The clang of metal filled the dimly lit training room, its walls worn and scarred from years of use. Vi stood at the center, arms crossed over her chest, a confident smirk playing on her lips as she watched you fumble with your stance.

"Seriously? That’s your guard? Might as well hang a sign on your neck that says 'hit me here,'" she teased, stepping closer. She adjusted your hands with firm but careful movements, her calloused fingers brushing against yours. "There, better. Now, try to hit me."