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

"Buddhist or Taoist saints?"

Gu Xingzhuo was taken aback, then seemed to understand something and smiled slightly.

Wang Xiaomo was extremely puzzled by Gu Xingzhuo's smile, but Gu Xingzhuo had no intention of explaining.

He simply left a mundane comment: "A teacher is a teacher. He is neither a Buddhist or Taoist saint nor a literary saint. He is who he is, just as I am who I am."

Wang Xiaomo couldn't understand Gu Xingzhuo's words and asked sharply, "What exactly are you talking about?"

"You don't know yet."

"But perhaps... you will find out."

Still uttering words that Wang Xiaomo couldn't understand, Gu Xingzhuo slowly lowered his eyelids in the next second.

He knew he still had that last sliver of a chance.

At this moment, Wang Xiaomo has become a demon general, standing on the opposite side of himself, and has lost all memories of himself.

Then there's only one thing he can do.

If you don't succeed, you will become benevolent.

This time—Gu Xingzhuo showed no fear.

He held the ink brush in his right hand, channeling his spiritual energy into liquid. He took a deep breath of cool air, which calmed his mind and cleared his head. A rare, faint smile appeared on his stiff face.

He was reminiscing, recalling the first time he saw that poem.

Use the sky as paper, the earth as inkstone, your body as ink, and your will as brush.

He picked up his brush and wrote the first character in the pitch-black space.

【霄】

This word was written.

Wang Xiaomo felt an unprecedented sense of crisis sweep over his entire body.

Even though she had lost most of her memories, she still knew a common sense fact.

A person who practices martial arts is at their strongest when they fight to the death with their bare body.

The strongest moment for a person who cultivates the Way of Literature is when he writes poems and sings praises!

At this very moment, Gu Xingzhuo is writing poetry!

She could clearly sense that Gu Xingzhuo's momentum was rising steadily. If she didn't stop him from finishing the poem, she didn't know if she would lose, but she certainly wouldn't be able to maintain her advantage.

"Don't even think about it!"

Wang Xiaomo roared angrily and charged forward. By the time she had covered a distance of a hundred meters and arrived in front of Gu Xingzhuo, the first line of the seven-character quatrain was already more than half completed.

Facing the rapidly approaching Wang Xiaomo, Gu Xingzhuo didn't even raise his head, but quickly took out a pill from his storage ring.

—One of the three Spirit Pills of Literary Daoism bestowed upon him by Yunping.

"Bind!"

The pill that allowed the first word uttered by the person who swallowed it to contain the essence of literature played a decisive role at this moment.

Wang Xiaomo's movements were as if time and space had frozen, and he was completely suspended in mid-air.

In the next second, the axe blade slipped from his hand, and his legs and arms were held firmly by an invisible hand, making it impossible for him to move.

However, the effect of the Literary Dao Word Spirit Pill is always limited. After all, it can only summon the aura of the Literary Dao, but cannot directly invoke the Literary Dao. Compared with the power of the words of the Literary Dao Saint, its effect is much worse.

Even so, by the time Wang Xiaomo, his face contorted in pain, was freed from his restraints, the seven-character quatrain was already more than halfway complete.

How could Wang Xiaomo dare to be negligent? He immediately stretched his right hand behind him, and the giant axe was pulled towards him out of thin air. He then charged forward with all his might, swinging the giant axe from top to bottom, attempting to split Wang Xiaomo in two.

—The third pill had already been swallowed.

"kneel!"

That was a command from the breath of literature.

Wang Xiaomo's legs went weak, and he was completely unable to struggle. He could only watch Gu Xingzhuo continue writing ink poems so close to him, but he couldn't do anything about it.

Three Literary Elixirs...

Wang Xiaomo glared fiercely at Gu Xingzhuo. How could she have imagined that the seemingly ordinary young man would produce three pills with such terrifying effects with just one move?

That being said.

But the strength in her legs was slowly returning. Wang Xiaomo's lips curled up into a terrifying smile. She gripped the black giant axe tightly in her hand, her killing intent chilling, as if she wanted to tear the white-haired boy in front of her to pieces. She slowly stood up from the ground.

“Now, you…”

"It's over."

Gu Xingzhuo declared his fate.

That's impossible.

The white-haired boy suddenly stopped writing. He slowly raised his head and looked at the woman standing in front of him with a complicated expression. Although she was dead, she was as beautiful and charming as before. One glance from her would make you fall in love with her.

Wang Xiaomo.

now.

The pitch-black giant axe hovered in mid-air, hesitant to fall.

Holding the giant axe, Wang Xiaomo stared blankly at the white-haired boy in front of him—no, to be precise, he was staring at the poem.

When Gu Xingzhuo said "it's over," he wasn't referring to his own downfall, but rather—

"The poem... is finished."

The white-haired boy spoke calmly, as if showing something he liked to someone he liked, and gently pushed forward.

The poem, written by himself in slender and beautiful characters, was suddenly turned over and displayed to Wang Xiaomo, who was holding a giant axe, directly opposite Gu Xingzhuo.

That was indeed a poem rich in literary meaning, written by a scholar, and possessing immense destructive power.

However, unlike the killing poem, this poem only contains pure spiritual energy and literary meaning, without any killing intent.

The title of this poem is quite interesting.

"Ink Dyeing"

Clouds and snow adorn the sky, a silver-clad landscape.

Ink falls on white folds, snow stains plum blossoms

The traveler went to the fishing bank before dawn.

Zhuo Jun, I remember returning home at night

……

Wang Xiaomo stared at the poem for a long time.

a long time.

So long that she herself lost track of time, and when she came to her senses, she found that Gu Xingzhuo had a faint smile on his face.

She froze, and remained frozen for a long time, until her hand gripping the giant black axe became stiff.

Is your heart still beating?

No, that was something that had been dead for a long time. From the moment it became a corpse, its heart could no longer beat.

So, that was just an illusion.

Do you remember this poem?

Gu Xingzhuo asked with a smile.

He stared at Wang Xiaomo in front of him, staring expectantly... He did nothing, neither continuing to wield his pen nor stepping back to create distance, just staring like an ordinary person, his eyes shining with a childlike light.

……

Wang Xiaomo did not answer.

But at a certain moment, she suddenly raised her head.

"Sorry, I have absolutely no recollection of it."

As soon as he finished speaking...

A powerful and terrifying demonic aura swept across the entire area.

Gu Xingzhuo's eyes widened suddenly, and at that moment, he saw a scene that shocked him to no end.

He clearly saw Wang Xiaomo wielding his invincible, jet-black giant axe, using all his strength to chop down at the ink poem he had personally written in front of him.

roar.

A violent roar.

The entire pitch-black space was trembling. Dust flew up and was then destroyed by the terrifying spiritual energy and demonic energy, turning into wisps of black smoke that disappeared without a trace.

The four walls began to shake violently.

About a minute later... the terrifying tremors finally subsided.

Suddenly, everything became eerily quiet.

It was deathly silent, eerily cold, so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

Quiet.

What was originally an extremely loud noise has suddenly become eerily quiet.

……

As if they had sensed something.

In the midst of desolation, clutching a small black sphere in his hand, with no longer the 100,000-strong demon army around him, the black-haired youth in white robes turned his head and looked at the pitch-black barrier.

He frowned, then casually waved his hand, and the four walls crumbled and disappeared without a trace in the next moment.

At that moment, a cloud of smoke and dust was billowed up.

In the dim light, a figure could be seen standing in the smoke and dust.

Once the smoke and dust cleared, everyone could clearly see the figure's true form.