Soon, Shao found himself dressed in the black hakama worn by the outer disciples of the Shigong Sect. His antique sword was strapped to his hip by a long sash tied around his waist, and the Quartermaster had strung a single red cord from the katana’s dented handguard to its cracked sheath. Shao carried his bag over one shoulder, which was packed with two extra uniforms and several pairs of socks. On his feet, he wore tight sandals that conformed well to his feet and were made of durable material. Two small tool boxes had also been stuffed into Shao’s bag, but he didn’t know what they were for.
As the three disciples fiddled with their uniforms, the Quartermaster looked at them with a mixture of distaste and nostalgia. Though he must have joined the Shigong Sect long ago, that memory must have been carved deep into his mind.
The Quartermaster spoke. “I’ve only tailored the robes you are wearing right now. If you want to change the dimensions of your spare robes, you can use the sewing kit I gave you. Otherwise, the robes are close enough to your size that they won’t hamper your movement. The sword maintenance kit I gave you will let you loop the red cord back through your handguard, but it might take you a few hours to figure it out.”
“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Xiahou Ren said, scratching his chin, “what’s up with the red cords? Considering their prevalence, I figure they must carry some significance.”
Excitedly, Liu Dan answered this question. As he spoke, he displayed the red cord on his sword like a trophy. “I can answer that. The red cords represent our level of strength and our commitment to peace. This small red band on my katana shows that the act of drawing a sword should not be taken lightly. Descending into a state of violence is easy, but returning to a state of peace is difficult. That is why rebinding the cord is so hard to do, but unbinding it is so easy.”
Rebinding the cord is hard to do? Wei Fenhua probably disagreed with Liu Dan’s assessment when she reconnected her severed cord with a single swift movement. Perhaps that principle only applied to outer disciples, and inner disciples could control the red cord through their utilization of ki.
“To travel with one’s cords bound is to communicate one’s commitment to peace,” Liu Dan continued, “and to travel with one’s cords unbound is to communicate one’s capacity for violence.”
If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
“Interesting,” Shao muttered under his breath. Something about communicating through the state of one’s sword was quite exciting to him. Shao had long since realized that talk was cheap in the world of cultivators, and he was very interested in letting his sword for him.
After a few more minutes of the Quartermaster lecturing about the proper use of sewing kits and the value of a thick pair of socks in the winter, the group left the Armory and continued on their tour through the Shigong Temple.
Liu Dan continued to lead the way, pointing out dojos and small stores as he walked. Two pieces of information shared by Liu Dan interested Yang Shao greatly: outer disciples very rarely left their assigned district due to the massive size of the temple, and the new recruits who passed through the Southern Gate would likely be assigned to the South District. Shao worried that he would be assigned to a different district to the rest of his group. What would Xu Fei do if she was assigned somewhere far away from Yang Shao and Xiahou Ren?
Thinking about that possibility, one of Shen Jian’s lessons played out in Shao’s mind. “Rules don’t really apply to cultivators.” If Xu Fei was assigned somewhere far away, Shao would just forcibly evict one of her neighbors and live there. Easy. Problem solved.
Another lesson echoed in his mind a moment later. “Don’t start conflicts you can’t resolve.” What if the person he evicted was a member of the Shen or Wei Clan? Shao was certain that he could beat just about any outer disciple in a fight, but that outer disciple might have family members among the inner disciples. The situation could escalate, and Shao would be left fighting several angry Zhoujis. To Shao, it seemed that the “Path of Peace” was really just the “Path of Self-Preservation.” Shao’s thoughts were interrupted when someone next to him called out his name.
“Yang Shao,” Gao Long said, catching Shao’s attention.
“Yeah?”
“I only met you this morning, yet you are much stronger now than you were then.” Gao Long said with no artifice in his voice. He did not intend this statement as a compliment. In Gao Long’s eyes, it was an undeniable fact. “When you are back at full strength, I would like to spar with you.”
Excitement filled Shao’s heart at the thought of fighting a powerful opponent who was roughly equivalent with him in terms of strength. The feeling confused him. Shao had never thought of himself as a violent person, but his sporadic clashes with other cultivators over the past few weeks had awoken something within him.
Fighting was exciting to him. He could not deny it. Testing his strength against others, feeling his body in motion as he performed a deadly dance with his opponent, and even the feeling of his life balanced on a knife’s edge as he fought someone who intended to kill him: they all made Shao feel alive. He felt like he had been asleep for his whole life, and he only woke up during his fight with the divine bull.
“It would be a privilege to fight you, Gao Long,” Shao answered with a smile on his face. He held his hand out to shake, and the Gao man took it enthusiastically.