Surely at the summit, I gaze at the smaller mountains beneath. Mount Tai, esteemed as the leader of the Five Sacred Mountains, is majestic and spectacular. Palaces and pavilions are scattered all over the mountain, and numerous cliffside inscriptions are present.
At the start of spring, life begins to bloom. The mountains are lush and vibrant, brimming with life, making this renowned mountain seem even more interesting and lively.
However, amidst this warm, bloom-filled season, something about Mount Tai seems amiss. Animals are fleeing, flowers are fading, as if autumn leaves are being swept away, creating a desolate environment.
Dozens of individuals bearing large iron swords are scattered around the base of Mount Tai. They strategically surround and approach the mountain from all sides. None have drawn their swords, yet the killing intent is as chilling as an arctic wind. Plants wither, leaves scatter, and it's as if the whole of Mount Tai is drowning in a blizzard.
