Sending a Letter via Goose

Lin Su's two Seven-Colored Poems—what exactly did they contain? Naturally, Lin Jialiang was the one who most wanted to know.

Lin Su wrote down these two poems. Lin Jialiang read them word by word countless times, sighing with deep emotion. A Seven-Colored Poem, so exquisite...

He shifted the topic and asked another question: besides these two, had Third Brother written another one? He looked at Lin Su, his eyes carrying a profound meaning...

Lin Su understood immediately. "I wrote one on behalf of Second Brother, for Sister-in-law."

You... Lin Jialiang's eyes bulged. "Just as I thought! I said Yu Lou came and told me you brought her a poem... What did it say?"

"Borrowing the river tide and ocean ripples, how do they compare to your feelings and my heart? Resentment that you are less faithful than the tide; longing makes me realize the sea is not deep." After reciting the poem, Lin Su added, "Second Brother, don't let it slip to Sister-in-law..."

Lin Jialiang pondered for a long time, then let out a long sigh. Resentment that you are less faithful than the tide; longing makes me realize the sea is not deep—such a marvelous poem should also be a Color Poem! Third Brother's talent is truly...

After gently shaking his head, Lin Jialiang said, "Today is a great joy for the Lin family. Let's write a letter to Elder Brother. He's always worried about the situation at home; this should set his mind at ease!"

Lin Jialiang lifted his treasured brush and wrote a family letter on a sheet of treasured paper, a sprawling thousand characters. At the end, his brush moved like the wind, landing on the character "Goose."

The brush withdrew, the paper rose, transforming into a flying goose heading south.

Sending a letter via goose—this was the means of a scholar.

With a Literary Root, one strengthens the body and sharpens the mind.

And upon entering the literary world, one could use the most basic forms of Literary Way Power, such as sending a letter via goose. Unlike a Qi Guiding Text, it consumed little literary energy. Even though Second Brother was still ill, he could still manage this.

"Elder Brother is far away fighting in the south. Receiving this family letter should put his mind at ease!" Lin Jialiang said. "Third Brother, you've stepped through the gate of the literary path. You must go further. Starting today, study in peace. This year's Provincial Examination is only two months away—let's not mention that. But in three years, you must hit the mark in one go."

The literary path was extremely difficult.

Lin Su's Literary Root hadn't followed the proper procedure; he earned a direct bestowal from a Sage through a single poem.

But such good fortune couldn't happen again. From now on, the literary world, the literary mountain, and the literary heart all required the formal process: the Provincial Examination, the Metropolitan Examination, and the Palace Examination.

So Lin Jialiang, as Second Brother, temporarily took on the role of eldest brother after their father's death and elder brother's absence, planning his younger brother's life path.

Lin Su looked up. "Didn't you say... this year's Provincial Examination hasn't been held yet?"

Lin Jialiang shook his head. "This year? This year's Provincial Examination is less than two months away. There's no time in such a short period..."

The Provincial Examination was held once every three years. The content was truly all-encompassing, covering the Masters, Philosophers, and Historians. To thoroughly master these classics, a normal person couldn't do it in a lifetime. Even someone with a Literary Root, gifted with intelligence, needed over a decade of hard work to possibly pass.

Even if Third Brother's poetic talent was unmatched, it wouldn't work. The Provincial Examination tested far more than poetry. Poetry relied on inspiration and talent; the Provincial Examination tested accumulated knowledge.

Lin Su scratched his head. "Second Brother, tell me what the Provincial Examination covers..."

Lin Jialiang had gone through the Provincial Examination himself, ranking seventh as a Xiucai back then. He was interested in the topic and quickly slipped into a certain role. What role? Senior and mentor...

The classics Second Brother listed were actually the Analects, the Book of Documents, the Tao Te Ching...

Lin Su listened, his eyes blinking. These required subjects—honestly, he'd never read them before. Who reads this stuff when they're used to modern books? But now, he had read them all. If you asked how he read them, it was with his hands—a single touch, and even the most profound classics were etched into his mind, clearer than someone who'd studied by lamplight for decades. Tell me, is that even fair for others?

The southern border, a sea of blood for a thousand miles!

A brutal battle was nearing its end. Over a thousand corpses lay on the ground, with the final sounds of clashing coming from the western hillside.

Over a hundred men were trapped on a small slope, their long spears thrust outward in a frenzy of stabbing.

Their opponents were unnaturally tall, with faint scales on their bodies. When spears pierced them, green blood flowed.

They weren't human—they were the Devil Race!

The Devil Race still had seven or eight hundred soldiers and over three hundred massive Magic Beast mounts, their aura overwhelming. The hundred or so humans were like a small boat in a raging tide, on the verge of capsizing at any moment.

A young general roared, "Brothers! Dingnan Iron Guard, one becomes ten! Fight to the death! Victory!"

"Victory!"

"Victory!"

Amid the furious shouts, over a hundred long spears and sharp swords swept across the sky, killing intent surging in all directions. The Devil Race soldiers who had just charged up the slope were cut down. Magic Beasts lunged through the air, reduced to pulp under their spears and blades. This wave of attack was repelled once more, but over a dozen of the hundred-plus men died, while the Devil Race lost over thirty soldiers and twenty Magic Beasts.

The young general propped himself up with his longsword, standing firm against the raging wind. He was Lin Zheng, the eldest son of the Lin family.

In a single day, he had charged seventeen times.

With eight hundred Iron Guards, he had stubbornly slain two thousand Devil soldiers. Now, his strength was spent, his true energy nearly exhausted. But he couldn't show the slightest sign of fatigue, because he knew that the men beside him were all that remained of the Lin family's military force. If he collapsed, the entire unit would collapse. And if the unit collapsed, death was certain!

The military strength of the Marquis of Dingnan's Estate would be wiped clean.

On the opposite side, the Devil Race's banner waved. All Magic Beasts took position, and the Devil soldiers roared at the sky...

A new wave of attack was about to begin—a full-force, all-or-nothing assault...

"This attack will surely be Jade and Stone Burn Together," a general beside him sighed softly. "I wonder if Second Young Master can bear the heavy burden of the Estate."

Lin Zheng raised his eyes, gazing northward. Layers of clouds, ten thousand miles of border, a blood-red setting sun.

Second Brother!

Your elder brother is about to go as well. What a pity I can't leave behind a family letter.

Father was murdered, and today all eight hundred Death Guards will die in battle. Only you remain. The Lin bloodline is in your hands!

Suddenly, a streak of light shot through the sky. A goose pierced the air, landing in Lin Zheng's hand, transforming into a sheet of paper shimmering with golden light...

"A family letter from Second Brother!"

Lin Zheng was immensely moved. To receive a letter from home at the final moment of his life—this was perhaps the greatest comfort he could ask for.

The people around him also had shining eyes, three parts excitement but seven parts fear.

Because they were all Lin Family soldiers, their hearts tied to the main household. They also knew well that the main household was trapped in an unprecedented crisis. Under such circumstances, it was impossible for any good news to come.

Please, let it not be that something happened to the Second Young Master. Even if the Matriarch passed away, it would be better than the Second Young Master meeting with misfortune...

Lin Zheng's face shifted like the wind and clouds, from initial worry to surprise, then to overwhelming joy, and finally he burst into loud laughter...

None of the hundred-plus people understood.

"Third Brother has burst onto the scene, producing two Seven-Colored Poems in a single day! Granted a Literary Root by the saints themselves, haha..." Lin Zheng laughed wildly. "Let me, your elder brother, recite my own brother's peerless poem as I tread toward the battlefield. No regrets in this life—even in death, it is an honor!"

"Glory presses upon a man, leaving no freedom, Like a dragon soaring, a phoenix rising, a momentum hard to contain..."

The sonorous recitation pierced through the boundless blood-red curtain, and the entire battlefield seemed stirred by it.

"The hall full of flowers intoxicates three thousand guests..."

As this line was chanted, countless phantom figures suddenly appeared on the battlefield—none other than the seven hundred Death Guards who had already fallen in battle.

"A Sword's Frost Chills Forty Prefectures!"

The blood-red aura in the sky gathered together, condensing into a shocking giant sword...

The Demon Army on the opposite side was greatly startled: "A War Poem? That's impossible..."

The heaven-shaking giant sword fell from the sky. The Demon Army Leader let out a miserable scream and vanished into ashes. Fragments of the giant sword shot toward the hundred-plus people on the hillside, and the blades in their hands suddenly flared with great light. At this moment, their strength seemed to return all at once, back to their peak state, while their courage and bloodlust surged tenfold.

Kill!

With a single roar, the hundred-plus people leaped forward, charging at the Demon Army.

In the First Encounter, a hundred Demon Army soldiers were slain...

"Drums and horns pierce the sky, the auspicious air grows cold, Wind and waves shake the earth, the sea and mountains in autumn. Southeast shall forever stand as a Golden Pillar of Heaven, Who would envy the Marquis of Ten Thousand Households of that time?"

As the final word left his mouth, the long sword in Lin Zheng's hand swept across. The Demon Army's banner split in two, and the general beneath it was also cleaved in half.

At the Same Time, the sacred light on this family letter in Lin Zheng's hand faded away, returning it to its original form.

The hundred-plus people all collapsed at once, their spirit and vitality seeming to vanish along with the sacred light.

The phantoms of the fallen heroes disappeared simultaneously.

A long, long time passed.

Lin Zheng Sighed Deeply and murmured, "A War Poem! Third Brother's poem is actually a War Poem."

War Poems are rare—why? Because War Poems, as the name implies, are written for the battlefield. In a society that values literature over martial arts, which top-tier scholar would be willing to write poems for lowly Martial Artists?

That would be lowering their own status.

Thus, War Poems are very few. Currently, only about a dozen War Poems exist in the world, and each one has been utilized to its utmost by the military.

It can be said that the first thing every soldier does upon enlistment is memorize poems.

Although the application rate is very high, the effects are not particularly good. Why? Because the level of War Poems is low. The highest-level War Poem currently is "Treading the River," composed decades ago—a Five-Colored Poem suited for naval combat, not land battles.

Lin Su's poem is suitable for all battlefields, and it is a Seven-Colored Poem at that.

Add to that the name bestowed by the saints!

Its power becomes extraordinary.

But that alone would not have achieved today's miraculous effect. There was another factor that maximized the poem's impact—That Is, Lin Zheng's extraordinary connection to this poem.

This poem was written by his own blood brother, infused with the will of the Lin Clan.

To even summon the spirits of the Lin Clan's fallen—how terrifying is that?

At the Lin Residence, the Setting sun.

Yu Lou had already returned. Seeing her radiant face, Lin Jialiang felt divinely inspired and got straight out of bed.

Yu Lou brought over a few cups of tea. The two brothers sat in the study discussing the taboos of the Provincial Examination. At this moment, Lin Jialiang showed no trace of illness.

Suddenly, Lin Su Slightly Shook.

"What's wrong?" Lin Jialiang stopped his lecture.

Lin Su's face bore a very strange expression: "Something odd... It seems my Martial Root has been activated."

"How is that possible? You must be mistaken..." To produce a Martial Root, a martial artist must lay down the most perfect martial foundation. But Third Brother had never been able to endure the hardship of martial training since childhood—how could he have laid a perfect martial foundation? The reason Father sent him to the Dao Sect back then was precisely because Third Brother had neither a Literary Root nor a Martial Root, so he had to try his luck on the Dao path.

Who would have thought that upon his return, he would receive a Sacred Bestowal of a Literary Root, and before the excitement had even passed, he would claim to have activated a Martial Root?

Was that possible?

Was it possible? Lin Su himself was puzzled. A strange root had truly awakened in his dantian, and the moment it awoke, it connected to the qi and blood throughout his body, as if sharing the same breath—this was exactly the characteristic of a Martial Root as he understood it.

What baffled Lin Su even more was that this Martial Root was clearly linked to the withered tree in his mind. An invisible thread stretched from his dantian to his brain, connecting to the middle withered branch. Once connected, that branch seemed to come alive too, except that this branch had no leaves on it.

A withered tree in his mind, three withered branches. The Literary Root activated, and one branch came alive. The Martial Root activated, and another branch came alive. What did it mean?

Lin Jialiang stopped his pacing and fixed his gaze on Lin Su. "Third Brother, this poem of yours—could it be a War Poem?"

"A War Poem? Perhaps it is!" Lin Su was surprised. What about War Poems? Was there something to say about them?

Lin Jialiang was extremely excited.

There were two ways to activate a Martial Root: one was through austere cultivation of the martial path, laying a perfect foundation; the other was by writing a War Poem. War Poems boosted a warrior's combat power while simultaneously giving feedback to the original author.

Huh? There was a cheating method like this?

If I wrote a hundred War Poems, wouldn't the battles of The Whole World be fought for me?

Lin Su's thoughts ran wild, and he felt an urge to immediately start writing... oh, no, copying poems...

But for now, he had a question to resolve. "Second Brother, have you heard of the eight-character prophecy, 'Three Dao Unification, Break Calamity and Rise'?"

Lin Jialiang was silent for a moment, then Nodded Lightly...

The eight-character prophecy "Three Dao Unification, Break Calamity and Rise" was what Father had sought from a Buddhist monk back then. But now it was proven inaccurate, because the three sons of the Lin family had been assigned to three different Daos, yet in the end, they hadn't broken the Lin family's calamity.

Moreover, that monk wasn't a true master. Over a month ago, he had been caught swindling in Haining, beaten up, and forced to return all the money he had cheated before being let go...

Lin Su seemed to take in this explanation, yet also seemed not to hear it at all. Another thought surfaced in his mind...

"Three Dao Unification, Break Calamity and Rise"—did this "Three Dao Unification" really refer to the three sons of the Lin family belonging to three different Daos?

Could it actually mean one person uniting three Daos?

In his mind, there was a withered tree with three withered branches. Two of them corresponded to the Literary and Martial Daos. The third remained withered. Could it be the Dao Root he had never been able to find the door to?