"Why don't you say anything, Lady Fairy?"

"Ouyang Lianghan, you...have you negotiated with that Shangqing Niubi that I will be a slave of Mo Shi and be squeezed day and night..."

"Well, not really."

"You have already taken out the "Zhenhao", but you still don't tell me the truth. It's really too much. You are insulting even your wisdom. If you don't bully an immortal like this..."

"Really not."

In front of the desk, looking at the little Mo Jing with a hopeless expression, Ouyang Rong looked a little embarrassed and shrugged:

"I just happen to be able to learn it, and you happen to know about Lingmo, so I have no choice but to trouble you."

"You are talking nonsense. You are not one of those five buckets of rice Taoist priests. How could you possibly learn this method?"

"Five Dou Rice Taoist Priest?"

"Fulu Sanshan belongs to Jiangnan Taoism. Jiangnan Taoism originally originated from the Five Pecks of Rice Sect. It used to be called this. The leader's surname has always been Zhang. Later, it also evolved into the Tianshifu lineage of Longhu Mountain. It has been passed down for countless generations.

…

"Wait a minute, Ouyang Lianghan, do you have the blood of the Tianshi Mansion? Are you a descendant of the Zhang family?"

"Um, no, it's obviously not the same surname. Don't try to get my relatives randomly."

"Then you're just learning shit."

"Swearing again?" Ouyang Rong looked at her with a half-smile.

"I'm so angry."

Miao Si simply leaned back, sat down on the table, and started acting playfully. She spread her hands out and didn't want to do it anymore:

"Why do two of them want spiritual ink? I...I don't have that much talent. I can give you enough spiritual ink to draw a talisman. You have to lose blood and essence. I'm so weak. Don't draw my blood."

, it hurts so much, wuwuwu.”

"So, there is a female ink fairy like you on the other side of the Three Mountains of Fulu, whose blood is secretly drawn by the Sanqing Patriarch Hall to supply a steady stream of spiritual ink?"

"It's not that rude, but it's almost the same. They work as cows and horses, and they are forced to eat spiritual ink every day. They have to eat Xuanmen incense that they don't like to produce spiritual ink, otherwise they can't make up for the lost blood essence.

Mo Qi..."

"and you……"

"I'm picky about food. I only like fragrant and elegant aromas, but I don't like the bland and unappetizing Xuanmen aromas."

"So you can't produce spiritual ink now?"

"I can only produce a little bit. I just woke up and recovered. I haven't eaten much Wen Qi. I still have a lot of it for Miss Xie to break through. The rest can only produce a little bit of spiritual ink, which is not enough for you to write a word."

Hey, I...I'm still young, please let me go, okay..."

Ouyang Rong was unmoved: "You are not young anymore. Didn't you know a lot and you were very proud just now? You have been around for at least three hundred years. How can you still call yourself not young?"

"..." Miaosi said weakly: "It can't be calculated that way..."

Ouyang Rong asked calmly:

"Then as long as you eat Wenqi, you can continue to produce?"

"Well, that's right, but where can I get the literary spirit to feed me? I've searched all over Xunyang City, and I can't find many talented people. Except for a poor official who lives in a temple, none of them are very good. The literary spirit is hard to eat.

If you don't have enough, you can only eat Hanlei Mo tablets to fill your stomach first, then make do with it, and mix it into one meal, just like the difference between delicacies from the mountains and seas and white flour steamed buns.

"Well, literary talent is rare. The Mo envoys raised by Sanqing have to be forced to eat incense and fire. They are simply abusing monsters. Ouyang Lianghan is less human than you."

Miao Si shook his fist, filled with righteous indignation.

"Thank you for the compliment."

Ouyang Rong thanked him, ignored it, took out his pen and paper, and began to write.

"Wait a minute, Ouyang Lianghan, what are you doing?" Miao Si waited for a while and realized something was wrong.

"Don't you want to be literary? Is this article enough?"

"ah?"

Miao Si looked down, her face changed slightly, but she still spoke harshly:

"How can one...one article be enough?"

"Then let's do another one, no, ten, twenty, forget it, let's do thirty first..."

Wonderful thought: “……??”

If other conditions were needed, Ouyang Rong would be a little embarrassed, but if he just lacked poetry... He had memorized a lot when he was admitted to the postgraduate entrance examination. According to the routine of some Internet articles in his previous life, he is now an old copywriter.

Well, in fact, he usually just seems too lazy to copy, which is why he seems low-key. But now he lacks the literary skills to let the little ink master produce clever ink, so he has to use his traditional skills.

Fortunately, in the past, there was little pretentiousness in writing and there was plenty of stock. Now it is in urgent need and is supplied to Miao Si... There should be no shortage of writing in a short period of time.

Seeing Ouyang Rong hunkering down at his desk, writing furiously, and writing amazing poems one after another under his dragon-like brush, I couldn't help but lean back in my mind. The desk in front of me was filled with an unprecedented amount of spiritual energy.

The little girl in Confucian attire swallowed her saliva.

Ouyang Rong wrote without stopping. Soon, it was her turn to be anxious:

"Okay, okay, don't write anymore. I know how good you are as a poet. You, you never pause. You are a scumbag. Could it be that you have already prepared the manuscript? You can't really banish the immortal. It's strange.

"Okay, please, please stop writing. Enough is enough. Please save some. I can't eat any more. Oh, you are so rude, and you are ruining a good poem..."

After writing another article "Picking Mulberries", Ouyang Rongcai Shiran stopped writing and looked at her sideways:

"How long does it take to create a talisman of spiritual ink?"

The little girl in Confucian attire knelt down on the desk and carefully rolled up the pieces of rice paper full of literary talent. She moved carefully, took them aside and put them away. She whispered:

"Give me half a day... the red and black talismans, right? I'll get you enough ink to write a red and black talisman."

"good."

Ouyang Rong's memorized poems are actually limited, and some of them are too explosive and unparalleled to be inconvenient to take out. It is true that he cannot write endlessly. Fortunately, although this little ink master has a loud voice, his little belly seems to be easy to feed...

Sitting happily among a pile of wonderful poems, Miao Si couldn't help but look at Ouyang Rong, who looked calm, and asked curiously:

"Are you really able to study the "True Edict" and use the Supreme Purity's unique skills? Doesn't that mean you can also use all the Three Mountain Talismans? Does the Sanqing Taoist Sect know about this?"

Ouyang Rong shook his head: "Of course I didn't say much to them."

"Ouyang Lianghan, are you sure your surname is not Zhang? Or... there used to be someone surnamed Zhang next door."

"I'll beat you again."

"..."

Ouyang Rong suddenly looked embarrassed, grabbed the old and blackened booklet on the table, stood up, and wandered alone in the study.

The little Mo Jing, who was greedily eating literary things, couldn't help but raise her head, and her mouth was a little slurred as she feasted on it:

"Well, Ouyang Lianghan, well, why are you still sighing?

"The Square-Cun Thunder Pond, the Order of the Gods, and the Nine Transformation Pills are completed. These three secrets of Sanqing are among the top qi refining techniques in the North and South Taoist sects.

"There are only a handful of Taoist priests in the Three Mountains of Fulu who are qualified to practice. You, an outsider, neither an illegitimate son of the Zhang family nor a direct Taoist priest of the Sanqing family, are able to obtain the "True Edict" to study, and you are extremely lucky to get it.

The gift of ink from this fairy girl is like a pie in the sky. It’s too late to be happy, so why are you still looking sad?”

Ouyang Rong frowned and turned back:

"Isn't there a shortage of special talisman paper? You can only produce spiritual ink, but what about the talisman paper? There is still something missing, and it is the most difficult to find... No, why are you looking at me like this? There is something on my face?

Be polite and don't look at people randomly. If you were looking at people like that in my hometown, you would be beaten..."

While Ouyang Rong was speaking, he suddenly noticed that the little girl in Confucian attire had stopped eating and looked at him with a strange expression. Ouyang Rong couldn't help but urge her.

"Ouyang Lianghan, you...you really don't know? It seems that you really don't know anything about making talismans."

"It's indeed my first time to draw a talisman, but I'm missing the spiritual ink and talisman paper. No, what do you mean?"

"What do you mean? I am really convinced by you, hahaha, no, I will die laughing."

I saw the wonderful thoughts and I was so happy that I covered my belly with my hands and rolled over with joy.

Just when the stern-faced Ouyang Rong was about to extend his hand, the little woman with a crown on the table suddenly pointed at the old blackened booklet in Ouyang Rong's hand with the word "Zhenhao" written on the cover:

"Aren't the pages of the book in your hand the best talisman? What else are you looking for? Hahaha, I laughed to death. She is the stupidest one."

"..."

Ouyang Rong said "Ah" and couldn't help but look down at this old booklet with about twenty pages. He raised his eyebrows...

evening.

In the study room of Yin Bingzhai, Ouyang Rong sat upright in front of the desk.

The little girl in Confucian attire was not in the study, and some rhythmic purring could be heard faintly from the back room not far away.

It was in the afternoon that I was showing off my literary skills and producing wonderful ideas. I fell down tiredly and dozed off from exhaustion.

There really isn't a drop left today.

Ouyang Rong was not disturbed by the snoring. He sat quietly at the table and his eyes fell on several things placed on the desk in front of him.
To be continued...