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Chapter 30 of 33
庄子
In former times, King Wen of Zhao was deeply enamored with swordsmanship. He gathered over three thousand sword retainers beneath his gate, who sparred and dueled before him day and night, with more than a hundred killed or wounded each year. King Wen of Zhao took boundless delight in this. Three years passed, and the strength of the state of Zhao declined. The feudal lords began plotting to attack Zhao. Crown Prince Kui was deeply worried, and consulted his close ministers: "Whoever can persuade the King to give up his obsession with swordsmen—I will reward him with a thousand pieces of gold." All his attendants said, "Zhuangzi should be able to do it."
The Crown Prince then sent messengers with a thousand pieces of gold to invite Zhuangzi. Zhuangzi did not accept the reward, but accompanied the messenger to see the Crown Prince, asking, "What instruction does the Crown Prince have, that he should bestow a thousand pieces of gold upon me?" The Crown Prince said, "I have heard that you, Master, are enlightened and penetrating. I humbly offer this thousand in gold as expenses for your attendants. If you do not accept it, how dare I speak further?" Zhuangzi said, "I have heard that the Crown Prince wishes to employ me, in order to sever the King's obsession. If I remonstrate with the King above yet defy his intentions, and below fail to match the Crown Prince's expectations, then I shall die by execution—what use would this gold be to me? If above I can persuade the King, and below meet the Crown Prince's expectations, then what could the state of Zhao wish for that it could not obtain?" The Crown Prince said, "True. But what my King's eyes see are only swordsmen." Zhuangzi said, "Very well. I am skilled in the use of the sword." The Crown Prince said, "However, the swordsmen my King receives are men with disheveled hair, protruding sideburns, low-hanging caps, coarse untied hat-strings, wearing short garments, glaring angrily, and speaking crudely—only such men does the King favor. Now if you, Master, go before the King dressed as a Confucian scholar, the matter will certainly turn out badly." Zhuangzi said, "Let me prepare a swordsman's attire." Three days later, the attire was ready, and he went to see the Crown Prince. The Crown Prince then brought him to the King of Zhao. The King of Zhao drew his sharp sword and waited. Zhuangzi entered the palace gates without hurrying, and when he saw the King, he did not bow. The King of Zhao asked, "What do you wish to instruct me in, that you even had the Crown Prince announce you first?" Zhuangzi replied, "I have heard that Your Majesty delights in swordsmanship, and so I come with my sword to see you." The King of Zhao asked, "What is the prowess of your sword?" Zhuangzi replied, "My sword—within ten paces it can slay one man, and for a thousand li nothing can stop it." The King of Zhao was greatly pleased and said, "Then you are truly unmatched in all the world." Zhuangzi said, "In the art of the sword, one first shows weakness to the enemy, enticing them with advantage; one strikes after the opponent, yet arrives before them. I would welcome the chance to try it." The King of Zhao said, "Master, go rest at the guest lodge for now, and wait until I have arranged the sword matches, then I shall summon you."
The King of Zhao then had his swordsmen compete for seven days—over sixty were killed or wounded—and selected five or six, who stood in attendance with their swords below the palace hall. Only then did he summon Zhuangzi. The King of Zhao said, "Today I invite you, Master, to compete with the swordsmen." Zhuangzi said, "I have long awaited this." The King of Zhao asked, "As for the sword you use, Master—what length shall it be?" Zhuangzi said, "Any sword will do for me. But I possess three kinds of swords, and I leave the choice to Your Majesty. Allow me first to explain them, and then to compete." The King of Zhao said, "I am eager to hear of these three swords." Zhuangzi said, "There is the sword of the Son of Heaven, there is the sword of the feudal lords, and there is the sword of the common people." The King of Zhao asked, "What is the sword of the Son of Heaven?"
Zhuangzi said: "The sword of the Son of Heaven takes Yan Creek and Stone City as its blade-tip, the sacred peaks of Qi as its edge, the states of Jin and Wei as its spine, the capital of Zhou and the state of Song as its guard, the states of Han and Wei as its hilt, the four barbarian tribes as its wrapping, the changes of the four seasons as its binding, the vast seas as its encircling coil, and Eternal Mountain as its tassel. It uses the cycles of the Five Elements for its regulation, punishment and virtue for its judgments, the transformations of yin and yang for its opening and closing, spring and summer for its holding, and autumn and winter for its wielding. This sword, thrust forward, nothing can stop; raised above, nothing is above it; pressed below, nothing is beneath it; swept left and right, nothing is beside it. Above, it can split the floating clouds; below, it can sever the veins of the earth. Once this sword is used, it can correct the feudal lords and cause all under heaven to submit. This is the sword of the Son of Heaven."
Upon hearing this, King Wen of Zhao stood perplexed and lost, then asked, "What is the sword of the feudal lords?" Zhuangzi said: "The sword of the feudal lords takes the wise and courageous as its blade-tip, the pure and upright as its edge, the worthy and virtuous as its spine, the loyal and sage as its guard, and the heroic and distinguished as its hilt. This sword likewise, thrust forward, nothing can stop; raised above, nothing is above it; pressed below, nothing is beneath it; swept left and right, nothing is beside it. Above, it emulates the round heavens, conforming to the three luminaries of sun, moon, and stars; below, it emulates the square earth, conforming to the succession of the four seasons; in the middle, it harmonizes the will of the people, to bring peace to the four directions. Once this sword is used, it moves like thunder and lightning—within the four borders, none do not submit and obey the sovereign's command. This is the sword of the feudal lords."
The King of Zhao asked, "What is the sword of the common people?" Zhuangzi said: "The sword of the common people—disheveled hair, protruding sideburns, low-hanging caps, coarse untied hat-strings, wearing short garments, glaring angrily, and speaking crudely—they duel before others, above slashing at necks, below disemboweling livers and lungs. This sword of the common people is no different from cockfighting—once life is cut off, it serves the state not at all. Now Your Majesty holds the seat of the Son of Heaven, yet delights in the sword of the common people—I, your minister, privately consider this beneath you." The King of Zhao then led Zhuangzi up into the hall. The cooks presented dishes, and the King of Zhao walked three full circuits around the mat, his heart stirred and unable to settle. Zhuangzi said, "Your Majesty, please sit at ease and steady your breath—the matter of the sword is finished." And so King Wen of Zhao did not leave the palace for three months, and those swordsmen, finding no further use, all killed themselves where they lodged.
The heart of this chapter lies in using the "sword" as a metaphor for "governance," and through the layered progression of the three swords, reveals the Daoist manner of thinking where one's level of attainment determines one's vision, and one's vision determines one's actions.
The contrast of the three swords is essentially a comparison of three levels of life's attainment: the level of unity with heaven and earth, the level of harmony with others, and the level of struggling with one's own blood and qi. Daoism here does not completely negate the "sword," but rather points out: **the same behavior carries completely different meaning at different levels of attainment.
This two-thousand-year-old wisdom of persuasion remains extraordinarily vivid today.
King Wen of Zhao's "sword addiction" can correspond to modern people's various obsessions and fixations—obsession with gaming, short-form videos, chasing stimulation, and delighting in conflict. These behaviors themselves are not heinous, but when a person occupies the "seat of the Son of Heaven" (bearing greater responsibility and potential) yet remains immersed in the "sword of the common people" (low-level, consumptive pleasures), that is a reversal of priorities.
Zhuangzi does not say "the sword is bad." Rather, he shows King Wen of Zhao the possibility of another "sword"—directing one's energy toward a grander pattern, playing a "game" more worthy of investment. This is the wisdom of "switching tracks": not suppressing desire, but transcending small desires with greater ones. King Wen of Zhao awakens not because he was lectured, but because **he saw the appeal of a higher level.
In modern work, many people expend their energy on the "sword of the common people" of office politics, slashing at one another until nothing remains. Zhuangzi's revelation is: Where you direct your energy determines what level your "sword" is on. Rather than burning out in low-level competition, better to forge your own grand "sword of the Son of Heaven."
Worth deeper examination: Why does Zhuangzi use a "sword" to admonish a lover of swords rather than reasoning directly?
This embodies the Daoist wisdom of "going along with things"—not opposing the tendency but guiding the tendency along its natural flow. Daoist non-action does not mean doing nothing, but guiding matters along their inherent trajectory. King Wen of Zhao was obsessed with swords, so Zhuangzi gave him "a better sword"; the King sought invincibility, so Zhuangzi showed him what true invincibility meant—the courage of a common brawler ("slaying one man every ten paces, traveling a thousand li without obstruction") is nothing compared to the realm of the Son of Heaven in which "all under heaven submits."
One level deeper, the "sword" here becomes a multifaceted metaphor: it is an instrument of violence, a symbol of power, and above all a projection of one's inner state. The heart with which you hold the sword determines the kind of existence the sword becomes. This is reminiscent of another passage in the Zhuangzi—"Cook Ding Carves the Ox": the blade itself is not important; what matters is wielding the instrument by means of the Dao. The common person's sword forces instrument with blood-qi; the Son of Heaven's sword wields instrument with the Dao. The instrument is the same while the Dao differs, and the difference in attainment is as vast as heaven and earth.
The final line—"the swordsmen all killed themselves where they lodged" —is stunning to read. These men were the "props" of King Wen of Zhao's indulgence, and once the King no longer needed this spectacle, they lost the purpose of their existence. This hints at a tragic truth: when a person defines themselves entirely within a relational role in which they are needed by another, once that need disappears, the self collapses. Daoism reminds us, do not turn yourself into someone else's "swordsman."
Related Concepts:
Further Reading:
This content is based on classical Daoist texts and is provided for traditional cultural study and life reference only, and does not constitute religious, medical, or investment advice.