《歷世真仙體道通鑑》Vol. 52

Yang Yi

Yang Yi was a native of Rongde. He lived in seclusion and held no official post, so people called him the “Hidden Gentleman.” His father, Yang Hanqiong, served as magistrate of Heyang during the Xian’de era of Emperor Shizong of Later Zhou. After leaving office and returning home, he developed a festering sore on his hip. The Hidden Gentleman personally sucked the poison from the wound. More than a year later, Yang Hanqiong recovered. Yang Yi became known for his filial devotion.

The Hidden Gentleman was steady and reserved, with uncommon aspirations. He was skilled at managing the family estate and amassed great wealth. He said to his son, Yang Jiansu, “Divide my property into three parts: one to honor Laozi and the Buddha, one to relieve the poor, and one to support our clan’s relatives. Take care of these matters for me. I am going elsewhere.” Then he left home without delay and went to Mount Hua to visit Master Xiyi, the Daoist Chen Tuan, who lived there in seclusion. The master taught him the essentials of the Daoist arts and, when they parted, gave him a pill the size of a mustard seed. After returning to his home region, Yang Yi stopped eating altogether.

One day, he took a hundred jin of gold from his bag and threw it all into the river, saying, “Wealth is not worth coveting. I only hope my descendants will be worthy and our family will prosper.” After that, he grew even quieter and more reserved. Whenever heavy rain fell, he would tilt his head back to catch the water pouring from the eaves and use it to wash his head, stopping only when the rain ended. In winter, when the water was bitterly cold and freezing, he drew water and bathed; steam rose from his body. He died at the age of eighty-eight. More than fifty years later, he suddenly appeared to his grandnephew Yang Ji and said that his allotted span was coming to an end. Before long, this came to pass.

Li Jianfu

No one knew where Li Jianfu was from. In the early Taiping Xingguo era of Emperor Taizong of Song, he came to visit Pengchi and stayed at the Kaiyuan retreat. At first, the temple’s director, the monk responsible for its affairs, saw nothing unusual about him.

One day, the director secretly watched as a sword appeared between Li Jianfu’s eyebrows, shining like lightning. Li Jianfu plucked the sword and sang, then danced with it before drawing it back between his eyebrows. The director was greatly astonished and treated him with the utmost respect from then on. Not long afterward, Li Jianfu became drunk, collapsed by the roadside, and died. The authorities buried him. Soon, someone saw him in a neighboring prefecture and returned to tell friends who had been close to him. They dug open the grave, only to find it empty.

Zhao Lingyun

No one knew where Zhao Lingyun was from. During the Yongxi era of Emperor Taizong of Song, he served as magistrate of Mo County in Mozhou. That year, a severe drought struck, and prayers for rain brought no response. He lamented, “I am the county magistrate, yet this terrible drought has befallen us. The people will soon have no food. What right do I have to go on living?”

He piled firewood in the courtyard, put on a Daoist robe, and held a tablet used in ritual offerings. Burning incense, he prayed to the Lord of Heaven: “If it does not rain within three days, I will use this firewood to burn myself.” Three days passed. The sky cleared, without a cloud in sight, and so…

Just as he was about to burn the firewood, dark clouds suddenly gathered, thunder and lightning crashed, and torrential rain poured down, instantly dousing the fire. A cloud of five colors settled over the woodpile. A short while later, he and the local clerk who served him departed together, riding the cloud. Later, people built the Altar of Immortal Zhao at that spot.

Qutu Wuwei

Qutu Wuwei, whose courtesy name was Wu Bu Wei, was a native of an unknown place. People of his time knew nothing of his origins; they had only heard that he obtained Daoist books during the Five Dynasties and was known as “Master Shenhe.” He once said that guarding the “lead essence”—a Daoist cultivation term for the essence and Qi cultivated in Neidan practice—could bring about transformation.

When Zhang Zhongding was young, he traveled in the Eastern Capital (Luoyang). He once stayed at the same inn as Master Shenhe, though at first he did not know who he was. Master Shenhe took a liking to Zhongding and invited him to meet at a wine shop. When they parted, Shenhe kept him drinking until they were both drunk. Zhongding said, “We met here by chance, and I don’t know who you are. I’m afraid I won’t recognize you if we meet again. What should I do?”

Shenhe replied, “I am a recluse. Why should I have a name?” Zhongding pressed him repeatedly, and at last he said that he was called Master Shenhe. He also told Zhongding, “One day, you will see me in Chengdu.”

During the reign of Emperor Huizong of the Song, Zhongding took up a post as a local official in Chengdu. He then remembered Shenhe’s words and found them extraordinary. He went into Shu twice to search for Shenhe, but failed to find him. Later, he oversaw repairs to the Tianqing Temple and had the Immortal-Gazing Pavilion built. He often stopped there on his travels and sat quietly in the pavilion all day, hoping to meet Shenhe, but in the end his wish was not fulfilled.

When his term was nearly over and he was about to hand over his official seal, Zhongding went there once more, thinking it would probably be his last chance to search. At dusk, he left the eastern covered walkway and spotted a narrow path. Following it, he came to a quiet room. Portraits of ancient figures covered all four walls, thick with dust and dimly colored. He brushed the dust away and saw among them a figure in feathered robes who looked, as if through a haze, very much like the person he had met at the inn years before. The portrait was titled “Master Shenhe.” Zhongding was filled with a sense of loss. After that, no one ever saw Shenhe again.

Wunu Mountain in Miangu County, Lizhou, was named after Li Wunu. Its cliffs rise steeply, and high above is a cave no one can reach. It is said that during the Five Dynasties, Perfected Qutu ascended to immortality there.

Shuai Zilian

Shuai Zilian was a farmer on Mount Heng. He was simple-minded and unassuming, yet not modest, and everyone called him “Shuai Ox.” Later, he entered the Nanyue Temple and became a Daoist.

Seven li southwest of the Nanyue Temple stood the Zixu Pavilion, originally the altar of Lady Wei. The other Daoists found the place bleak and lonely and refused to live there; only the master was happy to stay. No one knew what he did in his daily life. They knew only that he loved to drink and often passed out among the mountain forests. Even when storms raged, he seemed unaware. He paid no heed even when tigers or wolves passed by him…

Wang You was ordered to travel to Mount Nan and visit the master at Lady Wei’s altar. The master was drunk at the time and unable to get up. He merely looked at Wang You and said, “The Daoist in the village loves wine, but often has none to drink, so he might as well get thoroughly drunk.” The officials were angry when they heard this. Wang You, however, thought the master’s manner was unusual and took him home to live with him.

For more than a month, the master was quiet and withdrawn. Wang You then escorted him back to the mountain and said, “You conceal your talents and Virtue so deeply, keeping them hidden within; you are truly difficult to fathom. I should compose a poem for you.” Before long, Wang You forgot about it. One night, he dreamed that the master had come to ask for the poem. He then wrote two quatrains, copied them onto a wooden board, and placed it in the pavilion. The Daoists were astonished and said, “How could Shuainiu have come by poems like these?” (“Shuainiu,” meaning “the one who drives an ox,” was the master’s name.)

On the twenty-seventh day of the sixth month in the fifth year of the Taiping Xingguo era of Emperor Taizong of Song (980), the master suddenly told the people at the monastery, “I’m going out for a while. Someone must stay in the pavilion, so find someone to take my place quickly.” The others were even more surprised. “In this heat, where could Shuainiu possibly be going?” they said. They hurried to look for him and found that he had died. Only then were they greatly astonished and understood that “Shuainiu” referred to the deceased. They subsequently buried him at the foot of Mount Nan.

Not long afterward, Shoucheng, a monk from Nantai Temple, returned from the eastern capital and said he had seen the master outside Nanxun Gate, looking clear in spirit and free of worldly cares. Shoucheng asked why he had left the mountain. The master replied, “Just out for a leisurely stroll,” and asked him to take a letter of thanks to Master Li of Hengyue. When Shoucheng returned, he learned that the master had already died. The moment he had seen the master was the very moment of his death. People therefore opened the grave to look inside, but only a walking stick and a pair of shoes remained.

Liu Xiyue

Liu Xiyue, whose courtesy name was Xiufeng, was from Zhangzhou. As a young man, he studied the Confucian classics and passed the prefectural examinations three times. During the Duangong era of Emperor Taizong of Song (988–989), he left the Confucian path to become a Daoist and lived at the Laozi Monastery in the western capital. At the age of sixty-four, he met an extraordinary person and attained success in cultivating the Dao. He therefore took the name “Langranzi.”

He once said that he had been practicing with great effort for fewer than ten years when people were already amazed that he had not grown old. Twelve years passed in the blink of an eye, yet he still felt as he had when he first began cultivating. He also wrote a poem: “From the two passes along the spine to the crown of the head—this is the root and path of cultivation.” Here, “the two passes along the spine” and “the crown of the head” refer to bodily locations and gates in Neidan (internal alchemy). The verse says that cultivation should take the opening of these gates as its essential path.

One day, Liu Xiyue said farewell and prepared to leave. People asked, “At your age, where are you going?” Xiufeng did not answer. He bathed, changed his clothes, spread out a mat in his room, and lay down. Before long, a sound came from the bedroom, and a golden cicada flew out. Xiufeng had vanished. He wrote more than thirty poems, which circulated among the people.

Mu Ruozhuo

No detailed records survive of Mu Ruozhuo’s native place or how he entered official service.

During the Duangong era of the Song dynasty, Mu Ruozhuo served as magistrate of Fei County in Mingzhou. On the sixteenth day of the eighth month, he hosted a banquet for guests in the county office courtyard. After the banquet ended, he rested alone in a side hall and suddenly heard the sound of pipes and strings coming from among the clouds. Before long, a boy carrying a jade casket rode down on a cloud and said to him, “The Lord on High has issued an edict: Mu Ruozhuo has accumulated hidden virtue and lived without fault. He is summoned to ascend to the Southern Palace and take his place among the immortals.”

Mu Ruozhuo then burned incense and bowed, rose to receive the edict, and ascended to heaven with the boy. The county officials hurried to report the news to his family, but by the time they arrived, it was too late. They could only smell the rich fragrance in the air and hear heavenly music continuing without end. The local people painted his portrait and worshipped it with reverence.

Lü Dalang

Lü Dalang’s given name was Da, and he was from Cheng’an. His family had once been wealthy. As an adult, he became absorbed in pleasure and spent his entire family fortune, without the slightest regret. During the Jingde era of Emperor Zhenzong of the Song, he suddenly went mad. In the market, he would snatch and eat any flatbread he saw; if he spotted a pear core someone had thrown onto the road, he would pick it up and gnaw on it.

Later, a Daoist took him into the mountains. Lü Dalang agreed aloud to follow him, but in his heart he could not let go of his family. The Daoist said, “You may go back. Take a dozen or so gourds, put your clothes and hat inside them, and place them on the bed. At night, cut the gourds apart with a sword, then hang the sword over the gate and leave at once. Do not look back.”

When Lü Dalang returned home, he cut the gourds apart as the Daoist had instructed. Unable to resist, he looked back and saw that all his family members had been separated from their heads. He wept as he left. At daybreak, however, his family discovered that Lü Dalang was dead, his body hanging from the gate. They buried him. Several months later, people from the village brought a letter from Lü Dalang, sent from Anyang. His family was horrified. They dug up the grave to investigate, only to find inside it the sword that had earlier hung over the gate.

Wang Ding

Wang Ding was from Xiangyang. In his early years, he earned his living through medicine and divination to support his wife and children. He once wrote in a poem, “I have a wife and children; I practice divination and medicine for their sake.” Later, he met Master Zhongli and attained the Dao. He wrote in a poem, “For eighteen years I sifted truth from falsehood; only today have I met the worthy sage of the Han.” From then on, he called himself “Wang Tongzi.”

No one ever saw him eat or drink. One day, as he walked along the river, someone noticed two images of him reflected in the water and, puzzled, asked why. Wang Ding said, “Would you like to see them again?” After a while, the two reflections appeared and remained for a long time before disappearing.

During the Xiangfu era of Emperor Zhenzong of the Song, Wang Ding was summoned to the palace. Wearing hemp clothes and straw sandals, he greeted the emperor with a simple bow of the clasped hands. Later he departed, and no one knew where he went. His writings on the cultivation of the Dao have been passed down to this day.

Liu Fang, whose courtesy name was Zhongming, was from Suanzao. He began as a minor clerk in the Chancellor’s residence. After earning merit over time, he was appointed Left Palace Attendant. Before long, he sighed and said, “Serving as an official is nothing but a waste of effort. I will clear and quiet my inner self, cast off the grime of the mundane world as easily as taking off my shoes, and roam with Anqi and Xianmen, the immortals of legend.”

He withdrew to a secluded lane in the Eastern Capital, concerned only with providing for his food and clothing. When hunger, cold, or illness came upon him, he treated himself with medicine, but never went out. Gradually, high-ranking officials heard of his reputation. They wanted to meet him but could not, so many came to visit him in person. After a long while, Zhongming grew quite displeased. Later, when Abao died, Zhongming conceived the idea of traveling far away to live in seclusion. “I have nothing left to hold me back,” he said. He then traveled south to Mount Heng to visit Master Yangsu, Lan Yuandao.

After that, he went on to Chenzhou. At the time, his cousin Liu Zhi held office in Qingzhou and arranged for Zhongming to stay in his home. Zhongming said, “I fled because I detest government paperwork and punishments. How could I live with you again?” So he stayed in a monks’ quarters on East Mountain. The monk Daojue boasted to him, “I have offered lamps before the Tathagata for twenty years. Surely the blessings I have gained are boundless.” Zhongming replied, “That is not the kind of cultivation I have heard of. A cultivator should make the body the lampstand, moral discipline the oil, and the mind the lamp, so that it may illuminate all ignorance and delusion. The Buddha Dipankara of old did just this.” Daojue greatly admired him and considered his insight extraordinary.

After staying for more than a hundred days, Zhongming took leave of Liu Zhi and departed. “I am about to roam freely between Heaven and Earth, making famous mountains my resting places and white clouds my home,” he said. “I only regret that you cannot travel with me.” Later, Zhongming underwent corpse liberation, a Daoist transformation in which one sheds the physical body to become an immortal by another means, at a Buddhist temple in Nankang. His disciples buried his remains beside the temple. When the local magistrate bowed before the grave, a voice came from within it: “You hold high office, yet have you put an end to ignorance? Do not covet wealth or accept bribes, and do not pervert the law with punishments.” The magistrate left in alarm.

Hou Yongxian saw Zhongming in Langzhou wearing a hemp garment and coat, selling medicine in the marketplace. Youcong, who had also seen Zhongming in the Eastern Capital, asked him, “After undergoing corpse liberation, Master, how did you come here?” Zhongming said, “To pass from the formless into form, then be released from it and return to the Real—this is ordinary for me. What is there for you to find astonishing?” Youcong said, “I lived in the same lane as you, Master. Your face is like red jade, while I am soon to become dry bones. Does this not concern you?” Zhongming replied, “Once a person has lived past fifty, even if they aspire to the Dao, the body is like a ruined house, its beams sagging and its roof leaking; it can only be kept going for a few more years. And you are already seventy. You have loved the law all your life and often helped people bring lawsuits…”

He had already lost much of his hidden virtue. What more was there to say? So he went straight on his way. Someone followed and chased after him. Halfway along, he said, “Go back. I am as free as a lone cloud or wild crane. How could you ever catch up with me?” Then he departed, and no one knew where he went.

Luo Daocheng

During the Qingli era of Emperor Renzong of the Song, a reclusive scholar went to Mount Tai in the Eastern Peak to visit the registrar Guo Jifu. When Guo saw him sit down, he looked over his calling card and learned that his name was Luo Daocheng. He asked where Luo was from, and Luo replied that he came from Chenzhou.

Guo Jifu invited him to stay for wine. Luo Daocheng said, “For a long time I have wanted to visit the eastern region. Some days ago I arrived at Mount Tai and have now explored it all. I will soon be returning south.” He then borrowed paper and brush and wrote a poem:

“Drawn by the beauty and numinous grace of this place, I happened here in the eastern region;

Mountains like layered jade, and an autumn scene clear and cold.

From the heights of Taiping Summit, I gaze into the distance;

The mountain ranges wind and join together, reaching across more than ten prefectures.”

He then wrote another poem in reply to his own:

“As free as water and clouds, I wander at leisure all day;

The shaded summer valleys are colder than autumn.

Even the natures of apes and birds cling to their old homes;

I, though, turn away and head for the coastal prefectures.”

After Luo Daocheng left, Guo Jifu sent someone to escort him to the post station. Luo gave the attendant another poem:

“A white mule bears me on, swift as racing clouds;

Wherever a wanderer goes, traces of poetry are left behind.

If you would know my name and origins,

Look at the stone wall beneath Chenyang Mountain.”

Later, when people in Chenzhou were asked about him, they said there was a temple to the Perfected Lord Luo there. According to legend, after Luo Daocheng attained the Dao, he rode his white mule past a stone wall. The prints of the mule’s hooves can still be seen there today.

Zeng Zhijing

Zeng Zhijing was from Luling. In his youth he drank no wine and ate no meat. He was upright and resolute, and spoke little. As an adult, he left the world to become a Daoist priest. He grew even quieter and more reserved, and had no dealings with worldly society.

One day, an extraordinary man came to visit and taught him the Daoist arts. From then on, Zeng Zhijing shut himself away and practiced grain abstention, eating no grains, for five or six years. When the extraordinary man returned to see how he was doing, he said, “Not yet.” After speaking with him for a while, he left. Several years later, he came again and said, “Now you are ready.”

Zeng Zhijing then opened his doors and windows. Someone peered in from outside and saw that his expression was clear and radiant, and his figure stood straight as jade.

In the spring of the second year of Zhihe, during the reign of Emperor Renzong of the Song, he suddenly said to his disciples, “In the ninth month I will travel to Mount Heng. This is the appointed time for me to transcend the world of dust; I must not miss it.” When the appointed day came, he sat upright and died. After he was buried, soon after winter began, the peach tree beside his grave unexpectedly burst into vivid bloom. Not long afterward, someone brought a letter from Zeng Zhijing from Mount Heng, in which he urged his disciples to cultivate the Dao.

Guizhenzi

Guizhenzi’s original name was Tang Zizheng, and he was from Guizhou. During the Zhiping era of Emperor Yingzong of the Song, he traveled to the capital to take the examination for appointment to office. On the way, he hired a porter in Quanzhou to carry his heavy luggage. The porter moved lightly, like a swift bird; even when he whipped the horse…

He hurried after Chang Xian, who was a hundred paces ahead, fearing he might escape, and sent someone to pursue him. That servant traveled 2,700 li from Quanzhou in a single day and had reached Tangzhou by noon. He left a letter with the courier station officials, asking them to deliver it when a scholar named Tang arrived from Guizhou.

More than a month later, the scholar Tang finally reached Tangzhou. The courier station official brought out the letter. On the envelope was written: “Respectfully sealed for the scholar Tang of Guizhou, Zhenzi.” Tang opened it. Inside was only a poem:

“After meeting in Yuanzhou, I was to go on to Quanzhou, but failed to meet the Master; my practice of the Dao remains incomplete. Perhaps, intent on seeking wealth and rank, you have ended up without the chance to learn the way of the immortals. The numinous medicine in the chest should be given to others often; the cinnabar in the furnace should not be passed on lightly. When the Horned Dragon gathers, I hope you will come to Huangbi and make your home among the mountains, forests, and springs.”

Tang asked what the servant looked like and learned that he was the very man Tang had hired. The day he left the letter was the same day the servant had departed from Quanzhou. Later, when Tang served as assistant prefect of Yongzhou, in the third year of the Xining era under Emperor Shenzong of Song (1070), troops from Jiaozhi invaded Yongzhou, and Tang’s entire family was killed. The poem’s “Horned Dragon” referred to this calamity.

Sun Xiling

Sun Xiling’s place of origin is unknown, as is the dynasty in which he lived. During the reign of Emperor Yingzong of Song, the court official Chen Yun was in charge of the liquor trade in Quzhou. He was already over seventy, bald, and had lost his teeth.

Sun Xiling went to visit Chen Yun, dressed in worn-out clothes. Chen looked down on him somewhat. After a while, Sun Xiling took out a little powdered medicine and told Chen to rub it on his teeth. Chen did not believe him at first, but one day he tried it on his upper teeth while cleaning them. When his family saw, they laughed and said, “What good is it to grow a black beard?”

Chen was startled. He looked in a mirror and found that his beard had indeed turned black. He took off his headscarf and saw that several inches of hair had grown on his formerly bald head; even his lost teeth seemed to be showing faint signs of growing back. After that, Sun Xiling disappeared.

Zhou Guan

Zhou Guan said he was from Jiaodong and was eighty years old. He often called himself “Wood-and-Wild-Goose Master.” Skilled at writing, he once traveled to the Western Mountains of Hongzhou. He loved wine and lived unconstrained by convention, wearing coarse cloth that was nonetheless in reasonably good order. When people gave him money, he would go to a tavern and drink his fill; whatever remained he scattered carelessly, without concern.

For more than fifty years, the people around the Western Mountains saw him coming and going, yet his appearance remained just as it had been when he first arrived. Whenever people asked him to teach them Daoist arts, he responded harshly, making it impossible to get close to him. He often carried a gourd filled with wine and enjoyed composing poetry.

One day, while the Daoists at Longquan Abbey in Fengxin were behind closed doors playing the qin, he covered himself with a mat. Suddenly he knocked on the door and shouted. The Daoists were startled and asked what was wrong. He smiled and said, “I happened upon a fine line of poetry, so I came especially to tell you…”

The man was greatly surprised and asked what had happened. Zhou Guan then chanted, tracing shapes in the air with his fingers:

“Playing the qin hurts your fingernails; spreading a mat wears down your whiskers.”

Later, when he reached Yuanzhou, he met a townsman named Li. Li admired Zhou Guan’s refined and lofty bearing and wanted to invite him to drink, but seemed rather reluctant. Pointing at an iron pot used for boiling medicine, Zhou sang in mockery:

“Born dull and stubborn, you were destined to be a pot. Even with three legs, you cannot walk. Though you have ears, you cannot take in reason; you only love to linger in this human world, a pit of fire.”

In the first year of the Xining era under Emperor Shenzong of Song, Zhou Guan arrived at Shitoushi in Yuzhang and met an old friend, Zhang. Zhang prepared food and wine and invited him to stay at an inn. Around midnight, the innkeeper heard the clatter of carriages and horses outside the door. He got up to look, but saw nothing. Only the door to Zhou Guan’s room stood open; Zhou lay there, barely breathing. When the innkeeper went closer, he found that Zhou Guan was dead.

The next day, the innkeeper reported what had happened to Wu Gao, magistrate of Xinjian County. Wu came to inspect the body and found Zhou Guan’s body soft and clean, as though he were alive. When they helped him turn over, his belly still gurgled. Liu Chunchen, the county registrar, sent people to prepare the body for burial, place it in a coffin, and inter it. When Zhang returned home, his younger brother came out to greet him and said, “Old Zhou came by at dawn. He said he was going to Shuangling now.” Only then did everyone realize that Zhou Guan had not truly died.

Zhou Guan’s Huayang Collection consisted of three pieces. He always kept it with him, never letting it leave his sleeve whether he was sitting or lying down, so no one could see it. After his death, Liu Chunchen took the manuscripts. Liu praised their writing as rugged and extraordinary, yet clearly structured, and composed a poem in his memory:

“At eighty, on the western mountain, he became an immortal of wine;

His hemp sandals worn, his milk teeth gone, his cloth robe still on.

His body cast off, he left the ties of dust behind;

In Taiji’s light and time, he counted no years.”

Later, someone saw Zhou Guan in the eastern capital. Zhou sent a message to Li, inviting him: “On the night of next year’s Mid-Autumn Festival, I will come to visit.” On the appointed day, Zhou Guan did indeed go to Li’s home. Li was away on an errand, so Zhou wrote large characters on the door with white earth and left:

“On this year’s Mid-Autumn night, I’ve come to keep last year’s promise.

I don’t see that pot with the broken leg; I snap my fingers and hear only an empty ring.”

Later, Li did indeed fall from his horse and break one of his legs.

Liu Yuanzhen

Liu Yuanzhen, courtesy name Zizhi, was from Yeyuan. His family had been farmers for generations. One day, his father was playing chess with a guest. Zizhi, who had only just lost his baby teeth, was lying beneath an apricot tree. He suddenly woke and told his father in astonishment, “Just now I dreamed that a Daoist master taught me to play chess and gave me apricots to eat.” From then on, he stopped eating. The original text ends here unfinished.

Zhang Zhizhi spent long periods away from home, roaming among the mountains and streams of Zhongnan Mountain. Before long, he found an abandoned Buddhist temple in Shaling Valley and settled there. In the depths of winter, he went naked, using only leaves to cover the front and back of his body. At that time, music from mouth organs, flutes, bells, and stone chimes was often heard, and a company of immortals once descended to his dwelling.

On one occasion, he was traveling with others when they saw a man on horseback pass by. Zhang said to him, “Please take pity on my people.” After the horseman had gone, his companions asked why he had said this. Zhang replied, “That was the spirit of Mount Hua. Because the wheat harvest is abundant this year and the people have not cherished their grain, the Lord on High intends to levy two tenths of it. I pleaded with him on their behalf.” Then he said, “We should hurry on.” They reached a hut beside the road and had only just stopped when a sudden storm broke overhead, with thunder and fierce winds. A fifth of the wheat was lost. People gradually came to feel that Zhang was extraordinary, and one after another they built hermitages for him.

Zhang later practiced alchemy on Alchemy Ridge. After nine years, he told the people living nearby, “My elixir is nearly complete. Beat gongs and drums to celebrate for me.” The people nearby eagerly brought their gongs and drums, and their noise indeed frightened away a strange beast. Zhang took out the elixir and sank it in spring water. A year later, he retrieved it and shared it with the people nearby. All who took it lived to be over a hundred.

During the Yuanfeng era of Emperor Shenzong of the Song, Zhang bade farewell to his neighbors, saying, “The Lord on High has summoned me. I have come to say goodbye to you.” In broad daylight, a rainbow-like cloud descended in front of the hermitage, and Zhang departed upon it. One of his disciples, named Liu Yi, learned the method known as “guarding the One and preserving the Three,” a Daoist practice of maintaining the original spirit and visualizing the Jing, Qi, and Shen within the body.

Chen Taichu

Chen Taichu was born to a family in Meishan town and studied alongside Su Dongpo. At the age of eight, he became a disciple of the Daoist Zhang Yijian. Later, Su Dongpo passed the civil service examinations, while Chen Taichu became a minor official in the commandery.

Afterward, Su Dongpo was banished to live in Huangzhou. The Daoist Lu Weizhong, from Meishan in Shu, came to Huangzhou and said that Chen Taichu had already “been released”—meaning that he had freed himself from the mortal world and become an immortal.

When Wu Shidao, a native of Shu, was serving as governor of Hanzhou, Chen Taichu once visited him. On the first day of the first lunar month, Chen asked Wu for clothing, food, and money, then took his leave. He gave everything he had received to the poor in the marketplace. Afterward, he returned to his seat and passed away while sitting beneath the gate flanked by halberds.

Wu Shidao ordered his attendants to carry Chen’s body outside the city to be cremated. The attendants cursed, “What kind of Daoist is this, making me carry a corpse on New Year’s Day!” Chen Taichu smiled faintly and opened his eyes. “There’s no need to trouble yourself by carrying me any farther,” he said. He then walked from the halberd gate to the Jin’yan Bridge, sat cross-legged beneath it, and died. The townspeople saw smoke rise into the sky, faintly resembling the Daoist Chen ascending through the air.

Ma Xuande

No one knows where Ma Xuande was from. He once served as an official in the Song dynasty and rose to the rank of Xuande Gentleman. During the Xining era of Emperor Shenzong’s reign, Song Ruogu was assistant prefect of Kelan Military Command. One day, Ma Xuande first sent an old servant with his calling card, then came in person. He wore a Three-Mountain Crown and a purple crane cloak. After sitting down, he said, “I resigned from office long ago. I have heard that your family has admired the Daoist arts for generations, so I have come especially to see you. I live on Baodu Mountain. In a month, you should find yourself there; I hope you will come and visit me.”

Song Ruogu could not make out who he was, so he gave a vague assent. After Ma Xuande left, things happened just as he had said. A month later, Song Ruogu was ordered to inspect the pastureland for horses. When he reached Baodu Mountain, he had already forgotten his promise to Ma Xuande. The officials accompanying him said the mountain path was too steep and remote to go any farther. Song Ruogu replied, “This is an order from my superior. How can I refuse?” He urged his horse onward.

When they reached a rugged stretch of the mountain, he saw a boy standing beside the path. The boy conveyed Ma Xuande’s invitation for him to come in. Only then was Song Ruogu greatly astonished. He pushed aside the weeds and followed the boy. Tiger and wolf tracks lay everywhere along the path. Deep in the mountain stood a thatched hut. Ma Xuande waited respectfully at the door to welcome Song Ruogu, invited him inside, and laid out a meal. Most of the dishes on the platter were medicinal herbs. A furnace for refining elixirs stood inside, its fire shining brightly. Pointing to it, Ma Xuande said, “The great elixir I have been refining is complete. Since you have found your way here, you must have a connection to this place.” He then took out two pills and gave them to Song Ruogu to swallow.

Song Ruogu soon left the hut. When he looked back, he saw only blue-black cliffs, towering trees, and dense clouds and mist. By then he was sixty-two, with gray hair and beard. Back at his lodging, he looked in a mirror and found that his hair and beard had turned black. Before long, he left Kelan and went to the Eastern Capital, where he visited the Xiang State monastery. Amid the crowd, a Daoist called out, “There is a great elixir in your belly. You must guard it well.” Then he vanished. Song Ruogu was wealthy and kept many serving women, but he failed to heed the Daoist’s warning and practice with care. When he was over eighty, a red light suddenly poured from his mouth, and he died soon afterward.

Hu Yongcong

The Daoist Hu Yongcong, known as Master Chongzhen, left ordinary life while still young and devoted himself wholeheartedly to cultivation. His name was entered in the Daoist register at the Taiping Xingguo Palace on Mount Lu. During the Xining era of Emperor Shenzong’s reign, a Daoist in torn clothes and worn-out shoes announced his name and barged straight into the palace’s storehouse as if no one else were there. The other Daoists ignored him and went their separate ways. Only Hu Yongcong greeted him with a bow, invited him to sit on a small couch, and spoke with him at ease. Hu Yongcong sensed that the Daoist had an extraordinary bearing and treated him with due respect.

Later, the Daoist asked for wine. After drinking twice, he took Hu Yongcong to an inn for more. Hu Yongcong declined, saying it was already late, and went back. The Daoist turned around and stroked his beard…

He smiled as they parted. Early the next morning, Hu (Lord Hu) went into the city to pay his respects to the prefect. When he reached the city gate, the bar had not yet been lifted. Just then, he saw a Daoist coming out of the city, and the two exchanged smiles. The gate official said, “It isn’t even the third watch yet, but there’s a man called the Returning Daoist waiting here for the gate to open. I don’t know who he is.” Hu heard this and felt it was strange.

Several years later, the Daoist came to visit Hu at his Daoist monastery. A leather belt circled his waist, hemp sandals covered his feet, and he carried two pots on a shoulder pole. He called himself “the Guest from Great Song.” The two talked about refined matters. Hu asked what was inside the pots. The Daoist said they held his belongings. When he tipped them out, they contained nothing but gold and silver. The Daoist asked whether Hu wanted any of it. Hu replied, “I don’t want it. It would be enough simply to obtain the art of long life.” The Daoist then took out some silver, bought wine, and drank with Hu, orally teaching him the Supreme Way, the highest principles of cultivation.

Toward evening, the Daoist used a knife to dig into the ground, dripped wine onto the soil, mixed it with his saliva, and breathed over it. He formed the mixture into a piece of ink, which he placed on the table with a sharp clink. He told Hu, “Take this, and it can cure your illnesses and lead you onto the path of immortality.” He then urged Hu to drink more wine, and Hu fell into a drunken stupor. When he awoke, he smelled only an extraordinary fragrance throughout the room. A spring had welled up where the Daoist had dug, but the Daoist was gone.

Hu ground the ink into powder and swallowed it with wine. His long-standing illnesses soon healed. Though he was over seventy, he looked like a young man, and he could drink as much as before. In time, he grew weary of the human world. One day, he left behind a poem and departed by shedding his bodily form, the Daoist way in which an adept leaves the flesh behind and ascends to immortality.

The palace still has the Immortal Ink Spring. Its water tastes sweet when cupped and drunk, and it never dries up in winter or summer. Wang Zuocheng Cai, Vice Minister Song Boyou, and many other celebrated figures composed poems in response and left inscriptions; their works are collected in this palace’s Collection of Poems by Distinguished Worthies. Old gazetteers and stone inscriptions also record the Account of Hu Gong’s Encounter with an Immortal.

Huang Zhiwei

Huang Zhiwei, courtesy name Mingdao, was a Daoist at Taipingxingguo Palace on Mount Lu. By nature he was detached from worldly concerns, and he was tall. During the Yuanfeng era of Emperor Shenzong of the Song, he served as the keeper of the main hall, overseeing the palace halls and incense offerings.

One day, Lord Cui, the Master of Embodying the Dao from Qianshan, came to visit. He spoke with Huang about the mysteries of the Muddy Pellet, the myriad spirits, and a single grain of knife and measure—terms from Daoist inner cultivation concerning the body, spirit, and vital energy. He then taught Huang the essentials of “the Way of the Valley Spirit in One-Nine” and “the Golden Liquid’s Immersion in Radiance,” names for Daoist cultivation methods. From then on, Huang’s behavior often seemed aimless and erratic, as if he were pretending to be mad or had fallen into a drunken stupor. People of the time therefore called him “Mad Huang.” He also wrote a song called “The Mad Huang Song,” which is included in this biography.

He loved wine. Whenever he got drunk, he would sing at the top of his voice, and afterward he often behaved with wild abandon. He would shout loudly from the Chaizhen Bridge in front of the palace, as if scolding someone. He wore a monk’s robe covered in patches, which barely covered his body, but he did not care; whether in the depths of winter or the height of summer, he felt neither cold nor hot. When members of the scholar-official class gave him money or goods, he would casually give them away to others…

He sometimes lived in the mountains and sometimes traveled through cities, usually carrying two cloth bags. Whenever he came across things like cakes or medicines, he mixed them together in the bags. Yet the bags never developed any unpleasant odor, so people called them “Broidered Fragrance.”

One time, heavy snow covered the mountains, forests, and ravines in white. Only the house where the Master lived remained free of snow. He often pointed to a crack in the wall beside the house and told people, “This is the road by which I will travel to Shu.” At first, no one understood what he meant.

He spoke mostly about matters recorded in histories and biographies. He was not usually skilled at writing, yet the words he spoke were often remarkable. He associated with Cai Zigao of Monkey Creek, Sima Zhibai, Cui Fengzi, Gao Chi’jiao, and others.

By the end of the Chongning era under Emperor Huizong of Song, he was over ninety, yet his face looked youthful and his skin was white as jade. His conduct remained as unconventional as ever, and he could still drink as much as before. At the end of the Xuanhe era, the emperor issued an edict summoning him, but he refused to answer it. When officials pressed him to comply, he reached Jiujiang and said, “There are already two emperors now. What would I go for?” Soon afterward, Emperor Qinzong ascended the throne. When the amnesty decree arrived, the Master had not yet returned to the palace.

On the day a fire broke out in the palace, the Master lifted a paving stone in the Interview Hall and planted mugwort beneath it. “It will grow next year,” he said. The following year, Han Shiqing’s rebel forces indeed burned the palace, exactly one year after the mugwort was planted. Everything he predicted about people’s fortune and misfortune came to pass.

After the Master’s death in the Daoist sense of ascending to immortality, he was buried beside the palace. Several years later, someone returning from Shu said, “Huang Fengzi is in Shu now. I saw him in Chengdu yesterday, and he asked me to bring back a family letter.” Everyone was doubtful. When they opened the envelope, they found that it contained the names of Daoist priests who had survived the unrest. So people opened the coffin to look inside. Only his clothes and shoes remained.

Bi Daoning

Bi Daoning was a Daoist priest at Taiping Xingguo Palace on Mount Lu. His courtesy name was Kangshu. As a child, he was clever and strikingly handsome. He could recite scriptures after reading them just once. During the Shaosheng era under Emperor Zhezong of Song, he traveled through Jiangsu and Zhejiang. One day, when he reached Mount Qian, he met a practitioner of esoteric arts. The practitioner understood what was on his mind and said, “The essential thing in studying the Dao is to refine and nourish the spirit and cultivate the original Qi. Books on the Elixir are only steps and means for entering the Dao. If you can cut yourself off from worldly distractions and devote yourself to cultivating your spirit and Qi, you will naturally come to understand the true Dao and respond to its wonders.”

The practitioner then pointed to the water and said, “When water grows still, reflections become clear; when the mind grows still, the spirit becomes tranquil. This principle deserves close attention.” He then transmitted the Elixir method to Bi and added, “In the future, I will meet you again beneath Shengzhi Peak.” He bowed and departed, vanishing in an instant.

That same day, Bi Daoning returned to the mountain. A deputy post at the palace happened to be vacant, and the prefectural government issued an appointment naming him to the position. Before long, he requested leave from his duties and built a Daoist retreat to the right of the monastery. He also dug a pond to hold water and named it “Clear Renewal.” Every day he shut himself away to meditate and nourish his spirit, reciting scriptures in order to transcend… [The original text ends here.]

Comprehensive Mirror of Perfected Immortals Throughout the Ages

One scroll of The Human Classic. On the third day of the first month of the seventh year of the Xuanhe era under Emperor Huizong (1125), a mountain recluse dressed in white came to visit. He spoke of events from the past and imparted a lyric poem in the Qinyuanchun form:

A single grain of the Golden Elixir, as large as a millet seed. After entering stillness, fetal breathing descends and is born. Set Yin and Yang in motion, taking the eastern Dragon and western Tiger as their foundation, until Metal and Water congeal. Choose a place and cultivate it deeply; for nine years, do not slacken. When the work of cultivating the upper, middle, and lower Dantian (energy centers) is complete, the flow of Qi circulates throughout the body. Open the furnace and vessel, and employ the work of original transformation, letting everything follow its own course. The purpose of cultivation lies entirely in the numinous terrace, where the mind and spirit reside.

Those truly suited to cultivation should not cling to the dusty world. What is more, you are perceptive and discerning, yet the infant in your Hall of Brightness—a Daoist cultivation term for a part of the body associated with the movement of spirit and Qi—has not yet matured. Fortunately, we met on the banks of the Huai River. I have personally given you the numinous elixir and left you its mysterious instructions. I hope you will continue cultivating and advance to the ranks of the immortals.

When shall we meet again amid the lofty clouds and waters? May you once more take the immortal path, winding through mist and rosy clouds. In this human life, even the splendor and prestige of princes and nobles will in the end return to dust, like plants and trees.

Four days after receiving this poem, he straightened his robes, sat upright, and passed away. In the palace, the Hall of Nurturing Simplicity still stands today. The right-hand covered walkway bears the name “Fresh and Pure,” and a pond remains there.

Tian Duanyan

Tian Duanyan was from the Qi-Lu region. In his youth, he passed the jinshi examination. During the Chongning era under Emperor Huizong of the Song, he served as a secretary in the Jingnan military prefecture. Before long, a condemned prisoner in the prefecture disagreed with the prefect, Lü Jiawen. Tian hung his official robes at the prefectural gate, left the government, and went into the mountains of Yuan’an, where he stayed at Qingxi Hermitage.

He often entered the stream valley at dawn and did not return until dusk. After living there for more than a hundred days, one day he suddenly failed to come back. The monks of Qingxi Temple sent people to search for him and found him lying on a rock, guarded by two tigers. No one dared approach. After that, no one knew where he had gone.

Several years later, wearing a coarse cloth jacket and straw sandals and carrying cooking pots, he went to Luoyang to visit his brother-in-law, Xing Shu, whose courtesy name was Heshu. He was then about eighty years old, yet his face still looked young, and his beard and hair were thick and full. The scholar-officials of Luoyang were all eager to spend time with him. He joked and conversed with them, often winning everyone over at the table. When people asked how he had attained the Dao, he would not answer. At the end of the Zhenghe era, someone encountered him in the outskirts of Xiangzhou and Dengzhou. His appearance had still not aged.

Liu the Lame

Liu the Lame was from Qingzhou. Leaning on a staff, he went to Luoyang every year to admire the flowers. When Chancellor Zhang was summoned from the Jinghu region to the capital, Liu was drinking with a guest at the City Bridge. Hearing that the procession of carriages and horses was splendid, the guest rose to watch. Liu held him by the sleeve and urged him to keep drinking, then composed this poem:

“Recalled from exile in Hunan and Hubei to the capital, the official is escorted by carriages and horses—what glory. How much better to drink with you here at the City Bridge, free from the turmoil of worldly honor and disgrace.”

Yingzhong, who was deeply fond of him, wrote him a lyric poem:

“My body is like a withered tree, my life story like a drifting cloud. Twice a year I come to the capital; when the mood takes me, I go again to stroll idly among Luoyang’s flowers. I hear that Tinghong is the finest to behold, yet once spring has passed, even its blossoms must fall into the mud. Blossoms open and fade, unlike the freedom of my life. The years cannot be held back. When hungry, I eat; when tired, I sleep. Wherever I go, I make that place my home.

“This full moon has no flaw. I wear winter clothes and summer hemp according to the season, without understanding such refinements. Who can fathom matters like the Yellow Sprout of the Red River? I simply lean on my staff in the spring breeze, and in the midst of talk and laughter, there is cinnabar to speak of.”

During the Zhenghe era of Emperor Huizong of the Song, he lived at Xingguo Temple. People estimated that he was a hundred and forty or fifty years old. He had once lodged for thirty years at Zhang Dalang’s shop by Xinmen Gate in the capital. Each day he sat in the bookstore east of Xiangguo Temple, yet no one recognized him.

Shuiqiuzi

Shuiqiuzi was from Zhenzhou. At first he studied Confucian learning. Later, after meeting someone who had attained the Dao, he left home and traveled about. He behaved unconstrainedly and loved wine, but people did not know his origins.

A man named Xu Wenzhong lived in the Eastern Capital during the Xuanhe era of Emperor Huizong of the Song. One of the soldiers under his command was suddenly struck by a cart and left with disabled legs. A Daoist gave him medicine, and after taking it he was able to walk. The soldier thanked the Daoist, but the Daoist declined his thanks. From then on, the soldier deliberately pretended to be mad. Every day he ate wet paper and winter melon seeds, saying, “Winter melon is easy to digest; wet paper is hard to digest.” When people asked him about the Daoist method, he replied, “Stillness and purity are the Daoist method; simplicity and ease are best.”

Xu Wenzhong thus came to understand a little of the teaching and was deeply drawn to it. Before long, he met Shuiqiuzi, bowed, and asked him to pass on the teaching. Shuiqiuzi said, “The human body is a temporary gathering of the Four Great Elements—earth, water, fire, and wind—and is continually changing amid confusion and uncertainty. Qi transforms and forms the body; the heart is the body’s master, and the heart is where Shen resides. Shen moves with the heart’s intent; when there is no clear intent, it follows passing thoughts. Intent held single-mindedly is called Jing. Only the most refined intent under Heaven can accord with the intent of all people under Heaven. When Shen and Jing unite and remain undivided, you can command transformation yourself. This is the principle of long life and enduring vision.

“So do not let the heart deliberately cling to or pursue external things. If your feelings do not attach themselves to external things, those things will naturally be unable to obstruct you.”

Xu Wenzhong then understood fully and said, “Intent belongs to the Spleen. In the Five Phases, the Spleen corresponds to Earth. When Water meets Earth, it stops; when Fire meets Earth, it subsides. Could this be why spirit and intent are able to unite as one?”

Later, Shuiqiuzi climbed onto the wooden structure of the Tianqing Hermitage and ascended to immortality. Xu Wenzhong rose to the sixth rank as an official, after which his whereabouts became unknown.

Comprehensive Mirror of Perfected Immortals Through the Ages, Volume Fifty