The next morning.
Han Yu stood before the misty lake on the eastern edge of the sect grounds, donning a long robe two sizes too big and a fake silver beard he'd "borrowed" from the props room of the sect's theatrical troupe that didn't see much use. His straw hat was now adorned with a single phoenix feather he had maybe plucked from a sect Elder's pet.
Though calling it a phoenix feather was a bit of an overestimation as the bird merely had one tenth of a drop of a phoenix's blood in it.
It was debatable how accurate the reading was as that low of a concentration was hard to even check. Still, it didn't stop the elder from calling his bird phoenix dearly.
That's right... He simply named it Phoenix.
And with it, Han Yu looked absolutely ridiculous.
"Perfect," he whispered.
