Jayadhvaja, valiant and wise, found himself locked in fierce battle with a terrible demon—one who stood unmoved, as pale and powerless as the waning moon at its end. Unable to overcome the demon by force, Jayadhvaja stilled his mind and turned inward, remembering the Lord of the universe. He recalled the ancient Protector, the Lord of Śrī—Vāsudeva himself—clad in radiant yellow garments. Moved by his devotee’s remembrance, Vāsudeva, wishing to bestow his grace, issued his command. Just as Hari had done in ages past, he sent Videha forth against the demons. In the ensuing conflict, Videha struck down the demon’s head, massive and formidable as a mountain peak, and cast it upon the earth. With the battle won, the victors entered the splendid city, where they honored their brother with love and respect. Soon after, the great sage Viśvāmitra arrived, seeking the son of Kārtavīrya. Receiving the sage with reverence, they seated him on a resplendent throne and worshipped him with heartfelt devotion. In the course of their conversation, one spoke: “In battle, I have struck down Videha, lord of the demons. He sought refuge with me, and by that act, I received auspicious grace. Now, tell me—by what means and in what manner should Hari, the Lord, be worshipped? My curiosity is boundless.” Viśvāmitra replied with wisdom: “Viṣṇu, the soul of all beings—by taking refuge in him, one attains liberation. He must be worshipped with a mind free from desire, for only then is worship truly effective.” After being worshipped by heroes and noble souls, Viśvāmitra departed for his own abode. Thereafter, through grand sacrifices, the assembly worshipped Rudra—the imperishable, desireless one, attainable only through sacrifice. Gautama, Atri, and Agastya, all devoted sages, offered their reverence to Rudra as well. Sacrifices were also performed for Janārdana, the primeval Lord and origin of all beings. In response, the blessed Lord himself appeared, a vision of wonder before their eyes. Freed from all sin, the devotee ascended to the world of Viṣṇu. In those days, there was a noble lady who bore a hundred sons famed as the Tālavaṅghas. Others, beginning with Vṛṣa, were Yādavas—men devoted to virtuous deeds. Among them, Madhu had a hundred sons, and Vṛṣaṇa became the head of their lineage. Vṛṣaṇa’s son was Durjaya, skilled in every branch of knowledge. His wife was steadfast and devoted, ever upholding her duty. One day, as they wandered together, they beheld the celestial goddess Urvaśī, her voice as sweet as nectar as she sang. After some time, Durjaya addressed her: “O goddess, you should make love with me.” She consented, and he enjoyed her company for a long while, as if she were another god of love incarnate. At length, Urvaśī, smiling gently, said, “I will go now to the delightful city. Affection for you has arisen in my heart, so I shall stay another year. I will return here again; you must grant me permission for that. Until my return, you must not make love with any other apsaras.” When Durjaya returned and saw his devoted wife, fear gripped his heart. Perceiving his anxiety, she—her form full and beautiful—spoke softly: “Tell me the truth; I will not reveal it to the other kings.” Yet the king remained silent, unable even to perceive her with the vision of knowledge. She warned him: “If you are afraid, O great king, your kingdom will fall into ruin.” Seeking solace and wisdom, the king journeyed to the sacred hermitage of Kanva and beheld the great sage. With his resolve renewed, the mighty one set forth toward the slopes of the Himalayas.