THE REAL PROTEGE

At the entrance to the mountain, seven figures awaited her with an air of reverence and purpose.

The Seven Shah.

Otako's immediate subordinates. Her shadows. Her truth.

They knelt in perfect harmony, their heads bowed as one, a living testament to their loyalty. "Greetings, Master," they intoned, their voices echoing like whispers carried through a labyrinth of ancient stone.

Otako didn't hesitate. "Rise. Let's go."

No formality. No waiting for the echoes to fade.

In seamless synchrony, they ascended onto their Qinglong — serpentine sky beasts born from the very elements of wind and will. The air grew colder, more substantial, thick with the weight of tradition and ancient magic. The mountain loomed above them, its rocky spine arching inward as if acquiescing to her approach.

Halfway up the ascent, a colossal figure loomed in their path.

A Giant Bear Beast — the steadfast guardian and gate-keeper of the inner sanctum.

Its eyes burned with an otherworldly intelligence that seemed to pierce the veil of reality. In a fluid ripple of power and fur, it transformed, becoming an elderly man clothed in robes of braided bark and shimmering starlight.

He bowed — not deeply, but with profound respect, for he recognized the power that stood before him.

"Immortal," he intoned, his voice low and gravelly like the whispered secrets of the mountain. "What can I do for you?"

Before Otako could respond, the air around them shimmered and breathed — a harbinger of those who awaited her.

More beasts emerged from the mist — silent, titanic, and steeped in reverence. Guardians of the Mountain, sentinels imbued with the essence of ancient magic. They felt Otako's power resonate like the chords of a well-tuned string.

Yet, Otako and the Seven Shah remained steadfast, unflinching.

"I'd like to meet with His Majesty," she stated with quiet authority. "Please inform him that Otako comes to pay a visit."

With a single, solemn nod, the Bear turned toward the Barioth — a majestic, quadrupedal wyvern, its crystalline wings glistening like shattered glass in sunlight, its voice reverberating like a thunderclap.

The Barioth took to the skies, ascending through the clouds with a powerful beat of its wings that seemed to echo off the very heart of the mountain.

In that moment, the world felt still.

Otako stood patiently, poised for what lay ahead.

Mystical Mountain — The Asure Dragon's Audience

The courtyard unfolded before her, expansive and majestic, hewn from glimmering obsidian and laced with veins of silver light that pulsed in unison with the mountain's core. At its center, an imposing gate of translucent crystal stood sentinel — alive, breathing, waiting for their arrival. The guardians assembled, a silent legion — watchful and unmoving. They neither bowed nor spoke, yet instinctively stepped aside, granting passage.

Moments later, the Barioth returned, wings folding gracefully as its crystalline body refracted light in dazzling patterns of storm and sky.

"His Majesty will receive you," it announced with gravitas.

Otako merely nodded. No ceremony. No hesitation.

With a resonant hum that reverberated through her bones, the crystal gate parted, as if the mountain itself whispered its approval.

Inside, the chamber was vast and timeless, an expanse that defied the very essence of measurement. Floating lanterns drifted high above, glowing with a light that shimmered not with flame, but with the weight of memory and past glories. The walls glimmered, adorned with ancient carvings that chronicled daring souls who had once stood in this sacred space.

At the far end, coiled majestically upon a throne of ethereal cloudstone and luminescent fireglass, lay the Asure Dragon.

Majestic. Massive. Eternal.

His scales sparkled like the boundless ocean, shifting between hues of sapphire and tempestuous storm-gray; his eyes radiated starbursts—twin galaxies swirling with wisdom and calm contemplation. He did not rise. He did not roar.

Instead, he transformed.

With a radiant ripple of light and breath, the Asure Dragon became a man — young, impossibly handsome, draped in robes that shimmered like the night sky woven from strands of starlight. His presence remained vast, divine, unfathomable.

"My dear friend," he spoke, his voice enveloping her like a warm embrace, "what a joy it is to see you. My heart swells with happiness, knowing that you took the time to visit this old man."

He stepped closer, his gaze softening with genuine warmth.

"But I must beseech you to walk lightly — especially with the precious three little princesses nestled within your womb. Their fragile existence is a treasure beyond measure. It would be wise to move with utmost care."

Ling Li froze, an electric shock coursing through her, even beneath the confines of Otako's samurai mask. The Asure Dragon had pierced the veil, revealing her deepest secret.

"Come now," he chuckled, eyes sparkling with understanding. "After all, I wouldn't be called the Majesty if I couldn't sense such trifles."

There was no threat in his tone, only affection wrapped in an unwavering truth.

Otako recognized that she had come seeking a favor, and with her secret laid bare, the need for disguise faded into the ether. Steadying her breath, she reached up and removed her Samurai mask.

Her long silver hair cascaded down like a waterfall of light, glowing faintly as if kissed by celestial rays. Her face emerged — ethereal, luminous, beautifully serene — an embodiment of sublime grace. The air around her shifted as if the very mountain bowed in reverence.

The Seven Shahs lowered their heads instinctively, their respect palpable. Not one dared to meet her unveiled gaze.

She was Otako.

Immortal.

Mother.

Commander.

And now, revealed in her true, resplendent form.

The Azure Dragon's eyes sparkled with delight. He understood the gesture — Ling Li's unveiling was not mere formality, but a gift of trust.

"Ah, I knew it!" he exclaimed, a low chuckle rumbling through his chest like distant thunder. "I've long suspected that behind that mask lay a beauty reserved for legends, not meant for mortal eyes." He gestured grandly, his immense figure radiating warmth and invitation. "Come in, sit by my side. Let this old soul revel in the radiance of your presence."

The Azure Dragon's eyes gleamed with a mischievous delight, shimmering like stars against the velvet night. He grasped the significance of the moment — Ling Li's unveiling was not merely a formality but a profound gift of trust, a rare glimpse into a hidden world.