《歷世真仙體道通鑑》Vol. 40

Ye Fashan, whose courtesy name was Daoyuan, was from Kuocang in Chuzhou. His family had been Daoist priests for generations. One day, while his mother, Lady Liu, was sleeping, she dreamed that a falling star flew into her mouth. She swallowed it and became pregnant, giving birth to Ye Fashan fifteen months later.

When Ye Fashan was seven, he fell into a great river and did not return until three years later. His parents asked him what had happened. He said, “A Green Youth, an immortal attendant, took me to drink cloud nectar, the legendary drink of immortals. Later I paid my respects to the Most High, an honorific for the highest Daoist deity, so I stayed there a little longer.” By the time he was grown, he stood nine feet tall. He was mild and natural in character, and ate no meat or fish.

He met Zhao Yuanyang of Mount Qingcheng and studied the art of dunjia, a Daoist form of occult calculation, under him. He also studied the Eight Histories, a Daoist text, with Wei Shanjun of Songyang. Afterward, he could command ghosts and spirits and subdue evil forces. When he chose to live on Mount Maoyou, a large rock blocked the road, forcing travelers to go around it. Ye Fashan cast a talisman at the rock, and it moved aside of its own accord.

Once, while traveling on White Horse Mountain, he met three divine beings in a stone chamber. They wore brocade robes and jeweled crowns. They said to Ye Fashan, “By command of the Most High, we have come to reveal secret instructions to you. You were originally the Left Immortal Minister of the Purple Tenuity Palace of the Supreme Ultimate, an official rank among the immortals. Because you were not diligent enough when checking and recording the registers of immortals, you were demoted to the human world. You should quickly perform meritorious deeds to aid people and assist the state, so that you may regain your former position. We now transmit to you the methods of Zhengyi, the Three and Five. You must practice them diligently.” Having said this, they departed.

Thereafter, Ye Fashan destroyed demons and evil spirits, and every art he performed proved effective. When Emperor Gaozong of Tang heard of him, he wanted to appoint him to office. Ye Fashan refused and asked only to be ordained as a Daoist priest. Gaozong kept him in the palace to observe purification rites and worship the gods, and gave him generous rewards. At the time, the emperor summoned many alchemists, hoping they would use elixir-making techniques to turn objects into gold. Ye Fashan submitted a memorial saying, “Elixirs cannot be made quickly; this will only waste money and time. Please first investigate whether their claims are true.” The emperor agreed, and dismissed more than a hundred alchemists.

Ye Fashan once established an altar for worship at Lingkong Shrine in Luoyang, the eastern capital. People from across the city came to watch. Suddenly, several dozen people rushed of their own accord into a fire. The crowd was horrified and hurried to rescue them; they escaped unharmed. Ye Fashan smiled and said, “They were possessed by demons. I used my arts to restrain them.” The crowd questioned the people and found that this was indeed the case; they also recovered from their illnesses.

From the reign of Emperor Gaozong to that of Emperor Zhongzong, Ye Fashan spent fifty years traveling in the mountains and was often summoned to the palace. He alone detested Buddhism and frequently criticized it in the strongest terms. Some people considered his likes and dislikes narrow-minded, but his Daoist arts were so profound that in the end no one could fathom them.

On the ninth day of the third month in the fourth year of Jinglong under Emperor Zhongzong of Tang, the three divine beings appeared once more and conveyed the command of the Most High: “You should assist Ruizong and Emperor Xuanzong of the Kaiyuan era.” They added, “For now, you cannot yet withdraw from the world…”

This man once practiced in seclusion among mountain crags, far from the human world, letting time pass as it would. At that time, Ruizong and Minghuang—the Tang emperors Ruizong and Xuanzong—had not yet ascended the throne, yet their temple names and reign titles had already appeared in a prophecy.

He knew of future events in advance and secretly helped Ruizong. An envoy from Tibet presented a sealed treasure box whose lid bore the words: “Please have Your Majesty open it personally, and let no one else know.” Fashan memorialized the throne: “This bodes ill. The Tibetan envoy should open it himself.” When the box was opened, a crossbow bolt shot out, striking the envoy and killing him on the spot.

During Ruizong’s Xiantian era, Fashan was appointed an extra- establishment Vice Minister of the Court of State Ceremonial and enfeoffed as Duke of Yue. He lived at Jinglong Abbey. His grandfather, Chong, had been posthumously honored with the title “Master of the Dao”; his father, Huiming, was posthumously appointed Prefect of Shezhou. As a result, the family received deep favor from the court. Countless people came to receive registers. In Daoist ritual, receiving registers means accepting Fulu according to one’s lineage of transmission and thereby acquiring the corresponding Daoist status and credentials for practice.

His great-uncle Jingneng was skilled in Daoist arts and also excelled at writing. During the reign of Tang Gaozu, he served in the Hanlin Academy and later became Director of the Directorate of Education. The Prince of Ruyang once drank with Jingneng. Jingneng said, “If one of my disciples can drink, I’ll send him to pay his respects to Your Highness.” The next day, someone indeed submitted a calling card, identifying himself as “the Daoist Chang Chiman.” The prince saw that he was short in stature, so he spoke with him about the principles of the time before Heaven and Earth had separated, then offered him wine. After drinking about five dou, he suddenly collapsed in a drunken stupor. It turned out that he was a wine jar.

In Qiantang there was a huge flood dragon that often sank boats, to the distress of all who passed by. Fashan cast a talisman into the water, and the dragon died. A talisman is a Fulu written and used in Daoist ritual.

In the early years of the Kaiyuan era, Minghuang went to Shangyuan Palace to view the lanterns on the night of the Lantern Festival, the fifteenth day of the first lunar month. “Nowhere can have a more splendid lantern fair than this,” he said. Fashan replied, “The lantern fair in Xiliang Prefecture tonight is just as splendid.” Minghuang found this extraordinary and wanted to go there himself. Fashan asked him to close his eyes; in an instant, the two of them had arrived in Xiliang Prefecture. Fashan bartered an iron ruyi scepter for wine. The next day, Minghuang sent someone to look for it, and the scepter was indeed found.

On the night of the Mid-Autumn Festival, Fashan again accompanied Minghuang on a visit to the Moon Palace, where they heard celestial music. Minghuang asked the name of the melody. Fashan replied that it was “Purple Clouds.” Minghuang was well versed in music, and silently committed the tune to memory. After returning to the palace, he wrote it down as court music and renamed it “Rainbow Skirt and Feathered Robe.”

As they returned from the Moon Palace, they passed over Luzhou. Looking down, they saw the city quiet beneath moonlight as bright as day. Fashan took out a jade flute and invited Minghuang to play a tune, then tossed a gold coin into the city. About ten days later, Luzhou reported to the throne that celestial music had descended over the city on the night of the Mid-Autumn Festival. They had also found a gold coin, which they presented to the court.

Fashan lived below Mount Siming, east of Mount Tiantai. Several years later, on the first day of the fifth month, an old man came to his door, weeping and begging for help. The disciples thought he was ill and reported this to Fashan. Fashan invited the old man inside and asked him what had happened. The old man said, “I am a dragon of the Eastern Sea. The Celestial Emperor has ordered me to guard the treasures of the Eight Seas…”

Once every thousand years, an assessment is held. Those who have committed no offenses during their term of service are entered into the Register of Immortals. I have served for nine hundred and seventy years, and my accomplishments are nearly complete.

Recently, a Brahmin—a religious practitioner from ancient India—performed magical arts and settled by the sea. Morning and evening, he recited incantations and cast spells, and had done so for thirty years. Just as his magic was about to be perfected, on the fifth day of the fifth lunar month, the sea suddenly began to dry up. The treasure under his command that guarded the sea was a numinous object the Lord on High had used to restrain the waters. It was certain to be taken by the Brahmin. When that day came, he asked me for help. I cast a spell and sent forth a cinnabar talisman, and the sea at once returned to its former state. The man sighed in shame and threw himself into the sea.

The next day, the Dragon King arrived in a carriage, bringing precious objects and wealth to thank me. I said, “The mountain forests are quiet places for cultivating the Dao. Pearls, jade, and treasures are of no use to me.” So I declined them. I said to the Dragon King, “The rocks are on the mountain, some distance from the water. If you could bring a spring there, that would be a great kindness.” That night, I heard the rustling of wind and rain until dawn. In the stone channels around my mountain dwelling, spring water was already flowing all around. To this day, the place is called the Celestial Master’s Channel.

The Duke of Yan, Zhang Yue, often drank with me. I said, “There is a certain Scholar Qu here, a recluse who does not serve in office. He is cautious and quiet by nature, and loves wine. A drinking vessel with a capacity of several dan would suit him.” I summoned him. He was short in stature, but his waist had several folds, and when he bowed, his movements were awkward and unassuming. As soon as the wine was brought, he drank it all in one draught, without the slightest change in expression. Suddenly, I rebuked him: “You never speak of refined ideas; you care only for drinking. What use are you, then?” I reached out to support him, and he transformed into a great wine vessel.

In the eighth year of the Kaiyuan era, he underwent corpse liberation at Jinglong Temple and departed. Some say he was born in the bingzi year of the Daye era under the Sui and died in the renxu year, having lived to the age of one hundred and seven.

After he passed away, Emperor Ming of Tang missed him and issued an edict:

“The late Daoist Ye was endowed with pure and subtle nature. He understood profound principles, encompassed secret teachings, and elucidated numinous talismans. The principles he grasped were so deep and mysterious that few could fathom them. His heart was set on Penglai and Langyuan, the fabled realms of the immortals, yet his outward conduct blended with that of the people at court. He wore a Daoist robe without considering it a mark of distinction, and received a purple robe without taking it as an honor. He stood apart, serene and detached, with an extraordinary bearing and a conduct free of blemish. The golden and jade-like bones of an immortal were manifest outwardly, while the luster of pearls shone within. He was indeed one whose person had attained the state of a middle-ranking immortal and whose name was listed among those of the highest Virtue.

“During a respite from the affairs of state, I once humbled myself to ask him about the highest Dao. He repeatedly offered counsel on governing the country. His words were clear, and his plans contained subtle admonitions, greatly benefiting the state. I lament that his excellent teachings still ring in my ears, yet I grieve that he has departed and cannot remain. Why would Heaven not keep this worthy man, but allow such talent to perish so soon? Whenever I recall the past, sorrow overwhelms me. Proper rites should be proclaimed in his honor, and honors bestowed upon him.”

After the talismanic document had been written, the court ordered that he be posthumously honored as Governor-General of Yuezhou and buried in Songyang. The officials wore mourning clothes and wept as they escorted him out of the city. He also had his nephew, who served as Military Adjutant of Runzhou, leave the secular world and become a Daoist. He had more than a hundred disciples, but only Ji Qiwù and Yin Yin were admitted to his inner chamber and became his personal disciples.

Xing Hupu

No one knew where Xing Hupu came from. He lived in seclusion near the coast and was skilled at divination and reading people’s minds. He could discern what others were thinking and planning. He chose a place to live between Mount Song and the Ying River, and wrote three chapters of The Book of Yingyang. They describe the methods for discerning people’s thoughts and bringing the mind and spirit back to stillness and emptiness. He could also use his arts to bring the dead back to life.

In the twelfth year of the Kaiyuan era under Emperor Xuanzong of Tang, Xing Hupu came to the capital. Prominent officials from the court came to visit him, and his residence was bustling with guests. One of his friends lived below Baima Slope and had been dead for more than a day. The friend’s mother was grieving and weeping. Xing Hupu laid the body on a bed, pulled up the covers, and lay down beside him. He shut the door and remained there for a long time. Then he got up and prepared hot water for the corpse to bathe in, but the man still did not awaken. Xing Hupu lay down beside him again. Before long, the man came back to life.

Cui, a military adjutant, was on close terms with Xing Hupu. When Cui was gravely ill, he said to him, “Why must you leave me behind, Master?” Before long, he heard a sound as if someone were boring through the wall of his bedchamber. He peered over and saw a small crack appear in the wall, gradually growing larger. He saw hundreds of attendants crowding toward him. Among them was a man in purple robes and a tall headdress, seated in a carriage. He said to Cui, “Master Xing has petitioned the Great One (a revered Daoist deity) to save you.” Then he departed. Cui soon recovered, and the crack in the wall quickly disappeared.

When Fang Guan was magistrate of Tonglu County, he treated Xing Hupu with great kindness. One day, during their leisure, the two walked out of the city hand in hand. Without realizing it, they had gone more than ten li and arrived at an abandoned Buddhist shrine in Xiagu Village. Pines and bamboo grew thickly there, their shadows crossing one another, so the two sat beneath the trees. Xing Hupu tapped the ground with his staff and told his attendants to dig. After they had dug down several feet, they found a pottery jar containing a letter from Lou Shide to Yong Gong. Xing Hupu smiled and asked Fang Guan, “Do you remember this place?” Fang Guan vaguely recalled that in a previous life he seemed to have been a monk, with the Dharma name Yong. Xing Hupu said, “One day you will rise to the highest office of state. Take good care of yourself. But in the end, you will die from eating fish slices. Your coffin will be made from planks produced in Kucha, an ancient kingdom in the Western Regions. The place where you die will be neither a private home, a government office, a temple, nor the home of your maternal relatives.”

Later, Fang Guan indeed rose to the highest office of state. While living in exile in Langzhou, he fell ill at the Purple Pole Palace. His condition improved somewhat, and the prefect invited him to a gathering at the prefectural residence. After eating fish slices, his illness returned. In a dream, a divine being said to him, “The words of Perfected Xing have indeed come true.” The next day, Fang Guan died. Some time earlier, a merchant had passed by hauling planks of Kucha wood, and Fang Guan had borrowed them to make his coffin. He eventually died at the residence of Daoist practitioners in the Zhongnan Mountains.

When Cui Wu was at Duoyi, he and his friends respectfully attended on He Pu. One day, He Pu said to his disciples, “Before long, an unusual guest will arrive. Prepare some food for me.” He then cautioned them, “Under no circumstances are you to peek or spy.”

The next day, just as he had said, a man arrived. He was five feet tall, with shoulders three feet across, and his head was almost half the size of his body. He wore crimson clothes and held a tablet in his hand. He had a long beard and laughed loudly, his mouth stretching almost from ear to ear. He spoke with lively wit, and many of the things he said were not of this world. Cui Wu wanted to get a clear look at the guest, but could not steady his mind, so he hurried past. The guest looked him over carefully and asked He Pu, “Is this the Master of Mount Tai?” He Pu replied, “Yes.” The guest finished eating and left.

He Pu said to Cui Wu, “This is a jester sent by Shangdi. Can you understand what ‘Master of Mount Tai’ means?” Cui Wu wept and said, “When I was a child, I heard my elders say that I was the reincarnation of a certain Master Bao, but I do not clearly remember my former life.” Later, Cui Wu lost track of where He Pu had gone.

Shen Yuanzhi

Shen Yuanzhi’s origins are unknown. He traveled among famous mountains, gathering a wide range of esoteric arts, and learned methods of inner cultivation and longevity that could free one from the ordinary world. During the Kaiyuan era of Emperor Xuanzong’s reign in the Tang dynasty, he was summoned to the capital and took up residence at Kaiyuan Abbey. At that time, Zhang Guo, Xing Hepu, Luo Gongyuan, Ye Fashan, Yin Yin, He Siyuan, Shi Chong, Mi Xiyan, and others were serving at court, assisting the emperor and supporting the flourishing of Daoism.

Shen Yuanzhi often accompanied the emperor on excursions to the hot springs and journeys to the Eastern Capital. Skilled in speaking about the Dao of clarity and stillness, he was frequently summoned by the emperor for long conversations. Only the imperial consort and the palace attendant Zhao Yunrong could hear his teachings while attending the emperor in the early morning.

Once, while serving tea among the mulberry trees, Zhao Yunrong asked Shen Yuanzhi for medicine that would prolong her life. He said, “My only concern is that your time in this world will be brief.” Zhao Yunrong pleaded with him repeatedly. Taking pity on her respectful diligence, Shen Yuanzhi gave her a pill called Crimson Cloud Elixir and said, “If you take this elixir, your body will surely not decay after death. Prepare a large coffin and dig a spacious tomb. Place pearls and jade in your mouth, and leave the tomb open and well ventilated, so that your soul does not dissipate and your body does not decay. After a hundred years, you will be able to return to life. This is the way of refining the body through the Great Yin: by cultivating it with Yin energy, you will become an earthly immortal. A hundred years after that, you will be able to move into a grotto-heaven.”

After Zhao Yunrong followed the emperor to the Eastern Capital, she fell ill and died at Lan Chang Palace. She made a point of telling the imperial consort what Shen Yuanzhi had said. The emperor then ordered the eunuch Chen Yuan to bury her according to her wishes. At the end of the Yuanhe era under Emperor Xianzong of the Tang, about a hundred years later, Zhao Yunrong indeed returned to life.

Shen Yuanzhi, too, would at times withdraw from the world and at other times appear, his whereabouts uncertain. He called himself Master Tian.

It is said that this man was from the Wei dynasty and lived for several centuries. (The Record of the Dragon Realm relates that, on the fifteenth day of the eighth month, Emperor Xuanzong of Tang traveled with Celestial Master Shen to visit the Moon Palace. The cold there was piercing, and the clear dew dampened their clothes. They passed through a great gate and, amid a jade-colored glow, saw a mansion with a plaque above its entrance reading “Mansion of Vast Cold and Pure Emptiness.” Going farther on, they saw more than ten Su’e—legendary fairy maidens of the Moon Palace—dressed in white and riding white luan birds, laughing and dancing in a spacious courtyard beneath a great cassia tree. The music was clear and beautiful. After returning, Emperor Xuanzong composed “Song of the Rainbow Skirt and Feathered Robe.” This account somewhat resembles the legend of Ye Fashan, so it is included here as well. The general outline of Luo Gongyuan’s biography in the Unofficial History is also much the same.)

Luo Gongyuan

The Daoist Luo Gongyuan, also known as Siyuan, was from Ezhou; another account says he came from Jiulong County in Pengzhou. He cultivated the Dao around Liyuan and often traveled between Qingcheng and Luochuan. He lived through the Zhou, Sui, and Tang dynasties, reaching an age of several centuries. At times he appeared old, at other times young. He kept his whereabouts hidden and never sought fame.

One spring in the Kaiyuan era of Emperor Xuanzong of Tang, in the third month, the governor of Ezhou hosted a banquet for his officials in a garden pavilion in the prefecture. Scholars and commoners came in an unending stream to enjoy the grounds. At that moment, a man dressed in white appeared. He was eight or nine feet tall, with a dignified and imposing bearing. The gatekeeper was initially suspicious of him. Soon, a young boy saw the man and shouted, “Why have you left your proper place and come here without permission? You must leave at once!” The man in white immediately gathered up his robes and hurried away.

The gatekeeper seized the boy and reported the incident to the governor. When the governor asked about the boy’s family, he replied, “My surname is Luo, and my name is Gongyuan. I have studied the arts of the Dao since childhood. Just now I saw the dragon who guards the river come here, so I came to drive it away.”

The governor did not believe him and said, “You must let me see it with my own eyes.” Luo Gongyuan replied, “Please wait until the day after tomorrow.” On the appointed day, he dug a narrow channel by the river, just over a foot wide, and diverted river water into it. The governor and the people of the prefecture gathered to watch. After a while, a white fish five or six inches long swam into the channel with the current. It leapt and gradually grew larger. Then a wisp of smoke, thin as a thread, rose up. In an instant, black vapor stretched across the sky, obscuring even things close at hand.

Luo Gongyuan told the governor and the others to hurry up to the ferry pavilion. Before they had reached it, thunder and lightning broke out, and heavy rain fell. When the rain eased, they saw a white dragon coiled in the middle of the river, its head joined to the clouds. It remained there for the time it takes to eat a meal before vanishing.

At that time, Emperor Xuanzong of Tang was fond of people devoted to pursuits beyond the ordinary world, such as Daoist arts and cultivation. The governor submitted a detailed report, and the emperor summoned Luo Gongyuan. Whenever Luo answered his questions, his replies pleased the emperor.

In Jiannan there was a kind of fruit called the “Sun-Ripened Fruit.” Zhang Guo and Ye Fashan had once used Daoist arts to obtain this fruit for the emperor.

Someone said, “I’ll be there for certain in the afternoon.” When the day came, Luo Gongyuan stood by the brazier and began waiting with the others. They waited until dusk, but the person they had arranged to meet still had not arrived. Zhang and Ye looked at each other and said, “Could it be that Lord Luo is deceiving us?” Gongyuan smiled and drew an iron poker from the brazier. A short while later, a messenger arrived with the “ri shuzi.” Ye pressed him for an explanation. The man said, “When I reached the capital, I saw flames raging up to the sky, and the roads were impassable. I could come here only after the fire had died down a little.” Everyone was astonished.

The emperor often summoned Gongyuan to compete in magical arts with Ye Fashan and the monk Vajrabodhi. Gongyuan always prevailed. When he entered and left the palace, he sometimes offered the emperor discreet counsel and sometimes spoke frankly to remonstrate with him. He also dispelled evil spirits, drove away demons, summoned dragon deities, and brought rain. He did not hesitate to display his many abilities.

The emperor wanted Gongyuan to teach him his arts. Gongyuan said, “Your Majesty’s jade writings and golden tablets—the documents by which Heaven grants its mandate—have already been approved for entry into the Nine Heavens, the highest celestial realms spoken of in Daoism. You should follow the example of Emperors Yao and Shun, ruling through Wuwei (non-action), and carry on the frugal ways of Emperors Wen and Jing of Han. How can you, as ruler of all under Heaven, possessor of an empire with ten thousand chariots, and guardian of the ancestral temple and state, casually pursue minor arts? If you learned all of my arts, Your Majesty would end up carrying the imperial jade seal in disguise among ordinary people, trapped in garments made of fish skin.” The emperor did not understand his words and instead berated Gongyuan. Gongyuan then entered a palace pillar. Each time the emperor passed by, Gongyuan appeared and vanished, making the emperor even angrier. He ordered the pillar split open to find him. When Gongyuan was found, he entered one of the five column bases. The emperor then smashed the base into dozens of pieces, and Gongyuan’s likeness appeared on every piece. Only after the emperor apologized did the base return to its original state.

The emperor continued to press him, so Gongyuan taught him some of his arts but refused to pass them all on. When the emperor tried to make himself invisible, traces such as his belt remained behind. Gongyuan’s own spells, however, worked reliably. The emperor rewarded him lavishly with gold and silk, but never learned the secrets behind his arts. Later, in anger, the emperor ordered him killed.

A palace eunuch named Fu Xianyu returned from Shu and urged Gongyuan to travel west. Gongyuan said to Xianyu, “I entered Shu during the Xianhe era of Emperor Cheng of Jin, and made my home among the mountains and springs, devoting myself to cultivating the Dao. When I heard that the Son of Heaven was fond of Daoist arts, I left behind the pleasures of mist and rosy clouds in the mountains and risked coming into the world of dust, hoping to transform people through the Great Dao. The emperor summoned me to a separate hall, where spiritual medicines filled the place. I told him that the storehouses of the human world were piled high with meat and blood offerings, that the Three Fields—the upper, middle, and lower Dantian (energy centers) in Daoist internal alchemy—were not yet empty, and that the Six Qi were not yet purified. I advised him to wait ten years before receiving the methods of cultivation. But he failed to keep his promise and, for the sake of a minor art, sentenced me to death by a red-stained blade at the neck. How cruel! Yet for one who has attained the Dao, form and Qi are united. How could the weapons, water, or fire of the mundane world harm me? I think only of the emperor, who has already been entered in the Register of Vermilion Radiance…”

Out of affection for their former relationship, Xianyu still felt attached to him. He took a letter from his sleeve and said, “Take this letter and present yourself before the emperor.” It read: “My surname is Luo, and my name is Gongda. I am a disciple of Master Jingzhen. When the emperor reads this letter, he will surely understand.”

Xianyu said that he usually lived in seclusion in the mountains, eating fruit and drinking spring water as the years passed. On this occasion, summoned to the palace to expound the Dao, he had eaten only three dates. The emperor expressed his admiration, escorted him to the Suming Abbey, and sent the palace attendant Guo Daoyun to deliver two plates of dates.

In the sixth month, the emperor summoned Xianyu again, brought him into the inner chambers, gave him a seat, and showed him the lotus pond in the imperial bedchamber. The emperor asked, “The weather has been dry lately, and the harvest is in danger. What should be done?” Xianyu replied, “If Heaven can be moved, I ask Your Majesty to preside over this with sincere devotion and grant me the opportunity to hold a nighttime Zhaijiao (purification ritual) and pray. Abundant rain will surely fall.” The emperor agreed. As soon as the ritual was over, thunder and rain arrived, and the emperor was delighted. He then asked about the essentials of governing the country. Xianyu answered, “The wisdom of the sages lies within the heart; it is not to be sought elsewhere.”

The emperor bestowed on him a purple robe and had him ordained as a Daoist. Later, Xianyu asked to leave the court, and the emperor issued an edict allowing him to return to his former retreat. When Xianyu was refining elixirs, the emperor granted him five hundred bolts of silk. In the twenty-seventh year of the Kaiyuan era, the elixirs were complete. The emperor summoned him to the palace and gave him generous rewards. Emperor Suzong summoned him in the second year of the Zhide era, but he did not go. Early in the Qianyuan era, at the age of one hundred and forty, he “released his transformation” at Fuyun Abbey. “Releasing one’s transformation” is a Daoist expression for the way a practitioner departs from this world.

Xue Youqi

Xue Youqi was from Baoding in Puzhou. He was quiet by nature and keen and discerning in his understanding. While preparing for the imperial examinations, he enjoyed hearing about things beyond the ordinary world. During the Kaiyuan era of Emperor Xuanzong’s reign, he passed the jinshi examination at the age of twenty. He was later appointed county commandant of Lingjun, but before his term was over, he developed a desire to withdraw to the mountains. He resigned, put on Daoist robes, and traveled around the area of Mount Qingcheng and Mount Emei.

After some time, he visited Mount Heming, the site of the former headquarters of the Han dynasty Celestial Master (Tianshi). He practiced there for nearly twelve years, and his Daoist vitality grew steadily stronger. Early in the Tianbao era, he traveled to Mount Heng in the south, chose a suitable place for cultivating the Dao and living in seclusion, then concealed his name and settled beneath Wulao Peak. He was content and open-minded, free from constraint. At the same time, he could temper his brilliance and blend into the world, getting along easily with others.

He studied widely in Daoist scriptures, including the Perfected Revelations of the Three Caverns. Hermits and retired scholars, drawn by his reputation, came to hear him teach. He explained the teachings according to each person’s nature and understanding, so that each gained insight. He presented the emperor with three volumes of the Treatise on Mysterious Subtleties, and the emperor praised the breadth and clarity of his ideas. Not long afterward, he “disentangled his corpse” at Mount Mo and departed. In Daoist tradition, disentangling the corpse is a way for a practitioner to leave the body and ascend. He also wrote a commentary on the Lingbao Scripture of Salvation through Human Refinement, and that commentary has been handed down to the present day.

The Collected Accounts of Famous Sites of Mount Yue records: Lingxu Palace now has a Terrace of Heavenly Fragrance, said to be where scriptures were once annotated. From dawn to dusk, clouds and mist swirl around the terrace like fragrant incense.

Wang Ke

Wang Ke, whose courtesy name was Xianke, came from Hengyuan on Mount Qingcheng. Another account says he was from beneath Cuiyuan Mountain in Yongkang County, Shuzhou.

His mother, Lady Ding, dreamed that a great star shone upon her. When she awoke, she found the room filled with light and became pregnant. At birth, Wang Ke was wrapped in a purple birth membrane, with green veins visible beneath it, and he looked unlike other people. As a child, he was exceptionally clever. Though his family was very wealthy, he paid little attention to its possessions. As he grew older, he became kind and compassionate. Whenever he saw elderly and frail people struggling to make ends meet, compassion showed plainly on his face, and he often helped them. Whenever heavy snow fell, he also put out grain to feed the birds.

Later, a person who had attained the Dao taught him the methods for refining an elixir. Wang Ke went to practice in a nearby mountain cave, but after many years he had still not succeeded. One day, the cauldron he was using to refine the elixir suddenly cracked, and the elixir turned into golden, threadlike stones.

After this, Wang Ke traveled widely through the mountains and forests. One day he reached the Dragon Pool at Weijiang and climbed West Peak, where he met a Daoist refining an elixir. Wang Ke helped him by adding firewood and supplying charcoal, serving him for three years without slackening, in either winter’s cold or summer’s heat. The Daoist admired his resolve and passed on the secret methods. It is said that cultivating the Dao requires both inner practice and the accumulation of hidden virtue through good deeds done without seeking reward. After Wang Ke’s practice was complete, the Daoist also shared an elixir with him.

After taking it, Wang Ke gradually felt his spirit grow clear and refreshed, his breath become ethereal, his body grow light, and his heart become joyful. Beside his family home stood several great cypress trees. Wang Ke sprang up to the treetops and then ascended to heaven. Those cypresses still stand today. Tradition says he attained the Dao in the third year of the Yifeng era under Emperor Gaozong of the Tang. This place is now called Mount Luo Family. The Daoist was said to be Luo Gongyuan.

Li Yu

Li Yu was a member of the Tang imperial clan. During Emperor Xuanzong’s leisure hours, Luo Gongyuan had discussed the mysteries of Daoist methods with him and had come and gone from Hanyuan Hall. Xuanzong once put Luo Gongyuan to the test. Later, Li Yu was appointed governor of Shezhou. As he traveled to take up the post with his family, just after they crossed the great river, a tuo—a legendary, dragonlike water beast—caused trouble. It seized Li Yu’s soul and possessed his body.

One day, while consulting the registers of the Water Court, Luo Gongyuan discovered what had happened. He used Fulu (talismans and registers) to slay the tuo spirit, restoring Li Yu’s soul to him. Li Yu then resigned from office and entered Taiyi Cave on Mount Qingcheng, where he requested Fulu to protect his family and followed Luo Gongyuan in studying the Dao. Later, he completed his cultivation and attained immortality. It is said that he now serves at Luo Gongyuan’s side.

Du Sheng

Du Sheng, whose courtesy name was Keyun, said he came from Duling in Jingzhao. No one could determine how long he had lived. He did not eat, but often drank wine, consuming as much as three dou in one sitting without becoming drunk. His complexion was extremely rosy, like that of a thirty-year-old.

Ke Yun often wore a broad square headcloth, a battered hat, and a green cloth robe in every season. He spoke elegantly and was highly literary. When people gave him new headcloths and robes, he always accepted them, but never took off his old clothes. He would carry the new clothes out with him and give them away whenever he met someone.

He often wandered through the city. When drunk, he wrote on the sand in bowls or basins of water. When he wrote the character “dragon,” its shape seemed to move, turning from side to side. If someone shouted at it, the character would fly more than a zhang into the air, where it faintly took the form of a small dragon amid clouds and mist. When called, it would drop back into the water. If someone asked him for money, he would tell them to take money for him themselves. He also had people pass between the eaves of houses, and in a short while they would come away with a great deal of money. He then gave it to the poor and to taverns. Wherever he went, he did this every day. People never grew tired of it; on the contrary, they often gave him money. Some suspected that he was using magic to bewitch everyone.

In winter, he would lie in the snow for two or three days. People thought he had frozen to death. When someone cleared away the snow to look, he would slowly get up, shake the snow from himself, and walk on, as if waking from a drunken sleep. Even his breath seemed as warm as in summer.

Du Ruxiu, son of Duke Du Cong of Bin, had once served as governor of Suzhou. When he heard that Ke Yun was in the city, he was delighted and invited him to his residence, addressing him as “Daoist Elder,” a respectful title for a Daoist. His guests and officials were astonished. Du Ruxiu said, “When my late father was posted to Western Sichuan, he often associated with this Daoist Elder, and they were very close. He also often visited our study. I was then barely over ten; now I am over fifty. It has been forty years since I last saw him, yet his appearance and dress are exactly as they were then.”

Du Ruxiu kept Ke Yun at the prefectural office and asked him to teach him the Daoist arts. Ke Yun said, “It is enough to make the administration of the people and their well-being your chief concerns. Besides, there is much to deal with nowadays, so you should take care to preserve yourself. You cannot yet cast off the world, abandon your household, and withdraw to the mountains. For now, keep clear of the calamities of war; there is no need to speak of the Daoist arts.”

At that time, people in the prefecture gave Ke Yun money and cloth. Unable to refuse them, he left the city and gave everything away to others. Du Ruxiu respected him all the more. At times, Ke Yun drank with Du Ruxiu, his guests, and his officials. Someone would recite a poem, and others would respond in verse. Ke Yun could compose poetry on the spot, with far-reaching meaning and a strong flavor of the immortals’ realm; no one else could continue the exchange.

Later, a military uprising broke out, and Du Ruxiu was indeed killed by soldiers. People also saw Ke Yun wounded in the attack. Before long, all that remained on the ground was one of his old robes, cut into three or four pieces, with marks from blades. Several days later, many people saw Ke Yun passing through Songjiang and Zhejiang.

He passed through Hangzhou, Yuezhou, Quzhou, and Xinzhou, then entered Jiangxi. At the market, he drank wine and recited poetry, and his calligraphy remained as it had been before. A year later, someone saw him in Hunan and asked about what had happened in Suzhou. He recounted it all in detail, speaking and laughing with ease. He also said, “I once lived on Mount Heng in the South. Now it is time for me to leave.” A close examination of the matter shows that he was able to vanish from sight and transform his form—an ability described in Daoist teaching—though people of the world did not know it.

Your servant Daoyi says: Du Sheng had attained the Dao to a profound degree. He moved unnoticed among ordinary people, lived without worldly cares, and loved poetry and wine. He had given up grain foods and usually wore coarse clothes. Look at the square headscarf he wore and the cloth shirt on his back: though they were old, he would not take them off. If others gave him new clothes, he always passed them on to someone else. In winter, he often lay in the snow; in ordinary times, he wandered among the towns. It is probably impossible to know how many years he lived. Judging only by the headscarf and clothes he wore at the time, one would not necessarily recognize that he had attained the Dao. How could anyone easily see through a true immortal who appears and disappears in the world, freely roaming among ordinary people? As the Daode Jing says, “The sage wears coarse cloth on the outside, but holds a jade gem within.”

Yang Yin

Yang Yin was from Mount Tai. His family settled in Jinyun through generations of salaried official service. He was well versed in the classics and passed the civil service examinations. His first appointment was as deputy magistrate of Jiajiang County in Yizhou. After leaving office, he returned to Jinyun. His elder brother, Yang Xin, served as magistrate of Le’an County in Taizhou. Yang Yin lived in seclusion on Mount Kuocang. Quiet by nature, he placed little value on worldly honors and longed for freedom and ease, often admiring the Daoist arts.

One day, his wife died suddenly. He said, “Zhuangzi beat on a tub and sang, taking this as the way of one who has understood. Now she has departed. Isn’t that a good thing? Isn’t it fitting to bury her? My son already has a livelihood, and my daughter is married. From now on, I have no further ties.” Later, he visited Ruanlang Pavilion. Beside the pavilion, a cliff rose more than ten zhang above the ground, with large seal-script characters carved into it. People said that Ruan Zhao had written them. Later, Sheng Cheng had craftsmen cut and take an impression of the inscription, and they established that it was a poem written while Li Yangbing, who had served as magistrate of Jinyun County in the Tang dynasty, was visiting the pavilion: “Where is the Ruan immortal now? Immortal clouds drift across the cave entrance. A place beyond the reach of the human world—today I have come here.”

Yang Yin was beside the pavilion with several Daoist priests from Jinyun Abbey, admiring flowers and drinking wine. At midday, he suddenly collapsed as though dead, though he was still breathing. The others carried him home, and he did not wake for seven days. People from the village and the Daoist priests went together to ask him what had happened. Yang Yin said, “At first, a man wearing a blue headscarf and a deep red robe introduced himself as Lingying and invited me into a cave dwelling. I saw magnificent, splendid halls and pavilions, with luan birds and cranes flying back and forth. The sky was clear and the scenery warm, unlike anything in the human world. Before long, something flew out of a stone cavern. It was shaped like an umbrella, green in color, with a long handle. Lingying pointed to it and said…”

“This is a green lingzhi mushroom. Eat it, and you can become an immortal.” Yin was feeling very hungry, so he sat on a rock and began to eat. The green lingzhi tasted sweet, and before long he had finished it all. Ling Ying said, “You have long had an affinity with the immortals. Today, you have even had the good fortune to meet immortal officials.” She then took him to pay his respects to them.

The three immortal officials all wore long-distance travel crowns and were dressed in rosy-cloud capes and feather garments. Many civil and military attendants stood beside them. Ling Ying said to Yin, “This is the Lord of the Little You Heaven; this is the Great Mao Lord of Huayang; and this is the Lord of Hidden Mystery, Assistant to Heaven’s Mandate.” Yin bowed to each of them in turn. The immortal officials said, “You have the bones of an immortal, but you are not yet ready to ascend. You must continue your cultivation in the human world.” Before long, Ling Ying escorted Yin out. They were at the western gate of the Goucang Grotto-Heaven.

Only then did Yin understand what had happened. After that, he no longer wanted to eat grain. He drank only three sheng of water and ate one bowl of lilies each day. His body grew light, and his joints made clicking sounds as they moved, like bamboo clappers striking together. He also often spoke and recited poems as if conversing with someone, continuing day and night. At times, he would write two or three hundred sheets of paper in a single sitting, filling them with words in an instant. No one else could understand what he had written, but Yin could read it all as prose. His fellow Daoists and other curious people wrote down what he dictated. It turned out to be elegant, ornate poetry, much of it describing immortals, Yingzhou, and the fairy gardens of Langyuan.

After a year, he had become lean and strong. In the second year, he gradually grew fuller and fairer. He ate no grain and drank only water. By the third year, his hair had turned black, and his face looked like a child’s. He walked so lightly that he seemed about to take flight. He could drink three dou of wine without getting drunk. In ordinary life, he wore coarse cloth. Later, he went to Le’an to visit his elder brother, arriving in a single day. He also traveled to Tiantai in just one day. He could walk two or three hundred li a day. Afterward, he returned to Xiandu Mountain and took medicine and nourished his Qi for more than twenty years. Later, he traveled south into Weiyu Mountain, and from then on no one saw him again.

Tan Qiao

Tan Qiao, whose courtesy name was Jingsheng, was the son of Tan Zhu, a Tang dynasty official who oversaw teaching at the Imperial Academy. As a child, Tan Qiao was clever. When he grew up, he read widely in the classics and histories and had an excellent memory. He knew everything he studied, and his writing was elegant and graceful. His father urged him to make passing the jinshi examination his ambition, but Tan Qiao took little interest in this. He especially enjoyed the teachings of Huangdi and Laozi and the writings of the various philosophical schools. He studied in depth such books as The Biography of King Mu of Zhou, The Inner Biography of Emperor Wu of Han, and The Inner Biography of Mao Jun and the Immortals.

One day, he bade farewell to his father and set out to travel through Zhongnan Mountain. His father agreed, thinking Zhongnan Mountain was not far from the capital. From there, Tan Qiao traveled to famous mountains including Taibai, Taihang, Wangwu, Song, Hua, and Tai. After that, he never returned home to visit his father. His father sent someone with a letter reproaching him, and Tan Qiao replied, “Mao Jun once…”

A young man also took leave of his parents and went in search of immortals and the Dao. Qiao (Tan Jingsheng) admired the Way of the Immortals and hoped that cultivating the Dao might bring some benefit to his parents. Seeing how resolute he was in seeking the Dao, his parents did not hold him back with worldly concerns and agreed to let him go.

Qiao studied the Dao for more than ten years under a Daoist on Mount Song, learning to abstain from grains and cultivate Qi. He delighted in drinking and often wandered from place to place in a drunken haze, going wherever he pleased. In summer he wore a black leather coat, while in winter he wore a green cloth shirt. Sometimes he lay in wind, snow, and frost for an entire day. People thought he was dead, but when they went to look, they found that he was still breathing.

His father often worried about him and regularly sent household servants to search for him. In spring and winter, he always sent him clothes and money as well. Qiao was pleased to receive these things, then wrote home and immediately sent the servants back. He kept very little for himself. As soon as the servants had left, he would take the clothes his father had sent and give them to the poor, or leave them at a wine shop. He kept nothing.

When asked why he did this, he said, “How could I watch these things get stolen by thieves and thereby bring trouble upon others? If I wear no clothes and eat no food, I have nothing to worry about.” He often seemed extremely cheerful, though some people said his behavior was mad.

As he walked, he would often chant a poem: “With a thread for the Yangtze River, a fan for the sky; my straw sandals I cast toward the Eastern Sea. If you would believe that Penglai is not far away, it lies just ahead of the staff in Master Tan’s hand.”

Later, Qiao lived on Mount Heng, refining elixirs. After taking the elixir, he could enter water without getting wet and pass through fire unharmed. He could also make himself disappear, and later entered Mount Qingcheng. He wrote The Book of Transformation. Song Qiqiu of the Southern Tang later appropriated his name and claimed the book as his own work, and it was passed down under that attribution.

In the summer of the fifth year of Jiayou, under Emperor Renzong of the Song, in the fourth lunar month, Bixuzi wrote a postface to The Book of Transformation: “Hongmeng Jun said: I once heard Master Xiyi recite this book. When he reached ‘The Chapter on the Child,’ he closed the book and said to me, ‘My teacher and friend Tan Jingsheng first wrote The Book of Transformation on Mount Zhongnan. Later, he traveled to Mount Mao and then passed through Jiankang, where he met Song Qiqiu. Though Qiqiu had the bearing and bones of an immortal, he was obsessed with schemes and calculations; even so, he was still unlike the ordinary people of the world. Jingsheng then quoted “The Chapter on the Child”: A child plays with a shadow, unaware that the shadow is playing with him in turn. A madman scorns his reflection in a mirror, unaware that the reflection is playing with him in turn. Those who govern a household do not realize that they are influenced by household affairs; those who govern a state do not realize that they are influenced by affairs of state. The drunkard carries his drunkenness on his back; the person with scabies treats the scabies. Their behavior grows ever more inverted, their affliction ever more severe, yet no one turns back and awakens.’ Qiqiu never understood. Jingsheng then brought out The Book of Transformation and handed it to Qiqiu, saying, ‘This is the book’s…”’

He caused his manifestations to take countless forms and instructed his disciples to write a preface about this, so that it might be passed down to later generations. Having said this, he leaned on his staff, put on his straw sandals, and departed.

Qiqiu, however, claimed the preface as his own and signed it with his name. Alas! In former times, Xiang Xiu wrote an explanation of the Zhuangzi, the Nanhua Jing, but died before it could circulate. Guo Xiang secretly altered Xiang Xiu’s text and passed it off as his own commentary—a truly culpable deed. Now Lord Tan’s name has already been inscribed on white slips of bamboo, yet he himself remains ageless, still among the living. Qiqiu dared to indulge his thieving heart and conceal Lord Tan’s traces of immortality; his offense was truly grave. In the end, he met an untimely death. Perhaps he got what he deserved.