In the desolate and dark void of space, nine enormous Dragon Corpses lay sprawled across the expanse, the ancient bronze coffin primordial and grand, as though it had existed alongside the universe since the very beginning of time.

Several days had passed, yet they still could not decipher the mysterious signals conveyed by the bronze engravings, and there was still no reliable method to “retrieve” it and bring it down to the surface.

“It moved!”

“It’s drifting off course — it’s descending!”

At that very moment, the pupils of several elite astronauts aboard the International Space Station contracted sharply. The Nine Dragons Pulling the Coffin had veered off its orbit and was slowly sinking downward.

Mount Tai stood majestic and imposing, its grandeur unrivaled, revered as the foremost of the Five Sacred Mountains and acclaimed as the greatest mountain under heaven.

Since ancient times, Mount Tai had been a sacred symbol, situated at the easternmost part of the ancient Central Plains, encircled by the Yellow River and the Wen River. In antiquity, it was regarded as the place where the sun first rose and all living things began to flourish.

No mountain surpasses it in greatness; no history is more ancient than its own!

Mount Tai was heroic and vast, bearing the weight of deep historical sediment that could be traced back to the era of the Three Sovereigns and Five Emperors of high antiquity — a place drawing near to the divine.

“Heaven is too high to reach; thus upon Mount Tai one builds the Feng altar and the Shan altar to offer sacrifices, in hopes of drawing near to the gods.”

Qin Shi Huang, who swept across the Six Kingdoms, and Emperor Wu of Han, a ruler of extraordinary vision and strategy, had both held momentous Feng Shan ceremonies on Mount Tai.

And before them, in the age of high antiquity, as many as seventy-two emperors had already performed the Feng Shan rites on Mount Tai.

The ancient pre-Qin text Guanzi — Chapter on Feng Shan recorded: “In the days of old, the Lord of Wuhuai performed the Feng Shan on Mount Tai, offering sacrifice at Yun Yun; Fu Xi performed the Feng on Mount Tai, offering sacrifice at Yun Yun; Shennong performed the Feng on Mount Tai, offering sacrifice at Yun Yun; the Yellow Emperor performed the Feng on Mount Tai, offering sacrifice at Yun Yun; Yao performed the Feng on Mount Tai, offering sacrifice at Yun Yun; Yu performed the Feng on Mount Tai…”

In the age of high antiquity, the countless sage kings and ancient emperors without exception all chose to perform the Feng Shan here, enshrouding Mount Tai in layer upon layer of mist, radiating an inexhaustible air of mystery.

During the Spring and Autumn period, the Sage Confucius traveled earnestly back and forth across Mount Tai, searching for traces of the ancient Feng Shan grand rites — yet he departed with regret, finding nothing, and found it difficult to answer when his disciples pressed him on the matter.

Later generations made some discoveries of their own.

In the twentieth year of the Republic of China, General Ma Hongkui led his troops to encamp at the foot of Mount Tai, and by chance discovered an altar of five-colored earth, within which were two sets of jade books, sealed with “stone mud and golden cord,” buried underground.

Why the ancient emperors of the pre-Qin era all chose to perform the Feng Shan here remains a mystery to this day — one that may never be unraveled.

Ye Fan and his companions rested one night at a hotel, and on the second day began their ascent of Mount Tai.

Among the group, many were climbing Mount Tai for the first time, and only by setting foot here in person could one truly feel its grandeur and majesty.

The mountain’s body was structured in three tiers of terraced geological formations, like steps ascending to heaven. Facing south with its full body opened up, a ten-kilometer-long heavenward path led deep into the vast mountain, extending all the way to the summit.

Whether viewed from afar or up close, one could feel that overwhelming, magnificent spirit — enough to stir the heart to its depths.

Standing before the immensity of Mount Tai, one was struck by a strange illusion — that one’s own existence was as tiny and insignificant as an ant, and that even the sun, moon, and stars in the sky seemed trivial and inconsequential.

It was a feeling of awe that caused the very soul to tremble.

When the tour guide spoke of the ancient Feng Shan ceremonies, it stirred boundless reverie within them all. Humanity has always harbored a yearning for the unknown and the mysterious.

Li Xiaoman walked side by side with Kai De, constantly translating and explaining for him, which made the young American increasingly astonished by Mount Tai, and he kept pressing her with questions.

Liu Yinzhi cast an amused look at Ye Fan, then glanced at the two people walking ahead. Yet his rather obvious expression seemed to be completely ignored by Ye Fan, who gave not the slightest reaction — much to Liu Yinzhi’s disappointment.

In truth, Ye Fan had not noticed him at all, which was why he remained perfectly calm.

Ye Fan had already finished reading the Huangdi Neijing. Thinking about how the sage kings of high antiquity had all performed the Feng Shan here, he suddenly had an absurd association — could a lost ancient civilization truly have existed? If so, Mount Tai would undoubtedly have been a sacred site of that era.

But he immediately shook his head, thinking that he had simply been too bored of late, which had given rise to such a ridiculous notion.

Mount Tai’s ancient pines were lush and verdant, and there were many flowing springs and cascading waterfalls. Its solemn, towering grandeur was not without a delicate spirituality, and with the floating, ethereal mist, it naturally added several more layers of mystery and profundity.

Climbing upward all the way, there was an endless stream of famous historical sites and cliff-carved stone inscriptions and steles along the path, drawing constant admiration from all who passed.

From the Earth-Sacrificing Altar, through the imperial Dai Temple where emperors held court, to the Heaven-Sealing Jade Emperor Summit — they formed an axis nearly ten kilometers long, running from the Underworld through the mortal world and up to Heaven.

By evening, the group had finally ascended to the summit of Mount Tai — the Jade Emperor Summit. Looking down upon the ten thousand peaks below and gazing far into the distance at the Yellow River, one gained an immediate and profound understanding of Confucius’s words: “Climb Mount Tai, and all the world below grows small.”

“Once atop the loftiest peak, all other mountains at a single glance seem low!” — thus the Poet Sage had left behind this eternal verse.

At this moment, the setting sun sank in the west, and each cloud peak was edged with a layer of glittering golden light, shimmering with a radiance like rare and precious gems.

Such a magnificent scene could not help but leave one intoxicated.

Suddenly, several dark specks appeared on the horizon and gradually grew larger, accompanied by the rolling sound of wind and thunder.

Nine colossal forms descended from the heavens, like nine black rivers crashing downward. In that instant, every person on Mount Tai froze with astonishment, staring at one another in stunned disbelief.

They were nine enormous Dragon Corpses, dragging an Ancient Bronze Coffin, pressing downward toward the summit of Mount Tai.

Dragons — mythical beings of legend, standing alongside gods, transcending the laws of nature. Yet with science having advanced to this point, who still believed that dragons truly existed?

The tourists on the mountain, in their shock, held their breath, forgetting even to cry out.

A brief moment of silence — and then Mount Tai erupted into chaos, as every person scrambled and fled in panic, rushing in all directions to escape the approaching massive Dragon Corpses.

It was a scene of shattering impact: in the blood-red light of the setting sun, the Nine Dragons Pulling the Coffin descended upon Mount Tai!

Terrified screams, helpless cries — the crowd scattered in every direction.

The Nine Dragons Pulling the Coffin did not descend with great speed, yet when they landed, they still shook the summit of Mount Tai with tremendous force.

“BOOM!”

The nine colossal forms crashed down like nine mountain ridges collapsing, causing the Jade Emperor Summit to rupture and split open with crack after crack. Rocks and earth flew in all directions, dust and grit billowing through the air.

The Ancient Bronze Coffin struck the summit of Mount Tai with a resounding clang, sending the mountain shuddering as though an earthquake had struck. Countless boulders tumbled down the mountainside, producing a rumbling din like ten thousand horses charging. Many people were caught in the impact, battered by the rocks and left bloodied, tumbling down the mountain, their terrified wails rising into a cacophony.

The trembling subsided, and the mountain quickly settled into stillness — but Mount Tai had already descended into utter chaos. Many people had fallen in the stampede; blood streaming from head wounds, they rushed in terror down the mountain.

The nine enormous Dragon Corpses, each over a hundred meters long, lay with much of their bulk draped silently across the summit, while the lesser portions of their bodies hung suspended over the cliff edges — like a black fortress of iron and steel, radiating a force that was overpowering to behold, assaulting the eyes with extraordinary visual impact.

The Jade Emperor Summit of Mount Tai had been shattered, the ground rent open with terrible wide cracks running across it.

The Ancient Bronze Coffin — twenty meters long — was plain and unadorned, bearing some faint and ancient engravings on its surface, suffused with the weight of countless ages, with a mysterious, ethereal aura flowing about it.