The Armory seemed just like any other of the countless buildings Shao passed on his way there, except it exuded a powerful flow of ki similar to the temple walls. Physically, the Armory was three stories high, and it had a similar width to the schoolhouse of Bluecrest Village. Shao had fond memories of waiting outside of that schoolhouse for Chu Haoyu and Chu Peijing, but he had never gone inside. His family had been far too poor for him to go to school.

They walked into the Armory through a sliding paper door. As Shao touched the door, however, he could tell instinctively that he would not be able to break it down with physical force. If he struck the paper connecting the door’s wooden panels, he would break his hand.

“Greetings, Quartermaster,” Liu Dan said as he entered the Armory.

The person Liu Dan was referring to was an old man sitting in the corner and holding a deconstructed katana in one hand. The sword’s handguard and handle rested on a blue haori that sat folded upon the ground. It took Shao a moment to realize, but the old man must have been an inner disciple if he could use such an important symbol of authority as a table.

Shao took a moment to look around the interior of the Armory. He was surprised to see that most of the floorspace was taken up by piles of black hakama that were stacked up to Shao’s chest. Countless weapon stands leaned against the walls, and each carried a weapon. The vast majority of the weapons on display were katanas, but there were a few that contained spears or strange weapons with long handles and broad metal heads that could be used to subdue animals without killing them.

“What do you want?” the Quartermaster asked angrily as he swiftly began to reconstruct the sword in his hands.

“The new disciples from the Southern Gate are here.”

“Gods above,” the Quartermaster swore. “I’m going to be here all day.”

“Not quite. There are only three here.”

“I’m sure the rest will be here soon,” the older man grumbled.

“There was, uh, an irregularity. You’ll only have to provide equipment to these three today.”

“Fantastic!” The Quartermaster laughed happily and jumped to his feet with the energy of a much younger man. He sheathed his blade with the familiarity of a million repetitions, and Shao was struck by a desire to never fight the man. Something deep within Shao told him that the man was much stronger than even his position as an inner disciple would indicate. The man was far stronger than Wei Fenhua.

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“New guys! Pick out a katana with a hilt the same length as your forearm. None of you are freaks of nature, as far as I can tell, so we’ll have a sword in your size. Once you have your sword, I’ll take your measurements.”

As the Quartermaster spoke, he slipped his arms through the sleeves of his haori. Shao noticed that there were no red bands on the old man’s sword, providing more evidence for his theory that the man was far stronger than he looked.

The three cultivators who managed to pass through the Southern Gate looked around the shop. Shao walked from display case to display case, measuring his forearm against the sword hilts. The first dozen he checked were too small for him. Was his arm larger than he thought, or was he just measuring wrong? The forearm was wrist to elbow, right?

Some of the swords must have been used before. Many of the cords wrapping the hilts were frayed where the previous owner had gripped the sword, and some of the sheaths were cracked where they had been used to block sword strikes. As he searched, Shao became worried that he would get stuck with an old sword because of the length of his forearm.

Eventually, Shao held his forearm against the hilt of a brand new katana and found that it was a perfect length for him. With a smile, he reached for the sword. A moment before his hand touched the hilt, the voice in his head spoke.

Not that one.

Shao sighed. The katana’s mountings looked brand new. He would look a lot more impressive carrying around a nice sword like that. The voice in his head had not steered him wrong yet, however, so he pulled his hand away and took a step back.

He followed the barely-perceptible compulsion in the back of his head and went back to the katanas he had already passed. The sensation pushed him to lean down and look at an ancient katana hidden at ankle height. Shao hadn’t even bothered measuring his arm against the hilt because it looked so unfashionable.

Take it.

Shao groaned much more loudly the second time. The cords around the katana’s hilt were so frayed that they would probably completely unbind after a few days of use. The sheath was so cracked that it was a miracle the sword even fit. The handguard was bent so thoroughly that it would probably do little to actually guard his hands.

If not for Shao’s trust in the disembodied voice, he would have ignored the suggestion and chosen the newly-forged sword rather than the antique.

“Fine. When they mock me for this, I’m blaming you.” Quietly, Shao grumbled to himself as he removed the antique sword from the weapon case.

Testing the weapon, Shao removed the blade from its sheath. The blade got stuck for a moment, and he had to apply more force than should be necessary to draw it. Once the blade sat in his hand, it felt natural. Shao felt as if he had spent most of his life with such a blade hanging from his hip. It was as if he had been missing a piece of himself for his entire life, and he only knew the piece was missing when it was returned.

Holding the sword felt more natural to Shao than his bare hands. He didn’t want to sheath the blade, but he did so when he heard the Quartermaster call out for him to come back. With the blade back in its sheath, Shao suddenly felt like he was missing a piece of himself, and a compulsion to draw the sword once more weighed heavily upon his mind.