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Wang Ping returned to report his success, but by the time he reached camp, he and all his soldiers were speechless. They could only point to their mouths. Zhuge Liang knew they had been poisoned, and was alarmed. He went forward in his light chariot to find out the cause. He came to the spring. The water was very deep and dark green. A mass of vapor hung about the surface rising and falling. They would not touch the water. Zhuge Liang went up the hills to look around, but could see nothing except a rampart of mountains. A deep silence hung over all, unbroken by the cry even of a bird. He was perplexed.

Presently he noticed an old temple away up among the crags. By the aid of the lianas and creepers he managed to clamber up, and in a chamber hewn out of the rock he saw the figure of an officer. Beside it was a tablet saying the temple was dedicated to Ma Yuan, the famous general who had preceded him in that country. The natives had erected it to sacrifice to the leader who had headed the campaign against the Mangs. 1

Zhuge Liang, much impressed, bowed before the image of the great leader, and said, “Your humble servant received a sacred trust, the protection of the son of the First Ruler. That son, the present Emperor, sent him here to subdue the Mangs that the land might be free from peril when he decided to attack Wei and take possession of Wu and thereby restore the glory of the Hans. But the soldiers are ignorant of the country, and some of them have drunk of a poisonous spring so that they have become dumb. Your servant earnestly prays your honored spirit, out of regard for the kindness and justice of the present Emperor, to reveal your spiritual character and manifest your holiness by safeguarding and assisting the army.” Having prayed thus, Zhuge Liang left the temple. While seeking some native whom he might question, he saw in the distance, on a hill opposite, an aged man leaning on a staff. He approached, and as he drew nearer, Zhuge Liang noted his extraordinary appearance. When he had reached the temple, Zhuge Liang asked the venerable visitor to walk in. After the salutations, the old man sat on the stones, and Zhuge Liang opened the conversation with the usual questions.

The old gentleman replied, “Sir Minister, I know you well by repute, and am happy to meet you. Many of the Mangs owe their lives to you, and all have been deeply impressed by your kindness.”

Then Zhuge Liang returned to the matter nearest his heart, the mystery of the spring.

The old man told him, “That is the Dumb Spring that your soldiers have drunk, and they will die in a few days. Besides that, there are other three poisonous streams called Spring of Destruction, Black Spring, and Spring of Weak Water. All miasma gathers there in the four streams, and it only vaporizes during the two watch before sunset.”

“In short, the Mangs cannot be conquered,” said Zhuge Liang when the old man had finished. “And Wu cannot be repressed, nor Wei overcome. And the Hans cannot be restored. So, I fail in the task set me by my Prince. Wish that I might die?”

“Be not so cast down, O Minister,” said the aged one. “I can lead you to a place where you may counteract all this.”

“I would ask for your instruction, Venerable One,” said Zhuge Liang. “What exalted advice have you to confer upon me? I hope you will instruct me.”

“West of this, not far off, is a valley, and seven miles from its entrance is a stream called the 'Spring of Eternal Peace,' near which there lives a recluse known as the Hermit of the Stream. He has not left the valley these twenty years. Behind his hut there gushes out a spring of water, called the 'Spring of Peace and Joy.' This is the antidote to your poison. Bathing in its waters is a cure for skin diseases and for malaria. Moreover, near the hut grows an herb called the 'garlic-leaved fragrance.' Chewing a leaf of this safeguards one from malaria. You can do no better than go to the hut of the recluse forthwith and get these remedies.”

Zhuge Liang humbly thanked his aged counselor, and said, “Venerable Sir, I am profoundly affected by your merciful kindness and compassion. May I ask again by what name may call you?”

The old man rose and entered the temple, saying, “I am the Spirit of this mountain, sent by Ma Yuan to guide you.”

As he said this, he shouted at the solid rock behind the temple, and it opened of itself and let him in.

Zhuge Liang's astonishment was beyond words. He made another obeisance to the Spirit of the temple and went down by the way he had come. Then he returned to his camp.

Next day, bearing incense and gifts, Wang Ping and his stricken men went west to the spot which the old man had indicated. They luckily found the valley and followed its narrow road till they came to a small, farm-like enclosure, where tall pines and lofty cypresses, luxuriant bamboos, and gorgeous flowers sheltered a few simple huts. An exquisite perfume pervaded the whole place.