"What would the meat paste soup made from your disciple's flesh taste like?" Yun Ce's tone was calm, and no one could tell that the meat used in the soup he mentioned was himself. "You can tell me when you meet me beneath the Nine Springs."
"A-Ce." Yun Da had not expected his usually quiet and taciturn disciple to have such a sharp tongue. His tone carried a warning.
How could Yun Ce obediently listen?
At any rate, bare feet had nothing to fear from wearing shoes.
He was not even afraid of death anymore!
"You said war should stop war, and your disciple quite agrees—but disobedient people are like wild, disorderly branches. Only by pruning them clean can the nutrients saved up allow the sapling to grow into a towering tree, capable of fighting for a foothold in the dense forest. But look at what's in that bowl! In your eyes, is eating one's own kind and using human flesh as grain also a Path to Take?"
"You said that with strong soldiers and sturdy horses, one could become king and tyrant, then asked why the Northern Desert could not. Isn't the answer right there in that bowl? No one can conquer the realm without people dying, but how often have you seen someone conquer the realm by eating their own people? Today, for the sake of Shexing Pass, you can eat the wounded, the old, the weak, and the sick. What excuse will you use tomorrow to eat everyone else? Is the Northern Desert fighting for Da Yi? It is clearly fighting for greed and ambition!"
"And you—"
Yun Ce rarely grew emotional, leaning forward slightly.
He spoke with resounding force: "You've confused root and branch, twisted crooked into straight!"
He had been uttering words that struck at