《抱朴子內篇》Vol. 6

Ge Hong (Baopuzi) said: I have observed that those who share the same Dao (the Way) can trust each other without speaking, while those on different paths will remain suspicious even when given sincere advice. Just as in daily life, people often fail to distinguish priorities or discern right from wrong even in trivial matters right before their eyes—how much less can they comprehend truths beyond worldly understanding or fathom the profound mysteries of the ultimate reality? This kind of ridicule from the world has existed since ancient times; it is by no means unique to our era.

The truly wise can perceive even the darkest corners and most minute objects with perfect clarity, while those lacking wisdom remain blind to things as obvious as the sun and moon or as towering as mountains and peaks. The sagely figures of the Mystic Gate (referring to the revered Daoist immortals), such as the Yellow Emperor and Laozi, relied on their profound insight and unique wisdom to unveil secret scriptures in sacred mountains and receive cultivation classics from divine beings. Free from worldly attachments, they soared beyond the Nine Heavens—their steadfastness unmatched by metal or stone, their longevity surpassing that of tortoises and cranes.

I pity those who aspire to cultivation but lack guidance, so I have explicitly recorded these methods: small efforts yield small gains, while great practice brings great results. Yet narrow-minded people cling stubbornly to their biases, like those who eat bitter herbs without knowing the sweetness of honey or drink cheap wine without recognizing the richness of fine liquor. They claim to cherish life but understand nothing of nourishing vitality; they fear death yet refuse to believe in methods of longevity. They know overindulgence brings illness but cannot restrain their gluttony; they recognize that excessive desires harm the body but fail to sever their attachments. Even if I say immortality is attainable, how could they ever believe me?

Some object: "You possess no extraordinary physical traits, nor have you lived as long as the legendary immortals Anqi Sheng or Pengzu. You’ve never seen a divine being or heard miraculous tales—how can you be so certain that eternal life is achievable or that self-cultivation has a basis? If you claim this as your unique mystical insight, it’s hardly convincing. It’s like a beggar in tattered clothes lecturing on how to amass wealth—bound to invite ridicule."

Ge Hong responds: Ordinary people always measure the Dao of Heaven by their own limitations, like peering at the sky through a narrow tube or pointing at the earth with an awl—their vision is naturally constrained. Those who have truly attained the Dao transcend physical form, either concealing themselves or transforming at will. How could such wondrous states be easily witnessed by common folk? Cultivation is like sowing seeds—each person’s harvest differs based on their roots—but the key lies in persevering with the correct methods.

This passage records Ge Hong's debate on the path of immortality cultivation in Inner Chapters of the Master Who Embraces Simplicity. When challenged about the existence of immortals, Ge Hong responds with vivid analogies: just as small fish swimming in shallow waters assume no vast oceans exist, or insects curled inside a fruit pit believe the world is no larger, those who've never witnessed broader horizons naturally struggle to accept the reality of divine beings.

Ge Hong explains that once adepts attain the Dao (the Way), they ascend to celestial realms—a state beyond ordinary perception and comprehension. People often cling stubbornly to limited perspectives, trusting only their narrow understanding. When his interlocutor admits belief in immortals but doubts personal attainment, Ge Hong emphasizes gradual progression in cultivation: from shallow to profound, simple to difficult. Like trees needing deep roots to grow tall or rivers requiring abundant sources to flow far, spiritual cultivation demands foundational work.

He highlights three essentials for immortality practice: accumulating virtuous deeds and hidden De (Virtue/Power) to move divine beings, sincerely seeking guidance from teachers and companions, and steadily building skill through practical cultivation. Though refining the Nine-Cycle Golden Elixir (Jindan) and consuming golden liquor represent supreme methods, their tremendous costs preclude swift success. The immediate priorities should be nurturing Jing-Qi (essence and vital energy) to prolong life, supplementing with common elixirs for longevity, and mastering basic ritual techniques to ward off misfortunes.

The path of cultivation requires gradual progress from the superficial to the profound. Some ask: With the multitude of cultivation methods available, it's indeed difficult to master them all. Apart from refining the Golden Elixir (Jindan, the highest Daoist practice), which other methods are worth practicing?

Ge Hong (Baopuzi) replied: Before one attains the supreme path of the Golden Elixir, other minor arts should not be neglected. Various cultivation methods work synergistically to achieve longevity, just as a ruler governing a nation requires both civil administration and military defense, with rituals and laws being equally indispensable. It resembles a craftsman building a chariot—the shafts, wheel rims, axles, and pins are all essential components. The arts of cultivation include internal methods for nurturing body and spirit (Shen) to prolong life and prevent illness, and external methods to ward off evil influences and avoid disasters. This is like playing the zither—one cannot produce complete music with a single string, nor can armor protect against swords with just one plate—for complete music requires the harmony of five tones, and full-body protection demands a complete suit of armor.

Those who cultivate health and the Dao should be broadly learned while grasping the essentials, as specializing in only one method is insufficient. Nowadays, some practitioners cling stubbornly to their partial views: those skilled in bedroom arts (Fangzhong Shu, the art of Yin-Yang harmony) claim theirs is the only path to transcendence; masters of breathing techniques (Tuna) declare that Qi circulation alone ensures longevity; experts in Daoyin (guided exercises) believe mere physical training prevents aging; while herbal specialists insist that medicinal formulas suffice for immortality. Failed cultivation often stems from such one-sidedness. Those with limited understanding occasionally discover one method and deem it sufficient, while others who haven't found the true path may obtain good techniques yet greedily pursue more, wasting time with indecisive practice—both attitudes are mistaken.

There are also those naturally dull-witted who venture recklessly into deep mountains with scant knowledge. When attacked by venomous creatures or fierce beasts, they feel ashamed to retreat, only to be devoured by tigers or wolves, harmed by mountain spirits (Shanjing) and ghosts, starved (lacking the art of grain avoidance/Bigu), or frozen (without cold-resistance techniques). Isn't it foolish to perish in mountain valleys? Blindly seeking knowledge is inferior to finding an enlightened teacher. Yet if the master themselves has narrow understanding and refuses full transmission—even advising disciples that "cultivation requires little learning"—such teaching is wrong. Unless one has mastered the Golden Elixir's essence, other methods remain necessary.

(Note: This passage primarily critiques three cultivation pitfalls: rigid adherence to single techniques, greedy accumulation without focus, and reckless adventurism, emphasizing the need for systematic methodology and proper guidance.)

This passage discusses how Daoist practitioners should value various practical minor arts and not focus solely on lofty, difficult-to-attain goals. It's like managing a household: if one claims not to need other supplies, it must be because they already possess sufficient gold and jewels. Without such wealth, how can one avoid extensively cultivating crops and storing abundant fruits and vegetables?

The same principle applies to Daoist cultivation. Techniques like grain-abstinence (Bigu), weapon-avoidance, ghost-expelling arts, poison-resisting incantations, medical treatments for various diseases, methods for preventing wild beasts from harming people in mountains, skills for crossing waters without harm from flood dragons, techniques for facing epidemics fearlessly, and concealment arts during emergencies—these may seem minor but are essential skills to master. How much more important then are the fundamental principles of Daoist cultivation—how can one neglect to understand them?

Someone asked: "For those seeking to cultivate the Way of longevity, what are the most crucial prohibitions?" Baopuzi (Ge Hong) replied: The most critical prohibition is to avoid harming or depleting oneself. According to classics like the Yi Neijie, Chisongzi Jing, and Hetu Jiming Fu, there are deities in heaven and earth specifically recording human transgressions, who reduce a person's lifespan ("Suan" being the Daoist unit for calculating lifespan) based on the severity of their offenses. Reduction in lifespan leads to poverty, illness, and continuous misfortunes; when one's lifespan is completely deducted, death follows. There are hundreds of lifespan-reducing offenses, which we won't enumerate here.

Furthermore, within the human body reside the "Three Corpses" (San Shi, also called Three Worms or Three Pengs in Daoism—three mischievous spirits). Though formless and immaterial, they are actually spirit-like entities. These Three Corpses constantly desire a person's early death so they can become free-wandering ghosts and enjoy sacrificial offerings. Every Gengshen day (the origin of Daoism's "Guarding Gengshen" fasting day), the Three Corpses ascend to heaven to report a person's faults to the Director of Fate (the deity governing lifespan). On the last night of each month, the Kitchen God also ascends to report human transgressions. Major offenses reduce a "Ji" (one Ji equals three hundred days of lifespan), while minor faults reduce a "Suan" (one Suan equals three days or one day of lifespan).

The author admits he isn't entirely certain about the veracity of these claims, as the Dao of heaven is profound and matters of spirits are difficult to verify. However, he cites historical examples like Lord Jian of Zhao and Duke Mu of Qin personally receiving golden edicts and talismanic mandates from the Heavenly Emperor, proving that deities truly exist. Even mountains, rivers, plants, wells, stoves, and ponds possess spiritual consciousness—how much more so the all-encompassing heaven and earth? Logically, heaven and earth should naturally have divine beings; where there are deities, there should be rewards for good and punishments for evil. It's just that the operations of heaven and earth are vast and lenient—retribution doesn't appear immediately like a triggered mechanism.

Finally, it emphasizes that upon examining various Daoist precept scriptures, none fail to stress that those seeking longevity must...

This scripture elucidates the moral principles essential for cultivating immortality through Daoist practice. Those who aspire to attain immortality must accumulate virtuous deeds and establish merit, embodying compassion for all beings—extending benevolence even to insects. They should rejoice in others' good fortune, grieve for their suffering, promptly aid those in urgent need, and assist the impoverished. In conduct, they must refrain from harming life; in speech, avoid sowing discord. They should celebrate others' gains as their own and mourn others' losses as personal misfortunes. They must neither boast nor envy those who surpass them, neither flatter nor scheme in secret. Only by fulfilling these standards can one be considered virtuous, worthy of heavenly blessings, successful in endeavors, and hopeful in the pursuit of immortality.

Conversely, those who despise goodness and delight in killing, who speak one way while acting another, who feign compliance while harboring deceit, who reject the upright and mistreat subordinates, who deceive superiors and betray their duties, who remain ungrateful for kindness, who manipulate laws and accept bribes, who indulge evil and persecute the innocent, who exploit public office for private gain, who punish the blameless, who ruin families, who seize others' property, who injure others physically, who usurp positions, who suppress the worthy, who slay those who surrender, who sage immortals and harm Daoist practitioners, who shoot down birds, who disembowel pregnant creatures, who destroy eggs, who hunt and set fires in spring and summer, who revile deities, who incite others to wrongdoing, who conceal others' virtues, who harm others for personal benefit, who steal credit, who sabotage others' good deeds, who seize others' cherished possessions, who estrange kin, who humiliate others to triumph, who repay debts inadequately, who set fires or divert waters to harm others, who coerce the weak, who pass off inferior goods as genuine, who plunder and extort, who enrich themselves through robbery, who act unjustly, who indulge in debauchery, who oppress the orphaned and widowed, who keep lost property for themselves, who deceive and swindle, who relish exposing others' secrets, who highlight others' flaws, who curse heaven and earth, who break oaths, who borrow without returning, who default on debts, who are insatiably greedy, who reject loyal and honest counsel, who defy superiors' orders, who disrespect teachers, who mock others' virtuous acts, who ruin crops, who damage others' tools, who impoverish others, who serve unclean food and drink, who use false weights and measures, who counterfeit goods, who profit through deceit, who lure others into surrendering property, who step over wells and stoves (sacred to Daoist deities), who sing on the last day of the lunar month or weep on the first (considered inauspicious in Daoism)—all such acts constitute transgressions. For each offense, the Director of Destinies (the deity overseeing human lifespans) deducts a corresponding measure of longevity. When one's allotted lifespan is exhausted, death follows. Even harboring evil thoughts without acting upon them incurs deductions. If one harms others through wicked deeds, even if death comes naturally before the lifespan's end, calamity will befall their descendants. Those who seize others' wealth by force will find the Director of Destinies assessing the debts against their spouses, children, and household, compelling them to atone for the sins.

This passage expounds the principle of karmic retribution. Those who commit evil deeds, even if not immediately punished, will ultimately face calamity. For instance, those who kill are like blades turned against each other; those who seize unrighteous wealth are like eating rotten meat to satisfy hunger or drinking poisoned wine to quench thirst—though temporarily gratified, they inevitably court self-destruction.

Those who repent after committing misdeeds can atone through virtuous acts: those who have killed must save lives, those who have stolen must aid the poor, and those who have wronged others must recommend worthy individuals. The good deeds must outweigh the original wrongdoing twofold to transform misfortune into blessing. Those who completely abstain from evil naturally prolong their lifespan and progress faster in Daoist cultivation.

Heaven observes with perfect clarity—virtue inevitably begets reward. Take Yang Gong, whose lifelong accumulation of virtue earned him celestial-bestowed gold in old age; Cai Shun, whose filial piety moved the gods; or Guo Ju, who nearly killed his son to feed his mother yet received iron-sealed commendation. However, practicing virtue is hard while committing evil is easy. Foolish people, seeing some outwardly virtuous individuals unrewarded, often doubt Heaven's justice. In truth, those with mere reputation may lack genuine virtue, and those praised openly may still harbor hidden transgressions.

Someone asked: "In these troubled times with rampant banditry, how can one protect oneself before achieving Daoist attainment?" Ge Hong (the Baopuzi) advised: On specific days, take soil from the Liugui (Six Gui) direction, mix it with hundred-leaf incense grass, and apply it to doorways. Alternatively, blend soil from the south gate of the marketplace, Suipo (Year Breaker) soil, and Yuejian (Monthly Builder) soil to form clay figurines, placing them in the Vermilion Bird (southern) direction to ward off bandits.

(Note: Terms like "Liugui," "Suipo," "Yuejian," and "Vermilion Bird" belong to Daoist ritual terminology, involving ancient methods of date selection and directional divination.)

This passage discusses several important methods and mystical realms in Daoist cultivation. When Ge Hong (Baopuzi) responds to his disciple's questions, he first explains the concept of "land of life" (shengdi): in times of crisis, one can take refuge in such places, which exist everywhere from the entire world down to a single room. Quoting the classics, he states that even within a horse-drawn carriage there are distinctions between life and death, let alone within a room.

When asked about the legendary "Two Mountains," Ge Hong clarifies these are not famous peaks like Mount Hua, Huo, Song, or Tai. The first is the "Mountain of Supreme Origin" (Taiyuan zhi shan) — difficult to comprehend yet easy to find, belonging neither to heaven nor earth. Its perilous cliffs feature a jade well with perpetual spring water, celestial palaces housing various immortals, precious mysterious mushrooms (xuanzhi) and vermilion trees, along with sweet springs (liquan) that restore youth. The second is the "Mountain of Long Valleys" (Changgu zhi shan), shrouded in clouds and mist, containing golden ponds and purple chambers. Ordinary people meeting sudden death upon approach, while cultivators ascending it may gather and consume Solomon's Seal (huangjing, an immortal herb) to achieve ascension.

Regarding the secret methods for perfected beings (zhenren) to refine their physical form, Ge Hong describes this as profound knowledge. He illustrates the Dantian cultivation process: below the "Primordial Azure" (shiqing, referring to the lower Dantian), the sun and moon (yin-yang) rise together, forming an orange-hued inner elixir (neidan) the size of a pellet, sweet as honey. Practitioners must guard this elixir from loss, allowing pure white Qi to ascend through the "Mysterious Pass" (youguan, a vital acupoint), ultimately forming a radiant inner elixir at the Gate of Life (mingmen, Dantian region), granting immunity to ghosts and weapons.

Finally, regarding bedroom arts (fangzhong shu, ancient health cultivation methods), mastery enables solitary immortality attainment while dispelling calamities.

This passage addresses prevalent superstitions and misconceptions surrounding sexual cultivation techniques (ancient Daoist practices for health through sexuality). Ge Hong (Daoist name Baopuzi) first criticizes shamanistic texts that exaggerate claims—promising official promotions, wealth, or miraculous blessings through certain rituals—exposing these as fraudulent schemes devised by charlatans for profit.

He explains that the art of harmonizing Yin-Yang (referring to sexual cultivation) can at most cure minor ailments and prevent the depletion of primordial Qi, but it absolutely cannot confer immortality or alter destiny. Complete sexual abstinence leads to illness, yet unrestrained indulgence without moderation shortens life. True masters of these arts achieve health benefits like "restraining the runaway horse to nourish the brain" (preserving Jing-essence through specific methods) and "returning the Yin elixir to crimson intestines" (recovering prenatal Qi through cultivation), maintaining youthful appearance and attaining natural longevity.

Ge Hong specifically corrects a common misunderstanding: some claim the Yellow Emperor achieved ascension by coupling with 1,200 women, when in truth he ascended astride a dragon only after successfully refining the Nine-Cycle Golden Elixir at Cauldron Lake in Mount Jing. Those women were merely attendants, not the cause of his immortality. He stresses that consuming tonics or offering triple-livestock sacrifices (oxen, sheep, pigs) without proper sexual cultivation methods still fails to prolong life.

Regarding techniques, Ge Hong clarifies the essence lies not in the number of partners but in mastering core principles. The methods transmitted by Pengzu (the legendary 800-year-old longevity master) contain the most essential teachings, while other convoluted approaches prove impractical. He particularly warns that improper practice with one or two women without understanding the principles may cause sudden death. The conclusion emphasizes: even consuming countless medicines proves futile for longevity without these oral formulas and mental techniques.