"What is a death warrior?"
At the Wild Goose Letter Tea House in Linzi City, a group of people were engaged in lofty conversation, with one man's voice especially loud.
Places like tea houses and taverns had always been full of idle talkers. From ancient times to the present, matters great and small—from the realm's warring states to household trifles—were all fair game for discussion.
The culture of verbal disputation was not yet all that prevalent in Qi State.
Over in the Song Kingdom, that was where things truly got lively. In any city, at any hour, one might chance upon a debate, with lips as spears and tongues as swords, the participants enjoying themselves immensely. No one knew how many had been cursed to death alive. Of course, that too was an offshoot of a path of cultivation.
In present-day Linzi, the man who had made the greatest name for himself through cursing was naturally the famed Confucian scholar Er Fengming.
This man possessed an excellent tongue and could write a fine piece of prose besides. Because he was wildly unrestrained by nature, he often made shocking pronouncements. Many in court and among the common folk despised him, but he had no shortage of supporters as well.
At this moment, seated at the head of a large tea table and surrounded by scholars, he was plainly the opinion leader and the center of the crowd's attention.
He was handsome, and both his clothes and ornaments displayed impeccable taste. His voice rose and fell with great force, easily stirring the emotions of his listeners. "The meaning of a death warrior's existence is to die for their master!"
"To die righteously in a burst of passion may earn one the name of hero. To die unknown is true loyal integrity!"
"Crawling