After that group had gone far away, Zhang Xiaohua did not withdraw his divine sense. He merely followed them from afar, wanting to see what they were really planning to do.
"Yeah, I was minding my own business, not provoking anyone, yet you actually dared to glare at me so viciously. Did you think that just because the sight of me displeased you, you could chop me off my mount? Honestly, I only wanted to go home. Why was it so hard? If I wasn't being robbed, I was being harassed, and now you lot even dared to glare at me!"
"Was this the jianghu? A place where someone would draw a blade over a mere dislike? A place where people killed and plundered for certain benefits? A place filled with blood everywhere, where only one's fists could preserve oneself?"
A string of soul-searching questions left Zhang Xiaohua's eyes full of confusion. Was this really the jianghu he had painstakingly sought after ever since leaving Guo Village?
Yet this was only natural. Hadn't the ancients said it well: "Those within the city want to leave, while those outside want to enter." The people within and without the city would forever envy one another, desperately wishing to live the other's life. A life one had never experienced was always filled with novelty and temptation. Yet after exhausting every scheme and finally attaining that life, one would discover that its taste was far from what one had imagined, and the price paid was far beyond what one could bear.
Thinking over his years since stepping into the jianghu, he had encountered no small amount of conspiracy, darkness, and slaughter: Ou Yan's attack, the destruction of the Misty Sect, the atrocities at West Cui Mountain, the Righteous Path Alliance's murder to silence witnesses.