Thirdly, the secrecy observed in all the transactions between Hung-jên and Hui-nêng concerning the transmission of the Dharma naturally arrests our attention. To raise the rice-pounder who is not even an ordained monk to the rank of a patriarch, though only in name, to succeed a great master who stands at the head of several hundred disciples, seems to be a real cause for envy and jealousy and even for hatred. But if one were really enlightened enough to take charge of the important position of spiritual leadership, could not a combined effort of master and pupil withstand all the opposition? Perhaps, even enlightenment could not stand against human passions so irrational and elemental. I cannot however help imagining an attempt on the part of the biographers of Hui-nêng at the dramatisation of the whole scene. I am very likely mistaken, and there might have been some historical conditions of which we are now ignorant due to the lack of documents. Three days after the flight of Hui-nêng from the Yellow-plum mountains, the news of what had happened in secret became noised abroad throughout the monastery, and a party of indignant monks headed by one named Ming, pursued the fugitive, Hui-nêng, who, in accordance with his master’s instructions, was silently leaving the Brotherhood. When he was overtaken by the pursuers while crossing a mountain-pass far from the monastery, he laid down his robe on a rock near by, and said to the monk, Ming: “This robe symbolises our patriarchal faith and is not to be carried away by force. Take this along with thee, however, if thou so desirest.” Ming tried to lift it but it was as heavy as a mountain. He halted, hesitated, and trembled with awe. At last, he said, “I come here to obtain the faith and not the robe. O my brother monk, pray dispel my ignorance.” Said the sixth patriarch, “If thou comest for the faith, stop all thy hankerings. Think not of good, think not of evil, but see what at this moment thy own original face doth look like, which thou hadst even prior to thy own birth.”[4.54] Being thus demanded, Ming at once perceived the fundamental truth of things, which hitherto he had sought in things without. He now understood everything, as if he had taken a cupful of cold water and tasted it to his own satisfaction. Out of the immensity of his feeling, he was literally bathed in tears and perspirations, and most reverently approaching the patriarch he saluted him and asked; “Besides this hidden sense as is embodied in these significant words, is there anything which is secret?” The patriarch answered, “In what I have shown to thee there is nothing hidden. If thou reflectest within thyself and recognisest thy own face, which was before the world, secrecy is in thyself.”