Chapter 1

Chapter 1

It was during the reign of Emperor Renzong of Great Song. On the third day of the third month, in the third year of the Jiayou era, at the fifth watch and the third mark, the Son of Heaven ascended the Zichen Hall to receive the congratulations of his assembled officials. It was a scene of:

Auspious clouds veiling the Phoenix Pavilion,

Auspicious vapors enshrouding the Dragon Tower.

Mist-laden willow branches brushing banners and flags,

Dew-drenched palace flowers greeting swords and halberds.

Amidst the heavenly fragrance, hairpins of jade and shoes of vermilion gathered upon the cinnabar steps;

To the strains of immortal music, embroidered robes and brocade garments attended the imperial carriage.

Pearl curtains rolled up, a golden palanquin gleamed in the golden hall;

Phoenix-feather fans unfurled, the jeweled carriage halted upon the white marble steps.

Faintly, three cracks of the whip of state resound;

Row upon row, civil and military officials stand arrayed in two ranks.

Then the Palace Herald intoned: "If you have matters to present, step forth from the ranks and speak early. If there are no matters, let the curtains be rolled up and the court be dismissed." From among the assembled ranks, Prime Minister Zhao Zhe and Grand Councilor Wen Yanbo stepped forward to present a memorial: "At present, a pestilence rages throughout the capital, afflicting and destroying many soldiers and commoners alike. We humbly beseech Your Majesty to pardon offenses with clemency, show generous mercy, reduce punishments and lighten taxes, and pray to avert Heaven's calamity, so as to bring relief to the myriad people." The Son of Heaven, upon hearing the memorial, immediately commanded the Hanlin Academy to draft an edict at once. On one hand, an amnesty was proclaimed for all prisoners throughout the realm; all taxes and levies owed by the common folk were remitted entirely. On the other hand, he ordered all Taoist temples and Buddhist monasteries within the capital to perform meritorious rites to avert the calamity. But who would have thought that in that very year the pestilence only grew worse? When Emperor Renzong learned of this, his imperial person was troubled, and he once again convened his officials to deliberate. From among the assembled ranks, one minister stepped forward beyond his place to present a memorial. When the Son of Heaven looked, it was Fan Zhongyan, the Participant in Determining State Affairs. He bowed and performed the courtesies, then spoke: "At present, Heaven's calamity rages unchecked. Soldiers and commoners are mired in the mire and the fire; from morning to evening they cannot sustain their lives. In the humble opinion of your minister, to avert this calamism, one should summon the Heavenly Master, successor to the Han line, to hasten to court by night. Let him perform within the forbidden precincts of the capital the Grand Rites of the Three Thousand Six Hundred Altars, the Grand Luo Heavenly Sacrifice, and make report to the Supreme Deity. Thus may the pestilence among the common folk be averted and relieved." Emperor Renzong granted approval to the memorial. He immediately ordered a Hanlin Academician to draft an edict, and the Son of Heaven himself wrote it out with his imperial brush. He also bestowed one stick of imperial incense and dispatched as Imperial Envoy the Grand Marshal of the Palace Command, Hong Xin, with full authority over all matters within and without the court. Hong Xin was to proceed to Mount Longhu in Guixian County, Xinzhou, Jiangxi, to summon the Heavenly Master of the Han Succession, the Perfected Master Zhang, to hasten to court by night and pray for the aversion of the pestilence. Upon the golden hall, the imperial incense was kindled, and the Emperor personally entrusted the vermilion edict to Grand Marshal Hong, who then set forth on his journey without delay.

Hong Xin received the sacred imperial commission, took leave of the Son of Heaven, shouldered the edict, stored the imperial incense, took with him several dozen men, mounted the post horses, and with his entire retinue departed from the Eastern Capital, taking the road directly toward Guixian County in Xinzhou, Jiangxi. And what a journey it was:

Distant mountains heaped in layers of emerald,

Far waters crystalline and clear.

Strange flowers bloom like brocade spread across the forests,

Tender willows dance with golden threads brushing the earth.

The breeze was gentle, the sun warm; by day they passed country inns and mountain villages;

The road was straight, the sand level; by night they lodged at post-station inns and courier hostels.

Silken robes billowed amid the red dust,

Fine steeds galloped along the purple roads.

Now then, Grand Marshal Hong Xin, bearing the imperial edict, with his retinue, took to the road. After no small number of days, they arrived in Xinzhou, Jiangxi. Officials of every rank came out beyond the city walls to greet them. At once, messengers were sent to inform the abbot and Taoist community of the Shangqing Monastery on Mount Longhu, so that they might prepare to receive the edict. The next day, the assembled officials escorted Grand Marshal Hong to the foot of Mount Longhu. There they saw many Taoists of the Shangqing Monastery striking bells and drums, bearing flowers, lanterns, and candles, banners and canopies, and a chorus of immortal music, all descending the mountain to welcome the vermilion edict. They escorted them to the very gate of the Shangqing Monastery, where the Grand Marshal dismounted. When Hong looked upon the temple, it was truly a magnificent Shangqing Monastery! For what he saw was:

Green pines twisted and bent, dark cypresses shadowy and solemn.

Upon the gates hung an imperially inscribed plaque of gold;

Upon the doors were arrayed spirit talismans carved in jade.

Beside the altar of the Sovereign of Emptiness,

Famous flowers and graceful willows drooped as if in shade;

Beside the furnace where elixirs were refined,

Ancient pines and aged junipers stood in concealment.

To the left, Heavenly Warriors and Mighty Ones attended the Perfected Lord of Grand Unity;

To the right, Jade Maidens and Golden Youths clustered around the Great Emperor of the Purple Star.

With hair unbound and sword in hand, the True Warrior of the North trod upon the tortoise and the serpent;

With shoes askew and crown atop, the Old Man of the South Pole lay upon the dragon and the tiger.

In the front row stood the Star Lords of the Twenty-Eight Mansions;

In the rear stood the Heavenly Sovereigns of the Thirty-Two Heavens.

Beneath the stone steps, water babbled and flowed;

Behind the courtyard walls, fine mountains encircled the compound.

Cranes grew cinnabar crowns upon their heads,

Tortoises bore green fur upon their shells.

At the tips of the trees, gray apes presented fruit;

Among the sedge grass, white deer bore fungi in their mouths.

In the Hall of the Three Pure Ones, a Taoist priest struck the golden bell and paced the void;

Before the Hall of the Four Sages, a Perfected Man struck the jade chime and made obeisance to the Dipper.

Upon the terrace for offering incense, colored rays of light shot from blue glass;

Upon the jade altar for summoning generals, the red sun's rays flickered upon red agate.

Early in the morning, auspicious clouds appeared outside the gate—

One might have thought the Heavenly Master was sending off Lord Lao.

At that time, from the abbot true man down to the young acolytes and attendants, they welcomed him from the front and guided him from the rear, escorting him to the Hall of the Three Pure Ones. There they requested that the imperial edict be placed in the center and honored with offerings. Marshal Hong then asked the supervising true man, "Where is the Celestial Master now?" The abbot true man stepped forward and reported, "Let me inform Your Excellency: the patriarch of this generation is called the Celestial Master of Tranquil Purity. By nature he loves clarity and loftiness and tires of receiving and sending off guests. He has himself gone to the summit of Dragon-Tiger Mountain, where he built a thatched hut to cultivate the truth and nurture his nature. Therefore he does not reside in this palace."

The Marshal said, "Today the Son of Heaven has issued an imperial edict. How can I gain an audience with him?" The true man replied, "If I may report: the imperial decree is respectfully kept in the hall for now, and neither this poor priest nor the others dare to open and read it. But may we invite Your Excellency to the abbot's quarters for tea, and then we may discuss the matter further?"

At that time the vermilion edict was placed in offerings in the Hall of the Three Pure Ones, and all the officials went with the Marshal to the abbot's quarters. The Marshal sat in the center, and the attendants presented tea. A vegetarian feast was then served, with offerings both from land and water, all fully prepared. After the meal, the Marshal again asked the true man, "Since the Celestial Master is in a hut on the mountain summit, why not send someone to invite him down so we may meet and proclaim the vermilion edict?"

The true man reported, "Though the patriarch of this generation dwells on the mountain summit, in truth his attainment of the Way is extraordinary. He can ride the mist and summon the clouds, and his whereabouts are uncertain. Even we, his fellow priests, rarely see him as a matter of course. How could anyone be sent to summon him down?"

The Marshal said, "If it is so, how can I gain an audience? At present a great epidemic prevails in the capital. His Majesty the Son of Heaven has specially dispatched me, your humble official, to carry the imperial vermilion edict, personally bearing the dragon incense, to invite the Celestial Master. He wishes to hold a Great Offering to Heaven of three thousand six hundred portions to avert the heavenly calamity and bring relief to the myriad people. What is to be done in such a case?"

The true man reported, "If the Son of Heaven wishes to save the myriad people, there is only one way: Your Excellency must prepare a heart of sincere devotion, observe fasting and purification, bathe yourself, change into plain cloth garments, bring no attendants, carry the edict on your own back, burn the imperial incense, ascend the mountain on foot with reverence, and kowtow to request an audience with the Celestial Master—only then will you be permitted to see him. If your heart is not sincerely devoted, even if you make the journey in vain, you will still not gain an audience."

Upon hearing this, the Marshal said, "I have eaten a vegetarian diet all the way from the capital to here. How could my heart not be sincerely devoted? Since it is so, I will follow what you say. Tomorrow I will set out at first light."

That night they rested as they could. At the fifth watch the next day, the various Daoist priests rose and prepared fragrant water. They invited the Marshal to rise and bathe. He put on a fresh set of plain cloth garments, put on hemp shoes and straw sandals for his feet, ate a vegetarian breakfast, took the vermilion edict, wrapped it in a yellow silk bundle and strapped it to his back, and in his hand carried a silver hand-warmer, steadily burning the imperial incense. Many of the Daoist priests escorted him to the back of the mountain and pointed out the path. The true man again reported, "If Your Excellency wishes to save the myriad people, do not let a heart of retreat and regret arise—just press on with sincere devotion."

The Marshal took leave of the others, recited the precious title of the Celestial Worthy, and strode forth up the mountain. When he had reached halfway up, he gazed upon the great summit piercing straight into the vault of heaven. Truly it was a magnificent mountain! And indeed:

Its roots coil at the corners of the earth; its crown joins with the heart of heaven.

From afar it seems to grind the traces of scattered clouds; from near it appears to swallow the soul of the bright moon.

Uneven heights are called mountains; a rocky side passage is called a gully;

a lone rugged ridge is called a path; a flat surface on top is called a summit;

a round top with a sturdy base is called a peak; a place hiding tigers and leopards is called a lair;

a place concealing wind and clouds is called a crag; where a lofty man dwells in seclusion is called a cave;

a place with bounds and borders is called a realm; where woodcutters come and go is called a trail;

what can accommodate carts and horses is called a road; where flowing water makes a sound is called a mountain stream;

the source of an ancient crossing is called a brook; water dripping from a cliff is called a spring.

The left wall screens, the right wall reflects. It sends forth clouds and receives mist.

Its peaks are sharp as awls, its steepness like sheer cliffs, its hanging precipices seem perilous, its sheer cuts appear level.

A thousand peaks vie in beauty; ten thousand valleys contend in flow.

Waterfalls fly at an angle; wisteria hang upside down.

When a tiger roars, wind springs from the valley mouth; when an apes cry, the moon sinks to the mountainside.

Just as if blocks of jade were dyed with indigo, or mounds of mist were veiled in green gauze.

This Marshal Hong trudged along alone for a while, winding up slopes and turning along paths, grasping vines and climbing creepers. After crossing several mountain peaks and walking two or three *li*, he found his feet aching and his legs weak. He could go no further. He said nothing with his mouth, but wavered in his belly, thinking in his heart, "I am a noble official of the court. In the capital I slept on layered mattresses and ate from rows of tripods, and even then I was still weary. How have I ever worn straw sandals and walked such mountain paths! Who knows where that Celestial Master is, making your humble official suffer like this!" He had gone no more than thirty or forty paces further when he stopped, panting on his shoulders.

Then he saw a gust of wind rise from a hollow in the mountain. As the wind passed, from behind a pine tree there came a roar like thunder, and out leaped a great creature—a huge tiger with hanging white eyes and a white forehead, its fur brocade-bright. Marshal Hong gave a start of fright and cried out, "Aiya!" He fell backward to the ground. Stealing a glance at the great creature, he saw:

Its fur draped in a coat of golden yellow; its claws revealed eighteen silver hooks.

Its eyes were like lightning, its tail like a whip; its mouth like a basin of blood, its teeth like halberds.

It stretched its waist and spread its arms with ferocious might; it swayed its wag and shook its head with a sound like thunder.

The foxes and hares of the mountain all hid themselves; the river deer and roe of the stream all concealed their tracks.

The great creature gazed at Marshal Hong, circled left and right, and roared for a moment. Then it bounded away down the back slope. Marshal Hong lay at the base of the tree, so terrified that his thirty-six teeth clattered against each other in pairs. His heart was like fifteen buckets being drawn up and let down, clattering seven times up and eight times down. His whole body was numb as if struck by paralysis. His legs were like those of a defeated rooster. From his mouth came unceasing cries of distress.

The great creature had been gone for the time it takes to drink a cup of tea before Marshal Hong finally managed to scramble to his feet. He gathered up the incense burner from the ground, resumed burning the dragon incense, and went up the mountain again, determined to find the Celestial Master.

Another fifty paces or so, and he sighed several times and grumbled, "The Emperor has ordered me to this place, and see what terror I have endured!" Before he had finished speaking, he felt another gust of wind, blowing the poisonous vapor straight toward him. The Grand Commandant looked closely, and from among the bamboo and creepers at the mountain's edge came a rustling sound, and out sprang a snake as large as a well-bucket, white as snow. The Grand Commandant was struck with fresh alarm. He dropped his hand-warmer, cried out, "This time I am truly dead!" and fell backward onto the tumbled boulder. He opened his eyes a crack to look at the snake, and this was what he saw:

Its head reared up, raising a sudden whirlwind;

Its flashing eyes sparked lightning.

When it moved, it could snap ravines and overturn ridges;

When it breathed, it blew clouds and spewed mist.

Its scales scattered in chaotic heaps like a thousand pieces of jade;

Its tail curled sideways, piling up a mound of silver.

The great snake charged straight to the boulder, coiled itself in a heap before Grand Commandant Hong, shot golden light from both eyes, opened its enormous maw, extended its tongue, and blew its poisonous breath into the Grand Commandant's face. Hong was so terrified that his three souls drifted and his seven spirits wandered. The snake regarded the Grand Commandant for a moment, then slithered down the mountain and was gone in an instant. The Grand Commandant only then managed to scramble to his feet. "What a disgrace!" he said. "You've nearly killed me!" He looked at himself and found cold chills covering him, each the size of a dumpling. He cursed the Taoist priests: "How intolerably rude! They've made a mockery of me and put me through such terror! If I don't find the Celestial Master up on the mountain, I'll have something else to say to them when I get back down." He picked up his silver censer again, straightened out the imperial edict, and adjusted his robes, headscarf, and cap, preparing to climb the mountain once more. Just as he was about to set off, he heard from behind the pine trees the faint sound of a flute, gradually drawing nearer. The Grand Commandant looked closely, and saw a young Taoist boy riding backward on a yellow ox, playing a cross-held iron flute, emerging from a hollow in the mountain. The Grand Commandant observed the boy:

His hair was gathered in two topknots, and he wore a single robe of dark green.

His waist was bound with a cord woven of grass;

His feet were straw sandals with hemp spacers between the toes.

His eyes were bright, his teeth white—he drifted along without a trace of worldly dust;

His temples were dark as mulberry leaves, his face rosy—utterly free of any common bearing.

Long ago, Lü Dongbin wrote a fine poem about a buffalo boy:

Grass spreads across the wilds for six or seven li,

The flute plays with the evening wind three or four times.

Returning after a full meal at dusk,

He lies down in the moonlight without taking off his rain cape.

The young boy was riding the yellow ox with a merry smile, playing his iron flute as he came over the mountain. The Grand Commandant saw him and called out, "Where do you come from? Do you know me?" The boy paid no attention, only playing his flute. The Grand Commandant asked several times, and then the boy laughed, took up his iron flute, and pointed at the Grand Commandant. "You've come here—surely you want to see the Celestial Master?" The Grand Commandant was greatly startled. "You're just a buffalo boy—how could you know that?" The boy laughed and said, "Earlier this morning I was attending the Celestial Master in the thatched hermitage, and I heard him say: 'The present Emperor has sent a Grand Commandant named Hong bearing an imperial edict and sacred incense to this mountain, summoning me to the Eastern Capital to perform a three-thousand-six-hundred-offering Great Ritual of the Celestial Net, to pray away the plague afflicting the realm. I shall now depart riding a crane upon the clouds.' By now he has probably already left and is no longer in the hermitage. Don't go up. The mountain is full of venomous creatures and savage beasts—they might cost you your life." The Grand Commandant asked again, "Don't you lie to me." The boy gave a laugh, said nothing more, played his iron flute, and turned off over the hillside. The Grand Commandant thought to himself, "How could this child know all this? It must be that the Celestial Master told him—that settles it." He was about to climb the mountain again, but the terror he had just endured had nearly cost him his life. Better to go back down.

The Grand Chancellor, carrying the hand censer, retraced his old path and hurried back down the mountain. The Taoist priests received him and invited him to sit in the abbot's quarters. The Prior asked the Grand Chancellor, "Did you see the Heavenly Master?" The Grand Chancellor replied, "I am a high official of the court. How could you make me walk these mountain roads, endure such hardship, and nearly lose my life? Before I had reached halfway up the mountain, a great tiger with white forehead and staring eyes leaped out, and my soul nearly left my body. Then, before I had passed a single mountain spur, a snow-white serpent, coiled in a heap, sprang from the bamboo thickets and blocked my way. Had I not been blessed with great fortune, how could I have returned to the capital alive? It is all because your priests were making sport of me." The Prior replied, "How would we poor priests dare to slight a high minister? This was the Patriarch testing the sincerity of your heart's resolve. Though this mountain has snakes and tigers, they do not harm people." The Grand Chancellor continued, "I was just too exhausted to go on and was about to climb the slope again when I saw a young Taoist boy emerge from behind a pine tree, riding a yellow ox and playing an iron flute as he came across the mountain. I asked him, 'Where do you come from? Do you know who I am?' He said, 'I already know everything.' He said the Heaven Master had given instructions and had ridden a crane upon the clouds to the Eastern Capital that very morning, so I came back." The Prior said, "The Grand Chancellor has missed him to his sorrow. That very herdsman was the Heavenly Master." The Grand Chancellor said, "If he was the Heavenly Master, how could he be so lowly and uncouth?" The Prior answered, "This generation's Heavenly Master is no ordinary person. Though young in years, his attainment in the Way is truly extraordinary. He is a being beyond the common order, who manifests in all four directions with the most wondrous efficacy. The world calls him the Patriarch Who Has Attained the Way through the Tao." Grand Chancellor Hong said, "I truly had eyes but failed to recognize the true Master, and missed him to his face!" The Prior said, "Let the Grand Chancellor set his mind at ease. Since the Patriarch's sacred decree states that he has gone, by the time the Grand Chancellor returns to the capital, the Patriarch will have completed this entire purification ritual." Hearing this, the Grand Chancellor was at last reassured. The Prior then had a feast prepared to entertain the Grand Chancellor, and the imperial edict was placed in the imperial book box and stored in the Upper Clarity Palace. The dragon incense was burned in the Hall of the Three Pure Ones. That day a great vegetarian feast was laid out in the abbot's quarters, and they drank and feasted together. When the banquet ended in the evening, they rested there through the night until dawn.

The next morning, after the early meal, the Prior, the Taoist priests, the superintendent, the attendants, and others invited the Grand Chancellor to tour the mountain. The Grand Chancellor was overjoyed. Many people followed on foot as they walked out from the abbot's quarters, with two young Taoist boys leading the way. They proceeded through the front and rear of the palace, viewing many fine scenes. In the Hall of the Three Pure Ones, the wealth and splendor were beyond description. On the left corridor were the Nine Heavens Hall, the Purple Tenuity Hall, and the North Pole Hall; on the right were the Supreme Unity Hall, the Three Officials Hall, and the Demon-Quelling Hall. After viewing all the halls, they came to a place behind the right corridor. When Grand Chancellor Hong looked, it was another hall entirely, surrounded by walls of ground-pepper red clay. Directly in front were two vermillion lattice doors, secured with a lock as thick as a man's arm. Crossed over it were more than ten layers of seals, and upon the seals were layer upon layer of red stamps. Before the eaves hung a plaque of vermillion lacquer with four gold characters, which read: "Hall of the Demon-Subduing Patriarch." The Grand Chancellor pointed at the door and asked, "What place is this hall?" The Prior replied, "This is the hall where the Patriarchs of previous generations chained and imprisoned the Demon Kings." The Grand Chancellor asked again, "Why are there so many layers of seals pasted upon it?" The Prior answered, "This was sealed by the Great Tang Dynasty's National Preceptor Dongxuan, who imprisoned the Demon Kings here. But each successive Heavenly Master, upon receiving the transmission, personally adds another layer of seal, commanding their sons and grandsons never to open it rashly. If the Demon Lords were to escape, the consequences would be most dire. Now, through eight or nine generations of Patriarchs, none has dared to open it. The lock was cast by pouring molten copper into it. Who knows what lies within? This humble priest has presided over this palace for over thirty years, and I too have only heard of it."

Grand Chancellor Hong was astonished upon hearing this and thought to himself, "Let me try to take a look at the Demon Kings." He said to the Prior, "Open the door at once. I want to see what the Demon Kings look like." The Prior warned him, "Grand Chancellor, this hall must absolutely not be opened! The founding Patriarch gave strict instructions and admonished: from this day forward, no one is permitted to open it without authorization." The Grand Chancellor laughed and said, "Nonsense! You wish to fabricate strange events, delude the good people, and deliberately create this place, falsely claiming it imprisons Demon Kings, to glorify your own Taoist arts. I have read all the histories—when have I ever heard of such a method of imprisoning demons? The way of gods and ghosts belongs to the shadowy realm of the underworld. I do not believe there are Demon Kings inside. Quickly open it for me, and let me see what the Demon Kings are like!" The Prior remonstrated three times and five times, saying, "This hall must not be opened. I fear it would invite disaster and bring harm to people." The Grand Chancellor flew into a rage, pointed at the priests, and said, "If you do not open it for me to see, when I return to the court, I will first report the crime of all you priests, who, upon receiving the imperial edict, defied the sacred decree and would not let me see the Heavenly Master. Second, I will report that you privately established this hall, falsely claiming it imprisons Demon Kings, to delude the soldiers and common people. I will have all of your ordination certificates confiscated and have you tattooed and exiled to remote and evil prefectures to suffer."

The Prior and the others, fearing the Grand Chancellor's power and authority, had no choice but to call several workmen over. They first removed the seals and used an iron hammer to break open the great lock. The crowd pushed the doors open and looked inside. It was pitch black. They saw only:

Dim and obscure, dark and shadowless,

For hundreds of years it had not seen the light of the sun,

For myriad ages it had been impossible to glimpse the shadow of the moon.

One could not tell south from north,

How could one distinguish east from west?

Black smoke, thick and billowing, struck men with cold,

Chilly vapors, damp and dark, seeped into the body and set it trembling.

A place where no human foot had trod,

A land where demons and spirits came and went.

Opening both eyes, one was as though blind,

Extending both hands, one could not see one's palms.

It was always like the thirtieth night of the moon,

Yet also like the fifth watch before dawn.

All of them went together into the hall. It was pitch black and nothing could be seen. The Grand Commandant ordered his attendants to light some dozen torches. When they shone them about, there was nothing on any side—only a stone stele in the center, about five or six feet high, with a stone turtle crouching at its base, half sunk in the mud. When they examined the front of the stele, it was covered all over with dragon-seal and phoenix-script characters, celestial writing and talismanic signs that no one could read. But when they looked at the back of the stele, there were four characters in regular script, deeply carved: "Opened when Hong meets it." Was it not destined? First, the Stars of the Heavenly Stem were fated to be born into the world; second, the Song Dynasty was certain to reveal loyal worthies; third, by a remarkable coincidence it happened to be Hong Xin—was this not the will of Heaven? When the Grand Commandant saw these four characters, he was overjoyed and said to the Real Man, "You tried to stop me, but how could you know that hundreds of years ago my surname was already inscribed here? 'Opened when Hong meets it'—clearly it tells me to open it. What harm could there be? I believe the Demon King must be right beneath this stele. You attendants, call several workmen for me and bring shovels and picks to dig it open."

The Real Man hastily remonstrated: "Your Excellency must not dig it up. I fear there will be harm—people could be injured. It is not safe." The Grand Commandant flew into a rage and shouted, "What do you Taoist priests understand? The stele clearly says it is to be opened by me—how dare you obstruct me? Quickly bring men to open it." The Real Man remonstrated three times, then five times: "I fear something bad may come of it." But the Grand Commandant would not listen at all. He had no choice but to gather the men, first topple the stele, and then together they strained to dig up the stone turtle. It took half a day before they could pry it loose. They dug further down, about three or four feet deep, and came upon a great bluestone slab, roughly ten feet square. The Grand Commandant ordered them to dig it up, and the Real Man earnestly protested again: "You must not dig it up." But the Grand Commandant would not listen. The men had no choice but to lift the slab together. When they looked, beneath the slab was a bottomless pit of unfathomable depth. Then from within the pit came a tremendous, roaring crash. The sound was no ordinary thing—it was as though:

Heaven was rent and the earth collapsed; mountains shook and hills were overthrown.

On the Qiantang River, the tidal bore surges past the Sea Gate;

Atop Mount Taihua, the Giant Spirit cleaves the peak with one blow.

Gonggong in fury casts off his helm and smashes Mount Buzhou;

A mighty warrior swings his flying hammer and shatters the First Emperor's carriage.

A single wind snaps a thousand bamboo stalks; midnight thunder rolls through a hundred thousand troops.

When that tremendous sound had passed, a column of black vapor came rolling up from the pit and tore off half the corner of the hall. That black vapor shot straight up into midair, then scattered into a hundred or more streams of golden light, flying off in every direction. The men were seized with terror, cried out, and fled, abandoning their shovels and picks, all rushing out from the hall, shoving and stumbling over one another in countless numbers. The Grand Commandant was struck dumb with fright, staring with wide-open eyes, not knowing what to do, his face the color of earth. He ran to the corridor, where he found the Real Man coming toward him, wailing without cease.

The Grand Commandant asked, "What demon escaped?" The Real Man spoke no more than a few sentences—in but one short speech he told the whole story. And it came to pass that the emperor of a single dynasty could not sleep peacefully at night or eat without anxiety by day. Indeed, in Wanzi City were hidden tigers and leopards; in Liaowa Marsh gathered divine dragons and crocodiles. But what exactly did the Real Man of Dragon-Tiger Mountain say? Listen to the next chapter for the explanation.