Distant bells and the distinctive clang of metal striking metal in rhythmic patterns woke Ash from a fitful sleep. She pushed herself up, joints stiff and protesting, as Lin Mei's bright, "Knock knock!" preceded her entrance through the door, her energy somehow even more caffeinated than yesterday.

"Morning! Are you ready? Grandmaster Yao is leading meditation today, which is unusual. He mostly stays in the library. It's because you're here!"

"Fascinating," Ash replied, adjusting the slightly-too-large gray robes Lin Mei had provided.

"I know, right? Everyone's talking about you. Some people think you're a spy, but Chen Rong defended you. Said you seemed sincere."

"Sincerity is a useful performance technique regardless of intentions."

Lin Mei considered this. "That's cynical."

"Realistic," Ash corrected. "Lead the way to meditation."

The meditation hall was a large wooden building with sliding doors open to mountain air. Dozens of disciples sat in orderly rows on straw mats, all wearing gray robes similar to hers. Most seemed younger, but there were older disciples as well.

An elderly man with a remarkably well-kept beard sat at the front, posture radiating authority even in stillness. He opened one eye as Lin Mei guided Ash to a mat near the back.

"Guest. Sit." The single command carried no judgment, simply expectation.

Ash settled into position, observing the process. Breathing techniques specific to this cultivation system, focused attention on something they called "Lower Dantian" which appeared to be an energy center located two finger-widths below the navel.

She attempted to follow instructions, concentrating on that specific area. The blockages Physician Wen had mentioned manifested as pressure points, like trying to breathe through a filter thick with debris. Small energy accumulations formed, then dissipated against these invisible obstacles.

Thirty minutes later, Grandmaster Yao spoke. His voice was calm but carried across the space without raising volume. "End session. Guest. Remain."

The others filed out with varying degrees of formality. Ash remained seated.

"I am Yao, keeper of the archives," he said without turning around. "Quan suggests your internal pathways suffered magical trauma. Your attempted circulation during meditation was... informative."

"Impressive? Or chaotic?"

"Both." Yao finally turned to face her. His eyes held unusual clarity, like mirrors reflecting light directly rather than absorbing it. "What sect do you originate from? What cultivation school? Your energy signature is unlike anything I've encountered in sixty years of study."

"I don't follow your paradigm."

"So you claim. And yet you attempted to follow our techniques with reasonable proficiency for someone unfamiliar with the methodology."

"I'm good at pattern recognition and imitation."

"Too good for a novice," Yao countered. "Which suggests either natural aptitude that exceeds standard parameters, or previous training you're concealing. Both explanations create questions."

"I'm not concealing anything relevant."

"That is, of course, exactly what someone concealing things would say." Yao stood slowly, joints making minimal noise. "Chen Rong will meet you in the library after morning meal. We need to understand what we're working with before designing an approach to your recovery."

"Medical approach, or demonstration approach?"

"Both are connected now." Yao departed with an economy of movement that made age seem irrelevant.

Chen Rong found her after she'd consumed a breakfast that was equally bland but nutritious. He guided her to the library building—two stories, well-maintained compared to other sect structures, with intricate wooden latticework on the upper windows.

"The archives hold three thousand volumes," he explained as they entered. "Comprehensive records of cultivation techniques, historical treatises on qi circulation theory, and detailed observations of various energy types, including elemental affinities."

"How many other visitors with elemental affinities have you documented?"

"Two. One with water affinity who ascended thirty years ago, one with earth affinity who died during a breakthrough attempt fifteen years ago. Rare and poorly understood."

"Comforting."

Inside, the smell of old paper and drying herbs greeted them. Bookshelves lined every wall, tables between them covered in open volumes with various notes and translation devices. Yao sat at a central desk, surrounded by what appeared to be a comparative analysis of multiple texts.

"Good," he said without looking up. "Ash, sit. Chen Rong, bring volume 47 from the southern wing. I want to check her potential energy signatures against the ancient fire-path records."

The book Chen Rong returned with was heavy, bound in dark wood with metal clasps. Yao opened it to diagrams showing what looked like human circulatory systems overlaid with complex branching patterns and symbols.

"I'll need to examine your qi flow directly," Yao announced. "Hold still and don't resist."

He placed fingers on her wrist, temple, and the center of her chest. Energy—not unpleasant but distinctly strange—flowed from his contact points, probing deeper than Chen Rong's earlier assessment had managed. After several minutes, Yao removed his hands.

"Fascinating. Inexplicable. Contradictory." He turned pages rapidly. "Your energy structure doesn't follow meridian pathways at all. It appears to emanate from your entire being simultaneously, like a fire burning from within all at once rather than flowing through specific channels."

"So standard healing techniques won't work?"

"To put it mildly, attempting to unblock your meridians would be like trying to clear a riverbed by throwing rocks at the sky. Different approach required entirely."

Chen Rong leaned in. "So the blockages aren't the issue. The entire framework is incompatible."

"Precisely." Yao closed the volume. "Which means her recovery may require entirely different methods than we typically employ. Or she may be unhealable by our paradigms."

"That would be strategically suboptimal."

Ash processed this. "So my value to the sect decreases if I can't recover my abilities significantly."

"Significantly," Yao confirmed. "A weak spark of fire is interesting. A controlled conflagration is impressive. You understand the difference in demonstration value."

"I'm beginning to."

"The Gathering occurs in twenty-one days," Chen Rong added. "If we're going to develop a presentation, we need immediate results. But healing you might take months under normal circumstances."

"Unless we accelerate the process," Yao said. "Which carries risks."

"How significant are these risks?" Ash asked.

"In your current state, attempting advanced qi manipulation could cause internal damage. If your energy system truly operates from a unified source rather than flowing through meridians, standard breakthrough techniques could rupture your internal cohesion entirely."

Rupture. Not a reassuring concept.

"And the alternative?"

"Slow, gradual recovery through natural healing, meditation, and minimal intervention. Safer, but unlikely to produce significant improvement within three weeks."

"Present me with a framework," Ash requested. "Risks, probabilities, potential outcomes. I'll make my own determination about acceptable levels of danger."

Yao looked at Chen Rong, then nodded slowly. "As you wish. Accelerated healing through direct energy infusion, combined with modified circulation techniques designed for elemental affinities. The approach isn't properly documented, which means we'd be developing it specifically for you based on theoretical frameworks and immediate observation."

Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

"In other words, experimental."

"To put it bluntly."

Chen Rong added, "Success would mean significant restoration of your abilities within the timeframe needed for the Gathering. Failure could mean permanent damage, no improvement, or..."

"My internal cohesion could rupture entirely."

"Yes."

Ash considered the logical structure of the problem. Natural recovery provided insufficient results within the necessary timeframe. Accelerated recovery carried risks but offered potential for better outcomes. With her sisters-selves scattered and her ability to contribute compromised, maximizing her recovery potential became the optimal strategy.

Assuming she was still planning to contribute. The terms of their contract would clarify expectations.

"Is a partial restoration sufficient for your demonstration needs?"

"A significant improvement would be impressive," Chen Rong explained. "Even intermediate control over your fire would demonstrate that the sect can produce unconventional results, which matters in regional politics."

"How intermediate?"

"At minimum, sustained manifestation of flame beyond brief flickers, some degree of controlled projection, and the ability to demonstrate power scaling—the difference between warming your hands and producing combat-level flame effects."

"That's... optimistic given my current limitations."

"Possibly." Yao stood, moving to a different shelf and extracting a thin volume with what looked like dried flowers pressed between its pages. "But potential is present. We simply need to unlock it safely."

"Begin tomorrow morning," Chen Rong said. "I'll assist Grandmaster Yao with energy channeling. You'll need to clear your system—avoid solid food after midday, consume purifying herbs, and prepare for significant internal recalibration."

Ash nodded. "And the contract?"

"Already drafted," Quan announced from the library entrance where he'd apparently been standing unnoticed. "Lin Mei will deliver it to your guest chamber for review. Return with your proposed amendments by evening meal, and we'll finalize terms."

He departed without further comment, leaving Yao murmuring over the herbal text and Chen Rong organizing scrolls for their morning session.

"Your sect leader has remarkable timing," Ash observed.

"He values efficiency," Chen Rong replied without humor.

The compound looked marginally better in morning light, but only marginally. The architecture was elegant—sweeping roofs, carved wooden details, stone pathways arranged in aesthetically pleasing patterns—but everything showed signs of insufficient maintenance and declining resources.

They passed disciples in the training yard, maybe twenty people total ranging from teenagers to adults. All wore the same gray robes, all practiced forms with weapons or empty hands, moving through sequences that looked disciplined but somehow... off.

Ash couldn't articulate what bothered her about their movements, just that something was subtly wrong.

"Our main hall," Quan indicated a larger building with faded paint and patched roof. "We gather there for important announcements and ceremonies. We've had to reduce from daily assemblies to twice weekly to conserve lantern oil and heating fuel."

Energy management was logical when resources were scarce.

"Most of our disciples are from local villages," Chen Rong explained. "We can't compete with the larger sects that recruit from wealthy families offering significant endowments."

"Fifty years ago," Quan added, "Silvercloud had two hundred disciples at any given time, twelve fully-advanced masters, and endowments from three noble families who valued our particular cultivation techniques."

"And now?"

"Now," Quan said simply, "we have what you see. Four masters, including Yao and myself. Forty disciples, though many will leave this season after another unsuccessful cultivation cycle. Our endowments have decreased as noble families redirect their resources to sects with more obvious practical applications."

"Practical applications being immediate combat benefits rather than philosophical cultivation?"

"Precisely," Chen Rong confirmed. "The Crimson Phoenix Sect, for example, teaches rapid advancement through aggressive energy absorption techniques. Their disciples achieve visible combat capabilities within months, not years. But their burnout rate is significant, and few achieve true mastery."

"They trade depth for speed," Ash processed.

"And the market values speed."

They entered the main hall. Inside, portraits lined the walls—previous sect leaders and notable masters, painted in formal style with calligraphy identifying their names and accomplishments. The most recent portraits looked decades old.

"Silvercloud Sect was founded three hundred years ago," Quan explained, stopping before a particularly old portrait. "Our founder, Master Yun, developed techniques focused on control rather than raw power. Flowing Mist cultivation—emphasizing adaptability, fluidity, and understanding of internal energy dynamics."

"What happened?" Ash asked.

"Time. Choices. Complacency." Quan moved to a window overlooking the training yard. "My grandfather's generation saw our golden age. We were respected, influential, sought after for our knowledge. But my father's generation... they made changes. 'Improvements' to our founder's techniques, supposedly making them easier to learn, more efficient to practice."

"Let me guess. The improvements were actually degradations."

"You understand quickly." Quan's gaze remained fixed on the disciples below. "My father meant well. But by the time I inherited leadership, the damage was done. Our techniques no longer work as they should. Disciples develop unstable foundations, hit bottlenecks they can't overcome, suffer qi deviations from practices that should be safe."

Chen Rong added, "I'm the most advanced of my generation, and I'm only at the fifth stage of Foundation Establishment when my grandfather at my age had reached Core Formation plateau. The decline has been... precipitous."

"I noticed something odd about the disciples' movements in the training yard," Ash observed. "Can you clarify what's wrong with their technique?"

The two men exchanged a look of genuine surprise.

"You saw this from a glance while injured?" Chen Rong asked.

"I have an aptitude for pattern recognition. I've trained under practitioners who called themselves the Mnemosynes for a short while. They practiced meditation and physical exercises similar enough to this to give me context. I understand the importance of form. Their movements lack something."

"Flow," Quan confirmed, impressed despite himself. "You observed correctly. They lack the fundamental flow that characterizes our founder's true techniques. My father's 'improvements' introduced rigid sequences where adaptability should dominate. They perform shapes without understanding purpose, follow patterns without grasping principles."

"So they can't adapt when circumstances change."

"Exactly. When facing actual challenges rather than training routines, they falter. Our reputation suffers further, and the cycle continues."

The logical progression was clear: flawed techniques led to poor results, which led to declining resources, which led to the inability to train or retain skilled practitioners, which accelerated decline.

"But if you know the problem, why not make the necessary corrections? Or revert to original methods?"

"We've tried," Chen Rong admitted, "Grandfather has spent thirty years reconstructing our founder's techniques from scattered notes, partial records, and oral histories. But knowledge without mastery is insufficient. We can't demonstrate the effectiveness of techniques we can't fully practice ourselves."

This explained their interest in her abilities. Unrelated to their declining system, but potentially impressive enough to compensate for current weaknesses during the Gathering demonstration. A spectacle to draw attention while they worked on long-term solutions.

"You need to buy time."

Quan nodded slowly. "And we need resources to implement reconstruction successfully. Both of which the Gathering could provide."

A logical strategic assessment. Risky, dependent on external validation rather than internal recovery, but not entirely unreasonable given their circumstances.

"The Gathering itself sounds... complex."

"Alliances are forged, territories negotiated, marriage contracts arranged, and resources allocated based on demonstrated power. But that also creates an opportunity. A smaller sect can rise in standing dramatically with a single impressive showing that demonstrates unique value." Chen Rong looked directly at her. "Your abilities could be our opportunity."

"Assuming they can be restored sufficiently."

"Yes."

They left the main hall and continued their tour. The archives where they'd discussed her diagnosis, the training grounds with their flawed practitioners, the communal dining hall where disciples ate simple fare in orderly silence.

Everything reinforced the same impression: a declining system, proud traditions struggling against practical reality, leadership making difficult choices between survival and compromise.

"I've explained the sect's problems. Now I'd like to understand yours," Quan said as they completed their circuit near her guest chamber. "You claim a magical accident separated you from your sisters. What exactly were you doing that involved sufficient energy to fling you across half a continent?"

Ah. The detailed explanation. She'd hoped to avoid this for longer.

"We were... about to explode after pushing past our limits in a difficult fight against a significant enemy." As vague as possible, see if he pressed for specifics.

Quan didn't disappoint. "In what way 'about to explode'? A metaphorical destabilization of elemental energies, or a literal risk of catastrophic explosion?"

"Latter."

The sect leader paused, turning to face her fully. "A magical self-detonation triggered by overextension of power?"

She'd underestimated their understanding of magical theory.

"Yes."

"And what were you fighting?" Chen Rong asked. "To trigger such a reaction, your enemy must have possessed significant power."

"A dragon," Ash said simply. "Ancient, intelligent, and thoroughly annoyed by our interference."

Complete silence. Even the background sounds of the compound seemed to fade for a moment. Quan and Chen Rong stared at her as if she'd just announced she was the reincarnation of a forgotten god.

"A dragon," Quan repeated, testing the word as if verifying its meaning. "Not a spirit beast approximating draconic appearance, but a true dragon."

"The ones who haven't been seen in centuries?" Chen Rong clarified.

"One of those, yes."

"You fought a dragon," Quan said again, "and were going to explode from channeling too much power, but then were separated by magical artifacts..."

She let him process without confirmation.

"Surely, you're being less than honest, or it is simply some sort of hallucination brought upon by your injuries." Chen Rong said, skepticism returning in full force. "Not even immortals at the upper levels of the cultivation hierarchy could hope to match a true dragon."

Ash channeled Pyra's smugness for a fleeting moment. "If I can get my full power back, I'll be able to show you a fraction of what that fight entailed."

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