Morning arrived three days later, wearing the false serenity of weather that hadn't yet decided whether to commit to storm or sunshine.

Xiaolong stood in the courtyard watching disciples arrange themselves according to protocol that predated most of their lifetimes—elders at the front, elder disciples behind them in order of seniority, inner disciples forming neat rows that stretched back toward the administrative buildings, outer disciples clustering at the margins like foam at a wave's edge.

The sect was putting on its best face for Master Yuan's homecoming. Someone had swept the courtyards until the stones gleamed. The Azure Pool's surface reflected morning light with the sort of perfect clarity that only manifested when water had been specifically encouraged toward aesthetic cooperation.

Even the birds seemed to be singing in more organized patterns than usual, though Xiaolong suspected that was a coincidence rather than any deliberate arrangement.

Li Feng stood among the elder disciples, his formal robes catching sunlight in ways that made the wave-pattern embroidery seem to move.

He'd positioned himself near Ming Lian, whose nervous energy manifested in tiny adjustments to his sword's positioning—a fraction of an inch to the left, then back to center, then slightly forward, as if the correct angle existed somewhere in that narrow range and repeated experimentation would eventually reveal it.

Song Bai occupied a position two rows back, her ice-element spiritual pressure creating a subtle chill that discouraged anyone from standing too close. She'd been maintaining careful distance from Li Feng since their return, a development Xiaolong filed under "problems resolving themselves through mutual avoidance" and chose not to examine further.

Elder Wei stood at the formation's center, his discipline rod resting across both palms in the formal greeting posture reserved for returning sect leaders. Elder Liu flanked him to the right, her crystalline fan folded and held vertically against her shoulder.

Elder Zhen stood behind his colleagues, fussing absently with the seed pouches at his belt. He'd developed a habit of handing her obscure plant samples whenever they met, claiming her unique spiritual aura might stimulate intriguing reactions.

Xiaolong had begun keeping a journal to track each specimen's response, documenting the ways her draconic nature could trigger mutations or accelerated growth patterns. The research doubled as camouflage—few things blended into sect life better than studying esoteric topics while muttering to plants in the garden.

Three other elders Xiaolong recognized but hadn't directly interacted with completed the welcoming formation—Elder Mo Weiyou, the library master; Elder Guo Shun, who managed the alchemy division; and Elder Fang Xue, whose administrative domain encompassed everything the other elders found too tedious to handle themselves.

"He approaches," Elder Wei announced, his voice carrying across the courtyard without seeming to raise in volume. "Disciples, attend."

The gathered crowd shifted into perfect stillness. Even the nervous energy that had been rippling through the younger disciples crystallized into focused attention. Whatever else could be said about the Azure Waters Sect's training methods, they produced people capable of presenting unified fronts when circumstances demanded.

"He'll want detailed reports about the Black Dao situation," Li Feng said quietly, his words directed at no one in particular. "Probably individual consultations with everyone involved in the investigation."

"Looking forward to it," Ming Lian replied, though his tone suggested the opposite. "Nothing quite like explaining your tactical decisions to someone who could probably handle the entire problem with one hand while composing poetry with the other."

"Master Yuan doesn't judge like that. He values different approaches, different perspectives." Li Feng's defense carried the particular quality of disciples who'd received meaningful guidance from masters they admired. "He'll be interested in what we learned, not whether we performed to some impossible standard."

Xiaolong said nothing. Her attention had fixed on the northern gate, where the watchmen had begun opening the massive ironwood doors with ceremonial slowness. Beyond the entrance, the mountain path descended through morning mist like a stairway carved from cloud.

A figure emerged from that mist with the fluid certainty of water flowing downhill.

Master Yuan Shuilong walked like someone who'd forgotten what obstacles felt like. His robes, silver-blue silk with wave patterns that seemed to move independently of his body, flowed around him as if responding to currents only they could perceive. His white hair, bound in a traditional topknot secured with jade pins, caught sunlight and scattered it into subtle halos.

Everything about his appearance matched the descriptions Xiaolong had heard, the image she'd retained from their brief encounter during the Azure Convergence many months ago.

Everything matched perfectly.

Too perfectly.

The spiritual signature radiating from Master Yuan felt correct—Ocean Depth Realm cultivation aligned with water essence, power controlled with the absolute mastery of someone who'd achieved complete unification with his element. The strength was genuine, the technique flawless, the presence exactly what a sect leader at his level should project.

But underneath that correct signature, threading through it like ink diffusing in water, something moved wrong.

Xiaolong's draconic senses caught what human perception would miss—the way his essence didn't flow smoothly but stuttered in places, pausing fractionally as if encountering resistance before continuing.

How his spiritual pressure carried weight that felt heavier than its apparent strength, like water that had absorbed too much sediment without becoming visibly murky.

The odd quality to his energy that reminded her of looking at reflections in disturbed water, where the image appeared correct until you noticed details inverted in ways that shouldn't be possible.

Corruption.

The same patterns she'd been studying in the tributary sites, but refined. Integrated so thoroughly with his cultivation base that separating the two would be like trying to remove salt from seawater without destroying the water itself.

The elders moved forward to greet their sect leader, Elder Wei and Elder Liu approaching with formal bows that Master Yuan returned with appropriate grace. His movements carried the fluid economy of masters who'd transcended physical awkwardness, each gesture minimalist and complete.

"Elder Wei. Elder Liu." Master Yuan's voice flowed like water over smooth stones, melodious and calm. "I received your urgent summons and returned as swiftly as circumstances allowed. What troubles require the sect leader's immediate attention?"

"Black Dao activity in our territory," Elder Wei said. "Coordinated corruption of water sources, organized attacks, sophisticated techniques that suggest former sect members may be involved."

Master Yuan's expression shifted—concern, calculation, resolve passing across his features in sequence that would have seemed appropriate if Xiaolong hadn't been watching the micro-pauses between each emotion, the fractional delays suggesting he was choosing responses rather than experiencing them naturally.

"Troubling news," he said. "We should convene the Elder Council immediately to discuss tactical responses."

"We've prepared comprehensive briefings," Elder Liu added. "Li Feng led an investigation team that uncovered significant intelligence about their capabilities and organization."

Master Yuan's gaze swept the assembled disciples, cataloging faces with the efficiency of someone whose memory retained every detail. When his attention reached Xiaolong, it stopped.

Recognition flickered in his eyes—those deep blue depths that supposedly shifted like moving water but now, Xiaolong noticed, sometimes went eerily still, frozen mid-movement before remembering to flow again.

"Ah," he said, his tone carrying something that wasn't quite warmth. "The unusual disciple who made our Azure Pool sing during the convergence. Xiaolong, wasn't it? Still exploring our sect's hospitality?"

"Still learning from Li Feng's instruction," Xiaolong replied, keeping her voice neutral. "The Azure Waters approach to cultivation continues to offer insights worth studying."

"How fortunate for us all." Master Yuan held her gaze a moment longer than courtesy required, his expression carrying assessment that felt less curious and more predatory than their previous encounter. "Water recognizes its own kind, as I recall mentioning during our last conversation. I wonder what recognition your continued presence here might reveal."

The words landed with weight beyond their surface meaning. Several disciples shifted uncomfortably, sensing tension they couldn't quite identify. Li Feng's hand moved fractionally toward his sword before stopping, the gesture aborted before completion.

Elder Wei cleared his throat. "Perhaps we should continue this discussion inside? The disciples have duties to attend, and the Elder Council chambers offer more appropriate venue for strategic planning."

"Of course." Master Yuan turned from Xiaolong with visible effort, as if breaking his attention away required conscious decision. "Though I find myself curious about many things that have transpired during my absence. The sect seems... changed. Evolved in interesting directions."

He moved toward the administrative building, elders falling into step beside him. Disciples began dispersing, their excited energy muted by something in the exchange they'd witnessed but couldn't articulate.

Xiaolong caught fragments of whispered conversations—speculation about Master Yuan's interest in her, theories about what recognition he'd been referencing, concern about the tension that had crackled like chilled lightning striking a bronze gong through what should have been a joyful homecoming.

Li Feng waited until most disciples had departed before approaching. "That was... uncomfortable."

"He remembers me," Xiaolong said. "But his interest carries a different quality than before. Less scholarly curiosity, more... appetite."

"Appetite?"

"Like he's hungry for something he perceives in my presence. Or hungry to understand it. Or hungry to—" She stopped, uncertain how to articulate the impression. "Something about him feels wrong."

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"Wrong how?" Ming Lian had drifted closer, his nervous fidgeting with his sword giving way to alert concern. "He seemed normal to me. Powerful, certainly, but that's expected for someone at his level."

"The power is genuine," Xiaolong agreed. "But power can be shaped by what channels it. And his channels feel... inverted in ways I've seen before."

The stillness in Li Feng's eyes shattered. A line appeared between his brows, etched there with sudden sharpness. He took half a step back, his hand falling to the hilt of his sword, the fabric of his sleeve catching on the pommel.

"You think he's corrupted? Like the water sources we investigated?"

"I think something happened during his eight-month cultivation journey. Something that changed him in ways most people won't recognize until those changes manifest in obvious forms." Xiaolong watched the administrative building's entrance, where Master Yuan had disappeared behind closed doors. "The question is whether anyone else will notice before circumstances force revelation."

"Elder Wei and Elder Liu are perceptive," Ming Lian offered. "If something's genuinely wrong, they'll detect it."

"Perhaps. Or perhaps they'll attribute any oddities to intensive cultivation producing expected personality shifts. Masters who achieve breakthroughs often return changed—that's considered normal, even desirable." Xiaolong turned to face them fully. "Black Dao corruption works by inverting natural principles. If someone corrupted Master Yuan during his journey, they'd have designed that corruption to feel like enlightenment. To present as advancement rather than perversion."

Song Bai had been standing near enough to overhear, maintaining her characteristic distance while clearly listening. Now she spoke, her voice carrying the careful precision of someone who'd been thinking through implications.

"If you're right, we can't simply announce suspicions without evidence. Accusing the sect leader of corruption based on vague impressions would create chaos, possibly schism." She paused, weighing words. "But we also can't ignore genuine threats just because acknowledging them would be inconvenient."

"Exactly," Xiaolong said. "Which means we watch. We observe. We look for evidence that others can recognize, not just impressions my unusual perception detects."

"And if he's genuinely corrupted?" Li Feng asked. "What then?"

"Then someone needs to devise purification techniques sophisticated enough to cleanse Ocean Depth Realm corruption without destroying the person beneath it." Xiaolong met his gaze. "Fortunately, I've been studying exactly that problem. Less fortunately, I was hoping to refine theoretical approaches before requiring practical application."

The welcoming feast commenced at dusk, traditional celebration of sect leader returns involving elaborate courses designed to honor both Master Yuan's cultivation achievements and the Azure Waters' prosperity during his absence.

Tables arranged in careful hierarchies filled the main hall—elders at the head position, inner disciples throughout the middle sections, outer disciples toward the periphery where they could participate without crowding central activities.

Xiaolong occupied a place of ambiguous honor, positioned near the elder disciples' table but slightly apart, her status as honored guest creating spatial complications the feast organizers had resolved through strategic cushion placement. She could observe the head table clearly from this angle, watching Master Yuan interact with his elders and senior disciples.

He performed the role flawlessly. Every gesture carried appropriate warmth, every word demonstrated thoughtful consideration, every laugh arrived at exactly the right moment to acknowledge humor without seeming frivolous. He asked insightful questions about sect developments, offered measured praise for successful initiatives, suggested gentle corrections where improvements might be pursued.

Everyone relaxed under his attention, their earlier tension dissolving like morning frost.

See, their body language proclaimed, Master Yuan is exactly as he should be—wise, benevolent, focused on sect welfare above personal concerns. Whatever oddness they'd sensed during his arrival had been imagined, misinterpreted, the natural discomfort of encountering power beyond their usual experience.

Xiaolong watched Master Yuan's eyes.

They still did that thing where they stopped moving mid-shift, freezing for heartbeats before remembering to flow. Like watching someone control a puppet, the movements technically correct but lacking the unconscious fluidity of genuine animation.

And when he thought no one was observing, his expression would slip—just fractionally, just briefly—revealing something beneath the benevolent mask that looked hungry and calculating and deeply, fundamentally wrong.

Elder Wei raised his cup in formal toast. "To Master Yuan's return, and to the wisdom his cultivation achievements will bring to our current challenges."

"To Master Yuan!" the assembly echoed, cups lifting in unison.

Master Yuan acknowledged the tribute with gracious inclination of his head. "My cultivation journey offered many insights, though perhaps fewer answers than I'd hoped. The questions we face as a sect—the balance between tradition and adaptation, between individual advancement and collective harmony—these puzzles grow more complex rather than simpler as understanding deepens."

"Speaking of complex puzzles," Elder Liu said carefully, "we've prepared detailed documentation about the Black Dao activities. Their techniques show sophistication that concerns us."

"Black Dao." Master Yuan's tone shifted, carrying something that might have been contempt or might have been interest imperfectly concealed. "They continue their misguided rebellion against natural order, I assume?"

"They're systematically corrupting water sources throughout our territory," Elder Wei explained. "Multiple sites, coordinated timing, organizational capacity suggesting significant resources and planning."

"And you believe this requires immediate sect leader attention because...?" Master Yuan let the question hang.

Elder Wei exchanged glances with Elder Liu, surprise flickering between them. "Because they're threatening our cultivation resources and the villages under our protection. Because their activities suggest escalation toward more direct confrontation."

"Villages have always faced threats. Resources have always required defense." Master Yuan gestured dismissively. "The sect has managed these challenges for centuries without requiring my personal intervention for every bandit group that decides cultivation society has wronged them."

The statement landed into spreading silence. Disciples looked at each other with confusion, elders with concern.

"Master Yuan," Elder Liu said, her fan beginning its thoughtful rhythm against her palm, "perhaps your recent cultivation focus has created different perspective, but Black Dao represents more than simple bandits. Their philosophical framework—"

"Ah yes, philosophy." Master Yuan smiled, but the expression carried no warmth. "Let me guess—they reject orthodox approaches, claim harmony imprisons authentic cultivation, argue that true strength requires casting off external expectations?"

He laughed, short and sharp. "They're not entirely wrong, you know. Orthodox sects do enforce conformity through beautiful language about collective welfare. We dress dominance in silk robes and call it guidance."

Elder Wei's cup paused halfway to his lips. "That's... an unusual interpretation."

"Is it? Or is it simply honest?" Master Yuan leaned forward, his movements acquiring intensity that felt aggressive rather than engaged. "We tell disciples to harmonize with water's nature, then spend decades teaching them rigid forms that constrain genuine expression. We praise adaptability while punishing anyone who adapts in directions we haven't pre-approved. The Black Dao's crime isn't that they're wrong—it's that they're rude about being right."

The hall had gone completely silent. Every disciple watched the head table with fascinated horror, witnessing their sect leader articulate positions that violated fundamental Azure Waters principles.

Xiaolong felt Li Feng's attention shift toward her, seeking confirmation of what he was seeing. She gave a fractional nod.

This was it—the corruption manifesting in ways even normal perception could detect.

Elder Liu set her cup down with careful control. "Master Yuan, I think perhaps your cultivation journey has produced perspectives that require... adjustment before being shared with junior disciples. The ideas you're expressing—"

"The truth?" Master Yuan's eyes had stopped moving entirely now, fixed and cold. "You'd prefer I maintain comforting lies?"

"I'd prefer you remember who you are." Elder Wei stood, his spiritual pressure flaring in warning. "You're sect leader of Azure Waters, not Black Dao philosopher. Whatever insights your cultivation produced, they shouldn't lead you toward defending those who actively harm our people."

Master Yuan stood as well, his power unfolding like storm clouds gathering. "And if those insights revealed that what we call harm is actually liberation? That what we call protection is actually control? Perhaps the real corruption isn't out there threatening our comfortable certainties—perhaps it's in here, choking authentic cultivation beneath layers of protocol and propriety."

His spiritual signature blazed fully now, and Xiaolong could see what she'd sensed earlier made manifest—the sickly green-black threads woven through his water essence, perverting its natural flow into something that looked correct from a distance but felt fundamentally wrong when examined closely.

Elder Liu rose smoothly, her fan snapping open. "Master Yuan, I formally request you submit to purification assessment. Your energy patterns show signs of—"

Master Yuan's hand moved in sharp gesture, and water erupted from the decorative pools lining the hall.

The technique should have been beautiful—Master Yuan's signature style involved creating complex flows that demonstrated absolute control through artistic expression. Instead, the water moved with violent aggression, crashing toward Elder Liu in waves that carried that distinctive corruption signature.

She deflected with her own technique, ice crystals forming barriers that shattered under the assault but bought her seconds to retreat. Elder Wei moved simultaneously, his cultivation forming protective barriers around the nearest disciples while manifesting his own offensive capabilities.

"Everyone evacuate!" Li Feng shouted, his voice cutting through rising panic. "Elder disciples, maintain order! Get the juniors to safety!"

Disciples scattered toward exits, some moving with training-drilled efficiency while others simply ran. Ming Lian and Song Bai coordinated evacuation of their sections, their voices projecting calm authority that prevented total chaos.

Xiaolong remained motionless, watching Master Yuan battle his own elders with techniques that should have been impossible for him to use against them. Sect formations included protections specifically preventing masters from harming disciples—bonds woven through decades of shared cultivation and mutual trust that made attacking sect members physically painful for the aggressor.

Unless those bonds had been severed. Unless the corruption had inverted Master Yuan's connection to the sect itself, transforming protective love into hostile dominance.

Master Yuan's laughter echoed through the hall, carrying notes that scraped against her senses like fingernails on stone. "Come now, my dedicated elders. Show me this harmonious cultivation you value so highly. Demonstrate how adaptation and conformity create strength beyond what authentic power can achieve."

His cultivation manifested fully—Ocean Depth Realm, ninth level, the accumulated mastery of two centuries focused through techniques perfected across decades. Water rose from every source in the hall, formed into blades and hammers and crushing waves, attacked with precision that spoke to his complete understanding of Azure Waters methods.

And through every technique, that corruption threaded, inverting natural principles until beauty became cruelty and protection became violence.

Elder Wei and Elder Liu fought defensive positions, trying to contain Master Yuan without seriously harming him, trying to reach whatever remained of the person they'd served beside for decades. Their techniques created barriers and deflections rather than direct attacks, absorbed his strikes rather than countering with equal force.

They were losing.

Xiaolong could see it in their faltering movements, their depleting spiritual energy, the way Master Yuan's attacks grew more aggressive as he recognized their reluctance to truly oppose him.

Li Feng appeared at her side, his sword drawn and his expression carrying grim resolve. "We have to help them."

"Not yet," Xiaolong said quietly. "If elder disciples join the battle, Master Yuan will stop holding back. He's testing right now, probing their commitment. The moment he perceives genuine threat, this becomes killing fight rather than dominance display."

"We can't just watch—"

"We can and we will, until the moment intervention becomes necessary rather than merely heroic." She met his gaze. "Trust me. I know what corrupted predators look like when they're playing with prey versus when they're hunting in earnest. We're still in the playing phase."

But even as she spoke, Master Yuan's cultivation surged higher, his patience with resistance apparently exhausted. The water techniques grew more vicious, targeting vulnerabilities with precision that suggested he was done testing and ready to punish.

Elder Wei took a direct strike to his shoulder, the corrupted water burning through his defenses and drawing blood. Elder Liu's barriers shattered completely, forcing her into desperate evasion.

Disciples who hadn't evacuated watched from doorways, frozen by the horror of loyalty competing with the survival instinct.

This was the moment.

This was when everything changed—when the sect leader's corruption could no longer be explained away, when intervention became necessary regardless of cost, when Xiaolong would have to choose between maintaining her careful disguise and protecting people she'd learned to value more than ancient dignity.

Master Yuan raised his hand for a finishing technique, power gathering around him like a storm ready to break.

Xiaolong stepped forward.

"Enough," she said, her voice carrying through the hall with authority that made even Master Yuan pause. "This ends now."

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