Mo Caihuan had raised the limitations of speech and writing, and everyone wanted to know how to break through them.
"There's no solution at present, only a rough idea of mine. We need to construct a standardized language for cultivators. Precise expression requires data, and data paired with standardized units could improve the accuracy of communication somewhat," Mo Caihuan replied. "The fundamental solution is still cultivation. The higher your cultivation and the stronger your body, the closer you come to the Heavenly Dao, until you transcend the medium of speech and writing and connect directly to it. I am the Dao, and the Dao is me. Then there would be no need to worry about inaccurate communication."
The vice principal said, "I'd be willing to learn your rough solution."
The princess increasingly felt that Mo Caihuan was as gifted as her parents. Her cultivation was low, but she had a methodology of her own, allowing her to identify, analyze, and solve problems. In the princess's eyes, Mo Caihuan's image overlapped with her mother's, and her gaze was full of dependence.
Mo Caihuan founded schools and proposed communicating through data and units, hoping cultivators could communicate and cooperate better.
Even within sects, cultivators rarely worked together. On the rare occasions they did, aside from joining forces to kill enemies or break formations, attempts to practice swordsmanship or refine pills together would fail eight or nine times out of ten.
Cooperation in destruction had a high success rate; cooperation in construction had a low one.
When people cooperated in destruction, they could divide the treasures they seized, allocating the spoils according to strength.
When they cooperated in construction, situations arose where sabotaging someone's plans was more profitable than helping them. That put human nature to the test. Would they take a smaller