The world has yet to be unified, the people still lack peace, and yet they start singing praises, creating palaces and seals—what is this called?
Partial peace! Partial peace!
The Nine-colored Divine Deer remained silent, her heart surging with emotion. She had originally thought that occupying such vast land in the Western Regions was already a remarkable feat of heroism, but the ambition of the young general before her was even greater than she imagined just by him opening his mouth.
Moreover, he spoke with utmost seriousness.
As if he were talking about snow in winter or severe heat in summer, as self-evident as could be.
Precisely because it was self-evident, it was even more compelling.
The Nine-colored Divine Deer couldn't help but sigh. What experiences, what customs, turned the notion of Unification of the World—a concept that would stir anyone's heart—into a habitual standard?
