At the sight of the blooming lotus above, all the prodigies below went mad.
One after another, they began to stir.
"Fellow Daoists, stay calm. One at a time."
Jian Changfeng narrowed his eyes and smiled faintly at the scene. This was his trump card—he refused to believe he could not win them over.
After a swift decision, a young man slowly stepped forward. He plopped down cross-legged atop the Lotus Platform, then slowly closed his eyes.
Seeing this, the prodigies below all found their places and sat cross-legged on the prayer mats.
Ye Lin and the others likewise found spots and sat down.
No matter how poor a prodigy's character might be, when someone was expounding the Dao, the listeners had to show at least a basic measure of respect.
After all, expounding the Dao meant imparting one's own path. It was exceedingly precious.
If this scene took place outside, countless young powerhouses would fight until their heads were bloodied just for the chance to enter and listen.
When the younger generation expounded the Dao, it differed from when the older generation did so.
The older generation spoke of their own experiences, passing on the resonance of their Dao to everyone in the manner of a teacher.
It was complicated and convoluted; eighty percent of several sentences could be complete nonsense, leaving one to sift through it oneself.
The younger generation's teachings were much simpler.
They spoke of experience—of problems they had encountered and the methods they had used to solve them.
That was the most precious thing of all.
"Fellow Daoists, what I will speak of is the path of cultivation."
"In cultivation, one cultivates oneself. Essence, qi, and spirit—none may be lacking."
"Cultivation is like rowing upstream: if you do not advance, you retreat..."
The young man