Ten majestic mountain ranges connect the divine continent, from ancient times they cradle heavenly figures.
These two lines of poetry describe how the divine land is surrounded by ten magnificent ranges, each depending and echoing one another, enfolding the entirety of the continent. Between these mountains, Taoist cultivators frequently traverse, flying with swords, pursuing the stars across the sea.
Of these ten mountain ranges, Kunlun stands first, its peaks like the spine of a vast dragon, adorned with ancient pines and cypresses, strange flowers and exotic grasses. As the sun rises, mist curls and coils, truly an earthly Immortal Realm.
In the early autumn weather, within the depths of Kunlun Mountain, atop a lonely peak, stood a youth who seemed no more than eighteen or nineteen, with sword-like brows and starry eyes, hair flowing in the wind.
"Master, I have returned." His voice was high and full, echoing through the clouds.
