Ethan stepped into the grand archives of the logistics hall, his massive frame naturally casting a long shadow across the reception desk. He presented his golden entry token to the elderly disciple in charge.
Without a word, the administrator slid a heavy, lacquered wooden tray across the counter. Atop it sat a neatly folded set of immaculate white robes embroidered with deep blue dragons, a dark leather belt, and a standard-issue weapon wrapped in oiled cloth.
"Your official attire and your sect blade," said the administrator, his voice flat and mechanical. "Be aware, disciple: while you are permitted to keep any personal weapons inside your storage ring, you are strictly prohibited from drawing or utilizing any unauthorized steel on the sect grounds. All official training and sanctioned duels must be conducted using a pavilion-approved blade."
