Luo Qing had never imagined that, barely back with his clan, before he could even take a sip of hot tea, he would encounter such a thorny problem.
Then Luo Ling brought him the hot tea.
Luo Qing held the teacup, rubbing it thoughtfully. He had always thought one saying from the School of Medicine put it well.
What could be cured was called illness; what could not was called fate!
This applied not only to the human body, but equally to a dynasty. What could be corrected was a source of disease; what could not was the dynasty's allotted fate.
Everyone in the Luo Clan knew that the Mandate of Heaven existed in this world. Nothing in existence could escape its bonds.
But the Old Ancestor had also said that, so long as human strength was great enough, it could overcome the Mandate of Heaven.
The thousand years of the Zhou State, for instance, were a classic example of defying Heaven.
Then there were the Xiongnu, who had originally possessed the Mandate of Heaven. In actual history, the Xiongnu had outlived Han, and even as late as the Jin Dynasty, they could still march south and sweep Jin away, driving the bearers of robes and caps south across the river.
Yet the final outcome had been this: after decades of continuous accumulation, countless generations of outstanding figures blessed with exceptional fortune had kept adding weights to the scales, with the Luo Clan in particular committing much of its accumulated resources. Finally, Luo Wuji, who likewise bore the Mandate of Heaven, had broken through with a single blow, and then Liu Xun, an emperor born in response to the times, had brought the Xiongnu to their end.
How many years of the Mandate of Heaven had Heaven bestowed upon the