Morning at the Cloud Summit arrived with the particular fanfare only cultivators could appreciate—absolute silence punctuated by the subtle hum of formation arrays activating in perfect sequence as the sun crested the eastern mountains.

  Xiaolong stood at the edge of the Grand Demonstration Arena, watching human cultivators prepare for their performances with the solemn intensity of emperors readying for coronation. In the center of the arena, a delegation from the Golden Sun Sect arranged elaborate fire-containment formations with the casual confidence of children playing with matches beside a powder magazine.

  "Quite the spectacle, isn't it?" Li Feng commented, joining her at the observation point. His condition had improved noticeably overnight, the concentrated spiritual environment accelerating his recovery despite Master Jing's warnings against premature cultivation.

  "Humans do enjoy their ceremonies," Xiaolong replied, immediately regretting the slip. "I mean, formal sect gatherings always seem excessively... elaborate."

  "Water flows simply; fire demands attention," Li Feng quoted, apparently missing her error as he observed the Golden Sun disciples. "Master Jin's demonstrations are legendary for their visual impact, if somewhat lacking in practical application."

  The arena itself defied conventional architectural principles. Built at the precise convergence point of seven mountain ley lines, its circular platform seemed to hover slightly above the ground, supported by spiritual energy rather than mere physical foundations. Seven pagoda towers surrounded the perimeter, each representing one of the major sects participating in the Summit.

  "BIG FANCY FIRE-SHOW COMING!" Hui Yun announced, bounding up with three of its tails still wet from whatever mischief it had been creating at the ornamental ponds. "Red-robes gang going to make giant birds! Very showy-showy!"

  "The Golden Sun Sect specializes in manifested flame constructs," Li Feng explained unnecessarily. "Their Phoenix Ascension technique is considered the pinnacle of form-based fire cultivation."

  Xiaolong nodded politely, though from her draconic perspective, the technique resembled a child's finger painting compared to true cosmic fire manipulation.

  Dragons could ignite stars with a thought; humans required elaborate formations just to create bird-shaped flames that wouldn't immediately burn their wielders to ash.

  The comparison struck her as uncharitable the moment it formed. Three months ago, such dismissive thoughts would have seemed perfectly natural. Now they left a sour taste, like eating fruit that had turned while still looking ripe.

  Another scale loosening, perhaps.

  Horns sounded from the Golden Sun pagoda, signaling the beginning of their demonstration. Master Jin Huoyan strode onto the central platform, his crimson robes embroidered with golden flame patterns that caught the morning light. Tall and broad-shouldered, with flame-red hair tied in an elaborate topknot, he moved with the distinctive gait of a fire cultivator—each step landing with slightly more force than necessary, as though the ground had personally offended him.

  "Esteemed representatives of the noble sects," his voice carried across the arena without apparent effort, "the Golden Sun Sect offers humble demonstration of our Phoenix Ascension technique, seventh refinement."

  As twelve disciples arranged themselves in perfect formation around their master, Xiaolong noticed something unusual near the southern observation tower.

  A small bird with iridescent feathers perched exactly where no bird should logically choose to rest—directly above a major spiritual venting point where excess energy from the formation arrays discharged in irregular bursts.

  No ordinary creature would tolerate such spiritual disruption. Yet this bird remained perfectly still, its head tilted at an unnatural angle, eyes fixed not on the dramatic demonstration beginning in the arena but directly on Xiaolong herself.

  "The first observer," she murmured.

  "Hmm?" Li Feng glanced at her.

  "Nothing important," she replied, shifting her attention back to the demonstration while keeping the bird in her peripheral awareness.

  Master Jin had begun the opening sequences of his technique, his movements flowing with liquid grace that belied the destructive nature of his element. Fire cultivators typically favored sharp, aggressive gestures, but Jin moved more like a water practitioner—drawing energy in circular patterns that gradually tightened toward his core before expanding outward again.

  The first flames manifested as thin ribbons of gold and crimson, weaving through the air around the formation. As his disciples joined the technique, each contributing their own energy to the growing manifestation, the ribbons thickened and multiplied, forming complex patterns that gradually took recognizable shape—wingbones first, then body, finally a proud head with eyes that seemed to contain actual intelligence.

  "The Phoenix Construct," Li Feng explained quietly. "Not just a shape made of fire, but a temporary spiritual entity with limited autonomous function."

  Indeed, the massive bird now circling above the arena displayed behavior too complex for mere puppetry. It responded to subtle shifts in the audience's energy, preening when appreciative murmurs rose and diving in elaborate spirals when the crowd grew too quiet. Its wings, spanning easily thirty feet from tip to tip, scattered embers that dissolved into harmless light before reaching the observers.

  "Fancy bird," Hui Yun commented, less impressed than the human audience. "Still just fire pretending to be alive. Not like proper spirit beasts with real soulbits."

  This assessment, while lacking scholarly phrasing, contained fundamental truth. The phoenix construct possessed impressive animation but lacked true spiritual essence—a shadow puppet compared to genuine life. Dragons could create constructs with actual consciousness if they chose, though such creation was generally considered both wasteful and mildly unethical.

  As Xiaolong watched the demonstration, she became aware of more anomalies throughout the arena. A small lizard with scales too symmetrical to be natural. A cricket whose song followed the exact cadence of ancient draconic court signals. A butterfly with wings bearing patterns that, when viewed with cosmic awareness, formed characters in primordial script.

  Not just observation now. Communication.

  "Quite clever," she murmured, genuinely impressed by the subtlety of the approach. Rather than using raw power to pierce the veils between realms—which would attract immediate attention from other cosmic entities—Yinlong had repurposed existing creatures as message carriers, imbuing them with just enough draconic essence to function as communication tools while remaining beneath most immortals' notice.

  "The coordination is indeed impressive," Li Feng agreed, misinterpreting her comment as referring to the fire demonstration, which had reached its climax as three phoenix constructs now performed an elaborate aerial dance above the arena.

  Master Jin stood at the center of it all, his expression showing the particular strain of a cultivator maintaining multiple high-level techniques simultaneously. Sweat beaded on his forehead despite the cooling formations built into the platform, and his breathing had taken on the distinctive rhythm of someone drawing on core reserves rather than ambient energy.

  The demonstration concluded with a dramatic flourish as the three phoenixes spiraled together, merging into a single massive construct that exploded into a shower of golden light raining down upon the audience.

  The light particles settled on observers' shoulders and heads like luminous snow, each mote containing a tiny blessing of fire essence that would subtly warm the recipient for several hours—a practical technique disguised as mere spectacle.

  "Impressive application," Xiaolong acknowledged, finding genuine appreciation for the clever integration of practical effect with theatrical display.

  "Master Jin's techniques always contain dual purpose," Li Feng noted. "The warming blessing will prevent spiritual chills during this afternoon's water demonstrations, when ambient temperature will drop significantly."

  As the Golden Sun disciples completed their formation and departed the arena to enthusiastic applause, Xiaolong noticed the strange bird still watching her. Its head tilted now in a deliberate pattern: three movements left, brief pause, two right, pause, three more left.

  An old code, used by dragons during the second cosmic age when direct telepathic communication might attract unwanted attention from elder beings.

  Roughly translated: Seek mirrored water at night cycle. Important communication awaits.

  "I need to speak with that bird," Xiaolong said abruptly, then immediately realized how bizarre this must sound to human ears.

  Li Feng blinked. "The... bird?"

  "A particular spirit creature," she amended hastily. "One I recognize from previous encounters."

  Before Li Feng could question this further, Hui Yun intervened with surprisingly helpful timing. "Sky-friends very important to talk to! East council says special birds carry spirit messages from important places! Very traditional communication method!"

  Li Feng's expression suggested he found this explanation simultaneously dubious and intriguing. "I wasn't aware you had established communication networks with local spirit creatures."

  "Not networks exactly," Xiaolong replied, attempting to sound casual rather than increasingly desperate as the bird prepared to depart. "Occasional message carriers. If you'll excuse me briefly?"

  This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  She moved toward the southern tower with measured steps, carefully calculating her path to appear random while actually intercepting the bird's likely flight trajectory. The creature watched her approach, its unnatural stillness confirming its non-ordinary nature.

  As she neared, the bird fluttered down to a decorative railing at the tower's base, just beyond where most humans would bother to look. Xiaolong glanced around to ensure no observers paid particular attention, then extended one finger toward the creature in a gesture that, to human eyes, would appear to be merely offering perching space.

  The bird hopped onto her finger without hesitation. Up close, its true nature became unmistakable—eyes containing swirling silver patterns identical to Yinlong's essence signature, feathers arranged in patterns that mimicked dragon scales in miniature.

  "Clever adaptation," Xiaolong murmured in ancient draconic, the language feeling strange on her human tongue. "What urgent matter brings such elaborate communication?"

  The bird's beak opened slightly, releasing not sound but a tiny wisp of silver mist that coalesced before her eyes, forming characters in primordial script that dissolved almost instantly after appearing:

  TERRITORIAL CHALLENGE FORMALIZED. HEILONG GATHERS SUPPORT. CONCLAVE IN FOURTEEN NIGHT CYCLES. MIRROR COMMUNICATION NECESSARY. POND OF REFLECTIONS. MIDNIGHT.

  The message delivered, the bird's eyes dulled slightly as the animating essence withdrew, leaving behind an ordinary creature that blinked in confusion before fluttering away into the trees beyond the arena.

  "Friend of yours?" Li Feng asked, having apparently followed at a discreet distance.

  "An acquaintance," Xiaolong replied, which wasn't entirely untrue. "Bearer of news from... distant associates."

  "Fox knows bird-kind!" Hui Yun announced, appearing beneath a nearby bench where it had apparently been eavesdropping. "All sky-friends talk to special foxes! Very traditional friendship-groups!"

  Li Feng's expression suggested he found this explanation lacking in several critical aspects, but his innate courtesy prevented direct questioning. "The Earth Peak Sect demonstration begins shortly. We should return to the main viewing area."

  As they made their way back through the gathering crowd, Xiaolong noticed more messenger creatures appearing throughout the Summit grounds—a small toad with silver markings beneath a ceremonial fountain, a cricket whose legs bore microscopic script too small for human eyes to detect, a dragonfly whose wings hummed with the distinctive resonance of cosmic communication.

  Yinlong wasn't simply watching now. She was establishing a comprehensive observation network throughout the Cloud Summit.

  "Your distant associates seem quite interested in today's proceedings," Li Feng noted quietly as they took their positions for the next demonstration.

  "More interested than I would prefer," Xiaolong admitted.

  The Earth Peak disciples had begun arranging their formation, creating elaborate stone patterns across the arena floor. Unlike the flashy Golden Sun techniques, earth cultivation favored stability and permanence—their demonstrations typically involved creating structures of impossible beauty and complexity that would remain standing long after the Summit concluded.

  Yet Xiaolong found her attention drawn away from the human displays toward the growing network of observer creatures. Each small vessel contained just enough draconic essence to function as Yinlong's eyes and ears without triggering immortal detection systems—a masterpiece of subtle influence that respected the boundaries between realms while effectively circumventing them.

  Throughout the day's demonstrations, the observers multiplied. By evening, when the formal exhibitions concluded, Xiaolong counted seventeen different creature types carrying Yinlong's essence signature, strategically positioned throughout the Summit grounds to provide comprehensive coverage of all significant activities.

  The message remained consistent across all carriers: Pond of Reflections. Midnight. Mirror communication.

  The Pond of Reflections lay in a secluded garden behind the main exhibition arena—a small, perfectly circular pool whose water came from seven different mountain springs, creating unusual spiritual properties.

  According to Summit lore, the pond occasionally showed viewers glimpses of other realms or times, though most cultivators dismissed such tales as exaggeration of simple spiritual reflection phenomena.

  Dragons, however, recognized it as something far more significant—a natural thin point between realms, where the barriers between dragon domains and human territories weakened enough to permit limited cross-realm communication without direct breakthrough.

  As midnight approached, Xiaolong made her way to the garden with careful stealth, using minor misdirection techniques to ensure she wasn't followed. Even Hui Yun had been left behind in the Azure Waters pavilion, the fox's chaotic nature presenting too great a risk for sensitive communication.

  The garden stood empty, illuminated only by moonlight reflecting off the pond's unnaturally still surface. No ripples disturbed the water despite the light breeze rustling the surrounding foliage—another sign of its unusual properties.

  Xiaolong approached cautiously, extending her awareness to detect any hidden observers. Finding none, she knelt beside the pond and whispered an activation phrase in ancient draconic, her breath creating the only ripples the water's surface had seen in centuries.

  The ripples spread outward, then bizarrely inward, contracting toward the center rather than dissipating at the edges. The water darkened, its reflective properties shifting from physical mirroring to something deeper—a window opening between worlds rather than a simple reflection.

  Silver light emanated from the pond's depths, coalescing into a swirling pattern that gradually resolved into a familiar form—not physical presence, but spiritual projection.

  Yinlong's face formed in the water, her features translating from draconic majesty into something more comprehensible to mortal senses while retaining their essential nature.

  "Old friend," the water-face spoke, its voice carrying the distinctive resonance of cross-realm communication—like hearing someone speak through a waterfall. "Your transformation progresses faster than anticipated."

  "Circumstances have accelerated certain aspects," Xiaolong replied, carefully monitoring her surroundings while maintaining the communication. "Your observation network is impressively thorough. Seventeen different vessel types?"

  "Twenty-three, actually. Some remain dormant until needed." The water-face rippled with what might have been amusement. "You've grown less perceptive in your limited form."

  "Or perhaps more selective in my attention," Xiaolong countered. "Your message mentioned territorial challenges?"

  The amusement vanished from Yinlong's water-projected features. "Heilong has formally invoked ancient rites of abandonment. He claims your territory has been left unguarded beyond permitted absence periods."

  "He has always coveted the boundary regions where our territories meet."

  "It's more than mere acquisition now. He presents your absence as evidence of diminished capacity—using it to challenge broader hierarchical positions beyond mere territorial claims."

  This development carried implications far beyond simple boundary disputes.

  Dragons maintained rigid social structures based on power demonstration and territorial control. Extended absence without formal delegation was tantamount to surrendering not just physical territory but social standing within draconic society.

  "The Conclave gathers in fourteen night cycles," Yinlong continued, her water-face showing uncharacteristic concern. "Without personal appearance to contest his claims, your standing will be irrevocably diminished."

  "I don't think I can return to my true form," Xiaolong admitted. "The transformation has progressed too far for temporary reversal."

  "So the fifth scale trembles at the edge of falling." This wasn't a question. "I suspected as much when I sensed the disruption patterns in your essence signature. You've gone further than any dragon before you."

  "Not by conscious choice. The process accelerates of its own accord now."

  Water rippled across Yinlong's projected features as she processed this information. "There might be alternatives to physical appearance. Ancient protocols permit representation through designated proxies under specific circumstances."

  "You offer yourself as proxy?" Xiaolong asked, genuinely surprised by this unprecedented support.

  "Within limited parameters. I cannot fully represent your interests against Heilong's territorial claims—that requires blood-right or formal vassalage. But I can contest the broader hierarchical challenges if authorized through proper channels."

  The offer represented significant risk for Yinlong. Defending another dragon's interests against established claims could damage her own standing if unsuccessful. Such sacrifice from a being typically concerned only with self-preservation struck Xiaolong as both peculiar and oddly touching.

  "Why would you take such risk?" she asked directly.

  The water-face was silent for several moments. When Yinlong spoke again, her voice carried unusual hesitation. "Your experiment... intrigues me. Dragons have followed the same patterns for millennia without questioning fundamental assumptions about power and its purpose. Your willing reduction represents something new—and newness has become distressingly rare in our existence."

  Before Xiaolong could respond to this unexpected philosophical revelation, ripples disturbed the pond from external causes—footsteps approaching through the garden.

  "We must conclude," Yinlong's water-face began dissolving back into formless ripples. "Establish communication again before the seventh night. Formal authorization requires specific ritual components."

  "Wait—what of the northern cultivator? The one called Master Zhao who studies techniques from before the Separation?"

  Yinlong's features had already mostly dissolved, but her voice carried final warning: "Not what he appears. Exercise extreme caution. Some vessels contain unexpected essences."

  With that cryptic warning, the water returned to normal reflection, Xiaolong's own face staring back at her with an expression caught between confusion and concern.

  The footsteps grew closer. Xiaolong stood smoothly, composing her features into the bland pleasantness humans expected during casual encounters. She turned toward the garden path just as a figure emerged from the shadows—not a random cultivator as she had feared, but Master Jin himself, his flame-red hair unmistakable even in the dim light.

  "Fellow Daoist Xiaolong," he greeted with formal courtesy that didn't quite mask his curiosity. "It seems we share an appreciation for midnight reflection."

  "Master Jin," she returned the greeting with appropriate respect. "The Pond of Reflections offers unique spiritual properties for meditation."

  "Indeed." His amber eyes studied her with uncomfortable intensity. "Though some say it occasionally shows more than mere reflections to those with... unusual spiritual affinities."

  The emphasis on "unusual" carried a clear implication. He had either witnessed something of her communication with Yinlong or suspected its nature.

  "Water reflects according to the viewer's nature," she replied, deliberately cryptic. "Some see merely themselves, others glimpse deeper currents."

  Master Jin smiled slightly, apparently appreciating the philosophical deflection. "Tomorrow's combined demonstrations will provide an opportunity to test such currents more directly. I look forward to seeing how your water techniques harmonize with my fire methods."

  "As do I," she replied with formal politeness that hid growing unease.

  As she made her way back toward the Azure Waters pavilion, Xiaolong pondered Yinlong's final warning. Master Zhao was "not what he appears."

  Yet if not a human cultivator who had stumbled upon ancient draconic knowledge, what—or who—might he actually be?

  The fifth scale trembled more noticeably now, its loosening accelerated by the day's events.

  Self-Sovereignty, the draconic ability to maintain absolute control over essence and manifestation, was failing. Soon, her powers would begin emerging without conscious direction, responding to emotional states rather than deliberate choice.

  Tomorrow's demonstration would test that control directly, with consequences she could neither predict nor prevent.

  For a being who had spent five thousand years in perfect self-mastery, the prospect should have been terrifying.

  Instead, Xiaolong found herself experiencing the peculiar emotion humans called "anticipation"—a complicated mixture of dread and excitement that dragons, with their carefully regulated emotional states, rarely encountered.