The True Martial Hall.
The True Martial Hall stood amid the rolling peaks of Mount Wudang, a famous tourist attraction an hour and a half's drive from the city. Visitors streamed in year after year to burn incense and pray for blessings. The thriving offerings also helped drive the local economy.
Some visitors plagued by evil spirits came to try their luck, only to find every trace of the haunting gone.
Others, beset by misfortune, queued from the early hours to offer the first incense at the True Martial Hall, and everything afterward actually began to go smoothly.
But whenever these stories appeared online, the official account of the Mount Wudang scenic area would reply in the comments, urging everyone to burn incense rationally and reject feudal superstition.
The tourists had no idea that the True Martial Hall they revered as divine was merely the outer sect, there to accommodate them. The real True Martial Hall was enveloped in layer upon layer of the Sect-Protector Array. Even drones could capture nothing but mountain scenery. Without knowing the proper way in, they could spend their entire lives trying and never enter.
The inner sect of the True Martial Hall was picturesque, its pavilions and towers nestled against mountains and beside water. Every roof tile was exquisitely crafted and at least five hundred years old. Cut off from the world, time stood still here.
From a traditional building on the edge of the inner sect came the curses of Duan Yuxian, the True Martial Hall's finest disciple.
"It's not that I suck! My connection's terrible!"
Duan Yuxian lay half-sprawled on a hard wooden bed, playing a game with her pale calves draped over the edge, utterly unconcerned with appearances. The latency indicator in the top-right corner kept switching between red and yellow,