After the radiance of the mountain king’s daughter had manifested and proven itself superior, the messenger reported this to Brahmā, who stood thoughtfully, acknowledging her unmatched brilliance. He observed that those assembled had been scattered and their own brilliance dimmed, eclipsed by her radiant power. He then commanded that the buffalo, along with the stars, should be slain in battle, seeking to restore balance. With their anxieties relieved, the gods and others returned to their own abodes, leaving behind their distress. Turning away from his austerities, the mountain king, accompanied by his wife, went home. Yet, the great-minded one wandered through the lofty mountains, marveling at their excellent peaks. Honored with faith by him, the Lord spent the night there, his presence revered. The mountain king urged him, “Remain here, O Lord, for the purpose of accomplishing austerities.” And so, the Lord stayed, taking refuge in the hermitage, abandoning his usual dwelling and living without any shelter. It was to this place that Kālī, the auspicious daughter of the mountain king, arrived. Hara, devoted to yoga, welcomed her with hospitality and remained there. The radiant lady, accompanied by her companions, bowed reverently at Hara’s noble feet. Yet, Hara, feeling the situation improper, spoke, “This is not proper,” and vanished along with his attendants. Pārvatī, burning with inner sorrow, spoke to her father, expressing her desire to worship Śaṅkara, the wielder of the bow. She, known as Lalitā, undertook austerities with the wish to worship Hara. She began her ritual by gathering sacred sticks, grass, fruits, and roots. After performing the rite, filled with energy, she prayed, “May there be well-being.” Tripurāntaka, with faith, became pleased with her devotion. Clad in a deerskin, wearing the sacred thread, and carrying an umbrella, he wandered from hermitage to hermitage until he arrived at Kālī’s hermitage. Having worshipped her according to custom, he asked, “Where and when will you depart? Quickly tell me.” She replied, “Now, for pilgrimage, I will go to Pṛthūdaka. By bathing on the way, in which places, what merit have you obtained?” She continued, “At the holy place Kubjāmra and at Jayanta Caṇḍikeśvara, on the Sarasvati, at the fire altar, and at Bhadra in the heavenly realm, I performed a bath there, without desire, and then I came to your hermitage.” With humility, she said, “I wish to ask you something; do not be angry with me for that. Even in childhood, self-restraint of the body is praiseworthy among the twice-born.” The mendicant observed, “O timid one, you have taken up austerity, but I sense some doubt within you. Pleasures, once enjoyed in their time, depart even when youth remains steady. Beauty, noble birth, and wealth—all these you possess in abundance. Having cast aside your silk garments, why do you wear bark-cloth?” To the mendicant, O Narada, she spoke truthfully, “Listen: this Kāli desires Hara as her husband.” The mendicant laughed with great mirth and said, “How will your hand, soft as a tender shoot, unite with Shiva’s hand, which bears a serpent? You are anointed with sandalwood, he is adorned with ashes—this union does not seem fitting to me.” Kālī responded firmly, “Do not speak so, mendicant; Hara surpasses all in virtues.