Siming Mountain was not high. Its hills rose and fell, its ridges overlapped, with flat summits and steep slopes, and many streams, waterfalls, and pools.
From afar, Siming Mountain looked graceful and winding. Yet as one approached, the mountain that had seemed so clear from a distance gradually grew indistinct. At some point, a pale red haze had risen over it, shrouding the entire ridge and leaving one gazing at flowers through mist, unable to see clearly.
The Mountain-Guarding Grand Array was at work.
But on the southern foot of the ridge, a terrace jutted out like a tiger's head. A huge red maple grew there, dozens of zhang tall and likely over a thousand years old.
Its crown resembled the Red Cloudglow, shimmering with spiritual light as though aflame. Even against the red haze, it could be seen clearly from dozens of li away.
Closer still, one could see a small pool there. A waterfall burst from the higher summit and plunged squarely into it, spraying countless droplets into a spreading mist.
Presumably, the little pool had formed under the waterfall's prolonged pounding. Reflecting the red maple, it too was crimson, and the drifting mist was lit into Red Cloudglow. The exposed stones on the cliff were ocher-red, like cinnabar.
Eight great characters were carved into the cliff here, each some ten zhang tall. They read:
Cinnabar Mountain, Red Waters; Four Luminaries Scenic Realm.
Anyone with a discerning eye would know at once that this was the entrance to Siming Mountain.
Cheng Xinzhan descended on his cloud here.
A wooden hut stood beneath the red maple, with someone on watch. As soon as Cheng Xinzhan approached, a young Daoist came forward to greet him.
"May I ask where you come from, fellow Daoist? This is Siming Mountain. This humble