This man was none other than Yu Diao. Hailing from the prestigious Yu family of Yingchuan, the Yus had been a scholarly lineage since the late Han dynasty. Yu Diao’s father, uncles, and elder brother were renowned scholars of their time. However, it seemed that a genetic mutation occurred somewhere in the family lineage, giving rise to someone like Yu Diao, who was a carefree iconoclast1 when it came to Confucian traditions. Speaking so rudely now made people raise their eyebrows.
The question wasn’t easy to answer, especially in front of these people. But Liang Feng didn’t hesitate and said straightforwardly, “It’s just a rumor.”
This response stunned those at the table, and Yu Diao abruptly stood up, exclaiming, “If you’re not a Buddhist disciple, why was the rumor so extraordinary? And even the Buddha visiting you in a dream, could it be deceiving the world as well?”
“Is the Buddha’s entry into dreams equivalent to being a disciple of the Buddha?” Liang Feng’s expression remained unchanged. “It was just a great dream, which received a name of illusion.”
This statement both acknowledges the Buddha’s entry into dreams and asserts that the labels placed upon him are illusory and not of his own intent. It sounds quite free-spirited. However, Yu Diao cautioned, “Not distinguishing right from wrong and taking all the benefits for yourself, it seems rather cunning!”
“Do the praises or criticisms of the world have anything to do with me?” Liang Feng retorted. “Does Brother Yu spend his whole life caring about others’ opinions?”
This response left Yu Diao speechless. He may have an unattractive appearance, and even Wang Yan himself occasionally made fun of him. Yet, has he reformed even slightly? He still drinks and accumulates wealth without engaging in a proper profession. The opinions of the world mean little to them, the unrestrained scholars.
“What does it matter to me?” exclaimed Xie Kun with a laugh. He had lost two front teeth, which made him look somewhat comical. He had claimed that missing teeth didn’t hinder his singing. As he laughed heartily, he didn’t consider showing a gap-toothed smile inappropriate at all.
After the laughter, Xie Kun raised an eyebrow and said, “But Brother Liang still clings to the doctrine and the remote Dao, right?”
All present were scholars. Since the Jin Dynasty, they had all favored Laozi and Zhuangzi2. As guests at Wang Yan’s table, how could they genuinely welcome someone devoted to Buddhism?
It was already a mark that had been placed upon him, how could it be erased? Liang Feng nodded slightly and replied, “Indeed.”
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“Cutting hair and forgetting one’s ancestors, self-mutilation and self-immolation3. How can such absurd practices win people’s reverence? I can’t fathom it.” Xie Kun’s eyes revealed a mocking expression.
Also having abandoned his Confucian roots, he had embraced Daoism. For someone like Liang Feng, a devout Buddhist, Xie Kun couldn’t possibly hold him in high regard.
However, Liang Feng shook his head and said, “Brother Xie, if you love the Dao, why not cast off worldly possessions, seek a master, and join the Dao? Mystical principles are not the Dao, just as Buddhist teachings are not the monastic way.”
The Dao spoken of here is not the Great Dao but the Taoist path. Nowadays, Wu Dou Mi Sect is also popular in the south, and there are quite a few Taoists. However, Xie Kun serves under Sima Yue and associates with Wang Yan, so it’s clear he has no intention of pursuing a spiritual path. Since he hasn’t even entered the Dao himself, how can he criticize Liang Feng, who enjoys explaining Buddhist teachings like a monk?
Unexpectedly, Xie Kun continued without hesitation and immediately asked, “So, Brother Liang, do you not appreciate the ways of the monks? Isn’t the way of the monks an embodiment of the Buddha’s teachings?”
“Confucius had seventy-two disciples; did all seventy-two of them act the same way? The Dharma is passed down through one mouth, but the way of practice can be diverse. Why should we be fixated on appearances?” Liang Feng didn’t say that the way of the monks contradicted the teachings of the Buddha; instead, he set himself apart. Faith is one thing, but how one practices it and in what manner, there is no standard answer for anyone.
One question couldn’t find fault, and further questioning led to an impasse. Xie Kun chuckled and said, “In the end, these are all heterodox teachings that restrain the body and mind. How can they allow for natural freedom?”
This is the fundamental difference between Buddhism and Taoism. Scholars who are passionate about metaphysics talk about “natural freedom,” casting away all societal norms to approach the world and its myriad phenomena, searching for the true path of one’s inner self. Buddhism, on the other hand, emphasizes strict rules and regulations, advocating restraint and self-discipline as the only means to attain enlightenment. The thought processes of these two philosophies are diametrically opposed.
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For the average person, Liang Feng could discuss topics like red lotus, white lotus, and green lotus leaves, but for the people in front of him, discussing the unity of the three teachings—Confucianism, Daoism, and Buddhism—would be of no use. They believed only in the Dao of Laozi, casting aside even their Confucian origins, so how could they accept foreign teachings?
So, Liang Feng didn’t agree but emphasized the differences, saying, “You admire the profound, lying under the sky, singing songs while intoxicated, is this truly close to nature? When the wine’s effects wear off, and the song fades, one is left in the vast emptiness of the wilderness, with the heart adrift. I enjoy Buddhism; my body may be in the bustling city, but my mind is on the lotus platform. With the turn of a Dharma bead, all distractions are dispelled. The vastness of the world, I cannot touch. Yet, my heart follows me, untainted by dust.”
His voice wasn’t particularly loud, and his speech wasn’t rushed; each word was like a pearl dropping onto a jade plate. When Xie Kun heard the phrase “the heart adrift,” his breath seemed to catch. Indeed, what did he face once the excitement subsided, and the intoxication wore off? Was it genuine tranquility and freedom? In truth, it was not.
Back when he was unjustly punished by Prince Changsha and now as an official under Wang Yan, he faced hostility at every turn. The Xie family was not of the highest rank, so why did he endure such humiliation? Ultimately, it was for the sake of his family’s welfare. All this talk of the Three Mysteries and the Dao couldn’t compare to the lure of wealth and prosperity.
Xie Kun could hear these words, but Huwu Fu Zhi didn’t take them to heart. He pointed at Liang Feng and laughed heartily, “You speak of freedom, but I see toil! I’ve heard that the Prefect personally oversees affairs in Shangdang and remains untarnished by the world’s dust? Ha! Truly, you’re a man of the world!”
As for Huwu Fu Zhi, he lacked any remarkable talent and had no ambitions. He simply loved alcohol, day after day, completely indifferent to official duties. This was the so-called “clarity” that the scholars proclaimed. How could they be bothered by various mundane matters and miss out on their time for pleasure?
This is a difficult question to answer because everyone present here shares similar qualities. Perhaps the worst among them is Wang Yan. He holds a high position but spends his days engaged in philosophical discussions, without ever dedicating himself to serving the court. How could someone who enjoys empty talk and is skilled in reckless speech ever appreciate diligent and hardworking individuals? Of course, he would spare no effort to suppress and mock them!
This is the current situation in the court. After more than a decade of turmoil, those with a genuine intent to serve the country either died or retreated to the mountains and forests. If the court weren’t in such a state, with unruly individuals running rampant, how could our beautiful land have been reduced to its current state?
Behind Liang Feng, Cui Ji tensed his mind. He knew his lord well and understood his pragmatic approach. Such diligence couldn’t be disguised with any excuses and was bound to be viewed as mundane by these philosophical individuals. Previous matters could be argued, but how could one handle this situation?
Liang Feng also fell silent. On his flawlessly handsome face, a trace of melancholy seemed to pass like a thin cloud.
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After a moment, he sighed softly, “I was fortunate to be reborn from death. Now, I fear death and am also afraid to witness others’ deaths, so I must do my best.”
These words, they were far from carefree. Instead, they came from a soul deeply entangled in the struggles of life and death in troubled times. However, his words were sincere, without any pretense, and devoid of shame. He simply spoke with a delicate elegance, like the hum of a bee that resonated within the hearts.
Faced with such an answer, even in their drunken stupor, Huwu Fu Zhi could not utter any more wild words. For all of them, these hedonists living recklessly, what were they running away from? What were they afraid of? What were they numbing themselves to? Ultimately, it all boiled down to the word “death.” Behind their pursuit of pleasure lay a deep-seated fear of life and death, a sense of “hating not to,” and a trembling cowardice. They were well-versed in classics, deeply attuned to Daoism and Confucianism, each possessing abundant talents and intricate minds. How could they not know the deeper meaning behind these superficial appearances?
In the pavilion, the music ceased, and the voices fell silent. For that brief moment, you could hear a pin drop.
Yet in the next moment, Huwu Fu Zhi burst into laughter and slapped the table, exclaiming, “This calls for a big toast!”
With that, he lifted the wine jug from the table and drank heartily, as if he were a thirsty ox, his face drenched in wine, tears mingling with mirth!
Others joined in the laughter, raising their cups and drinking heartily. Music filled the air, and songs rang out, dispelling the brief sense of foreboding and melancholy, causing everyone to forget the dreadful “reality.”
Wang Yan also raised his wine cup, gazing at the young man seated alone in the guest’s seat, and sighed inwardly.
This young man was not one of their kind.
He would never join them in revelry, engaging in philosophical discussions. He couldn’t even wholeheartedly embrace the “literati” lifestyle. He did not want to become like them, but rather like Yue Guang, like Pei Wei, like those who were graceful and dedicated to the affairs of the state, ultimately perishing in the court. In their hearts, despite their knowledge of Laozi’s philosophy, the Confucian sense of duty never waned.
Such a person would not be of use to him.
Wang Yan was fifty years old, the age of understanding one’s destiny. He had spent his entire life in the court, striving for higher positions. No one understood better than himself what he needed and what could be of use to him.
The people around him, from Wang Cheng to Wang Dun, from Xie Kun to Huwu Fu Zhi, were all means for him to consolidate his power, pawns in his game to control Sima Yue. It was precisely because of this clever catering to their preferences and leading the intellectual elite that he was able to attain such a high position as the Minister of Works.
But the young man before him would never be a part of his camp, and he could never win Sima Yue’s favor. Such a person could not stand in the court.
However, what about outside the court?
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In a place far from Luoyang, on the front lines against the Xiongnu? Such a person might actually provide more reassurance than those who indulged in endless philosophical discussions.
Wang Yan was not a fool; on the contrary, he had been exceptionally bright from a young age, with remarkable talents. He simply loved power, relished fame, and was driven by his own self-interest. To preserve all of this, a stable court was crucial. If the Emperor died suddenly and the state fell into disarray, what good would being the Minister of Works do him?
This young man was not to be used, but he might find his place in Bing County, after all.
In an instant, Wang Yan’s long phoenix eyes softened, and he smiled at Liang Feng, saying, “Today, seeing you, I realize you are indeed a person of character. Come, let’s not discuss mundane matters today; drinking and merrymaking are the top priorities!”
This evaluation was not unfavorable, but Liang Feng’s heart remained unmoved. He could tell that Wang Yan didn’t like him. There was no regard, no appreciation in his eyes, only a mild indifference as if he were observing an exquisite object. In fact, when facing this group of people, Liang Feng had known from the beginning that his path wouldn’t lead anywhere with them. He lacked any spiritual resonance with them, and there would be no rational agreement. This wasn’t something that could be feigned; even if he tried to conform, it might not win them over.
It was like seeking fish in a tree or asking the blind about the Dao.
So, from start to finish, he never pretended to be someone he wasn’t, openly displaying the ways in which he differed from them. Rather than conceal his shortcomings, he revealed his edges. A person could be uninteresting, but they couldn’t be useless. At least in Shangdang, in Bing County, he was still a person with utility. And that was enough for Liang Feng. He had no desire to linger in this kind of court!
Maintaining a subtle smile, Liang Feng sat amidst this group of reveling ruffians, watching them engage in lively discussions, with occasional responses that were balanced, neither anxious nor indifferent, like a bystander watching a distant fire.
Sweat from fatigue mixed with the scorching sun soaked his clothes, forming a thin sheen on his body.
1a person who challenges or criticizes established customs, beliefs, traditions, or institutions, especially those considered sacrosanct or widely accepted by society
2two prominent figures in Chinese philosophy and Daoism (Taoism)
3refers to a traditional Chinese practice where individuals who wanted to renounce their family ties and social responsibilities as an act of rebellion or religious devotion would cut off their hair (often a sign of filial piety) and distance themselves from their ancestral roots. It symbolizes a radical break from one’s family, tradition, and social obligations. “Self-mutilation” and “self-immolation” refer to extreme acts of harming oneself. Self-mutilation involves intentionally injuring or disfiguring one’s own body, while self-immolation means setting oneself on fire. These actions can be driven by various motivations, including protest, religious devotion, or mental health issues. In some historical and cultural contexts, self-mutilation or self-immolation may have been used as a form of extreme self-sacrifice or as a political statement.
This man was none other than Yu Diao. Hailing from the prestigious Yu family of Yingchuan, the Yus had been a scholarly lineage since the late Han dynasty. Yu Diao’s father, uncles, and elder brother were renowned scholars of their time. However, it seemed that a genetic mutation occurred somewhere in the family lineage, giving rise to someone like Yu Diao, who was a carefree iconoclast1 when it came to Confucian traditions. Speaking so rudely now made people raise their eyebrows.
The question wasn’t easy to answer, especially in front of these people. But Liang Feng didn’t hesitate and said straightforwardly, “It’s just a rumor.”
This response stunned those at the table, and Yu Diao abruptly stood up, exclaiming, “If you’re not a Buddhist disciple, why was the rumor so extraordinary? And even the Buddha visiting you in a dream, could it be deceiving the world as well?”
“Is the Buddha’s entry into dreams equivalent to being a disciple of the Buddha?” Liang Feng’s expression remained unchanged. “It was just a great dream, which received a name of illusion.”
This statement both acknowledges the Buddha’s entry into dreams and asserts that the labels placed upon him are illusory and not of his own intent. It sounds quite free-spirited. However, Yu Diao cautioned, “Not distinguishing right from wrong and taking all the benefits for yourself, it seems rather cunning!”
“Do the praises or criticisms of the world have anything to do with me?” Liang Feng retorted. “Does Brother Yu spend his whole life caring about others’ opinions?”
This response left Yu Diao speechless. He may have an unattractive appearance, and even Wang Yan himself occasionally made fun of him. Yet, has he reformed even slightly? He still drinks and accumulates wealth without engaging in a proper profession. The opinions of the world mean little to them, the unrestrained scholars.
“What does it matter to me?” exclaimed Xie Kun with a laugh. He had lost two front teeth, which made him look somewhat comical. He had claimed that missing teeth didn’t hinder his singing. As he laughed heartily, he didn’t consider showing a gap-toothed smile inappropriate at all.
After the laughter, Xie Kun raised an eyebrow and said, “But Brother Liang still clings to the doctrine and the remote Dao, right?”
All present were scholars. Since the Jin Dynasty, they had all favored Laozi and Zhuangzi2. As guests at Wang Yan’s table, how could they genuinely welcome someone devoted to Buddhism?
It was already a mark that had been placed upon him, how could it be erased? Liang Feng nodded slightly and replied, “Indeed.”
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“Cutting hair and forgetting one’s ancestors, self-mutilation and self-immolation3. How can such absurd practices win people’s reverence? I can’t fathom it.” Xie Kun’s eyes revealed a mocking expression.
Also having abandoned his Confucian roots, he had embraced Daoism. For someone like Liang Feng, a devout Buddhist, Xie Kun couldn’t possibly hold him in high regard.
However, Liang Feng shook his head and said, “Brother Xie, if you love the Dao, why not cast off worldly possessions, seek a master, and join the Dao? Mystical principles are not the Dao, just as Buddhist teachings are not the monastic way.”
The Dao spoken of here is not the Great Dao but the Taoist path. Nowadays, Wu Dou Mi Sect is also popular in the south, and there are quite a few Taoists. However, Xie Kun serves under Sima Yue and associates with Wang Yan, so it’s clear he has no intention of pursuing a spiritual path. Since he hasn’t even entered the Dao himself, how can he criticize Liang Feng, who enjoys explaining Buddhist teachings like a monk?
Unexpectedly, Xie Kun continued without hesitation and immediately asked, “So, Brother Liang, do you not appreciate the ways of the monks? Isn’t the way of the monks an embodiment of the Buddha’s teachings?”
“Confucius had seventy-two disciples; did all seventy-two of them act the same way? The Dharma is passed down through one mouth, but the way of practice can be diverse. Why should we be fixated on appearances?” Liang Feng didn’t say that the way of the monks contradicted the teachings of the Buddha; instead, he set himself apart. Faith is one thing, but how one practices it and in what manner, there is no standard answer for anyone.
One question couldn’t find fault, and further questioning led to an impasse. Xie Kun chuckled and said, “In the end, these are all heterodox teachings that restrain the body and mind. How can they allow for natural freedom?”
This is the fundamental difference between Buddhism and Taoism. Scholars who are passionate about metaphysics talk about “natural freedom,” casting away all societal norms to approach the world and its myriad phenomena, searching for the true path of one’s inner self. Buddhism, on the other hand, emphasizes strict rules and regulations, advocating restraint and self-discipline as the only means to attain enlightenment. The thought processes of these two philosophies are diametrically opposed.
Advertisement
For the average person, Liang Feng could discuss topics like red lotus, white lotus, and green lotus leaves, but for the people in front of him, discussing the unity of the three teachings—Confucianism, Daoism, and Buddhism—would be of no use. They believed only in the Dao of Laozi, casting aside even their Confucian origins, so how could they accept foreign teachings?
So, Liang Feng didn’t agree but emphasized the differences, saying, “You admire the profound, lying under the sky, singing songs while intoxicated, is this truly close to nature? When the wine’s effects wear off, and the song fades, one is left in the vast emptiness of the wilderness, with the heart adrift. I enjoy Buddhism; my body may be in the bustling city, but my mind is on the lotus platform. With the turn of a Dharma bead, all distractions are dispelled. The vastness of the world, I cannot touch. Yet, my heart follows me, untainted by dust.”
His voice wasn’t particularly loud, and his speech wasn’t rushed; each word was like a pearl dropping onto a jade plate. When Xie Kun heard the phrase “the heart adrift,” his breath seemed to catch. Indeed, what did he face once the excitement subsided, and the intoxication wore off? Was it genuine tranquility and freedom? In truth, it was not.
Back when he was unjustly punished by Prince Changsha and now as an official under Wang Yan, he faced hostility at every turn. The Xie family was not of the highest rank, so why did he endure such humiliation? Ultimately, it was for the sake of his family’s welfare. All this talk of the Three Mysteries and the Dao couldn’t compare to the lure of wealth and prosperity.
Xie Kun could hear these words, but Huwu Fu Zhi didn’t take them to heart. He pointed at Liang Feng and laughed heartily, “You speak of freedom, but I see toil! I’ve heard that the Prefect personally oversees affairs in Shangdang and remains untarnished by the world’s dust? Ha! Truly, you’re a man of the world!”
As for Huwu Fu Zhi, he lacked any remarkable talent and had no ambitions. He simply loved alcohol, day after day, completely indifferent to official duties. This was the so-called “clarity” that the scholars proclaimed. How could they be bothered by various mundane matters and miss out on their time for pleasure?
This is a difficult question to answer because everyone present here shares similar qualities. Perhaps the worst among them is Wang Yan. He holds a high position but spends his days engaged in philosophical discussions, without ever dedicating himself to serving the court. How could someone who enjoys empty talk and is skilled in reckless speech ever appreciate diligent and hardworking individuals? Of course, he would spare no effort to suppress and mock them!
This is the current situation in the court. After more than a decade of turmoil, those with a genuine intent to serve the country either died or retreated to the mountains and forests. If the court weren’t in such a state, with unruly individuals running rampant, how could our beautiful land have been reduced to its current state?
Behind Liang Feng, Cui Ji tensed his mind. He knew his lord well and understood his pragmatic approach. Such diligence couldn’t be disguised with any excuses and was bound to be viewed as mundane by these philosophical individuals. Previous matters could be argued, but how could one handle this situation?
Liang Feng also fell silent. On his flawlessly handsome face, a trace of melancholy seemed to pass like a thin cloud.
Advertisement
After a moment, he sighed softly, “I was fortunate to be reborn from death. Now, I fear death and am also afraid to witness others’ deaths, so I must do my best.”
These words, they were far from carefree. Instead, they came from a soul deeply entangled in the struggles of life and death in troubled times. However, his words were sincere, without any pretense, and devoid of shame. He simply spoke with a delicate elegance, like the hum of a bee that resonated within the hearts.
Faced with such an answer, even in their drunken stupor, Huwu Fu Zhi could not utter any more wild words. For all of them, these hedonists living recklessly, what were they running away from? What were they afraid of? What were they numbing themselves to? Ultimately, it all boiled down to the word “death.” Behind their pursuit of pleasure lay a deep-seated fear of life and death, a sense of “hating not to,” and a trembling cowardice. They were well-versed in classics, deeply attuned to Daoism and Confucianism, each possessing abundant talents and intricate minds. How could they not know the deeper meaning behind these superficial appearances?
In the pavilion, the music ceased, and the voices fell silent. For that brief moment, you could hear a pin drop.
Yet in the next moment, Huwu Fu Zhi burst into laughter and slapped the table, exclaiming, “This calls for a big toast!”
With that, he lifted the wine jug from the table and drank heartily, as if he were a thirsty ox, his face drenched in wine, tears mingling with mirth!
Others joined in the laughter, raising their cups and drinking heartily. Music filled the air, and songs rang out, dispelling the brief sense of foreboding and melancholy, causing everyone to forget the dreadful “reality.”
Wang Yan also raised his wine cup, gazing at the young man seated alone in the guest’s seat, and sighed inwardly.
This young man was not one of their kind.
He would never join them in revelry, engaging in philosophical discussions. He couldn’t even wholeheartedly embrace the “literati” lifestyle. He did not want to become like them, but rather like Yue Guang, like Pei Wei, like those who were graceful and dedicated to the affairs of the state, ultimately perishing in the court. In their hearts, despite their knowledge of Laozi’s philosophy, the Confucian sense of duty never waned.
Such a person would not be of use to him.
Wang Yan was fifty years old, the age of understanding one’s destiny. He had spent his entire life in the court, striving for higher positions. No one understood better than himself what he needed and what could be of use to him.
The people around him, from Wang Cheng to Wang Dun, from Xie Kun to Huwu Fu Zhi, were all means for him to consolidate his power, pawns in his game to control Sima Yue. It was precisely because of this clever catering to their preferences and leading the intellectual elite that he was able to attain such a high position as the Minister of Works.
But the young man before him would never be a part of his camp, and he could never win Sima Yue’s favor. Such a person could not stand in the court.
However, what about outside the court?
Advertisement
In a place far from Luoyang, on the front lines against the Xiongnu? Such a person might actually provide more reassurance than those who indulged in endless philosophical discussions.
Wang Yan was not a fool; on the contrary, he had been exceptionally bright from a young age, with remarkable talents. He simply loved power, relished fame, and was driven by his own self-interest. To preserve all of this, a stable court was crucial. If the Emperor died suddenly and the state fell into disarray, what good would being the Minister of Works do him?
This young man was not to be used, but he might find his place in Bing County, after all.
In an instant, Wang Yan’s long phoenix eyes softened, and he smiled at Liang Feng, saying, “Today, seeing you, I realize you are indeed a person of character. Come, let’s not discuss mundane matters today; drinking and merrymaking are the top priorities!”
This evaluation was not unfavorable, but Liang Feng’s heart remained unmoved. He could tell that Wang Yan didn’t like him. There was no regard, no appreciation in his eyes, only a mild indifference as if he were observing an exquisite object. In fact, when facing this group of people, Liang Feng had known from the beginning that his path wouldn’t lead anywhere with them. He lacked any spiritual resonance with them, and there would be no rational agreement. This wasn’t something that could be feigned; even if he tried to conform, it might not win them over.
It was like seeking fish in a tree or asking the blind about the Dao.
So, from start to finish, he never pretended to be someone he wasn’t, openly displaying the ways in which he differed from them. Rather than conceal his shortcomings, he revealed his edges. A person could be uninteresting, but they couldn’t be useless. At least in Shangdang, in Bing County, he was still a person with utility. And that was enough for Liang Feng. He had no desire to linger in this kind of court!
Maintaining a subtle smile, Liang Feng sat amidst this group of reveling ruffians, watching them engage in lively discussions, with occasional responses that were balanced, neither anxious nor indifferent, like a bystander watching a distant fire.
Sweat from fatigue mixed with the scorching sun soaked his clothes, forming a thin sheen on his body.
1a person who challenges or criticizes established customs, beliefs, traditions, or institutions, especially those considered sacrosanct or widely accepted by society
2two prominent figures in Chinese philosophy and Daoism (Taoism)
3refers to a traditional Chinese practice where individuals who wanted to renounce their family ties and social responsibilities as an act of rebellion or religious devotion would cut off their hair (often a sign of filial piety) and distance themselves from their ancestral roots. It symbolizes a radical break from one’s family, tradition, and social obligations. “Self-mutilation” and “self-immolation” refer to extreme acts of harming oneself. Self-mutilation involves intentionally injuring or disfiguring one’s own body, while self-immolation means setting oneself on fire. These actions can be driven by various motivations, including protest, religious devotion, or mental health issues. In some historical and cultural contexts, self-mutilation or self-immolation may have been used as a form of extreme self-sacrifice or as a political statement.
