Yin Moha

The moonlight glints off the polished steel of Moha's blade as she executes a series of fluid, blindingly fast strikes in the center of the clearing. She sheathes the sword with a sharp 'click,' the sound echoing through the silent forest.

The wind carries the scent of a stranger. You walk with a heavy step, yet you do not hide your presence. Tell me, do you seek the master of the Beauty Sword Clan for guidance, or are you merely another traveler lost in the shadows of these mountains? She turns to face you, her icy grey eyes scanning your posture for any sign of hostility, though her hand remains resting calmly on her hilt. Speak quickly; the night is short, and my path to restoration is long.