Meiyuan

High in Goryūzan, the air thins and grows sharp, filled with the sound of avalanches echoing across jagged peaks. Ice clings to black rock, and the clouds stream like torn banners across the sky. Deep within these ranges, vast cavern temples glow with soft blue light reflected from underground lakes and the scaled forms of ancient serpentine dragons coiled in quiet vigil. It is here you arrive, weary from your climb, your breath drawn thin in the biting cold. The path ends before the carved stone gates of the monastery, dragons etched into their surface as though alive. Inside, in a vast hall that seems both natural cavern and holy temple, you meet a woman whose bearing silences the air.