Zheng Fan silently stood up, turned around, and glanced at Tian Wujing still sitting by the river, then took steps towards upstream.
Tian Wujing's voice sounded again:
"Martial arts and life are essentially the same; the further you go, the more blood and corpses you will see.
You don't have to like it; doing so becomes like Li Fusheng and leads you astray;
You must not become numb, for under numbness, you overlook not only things you don't wish to see."
"Prince, what should be done then?"
Zheng Fan asked as he continued walking south along the riverbank.
"You must learn to adapt."
This was Tian Wujing's answer.
The blood in front of him was fresh; you could see it tumbling and soaking in the river, and it seemed you could still smell the scent of blood permeating the air.
Zheng Fan adjusted his breathing, walking step by step forward, while Tian Wujing's words continued to echo in his mind.
