From that moment onward, he was seen to have lost his former brilliance, his strength greatly diminished. Yet, for the sake of austerity, that foremost among the wise steadfastly fixed his mind upon his purpose. Using the mountain as his protector, he wandered across the earth, his resolve unwavering. Around his waist he wore a belt fashioned from a great conch, a striking mark of his ascetic life. He spent a single day at a time dwelling amidst trees, along mountain slopes, and near rivers. Sustaining himself on nothing but air, he stood thus in severe penance for nine hundred years without interruption. Upon the broad and beautiful plateau of Himavat, on a level stone surface, she—radiant and resplendent—seated herself on the ground, enveloped by her matted locks. There arose the foremost and most sacred tirtha, renowned as Kedara. O Brahman, this holy place increases merit, destroys sin, and serves as a path to liberation. Those self-controlled souls who drink the water at your tirtha, in the lotus of their hearts, the linga will surely manifest. For their ancestors, the śrāddha offerings will never be exhausted; of this there can be no doubt. For the departed, rebirth shall not occur—they will attain the imperishable state. Kedara purifies all who come, just as the word of the three-eyed Lord declares. To bathe in the goddess, Kalindi, daughter of the Sun and destroyer of sin, surrounded by hundreds of sacred tirthas, is to be purified. There, in the waters born of the Plaksha and celebrated as destroyers of sin, Hara recited the Drupada Gayatri. For a whole year, he remained immersed, not emerging even once. Meanwhile, the stars and their constellations began to fall from the heavens, dropping to earth. The great sages, chanting prayers for the well-being of all worlds, gathered in concern. Witnessing these ominous signs, they said among themselves, “What is this? The people are disturbed; doubts have arisen in their hearts.” It was deemed right that they should go and see the bearer of the discus and mace. Led by the Grandsire Brahmā, they journeyed to the abode of the enemy of Mura, seeking answers. “Whether it is a demon, a Rākṣasa, or a king—let it be told,” they asked, repeating their request for clarity. “And how was he slain in battle by Viṣṇu? Tell us that as well. This account is marvelous, meritorious, and destroys sin.” The tale was then recounted: In battle, he saw the sons of Diti, armed and arrayed against the best of the gods. He worshipped the mighty and unconquered Brahmā, and the demon asked the Grandsire for a boon: “Let it be so that whomever I touch with my hand, even if immortal, will become mortal.” Thus empowered, the mighty Mura, full of energy, ascended to the mountain of the gods. O Nārada, none could stand against that demon on equal terms—not even Purandara, the king of heaven, dared to confront him. None were able to halt his advance as he entered. Mura challenged, “Give battle, O thousand-eyed one, or else abandon heaven.” Unable to face him, Purandara relinquished the kingdom of heaven and became one who roamed the earth. With all his kin, that mighty and radiant one, along with the gods and his own son, departed. Meanwhile, Mura, remaining in heaven, enjoyed immense pleasures, reveling in his newfound dominion.