In the blink of an eye, time slipped away.
The years flowed on, boundless and long.
On Qingyun Mountain, spring departed and autumn arrived, and then autumn faded into spring, as seasons revolved in endless cycle.
In the Mortal World, five generations were born, aged, fell ill, and died; the legends of immortals dwelling on the mountain now belonged to the memories of great-great-grandfathers.
For over a century, winds and rains had followed nature's order, and the mundane world had grown ever more prosperous.
The town at the foot of the mountain multiplied its people time and again, and gradually, it transformed into a city with hundreds of thousands residing within its walls.
Such changes were not remarkable across Great Yong or the other countries—everywhere, countless new cities blossomed, only in this way could the swelling population be contained. Lands once ruled by Mountain Gods as private domains became little kingdoms, surviving in the cracks between mighty realms.
