How can one cultivate immortality without learning modern knowledge?

At this moment, the "fragrance of poetry" on the high platform also came to an end.

The last wisp of cigarette ash, with a soft hum, transformed into a sky full of light.

The chaotic colored light above the poem suddenly transformed, truly taking shape as a seven-colored light.

The whole city was in uproar at the same time.

That wasn't all; a rainbow of light shot into the sky!

And in the clear sky above, a road of blue light suddenly appeared, a hundred miles wide...

The 58 characters of this poem, "Partridge Sky," transform into the sails of a boat on this avenue, rising high into the sky, where colorful clouds drift and celestial music resonates...

"The path of literature opens up a great road!" Mo Ziyi's whole body trembled, and she stood up.

God knows, she had never been so excited.

"The Great Dao!" Dai Shucheng's expression completely changed.

Li Yuecheng was terrified, staring at the sky in disbelief.

Li Haoran, the eldest son of the poet saint, was as pale as paper, staring at the sky, his whole body stiff, like a statue.

On the path of literature and morality, we encourage the opening of new avenues.

To pave a new path, how many people have followed one after another?

The occasional emergence of new literary forms can spark heated discussions in the literary world for years; those are merely minor aspects of the literary path.

And Zhou Wenju, today's Nanyang Poetry Gathering has opened up a great path!

词！

It's not a poem!

Moreover, the very first poem is a standard seven-colored poem!

Li Haoran has lost!

Such a complete defeat!

He has devoted himself to studying the essentials of the Book of Songs for ten years. He has received the joint cultivation of almost all the elders in his family. It took him ten years to mature his six-character poems. He needs this platform today to promote himself as a monument of the younger generation of poets.

He conveniently eliminated someone who deserved to die, thus establishing good relations with the current mainstream of the imperial court and the Mohist school.

Such painstaking planning.

Such a meticulous and brilliant plan, how could this have happened?

In terms of the quality of poetry, his was merely a flash of silver light, while his opponent's was a seven-colored poem.

In terms of transformation, he was merely practicing six-character poems within the realm of poetry, while his opponent completely abandoned the path of poetry and opened up a new avenue: ci poetry!

His lane change was only three fingers wide.

The other party's path is a hundred miles away...

Why is this happening?

Why?

In another restaurant, the Seventh Princess stared, completely mesmerized, at the fifty-eight characters that had transformed into a hundred boats racing across the sky: "I am a carefree wanderer of Qingdu, ordained by Heaven with a spirit of unbridled passion. I have granted rain and wind, and repeatedly borrowed the moon from the clouds... I only just learned that you are a carefree wanderer, but beneath this boldness, this talent, you..."

Her completely infatuated state deeply worried the palace maid, who decided to make a last-ditch effort to salvage the situation. She quickly added, "The next lines are: 'Ten thousand poems, a thousand cups of wine, how often have I paid any attention to princes and kings!' This is blatant contempt for imperial authority; Your Highness should punish him for this grave crime..."

The princess glared at her: "He might be my future consort. A dignified consort, does he have to look down on princes and marquises? To look down on someone would be beneath him; not looking down on someone is more in line with his status..."

My goodness!

The palace maid completely broke down: "Your Highness, even if you want to let go, you can't let go this much, can you?"

The princess, her face filled with ecstasy, said, "My senior sister once told me that a woman should be wanton a few times in her life. To be wanton for power or money is despicable, but to be wanton for literary talent is sacred!"

The palace maid banged her head against the window.

"Lock, what's wrong with you?"

"This servant...this servant wants to die..."

Beneath the Qingguang Avenue, Nanyang is ablaze with flowers, even though it is not the season for flowers to bloom.

Beneath the Qingguang Avenue, the entire city of Nanyang was silent.

In this world, literary cultivation is the foremost of the three cultivation methods. The path of literature is favored by everyone, and even ordinary people are captivated by it. Moreover, Nanyang City has a rich literary tradition and a strong culture of learning.

Everyone is paying attention to today's Nanyang Poetry Festival because several idol-level super talents have gathered here.

However, who could have imagined that a great path of literature would blossom in such a splendid manner at this poetry gathering?

The Way of Literature and the Great Way...

How many years has it been since it was last opened?

A thousand years or two thousand years?

Three thousand years ago, a great poet opened up the great path of poetry, but the path was no more than three hundred miles wide!

But now, an unknown young man has opened a path of words, and the path is a hundred miles wide!

To what extent is this territorial expansion?

Even if we don't compare him to a sage, he has at least reached a height that all poets in the past three thousand years combined have not been able to achieve.

Regardless of whether other families paid attention to the Nanyang Poetry Gathering, at least one family did.

It is unknown what methods they used, but all the details of the Nanyang Poetry Gathering were clearly presented on the screen wall of the Ink Hall.

The four elders of the Ink Hall watched as the five prodigies presented one brilliant poem after another, each one full of vigor and high spirits, feeling as if they were holding a large mat in their hands, rolling it up in the air, and watching how ants would survive.

Until that song "A Crane Soars into the Sky" reached its zenith.

The birth of this colorful poem wiped away all excitement from their faces, replaced by a somber, gloomy expression...

But they never lost hope, because their most treasured possession was revealed right before their eyes.

The completion of the sage poet's family's masterpiece and his gamble with the heavens seems to signify that their scheme is about to come to an end.

However, it is a wonderfully colorful poem.

A paved road bathed in green light.

We'll utterly crush them!

The four of them stood there dumbfounded.

For the first time in thirty years, the Grand Elder felt a cold sweat trickle down his back...

"What do you call this? A new master of poetry has emerged?" The Second Elder's voice was hoarse.

"After this meeting, how will the world view the Mohist school?" the Third Elder asked.

The Fourth Elder suddenly pointed his finger out the window: "Look!"

The four elders waved their hands simultaneously, and the floor instantly became empty. The Ink Lake, like a mirror, clearly reflected the scene of the Nanyang Poetry Gathering. Someone projected the Nanyang Poetry Gathering directly onto the Ink Lake of the Mo Family.

Upon seeing this projection, all the disciples of the Mohist school were stunned...

"The path of words has begun?"

"Who opened the path of poetry?"

"My God, we've witnessed an era..."

A figure descended from the horizon, exuding utmost refinement; it was none other than the Holy Son, Mo Wushuang.

Mo Wushuang's voice resounded throughout the entire Mo Clan: "I have good news to share with my fellow Mo Clan members! Today, at the Nanyang Poetry Gathering, the greatest monument to literature in a thousand years has been erected, and the great path of poetry has been opened! The one who opened it is none other than Zhou Wenju, a guest elder of our Mo Clan who is participating in the Poetry Gathering!"

"Glory belongs to the Mohist school!"

"The Mohist school will last forever!"

Countless cheers echoed from all corners of the Mohist school...

However, a discordant voice suddenly rang out: "I've heard that this Zhou Wenju was originally an outer disciple of our Mohist school. He wrote a seven-colored poem at the Mohist school's villa, demonstrating unparalleled poetic talent. Why wasn't he formally accepted into our Mohist school? Why is he merely a guest disciple?"

As soon as this person uttered the question, the eyes of the entire Mo family, millions of people, focused on the Holy Son Mo Wushuang in the air, all filled with strong doubt.

Indeed, when Zhou Wenju wrote "Who in the world does not know you?" at the Mo family villa, the Mo family disciples could all see it clearly and were convinced of his poetic talent.

Everyone naturally assumed that such a prodigy should be a formal disciple of the Mohist school.

However, today, the Holy Son publicly revealed the answer: he is not a formal disciple of the Mohist school, but merely a guest elder.

The fact that a guest minister of the Mohist school erected such a monument certainly brings honor to the Mohist school.

However, it was merely a matter of appearances—guest ministers were not formal members of the Mohist school, and this monument did not essentially belong to the Mohist school.

This is really frustrating!

The Mo family should also ask why...

Mo Wushuang sighed softly, looking up: "When my fourth young lady, Mo Ziyi, brought him into the mountain that day, she intended to give him the position of a formal disciple, and he also intended to join my Mo family. However, Ziyi asked the Mo Hall, but the Mo Hall rejected it. I do not have the authority to 'select and grant certificates,' and I am helpless in the face of this situation. In order to prevent such a talented person from completely severing ties with my Mo family, the only thing I can do is to give him the position of guest elder... Please forgive me for not being able to resolve this junior brother's doubts."

"Mo Tang!" The disciple turned abruptly, staring at the aloof Mo Tang: "Then please, Mo Tang, provide an explanation!"

"Exactly! Why is Mo Tang keeping such a talented person at arm's length? What are his intentions?" a hundred people exclaimed in unison.

The disciple then cried out, "If a master of poetry like ours closes his doors and refuses to accept outsiders, how will the world judge the Mohist school? Will they see us as jealous of talent and suppressing literary geniuses?"

"Please, Mo Tang, provide an explanation!" thousands of people shouted in unison.

The Mohist school was thrown into chaos.

Inside the Ink Hall, the First Elder's face was ashen, while the hair of the other three elders was all disheveled as if in the wind...

They viewed the Nanyang Poetry Gathering as part of the Mohist school's efforts to eliminate dissidents. If everything went as planned, they would launch a counterattack against Mo Wushuang.

Mo Wushuang is not a pushover; he entered the Dao through calculation, and his wisdom and strategy are extraordinary.

He also saw this as an opportunity!

At the Nanyang Poetry Festival, Zhou Wenju pioneered the great path of ci poetry, and his achievements in expanding the boundaries of literature rivaled those of the sages of old.

How could Mo Wushuang miss this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity?

Taking advantage of Mo Ziyi's presence at the scene, the Nanyang Poetry Gathering was projected, its literary power projected onto Mo Lake, sparking widespread questioning of Mo Hall within the entire Mo family...