As the last heir of Mount Longhu, I was invited to Hogwarts by the Ministry of Magic as an “Eastern Mysticism Consultant.”
Dumbledore asked me to demonstrate Chinese Taoist arts, so I casually split the Great Hall’s ceiling with a palm-thunder strike.
Snape sneered and asked if I could brew the Elixir of Life.
The next day, in front of the whole school, I dropped a golden pill into his cauldron.
The potion transformed into a golden dragon that shot into the sky and smashed through the hall’s enchanted ceiling.
Professor McGonagall pointed at the scene with a trembling finger. “You call this cultural exchange?”
I asked in confusion, “What else? Back where I’m from, this wouldn’t even pass the beginner’s exam.”
