He landed on a glowing stone platform at the heart of a vast ceremonial hall.
Elders in ornate robes stood in a circle, watching. Magic symbols swirled in the air. Above, floating banners showed the emblems of various magical houses.
A voice echoed: "Sheung Longyao. Bloodline registered. House: Taoist Sect."
A hush fell.
Then laughter.
"The Taoist Sect still has a registry?" one elder scoffed.
"Must be a glitch," another muttered. "That house hasn't seen a member in a hundred years."
From the edge of the summoning platform, she approached—an elder in flowing grey robes, embroidered subtly with cloud and dragon motifs. Her presence was calm, her steps silent. Her eyes, clear as mountain springs, rested on Sheung with quiet recognition.
"I am Elder Hua," she said, her voice warm and measured. "I've been expecting you."
Sheung bowed instinctively, still stunned.
"Come. Walk with me," she said, guiding him gently through the assembled elders and masters.
Sheung was still in shock at the sudden altering of his reality that had torn him from the world he knew into this, what….. Hogwarts? Not that he didn't like it. He had always been one to quickly adapt himself to new circumstances, and it didn't take him long to pick up that this Elder Hua was someone who was there to help him and who he could trust.
They stepped through a side arch as murmurs and laughter continued to echo in the hall behind them. The academy grounds opened up before him like a living painting: terraced courtyards, crystalline waterfalls, bridges of jade connecting floating towers. Cultivators and magicians in radiant robes practiced incantations, sparred with glowing weapons, or meditated mid-air beneath hovering sigils.
"These are the Great Schools," Elder Hua explained as they passed one towering gate after another. "Azure Flame Pavilion… Verdant Spring Court… Iron Bell Monastery. Each one is supported by royal lineages or ancient families. Their power is long-established."
They passed through manicured gardens and elegant courtyards filled with ceremonial music and spiraling incense. Students in gilded silks eyed Sheung's plain robes and brush with curiosity—or disdain.
"But power alone does not reveal truth," Hua said softly. "Only the Tao endures beyond names."
After many winding paths, they reached a narrow trail half-lost to moss and fallen leaves. No magical lights lined this road. Weeds grew between cracked stones. Vines curled over half-buried statues of forgotten sages.
"This is our way," Hua said.
They entered a shaded grove, where time seemed slower. At last, the path opened to a wide valley at the foot of a mist-veiled mountain. Ancient structures stood here—pagodas, training halls, meditation groves—but all were faded, worn by age. A few lanterns still flickered. The breeze carried the scent of old incense and pine.
Sheung looked around, stunned. "This is… the Taoist Sect?"
Hua nodded. "Abandoned by most. Forgotten by nearly all. But the foundation still stands. Your grandfather once led this place with pride. And now… you have returned."
Sheung felt the brush in his hand pulse faintly.
She smiled at him. "Let me show you what remains," she said gently.
Elder Hua guided Sheung along an old gravel path, bordered by withered hedges and stone lanterns overrun with moss.
They passed a sunken courtyard, cracked and wild with weeds. "That was once the main training ground," she explained. "In the old days, it echoed with the steps of a hundred disciples."
Farther on stood a hall of rotting timbers with paper screens torn by time and wind. "The Meditation Hall. It was built to channel celestial energy during certain alignments of the stars. The formations carved into its foundation still hum faintly at night, when the moon is strong."
Next came a tower overgrown with vines. "The Alchemical Spire. Your grandfather brewed elixirs there. Some of his sealed jars are still buried beneath the floor, I believe. But the sealing formations have long since faded."
Sheung looked around in awe. Even in ruin, the bones of the place radiated history and mystery.
She led him to a small, dried-up pond surrounded by stone benches and broken statues of Taoist sages. "This was once a place of reflection. The Sect believed that still water mirrors the true self. One day, it may again."
They stopped before a locked and rust-streaked gate of bronze at the foot of the mountain itself. Carved across the arch were symbols of dragons and clouds.
"This… was the Inner Temple," Hua said quietly. "Only the Sect Head and initiated Inner Disciples were permitted to enter. Its wards are too unstable now to risk opening. But one day, if the Sect lives again…"
She turned to Sheung and smiled.
"…then it will all awaken."
He felt the weight of destiny settle on his shoulders—not as a burden, but as a mantle, waiting to be claimed.