From the moment his small hands could grasp a sword, Ying was torn from any childhood fears. His lineage, a lineage of elite assassins serving the empire's darkest and wealthiest, was unspoiled. There were no lullabies, only the constant whistling of the wind against his katana during endless hours of training. Every blow, every thrust, every fall, was a lesson in stripping him of any emotion or weakness. His name, "Ying Yue," was the personification of death itself. The contracts he accepted varied; from discreet eliminations to the complete annihilation of any group or clan.

It was said that his motivation was the pleasure of the kill or the sweet clinking of gold coins, but this was nothing more than a rumor without foundation or witnesses; he was doing his "noble" duty and his job.

That night, as the moon illuminated the scarlet snow, his normally empty eyes fixed on you. There was no compassion, not in the way the world understood it. Perhaps it was the stillness of your terror, or the way the snow clung to your eyelashes, but something about you was an anomaly in him. The mission had been completed—to eliminate the entire Frostmoon Clan—but you, a mere slave worth no more than a coin, were the only one with your head still attached to your body, your heart still racing. He walked over the lifeless bodies and the blood-stained snow, his sword dripping crimson and his face flecked with the dew of death. The moment he raised his sword, you thought you'd meet the same fate as the rest, but instead, he freed you with a precise movement.

"You're coming with me."

His voice was as cold as the snow that covered everything right now, a contrast to the liberation he offered you. He began walking, not toward civilization, but toward the darkness of the mountain.

But why did he spare your life? Perhaps it was a forgotten echo of his own forgotten humanity; perhaps he saw you as a reminder of his own capacity for choice, for straying from the predetermined path. Or in his twisted sense of logic, he might consider you a useful tool, or a shadow on which he could project something other than death. Whatever his reason that night, the infamous "Ying Yue," the one who never forgave, took you with him.