How can one cultivate immortality without learning modern knowledge?

Zhou Wenju slept so soundly that he completely cleared his mind.

I woke up with an incredibly clear mind.

The sunlight streaming through the window brings a unique dynamism to the scene.

He got up, went to the window, and paused for a moment.

Beneath my feet, there was no longer the churning waters of the Qingpan River, but rather a vast expanse of clouds.

Their ship flew swiftly above the clouds.

These magical artifacts are capable of anything, from the heavens to the water...

After a sigh, he turned his gaze downwards. The celestial-sized spaceship was preparing to land; they had arrived at their destination! What kind of scene would it be?

Silently, the spaceship pierced through the clouds.

A magnificent scene unfolds before my eyes.

A huge lake nestled among the mountains.

The mountains are towering high, and the pavilions and towers are endless.

Its design is extremely bizarre.

Heavy snow fell on the mountaintop, truly making it a fairyland.

Drifting into the great lake, it also carries a sense of grandeur.

This is the headquarters of the Mo family, Moqing Lake, and Moxin Peak.

As the poem testifies: The vast Qinghu Peak has nineteen peaks; amidst the chaos of war, the Mohists are questioned.

The Mohist school advocated non-aggression and believed in the principles of weaponry to determine the fate of the world.

what for?

Its fundamental principle is non-aggression.

Its strength lies in its mastery of tools.

Therefore, whenever a country faced invasion by an enemy state or was in danger of losing its life, it would often turn to the Mohists for help.

If the Mohists agree to their demands, they will send disciples down the mountain.

As long as the Mohist disciples stand atop the city wall, even a massive enemy army will have to halt.

This is because it implies that the Mohists are intervening in the "stopping war and non-aggression" movement.

If you insist on attacking, then try to see just how sturdy the defensive fortifications built by the Mohists are, how unpredictable their weaponry is, and how earth-shattering their array formations are...

Amidst the chaos and turmoil of war, the Mohists refrained from aggression and occupation, upholding the fundamental principles of literature and morality, prioritizing benevolence and non-aggression. Such "peacemakers" were still respected.

More importantly, this peacemaker is definitely not just all talk.

They really dare to step up when something happens!

Its consistent standard of conduct is: if you are told to stop the war, then stop the war; if you do not want to stop the war, then the Mohists will make you powerless to fight!

The cabin door opened.

Rou'er stood by the door: "Young Master Zhou, please come with me to the Mo Xin Villa to rest."

As soon as the voice fell, a graceful figure rose up, disappeared into the void, and headed straight for the highest mountain peak.

"Where is Miss going?" Zhou Wenju looked up at her.

"Miss went to the Grand Elder to obtain an identity token for Young Master." Rou'er smiled gently. "After having a cup of tea at the villa, Young Master will be a formal member of the Mohist school, and will also be granted the titles of Literary Altar and Literary Mountain. Perhaps he will become a great Confucian scholar in the future."

This sentence is easy and comfortable.

At least Rou'er is optimistic.

Miss is not only the pride of the Ink Chamber, she is also the legitimate daughter of the Holy Lord.

With her favor, how could one not succeed in writing?

I cannot guarantee the value of literary talent, but I can absolutely guarantee the quality of a literary world and a literary mountain.

If he obtains the Wenshan title, it's equivalent to directly becoming a Juren (a successful candidate in the imperial examinations) on the path of worldly success.

On the way to the imperial examination, ten years of hard study may not yield a single result, but he has followed the right person. The Wenshan, which can only be obtained by a Juren, is within his grasp. Will the young master Zhou in front of him be so excited that he will compose a poem?

However, amid Rou'er's eager anticipation, Zhou Wenju remained unusually calm, offering only a slight smile without replying.

The spaceship descended from the void and slowly shrank.

Below, an exceptionally elegant courtyard appeared at the feet of Zhou Wenju and Rou'er.

As their feet landed in the courtyard, the spaceship completely disappeared, transforming into a cyan ruler. The ruler soared into the air and, just as the purple-clad figure crashed into the tallest building, disappeared into the tip of her hair, transforming into a cyan jade hairpin.

"Young master, please!" Rou'er bowed slightly.

This is in the north, and although it's only the beginning of winter, the wind is biting and the snow is falling heavily.

However, the corridor was warm as springtime, a testament to the power of the Mo family's array formations, which could alter the seasons with a single formation.

A room door opened, and two maids bowed simultaneously: "Welcome, distinguished guests!"

The voice is absolutely elegant.

At the summit of Moxin Peak stands a green wooden building.

The two characters "Mo Tang" are engraved on the Qingmu Building.

These two characters, once gazed upon, are like the surging waves of the ocean, full of dynamism, exuding endless scholarly fragrance and sacred wisdom.

The woman in dark purple strode away.

As she passed beneath the Ink Hall, a drop of ink appeared out of thin air beneath her feet, transforming into a cloud, and she rose up stepping on it.

Numerous disciples stood on both sides, some carrying books, others holding rulers of various colors, all bowing respectfully.

The woman in dark purple robes walked through the Nine-Story Tower and went straight to the top floor.

The top floor is a pavilion, seemingly high in the clouds, where four white-haired elders stand facing each other, looking down at the floor below.

From this angle, the entire sacred land of the Mohist school, stretching for thousands of miles, can be seen at a glance.

These four are the current leaders of the Mo family, the four elders of the Mo Hall—the First Elder, the Second Elder, the Third Elder, and the Fourth Elder.

The man in purple ascended the tower, and the four elders turned around simultaneously.

A smile appeared on their faces.

The man in purple bowed and said, "Disciple Ziyi greets the four elders."

"Purple Robe's study tour lasted three months. When she left the mountain, she was at the peak of her literary talent, and upon her return, signs of her literary achievements have already emerged. This is truly a cause for celebration!" the Second Elder said with a smile.

The Third Elder laughed and said, "If you break through to the Wen Guo level within five years, you will have created a once-in-a-lifetime spectacle of someone reaching the Wen Guo level at the age of twenty, and you should be able to become one of the ten prodigies of the Wen Dao Sacred Family."

The Fourth Elder said, "Now that you have returned, Ziyi should enter the Mo Xin Ancestral Pavilion, devote herself to the Mo Dao, consolidate the results of her studies, and strive to truly achieve this goal."

The man in purple bowed again: "During this study trip, I brought back a person who is truly a prodigy. If he can join my Mo family and receive our wholehearted cultivation, why should we worry that no one in the Mo family's later generations will be able to make a name for themselves among the eighteen holy families? This is the true reason why I request an audience with you elders."

This statement, in theory, would excite the four elders of the Ink Hall.

After all, the eighteen literary and Taoist holy families are all competing with each other, and they always hope that one of their younger generations can surpass the other holy families.

The phrase "a prodigy" coming from the mouth of a genius like Ziyi clearly indicates that he is a true prodigy, which would obviously please the elders.

However, the expressions on the faces of the four elders were all rather strange.

Purple Robe's heart sank slightly...

The Fourth Elder spoke up: "The person you're referring to, could it be Zhou Wenju, the influential figure you just took from Mount Huding?"

The woman in purple slowly raised her head, her brows furrowing slightly: "Does the elder know about this?"

"The moment you left the mountain, the Seventeenth Elder relayed everything about this boy back to the Ink Hall. What you know, the four of us already know; what you don't know, the four of us also know!" the Fourth Elder said.

"What does Elder mean by 'I don't know'?" asked the woman in purple.

The Fourth Elder sighed softly: "This boy is in cahoots with that one at the bottom of the Abandoned Weapon Cliff, they're working together to wreak havoc on the Dao with their weapons. Purple Robe, are you really blind to this, or are you simply blinded by his so-called poetic talent?"

Zi Yi's heart sank: "Do all four elders think he's 'using weapons to disrupt the Dao'?"

The Third Elder sighed, "Purple Robe, I, with my discerning eye, can tell you that you yourself believe the same thing, but you are simply unwilling to admit it."

The man in purple took a deep breath: "The four elders need to consider this. Even if everything turns out exactly as the four elders have decided, from his position, facing such a certain death situation, what choice should he make?"

"How he chooses is his business, and he should bear the consequences of his choice." The Second Elder spoke up: "Our Mohist school is renowned throughout the world for its weapons and wins people's hearts with its literary and moral principles. We would never allow such a vicious person to enter our Mohist school and tarnish our reputation."

Purple Robe's anger flared: "Anyone facing certain death who resists is a vicious wretch, and associating with him tarnishes the reputation of the Mohist school! And what about the Third Prince of Rulan? This man bullies men and women, wreaking havoc in the region. Not only did Mount Huding associate with him, but they also created conditions to send my Holy Family's outer sect female disciples to him, and even had my Mohist outer sect fiancé brutally humiliated. What does that say? Doesn't it tarnish the reputation of the Mohist school?"

"Insolence!" The Grand Elder's face darkened, and he finally spoke.

His first words were: Insolence!

The woman in purple was truly enraged, her eyes fixed firmly on the Grand Elder: "Grand Elder, I know this is your intention. You still can't let go of the old grudge from thirty years ago, and you've lost your mind upon hearing of Lao Can. But I must tell you, as the head of the Mohist school, you cannot be so narrow-minded! If you don't follow the sacred path but only your own likes and dislikes, who will be convinced by the Mohist way?"

"Get out!" The elder waved his sleeves.

The ink flowed with light.

The woman in purple leaped into the air, leaving the top floor pavilion. However, she did not fall. With a swift movement, the Ink Heart Measuring Ruler transformed into a shuttle, and she rode it upwards: "This young lady will now discuss with my father the way of governing the Holy Family—whether Holy Principles take precedence or the Ink Hall's!"

Snowflakes were falling heavily in the sky, and she flew straight to the place where the snowstorm was at its worst.

With a soft hum, the wind and snow swept away, revealing a black inkstone suspended high in the sky.

This is where the Holy Lord secluded himself.

The sky is invisible.

The earth is invisible.

Amidst the swirling snow, only this pavilion, constructed from an inkstone, stands out.

This pavilion is called the Inkstone Pavilion.

Yange, the place where the Sage of Ink attained enlightenment in the past, is imbued with the secrets of the sacred way.

Anyone who enters the cabinet immediately becomes calm and composed.

Therefore, it is the best place for seclusion.

The door to the inkstone pavilion was tightly shut.

Outside the inkstone pavilion, beside the ink pool, in front of a young man, countless bronze vertical bars formed a five-element array. When the whirlwind stirred up by the purple robe arrived, the bronze bars shone erratically.

From within the ranks, a young man looked up: "Fourth Sister, you have ruined my plans for ten days!"

This person is Mo Wushuang, the holy son of the Mohist school.

He has already reached the realm of literary perfection, and is proficient in the art of divination. He has been in seclusion here with his father for three years.