It was a majestic structure. Seven stories tall. Red walls, so red they resembled blood beneath the sunlight.
Golden details adorned the edges, the corners, and the windows.
Dragon sculptures decorated the entrance pillars, each scale detailed, each claw sharp, each eye lifelike.
Guards, armed, attentive, and vigilant, observed everyone who entered.
As soon as Kyrian crossed the doors... he was greeted by the aroma of old paper.
Not the acrid smell of ancient scrolls, the scent of time and dust. But a gentler fragrance, of ink, wood, knowledge. Scrolls. Books. Jade slips. Hundreds. Thousands.
They were techniques and information gathered from all five regions, all present there, within that single building.
A young woman approached.
She wore a light blue robe with the pavilion's symbol embroidered upon her chest, an open book with a flame above it.
"Young master, are you looking for a specific type of technique?"
"Cultivation techniques."
