Water Margin

Poem: 

The crimson-capped herald reports the dawn,   

Official robes bring the jade cloud robe.   

The palace gates of heaven open wide,   

All nations' attire bows to the imperial crown.   

As the sun's rays touch the immortal's palm,   

The fragrance of incense drifts around the imperial dragon.   

After the morning audience, the five-colored edict is drafted,   

And the sound of jade pendants returns to the Phoenix Pond.

---

It is said that during the reign of Emperor Renzong of the Song Dynasty, on the third day of the third month in the third year of the Jiayou era, at the third watch, the emperor was seated in the Zichen Hall, receiving the officials’ morning salutations. The scene was as follows: 

Auspicious clouds shrouded the Phoenix Pavilion, and benevolent aura covered the Dragon Tower. The imperial willows, touched by mist, brushed against the flags, and palace flowers, glistening with dew, greeted the weapons. In the fragrance of heavenly scent, jade hairpins and pearl-embroidered shoes gathered on the crimson steps; amid the sound of celestial music, embroidered robes and brocade clothes supported the imperial chariot. The pearl curtains were drawn up, revealing the golden hall with the imperial chariot; phoenix-feather fans opened, and at the white jade steps stopped the treasure carriage. Three faint sounds of a clear whip echoed, and the civil and military officials lined up in their ranks. 

An official in the hall shouted, “If there is a matter to report, step forward; if not, roll up the curtains and end the audience.” From the ranks emerged Prime Minister Zhao Zhe and Vice Minister Wen Yanbo, who stepped forward and said, “Currently, there is a severe epidemic in the capital, and the people are suffering greatly, with many military and civilian casualties. We humbly request that Your Majesty grant clemency and reduce taxes to alleviate the disaster and save the people.” The emperor, upon hearing this, urgently ordered the Hanlin Academy to draft an edict: pardoning all criminals throughout the land and exempting all taxes; simultaneously, he ordered the temples and monasteries in the capital to hold ceremonies to dispel the disaster. However, that year, the epidemic worsened, causing Emperor Renzong great anxiety. He convened the officials again, and they all deliberated. From among them, a minister stepped forward. It was Vice Minister Fan Zhongyan. After paying respects, he said, “Currently, the natural disaster is severe, causing great suffering to the military and civilians. In my humble opinion, to dispel this disaster, we should summon the Taoist Master from Mount Longhu to hold a grand ceremony in the capital to appease the gods and dispel the epidemic.” Emperor Renzong approved this suggestion. He urgently ordered the Hanlin scholars to draft an edict, which the emperor personally wrote, and bestowed incense upon Grand Marshal Hong Xin, appointing him as an envoy to Mount Longhu in Xinyu, Jiangxi Province, to summon the Taoist Master. 

Hong Xin received the imperial edict, bid farewell to the emperor, and dared not delay. Accompanied by several attendants carrying the edict and the imperial incense in a golden box, he set out with a retinue, leaving the capital and heading towards Guixi County in Xinyu. Along the way, they saw: 

Distant mountains clad in emerald, and clear waters reflecting the sky. Bright flowers adorned the forest, and tender willows swayed like golden threads. In the warm spring breeze, they passed through countryside inns and mountain villages; the road was smooth and sandy, and they lodged at postal stations at night. In the red dust, silk robes fluttered, and fine horses galloped on the imperial paths. 

Thus, Grand Marshal Hong Xin carried the imperial edict on his journey. After several days, they arrived in Xinyu, Jiangxi. Local officials greeted them outside the city and sent messengers to inform the Daoist monks at the Shangqing Palace on Mount Longhu to prepare for the reception of the edict. The next day, the officials escorted Grand Marshal Hong to the foot of Mount Longhu. There, numerous Daoist monks from the Shangqing Palace, with bells and drums, incense and flowers, lanterns and candles, banners and canopies, and celestial music, descended the mountain to receive the edict, escorting them to the front of the Shangqing Palace. Grand Marshal Hong observed the palace and found it magnificent: 

Green pines twisted and ancient cypresses stood tall. The entrance bore a golden inscribed plaque, and spirit talismans adorned the doors. Near the altar of the Celestial Emperor, willows and famous flowers could be seen; beside the elixir furnace, old pines and cypresses were partially visible. On the left wall, divine soldiers followed the True Lord Taiyi; on the right, jade maidens and golden boys attended to the Purple Star Emperor. The Northern True Warrior stepped on turtles and serpents with his sword and disheveled hair; the Southern Elder on the Extreme Star subjugated dragons and tigers with his simple attire. In front, twenty-eight constellation deities were arrayed, and behind, thirty-two heavenly emperors. Water flowed gently down the steps, and the walls and courtyards were surrounded by beautiful mountains. Red-crowned cranes and green-haired turtles were present. In the trees, monkeys offered fruit, and white deer held Ganoderma in their mouths. In the Three Purity Hall, Daoists struck golden bells and practiced meditation; in the Four Sage Hall, immortals struck jade chimes and paid respects. On the incense altar, colorful clouds reflected on the green tiles; at the summoning altar, the sun’s rays shimmered on the red agate. Early in the morning, auspicious clouds appeared at the gate, suggesting the presence of the Taoist Master. 

At that moment, the abbot and attendants, along with the monks, escorted the guests to the Three Purity Hall, where the edict was reverently placed in the center. Grand Marshal Hong asked the abbot where the Taoist Master was. The abbot replied, “To inform you, Grand Marshal: our current Patriarch is known as ‘Master Xu Jing,’ who prefers seclusion and avoids receptions. He has retreated to a thatched hut atop Mount Longhu to cultivate his Tao. Hence, he does not reside in the main palace.” The Grand Marshal asked, “Since the emperor has issued an edict, how can we meet him?” The abbot replied, “We dare not read the edict. Please have tea in the guest hall, and we will discuss further.” The edict was placed in the Three Purity Hall, and all officials went to the guest hall. After tea and a vegetarian meal, the Grand Marshal asked again, “Since the Taoist Master is atop the mountain, can we send someone to invite him down to read the edict?” The abbot replied, “Though the Taoist Master is on the mountain, his cultivation is profound, and he can travel on clouds and mists, making his whereabouts unpredictable. It is difficult to invite him down.” The Grand Marshal said, “How then can we meet him? The capital is plagued by an epidemic, and the emperor has sent me with the imperial edict and incense to invite the Taoist Master for a grand ceremony to dispel the disaster and save the people. How can we manage this?” The abbot replied, “To save the people, the Grand Marshal must demonstrate sincerity, fast and bathe, change into plain clothes, avoid bringing attendants, carry the edict, burn the imperial incense, and climb the mountain on foot to sincerely request the Taoist Master’s presence. If your heart is sincere, you will meet him; otherwise, it will be in vain.” The Grand Marshal said, “I have been fasting since leaving the capital, so my heart is sincere. I will follow your instructions and climb the mountain early tomorrow.” That night, they rested. 

The next day at dawn, the Taoists rose and prepared fragrant water, inviting the Grand Marshal to rise and bathe. He changed into fresh cloth garments and put on straw sandals. After a vegetarian meal, he took the imperial edict, wrapped it in a yellow silk bundle, and carried it on his back. Holding a silver hand warmer, he gently burned the imperial incense. Many Taoists escorted him to the back mountain and pointed out the path. The abbot then said, “Grand Marshal, if you wish to save the people, do not entertain thoughts of retreat; just proceed with sincerity.” The Grand Marshal bid farewell to the group, reciting the sacred title of the Heavenly Lord, and began climbing the mountain. As he reached halfway up, he saw the main peak reaching high into the clouds. Indeed, it was a magnificent mountain: 

Its roots spread across the earth, and its peak touched the sky. From afar, it appeared to cut through chaotic clouds; up close, it seemed to swallow the moon. With varying heights, it was called a mountain; with pathways between rocks, it was called a valley; with rugged and winding paths, it was called a trail; its flat top was called a summit; with round peaks, it was called a crest; hiding tigers and leopards, it was called a den; concealing wind and clouds, it was called a cliff; with hermits living within, it was called a cave; with a realm and boundary, it was called a domain; with woodcutters appearing and disappearing, it was called a path; able to accommodate carriages and horses, it was called a road; with flowing water making sound, it was called a stream; with an ancient crossing at its source, it was called a brook; with dripping water from rock walls, it was called a spring. The left wall was for concealment, and the right wall for reflection. Clouds emerged from it, and mist was received by it. With pointed peaks like awls, rugged steepness like cliffs, hanging in mid-air like danger, and smooth surfaces like polished mirrors. A thousand peaks competed for beauty, and ten thousand valleys vied for flow. Waterfalls flew diagonally, vines hung upside down. Tigers roared, causing the wind to stir in the valley; monkeys cried, making the moon drop to the mountainside. It was as if green indigo had dyed thousands of pieces of jade, and emerald gauze covered a myriad of smoke. 

Grand Marshal Hong Xin climbed alone for a while, circling slopes and turning paths, grabbing vines and climbing overgrowth. After passing several mountain peaks and more than two or three miles, his feet grew sore, and his legs weak. He could hardly move, feeling frustrated and thinking, “I am an esteemed official of the court, used to luxurious bedding and gourmet meals, yet I feel exhausted; how could I endure wearing straw sandals and climbing these mountain paths! Who knows where the Taoist Master is, making me suffer like this!” After another thirty to fifty steps, he was out of breath and short of shoulder. Suddenly, a gust of wind arose in the mountain valley, and behind a pine tree came a thunderous roar as a white-striped, gold-furred tiger leaped out. Grand Marshal Hong Xin was startled, exclaiming, “Ah!” and fell to the ground. Glancing at the tiger, he saw: 

Its fur was a golden hue, and its claws were like silver hooks. 

Its eyes flashed like lightning, its tail like a whip, its mouth like a blood basin, and its teeth like spears. 

Stretching its body and extending its arms, it looked fierce, wagging its tail and shaking its head with a thunderous sound. 

All the foxes and rabbits in the mountain hid, and all the deer in the ravine disappeared. 

The tiger stared at Grand Marshal Hong Xin, pacing left and right, roaring for a while, and then jumped towards the back of the mountain. Hong Xin, lying at the base of a tree, was terrified, his teeth chattering, and his heart pounding like drums. He felt paralyzed, his legs like a defeated rooster’s. He cried out in fear. After the tiger left, he slowly got up, gathered the incense burner from the ground, kept burning the imperial incense, and continued climbing, determined to find the Taoist Master. After another thirty to fifty steps, sighing several times, he complained, “The emperor commanded me here, making me endure such fright.” Before he could finish, another gust of wind blew, carrying a poisonous odor. He looked and saw a rustling noise among the bamboo and vines, and out came a snake the size of a bucket, as white as snow. Seeing it, he was frightened again, dropped the incense burner, and exclaimed, “This time I’m surely dead!” and fell near a stone. He glanced at the snake, seeing: 

Its head raised, it caused a gust of wind; its eyes emitted flashes of light.  

It could collapse gorges and mountains with its movements, and blow clouds and mist with its breath. 

Its scales and armor scattered like a thousand pieces of jade, and its tail coiled like a heap of silver. 

The snake slithered towards the stone, coiling near Grand Marshal Hong Xin, its eyes gleaming with gold, its mouth wide open, tongue flicking, spraying poisonous gas in his face. He was so terrified that his soul and spirit seemed to scatter. The snake stared at him for a moment, then slithered down the mountain, disappearing. Hong Xin slowly got up, saying, “How shameful! This has scared me to death!” Seeing the goosebumps on his skin, he cursed the Taoists, “How dare they treat me so rudely, making me endure such fright! If I don’t find the Taoist Master, I will have words with them.” He retrieved the silver hand warmer, adjusted the imperial edict and his clothing, and prepared to climb further. 

Just as he was about to move, he heard a faint sound of a flute behind the pine tree, gradually getting closer. He looked and saw a young Taoist boy, riding backward on a yellow cow, playing an iron flute, emerging from the mountain hollow. The Grand Marshal observed the Taoist boy: 

His hair was styled in two buns, wearing a green robe, with a straw belt tied around his waist and straw sandals on his feet. His bright eyes and white teeth exuded purity; his black hair and rosy complexion had no trace of commonness. 

As the poem by Lü Dongbin aptly describes: 

“The grass stretches across the wild for six or seven miles, the flute plays a few notes in the evening breeze. 

Returning home after a hearty meal at dusk, not removing the straw raincoat, he sleeps under the bright moon.” 

The young Taoist boy, with a smiling face, was riding the yellow cow and playing the iron flute as he came down the mountain. Grand Marshal Hong Xin saw him and called out, “Where do you come from? Do you recognize me?” The boy ignored him and continued playing the flute. After several calls, the boy laughed, put down the flute, and said to Hong Xin, “You must be here to see the Taoist Master, right?” Hong Xin was shocked and replied, “How do you, a shepherd boy, know this?” The boy laughed and said, “This morning, while serving the Master in the thatched hut, I heard him say: ‘The current Emperor Renzong of the Song Dynasty has sent Grand Marshal Hong Xin with an imperial edict and incense, summoning me to the capital to conduct a grand ceremony to dispel the epidemic.’ The Master then rode a crane and flew away. He should be gone by now and is not in the hut. You shouldn’t go up, as there are many poisonous insects and fierce beasts in the mountains that could harm you.” Hong Xin asked again, “Are you telling the truth?” The boy laughed again, said nothing more, and continued playing the flute as he went around the mountain. Hong Xin thought, “How does this boy know everything? It must be the Master who instructed him.” Deciding not to climb further due to the earlier fright, he chose to go back down the mountain. 

Grand Marshal Hong Xin, carrying the hand warmer, retraced his steps down the mountain. The Taoists greeted him and led him to the guest hall to sit. The abbot asked, “Did you see the Master?” Hong Xin replied, “I am a high official of the court, and yet I was made to climb this mountain and endure such hardships, nearly losing my life! First, halfway up the mountain, a white-striped tiger jumped out, scaring me out of my wits. Then, further along, a large white snake emerged from the bamboo, blocking my path. If not for my good fortune, I would not have survived. This was all your doing, making a fool of me!” The abbot responded, “We would not dare to treat a high official lightly. This was a test of your resolve by our ancestor. Though the mountain has snakes and tigers, they do not harm people.” Hong Xin continued, “As I was struggling to climb further, I saw a young Taoist boy riding a yellow cow and playing an iron flute. I asked him, ‘Where do you come from? Do you know me?’ He said, ‘I know everything,’ and told me the Master had flown to the capital on a crane. That’s why I came back down.” The abbot said, “It’s a pity you missed the chance; that boy was the Master himself.” Hong Xin said, “If he is the Master, why did he appear so casual?” The abbot replied, “This Master is extraordinary, although young, his spiritual practice is profound. He is known as the Dao Tong Patriarch.” Hong Xin said, “I failed to recognize the true Master when he was right in front of me!” The abbot reassured him, “Rest assured, Grand Marshal. Since the Master has already departed, by the time you return to the capital, the grand ceremony will be completed.” Hong Xin was relieved. The abbot arranged a banquet to host the Grand Marshal, stored the imperial edict in the sacred book box, and burned the incense in the Three Purity Hall. That day, a grand vegetarian feast was held in the guest hall, and they dined until evening before retiring for the night. 

The next morning, after breakfast, the abbot and the Taoists invited Grand Marshal Hong Xin to tour the mountain. Hong Xin was delighted. Accompanied by many people, they walked out of the guest hall, led by two young Taoists. They toured the front and back of the palace, admiring many sights. The Three Purity Hall was extremely lavish. To the left were the Nine Heavens Hall, the Purple Star Hall, and the North Pole Hall; to the right were the Taiyi Hall, the Three Officials Hall, and the Exorcism Hall. After viewing all the halls, they came to another building at the back of the right corridor. Hong Xin saw another hall: its walls were red clay, and the front had two red doors with large locks. Numerous seals were affixed to the door, with heavy red seals on each layer. Above the eaves hung a red plaque with gold letters reading “Hall of Demon Suppression.” Hong Xin asked, “What is this hall for?” The abbot replied, “This is the hall where the Taoist ancestors sealed and suppressed demons.” Hong Xin asked, “Why are there so many seals on it?” The abbot replied, “Each generation of the Taoist Master adds a seal to ensure that the demon remains locked away. No one dares to open it. The locks are cast with copper, and what’s inside remains a mystery. I have been here for over thirty years and have only heard of it.” Hong Xin was intrigued and thought, “I must see this demon.” He said to the abbot, “Open the door, and let me see the demon.” The abbot replied, “We dare not open it. The ancestor Taoist Master warned that no one should open it.” Hong Xin laughed and said, “Nonsense! You create these stories to deceive the people, claiming to suppress a demon to show off your Taoist skills. I have read many books and never heard of such a thing. Ghosts and gods belong to the netherworld. I don’t believe there is a demon inside. Open it now, and let me see.” The abbot repeatedly explained, “Opening this hall could cause great harm.” Hong Xin grew angry and said, “If you don’t open it, I will report you to the court for obstructing the imperial decree and deceiving the people. You will lose your status and be exiled.” The abbot and Taoists, fearing his power, had no choice but to summon several attendants to break the seals and unlock the door. When they pushed the door open, it was pitch black inside: 

Dark and silent, murky and dim. For hundreds of years, it had not seen sunlight, and for eons, it had not witnessed the moonlight. North and south were indistinguishable, and directions were unknown. Black smoke chilled the air, and the cold atmosphere made one shiver. A place untouched by human feet, a land of spirits and demons. Eyes wide open could see nothing, and outstretched hands couldn’t find their palms. It was always like the thirtieth night of the month, yet felt like the fifth watch of the night. 

The group all entered the hall together, but it was so dark that nothing could be seen. Grand Marshal Hong Xin ordered his attendants to light several torches. When they illuminated the space, there was nothing around except a stone tablet in the center, about five or six feet high, with a stone tortoise at the base, mostly buried in the ground. The front of the tablet was inscribed with dragon and phoenix characters, heavenly scripts, and talismans, which no one could understand. When they illuminated the back of the tablet, there was a large inscription with the character “true” and the words “Open when Hong arrives” carved into it. It seemed fated that the tablet was meant to be uncovered when someone named Hong arrived. Overjoyed, Grand Marshal Hong Xin said to the Taoists, “You all tried to stop me, but why was my surname carved here hundreds of years ago? ‘Open when Hong arrives’ clearly indicates that I should open it. What’s the harm? I believe the demon king is sealed under this stone tablet. Gather some workers and bring shovels and picks to dig it up.”  

The abbot hurriedly advised, “Grand Marshal, you must not dig it up! It could be dangerous and harm people, which would not be proper.” Grand Marshal Hong Xin became furious and shouted, “You Taoists know nothing! The tablet clearly says it should be opened by me. How can you obstruct this? Quickly call people to open it.” Despite the abbot’s repeated warnings about the potential danger, Hong Xin would not listen. The group had no choice but to follow his orders. They first toppled the stone tablet and then dug around the stone tortoise, finally uncovering it after half a day. They continued digging another three or four feet down and found a large green stone slab about a square yard in size. Grand Marshal Hong Xin ordered them to lift it as well.  

Despite the abbot’s repeated pleas not to, Hong Xin insisted. The group lifted the stone slab together, revealing a deep pit beneath it. Suddenly, there was a loud rumbling noise from the pit, sounding like: 

Heaven collapsing, earth caving in, mountains shaking and crumbling. Like the tidal waves of the Qiantang River rushing out of the sea gate; like the giant spirit god splitting the peak of Mount Taihua. It was as if Gong Gong, in his rage, knocked down Mount Buzhou; or a powerful warrior smashed the chariot of the First Emperor with a flying hammer. The wind snapped thousands of bamboo poles, and it sounded like thunder in the middle of the night in a vast army. 

As the loud noise passed, a black gas surged out of the pit, collapsing half of the hall’s corner. The black gas shot up to the sky and dispersed into hundreds of golden lights, scattering in all directions. The group was terrified, screamed, and fled, dropping their shovels and picks, tumbling out of the hall, and causing chaos. Grand Marshal Hong Xin, stunned and bewildered, was pale with fright. As he ran to the corridor, he saw the abbot lamenting in despair. Hong Xin asked, “What demon has escaped?” 

The abbot could only speak a few words, explaining the situation in short. This event was destined to cause: 

The emperor to have restless nights and forget to eat during the day. Tigers would hide in the city of Wan, and dragons would gather in Liao’er Hollow. 

What exactly did the Taoist Master of Mount Longhu say? That will be revealed in the next chapter.