There exists a peculiar affliction common to beings across all realms of existence—the inexplicable tendency to volunteer for responsibilities one is spectacularly unqualified to fulfill.

  Dragons typically avoided this condition through a combination of innate superiority and the practical understanding that teaching lesser beings often resulted in mountains being accidentally reduced to smoldering craters.

  Xiaolong, however, was discovering that her reverse cultivation journey had apparently stripped her of this sensible reluctance alongside her scales.

  "The evening meditation begins shortly after the convergence feast concludes," Li Feng explained as they walked toward the guest quarters, her troublesome vessel still performing its unsolicited prismatic light display. "Several junior disciples have requested you share insights from your... tradition."

  The hesitation before "tradition" suggested he recognized the increasingly tenuous nature of her cover story, though he maintained the diplomatic fiction with admirable consistency.

  "I've never led a formal meditation session," Xiaolong admitted, which was technically true. Dragons didn't "meditate" so much as "contemplate the infinite while occasionally adjusting continental plates to more aesthetically pleasing configurations."

  "Water finds its natural channel," Li Feng replied with one of those cryptic water cultivation aphorisms that somehow managed to be simultaneously meaningless and profound. "Simply share what you've found meaningful in your own practice."

  The problem, of course, was that her "practice" consisted primarily of desperately attempting to become less draconic before anyone noticed she wasn't human to begin with.

  Hardly the sort of inspirational wisdom young cultivators typically sought.

  As twilight descended over the compound, transforming the omnipresent mist into veils of lavender and gold, Xiaolong prepared for her unexpected teaching role.

  The meditation pavilion stood at the edge of the Azure Pool, its circular structure supported by pillars carved to resemble flowing water frozen in perfect motion. Lanterns hung from the curved ceiling, their light refracted through water-filled crystal globes that cast rippling patterns across the polished floor.

  "More disciples than anticipated," Li Feng observed as they approached the already crowded pavilion.

  Indeed, what Xiaolong had expected to be a small gathering of curious juniors had apparently evolved into something approaching a formal lecture. At least thirty disciples sat in concentric circles, their expressions ranging from eager anticipation to scholarly skepticism.

  Most concerning was the presence of Elder Liu, who sat at the edge of the gathering with the casual posture of someone who definitely wasn't there to evaluate potentially heretical philosophical perspectives.

  "I wasn't prepared for such an... extensive audience," Xiaolong murmured, a flicker of very un-draconic anxiety twisting through her meridians.

  "Your performance at the convergence ceremony attracted attention," Li Feng replied with significant understatement. "Many seek to understand the principles behind your water collection technique."

  This posed a fundamental problem: there was no "technique" to explain. Her water collection had simply been the natural response of the element to her draconic essence—an essence she was supposedly trying to conceal.

  "Remember that questions reflect the questioner more than the questioned," Li Feng added, apparently sensing her concern. "Answer what they're truly seeking, not merely what they're asking."

  This cryptic advice contained just enough practical wisdom to be irritating in its accuracy. Before she could request clarification in less philosophical terms, they reached the pavilion entrance.

  The assembled disciples immediately noticed their arrival, conversations falling silent as all eyes turned toward Xiaolong.

  Each face reflected expectations she couldn't possibly fulfill—revelations about cultivation mysteries, insights into esoteric techniques, wisdom accumulated through centuries of practice she was supposedly too young to have experienced.

  A perfect bow rippled through the gathering as she entered, the synchronized movement creating the impression of a wave washing across the pavilion.

  Xiaolong returned the gesture with carefully measured formality, attempting to project confidence she didn't remotely feel.

  "We welcome Fellow Daoist Xiaolong," Li Feng announced, his voice carrying perfect resonance through the circular space. "During this evening's meditation, she has graciously agreed to share perspectives from her tradition's approach to water essence cultivation."

  Several junior disciples exchanged excited glances, while a few senior practitioners maintained the carefully neutral expressions cultivators adopted when evaluating potentially unorthodox theories.

  Elder Liu's face revealed nothing beyond polite attention, which somehow felt more threatening than outright suspicion.

  Li Feng guided her to a meditation cushion positioned at the focal point of the concentric circles, then took a seat slightly to her right—close enough to intervene if necessary, yet far enough to indicate this was her session to lead.

  The subtle positioning suggested he had anticipated her discomfort and arranged himself perfectly to provide support without undermining her authority.

  As Xiaolong settled onto the cushion, she contemplated the absurdity of her situation.

  Here she sat, an ancient dragon whose mere thoughts had once caused lesser beings to tremble in terror, experiencing the distinctly un-draconic emotion of stage fright before a group of humans whose collective age barely surpassed her first millennium.

  "I thank the Azure Waters Sect for this opportunity to exchange insights," she began, adopting the formal cadence humans seemed to prefer for spiritual discussions. "My tradition approaches water essence from a perspective of fundamental recognition rather than hierarchical manipulation."

  This was technically true, if only because her recent transformative experiences had shifted her relationship with elements from domination to dialogue—a philosophical position she was still struggling to understand herself.

  "Tonight's meditation will focus on water's adaptability as metaphor for cultivation progression," she continued, drawing on observations of human practices she had accumulated over centuries. "Where earth cultivation emphasizes stability and fire cultivation seeks transformation, water teaches the paradoxical strength found in perfect yielding."

  The disciples nodded with varying degrees of comprehension. Xiaolong noticed several surreptitiously taking notes, which added another layer of pressure to her improvised teaching.

  Dragons didn't typically worry about being misquoted—they simply incinerated anyone who misrepresented their wisdom—but her current limited form required more diplomatic approaches to knowledge transmission.

  "We will begin with a basic circulation pattern," she explained, demonstrating a simplified version of the water meridian meditation Li Feng had taught her at the Fourth Sacred Waterfall. "As you follow the circulation, observe how water energy behaves differently from other elemental essences you may have cultivated."

  The disciples assumed meditation postures with practiced ease, their breathing synchronizing as they began the circulation pattern.

  Xiaolong found herself unexpectedly moved by their earnest concentration—these brief-lived beings dedicating their fleeting existence to understanding principles dragons simply embodied through birthright.

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  As the meditation deepened, she guided them through increasingly subtle observations of water's nature—its ability to penetrate seemingly impermeable barriers, its perfect memory of forms it has encountered, its paradoxical strength against rigid opposition.

  Throughout her instruction, she carefully avoided specific techniques that might reveal her draconic perspective, focusing instead on philosophical principles that paralleled Azure Waters teachings while offering slightly different angles of consideration.

  "Water reflects not only what stands before it," she explained, "but carries the memory of mountains it has crossed, valleys it has carved, and skies it has fallen from. In this way, cultivation progress preserves each stage of development rather than simply replacing earlier understandings with more advanced perspectives."

  She was surprised to discover she actually believed what she was saying. Though originally intended as a safe philosophical observation unlikely to expose her true nature, the insight resonated with her own experience of transformation—each new understanding incorporating rather than erasing what came before.

  To her relief, the disciples appeared genuinely engaged, their spiritual energy shifting in patterns that suggested authentic contemplation rather than mere politeness.

  Even Elder Liu seemed to be considering her words with scholarly interest rather than suspicious evaluation.

  "We will now open for questions," Li Feng announced after the primary meditation concluded, smoothly transitioning to the next phase without requiring her to determine proper ceremonial protocols.

  The moment these words left his lips, dozens of hands rose simultaneously, reminding Xiaolong uncomfortably of hungry hatchlings competing for attention in dragon rookeries.

  She nodded toward a serious-faced young woman in the front circle, who immediately straightened with the intense focus of someone who had mentally rehearsed her question for hours.

  "Honored Teacher," the girl began, using a title Xiaolong certainly hadn't approved, "your water collection technique demonstrated perfect harmonic resonance across multiple elemental boundaries. Does your tradition teach that water serves as conductor for other elemental affinities, or does true mastery require separate cultivation of each element independently?"

  The question contained at least three fundamental misunderstandings about draconic elemental manipulation, alongside several assumptions that would require decades to properly correct.

  Xiaolong considered how to respond without either lying outright or revealing too much truth.

  "Water connects all elements through its fundamental adaptability," she answered carefully. "Rather than serving as mere conductor, it reveals the underlying unity of seemingly separate forces. The cultivation of specific elements may appear distinct, but at higher levels of understanding, the boundaries between them become increasingly... permeable."

  This explanation, while deliberately abstract, seemed to satisfy the young disciple, who nodded with an expression of profound revelation as though Xiaolong had just handed her the key to immortality rather than a carefully vague metaphysical observation.

  The next question came from a lanky junior disciple whose robes bore the distinct water stains of someone still mastering basic control techniques. "Is it true your tradition allows direct communication with water spirits? Senior Brother Ming mentioned ancient techniques for speaking with elemental entities!"

  Xiaolong barely suppressed a sigh.

  Ming Lian's cheerful distribution of creative misinformation continued to complicate her already precarious position. She briefly entertained the draconic solution of having a serious discussion with him about the consequences of excessive imagination, preferably while dangling him over an active volcano, before dismissing the thought as unhelpfully regressive.

  "Water contains consciousness different from human awareness," she replied, threading carefully between truth and caution. "What some traditions interpret as 'spirits' might better be understood as resonance patterns within elemental essence. Communication occurs through harmonization rather than language as you understand it."

  This explanation generated excited whispers among younger disciples, who clearly found the idea of conscious elements more thrilling than the more technical clarification she'd attempted to provide.

  Questions continued—each requiring increasingly creative navigation between revealing too much and saying too little.

  A senior disciple inquired about the theoretical foundation of her "reverse water flow technique" (which she had never demonstrated or mentioned); another asked how many years of foundation building were required before attempting the "prismatic manifestation method" (which wasn't a method at all but simply her draconic essence expressing itself).

  Throughout this interrogation, Li Feng provided subtle guidance—a slight nod when her answer struck the right balance, a barely perceptible head tilt when she veered too close to revealing something problematic.

  His presence beside her became an unexpected anchor, helping her navigate these treacherous conversational waters without exposing her true nature.

  The most challenging question came from Ming Lian himself, who had apparently slipped into the pavilion during the session and now sat at the back with an expression of innocence so exaggerated it could only conceal mischievous intent.

  "Fellow Daoist Xiaolong," he called out, using her proper title with suspicious formality, "ancient texts describe cultivation methods that allow practitioners to perceive time differently—experiencing centuries as moments or moments as centuries. Does your tradition include such temporal perception techniques?"

  The question veered dangerously close to exposing her millennial perspective.

  Dragons naturally experienced time differently than humans—centuries passing like seasons, decades like mere days. This differential perception wasn't a technique to be learned but an inherent aspect of immortal existence.

  "Temporal perception varies naturally throughout cultivation progression," she answered, choosing each word with careful precision. "What appears as technique is often simply the natural expansion of awareness beyond human limitations."

  Ming Lian's eyes sparkled with poorly concealed amusement, suggesting he'd asked the question primarily to watch her construct elaborate evasions rather than from genuine curiosity about the answer.

  She made a mental note to have a serious conversation with him about appropriate scholarly inquiry, preferably without the volcanic dangling she'd previously considered.

  As the questions continued, Xiaolong noticed something unexpected—she was enjoying herself. Despite the constant vigilance required to avoid revealing too much, she found genuine satisfaction in sharing knowledge with these earnest seekers.

  Dragons typically hoarded wisdom as jealously as physical treasures, viewing information as power to be accumulated rather than shared. This newfound pleasure in teaching represented yet another transformation in her fundamental nature.

  The session had extended well beyond its scheduled conclusion when Elder Liu finally rose, signaling its end with the particular authority only senior cultivators could project without visible effort.

  "The hour grows late," he announced, "and our guest has been most generous with her insights. We shall conclude this evening's meditation with appropriate gratitude."

  The disciples performed a formal closing bow, many looking disappointed that the session was ending. Several approached with additional questions despite Elder Liu's clear dismissal, creating a small crowd around Xiaolong as she attempted to rise from her cushion with appropriate dignity.

  Li Feng intervened smoothly, redirecting the most persistent questioners with gentle but firm suggestions about appropriate rest before tomorrow's training.

  As the pavilion gradually emptied, he remained beside her, his presence a steady constant amid the chaos of her increasingly complicated human existence.

  "You navigated those waters with unexpected skill," he observed once they were relatively alone, save for Elder Liu who lingered near the pavilion entrance in apparent contemplation of the night sky.

  "Unexpected even to myself," Xiaolong admitted. "Dragons—" She caught herself too late, the word escaping before she could contain it.

  Li Feng's expression remained perfectly neutral, though something flickered briefly in his eyes. "Dragons?" he prompted with deceptive casualness.

  "Dragon constellation tales," she improvised hastily. "My tradition includes stories about celestial dragons who taught the first cultivators through indirect riddles rather than explicit instruction. I found myself employing similar methods tonight."

  The explanation sounded weak even to her ears, but Li Feng simply nodded as though this clarification made perfect sense. Before he could respond, Elder Liu approached with measured steps that somehow managed to convey both respect and evaluation.

  "A most illuminating session," the elder observed, his gaze moving between Xiaolong and Li Feng with scholarly attention. "Your philosophical framework contains intriguing parallels to certain obscure texts in our ancestral archives. Perhaps you might honor this old cultivator with a more private discussion tomorrow evening? There are several theoretical questions I'd welcome your perspective on."

  The invitation, while phrased as request, carried the unmistakable weight of senior authority. Xiaolong inclined her head in formal acceptance, recognizing that refusal would only intensify suspicion.

  "It would be my honor, Elder Liu."

  As they parted ways for the evening, Xiaolong found herself contemplating the subtle shifts in her nature this teaching session had revealed.

  Dragons did not share wisdom; they proclaimed it.

  Dragons did not enjoy questions; they demanded reverence.

  Dragons did not value mutual exchange; they accumulated knowledge for personal power.

  Yet here she stood, genuinely pleased by the disciples' eager curiosity, satisfied by their earnest learning, and looking forward to further philosophical discussions.

  The night air carried the subtle scent of water lilies as she and Li Feng walked in comfortable silence back toward the guest quarters.

  Above them, stars reflected in the Azure Pool created the perfect illusion of walking between two skies—suspended between worlds in a way that mirrored her increasingly transformed existence.