Once, Śuka narrated, King Yudhishthira sat in the midst of a grand assembly, surrounded by sages, brahmins, kshatriyas, vaishyas, and his own brothers. Teachers, elders of the lineage, relatives, and kinsmen listened with reverence as Yudhishthira addressed them all. Turning to Govinda, he spoke: “O Lord, by the royal sacrifice, the Rājasūya, I wish to honor your glories. Please arrange this for us.” Yudhishthira praised those who walk in Krishna’s footsteps, meditate upon him, sing his praises, and thereby destroy all inauspiciousness. He declared that such pure souls attain liberation from worldly existence, and if they desire blessings, let them seek them from Krishna alone, for none else can grant them. “O Lord of lords,” Yudhishthira continued, “through service at your lotus feet, let the world witness its effect here. Among those who worship you and those who do not, O mighty one, reveal the true standing of the Kurus and Sṛñjayas. For you, soul of all, who perceive equally, there is no notion of difference between self and others; your favor arises only according to the service rendered, like a wish-fulfilling tree, never otherwise.” The Blessed Lord Krishna replied, “O king, destroyer of enemies, your resolve is proper. Through it, your auspicious fame will be celebrated throughout the worlds. This great sacrifice is desired by sages, ancestors, gods, friends—even by us—and by all beings. Therefore, having conquered all kings and brought the world under your control, gather the necessary materials and perform the great sacrifice.” Krishna reminded Yudhishthira, “O king, your brothers are born from portions of the guardians of the worlds. I am conquered by you, who are self-controlled; I am unconquerable by those who lack self-mastery. No one in this world surpasses me in power, fame, wealth, or opulence—not even the gods, much less earthly kings.” Śuka then described how, hearing Krishna’s words, Yudhishthira’s face bloomed with delight. Empowered by Viṣṇu’s energy, he sent his brothers to conquer the directions. Sahadeva, accompanied by the Sṛñjayas, went south; Nakula went west; Arjuna, north; and Bhīma, east, along with the Matsyas, Kekayas, and Madras. These heroic brothers, by their strength, conquered the kings in all directions and brought abundant wealth to Ajātaśatru, Yudhishthira, for the sacrifice. Yet, upon hearing that Jarāsandha remained unconquered, Yudhishthira pondered deeply. At this moment, Hari spoke of the means to overcome Jarāsandha—the very strategy Uddhava had previously described. So Bhīmasena, Arjuna, and Krishna, bearing the marks of Brahmins, journeyed to Girivraja, where Jarāsandha, the son of Bṛhadratha, dwelled. Arriving at the proper time for guests, they entered Jarāsandha’s house, disguised as Brahmins, and acted according to custom. Announcing their arrival, they said, “O king, guests have come from afar. Grant us, O fortunate one, what we desire.” They mused: What is unbearable for the patient? What is improper for the unrighteous? What is not to be given by the generous? Who is superior to those who see all equally? He who, with his impermanent body, does not earn lasting fame among the virtuous, though able, is truly pitiable. They recalled the noble ones—Hariścandra, Rantideva, Śibi, Bali, the hunter, the pigeon—who attained the eternal by means of the impermanent. Śuka explained that Jarāsandha, by their voices, appearances, and even their hands marked by bowstring scars, recognized these royal guests, having seen them before. He pondered, “These relatives of the royal order bear the marks of Brahmins. I will give even my own self, which is difficult to relinquish, as alms to them.” Jarāsandha remembered how the fame of Bali, pure and widespread, remained even after Vishnu, disguised as a Brahmin, deprived him of his wealth. Desiring Indra’s wealth, Vishnu as a Brahmin had received the earth from the king of the Daityas, who, though aware and restrained, still gave it. Jarāsandha reflected: What purpose does the body of a kshatriya serve, if not for the sake of Brahmins? When the body falls here, great fame is attained. With noble intent, Jarāsandha addressed Krishna, Arjuna, and Bhīmasena: “O Brahmins, choose your desire; I will give even my own head to you.” The Blessed Lord replied, “O king, grant us battle, if you consider it fitting to fight in pairs. We have come seeking combat, desiring nothing else but battle with the royal order.” Krishna then revealed, “This is Bhimasena, O Partha; his brother is Arjuna. Know me, Krishna, as their maternal uncle and your enemy.” Thus informed, the king of Magadha laughed loudly and, angered, declared, “Then, I will grant you battle, O fools. I will not fight with you, coward, whose valor is uncertain; you abandoned your own city, Mathura, and took refuge by the sea. This one is equal to me in age, but not in strength; Arjuna is not fit to fight, but Bhima is equal in might to me.” Having spoken, Jarāsandha handed a great mace to Bhimasena, took another himself, and went out from the city. The two heroes, equally matched, met on the field, wild with battle, striking each other with maces as mighty as thunderbolts. The fight shone as they moved in intricate circles, to the left and right, like dancers on a stage. The sound of their maces striking was like the crash of thunderbolts, as they hurled them, like the tusks of elephants clashing. With the speed of their arms, the maces struck each other’s shoulders, hips, feet, knees, and heads, and were shattered, just as the branches of the sun are broken when two blazing elephants fight. Angry, the two heroes battered each other with their iron-hard fists; the sound of their blows, fierce as thunderbolts, arose from the slapping of their palms. As they struck each other, equal in skill, strength, and vigor, the battle was indistinguishable, for neither’s speed diminished. Thus, O great king, as they fought, twenty-seven days passed, while their friends stood by at night, watching the relentless and epic duel.