In that sacred place, O goddess of the gods, the great sage devoted himself entirely to the worship of the Liṅga. Pleased by his unwavering devotion and the arduous austerities he performed, I, Śiva, looked kindly upon him, O highly fortunate one. Listen with full attention, for I have spoken of this with care. It was this devotion and the difficult penance that delighted me. Because of them, the terrible sin of brahmahatyā—born from the Dānavas—was destroyed for that best of sages. If you, too, O god, are gracious and compassionate to those who seek your refuge, and if you uphold austerity and righteousness, then no obstacle will arise for you. So I have declared, O wide-eyed one; so it shall be. Know that the deity you have worshipped is the destroyer of brahmahatyā. The god Agastyeśvara himself is renowned across the three worlds, marked by five seals out of compassion for that liṅga. Those who behold that great liṅga with devotion become noble-souled, blessed with sons and prosperity. Praised by the foremost of Gandharvas, they dwell eternally in Rudra’s own realm. Truly, those mortals who have performed meritorious deeds attain the highest state. He who destroys all misfortune—who would not bow to that Śiva? One is freed from even the gravest sins, such as brahminicide, which would otherwise lead to hell. The merit gained from such worship equals that of a hundred Rājasūya sacrifices. What need, then, is there for various pilgrimages, for manifold offerings or ritual baths? On the eighth and fourteenth days, according to one’s capacity, a devotee rescues a hundred ancestors, both maternal and paternal. Even those who see the liṅga by chance, without any particular feeling, are touched by its grace. O Goddess, this is the supreme greatness of the liṅga, as I have revealed to you. Now, O goddess, hear of the second liṅga, Guheśvara, destroyer of all sins. Long ago, in the auspicious Devadāru forest during the Rāthaṃtara kalpa, there was one who devoted himself always to the practice of yoga, established in peace and self-restraint. Desiring perfection, he performed severe austerities, pondering in his heart, “How may I become perfected?” Thus reflecting, he began the highest penance. Then, at a certain time, the daughter of the mountain—Pārvatī—was struck, and upon witnessing this marvel, the sage was filled with utter amazement. “Such is the power of austerity—today I have truly attained success!” he exclaimed. Though his body was frail and impure, it was seized by great joy, and so the twice-born sage danced in ecstasy. As that Brahmin danced, all the worlds—both moving and unmoving—danced as well. No study of the Veda took place, nor were ritual utterances or sacrifices performed anywhere. The gods, led by Brahmā and Viṣṇu, beheld the sage Maṅkaṇaka dancing in every direction. Mountains shook from their places, rows of clouds were disturbed, great rivers dwindled to narrow streams, and the planets wandered from their courses. The three worlds were thrown into turmoil, as if on the brink of destruction. Hearing the concerns of the illustrious gods, I, assuming the form of a Brahmin, approached and questioned the foremost of Brahmins. “Dancing from passion is contrary to the conduct of sages. Such is the fall from austerity for a Brahmin, O best of the virtuous.” Yet the sage replied, “It is because of this dancing that I am accomplished—of this there is no doubt.