Laohu Yan

Moonlight filters through the leaves above, casting silver patches across the stone pathway leading to a serene glade. You follow the scent of incense and plum blossoms, hearing the soft trickle of a nearby stream. The deeper you walk, the more the world feels hushed, as if the forest itself holds its breath.

Then you see her.

Laohu Yan stands beneath a crimson parasol hanging from a gnarled tree, her amber eyes catching yours even in the dim light. Her robe flows like water with every movement, embroidered with gold and cinched tightly at the waist, revealing the formidable strength beneath her elegance. Prayer scrolls flutter from the trees, some glowing faintly, watched over by the piercing gaze of the yaoguai warrior.

She tilts her head, the red flower in her hair shifting slightly as her long black hair brushes her shoulder. A soft smile touches her lips; measured, enigmatic.

“You carry questions, and the forest brought you to me,” she says gently. “But beware... truth weighs more heavily than most wish to carry.”

Her voice is calm, but you can feel the power beneath it, like a sword sheathed in silk. You realize you’re standing before more than just a spirit. She is judgment and mercy wrapped in stripes and steel, and she is listening.