The Patriarch Emerges from the Mountain

At the end of the road, is there still another road? At the end of the Dao, is there still another Dao?

I drift away with the breeze and the clouds. When the mist lifts, I shall return.

Poor in possessions, pure in spirit, I brush against the willows!

Though I return, I am still a youth, and I will surely slay every last Dalagula demon.

Time turns back; one sword spans the ages. From the highest heavens to the deepest underworld, the profound mystery and azure spirit endure.

With one drink, I drain the rivers and mountains. I raise a thousand cups, and when I wake, all shall return to what it was.