How can one cultivate immortality without learning modern knowledge?

"Fishing in the Dao Sea?" Lao Can laughed. "Fishing in the Dao Sea is something many literary masters have longed for but could never achieve. How dare you, a mere brat, even entertain such a thought?"

"People still need to have dreams, what if... they come true?" Zhou Wenju looked up at the sky.

Here, when you look at the sky, there's only a sliver of sky visible.

"What are you using to fish?"

"Please remove your hand, senior! I'll demonstrate for you."

Lao Can stared at him silently, a mad element still swirling in his eyes...

Zhou Wenju looked into his eyes and sighed softly, "Senior's belief in sacrificing oneself for one's cause is indeed admirable, but forcing me to sacrifice my body for your cause is ultimately a crooked path... It would be better for me to first hit a wall myself. If I truly suffer a crushing defeat and become disheartened, then I can willingly lie on your martyr's platform. Wouldn't that be in accordance with the words of the sages, in line with the way of the senior, and achieve the best of both worlds?"

This statement is reasonable and well-founded, and it allows for both advancement and retreat.

If Lao Can were to hold him down again and forcefully sentence him to "all four limbs severed and all five internal organs destroyed," it would seem rather unreasonable.

He slowly moved his heavy hand away.

Zhou Wenju slowly stood up and took out two things from his waist.

A bronze pen, a stack of green gauze paper.

Pen name: Qibi (器笔); Paper name: Luzhi (纸).

These are the design drawings made before the weapon is forged.

Why use this object to draw?

Because this object can communicate with the heavens, the drawings of objects it produces can stand in the air and rotate freely 360 degrees, making them easy to see.

"Take the brush and paper..." Old Can's eyes flashed: "Boy, are you brimming with anger, denouncing the injustice of Heaven?"

At this point, the old man became somewhat agitated.

He had vehemently denounced the injustice of fate countless times in his heart, but he dared not show it. If this kid wanted to do it, it would be quite satisfying, since he wouldn't have to bear the consequences himself...

Zhou Wenju smiled faintly: "The world is unjust, what's the use of denouncing it? I just intend to write a poem to bid farewell to the past and let go of my obsession."

"Write poetry? You can write poetry? And you even dare to dream of making a poem famous and turning it into bait for the Dao Sea?" Lao Can laughed. His laughter was particularly chilling, with changes in the muscles on one side of his face and no changes on the other side.

Zhou Wenju picked up his pen and wrote...

"The water-rippled precious mat evokes lingering thoughts..."

As the brush touched the paper, wisps of silver light seeped out, making the green gauze appear as if it were covered with a layer of silver light.

The smile on Lao Can's face suddenly froze.

With a single stroke of the pen, the tip gleamed with silver light—that's something special.

The second sentence ends:

"A thousand-mile journey of happiness ended in a single night..."

As the last stroke of the character "休" was completed, the tip of his brush suddenly shone with golden light.

Lao Can's eyes suddenly widened.

Just two lines of poetry, and golden light emanates from them.

Poetry becomes golden light!

How is that possible?

Jin Guangshi, a hallmark of great poets!

Anyone in the literary world who writes poems of golden light, regardless of their original path of cultivation, can be called a master of poetry.

What merits does this kid possess?

He actually wrote the Golden Light Poem!

No, that's only two sentences!

Zhou Wenju's pen moved like a dragon and a snake, and the last two lines leaped out...

"From now on, I have no heart to love the beautiful nights, let the bright moon set in the west!"

With the final stroke, the golden light suddenly shifted, transforming into five colors. The five-colored light then shifted again, transforming into seven colors. With a hum, the seven-colored light shot up from below the abandoned artifact cliff, transforming into a chain of twenty-eight interconnected characters that soared straight into the sky.

With a crack, several metal fragments were crushed under Lao Can's foot.

He stared blankly as the seven-colored light, like a rainbow, soared into the sky, completely bewildered.

Fishing in the sea.

This is what he just mentioned about fishing in the sea.

Lao Can took his words as a joke, because as a man of great learning, how could he not know the high level of sea fishing?

Dao Hai, the sea of ​​the Heavenly Dao.

In the vast ocean of Dao, who doesn't know that there are countless rare treasures?

Who wouldn't want to experience the thrill of fishing?

But how many people are qualified to fish?

To fish in the Dao Sea, you must have "Dao bait." This bait must be something that the Heavenly Dao is interested in. Worldly treasures are nothing but trash in the eyes of the Heavenly Dao, which will not even give them a second glance. The gate to the Dao Sea will not be opened for them. How can you fish then?

What interests the Heavenly Dao are only the finest poems, the most moving melodies, the most profound philosophical writings, and the most groundbreaking creations in each realm…

What is the best poetry?

Poems universally acknowledged for depicting fishing in the Daoist sea must be colorful. Poems featuring white light, silver light, or gold light are all insufficient.

The five colors are a threshold, perhaps one that can open the door to the Dao Sea.

With seven colors, needless to say, you're bound to catch something.

He is Zhou Wenju!

I had never heard of his talent for poetry, yet today, as he picks up his pen, a vibrant and colorful poem unfolds...

Everyone says I, Lao Can, am crazy. God, open your eyes and look at this! This is what you call insane...

At Huding Mountain, countless people stepped to the window and stared in astonishment at the side of the furnace, where a colorful ribbon stretched straight into the sky.

"What's going on?"

"My God, a poem in seven colors! Who wrote this masterpiece of poetry?"

"It came from beneath the abandoned cliff!"

"Could it be that old man with disabilities?"

In an instant, the entire Huding Mountain was in an uproar...

Lao Can, everyone knows this person.

This person is a master of literature and cultivation. Even though he has cultivated himself to the point of being neither human nor ghost, his foundation is still there. If it were the outer sect of the Mo family, which focuses on weapon crafting, who could write the Seven-Colored Poem, it would undoubtedly be him...

With a whoosh, the window of an attic on the highest mountaintop suddenly opened.

Inside the pavilion, two women stood side by side, one dressed as a young lady in purple and the other as a maid in green.

The two stared at the seven-colored chain that stretched straight into the sky, their eyes gleaming...

"The water ripples on the precious mat evoke endless thoughts; a thousand-mile rendezvous ends in a single night. From now on, I have no heart to cherish the beautiful night, let the bright moon descend to the west!" The lady in purple recited, "What a fine poem! Absolutely exquisite! Who composed this masterpiece?"

A soft buzzing sound.

Above the sky, it was as if a portal had opened.

As soon as the portal opened, a vast galaxy appeared, and the seven-colored chain shone brightly, plunging one end into the galaxy.

Like a fishing line plunged into the deep sea.

"Fishing in the sea!" the maid exclaimed.

The young woman's gaze fell towards the bottom of the abandoned cliff: "It was him!"

The maidservant turned her gaze from the sky to the cliff below where the abandoned artifacts were located.

The Abandoned Cliff, which was hidden in deep darkness just a moment ago, has now revealed its true form as the seven-colored optical fiber lights up.

A young man dressed in disciple's robes pointed his right index finger straight to the sky; the seven-colored line in his hand was the fishing rod...

"It's him! Zhou Wenju! He didn't die, and he even wrote a seven-colored poem..." the maid said.

"From now on, I have no heart to love the beautiful nights, let the bright moon set in the west... What a helpless magnanimity! What a tragic letting go?" The young lady murmured, "Could it be that only when the heart is utterly broken can such exquisite and moving verses emerge?"

In the VIP building, the Third Prince stepped to the window and stared intently at the abandoned artifact cliff below.

His expression shifted rapidly.

Lin Shuiyao, standing beside him, looked utterly incredulous.

She also understands poetry.

She understood the meaning of the poem; she saw her own reflection in it: "A thousand miles away, a beautiful night, yet no heart to cherish it, let the bright moon descend to the west..." Doesn't this all reflect her own experience?

But why didn't she understand him as a person?

Can he write poetry?

It's amazing that someone can write a poem in seven colors?

How is that possible?

Wasn't it precisely because of his poor literary and moral foundation that he didn't pursue the path of imperial examinations and instead chose the Mohist philosophy of craftsmanship, hoping to find a way to achieve something beyond the ordinary?

But the person at the other end of this seven-colored chain that stretches across the sky is truly present. Who else could it be but him?

"Prince, this kid isn't dead, and... he's starting to get dangerous. If the higher-ups take a liking to him, our mission will fail..." A voice came from outside the window, carrying an extremely sinister tone.

This is, after all, still the outer gate of the Mohist school.

The Mohists were a family of scholars and literati, and no family of scholars and literati could resist the favor shown to a prodigy in poetry.

If someone from the Mohist school were here and took a liking to this talent, they could easily snatch this suddenly rising poetic prodigy away from afar.

If that day truly comes, all their efforts today will have been in vain.

Zhou Wenju will not only escape elimination, but will also benefit from the misfortune and directly embark on the fast track of the Mohist school.

The third prince wasn't stupid. His face grim, he slowly nodded: "We need to take immediate action! Let's go!"