The only thing that could suppress all heavenly demons was something that was truly correct.
But An Jing had yet to encounter anything truly correct, and he did not believe such a thing could exist.
Not even he himself believed that he was correct, not even relatively correct.
It was not because he did whatever he pleased, but because An Jing was somewhat content to muddle through life.
Yes. An Jing... considered himself an ordinary-life kind of guy.
If he could, he would be happy to live peaceful days, day after day and year after year.
Family squabbles, firewood, rice, oil, and salt... he did not mind living that sort of life.
Martial Dao was a tool for resistance. Without powerful enemies pressing down on him, his attitude toward Martial Dao would have amounted to nothing more than "working out." As for why working out had somehow trained him into the "Dao of Law," all that could be said was that he was talented—and that he could be very serious even about exercise.
Trying to challenge an ordinary-life guy's hobby with a martial artist's job was really something else.
As a retired soldier who had lived through an age of war, An Jing believed that living alongside the family, friends, familiar people, and unfamiliar people he cared about, spending every day without upheaval and without suddenly dying the next instant, was itself a miracle.
A world where one could grow stronger, a world full of strife and miracles, a livelier and more interesting world, a world of unknowns awaiting exploration... he did not particularly care.
If some people believed that "meaninglessness" was the essence of all things in this world, then "whatever" was An Jing's attitude.
Provided that...
"Don't go stirring things up... Heavenly Dao."
At that moment, An Jing