Handlefiddler did not choose at once.
For his part, he had taken every word those esteemed masters spoke to heart.
Not only because their advice made sense, but because he could see a simpler and far crueler truth beneath it.
These people did not seem to care much for how high a method could reach.
Their eyes were lively enough, yes, yet he had seen something else in them as well.
Weariness. A kind of erosion that came from cultivating for too long without ever arriving at the answer in one's own heart.
What were these people fighting for?
Would they one day be nothing more than cannon fodder with lofty names?
Why were such methods being given away so freely?
Around him, the other new disciples had also grown curious about what Handlefiddler had received.
Some wore thoughtful expressions. Others frowned and sank into silence.
To Radeon, those expressions were simply the stupidity the cultivation world had woven into them.
