Mount Tai, located in the heart of the ancient Qi and Lu regions of Huaxia, was famed throughout history. It was said: "The grandness of Mount Tai supports the nation of Lu."
Countless poets and scholars had left behind immortal verses here throughout the ages. Among them, Du Fu's "Gazing at Mount Tai" was perhaps the most renowned.
"I shall ascend to the mountain's utmost peak, to gaze down upon all others small beneath me."
This wasn't Jiang Xuan's first time visiting Mount Tai, yet each visit brought anew a deep reverence for its grandeur and weight.
Mount Hua in the west was more treacherous, Mount Heng in the south more elegant, Mount Heng in the north more majestic, and Mount Song in the center more ancient. But Mount Tai's awe did not lie in extremity—it lay in domineering majesty. That was what shocked the soul.
The mountain's structure was layered like terraces, forming three distinct levels. Between the towering peaks, clouds wove in and out like silk threads. A stairway stretching over ten kilometers climbed steadily toward the summit. At its peak stood an ancient, solemn palace—the Jade Emperor's Peak, piercing the clouds and reigning over the mountains.
Looking up from the base toward the summit, one felt a strange illusion—as if floating in the vast cosmos. The higher you went, the smaller you felt, like a grain of dust in an ocean of stars.
It was a soul-stirring shock.
"My legs are killing me! Mount Tai really lives up to its name. We've climbed forever and still only reached halfway!"
A classmate rubbed his sore knees, taking a short break and nearly draining the last drops of his bottled water.
"Mount Tai? Just a little bump in the road—totally manageable!" another joked, trying to stay sharp-tongued despite being thoroughly exhausted.
"I think my legs are no longer mine. Someone help me up!"
"Wait... look at Jiang Xuan! Still walking like it's a breeze. Not even sweating!"
Many turned to look. Jiang Xuan's pace had remained consistent from start to finish. His face was calm, his breath steady. Not even a hint of fatigue could be seen—an enviable feat of stamina and self-control.
"Jiang Xuan, you must have reached some cultivation breakthrough, huh?" Ye Fan joked half-seriously.
"A modest success," Jiang Xuan replied with a faint smile. "I've entered the Xiantian Realm, meridians fully unblocked, breath harmonized. Naturally, a bit of walking doesn't bother me."
He was telling the truth. But he also knew Ye Fan would take it as a joke.
At the back of the group, Li Xiaoman was walking shoulder to shoulder with Kaide. Though he had decent stamina, even he was out of breath.
"That classmate of yours is really something!" Kaide said.
Li Xiaoman looked ahead and replied, "Back in school, I didn't interact much with Jiang Xuan. All I knew was that he liked traveling. He didn't talk much with the rest of us."
Li Xiaoman was an exceptionally beautiful young woman, dressed in a cartoon T-shirt and knee-length shorts, wearing sunglasses, radiating youthful charm.
Looking at Jiang Xuan now, she couldn't help but feel surprised. His features were handsome, seemingly sculpted by nature's finest hand. He rivaled, if not surpassed, many celebrities. What stood out even more was the unique aura about him—calm, detached, and unapproachable. No wonder her roommates had gossiped back in college about campus beauties posting anonymous love confessions to him on forums.
After achieving minor success in cultivating Beiming True Qi, Jiang Xuan had often disappeared for long stretches. He told his classmates he was "traveling," when in fact he had been training in the world of Tianlong or retreating in remote mountains.
He had been in this world for twelve years. Without relatives, without roots, his personality had become cool and distant. He had no desire to form deep connections—he remained courteous but detached with most.
On the way up, the group occasionally heard tour guides quoting ancient myths about Mount Tai, from emperors performing sacred rituals to legends of the gods. It stirred something deep within—the longing to travel back through time and witness the age of myth firsthand.
Though physically tired, everyone's spirit became increasingly high the closer they came to the summit. By dusk, they finally reached the Jade Emperor Peak. Standing there, gazing back down at the mountains below, they felt a completely different emotion than looking up from the base. Only now could they understand the true meaning of Du Fu's words: "A single gaze from the summit makes all mountains beneath seem small."
The golden sunset bathed the peak in divine brilliance, as though the heavens themselves had blessed the land.
Everyone stood in awe, gazing over the rolling mountain range. The tourists below now looked like ants. Standing atop the peak inspired a kind of boundless ambition.
BOOM!
A deafening roar exploded across the sky.
Far off in the distance, black specks rapidly grew larger—hurtling toward Mount Tai with impossible speed.
In the blink of an eye, nine colossal beings crashed down. An overwhelming pressure descended like the collapse of heaven and earth. Everyone suddenly felt as if a giant hand had closed around their throats—unable to breathe, unable to speak.
Where once the summit was lively and noisy, now it was so silent that even a pin drop could be heard.
Dragons.
The nine streaks of black were unmistakably dragons—mythical, divine beasts of ancient legend. They pulled behind them an enormous bronze coffin, descending from the heavens, slamming into the peak of Mount Tai.
For a moment, time seemed frozen.
Then chaos erupted.
Screams tore through the silence. People scattered in all directions in terror.
It's here.
Jiang Xuan remained composed.
Twelve years. It had been twelve years since he crossed into this world. And now, finally, the moment had come. He had long been ready to board this one-way journey.
On Earth, cultivation was impossible. There was no path to longevity here. Though he could travel at will to the Tianlong World, its ceiling was far too low. With his current cultivation in the Xiantian Realm, aside from legendary figures like the Sweeping Monk, there were few left who could match him. And who knew how long it would take to open the next world—perhaps a hundred years, perhaps ten thousand... perhaps never.
True, there were ancient cultivation sects still hidden on Earth. But how would he find them? Even if he could, why would they accept him?
He knew, for example, that atop Kunlun Mountain there existed a Quasi-Emperor's legacy, a divine tower imbued with godly will, and peerless opportunities for enlightenment—but he had no way to claim them.
So now, this was his chance.
He would not let it pass.
Although hitching a ride on this journey came with no small amount of risk, Jiang Xuan knew exactly where the dangers lay. With his cultivation already at the Xiantian Realm, and as long as he stayed cautious, he believed the risk was worth taking.
The path of cultivation was fraught with trials—layer upon layer of tribulation.
If he didn't even have the courage to face this minor danger, then how could he ever dream of becoming an immortal or founding a sect?
He breathed in and out with controlled rhythm. With a casual wave, he shattered a falling boulder into dust, then quietly stepped over to Ye Fan's side. He had to stay close to this "main passenger"—if he missed the moment because he was too far away, then everything would be for nothing.
Ye Fan's pupils suddenly contracted.
"Jiang Xuan, you—"
Jiang Xuan said nothing, his eyes fixed ahead.
The nine colossal dragon corpses lay across the mountaintop like fallen celestial warships. Their forms were so solid, so immense, that they no longer seemed like creatures of flesh and blood, but rather ancient star-crushing vessels. Their eyes were tightly shut, but at any moment, they might open and unleash world-ending destruction.
"Are… are those dragons? Do real dragons exist in this world?!"
"Where did they come from? Could the dragons of Huaxia's ancient mythology actually be real?"
"Run! I think they're corpses—but it doesn't matter! So many people have already been hurt! We can't stay here. Everyone, move!"
Staring at the summit, at those massive beasts, the crowd felt their worldview collapsing. Everything they had believed in—science, rationality, materialism—was being torn apart. Divine beasts had appeared. Myth had become reality.
What kind of Earth was this anymore?
The blood-red sunset bled across the sky. The summit of Mount Tai was a ruin. The Jade Emperor Peak had become rubble, replaced by a massive crater where the ancient bronze coffin had crashed. Cracks spread outward like a spiderweb across the mountain's peak.
As the crowd prepared to flee, Li Xiaoman suddenly pointed ahead.
"What's that?!"
Following her gaze, they saw something glowing beneath a split in the earth—a shard of jade, half-exposed, resting atop a circular platform. The platform was composed of five different colored soils, forming a sacred altar.
The Five-Colored Altar!
"The altar has appeared… It must be activating soon!"
Jiang Xuan's heart stirred as he slowly made his way toward it.
"Jiang Xuan, what are you doing?" Ye Fan called out, alarmed, worried he was walking into danger.
One of the female students, seeing that Jiang Xuan seemed unharmed, was driven by curiosity to approach as well. But she lost her footing—and began to fall.
Several classmates rushed to grab her hand and pull her up.
Suddenly, an overwhelming force immobilized everyone where they stood. On the five-colored altar, ancient characters flared into existence—glowing runes suspended in mid-air.
It was a stunning, unforgettable scene.
Everyone stared, dumbfounded, as these ancient glyphs shimmered in the sky.
"Is… is this still the scientific world we know?"
The floating script began to condense and converge, forming a massive Bagua diagram. Within the Bagua, the Yin-Yang Taiji symbol began to emerge.
The Taiji began to spin.
Within the swirling Yin and Yang, brilliant starlight sparkled—and then, a path of ancient starlight appeared, stretching into the void.
Just then, the bronze coffin released an immense suction force.
Everyone was swept up, pulled into the bronze coffin.
On the altar, the Taiji symbol continued to spin.
The nine dragon corpses quivered.
With a thunderous boom, the lid of the bronze coffin slammed shut—and then, sealed completely.
As that final sound echoed across Mount Tai, everyone but Jiang Xuan was overtaken by an overwhelming sense of dread and helplessness.
The journey through the cosmos had begun.
From this moment on, he would tread the path of cultivation—to found a sect, to become an ancestor.