Waste only needs a system, I am strong only by myself

Around the young man, there are four newly-born poems handed down from generation to generation floating, every word is like gold.

The author's signature is marked under the poem.

The word Zhang Hao made people unable to look away for a long time.

Seeing this scene, the old man in the bamboo forest forgot how to breathe.

The four... handed down poems are all written by one person?
Even in the golden age of Confucianism.

It is impossible for those Confucian poets to write four poems in three minutes.

The old man carefully read these four handed down poems.

"What a domineering poem!"

The old man became more and more excited, with tears in the corners of his eyes.

"It's full of rare war poems and war poems!"

There are many categories of Confucian poetry.

Most of them are inspirational and inspirational poems.

This kind of poetry doesn't work very well in battle.

Therefore, Confucianism does not have an advantage in competition with other factions.

The birth of every war poem and war word is a treasure of Confucianism.

More handed down battle poems.

"Zhang Hao?"

"I know a thing or two about the great Confucians and semi-sages of all the colleges."

"I've never heard of this man."

The old man's eyes were full of doubts.

I lost my mind and talked to myself.

"Who is he?"

"Could it be a hermit Confucian who sees through the world of mortals?"

"Or... the reincarnation of Wen Sheng?"

Wenquxing's radiance at this moment has reached its peak.

Ten thousand feet of light poured down, heading towards a place in the Haotian Continent.

Confucian disciples from all over the mainland look devout.

"That's literary!"

"How huge is the literary spirit inspired by the four handed down poems?"

"I'm afraid that if you are empowered with literary energy, you will become a saint immediately!"

The eyes of the old man in the bamboo forest followed Wen Quxing's Wen Qi.

"This person is extraordinary, and is the key to the rise of my Confucianism!"

"I must find him!"

The old man spat out a mouthful of blood.

A mysterious brush came out out of thin air, and began to absorb the huge literary energy contained in it.

"Wen Xiang, come out!"

The scene of the Sword Discussion Conference.

Zhang Hao looked up, and he saw a dazzling light descending from the sky, attacking him.

boom!
Light shrouded.

A breath different from aura spread.

Some people are well-informed and have recognized the origin of Wenqi.

"That's the style of Confucianism!"

"Those poems are his original creations!"

"It's unbelievable that such a young boy is proficient in swordsmanship and Confucianism at the same time?"

He Qingqiu was the most shocked among all the people present.

Others may not know it, but as the Tianshu Mansion, she enshrines the sword god, and there are some Confucian semi-sages in the mansion.

She knew how difficult it was to lure Wen Quxing down.

"These four original poems must be at the Zhenzhou level."

At this time.

The clouds in the sky turned.

A translucent and empty head appeared in the air.

This is exactly the portrait of the old man in the bamboo forest thousands of miles away.

The moment the old man appeared, he looked at Zhang Hao, who was shrouded in a huge literary spirit.

"Wizards!"

"What a genius of Confucianism!"

Then a gleam flashed in the old man's eyes.

"This……"

"how is this possible!"

"Why doesn't he have a writing gall and a writing palace?"

"There is spiritual energy in the body?"

Isn't this young man a Confucian student?
"impossible!"

If you are not a student of Confucianism, how can you write such handed down poems!

Ye Tianlan frowned.

Confucian semi-saint?

Good guy.

The young man just wrote a few poems, which must be extraordinary.

Otherwise, the statues of Confucian semi-sages would not be attracted to appear in Wuji Sword Sect across thousands of miles.

Confucianism and Taoism have always coexisted peacefully, and their friendship is not shallow.

The old man Wenxiang was surprised when he found the four sword fairies on the high platform.

It is rare to see the four great sword immortals gather together.

Then he nodded to express his intention.

Zhang Hao, bathed in literary spirit, looked curious.

"What is this?"

There seemed to be whispers around.

He felt a power different from aura.

Wen Qi gathered more and more, drilled in along the pores of Zhang Hao's body, and gathered in his pineal gland.

The hanging heart of the old man in the bamboo forest relaxed.

"Juwen Palace, Condensate Wendan."

He was afraid that this young man would have nowhere to go for his monstrous literary spirit because he did not have the guts to write.

"Let Wen Quxing take the initiative to help him gather in the Wen Palace, and he will be a real hero."

"With so much literary spirit, you can be promoted to a great Confucianism."

"If you condense the top-grade golden writing guts, even the semi-holy position is not impossible."

The old man showed an envious expression.

That's half holy.

He has worked so hard to study and write for a lifetime, but he can only reach the position of semi-saint.

But this young man may reach the sky in one step through four handed down poems.

"Oh, I can't be envious."

This is Confucianism, a school in which the universe is uncertain, and you and I are both dark horses.

Confucianism determines achievement by literary talent.

There are not a few examples of people who have been ignorant for half their lives and suddenly realized it, wrote poems handed down from generation to generation, supplemented the whole passage, and became holy immediately.

The surging literary spirit gradually turned golden.

"Exactly what I expected!"

"Is it really the Golden Wendanwen Palace?"

"This boy has the talent of a true saint!"

"I can look forward to the future of Confucianism!"

The old man's words caused an uproar.

The posture of a true saint?

That is an existence equivalent to a fairy.

"This is to condense the gallantry of Wen Gong, and it is a golden top grade."

He Qingqiu looked solemn.

The true sage's words are true.

Just when everyone is waiting to see.

An accident occurred.

"Go away!"

"Are you insulting me?"

"I, Zhang Hao, have always relied on myself in my cultivation."

"I don't need this kind of external power!"

Wenqu star twinkling.

It is mourning for Confucianism.

It mourns for the entire literary world.

The atmosphere scattered, and a figure stepped out of it.

The boy rejected Wenquxing's literary empowerment.

Students from major colleges and universities in mainland China are at a loss.

Wen Quxing's mournful cry made them shed tears uncontrollably.

"I feel so sad..."

"What happened, I was still happy for the four handed down poems just a second ago."

The old man in the bamboo forest was shocked, he couldn't imagine such an ending.

Some people would refuse Wenquxing Wenqi empowerment.

"You know what you turned down?"

"You...you rejected Wenquxing."

"You refuse to be a Confucian demi-saint!"

"what are you doing?"

Zhang Hao looked up and smiled.

"Trash needs external force, and I, Zhang Hao, only rely on myself."

"In this world, nothing can shake my firm heart!"

The old man trembled, and his heart ached for Confucianism losing a half-sage.

After a long time, he calmed down.

Seeing Zhang Hao's clear and firm eyes.

For some reason, he felt admiration in his heart.

Facing the semi-holy position, he could refuse so resolutely and say such words.

Perhaps this is the reason why he was able to write handed down poems in such a short period of time.

Such a person is worthy of becoming a true sage of Confucianism.

The old man looked kindly.

"Young man, are you willing to follow me to the Confucian Academy, study and write, and follow the Confucian way?"

Zhang Hao was puzzled.

What is Confucianism?
But he was very interested in hearing about reading and learning to make a fuss.

In his previous life, he received nine years of compulsory education and loved learning, especially the subject of Chinese.

This is also the reason why his reading comprehension ability is so strong, and he can realize the central idea that others cannot understand.

"What is Confucianism?"

The old man answered.

"Confucianism, eloquence makes words, tongues fight against enemies, literary spirit is in the body, a hundred ghosts cannot invade, poetry can kill people, pen can determine the world!"

"It is said that a gentleman uses his mouth but not his hands. In Confucianism, I fight with my mouth and never with my hands."

Zhang Hao pondered after hearing this, and always felt that the word "warring enemies with words" was not very serious.

"I understand your explanation!"

"Talk but don't move, you are Haotian Continent's version of...Keyboard Man?"