How can one cultivate immortality without learning modern knowledge?

The boat sails on the Qingpan River.

Dusk enveloped the surroundings.

A seven-colored silk thread connects to the Heavenly Dao Sea; Zhou Wenju's fingers are like fishing rods, and his eyes shine like stars.

A slight tremor ran through the sea of ​​Dao, and a silver fish returned casually.

It silently seeped into his brow.

The wind and rain were tinged with silver, and the rushing water beneath our feet seemed to transform into an ink wash painting, while the small boat beneath us resembled a dreamlike vessel.

"What a beautiful poem, 'A storm rages as the wind and rain descend on the west tower!' What a wonderful poem about breaking free from shackles!" Mo Ziyi gently raised her hand, took the wine pot from the maid, and poured him a cup of wine herself: "It seems that you, young master, have truly overcome the sorrow of that day. This cup of wine is to congratulate you!"

"Thank you!" Zhou Wenju raised his glass.

He felt immense joy.

Because of this fishing trip, he truly felt the joy of being filled with literary talent.

On his first fishing trip, he caught a Wengen.

On his second fishing trip, he caught a silverfish.

What is a Wendao silverfish?

It is not a physical fish, but rather a condensation of the spiritual energy within the laws of Heaven.

For ordinary writers who want to enhance their literary talent, there are only two ways: to read constantly and to create continuously. They need to feel the spirit of the ancients in their masterpieces and let the literary talent gradually permeate their being through the friction of their pen on paper. The process is long and even unpredictable, and the amount of literary talent they can gain is only a small amount.

And he, with a single poem, received a compressed literary force that almost solidified into a tangible mass.

What use is literary talent?

Making one's hearing and eyesight sharp and one's mind sharp is only one aspect.

More importantly, it will enhance the combat power of those who cultivate literature.

The combat power of literary cultivation is not manifested at all in the literary root stage, but it can be applied in the literary world stage. For example, writing the character "fire" can start a fire, and writing the character "water" can wet clothes. The later the stage, the more incredible it becomes.

Although the road ahead is long, he has found the direction to move forward.

That is, copy, copy, copy, and make the writing style flow like a breeze...

"Rou'er, go prepare some wine and dishes. Young Master has been working hard for days and deserves a proper meal," said Zi Yi.

Rou'er left the cabin and went to some other room, not knowing how to make dinner, but the aroma of food wafted through the night.

With a flick of her finger, the woman in dark purple light lit up a small lamp.

A river breeze blows, and the lamplight flickers. It looks no different from any other lamp, but it is unique because its lamp holder is shaped like a curved ruler.

Its lamp oil was as black as ink.

As soon as the lamp was lit, the cabin was filled with the rich scent of ink.

Zhou Wenju was secretly amazed.

All of this is the work of the Heavenly Ruler, including the boat beneath our feet, the stove for cooking, and this lamp.

The Measuring Ruler of Heaven, a sacred treasure of the Ink Saint, is a low-end version of the Measuring Ruler of Heaven created by the direct descendants of the Ink House based on the sacred treasure of the saint. Surprisingly, it also possesses such great literary power.

Mo Ziyi leaned forward slightly: "Young Master Zhou, would you be willing to join my Mo family?"

As she said this, the light in her eyes was genuine.

Zhou Wenju raised his eyes, hesitated slightly, and of course he knew the meaning behind those words.

This sounds similar to the initial invitation, but in reality, they are quite different.

At first, she asked him to leave Huding Mountain with her, just to escape danger.

Now, however, by following her into the Mo family, he is being invited to join.

Inviting him to join the Mohist school was undoubtedly the greatest expectation in Zhou Wenju's long and miserable life, and it could even be said that it was the common expectation of all the outer disciples of Huding Mountain.

Being an outer disciple, who wouldn't want to gain the favor of the master and break through to the inner circle to become a formal member of the Mohist school?

But at this moment, he hesitated.

Mo Ziyi sighed softly, "Young master, with such talent in poetry, your future is limitless. If you do not wish to join my Mo family, it is understandable..."

Zhou Wenju gently shook his head: "Miss, please don't misunderstand. It's not that I'm unwilling, it's just..."

"Just what?" Mo Ziyi's eyes lit up.

"I'm just worried that this might cause the young lady a lot of trouble."

Mo Ziyi smiled, her smile as warm as spring sunshine filling the room: "You were originally a disciple of Huding Mountain, and also an outer disciple of the Mo family. Your entry into the inner circle was perfectly legitimate. If anyone interferes, then this humble woman will have to ask them if they have ulterior motives!"

"..." Zhou Wenju picked up the wine pot and poured a cup for each of them: "This humble one would like to offer another cup to the young lady."

As soon as the cabin door opened, Rou'er carried the dishes into the cabin.

The rice, though ordinary rice, has a delicate fragrance in every grain.

The vegetables, though ordinary field vegetables, have a fresh and unique flavor.

Zhou Wenju ate three large bowls of rice and finished off all the side dishes in front of him.

As night deepened, he was led by Rou'er to the next room and went to sleep.

The boat sailed on the Qingpan River, gradually disappearing into the night.

Zhou Wenju's mind went blank, and he drifted off to sleep...

In the next room, the light dimmed, quietly forming an arc.

The sound of the river waves outside the arc suddenly disappeared completely.

This is the soundproofing technology of Wendao.

"Miss, do you mean... he has already agreed to join the family?" Rou'er asked, resting her chin on her hand under the lamplight.

"At least there was no objection!" Purple-clad woman smiled gently.

"Miss, did you ask him if he orchestrated what happened today?" Rou'er asked, her eyes filled with suspicion.

The woman in purple glanced at her but didn't say anything.

Rou'er said, "I originally thought it had nothing to do with him, but Miss reminded me, and the more I think about it, the more I feel that he did it. After all, after such a farce, one of the two people he hates the most is dead and the other is injured. If it has nothing to do with him, it would be too much of a coincidence... My mother told me that there are not that many coincidences in the world, and behind every coincidence there is always an unseen hand..."

Zi Yi retorted irritably, "If your mother were truly that clever, why was she repeatedly betrayed and hurt by your father, manipulated and unable to escape his clutches?"

"I asked my mother about this too, and she said four words..."

"Oh? Four words? Which four?" The woman in purple was a little curious. "A moment of confusion? A moment of carelessness? Or... being blinded by greed?"

Rou'er said, "No, that's not it. My mother said four words: 'I'm willing!'"

Oh my God!

The woman in purple rubbed her forehead and said, "I just don't understand. Your mother was a great Confucian scholar of the Mohist school, how could she be so infatuated with an official?"

"My father could write poetry, and he could play the zither. My mother said... she still hasn't forgotten the day she rowed her small boat across the spring river, and the way my father played the zither in the lakeside pavilion. It was the most moving scene she had ever seen in her life. Every time my father wronged my mother, she wanted to beat him to death, but when she thought of this scene, her heart softened, and her body went limp. That's how she gave birth to my brother, then my sister, and later me..."

Pooh!

anthomaniac!

Purple Robe inwardly cursed.

Rou'er said, "Miss, you haven't answered my question yet. Was it him or not?"

"Stop! I'll only answer this question once, and you're only allowed to ask it this last time!" said the woman in purple.

Rou'er blinked: "Then answer me..."

The man in purple stared into her eyes and slowly said, "This matter has nothing to do with him. He was merely carrying out the mountain lord's orders. As the sage said, 'The orders of the superior are the responsibility of the superior,' just six words! As for how many coincidences happened later, they were all... just coincidences!"

Rou'er nodded gently: "I understand. Young Master Zhou is just a pitiful dog owner... oh, no, a lovelorn man! He does everything according to the Mountain Lord's arrangements, fully demonstrating his duty as a disciple. He absolutely doesn't act on his own initiative, and he absolutely doesn't overthink things. As for what happened later, how would he know? He's not a god..."

"Hmm, not bad, you can have this chicken leg..." Zi Yi gently patted her head and magically produced a chicken leg from somewhere.

Rou'er was thoroughly enjoying her chicken leg, her eyes narrowed: "Miss, it would be nice if we could slowly swim back to Moqing Lake by water. Perhaps we could even get him to write a few poems along the way."

Zi Yi gently shook her head: "You little girl have quite the leisure, but the news from yesterday has already reached the Rulan Prince's Mansion. They certainly won't let this go easily. Given my status, it's not appropriate for me to have too much entanglement with the power of the secular dynasty. As for him, without the protection of being a formal disciple of the Mo family, the danger is still there. Therefore, for now... let's return quickly! Let him obtain his formal Mo family identity first."

As soon as the voice fell, the small boat beneath their feet suddenly lifted up.

Silently, it rose from the river and soared into the night sky.

With increased speed, we headed north, traversing countless mountains and rivers in a matter of moments...