TALES OF RUNETERRA: IONIAN
MASTER YI THE WUJU BLADESMAN

In the central province of Ionia Bahrl, a mountain settlement once stood, hidden within its natural beauty. There, the village of Wuju, little Yi grew up learning the way of the sword, pursuing a dream that later turned into a tragedy.

Like most children, he admired those who wore silk robes and carried swords with poems in his name. Both of his parents were master swordsmen, Yi showed a strong impression on local warriors who often came to their sword-making workshops. He spent his mornings in the garden, training with his mother, and his nights were filled with poetry quotes for his father accompanied by candlelight. When it was time for Yi to study under his Wuju teacher, both his parents were very proud.

Bringing his talent and discipline to his training, he surpassed all expectations. Before long, the whole village knew him as “Young Master” Yi.

However, the humble disciple was curious about the whole of Ionia. From the top of the highest pagoda, he saw a distant city that no one had ever mentioned, but when he ventured down the mountain with a sword in his hand, his teacher forbade him. Wuju is made for those who believe his sword skills are too important to share, too sacred to shed blood so for hundreds of years, the skill evolved with isolation, unbeknownst to outsiders about his true strength.

All that changed when Yi saw the thick smoke billowing from the distant city. Noxus' forces have invaded the coast, capturing the settlement with waves that redden the ocean. Choosing the Ionian community over the vacant Wuju tradition, Yi came down to help defend the First Lands. With a flash, he swept across the frontlines, defeating the enemies with swordplay that was so fast and never seen by an outsider before.

The story of the lone army spread out, like a mountain mist. Inspired by his courage, even his own disciples join the war, and together they walk towards Navori where a greater war is raging.

Commander Noxus sees Wuju as an undeniable threat. They scouted the origin of the great warrior, and attacked their home mercilessly. In one night, the whole village was destroyed, the whole community and culture was destroyed by a chemical fire that could not be held with any steel.

After the war ended, Yi returned as the sole survivor, only to find destruction. The magic of the region was tainted, and all the people he knew and loved were gone. His soul had been killed, not his body, Yi being the last victim of the attack. With no Wuju practitioners left, he realizes the master's degree he has is his own.

Fuelled by grief, he chose to live in seclusion, training tirelessly to bury his guilt for surviving, but the policies of the departed teachers seem to have faded with time. He begins to doubt whether a man is capable of protecting his entire culture.

An attractive vastaya resembling a monkey challenges him to a duel. With reluctance, Master Yi agreed to the creature's request, he defeated it easily. But the vastaya refused to give up, she came back day after day with ever-increasing clever tricks that forced Yi to react. For the first time in many years, Yi felt the spirit of Wuju once again.

The two of them fought for weeks, until the battered stranger finally gave up and introduced himself as Kong, of the Shimon tribe. He begged to learn from Yi, he saw behind his reckless determination he was a tough fighter and could become a new disciple. Through teaching, Yi found his purpose had been recovered. He would continue Wuju's teachings, and give his disciple a magic wand as his vow sign—from that day on, Kong was known as Wukong.

Together, they are now traveling in the First Lands, when Yi wants to continue to honor his lost hometown, then he was able to carry the title “master” in his name.

RETURN

Withered leaves fell from shivering branches, as a gust of wind blew across the mountain slope. Yi floated a few inches above the ground, his eyes closed and his hands folded, listening to Bahrl jays' morning songs. The cold wind touched her naked face, and tickled her forehead.

Releasing the ****** slow down, he comes down until his boots hit the ground. He opened his eyes and smiled. The clear sky was a rare and friendly sight.

Yi cleaned his robe, looking at some strands of hair loss. Most are black, with some being white, like wild silk.

How long has it been? he wonders.

Swinging the twill bag on her shoulder, she continued her ascent, leaving behind trees that once swayed due to life, but now stood still.

Yi glanced down the mountain to see how far he had come. The ground beneath it is soft, brittle—treasures that must be protected. He looked ahead and continued the climb. On the road ahead, the lilies withered, the coral petals turning pale brown.

"I didn't expect to see anyone here" a voice called out.

He paused for a moment to listen, his hand gripping the ringed sword at his waist.

"You're also looking for your flock?" The sound is getting closer. “Stupid animals. They are always stuck in this area.”

Yi saw an old farmer approaching, and loosened his grip. She wore a simple skirt, sewn with various pieces of fabric. He leaned over as he approached.

“Well, save your etiquette for the monks,” he said. “You don't look like you work in the fields for a living, because the blade is definitely not for mowing weeds. What brings you here?"

“Good day to climb,” Yi replied, her voice pretending to be innocent.

“So, you're here to practice, huh? Noxus will be back soon?” he asked while laughing.

"Where the sun goes down once, it will happen again."

The farmer snorted, recognizing the old saying. It is known by most in the southern provinces. “Yeah, let me know when they get back. That will be the day I sail from this island. But until then, why don't you use your sword well and help a weak old woman?”

He called Yi to follow. He obligates.

They stopped next to a wooded area. A baby takin whimpers in pain, his hind legs tied by thick, swollen vines that tighten as the creature struggles.

“That's no Lasa,” the farmer explained. "He's young and stupid, but he's more useful to me in the field than being stuck on this cursed mountain."

"You think it's cursed?" Yi asked, kneeling beside the beast. He rubbed his hairy back, feeling his muscles twitch and spasm.

The farmer crossed his arms. “Well, something non-spiritual is happening here,” he replied, nodding his head towards the top. “And without natural magic, the land demands sustenance, even taking lives if it has to. If that's my choice, whatever's up there should be burned.”

Yi was fixated on the vines. He had not expected to see them this far down the mountain.

"I'll see what I can do." He muttered, pulling two blades from the brass sheath in his boots. As he edges the steel close to the constriction, the vines appear to curl up.

That moment remains. Grain of sweat pierced Yi's naked face. He closed his eyes.

“Emai,” whispered, in his ancestral language. "Fair."

Sure it jumped free, letting out a high-pitched roar. On the ground, the cut vines dangled like loose skin.

The beast leaped down the hill, enjoying its freedom as the farmer chased. He grabbed it with both hands, and hugged the takin near his chest.

"Thank you!" she exclaimed, not realizing Yi had continued on her way. She called. "Hi! I forgot to ask. What are you training for? The war is over, you know.”.

Not for me.

After another hour, he reached barrenness. The carcass of the village lies around him, attacked by the same vines.

It's Wuju. This is a house.

Yi headed to the cemetery, stepping past the collapsed blocks and stones, the remains of houses, schools, places of worship— the shattered pieces mixed into one. The ruins of his parents' workshop were lost somewhere among the rubble. There is too much to regret, and not enough time.

The grave he visited was arranged in perfect symmetry, with a gap between the mounds for one to pass through. Someone like Yi.

“Wuju honor your memory.”

He placed a hand on each hilt of the earth-piercing sword. This was his warning to the fighters, teachers, and students. He didn't miss a single one.

“Hopefully your name is remembered.”

"Rest. Find peace in this country.”

His voice soon became tired.

As the sky is painted in orange, the three graves remain untouched. The closest one was marked with a hammer, its head rusting from the mountain air. Yi took out a peach from his bag, placed it beside the mound.

“Tuan Doran, this is from Wukong. He can't travel with me, but he wants me to bring you his favorite fruit. He loves his staff, almost as much as he likes to make fun of the helmet you gave me.”

He moved towards the last two mounds, guarded by a golden veil.

“ Emai , the weather today is very friendly. Fair ... I hope you enjoy the warmth.”

Yi grasped both of his short swords and put them in a sheath that adorned his parents' graves. Perfect fit. He knelt down and lowered his head.

“May your wisdom continue to guide me.”

Standing up, he reached into his bag to grab his helmet. The afternoon sun captures its seven lenses, each reflecting a different color. Holding a helmet near her heart, she imagined the garden of lilies that had once been here.

That was before the scream. Before the acid and poison twisted the earth magic against itself.

He was wearing a helmet, and a kaleidoscope around him filled his gaze. Hands folded together, he closed his eyes and emptied his mind. He didn't think of anything. There's nothing at all. His feet were lifted from the earth, but he was unconscious.

Opening his eyes, he saw everything. Death and decay, with little hint of life.

He saw spirits that dwelled in the realms beyond his own. The vines here trap them as easily as poor takin, weakening their essence. He knew any spirit strong enough to break free would leave this cursed place. What is left is broken .. or immediately.

A sad and sad cry haunted the air. Yi himself often cried in pain, but that was once a— when he thought tears could revive the dead.

He blinked, and the physical world returned. For a moment, he pretended not to bear the burden on his shoulders. Then, he blinked again.

The spirits kept screaming. Yi drew his ringed sword.

He ran away blurryly, sweeping the ground like a newly realized change of season after it had passed. In an instant, he returned to where he had started, perfectly silent, his sword resting on its sheath.

One by one, the vines fell down. Some spilled from collapsed roofs, others shriveled where they lay.

He sat down cross-legged to receive everything. Now the spirits were singing happily, and he knew there was no greater sign of gratitude. As they melted, the ground echoed their happiness. Peach blossoms sprout where they grow too strong. The limp bamboo stalks were straightened, like disciples being told to pay attention.

A fleeting smile softened Yi's face. He took off his helmet and reached into his bag, dragging the other items he had brought for the trip. Fruits, nuts. Things for himself, and things to clean the soil for good.

Notnot now. Not .

He took out a thin reed pen, and a crimped scroll. This page is covered in signs.

60

54

41

Yi added a few blows today. Below them are more words.

30 Days between opening.

He knew, before long, he had to grant the farmer's wish, and send his house on fire.

But not now. Haven't.

***