In the grand hierarchy of awkward social situations, being escorted by a woman who clearly wishes you would spontaneously combust ranks somewhere between dining with a deity who keeps pointing out your table manner flaws and attending a family gathering where everyone knows you're secretly a dragon except the host.

  Xiaolong was discovering this particular truth firsthand as Song Bai led their small procession toward the Azure Waters Sect compound with the fluid grace of someone performing a water dance while simultaneously plotting a murder.

  "Elder Brother Li has spoken often of your... unusual talents," Song Bai remarked with the clearness of someone selecting each word like a surgeon choosing scalpels. "Such a blessing that you've graced our humble sect with your presence."

  The statement was masterfully constructed—perfectly polite on the surface while carrying undertones that suggested Xiaolong's presence was approximately as welcome as algae bloom in a sacred spring.

  "Junior Sister Song is too kind," Xiaolong replied with a diplomat's calculated neutrality, falling back on formal phrasing that revealed nothing. Five thousand years of cosmic diplomatic experience had taught her to recognize passive aggression in seventeen different dimensional planes. This human version was almost charmingly straightforward by comparison. "Elder Brother Li speaks highly of the sect's hospitality toward knowledge-seekers."

  Li Feng, perhaps sensing the spiritual equivalent of ice forming between the two women, cut through the tension like a warm knife. "The Azure Waters Sect maintains the ancient tradition of open exchange. As Elder Wei often says, 'Water that never mingles with new streams grows stagnant.'"

  Song Bai's expression shifted to genuine warmth when addressing Li Feng. "Elder Wei will be overjoyed at your return. He's mentioned your pilgrimage progress during every morning assembly."

  The path they followed wound along a river valley that displayed increasingly sophisticated water cultivation techniques with each passing li. Natural waterfalls had been subtly enhanced to create perfect spiritual resonance patterns. Streams divided and rejoined in configurations that formed living cultivation diagrams when viewed from above.

  Even the mist that clung to the valley carried distinct formation patterns that Xiaolong recognized as spiritual purification arrays.

  As a being who had witnessed the birth of star systems, Xiaolong typically found human construction unimpressive by definition. Yet she couldn't deny the elegant harmony achieved here—not through overwhelming power or cosmic restructuring, but through patient, accumulated understanding of water's natural properties.

  "The valley looks different," Li Feng observed, his gaze taking in subtle changes in the landscape. "The southern irrigation channels have been restructured."

  "Elder Liu implemented new flow patterns last month," Song Bai explained, her eyes brightening like sunlit water when she caught his attention. "The triple-helix configuration increases spiritual saturation by seventeen percent while reducing water consumption."

  The technical discussion continued as they ascended the valley, with Song Bai detailing various improvements and Li Feng offering thoughtful observations.

  Xiaolong found herself analyzing the patrol leader with scholarly interest. The human woman's cultivation base was impressively refined for her apparent age—perhaps twenty-two by mortal reckoning, with spiritual development that suggested exceptional talent and disciplined practice.

  More intriguing was her obvious emotional response to Li Feng. Whenever he spoke, her spiritual essence rippled with unconscious resonance, like a pond responding to a familiar breeze. The reaction suggested significant attachment, though Li Feng himself seemed either unaware or deliberately neutral in his responses.

  Dragons had no equivalent to human romantic attachment. They formed alliances based on power compatibility, territorial advantage, or occasionally aesthetic appreciation of particularly impressive scale patterns.

  This peculiar human tendency to develop emotional fixations on specific individuals remained one of the more baffling aspects of mortal existence.

  Yet watching Song Bai's carefully controlled interactions with Li Feng, Xiaolong felt an unexpected and thoroughly un-draconic sensation—something uncomfortably close to territorial irritation. The feeling was so foreign that she initially mistook it for spiritual indigestion.

  "The mist thickens ahead," Song Bai announced as they approached a dramatic increase in the valley's ambient moisture. "First-time visitors sometimes find the transition disorienting."

  The warning proved warranted. Within moments, they passed through what appeared to be an ordinary bank of mountain mist into something dramatically different. The fog didn't just obscure vision—it transformed it.

  Distances became fluid. Directions seemed to fold into themselves. Every sound acquired crystal clarity while simultaneously seeming to originate from everywhere and nowhere.

  "The Veiled Approach," Li Feng explained, noting Xiaolong's interest. "A natural spiritual formation enhanced by generations of sect masters. It serves both as protection against unauthorized visitors and as a cultivation environment for advanced water sensitivity training."

  In her true form, Xiaolong could have simply adjusted her perception to see through such effects with minimal effort. Her current limited vessel, however, proved genuinely susceptible to the disorientation. The sensation was novel enough to be almost enjoyable—like an immortal being experiencing a mild headrush for the first time.

  "Focus on the sound of flowing water," Li Feng suggested helpfully. "Allow your spiritual sense to flow with it rather than fighting the mist's effects."

  Xiaolong followed his advice, adjusting her approach to work with the disorientation rather than against it. The technique proved surprisingly effective. Within moments, the mist's confounding properties became less pronounced, revealing glimpses of structured pathways and distant buildings.

  "Impressive adaptation," Song Bai remarked with what sounded like genuine surprise. "Most first-time visitors require guidance ropes to navigate the Veiled Approach."

  As they progressed deeper into the mist-shrouded valley, occasional breaks in the fog revealed tantalizing glimpses of the Azure Waters Sect compound.

  Unlike imperial architecture with its emphasis on imposing grandeur or martial sect compounds designed to intimidate, the structures here seemed to grow organically from the landscape—elegant pavilions perched beside waterfalls, terraced buildings that followed the natural contours of the mountainside, and delicate bridges spanning ravines with graceful arches.

  "Misty Vale welcomes the returning disciple," called a ceremonial voice as they approached an ornate gateway formed by two massive stone pillars carved to resemble stylized waterfalls. A robed figure emerged from the mist and performed the flowing Azure Waters greeting with perfect form.

  "Gate Master Ye," Li Feng returned the greeting with equal exactitude. "This disciple returns from communion with the Fourth Sacred Waterfall."

  The formal exchange continued with ritualistic call and response that Xiaolong recognized as standard cultivation sect security protocols—though considerably more elegant than the blunt verification demanded by the Black Iron patrol earlier.

  Each question contained subtle spiritual tests embedded within seemingly ordinary inquiries, while responses carried confirmation markers that would be impossible to falsify without specific training.

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  Once Li Feng's identity was properly confirmed, Gate Master Ye turned his attention to Xiaolong. His spiritual perception was clearly advanced, though his gaze lingered on her with the intensity of someone trying to read fine print in dim lighting.

  "And this visitor?" he inquired, his tone politely neutral while his spiritual essence conducted much more thorough investigation.

  "Cultivator Xiaolong studies specialized techniques beyond traditional frameworks," Li Feng explained, the words flowing from his lips like a well-rehearsed prayer. "She accompanies me to observe Azure Waters methods under my formal sponsorship."

  The explanation appeared to satisfy Gate Master Ye, though his spiritual assessment continued, probing her essence like fingers testing the ripeness of fruit.

  Xiaolong clutched her compressed draconic essence tight like a mother hiding a dangerous child, allowing him to sense only what would appear as an unusual but non-threatening cultivation base.

  "The sect welcomes knowledge-seekers," he declared after completing his assessment. "Visitor protocols require registration with the Administration Pavilion by sundown. Elder Disciple Li will guide you through the necessary procedures."

  With formalities completed, they passed through the gate into the true Azure Waters Sect compound—and Xiaolong experienced her first genuine surprise since beginning her human experiment.

  The mist beyond the gate didn't thin as expected. Instead, it transformed. What had been ordinary fog became a living manifestation of water essence so pure that it appeared as crystalline light suspended in air.

  Within this illuminated mist, the sect's buildings shimmered like architectural dreams, more suggestion than substance, their boundaries fluid and mutable depending on one's perspective.

  "The Azure Mist Veil," Li Feng explained, noting her reaction. "The sect's innermost spiritual barrier, maintained by three hundred years of continuous cultivation. It reconfigures itself nine times daily following water meridian principles."

  Even to a being who had witnessed cosmic wonders, the effect was legitimately impressive. Not for its raw power—which was minuscule by draconic standards—but for the refined harmony it represented. Generations of human cultivators had created something no single immortal could have conceived, each adding subtle improvements to a collective work that transcended individual capability.

  "Elder Brother Li should report to Elder Wei immediately," Song Bai suggested as they proceeded deeper into the compound. "I can escort Cultivator Xiaolong to the guest accommodations for now."

  Before Li Feng could respond, another voice called from somewhere in the illuminated mist. "Is that Li Feng I sense returning to our humble puddle? About time you dragged yourself back from your waterfall contemplations!"

  A figure materialized through the mist with the casual grace of someone who had navigated these spiritual currents since childhood. He was perhaps Li Feng's age, with an athletic build and a face that seemed perpetually poised on the edge of laughter.

  Unlike Song Bai's perfect composure and formal bearing, this newcomer moved with relaxed confidence that suggested comfort with his place in the sect's hierarchy.

  "Ming Lian," Li Feng greeted the newcomer with evident pleasure, the formality of his earlier exchanges giving way to genuine warmth. "Still causing ripples in still waters, I see."

  "Someone has to keep things flowing around here," Ming Lian replied with a grin before performing a greeting bow that flowed with textbook accuracy while his eyes twinkled with barely contained mischief. "Elder Wei has had us practicing the Thousand Droplets Stance until my arms threatened to detach and float away on their own."

  Song Bai's expression suggested Ming Lian's casual approach to sect protocols caused her physical pain. "Elder Brother Ming should remember proper decorum before visitors," she noted with pointed emphasis.

  "Proper decorum is like proper undergarments," Ming Lian replied cheerfully. "Necessary for formal occasions but terribly restricting for everyday comfort."

  The comparison was so unexpected and utterly human that Xiaolong found herself caught off guard by genuine amusement. A sound escaped her that took several mortifying seconds to identify as a laugh—not the carefully calculated social response dragons sometimes employed in diplomatic settings, but an actual, spontaneous expression of humor.

  All three cultivators turned to look at her with varying expressions: Li Feng with pleased surprise, Ming Lian with delighted triumph, and Song Bai with the carefully neutral face of someone who has just watched a stranger commit a minor but revealing social error.

  "Ah! The visitor has excellent taste," Ming Lian declared, turning his full attention to Xiaolong. "Any friend of Li Feng who appreciates proper irreverence is welcome in these misty halls."

  Li Feng performed the introductions with diplomatic skill that prevented further protocol breaches. "Ming Lian, this is Cultivator Xiaolong, who studies specialized techniques beyond traditional frameworks. Xiaolong, this is Elder Disciple Ming Lian, who maintains the sect's northern irrigation networks when he isn't disrupting its social harmony."

  "The disruption is half the irrigation," Ming Lian countered, performing a more respectful greeting to Xiaolong. "Stagnant waters breed mosquitoes, stagnant societies breed bureaucrats—both bloodsuckers best avoided through regular agitation."

  Song Bai's expression suggested she was mentally calculating how much trouble she would face if she accidentally-on-purpose redirected a flash flood in Ming Lian's direction. "Elder Brother Li needs to report to Elder Wei," she reminded them with pointed emphasis.

  "Indeed," Li Feng agreed. "My pilgrimage findings should be properly documented while the insights remain fresh."

  "I'll deliver our guest to appropriate accommodations," Ming Lian volunteered before Song Bai could reassert her earlier offer. "I finished my circulation drills early and have been assigned to visitor orientation this month anyway."

  Song Bai clearly wanted to object but found herself without proper justification. The resulting internal conflict played across her features like ripples on a pond surface—subtle but distinct to anyone with Xiaolong's perception.

  "That would be... acceptable," she conceded with minimal enthusiasm. "I'll escort Elder Brother Li to the Elders' Pavilion."

  The matter settled, they prepared to separate toward their respective destinations. Li Feng turned to Xiaolong with that thoughtful expression she had come to recognize as his diplomatic face—the one that balanced multiple considerations simultaneously.

  "Ming Lian will ensure your comfort until I complete my report," he assured her. "The sect registration can wait until I've finished with Elder Wei."

  "I anticipate learning about sect protocols from Elder Disciple Ming," Xiaolong replied formally, conscious of Song Bai's critical observation.

  As Li Feng departed with an increasingly satisfied-looking Song Bai, Ming Lian waited until they were just barely out of earshot before leaning closer to Xiaolong with conspiratorial amusement.

  "Junior Sister Song has been practicing her Waterfall Descent Technique exclusively since Li Feng's departure," he remarked casually. "A technique known for creating graceful movement and enhancing physical appeal, coincidentally enough."

  The observation confirmed Xiaolong's earlier assessment of Song Bai's interest in Li Feng. What surprised her was the unexpected flicker of something almost territorial that arose in response—as though some part of her primitive human vessel was performing the spiritual equivalent of hissing at a competitor.

  Dragons didn't experience jealousy. The concept was beneath their dignity and cosmically irrelevant to beings who measured existence in millennia. Whoever currently held a particular treasure or territory was merely its temporary custodian in the grand scheme of draconic timescales.

  Yet here she was, a five-thousand-year-old cosmic entity, experiencing what could only be described as pettiness. The sensation was simultaneously mortifying and fascinating.

  "Shall we begin the tour?" Ming Lian suggested, either missing or tactfully ignoring her momentary internal crisis. "The Azure Waters Sect reveals itself differently to each visitor, but tradition suggests starting at the highest point for proper perspective."

  With that introduction, Ming Lian led Xiaolong deeper into the mist-veiled compound. Unlike Song Bai's formal, regimented approach to guidance, Ming Lian moved with the spontaneous flow of someone following inspiration rather than protocol.

  "The sect's architecture follows water meridian principles," he explained as they ascended a series of gracefully curved pathways. "Buildings are arranged to create spiritual current flows that naturally purify and circulate cultivation resources."

  As they climbed, breaks in the illuminated mist revealed increasingly spectacular views of the compound below. Pavilions constructed over waterfalls captured spiritual essence from the falling water. Circular pools created perfect cultivation vessels for group meditation. Training platforms seemed to float on mist itself, providing unstable surfaces that required constant adaptation from practicing disciples.

  "Most impressive," Xiaolong acknowledged, genuinely appreciating the harmonious integration of spiritual principles with practical construction. Dragons typically created lairs through overwhelming force of will, bending reality to match their preferences rather than working with natural patterns.

  "The Misty Vale Dormitories," Ming Lian indicated, pointing toward a cluster of simpler structures near the compound's outer reaches. "Where outer disciples learn that shared suffering builds character, or at least builds shared complaints about character building."

  His running commentary continued as they ascended, each explanation delivered with a blend of genuine pride in his sect and irreverent observations about its quirks. Xiaolong found herself unexpectedly appreciating his approach—so different from the formal, status-conscious interactions of dragon society.

  "And here," Ming Lian announced as they reached a plateau near the mountain's peak, "is the Azure Pool—the heart of our entire sect."