Shen Fei pushed open the courtyard gate and walked inside. The courtyard was quiet, and the old locust tree in the corner cast a broad patch of shade. The stone table and stools beneath it had spent the whole morning in the sun, their surfaces radiating a dry warmth.
He stood in the middle of the courtyard and rolled his shoulders, his joints giving a series of faint cracks.
He had spent much of the morning sitting in the study, then visited the City Guard garrison. With so little movement, the Spiritual Power flowing through his meridians had grown somewhat sluggish.
He sat on a stone stool, closed his eyes, and circulated the Dark Prison Reincarnation Art, guiding his Spiritual Power through two full cycles in his meridians. The sluggishness gradually faded, and his dantian became full again, its flow smooth.
After finishing his cultivation, he rose and returned to his room. Lunch was already on the table: a bowl of rice, two small dishes, and a bowl of soup, all ordinary fare.
He sat down and slowly finished his meal, set the dishes and chopsticks outside the door, then came back inside, closed the door, and slid the bolt into place. The room fell quiet. Light filtered evenly and softly through the window paper, illuminating the velvet cloth spread across the tabletop.
He walked over to the bed and took the Ink Cloud Sword out of his Space Ring.
The sword lay across the bed, black from end to end, unreflective and unremarkable. Its surface resembled black stone that had been polished over and over, deep and subdued.
A layer of dark cloth wrapped the hilt. The cloth was somewhat worn, with fine fuzz along its edges, and it felt slightly rough against his palm when he held it.