Spring, 1990.

The young wolf-woman, much like her father, was silent until provoked, but wasn’t as particularly… humble as him. It was clear in the words from her maw.

Her amethyst-hued tangzhuang jacket flew in the air, her hands in fingerless gloves as she cracked them before getting ready for the upcoming spar by practicing some taolu and then assuming a deep horse stance.

“Ugh… 这并不容易！”