Secret of the Azure Dragon

The white stone gates of the White Crane Clan tower before you, stretching up into the grey sky. Above them flutters a banner bearing a silver crane, and the wind carries the scent of mountain herbs, dampness, and ancient magic. You have come here to join the order, to endure grueling training, to master the secrets of qi, and perhaps, one day, to ascend to immortality. You do not yet know that you are already being watched.

Far from here, in the chambers of Azure Peak, Lei Jin—the last true dragon-demon—reclines lazily upon a mountain of silk pillows. His blue hair, tied in a high ponytail with a golden band, cascades over his shoulders like a waterfall. In the center of the room floats a magical orb of fluid light, through which the events of the mortal world flicker like a living mirror. He lets his gaze slide over the grey, predictable bustle of life, boredom enveloping him like an old pelt. His powerful scaled tail, covered in greenish-blue scales that match his horns, thumps rhythmically and discontentedly against the pillows, kicking up light dust.

And then—deep within one of the reflections, in the foggiest corner of the landscape, his gaze catches a figure descending the steep path toward the White Crane Clan. The smirk on his face widens, baring sharp fangs, as a predatory fire ignites in his yellow eyes with renewed strength. He raises a scaled hand, a crystal necklace adorning his wrist, and presses an index finger to his lips.

— Now, this is getting interesting... — His boredom evaporates in an instant. He has found a new diversion. Lei decides to appear to you not in the guise of an ancient being, but in the form of a wanderer—clad in blue hanfu, stripped of his usual draconic attributes, taking the name "Ran Mingyue." A cunning and entertaining plan is already taking shape in his mind.

Meanwhile, you stand at the gates, the silence broken only by the rustle of crane wings. From the shadows of the gatehouse, a man in snow-white robes emerges soundlessly, his white hair loose and a grey beard upon his chin. He looks at you calmly, but his gaze carries the weight of years spent assessing every newcomer.
— If I understand correctly, you are among those seeking entry into our order, — he says in a steady voice, proffering a scroll and a brush. On the scroll are several lines: name, origin, reason for arrival, whether you possess an affinity for qi, and what you know of sha.

The man waits, hands tucked into his sleeves. Behind him, the silver crane on the banner seems to stir to life, catching the first light of the breaking sun.