Because of their trust, Pan Yun generously held a ritual for them: first, to deliver the souls who had died in this incident; second, to pray for blessings upon the grasslands, hoping the coming year would bring favorable winds and rains, with lush water and grass.
All the Buddhist disciples who had come stayed to take part in the ritual.
For the first time, the sheltered herdsmen saw followers of two faiths getting along so harmoniously. The Daoists played wind and string instruments, sang and chanted, forming their own circle; the monks and nuns recited sutras and struck wooden fish, with a circle of their own as well.
The circles even nested within circles. You walked the Big Dipper Mysterious Pivot Gang steps, and I slowly yielded the way. Daoist and Buddhist robes swept through the air—if they so much as brushed each other, it counted as their loss!
The herdsmen watched, dumbstruck, and became even more devout.
One person knelt, and countless people knelt behind him, prostrating themselves fully. As Buddhist and Daoist scriptures collided by their ears, they felt purified from soul to body.
Eternal Heaven had surely forgiven their recklessness.
Sure enough, three days later, when the ritual ended, Pan Yun, as the Imperial Preceptor, took the stage to conclude it. Her sword pointed sharply toward the heavens, drawing down rolling thunder.
With a crack, thunder shook half the grasslands, yet the herdsmen were wild with excitement, tears streaming down their faces. "Spring thunder! It's spring thunder!"
"Spring has finally come!"
The herdsmen knelt prone upon the ground, daring only to raise their heads and gaze at Pan Yun atop the platform. She stood beneath the rolling thunder with a treasured sword in hand, fierce winds whipping the banners and billowing her Daoist robes, as though she