How can one cultivate immortality without learning modern knowledge?

The theory of Lao Can is based on the special cultivation laws of this world.

In this world, there are three ways to cultivate: literary cultivation, meridian cultivation, and blood cultivation.

Literary cultivation is the most advanced, with literary energy entering the mind, capable of creating endless wonders. However, its shortcomings are equally prominent: the physical body of a scholar is still that of an ordinary person, and their lifespan is only about a hundred years, except for those who reach the top of the literary path.

Meridian cultivation is the most common practice. By cultivating the meridians, true qi is generated. As the true qi grows stronger day by day, it reaches the realm of destroying the heavens and the earth, and lifespan also begins to increase, to a thousand years or even ten thousand years.

Pulse cultivators envied the high-level cultivation of literature cultivators.

Wenxiu envied Maixiu's physique and lifespan.

Thus, Lao Can, a genius of the weapon-making world, had a great and crazy idea.

Can it be combined into one?

After all, the quality of literary energy is far superior to that of true energy. If one could break through the "barrier between heaven and earth" in the human body and let literary energy flow through the meridians of a cultivator, replacing true energy with literary energy, wouldn't one be invincible in the world?

Yes, this brings us to a special barrier in the human body called the "Heaven and Earth Barrier". With the existence of this barrier, literary energy can only exist in the brain (hence the term "brain cultivation") and cannot enter the physical body.

Countless literary masters, when they reach the end of their lives and can no longer indulge in women, naturally still harbor fantasies. However, none of them can break through the barrier between heaven and earth and achieve "common understanding of the literary system."

Logically speaking, something that even the world's literary giants would shy away from, ordinary people can only regard as a dream.

But Lao Can was a genius in the art of craftsmanship.

What is a vessel?

Seize the power of creation from heaven and earth, and accomplish a world-shaking feat!

He envisioned using the most profound techniques to build this "bridge between heaven and earth"!

Zi Yi was very surprised: "I only learned today that the Third Elder's initial vision for the path of cultivation was actually this. In the past, when this elder was mentioned, people only focused on the malicious damage to the reputation of the Mo family... After hearing my brother's full explanation today, I feel that the Third Elder's vision benefits the cultivation path of the world. No matter how crazy it is, the starting point is ultimately correct. Why has it met with so much opposition?"

Mo Wushuang turned her gaze to Zhou Wenju: "Brother Zhou, do you share the same confusion as your fourth sister?"

Zhou Wenju gently shook his head: "I...have no confusion!"

"Oh? Tell me about it!"

Zhou Wenju chuckled lightly: "It's nothing more than a matter of the balance being broken! The cultivation world, with its literary, meridian, and bloodline cultivation, has struggled for tens of thousands of years to finally achieve a balance. If this balance is broken, it will truly cause an earthquake. Literary cultivators will reap the benefits of both, how can meridian cultivators tolerate that? And where will bloodline cultivators find fertile ground to survive? Faced with this culprit that has broken the balance, how can we not immediately retaliate and suppress it until it's utterly destroyed?"

Upon hearing this, Rou'er, who was standing nearby, suddenly understood.

Mo Ziyi frowned deeply: "If the major immortal sects or the extraterrestrial demons expressed their opposition, I would find it all normal. However, the first to object were our own sect's elders, and even... even Father! Why is that?"

This is what she really can't understand.

With shared knowledge and skills, those who cultivate literary skills are the absolute beneficiaries.

The Mohists were one of the eighteen sage schools of literature and Taoism, and were also natural beneficiaries.

Why is it that before the cultivation immortal sects have even had a chance to stand up and object, our own orthodox literary and Taoist holy family has jumped out first and condemned the Third Elder, a pioneer who advocated for the literary path, to eternal damnation?

Zhou Wenju smiled: "As the saying goes, 'The tallest tree in the forest is the first to be felled by the wind.' Reformers in this world always pay a price. If the Third Elder's theory on weapons had the support of the Mohists, the Mohists would have become the target of everyone's attacks. Faced with such overwhelming force, the Mohists would have been unable to withstand it. The Holy Lord punished him, but also preserved his position of honor, perhaps for this reason. The Third Elder was at the foot of the Abandoned Weapon Cliff, and although he had no relatives or friends, he was allowed to live peacefully, probably for the same reason."

The woman in dark purple had a dazed look in her eyes...

His words resolved his inner conflict.

To leave the Mohist sage with some dignity: his father's punishment of him was not due to a lack of discernment, but rather a choice made by the sage family after careful consideration.

It is both insightful and reasonable.

There's a saying: "The tallest tree in the forest is the first to be felled by the wind."

These eight words are a classic saying that has been refined through countless trials in the complexities of life.

I am a prodigy of the Mohist school, so why do I always feel that he is the one who always makes a refreshing impression whenever he speaks?

"Ten years of painstaking thought cannot compare to Brother Zhou's few words!" Mo Wushuang clapped his hands in praise: "Brother Zhou is about to leave the mountain, so I, Wushuang, present you with a poem entitled: A Gift to a Soulmate!"

These words meant that Zhou Wenju's statement completely matched Mo Wushuang's own thoughts.

At this moment, Mo Wushuang truly felt like he had found a kindred spirit.

He gently lifted his finger, writing in the air...

"Zhou Lang departs on this journey, facing winds and dust in both the north and south. The world's complexities vanish in a single day. A lone boat a thousand miles away, white hair and a hundred years of life. Do not say that true friends are few, for there are old acquaintances even at the ends of the earth."

With a flick of his finger, forty characters appeared in the void beside the wind and snow, like a door; once pushed open, it opened onto a long journey.

This is the wonder of literature; it no longer needs precious pens or golden paper. A single stroke in the air becomes the great power of literature, connecting with the heavens.

Golden light permeated the air.

This is the judgment of Heaven, the Golden Light Poem.

"What a fine poem!" Zhou Wenju praised. "Thank you for your kindred spirit, Brother Wushuang!"

"There's a saying in the world, 'Throwing a brick to attract jade!'" Mo Wushuang laughed heartily. "Fourth Sister has repeatedly mentioned Brother Zhou's unparalleled poetic talent. Today, Wushuang awaits your response!"

"I'd be honored to accept your invitation! I'll also compose a poem in the name of 'soulmate' in response to Brother Wushuang!" Zhou Wen raised his hand and took out a pen and a last sheet of paper from his pocket.

Spread it on the coffee table.

Rou'er was excited and quickly moved the teapot and teacups away, placing her little hand in her mistress's hand, already assuming an appreciative posture.

This was probably her basic approach when writing poems to Zhou Wenju.

Zhou Wenju picked up his pen...

"A thousand miles of yellow clouds darken the daytime; the north wind blows, geese fly, and snow falls in abundance..."

As soon as the two lines were uttered, the north wind outside the tea room seemed to have a faint golden edge. No, not the golden edge of the north wind, but a ray of golden light quietly rose from the tip of his pen inside the tea room.

Mo Wushuang's eyes suddenly lit up...

With just two lines describing the scenery, the poem strikes a perfect balance between movement and stillness, and takes into account both near and far perspectives. It truly lives up to its title as a poetic genius.

The last two sentences are missing...

"Do not worry about having no friends on the road ahead, for who in the world does not know you?"

As soon as the pen touched the paper, amidst the golden light filling the room, a strange light suddenly appeared, and seven colors emerged on the paper…

Without a sound, the twenty-eight characters on the transcribed paper simultaneously flew up, transforming into a seven-colored thread that soared straight into the sky, like the most stunning seven-colored plum blossoms blooming amidst a snowstorm...

"Seven-colored poems, opening the Dao Sea once more?" Mo Wushuang exclaimed softly, filled with endless admiration.

Mo Ziyi and Rou'er held hands, both feeling the slight trembling of each other's palms.

This is the third time!

He wrote three poems, each one a vibrant and colorful masterpiece!

They didn't make a single mistake...

Regardless of whether his state of mind was sorrow, joy, or relief...

Above the "Ink Hall," in a small room, a young man was bowing and receiving instruction from the Grand Elder.

This young man, named Mo Sanqiu, is the sixth son of the Grand Elder and is a scholar with the cultivation level of Wenxin.

"My dear son, Sanqiu, this trip to Nanyang to participate in the Nanyang Poetry Festival is an opportunity I have carefully arranged for you to make a name for yourself. You must prepare diligently so that your poetic fame may rise in Nanyang and spread throughout Jiangnan, leading to your successful marriage to the Seventh Princess!"

"I've heard that this seventh princess is unruly and has a habit of hitting people..." Mo Sanqiu hesitated.

"Fool!" the Grand Elder roared. "A man's standing in this world depends on status and power. Your Mohist teachings are utter nonsense. If you don't use this method to leverage power and influence, how can you stand alongside your brothers and sisters? Put away your personal thoughts. If you..."

Suddenly, his voice stopped abruptly.

He looked up in astonishment at the twenty-eight characters that had transformed into a seven-colored chain and soared into the sky.

With a soft hiss, a window opened in the floor below, revealing the scene of the tea room in the Moxin Courtyard to him.

The Grand Elder's face suddenly turned gloomy...

It's that kid again!

They actually wrote a colorful poem right under his nose!

They're actually fishing in the Mo Family's Dao Sea!

Moreover, he was actually with the Holy Son Mo Wushuang...

The Holy Lord left the Holy Family for thirteen years.

There has been no further communication.

The Grand Elder's ambitions continued to grow.

He didn't care much about the people from the Mo family, but Mo Wushuang was an exception.

His literary position has already achieved literary success.

He was still the Holy Son, and although he had no real power, his status was still transcendent.

Fortunately, this holy son was worried that news of his father's trip would leak out, so he stayed in the inkstone pavilion all day and did not care about the mundane affairs of the Mo family, which allowed him to unleash his full potential.

But today, Mo Wushuang actually got together with this Zhou Wenju...

On the very day that he, as the Grand Elder, announced that he would not take in Zhou Wenju, he made Zhou Wenju write a seven-colored poem in the Mo family, which led directly to the Tonghai Sea.

The fishing trip at Daohai was a rare spectacle for the literary and artistic circles. Every such event would be recorded in the annals of literary and artistic circles, and it could not be concealed at all. When the scholars of the world mentioned this spectacle, they would surely mention the Mohist school's rejection of him. As the person in charge, how would others judge him?

People would say: The leader of the Mohist school was blind and jealous of talent, refusing to accept such a person!

Such praise is free, and no literary giant could afford to receive it.

Is this a way to slap his century-old face?

For a moment, his mind was in turmoil, and the poem stirred up incredibly complex thoughts within him...