Sun Tsʻê said to them, “Gentlemen, you are all great scholars, but why do you not understand reason? Formerly in Chiaochou was a certain Governor Chang Ching, who was deluded by these vicious doctrines into beating drums, twanging lyres, burning incense and such things. He wore a red turban and represented himself as able to ensure victory to an army. But he was slain by the enemy. There is nothing in all this, only none of you will see it. I am going to put this fellow to death in order to stop the spread of this pernicious doctrine.” Lü Fan interposed, “I know very well this Yü Chi can control the weather. It is very dry just now, why not make him pray for rain as an amercement?” “We will see what sort of witchcraft he is equal to,” said Sun Tsʻê. Whereupon he had the prisoner brought in, loosed his fetters and sent him up to an altar to intercede for rain. The docile Taoist prepared to do as he was bidden. He first bathed himself, then dressed himself in clean garments. After that he bound his limbs with a cord and lay down in the fierce heat of the sun. The people came in crowds to look on. Said he, “I will pray for three feet of refreshing rain for the benefit of the people, nevertheless I shall not escape death thereby.” The people said, “But if your prayer be efficacious our lord must believe in your powers.” “The day of fate has come for me and there is no escape.” Presently Sun Tsʻê came near the altar and announced that if rain had not fallen by noon he would burn the priest. And to confirm this he bade them prepare the pyre. As it neared noon a strong wind sprang up and the clouds gathered from all quarters. But there was no rain. “It is near noon,” said Sun Tsʻê. “Clouds are of no account without rain. He is only an impostor.” He bade his attendants lay the priest on the pyre and pile wood around him and apply the torch. Fanned by the gale the flames rose rapidly. Then appeared in the sky above a wreath of black vapour followed by roaring thunder and vivid lightning, peal on peal and flash on flash. And the rain fell in a perfect deluge. In a short time the streets became rivers and torrents. It was indeed a three feet fall. Yü Chi, who was still lying upon the pile of firewood, cried in a loud voice, “O clouds, cease thy rain, and let the glorious sun appear!” Thereupon officials and people helped the priest down, loosened the cord that bound him and bowed before him in gratitude for the rain. But Sun Tsʻê boiled with rage at seeing his officers and the people gathered in groups and kneeling in the water regardless of the damage to their clothing. “Rain or shine are as nature appoints them and the wizard has happened to hit upon a moment of change; what are you making all this fuss about?” cried he. Then he drew his sword and told the attendants to smite the Taoist therewith. They all besought him to hold his hand. “You want to follow Yü Chi in rebellion, I suppose,” cried Sun Tsʻê.