Three Teachings Break the Zhuxian Formation

T he Slay-Immortal array was set with four gates, and at each gate hung a sword: yellow fog, mad wind, thunder and fire all braided together, so that any immortal who walked in walked into his own appointed doom. That was the whole design of it. Tongtian, Lord of the Intercepting School, had built it as the last word in killing — an array so absolute that no one being, however high, could break it from inside. To breach it you needed sages of equal rank, all four gates forced at once. The old masters of the rival school had three. They were about to go looking for a fourth. The Slay-Immortal evil array was ranged with four gates; yellow fog and wild wind, thunder and fire all together. Meeting calamity, the yellow-capped ones met their fated ruin; the fallen feathered scholars were all buried in dust. The sword-light vainly holds the power to swallow gods to the bone; the talisman-seal labors in vain to spit black haze. Though one possess the supreme Reach-Heaven art, when the time meets a sage-ruler, much goes awry.

Before the four masters ever met, Laozi had already gone in alone and played a trick on Tongtian. From a single breath he had divided himself into the Three Pure Ones, three identical sages who closed around Tongtian like a fist — not to wound him, only to wrap and confound him, and Tongtian, who could read most things, could not read this. When the breath began to thin Laozi sat on his green ox and sang: born before the sky was born, he had borrowed the body of one Li to take a name, had studied virtue at the feet of Hongjun, and only then learned how one breath becomes three Pure Ones. A bell rang. The three sages were gone. Now the Three Pure Ones that Laozi made from one breath were nothing but primal vapor — though they had form and color and had wrapped up Tongtian Jiaozhu, they could not harm him. This was the marvel of Laozi's breath dividing his body, baffling Tongtian, who could not perceive it. Seeing the one breath about to disperse, Laozi composed a verse upon his green ox: "Aged before the prior heaven, born after the latter heaven, I borrowed Li to take form and gain a name. Once I bowed to Hongjun and cultivated the Way and its virtue, and so came to know one breath becomes three Pure Ones." The verse done, a bell sounded, and the three Daoists vanished.

Tongtian, more confused than ever, drifted off into thought — and Laozi cracked him two or three times across the back with his flat staff. Seeing his master abused, the disciple Duobao came flying out singing his own challenge, sword drawn, straight for Laozi. Laozi only laughed. A pearl no bigger than a grain of rice, he said, and still it wants to give off light. He parried the blade, flung up a wind-and-fire prayer mat into the air, and told a yellow-turbaned strongman to take this Daoist away, set him down in the peach orchard, and wait for sentencing. The mat rolled Duobao up and carried him off. From this day he leaves the crooked road for the straight, the narrator notes — he and the West have a karma to keep. Tongtian Jiaozhu grew yet more doubtful, fell unawares into a trance, and was struck two or three times by Laozi's flat staff. Seeing his master take a loss, the disciple Duobao came from the Eight-Trigram platform singing, then cried, "Uncle-master! I have come!" — and flew at Laozi sword in hand. Laozi laughed: "A pearl the size of a rice-grain, and yet it gives off light!" He braced the sword with his staff, sent up a wind-and-fire prayer mat, and ordered a yellow-turbaned strongman: "Take this Daoist and set him in the peach orchard; await my sentence." The mat rolled Duobao away. Truly: from now he forsakes the crooked and returns to the right road; he and the West have an affinity.

“A pearl the size of a grain of rice, Laozi said, and still it wants to give off light.”

Laozi did not stay to fight. He left through the Trap-Immortal gate and came to the reed pavilion where the other masters waited. The Primordial Heavenly King asked what he had seen inside. Hard to break in haste, Laozi said — I gave him a few cracks of the staff and packed Duobao off to my own heaven, but the thing has four gates, and it takes four of real power to break it. You and I can hold two. The other two are no work for disciples. These swords you and I need not fear; how would anyone else survive them? They were still talking it over when Guangchengzi came up to report a visitor: from the Western teaching, the Daoist Zhunti had arrived at the foot of the pavilion. Laozi did not cling to the fight; he left by the Trap-Immortal gate and came to the reed pavilion, where the disciples and the Primordial Heavenly King received him. The Heavenly King asked, "Today, entering the array, what did you see of the scene within?" Laozi laughed: "Though he has set this evil array, it is hard to break in haste; I struck him two or three times with my staff, and Duobao I sent off to my heaven by the wind-and-fire mat." The Heavenly King said, "This array has four gates; only four powerful ones can break it." Laozi said, "You and I can manage but two places; the other two are no array for disciples to dare. These swords you and I do not fear — how could another endure them?" As they spoke, Guangchengzi came to report: "Outside, the Daoist Zhunti of the Western teaching has arrived."

Laozi and the Heavenly King came down to meet him, and Laozi as much as admitted he had been about to send for help. Zhunti said he had felt it from the West — hundreds of strands of red vapor rising over the eastern and southern lands, the sign of beings ripe for his teaching — and had come to gather those with the affinity and meet the friends of the Intercepting School. He asked about the four swords in the array: all of them primal things from before heaven, so how had they fallen into Intercepting hands? Long ago, Laozi said, our own master parceled out the treasures of the world, and these four came to my worthy younger brother Tongtian. That he would one day make trouble with them was always in the reckoning. The immortals' calamity is also fated. But you have come at the right hour. We need one more. Laozi and the Heavenly King hurried down to receive Zhunti and seat him. Laozi laughed: "Your coming can only be to break the Slay-Immortal array and gather those of the West with the affinity. I was about to ask your aid, and you came first — this accords with heaven's number, a wonder beyond words." Zhunti said, "In my West, 'the flower opens and one sees the man, and the man sees me.' I saw red vapor pierce the sky over the eastern and southern lands, knew there were beings of affinity, and came to ferry them across and raise the Western dharma." He asked how the four swords, all marvels from before heaven, had come to the Intercepting School. Laozi answered that their master had once divided the treasures, and these four his worthy younger brother Tongtian had taken. "Though the immortals meet disaster, it was fated so. Now your coming is most timely; only with one more can the array be broken."

So Zhunti went west again, to the sage Jieyin, the Western teacher, who had never once left his realm of stillness and feared he would bungle the affair of the red dust. Zhunti would not hear it. You and I are both free and unconditioned, he said — how could we fail to break an array of mere forms? They came east together on auspicious cloud, and Jieyin, a sage sixteen feet tall, walked barefoot with the scent of dates and jujube about him, a being whose lifespan was no exaggeration to set against heaven and earth. Now there were four. Laozi called it what it was: the three teachings convened in covenant, finishing a fated calamity together — not a thing they had chosen to make, but a thing they had been assigned to end. Zhunti went to the West and saw Jieyin, who asked why he had returned so soon. Zhunti said red light by the hundreds of strands issued from the gates of both the Chan and Intercepting schools, and that Tongtian had set an array of four gates no fewer than four could break: three were present, one was still wanting. Jieyin said, "I have never left my pure and quiet land; I fear I do not know the affairs of the red dust and should fail the charge." Zhunti said, "You and I are both free and actionless — could we not break an array of forms? Do not refuse." So they came east together, treading auspicious cloud, and reached the pavilion in a moment. Laozi said, "Today, troubling you, this is the covenant of the three teachings to complete the calamity together — not that we make this obstacle by choice."

At dawn the four came to the array and sent word that they had come to break it. Tongtian led his disciples out through the Massacre gate, and after a round of poems traded back and forth — Zhunti singing of the lotus seat, Tongtian of his own boundless changes, each claiming the higher ground — Zhunti cut it short. The Way is deep as the sea, he said; it is not in the mouth. We four are here. Take down your array peaceably. Since you four have come, Tongtian answered, then we will see who stands higher. And he turned and walked back into it. The masters split the four gates among them, each to a quarter, and went in. At dawn the disciples ranged in order, struck the golden bell and the jade chime, and the four teaching-lords came before the array, sending word: "We have come to break your array." Tongtian led his disciples out through the Massacre-Immortal gate to meet them. He asked the Western pair what they meant by coming to such a place; they answered in verse of the lotus and the relic and the souls of affinity in the eastern land. Tongtian answered in verse of his own primal body and boundless changes. Then Zhunti said, "Friend, no need to boast with the tongue. The Way is deep as an abyss or a sea — is it in spoken words? We four are come; better you take in this array. What say you?" Tongtian said, "Since the four are here, in the end we must see high from low," and went into the array. The four lords each entered a separate quarter to attack at once.

The Heavenly King went in first through the Slay gate. On the Eight-Trigram platform Tongtian struck out thunder, and the Slay sword shuddered and swung down — but a canopy of blessing-cloud caught it, a thousand golden flowers and hanging pearls, and the sword could not fall. So it went at every gate: Jieyin entered the Massacre gate and three relic-beads rose from his crown and pinned the sword like a nail in wood; Laozi entered the Trap gate and an exquisite pagoda of light blazed up and held the sword; Zhunti entered the Sever gate holding the seven-jewel tree, and a thousand blue-gold lotuses shot up and stopped the sword. Tongtian struck thunder across all four heavens, and a yellow fog boiled up to drown the array, walls of bronze and iron at every side. Four sages stood within it. A calamity of this size does not meet itself by chance. The Heavenly King entered the Slay-Immortal quarter first. On the Eight-Trigram platform Tongtian sounded thunder and shook the Slay sword; it swung, but a cloud of blessing met it over the Heavenly King's crown — a thousand golden flowers, hanging pearls unceasing — and the sword could not come down. He passed through and stood at the Slay tower. Jieyin entered the Massacre gate; three relic-beads appeared above him and held the sword fast as a driven nail. Laozi entered the Trap gate; an exquisite treasure-pagoda appeared above him, ten thousand rays holding the sword. Zhunti entered the Sever gate holding the seven-jewel tree, and a thousand blue-gold lotuses held the sword. The four reached the towers. Laozi said, "Tongtian, we have all entered your array — what now?" He sounded thunder, and a yellow fog rose and drowned the array, swords and halberds like an iron cask, the four directions like walls of bronze.

Then the masters closed on Tongtian together. He turned his sword on Jieyin, who held nothing but a fly-whisk — and the whisk bloomed five-colored lotuses that caught the blade. Laozi flailed his staff, the Heavenly King beat down with his jade scepter, and Zhunti shook himself into his true form: twenty-four heads, eighteen arms, every hand holding a weapon, and wrapped Tongtian in the center of them. Laozi cracked him across the back of the heart with the staff until his sacred fire spat out; the Heavenly King struck with the scepter; and as Tongtian fended that off, Zhunti's pounding pestle caught him and tumbled him off his beast. He fled upward by earth-magic — and the immortal Randeng, waiting in the air, brought his sea-stilling pearl down on him and knocked him back. The four disciples below, each carrying a master's talisman, rushed in and pulled the four swords from their hooks. The swords gone, the array was broken. The four lords met before the towers. Tongtian took his sword to Jieyin, who, weaponless, parried with a fly-whisk bearing five-colored lotuses, each holding a sword. Laozi struck with his staff; the Heavenly King beat with the three-treasure jade scepter. Zhunti shook his body and cried, "Friend, come quickly!" — and the Peacock Great Bright King came from the sky. Zhunti showed his true form, twenty-four heads and eighteen hands gripping pearls, parasol, bow, halberd, blessing-pestle and jeweled file, and wrapped Tongtian within. Laozi's staff struck the back of his heart till his true fire burst out; the Heavenly King cast the scepter; Tongtian, guarding against it, was struck unawares by Zhunti's pestle and fell from his beast. He rose by earth-magic, and Randeng, waiting above, struck him with the sea-stilling pearl. The four immortals rushed in with talismans — Guangchengzi took the Slay sword, Chijingzi the Massacre, Yuding the Trap, Daoxing the Sever — and the array was broken.

Tongtian fled home alone; his disciples scattered. The Heavenly King wrote a verse to laugh at him — a thousand years a teacher, and he ruined the living host, sheltered the wicked, fouled the immortal school, swung his swords on nothing and burned out his spirit for no name at all. Up on the reed pavilion the four masters sat, and the Heavenly King thanked the Western sage. Laozi gave the verdict plainly: Tongtian acted against heaven, and so could only lose; we act with heaven, and heaven blesses the good and ruins the cruel without the smallest error, as a lamp throws its shadow. The array is broken. Your calamity is nearly finished, and each of you has his place to go. Jiang Shang, go take your pass. We will go back to our mountains. Tongtian fled home alone; the disciples scattered. The four lords having broken the array, the Heavenly King composed a mocking verse: "Laughable, that Tongtian's teaching is unenlightened — a thousand years its head, and it trapped the living host. Trusting his clique of evil, he fouled the immortal teaching... the jeweled swords hung for nothing, the primal spirit spent in vain, with no name at the end." Seated on the pavilion, the Heavenly King thanked the Western sage for his disciples' sake. Laozi said, "Tongtian acted against heaven; he could only fail. You and I act with heaven, and the Way of heaven blesses the good and ruins the wanton without error, as a lamp casts a shadow. Now the array is broken, your calamity nearly done, each with his good portion. Jiang Shang, go take your pass; we return to the mountains."

The disciples took their leave of Jiang Ziya, and the four masters went home to their mountains. But Tongtian, beaten twice and stripped of his four swords, could not face his great disciples. He resolved to raise an altar at Purple-Mushroom Cliff and consecrate a hideous banner he called the Six-Soul Banner — six tails, and on each tail a name: Jieyin, Zhunti, Laozi, the Heavenly King, King Wu, Jiang Shang. When the consecration was complete he would shake the banner and end all six lives at once. So the cosmic war was not over; it had only changed weapons. And down at the passes the ordinary deaths went on as before — generals trading lightning and lotus-snares across a wall, men crushed to powder who would one day be handed titles in heaven, while the empire they fought over went quietly, poem by poem, over to Zhou. The disciples parted from Jiang Ziya, and the four lords each returned to his mountain. Tongtian, struck by Laozi's staff and Zhunti's pestle, having taken a great loss and lost his four swords, had no face to meet his chief disciples. He thought to raise an altar at Purple-Mushroom Cliff and consecrate an evil banner called the Six-Soul Banner: it had six tails, and on the tails were written the names of Jieyin, Zhunti, Laozi, the Heavenly King, King Wu, and Jiang Shang; with talismans morning and night, and when the rites were done, by shaking it he meant to destroy those six lives. Truly: the left-way's cruel heart is not yet stilled; in vain he labors to consecrate the Six-Soul Banner. (This banner he would later use in the Ten-Thousand-Immortals array.)