Chapter 6: Root-Poor

On the morning of the fourth day, the Hall summoned Chuhe to the Hall of Roots.

It was a round room with a white stone floor, and in its middle stood a waist-high crystal on a bronze foot.

Every elder was there, and so were a hundred disciples who had no business being there.

Hanjue stood at Chuhe's shoulder with the sword on his back and his hand resting lightly on the hilt.

Elder Pei held up a strip of yellow paper.

"This is the record of Shao Chuhe's root test, taken five years ago," he said. "I will read it."

The room went quiet.

"Root grade: below the lowest. Qi stored: none worth recording. Recommended for kitchen and yard work."

Somebody laughed, a short ugly sound.

Chuhe stood still.

He had known all that for five years.

It had never felt like this, with a hundred people listening.

"Place your hand on the crystal," said Pei.

Chuhe walked forward and laid his palm on the cold surface.

The crystal woke up with a faint dim glow.

It flickered once, and went dark.

"There," said Pei, almost gently. "You see?"

He turned to the elders.

"A man with no root cannot hold a spirit blade. It is not possible."

"The sword has been tricking us, as old blades will."

"This so-called bond is a malice of the steel, and the bearer is only a fool it has dressed up as a master."

"That's not true," said Chuhe.

"The Hall will take the blade into safekeeping at once," said Pei. "For its own protection, and the sect's."

Two Hall guards stepped forward with a long iron chain.

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