At the very least, there was nourishment in it. Otherwise, why would it be called chicken soup?
Why wasn't it called arsenic soup?
All chicken soup for the soul came from the experience of those who had gone before. Some of it even contradicted and opposed other advice when put together, but it depended on how you looked at it and understood it through different situations.
When you said impatiently, "It's just another bowl of chicken soup," and rejected such things, you naturally couldn't absorb the nourishment in that soup.
That was an inevitable result.
Zuo Xiaoduo had always thought carefully about his father's words and followed them.
That was probably also what had given him his way of doing things: like the sea embracing a hundred rivers.
If it makes sense, I'll accept it, no matter how tiresome it is.
Zuo Xiaoduo wasn't at all annoyed by the Sun Venerable's repeated lectures whenever an opening presented itself. On the contrary, he was grateful.
These were all lessons in preserving one's life and surviving on the battlefields of the Jianghu.
Although, if you took them into a peaceful big city and told people about them, far too many would still tilt their heads disdainfully. "Fuck, another bowl of chicken soup."
The Wu Lineage's people had been waiting for an opportunity all along, as well as further orders from their lineage.
But when they saw Zuo Xiaoduo being surrounded and attacked, they didn't know what to do, how to handle it, or how to face it.
Step forward to help?
Or throw stones down the well?
Without further orders, their only choice was to hold their positions.
They had also seen the Gao Lineage's people charge in and reported the news back to their lineage, but the main house remained