《峴泉集》Vol. 3

At the foot of Mount Xiang, where the mountain ranges stretch for dozens of miles with undulating ridges, the varying depths and distances of the terrain create secluded grotto sanctuaries (Daoist cultivation sites) wherever spiritual energy gathers. Among them, Xiaoling Ridge is the most tranquil. Just a few dozen steps south of the ridge lies Yuyuan, where dense forests and winding streams produce jade-like murmuring waters, with secluded springs and rocks enhancing its sublime beauty.

Less than half a li further stands Peng Mountain, the hermitage of the locally revered recluse Zhang Ruyu. Enchanted by the scenery, he often shared it with friends, hence naming it "Companion Mountain." In the Xinyou year of the Hongwu era (1381), he cleared the weeds here and built several thatched huts, enclosing them with bamboo fences to form a small courtyard. Bamboo and trees cast shade on either side, while the babbling brook provided a soothing soundtrack.

In the autumn of the Dingmao year (1387), as Ruyu and I returned from visiting Longjing and Mount Xiang, he pointed to his thatched dwelling and said, "This is my 'Mosquito Lash Abode.'" He explained: In his youth while reading the Liezi, he encountered the Daoist sage Lao Shangshi's account of minuscule jiaoming insects gathering and moving upon a mosquito's eyelash without the mosquito noticing. That such tiny creatures could dwell there showed that even a mosquito's lash could accommodate life forms tinier than itself.

In his ambitious youth, he saw the Xiang River and vast oceans as mere puddles, towering peaks as handfuls of earth—yearning to wander formless realms and traverse boundless spaces in carefree liberation. Back then, he understood nothing of how the myriad beings of heaven and earth arose and perished, only following what was spontaneous. Now in old age, he finds joy in retreating to marshy wilds, wearing coarse cloth, eating bean meals, and dwelling in thatch. Compared to his former grand aspirations, he's become content with the minute. If such grand ambitions could be relinquished, how much more so the trivial?

Living in this "Mosquito Lash Abode" for untold years, he's forgotten his form, forgotten external things—no longer noticing the coarse clothes on his back, the taste of bean meals in his mouth, or the thatch sheltering him from storms. Maintaining only the faintest breath, he scarcely knows whether he truly resides on a mosquito's lash, nor whether a mosquito's lash could possibly contain him.

Hearing this, I stood bewildered, at a loss for response. We then strolled together beneath a stinking toon tree, sitting by its gnarled roots. Holding a fragmentary bamboo slip, I sighed: "I've heard the ancients would rather pluck a single hair from their body to benefit all under heaven..."

This passage actually contains two distinct sections, each conveying core Daoist concepts in modern language:

The first section discusses Daoist philosophy of engagement with the world. True masters don't deliberately dispense trivial favors to people, much like Laozi (Dan) and Yin Xi—these realized beings appear to offer no tangible benefits to ordinary people. A mosquito's leg hair has no effect on human skin, remaining completely imperceptible—this illustrates how Dao-realized individuals regard worldly gains. Conversely, when practitioners attain the state of "mental stillness and physical transcendence," perceiving through Shen (spirit) and listening via Qi (vital energy), they discern realities invisible to ordinary perception with thunderclap clarity. This formless Dao seems to contribute nothing concrete to the world, yet its influence runs profoundly deep.

The second section depicts the serene environment of Dongxuan Courtyard in the Shangqing Temple. Nestled deep within the Daoist complex and established by Master Liu Yuansheng, this courtyard is embraced by natural landscapes like Elephant Mountain and Qionglintai Platform, alongside cultivation sites including the Thunder Altar and Alchemy Well (Danjing). Daoist Master Hao Shangjiong created here a meditation space called "Jingfu Mountain Retreat." Far from worldly clamor, its doors and windows frame exquisite mountain vistas, with sunlight filtering through trees to create unique plays of shadow and illumination—exceptionally conducive to focused cultivation. Hao Shangjiong neither sought pleasure in ornamental water features nor concerned himself with mundane affairs, wholly devoted to "Jingfu" (returning to original purity) practice—an attitude worthy of admiration.

Both sections embody the core Daoist principle of Wuwei (non-action): the first illustrates how the formless Dao nourishes all things, while the second demonstrates how practitioners should transcend material attachments to return to fundamental authenticity.

This scripture primarily explores the philosophical relationship between "stillness" (静) and "return" (复), as well as how to return to one's original nature through maintaining stillness. The text correlates Daoist cultivation with Confucian thought, emphasizing the importance of stillness practice.

It first explains that "stillness" is the path to returning to the source. All movement in creation has its root, just as a swinging door cannot move without its hinge ("the closed is the root of the open"). In the Book of Changes, the Fu hexagram (复卦) symbolizes the nascent Yang energy, while the Daoist practitioner's "return" means reverting to the truth of utmost stillness. All phenomena ultimately return to their origin, just as winter stores vital Qi (气) and night brings restorative peace.

Yet ordinary people struggle to maintain inner tranquility, their minds constantly disturbed by distracting thoughts and desires ("ten thousand changes agitate their spiritual chambers"), causing their Shen (神) to scatter. True cultivators should align with the rhythms of heaven and earth, the waxing and waning of Yin-Yang (阴阳), mastering the relationship between movement and stillness. Only by preventing external matters from disturbing their emptiness and desires from clouding their clarity can one reach the state Zhou Dunyi described as "without desire, therefore still."

Two cultivation methods are proposed: first, observing the patterns of celestial and terrestrial changes ("following the waxing and waning of heaven and earth"); second, maintaining absolute mental purity ("embracing profound silence to sever all contamination"). This stillness practice should reach the clarity of the Supreme Void (the cosmic origin) and the placidity of perfectly still water.

The text further notes that Confucianism's "return to sincerity" and Daoism's "return to life" both represent supremely subtle states requiring unity of heaven and human to fully comprehend the nature of things. Just as birds and beasts cannot exist without stillness, nor chariots move without action, nature's shifting winds and clouds, rushing rivers and seas, appearing dragons and serpents—while seemingly chaotic—all follow inherent patterns. Only through perfected cultivation can one attain the marvelous ability to commune with the divine.

Finally, the author recounts his personal background: born into a Confucian scholarly family, possessing pure Qi in youth. Later devoting himself to the study of Xingming (性命, nature and life) philosophy, he sought guidance from mountain hermits, determined to cultivate body and mind. He asserts that true learning requires long accumulation—when cultivation reaches profound depth, one perceives heaven and earth as a single breath, the Six Qi (阴阳风雨晦明) cycling like cart spokes. This realm isn't pursued for empty fame, but represents genuine cultivation achievement.

This passage documents the historical origins of the sacred Daoist site Miaoling Temple and the legendary experiences of Perfected Master Wang Wenqing.

Among China's famous mountains and rivers, the Yangtze River basin has long been revered as an abode of transcendents. During the Jin dynasty, Xu Jingyang (Xu Xun) established Daoist practices in Yuzhang (modern Nanchang), leaving behind numerous miraculous traces. The Song dynasty Perfected Master Wang Wenqing became the living fulfillment of the prophecy about "earth-wandering immortals."

Wang Wenqing, styled Zidao and known by his Daoist name Chonghezi, traced his ancestral roots to Linchuan, Jiangxi before moving to Shengui Ridge in Nanfeng County. His birth was accompanied by extraordinary omens - his mother dreamed of a crimson serpent transforming into black clouds that soared into the heavens. Displaying exceptional intelligence and filial piety from childhood, Wang left home as an adult to pursue the Dao. While lost along the Yangtze River banks, he encountered a mysterious elderly woman who gifted him an extraordinary text containing thunder magic techniques. Later while crossing the river, he met an immortal calling himself the "Fire Master of the Jade Mansion" who imparted secret Daoist methods.

Returning to Junfeng Mountain, Wang devoted himself to practicing the "Great Cavern Wind-Returning and Scenery-Uniting" method - an important cultivation technique of the Shangqing (Highest Clarity) tradition involving visualization and daoyin exercises to enable the spirit's ascension. Legends recount that after achieving mastery, his spirit-shen once ascended to the Jade Capital (Daoism's highest celestial realm) where he met Emperor Huizong of Song. These accounts vividly illustrate the Daoist practitioner's ultimate ideal of uniting with the Dao and ascending to immortal realms.

This passage records the miraculous deeds of Wang Wenqing, a Daoist master of the Song Dynasty known by the honorific title "Master of Subtle Penetration and Transcendent Void." When the emperor dreamed of an immortal official and later discovered it referred to Wang Wenqing, the master was already renowned among Jianghu practitioners yet repeatedly declined imperial summons. He was eventually persuaded to journey to the capital under the escort of Daoist registrar Dong Chongyuan after being discovered curing illnesses in Gaoyou, with Zhenzhou official Jia Gongwang offering generous gifts.

During his audience with the emperor, Wang's responses perfectly matched the imperial dream, earning him the exalted title "Immortal Minister of the Right from the Jade Mansion." His repeated refusals of rewards demonstrated his indifference to fame and wealth. The text documents several supernatural events: curing palace ailments by summoning lightning to strike a white turtle after altar rituals; exterminating fox spirits and a black carp haunting the capital by invoking thunder generals; and advising inner-court zhaijiao (Daoist purification rituals) that brought thunderous hailstorms aiding government troops against Shandong bandits.

Further accounts describe his efficacious rain prayers during droughts and snow invocations protecting wheat crops. Though the court repeatedly bestowed titles like "Golden Gate Feathered Guest" and "Minister of Transcendent Void," along with posthumous honors for his parents, Wang consistently declined rewards. These records reflect both the Song imperial family's veneration of Daoism and the tradition's social function in disaster relief. References to the "Directorate of Destinies" and "Hall of Concentrated Divinity" highlight important altars of the Shenxiao (Divine Empyrean) lineage, while terms like "Registrar" and "Palace Attendant" denote official Daoist positions in the Song bureaucracy.

This passage records the legendary deeds of the renowned Song dynasty Daoist master Lin Lingsu (courtesy name Shichen). The story begins with a rainmaking incident: Yangzhou had suffered continuous heavy rains leading to floods, and officials noticed mud mixed in the rainwater. Through observing celestial phenomena and interpreting the "omen of the azure dog" (a Daoist divination term), Lin warned the imperial court, advising political reforms and military training. When his counsel went unheeded, he requested retirement.

During his retirement, Lin Lingsu met with the 30th Celestial Master (Tianshi) Zhang Xujing and Daoist Liu Hunkang in the capital. He once consulted Celestial Master Xujing about the "method of combining Jia and Geng" (an advanced cultivation technique), earning high praise. Later, when the Jin army invaded and Emperor Qinzong ascended the throne (the first year of Jingkang era, 1126), Lin was permitted to return to Longhu Mountain. Before leaving the capital, he used talismanic incantations (fulu) to cure the demon-possessed woman Feng who had caused disturbances during the Lantern Festival.

After returning to the mountains, Lin devoted himself to spiritual practice, and supernatural disturbances in his dwelling place naturally ceased. Though repeatedly summoned by Emperor Gaozong after the southern migration of the Song court, he consistently declined. On the 23rd day of the eighth month in 1153 (the 23rd year of Shaoxing era), he hosted a farewell banquet for villagers, instructed disciples to observe the northwestern clouds, composed a gatha verse amidst thunder, and then achieved "feathered transformation" (yuhua, the Daoist term for an immortal's departure from this world). At burial, his coffin was remarkably light—a sign of "corpse liberation" (shijie, the Daoist belief that adepts shed their mortal form to become immortals). Later sightings reported his miraculous manifestations at both Longhu Mountain and Sichuan.

Lin Lingsu's legacy of scriptures, talismans (fulu), and ritual secrets (keyi) was transmitted through disciples like the Shangguan family, all demonstrating extraordinary efficacy. Centuries after his death, local prayers to him during droughts, floods, or plagues were consistently answered. In 1332 (the 3rd year of Zhishun era of Yuan dynasty), official Pu Rulin successfully prayed for rain and reported this to the court; Tang Lezhen, a Daoist from Linchuan, also received imperial recognition as "Perfected Lord of Numinous Beneficence" (Linghui Zhenjun) for his rainmaking miracles.

By 1390 (the 23rd year of Hongwu era of Ming dynasty), when the author visited Lin's neglected tomb, he commissioned Daoist Zhang Hui (courtesy name Yanhong) to restore Miaoling Temple, assisted by Yanhong's brother Yanji. Completed in 1394 (the 27th year of Hongwu era), the renovation revived the temple's halls and statues. Originally located at Divine Turtle Ridge, this temple stands as testament to the miraculous legends surrounding this Daoist perfected being (zhenjun) across the Song, Yuan, and Ming dynasties.

The ancestral hall in the southern part of the city had fallen into disrepair over the years, nearly abandoned, so the community resolved to renovate and rename it. Come spring the following year, craftsmen began quarrying stones for construction. Allow me to document this matter thoroughly: The reason miraculous deeds of Daoist immortals (Xianzhen, honorific for realized transcendents) endure through generations without fading lies in their divine nature coexisting with heaven and earth, eternal and ceaseless. Such is the merit and cultivation of a Shichen (high-ranking Daoist master).

It is fitting to establish ancestral halls in local communities to manifest the blessings of these transcendents. Now that we have the fortune to restore this dilapidated shrine, who can say the deities won't descend amidst the drifting clouds and mist? Future generations of villagers will receive even more profound divine protection than before. Those overseeing the hall must handle affairs prudently, maintaining its legacy through prosperity and decline—ensuring its incense fire continues far beyond the longevity of jade palaces and gem-adorned temples (metaphors for Daoist monasteries). Though my writing is crude, I've recorded this event regardless.

Concerning the Zhengyi Xuantan (the Zhengyi school's sacred altar): Daoist scriptures describe thirty-six Dongtian (grotto-heavens) and seventy-two Fudi (blessed lands) as sacred cultivation sites, with our Longhu Mountain counted among them. Its majestic, numinous peaks and harmonious fengshui configuration surpass other mountains, earning renown as the Daoist "Zhu-Si" (analogous to Confucius' teaching ground, here denoting a holy site).

In late Eastern Han, our founding patriarch Celestial Master Zhang (Zhang Daoling, founder of Zhengyi Daoism) received direct transmission from Lord Lao (deified Laozi) through his profound virtue, establishing a lineage that continues unbroken for over a millennium. After Zhenxian Temple was rebuilt as Shangqing Palace during the Chongning era of Song dynasty, it flourished supremely under Yuan rule. Following ancestral tradition, during the Three Yuans festivals (key Daoist observances in the first, seventh, and tenth lunar months), scriptures and registers (Fulu, talismanic texts) are transmitted within the palace. All devotees seeking ordination or prayers for blessings consider this the primary rite. Whether delivering the deceased or aiding the living, ceremonies are conducted by the presiding master according to petitioners' needs. This tradition, passed down generations, draws increasing devotees from all directions.

Though dull by nature, inheriting this teaching during an enlightened age, I've witnessed noble families and commoners alike arriving annually—sometimes journeying a thousand li—to request blessings. Following established custom, we hold three-day Zhaijiao (purification rituals). Participants observe fasting and ablutions, dressing solemnly to venerate the Celestial Emperor. Masters wield feathered ceremonial batons, donning star-embroidered ritual robes, expounding profound Daoist mysteries through choreographed movements. With utmost sincerity and filial devotion, our practice resonates with the Dao like parched land receiving rain or clouds parting to reveal the moon.

The sunlight shines brilliantly yet with solemn dignity, while the gentle breeze carries a refreshing coolness, and dew nourishes all things. The auspicious luan birds and cranes, regarded as propitious omens, soar and dance between heaven and earth; the benevolent winds and colorful clouds, symbols of good fortune, rise and gather near and far. These phenomena appear sometimes in reality, sometimes in dreams, or are foreseen through divination with mugwort (an ancient Daoist practice)—all are manifestations of the spiritual resonance cultivated by practitioners.

The gathering of these auspicious signs and the revelation of prayerful responses all have their precursors. This mystical resonance originates from the divine, and its profound alignment is beyond the comprehension of ordinary arts. Yet the foundation of all this lies in the vast blessings of our dynasty, the merits of our ancestors, and the hidden protection of mountain and river spirits. These forces operate in unseen ways to bring it about—how could it be achieved solely through the efforts of us cultivators?

Fearing that with the passage of time these events might go unrecorded and eventually fade into oblivion, we follow the ancient tradition of inscribing names in official buildings by carving them on stone tablets in the pavilion. The names of the Daoist practitioners are recorded in chronological order, aiming to illuminate the grandeur of this era, not to boast of personal achievements for empty fame in later generations. This also subtly aligns with the profound mysteries of the Dao (the Way), secretly supporting the destiny of the imperial court. Even so, we worry there may be omissions. Upon inquiring with local elders, we learned that earlier records were also inscribed on steles, but they were destroyed in war and never restored—truly lamentable.

Devotees who come from afar to this renowned mountain and its sacred traces should reflect: how many aspire to see the famous peaks of the world yet rarely have the chance, let alone leave their names eternally carved here? Yet the blessings born from a heart inclined toward goodness will surely endure alongside this immortal mountain.

Regarding the records of Fuqing Temple: The grotto-heavens and blessed lands (Dongtian Fudi, Daoist-designated celestial realms) we Daoists speak of are mostly found in the extraordinary landscapes of the southeast. These are not places for ordinary dwellers but the hidden domains of immortals and perfected beings (zhenren). Yushan in Xinzhou, also called Huishan, is named for its abundant jade and radiant mountain hues. Its original temple had long fallen into ruin until Daoist Li Yanze of Huanggu Mountain, in the Renxu year of the Hongwu era (1392)...

At that time, the emperor revitalized Daoism, decreeing the establishment of Daoist offices in prefectures, counties, and districts to oversee practitioners. Li Yanze of the Yousheng Temple on this mountain, skilled in ritual arts, was summoned by the authorities and appointed as the county Daoist registrar (Xiandao Hui, head of the local Daoist administration), tasked with reorganizing local religious affairs. By the autumn of the Bingyin year of the Hongwu era (1396), I...

This passage depicts the scenic landscapes and Daoist architectural complex around Xianquan. It describes how a practitioner (Daohui) discovered an exceptionally beautiful mountain peak south of the stream, which locals identified as Yingu Mountain—anciently called Great King Peak, located about two li from the county town. The mountain rises majestically, with a winding path along its waist where spring water gushes from rock crevices. People have channeled this into a stone well called "Ice Kettle."

To the left lies a stone cave, and a few paces before it stands a rock shaped like a gong-drum that resonates when struck. Nearby, by the Great Yellow Pool, stands Gongcao Mountain, beneath which lies the Dragon Cave. This area has historically produced many notable figures: the residence of Tang Dynasty chancellor Yan Liben lies to the east, while the temple of Chan master Guanxiu stands to the west. The Dongyue Shrine was built to the right of the temple, facing Huaiyu Mountain. To the north rises Sanqing Mountain, its peaks pencil-straight, where legend says the immortal Ge Xuan of the Three Kingdoms period and Minister Li Dexing once cultivated the Dao, and where Jiang Ze, an academician of the Duanming Hall, resided during the Song Dynasty.

The text particularly notes how Daohui spent twenty years (beginning in the Dingmao year) establishing this sacred site—clearing overgrowth and constructing the Sanqing Hall, Dharma Hall, Purple Cloud Pavilion, and other structures, with pines, bamboos, and cypresses planted as natural screens. From the Purple Cloud Pavilion, one overlooks the town’s streets, gazes upon gentle sandbars, meandering rivers, and layered mountain ridges. Wrapped in mist, the place feels adjacent to the cosmos, utterly detached from worldly clamor—truly a realm fit for immortals.

The author recalls that this was originally the site of Fuqing Abbey, built by Han Shilang during the Song Dynasty before falling into ruin. The Gold Sand and Jade Dragon Cave near Huaiyu Mountain marks the source of Jiangdong’s waterways, while the Min River flows eastward—making the geomantic energy exceptionally auspicious. Thus, the Dongyue Shrine is called "the Second Mount Tai." Each visit leaves the author lingering, convinced that Huanggu Mountain’s refreshing serenity rivals any famous shrine, a testament to how the cosmos’ purest qi (vital energy) condenses into such magnificent landscapes.

This passage documents the historical evolution and monastic achievements of two Daoist temples (Cuiwei Guan and Gulin Guan), interpreted in modern terms:

Regarding Gulin Guan (later renamed Cuiwei Guan): The flourishing of Daoist endeavors requires suitable talents to propel them forward. Today the imperial court's regard for Daoism far surpasses previous eras. Though this temple falls under local jurisdiction, it must propagate the profound virtue (De) and spiritual blessings of Daoism to safeguard the imperial foundation. If one can comprehend the true meaning of the Dao (the Way) in these mountain wilds, it would rival dwelling in the legendary immortal realms of Langfeng Xuanyuan (mythical Daoist paradises). Future successors upholding this aspiration would align with Laozi's teaching that "the valley spirit never dies" (from the Daode Jing, describing the eternal stillness of the Dao). The temple administrator Daoist Yan Ze, styled Zixu, descended from prominent Poyang lineage, will return to the mountains this autumn and requested my documentation. I marvel at this landscape's exceptional beauty, truly worthy of record.

Concerning Cuiwei Guan's reconstruction: Daoist Yan Yujing from Fuzhou's Cuiwei Guan brought records written by Jie Wen'an to request my supplementary account. Visiting this spring while paying respects at Nanfeng's Shichen Wang Zhenjun Shrine, I passed Cuiwei Guan and saw fertile fields embraced by winding streams and verdant mountains stretching over ten li, with undulating ridges forming an ideal fengshui site. Historical records locate Yinzhen Mountain at the confluence of Xu River and Ru River (modern Jinxi, Jiangxi). In 742 CE (Tang Tianbao 1), a Daoist built a hermitage here named "Gulin" (Valley Woods). In 1119 (Song Xuanhe 1), it received the imperial plaque "Cuiwei Guan." Abbot Zhou Yingti renovated it in 1325 (Yuan Taiding 2), but by late Yuan it lay in ruins.

During early Ming, local magnate He Houche sponsored Nancheng's Yanxi Guan Daoist Luo Zeming to preside over Yanshou Guan. His disciples Xiong Yiqian and Yan Yujing continued the lineage. In 1373 (Hongwu 6), Yan Yujing officially became an ordained Daoist. Selected as a ritual musician in the Court of Imperial Sacrifices in 1374, he returned after his mother's death, resuming duties in 1375. By 1379 he regained temple residence while his senior brother Xiong Yiqian practiced at Qingzhou's princely estate. In 1384 Yan Yujing was elected to administer Cuiwei Guan through the Daoist Registry. After his master Luo Zeming's ascension (Daoist term for death) in 1389, he conducted grand funeral rites and led disciples Huang Yongsu, Li Yong... in revitalizing the temple.

This passage documents the history and notable figures associated with two Daoist sites.

The first part describes the construction of Yanshou Temple and Cuiwei Temple. A Daoist master oversaw the renovation of halls and corridors, building a pavilion named "Cui Tao" (Emerald Waves) atop the mountain, surrounded by lush pines and bamboo. Later, the temple gained further prestige when Wen'an Gong, a renowned scholar, composed an inscription for it. The author marvels at the region's scenic beauty, noting how Cuiwei Temple thrived from its Tang Dynasty origins through the Song and Yuan periods—a testament to how "auspicious lands nurture extraordinary people." Special mention is made of a Daoist named Yujing, skilled in qin-playing and painting, who played a significant role in the temple's development.

The second part recounts the origins of the Yidu ferry in Nanfeng Prefecture (modern-day Nanfeng, Jiangxi). Located at a crucial land-and-water crossroads, it bustled with merchant vessels. Nearby stood Divine Turtle Ridge, where during the Chongning era of the Song Dynasty, a revered Daoist named Wang Zhenjun (True Lord Wang) practiced self-cultivation before achieving yuhua (羽化, "feathered transformation," the Daoist term for an adept's transcendence). A local scholar named Zou Tiebi first studied under Wang Zhenjun's nephew before receiving direct teachings from the master himself. When the Nanfeng magistrate Wang Zhi became Zou's disciple, a sudden thunderclap erupted during a transmission ritual—Zou declared he was about to ascend to immortality. Though Wang Zhi offered support, Zou, as a wandering yunshui tu (云水徒, "cloud-and-water disciple"), gracefully declined. Later, Wang Zhi relocated an old temple to a new site, naming it Guangmiao Lingguan (广妙灵观, Temple of Vast Marvels and Numinous Power), enshrining Wang Zhenjun. Locals would pray here during droughts, floods, or illnesses.

The text uses terms like shichen (侍宸, "Attendant of the Heavenly Court," an honorific for Song-era Daoist adepts) and yitui (瘞蛻, "burial of the mortal husk," reflecting the Daoist view of death as shedding the physical form). These accounts illuminate the spread of Daoism in Jiangxi during the Song-Yuan period.

This passage documents the construction history of two Daoist structures and the spiritual principles they embody.

The first section recounts the establishment of a "charitable ferry." At the crossing leading to the Zhenjun Shrine (a temple venerating Daoist immortals), both the ferryboat and resting pavilion had been destroyed during the late Yuan dynasty wars. In the spring of the Gengwu year during the Hongwu reign, when the author visited the neglected shrine, he instructed Zhang Hui to organize donations for reconstruction. After completion, a new "Awaiting Immortals Pavilion" was built in the Yihai year, along with a ferryboat serving as public infrastructure. The author additionally donated paddy fields to sustain ferrymen and cover maintenance costs. Special emphasis is placed on the virtue of "righteousness" (yi) — the ferry symbolizes the "Dispersion Hexagram" (Huan) from the Classic of Changes (Yijing), representing the crossing of impassable waters. Particularly in strategic locations like Nanfeng with its divine turtle traces and immortal sites, ferry service must never cease. The builder Yan Hong, motivated by Daoist devotion and rooted in benevolence, demonstrated how public welfare projects best unite communities and endure through generations.

The second section chronicles the construction of the "Legacy of Goodness Pavilion." The Shangqing Temple (a Daoist monastery) originally had thirty-six affiliated cloisters sharing common origins but varying fortunes. After the temple burned down in the Xinyi year of the Zhizheng era, Li Zhongye initiated reconstruction several years later. He first built the Expansive Ease Hall in the winter of the Dingsi year, then erected a pavilion south of the hall in the Jisi year. His friend Zhou Mengqi inscribed the plaque "Yishan" (Legacy of Goodness). Upon hanging this plaque, Zhongye requested the author to compose this commemorative record.

Both accounts manifest the Daoist philosophy of "benefiting beings and aiding humanity" through constructing public facilities like ferries and pavilions to practice benevolence and righteousness. They particularly emphasize how charitable undertakings require equitable management to achieve lasting legacy—serving not merely as conveniences for devotees' pilgrimages but as enduring manifestations of virtuous spirit.

This passage documents the lineage history and essential teachings of Zige Pavilion (a Daoist temple). It records that my ancestral master Hong Gong first attained the Dao at Zhejiang's Zige Pavilion, hence adopting the name "Weisou" (Old Man of Subtlety). During the Tiansheng era of the Song dynasty, he entered the Daoist path at Wushan Mountain, and in the Jiayou era, he oversaw affairs at Shangqing Temple while guiding disciples like Wang Taisu. Emperor Huizong of Song revered Daoism deeply, and Wang Taisu once served Celestial Master Xujing (the 30th-generation Tianshi of the Zhengyi tradition) in conducting court rituals, receiving numerous imperial rewards. Later, the temple was elevated to palace status, granted land and tax exemptions, with new structures like Huanyuan Hermitage and courtyards built—all retaining the name "Zige" to honor its origins.

By the fifth-generation lineage holder Chongjing Liu Gong, during the reigns of Emperors Xiaozong, Guangzong, Ningzong, and Lizong, the temple flourished in reputation. In the Wuxu and Renxu years of the Yuan dynasty, fires twice ravaged the courtyards, prompting reclusive Master Shi Gong to lead disciples in reconstruction plans. Before his passing, Shi Gong intended to build a memorial hall for Jin Gong, a benefactor of the temple, but died before completion. Soon after, warfare erupted, prompting master Wang Boqing to relocate the temple to Anshan Hall, preserving the ancestral lineage. Master Jue'an Zhu later established Xuanrun Studio to instruct disciples, while a newly built pavilion specifically commemorated the teachings of Jin Gong and Shi Gong.

The author Meng Qi reflects that this legacy results both from ancestral wisdom and later generations' diligent stewardship. The memorial pavilion serves not only to honor past virtue but also to inspire future cultivation. The text emphasizes: the heart (xin) is the body's sovereign, inherently good yet easily clouded by external distractions. Through self-discipline and introspection, undisturbed by outer circumstances, innate goodness naturally manifests. As a Daoist practitioner, Zhongye's virtuous conduct differs from Confucian norms—Daoist goodness arises from and returns to the original heart-mind (benxin), focusing on moral fortitude and spiritual refinement. When the heart overflows with goodness, blessings arrive unsought, and misfortune naturally recedes. The passage concludes that while people perform ancestral rites and good deeds seeking fortune, obsession with rewards backfires—only genuine goodness in heart and action truly invites blessings.

This passage contains two commemorative texts that require separate interpretations:

The first part, "Record of the Cloud-Gazing Tower," begins by emphasizing the importance of family legacy. Throughout history, there have been many instances where virtuous deeds met with misfortune, so how can descendants not regard their ancestors' wise teachings with reverence? Without careful preservation, how can one claim to have truly inherited them well? It particularly mentions Zhongye (a person's name) as an intelligent, kind-hearted man of literary talent who shared a profound friendship with Mengqi (another person's name). The inscribed plaque carries deep expectations. To genuinely uphold ancestral teachings, one must not remain superficial but accumulate profound virtue (De). Only then can one live up to Mengqi's trust and give greater significance to these words of encouragement.

The second section depicts the flourishing era of the Yuan dynasty. At the dynasty's rise, the vast, primordial Qi of heaven and earth converged in the mountains and rivers, giving rise to numerous scholars and talents who assisted in governance, achieving a golden age. Special mention is made of the Xu River region in Jiangxi (modern-day Fuzhou), known for its majestic landscapes, outstanding individuals, and virtuous customs. At that time, Lord Cheng Wenxian (Cheng Jufu) rose to prominence through Confucian learning, serving across multiple reigns with distinction in both literary and moral achievements. Eminent figures like Lord Zhao Wenmin (Zhao Mengfu), Lord Jie Wen'an (Jie Xisi), and Lord Hu Qianshi (Hu Zhiyu) all studied under him. Their writings were vigorous and elegant, and even in retirement, they received imperial commendations, their reputations recorded in history. His descendants served for generations in the Hanlin Academy, becoming a prominent local lineage.

Particular attention is given to his great-grandson Yanxi (a person's name), born in Yan (northern China), who later accompanied the Commissioner south upon growing up. Intelligent from childhood, he preserved his ancestors' manuscripts. During the late Yuan turmoil, he relocated to Jiayong (a place name), settling on high ground in the southwest. When his aging parents returned to the Xu River region, official duties prevented him from accompanying them. Yearning day and night, he built a tall tower named "Cloud-Gazing Tower," alluding to the story of Di Renjie gazing at clouds in remembrance of his parents. The site's feng shui was exceptional: backed by Junfeng Mountain to the north, facing Divine Tortoise Mountain to the south, with a great river encircling the front and towering peaks behind, while the Taoist sacred mountain Magu (Magu Shan) stood nearby.

This passage depicts the scenery and cultural significance of two sacred Daoist sites.

The first section describes the landscape around Furong Peak: distant and nearby mountains reflect each other's beauty, where converging streams form ponds, cultivated trees grow into forests, and pavilions built atop offer panoramic views of the exquisite scenery. In the spring of the Dingchou year during the Hongwu reign (1397 CE), the author ascended to the hall while paying respects at the shrine of Perfected Lord Wang Shichen, observing how the ancient customs of local prominent families remained well-preserved. Though most ancestral relatives had passed away, the author reflects how gazing from these pavilions still evokes profound remembrance of departed kin. Amidst the mountain mists where these structures stand, merchant vessels come and go, fish and birds frolic freely, while flowering plants and bamboo groves create endless delights for the senses. Particular mention is made of Yan Xi, who maintained constant filial devotion to his parents here, embodying the profound virtue of xiao (filial piety).

The second section documents the Hidden Truth Temple at Linggu Mountain. It identifies the Xu River basin as containing the most renowned traces of transcendent beings within China's sacred mountains and blessed lands, notably Huagai Mountain where three Perfected Lords resided. Tradition holds these three were figures from the Qin dynasty - one being the ancient transcendent Fuqiu Gong, with Wang and Guo as his disciples - who later achieved Daoist ascension together, becoming venerated as the "Three Immortals." Located thirty li from Linchuan County in Fuzhou, Linggu Mountain features three precipitous peaks rising dramatically from the landscape.

This towering mountain stands majestically as the most prominent among the surrounding peaks. On its eastern summit lies a rock shaped like an ancient ox, while the southern slope features the Wine-Straining Spring. To the west are the Stone Gate Pass and the Retreating Heart Stone Waterfall Spring, with the Seal Peak connecting to the north. Midway up the mountain, two wells—one north, one south—hold crystal-clear, sweet water that never runs dry. Nearby stand the Cloud-Lingering Pavilion and Chessboard Rock, where celestial cranes often roost. On the southwestern second peak lies the Ink-Washing Pool of Xie Lingyun (the renowned Southern Dynasties poet), with the Xu River meandering before the mountain like a belt.

To the west, one can see the Dust Lake of Dragon-Tiger Mountain (Longhu Shan), along with peaks like the Pipa Summit and Cloud-Forest Peak. Encircling ranges such as Baling, Huarong, Lotus, Army Mountain, Xiugu, and Goat Horn form layered ridges stretching endlessly—a veritable grotto-heaven (dongtian) fit for immortal dwellings. During the Daguan era (1107-1110) of the Northern Song, in the tenth month, woodcutter Qiu You encountered three Daoist immortals wearing starry crowns and rosy robes while chopping wood on the mountain. They played chess and offered him peaches. When the immortals finished their game and commanded Qiu You to return home, he discovered three years had passed in the mortal world. Later, Qiu You revisited the site and unearthed three pottery lamps and an incense burner. Marveling at this, locals enshrined three deity statues, speculating the chess players were the Three True Lords (honorific for realized Daoist immortals).

During the Zhenghe era (1117), Daoist priest Yi Anning established a temple here, which the imperial court named "Hidden Truth Temple" (Yinzhen Guan). Local prayers for relief from droughts, floods, or plagues proved remarkably effective, and by the Yuan Dynasty, the temple's incense offerings flourished. Though repeatedly destroyed in wars, it was always rebuilt. By the Ming Dynasty, the temple complex expanded significantly. During the Hongwu era (1382), the Celestial Master Zhang (leader of the Orthodox Unity/Zhengyi tradition) established a Daoist administrative office here. In 1394, Ye Lianggui was appointed as the Mountain-River Altar Deputy. Some say this was all due to the mountain deity's silent blessings.

Having studied fengshui texts, I know that where terrestrial Qi (vital energy) converges, it must correspond to celestial constellations and condense the earth's essence. Though this numinous mountain lies near me, I've never visited. Yet accounts of the Three Immortal Lords' manifestations appear everywhere—their prominence here is natural, for the cosmos' purest energies never gather without reason.

This passage records an inscription composed by the author for his cousin Yongding's hermitage named "The Studio of Concentrated Rectitude," conveying the artistic conception of Daoist reclusive life.

The majestic scenery of mountains and rivers remains eternal, and those outstanding individuals born in this land must have cultivated virtuous karma in past lives. Scholars like Wenbin and Yijing (possibly historical figures) were destined to glorify their ancestors' legacy. The author anticipates revisiting this place with jade pendants riding the wind, perhaps encountering marvelous synchronicities, and thus composes this inscription in advance for future remembrance.

"The Studio of Concentrated Rectitude" was named by the author's cousin Yongding for his retreat. Yongding recalls: During the Yuan dynasty's golden age, our ancestral residence stood as the most magnificent in the region, with carved beams and towering pillars unmatched throughout the southeast. Sadly, war reduced those grand structures to ashes. The new dwelling now stands beside the original site, surrounded by wooded hills within the garden and bounded by streams and islets beyond. The elegantly winding peaks and meandering paths create secluded charm despite proximity to the marketplace.

Yongding remarks that ancient teachings on "minor reclusion" need not require complete withdrawal from society. He has planted lush flowers and bamboos around his dwelling, constructing airy corridors and latticed windows where thriving vegetation refreshes the spirit. A dedicated meditation chamber serves for focused introspection and Daoist inner cultivation practices (referring to seated meditation techniques). Named "Concentrated Rectitude," it draws inspiration from the Ding (Cauldron) hexagram in the Yijing (Book of Changes).

Yongding's great-grandfather was the 37th Celestial Master (Tianshi) of the Zhengyi tradition, Zhang Xiwei, who maintained deep friendship with the author's ancestor, establishing their natural kinship. The author notes how the Yijing elucidates Yin-Yang principles as the supreme wisdom through which sages comprehend creation and illuminate mysteries. The Five Phases originate from Taiji (Supreme Ultimate), while differentiated Yin-Yang forms create the hexagrams' odd and even lines, evolving into sixty-four configurations. The Ding hexagram occupies the position of two Yin and two Yang lines, symbolizing transformative renewal. Its auspicious imagery resembles using wood-fire to prepare sacrificial offerings and nurture worthy talents. Noble persons should emulate the Ding hexagram by rectifying their positions, stabilizing heavenly mandates, fortifying dwellings, and reverently upholding celestial missions.

(Note: The text frequently references Yijing philosophy. In Daoist practice, the Ding hexagram often symbolizes the inner alchemical cauldron, metaphorically representing mind-body cultivation.)

This passage comprises two main sections: the first discusses the philosophy of the "Cauldron Hexagram" (Ding Gua) from the Book of Changes (Yijing), while the latter expresses the author's reflections on landscape travels and the vicissitudes of life.

Regarding the interpretation of the Cauldron Hexagram: The initial line (bottom line) symbolizes an overturned cauldron with its legs pointing upward; the third line speaks of transformation, and the fourth line describes broken cauldron legs. Though these line images may appear inauspicious at first glance, cautious handling can turn peril into safety. The second line represents fullness, the fifth line features golden handles, and the top line is adorned with a jade carrying pole—these images, through the harmonious balance of firm and yielding, all bring auspicious outcomes. This illustrates that Heaven's mandate endows human nature, and one should cultivate oneself to seek good fortune. Yet regrettably, many in reality deviate from this principle and invite misfortune. The cosmic truths revealed in the Book of Changes are not limited to the Cauldron Hexagram alone; the auspicious or inauspicious outcomes, advances or retreats in all sixty-four hexagrams follow this same pattern. Thus, sages and worthies must first rectify their hearts, making their intentions sincere; they cultivate virtue (De) to stabilize their path of Dao. Only when the Dao is firmly established can they assist Heaven and Earth in transformation, nurture all beings, and comprehend the mysterious workings of spirits—all of which align seamlessly with our Dao.

In the latter section, the author reflects: My elder cousin excelled in literature yet deeply believed in rain-praying and ghost-expelling rituals. To truly fathom the mysteries of thunder, wind, rain, and the mutual generation and restraint of the Five Phases (Wuxing) and Eight Trigrams (Bagua), one must ultimately turn to the Book of Changes to enrich Daoist learning. The deeper one delves into these mysteries, the more virtue (De) flourishes with advancing scholarship. Witnessing my family's gradual decline, I long to revive its fortunes, but having dwelt in seclusion to cultivate my mind for so long, it may be best to maintain a tranquil heart and await inspiration from others.

In Records of the Peach Blossom Stream Alchemy Chamber, the author laments: Under Heaven, the landscapes of Wu are the most majestic and exquisite, with Qiantang, Gusu, Kuaiji, and Shangyu being particularly renowned. Though ashamed not to have visited all these scenic wonders, I take solace in having associated with eminent scholars, through whom I learned about river-lake anecdotes, folk customs, and cultural relics—slightly easing my solitude. Yet within a decade or so, old companions have scattered and vanished, and I too have withdrawn to mountain forests, severed from worldly ties. Occasionally revisiting old haunts brings only sighs of melancholy. Such lamentations over unchanged places but vanished faces are timeless and universal.

This passage describes the scenic Peach Blossom Creek (Taoxi) located about thirty li from Lake Tai. The creek flows between the eastern and western peaks of Dongting Mountain, separated by mere dozens of paces, with a great river encircling its front and fertile fields stretching all around. To the south lies Shenzhang Lake, while the east connects to the Post Road River and the west adjoins Tiao Creek. Peach Blossom Creek itself meanders like a silk ribbon, its embanked shores navigable only by small boats.

The Wu family has resided here for generations, with ancestral graves positioned at geomantic convergence points, while the Dan Chamber (a Daoist cultivation chamber) was established by Wu Wengang. When requesting my documentation, he recounted his lineage: ancestors from Bianliang, founding patriarch Wu Chong who served as prime minister under Emperor Shenzong of Song, with successive generations holding high office. The sixth-generation ancestor Wu Sixian earned lands in Songling, Suzhou by escorting Emperor Gaozong to Lin'an, establishing their permanent residence and bureaucratic legacy.

Yet Wu Wengang, disdaining worldly honors since youth, devoted himself wholly to Daoist practice. Renouncing family wealth, he immersed himself in Thunder Rituals (Leifa) and acupuncture, tirelessly studying rare texts. Later, he secluded himself in Peach Blossom Creek's tranquility, spending days amidst clear waters, bamboo groves, jagged peaks, and sandbars—a man truly transcending mundanity. Genuine adepts follow the Dao (the Way) whether in service or seclusion, while cultivation sites demand profound landscapes: sheer cliffs, secluded valleys, dense woodlands, winding shores. Such surroundings—with pure springs beyond windows, ponds and blossoms, towering mountains and deep streams—quiet the spirit, allowing progress through serene solitude, infinitely surpassing worldly distractions.

Though born to privilege, Wu Wengang abandoned illusions for essence, surpassing ordinary men. Yet whether his "Dan Chamber" refers to the alchemical transformations of Neidan (internal alchemy)—where spirit (Shen) and vital energy (Qi) stir wind and thunder, fire and water merge—or literally denotes a physical dwelling amid mineral clouds and mists remains unclear. Nevertheless, to practice Daoist arts with unclouded mind in this landscape of streams and mountains is itself extraordinary.

This passage primarily discusses two aspects: insights into Daoist cultivation and alchemical practice, and the historical account of the Zhang family lineage.

Regarding spiritual cultivation, it states that the path of alchemy (Neidan), like all authentic spiritual practices, must adhere to fundamental principles. The text mentions a practitioner named Wen Gang who employed talismans (Fulu) and herbal medicine west of Zhe River to cure diseases with remarkable efficacy. The author praises such compassionate service to humanity as truly commendable, recording these deeds in hopes that future generations might preserve and refine such benevolent practices.

The second part details the history of the Zhang family from Ruoling in Jiangxi's Anren county. This official lineage traces back to Yuan Dynasty ancestor Zhang Boyuan, renowned for his poetic talent alongside contemporaries Huang Junrui and Zhang Zhongju. His son Zhang Zidong studied standard and running script calligraphy under the master Zhao Wenmin. By Zhang Shuda's generation during the late Yuan upheavals, his battlefield valor earned him a military commission as battalion commander (qianhu), though he later resigned due to age. When his son died shortly after inheriting the post, a nephew eventually succeeded and was promoted to Guangdong Regional Commander, settling at Shuangxi in Panyu.

Shuangxi's landscape features several miles of lake embracing small islets, with elegantly towering mountains—an ideal retreat from worldly affairs. Here, Zhang descendants embraced reclusion, delighting in woodland scenery, fish and birds, amusing themselves with poetry and wine, seemingly having completely transcended worldly fame and profit. The text particularly depicts Shuangxi's scenic beauty: lakes encircling miniature islands, mountains rising in graceful majesty—painting an idyllic portrait of hermetic withdrawal from mundane turbulence.

The text describes a secluded and elegant dwelling where its owner, Sili, cultivates Daoist practice and attains enlightenment.

The winding inlet by the water is deep and tranquil, embraced by rolling hills. Mist and clouds shift endlessly, wild ducks drift upon the ripples, and the shimmering interplay of light and shadow appears and vanishes—morning and evening scenes all converge within this small yet wondrous space. After the house was built, pine, bamboo, and orchids were planted all around, while the pond teemed with water chestnuts, reeds, fish, shrimp, geese, and ducks. From afar, it appears lush and verdant; up close, it feels profound and serene—all the joys of leisure and contemplation are gathered here.

Sili dedicated a quiet chamber to studying the teachings of Laozi and Zhuangzi, devoting himself daily to the practice of "reaching the utmost emptiness and maintaining perfect stillness" (the highest state of Daoist cultivation). This past summer, he passed by my place, and we talked deep into the night. He asked me to inscribe a plaque for his study. I told him: Laozi said, "Use the light, but return to the clarity" (employ wisdom’s radiance yet return to original purity). That you, born into an official’s family, can immerse yourself in Daoist practice—this is "using the light." And that you can delve into the essentials of cultivation—this is "returning to the clarity."

Laozi also spoke of "knowing the children yet holding to the mother, blocking the openings and closing the gates" (understanding phenomena while abiding in the Dao, shutting the doors of sensory desire). This is because the Dao is the mother of all things. By holding to the root, one can govern the myriad phenomena—this is returning to the source. To achieve this, one must diligently close the gates of desire; only then can one be free from lifelong troubles. If one indulges in cravings, busies oneself with worldly affairs, and neglects the root, danger will surely follow.

Thus, to perceive the subtle and hold fast to gentleness is to skillfully employ wisdom’s light. Those who use wisdom well will surely return to original clarity; those who only know how to use it without returning will invite calamity. Returning to clarity allows one to reach the primordial state of heaven and earth—this is simply the natural rhythm of Yin and Yang’s opening and closing, movement and stillness. Holding fast within is called the "Dao"; manifesting it outwardly is called "Dharma"—both follow this principle.

Those who truly understand this will inevitably value inner cultivation over external glamor, never allowing worldly distractions to disturb their minds. Moreover, Sili, born into privilege and raised in luxury, has managed to achieve this—truly a rare accomplishment.

This passage recounts the life and spiritual achievements of Daoist practitioner Wang Daoyi (courtesy name Chaodao), along with his connection to the Golden Ship Peak's Sweet Dew Thunder Altar.

Those immersed in worldly extravagance and arrogance, should they awaken to pursue the path of returning to simplicity, may already be considered far beyond ordinary people. This pavilion stands amidst the serene beauty of lakes and mountains, as if awaiting those destined to arrive. The author praises this practitioner (Wang Daoyi) for his tranquil and transcendent aspirations.

Among the renowned traces of true immortals in Jiangxi, the Xu River basin holds particular significance. The most famous of these is the Sweet Dew Thunder Altar at Golden Ship Peak in Xincheng County. The mountain rises hundreds of feet high, its ridges winding for dozens of miles, situated about ten li from the county town. Sheer cliffs stand before it, while Fragrant Mountain encircles it from behind. The summit was originally the meditation site of the Chan master Sanji.

In the Zhizheng era of the Yuan dynasty (1344), a White Lotus practitioner named Yu Juehai heard of a certain Dai from Fujian’s Shanguan, who had once invited the Daoist master Yuexian Wang (i.e., Wang Daoyi) from Wuyi Mountain to perform a Daoist exorcism (yonghui) with miraculous results. He then invited Wang to this place. Wang’s ancestral home was at Longhu Mountain in Xinzhou, Jiangxi, and his father, Wang Wenfu, was also a practitioner. From a young age, Wang Daoyi displayed extraordinary qualities. In the autumn of 1336, when Zhang Shouqing, a Daoist master from Wudang Mountain, traveled to Longhu Mountain, he immediately recognized Wang’s exceptional potential and took him as a disciple, transmitting the secrets of Golden Elixir (Jindan) cultivation and Thunder Methods (Leifa).

Later, Wang Daoyi went to Wuyi Mountain to study under the hermit Jin Gong. During the turmoil of the late Yuan dynasty, a plague ravaged Fujian, particularly in Shanguan, Guangze. Hearing of Wang’s divine abilities, the local Dai and Huang families sought his aid in healing, all with miraculous success. One day, as he gazed from a high vantage point, he marveled at the beauty of Xincheng County’s landscape—and soon after, Yu Juehai invited him there. His rituals repeatedly manifested wondrous effects, and prominent families like the Fan, Zhang, Wang, and Liu clans all respectfully requested his services. Whether praying for rain to end drought or curing illnesses and dispelling evil, every plea was answered.

Once, during a severe three-month drought, officials and commoners prayed in vain—until the Darughachi (a Yuan official) Temur personally invited Master Wang to perform rain prayers. The passage concludes with the author expressing deep admiration for Wang Daoyi, hoping for a future meeting on the lake to discuss the true essence of Daoist cultivation.

At Ling Mountain Temple, there lived a Zhenren (a Daoist adept who attained the Way). He practiced an extraordinary cultivation method: sitting in a dug-out pit while burning pine needles, using the rising smoke as clouds—soon after, heavy rain would indeed arrive. When villagers rushed to welcome him, he would ride a bamboo sedan chair accompanied by dozens of singing youths, with the rain following their procession. After completing his prayers, he would press heated bricks against his body, explaining this was to replenish his true Yang Qi (vital energy).

North of the county town lay an unfathomable dragon pool called Stone Gorge. One day, the Zhenren simply lifted his robe and leaped in, emerging a full day later with his clothes completely dry. When questioned about this, he spoke in cryptic, mystical terms. Over time, his prophecies grew increasingly obscure, leaving people baffled—until the outbreak of war in the year Xinmao, when his earlier predictions came true. When asked again, he remained silent.

By the year Renchen, as the conflict intensified, the Zhenren resided at Sanji Altar. Once, he wandered for a long while on the lower slopes of the mountain’s right side. Noticing its extraordinary geomantic energy, he declared: "This is an auspicious land—one should dwell here." He then built a simple thatched dwelling. His disciple Chen Juejian wished to expand the site, but the Zhenren laughed and said: "Why trouble yourself? Others will naturally come to build it later—how could this place last long?" Sure enough, disaster struck the next day, though it was later restored.

Originally, the mountain lacked a water source, and some worried about drinking water. The Zhenren reassured them: "Stay peacefully—do not fret." One day, after drinking, he crouched on a large northern boulder and poured wine downward, saying: "Sweet springs should emerge here." He immediately had people pry open the rock, and clear, sweet water gushed forth—never drying, even in droughts. The Zhenren named it "Ganlu Thunder Altar."

Later, he sometimes fasted for days, other times ate multiple meals a day, puzzling everyone. In the second month of the year Guisi, he sustained himself solely on bramble juice while still pressing heated bricks to his body. Suddenly, he rose and bid farewell: "I must depart." Sitting upright, he passed away—the twenty-sixth day of the second month, aged fifty-three. Disciples buried him by the mountain, and his follower Lu Jichuan kept vigil at the grave.

By the autumn of the Hongwu era’s Guichou year (Ming Dynasty), Li Dadian of Xujiang and fellow villager Huang Deji raised funds to construct the main hall and side chambers. Before completion, another villager, Qiu Keda, donated tiles and stones to finish the buildings. Li Dadian’s nephew, Dao Hong, inherited his uncle’s mission, took vows, and continued renovations. In the Jiazi year, they built the "Flying Dharma Wheel" behind the hall. Statues inside were completed by Jiang Xingweng, Li Huangchen, and others, while a hundred-zhang mountain path was paved for access. They also acquired paddy fields to support the monastic community. In the autumn of the Wuwu year, devotees erected a scripture repository and sculpted divine images—still lifelike to this day.

In autumn, Dao Hong came to visit me, requesting that I compose an inscription to be carved in stone. I had previously heard stories from Fujian about this Zhenren (a Daoist adept of high attainment): when he resided in Wuyi Mountain, a woman suffering from consumption (an ancient term for tuberculosis) sought his help. The Zhenren had her stay alone in a secluded chamber while he sat facing her across the bed. The woman cried out in pain, and soon worms crawled from her mouth—her illness was instantly cured. On another occasion, a person afflicted by evil spirits came seeking salvation. The Zhenren summoned dozens of strong men to take turns striking the afflicted with wooden mallets while he himself sat calmly smiling. The possessing spirits were soon exorcised. There are many such miraculous accounts, though regrettably they cannot all be recorded here.

When I read the Biography of Ma Xiang (a renowned Tang dynasty Daoist), I came across seemingly absurd deeds—such as plunging into a deep pool and emerging only the next day, or claiming to have been invited by Xiang Yu (a rebel leader from the Han dynasty) to drink wine, returning with the scent of alcohol still on him. At the time, I did not fully believe these tales. But now, witnessing the efficacy of this Zhenren’s abilities, which mirror those of Ma Xiang, I realize such records are not mere fabrications.

Alas! We who follow the Dao seek transcendence beyond illusion. We must disregard the physical body, distance ourselves from worldly filth, and view the splendors of the mundane world as no different from ants swarming over rank meat or mosquitoes feasting on decay—utterly rejecting such trivialities to rise beyond material existence and return to the origin of all things. Thus, even in hunger, cold, or hardship, the mind remains unmoved, dwelling eternally in the vast Taixu (the cosmic source), yearning only for the boundless and indistinct, free from all constraints. Only then can one ride the clouds and winds in harmony with the Dao’s true path, mastering the transformations of the Six Qi (Yin, Yang, wind, rain, darkness, and brightness) to transcend finite life and attain eternity. Are not those who unite with the vast Qi of Heaven and Earth precisely like this Zhenren? They shed their physical forms like cicadas casting off their shells, indifferent to the survival or demise of mere traces.

Now, with the renovation of the Thunder Altar (a Daoist ritual platform for thunder rites) so meticulously adorned, is it not so that the Zhenren, as if wandering the ethereal realms of Langfeng and Xuanpu (mythical abodes of immortals), may occasionally return and manifest his divine presence? Having heard these accounts, I gladly record them, hoping future generations will reverently preserve them, ensuring the eternal transmission of the Dao lineage—this was the original intent of its founders.

[Record of the Yuqing Jingyun Temple in Chongren County]

Chongren County in Fuzhou is blessed with spiritual mountains and rivers, rich in the Daoist concept of Dongtian Fudi (grotto-heavens and blessed lands). This region has witnessed the manifestations of three Zhenjun (Daoist immortals of high rank): Fuqiu Gong, Wangzi Qiao, and Guo Pu, with at least several dozen sacred sites—all occupying geomantically auspicious locations that ensure their enduring presence. Jingyun Temple lies just a few li west of the county seat, with the towering Si Mountain before it and the soaring Fuli Peak behind. From the mountain’s trailing ridges, winding down dozens of steps... (The subsequent description of the temple’s surroundings is partially omitted.)

This passage recounts the rise and fall of a Daoist temple along with its miraculous legends. To its south flows a clear stream, while a jade-green square pond lies to the north, surrounded by lush woods that create mountain-like serenity despite its urban location. First built during the Jingyun era of the Tang Dynasty, the temple initially lacked inscribed plaques until one night when a Daoist calling himself "Xiao Ziyun" suddenly appeared. Under lantern light, he brushed calligraphic characters that glowed radiantly before vanishing. Later, people realized this was the famous Liang Dynasty calligrapher Xiao Ziyun (once a Palace Attendant), who legend says attained immortality at Mount Yusi.

The temple once housed a great bell that mysteriously disappeared one night, only to be spotted later by fishermen submerged in the stream yet impossible to retrieve. An incense burner in the hall bore the name of Xu Xun (Xu Zhenjun, the renowned Jin Dynasty Daoist), with such artifacts regarded as divine marvels. Destroyed during Huang Chao's rebellion, the temple was rebuilt in the Five Dynasties period when Magistrate Liu Yuanzai invited Daoist Jiang Daoxuan, whose mastery of Daoist liturgy (Keyi) revived the site. It flourished again in the Song Dynasty before Yuan-era Daoist Huang Yangsu restored it, with his disciple Fu Zicheng continuing renovations.

During the Ming Hongwu reign, a musician resided here for thirty years. By the spring of Xinsi year, another Dharma master was invited to compile historical records. The author mentions visiting twice, returning this autumn to find derelict halls transformed—where weeds once choked ruins now stood cloud-piercing pavilions, seeing this as the temple's spiritual traces (lingji) inevitably manifesting from obscurity. Special praise goes to Master Fu Zicheng (trained by immortal official Fu Gong), whose talent enhanced the landscape's beauty and prevented the temple's relapse into decay.

The narrative employs classic Daoist tropes of "manifest marvels"—immortals inscribing plaques, ritual implements vanishing—reflecting the tradition of "divine authentication" in Daoist temple historiography. Repeated references to "Zhenjun" (Xu Xun), the central deity of the Jingming Dao tradition, suggest this temple's connection to Jingming Dao practice.

This passage conveys two main ideas: first, it emphasizes the importance of studying ancient classics, and second, it criticizes how later scholars have deviated from the original intentions of the ancient sages.

The text begins by noting that the ancient sages, in the Book of Changes (Yijing), stressed the need to explore profound and hidden principles, while the Book of Documents (Shangshu) advocated emulating the ancients—all in pursuit of the subtleties of learning. True scholarship requires broad study and deep contemplation. Without examining the profound truths contained in ancient texts, how can one claim to have genuine knowledge? Even Confucius, when discussing the rituals of the Xia and Shang dynasties, lamented the lack of sufficient historical records. By his time, many texts had already been lost, and the situation worsened after the Qin dynasty's infamous book-burning. Han dynasty scholars often forced strained interpretations of the Six Classics, losing the original profound meaning intended by the sages.

The author mentions his nephew, Maofu, who is intelligent and diligent in his studies, requesting the local scholar Yang Mengxu to inscribe the words "Investigating Antiquity" (Jigu) for his study and asking the author to write a commentary. The author modestly admits that although he admires the ancients, he worries his own learning may be insufficient to enlighten others. He then points out that from the legendary rulers Fuxi and Shennong to the sage-kings Yao, Shun, and Yu, their transmission of the Dao (Way) was the purest. However, since the invention of writing, much of the ancient wisdom has become difficult to fully grasp. Today, those who claim to revere antiquity often merely collect artifacts from the Three Dynasties (Xia, Shang, Zhou) and the Qin-Han period, without seeking the true Dao passed down by Yao, Shun, the Duke of Zhou, and Confucius.

The text also references "Fuqiu Gong," a legendary Daoist immortal said to descend on Mount Huagai (a sacred Daoist mountain) riding the cold wind. The author uses this allusion to suggest that the genuine transmission of the Dao is as elusive and profound as an immortal's descent—requiring sincere contemplation to grasp.

This passage discusses the value of ancient artifacts and people's obsession with antiquities, contrasting it with the more important pursuit of Dao (the Way).

The text enumerates legendary artifacts from high antiquity—the Yellow Emperor's robes, Hou Yi's bow and arrows, Xuanyuan's cauldron, the jade huang pendants of the Xia dynasty, and the wine vessels of the Shang dynasty—all considered priceless treasures. Those fortunate enough to obtain even one such item would guard it reverently as if protected by divine spirits. Antiquarians spare no effort searching noble estates, remote mountains, or even ancient tombs, all for the sake of acquiring these rare objects to flaunt before the world.

The author observes that these artifacts become more prized precisely when they appear worn and fragmented. Yet lamentably, people don't apply this same fervor to studying the "Six Classics" (referring to the Confucian classics: the Book of Songs, Book of Documents, Book of Rites, Book of Music, Book of Changes, and Spring and Autumn Annals). In truth, the essential teachings of ancient sages about Dao remain accessible—one need only sincerely turn inward to discover them, for these principles inherently reside within our hearts.

The ancient sages diligently studied day and night, extensively exploring the teachings of various philosophical schools, including exegetical studies, poetic expositions, historical records, as well as works by Yang Zhu, Mozi, Xunzi, Zhuangzi, Liezi, and literary compositions by Qu Yuan, Song Yu, Ban Gu, and Sima Qian. Though this ocean of learning could consume a lifetime without exhausting its depths, the fundamental purpose of sage-learning lies in "revealing the nature of things and accomplishing practical affairs"—penetrating the essence of phenomena to achieve meaningful work. Such learning connects with the Dao of heaven and earth, assists the growth of all things, manifests in the Six Arts, and extends from participating in cosmic creation to establishing human relationships—all requiring personal realization and embodied practice.

Finally, the author mentions his family's tradition of upholding ancestral virtue, pursuing the ancient Way without indulging in wealth or pleasure. Here he emphasizes that true "investigation of antiquity" doesn't mean merely collecting artifacts or poring over texts, but comprehending the ultimate principles of heaven, earth, and human life contained within them.

This passage from the Xianquan Ji documents the historical development and construction process of the Wudang Traveling Palace in Jianchang Prefecture, Jiangxi.

The text first mentions that Jianchang (present-day Nancheng, Jiangxi) was an important prefectural seat in the region, home to many famous mountains and scenic spots, such as the renowned Magu Mountain from the Tang dynasty. Prominent Daoist figures like Wang Shichen and Qiu Henan of the Song dynasty were active here, indicating that this was a treasured land favored by immortals and perfected beings. The Wudang Traveling Palace was located just a hundred paces south of the prefectural city and was originally built during the Shengping era of the Southern Tang dynasty. At the time, geomancers deemed the site inauspicious due to the wu water’s conflicting influence, so the palace was established to enshrine the Dark Emperor of Heaven (Xuantian Shangdi, a major Daoist deity) as a protective measure. This was said to align with the deity’s miraculous manifestations at Mount Wudang in Hubei.

In the fifth year of the Xianchun era (1269) of the Song dynasty, the local official Cheng Feiqing invited the Daoist priest Song Yanghao from Yanxi Temple to oversee the rituals, later succeeded by Li Chongxu. During the first year of the Zhizheng era (1341) of the Yuan dynasty, the high-ranking minister Cheng Jufu (an ancestor of the author’s uncle’s wife) revitalized the temple and donated paddy fields to sustain its incense offerings. After the founding of the Ming dynasty, in the ninth year of the Hongwu era (1376), the Daoist priest Wei Dayou, concerned that the temple’s history might be forgotten, dispatched his disciple Wang Siwei to commission an inscription recording its origins. Wang Siwei, well-versed in Daoist liturgy (Keyi), restored the divine statues and ritual implements and further expanded the temple’s paddy fields.

The author recalls visiting the site in his youth and notes that despite its location in a bustling city, the environment remained tranquil and pleasant—an ideal dwelling for cultivators. Through concrete figures and events, the passage traces the rise and fall of this Daoist temple over six centuries, illustrating the close relationship between Daoist institutions and local society.

This passage describes the miraculous phenomenon of Daoist temples (religious structures) enduring the vicissitudes of time while remaining remarkably well-preserved. In the Xu River region of Jiangxi, once a prosperous and affluent area, many grand mansions of wealthy families turned to ashes during the wars of the Song-Yuan transition—a natural cycle of rise and fall in the mortal world. Yet curiously, Daoist temples stood firm and solitary. Though they occasionally fell into disrepair, they always revived and flourished again, clearly under divine protection.

The author notes that just as filial piety in reverently honoring ancestors can move the gods, the current efforts to restore temples and improve their facilities are fulfilling the legacy of predecessors. If future generations continue safeguarding this heritage with sincere and regular worship, they can resonate with the divine. Then one may witness the spectacle of deities riding clouds and banners, transcending the mundane to soar across the heavens, while the local people bask in their blessings. Viewed this way, the enduring prosperity of this temple complex may well rival the famed peaks of Mount Magu (a celebrated Daoist mountain).

The text particularly emphasizes Daoist concepts like "divine blessings" (shenkuang) and "communion with the gods" (ge shenming), asserting that the temple's longevity is inseparable from people's devout faith. Through worship and guardianship, a connection between humans and deities is forged, ensuring divine favor.