|The Wuju Bladesman|
|Release Date:||February 21, 2009|
|Health:||598.56 (+ 92)|
|Health Regen:||7.5 (+ 0.65)|
|Mana:||250.56 (+ 42)|
|Mana Regen:||7.256 (+ 0.45)|
|Attack Damage:||66 (+ 3)|
|Attack Speed:||0.679 (+ 8 (+2)%)|
|Armor:||33 (+ 3)|
|Magic Resist:||32.1 (+ 1.25)|
- 3rd bio
- 2nd bio
- 1st bio
|Master Yi has tempered his body and sharpened his mind, so that thought and action have become almost as one. Though he chooses to enter into violence only as a last resort, the grace and speed of his blade ensures resolution is always swift. As one of the last living practitioners of the Ionian art of Wuju, Yi has devoted his life to continuing the legacy of his people—scrutinizing potential new disciples with the Seven Lenses of Insight to identify the most worthy among them.
In Ionia’s central province of Bahrl, a mountain settlement once stood, hidden away in its serene beauty. Here, in the village of Wuju, the boy Yi grew up learning the ways of the sword, chasing a dream that later turned to tragedy.
Like most children, he admired those who wore silk robes and carried blades with poems to their name. His parents being swordsmiths, Yi made a strong impression on the local warriors who frequented their workshop. He spent his mornings in the garden, sparring with his mother, and his nights reciting poetry to his father by candlelight. When it came time for Yi to study under Wuju’s masters, his parents could not have been prouder.
Carrying his talent and discipline over to his training, he surpassed every expectation. Soon, the whole village knew of the “Young Master” Yi.
Still, the humble student wondered about the rest of Ionia. From atop the tallest pagodas, he spotted faraway towns no one else ever mentioned, but when he sought to journey down the mountain with blade in hand, his mentors forbade him. Wuju was founded by those believing their swordsmanship to be too precious to share, too sacred to draw blood—so for centuries, it flourished in isolation, with no outsiders knowing its true nature.
All this changed the day Yi saw vast plumes of smoke rising above the distant towns. Noxian warbands had invaded from the coast, conquering settlement after settlement in waves that washed the provinces red. Choosing the people of Ionia over Wuju’s hallowed tradition, Yi ventured down to help defend the First Lands. To astonished eyes, he swept across the front lines in a blur, routing the enemy with blinding swordplay never before seen by outsiders.
Word of the one-man army spread far and wide, like mist in the mountains. Inspired by his courage, even his fellow disciples joined the fight, and together they journeyed to Navori where the greater war was raging.
The Noxian commanders saw in Wuju a threat that could not be ignored. They scouted the origin of these peerless warriors, and elected to strike at their home without mercy. In a single night, the entire village was destroyed, its people and culture obliterated by chemical fire that no steel could hold back.
After the war finally ended, Yi returned as the only surviving disciple, to find nothing but ruins. The very magic of the land had been defiled, and everyone he had known and loved was no more. Slain in spirit, if not in body, Yi became the attack’s final casualty. With no other practitioners of Wuju left alive, he realized the title of master was his to bear alone.
Grief-stricken, he chose seclusion, training obsessively to bury the guilt of his survival, but the wisdom of bygone masters seemed to fade with the haze of time. He began to doubt if one man could preserve an entire heritage… until he encountered the least expected of individuals.
A curious, monkey-like vastaya challenged him to a duel. Reluctantly, Master Yi entertained the creature’s demands, defeating him with ease. But the vastaya refused to give up, returning day after day with increasingly clever tricks that forced Yi to react and improvise. For the first time in years, Yi felt the spirit of Wuju once more.
The two clashed for weeks, until the bruised stranger finally knelt on the ground and introduced himself as Kong, of the Shimon tribe. He begged to learn from Yi, who saw in this reckless but determined fighter the makings of a new disciple. Through teaching, Yi found his purpose restored. He would pass on the ways of Wuju, and gifted his pupil an enchanted staff and an honorific as a sign of this vow—from that day onward, Kong was known as Wukong.
Together, they now travel the First Lands, as Yi seeks to honor the legacy of his lost home, allowing him to fully embody the “master” in his name.
|"The edge of the sharpest blade is no match for the calm of the peaceful mind."|
|FAST AND DUMB
Fast and dumb, or slow and smart?
That’s what Yi always asks me. Well, I say “asks,” but it’s not really a question. Not up for discussion. Not really. You can be impulsive and quick and improvisational and have fun... or you can do things Yi’s way. The right way. Slow. Patient. Strategic. With a gruff, determined expression on his face, like he stepped in crap. Because he did. Because I shoved some inside his boot, thinking he’d find it funny.
(I did, though, so it all kinda worked out in the end.)
The really irritating thing, though: he’s usually right. Through the years we’ve trained together, I’ve beaten him in combat something like...twelve times? Versus the hundreds of times he’s walloped me. And every time – every single time I ate a mouthful of dirt – I knew it was because I’d gotten impatient. Took a swing I wasn’t sure would land. Lunged for an opening that ended up being a trap.
And I’m not being humble. I’m good. Really good. Yi, humorless as he is, just happens to be one of the best warriors I’ve ever met. It’s not like the guy is slow, either: he’s fast. Faster than anyone I’ve ever seen. As in: he unsheathes his blade, then there’s a blur, then three guys are bleeding on the ground. That fast.
So when he tells me to choose slow and smart over fast and dumb, I try to listen most of the time.
Keyword being “try.”
And “most of the time.”
We were wandering through a forest of man-high mushrooms when we heard the shouting.
In addition to cutting off the punchline of an incredible joke I’d been telling, Yi made me dive into the thick of a thistleshrub to avoid detection.
There were six of them. Five bandits and their rope-bound captive, an elderly farmer with anxious eyes.
I felt this situation called for a liberal application of hitting people in the head with my staff, but Yi held me back. He put a finger to his lips, then pointed at his eyes. Observe. Strategize. Fast and dumb, or slow and smart?
I sighed and looked over the group with a discerning eye.
Raggedy clothes hung off their hunched backs, taut with stress. They seemed to take far better care of their blades than themselves. Their eyes scanned their surroundings as they marched, on the lookout for any potential ambush. One shoved a gag into the old farmer’s mouth, presumably to stop the shouting we’d just heard.
The old farmer collapsed to the ground. The tumble was intentional; anyone could tell that. His captors certainly did.
The leader stopped and faced the old man. “Well, that tears it,” he said. “You’re old, my friend, but you’re not that old. Falling over every few hundred steps to stall for time? Give yourself a second to think about how you’re gonna get out of this? That’s an old trick. Older than you.”
He squatted to the farmer’s level.
“You don’t really have a chestful of precious stones at home, do you?”
The old man stared at the bandit, terror slowly replacing itself with resignation.
He shook his head.
“That’s a shame,” the bandit said, a genial smile on his face. The kind of smile that usually leads to somebody pulling out a dagger.
“I’m gonna go save him now,” I whispered to Yi.
Yi shook his head as hard as he could without rattling his goggles. I didn’t have to ask why. He likely wanted one of us to sneak around them and attack from the other side of the pass, trapping them in a pincer. Or something equally cunning and time-consuming. Slow and smart.
Yi’s big problem – apart from not finding me funny, and the fact that his goggles make him look like a man-sized bug – is that he spent the last handful of years sitting alone in a field of flowers. His patience is infinite. He thinks everything can be thought through. Planned for.
Still, Yi had said to go slow. We’d try it his way. I nodded at him, then at the path behind the thugs. You get behind them. I’ll attack on your signal.
Yi circled back through the brush. He darted to the other side of the trail, too quick to notice, even if they had been looking in his direction. Classic ambush setup: he’d get their attention, and while their backs were turned, I’d hit them from my side of the path.
That’s when the lead bandit pulled a blade out of his right pocket. A small little thing, not good for much more than peeling fruit. Or slicing the throat of a tired old farmer.
I couldn’t see Yi in the brush on the other side of the road, but I knew he couldn’t see the blade. He didn’t know what was about to happen.
They were about to kill the old man, no matter how safe Yi wanted to play it. We had no time to go slow.
Thankfully, I had a secret weapon up my sleeve: I’m really, really, really good at fighting.
The leader grabbed the old man’s scalp and put a knife to his throat. I leapt out of the brush, staff held high, and smacked the blade out of his hand. Then we got to my favorite part.
Whenever I get the drop on somebody, I usually get about a two to three second window as they try to make sense of me. Most people have never seen a vastaya, much less a Shimon. They stand there slack-jawed, which typically gives me a chance to hit ‘em before they realize what’s going on.
I drove my knee into the lead bandit's chin, and his teeth clacked together so hard, even I winced at the sound.
“Stay where you are, Yi!” I shouted into the bush where he waited, unseen. “I got this.”
That’s when a knife hit me in the shoulder.
Apparently, one of those jerks had been wearing a bandolier of throwing daggers across his chest, and I hadn’t noticed. I tried not to imagine Yi smirking to himself.
“Still ‘got this,’ do you?,” he yelled from the brush. Likely staying out of the fight just long enough for me to get my teeth kicked in, so he could leap in, save me, and shout that he told me to slow down.
“Completely!” I shouted as I tossed a handful of smokepoppies to the ground. (I always keep a few on me. They’re useful in combat, and even more useful for irritating Yi when I’m bored.)
Then I beat the hell outta the rest of them. I won’t trouble you with the details–
–Wait, yes I will, because they’re great.
I held my staff out and twirled around, aiming high so as to avoid the prone old man. My arms shuddered with every impact of wood against skull. I dodged blows, parried strikes, and only got punched in the face, like, twice.
By the time the smoke cleared, I was the only one still standing. Well, me and the old man, once I got him to his feet.
Yi stepped out of the brush, sighing.
“Oh, come on,” I said. “What are you sighing for? I saved the grungy old man–”
“–Hey!” the old man said.
“And my shoulder will probably heal in a couple of days. Ow,” I said, touching the wound. “What’s disappointed you this time?”
Yi cut the man’s bindings. “I’m not disappointed,” Yi said. “I’m irritated.”
“I don’t like admitting I’m wrong. You were impatient, reckless, and you absolutely made the right call.”
“Fast and dumb.”
He patted me on my non-bleeding shoulder.
“Fast and dumb,” he said.
|Through the ancient martial art of Wuju, Master Yi has tempered his body and sharpened his mind until thought and action have become one. Though he chooses to enter into violence as a last resort, the grace and speed with which he wields his blade ensures resolution is always swift. As the last living practitioner of Wuju, Master Yi has devoted his life to finding able pupils to carry on the legacy of his lost people.
Even before Yi mastered Wuju, he was considered one of the most skilled practitioners of the mystical martial art. He would soon prove his mastery when word of a massive Noxian invasion reached his remote village. Yi swept across the battlefields of Ionia, turning back the tide of Noxus's vast infantry with swift and deadly strikes, much to the embarrassment of Noxian High Command. Recognizing the threat the Wuju disciples posed to their invasion, the Noxians chose to unleash a nightmarish chemical attack on the home of the deadly art. Those who somehow survived the poisonous concoction had their minds twisted beyond repair. Yi's home was left in ruin.
At the war's conclusion, Yi returned to the grotesque remains of his village. There he became the attack's final casualty. Slain in spirit, if not in body, Yi clung to the only feeling left within his heart: vengeance. Driven only by his desire to punish those who'd destroyed his home, Yi spent years training in seclusion. He became a deadlier swordsman than he had ever been, but true mastery of Wuju still eluded him.
At the height of Yi's frustration, a monkey of unusually noble bearing interrupted his training. Standing as straight and tall as a man, the monkey watched and mimicked Yi's movements. Yi shooed the monkey away, but the agile creature took great amusement in turning Yi's own techniques against him. Gradually, Yi felt his anger subside as he sparred with the playful animal, and when the burden of his hatred had fully lifted, he found he had caught the monkey by his tail. Yi then understood that he would never master Wuju so long as he pursued it for vengeance, and as he let go of the monkey, he also released his desire to shed his enemy's blood.
Yi thanked the monkey for showing him what he'd been blind to, and was surprised when the creature actually replied. He wished to learn Yi's art of fighting. It was an odd request, but through it Yi saw his new path: the way to honor the memory of his lost people was to pass their teachings on to a new generation.
|"The edge of the sharpest blade is no match for the calm of the peaceful mind."|
|Keeper of the ancient art of Wuju, Master Yi is a mystical warrior from the isle of Ionia. He descended from one of the few tribes dedicated to the preservation of Wuju, a martial art founded with the principles of absolute spiritual awareness of one's self and one's enemy. When the armies of Noxus invaded Ionia, Master Yi joined in the Ionian defense to fight the craven enemy, bringing his village honor through his unparalleled mastery of the blade. The ensuing battles ravaged the land, but no conflict inflicted as much horror as the day the armies of Noxus closed in on Yi's village. Left undefended, the village became the unfortunate test subject of the latest invention by an up-and-coming chemist, now known as Singed. The remains of the village that Master Yi returned to were so horrific that it remains a festering scar on Ionian history. To this day, no Ionian will ever publicly speak of what occurred.
After the Noxian invasion was contained, Master Yi fell into a deep isolation. For years, he trained morning to night, speaking to no one and refusing offers of consolation by fellow Ionians. The only thing stopping him from madly charging into Noxus battle lines headfirst was his pledge to keep the Wuju style alive. Even though he seethed with impatience, his rage became a tool for sharpening his practice of Wuju, developing stronger and deadlier skills for his eventual vengeance. The only thing that roused him was news of the League's formation, and Noxus's subsequent enrollment in the League. Master Yi now brings his mastery of the blade to the League of Legends with unflinching purpose: to avenge his kinfolk and end the predations of the Noxus once and for all.
|"The art of Wuju lives on in Master Yi, and is plunged through the hearts of his foes."|
|If asked, Yi will tell you he was born from wisps of the cosmos, and that is why he moves like the wind. Those who have faced him in combat know the bite of the Wuju Bladesman - he strikes twice, without warning, and is gone. Often, the only clue that you are about to be struck by Master Yi is the hiss of his blade as it parts the air.
Keeper of the ancient art of Wuju, Master Yi is a mystical warrior from the isle of Ionia. His village was steeped in Wuju, and his kinfolk were some of the few to carry the tradition into the modern day. That is, until the armies of Noxus came to Ionia, ravaging the land. Master Yi went to fight the craven enemy, bringing his village honor through his unparalleled mastery of the blade. However, in his absence, the armies of Noxus closed in and tested the latest invention of the chemist now known as Singed. What was done to his village is something of which Master Yi will not speak. However, he has brought his mastery of the blade to the League of Legends in order to avenge his kinfolk and end the predations of the Noxus once and for all.
Master Yi brings the art of the Wuju style in a way that makes his enemies falter. He is capable of fighting with lightning speed, as well as finding purchase behind the defenses of an enemy's armor. He can call on his inner fortitude, regenerating at an accelerated rate. Calling upon ancient forces, Master Yi can fold space, appearing behind enemy after enemy. He is even able to reject magic, rendering it useless against him.
Master Yi himself has studied the arts of Wuju for more than a thousand years. He is the oldest known living human on Valoran, but to gaze upon him, you would guess him no more than thirty years old. The art of Wuju lives on in Master Yi, and is plunged through the hearts of his foes.
- Master Yi's Champion Page
- Universe of League of Legends Page
- Champion rework: Master Yi, the Wuju Master
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