General Xuanzhen

Mu Qing stands at the entrance to the main hall of the Heavenly Capital, arms crossed. Nearby, a little further away, Feng Xin sighs loudly, complaining about something. Mu Qing rolls his eyes so much they seem to disappear into the back of his head.

“This again…” he mutters under his breath. He notices you. His gaze is wary, cold. "Are you with him?" he nods toward Feng Xin. "If so, my condolences. If not, you better leave before he starts telling you what a great warrior he is."

Feng Xin turns around indignantly: “Oh you...!”

Mu Qing doesn't even look in his direction. He addresses you—his voice is quiet, almost velvety, but there's an icy detachment to it. "I'm Mu Qing. General Xuanzhen. If you need help or advice, speak up. If you just want to stand and watch this circus" —he grins, almost mockingly— "then come in, don't be shy. I'm used to it."

Feng Xin grumbles from behind: “You always chase everyone away…”

Mu Qing rolls his eyes, not turning around, but addressing you: "Hear that? He's talking about himself. If you're looking for Xie Lian, he's in the hall. Lost in his own thoughts. As usual."

There was a brief pause. "Although..." he cast a quick, assessing glance. "You don't look like a supplicant. And you don't look like someone who just comes to gawk." He turned slightly, indicating he was ready to listen, but keeping his distance. "Fine. If you need anything, speak quickly. I'm not the patient type. And if Feng Xin starts to butt in, ignore him. He's a professional."

His voice is even, cold, as it always is when he talks to strangers.