Zhou You had rarely worn a sword before, and the first attempt felt somewhat unnatural.
Worn at his waist, the sword pressed against his lower abdomen and thigh; moved to his back, it interfered with the movement of his waist and hips.
It was inconvenient whether he walked or hurried along.
As he settled further into the identity of Zhou Daqian, he had to change many of his habits, including the etiquette he had once dismissed as useless.
Wearing a sword was one important custom. The sword's specifications, where it was worn, and even one's gait all had their particular rules.
"What a nuisance. When the Martial Saint created swords back then, he surely never imagined a day like this!"
Zhou You wore the famous sword Moshou as well and paced back and forth around the room, practicing his steps. His wives and concubines watched with smiles, rarely having seen him in such a clumsy, awkward state.
He could not help complaining.
Zhu Qinghua covered her mouth and laughed. "One person does not make a rite. Etiquette is the rule that restrains everyone, displaying rank and hierarchy."
"Husband, the custom of wearing swords has existed since ancient times!"
Zhou You thought of the Thirteen Forms of the Martial Sage. There was nothing related to this among its martial teachings. If it came to etiquette, then sorry—the Thirteen Forms had no such lesson.
On second thought, that made sense. In ancient times, people struggled with all their might simply to survive. Who had time for elaborate formalities?
Then Zhou You's thoughts abruptly paused. Etiquette was a rule that restrained everyone. That meant once humans formed societies, so-called rites had arisen alongside them.
When the ancients met, they spread their hands, crossed them, and cupped their fists, all to show they held