The majestic mountains rise as if ready to charge, their peaks reaching the Heavenly Gate alongside the Five Mountains.
Wudang Mountain, Golden Summit.
It was the time when the red sun was rising high, with the first rays of sunlight shining upon the sea of clouds, resplendent and colorful like splendid embroidery. The rolling clouds surged over the mountains, pouring straight into deep valleys. Jiang Dali stood on the cliff edge of the Golden Summit, with his hands behind his back, admiring the clouds swirling like snakes and turtles, and couldn't help but recite aloud.
"Though the divine turtle has longevity, it too faces eventual demise. The soaring serpent rides the mist, destined to become dust and ashes. The old steed lies down with aspirations of a thousand miles. The hero at twilight, their ambitions undying... What a poem, what a scene, what a Wudang Mountain."
