How can one cultivate immortality without learning modern knowledge?

With that one gesture, he didn't even turn his gaze back.

The audience fell silent.

Is that so rude?

Pointing fingers at people, without looking directly at them!

How much do they look down on you?

Mo Ziyi's heart skipped a beat, and a hint of excitement appeared in her eyes...

God is my witness, her heart skipped a beat when the poet Li Haoran suddenly appeared.

She was very worried...

Fearing that Li Haoran would snatch this poetic prodigy away, they offered conditions that the Mohists couldn't, such as the title of formal disciple, or bestowing upon him the literary world, literary mountains, and literary heart he so desperately needed...

From Zhou Wenju's perspective, he had every reason to switch allegiances.

However, Li Haoran made a fatal mistake as soon as he appeared.

He was so disrespectful to Zhou Wenju!

Based on what she, Mo Ziyi, had learned about Zhou Wenju over the past few days, she knew he could never accept this approach…

As expected, Zhou Wenju raised an eyebrow slightly: "What are you trying to say, sir?"

Your Mightiness!

A single form of address is enough to convey his dissatisfaction; otherwise, a more friendly "Young Master Li" or "Brother Li" would be much more appropriate.

Li Haoran slowly turned to the side, finally looking him directly in the eye, then smiled softly: "The seven-colored poem is nothing special; I wrote one when I was fifteen!"

Just one short sentence.

Everyone in the room had their eyes light up at the same time.

If Zhou Wenju became the most dazzling young man in Nanyang with his colorful poem, then this seventh son of a poet who appeared out of nowhere stole his limelight with just one sentence.

So what if you write a poem in seven colors?

He, Li Haoran, wrote it when he was fifteen! And there is verifiable evidence; it is entirely true.

Zhou Wenju smiled faintly: "You wrote a seven-colored poem when you were fifteen, does that mean you can write seven-colored poems with ease?"

"Of course!" Li Haoran smiled slightly, his expression unfathomable.

Zhou Wenju sat down lazily: "Come, come, there's paper and pen on the table. Why don't you write another colorful poem based on the question I just posed?"

Li Haoran was stunned.

It is a fact that he wrote a colorful poem at the age of fifteen, and he is not afraid to delve into it.

In the days to come, it is entirely possible for him to write colorful poems.

However, saying it's effortless is a bit of an exaggeration.

A poem in seven colors is not something that can be written so easily.

I wrote it down on the spot, and from that incredibly tricky angle, it was...it was almost impossible!

Normally, if you brag about past glories and look forward to the future, others will agree and the matter will be over. But if you take it seriously on the spot, wow!

This is beyond the script.

Mo Ziyi also sat down.

She had only stood up out of basic courtesy—the other person was of equal status to her, and respecting the other person was also respecting herself.

But now, respect is no longer required.

He sat down and said, "What? Young Master Haoran could write seven-colored poems at fifteen, but now at twenty-eight, he can't? Have you regressed in the past thirteen years?"

With just two sentences, Li Haoran, who arrived with the envy of the entire city as a poet, was on the verge of collapse.

Li Haoran laughed heartily: "The lady in purple asked what I've been doing for the past thirteen years, and I'll tell you the truth! For the past thirteen years, I haven't been continuing the established poetic rules, but rather carrying on the will of the Holy Ancestor and expanding the boundaries of poetry!"

Inheriting the will of our Holy Ancestor!

Expanding the boundaries of poetry!

The entire audience erupted in uproar!

The reason why the sacred way is called "the Way" is that it is ever-renewing. It is not a skill for later generations to lie on the path pioneered by their predecessors and sleep soundly. The real skill is to expand the boundaries of this Way.

"Inheriting the will of the Holy Ancestor, expanding the boundaries of poetry!" Li Yuecheng praised, "Young Master Li's actions truly embody the essence of the Holy Way. This very will surpasses ten or even a hundred colorful poems!"

"That's natural. There are colorful poems every year, but how often do we hear of the paving of the sacred path?" Wang Luoshui also said.

Their conversation was quickly relayed, and the heavy blow that Li Haoran had suffered was thus averted.

Because their reasoning is sound.

If Li Haoran has truly broadened the boundaries of poetry, then whether he can write a seven-colored poem on the spot is completely unimportant.

"You've succeeded?" Mo Ziyi uttered two words softly.

Just two words...

The situation is once again becoming serious!

Anyone can talk big with great confidence and pride.

It all depends on whether you succeed!

If you succeed, you can say you weren't bragging.

If nothing is accomplished, what are you talking about?

"The girl in purple clearly doesn't believe it. May I ask this gentleman... surnamed Zhou, would you dare to make a bet?" Li Haoran said.

"A bet?" Zhou Wenju looked up.

"Yes, a bet!"

"What are we betting on? How are we betting?"

Li Haoran said, "Let's wager on the 'transformation' of poetry! If I implement this transformation of poetry on the spot and it gains the approval of Heaven, how about you abandon your literary roots?"

Mo Ziyi's brows furrowed deeply.

At that moment, she understood!

Li Haoran's appearance was definitely not accidental, but rather a result of his travels in Jiangnan!

He remains a link in the other party's chain.

Zhou Wenju wrote a seven-colored poem on the spot, thwarting their plot. Now, Li Haoran takes the stage, using this "extermination strategy" to eliminate Zhou Wenju, this potential threat, forever.

The roots of human writing are truly wondrous.

It may be obtained by chance.

However, once you voluntarily abolish the oath made by Heaven, Heaven will consider you a traitor, and how could it possibly grant you literary talent again?

He must not fall for their trap!

No matter how unbelievable it may seem that the other party is expanding the boundaries of poetry, he must not fall for their trick!

"Don't agree! This is still part of their scheme!" Mo Ziyi's words reached Zhou Wenju's ears.

Everyone in the room looked at each other in bewilderment...

"Why such a huge bet?" an old scholar whispered to the scholar beside him.

No one can answer this question.

In Nanyang City, almost everyone was stunned into silence.

Even the most obtuse person would realize that their initial prediction was completely wrong.

The seventh son of the Poet Saint's family came, but he had no intention of recruiting him; on the contrary, he wanted to cripple him!

In the room, Zhou Wenju picked up the teacup in front of him and slowly raised his gaze: "I have never had any connection with the Sage of Poetry, yet you harbor such deep resentment towards me. May I ask why?"

"It's not so much resentment as a thought, but rather a reflection from this vantage point!" Li Haoran slowly raised his head, gazing beyond the heavens, his voice echoing from above: "The Way of Poetry, the Way of the Sacred, is a Way built upon the foundation of the Way of Literature! It is not something that can be easily entered by someone who is ignorant, uneducated, or without a teacher. If every Tom, Dick, or Harry in the world wanted to make a name for themselves on this path, where would the sacredness of the Way of the Sacred come from?"

These words were spoken with surprising passion and fervor.

Zhou Wenju gently swirled the teacup in his hand: "I understand. The Poet Sage's family regards poetry as their own family tradition, allowing only poets to set fires while forbidding others to light lamps, is that right?"

That's extremely sharp.

However, Li Haoran's gaze fell upon him: "You are not worthy to discuss the Dao with me. You only need to answer one question: Do you dare to bet?"

Zhou Wenju heard Mo Ziyi's urgent telepathic message, which was, of course, another reminder...

He chuckled softly: "Does Your Excellency know... what gambling is?"

"Tell me, what is this bet?" Li Haoran frowned slightly.

Zhou Wenju said, "A true gamble is one where everything is equal! A gamble you initiate that only grants power without any risk involved isn't a gamble!"

"That's true!" Li Haoran laughed heartily. "Then tell me, how do you intend to gamble on this lane change?"

Zhou Wenju said, "It's simple! You can perform the transformations of the Way of Poetry, and so can I. Our transformations of the Way of Poetry are presented to the Heavenly Dao. Whoever gains deeper recognition from the Heavenly Dao will win! The loser will have their literary roots crippled!"

Mo Ziyi was shocked. A voice came from behind, urgent and fast...

However, Li Haoran, having spotted an opportunity, didn't waste a moment, fearing the other side might change their mind: "I accept! I swear by Heaven!"

His finger pointed straight to the sky!

"I swear to Heaven!" Zhou Wenju's finger pointed straight to the sky.

With their gesture, a wisp of smoke from the half-burnt "Poetry Incense" on the table shot straight into the sky like an arrow.

A soft rumble.

This signifies the establishment of the oath of Heaven!

Mo Ziyi suddenly stood up, her face already pale.

However, the vow has been made!