Holding the ink brush, a faint golden aura surged from Han Muye’s body.
Looking at the Great Spirit, Jiang Tong’s eyes lit up and his face was filled with surprise.
Although this Great Spirit was not dense, it was pure. It could be seen that not only did Han Muye have a transparent personality, but he also had superb talents.
What kind of literary treasure would such a person leave behind?
Not only Jiang Tong, but others from Xisai Town also looked at Han Muye expectantly.
“Granny Lan, does Immortal Han know how to compose poems and essays?” Tan Tan went to Mu Jin’s side and whispered curiously.
Before her eyes, Han Muye had a special aura.
It was the kind that lacked the sharpness of a sword cultivator and had a hint of literary talent that was endearing.
This aura smelled good.
Mu Jin shook her head.
Some people were really not fathomable at will.
Han Muye gave her the feeling that he was unfathomable.
Sword Dao and alchemy. Now is he actually proficient in the Confucian Dao inheritance that has never appeared in the Western Frontier?
Under everyone’s gaze, the ink brush in Han Muye’s hand began to move.
With the accumulation of talent over two lifetimes, Han Muye’s brush strokes were elegant and strong, unlike anything in the Heavenly Mystic World.
Force tampered with softness.
As the brush landed, spiritual light appeared.
“In front of Xisai Mountain.”
On the paper, the shadows of mountains appeared. Green mountains stretched on and on, and pine trees surged like waves.
“The manifestation of literary grace!” Jiang Tong’s eyes widened, and his shoulders trembled.
Kong Chaode was also staring at Han Muye.
His Confucian Dao cultivation and literary grace complemented each other.
However, literary grace was not something that could be achieved through bitter cultivation.
Why were there so few scholars among the millions of Confucian cultivators in the world?
It was because there were countless ascetic cultivators, but it was difficult to find someone with corresponding literary talent.
However, today, Han Muye had manifested his literary talent. It was obvious that he had the blessings of Heaven and Earth powers.
Could it be that Young Master really has astounding talent? Jiang Tong wondered.
Is that possible…
“In front of Mount Xisai, the white heron flies.”
As soon as Han Muye said ‘fly’, a faint sword light flashed.
He watched with a smile as the sword light turned into a flying heron and spread its wings.
He was a sword cultivator with Confucian Dao as his trappings and Sword Dao in his bones.
So what if he did not use his Sword Dao in his cultivation?
What in the world couldn’t become a sword?
For example, could this ink not become a sword?
The white heron flew up and down, flapping its wings on the green mountain. It was like a sword light, its trajectory impossible to grasp.
“In front of Mount Xisai, the white heron flies. What a good poetic line!” Jiang Tong exclaimed. The people behind him looked at Han Muye anxiously.
Just this line alone could turn into a spiritual heron that soared into the sky. What would the next line be like?
Han Muye turned his brush and a line of words appeared.
“In the flowing spring of peach blossoms. the mandarin fish fattens.”
A clear spring flowed, carrying light red petals with it. There was a hint of wine in the water.
“Crash—”
A fat fish jumped out of the spring. As its sword qi flashed, it created a spray of water.
Han Muye transformed his literary grace into mountains, rivers, and falling flowers, and transformed the sword light into birds and fish.
When he put down the ink brush, his aura was indescribably profound.
As expected of someone who reads 10,000 books and travels thousands of miles… Jiang Tong thought.
Feeling the fusion of the Great Spirit in his body and the spiritual energy and sword intent in his dantian, Han Muye chuckled and turned to leave.
“In front of Mount Xisai, the white heron flies. In the flowing spring of peach blossoms. the mandarin fish fatten. Good poem, good poem!” Jiang Tong’s eyes lit up as he chased after Han Muye. “Young Master Mu, these two lines encapsulate all the glory of Mount Xisai. I wonder what the next two sentences will be like?”
Beyond the scenery was the concept of cultivation.
Jiang Tong was waiting for the manifestation of his comprehension of cultivation!
Hearing his words, Han Muye didn’t turn around. He waved his hand and said, “The mountain is there, the river is there. What other concept do you need? I’m not writing anymore.”
The flying ship soared into the sky. Jiang Tong and the people behind him stood there regretfully.
“Sigh, what a pity. There’s only half a poem that can gather luck.” A white-haired, gray-robed old man spoke with a trembling voice and a regretful expression.
“That’s right. If we can complete this poem, our Western Frontier might be able to receive great luck and help you become a great scholar.” Another green-robed scholar sighed.
Why was Jiang Tong so eager to receive visiting Confucian cultivators? Wasn’t it because he could borrow some literary talent to help him break through?
How could there be a free lunch in this world?
“The mountain is there, the river is there.
“The mountain is there, the river is there.”
Jiang Tong slowly turned around and looked at the scroll that the maidservant had unfolded. Looking at the golden spiritual light emitted from it, his expression turned to joy.
“Well, Young Master Mu. You’re really talented in calligraphy and in comprehending the Confucian Dao…
“Isn’t Xisai Town lucky to have this scroll with the mountain and river, and the half-poem?
“If Young Master Mu leaves a complete poem today and helps me break through, I’ll be the only one who benefits.
“When the fame of this half-poem spreads, it will be recited for thousands of miles and attract countless people. They will look at the mountains and rivers of Western Frontier and taste its wine and delicacies. Only then will Western Frontier become famous!
“Quick, engrave this at the most eye-catching spot at the entrance of the town.”
With that, he stepped forward and carefully rolled up the scroll that Han Muye had autographed.
“Help me invite the guards and scholars from the streets around here.
“I want to help Young Master Han Muye become famous.”
….
On the flying ship, the little wood demon, Tan Tan, stared at Han Muye and muttered something.
On the other side, Kong Chaode looked at Han Muye, who was sitting opposite him, with uncontrollable surprise.
On the other hand, Lin Shen sat cross-legged at the side, the sword light and blood qi flashing on his body.
Nothing that Han Muye did was strange to him.
“Young Master, I really didn’t expect your literary talent to reach the stage of Talent Qi manifestation.” Looking at Han Muye, Kong Chaode said in a low voice, “With Young Master’s talent, if you cultivate Confucianism in the Central Continent, you could easily become a scholar official.”
