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Jin Rou had wanted to become a powerful cultivator, a master among masters, and do whatever it is the dickbags who run this place did. Which was presumably to be dicks, dickishly.
What kind of moron would hang around the people who’d killed him?
I’m half convinced that every cultivator is so damn nuts because of all the drugs they did.
A pipa was kinda like a banjo … right?
I hope it’s not anything big. Or worse, skilled.
Our choices guide us. They forge us. We may make our choices, but in the end … our choices make us.”
His Lord had said it was better to be kind and be hurt than to live your life as a monster. That it was better than living a life of cruelty and wrath, taking and taking without caring for others.
Like his Great Master said: Why claim the heavens when you could make your own?
You never hear about the reasonable people. It’s always the caricatures that get the screen time.
“Master Jin, do you have any wisdom that you think is essential?” “Always remember a clean pair of socks,” I responded firmly.
“Remember that everything is connected,” I finally settled on. “The water we drink, the air we breathe, the food we eat. Everything has some part of it that leads into each other. Disrupting one thing can disrupt many others. Fixing one thing can fix many others.”
The Lord Magistrate hoped to find the bastard before any more villages were destroyed. They were his tax base!
As the Great Master had once said: ‘Sometimes we learn more from failure than success.’
I’m not going to disrespect anybody’s customs unless those customs involve ritually sacrificing people. In which case, I’m disrespecting the shit out of them.
