Having cultivated myself into an immortal, all I want to do is raise female disciples.

This is the embodiment of literature and morality!

Although it is not yet fully complete, Zhan Mo is truly the embodiment of literature and the Way!

Isn't it said that only sages can invoke the Great Dao and awaken its incarnation?

"The chosen one..."

Inside the arena, Li Qingfan, the sect leader of the Thousand Flowers Sect and a peak Void Realm cultivator, uttered a remark with considerable envy.

Even she had never had such good fortune—her innate talent was chosen by the Great Dao. Those who are favored by the Great Dao are extremely rare. Even among the saints of the three great heavens today, those who are favored by the Great Dao and bestowed with the Radiant Seal can be counted on two hands!

The cultivation path of these chosen ones is absolutely smooth sailing. As long as they are not nipped in the bud, they will almost certainly become saints in the future!

The inkstone before us is just like that.

Moreover, Li Qingfan, the sect leader of the Thousand Flowers Sect, could see that Zhan Mo's literary Dao radiance was special, much stronger than that of other people favored by the Great Dao. This was also the reason why he was able to summon the literary Dao avatar with his cultivation at the Kaiyuan Realm.

With a gentle wave of the folding fan, the ink-colored characters surrounding Zhan Mo began to spin rapidly, gradually condensing into a huge ink-colored folding fan phantom. On the folding fan, one poem after another, composed by Emperor Wen in the past, appeared.

"Oh, it seems you're getting a lot of help from Wendao."

Yunping said calmly, continuing to sip his wine, "To be able to influence the Great Dao at such a young age, he may still achieve great things in the future."

Zhan Mo took a step forward arrogantly and laughed, "What? Are you begging for mercy now?"

"No." The old rogue helplessly spread his hands and winked at Zhan Mo: "I'm just waiting for you to teach me how to write the word 'death,' aren't I?"

"it is good!"

Zhan Mo stared at the white-robed youth who seemed completely oblivious to his fate, and a surge of anger rose within him. He immediately opened his folding fan and swung it forward—

"Then I'll show you how to write the word 'death'!"

Ink forms words, and strokes create characters.

In an instant, the Wen Dao Yao Seal between Zhan Mo's brows once again activated the Wen Dao Avatar. With just a wave of his hand, he scattered endless thick ink, which, under the influence of spiritual energy and the Great Dao, rapidly condensed into a huge character "墨" (Mo).

【die】

Those are words that symbolize death, words that symbolize the end of life.

To outsiders, what Zhan Mo wielded was not ink or a single character, but rather a pitch-black beast from the ancient wilderness, opening its terrifying, blood-red maw and letting out a piercing roar like a raging storm, about to swallow the white-robed youth whole.

however.

"The last guy who liked to use Wen Dao to criticize me, now his grave is overgrown with weeds..."

The young man uttered a statement that left everyone puzzled.

What followed was collapse.

Yes, it cracked.

The character for "death" crumbles into ink, the ink crumbles into tiny black dots, and the black dots crumble into nothingness.

It just crumbled and dissipated, crumbled and disappeared without a trace.

Before anyone could react, the folding fan in Zhan Mo's hand began to crack, first the fan ribs, then the handle, and finally it shattered into endless fragments.

The folding fan, a ritual implement, is like this; the word "death" is like this; and the embodiment of literature and Taoism is also like this.

The endless ink characters surrounding Zhan Mo seemed to be summoned by some force, instantly collapsing into scattered ink that splashed onto the magnificent golden hall of the Imperial Pavilion.

What about spiritual energy?

Gone.

At this moment, Zhan Mo, who was as still as a puppet, seemed to be the real mortal. He stood there blankly, still holding the folding fan in his hand, but the magic weapon in his hand had long since become trash.

His eyes briefly lost their triumphant gleam, replaced by endless bewilderment.

What about the spiritual essence? What about the embodiment of literature and the Dao? What about the ink characters?

Zhan Mo didn't understand, he didn't understand at all.

He thought Yunping had done something, but the moment he looked at Yunping, what he saw was a young man in a white shirt sitting in a chair, drinking wine, eating peanuts, crossing his legs, doing nothing.

And that enigmatic smile that defies explanation.

"Want to come again?" Yunping asked with a light laugh.

These four words struck Zhan Mo's nerves. He once again activated his spiritual energy, channeling it all into the Wen Dao Yao Seal between his eyebrows.

"I don't believe you're really that weird!"

The embodiment of literature and the Way reappears, and the ink characters reappear!

He summoned a black and white ink brush from his storage ring, dipped it in the black ink of the ink characters, and then swiftly wrote a huge character for "death" in the air in front of him.

He believed that what had just happened was a mistake, that he must have been tricked by Yun Ping, and that Yun Ping must have used some mysterious means to erase his attack.

This time, he would never let Yunping succeed.

"I'll teach you how to write the word 'death'!"

"Okay."

Yunping sat facing the rapidly approaching character for "death"...

"What a pity—"

He shook his head.

"I still don't recognize this character."

The words fell.

The enormous ink-written character, less than half a meter from Yunping, suddenly froze in mid-air, then...

It caused cracking.

It crumbled into dust, then crumbled into nothingness.

Everything—whether it's Zhan Mo's embodiment of literature and Taoism, Zhan Mo's magical artifacts, or the spiritual energy that erupted from Zhan Mo…

Everything vanished into thin air.

94. Don't know how? Then I'll teach you.

Time and time again, again and again.

Zhan Mo's literary avatar appeared again and again, and his spiritual energy erupted time and time again.

He wrote countless words of death, countless words expressing his desire to kill Yunping, but not a single one... he didn't even manage to touch the young man before disintegrating into ashes.

Nobody knows what happened.

Zhan Mo didn't know, the four schools of qin, qi, shu, and hua didn't know, and even Li Qingfan, the sect leader of the Thousand Flowers Sect, didn't know...

He simply sat there, and the embodiment of literature and Tao vanished without a trace.

There was no circulation of spiritual energy, no activation of magical artifacts, and no invocation of the Great Dao.

He just sat there, drinking, eating peanuts, with an irritating smile on his face.

Zhan Mo still had some spiritual energy left, and he also had a stockpile of magical artifacts, but his attacks stopped.

Yes, it has stopped.

He no longer summoned the avatar of literature, nor wrote the words that symbolized death. Instead, his eyes widened, and he stopped in horror, his hands hanging limply at his sides. His mouth was slightly open, but he could not utter a single word.

It's not that he can't fight anymore, it's that he's afraid to fight anymore.

What can we use to fight?

What can you use to hurt him?

Nothing—whether it be magical artifacts, spiritual energy, or even the words written by the incarnation of the Great Dao—could affect him in the slightest.

What else can he use to fight?

I dare not.

I really don't dare to do it again.

The students at the academy remained silent for three days. Zhan Mo was no match for them, and neither were they.

Previously, he was so angry because of Yunping's provocation that he called him a clown, saying he was ignorant of his own limitations and didn't know what was good for him. But now?

The person was speechless.

The atmosphere had become unusually heavy without anyone noticing.

Yunping looked at Zhanmo's pale face and drank the wine in his glass in one gulp.

"Finished?"

Zhan Mo didn't dare to reply... nor did he have the face to do so.

The entire room fell silent. Even the teachers from the Three-Day Academy were too intimidated by the mysterious man before them to make a move.

Yunping smiled, poured himself another full glass of wine, and then looked around.

"I'll put my words here first—"

"I'm here specifically to find the Emperor's Pavilion. It has nothing to do with any of you. I don't want to have any conflicts or disagreements with you. My goal has always been the Emperor's Pavilion."

King Gu's expression became extremely solemn. He looked at Yun Ping, his mind racing, trying to recall if among the Emperor Pavilion's formidable enemies throughout history there was a young man in white robes with black hair and black eyes.

Yunping continued speaking.

Although his tone sounded very calm, his words sounded very threatening.

“I understand your feelings and your position. I, Yunping, am neither an unreasonable person nor a demon, and I have no intention of causing trouble here.”

“I know that many of you have a good relationship with the Emperor’s Pavilion, but it doesn’t matter. It’s all the same to me—I’m still giving you a chance to choose.”

"Either sit quietly in your seats, eat your food, drink your wine, and don't get involved, or..."

Yunping's expression suddenly turned extremely cold, and his tone became abruptly heavy.

"I'll take care of you and the Imperial Pavilion together."

The moment those words were spoken, the entire audience erupted in cheers.

The Thousand Flowers Sect Master Li Qingfan's gaze fell on another petite girl beside him, whose expression clearly contained a hint of annoyance.