《還丹至藥篇》

In my youth, I served in military affairs with a solitary disposition until I chanced upon like-minded companions who introduced me to alchemical practices. For twenty years I persisted in cultivation, yet remained shackled by worldly attachments—coveting fame and profit-seeking methods—never grasping the essential secrets of the Golden Elixir (Jindan). In the end, I achieved nothing and strayed far from the path. Only later did I realize that the "Eight Minerals" (common alchemical ingredients) could never lead one to immortality, and the "Five Metals" (gold, silver, copper, iron, tin) were merely ordinary substances. Though my efforts bore no fruit, I harbor no resentment, knowing full well I failed to penetrate the profound celestial mysteries.

During a time of great crisis, I was fortunate to encounter an enlightened master who, moved by my sincerity, imparted oral teachings. He demanded a sacred oath forbidding disclosure of these secrets to the unworthy. Following his instructions, I witnessed miraculous effects with my own eyes—truly wondrous and profound. Yet sudden realization brought both awe and trepidation: first, fear that my practice remained insufficient; second, awareness of my meager blessings and shallow destiny. Surveying past seekers of the Dao, most were nobles or scholars, yet few attained genuine accomplishment. Thus I understood that spiritual achievement cares not for social status.

By rare fortune, I received an immortal formula, comprehending the true nature of "genuine lead and mercury" (Neidan terms for the refined essence of Jing, Qi, and Shen) and mastering the subtle interplay of "true water and fire" (pivotal elements in internal alchemy). The secrets of "yellow sprouts" (signs of nascent elixir formation) became clear, and the arcane principles of "autumnal stone" (another name for the Golden Elixir) lay fully revealed. Such an opportunity arises but once in ten thousand. Hence I reformed my ways, devoting myself wholly to the Dao—forsaking luxury, finding peace in coarse hemp robes. Daily, I accumulated virtue through good deeds and nurtured my nature through self-cultivation.

In quiet moments, I reflect on fellow seekers: many exhaust their spirits in vain, mistaking serpents for dragons (symbolizing the confusion of mundane substances with elixirs), squandering resources while ignorant of lead and mercury’s true meaning, idly discussing transmutation. Only when the Eight Minerals are depleted and the Five Metals ruined do they recognize their futility. Now I record these humble insights to encourage kindred practitioners: the Great Medicine (Golden Elixir) truly exists, but demands dual cultivation of inner and outer practice, with heart and speech aligned. Fear no hardship—seek personal instruction from the accomplished. I compose these ten verses to share with fellow travelers, hoping we may transcend the dusty world and ascend together to the immortal realms.

(Note: This preface by Wuxuanzi Xianzhi to The Chapter on the Ultimate Medicine of Reverted Elixir recounts his journey from delusion to awakening, emphasizing that Daoist practice requires genuine cultivation—not vain pursuit of illusions.)

This scripture recounts a Daoist practitioner's decades-long spiritual journey in modern terms:

For twenty years I was obsessed with alchemical arts, until I finally discovered "white mercury" (the essence of quicksilver) in the furnace flames and glimpsed "lead-silver" (alchemical ingredients) in water. Only then did I realize my lifelong pursuit wasn't in vain, suddenly awakening to the illusory nature of the physical body. Daily I burned incense in reverence to the Jade Emperor (supreme Daoist deity), ashamed like a foot soldier barging into the celestial gates—never expecting light could emerge from darkness.

Through the generative and controlling cycles of the Five Phases, I comprehended how the "dragon and tiger" (symbols of Yin and Yang Qi) mutually transform. North-south orientations and concepts of being/nonbeing became inverted—only kindred spirits could fathom such mysteries. The true Dao manifests naturally; even mortal eyes can perceive the Dantian (energy center), as divine spirits silently guide my understanding through sacred texts.

"Yellow sprouts" (embryonic elixir) appeared in the furnace—the perfected pill now rests in my palm. Though my mind transcends worldly dust, my body remains earthbound, viewing all mundane affairs with detachment. Studying the Zhouyi Cantongqi revealed that true "yellow sprouts" exist within the human realm, yet deluded people search everywhere in vain. The cyclical interaction of four substances forms the foundation, but Yin-Yang harmony is key. As the "river chariot" (internal Qi circulation) gradually transforms my constitution, the forms of the azure dragon and white tiger (Yin-Yang energies within) likewise shift.

Upon realizing "true lead" (primordial Qi), I grew fearful—concerned my mortal frame might profane the divine. Recognizing my shallow roots, I've since cherished water and earth (alchemical materials) more, abandoning lust for gold and jade. When the alchemical cauldron is complete, I'll ascend Mount Chicheng (Daoist immortal mountain) with the elixir.

They say the immortal elixir confers transcendence, yet while seekers are countless as hairs on an ox, those attaining the Dao are rare as phoenix feathers. Most only know to refine the "four yellows and eight minerals" (common mineral drugs), oblivious to the true nature of the "dragon and tiger." Burying themselves in texts for thirty years until white-haired, they still fail to recognize "true lead."

Through all ages, multitudes have sought the immortal path—its profundity is extreme. Just as the fiery south corresponds to summer and watery north to autumn. Bitter cultivation brings no insight; desiring focused practice, they know not where to begin. Searching the world's edge, the true Dao remains elusive—gray-haired before attainment.

The divine elixir's mystery transcends mortal wisdom; even sages harbor doubts. The arcana of creation from nothingness defies description—like seeking fire in snowdrifts.

This scripture reveals the profound mysteries and arduous challenges of refining the "Reverted Elixir" (huandan), the supreme alchemical medicine in Daoism.

First, it states that this supreme mystery is so profound that even sages struggle to fully comprehend it. The reason these immortal classics have remained concealed for so long is the fear of disclosing celestial secrets. The path to the Reverted Elixir is vast and unfathomable—ordinary people may not encounter it even across countless lifetimes. Even if one obtains the secret method, it must be guarded carefully, not treated like common gold or silver that can be casually handled.

The scripture uses metaphors to illustrate the elixir’s miraculous power: once refined, a swallow or sparrow that consumes it may transform into a phoenix, while a snake or fish that ingests it could become a true dragon. Such extraordinary efficacy cannot be conveyed in words, let alone explained to the ignorant using ordinary language.

One must understand that the true perfection of the Reverted Elixir is achieved only through immense difficulty. People in this world only dabble in minor techniques—who would devote themselves to mastering the Great Reverted Elixir? They rejoice at the mention of gold and silver but dismiss talk of lead and mercury (essential alchemical ingredients) as mere fantasy. Thus, they squander countless opportunities and find their hair turning white before even reaching fifty.

The passage emphasizes four key points:

1. The Reverted Elixir is a supreme secret.

2. Its cultivation demands the highest wisdom.

3. Ordinary people are easily deceived by superficial appearances.

4. Missing the opportunity leads to exhausting one’s lifespan.

Alchemy is not mere material transformation—it is a spiritual process requiring profound cultivation.