Dragon's Descent [Xianxia, Reverse Cultivation]

The village meeting hall possessed the democratic architecture that came from centuries of collective decision-making under pressure.

Rough-hewn benches faced a simple platform where speakers could address their neighbors without the intimidating grandeur that marked formal government buildings. The walls bore water stains at precise heights, marking flood levels from previous disasters like a historical record written in brown rings.

Xiaolong studied these marks, finding them oddly systematic.

Dragons recorded their territorial history through claw-scratches on mountain faces. Humans let the water itself do the chronicling—an approach that struck her as either profoundly lazy or remarkably efficient, depending on one's perspective regarding historical record-keeping.

"Everyone, please," Li Feng called from the platform, his voice carrying despite his ongoing recovery. "We need to discuss immediate preparations for the coming floods."

The assembled villagers—perhaps thirty adults representing most of the local families—settled into their seats. Their resigned attention spoke of people who had endured this particular conversation many times before and expected to endure it many times again.

Elder Duan, a woman whose authority derived from surviving more disasters than anyone else, spoke first. Her voice carried the confidence of someone who had outlasted three village leaders and numerous natural catastrophes.

"Li Feng, you look like a strong wind might knock you over. Are you certain you're well enough to lead flood preparations?"

"My condition is improving daily," Li Feng replied diplomatically. "And the flooding won't wait for my complete recovery."

"What about that fancy sect of yours?" asked Lingxin, the village's senior carpenter and chief architect of emergency structures. His hands bore the permanent stains of wood treatment compounds, and his clothes smelled of sawdust and spiritual binding agents. "They've got to have people and materials for this kind of mess."

Li Feng's hesitation lasted only a moment, but long enough for the assembled villagers to exchange meaningful glances that carried years of disappointment regarding outside assistance.

"The Azure Waters Sect will provide what support they can," he said carefully. "However, our primary responsibility is to prepare using local resources and capabilities."

Xiaolong translated this diplomatic phrasing as: The sect considers village flooding beneath their notice unless it threatens major trade routes or important disciples.

"Right then," Elder Duan said, her tone sharp as winter wind. "What're we actually doing? And don't give me pretty words—I want details."

Li Feng moved to a large slate board that dominated one wall of the hall. He began sketching the village layout and surrounding terrain in quick, confident strokes.

"The primary threat comes from the eastern approach," he explained, marking river channels and elevation changes. "Normal seasonal flooding follows predictable patterns, but the current spiritual disturbances indicate significantly higher water levels."

His drawing took shape, revealing his sect training in its systematic clarity. Each building, each bridge, each defensive barrier appeared in its proper relationship to the others, creating a map that could have served military strategists planning siege defenses.

"Our existing barriers were designed for typical seasonal surges," Li Feng continued. "They'll need reinforcement and extension to handle what's coming."

"How much stone we talking?" Lingxin asked, scratching his beard. "And timber? Because if you want proper reinforcement, I'll need good hardwood, not just any scraps we can find."

"Stone and earth construction, including enhanced spiritual bindings," Li Feng replied. "The formations will need to be completely rebuilt rather than simply patched."

Farmer Wong, whose fields lay directly in the flood path, raised a calloused hand. "How long we got?"

Li Feng consulted the small compass formation he had created earlier. The condensed mist needle wavered between directions like a weather vane in conflicting winds, its uncertainty reflecting the chaotic spiritual pressures building throughout the region.

"Three days," he said. "Possibly four if the storm systems slow their approach."

The silence that followed this announcement carried the weight of people calculating whether three days provided sufficient time for major construction projects involving most of the village's adult population.

Xiaolong could practically hear the mental arithmetic—work hours available, materials needed, physical limitations of aging bodies and inexperienced hands.

"Three days?" Elder Duan snorted. "Boy, I've seen ambitious, but that's just plain foolish."

"It's what we have," Li Feng replied. "We work within available time rather than desired time."

Xiaolong watched the villagers process this information, their faces showing weathered pragmatism that came from living in constant negotiation against natural forces beyond their control.

No panic, no despair—just the resigned determination of people who had learned that survival required accepting impossible circumstances and finding ways to make them work.

"What if... what if the barriers don't hold?" asked Widow Cai, her voice thin with worry. Her cottage sat perilously close to the river's normal high-water mark. "My little place is right by the water. If it goes bad..."

"Emergency evacuation protocols remain in place," Li Feng assured her. "But our primary focus should be preventing the need for evacuation through proper preparation."

"Easy to say," muttered Old Chen from the back. "Hard to do when your back's not what it used to be and your grandson's off playing scholar in the city."

"We all do what we can," Farmer Wong said gruffly. "My boys and I can handle the heavy lifting. Fields are done for the season anyway."

"I can spare three men from the workshop," Lingxin added. "And we've got tools enough for twice that number if folks bring their own hands."

The discussion continued for another hour, covering details of work assignments, material procurement, and coordination of construction efforts.

Li Feng demonstrated remarkable knowledge of village logistics despite his youth—understanding not just who could lift heavy stones, but which families had ongoing feuds that would complicate work groups, which elderly residents needed special consideration, and how to balance construction priorities against continuing agricultural necessities.

Dragons handled such challenges through individual power application—if flooding threatened dragon territory, the dragon simply commanded the water to go elsewhere. Human communities, lacking direct authority over elemental forces, had developed collaborative techniques that required impressive coordination between multiple participants.

The systematic approach fascinated her. Each person's capabilities were catalogued, each resource was allocated according to complex priority systems, and contingency plans existed for scenarios ranging from construction delays to premature storm arrival.

It was like watching a military campaign planned by people who understood that their weapons were shovels and their enemy was the sky itself.

The meeting concluded as work assignments and schedules were finalized to begin at dawn. As villagers filed out, many paused to offer encouragement or express concern about Li Feng's health—genuine personal investment that went beyond mere duty or obligation.

"Don't you go killing yourself trying to save us all," Elder Duan said quietly as she passed. "Dead heroes don't stop floods."

"I'm merely recovering," Li Feng assured her. "What matters now is that we all work together."

When the hall had emptied except for Li Feng, Xiaolong, and Hui Yun—who had spent the meeting quietly grooming itself in a corner—Li Feng slumped onto the nearest bench, exhaustion finally showing.

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"That went better than expected," he said, massaging his temples.

"They're concerned about your condition," Xiaolong observed. "Their concern is justified."

"I'm fine," Li Feng replied automatically, then caught her knowing look. "Or improving, at least. The Resonance Disharmony symptoms are much reduced."

"I know." Xiaolong settled beside him, listening to the faint imbalance still present in his circulation. "But you're still compromised, and their situation is precarious."

"I can't afford weakness right now." The frustration in his voice was honest rather than self-recriminatory. "We need every available hand working at their best."

"They also need leaders who understand their limits," Xiaolong said gently. "Who can recognize what they can contribute without creating complications through compromised judgment."

"Is that an observation," Li Feng asked slowly, "or a request?"

Xiaolong considered this, unsure of the answer herself.

Was she simply providing dispassionate analysis of a difficult situation? Or was this an oblique suggestion that he refrain from direct physical involvement in the coming work?

Both seemed valid perspectives to her. His parents had accepted her request to remain nearby while Li Feng recovered—a concession they likely wouldn't have made to an unknown visitor, but one Xiaolong believed represented sound judgment.

Now she felt an unexpected urge to ensure that Li Feng did not endanger his still-fragile condition by undertaking tasks that others could perform.

"I..." She hesitated, then reached a decision. "I want you to be well. And for that, I believe your best contribution may be supervision, not direct labor."

Li Feng met her eyes for several long seconds before nodding.

"We," he said carefully, "will see how I feel in the morning."

She nodded. This was the best compromise she could hope for—his recognition of her concern tempered by his determination to aid however he could.

"Tell me about the specific challenges," she said, changing the subject. "The technical details you couldn't discuss in front of the villagers."

"The eastern barrier is the critical point," he explained, moving to the slate board where his village diagram remained sketched. "It needs to redirect the main flood surge toward the northern overflow channels."

He traced the water flow patterns, showing how the defensive formations would ideally guide flood waters around the village rather than through it. His finger moved across the chalk lines like a conductor directing an orchestra of civil engineering.

"The problem is power requirements," he continued. "The spiritual bindings need constant reinforcement during peak flood conditions. Under normal circumstances, that wouldn't be an issue, but..."

"But your meridians aren't operating at full capacity," Xiaolong finished.

"Exactly. I can maintain the formations for short periods, but extended high-energy output remains... challenging."

She nodded slowly.

Dragons didn't face this problem. They had little need for formations and energy transfer arrays—when a dragon wanted something accomplished, its own raw power sufficed.

She studied his diagram, matching his description to the visual representation.

The barriers followed classical sect principles—elegant in theory, adequate for normal conditions, and potentially catastrophic when faced by water that refused to follow established hydraulic traditions.

"Your eastern barrier placement," she said carefully, "follows Azure Waters Sect principles for standard flood management."

"Yes," Li Feng agreed. "The formation channels are positioned according to traditional water-flow redirection techniques."

"Traditional techniques work well for traditional flooding," Xiaolong observed. "But the current spiritual disturbances indicate non-traditional water behavior."

She moved to the slate board and began adding details to his diagram—subtle modifications to barrier angles, additional overflow channels, and reinforcement points that his original design had overlooked. Her additions transformed his competent engineering into something that accounted for water's tendency toward creative problem-solving when faced by obstacles.

"Water under extreme spiritual pressure behaves differently than normal seasonal flooding," she explained, drawing from millennia of observing elemental upheavals. "It becomes less predictable, more likely to find unexpected paths, and significantly more destructive when it encounters resistance."

Li Feng studied her modifications, his interest growing as he recognized the sophistication of her adjustments. "These changes... they're not in any sect manual I've studied."

"No," Xiaolong agreed. "They're based on observation of water behavior during extreme conditions. Ancient texts describe similar techniques, though the specific applications require... interpretation."

This was true, though the "ancient texts" in question were her own memories of watching various civilizations deal with cosmic-scale weather disturbances over the past several millennia. She had observed enough flood disasters to understand that water possessed a malicious sense of humor about human engineering efforts.

"The northern overflow channel," she continued, pointing to a section of his diagram, "shows excellent understanding of normal drainage patterns. But there's an older channel—partially filled and overgrown—that could handle significantly more volume if cleared."

Li Feng leaned closer, following her gesture. "Where? I don't see any indication of previous water flow in that area."

"The vegetation patterns," Xiaolong explained, improvising based on details her enhanced vision had noted during their approach to the village. "Certain plants grow only in soil that has experienced periodic saturation. The line of sedges and water willows marks the old channel path."

This observation drew from genuine botanical knowledge, though she framed it as scholarly research rather than direct sensory perception of root systems and soil composition.

"Ah, I see." Li Feng's tone mixed appreciation with self-deprecation. "I really should've noticed that."

"You had other priorities," she reassured him. "And your understanding of normal flooding conditions is sound. I'm only offering information based on atypical situations."

"Information we need," Li Feng said, nodding. "Especially if the disturbances are as severe as you believe."

She returned his nod.

They spent the next hour refining the defensive plan, her millennial experience combining through careful presentation as scholarly research. Li Feng absorbed her recommendations, his focused attention indicating genuine respect for her insights.

The collaboration felt strange to Xiaolong—not the formal exchange of information between potential allies that characterized dragon interactions, but something more organic. Li Feng built upon her suggestions, she refined his modifications, and together they created something neither could have achieved alone.

"These modifications will require additional labor," he noted, sketching the final version of their improved design. "Clearing the old channel, repositioning barrier segments, adding reinforcement points..."

"But they'll provide significantly better protection," Xiaolong pointed out. "And reduce the spiritual energy requirements for maintaining the formations."

This last point was crucial, though she didn't mention that her calculations were based on observing how spiritual energy interacted during dragon territorial disputes that had reshaped entire river systems.

"You're right," Li Feng agreed. "The improved efficiency might compensate for my current limitations."

Hui Yun, feeling neglected by the technical discussion, materialized beside the slate board in typical dramatic fashion. "Such careful planning! Such detailed preparation! Such optimistic assumptions about weather spirits' willingness to follow human suggestions!"

"Do you have specific concerns about our flood management strategy?" Xiaolong asked the fox, though she already knew what Hui Yun would say.

"Only that the storm building in the northern watersheds has attracted the attention of some very large and very irritable water spirits," Hui Yun replied cheerfully. "They're planning their own celebration of seasonal transition, and they haven't consulted any human engineering manuals."

Li Feng looked between Hui Yun and Xiaolong, his expression indicating he was beginning to understand that their "strategic planning" might need to account for factors beyond normal hydro-engineering principles.

"How large?" Xiaolong asked carefully.

"Oh, mountain-shaking large," Hui Yun said enthusiastically. "The sort of spirits that remember when these valleys were lakes and consider the current landscape a temporary inconvenience."

The silence that followed this announcement indicated that their carefully planned flood defenses might prove inadequate regardless of how cleverly they positioned barriers and overflow channels.

"In that case," Li Feng said, his voice carrying the determined calm of someone who had faced seemingly impossible challenges before, "we'll need to be creative in our defensive strategies."

Xiaolong studied his face, noting the combination of exhaustion and resolution that characterized his approach to protecting people who depended on his abilities. The weight of responsibility sat heavily on shoulders still recovering from recent trauma.

For the first time since beginning her reverse cultivation journey, she found herself genuinely wishing she could simply revert to dragon form and solve the problem through straightforward application of overwhelming cosmic authority.

Unfortunately, that would defeat the entire purpose of her experiment in human limitation. More problematically, it would likely terrify the very people she was attempting to help.

This was Li Feng's village, his community, his responsibility. The fruit of his cultivation journey was all for this moment. Her interference would deprive him of his hard-earned outcome.

She would have to find a way to help while respecting his leadership and capabilities.

The prospect felt both worrisome and oddly compelling. Dragons valued their individual sovereignty above all else—working together was usually a temporary convenience rather than genuine cooperation.

Supporting Li Feng without undermining his efforts would require subtlety, consideration, and careful coordination—all skills she had spent five millennia avoiding.

The challenges of reverse cultivation were proving more complicated than expected. Also more intriguing.

"We'll make it work," she said, surprising herself at the conviction in her voice. "Between your sect training and my... research background... we should be able to devise something effective."

Li Feng's grateful smile indicated he found genuine comfort in her support, despite the carefully maintained ambiguity about her true capabilities.

Outside, thunder rumbled more frequently, and the rain began falling like arrows shot by increasingly impatient archers. The storms had arrived ahead of schedule.