If the heart of the Dao is broken, then the cultivator has no Dao to practice, no law to follow. A lifetime of cultivation, and in an instant, the Dao is extinguished. This is the tragedy of those who follow the Dao and the law. This is also why many people are unwilling to practice the law and would rather step into the ranks of the Martial Dao. Among the Martial Daoists, there's no such worry.
Before them now was a living example.
From nearby, a voice carried over leisurely.
"In every flower a world, in every leaf a Bodhi, the eternal and the ephemeral, leaves wither and flourish." A middle-aged monk in a robe emerged slowly from the hidden thicket, bearing a trace of resignation as he left, muttering as he walked, "To live is like the verdant green of leaves, to die is like the withering of leaves, fallen leaves become the spring's mud, nourishing the burst of new flowers."
"The abbot of Shaolin?" Chen Zongyuan exclaimed, looking at the figure's back.
