Lin Su said, "Of course this isn't a War Poem. It's a Dao Poem!" This poem was not widely circulated in the world, but among Daoists, it was anything but trivial. It had been written by Chen Tuan.
Chen Tuan was a scholar rarely seen in a thousand years of Daoism. How profound was his understanding of the Dao?
The greatest function of Daoist poetry was to gather Dao Principles!
The Dao cultivated by Netherworld Ghost Dao had already strayed onto a crooked path. At the most critical moment of condensing his Dao Fruit, what he feared most was a crack in his Dao heart. Lin Su's Dao Poem had thrown his Dao heart into disarray. Rather than saying Lin Su had injured him, it was better to say that he himself had begun to doubt his own Dao...
"To think of using a Dao Poem to disrupt his Dao heart and righteous Dao Principles to ruin his Dao Fruit—Brother Lin, you truly are ingenious." Qiu Mochi sighed in admiration.
"Thinking of it was not difficult. The difficult part was the Dao Poem itself! Only a Seven-Colored Dao Poem could stir the Dao Principles of heaven and earth. Young Master Lin is not a Dao cultivator, so how could he write such a peerless Dao Poem?" Qiu Shui Hua Ping's lovely eyes settled on Lin Su's face.
"I've always neglected my proper duties..." Lin Su stopped abruptly before he could finish.
Several people entered through the courtyard gate, carrying two corpses.
Uncle Deng entered as well, tears in his eyes...
Of the Four Hundred Disabled Guards of old, two had fallen in battle tonight.
Lin Su looked at the two old men on the stretchers, at their pale faces and tightly shut eyes, then slowly raised his head. "Thousand Island