Just in case they needed further proof, she picked up her sword and broke it in half with her own two hands. The sword was nothing special, the most recent in a very long line of tools that she had borne. Shu-fang didn’t need anything special. The symbolism might be enough though. She hoped so. It would make up the fact that gripping the blade as she had cut into her hands, causing her to bleed.
It meant little to her. Her hands would heal. It didn’t matter what happened to her injuries. Here now, gone later. None of it would kill her.
Nothing could kill her. It was how Shu-fang had lived for thousands of years. Being immortal, being invulnerable.
Shu-fang wiped off her hands, picked up her small bag and left this apartment for good. Someone wouldn’t be happy with the state of how she left it.
She left enough funds behind that hopefully no one would mind.
The world outside went on as it had been before her decision had been made. The sun was bright, people were in a festive mood, and the vibration of the world continued. Shu-fang fit into the crowd easily. No one recognized her as anything different, which meant she could follow the flow and make her way out. Perhaps it would be enough to distract any eyes that were on her now. She bought some festival chains on her way through, placing them about her shoulders. From above, from below, she would seem even more like those around her.