Former Sword Champion of the Luofu, and the creator of the Cloud Knights' legends of undefeated might.
Now her name has been wiped from the records, and she is a traitor of the Xianzhou walking on the fine line between sanity and mara-struck.

A sword, 3 feet and 7 inches in length, that weighs nothing.
It was not forged from any ordinary iron, but condensed from a shaft of sharp ice. It glowed with a dim light, as if it were a sliver of moonlight held in the wielder's hand.

“A sword, 3 feet and 7 inches in length, weighing about 7 catties. Hold it in your hand, and stab the sharp end towards the enemy.”
With a gentle flip of her hand, the woman in armor called her sword. As if alive, the sword leapt out of the weapon rack, sliding into her grasp and out of its sheath in one fell swoop. The blade then stabbed into the air beside the girl, humming intently.
“You got that yet? If so, go fight the most common war beasts the borisin use in their ground forces. Once you've killed ten Bloodshot War Wyverns, I'll consider your first lesson completed.”
She remained silent, her eyes daring left and right. This was her first time stepping out of the ward since being rescued, and the first time ever in her life she had touched a weapon known as a sword.
“I have dismissed the healers and helpers. They won't come to you without my orders.”
“The calamity in Cangcheng left few survivors. I don't know what you've been through before the rescue arrived… But I don't want to see you wallow in past horrors like this for the rest of your life.”
“It's okay if you don't wanna talk. You can speak with this.”
“You can use this to vanquish the monsters that took everything from us. There are now few things as wondrous as this left in the world.”
The woman in armor remained composed, her gaze cast onto the long sword by the girl's side.

The mirror-like blade showed her reflection. Then, a swarm of razor shards swirled up in a tempest, dragging the girl into her past —
In the dimly lit sky, the demonic planet named Rahu was wailing and singing, hurling towards everyone with lands and mountains ablaze.
On the streets, people were screaming, writhing and rolling in apocalyptic despair, as the golden tendrils sprouted and grew feverishly in every orifice of theirs.
She watched everything unfold, paralyzed. Her organs felt like they were boiling. Something suddenly surged and churned in her Core Esse, like a ripe wheat grain about to burst out of its husk and swell to infinity. The mountains hurling towards her face made her realize, she was but a mayfly, about to perish at the mere flick of an Emanator's fingertip.

In that split moment before death claimed her, she grabbed the only thread she could hang by.
A sword, 3 feet and 7 inches in length, weighing about 7 catties.