If cultivators could bottle and sell the sensation of being thoroughly examined by an elder with perception sharp enough to identify a single speck of dust in a sandstorm, they would make fortunes selling it as an advanced torture method.

  Xiaolong was experiencing this particular discomfort firsthand as she sat before Elder Wei in the Waterfall Pavilion, trying not to fidget like a hatchling caught stealing from the imperial treasury.

  Elder Wei defied the standard image of wizened cultivation masters. Rather than the expected frail appearance accentuated by an improbably long beard, he presented as a man in his robust middle years with practical, shoulder-length hair streaked with premature silver.

  Only his eyes betrayed his true age—deep pools of awareness that seemed to have witnessed several centuries of human folly and somehow maintained their kindness despite it.

  "So," he said finally, after what felt like an eternity of silent assessment, "you are the mysterious cultivator who captured our Li Feng's attention so thoroughly that he broke three hundred years of sect tradition by bringing an outsider directly into our inner compound."

  He poured tea with a flourish that transformed the simple action into art, the liquid arcing from pot to cup in a perfect parabola without a single droplet straying from its intended path. The display wasn't threatening or boastful—simply the unconscious result of decades spent mastering water's properties.

  "I assure you, Elder Wei, any tradition-breaking was unintentional on my part," Xiaolong replied carefully. "Elder Disciple Li has been generous in sharing knowledge while respecting appropriate boundaries."

  Elder Wei's lips twitched with subtle amusement. "Li Feng has always had excellent judgment regarding both people and protocols. His willingness to bend the latter for the former speaks volumes about your unique qualities."

  The statement contained layers of meaning that Xiaolong recognized as intentional. The elder was communicating that he knew something unusual was afoot without directly challenging her disguise.

  "You have an interesting... essence," Elder Wei continued, the pause subtle but deliberate. "Unlike any cultivation path I've encountered in my modest century of study."

  The masterful understatement—referring to extensive experience as "modest"—was classic cultivation politics. Xiaolong found herself appreciating the human's diplomatic skill despite the precarious position it placed her in.

  "My cultivation developed through unorthodox means," she offered, the explanation technically true while revealing precisely nothing.

  "Unorthodox indeed." Elder Wei sipped his tea contemplatively. "Tell me, how does one who naturally embodies the mountain principle become so interested in water cultivation?"

  The observation was frighteningly accurate. Her draconic nature was fundamentally aligned with mountain principles—unyielding, dominating, enduring. Her interest in water's yielding, adaptive nature represented a direct contradiction to her essential character.

  "Perhaps it is precisely because of that natural opposition that I find water cultivation compelling," Xiaolong replied after careful consideration. "One often seeks in others what one lacks in oneself."

  Elder Wei's eyebrows rose slightly, genuine surprise flickering across his features before settling back into serene assessment. "A profound insight few cultivators twice your apparent age would recognize." He set his teacup down with a delicacy that belied the weight of his next words. "Or perhaps I should say, few cultivators a hundredth of your actual age."

  Xiaolong's teacup froze halfway to her lips.

  The direct acknowledgment of her longevity violated all the careful verbal dancing they had been doing. Honesty, it seemed, was Elder Wei's preferred weapon once pleasantries were exhausted.

  "You see much, Elder Wei," she acknowledged, neither confirming nor denying his implied accusation. Dragons had perfected the art of non-answer answers millennia before humans discovered fire, let alone diplomatic evasion.

  "I see essences, not appearances," he corrected gently. "And yours is... expansive. Ancient. Powerful beyond mortal scale." His gaze remained compassionate rather than accusing. "Yet deliberately constrained, like an ocean poured into a teacup."

  The metaphor was unsettlingly apt. Xiaolong considered her options carefully. Outright denial would insult his obvious perception. Full confession risked exposing her true nature to the entire sect.

  A middle path seemed wisest.

  "If I were such a being," she began circumspectly, "would I be welcome to observe your sect's practices while maintaining my... current limitations?"

  Elder Wei laughed—a warm, genuine sound that contained no mockery, only appreciation for the delicate verbal maneuvering. "You've spent time in imperial courts, I see. Such beautifully crafted hypotheticals."

  He refilled both their cups with a fluid motion that made the water dance from spout to cup like it was eager to please him. "The Azure Waters Sect has a tradition older than our formal founding—water welcomes all who approach with genuine intent. Like a river that does not question whether the rain that feeds it fell first on mountain, forest, or field."

  The answer was masterfully constructed—offering acceptance without requiring disclosure or acknowledgment. Xiaolong found herself genuinely impressed by the elder's diplomatic skill.

  "Then I shall endeavor to demonstrate genuine intent through respectful observation," she replied, matching his indirect approach.

  "Excellent." Elder Wei's expression shifted to practical matters. "I've approved your stay as Li Feng's honored guest. You'll have access to outer training grounds, common meditation halls, and most libraries. Certain advanced techniques and restricted areas will remain closed, as they would to any visitor."

  The limitations were reasonable and expected. Xiaolong nodded her acceptance.

  "One request, if I may," Elder Wei added, his tone slightly more serious. "While I have no objection to your presence or nature, I would ask that you avoid any... dramatic displays that might disrupt our disciples' cultivation. Young practitioners can be easily distracted by power beyond their comprehension."

  Translation: Please don't accidentally reveal your true nature and terrify our entire sect into cultivation deviation.

  "I understand completely," Xiaolong assured him. "Discretion will be my highest priority."

  "Then we understand each other." Elder Wei rose with a fluidity that made his robes ripple like water cascading over smooth stones, belying his centuries. "The evening meal begins shortly. I believe Li Feng awaits to escort you to the dining hall."

  Sure enough, as they exited the Waterfall Pavilion, Li Feng stood nearby, his posture straight as a mountain pine though far more relaxed. His expression remained carefully neutral, though his eyes held obvious questions about her meeting with Elder Wei.

  "All is well?" he inquired as they walked together toward the dining hall.

  "Your Elder Wei is most perceptive," Xiaolong replied, deliberate vagueness masking the extent of that perception. "And surprisingly accepting of unorthodox cultivation approaches."

  Li Feng seemed to accept this limited explanation, though his slight frown suggested he sensed there was more to the story. "Elder Wei often says that water's greatest strength is its ability to accommodate all vessels without losing its essential nature."

  As they approached the dining hall, Xiaolong became increasingly aware of the attention their arrival generated. Disciples of various ranks paused in their conversations to observe the newcomer, spiritual assessment as palpable as physical touch.

  Unlike Elder Wei's precise, respectful examination, these combined gazes felt like being poked with multiple sticks of varying sharpness.

  "News travels quickly here," she observed with masterful understatement.

  "Like water finding cracks in stone," Li Feng agreed with a hint of apology. "Sect disciples cultivate spiritual perception alongside water techniques. Your... unusual essence naturally draws attention."

  The dining hall itself proved to be a structure of surprising beauty—a circular pavilion with a domed ceiling that collected rising steam from cooking and dining to form constantly shifting cloud patterns. Tables arranged in concentric circles reflected cultivation hierarchies, with elders and senior disciples toward the center and outer disciples at the periphery.

  Their entrance created a ripple of whispered conversations that spread outward like stone dropped in still water. Xiaolong caught fragments as they passed:

  "—Li Feng's mysterious guest—"

  "—unusual spiritual signature—"

  "—Elder Wei granted private audience—"

  "—rumored to practice forbidden techniques—"

  The last whisper, from a particularly imaginative outer disciple, suggested she was actually a demon queen in disguise seeking to steal the sect's secret techniques.

  Xiaolong suppressed a draconic snort. If she wanted human cultivation techniques, she could simply extract them directly from their practitioners' minds through ancient forbidden methods that would leave them drooling vegetables.

  Not that she would, of course—such actions were dreadfully inefficient and made a terrible mess of perfectly good human resources.

  The thought brought her up short. When had she started considering the well-being of random humans as a factor in her decision-making? Yet another troubling sign of her advancing reverse cultivation.

  "We'll be seated at the third circle," Li Feng explained, guiding her toward a table where several Elder Disciples were already gathered. "As a personal guest rather than a formal exchange disciple, protocol places you with your sponsor."

  This arrangement apparently defied expectations, as several disciples at neighboring tables widened their eyes in surprise. Being seated at the third circle clearly carried significance beyond simple dining arrangements.

  Ming Lian waved cheerfully as they approached, gesturing to empty places beside him. "The guest of honor arrives! I saved seats before half the sect tried cramming themselves at this table to interrogate you."

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  The blunt acknowledgment of their curiosity made several nearby disciples shift uncomfortably. For beings who spent decades developing spiritual subtlety, many cultivators proved remarkably transparent in their mundane reactions.

  "Has Elder Wei performed the traditional examination where he stares into your soul while pretending to discuss tea quality?" Ming Lian asked as they settled at the table. "His record is making three disciples faint during a single assessment cycle last autumn."

  "Ming Lian," admonished a serene-looking female disciple seated across from them, "Elder Wei's perception techniques are sacred sect traditions, not gossip fodder."

  "Sacred traditions can still be terrifying, Disciple Yue," Ming Lian countered cheerfully. "Like that meditation technique you taught where concentrating on water flow somehow results in experiencing one's own birth trauma. Spiritually enlightening? Perhaps. The stuff of nightmares? Definitely."

  Disciple Yue's expression suggested she was mentally calculating the water pressure required to launch Ming Lian from the dining pavilion directly into the nearest cold mountain lake.

  Formal introductions proceeded around the table, each disciple performing the flowing Azure Waters greeting with precise technique that nevertheless revealed subtle personality differences—some more formal, others more fluid, each unique despite following identical protocols.

  Xiaolong returned each greeting with careful attention to proper form, drawing on her observation of Li Feng's techniques.

  Despite her best efforts, her movements carried a subtle authority that caused several disciples to unconsciously straighten their posture in response—a physical reaction to the compressed draconic presence she couldn't entirely conceal.

  As servers brought the evening meal, consisting of dishes that showcased water cultivation's influence on agriculture, Xiaolong found herself the subject of increasingly direct questioning.

  "Your spiritual signature contains unusual resonance patterns," observed a scholarly disciple named Zhang Liao, his voice carrying the precise tones of someone who had spent more time with ancient texts than human beings. "What cultivation tradition produces such uniquely structured meridians?"

  Before Xiaolong could formulate an appropriately vague response, another disciple—a young woman with practically braided hair and practical eyes—interjected with impressive bluntness.

  "What Zhang means to ask is whether those rumors about you being from the forbidden Northern Ice Peaks cultivation sects are true," she clarified, earning a horrified look from her more scholarly companion. "I'm Wu Mei, by the way. We have a wager on which exotic tradition you represent, and I've got three meditation shifts riding on 'secret ice cultivation.'"

  "Wu Mei!" Zhang Liao looked mortified. "One doesn't simply ask honored guests about betting pools regarding their origins!"

  "Why not? She's going to hear about them anyway," Wu Mei shrugged, utterly unconcerned with protocol breaches. "Better to acknowledge the elephant fish in the room rather than letting it splash around unaddressed."

  The mixed metaphor—typical of cultivation world idioms that merged mundane and spiritual concepts—caught Xiaolong off guard.

  A sound escaped her that took everyone at the table by surprise: a genuine laugh, unrestrained by draconic dignity.

  The disciples stared at her with expressions ranging from shock to delight. Apparently, laughing at Wu Mei's blunt commentary had violated some unwritten social calculation about mysterious visitors and appropriate mystique.

  "I apologize for disappointing your wager," Xiaolong replied once she had regained her composure, "but I am not from the Northern Ice Peaks. My cultivation developed through independent study rather than formal sect traditions."

  This revelation sparked immediate debate among the disciples about the viability of truly independent cultivation, with arguments for tradition-based learning competing against passionate defenses of innovation through isolation.

  Li Feng observed the lively discussion with that slight almost-smile that seemed reserved for moments of genuine pleasure. "You've accomplished something rare," he noted quietly to Xiaolong. "Getting Zhang Liao and Wu Mei to agree on anything typically requires threat of imminent disaster."

  Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Song Bai, who materialized beside their table with the timing of a cat that knows exactly when dinner is being served. She wore formal cultivation robes rather than the patrol uniform from earlier, the elegant fabric enhancing her classical beauty through subtle water-pattern embroidery that seemed to ripple with her movements.

  "Elder Brother Li," she greeted with perfect form before turning to Xiaolong. "And Cultivator Xiaolong. I trust you're finding our sect's accommodations satisfactory?"

  The question was innocent, yet something in her tone suggested she found Xiaolong's placement at the third circle somewhat less than satisfactory.

  "Most impressive," Xiaolong replied with neutral courtesy. "The Azure Waters Sect's integration of spiritual principles with practical designs reflects deep understanding."

  Song Bai's perfectly composed features revealed nothing, but her spiritual essence rippled with subtle dissonance—like a pond's surface disturbed by conflicting breezes. She clearly hadn't expected such a technically precise assessment from what she presumed was an unaffiliated cultivator.

  "Tomorrow's morning assembly includes demonstration of basic water circulation techniques," Song Bai continued, addressing Li Feng rather than Xiaolong. "Perhaps your guest would benefit from observing foundation practices?"

  The suggestion carried a barely concealed implication: Xiaolong should start with beginner techniques rather than whatever advanced methods Li Feng might be planning to share.

  Before Li Feng could respond, a disruption at the dining hall entrance drew everyone's attention. A young disciple burst in, robes disheveled and expression frantic.

  "Senior Brother Tao and the Black Iron patrol are at the outer gate!" he announced, voice carrying across the suddenly silent hall. "They demand audience with Sect Leader Yuan regarding border violations!"

  The peaceful dining atmosphere evaporated instantly. Elder disciples exchanged significant glances while younger members leaned forward with barely disguised excitement at the prospect of sect drama.

  Apparently, inter-sect conflict provided better entertainment than speculation about mysterious visitors.

  Elder Wei rose from the central table, moving like mist over still water—so smooth that even the liquid in his cup remained perfectly stable. "Continue your meal," he instructed the gathered disciples. "This matter will be addressed appropriately."

  Despite this clear direction, a current of tension remained as Elder Wei and several senior cultivators departed. The remaining elders maintained composed expressions, but their spiritual essences betrayed concern through subtle fluctuations.

  "Interesting timing," Ming Lian murmured, his usual irreverence tempered by genuine concern. "Black Iron patrols rarely approach our gates directly."

  "Senior Brother Tao seems especially interested in pressing territorial claims lately," Li Feng observed, his tone carefully neutral despite obvious concern. "We encountered his patrol in the contested territories yesterday."

  Song Bai's attention sharpened. "You crossed through Black Iron claimed land? Did they challenge your passage?"

  "They attempted verification protocols beyond treaty provisions," Li Feng acknowledged. "The situation was resolved diplomatically."

  Wu Mei leaned forward with undisguised interest. "Diplomatically? Or 'diplomatically' with water techniques leaving them soaked and sulking?"

  "Truly diplomatically," Li Feng assured her, though his glance toward Xiaolong carried a hint of private amusement at their shared memory of the actual encounter.

  Xiaolong maintained careful neutrality, avoiding any mention of exploded tea house floors or earth cultivators learning impromptu flight techniques. Dragons understood that victorious battle stories were best shared only with trusted allies, not potential information leaks.

  As the meal continued with subdued conversation, Xiaolong observed the complex social currents flowing through the dining hall.

  Despite outward composure, the disciples' spiritual essences revealed their true responses to the Black Iron intrusion—concern, excitement, apprehension, even eagerness for potential conflict.

  Human cultivation society was proving far more intricate than dragon interactions, where disputes were settled through straightforward displays of superior power. These layered political and social dimensions—hierarchies within hierarchies, alliances and rivalries operating simultaneously—created patterns of such complexity that Xiaolong found herself genuinely fascinated.

  By meal's end, Elder Wei had not returned, and speculation about the Black Iron confrontation had generated at least seventeen different theories ranging from reasonable diplomatic protest to imminent sect war.

  "I'll escort you back to your chambers," Li Feng offered as disciples began departing in small groups. "Tomorrow's schedule may require adjustment depending on tonight's developments."

  Song Bai, who had maintained a position notably close to Li Feng throughout the remainder of the meal, immediately interjected. "Elder Brother Li, surely you'll be needed for the emergency council meeting? I'd be happy to ensure Cultivator Xiaolong finds her way safely."

  The offer, though perfectly courteous on the surface, carried subtle undertones that Xiaolong's increasingly human emotional sensitivity registered as territorial marking. Song Bai was clearly staking claim to Li Feng's attention while simultaneously seeking private interaction with the mysterious visitor.

  Li Feng, demonstrating either admirable diplomatic skill or masculine obliviousness to the undercurrents, responded with perfect composure. "There's been no summons for emergency council. Unless one arrives, my responsibilities to our guest take precedence."

  Song Bai's expression remained serene, though her spiritual essence rippled with suppressed reaction. "Of course, Elder Brother." She performed a flawless departure bow. "Perhaps tomorrow I might demonstrate some specialized water reflection techniques that our guest might find... illuminating."

  The subtle emphasis suggested these techniques might reveal more than simple water manipulation. Song Bai was clearly planning her own investigation of Xiaolong's unusual nature.

  As they departed the dining hall, navigating the illuminated mist pathways back toward the guest quarters, Li Feng maintained a thoughtful silence that Xiaolong found unexpectedly comfortable. Unlike human companions who seemed compelled to fill quiet moments with endless chatter, Li Feng appeared content with shared silence.

  "Your first sect meal survived without anyone being transformed into aquatic life forms," he finally observed as they approached the River Heart Chambers. "I count that as a successful introduction."

  Xiaolong detected the subtle humor beneath his serious expression. "Are such transformations common at Azure Waters dining events?"

  "Only during particularly contentious philosophical debates," he replied with that almost-smile. "Last season, Disciple Zhang spent three days as a particularly scholarly-looking koi after suggesting that water's true nature was fundamentally passive rather than active."

  The deadpan delivery left Xiaolong momentarily uncertain whether he was joking—a rare occurrence for a being who had witnessed the full spectrum of cosmic humor across millennia. The realization that a simple human could generate this confusion was both irritating and strangely delightful.

  "Tomorrow will bring more formal introductions and demonstrations," Li Feng continued as they reached her chambers. "Given tonight's... complications with Black Iron Sect, I suggest remaining within the inner compound until matters clarify."

  The advice was sensible, though something in Xiaolong bristled at constraint—a remnant of draconic nature that resisted any limitation on movement or territory. She suppressed this instinctive response, recognizing it as counterproductive to her current circumstances.

  "A prudent suggestion," she acknowledged. "Does Black Iron Sect often make such direct approaches?"

  "Rarely," Li Feng admitted, his expression growing more serious. "Their appearance so soon after our encounter in the contested territories seems unlikely to be coincidental."

  The implication was clear—their journey through Black Iron territory might have triggered this diplomatic incident. Xiaolong considered whether her less-than-subtle handling of the Yu brothers had perhaps escalated tensions between the sects.

  Dragons didn't typically concern themselves with the political consequences of their actions on lesser beings. Collateral damage was expected when cosmic entities expressed their will.

  Yet Xiaolong found herself experiencing an unfamiliar sensation that took several moments to identify: concern for how her actions might have affected Li Feng's position within his sect.

  Another scale loosening, perhaps. Another step away from draconic nature toward something more limited yet increasingly complex.

  "Whatever developments emerge," she said carefully, "I appreciate your guidance through unfamiliar social waters."

  Li Feng's expression softened slightly. "Water finds harmony through adapting to new environments. Your adaptation to sect protocols has been remarkably swift for someone unaccustomed to our ways."

  The compliment, delivered with characteristic understatement, triggered another un-draconic response—a flutter of something almost like pleasure at this simple human's approval. Dragons measured themselves against cosmic standards, not mortal assessment.

  Yet here she was, experiencing satisfaction at Li Feng's recognition of her social adaptation.

  "Until tomorrow, then," she said, the formal farewell emerging more naturally than she would have expected just days ago.

  As Li Feng departed with a bow as graceful as a willow bending in the breeze yet carrying the warmth of genuine respect, Xiaolong entered her chambers with the distinct impression that her first day at the Azure Waters Sect had been less about learning human cultivation techniques and more about advancing her own unintentional reverse cultivation.

  Three scales shed, four remaining—and the boundary between what she had been and what she was becoming grew increasingly indistinct with each passing day in this limited, fascinating human form.