In the heartland of the Great Tang.
There was a mountain called Five Immortals Mountain.
Clouds and mist shrouded it year-round, while rosy clouds filled the sky.
The mountain was lush with vegetation, evergreen through all four seasons.
Even delicate peach and plum trees bloomed there without ever withering.
The origins of Five Immortals Mountain made for quite a tale.
Turn the clock back several hundred thousand years.
At that time, this land was not yet called the Great Tang.
There was not even a proper dynasty.
Only tribes that drank blood and ate raw flesh, scattered across the wilderness.
This mountain was not called Five Immortals Mountain either.
It was merely a nameless hill.
There was a simple altar atop it, worshipping not any proper gods or Buddhas, but several clay figurines only half the height of a man.
The tribes beneath the mountain had casually molded them, praying for favorable winds and rains, and that venomous insects and savage beasts would not carry them away.
Only when some household suffered misfortune would they bring a little food here and kowtow a few times.
But those clay figurines had been made on a whim. How could they possibly draw the protection of True Gods?
Instead, they attracted five beasts.
How difficult was it for ordinary beasts to awaken spiritual intelligence?
Either they had to possess a bloodline to begin with, or encounter a stroke of fortune before they had a chance.
Yet the path of incense offerings happened to be a shortcut.
The mental power of mortals was faint as fireflies, but when gathered into a river, it still allowed those five beasts to muddle-headedly awaken spiritual intelligence.
Once the Five Poisons had awakened their spiritual intelligence, they grew even more outrageous.
They began displaying divine miracles—summoning wind and