Bearing the blue sky

Chapter 298 Paper!

Three Realms Puppet!

The second-realm puppets that Liu Jianjian fought before, although numerous, were all too fragile. They would shatter at the slightest touch or break at the slightest smash, which was not satisfying at all.

When Liu Jianjian first met Zhu Ge, she was very timid, but as the saying goes, "one is influenced by one's company."

Now, under the long-term influence of Zhu Ge, they have become increasingly bold.

"Be careful." At this moment, Mo Shou smiled slightly and gently tapped the bronze box with his finger.

The blue gem on the silver puppet's forehead lit up, and then it moved.

Its speed was several levels faster than those previous second-realm puppets.

His figure transformed into a silver-white afterimage, and in the blink of an eye, he was in front of Liu Jianjian, punching her in the face.

Liu Jianjian was prepared. She lightly touched the ground with her toes and floated back several feet, avoiding the punch.

"Wow, that's fast!" Her eyes lit up. "That's more like it!"

She plucked a hair from her head and threw it on the ground.

"Snow Wolf, charge!"

The snow wolf growled and pounced on the silver-white puppet with its four hooves pounding the ground.

A breath of cold air was exhaled, and ice crystals condensed in the air to form an ice wall, blocking the silver-white puppet.

The silver-white puppet neither dodged nor avoided, and slammed its fist into the ice wall.

"boom"

The ice wall shattered, scattering ice fragments everywhere.

The silver-white puppet pierced through the broken ice and continued rushing towards Liu Jianjian.

The snow wolf pounced again, its sharp claws gleaming coldly as it reached for the puppet's chest.

The silver-white puppet dodged to the side and then punched the snow wolf in the ribs with its backhand.

"Bang!" 6

The snow wolf was sent flying by the impact, rolling several times on the ground before regaining its balance. It shook its head and let out a low growl of dissatisfaction.

"Xiao Mo!" Liu Jianjian plucked another hair.

The black bear charged forward with heavy steps and slapped the silver-white puppet with its paw.

The silver-white puppet neither dodged nor evaded, but raised its hand to block.

"Clang!"

The bear's paw collided with the puppet's arm, producing a dull metallic clang.

The black bear's paw was shaken open, but the puppet remained motionless.

The black bear paused for a moment, looked down at its own paw, then at the silver-white puppet in front of it, its eyes full of confusion, as if to say, "Why is this thing so hard?"

"Big mouth!" Liu Jianjian plucked another hair.

A crimson python burst forth from the hair, spewing out a burst of flame that enveloped the silver-white puppet.

The flames scorched the surface of the puppet, making a hissing sound.

The silver-white puppet's surface was slightly red from the heat, but soon, blue light flowed around it, and the temperature quickly dropped.

"Not afraid of fire?" Liu Jianjian frowned. "Those little thorns!"

The hedgehog curled into a large ball and rolled towards the silver puppet.

The silver-white puppet raised a foot and kicked the hedgehog ball.

""

The hedgehog ball was kicked away, crashing into several large trees and bouncing a few times on the ground before coming to a stop. It stretched out its body and shook its head, feeling dizzy.

Liu Jianjian was stunned: "This—this thing is way too hard!"

Mo Shou stood at a distance, watching this scene with a slight smile on his face: "Miss, this puppet is made of deep-sea cold iron, impervious to water and fire, and invulnerable to swords and spears. Ordinary attacks cannot harm it."

"If ordinary attacks can't hurt me, then let's try something extraordinary!" Liu Jianjian gritted her teeth, made hand seals, and strands of hair on her head floated up, their tips glowing.

"Everyone, come out!"

Dozens of strands of hair fell at the same time, transforming into various strange and monstrous creatures upon landing.

There were wolves, bears, tigers, leopards, eagles, and pythons; they were found in both the third and second realms, and they stood there densely packed together.

Those like the previously mentioned Mighty King are prominently listed.

"Get them!"

Liu Jianjian pointed at the silver-white puppet.

The demons roared and pounced on the silver-white puppet.

The silver-white puppet stood still, calmly facing the overwhelming horde of demonic beasts.

It raised its hands, each palm condensing into a blue orb of light, and then hurled it at the horde of monsters.

The ball of light landed and exploded, transforming into two blue light curtains that kept the horde of monsters outside.

The monsters crashed into the light barrier, bounced back, and were left dazed and confused.

"It can even project light screens?!" Liu Jianjian exclaimed in disbelief.

"Master Tianji, how is the combat power of this puppet?" Mo Shou looked at Zhu Ge, his eyes carrying a hint of testing.

"Not bad." Zhu Ge nodded. "It has strong defense, fast speed, and can even release a spiritual energy barrier. If the opponent is an ordinary third-realm cultivator, it would probably be difficult to defeat it."

"With this puppet, you are fully qualified to be listed on the 'Imperial List'."

Mo Shou smiled upon hearing this.

He then beckoned, and the silver puppet came over. He then gently tapped the bronze box with his finger.

"Click!!"

The blue gem on the silver puppet's forehead dimmed, and the puppet stopped moving, standing motionless.

"Let's stop fighting," Mo Shou laughed. "If we keep fighting, my puppets will be dismantled."

Liu Jianjian was directing the demon beasts to crash into the light barrier when she heard this, and she was stunned for a moment: "Not fighting anymore? I haven't had enough yet!"

"Miss, if you keep fighting, my puppet will be ruined." Mo Shou smiled and cupped his hands in greeting, "I went through a lot of trouble to create it, I can't bear to part with it."

Liu Jianjian pouted, waved her hand, and the demon beasts turned into strands of hair, flying back to the top of her head: "Fine, I'll spare your life since you've admitted defeat."

Mo Shou shook his head, walked to the silver puppet, placed his hand on its chest, and injected spiritual power into it. The puppet shrank, turning into a palm-sized silver figure, and flew back into the bronze box.

He carefully put away the box, looked at Zhu Ge, and his expression became serious: "Master Tianji, I was very rude just now. I have come here because I wish to discuss something with you."

"Go on," Zhu Ge gestured for him to continue.

"I have heard that you are running the 'Human Race Gazette,' which is dedicated to publishing reports on the hardships of ordinary people and exposing the evil deeds of corrupt officials," Mo Shou said. "I am willing to do my part in this matter."

"Are you willing to help?" Zhu Ge raised an eyebrow.

A pillow is offered when one is sleepy?

Actually, he really needs help right now.

Newspapers are something that sounds simple, but you only realize how difficult it is when you actually do it.

The paper hurdle alone could stump most people.

There are no paper mills in this world; paper is made entirely by hand, resulting in low output, high cost, and inconsistent quality.

A single sheet of Xuan paper requires more than a dozen processes, including soaking, steaming, rinsing, pulping, papermaking, and drying. A person can produce at most a few dozen sheets a day.

A newspaper needs to print at least several hundred copies to have an impact.

A few hundred newspapers would require several thousand sheets of paper.

To produce several thousand sheets of paper, dozens of papermaking artisans need to work day and night.

This is only the demand for one city.

The amount of paper needed to spread the "Human Gazette" throughout the world would be astronomical.

Transportation is an even bigger problem.

Although the official roads in this world are relatively complete, the journeys are long and arduous, with mountains and rivers stretching far and wide. It can take ten days to half a month to travel from one city to another.

Moreover, there are monsters lurking along the way, and one wrong move could result in losing both people and goods.

Although Zhu Ge has his own space to store things, he can't personally deliver the newspapers. He still needs to rush to Shengjing. Otherwise, not only will he not agree, but those watching him from the sky will also not agree.

"I'm very grateful that you're willing to help," Zhu Ge said, looking at Mo Shou. "But do you know what the hardest part of running a newspaper is?"

"Please enlighten me, sir," Mo Shou said respectfully.

"Paper and transportation," Zhu Ge sighed. "A single newspaper requires at least several hundred sheets of paper."

"A city needs at least several hundred newspapers. If a city has several hundred, then ten cities will have several thousand, and a hundred cities will have tens of thousands."

"Where did these tens of thousands of sheets of paper come from? How were they transported to different cities?"

Zhu Ge shook his head and said, "I can solve these problems, but I don't have the time, so I need someone who knows how."

Mo Shou remained silent for a moment, then said, "Sir, I might have a way to deal with the paper issue."

"What method?" Zhu Ge asked curiously.

"Sir, have you ever heard of bamboo paper?" Mo Shou asked.

"Bamboo paper?" Zhu Ge's heart skipped a beat.

"Yes." Mo Shou nodded: "Paper made from bamboo. It's cheaper than Xuan paper and easier to mass-produce."

"In the Central Plains region, bamboo forests are everywhere, and bamboo grows quickly, making it easy to obtain materials. As long as we can master the method of making bamboo paper, most of the paper problem can be solved."

Zhu Ge's eyes lit up: "You can make bamboo paper?"

He knew that too.

There was too much paper in my past life!

We use bamboo, economic tree species, grass, and so on!

However, as Zhu Ge said.

He knew many of the principles and methods of papermaking, but not the specific raw materials and steps.

For example, he knew that paper could be made from bamboo, and he also knew some general processes such as soaking, boiling, and drying.

But what kind of bamboo is used? Does that kind of bamboo even exist in the world? Or does it need to be artificially cultivated? Through hybridization?

How long should it be soaked? How long should it be boiled? Should it be dried in a shady place or exposed to direct sunlight?

—In short, his knowledge was limited.

It requires someone who is an expert in this field.

"I don't know how," Mo Shou shook his head. "But I know someone who does."

"An old man surnamed Cai lived in a bamboo mountain outside Luoyang. His ancestors had been making paper for generations and had passed down a unique bamboo paper making technique."

"It is said that the bamboo paper he made was delicate in texture and extremely tough, even better than Xuan paper."

"However—he has a strange temper and rarely sees people. I have visited him three times, but I was turned away each time."

Mo Shou shook his head and sighed.

"Has a strange temper?" Zhu Ge smiled and said, "That's perfect. I love dealing with people with strange tempers."

The so-called eccentric temperament is just another way of saying that one's temperament does not conform to the norm.

If everyone in the world likes to eat cilantro, then not liking cilantro means you have a strange temper.

People tend to side with the majority and criticize the minority.

"Is the master going to see him?" Mo Shou asked.

"Yes," Zhu Ge said, "Take me to see him."

Mo Shou hesitated for a moment, then nodded: "Then I will take you there, sir. But you must be prepared, that old man—he is really difficult to talk to."

"I'm not afraid." Zhu Ge climbed into the car. "I've met the most difficult people to talk to. Can an old papermaker be more difficult to deal with than a mountain monster?"

Liu Jianjian, riding her snow wolf, followed behind and muttered softly, "Master, you didn't win against the mountain monster last time either—"

"That's because we didn't win, not because we didn't fight." Zhu Ge said without batting an eye, "If we fought, it was worth it. If we didn't win, we'll fight again next time."

Liu Jianjian pursed her lips and didn't say anything more.

...

Thirty li outside Luoyang City.

The entire city of Luoyang is like a scroll floating in the sky, with the entire city built upon it, as beautiful as a poem or a painting.

On the outskirts, a continuous bamboo mountain range comes into view.

The bamboo forest is lush and green.

The mountain breeze rustled the bamboo leaves, making them undulate like a green ocean.

Mo Shou pointed to a low thatched hut halfway up the mountain and said, "Sir, that's where Old Man Cai lives."

Zhu Ge looked in the direction he was pointing.

The thatched cottage was small, surrounded by bamboo, and a stream flowed in front of it, its water crystal clear.

An elderly man with white hair was sitting by the stream, slowly whittling a bamboo with a knife in his hand.

Bamboo shavings flew everywhere, landing on the ground and piling up in a small heap.

"Is that Old Man Cai?" Zhu Ge asked.

"Yes." Mo Shou nodded. "Sir, this is all I can take you this far."

"That old man doesn't like crowds. If I go down there, it will only make things worse. You go alone, and I'll wait for you here."

Zhu Ge nodded, jumped off the carriage, and walked towards the thatched hut.

He walked to the stream and stopped in front of the old man.

The old man looked up at him, then lowered his head again and continued whittling bamboo.

"Are you Mr. Cai?" Zhu Ge asked.

"No." The old man didn't even look up. "My surname is Cai, but I'm not called 'Old Man.' Just call me Old Cai."

"Old Cai," Zhu Ge readily agreed, "I am Zhu Ge, and I would like to ask you for help in making a type of paper."

"I won't help." Old Cai refused cleanly and decisively.

"I can pay."

"I won't help."

"I can give you better tools."

"I won't help."

"I can----"

"I won't help."

Old Cai put down the bamboo and knife he was holding, looked up at Zhu Ge, and said, "Even if you say it a hundred times, I still won't help you. I've spent my whole life making paper, I'm tired, and I don't want to do it anymore. You can leave now."

666.

Zhu Ge hadn't expected that this old man Cai was indeed eccentric.

"Old Cai, do you know why I want to make paper?" he asked.

"It's none of my business," said Old Man Cai.

"It's for publishing a newspaper," Zhu Ge said. "It's to amplify the voices of the people, to expose the ugly deeds of corrupt officials to more people, and to give hope to those who suffer."

Since the soft approach didn't work, they resorted to moral blackmail.

People in this world are most susceptible to this kind of thing.

"The people of the world—" Old Cai's hand paused slightly.

Zhu Ge solemnly replied, "Yes, all the people under heaven."

"They gave me money? What's it to me?" Old Cai glanced at Zhu Ge. "Even if all the people in the world died, it wouldn't concern me. The people of the world? Bah!"

have to.

Seeing this, Zhu Ge didn't know what to say.

This old man Cai is impervious to both soft and hard approaches, and completely unyielding to reason.

He wouldn't accept money, he wouldn't accept tools, and even raising the banner of public morality didn't work; instead, he was met with insults.

"So what do you want?" Zhu Ge asked directly.

"I don't want anything." Old Cai lowered his head again and continued whittling the bamboo. "I just want to be alone. Don't bother me, get lost!"

The knife in his hand sliced ​​across the bamboo, making a soft "snap" sound, and a piece of bamboo fell to the ground.

"Defying the heavens!" Zhu Ge didn't leave, but stood there watching Old Man Cai whittle bamboo.

After observing for a while, he said, "Your technique for cutting bamboo is incorrect."

Old Cai stopped.

He looked up at Zhu Ge with a "What did you say?" expression: "What did you say?"

"I told you your bamboo-cutting technique is wrong," Zhu Ge repeated. "You're cutting bamboo from top to bottom, which easily cuts the bamboo fibers. You should cut from bottom to top, following the direction of the bamboo fibers."

Fortunately, he had watched short videos in his previous life and knew some methods.

This method is said to have been improved later. Initially, the ancestors did indeed use the method of Cai Laotou, but it changed later.

Old Cai paused for a moment, then looked down at the bamboo and knife in his hand, remained silent for a while, and then said, "You know about papermaking?"

"I know a little," Zhu Ge said with a smile. "I also know about materials. I've seen better paper and better ways of processing bamboo."

"You've seen better paper?" Old Cai squinted. "What kind of paper?"

"Thin as a cicada's wing, white as snow," Zhu Ge exclaimed. "It feels as smooth as silk to the touch, and the ink doesn't bleed or spread when written on, and—the price is very low."

He was actually referring to A4 paper.

Although it is common in daily life, A4 paper is the culmination of industrial civilization.

Old Cai was silent for a moment, then said, "Come in."

He stood up, turned and walked towards the hut.

Zhu Ge smiled slightly and followed.

The hut was very simple, with only a bed, a table, a few chairs, and several wooden shelves piled with bamboo paper.

The bamboo paper was piled up like a mountain, some were semi-finished products, some were finished products, some had turned yellow, and some still had the fresh scent of bamboo.

Old Cai walked to a bamboo paper rack, picked up a sheet, and handed it to Zhu Ge: "Take a look."

Zhu Ge took the bamboo paper; it felt smooth and resilient to the touch, and with a gentle shake, it produced a crisp sound.

The quality is indeed excellent, better than any Xuan paper he has seen on the market.

"Good paper," he exclaimed sincerely.

"It's naturally good paper," Old Cai said proudly. "I've been making paper all my life. I wouldn't dare say it's the best in the world, but at least in the Qin region, no one can compare."

"Then why don't you sell it?" Zhu Ge asked curiously.

What's the point of making paper?

Purely a hobby?

Where does the money come from?

"I don't want to sell," said Old Cai. "I make paper for my own use. I make a few sheets when I feel like it, and I don't make any when I don't. I never thought about making money from it."

"What do I need to do for you to help me?" Zhu Ge asked sincerely.

Old Cai didn't answer directly. Instead, he turned and walked to another bamboo paper rack, picked up a yellowed old piece of paper, and handed it to Zhu Ge: "Take a look at this."

Zhu Ge took the old paper and saw a line of words written on it—

"The Cai family's bamboo paper has been passed down for three generations. May everyone in the world have something to write on."

The words had yellowed, but the handwriting remained clear and powerful, exuding a vigorous and ancient charm.

"This was written by my grandfather," said Old Man Cai. "Before he passed away, he left me with these words, asking me to pass on the Cai family's bamboo paper so that everyone in the world could use cheap and good paper."

"But my father couldn't do it, and neither can I. We've spent our whole lives making paper, just for our own use."

His voice was calm, but Zhu Ge could hear the resentment beneath that calm.

"Then why don't you want to do it anymore?" Zhu Ge asked.

Old Cai remained silent for a long time before saying, "Because no one needs it anymore."

"How could no one need it?"

"Twenty years ago, when I was still selling paper, fewer and fewer people came to buy it," said Old Cai. "Those scholars would rather buy cheaper, inferior paper than my good paper. They said, 'No one will read what I write anyway, so what's the point of having such good paper?'"

"Nobody's watching?" Zhu Ge seized on this phrase.

"That's right." Old Cai nodded: "Nobody reads it. There are fewer and fewer scholars in this world."

"Even those who are capable of reading are unwilling to write. What they do write goes unread, unshared, and uncared for."

He paused, then said, "I made paper not to make money, but to enable people to write. But if no one writes anymore, what's the point of me making paper?"

Zhu Ge was silent for a moment, then said, "Someone has written it now."

"Who?"

"The common people," Zhu Ge said solemnly, "farmers, fishermen, craftsmen, merchants."

"They had so much to say, so many stories to tell, but they had no paper, no pen, and nowhere to write."

"I started the Human Race Newspaper to give them a place. To let them write, to let them speak, and to let their voices be heard by the world."

"The paper you make will be printed with their words and spread throughout the world."

"So that's how it is—" Old Cai looked at Zhu Ge and remained silent for a long time.

Then he turned and walked to the window, looked at the bamboo forest outside, and said, "You just said you've seen better paper."

""

"I've met you," Zhu Ge said.

"What kind?"

"Thin as a cicada's wing, white as snow," Zhu Ge repeated. "The ink won't bleed or spread when written on, and the cost is very low. If you want to learn, I can tell you how."

Old Cai turned his head and looked at him: "Are you willing to tell me?"

"I'm willing," Zhu Ge said, "but you have to promise me one thing."

"What is it?"

"Sell me the paper you make. I'll pay double the market price."

Old Cai was silent for a moment, then said, "I don't want any money."

"What do you want?"

"I need you to send me a copy of the 'Human Race Daily' every month," Old Cai said earnestly. "I want to read it. If I think it's good, I'll continue making paper for you. If I don't think it's good—"

He didn't finish his sentence, but his meaning was clear.

If he doesn't like it, he won't make it.

"Okay." Zhu Ge nodded. "Deal."

Old Cai didn't say anything more. He walked back to the wooden shelf, picked up a piece of bamboo paper, and examined it carefully.

As Zhu Ge watched his retreating figure, a strange feeling welled up inside her.

Old Lan may seem cold, stubborn, and unreasonable, but deep down, he's always been waiting for a reason.

One reason that made him pick up his tools again was worthwhile.

"Old Lady Cai, I'll be going now," Zhu Ge said. "In a few days, I'll have Lan send over a batch of bamboo."

"No need to see me off." Cai Laozi didn't reply. "I'll go and chop it myself."

Zhu Ge smiled, said nothing more, and turned to walk out of the thatched hut.

Upon returning to the carriage, Mo Shou greeted him: "Sir, how did it go?"

"It's done," Zhu Ge said. "He agreed."

Mo Shou was taken aback for a moment, then showed an expression of admiration: "Sir, you are indeed amazing. I went down three times and was turned away each time, but you persuaded him on the first try."

"It wasn't me who convinced him," Zhu Geyaozi said. "He figured it out himself. I just showed him something."

"What is it?"

"It was a letter he wrote himself," Zhu Ge said. "Actually, he never gave up."

Mo Shou nodded thoughtfully and did not ask any further questions.

Zhu Ge climbed into the car: "Let's go, back to Luoyang. The paper issue is resolved, now it's time to deal with the transportation problem."

After returning to Luoyang, Zhu Ge busied herself at Wenyuan Bookstore.

The paper issue has been resolved, but the transportation issue still needs to be addressed.

He consulted with Mo Shou: "Could your puppet become a flying puppet? Like a bird, it can fly through the sky and deliver newspapers from one city to another."

Mo Shou paused for a moment, then said, "Theoretically, it's possible. However, the dragon needs to be modified, and it will consume a lot of spirit stones."

"Spirit stones are not a problem," Zhu Ge said. "As long as we can fly fast and far, we can solve the problem."

Mo Shou thought for a moment and said, "Then I'll give it a try. But I'll need some time."

You have one month.

"One month—" Mo Shou pondered for a moment, then nodded, "One month, I will try my best."

"Not just try, we absolutely must get there."

"Yes, I will definitely be there." Mo Shou nodded solemnly.

Then came a month later.

This year, Luoyang City was brightly lit.

In the backyard of Wenyuan Bookstore, Mo Shou was adjusting a newly created puppet.

It was an eagle-shaped puppet with a wingspan of about ten feet. Its entire body was made of a mixture of bronze and cold iron, with fine gears embedded in its body. There was a hidden compartment on its chest specifically for storing newspapers.

It soared into the sky at an extremely high speed, like a streak of silver lightning.

"Sir, it's a success!" Mo Shou said excitedly. "This puppet can fly a thousand miles a day and carry a hundred newspapers at a time."

Zhu Ge looked at the silver eagle circling in the sky, a slight smile playing on his lips: "Alright. Let it fly first and deliver the latest issue of the Cong 'Lan Clan Daily' to the three nearest cities."

"Yes!" Mo Shou controlled the silver eagle puppet, swooping down from the sky and landing in the courtyard.

He opened the hidden compartment in front of his chest, stuffed in a stack of newspapers, and then started again.

The silver eagle puppet took off and flew north, quickly disappearing into the clouds.

Zhu Ge stood in the courtyard, watching the puppet's departing figure, a strange feeling welling up in her heart.

"I remember that intellectual trends are always inextricably linked to written works."

"Today I flap my butterfly wings, but who knows if tomorrow a monstrous wave will rise?"