Research and Development (Self-Preservation Division)

Leo stumbled back into his office, slamming the bathroom door shut behind him. He leaned against it, his heart hammering against his ribs like a drum solo. The sound of Maria directing forklift operators in the warehouse outside was a jarring, welcome anchor to his own reality.

"They teleported," he breathed, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead. "They just... appeared. Out of thin air."

The old man, with his ethereal aura and ancient eyes, radiated a quiet power that was far more intimidating than any drawn sword. And the young woman moved with a coiled, predatory grace that spoke of years of intense training. These weren't medieval market guards; they were something else entirely. Something faster, stronger, and much, much more dangerous.

A cold dread trickled down his spine. He had literally appeared in the middle of their heavily fortified mountain fortress. That they hadn't disintegrated him on the spot was a miracle he couldn't explain. His "traveling merchant" line felt laughably thin now.

He started pacing the small office, a new, urgent anxiety bubbling up. What if they perceived him as a threat on his next visit? His previous business plans—setting up a stall, selling noodles—seemed suicidal in this new context. He couldn't just wander into a place of super-powered teleporting people and expect to be treated like a regular street vendor.

He needed advice. But who could he ask? He couldn't exactly tell his dad, "Hey, I accidentally opened a portal to a magical kung fu monastery in the clouds, and I think I trespassed. What should I wear on my next visit?"

His father's advice was predictable. He went out to the warehouse floor. "Hey Dad, quick hypothetical. If you met a really powerful, really old guy who could, I dunno, teleport, how would you deal with him?"

Frank looked up from the packing slip he was checking. "Powerful old guy? Show respect. Don't look him in the eye too much. And for God's sake, have a firm handshake. Shows you've got grit."

Leo nodded. Not entirely helpful for trans-dimensional diplomacy, but sound advice nonetheless.

He retreated to his office and did what he always did when faced with an unsolvable problem: he turned to the collective, chaotic wisdom of the internet. He found an anonymous forum dedicated to fantasy and mythology and, using a throwaway account, wrote a detailed but carefully vague post.

**Title: How to approach a powerful, ancient, isolated mountain society?**

Hypothetically, say you discovered a hidden community. They live in temples on mountaintops, practice martial arts, have strange powers (like teleporting), and are led by wise old men with long beards. I want to interact with them, maybe for trade, but I don't want to get myself killed. I've met two of them, and they seemed respectful but very powerful. How should I present myself to show I'm not a threat?

The first few replies were, as expected, mocking.

Larping much?

Dude lay off the anime.

Step 1: Make sure your Mountain Dew is chilled. Step 2: Roll for initiative.

But then, the serious fantasy nerds and wuxia fans logged on, and the advice started to get strangely insightful.

**AncientCultivator88:** Bro, you basically walked into a cultivation novel. You need to understand their hierarchy. The old man is probably a Sect Elder. You need to show DEEP respect. Bowing was a good move. Don't act aggressive, don't act superior.

**JadeDragoness:** ^ This. Also, presentation is EVERYTHING in those stories. They respect power, wisdom, and elegance. You can't show up looking like a commoner. You need to project an aura of mystique. You're the mysterious outsider.

**SwordSaintStan (jokingly):** Honestly? Grow your hair out, get some flowing robes, and go back looking like a reclusive immortal master. They'll probably offer you tea and ask you for profound cosmic wisdom.

Leo paused on that last comment. It was a joke, but... it wasn't a terrible idea. He remembered the portraits from Chinese dramas he'd seen online while researching his fake website. The powerful, wise figures always had long, flowing hair and elegant robes. He wasn't Chinese, but the aesthetic was about conveying a certain archetype. The mysterious, powerful master. It might just be the perfect camouflage. It beat showing up in jeans and a hoodie.

But his hair was short. And growing it would take years.

Unless...

The thought sparked instantly. The carrots boosted eyesight. The tomatoes boosted vitality. What vegetable or fruit, if grown in the Sanctum, might affect... hair growth?

His fingers flew across the keyboard, this time searching for "natural remedies for hair growth," "foods that promote hair health," and "herbs for a fuller mane."

The internet offered a bounty of suggestions. Rosemary oil. Pumpkin seeds. Saw palmetto. Biotin-rich foods. He cross-referenced, made a list, and felt a familiar thrill of a new R&D project forming. He could plant these. He could create a "Lustrous Locks" product line. And, more importantly, he could use it on himself.

He could become the mysterious, long-haired master not in a few years, but in a few weeks. It was a completely insane plan based on a joke from an internet forum.

And it was the best idea he'd had all day.