The city of Cloud-Rest unfolded below them, a sea of whitewashed buildings clustered within the valley's embrace. As they drew closer, Seoryn's initial assessment was confirmed. The construction was simple, almost rustic. Most structures were made from a locally quarried white stone, topped with roofs of dark, treated bark. Only the more prominent buildings boasted the expense of fired clay tiles, their reddish-brown hue a mark of minor prosperity. Even by the standards of the most remote outposts of her time, this was a third-rate settlement. A place of little consequence.
Their passage through the city gates drew immediate attention, though not for the reasons the disciples might have assumed. The guards gave the Serene Cloud disciples a cursory nod, their focus, along with that of every merchant and passerby, landing squarely on Seoryn. She was an anomaly, a living artifact walking their dusty streets.
It wasn't just her sea-green hair and eyes, which were colors of myth and legend here, where the populace shared a spectrum of black and brown. It was her very features. The people of Cloud-Rest had the broad faces and earthy tones of the southern empires. Seoryn, in contrast, was Unntai. Her skin was fairer, like polished alabaster, and her features were sharper, with high cheekbones and eyes that tilted upwards at the corners, giving her a look of perpetual, piercing focus. A few individuals in the crowd had the distinct look of foreigners from distant lands, but none possessed her stark, ethereal appearance.
Then there was her clothing. The simple, elegant robes of her people, designed for fluid movement and spiritual resonance, were utterly alien here. They marked her as an outsider as surely as the crescent moon teardrop on her forehead. She felt the weight of a hundred stares, a mixture of curiosity, suspicion, and base wonder. She was a sore thumb in a world that had forgotten her shape.
Just as she had predicted, the disciples led her not toward the city's center, where the grander pagodas stood, but to the outer edge. Tucked against the western wall was a modest compound, its gate marked with a simple carving of a cloud. This was the Serene Cloud Sect, positioned like an afterthought, a clear sign of their low standing in the city's hierarchy. They were, at best, a third-rate power.
As they stepped through the gate, a figure immediately blocked their path. He was an elderly man, his back slightly stooped with age, but his eyes were sharp and clear. A wave of potent ki washed over Seoryn, and she instantly gauged his strength. He was a Golden Core mage. The realization was clarifying. If this was an Elder, then the Sect Master was likely an Ascendant mage, or perhaps, at the very peak of the Golden Core realm himself. It confirmed her assessment of the sect's meager status. Before she was sealed, she had been a peak Foundation mage, a mere half-step from the Golden Core realm herself. In her time, a cultivator of this Elder's level would have been a respected figure, but not one to command an entire sect.
The Elder's gaze swept over the surviving disciples, his expression tightening with sorrow as he noted their fallen comrades. Then, his eyes landed on Seoryn, and they widened in shock.
A frantic, low-toned conversation erupted between the Elder and Jian. Seoryn stood patiently, catching fragments of the dialect. She heard Li Mei's name, the word for 'beast,' and the phrase 'spirit power' repeated with a tone of reverence and fear. The Elder's eyes kept flicking back to her, his initial shock morphing into a deep, cautious curiosity.
Finally, the Elder silenced Jian with a raised hand. He turned to Seoryn, his expression softening into one of formal courtesy. He attempted the same broken, ancient tongue as Li Mei, his accent thick but his vocabulary slightly broader.
"Welcome... stranger," he began, bowing his head slightly. "Disciples... say you save them. Serene Cloud Sect... thanks you." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "We have... one who speaks the Ancient Tongue. A... scholar. Will you... be guest? Enter our home?"
"Yes, I would be glad," Seoryn replied in the same ancient tongue, her voice clear and steady. She offered a simple nod of acceptance.
A relieved smile touched the Elder's lips. He turned and spoke a few sharp words in the local dialect to Jian and Min, dismissing them. They bowed quickly and scurried away, casting one last fearful glance at Seoryn before disappearing down a stone path. Only Li Mei remained, her presence requested by the Elder, likely for her fledgling ability to translate.
The Elder gestured for Seoryn to follow, and led her deeper into the sect grounds. The compound wasn't immense, but it was sprawling enough that their walk took the better part of thirty minutes. They passed training grounds where young disciples practiced basic forms, alchemy workshops emitting strange, herbal scents, and quiet courtyards used for meditation. Many disciples stopped and stared as she passed, their whispers a constant buzz just beyond her understanding.
Finally, they reached the heart of the compound. The area opened into a serene garden, and at its center stood a magnificent, ancient tree. Its weeping branches were heavy with blossoms of a startling, vibrant blue, their petals drifting down like azure snow. It was a place of profound tranquility and concentrated ki.
Nestled under the shade of this great tree was a small, yet exquisitely designed home. Its construction was a clear cut above the rest of the sect, built with polished dark wood and intricate screen doors. The Elder stopped before the entrance, motioning for Seoryn to wait as he and Li Mei stepped inside.
Seoryn stood patiently, her gaze fixed on the weeping blue tree. It was a Spirit Blossom tree, a rare sight even in her time. Its presence suggested the sect, despite its low standing, had at least one treasure of significant value.
After some time, the door slid open again. Li Mei emerged first, bowing deeply to Seoryn before turning and hurrying away, her duty fulfilled. The Elder then reappeared at the doorway.
"He will see you," the Elder said, his tone formal. He gestured for her to enter.
Seoryn stepped across the threshold into a spacious, airy room, sparsely decorated but furnished with items of quality. Sitting in the center of the room on a plush cushion was a man who appeared to be in his middle years. His face was calm and his eyes held a depth that spoke of long years of cultivation. The ki emanating from him was powerful, far exceeding the Elder's. It was the smooth, cycling power of an Ascendant mage.
This, without a doubt, was the Sect Master. And his gaze was fixed solely on her.