Fellow Daoist! That scoundrel has written a new book again.

Ye Xiaozhou laughed and said:

"Although I don't believe you, what you said is brilliant, I like it!"

Everyone likes to hear good things.

However, after listening and laughing, it was time to get down to business. Zhu Wuyao and Ye Xiaozhou chatted idly for a while.

Take this opportunity to discuss future plans.

Zhu Wuyao, on the other hand, wants to continue fishing for the old scholar and observe the situation outside.

As for Ye Xiaozhou, she absolutely has to go back to Zhaixing Tower and bring back a ladle of purple aura to pave the way.

As they chatted, Zhu Wuyao suddenly sighed with regret:

"It's a pity that I got in, but my readers didn't."

"They must be so disappointed that they won't be able to see the sequel to my story. I don't have many things on my mind, but this matter has always weighed on my mind."

One moment the two were talking about how to deal with emergencies, and the next moment the topic turned to this, and Ye Xiaozhou almost didn't react.

When she finally realized what was happening, her tone in the telepathic message was explosive—

"You don't mean for me to make a side trip to Beixuan City to find that old shopkeeper and hand in your manuscript for you, do you?"

"Once you get out, you can write whatever you want. At most, you'll only have to stop writing for two issues. With your life at stake, you're still thinking about writing?"

"Why not just turn over and go back to sleep instead of facing the guillotine?"

Zhu Wuyao, resting his head on his arm, lay back on the hard stone and sighed:

"How could I forget to ask the old book master for some paper and ink? Even if I finish writing and can't take it out, I will have no regrets in this life."

"But when I think about how my manuscripts can't get out and readers can't come in, I can't help but feel sad."

"How about I tell you what happens next? If you manage to escape someday, don't forget to help me finish the story."

"You're not asking me to deliver the manuscript to Manager Li, but rather to take some time to copy down what you said about the follow-up and then hand it to Manager Li?!"

Ye Xiaozhou never wrote any storybooks.

So I don’t know how a storyteller could have such integrity that he could be thinking about how to keep updating his story while planning how to escape in a crisis.

She couldn't understand and was somewhat shocked. Ye Xiaozhou rolled over, covered her ears, and said:

"I'm sleepy, I don't want to listen."

Zhu Wuyao knew that her spiritual power had not been sealed, and she could hear even with her ears plugged.

Besides, she didn't believe Ye Xiaozhou didn't want to listen.

"Alright, tonight has stirred up my sorrows, and even if you don't want to listen, I'm still going to tell you."

"Once upon a time, there was a wicked woman whom everyone wanted to kill, named Ming Chi. Later, she died..."

……

Zhu Wuyao spent a lot of effort last night to finish telling the sequel to "Outer Sect Servant". Ye Xiaozhou didn't want to hear an unfinished story, but he couldn't suppress his curiosity.

In the end, the ending was cruelly spoiled.

It's still the kind where you just paste the outline.

It's like you know that if you wait a little longer, you'll get a plate of scrambled eggs with tomatoes and rice, but the cook just pulls out a tomato and two eggs and gives it to you.

Tasteless.

Of all the readers who wish to be invited, those across the north and south are Ye Xiaozhou, who is probably the most unlucky one.

If that's all, forget it.

Ye Xiaozhou harbored some resentment at most.

Unexpectedly, the fourth person to be thrown into the mine in just over half a month was found.

Not only that, he was also holding a roll of Xuan paper in his hands, and as soon as he landed, he shouted:

"Don't hit me, don't hit me! It was that guy called 'Old Bookman' who asked me to deliver something to the author of the book, and also asked me to pass on a message—'Without paper and pen, how can we organize the explanations?' I...I don't know anything about it!"

Hearing that someone else had come in, and that they had brought a message from the old scholar, Zhu Wuyao was extremely relieved.

Fortunately, the person who fell down didn't say much else; otherwise, their two carefully crafted lies might have been exposed.

The person who was just thrown down was also quite good-looking.

He just doesn't look like he can carry anything.

With his fair skin and delicate features, Zhu Wuyao saw Rong Si walk to the edge of the protective barrier, seemingly looking for some new fun for his sisters and brothers.

I don't know how many more days I have left to live.

Zhu Wuyao didn't meddle in other people's business; he simply stepped forward and took the Xuan paper with the protective shield extended.

Upon receiving the clean, empty scroll of Xuan paper, Zhu Wuyao instinctively tried to decipher its "meaning," and sure enough, it was a person who would die.

There are just more ways to die in the mine.

It's unclear whether it was due to the infighting in the mine or the failure of Zhu Wuyao and Ye Xiaozhou's plan.

He straightened up.

Zhu Wuyao felt a chill on the back of her neck, a cold, piercing sensation.

Looking back, I saw Ye Xiaozhou with a hammer slung over his shoulder.

Her gaze was fixed on the Xuan paper and charcoal pencil in Zhu Wuyao's hand, and she thought of the spoilers about the plot outline that she had been forced to hear last night.

Ye Xiaozhou slowly picked up the hammer and weighed it in his hand.

"Ahem... Calm down, let me explain—"

……

Because of Ye Xiaozhou's divination, Zhu Wuyao broke half of his promise to give Shu Lao the interpretation of "water".

After five "days and nights" in the mine, the five-day deadline agreed upon with the old man of the book arrived.

She knew, of course, that what the old man wanted was more than just that one interpretation.

Instead, she was asked to write down the entire book containing that one sentence.

Zhu Wuyao used a little trick to postpone the reading of the Tao Te Ching.

In this manuscript, she extracted several short fables from the *Zhuangzi*, and aptly named them—

Having seen the ocean, one finds it hard to be impressed by mere rivers; having read the Tao Te Ching, one finds it as if, after eating delicacies from the mountains, even wild vegetables seem unpalatable.

Zhu Wuyao has no intention of belittling Zhuangzi or praising Laozi.

The old man did not respond.

Whether or not we should get angry because of her little bit of cleverness is something we need to decide after we've read the manuscript in our hands.

His hands, as dry and withered as grayish-brown tree bark, flattened the Xuan paper.

The first story that catches the eye is the soaring Kunpeng, which Zhu Wuyao had memorized in the book.

"The size of Kun..."

The old man read intently, a genuine smile playing on his lips, until he finished. Then, his expression turned serious again, and he nodded, saying:

"Does the ephemeral mushroom not know the cycle of day and night... The scenery is magnificent and grand. Although it describes the demon race and introduces the Kun, a species that has never been seen before and whose authenticity is hard to discern, this article is already a masterpiece."

How could that not be wonderful? This has been selected for the Chinese textbook.

The following stories contain the tongue twister "You are not a fish".

Zhuangzi wished to be a divine tortoise dragging its tail in the mud, hoping to live a long life.

There is the "usefulness of useless trees"—trees that are not useful for timber will not be cut down.

The River God, who, in his autumnal season, was complacent and oblivious to the vastness of the sea, was still oblivious to the immensity of the ocean.

The old book read several in succession. This time, Zhu Wuyao saw it clearly. The old book's smile was truly from the bottom of his heart; he was indeed a book lover.

Ah, loving books is good...

"These few short pieces should all be from the same person, who is detached from worldly affairs and advocates 'uselessness.'"

Upon hearing what the old man said, Zhu Wuyao immediately gave a full emotional response, saying:

"Yes, they were all made by the same person. Old Master Shu is as discerning as can be."

Having received the answer he wanted, the old man seemed more satisfied.

He raised his hand and turned to the next page of Xuan paper, on which were clearly four characters—

"Zhuang Zhou's Dream of Butterflies"

The old man quickly finished reading the book in just a few lines, then he held onto that corner for a long time without turning the page.

He seemed quite emotional.