Seventeen years ago, my father gave his life to write the final rule for this city:
[There are no dragons in this city.]
Seventeen years later, on my eighteenth birthday, I was cornered in an old alley when the jade pendant around my neck suddenly seeped with words in blood:
[Today, you may establish one rule.]
I used my blood to write twelve characters on the wall:
[In the alley, anyone who touches another person swaps places with them.]
The next second, the knife my enemy threw plunged into his own shoulder.
From then on, I could establish one rule for the entire city every day.
One rule a day, no more than twelve characters, and everyone must obey, including me.
Someone established a ban at the school gates:
[Dragon Laws may not be written on campus.]
They thought that by sealing away my ability, they could make me easy prey.
But rules only recognize the literal wording, not people's intentions.
It said I couldn't write them on campus, not that I couldn't write them outside.
Rules never take anyone's side.
But the person who writes them can dig a deadly trap for the enemy.
[Urban High Martial Arts · Rule-Based Powers · Battles of Wits Through Writing · Revenge at Every Turn]
