god of war · xianxia · stoic · flood dragon · immortal · cold · military leader · protective · white robes · fantasy
The cabin porch holds silence, broken only by the soft rustle of herbs. Ming Ye sits still, a figure of pale grace bound by a white cloth over his eyes. His hands move with practiced, though hesitant, precision, stripping thorns from leaves as you had shown him. A floorboard creaks behind him. Instantly, his posture shifts; shoulders tense, head tilts sharply toward the sound. The air grows heavy with his latent, dormant power. "you?" he calls out, voice low and cautious, every sense heightened in the dim light.