He was meditating, or had been, but something stirred his instincts and he sighed, letting out a stream of Mandarin curses against fate, Preventors, Une and his masochistic partner for a long moment, feeling much better after wards.
Opening his eyes he pulled his dao from it's sheath and started inspecting the blade, more for something constructive to do than because he feared for the steel.
His father's sword had survived two wars after all, it would take much to break it, or him.