The yogic soul, filled with deep contemplation, began to wonder: “Where does Viṣṇu dwell at this very moment?” Master of his own being, he resolved to journey across all realms—those above the navel of the universe and those lying beneath the earth itself. As he traveled, his vision beheld Meru, the king of mountains, radiant and resplendent like burnished gold, crowned with majestic glory. In that sacred region, he saw the mother of all, surrounded by throngs of beasts and birds; again, he beheld the mother of the gods herself, encircled by these same creatures. Into this scene entered the lord of the Dānavas, intent on seeking out Madhusūdana, the slayer of Madhu. Within the very womb of the mother of the gods, he perceived the one revered by all bestowers of boons and feared by all beings. There, surrounded by hosts of gods and demons, he witnessed a form that pervaded all directions. Viṣṇu, the one who saps the strength of the Daityas, remained in his own natural, unshakable state. Prahlāda, devout and wise, approached Madhusūdana and bowed low, offering gentle and sweet words. He addressed the lord of the Daityas: “By whose power have the Daityas been rendered weak and exhausted? They have now sought refuge with Hari, the lord of the three worlds. Hari, mighty-armed, has descended into the womb of Aditi. Just as darkness cannot remain when the sun rises, O Bali, so too does Hari’s presence dispel all opposition.” Moved by destiny and his own actions, Bali, the Daitya king, replied to Prahlāda: “There are hundreds among the Daityas with me who surpass even Vāsudeva in their strength. Yet, defeated, their pride broken in battle, they have abandoned heaven. Vipracitti, leading my army, and warriors like Triśiras, Makarākṣa, and Vṛṣaparvan—each of whom even Viṣṇu does not match to a sixteenth part of their might—have all fallen. Still, I hold that we are not lesser.” Hearing these words, Prahlāda rebuked Bali, who had dared to scorn Vaikuṇṭha, exclaiming, “Shame! Shame! How is it that your tongue has not withered, speaking ill of Hari? O wicked-minded one, you reproach Viṣṇu, the teacher of the three worlds. You were born a son who disrespects the gods. For me, none is dearer than Janārdana. How could you speak ill of the lord of all lords? Even I, your grandfather, worship the blessed Lord Hari, guru of the world. You, sinner, revile the one worthy of worship—how have you not fallen? Among kings, you are the reviler of Vāsudeva. Because of your sinful conduct, you will lose your kingdom. By mind, deed, and word, you are cast down from your sovereignty. In all the fourteen worlds, you shall be bereft of your throne. I will see you thus, deprived of your kingdom.” At these stern words, Bali descended from his seat, approached with hands joined in humility, and addressed Prahlāda: “O Brahman, even when children commit offenses, elders forgive them. I do not fear others, nor the loss of my kingdom. But because I have wronged you, my pain is greater still. Elders forgive the faults of children, even those among the demons who come to them in repentance.” After reflecting deeply and marveling at Bali’s humility, Prahlāda spoke again with gentle affection to his grandson: “In your lineage, I am the seventh who has known the all-pervading Viṣṇu.