Therefore, on that day, it was resolved: “Let us build a fortress, one difficult for any man to approach. There, we shall settle our people and, from within its safety, destroy the Yavana.” After careful deliberation, the Blessed Lord Himself created a wondrous city, a fortress stretching twelve yojanas across, rising from the midst of the sea—a marvel the world had not seen. In this city, the skill of Tvaṣṭṛ, the divine craftsman, could be seen everywhere. Its streets, crossroads, and broad avenues were all laid out according to the highest principles of architecture. The city was adorned with celestial trees and gardens, marvelous groves, and golden towers that soared into the sky. Crystal mansions and splendid gateways gleamed in the sunlight, while silver and gold turrets crowned the skyline. Treasuries decorated with golden jars, houses topped with radiant jewels, and vast emerald platforms added to its splendor. It was not only a place of grandeur but also of community. The homes of the guardians of the quarters stood alongside the residences of beloved women, and the city was filled with people of all four varṇas. The Yadu heroes made their homes there, and the city shone with their presence. Indra, king of the gods, sent the Sudharmā assembly hall and the Pārijāta tree to this city. Here, even mortals who dwelled within were freed from mortal limitations. Varuṇa gifted horses of dark hue, swift as thought yet white in color. The lord of treasures bestowed eight great treasuries, and the guardians of the worlds offered all their own opulences. Whatever lordship and perfection the gods had once received from the Blessed Lord, they now returned to Hari as He descended to earth. By the power of yoga, Hari brought all His people into this city. After consulting with Rāma, the protector of the people, Kṛṣṇa left through the city gate, garlanded with lotuses and unarmed. Now, as Śrī Śuka narrated, Kṛṣṇa emerged, shining like the rising moon—most beautiful to behold, dark in complexion, clad in yellow silk. The Śrīvatsa mark shone on His chest, and the Kaustubha gem radiated from His throat. He was tall and broad, four-armed, with eyes like fresh red lotuses, ever joyful, his cheeks rounded, his smile pure, his face lotus-like, and his makara-shaped earrings brilliant. This was Vāsudeva Himself: marked by Śrīvatsa, four-armed, lotus-eyed, adorned with a forest garland, supremely beautiful. By the signs Nārada had described, none but He could be thus. The Yavana king, seeing Him unarmed and on foot, resolved: “I will fight Him unarmed and seize Him.” With this determination, the Yavana pursued Kṛṣṇa as He appeared to flee—though He is unattainable even to the greatest yogis. Hari led the Yavana, always just out of reach, step by step, as if the Yavana might catch himself with his own hand, until at last He drew him into a mountain cave. The Yavana, taunting as he followed—“Flight does not befit one born in the Yadu line!”—found himself unable to catch the Lord. But Kṛṣṇa entered the cave, and the Yavana followed, only to see another man lying there. Thinking, “Surely this one has been brought far away and lies here like a saint,” the foolish Yavana, mistaking the sleeper for Kṛṣṇa, struck him with his foot. The man who had slept long rose, slowly opening his eyes, and gazed in all directions until he saw the Yavana standing before him. In that instant, by the angry gaze of the awakened man, the Yavana was burned to ashes by fire born of his own body. King Parīkṣit, hearing this, asked: “O brāhmaṇa, who was that man? What was his lineage and power? Why was he sleeping in the cave? What was the brilliance of the one who destroyed the Yavana?” Śrī Śuka replied: “He was of the Ikṣvāku dynasty, the great son of Māndhātṛ, renowned as Mucukunda—devoted to the brāhmaṇas and steadfast in truth. Once, at the request of the gods, including Indra, he protected them from the asuras for a long time. When the threat had passed, the gods found Mucukunda in the cave and said, ‘O king, please lay aside these hardships. You have abandoned your kingdom and all worldly desires to protect us. But now, your sons, wives, relatives, ministers, counselors, and subjects of your own age are gone. Time, the almighty and imperishable Lord, is stronger than the strong—He brings all beings to their end, as a herdsman drives cattle. Choose a boon, good fortune to you, except for liberation, which is not ours to give. There is only one Lord—the imperishable Bhagavān Viṣṇu.’ Thus addressed, the illustrious Mucukunda bowed to the gods, entered the cave, and lay down, overcome by divine sleep. When the Yavana had been reduced to ashes, the Blessed Lord, best of the Sātvatas, revealed Himself to the wise Mucukunda. Mucukunda saw Him, dark as a rain cloud, clad in yellow silk, with the Śrīvatsa mark on His chest and the Kaustubha gem shining at His throat. He had four radiant arms, was adorned with the Vaijayantī garland, bore a beautiful and gracious face, and wore sparkling makara earrings. His eyes smiled with affection, he appeared ever youthful, majestic as a proud lion, and his noble prowess was evident to all. Overwhelmed by this brilliance, the wise king, cautious and discerning, gently questioned the Lord, as if facing an unconquerable power: “Who are you, who have come into this forest, into this mountain cave, wandering with your lotus-petal feet among the thorny undergrowth? What is the brilliance of even the radiant ones—Lord, fire, sun, moon, Indra, or any guardian of the worlds—compared to yours? I consider you the foremost among the gods of gods, for you dispel the darkness of the cave as a lamp dispels the night. O best of men, if it pleases you, please tell us, who are eager to serve you without fault, about your birth, your deeds, and your lineage.