O King, after the serpent was subdued by the Lord, the serpent humbly addressed Krishna: “O Lord, among all creatures, we serpents are born with fierce anger. How can we possibly abandon your māyā, which is so difficult to give up, when we ourselves are deluded by it? You are the cause of all that exists, all-knowing Lord of the universe. Whether you show us mercy or punishment, do as you see fit, for you alone know what is best.” Hearing these words, Śuka said, the Lord, who had assumed a human form for his play, spoke gently to the serpent: “You must not remain here, O serpent. Go at once to the ocean and leave this river to be enjoyed by the cows, by men, and by your own kin, your children and wives. Whoever among mortals remembers this instruction I have given you and recites it at both twilights will not suffer fear from you. Whoever bathes here, where I have played, and offers water to the gods and ancestors, then fasts and worships me, remembering me, will be freed from all sins. “Having left the island of Ramanaka and taken refuge in this lake, you were not devoured by Suparna out of fear, for you bear the mark of my foot upon your head.” Thus addressed by Krishna, whose deeds are wondrous, the wives of the serpent joyfully and reverently worshipped the Lord. They honored him with divine garments, garlands, precious jewels and ornaments, fragrant ointments, and a great garland of lotuses. Having worshipped Krishna, the Lord of the universe, who bears Garuda on his banner, they circumambulated him and offered respectful salutations. Then, with his wives, friends, and sons, the serpent departed for the island in the ocean. At that very moment, the Yamuna became free of poison by the grace of the Lord who played there in human form. In that sacred place, Krishna was worshipped with incense, perfumes, and other offerings, with the twelve-syllable mantra. Meanwhile, Sūta continued: There, the king beheld a distressing sight—a cow and a bull being beaten mercilessly, as if they were helpless, and a low-born man holding a club, a disgrace to the royal order. The bull, white as a lotus stalk, trembled as if urinating in fear, shaking and standing on only one leg, weakened by the blows of the Śūdra. The cow, who once gave warm milk, now stood distressed, struck cruelly by the feet of the Śūdra, separated from her calf, tears streaming down her emaciated face, pining for grass. The king, mounted on his chariot adorned with golden fittings, his voice deep and thunderous, his bow raised, questioned them: “Who are you that, in this world under my protection, unjustly harms the weak? Though you appear as a king, your actions are like those of a mere actor, not a twice-born. You, who attack the innocent in secret, deserve to be killed now that Krishna has departed far away with the bearer of the Gāṇḍīva bow. “Or are you, white as a lotus stalk, walking with diminished feet, a deity in the form of a bull, bringing distress upon us? Never, while the earth was embraced by the mighty arms of the Kaurava kings, did grief afflict living beings here, except through you. “O daughter of Surabhi, do not grieve here. Let your fear of the low-born vanish. Do not weep, mother; may auspiciousness be yours. I am the punisher of the wicked. In whose kingdom all subjects suffer, both wicked and good, that intoxicated ruler loses his fame, lifespan, fortune, and path. “This is the supreme duty of kings: to protect the afflicted and punish their tormentors. Therefore, I shall kill this most wicked enemy of living beings. Who has cut off your three legs, O daughter of Surabhi, you four-footed one? May such as you never exist in the realm of kings who follow Krishna. “Tell me, O bull, may auspiciousness be yours, who is the cause of the disfigurement of the innocent, the defamer of the sons of Pṛthā’s fame. One who inflicts harm on the innocent and spreads fear everywhere—only when the wicked are subdued is the welfare of the virtuous ensured. He who, though innocent among beings, commits offenses without restraint, I shall seize his arm directly, even if he is mortal and wears a bracelet. For the king, the highest duty is to uphold his own dharma, to govern others according to the scriptures, and not to deviate from the path, even in adversity.” Dharma, assuming the form of a bull, replied, “O son of Pāṇḍu, your words are fitting for those who grant safety to the afflicted, for whom Lord Krishna himself was messenger and leader due to their virtues. But we do not possess the root of suffering, O best among men; we are bewildered by the divisions in speech and do not recognize the true cause. Some, clothed in speculative opinions, declare the self to be the self; others say it is fate, some say it is action, and others claim nature as the master. For some, the conclusion is that it is inconceivable and indescribable. O royal sage, consider this according to your own discernment.” Sūta said: As Dharma thus spoke, the emperor, focused and distressed, addressed him: “You speak of dharma, O knower of dharma, and you are dharma in the form of a bull. Wherever adharma is committed, the informer shares in its place. Or perhaps, indeed, the course of divine illusion is inaccessible to the mind and speech of beings—this is certain. “Austerity, purity, compassion, and truth are the legs established in the age of virtue; three have been broken by pride, attachment, and intoxication. Now, Dharma, your remaining leg is truth, which you must uphold; but Kali, established by falsehood, seeks to seize it. And this earth, bearing a great burden, was entrusted by the Lord, adorned everywhere by the footprints of the glorious one. That virtuous lady, abandoned and unfortunate, weeps with tearful eyes; she laments, ‘Unworthy kings, disguised as rulers, and shudras will enjoy me.’ “Thus, having comforted Dharma and the earth, the great charioteer took up his sharp sword, intent on punishing the cause of adharma. As he approached with intent to kill, the low-born man abandoned the mark of royalty, bowed his head at the king’s feet, overwhelmed by fear.