How can one cultivate immortality without learning modern knowledge?

Chapter 136 The Heart of the Saintess: "Traces of Fallen Flowers"

According to the established rules, the Great Yan Kingdom should have had the upper hand, but the Great Yu Kingdom managed to break the deadlock at the last minute.

In the realm of painting, the victory of the Great Yan Kingdom should have been a foregone conclusion, but Wu Tianliang, from a family of painters, staged a dramatic comeback.

In the realm of poetry, such a meticulously planned, theoretically foolproof victory has once again slipped away.

With one loss in these three games, the score is now 3-3!

Li Ruoxu felt an unprecedented sense of unease about victory or defeat, a feeling that was now far more intense than ever before, because he suddenly realized that no matter what the plans and arrangements were, nothing seemed to be foolproof.

The strength and resilience of the Great Yu Kingdom far exceeded his expectations.

Could it be that we might actually lose the Aoyama Bungai?

Before His Majesty set out on the expedition, he gave them the order to "achieve a complete victory," to conquer the universe with overwhelming force, and at the same time conquer the Eldar chieftain and the most stubborn "Southern Faction."

It's fair to say that any mishap would tarnish his entire trip.

If we lose the whole game —

How could he imagine it? How dare he imagine it?

With a soft crack, a sound echoed in the sky.

Li Ruoxu's eyes snapped open—

Above the sky, a streak of seven-colored light shot up, and the twenty-eight characters from Zhou Wenju's famous poem formed a line, like a sharp arrow piercing the clouds and shooting straight into the sky. Above the sky, a portal opened.

A wondrous sea of ​​Tao appears.

"Open the way to the sea!" A cry of surprise rang out from the high platform.

"Seven-colored battle poems pave the way across the sea!" The Spirit Race roared in response.

Clouds and mist floated in the valley.

On the mountain peak, thousands of flowers sway in the breeze.

The Spirit Race, in this way, welcomed the opening of the "Sea of ​​Dao," a phenomenon rarely seen in the history of literature and Taoism.

The vast majority of them had never seen such a spectacle before.

Seeing the elegance of human scholars in person, how could one not be captivated?

Inside the wooden house, the girl in purple, her face flushed, exclaimed, "Holy Maiden, it's a tie at three to three!"

"Are you excited?" The saint slowly opened her closed eyes.

Yes, her eyes closed the moment Zhou Wenju unleashed his Seven-Colored Battle Poem.

The girl in purple stared at the flower-shaped mark on the saintess's forehead, as if carved by a sharp blade, and gently exhaled: "Saintess, is it true that no matter how stunning he is, he can't blur your fallen flower mark?"

To most people, the "Fallen Flower Mark" on the saintess's forehead is simply a bright color.

However, the girl was different; she knew very well that this was actually a reflection of the saintess's inner self.

The marks on his skin were like knife marks, but his heart was as hard as iron!

"In the face of the prevailing trends of the times, his brilliance is ultimately meaningless!" the saintess said.

"The Holy Maiden mentioned the general trend of the times, but how do you know which side the trend is on? After all, it's a three-to-three tie now!"

""

"The score is currently three to three, but the overall trend still favors Great Yan!" The saintess's eyes flashed, and the "fallen flower mark" on her forehead became even clearer.

The girl in purple's expression changed: "You once said that you would only observe the literary gathering and would not interfere!"

The saintess slowly raised her gaze and looked out the window: "Xiaoxiao, look at the flowers on that tree outside!"

"What's wrong?" asked the girl named Xiaoxiao, puzzled.

"These flowers bloom so beautifully and so full of spirit, what do you think is the reason?"

'

"Because I fertilize it every day!"

"Is the fertilizer you used dirty?"

"How could the excrement of a spirit beast not be dirty—" Xiaoxiao's heart skipped a beat, and she turned her gaze to the Holy Maiden: "What does the Holy Maiden mean?"

The saintess met her eyes: "For the sake of the Spirit Clan's Flower, some things may be a bit dirty, but they must still be used!"

Xiaoxiao's whole body trembled violently.

She truly understood what the saint meant.

Some things may be a bit dirty, but we still have to use them!

The final game!

They've got the skills!

Moreover, it was a method that even the Holy Maiden herself admitted was very dirty.

However, she also made it clear that while the methods were dirty, her own actions were not! It was all for the sake of making the Spirit Clan's flower bloom even more beautifully! For the sake of the Spirit Clan!

In the final round, dirty tricks must be used.

It was because the saintess acted with caution and meticulousness.

She arranged for people to investigate all the attendees from Daewoo Kingdom.

They paid special attention to this musical genius named Cui Wusheng.

She could not possibly underestimate Cui Wusheng.

Her premature judgment that "Great Yan Kingdom will win" can only have one reason: the plan against Cui Wusheng has already begun.

What kind of plan could it be?

Just how dirty is it?

she does not know.

However, her heart was filled with sorrow.

The refined and elegant literary arts, the ethereal and spiritual spirits of the Spirit Clan, are nothing but superficial glamour. No wonder her mother made such a terrible mistake back then. After learning about these sordid things, Ye Xiaoxiao also wanted to make the same mistake!

However, she couldn't!

Because she also bore the mission of rescuing her mother, she had to serve as the saintess's maid for three full years.

She can argue with the Holy Maiden, and she doesn't have to act like a maid, but she can't ruin the Holy Maiden's affairs, and of course, she can't ruin the Spirit Clan's important matters.

Zhou Wenju on the high platform.

The seven-colored poem transformed into a fishing hook, extending into the depths of the Dao Sea. A huge silver fish of literary energy took the bait, followed the line back, and disappeared into his brow.

The silver fish burst forth atop Wenshan.

The literary atmosphere, almost liquid, permeates the literary landscape.

His writings were as if they had been re-iron-cast, truly profound and unparalleled.

Zhou Wenju slowly opened his eyes, and the first thing he saw was Zhuang Wenhua's gaze.

That look in his eyes was so gratified.

He stepped down.

Everyone in the Daewoo team stood up to greet them.

"Master Zhou, you've worked hard!" Zhuang Wenhua bowed slightly.

"Of course!" Zhou Wenju turned his gaze to Cui Wusheng.

Cui Wusheng looked at him, his eyes still seeming somewhat confused.

Was it because he wrote a seven-colored battle poem that his partner couldn't accept for a while?

On the high platform, the Second Elder said, "The Green Mountain Literary Gathering has now concluded with six rounds. The grandmasters from both countries have truly demonstrated what it means to be elegant and refined in literature, greatly broadening the horizons of the Spirit Clan! Now, let's enjoy the final round!"

A soft "hum" sounded.

It starts on the left!

Accompanied by the sound of the strings, a blue ancient zither floated up to the high platform like a cloud.

On the guqin, a scholar in white robes floated in the air like an immortal.

This is He Shuchao, the master of music and art in the Great Yan Kingdom.

"Brother Cui!" Zhou Wenju chuckled softly, sending a whispered message to Cui Wusheng: "The final round is up to you!"

Cui Wusheng looked at Zhou Wenju with a bewildered expression, but there was no response.

Zhou Wenju was slightly startled. This guy loved using the literary transmission method the most, and he would talk to Zhou Wenju non-stop almost every round. Why wasn't he saying anything now?

His gaze fell upon it, and his heart stirred even more.

Cui Wusheng's eyes lacked their usual liveliness, instead displaying a rare look of confusion.

"Brother Zhou, I—I feel something's wrong. I suddenly can't remember what I'm supposed to do—" He finally transmitted his voice, but the tone was completely different from his usual relaxed and carefree manner; it seemed exceptionally difficult.

Zhou Wenju's heart skipped a beat: "You're going to play 'Qing Yu An'!"

"The Green Jade Table" — The Green Jade Table — My mind is in turmoil. I seem to remember it, yet I seem to have forgotten it —

Zhou Wenju suddenly raised his hand and pointed a finger at Cui Wusheng's forehead.

At this point, his mind exploded like a super bomb deep within his consciousness.

Within Cui Wusheng's sea of ​​consciousness, there was an unusual aura!

This aura might be imperceptible to ordinary people, but to Zhou Wenju, it was like a thunderclap.

Because he had sensed this energy before.

It was that aura that had quietly invaded his consciousness under that strange tree of the Spirit Clan that day, causing him to break out in a cold sweat.

That split-second struggle for consciousness was etched into his memory.

Now, in the final, crucial match, as Cui Wusheng was about to step onto the stage, this aura appeared in his mind—

How can he play in this condition?

If forced to perform, he probably wouldn't even be able to finish a simple piece.

How can we compete with the top masters of the Great Yan Kingdom?

"Master Cui, it's your turn!" Zhuang Wenhua's voice came from beside him.

Cui Wusheng, carrying his zither, walked aimlessly.

As he walked away.

Inside the wooden house, the saintess's smile grew ever brighter.

All the plans were finalized the moment Cui Wusheng stepped onto the stage!

However, the moment Cui Wusheng stepped onto the steps—

A butterfly fluttered down and landed on his head.

Then, Cui Wusheng fell backward!

With a flash of light, Zhuang Wenhua appeared behind him and caught Cui Wusheng.

Cui Wusheng closed his eyes and fell into a coma!

With a sudden roar, the entire audience was shocked.

This includes the Grandmasters from the Great Yan Kingdom, the Grandmasters from the Great Yu Kingdom, and millions of onlookers from the Spirit Clan.

Everyone was stunned.

The final contest of literary and moral skills was about to unfold before them.

One of the contestants collapsed off the stage during the final round.

"What happened?"

"I don't know. Has the literary and moral competition already started?"

"No, it clearly hasn't even started yet."

"We don't understand literature and the Way of Literature. Perhaps the true masters of literature and the Way of Literature are capable of killing without leaving a trace—"

Immediately, there was much discussion.

Zhou Wenju stared intently at Cui Wusheng in Zhuang Wenhua's arms, his eyes unblinking.

On his literary mountain, butterflies fluttered and flew, entering the Bodhi tree.

Of everyone present, only he knew that Cui Wusheng had been poisoned.

But he couldn't say it.

Because this means breaking ties with the Spirit Clan on the spot. Breaking ties with anyone else is fine, but with the Spirit Clan, at this special juncture where the Spirit Clan is choosing between "southward" or "northward," breaking ties with the Spirit Clan is tantamount to personally closing the door to the Spirit Clan's "southward" direction.

However, he couldn't pretend to be deaf and dumb. If he let Cui Wusheng go on stage like this, how could he compete with others in his condition?

It will only ruin Cui Wusheng's reputation for music and also cause him to lose the Qingshan Literary Society of the Great Yu Kingdom.

He only had one choice.

Release the little butterfly to detoxify him.

Ideally, Cui Wusheng would be detoxified and able to face the challenge in a normal state.

However, the moment Zhou Wenju's gaze fell upon Cui Wusheng's face, he knew that this ideal was doomed to fail.

He himself had experienced the horror of this poison firsthand.

He knew that after the poison was neutralized, he would be in a daze for a long time.

This still applies to him.

Although his literary rank was one level lower than Cui Wusheng's, his literary talent was unparalleled throughout history! His perseverance in his literary roots, literary circles, and literary achievements was unmatched in the world.

In terms of anti-poisoning and detoxification abilities alone, he is far superior to Cui Wusheng.

He remained in a daze for a long time after being detoxified, and Cui Wusheng wouldn't recover anytime soon.

Holding Cui Wusheng, Zhuang Wenhua slowly raised his head: "Our Master Cui has encountered some issues and it seems he cannot compete today. Elders, why don't we suspend the literary gathering and continue it after Master Cui wakes up?"

This request is reasonable.

The three elders on the high platform looked at each other, speechless for a moment.

But Li Ruoxu on the left spoke up: "If your country's Grandmaster Cui knows he is no match, there is no need for such pretense. He can simply admit defeat."

Zhuang Wenhua's face darkened.

The Daoist master Liang Chaofan, who was about to attack Li Ruoxu, said calmly, "Although I knew that the Southern Dynasty was timid and weak, I never thought it would come to this. They actually fainted from fright when faced with a master of literature and Daoism from our country."

On the high platform, seated on the guqin, the music master He Shuchao, whose body undulated like waves, laughed and said, "While cowardice and weakness are undignified, they are ultimately better than forcing one onto the stage and suffering a crushing defeat that shatters one's Dao heart. Perhaps this Master Cui is not truly foolish, but rather has weighed the options and chosen the lesser of two evils."

Immediately, all the grandmasters of the Great Yan Dynasty rose up to mock him.

The language became increasingly harsh.

Zhuang Wenhua's face grew increasingly pale.

The faces of the grandmasters of the Great Yu Kingdom grew paler and paler.

On the high platform, the Second Elder spoke: "The proceedings of the literary gathering have been finalized, and we cannot halt it due to some unspeakable reasons. Zhuang Xuezheng, are you certain that your side is giving up on this round?"

His words sounded reasonable.

However, Zhuang Wenhua suddenly felt unprecedented pressure.

He wasn't even sure about Cui Wusheng's condition, so how could he persuade others?

He proposed a postponement, but the Great Yan Kingdom disagreed, as did the Ling Clan organizer.

Should we give up?

How could I possibly give up?

But how do we face this dead end?

On the high platform, He Shuchao opened his folding fan: "Since that's the case, I will wait here on the platform for a quarter of an hour! Anyone from your Great Yu Kingdom may come up on the platform, including Zhuang Xuezheng. If after a quarter of an hour, no one has come up to discuss the Dao with me through music, then everyone in the world should clearly understand that in the Great Yu Kingdom, there is truly no one who can appreciate the Dao through music!"

His voice drifted away.

He waved his fan like that.

Zhuang Wenhua's face turned ashen.

Attending the Qingshan Literary Society, one radish per pit.

If it were poetry, perhaps someone else could fill in.

After all, any scholar can write a few lines of poetry.

But that's not how it works.

In the world of literati, everyone has their own cultivation and strengths. Enjoyment is not something that ordinary people can do. For example, Xiang Bo, who has devoted his life to studying the classics, would be better off stabbing than playing with fun.

In fact, apart from Cui Wusheng, no one in this team has a talent for music.

The other party offered this condition, and anyone could participate.

It sounded quite magnanimous, but to Zhuang Wenhua and the other masters, it was nothing but an insult.

He sat on the high platform, letting everyone challenge him. If someone accepted the challenge, he won the last match of the Green Mountain Literary Gathering. If no one accepted the challenge, he still won, and he even earned the reputation of "suppressing all the grandmasters of the entire Great Yu Kingdom with his own strength."

There are only fifteen minutes left!

Where am I supposed to find someone?

Even if they were dispatched from the capital, it would be absolutely impossible for them to arrive in such a short time; even if the time were increased tenfold, it would still be impossible.

"I'll do it!"

A voice suddenly rang out.

All eyes turned to the source of the sound.

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