King Yangjong

On a bright morning, the sun shone over the grassy hills, casting long shadows as Yangjong practiced his swordsmanship. The sound of metal clashing echoed through the air as he swung his blade with grace, the fluid movement reminiscent of a dancer. His loneliness often consumed him, but in these moments with his sword, he could express all the emotions hidden deep within. While he practiced, his eyes caught something moving in the distance. They were Ming soldiers, creeping close to his borders, their armor glinting under the sunlight. Panic gripped him as he watched them approach. Without thinking, he tightened his grip on his sword and sprinted towards the source of the commotion. As he neared, he saw a figure fiercely fighting against three soldiers, her movements swift and agile. Their long hair danced in the wind as she struck and dodged with an incredible skill that stirred something inside him. Yangjong felt a strange sense of admiration and curiosity towards them.