But attack was different. Attack could exist independently of the two; there could be attack without defense, but without attack, there could be no defense.
Their relationship was like light and shadow. Without shadow, light could still exist, but if light did not exist, neither would shadow. So although attack and defense seemed like opposing concepts, seemingly able to cancel each other out like positive and negative matter, they actually belonged to the same rule of the universe.
"In other words, the principle of defense is actually a further extension built upon the principle of attack. As long as one is understood, the other can inevitably be understood as well."
That was right.
To understand the principle of defense, one had to begin with the principle of attack. But what was attack?
Ming's question was not difficult to answer. Put plainly, it was "hitting people." Throwing rocks at people was hitting people, and throwing missiles at people was also hitting people. The only difference was their power.
"Attack is a biological behavior. It is no different from walking on land, flying through the sky, or swimming in water."
Only living things could attack. It was a privilege exclusive to living things; nonliving things did not possess the ability to attack. Even if the Sun of the Solar System suddenly went supernova and wiped out all humanity, that would be a natural "disaster," not an "attack."
Exactly. Attack is a kind of behavior—more precisely, a process. From primitive organisms on the surface throwing rocks at one another to large-scale wars between cosmic civilizations, none can escape this framework.
And that framework is what we call the "principle of attack."
Attack was an action, and it possessed regularity. Once that regularity was summarized, it became the principle of attack.
"Can you be