Those who honor the liṅga become great-souled, blessed with sons and prosperity. Praised by the foremost among the Gandharvas, they dwell eternally in Rudra’s own realm. Mortals who perform meritorious deeds through this worship attain the supreme state. For it is Śiva who destroys all misfortune—who would not bow before such a lord? Even the gravest sins, like brahminicide that lead to hell, are washed away. The merit gained is equal to that of performing a hundred Rājasūya sacrifices. What need, then, for countless pilgrimages, for various gifts and ritual baths? On the eighth and fourteenth days, according to one’s capacity, a devotee can rescue a hundred ancestors from both the maternal and paternal lines. Even those who merely see the liṅga by chance, without devotion, benefit. O Goddess, this is the supreme greatness of the liṅga that has been revealed to you. Now, listen as Śrī Rudra speaks of the second liṅga, known as Guheśvara, the destroyer of sins. Long ago, in the auspicious Devadāru forest during the Rāthaṃtara kalpa, there lived a sage who devoted himself always to the practice of yoga, established in peace and self-restraint. Desiring perfection, he undertook severe austerities, pondering in his heart, “How may I become perfected?” Thus resolved, he began the highest penance. At a certain moment, the daughter of the mountain was struck, and witnessing this wonder, the sage was filled with utmost amazement. He marveled at the power of his austerities, feeling that true success had been attained. Though his body was frail and impure, it was seized by great joy, and the twice-born sage danced with delight. As he danced, all the world—moving and unmoving—seemed to dance with him. In that moment, the study of the Veda, the utterance of ‘vaṣaṭ,’ and all ritual acts ceased everywhere. The gods, led by Brahmā and Viṣṇu, beheld the sage Maṅkaṇaka dancing in every direction. Mountains trembled from their places, rows of clouds were disturbed, great rivers narrowed, and even the planets wandered from their courses. The three worlds were thrown into agitation, as if on the verge of destruction. Hearing the concerns of the illustrious gods, I, Śiva, assumed the form of a Brahmin and approached the foremost of Brahmins. I questioned him, saying, “Dancing out of passion is not the conduct of sages; such is the fall from austerity for a Brahmin, O best of the virtuous.” But the sage replied, “It is because of my dance that I am accomplished—of this there is no doubt.” Hearing this, I laughed greatly. In that very moment, ash, white as snow, emerged from my thumb. I said, “See, O Brahmin, this abundant ash has come forth.” Witnessing this great wonder, the sage was overwhelmed with shame. With folded hands and inner astonishment, he spoke, “Such power does not exist for anyone else in the three worlds. For the virtuous, dancing that opposes austerity and brings its decline is forbidden; yet, O god, through my dance, such a state has come upon me.” Hearing his words, I addressed him, “With this knowledge, O foremost of Brahmins, what desire of yours shall I fulfill?