first bringing benefit to themselves; then they explained the mysteries of those changes so that people in the world could benefit as well. The principles one has realized can be understood inwardly and guarded in the mind. But to pass them on to others, what could explain them and help people understand in stillness, if not symbols and written words?

So they looked up to observe the celestial patterns and down to examine the workings of the earth. They found that the sun and moon most clearly reveal nature’s wondrous workings. Searching through the classics, they found that the hexagrams of the Book of Changes (Yijing) best record nature’s wondrous principles. They then compared the signs of the sun and moon’s movements, waxing, and waning with the principles governing changes in the hexagrams and their lines in the Book of Changes, and saw that the two confirmed one another and came to the same conclusion. This is why the Cantong qi (Token for Joining the Three) was written. Its title means that it examines the principles of the Great Change, finds them to accord with the mysteries of nature’s transformations, and brings them into alignment with the way of the Great Elixir, the method of Neidan (internal alchemy).

When the first Yang is born, the corresponding hexagram is Fu, or Return: Kun is above and Zhen below. Zhen symbolizes the eldest son, Kun the mother, and Qian the father. The Fu hexagram was originally pure Kun. One Yang comes from the Qian hexagram, changing the bottom line to form Zhen. Thus it is said, “From the mother, the first sign of change is established”: the foundation of transformation is laid within the mother Kun. Zhen contains the qualities of Qian, but they are still faint. As Yang energy gradually grows until three Yang lines have formed, the full form of Qian appears. Hence the saying, “The eldest son inherits the father’s form.”

The waxing and waning of the sun and moon correspond to the Twelve Pitch Pipes, the ancient system of pipes used to represent musical pitches, solar terms, and time. Each month adds one line; reckoning by the movement of the Northern Dipper, each double-hour advances one phase of energy. On the third day of the month, the moon’s faint light first appears in the west, at the Geng position. This corresponds to the birth of one Yang in the Zhen hexagram. In the Na Jia method of the Book of Changes, which matches the Heavenly Stems and directions with hexagrams for divination, Zhen is paired with the six Gengs, reflecting this principle of nature’s transformation.

On the eighth day, the moon appears at first quarter in the south, at the Ding position. This corresponds to the birth of two Yang lines in the Dui hexagram, which is paired with the six Dings. On the fifteenth day, the moon is full in the east, at the Jia position. This corresponds to Qian, which is paired with the six Jias. At this point the hexagram has all three Yang lines, and both the hare and the toad reach their fullness. The toad symbolizes the essence of Metal energy, which gradually flourishes in step with the measure of the hexagram’s energy. The Jade Hare symbolizes the spirit of Mao Wood; gazing toward the sun, it releases its radiance.

Seven and eight together make fifteen, bringing the number of three and five to completion. After the full moon, it begins to wane: what had expanded contracts, what had risen falls, and what had ascended descends. On the sixteenth day, the first Yin is born and Yin energy begins to take charge. The moon appears in the west at dawn, at the Xin position, corresponding to the Xun hexagram, which is paired with Xin. On the twenty-third day, the moon appears in the south at dawn, at the Bing position, corresponding to the Gen hexagram, which is paired with Bing. On the thirtieth day, the moon disappears in the east, at the Yi position, corresponding to the Kun hexagram, which is paired with Yi.

When one cycle ends, Yin and Yang exchange places once again. Yang energy revives, and the Zhen hexagram forms in turn. Zhen symbolizes the dragon. Among the Eight Trigrams, only Kan and Li do not participate in this system of matching stems and directions. This is because their workings run through the movements and ascents and descents of the other six hexagrams. The workings of Kan and Li are truly vast.

Ren and Gui combine with Jia and Yi, embodying the pattern by which Kun receives Yi. At the end of a stage, Yin and Yang alternate once more, and Yang Qi begins to move again, continuing from the previous stage and giving rise to the “Dragon.” Here, “Dragon” refers to the Zhen trigram. Among the Eight Trigrams (Bagua), only Kan and Li do not remain fixed in the positions of the other six. They rise and descend in turn, acting within the six trigrams; this is the function of Kan and Li. Their role is indeed momentous.

Ren and Gui pair with Jia and Yi, while Qian and Kun govern the beginning and the end. The number of Lesser Yang is seven, and that of Lesser Yin is eight; together they make fifteen. Greater Yang is nine and Greater Yin is six, which also total fifteen. All four numbers add up to thirty. At this point Yang Qi is exhausted and withdraws into concealment. The Eight Trigrams are arranged in sequence, and the movements and transformations of the sun, moon, and stars all remain centered and balanced.

The Qian trigram receives the six Jia and six Ren, while the Kun trigram receives the six Yi and six Gui. Of the Eight Trigrams, only Qian and Kun each receive two sets of Heavenly Stems; each of the others receives just one. Hence the saying, “Ren and Gui combine with Jia and Yi; Qian and Kun encompass beginning and end,” which explains that both Qian and Kun contain true Water. The numbers of Lesser Yang, Lesser Yin, Greater Yang, and Greater Yin correspond to one another, just as the principles of the Yi align with the patterns of creation in Heaven and Earth. When the moon disappears on the thirtieth day, Yang Qi has also fully receded and gone into concealment; afterward, a single Yang begins to arise again. Yin and Yang thus cycle back and forth, ending only to begin anew. If their movement does not lose its center, it can accord with creation, and the derivation of the hexagram lines will be free of error.

Primordial Jing, the fundamental and subtle vital essence, is hidden and difficult to perceive directly. It can be verified only by inference and measurement, through observing its signs. In daily life, observe the forms things take and use them to infer their character. Establish standards as models, judge good and ill fortune through divination, and issue directives in accordance with the seasons, without missing the moment when the hexagram lines begin to move. Look upward to observe the patterns of the Yellow River Chart, examine the terrain below, and investigate the human mind between Heaven and Earth; bring together the conditions of Heaven, Earth, and humanity, the Three Powers. In action, follow the timing of the hexagrams; in stillness, rely on the hexagram statements and their explanations. Once the functions of Qian and Kun are enacted in Heaven and Earth, how could the principles of all things fail to accord with this pattern?

Original essence—life energy in its most primordial and refined form—is a supremely numinous treasure. It is born from emptiness, with no visible form, and hidden in dim, subtle depths, with no trace to seek. To gather and refine it, one must discern Yin-Yang, deeply understand the patterns of natural change, and verify and follow the proper methods by observing the corresponding signs.

In ordinary times, observe the celestial phenomena and consider the forms they reveal. In one’s actions, set markers and examine seasonal changes to judge good and ill fortune. Look up to the heavens, observe the tides below, and examine the human heart; also act in accordance with the seasonal timing of the trigrams. When Yang Qi stirs, seize the moment indicated by changes in the lines. When Yin Qi is still, do not violate the principle of gentleness, quietude, and inward reserve. In this way, one can enact within oneself the changes of Heaven and Earth and Yin-Yang, then gather and refine the essence of numinous spirit.

When the winds from the eight directions are harmonious, sweet dew descends; when Yin and Yang are in accord, sweet spring water wells up. These are signs that Heaven and Earth are well governed. Harmony between Heaven and Earth brings good fortune, while disorder invites calamity. How could one fail to be cautious?

The key to administering affairs lies in overseeing subtle and hidden matters, and in opening, closing, and distributing treasures of essential teaching. This is the pivot that commands change and the key that governs the guiding principles. Changes in the lines stir good and ill fortune within, while outside they appear in the movements of the Five Planets—Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, and Water. When the planets move out of order, they respond to changes in the seasons; when the Twenty-Eight Lunar Mansions fall out of their proper positions, anomalies appear as well.

At the beginning of cultivation, as in governing affairs, one must first restrain harmful and wanton conduct, cast aside cravings and desires, and gather the Original Qi so that it becomes fine and firm and does not dissipate or leak away. Then the treasure-like essence can spread through the Golden Womb, the place where essence is nurtured in internal cultivation, and spirit and Qi can arise within the Jade Chamber, a Daoist symbol for the place where spirit is stored. Even the slightest mistake is like mismanaging affairs: it will affect the celestial phenomena and throw their order into disarray.

The key is to master the firing times—the methods for regulating advance and retreat, activity and stillness, and the right moment in internal cultivation—and to observe the turning of the Dipper’s handle. Changes in the lines occur within, and good or ill fortune is stirred accordingly. When the Five Planets stray from their courses, the individual Lunar Mansions also fall into disorder.

Wenchang, the stellar deity who oversees literary fortune and examinations, commands the record keepers. In accordance with their duties, they question the assistant ministers and officials at every level, directing each to manage the affairs under their charge.

The Elixir resides in the “Chamber of Spirit” (Shenshi, an alchemical metaphor for the inner pivot), just as a ruler governs the country from within. The principles by which a ruler governs take their model from the celestial patterns: in the sky, the Three Platforms stars symbolize the high ministers who assist the ruler, while the Wenchang star symbolizes the offices responsible for records and assessments.

The high ministers’ duty is to discuss the Dao at the center and harmonize Yin-Yang, so that every official performs their own role. They therefore oversee supervision and accountability. The office represented by Wenchang, which manages records and registers, evaluates talent and determines who is worthy and capable, allowing every official to make full use of their strengths. When all officials fulfill their duties, the people and all things are at peace, and the realm is well governed. The fire phases and measures corresponding to the trigrams then remain in proper order, changes proceed smoothly, and the Sacred Embryo (a symbol of the Elixir’s completion in internal alchemy) grows. Yet governing a country depends on the ruler’s own conduct, while cultivating the alchemical Dao depends on the changes stirred by a single mind.

The sun joins with the essences of the Five Phases; the moon, in turn, receives the sequence of the Six Lü pitch standards. Five multiplied by six makes thirty; when the cycle of degrees is complete, it begins again. By tracing the beginning and examining the end, one can discern the course of things as they arise, perish, and change. At times, a ruler may become arrogant and complacent, rising too high and departing from the right way; at other times, ministers may be devious and act outside the proper rules. When the moon’s waxing and waning at its quarter and full phases becomes irregular, misfortune follows. Then the officers of justice investigate the transgressions and call the ruler to account.

This passage uses “five” and “six” to explain the roles of Earth and Water in alchemy. Earth has the number five, as does the sun, and the Five Phases likewise number five. Water has the number six, as does the moon, and the Six Lü pitch standards also number six. The ten Heavenly Stems, from Jia to Gui, are called the “Ten Days”: five are Yang and five are Yin. This is the basis for saying that the sun’s number is five. The lunar pitch sequence has twelve divisions, comprising six Lü and six Lü̈, which is the basis for saying that the moon’s number is six.

Five and six combine to make thirty degrees; after the cycle is complete, it begins again. This refers to the recurring cycle of the dark moon and the new moon. The two alchemical substances, Metal and Fire, interact according to the principles of the Five Phases through the changes between the dark and new moons, waxing and waning in relation to one another. If there is too much Earth, it is like a ruler becoming arrogant and complacent, departing from the right way. If the measure of Water is unstable, it is like ministers being devious and acting outside the proper rules. Improper increases or decreases in the measures cause changes to go awry and bring misfortune; the fault does not lie with Fire, but with Earth. The Scripture of the Golden Elixir and Jade Radiance (Jinbi Jing) says, “This is not Fire’s fault; the punishment should fall on Earth.” This is the point being made.

The North Star (Chenji, symbolizing the central position that establishes and upholds order) sets the standard and appoints subordinates at ease. When the Bright Hall (Mingtang, the ancient place from which emperors issued policy) proclaims its commands, nothing in the realm obstructs the right way. If one cultivates within, ensuring that waxing and waning, increase and decrease each keep to their proper measure, changes will not go awry and misfortune will not arise. The fault should not be blamed on Fire, but attributed to Earth. This is also the meaning of the line from the Scripture of the Golden Elixir and Jade Radiance: “This is not Fire’s fault; the punishment should fall on Earth.”

The North Star (Polaris) occupies its proper place, at ease and positioned below. The Bright Hall, where ancient emperors issued policies and performed sacrifices, promulgates its orders so that no harm befalls the realm. Those who cultivate the Dao should cultivate themselves inwardly, abide in stillness and emptiness, and use the root to nurture inner radiance. They should then turn their gaze inward to observe the body. Close the mouth—the trigram Dui here refers to the mouth—and secure the root, so that the radiance of the sun, moon, and stars seems to sink from view. Gently nurture the infant and the Mysterious Pearl, symbolic terms in Neidan cultivation. The eyes cannot see it, yet it is close at hand within the body and easy to attain.

The Elixir resides in the Spirit Chamber, its place within the body, just as the North Star sits high above, rightly placed and governing the stars; it is also like a ruler issuing policies to govern the myriad states. When one abides centered and upright without moving, all things comply with reverence. Sitting upright and governing through Wuwei, the realm becomes peaceful. This means that governing a state should take Heaven’s Dao as its model, and refining the Elixir should likewise take the art of governance as its model. Therefore, gather in the radiance and turn the spirit inward to observe; establish and nourish the root through Wuwei and silence. Let the radiance of the sun, moon, and all things sink from view rather than shine outward. Let the infant and the Mysterious Pearl grow together, gently nourishing them without loss. In Wuwei, wondrous effects may appear; from the formless, a real image comes forth. The eyes cannot see it, and the ears cannot hear it, yet it is close at hand within the body and easy to attain; it does not come from outside. The key lies in the cultivator’s accumulation of hidden virtue, good deeds, and merit.

In Neidan, “yellow” is the color of the Central Palace, the body’s center, and the “Elixir” is its treasure. The phrase “yellow within gradually penetrates the grain of things, its moisture reaching the skin” means that inner Jing and Qi gradually permeate the body’s tissues and moisten the skin. The “Wenyan” commentary on the Kun hexagram in the Book of Changes says: “The noble person has yellow within and penetrates the grain of things; occupies the proper place and dwells in the body. Beauty is within, flows through the limbs, and manifests in one’s work: beauty at its utmost.” This means that a noble person holds virtue within and acts in accordance with the right way. That virtue radiates outward, reaches the limbs, and shows itself in one’s work, attaining the utmost beauty. How much more so for one who bears the Great Elixir and holds the highest treasure: their spirit will naturally differ from that of ordinary people, and their skin will be moistened.

In general, anyone who wishes to cultivate toward becoming an immortal should first become a person of upright character. If one cannot even attain the virtue of a noble person, and has yet to fulfill the way of human relations, how can one speak of the immortal Dao? Thus Lord Wei draws on the Book of Changes’ teaching of abiding centered and upright to show that inner cultivation becomes visible outwardly. Those of the highest capacity who hear this may accumulate virtue, perform good deeds, build merit, and cultivate in pursuit of ascension to immortality; those of middling capacity may at least become good and noble people.

“One” serves to veil and conceal the secret Dao, so that ordinary people cannot know it.

Understand the nature of white, yet hold fast to the root of black, and spiritual illumination will arise naturally. Here, “white” refers to the essence of Metal, and “black” to the foundation of Water. Water is the pivot of the Dao; its number is One, the beginning from which Yin and Yang arise. Within the mysterious lies the “yellow sprout,” an alchemical term for the subtle substance generated through refinement and cultivation. It is sovereign over the five metals, belongs to the north, and is called the “River Cart,” an internal alchemy term for the method of circulating essence and Qi. Lead is black on the outside, yet conceals golden radiance within. It is like wearing coarse cloth while keeping jade hidden inside: the exterior may seem ordinary, even dull, while the interior contains something precious.

White refers to silver; black refers to lead. “Know the white, keep to the black” means refining silver from lead. When silver is refined from lead, the nature of spiritual clarity will naturally reveal itself. Yin is the essence of metal, while lead is the foundation of water. Among the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water), water’s generating number is one. It occupies the pivotal position and is the beginning of Yin-Yang. Although it is not “True One” itself, it can perform the function of True One.

Therefore, in cultivating the Way of True One, one must first take “gold” as the root of the Yellow Sprout. Here, “gold” means water. To bring the myriad differences back to unity, one must first find the single root within those differences and establish it as the foundation. This is why this method of Golden Elixir cultivation uses lead: water is the pivot of the Dao.

Only now can we explain that although water can perform the function of True One, it is not itself True One. Water’s generating number is one and its completing number is six; viewed through the completing number six, water’s one contains earth’s five. Thus, though lead is dark on the outside, within it lies the Golden Flower, and it has the subtle capacity to nurture the Yellow Sprout.

Water is the beginning of the Five Phases, while lead is the ruler of all metals. Water naturally dwells in the north, but in cultivation it must be made to move south. Water rises from below, bearing the treasure upward, as if a river chariot were turning; hence the term “river chariot,” an image of cultivation in which water and fire rise and descend in circulation. Yellow mingled with black looks on the outside like coarse cloth, hence “clothed in hemp,” a metaphor for lead’s inherently lowly quality. Silver is concealed within, hence “holding jade,” a metaphor for a precious treasure hidden from view.

In general, the workings of creation often shelter what is noble within what is lowly, nurture brightness within darkness, preserve what is exalted through humility, and cultivate sage-like clarity through seeming foolishness. One may appear outwardly like a reckless person while inwardly harboring a precious treasure. This shows that the essential workings are not readily revealed, and that a true merchant is skilled at concealing valuables; such a person should not be compared with someone eager to make others aware of what they know. Although Wei Jun’s remarks primarily concern lead, their meaning also encompasses the principles described above.

Metal is the root of Water, and Water is the offspring of Metal. Water is generated from Metal, hence the saying, “Metal is the mother of Water.” Metal, in turn, is nurtured within Water, hence the saying, “Water is the child of Metal.” Here, “Metal” and “Water” are terms from alchemy, referring respectively to substances and states in the refining process. “The mother conceals the child in her womb, and the child conceals the mother in its embrace” describes how mother and child depend on one another and contain one another. The True Person—meaning the embryo of the Elixir or the true spirit produced through alchemy—dwells in a deep abyss, sometimes appearing and sometimes vanishing, now sinking, now rising. During the refining process, changes unfold in sequence, each taking its proper place. Once Lead has completed its work, the Water vapors recede and the abyssal pool clears; then the True Person appears, and all things return to their proper places.

The Jinbi Jing says, “In the ash pool, flames blaze; Lead sinks, and Silver rises.” This expresses the same principle.

The Silver that rises is gathered to refine the supreme treasure in its white form. Further processing then brings forth the cinnabar-red Golden Elixir. Within the white substance, the true essence rests. It is shaped like a chaotic mass, one inch across, in which its parts coalesce and constrain one another. This is the primordial scene revealed by Wei Boyang, author of the Eastern Han Daoist alchemical classic Zhouyi Cantong Qi. It came into being before Heaven and Earth, stands lofty and exalted, and is beyond measure.

Walls and gates surround the Elixir, giving it the appearance of Penghu, the legendary immortal isle in the sea. Enclosed all around, its gates shut, it is open in every direction yet carefully guarded. Its defenses are secure, blocking harmful influences; winding towers connect with one another to prevent mishap. In this way, one is spared anxiety and toil. Shen and Qi fill the chamber, and nothing can make them linger elsewhere. Guard it, and it flourishes; lose it, and it declines. Whether moving or at rest, one should keep it constantly with oneself.

Within the “Chamber of the Spirit,” the forms and patterns are already complete, as if a world had been established there. Outside, a golden wheel encircles it like city walls and gates, guarding the center with careful precision and making it beautiful, like the immortal realm of Penghu. Silver mountains and iron ramparts stand firm and close-set, keeping out delusion and evil so that one may be free of worry. Jade towers and halls open in every direction, allowing spiritual powers and transformations to unfold without obstruction.

At this point, the practitioner can keep the mind free of stray thoughts, undisturbed by sorrow or fatigue, and preserve the calm balance of the original Qi. This is like carrying a vessel full of water: one must take care not to let it tip. Even when a thought arises or subsides, the Dharma body changes along with it. Shen and Qi fill the whole body, but the hardest thing is to preserve them. Guard them, and they will flourish; lose them, and they will decline. Those who cultivate the Dao should strive to keep them carefully.

Some methods of cultivation are not proper ways of storing and nurturing oneself. During inward contemplation, people indulge in fanciful thoughts; they tread the Dipper and pace the stars, following prescribed ritual steps, act according to the Six Jia, a system of spirits associated with the cyclical stems and branches and the days and hours, and use Yin techniques and methods of suppression on particular dates. They disturb the original life cells and, under the name of “taking in Qi,” torment the stomach and intestines. They breathe in external influences, stay awake day and night, and take no rest even at the new moon or the end of the month. As a result, the body grows steadily more exhausted, the mind becomes dazed and confused, and Qi and blood surge through the hundred channels, unable to settle into clarity and stillness.

Others pile up earth to build altars and make offerings to ghosts and spirits morning and evening. When they see apparitions or experience something in a dream, they rejoice and congratulate themselves, believing this must prolong their lives. Yet they still die suddenly, their bodies left exposed to decay. Their actions often run counter to the righteous Way, and they lose the key to cultivation. Such techniques are too numerous to count, by the thousands and tens of thousands. They depart from the teachings of the Yellow Emperor and Laozi, and also contradict the Nine Capitals, the Daoist legendary abodes of immortals or system of Daoist methods.

The arts of the world are too numerous to count. Although the various methods are recorded in books, those who practice them must still distinguish the upright from the deviant and tell right from wrong. Some close their eyes and turn inward in meditation, seeking the essence of the five organs; others tread the Dipper’s pattern, hoping to draw on the righteous Qi of the celestial Dipper; perform rites according to the days and hours to suppress evil influences; practice Yin Qi according to the “Nine-One” method; exhale righteous Qi and inhale turbid, harmful Qi; or regulate their breathing but go without sleep day and night, resting neither at the beginning nor at the end of the lunar month. Such practices gradually wear down the body and leave the spirit confused. Others set up altars to sacrifice to ghosts and spirits, or seek divine aid through dreams. Though these methods are many, none follows the right path. Those who seek longevity may instead die young, their bodies decaying; they needlessly damage the life allotted to them by Heaven. How lamentable. Who, then, understands the Golden Elixir restored through liquid gold—the Daoist method of refining the Elixir within—or the principle by which one transforms and ascends together with the fleshly body received from one’s parents? All the methods mentioned above run counter to the Daoist teachings of the Yellow Emperor and Laozi. Judging by their actions, their practitioners will instead incur guilt before the offices of the Ninefold Capital, the Daoist underworld bureaucracy.

Those who understand should grasp the essentials of cultivation as set out by Lord Wei, learn the path of practice, and apply themselves diligently, without slackening morning or night. According to this account, after three years of cultivation one can perfect the Elixir Dao: enter water without getting wet, pass through fire without being burned, soar on distant journeys, work miraculous transformations, and roam in freedom. Yet after the Dao is perfected and De attained, one must still live in seclusion among ordinary people, accumulate merit, and await the right time. When the Primordial Lord of Great Unity summons one, one moves to the Central Land, the abode of immortals, and receives the celestial mandate and registers. Once one’s merit is complete, one can ascend.

Those in the world who understand this Dao should grasp the essentials of cultivation as set out by Lord Wei, learn the path of practice, and cultivate diligently day and night without slackening. As the text says, the Elixir Dao can be perfected in fewer than three years: one can pass in and out of water and fire, travel far by flight, work miraculous transformations, and roam in freedom. But after the Dao is perfected and De attained, one must still live in seclusion among ordinary people, accumulate merit through one’s deeds, and await the Primordial Lord of Great Unity’s summons. One then moves to the Central Land, receives the celestial registers, and ascends once one’s merit is complete. The saying, “Accumulate three thousand merits, and one becomes an immortal in the Great Encompass; complete eight hundred deeds, and one becomes a guest there,” means that the amount of merit and practice one accumulates affects the rank one can attain.

Ancient alchemical writings record methods for mastering the firing process and their effects. Such texts are called “Records of the Firing Process,” and tradition says there are six hundred of them. Their essential teachings are all contained in the principles of the Zhouyi (Book of Changes). The Records of the Firing Process were therefore not invented from nothing; the Zhouyi can be used to explain them.

The Zhouyi has 384 lines. This number corresponds both to the firing times that govern the circuit of Heaven and to the measure formed by taking “two eights” from each of the upper and lower crescents, which together make one jin (catty). One jin is divided into 384 zhu (ancient units of weight), exactly matching the number of hexagram lines: the lines of the Qian hexagram total 192, and those of the Kun hexagram also total 192. In this way, the Way of Qian and Kun is complete.

The “Reclining Crescent Furnace” refers to the function and substance of the one opening known as the Mysterious Pass, a vital gateway in Neidan (internal alchemy) practice. It is depicted as half white and half black, like a half moon, hence its name. To understand that the Reclining Crescent Furnace is the furnace and cauldron is to have grasped more than half of the Way of the Great Elixir.

The White Tiger dwells below and is the pivot that sets the firing process in motion; the Azure Dragon dwells above, stirring the clouds into surging movement. Between them, true Mercury transforms into flowing pearls. Thus the Azure Dragon of the East and the White Tiger of the West join, while the Yin soul and Yang spirit check one another. The practitioner sets the divine work in motion within the Golden Cauldron and refines the sacred elixir in the Jade Furnace, turning the mechanism of creation and changing the workings of Heaven and Earth. Who but one who understands the Great Way could accomplish this?

When gold is cast into fierce fire, its color does not fade; instead, its pure radiance emerges. Since the opening of Heaven and Earth, the light of the sun and moon has never diminished, and gold has never lost its nature or weight. The moon’s form seems to arise from gold: on the morning of the first day, it receives the sun’s mandate; at the end of the month, gold returns to its mother, joins with sunlight, withdraws into the moon’s outline, and sinks into the void. Gold thereby recovers its original nature, its majestic radiance appears, and the elixir cauldron shines with it.

The sun, the moon, and gold are the most enduring of things. Since the creation of heaven and earth, the sun and moon have followed their courses as before, and their light has not diminished. The weight and true color of gold, too, have remained unchanged. This is because all three arise from a single source. People see that when the vital essence of gold is strong, the moon appears especially bright, and so they know that gold is connected with the moon. Yet they do not know that the moon’s light originally comes from the sun.

When the sun and moon unite, the moon gathers in its own light and sinks into the deep, empty void. There it receives the sun’s transformative influence and is thus able to generate gold. Gold’s nature comes from the sun, which is why it is hard, strong, heavy, and solid, taking on the sun’s color and qualities. Most things melt or are destroyed when they encounter fire. Gold alone enters the fire without losing its color or luster. After repeated forging, it grows harder still; after smelting in a great fire, its color becomes an even brighter red. This is because fire is the Qi of the sun, while gold is the essence of the Great Yin. When gold enters fierce flames, it is returning to its original nature. Thus, when the fire in the cauldron and furnace used for alchemical work burns strongly, the gold grows more vivid in color and brilliantly lustrous, a sight that delights the eye.

The numbers associated with the directions Zi and Wu combine to make three; those associated with Wu and Ji combine to make five. When three and five are brought into harmony, the eight stones—the mineral materials used in Daoist alchemy—each take their proper place and form an orderly arrangement. Their breaths nourish one another; through focused spirit and quiet contemplation, they unite like husband and wife. Yellow earth is the father of gold, and the flowing pearl—mercury—is the mother of water. For water, earth is its vanquisher; earth can subdue water and prevent it from rising. The Vermilion Bird, the divine bird symbolizing fire, balances and regulates the forces that overcome one another in all directions. When water becomes too strong, fire is extinguished; in the end, both return to thick earth. Once the natures of water, earth, and fire come together, they can recover their original qualities and return to a common source.

“Eight Minerals” refers to external substances used in alchemy. The text uses numbers to symbolize the relationships among the ingredients: Zi corresponds to Water and has the number one; Wu corresponds to Fire and has the number two. Zi and Wu combine to make three. Earth’s number is five, so Wu and Ji are also represented by “five.” “The harmony of three and five” means that Water, Fire, and Earth come together in balance. They work together like husband and wife, and like ruler and ministers, each restraining and acting upon the others, just as the eight mineral substances used in alchemy do.

Earth can generate Metal, so it is Metal’s father; Earth can also control Water, so it acts as Water’s restrainer. The “flowing pearl” refers to mercury. It is born of the Sun and belongs to Fire; when mercury solidifies, it becomes Metal. Metal can generate Water, so the flowing pearl is also like Water’s mother. Pouring Water on Fire keeps its flames from raging; using Earth to contain Water prevents it from overflowing. In this way, Water, Fire, and Earth become one, all returning to the Earth of Wu and Ji: Water subsides when it meets Earth, Fire dies down when it meets Earth, and Metal returns to its father when it meets Earth. Since Earth is Metal’s father, Fire is Metal’s ancestor. Thus, once the three natures come together, they return to a single ancestral source.

Giant Victory, also known as sesame, was believed to prolong life. The Returning Elixir was said to be fit for ingestion; because Metal does not readily decay or perish, it was regarded as the treasure of all things. Those who cultivate the Dao and ingest it can extend their lives. Earth moves between the four seasons, establishing their boundaries and measures. When cinnabar and gold enter the five viscera, they seem to disperse like mist and spread like vapor from wind and rain, reaching the four limbs and bringing a healthy glow to the complexion. White hair turns black, and lost teeth grow back. An old man regains the strength of youth, and an old woman becomes a young girl again. Their appearance is transformed, and they are spared the calamities of the world; they are called “Perfected Ones.”

At the end of the passage, it again says that sesame is also called Giant Victory. When cinnabar and gold enter the five viscera, they seem to disperse like mist and spread like vapor from wind and rain, reaching the four limbs and bringing a healthy glow to the complexion. White hair turns black, and lost teeth grow back. An old man regains the strength of youth, and an old woman becomes a young girl again. Their appearance is transformed, they are spared the calamities of the world, and they become “Perfected Ones.”

Sesame is also called “giant victory” (jusheng). It is merely an ordinary medicinal substance, yet taking it can prolong life. How much more so with the divine elixir, condensed from pure Yang essence and energy, whose nature is as indestructible as vajra. Among the myriad things, gold is the most precious. If one can take the divine elixir, one’s life will endure for a long time. Would its effects not far surpass those of ordinary medicines?

The four directions of Chen, Xu, Chou, and Wei belong to Earth. This shows that Metal, Wood, Water, and Fire all depend on Earth to take form. Though the human organs each correspond to one of the Five Phases, in practice they too rely on Earth’s Qi for nourishment and flourishing. Metal is generated by Earth. When a true elixir enters the abdomen, its Metal Qi enters the five organs and spreads through the body like a hazy mist, steaming and permeating everywhere. It is like a vessel being fired in a blazing kiln, with water vapor descending from above and smoke rising in clouds. At this time, the limbs and channels feel warm and moist, as if spring rain were nourishing all things; Qi reaches every part of the body. The complexion is restored and the bones renewed, returning the person to youth: the face grows bright, the spirit radiant, white hair turns black, and lost teeth grow back. An old man becomes a man in his prime, and an elderly woman becomes a young maiden; the body itself is transformed. One can escape the misfortunes of the world, remain clear-minded day and night, and never sink into dullness. Both the Dharma Body—the body formed through cultivation—and the illusory physical body are filled out; both the Yin soul and the Yang spirit reach a wondrous state. Only then can one be called a perfected person.

At this stage, though living among ordinary people, one is no longer bound by the Three Realms—the Desire Realm, the Form Realm, and the Formless Realm. Though dwelling in the turbid world, one’s movements and destination are beyond prediction. When one wishes to depart, one can go straight to Pengzhou, the fabled realm of immortals; wherever the mind turns, one can also rise beyond the world.

Lead powder changes color in fire and eventually becomes lead again. Ice and snow melt when they meet hot water, dissolving into water. Those who cultivate to this state are likewise capable of fundamental transformation. Mysterious gold takes sand as its foundation and is blended through the influence of mercury; its transformation arises from true nature, with each stage following from what came before. To refine an elixir for taking, one should cultivate it with materials of the same kind: grain is sown under a covering of millet, and eggs are hatched using an egg as the source. With the aid of its own kind, a thing can develop naturally and is easier to refine successfully. A fish’s eye cannot serve as a pearl, and mugwort cannot grow into a catalpa tree. Only things of the same kind can follow one another; what does not belong to the same kind cannot be refined into a treasure. Thus sparrows cannot produce a roc, foxes and rabbits cannot produce horses; water does not burn upward, and fire does not moisten downward.

Things of the same kind respond to one another. Sometimes, even without deliberate arrangement, their corresponding changes arise naturally. Ceruse is originally made from lead. When it is placed in fire and refined, its color changes, and in the end it turns back into lead. Ice and snow are water that has congealed; when they encounter the heat of fire, they turn back into water.

The formation of precious substances ultimately stems from the sun’s true essence, which gathers the subtle and vital Qi. When it first forms into cinnabar, it already contains true mercury. If cinnabar is put into fire and refined, its color changes, and true mercury is eventually produced. Once true mercury has left its parent substance, it is called quicksilver. Refined in a great furnace under the sun’s Qi, quicksilver will, after a long time, congeal into silver; only after further prolonged transformation does silver become gold. Thus gold has cinnabar as its root: cinnabar represents spirit, and quicksilver represents essence.

In alchemical practice today, one first gathers the Yang essence and transforms it into cinnabar. Quicksilver is then combined with the cinnabar and ground together, and the two materials are fired until they become gold. Only after the gold has formed is lead used to nourish and refine it. Because true essence is generated and transformed by the sun’s Qi, it must still unite with the Great Yin—the Yin Qi that stands opposite the sun—to come into being. It must therefore be joined with true lead before it is fit to ingest. True lead is born of the Great Yin; this is why the two are said to belong to the same kind. When gold obtains true lead, it is like a child receiving its mother’s care. The two support one another, making success in refinement easier.

This is like millet growing into grain, or a hen hatching eggs: they receive the same Qi and respond to and rely on one another. If one does not understand this principle and instead seeks out things of a different kind for refinement, one will only waste effort and time. Sparrows cannot produce quail, and foxes and rabbits cannot nurse horses. Water cannot take the place of fire in cooking, nor can fire take the place of water in moistening all things. Once this principle is understood, cinnabar and quicksilver can be joined so that essence and Qi are generated. Only when water and fire unite, steaming and moistening one another, can fire be placed beneath water and rise upward in its proper function, while water rests above fire and fulfills its function of moistening downward. Without the most subtle principle under Heaven, who could achieve this?

Many scholars in the world pride themselves on their exceptional intelligence, yet lack the good fortune to meet a clear-sighted master and waste their money in vain. They study the written words alone, piecing together ideas about refining the Elixir according to their own notions, but without a genuine transmission or method they lose all sense of measure and control. They pound and prepare substances such as ginger, stone gall, mica, alum, lodestone, and sulfur; they also fire and refine camphor wood, clay, and mercury, trying to mix them into an Elixir. But these materials have different natures—how could they be expected to combine into one? Repeated attempts like these fail far more often than they succeed. The more they hope for a lucky breakthrough, the more readily they fall into error and confusion.

Only the sages understand the principle. Many people study from youth until their hair turns white, then grow doubtful halfway through, turn away from the right path, and remain attached to their mistaken course. Leaving the proper way, they stray into crooked side paths. Their vision is narrow, like looking at the sky through a bamboo tube, so they cannot grasp what lies ahead.

The principle of the Golden Elixir is subtle and wondrous. It can wrest the workings of creation from Heaven and Earth, far beyond what ordinary thought or speech can reach. Without meeting someone who truly understands this Dao, relying on one’s own speculation is ultimately futile. To take external substances as the foundation of Elixir-making is especially misguided. Clinging to deviant methods and turning away from the right path cannot be called wise. Many who study the Dao refuse to seek teachers and fellow practitioners with resolve or to learn through hard work. Some give up halfway; others become doubtful along the way, wasting their years until old age and accomplishing nothing. All this comes from narrow understanding combined with self-assurance. The movements of the sun and moon, the vastness of Heaven and Earth, the coming and going of cold and heat, and the alternation of day and night all reveal the workings of the Great Dao. Yet without guidance from a clear-sighted master, it is still difficult to grasp their mysteries. Those who study the Dao should first accumulate good deeds and De, hoping thereby for the chance to meet such a master. They must not deceive themselves, only to reach the mountain of treasure and return empty-handed.

As for the sages of antiquity, the earliest was Fuxi. He first drew the Eight Trigrams (Bagua), taking Heaven and Earth as his model. Later, King Wen of Zhou expanded the trigrams and composed the statements for the individual lines. Confucius, outstanding among the many sages and worthies, wrote the Ten Wings to explain and support the Zhouyi. These three sages each rose in response to the times appointed by Heaven and governed their eras in succession. Their achievements differed, but none was greater or lesser than another. Their writings each carried on what came before, and in their elaborations they distinguished matters and principles with great precision. What is visible can be measured easily; signs not yet manifest are difficult to predict. Their work became a model for later generations and established the classics for all under Heaven. They did not possess the ability to know the future from the outset. Rather, through the inspiration of teacher-to-student transmission, they gradually came to understand, until at last it was as if they had drawn back a curtain and climbed onto a high platform, seeing everything clearly.

Wei Jun (Wei Boyang) was exceptionally gifted, yet he still needed his teacher’s guidance to attain understanding. He therefore lamented that the subtle principles of the Golden Elixir (Jindan), the elixir and state sought through Daoist internal or external alchemy, have no form or visible signs by which they can be observed. They are truly difficult to fathom and measure.

The three sages Fuxi, King Wen, and the Duke of Zhou entrusted these principles to the Classic of Changes (Yijing), and used the Eight Trigrams (Bagua) to reveal the mysterious workings of Heaven and the transformations of nature. But the trigrams have already been displayed, and the words have already explained them. If one judges the Cantong qi only by its outward signs and stated meanings, one remains confined to ordinary understanding. Though the sages carefully examined its subtle distinctions and set them down in writing, they did so so that students could seek its profound principles and investigate them step by step. Yet its mysteries remain hidden within the words, and its principles reach beyond images. If the Cantong qi had not been written in an obscure manner, how could these subtleties have been made clear?

Wei Jun therefore drew on the classic that exhausts the principles of things and fully understands human nature to explain the path of transcending the ordinary and entering sagehood. His words are like a contract that gives one the key to understanding, and like a curtain drawn aside to reveal what lies behind it. This teaching came through transmission from teacher to student; it was not gained through foreknowledge. From this we can see that although the workings of Heaven are profound and far-reaching, everyone has the capacity to understand them. The Great Dao is not forever hidden; in every age, there are people who can realize it. Do not assume that only those born with the bones of an immortal can pursue the Great Dao. If one is resolved, there is nothing one cannot accomplish. Reading Wei Jun’s humble remarks at the beginning and end again and again, one comes to understand the compassionate intent of the perfected beings of old.

The six hundred chapters of the Fire Record, concerning the timing and procedures of alchemical firing, all point to the same aim. The text explains its teachings repeatedly and earnestly because people refuse to think carefully or trace them to their source. Darkness and light are originally one. I wish only to share these words with the wise; how could I dare write them down lightly? But if I keep silent and let the Daoist teaching die out, I fear I will incur blame. If I set down what I know on bamboo and silk, I worry that I will disclose the workings of Heaven. Torn between these choices, I can only sigh. After much reflection, I have finally written down these thoughts.

The refining of the elixir has its own methods and procedures. I cannot bear to explain everything in full, so I have sketched only the main points, allowing the general connections and sequence of its principles to emerge.

People in the world who study the Way of the Elixir often find the discussions of “fire timing” in alchemical texts and purple books perplexing. These texts speak of advancing and retreating, civil and martial fire, and the changing points at which cultivation begins and ends. Few readers are left without questions. For this reason, many scriptures say that “six hundred chapters” describe the workings of fire timing. In truth, these accounts differ only in their wording: they express one and the same principle, and their methods are mutually consistent. Once you understand the alternating changes of using “Tun” in the morning—the name of a hexagram in the Book of Changes, here referring to the moment for advancing Yang fire—and “Meng” in the evening, a hexagram name here referring to the retreat of the Yin Talisman, you can understand the cycle of “Gou” by day and “Fu” by night, like the turning of the Dipper or a wheel moving along its track.

The scriptures repeatedly discuss advancing and retreating, and the civil and martial phases of fire timing. This is indeed a solemn and painstaking transmission. Thus, the “six hundred chapters” encompass three hundred days of cultivation, yet the essentials are contained in the two hexagrams of advance and retreat. The key is to remain single-minded and sincere from beginning to end, with a pure and focused intention, without the slightest error. It is lamentable that the sages’ words were never withheld; it is simply that people have not considered them carefully. The perfected master Wei Boyang compiled three chapters anew, but what they teach is just one principle. His purpose was to set out the main points in order and explain the rules, so that later students might readily grasp their significance. This principle is truly vast!

Use metal as a barrier and let water enter it, so that the two may be calmly brought into harmony. Metal has a numerical value of fifteen, and water has the same. When setting up the furnace, determine the weight of each: the water exceeds its measure by five parts. Metal and water are both regarded as true gold, and their weights return to their original values. A third substance is not placed in the furnace fire; the other two are combined with it. The three substances contain and receive one another, and their transformation unfolds like the wondrous workings of creation. Beneath the furnace, the breath of the sun lies hidden and steams upward. Before long, the substance first melts and then congeals; this is called the “Yellow Chariot,” an alchemical term for a substance or stage formed during the process of refinement. As the years draw to a close, damaging its nature will harm one’s lifespan. In the end, the body turns to ash and earth, fine as dust before a bright window.

To refine the Great Elixir, first build a surrounding enclosure with pure metal. Then take true water and place it inside, shielding it from outside disturbance so that it can be brought into harmony. Beneath the furnace, the breath of the sun lies hidden and steams upward. Before long, the substance first melts and then congeals; this is called the “Yellow Chariot.” As the years draw to a close, damaging its nature will harm one’s lifespan. In the end, the body turns to ash and earth, fine as dust before a bright window.

Before refining the Great Elixir, first use pure gold to build a wall around the whole area, then put the true water inside so that it cannot seep out. This is what is meant by the “golden embankment” or the “enclosure.” To build the golden embankment, it is enough to understand that the Four Images and the Five Phases all depend on Earth; true gold will then form naturally. By using true Earth among the Five Phases, one can refine true Gold among the Five Phases, for Earth is the mother of Metal. Once true Gold of the Five Phases has been refined, it can receive true Water of the Five Phases, for Water is the child of Metal. Water, Earth, and Metal join together to form a square shape of Earth, within which the image of the infant appears.

When it is put to use and made to rise, golden light fills the room and surges in motion like a carriage on the road; hence it is called the “Yellow Carriage.” When refining it in the furnace, the amount of Metal should not exceed five parts; a little more Water is no problem. During the process, three parts do not enter the fire, while the other two combine with them. This is the pairing of “three of Wood and two of Fire.” The two parts of Fire combine with the three parts of Wood, and neither enters the fire.

The human Hun and Shen have no fixed form; they appear only by relying on something. The practice of cultivating the Real refines only these three substances: Water, Earth, and Metal. Once they have joined to form a treasure, the Hun and Shen naturally transform along with them and enter the mysterious. Water entering the golden embankment is already condensed into liquid; then, with the aid of the Sun’s Qi steaming and tempering it from below, it transforms into the Yellow Carriage. When the fire phases are sufficient and the wondrous effects complete, a thousand transformations become possible. The divine palanquin and dragon carriage, among other things, all arise from this. At the moment of shedding the womb, the form glimmers, like sunlight revealing dust before a bright window. This is the scene in which Lord Wei reveals that cultivation has succeeded and transformation has taken place. People of the world do not understand the principle and speculate recklessly; though they have never witnessed it, they dare to speak from conjecture. Only those who have reached this state for themselves can understand.

After pounding and blending the materials, place them inside the red gate and seal the joint tightly, making sure it is intact and secure. Build a strong fire beneath and keep it going day and night without slackening. Begin with a gentle fire, then switch to a fierce fire when the process is nearly complete. Throughout, observe diligently and inspect with care, adjusting the cold and heat closely so that the fire phases follow their cycle through the twelve stages. When one cycle ends, continue in sequence with the next. When the breath is nearly spent and the form seems close to death, its color turns purple and then it blazes into the Elixir. This is the Returning Elixir. A dose of one jiu-dao-gui is the finest divine medicine.

This passage discusses how to apply the firing times and the movement of water and fire in alchemical practice. They are made to surge against one another like the pivot of Heaven and Earth, undergoing repeated refinement until the “Red Gate of the South”—the aperture associated with the fire position—closes and the place where water and fire meet becomes stable. The process continues day and night: first, a gentle fire gradually raises the heat; then, a strong fire intensifies it. This cycle repeats through the twelve double-hours. When the firing reaches its utmost point, the breath seems exhausted and life close to ending. The hundred channels return to their root, the whole body grows still, and the practitioner appears dead. Yet this is not true death: after stillness reaches its extreme, life begins again. The refined substance changes in color from gold to purple and takes the form of a purple powder. Even a small amount of the elixir can bring forth wondrous transformations.

According to the Five Phases and their cycles of generation and conquest, Water can overcome Fire, and when Water grows too strong, it can extinguish the flames. Yet the sun and moon also symbolize water and fire, and at each new moon—when the sun and moon meet and the moon is no longer visible—they do not destroy one another. This is because the Yin and Yang of Heaven and Earth meet according to their own seasons and patterns; it is not a matter of Water being stronger and Fire weaker, with each harming the other. If one can discern and apply the right moment, water and fire can shift from opposition to union, like a husband and wife joined in harmony. Metal and Wood, though separated, can also naturally interact. Such changes are subtle and hard to perceive, so people often fail to understand them.

“Name” establishes intention, while “designation” accords with one’s nature. “Metal returns to the beginning of nature” means that Metal Qi returns to the original nature and life; only at this stage can the process be called “returning the elixir”—the refined elixir returning to its original reality. The author says he does not dare make unfounded claims, but has written on the subject by following the words and records of ancient sages. The Dragon and Tiger, the Yellow Emperor’s refinement of Golden Florescence, the Prince of Huainan’s refinement of autumn stone, and Wang Yang’s further refinement of yellow sprouts are all allusions to ancient alchemical traditions. The worthy may uphold and practice this path; those unsuited to it should not enter rashly. The principles followed by the ancients and those followed today are one and the same. Students should apply themselves with greater care, remember these essential points, and reflect deeply on them. The principles have been made clear; the reader has not been deceived.

This passage explains the meaning of the term “Returning Elixir”: “returning” refers to emotion, while “elixir” refers to nature. The Metal Lord, symbolizing the inborn true nature, originally came forth from human nature. Now it is brought to see its mother once more and return to its original source. It then unites with the Maiden, symbolizing the spiritual nature or primal Qi of the Yin side, and together they form an infant. This is why it is called the “Returning Elixir.” A poem by Ziyang says: “The Metal Lord was originally the son of the eastern household; sent to lodge in the western grove, he was born in another body. Recognize him, call him back, and raise him at home; match him with the Maiden, and they will be joined in affection.” This is precisely what the passage means. Although people in different eras have used different terms, the underlying principle is the same.

Commentary on the Seal of the Unity of the Three (Zhouyi cantongqi jie), fascicle two

Qian is firm and strong; Kun is yielding and receptive. The two correspond and unite, each containing the other. Yang Qi receives Yin Qi, and male and female depend on one another. Yin and Yang require each other for the vital energies of creation to unfold and flow. Kan and Li, symbols of water and fire, occupy the foremost place; from them, light appears and shines far and wide. The hidden, subtle, and mysterious principle is beyond measure and cannot be portrayed in a drawing.

The sages examined and elaborated these principles, setting out their foundations in sequence. The four images of Qian, Kun, Kan, and Li merge into undifferentiated chaos, following the Way into the Void. The sixty-four hexagrams unfold in sequence, carrying the myriad things like a carriage. A dragon-horse draws the carriage, while an enlightened ruler grasps the moment. When conditions are harmonious, the people follow and move forward along a level, straight road. If they take a crooked path, the way becomes treacherous and winding, and the state is brought to peril.

Qian and Kun—the Qian and Kun hexagrams in the Yijing, symbolizing Heaven and Earth, and also Yang and Yin—combine firmness with yielding and intermingle with one another. This naturally gives rise to a relationship in which Yang Qi gives forth while Yin Qi receives and stores. Yang is firm and vigorous, responsible for release; Yin is yielding and compliant, responsible for containment. Isolated Yang cannot generate life, and isolated Yin cannot nurture it. Yin and Yang must depend on each other, with Jing and Qi circulating and spreading, for change and creation to take shape. Human conception, too, comes about through the union of Yin and Yang. For this reason, an account of this principle should begin with the Qian and Kun hexagrams.

The scripture also says that the Kan and Li hexagrams—symbolizing Water and Fire respectively, and often used to refer to the Moon and Sun—stand at the beginning of the text. Qian and Kun symbolize Heaven and Earth; Kan and Li symbolize the Sun and Moon. Heaven and Earth each occupy their own positions and cannot unite directly as one. It is the Sun and Moon that bring the Qi of Heaven and Earth together within them. Thus, Qian and Kun form the fundamental basis for refining the elixir, while Kan and Li are key to its use. The text places special emphasis on Kan and Li at the outset to show that the efficacy of the Great Medicine lies entirely in them. In other words, Qian and Kun are like the cauldron and furnace, while Kan and Li are like the medicinal ingredients.

The function of Kan and Li is to move up and down between the two fundamental forces of Qian and Kun, transforming and operating in ways that cannot be fully represented by a single diagram of the Yi hexagrams. To infer and explain these mysteries, the sages had students observe the Yin and Yang lines of Kan and Li across the sixty hexagrams: the positions of one Yang line and one Yin line shift, sometimes above and sometimes below, in subtle and difficult-to-predict ways. Practitioners should be like enlightened rulers who govern the seasons, using the sixty hexagrams as a carriage for the process, letting it proceed calmly through Wuwei (non-action) and cultivating the Dao step by step. Only then can they advance steadily and without haste, traveling through all the hexagrams from beginning to end without encountering danger or obstruction.

Thus the scripture says that when things are harmonized and flow smoothly, the road ahead is straight and even. Those who do not understand this principle and stray recklessly onto a crooked path may be overturned and meet with danger. Liu Haichan, a Daoist figure, said, “Do not let the Purple River Cart tip over,” meaning the same thing: even when the road seems level, one must guard against danger and proceed with care.

When a noble person speaks correctly at home, people a thousand miles away will respond. A ruler of ten thousand chariots, who dwells deep within his palace, must also issue commands in keeping with the rhythms of Yin-Yang. He should store away his implements and wait for the proper time, without violating the hexagrams or the monthly ordinances: the Zhun hexagram corresponds to the hours from Zi to Shen, and the Meng hexagram to the hours from Yin to Xu. Each of the other sixty hexagrams also has its own corresponding times and days.

For those cultivating the Golden Elixir, remaining still and nourishing themselves throughout the year is especially difficult. Even the smallest action may have far-reaching effects. This is like a ruler of ten thousand chariots dwelling deep in his palace: every movement and every word or silence bears on the harmony of Heaven and Earth. As the Book of Changes says, a noble person’s words at home can affect distant places. Practitioners should follow the changes in Yin-Yang as it rises and falls, and decide when to advance or withdraw according to the seasons. They must be as careful as someone holding a treasure, protecting their eyes, carrying a child in the womb, or bearing a vessel filled to the brim with water. They must wait for the right moment and not violate the hexagrams or the monthly ordinances. The Zhun hexagram runs from the hour of Zi to the hour of Shen, and the Meng hexagram from the hour of Yin to the hour of Xu; each of the other hexagrams likewise corresponds to a particular interval. Broadly speaking, two hexagrams correspond to one day, and six lines to one double-hour. To understand Yin and Yang, one must distinguish day from night; to understand day and night, one must distinguish light from darkness. Once these are distinguished, the changes in the hexagram lines can be grasped. This is what the Book of Changes means when it says, “Understand the way of day and night, and you will know its patterns.”

Here I have briefly described the images of the Zhun and Meng hexagrams, but cannot explain all their meanings. Rules and punishments are established to make people uphold righteousness; benevolence and kindness are practiced to make people uphold Virtue. Acting against the pattern brings danger; following it brings good fortune. Practitioners should follow the calendar, remain focused and cautious, watch the changes between day and night, and carefully observe Yin-Yang as it waxes and wanes. Even the slightest deviation will bring regret and error.

The “two images” refer to the Zhun and Meng hexagrams. The statement that their meaning “cannot be fully explained” means that one must not dare reveal every secret of the alchemical firing process. Those who study the Dao, having met a master and received the oral instructions, should begin at the appointed time and form the initial Elixir. In cultivation, they must follow the calendar, remain focused and cautious, guard the secrets closely, and observe changes day and night. When Yang Qi arrives, they advance, as when one acts with benevolence and bestows kindness; when Yin Qi arrives, they withdraw, as when one establishes righteousness and applies punishment. Following the seasons brings good fortune; going against them brings misfortune. Even the slightest untimely action will leave regret and error, harming the cultivation, like weeds mixed among seedlings or dust clouding a mirror. If people refining cinnabar in the world fear that an error in coordinating fire and water will spoil the work, how much more so when refining the Great Elixir of Golden Liquid, an advanced method of Daoist internal alchemy.

The Winter Solstice and Summer Solstice are the turning points when Yin-Yang Qi begins to shift. If these transitions are handled improperly, unusual changes arise in Heaven and Earth. Snow may fall in summer and thunder may sound in winter, followed by one calamity after another. The Spring and Autumn Equinoxes are times when Yin and Yang meet in equal measure. To go against the natural order then can also bring changes in the heavens: mountains may collapse, the earth may split, and floods and droughts may cause widespread disaster.

The “filial son” mentioned here is a metaphor for the True Embryo formed during alchemical practice, while the “Supreme Ultimate” represents the hinge on which fortune and misfortune turn. The practitioner’s intentions call forth different outcomes: they may bring peace, or stir up warfare; they may invite calamity, or bring good fortune. The principles of alchemy accord with those of governing the world. The responses of the human realm follow one another like a shadow following its form; all the more so when alchemy takes the transformations of Heaven and Earth as its model and accords with their De and workings.

Action and stillness alike must follow their proper rhythms and guiding principles. When the four seasons each follow their course, the practitioner can accord with the two Qi of Yin and Yang. Hardness and softness must each keep within their bounds and not overstep one another. The Five Phases, too, must each remain within their proper limits; they cannot be increased or diminished at will. Yin-Yang transformations flow on without end, bending and extending, reversing and returning. Only by mastering these patterns can the practitioner regulate the firing process correctly and avoid mistakes.

Between the last and first days of each lunar month, follow the tally’s pattern in practice, keeping Yin and Yang in a state of undivided chaos, whole and unified. Yin and Yang join, like female and male following one another; Jing and Qi are abundant and nourishing, and the generative process flows without pause. The subtle transformations between Heaven and Earth cannot be measured. At this time, settle the body and keep still, conceal your traces, and draw inward into hiding. Beginning from the northeast, where the lunar mansions Ji and Dou lie, you may then be free of anxiety.

At the conjunction of the last and first days of the month, continue to follow the tally’s pattern in practice, bringing Yin and Yang together in the middle way and keeping them in a state of primordial chaos. Yin and Yang follow one another; Jing and Qi nourish, and the generative process flows, while the subtle workings of Heaven and Earth defy prediction. At this time, do not recklessly apply effort. Instead, settle the body, keep still, and remain hidden. Wait until the movement of Qi stirs from the region of the lunar mansions Ji and Dou; only then let it turn like a wheel, send forth its shoots, reveal what lay concealed, and radiate its subtle brilliance.

At the conjunction of the last and first days of the month, Yin and Yang should join and move according to the tally, remaining in a state of primordial chaos beyond measurement. This is precisely when Yin and Yang follow one another, Jing and Qi nourish, and the generative process flows. How could one apply effort recklessly? Thus this is a time to settle the body, keep still, and conceal one’s traces. Wait until the movement of Qi stirs from the region of Ji and Dou, then let it turn, sprout, and radiate its subtle brilliance. A poem by Master Hanshan says, “Do not expose its root; the root will fall of itself.” This is because substance and function differ, and the methods of applying effort also vary.

Above the lunar mansions Mao and Bi, the Zhen trigram appears, and faint Yang Qi begins to emerge. The first nine line represents the hidden dragon. Yang is established through the number three, while Yin is connected through the number eight; thus, on the third day, Zhen stirs, and on the eighth, Dui moves. On the ninth day, the third line of Dui—the nine in the third place—takes on the image of the “visible dragon”; Yin and Yang are balanced and bright. The qualities of the second and fifth lines are complete, and the form of Qian is thereby established. At the time of the nine in the third place, one must still remain alert and hold firmly to caution. The tally shows the waxing and waning of things: after passing through change, they ultimately return to their starting point. Xun takes up the succession, which must be held firmly and brought into balance. The nine in the fourth place represents the dragon leaping or withdrawing; the path between advance and retreat is perilous. Gen governs stopping, reminding the practitioner to know when to proceed and when to halt, and not to miss the proper moment.

On the twenty-third day, keep watch at the appointed time of the waxing crescent, when the moon approaches its half phase. The nine in the fifth place represents the flying dragon in its heavenly position, bringing good fortune. The six in the fifth place represents Kun receiving, gathering, and joining beginning with end; it stores and nurtures its many children, serving generation after generation as the mother of all things. The top nine represents the overreaching dragon: its virtue should be drawn inward and returned to the wilderness. The use of the nine represents Yin and Yang moving lightly back and forth, becoming the pattern of the Great Way. When the cycle of Yang’s numbers is complete, it ends and begins anew. By discerning the principles of things and aligning with their nature, one moves through cycles of transformation, each thing following another.

Lord Wei (Wei Boyang) used the Moon’s changing shape over the course of a month—from waning to full, then from full to waning—to illustrate the advance and retreat of the hexagrams. Beginning on the third day, Yang Qi first arises; this is called one Yang. By the eighth day, there are two Yang. On the fifteenth day, all three Yang lines are complete, forming the Qian hexagram, which symbolizes pure Yang. On the sixteenth day, Yin Qi begins to arise. By the twenty-third day, two Yin lines are gradually formed. On the thirtieth day, all three Yin lines are complete, forming the Kun hexagram, which symbolizes pure Yin. The stars Mao and Bi lie in the western Geng position. This means the same as the statement in the previous scroll that “Zhen and Geng appear in the west.” I explained this in detail in the preceding scroll. Lord Wei mentions it again here in the hope that those who study the Dao will gain a deeper understanding of the relationship between fundamental nature and its function.

Following the pattern of the Xuanji—a device used in antiquity to observe the heavens, and here a metaphor for the regular circulation of movement—Qi rises and descends, cycling through the six lines. Its changes are difficult to perceive, so it has no fixed position. This is the fundamental principle of the Changes.

Within a single day, the firing process—the regulation of timing and measure in alchemical practice—circulates like the Xuanji: it begins to rise at the hour of Zi, turns downward at the hour of Wu, and passes through the six lines. Though no visible traces appear, those who study the Dao should still seek a deeper understanding of its fundamental nature and function.

Within a single day, the firing process circulates like the Xuanji, rising from the hour of Zi, descending from the hour of Wu, and passing through the six lines. Though it leaves no form or trace to observe, the workings of creation and transformation proceed unseen; those who study the Dao should apprehend them inwardly. The numinous medicine—the Jing and Qi cultivated in Neidan—moves with the course of the day, rising and descending without cease. How could it have a fixed position? This accords precisely with the principle in the Great Changes: Yang Qi arises, while Yin Qi descends. The phrase “the progenitor of the Changes” means that the sages first understood the principle of the Golden Elixir, used it to cultivate themselves and transcend the ordinary to attain sagehood, and only then set this principle down in the Changes for later generations. We can therefore see that the Great Changes took the Great Elixir as its model, and that the Way of the Great Elixir is the foundation of the Changes.

The dawn of the new moon corresponds to the Fu hexagram, which symbolizes the first arising of Yang Qi. Yang Qi begins to circulate, and the breath flows in and out freely. When a shadow-measuring gnomon—a rod used in antiquity to observe the Sun’s shadow—is set upright, it reveals the faint but firm Yang Qi. The Yellow Bell, the first pitch in the ancient musical scale, corresponds to the Zi month. At this time, signs of Yang Qi stirring gradually emerge, and a gentle, warm energy begins to spread, enabling the myriad things to flourish in due measure.

At midnight, during the Zi hour, the alchemical firing process begins to stir. Yang Qi has not yet arisen, and the firing process has not yet been set in motion. Yin Qi gathers together, like a crowd without a leader. Once the firing process begins, Yang Qi starts to circulate and a gentle warmth spreads, steaming the vessel used for alchemy. When light first appears, it becomes the source from which all things transform and come into being. At this time, the practitioner should silently grasp the moment to advance the fire, taking the faint force of Yang as a guide. Let the breath move back and forth, gathering and releasing without haste, so that it can grow naturally. Then gradually increase the work until pure Yang is complete, Heaven and Earth are refined, and the precious treasure is formed. The early stages of cultivation require particular care. A poem by an earlier master says, “On a cold night, draw near the fire; guard against the crowd until dawn.” This refers to gently spreading Yang Qi so that all things each attain their proper nature.

At the Lin hexagram (a hexagram from the Book of Changes symbolizing the growth of Yang Qi), Yang Qi stretches out like branches, opening a path. The upright light gradually shines forth and grows day by day. The Chou hour corresponds to the Dalu pitch (one of the ancient twelve musical pitches); at this time, the practitioner must gauge the firing process’s rises and falls, advances and retreats.

The Chou hour enters the firing process of the second Yang line. The light now grows brighter, the mysterious path opens, and upright Qi becomes visible. Since Yang Qi arises below, it should be condensed below. In practice, first keep it steady and contained; after passing this line’s position, gradually release and raise it, following the changes in the movement of Qi. Hence the phrase, “Condense it upright, low and high.”

Turn the hexagram upward to form the Tai hexagram (a hexagram from the Book of Changes symbolizing the union and free passage of Heaven and Earth). The forces of firmness and yielding grow together, Yin and Yang connect, the small withdraws and the great arrives. All these changes gather in the Yin hour, and their movement follows the season.

The Yin hour enters the firing process of the third Yang line. Firmness and yielding now intermingle, with Yin and Yang each taking half; Water is above and Fire below. The Water of Jing rises, while the Fire of Shen descends, and the two meet. “The small withdraws and the great arrives” means that Yin Qi recedes and Yang Qi grows, as the transformations of creation gather here.

Gradually passing through the Dazhuang hexagram (a hexagram from the Book of Changes symbolizing the strength of flourishing Yang), the practitioner reaches the Mao hour, when Yang Qi extends in ordered array. The elm samaras fall, returning to their source. Yin and Yang now check one another as they wax and wane, and day and night begin to divide equally.

The Mao hour enters the fourth Yang line, the bathing stage of the firing process (an alchemical term for a turning point and a stage of regulation). At this time, day and night begin to divide equally, and the forces of growth and decline are balanced. All things flourish in spring, yet the elm samaras fall at this time. This is because the samaras correspond to the stars, which disappear from view at dawn. The Golden Elixir and the myriad forms of the world intermingle, while those forms are also brought forth by the movements of the sun and moon.

At the Guai hexagram (a hexagram from the Book of Changes symbolizing resolution), Yin Qi withdraws and Yang Qi rises and advances. At this time, wash the wings and rouse the spirit, allowing the movement of Qi to unfold upward.

The Hexagram Guai (Breakthrough) symbolizes Yin energy receding and Yang energy rising. At the hour of Chen, the practice enters the stage of five Yangs (the phase in which Yang energy has grown to five parts). At this time, Yang energy rises and the body’s source of water becomes clear. It is like a bird emerging from the water, shaking and cleansing the dust from its feathers, ready to spread its wings and soar.

The Hexagram Qian (The Creative) symbolizes strength, flourishing vitality, and brightness, with radiance extending in every direction. At the hour of Si, the practice enters the stage of six Yangs (the phase in which Yang energy is full). The body of pure Yang takes shape, like the full moon or waters filled to the brim: brightness is abundant, Shen and Qi are full, and everything is upright, centered, complete, and without flaw, its radiance shining in all directions.

The Hexagram Gou (Coming to Meet) symbolizes the first stirrings of Yin, like the first step onto frost. The hour of Wu is the time when “the guest submits to Yin, and Yin becomes the host”: Yin occupies the host’s position, while Yang occupies the guest’s. At the hour of Wu, the practice enters the stage of retreating to one Yin tally (the phase in which Yin begins to grow and Yang begins to withdraw and become hidden). If one does not understand how “the guest is within the host, and the host within the guest,” even the slightest error can lead to serious consequences. Do not assume that Yin is too newly arisen to cause harm. The scripture uses the images of a cold spring at the bottom of a well and frost underfoot that will become solid ice; this is why earlier masters repeatedly discussed the distinction between host and guest.

The Hexagram Dun (Retreat) symbolizes withdrawal. At the hour of Wei, the practice enters the stage of retreating to two Yin tallies. At this time, one should gather in Jing and Qi, cherish one’s De, wait for the right moment, and live quietly in seclusion.

The Hexagram Pi (Obstruction) symbolizes blockage and lack of flow. At the hour of Shen, the practice enters the stage of retreating to three Yin tallies. At this time, sprouts cannot grow; Yin energy extends, Yang energy withdraws, and Yang’s standing is also concealed.

The Hexagram Guan (Contemplation) concerns observation and assessment. One should observe the conditions in mid-autumn: tiny living things are nurtured, withered and aged plants flourish again, and shepherd’s purse, wheat, and other plants put out new shoots, growing under the protection of a covering.

At the hour of You, the practice enters the bathing stage of retreating to four Yin tallies (the phase of gathering in and purifying through cultivation). Shepherd’s purse and wheat follow the season and therefore put out new shoots in the eighth month. The Sun Soul (Yang essence corresponding to the image of the sun) is conceived at the hour of You. At this time, the Qi of Wood lies hidden and takes form as an embryo, while the Qi of Earth undergoes bathing; hence the hour of You is called the bathing stage.

The Hexagram Bo (Splitting Apart) symbolizes the decline of the limbs and the dissolution of the body. At the hour of Xu, the practice enters the stage of retreating to five Yin tallies. At this time, the body’s form and Qi are exhausted, and Shen and Qi disappear along with them.

When the Dao reaches its end, it returns to the Hexagram Kun (The Receptive). Kun symbolizes origin, constancy, and gentleness. It follows the patterns of the earth, receives the Dao of Heaven, and allows it to spread and flow through all things. At the hour of Hai, the practice enters the stage of retreating to six Yin tallies.

The profound and mysterious principles are at once separate from one another and interconnected. Following their proper measure, they nurture and transform the myriad things and are the source from which Yin and Yang arise. They are vast and boundless, elusive and hard to understand; no one knows where they begin. At first one may lose sight of their pattern, yet later come to grasp their governing force. Fulness turns into decline: this is the Dao’s natural transformation. Waxing and waning answer one another, ending with the Kun hexagram and beginning with the Fu hexagram, like a chain that revolves without end. If rulers can follow and master this pattern, they can preserve their position for a long time.

A lodestone attracts iron; a yangsui, a bronze mirror used to kindle fire, draws forth flame; and a fangzhu, a vessel used to collect water, condenses moisture from the air. These all illustrate how Yin and Yang respond to one another and remain connected despite separation. How could anyone discern the subtle workings within? At the beginning of cultivating the alchemical Dao, things seem bewildering and hard to distinguish. Only when the firing process is complete and the Elixir’s power has matured does one learn how to master its pattern. Does this principle not lie precisely in the cyclical timing of “ending with Kun and beginning with Fu”? Lord Wei explained it again and again; one could say he made it thoroughly clear.

To nurture one’s nature, lengthen one’s life, and avoid dying prematurely, one should carefully consider one’s postnatal condition and trace life back to its prenatal source. When a person first receives physical form, they already possess original Jing, the essence at the root of life. Original Qi spreads like clouds, and life begins by relying on Qi.

All beings with blood and Qi each have their own nature, and nature is originally upright. They also each have a lifespan, which is tied to desire. Human nature is originally upright, but people later lose their true nature and sink into crooked ways, sometimes becoming cruel or changing their nature like snakes, scorpions, and other creatures, until their nature turns perverse. Life originally arises from desire. If one can awaken the mind and see one’s nature, understand that the lives of all beings arise through sexual desire, and then refine Jing into Qi to transcend the ordinary and attain sagehood, one can change one’s allotted lifespan and make it an upright one.

Only by understanding the source of nature can one nurture it; only by understanding the proper way of life can one lengthen one’s lifespan. Consider this: when a person first receives physical form, they already possess an upright nature. When the parents unite, their Jing and Qi mingle and original Qi spreads—does this arise from upright nature or from desire? The Scripture of Perfect Enlightenment says, “Life arises because of desire,” which conveys much the same idea as this passage.

Yin-Yang alternate in their movement, and the Hun and Po each have a place to dwell. The Yang spirit is called the Hun, and the Yin spirit the Po; each dwells in the other. A person’s innate nature resides within, like an inner barrier, while emotions and intentions act outwardly, like an outer wall. Only when both inner and outer barriers are intact can a person be at peace.

At this point, emotions and intentions accord with Qian and Kun, which symbolize Yin-Yang and Heaven and Earth. The Qi of Qian stirs and unfolds, carrying Jing and Qi outward. The Qi of Kun grows still and gathers, becoming a place of repose. After the forceful Qi has acted, it withdraws and rests; the gentle Qi gradually nourishes. The Jing describes the circulation and gathering of Yin-Yang’s essential energies through terms such as “nine returns and seven reversals” and “eight returning and six abiding.” “The male is white, the female red” uses colors to refer to the two kinds of Yin-Yang energy. Metal and Fire restrain one another, allowing Water to settle and Fire to become balanced; thus the transformations of the Five Phases begin.

The highest virtue is like water, clear and without blemish. The Dao has a real form, yet it is difficult to depict. It changes and circulates, spreading through all things, each of which takes on a different form.

Human nature and feelings arise from the hun and po souls; the hun and po arise from brightness and darkness. Brightness and darkness correspond to the sun and moon, whose source lies in Yin-Yang. On this basis, the sages discerned the principles of the Qian and Kun trigrams: firmness and yielding, movement and stillness, opening and closing, and their transformations. This is why the Great Elixir’s Way accords with the Book of Changes. Its essential principle is simply to take Yin-Yang as its guide.

The sun rises at the hour of Mao, when the sky grows bright and the hun energy flourishes. It sets at the hour of You, when the sky darkens and the po energy flourishes. The hun belongs to the yang spirit, the po to the yin spirit: daytime is where the hun is active, while nighttime is where the po settles. In the end, all these changes come down to the two states of brightness and darkness.

In the brightness of day, people make use of the hun and Shen; the hun expresses human nature. In the darkness of night, people gather in their Jing and Qi and return to the po; Jing and po express the root of human life. Life gives rise to feelings, so Jing and po are like the walls of a city. Nature gives rise to thoughts, so preserving and nurturing the heart and Shen is like building defenses around the city. When the city walls are strong, the human body can be at peace. At this point, feelings and intentions move outward, Qian and Kun come together, and the principles of firmness and yielding, movement and stillness, opening and closing are realized.

Then the Qi mechanism completes a circuit, circulating through the vast expanse of space. As it rises, descends, and blends, the transformations of the myriad things return to True Earth. Nine Metal, Eight Wood, Seven Fire, and Six Water turn back to their proper places, and in the end all return to Earth. Once returned to Earth, the Five Phases are complete, and the myriad things are born from them. In this process, the man takes on a white form and the woman a red form. This shows the gathering of the Five Phases and the blending of Metal and Fire. Fire refines Metal, and the Water within Metal is like broth in a cauldron. The broth in the jade cauldron boils, as if the cauldron were set over a furnace where the flames of the metal furnace burn fiercely. Here, Water, Metal, and Fire are all said to be within Earth; when Fire is mentioned, the transformations of Wood are naturally included as well. Once the transformation is complete, Lead congeals and Mercury gathers in the cauldron. The action of Water thereby becomes an especially subtle part of the process.

The most precious treasure is pure and without flaw; the utmost truth is difficult to grasp. Once the firing process reaches completion, the Five Phases each take their place and remain there, no longer encroaching on one another.

This is like an egg: black and white depend on each other, and at the beginning it is about an inch across in both length and width. Gradually, the four limbs, five organs, sinews, and bones take shape. After ten months, the infant leaves the womb. Its bones are so soft they can bend, and its flesh is delicate and smooth, like Lead.

The description of it as about an inch in length and width means that it is slightly narrower across.

The Dharma Body—the inner true body formed through cultivation—is within it. An elder once said: “Better to leap forth from the pearl-like inner realm, rise up straight, and enter the Purple Tenuity Palace, the celestial palace where the Heavenly Emperor dwells.”

To draw fire with a yangsui—a device used in ancient times to take fire from the sun—there must be sunlight, or it will not shine. To collect water with a fangzhu, an ancient water-gathering device, how could one obtain water without the stars and moon? Though the Yin and Yang energies are mysterious and far apart, they can still communicate when stirred into change. How much more readily, then, can they do so when they are close at hand within the human body? The key lies in the heart and mind. Yin and Yang correspond to the sun and moon, and the joining of water and fire can serve as a sign of verification.

The yangsui is a mirror made by refining five-colored stone. Held toward the sun, it kindles fire with mugwort. The Huainanzi calls it a “fire fangzhu.” There is also a “water fangzhu,” a crystal bead held toward the moon to collect water; it is also called the yinshui. Without the sun and moon, neither the yangsui nor the fangzhu can draw fire or water. The rising and descending of Yin and Yang within the human body follows the same patterns of generation and movement as in Heaven and Earth. Can the principle of water and fire responding to one another be verified apart from the workings of the sun and moon?

The three treasures of ears, eyes, and mouth should be guarded and kept closed; do not open them carelessly. The spirit of a realized person sinks deep into the hidden depths and drifts within the centered place. They turn and bend the use of sight and hearing so that opening and closing accord with their own pivot. The changes of movement and stillness are inexhaustible: the energy of the Li trigram moves within, while Kan is not put to outward use. The ears do not strain to listen, and the mouth does not speak at will. Speak little and remain quiet, in accord with Hundun—the undivided, primordial state of nature.

Since these three are gateways of body and mind, relax the body, dwell in a quiet room, and focus wholly on emptiness, making freedom from thought one’s constant state. Keep the mind and spirit concentrated, without letting them wander at will. In sleep, spirit and Qi embrace one another; on waking, remain attentive to changes in body and mind. In this way, the complexion will gradually become lustrous and the joints increasingly strong. Dispel the various Yin evils, then support the upright Yang energy.

With sustained and unremitting cultivation, the breath throughout the body will move like clouds and rain, continuous and unbroken, nourishing all things like spring. It will also be like melting ice: fluids descend from the head and spread to the feet, then rise again, circulating back and forth and extending without limit. When the breath fills the body and moves in cycles, this is a sign of returning to the Great Dao.

Softness and weakness are the root of De (Virtue/Power). Clear away accumulated filth, and even the finest details can be harmonized and flow freely. Turbid energy is a path toward clarity; after darkness has lasted a long time, it too turns to brightness.

When the ears do not listen to sounds from outside, the Kan Water within the body, symbolizing kidney water, can grow clear and still. When the eyes do not look upon external things, the Li Fire within, symbolizing heart fire, can move in steady balance. When the mouth does not speak, the Dui Metal within, symbolizing lung Qi, will not become agitated. Once these three places are quiet and restrained, the cultivator can dwell peacefully within them.

In cultivation, one should be free of thoughts and worries, neither distressed nor worn out. Set the mind in emptiness and stillness, focused and undistracted; relax the body and stay in a quiet, empty room. There is no other purpose: one is simply to guard the feminine and embrace the One—that is, to preserve softness and stillness, and remain undivided—while relaxing the body and cultivating alone in a quiet chamber.

In sleep, spirit and body remain together. When awake, attend to changes in the movements of Qi within the body. Then expel Yin and evil Qi, allowing pure Yang Qi to gather within, until the Qi of Great Harmony, the balanced and even primordial Qi, fills the whole body. The movement of Qi is like ice melting into water, or like spring nourishing all things. The various breaths move like clouds and mist, flowing up and down from the head to the feet. With sustained cultivation, impurities are gradually expelled from the body; the sinews and bones grow supple, the complexion becomes lustrous, the joints grow firm, and the blood transforms into a white paste. Spirit and body alike reach a subtle and refined state.

Yet once the seven gates, the body’s seven apertures, are closed, it seems as though life has vanished: the hundred channels fall silent, body and breath seem to have disappeared, strength ebbs, the body can scarcely support itself, and one sinks into a dull confusion like drunkenness. This is a sign that the Way has been realized and De has been attained. Dullness is the foundation of clarity; turbidity is the source of purity. Only from this point can one reach a state of complete brightness, penetrating insight, and wondrous integration—and all of it begins in murkiness.

People of the world favor minor techniques, not understanding that Daoist methods have shallow and deep forms. They abandon the proper Way for crooked paths and rush to achieve results, only to find themselves obstructed. It is like a blind person trying to walk with a crutch, a deaf person trying to understand music, diving underwater to catch pheasants and rabbits, or climbing a mountain to look for fish and dragons. It is like sowing wheat but hoping to harvest millet, or using a compass to seek a square. However much effort they expend and however much they wear down their spirits, they see no results all year long. Those who wish to know the methods of ingesting and cultivating need only grasp their essential principles, which are simple and not complicated.

People of the world abandon the proper Way to pursue crooked paths, become absorbed in minor techniques, and merely waste their efforts, reaching old age without achievement. How could they understand the wondrousness of the Great Way? It is supremely simple and easy, concise and free of complication.

The Sun’s Flowing Pearl (a treasure symbolizing the essence and vital energy of life) is always trying to leave the person. If it can be subdued by Golden Florescence (the refined essence of Metal), the two interact and transform into white liquid. Once this liquid congeals, it becomes hard. Golden Florescence takes effect first, then, in a moment, turns into water, shaped like horseteeth and langgan (precious stones resembling jade). Yang Qi then arrives to harmonize them, and their natures naturally come into accord. But time is short: Yin Qi will bind it and gather it within the Gate.

This is like a loving mother raising a child, who repays her care when grown; it is also like a stern father giving commands and instructing his descendants. The Five Phases (Metal, Wood, Water, Fire, and Earth) take turns holding sway and restraining one another, bringing about transformation: Fire can melt Metal, Metal can overcome Wood, and Wood can generate Fire. Through this process, Metal first changes into Water and then combines with Yang Qi. This process embodies the natural principles by which the Five Phases restrain and generate one another.

The key lies in “Three, Five, and One”: the essentials of cultivation represented by these three characters. The most subtle principles between Heaven and Earth can be passed on through oral formulas, yet are difficult to set down in writing.

Human life is entrusted to Mao (one of the Earthly Branches, associated with the East and spring). The sun rises at the hour of Mao, and all things depend on it to grow; thus all things establish life through the sun’s vital essence. The “Sun’s Flowing Pearl” is this precious essence of life. When it resides in Shen (spirit), the mind is easily thrown into disorder; scattered thoughts pursue external things and change without cease. When it resides in Jing (essence), it is difficult to preserve, and thoughts readily stir and leak outward. Hence the scripture says that it is always trying to leave the person.

Few among ordinary people understand this principle, and even fewer who understand it can preserve their vital essence. Yet the Sun’s Flowing Pearl is the essence of the Wood soul. If subdued by Golden Florescence, it turns into white liquid, congeals into yellow sprouts shaped like horseteeth and langgan, and is bound and gathered within the You Gate (the direction associated with the West and Metal).

The methods of cultivation are explained through the Five Phases’ cycles of generation and overcoming. At times it is like a father directing his son; at others, like a son returning to his mother. There is both a mother nurturing her child and a child repaying his mother. First, Fire melts Metal; then Metal overcomes Wood, as a stern father disciplines his descendants. Afterward, Wood transforms into Water. Water is the mother of Wood, so this is called “the mother’s nurturing.” Water then congeals into Metal. Metal is the child of Wood; the child transforms through its own nature and returns to its mother, hence this is called “repaying a debt of gratitude.”

These essential teachings, in the end, all come down to “Three, Five, and One.” Since ancient times, few have truly understood their profound meaning. Without encountering someone who has attained the Dao to transmit the oral formula, how could one glimpse this mystery of Heaven and Earth’s creative transformation through written words alone?

The passage begins by comparing cultivation to the withering and withdrawal of all things in midwinter. Around the winter solstice, plants and trees wither, while Yang Qi lies hidden. Practitioners, too, should follow the season by gathering in body and mind, speaking little, and dwelling in stillness. The Dao of Heaven is vast and profound; the realm of Great Mystery is empty, still, and formless, beyond direct sight. Without understanding its order and changes, one may easily go astray by making hasty conjectures. Wei Boyang explains the “Four Images”—the four symbols used to represent the changes of Yin and Yang—so that later students can use them to understand the subject. Their specific meanings are given below.

The passage then describes the movement of the trigrams: the Zi position turns to the right, the Wu position revolves eastward, and the Mao and You positions face one another, dividing into host and guest. Here, “dragon” and “tiger” stand for the Yin and Yang Qi that work together in cultivation: the dragon calls and the tiger answers; the tiger draws in the dragon’s essence. The two join and nourish one another, eventually interlocking and swallowing one another until they become one. The commentary explains this change through fire, water, and the directional correspondences of the Five Phases. The dragon appears from fire, while the tiger takes form toward water. “Mars guarding the West” symbolizes fire controlling Metal; “Venus crossing the sky” symbolizes the appearance of Metal Qi. The passage then compares the scene to a cat watching for prey and small birds fearing a hawk, showing that each force plays its part and that the Qi mechanism has its own ordering of primary and secondary roles.

The commentary also draws on the imagery of a poem by Master Zhongli to explain that cultivating only one side cannot be regarded as the complete Dao. Only when Yin and Yang unite does cultivation accord with the saying, “One Yin and one Yang—this is called the Dao.” The commentary compares this to the union of male and female and the generation of the myriad things, explaining that the Returned Elixir—the refined achievement sought through Neidan cultivation—also requires the union of two forces. If they do not unite, Three and Five cannot meet, water and fire cannot be harmonized, and firmness and softness remain apart. Yin and Yang are then cut off from one another, and the Qi of Heaven and Earth becomes blocked. This is what is meant by imbalance arising when one aspect of Yin and Yang is neglected.

Kan represents the male and also symbolizes the Moon; Li represents the female and also symbolizes the Sun. The Sun spreads its De (Virtue/Power) over all things, while the Moon extends its radiance. The Moon receives the Sun’s transformative nourishment, and so its form is not diminished. When Yang Qi loses its proper harmony with Yin Qi, Yin obscures the light, giving rise to phenomena such as the dark Moon, the new Moon, and lunar eclipses, as the two conceal and contend with each other. When Yang Qi wanes and Yin encroaches upon it, calamities arise. Men and women depend on one another; only when Yin and Yang contain and release each other can they nourish life. Only when female and male interweave and unite can things of the same kind seek one another.

Heaven and Earth continue their courses over time because the Sun and Moon move back and forth, Yin and Yang meet, and each supports the other in giving forth light. If either loses its proper measure, a solar or lunar eclipse occurs. Within the human body, Kan and Li are likewise like the Sun and Moon between Heaven and Earth. Can people follow the principle by which things of the same kind respond to one another and draw upon the workings of Heaven and Earth?

Metal transforms into Water, whose nature is to flow without fixed direction. Fire transforms into Earth, which prevents Water from spreading unchecked. Thus, the man acts outwardly to give, while the woman remains still within and gathers in. If things overflow excessively and exceed their proper limits, the woman brings them under restraint. The Po, the aspect of the spirit bound to the body, restrains the Hun, the aspect that governs spiritual activity, so that it does not become excessively unrestrained. When Yin and Yang are neither too cold nor too hot, and their advance and retreat accord with the proper time, each finds its harmony, and together they manifest the corresponding signs.

This passage describes the mystery of Metal and Water as husband and wife, and of Water and Fire working together. Metal generates Water, whose nature is moist; without Earth to regulate it, Water will inevitably overflow. Wood generates Fire, and Fire generates Earth. Once Earth has formed, Water no longer spreads unchecked: it can be contained and stored, and brought into harmony with Fire. In other words, Metal and Wood are naturally in conflict, yet through the action of Fire they can become husband and wife; Water and Fire are naturally in conflict, yet through the action of Earth they can be brought into accord. In this way, Yin and Yang advance and retreat in season, each finding its harmony as they change with the times and together manifest the corresponding signs.

Cinnabar, a term in alchemy referring to vermilion, is the vital essence of Wood; only when it obtains Metal can the two unite. Metal joins with Water, while Wood accompanies Fire; the four mingle without separating and are arranged as Dragon and Tiger, symbols of the two forces of Yin and Yang. The Dragon belongs to Yang and is associated with odd numbers; the Tiger belongs to Yin and is associated with even numbers. The Liver belongs to the color green and is the father; the Lungs belong to white and are the mother; the Kidneys belong to black and are the child; the Spleen belongs to yellow and is the ancestor. The child and the beginning of the Five Phases, together with three other things, form one family; in the end, all return to Wu and Ji, the Heavenly Stems that stand for central Earth.

Metal and Wood work together and act upon each other because both contain the true Qi of Earth. In the numerical sequence of the Five Phases, Metal is four and Water is one; joined together, they transform into five, the number of Earth. Wood is three and Fire is two; joined together, they too transform into five, the number of Earth. Although the East belongs to Wood and is symbolized by the Dragon, while the West belongs to Metal and is symbolized by the Tiger, and the numbers three in the East and four in the West are respectively odd and even, when the forces divide into three groups—Water, Fire, and Metal-Wood—and then unite in one place, they all return to Wu and Ji Earth, the Earth of the center.

Yin and Yang, firmness and softness, rise in turn. Each passes through different stages and belongs to a different direction. The Dragon is in the West and the Tiger in the East; Mao and You, the earthly branches corresponding to the East and West, establish the warp and woof. Punishment and Virtue guard one another, and when they meet, they join in harmony and delight. Punishment governs concealment and killing; Virtue governs growth and emergence. When the elms shed their leaves in the second month, the Dipper star stands at Mao; when the wheat grows in the eighth month, the Celestial Dipper star holds You. Zi is in the South and Wu in the North; they alternate with one another and serve as the guiding order of movement. The sequence of numbers from one to nine ends and begins again. Original Qi is stored within the Void and Danger lunar mansions and disperses its essence at Zi.

From the hour of the Rat to the hour of the Snake, the firm force of Qian (symbolizing the Yang aspect) is in motion. From the hour of the Horse to the hour of the Boar, the yielding force of Kun (symbolizing the Yin aspect) is in motion. Once we understand how firmness and yielding rise in alternation, we can see that the Dragon is in the west and the Tiger in the east, while the Rat is in the south and the Horse in the north. Mao and You serve as the pivots of the warp and weft: growth and decline, emergence and concealment alternate, each setting the pattern for the other and proceeding in its proper season.

In the second month, the energy of growth begins to rise, corresponding to the western position of You; thus the elm sheds its leaves, returning them to its roots. In the eighth month, the energy of decline begins to lie dormant, corresponding to the eastern position of Mao; thus shepherd’s purse and wheat begin to sprout. Only after nine turns proceeding in the ordinary direction from the western Mao position can the southern Rat position become manifest. Only after nine turns proceeding in reverse from the eastern You position can the northern Xu and Wei mansions become manifest. The numerological principle of “nine” contains the process by which primordial Qi returns to emptiness and stillness, then spreads its vital essence from Xu and Wei toward the Rat position.

The Book of Songs says: “The ospreys call to one another, perched on the river’s sandbars; the serene and lovely maiden is a fine match for the gentleman.” The male bird does not live alone, nor does the female dwell in solitude. Xuanwu, the northern spirit beast, is formed by a tortoise and a snake coiling together and supporting one another. This shows that Yin and Yang must work in partnership.

Suppose two women share a room. However beautiful they may be, even if Su Qin tries to persuade them and Zhang Yi serves as matchmaker, using their eloquence and pleasing words to do everything they can to unite the women as spouses, they will never come to know one another, even after their hair has come loose and their teeth have worn down. If the kinds of medicines are incompatible and their properties differ, if their quantities and timing are out of balance and the proper order is lost, then even if the Yellow Emperor himself tends the elixir furnace, Taiyi (a Daoist deity) tends the fire, the Eight Lords pound and refine the ingredients, and the Prince of Huainan blends them; even if they build a high altar, lay its steps with jade, offer the flesh of unicorns and dried meat, enter their names in a register, kneel in prayer, appeal to spirits and ghosts, and bathe and observe ritual purification in the hope of gaining a result, all of it will be futile. It is like mending a pot with glue or treating a sore with arsenic, using cold water to cure a fever or hot broth to dispel the cold; it is like making a flying tortoise dance and a snake perform, with each attempt taking them farther from the right way.

The point is this: when Yin and Yang unite, this is called the Dao. When Yin and Yang are out of balance, illness arises. If they are properly joined, no extra effort is needed: Yin and Yang meet of themselves and form the sacred embryo, the gathering of vital energies produced through Neidan cultivation. If they are joined improperly, then no matter how much thought and repeated effort one devotes to the process, it will never succeed; instead, one will stray ever farther from the right way.

The ancient sages held the mysterious Dao in their hearts and upheld what was true. They took elixirs refined in the Nine Tripods and, once their work was complete, withdrew from sight. They nurtured Jing and Qi and cultivated Shen, bringing their own virtue into accord with the sun, moon, and stars. Their bodily fluids were abundant, their skin and pores, sinews and bones were strong, harmful Qi was expelled, and upright Qi remained. Through long and steady cultivation, they could eventually transform their bodies, attain the Dao, and become immortals.

Moved by compassion for later generations who loved the Dao and wished to cultivate it, the sages drew on the experience of their predecessors, examined the past and present, and composed books and diagrams to pass on to those who came after them. They revealed outward clues while concealing the fundamental secrets within. They also used the names of minerals as metaphors, correcting the errors found among competing interpretations so that harmful Qi would recede and upright Qi endure. Only through cultivation accumulated day by day could one transform the body and become an immortal.

Many scholars obtained these texts but locked them away in book chests, never understanding them throughout their lives. Fathers passed them on to sons, and grandsons repeated what their ancestors had said. Thus people became confused and never gained genuine insight. As a result, officials could not fulfill their duties, farmers neglected their fields, merchants abandoned their goods, and men of purpose fell into poverty. Deeply troubled by this, I have gathered and recorded these writings, striving to make them clear and concise, so that they require less effort to understand and are not needlessly elaborate. The entries are arranged in sequence for ease of checking, and each medicinal ingredient has a fixed measure that must be followed in order. I have therefore expressed what cannot easily be stated directly in coded language, revealing the crucial points within it. Those who understand should ponder it carefully and study it attentively in conjunction with the scriptures.

Wei Boyang feared that people of the world would fail to understand these principles. He therefore explained that the ancient sages, holding the mysterious Dao in their hearts and upholding the truth, had all taken substances refined in the Nine Tripods. They brought their virtue into accord with the sun, moon, and stars, expelled what was harmful and preserved what was upright, transformed their bodies, and became immortals. He pitied later generations who loved the Dao, fearing they would casually write commentaries on the scriptures of immortality, lacking insight themselves and leading their descendants into confusion as well. Deeply troubled by this, he wrote this chapter.

Among the patterns and signs of Heaven and Earth, none is greater than Heaven and Earth themselves. The mysterious Celestial River stretches across ten thousand li, and the Drum at the River’s edge lies near the station of Xingji; all who see it are struck with awe. If the sun’s shadow and the hours fall into an abnormal disorder, with what should come later arriving first, calamity will follow for nine years. Rulers observe these signs, and even a king will yield and reflect upon himself. The pivot of Yin and Yang has its rises and falls, its high and low; harmful Qi then scatters and flees. The sources of the Jiang and Huai Rivers run dry, while the waters flowing east eventually empty into the sea. The Yin and Yang of Heaven and Earth are like female and male joining; Zi and Wu alternate in their course. Yin and Shen are the fundamental directions of Yin-Yang transformation. Yin and Yang emerge and withdraw in a cycle, ending and beginning again. Following the movement of the Northern Dipper, one summons Yao Guang; with the Dipper’s handle as the balance, one determines the guiding order of the year’s seasons.

The medicinal substances are raised into a mountain-shaped steaming vessel and refined, with a fierce fire burning beneath it. The White Tiger (symbolizing Metal Qi and the Yang medicinal substance) leads the way, while the Blue-Liquid (the water-based medicinal liquid) follows to bring things into harmony. The Vermilion Bird (symbolizing Fire Qi) flies and frolics, its five-colored radiance flashing into view. Then it meets a net, is pinned down, and cannot rise into flight. It cries mournfully, like an infant longing for its mother. Upside down, it falls into the hot liquid, and its feathers are damaged. Before even half the time measured by the water clock has passed, ripples like fish scales rise layer upon layer, their five colors shining in shifting, unpredictable patterns. The liquid in the cauldron surges and boils for a long time without stopping. Bubbles pile up one after another, their shapes crossing and uneven, like ice in the depths of winter, or like langgan stone and stalactites—rising high, irregularly interwoven, and braced against one another.

Here, Lord Wei has fully revealed the symbolic pattern of the Mysterious Pass (the crucial point in alchemical work where the Yin and Yang medicinal substances meet), using it to instruct others.

Yin and Yang each find their proper match, dwelling together in quiet stillness and simplicity. The Azure Dragon (Eastern Wood Qi) is positioned around the Fang constellation, which has four stars and represents the Wood Qi of spring; its direction is east, and its earthly branch is Mao. The White Tiger is positioned around the Mao constellation, which has seven stars and represents the Metal Qi of autumn; its direction is west, and its earthly branch is You. The Vermilion Bird is positioned in the Zhang constellation, which has six stars and represents the Fire Qi of summer; its direction is south, and its earthly branch is Wu. The three gather together, as family and friends might come together. At the root there are only two medicinal substances, but through development and transformation they become the numbers three and five. Three and five ultimately return to one, converging at the place governed by the two medicinal substances. Apply the method described above, and the number of days used is likewise taken from…

The elixir first appears white, then turns yellow, and afterward shows red and black hues, with its inner and outer aspects joined. This is called the “First Crucible.” The elixir takes the shape of a grain of large millet, forming on its own rather than through human contrivance. It is like the vapors in the mountains rising and mingling, forming clouds that release rain; like soil drying out and becoming dust, or fire going out and becoming ash; like the bark of the huangbo tree, which dyes things yellow, or indigo plants, which dye them blue-green; like leather boiled down into glue, or yeast fermenting grain into wine. All of these depend on materials of like nature acting upon one another. Things with no relation to each other cannot be forced together through contrivance.

This subtle art must be examined with care. What I say is no deception: it can be passed down to later generations, clearly understood and verified, like stars shining across the Milky Way or rivers flowing into the sea. Reflect on it repeatedly, read the scriptures closely, investigate it from beginning to end, and study it a thousand times; its meaning will gradually become clear. After ten thousand readings, perhaps you will glimpse its mystery. At times the spirits reveal things to people; at other times, a person may suddenly understand inwardly. Trace things back to their beginnings and follow their underlying patterns, and in the end you will find the way in. The Way of Heaven shows no partiality and will always transmit its teachings to the worthy.

The “Great Elixir of the Nine Crucibles” refers to the work of the divine elixir’s transformation through nine stages. It is regarded as the supreme true medicine, capable of transcending the Three Realms—the realms of desire, form, and formlessness in Daoist teaching. Even the elixir of the First Crucible must complete the work of the Lesser Nine Transformations before it takes the shape of a grain of millet. This is the form of the “Mysterious Pearl.” Its color is not fixed: it may be white, yellow, blue-green, black, or red, and sometimes resembles a pearl. The ancients called it the “Mani Jewel,” saying that it often displays five colors. Cinnabar is not originally red. These are things I speak of because I have witnessed them with my own eyes. If others have never seen them for themselves but make reckless claims about their various forms, they are only deceiving themselves. What good does that do? Rather than pretend to know and bring blame upon yourself, earnestly and diligently seek a teacher and pursue the Dao; speak only after you have seen for yourself. Even if you attain the Dao and leave no words behind, there is no harm in that.

Lord Wei urged those who study the Dao to begin by reading this book a thousand and ten thousand times, with sincere and unwavering devotion. Perhaps they will thereby receive a revelation from the spirits, or perhaps understanding will arise from within; in this way they will naturally uncover the first clues and find the path. The saying, “The Way of Heaven neither favors nor rejects; it is always transmitted to the worthy,” expresses precisely this principle. In the opening chapter of my “Establishing the Sage,” I once wrote: “The Great Dao is impartial; when one is attuned to it, a response will come.” Can the accounts of immortals really be empty words? Without single-mindedly seeking lead and mercury—the key substances and symbols used in alchemical practice—how could one grasp Heaven’s secrets and shed the mortal body? This, too, is what the saying means.

The Cantong qi (“Token for Joining the Three”) gives only a general account of the essentials; it does not cover everything, and some fine details are missing. I have now compiled it anew, filled in what was left out, refined passages that are obscure and difficult to understand, and linked together material that belongs together, so that its meanings accord with one another and converge in the same direction. For this reason I have composed this chapter, titled “The Five Related Categories,” to illuminate the principles and meaning of the Great Changes.

The Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, and Water) work together, each with its corresponding associations:

Yi Wood (Yin, floating and positioned on the left), Ding Fire (gentle fire, or a milder degree of heat), Ji Earth, Xin Metal (worldly silver, represented by silver), and Gui Water (represented by lead);

three corresponds to Wood, two to Fire, five to Earth, four to Metal, and one to Water;

Jia Wood (Yang, sinking and positioned on the right), Bing Fire (strong fire, or a more intense degree of heat), Wu Earth (the medicine), Geng Metal (worldly gold, represented by gold), and Ren Water (mercury).

The Zhouyi explains the nature and patterns of things, each in its proper measure. The Yellow Emperor and Laozi explored its mysteries, thereby learning how to work with the furnace fire and refine elixirs. This practice is indeed grounded in principle. The study of the Changes, the teachings of the Yellow Emperor and Laozi, and the arts of the furnace fire follow different paths, yet lead to the same truth.

The Dao, as Dao, is beyond measure: it gives birth to Heaven and Earth and nourishes the myriad things. The transformation of things cannot depart from it, yet even sages find it difficult to name in words. Fuxi followed its patterns to create the Yi; the Yellow Emperor and Laozi explored its subtleties and grasped the principles of emptiness and naturalness; the arts of the furnace fire drew upon its patterns of change to devise methods for smelting metals and refining mercury. All three observe the heavens above and examine the earth below, taking lessons from things both near and far. Some express their insights through words, some embody them through self-cultivation, and some explain them by means of concrete things. Though these are three different paths, in the end they are one and the same.

Branches, stems, flowers, leaves, and fruit all grow from the root; the source itself has not changed. A principle spoken with sincerity, if examined carefully, will not lead one astray.

The principle itself does not reside in words. Words are like branches, stems, flowers, and leaves: through them, one can grasp the meaning, which is like fruit hanging from a branch. From meaning, one can then come to understand the Great Dao, which is like the tree’s root. Branches and leaves are easy to see, and fruit is easy to recognize; the root, however, is difficult to see and understand. Words are easy to comprehend, meaning is harder to grasp, and fewer still truly penetrate the mysteries of the Great Dao. Yet though the root is hidden, it still reveals itself among the branches and leaves; though the Great Dao is deep and mysterious, words can still make it clear. The words of Lord Wei come from a sincere heart and, upon examination, prove substantial. Those who study them must investigate deeply to arrive at their own understanding.

I, a humble man from Kuaiji (around present-day Shaoxing in Zhejiang), am an aged and useless person living in a secluded valley. I keep to simplicity and have no taste for power or glory. I live in a remote, humble place, care little for fame or profit, and remain steadfastly content with a quiet life. Hoping for peace in the world and a tranquil retirement, I have therefore composed this essay, singing of the words left by the three sages of the Zhouyi. Examining their central ideas, I find that their principles are one and continuous.

Wei Jun was born in the Eastern Han dynasty and came from Shangyu in Kuaiji. He was plain and modest in character and cared little for fame or profit. Living in seclusion, he studied the Dao and quietly cultivated his true nature. Little is known about his teachers, but his understanding of the Great Dao was profound. He grasped the subtleties of such cultivation methods as the Taiyi Fire Talisman, Liquid Gold, and the Nine-Turn Great Restoration Divine Elixir. He practiced these methods himself and used them to help others, then wrote this book to enlighten later students. His achievements were great and his De (Virtue and Power) deep, yet he remained humble. Those who attain the Dao are modest and reserved in this way.

This book shares its aims and framework with the Great Changes (the Zhouyi), composed by the Three Sages, and so is called the Cantong qi (Token for Joining the Three). The passage beginning “The essential task is to follow principle” says that cultivation should accord with the order of things, allowing spiritual illumination to shine forth and wondrous transformations to unfold. The same principle can guide government and bring peace to the realm. Used as the basis for a calendar, the book offers a model for later generations; applied to governance, it makes for a straightforward method. It also teaches the inward cultivation of body and mind, in keeping with the natural Dao described by the Yellow Emperor and Laozi. By nurturing deep De and returning to the root, one finds that the foundation of cultivation lies within oneself and does not depart from one’s original mind. Hold fast to “embracing the One”—steadfastly maintaining the fundamental Dao—and the source of life can be preserved for a long time.

The scripture also links inward cultivation with methods of ingesting substances. It discusses the preparation and control of medicinal substances described as male and female, and mentions realgar from Wudu and medicines of the Eight Minerals. These passages should be understood with care, rather than treated simply as references to worldly treasures.

When reading this book, follow the principle of Yin-Yang correspondence and transformation in the Great Changes, and turn inward to experience it for yourself. The spiritual powers and transformations it describes should be understood as subtle workings of the spirit and the art of the mind. Only by grasping the wonder of “entering the spirit to achieve practical application”—perceiving subtlety and putting it to flexible use—can one understand the book’s meaning and set out on the path to immortality. The book is useful not only to those who study immortality or the Dao. Applied to governance, it can make action simple and bring peace to the realm. Used as the basis for a calendar, it can clarify the principles of change and serve as a model for later generations. Used to cultivate body and mind, it accords with the natural Dao of Huang-Lao and nurtures the De of returning to the true and restoring the origin.

As for ingesting substances, although the scripture discusses controlling medicinal substances described as male and female, this should not be mistaken for simply taking external medicines. If one insists on reading it as a reference to external drugs and sets about preparing realgar, the Four Spirits, the Eight Minerals, and similar substances for ingestion, one will only move farther from the Dao. Only by correctly understanding its purpose and applying it to the art of the furnace and fire might one refine silver into gold, mercury into platinum, and produce the substances prized by the world.

Wood, Fire, and Earth are connected like three branches growing from a single stem: they share one source, yet each has its own name. These words are not merely there to pile up phrases and chase rhymes; they surely contain some truth. Though parts are rough and difficult to understand, they are still worth examining closely.

If I merely embellish my words and win praise for it, that is a fault. One should study this Cantong qi (the Classic of the Kinship of the Three), which explains the Zhouyi and the art of alchemy, with care, discerning its clues in the smallest details. Its words are spare, but its meaning is far-reaching; readers in later generations should follow its guidance.

Those who cultivate the Dao should act in accord with the right moment, keep clear of harm, and dwell in mountain forests, roaming at ease through the vastness of Heaven and Earth. In the end, they transform their bodies and become immortals, returning to stillness and silence; even after a thousand years, they can still roam freely among humankind.