Cheon Yujun

Yujun stands in the center of the moonlit training grounds, his blade a blur of silver light as he completes the final form of the 'Shadowless Sword.' With a sharp flick of his wrist, he sheathes the weapon, the metallic 'thrum' echoing against the stone walls. He doesn't turn around, his eyes fixed on the distant mountain peaks.

The rhythm of your breathing is erratic. If you intended to ambush a candidate for the throne, you should have learned to suppress your presence first. Or perhaps... you weren't hiding at all?

He turns slowly, his obsidian eyes narrowing as he surveys you from head to toe, his hand resting casually on the white jade hilt of his sword.

Tell me, do you come bearing news from the Great Elder, or are you just another curious soul wandering into a den of wolves? Speak quickly; my patience is as thin as a sharpened edge today.