《通玄真經纘義》Vol. 8

In the eighth chapter "On Spontaneity" of the Tongxuan Zhenjing (Scripture of Pervading Mystery), Master Du Daojian of Nangu expounds his understanding of the Dao of Nature:

Laozi states that clarity and emptiness (qingxu) constitute the innate nature of Heaven, while non-action (wuwei) is the fundamental principle for governing the world. One must relinquish bestowing favors, sagely wisdom, and reputation for worthiness; abolish benevolence and righteousness (renyi); eliminate disputes over right and wrong; and prohibit deceit and hypocrisy. In this way, both the worthy and unworthy alike may return to the Great Dao. Maintaining emptiness and stillness allows communion with the Dao—the highest virtue (de) naturally acts through non-action, embracing all things within it. The Way of emptiness and stillness is eternal, with the divine spirit (shenming) subtly permeating all things without dominating them.

What we call "spontaneity" (ziran) is the principle of Heaven; what is "unnatural" stems from human desires. The clear emptiness of the sky is its spontaneous state, just as the ruler's governance through non-action is humanity's natural condition. Attaining this state of spontaneity allows both the worthy and unworthy to harmonize with the Dao. Therefore, the sage governs the world with divine wisdom, ensuring all things follow their course without coercion.

Consider how the twelve months cycle endlessly, or how the Five Phases (wuxing) of Metal, Wood, Water, Fire, and Earth overcome yet generate each other. Extreme cold harms life, yet without cold nothing could survive; intense heat injures living things, yet without heat nothing could flourish. Thus "permissible" and "impermissible" are relative concepts. The Great Dao embraces all—what matters is alignment with heavenly principle. Act upon what is permissible; avoid what is not. "Permissible" and "impermissible" are like left and right hands, or the exterior and interior aspects of things. All affairs originate from the "One" (Dao), with time as their organizing principle—unchanged from antiquity to the present, this constitutes heavenly principle.

The Great Dao generates all things, manifesting through yin-yang transformations to form the four seasons, dividing into the Five Phases each finding their proper place. Laws and measures follow constant patterns, extending from the incapable below to the unshakable Dao above. When ruler and ministers share one mind, the Way of Heaven and Earth operates through spontaneous non-action yet achieves completeness—seeking nothing yet obtaining all. Thus we understand the benefits of non-action.

What continuously generates life throughout the cosmos is primordial qi (yuanqi), within which resides a divine subtlety beyond ordinary cognition. The "One" is the origin of all things; time is their organizing principle—what remains unchanged through past and present constitutes heavenly principle. The Great Dao gives birth to all beings; laws remain constant. There exists a ruler who governs without visible action—thus the Dao is most honored and virtue most precious.

Laozi states: The purest substance has no form; the greatest Dao cannot be measured. Therefore Heaven's circle conforms to no compass; Earth's square follows no carpenter's square. What we call the cosmos (yuzhou) encompasses the six directions (space) and the continuum of time (past and present).

This scripture elucidates the essential characteristics of the Dao (the Way) and its manifestation throughout heaven, earth, and all things. It explains that the spatial dimensions of the cosmos are called "Yu" (universe), yet while the Dao permeates this expanse, its precise location remains elusive. Just as those with poor eyesight cannot comprehend grand vistas, and those with shallow knowledge struggle to discuss profound truths, the Dao transcends ordinary perception.

The text employs the metaphor of playing the qin (zither): the strings are merely instruments, while the true essence of music lies in the unity of the player’s heart and hands—a state that cannot be transmitted even from father to son. Similarly, though the Three Sovereigns and Five Emperors (legendary sage-kings of antiquity) governed with different methods, the essence of winning the people’s hearts remained the same. Tools like compasses and rulers are mere instruments; true skill lies in their application.

Laozi states that the Dao of heaven and earth is governed by De (Virtue/Power, the concrete expression of the Dao), and all things follow the Dao’s principles spontaneously. The true Dao requires no forced instruction, nor does it rely on rank or reputation to manifest—it establishes itself naturally. In ancient times, when people were simple and virtuous, no teaching was necessary. Only in later ages, when human hearts became corrupted, did sages establish teachings. Yet the text cautions that excessive emphasis on instruction may violate the natural De.

Though Yin-Yang, the four seasons, and the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water) all belong to the great Dao, each has its own nature, just as all things share the same essence but take different forms. The wise do not impose teachings, and the capable do not force transmission. Thus, when sages established laws, their purpose was to guide people’s hearts back to spontaneity, allowing life and death to unfold naturally—neither claiming merit nor leaving resentment.

This passage emphasizes the Dao’s principle of Wuwei (non-action), proposing that the ideal state is one where all things find their proper place and coexist harmoniously without artificial intervention.

The earth shows no partiality toward the myriad beings, treating them all like straw dogs in perfect naturalness; the sage likewise treats the common people without imposing deliberate benevolence. Those doctrines that preach compassion and righteousness are in fact narrow understandings. Those clinging to limited perspectives become lost when facing vast realms; those fixated on immediate matters grow confused when journeying afar. The sage's way of being in the world allows entry into grand realms without confusion and travel to distant places without bewilderment, maintaining always a state of serene emptiness and naturalness. Only thus can one reach the highest state—this constitutes the virtue (De) of unity with the heavenly Dao.

In ancient times, people were taught through the great truths of the Dao, whereas today they are instructed through temptations of profit—this is why the Dao finds difficulty in prevailing. When sages establish laws and measures, it is to guide the hearts of the people, letting all things rest in their proper places: what should grow will grow naturally, what should perish will perish naturally—how could there be any distinction between kindness and resentment?

Laozi said: The sage emulates heaven and earth in embracing all things, just as the sky covers, the earth supports, and the sun and moon shine universally. When Yin and Yang harmonize the turning of seasons, they embrace all things without discrimination—making no distinctions between old and new, close and distant—thus they can model themselves on the heavenly Dao. Weather patterns never remain constant, land never yields only one crop, human affairs never show only one aspect—therefore undertakings have multiple paths and actions have diverse methods. The same applies to the art of war: some commanders are reckless while others are cautious; some are greedy while others are upright—these four contradictory qualities cannot be unified. The reckless excel in charging forward but not in holding ground; the cautious excel in defense but not in attack; the greedy excel in seizing territory but not in distributing spoils; the upright excel in maintaining integrity but not in advancing. The sage synthesizes these qualities, deploying them according to each one's capability. Just as heaven and earth don't produce only one kind of thing, just as Yin and Yang don't generate only one category of life, the ocean achieves its vastness by refusing no stream, and the forest grows dense by excluding no tree. The sage who rejects no counsel can expand his renown. But if one clings stubbornly to one corner while neglecting the whole, selecting one thing while discarding all others, the harvest will be meager and governance shallow.

All life between heaven and earth arises through the resonance of primordial Qi (vital energy), yet inherent nature varies according to essential constitution, manifesting infinite diversity that cannot be forcibly unified. The sage emulates the heavenly Dao, never allowing regional customs to create barriers, but rather covering, supporting and nurturing all things equally like heaven and earth, maintaining an attitude of impartiality.

Laozi said: The myriad beings covered by heaven, supported by earth, and illuminated by sun and moon—though differing in form and disposition—all find contentment and joy in their intrinsic nature. Yet the very source of their joy is also the root of their suffering.

This scripture expounds the wisdom of ancient sage-kings in governing the world, with its core principles being "following nature's way" and "letting each find its proper place." Using the governance methods of the Yao and Shun periods as examples, it illustrates how to allow all things to settle into their natural positions.

Sorrow and tranquility are interdependent—what appears as peaceful may conceal hidden crises. Therefore, when sages govern the people, they let each live according to their inherent nature, dwell in suitable places, perform tasks they excel at, and receive appropriate arrangements. In this way, all things coexist harmoniously without mutual interference. All beings under heaven are inherently without distinctions of nobility or baseness—such classifications are human constructs. Just as one shouldn't make fish climb trees or birds dive underwater, skilled rulers don't apply uniform methods to different people, because forms differ and natures vary, each having its own proper way of existence. Forced alteration violates natural law. Zhuangzi's "Discourse on the Equality of Things" doesn't seek to make all things identical, but rather to understand the principle of universal equality. Heaven creates all things according to their unique characteristics to fulfill their potential.

When Yao governed the world, Shun served as Minister of Education, Xie as Minister of War, Yu as Minister of Works, Houji oversaw agriculture, and Xizhong managed crafts. They guided the people thus: those by water fished, forest dwellers gathered, valley residents herded, and plains inhabitants farmed. Methods suited the land, tools matched local conditions. Marshes produced nets, hills bore plows—thus people could exchange surplus for needs, skilled work for unskilled, resulting in few rebels and many followers. Like wind blowing through panpipes producing natural tones, all things follow benefit and avoid harm. Though neighboring states might see each other and hear each other's roosters and dogs, people didn't cross borders, carts didn't travel miles—all lived contentedly.

Chaotic states appear prosperous while stable ones seem empty; dying nations seem lacking while enduring ones appear abundant. Here "emptiness" doesn't mean uninhabited but properly ordered; "prosperity" isn't numbers but chasing trivialities; "abundance" isn't wealth but restrained desires and simplified affairs; "lack" isn't no goods but few people with great waste. Thus ancient kings' systems weren't arbitrary creations but followed nature's patterns; prohibitions and punishments weren't willful impositions but safeguards for fundamentals. This represents the highest realm of De (Virtue/Power).

Ancient rulers governing the world remained leisurely while ministers labored, appearing to practice Wuwei (non-action) yet ordering all under heaven. Yao's era exemplified this—with Shun, Xie, Yu and other officials each fulfilling their roles—demonstrating the model of "governing through non-action."

This passage elucidates the principles of governing the world, whose essence lies in aligning with nature and human disposition. In modern terms:

Governing a state does not mean forcibly altering human nature, but rather guiding people in accordance with their innate tendencies. Just as ancient flood control followed the natural flow of water, farming adapted to the land's characteristics, and warfare conformed to popular sentiment. By achieving such harmony with nature, no difficulty remains insurmountable.

The sage-kings of antiquity established laws by creating norms based on human nature. Any decree that violates human nature, no matter how well-intentioned, will find no followers; yet when aligned with innate tendencies, even without harsh punishments, the world will naturally submit. For instance, while humans inherently possess the seeds of benevolence and righteousness, it requires sages to establish guiding principles—using what people naturally dislike to deter wickedness.

The truly wise ruler observes customs and popular sentiment to govern, implementing what the people favor and prohibiting what they detest. Thus, popular support comes naturally, and the world can be governed without resorting to brute force.

Virtue (De) forms the foundation of all achievement. Ancient enlightened rulers emulated rivers and seas: though positioned lowly, they receive all tributaries; through non-action (Wuwei), they achieve vastness. The ruler who avoids self-display maintains wisdom, who renounces greed accomplishes great deeds, who refrains from contention finds none can contend with them. This seemingly paradoxical approach actually comes closest to the essence of the Dao (the Way).

True virtue never seeks fame, yet reputation naturally follows. Those skilled in governance preserve the virtue of non-action, occupy the position of non-contention, achieve merits without claiming them—only thus can they endure. Forcing outcomes through violence leads to loss, while those deeply versed in this Way find their virtue deepening and accomplishments arising naturally. This constitutes the profoundest "Mysterious Virtue" (Xuande)—apparently contrary to worldly wisdom, yet perfectly aligned with the Great Dao.

Heaven and Earth endure because they follow the principles of the Dao (the Way). All things under heaven have their origins, yet ordinary people cannot comprehend this truth—only sages understand it. The Dao is neither male nor female, neither favoring north nor south (impartial in all directions). It gives birth to all things yet never perishes. Heaven and Earth take form through the Dao, Yin-Yang manifests through the Dao, and all things flourish because of the Dao.

The relationship between Yin and Yang is both circular and square (indicating infinite variations), with phases of brevity and longevity, creation and destruction—all governed by the Dao. Profound and unfathomable, the Dao acts through Wuwei (non-action); seemingly insignificant, it perfectly embodies the Great Way. Life and death follow the same laws, and all transformations are unified within the Dao. If one can transcend attachment to life and death, harmonizing with nature, where could longevity not be attained? Abandon fixation and contention, yielding to the path of Wuwei; uphold the Dao’s all-encompassing perfection yet never seek to dominate creation.

The Dao is supremely subtle and formless, the origin of Heaven, Earth, and the myriad things. All beings follow the Dao, yet manifest in distinct forms. The Dao is so minute it lacks substance, thus permeating all; so vast it has no boundaries, thus embracing all; so refined it has no core, thus serving as the root of all. The Dao sustains life, while De (Virtue/Power) stabilizes form. The highest realization of the Dao requires relinquishing preferences, maintaining a state of no-knowledge, pacifying the heart-mind, and never opposing the Great Way.

Heaven and Earth were originally one undivided whole. Separating into the two Qi (vital energies) of Yin and Yang, their reunion maintains perfect equilibrium. From this unity emerge the Five Phases (Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, Water), whose recombination must align with natural order. The Dao is the closest yet cannot be distanced, the nearest yet cannot be avoided—deliberate pursuit only returns one to the origin. Those who comprehend antiquity’s source grasp the guiding threads of the Dao. As the progenitor of all under heaven, the Dao is formless yet boundless, wordless yet utterly trustworthy, infinitely mutable yet unfathomable—only sages understand it. Thus, though sages engage with countless affairs daily, none contradict the Great Way; returning to the origin means holding the Dao’s guiding principles.

Laozi said: Though emperors bear titles, their true essence eludes common understanding. Imperial Dao reveres De, royal Dao esteems benevolence and righteousness, while hegemonic Dao relies on logic. The sage’s Dao shows no partiality—wisdom is employed only when knowledge is lacking, punishment only when virtue is shallow, scrutiny only when insight is limited. Excessive cunning disturbs the inner mind; reckless punishment breeds resentment between ruler and subject; harsh scrutiny severs the root. Therefore, sages harmonize with Heaven and Earth’s natural transformations, their virtue vast as the sky’s canopy and Earth’s support. Cultivating in accord with the seasons, accumulation deepens; profound cultivation leads to proper governance. Even if a divine being existed, how could this law be altered? Discard cunning, lessen punishment, return to clarity and Wuwei—then all things naturally align with the Way.

At the dawn of creation, who were the earliest sovereigns? They belonged to the era of the Three Sovereigns (typically Fuxi, Shennong, and the Yellow Emperor), when people were as pure as newborn infants.

This passage discusses the political evolution and governance principles from high antiquity to the Three Dynasties period. In the era of the Three Sovereigns of high antiquity, people were as pure as infants, content with food and drink, free from worries. During the later Three Sovereigns period, they maintained the simple nature of children. As the Dao (the Way) and De (Virtue) gradually declined, the Five Emperors were praised for honoring virtue, the Three Kings were revered for upholding benevolence and righteousness, while the Five Hegemons were despised for losing principle and law.

The true ruler of the great Dao—the Mystic Sage (Xuansheng)—does not act deliberately but remains solemn and silent like the ancestral tablet (Shi) during rituals, allowing the world to naturally receive his blessings. Whether benefiting one person or ten thousand, there is no partiality. Deliberately dispensing favors or punishments both deviate from the Dao: excessive kindness is like rewarding the undeserving or ennobling the unworthy, leading to official negligence and opportunism; excessive punishment harms the innocent, discouraging the virtuous and emboldening the wicked. Both extremes breed corruption and chaos, heralding the downfall of a state.

The ideal way of governance is this: when punishment is due, the ruler shows no anger; when reward is given, he claims no credit. The punished bear no resentment, for they deserve it; the rewarded feel no gratitude, for it is their due. When the people understand that rewards and punishments stem from their own actions, they focus on their duties without seeking favors. Thus, governance becomes clear, fields flourish, and the highest realm is achieved—where "the people know only that the ruler exists" without sensing his interference.

To govern, one must emulate the Dao of Heaven: like the four seasons, giving life in spring and taking it in autumn. When the ruler follows the Dao of Heaven, the subjects learn self-discipline. Clear rewards and punishments ensure everyone fulfills their roles without opportunistic hopes. With just governance and thriving agriculture, the simplicity of high antiquity can be restored.

The true Kingly Way (the highest state of governance) lies in: handling affairs with Wuwei (non-action), teaching without words, and maintaining stillness and stability. The ruler need only adapt to circumstances, appoint the worthy, plan without missteps, and act without error. Speech avoids ornamentation, conduct rejects formalism, advance and retreat align with the times, movement and stillness follow heavenly principles. Rewards and punishments are not based on personal likes or dislikes; all things find their proper place, following the natural course. To forcibly alter this state would disrupt the natural order.

This passage expounds the wisdom of governance and personal conduct, with its core philosophy centered on aligning with nature and skillfully employing talents.

It begins by describing the movement of celestial and terrestrial energies: the heavenly Qi (Hun/soul) and earthly Qi (Po/corporeal soul) each occupy their proper positions. By maintaining this natural order, one can commune with the supreme "Taiyi" (cosmic origin). The Dao of heaven operates silently without fixed form, vast and boundless yet profoundly unfathomable, constantly adapting to the transformations of all things—even the wisest cannot fully grasp it. Its movements follow no predetermined path, its changes resemble divine workings, maintaining emptiness and stillness while following nature's course, always accompanying rather than forcibly leading.

The same principles apply to governance: when a ruler maintains humility, open-mindedness, and clarity of thought, ministers will unite like spokes converging on a hub, with both the wise and ordinary contributing their abilities. When rulers and subjects each keep to their proper roles and responsibilities, the state achieves enlightened governance. Those who possess the empire need not worry about governing poorly—the key lies in obtaining suitable talents. Once talents are properly employed, the ruler can practice Wuwei (non-action) from above, aligning with the movement of Taiyi while allowing ministers to display their strengths, resulting in harmonious governance.

Laozi continues: the wise who diligently seek knowledge become sages; the courageous who excel at inquiry achieve victory. By harnessing collective wisdom, nothing becomes impossible; by relying on combined strength, no battle remains unwinnable. The brute strength of a single Wu Huo (legendary strongman) cannot be depended upon, but when gathering the momentum of multitudes, even the world becomes manageable. Without proper authority and circumstances, and without following objective laws, even sages cannot succeed. Therefore, sagely rulers always skillfully utilize existing conditions—assigning positions according to merit, matching tasks to demonstrated skills, and employing talents without waste.

Wisdom, benevolence, and courage are universal virtues. Diligent inquiry broadens one's vision; combining collective wisdom and strength makes one invincible. Placing the meritorious in suitable positions and assigning the capable to appropriate tasks—this is how sages skillfully orchestrate affairs, leaving no person useless and nothing wasted.

Finally, the true meaning of Wuwei (non-action) is clarified: it is not passive inability to act or unresponsiveness like stagnant water or an unyielding grip. Rather, it means not allowing selfish thoughts to interfere with impartial Dao, nor permitting personal desires to distort proper methods. True Wuwei means acting in accordance with natural laws without forced or arbitrary interference.

This passage expounds the Daoist political philosophy of "governing through non-action (Wuwei)" and the way of the sage in engaging with the world.

All actions should follow natural laws, utilizing existing conditions to establish achievements. Just as boats are used on water, sledges on sand, ancient transport carts in mud, and mountain litters in hilly terrain; as waterways are dredged in summer and ponds built in winter; as mountain pools are constructed according to the land's contours—all these exemplify following nature rather than forcing action. The sage feels no shame in humble status, only worrying that the Dao may not prevail; they don't lament their own brief lifespan, but grieve over the people's hardships. The sage maintains a state of empty stillness and non-action, preserving the original simple nature without mingling with external things. "Non-action" doesn't mean being inert like wood or stone, but rather following the inherent nature of things, allowing all beings to achieve their natural fulfillment.

Ancient rulers weren't established to satisfy personal desires, nor did sages ascend the throne for their own pleasure. Because the world contained the strong bullying the weak, the many oppressing the few, the cunning deceiving the honest, and the bold infringing upon the timid—and because people hoarded wisdom unwilling to teach others and accumulated wealth refusing to share—rulers were instituted to provide unified governance. Since one person's wisdom couldn't illuminate all under heaven, the three ducal ministers and nine high officials were appointed to assist; since remote regions were difficult to civilize, feudal lords were enfeoffed to provide guidance. Thus heaven and earth with the four seasons could respond harmoniously, officials would conceal no affairs, the state would miss no benefits, and the people's basic needs—food, clothing, care for the aged, and opportunities for rest—would all be secured.

The emperor functions as the heart of heaven and earth. Vast territories and numerous populations, without sovereign governance, would descend into the law of the jungle. Therefore the Son of Heaven was established and the three ducal ministers appointed to nurture the people like parents. The Book of Changes states that the ruler completes heaven-earth's Dao through equitable resource distribution, assists heaven-earth's operations to protect the people—thus manifesting the heart of heaven and earth.

Ancient sage-kings like Shennong with his haggard face, Yao's emaciated frame, Shun's sun-darkened skin, and Yu's calloused hands and feet; or ministers like Yi Yin who carried his cauldron to meet Tang, Lü Wang who entered Zhou wielding his knife, Baili Xi who was sold multiple times, Guan Zhong who was once bound in ropes; even Confucius whose household chimney never accumulated soot from long use, or Mozi who never lingered long in one place—none acted from desire for wealth or position, but to benefit the world and eliminate the people's harms. From emperor to commoner, no instance exists of anyone attaining abundance without moving their limbs or exerting their mind.

Ancient sages shared the same physical needs as ordinary people - ears to hear, eyes to see, mouths to eat when hungry and drink when thirsty. What set them apart was their inner cultivation. The sages established principles for all people across generations. Those who became sages invariably exhausted their mental efforts to accomplish great deeds, yet never claimed credit for their achievements. This embodies the true realm of sageliness.

Laozi said that the Son of Heaven (the emperor) governs the world by following the Dao (the Way). The foundation of governance lies in holding fast to the Dao, returning to the source, following natural spontaneity, and maintaining a state of empty tranquility. The Dao has no form or appearance - invisible, intangible, boundless and limitless - these are the fundamental laws of the Dao.

Heaven and Earth are like the great parents of humanity. All living beings are born of Heaven and Earth, while the ruler, as leader of the people, nurtures them on behalf of Heaven and Earth, hence called the Son of Heaven. The Son of Heaven treats the people like infants, never depriving them of life's necessities. When this happens, Heaven and Earth respond to the ruler's virtuous power (De), creating mutual resonance - this is the operating principle of the Dao.

Laozi said the Dao itself is perfectly round yet models itself after the square, carries Yin (the feminine principle) on its back while embracing Yang (the masculine principle) in its arms. Its left side is gentle while its right is strong, treading darkness beneath its feet while wearing light upon its head. Though endlessly transforming, it originates from a single root, capable of responding to all situations - this is its mystical nature. The vault of heaven turns endlessly without form; the great earth extends boundlessly without gates. Heaven and Earth nurture all things without fixed form; the earth grows myriad beings beyond measure. All things have moments of being overcome, only the Dao remains undefeated because it has no fixed form. Like the ceaseless turning of sun and moon, like the cyclical change of seasons, like day and night alternating between light and dark - appearing to have form yet being formless, thus it accomplishes all deeds. It gives birth to all things yet remains unaltered by them, therefore it never meets defeat.

The Dao gives birth to Heaven and Earth, which in turn give birth to humanity, like grandfather begetting father and father begetting son. Essence (Jing) and spirit (Shen) interact to create countless forms, yet the root Dao remains one. The Dao has no form, while all things possess form. The true master of form is actually formless; what governs all things remains ungoverned by them - this is the highest state. Those who win through court strategies may be called emperors; those who prevail through mystical transformations may be called true kings. Court strategies model themselves on Heaven's Dao; mystical transformations follow the four seasons. Cultivate virtuous governance within your borders, and distant lands will submit naturally; conquer without battle, and feudal lords will yield willingly. The ancient masters of the Dao, when still, modeled themselves on Heaven and Earth; when moving, followed the sun and moon; their joys and angers resembled seasonal changes; their commands resounded like thunder.

This passage expounds the wisdom of state governance and military strategy. It advocates aligning with natural laws (the "eight winds" symbolize cosmic principles) and not acting against the people's will, instead harnessing their collective strength to overthrow tyranny and eliminate calamities. Those who share common aspirations complement each other, while like-minded individuals support one another. The skilled commander enables soldiers to fight for themselves, whereas the unskilled one forces them to serve the ruler's interests. The former can mobilize the world's power, while the latter cannot command even a single person faithfully.

When sun and moon lose their radiance, eclipses occur; when Yin-Yang falls out of balance, wars erupt inevitably causing harm. The supreme "temple warfare" (referring to victory without battle) resembles ancient sage-kings governing effortlessly through Wuwei (non-action). A ruler who achieves "divine transformation" (governing through De/Virtue) need only discipline his troops to make rebellious tribes submit. Had tyrants like Jie of Xia or Zhou of Shang cultivated their De, how could battlefields like Muye or Mingtiao have witnessed dynastic overthrow through popular revolt? When people rise against oppression, it constitutes not regicide but the removal of public menace—yet tragically, many rulers fail to comprehend this truth.

The text emphasizes governing in accordance with cosmic principles and popular sentiment, with military success lying in inspiring soldiers' autonomous will. True victory comes not through force but moral influence. Tyranny inevitably provokes rebellion, making uprisings that remove oppressors inherently just.