《抱朴子內篇》Vol. 20

The text discusses the crucial importance of finding a genuine master in the Daoist cultivation path to immortality, along with principles for distinguishing true teachers from false ones.

Seeking an authentic master resembles gathering rare treasures: without venturing into the deep waters of Hepu (ancient pearl-harvesting grounds), one cannot obtain the luminous pearl beneath the black dragon's chin; without entering the caverns of Jingshan (famous ancient jade source), one will never find the priceless jade. Similarly, if Dao cultivation lacks encounter with a true enlightened master, practitioners either abandon their efforts midway in vain, or stubbornly follow mediocre teachers to ultimately achieve nothing.

Even ordinary worldly affairs cannot be mastered without guidance—how much more so the path of immortals and sages? Not even the sages attained awakening through solitary realization. Dao cultivation absolutely requires profound and erudite masters to guide the way, just as crossing oceans demands sufficient water provisions, or felling trees in Changzhou requires proper tools. What tigers and leopards leave uneaten becomes delicacies for wildcats and rats; the wealth discarded by Lord Tao Zhu (Fan Li) remains beyond the reach of impoverished scholars like Yuan Xian and Yan Hui.

Most contemporary seekers encounter shallow-minded teachers—these masters possess limited understanding themselves, and consequently impart even less to disciples. It's like borrowing grain from Bo Yi and Shu Qi (renowned ancient hermits) or begging clothes from Qian Lou (famous ancient ascetic)—at best receiving acorns and tattered cloth, never fine wine, sumptuous feasts, or fox-fur robes. Some cling to mediocre masters their entire lives without awakening; others meet genuine teachers yet fail to study diligently—these are irreparable losses.

Distinguishing true masters from false proves extraordinarily difficult, like mistaking white stones for jade or taking cunning men for sages. Authentic adepts often conceal their depths, while imposters flaunt their wares. Only those with exceptional discernment can tell the difference. Those persisting with inferior teachers aren't consciously choosing mediocrity—they genuinely believe their masters sufficient. Likewise, those neglecting true masters don't knowingly reject excellence—they simply fail to recognize the teacher's extraordinary qualities.

(Note: The term "essential Dao" [要道] refers to core cultivation secrets, though the original text breaks off here, presumably continuing with further discussion on identifying true masters and key practice principles.)

Those who have truly attained the Dao harbor no covetous desires for worldly possessions, nor do they pursue empty fame. How could they possibly boast of themselves among the vulgar crowd? Yet shallow individuals often revel in self-aggrandizement, adorning their lies with stern expressions and deliberately mysterious tones, specifically aiming to deceive novice practitioners of the Dao. They dare to make grand claims, declaring they have ascended immortal mountains and met celestial beings. At first hearing, people struggle to discern truth from falsehood, and few bother to verify these fabrications.

In the past, I frequently encountered wandering Daoists who frequented the doors of the powerful, instructing their followers to fabricate lofty reputations for them, falsely claiming to be four or five hundred years old. When questioned about their age, they would feign deafness, smiling evasively and saying, "Perhaps eighty or ninety," only to later boast of having fasted for fifty years on Huayin Mountain, cultivated for forty years on Mount Song's Shaoshi Peak, secluded themselves for sixty years on Mount Tai, and even practiced alongside someone for fifty years on Mount Ji. They spread these tales far and wide, hoping people would calculate and believe they truly lived for centuries. Consequently, the superstitious would gather at their doors like swirling smoke.

There are also practitioners who occasionally gain some spiritual abilities—seeing ghosts and deities, or slightly predicting future or past events—yet they cannot truly alter human fortunes or misfortunes, much like divination stalks and turtle shells. Ordinary people, witnessing minor marvels, hail them as divine beings, assuming they possess omniscience. Others excel at drawing talismans (fulu) and chanting incantations, effectively treating ailments caused by evil influences, yet they may not comprehend the path to longevity. Some dabble in heterodox methods to perceive ghosts and spirits, but these practices offer no aid in prolonging life. When questioned about the true essence of the Golden Elixir (jindan) and the Great Dao, they fall silent. Upon careful scrutiny, most of these individuals are revealed as charlatans swindling the world for wealth, capable of any deceit. Though their methods differ from wall-scaling thieves, their nature is fundamentally the same.

Rather than trusting empty words, it is better to verify with concrete facts. To help later seekers discern the truth, I will cite specific examples of fraud. In the past, there was a man named Gu Qiang who consumed herbal remedies and practiced the arcane arts of Rongcheng Gong (an ancient master of bedroom techniques), the so-called "mysterious and plain methods" (xuan su zhi shu, i.e., sexual cultivation). In his eighties, he remained sharp-eared and clear-eyed, showing little sign of aging. People at the time called him an immortal or the "Thousand-Year Elder." When the Governor of Yangzhou, Inspector Ji, heard of him, he sent envoys to summon and test his authenticity.

This passage records the extraordinary words and deeds of a mysterious figure (likely a Daoist practitioner or fangshi) who claimed to have lived for four thousand years. He asserted having personally witnessed ancient sage-kings like Yao, Shun, Yu, and Tang, providing detailed descriptions of their physical features:

He stated that Yao's eyebrows weren't the legendary "eight-colored" but rather arched upward resembling the character "八". Yao was tall with magnificent facial hair and remarkable drinking capacity (consuming two hu of wine daily), though the claim of "a thousand vessels" was exaggerated. Despite being a sage, Yao's governance weakened in old age, and later achievements like eliminating the Four Evils and appointing worthy ministers relied entirely on Shun's assistance.

He described Shun as coming from humble origins yet possessing exceptional talent. While Shun farmed at Mount Li, fished at Thunder Marsh, and made pottery by the sea, this observer recognized Shun's imperial bearing (noting his double-pupiled eyes) and often encouraged him: "The Fire Phase's virtue nears its end while Earth Phase's virtue shall rise—who but you could inherit Heaven's mandate?" When Shun later received the abdicated throne, it fulfilled his prophecy.

He also mentioned reading the physiognomy of Confucius's mother, predicting she would bear an extraordinary child. Upon birth, Confucius indeed displayed unique features: standing nine chi six cun tall, with a head resembling Yao's, a neck like Gao Yao's, eyebrows akin to Zichan's, though his lower body measured three cun shorter than Yu's. Despite poverty, young Confucius showed exceptional interest in ritual practices, convincing the observer this child would achieve greatness—later fulfilled as Confucius became China's most influential philosopher.

This extraordinary man regularly consumed asparagus root (a Daoist longevity herb), though the text clarifies he never truly mastered the Golden Elixir (Jindan) path of cultivation. Through these marvelous accounts, he attracted numerous followers who competed in presenting him with gifts, creating quite a spectacle.

This passage records several anecdotes about Daoist practitioners. The first tells of someone who often urged me to study the Book of Changes (Yijing), praising it as a remarkable text that even Confucius studied so intensively the leather thongs binding his bamboo slips snapped three times. Later, when Confucius heard about the capture of a qilin (auspicious beast) in the fourteenth year of Duke Ai of Lu's reign, only for it to die, he came to ask me about the omen. I told him this was inauspicious, and upon hearing this, he wept bitterly. Afterwards, he had an ominous dream wishing to see me again, but scorching weather prevented our meeting, and he soon fell ill and passed away.

The second anecdote mentions Emperor Qin Shi Huang's search for the Zhou dynasty's sacred cauldron at Pengcheng. I advised him: "The sacred cauldron is a divine artifact—it appears spontaneously to virtuous rulers (De) but cannot be forcibly obtained by unworthy ones." Initially skeptical, the emperor eventually acknowledged my foresight when the cauldron proved impossible to retrieve.

The text then recounts curious tales from the era of Han Gaozu and Xiang Yu, which people initially dismissed as absurd yet listeners came to believe. It also describes a man named Qiang who received a jade cup from the ancient immortal Master Anqi, only to die later at Huang Zheng's residence in Shouchun. When his coffin was opened a year later, his corpse remained miraculously preserved. Such legendary accounts lacking substance ironically made people more skeptical about genuine immortals.

Finally, it tells of Cai Dan from Wuyuan—obsessed with cultivation but lacking proper guidance—who mindlessly recited Daoist scriptures like the Yellow Court Classic (Huangting Jing) and Central Scripture of Great Clarity (Taiqing Zhongjing), mistaking rote memorization for true practice. His ceaseless chanting exasperated his family, who lamented his wasted resources without progress. Others misguidedly told him enlightenment would come after a thousand recitations, trapping him deeper in shame and delusion with no way out.

These stories collectively illustrate how misguided cultivation—empty reputation without genuine practice—not only misleads individuals but fosters public misconceptions about authentic immortality practices (Xian Dao).

This man abandoned his family estate to pursue immortality, convinced he had attained the Dao (the Way), and retreated into the deep mountains to live in seclusion. Yet he knew nothing of the methods for gathering medicinal herbs or practicing bigu (a Daoist cultivation practice of substituting grains with herbal diets), so he could only survive by selling firewood for meager food and clothing. After three years of this, starving and freezing, his suffering became unbearable. When recognized by acquaintances, he pretended not to know them. Eventually, unable to endure any longer, he slunk back home, emaciated to the point of being barely recognizable.

His family asked him, "Where have you been all this time? Didn’t you achieve immortality?" He lied, saying, "Though I didn’t ascend to heaven, I’ve become an Earth Immortal (a lower-ranking immortal in Daoism). At first, being newly immortal, my rank was low—I had to run errands for senior immortals and slowly work my way up. Earlier, I was tasked with tending dragons for Lord Lao (Laozi), managing several of them, including his finest mount, a five-colored dragon. But I neglected my duties, gambling with other minor immortals, and lost the dragon. Enraged, Lord Lao punished me by sending me to the foot of Mount Kunlun to weed fields—a place overgrown with thorns and strewn with rocks, making the labor excruciating. The sentence was ten years, but thanks to the intercession of immortals like Wo Quanzi and Wang Qiao during their inspection, I was released early."

At first, he boasted about returning from Mount Kunlun, and his relatives, curious about the legendary mountain, pressed him for details. He spun wild tales: "The heavens are unfathomably high, yet when you look up, they seem barely a dozen zhang away. On the mountain grows a grain tree forty-nine chi tall, with ears so large they fill carts. There are trees bearing pearls and jade, sandalwood trees, langgan trees, and green jade trees. Their fruits resemble peaches and plums from our world, but they’re crystalline and hard—you must soak them in jade-well water to soften them. When the wind blows, the branches of the pearl-jade trees clatter together, producing mournful music that moves listeners to tears. Kunlun has four hundred and forty gates, each four li wide, with five cities and twelve towers inside. Below the towers coil green dragons, white tigers, and giant snakes stretching hundreds of li—their fangs as large as three-hundred-hu ships. There are also venomous wasps a zhang long, potent enough to kill elephants. And then there are divine beasts like the lion-pixie..."

This scripture depicts Daoist cosmological visions of the immortal realms and the experiences of cultivation practitioners. It describes thirty-six fierce mythical beasts (such as celestial deer, scorched rams, and bronze-headed iron-browed monsters) whose names, when memorized in full, can ward off evil spirits and malignant creatures from harming humans. Several immortal titles are listed—Headless Master (Wutouzi), Inverted Scenery Lord (Daojingjun), and Gathering Deer Duke (Xilugong)—who guard the gateways to the celestial realms. None may enter without the talismanic commands of Lord Lao (Taishang Laojun).

The text vividly portrays an immortal paradise encircled by five celestial rivers, whose waters are so buoyant that even feathers cannot float and birds cannot fly across—only realized immortals may traverse them. There dwell divine speaking birds and mystical steeds like the Somber Radiance (Youchang), Wren of Dawn (Jiaoliao), Soaring Yellow (Tenghuang), and Auspicious Light (Jiguang)—all immortal mounts that transcend mortality. The author laments his inability to permanently reside in such wondrous realms.

The narrative then recounts the story of cultivator Xiang □du: After ten years of mountain asceticism with his son, he returned home claiming celestial beings had summoned him during his third year, riding dragons to heaven. Yet due to ritual impropriety, he was demoted back to the mortal world—illustrating how immortality requires sustained accumulation of merit. The example of Prince Liu An of Huainan further emphasizes celestial discipline: punished with three years of heavenly kitchen duty for arrogantly calling himself "the Solitary One" (guaren), demonstrating the strict protocols of the immortal bureaucracy.

Finally, the text warns against charlatans appropriating names of ancient adepts (like Bai He who allegedly lived 8,700 years), whose fabrications blur truth and falsehood. Through concrete examples, the passage simultaneously reveals Daoist visions of transcendence while cautioning practitioners to cultivate genuine virtue and discern authentic teachings from deceptive claims.

In Luoyang there lived a Daoist practitioner who possessed profound knowledge and mastered various esoteric arts (Daoist cultivation methods). When people approached him with difficult questions, he could provide immediate answers with such clarity that all doubts were resolved. This Daoist had extraordinary insight, though no one knew his exact age—some said he might have lived nearly a thousand years. Later, he suddenly disappeared without a trace.

Sometime after, a man in Hebei claimed to be Bai He (the aforementioned Daoist). People from near and far flocked to serve him, showering him with wealth and gifts until he became exceedingly rich. When Bai He’s original disciples heard their master had reappeared, they joyfully went to pay their respects, only to discover the man was an impostor. The fraud eventually fled.

The Confucian classics—the Five Classics and Four Books—are like straw dogs (ceremonial straw figures discarded after rituals), mere remnants of the past. The so-called footprints of sages are like traces left by feet, but the traces are not the feet themselves; books are written by sages, but books are not the sages. Yet Confucian scholars travel thousands of miles with their bookcases in search of teachers. How much more should one diligently seek instruction in the Dao of immortality (the Daoist pursuit of eternal life), which the Perfected Ones (immortal beings who have attained the Dao) truly value? However, one must carefully discern truth from falsehood.

I fear that fraudsters like Gu Qiang, Cai Dan, Xiang □, and Bai He will continue to appear in the world. Thus, I hope that those sincerely devoted to cultivating the Dao, upon reading this book, will gain some ability to distinguish truth from falsehood. Additionally, the Daoist scriptures state that the pupils of immortals are square-shaped. The Bai Zhongli I once met in Luoyang indeed had square pupils—a truly extraordinary characteristic.