"The Literary Department has already changed. It's impossible for the three Headmasters of the Literary Department to take that half a step and ascend to the Sacred Confucian Realm. Maintaining the current Literary Department is nothing but a delusion."
"None of the 3,000 Confucian scholars in the Literary Department can gather the righteousness. The only one who can gather the righteousness doesn't enter the Literary Department. Tell me, is it funny?"
Di Cang shook his head.
Second Headmaster Pang Ji sighed. "The tree is rooted in the soil and has grown for a long time. Its roots are already intertwined like a huge net. It's easier said than done to move it away."
Di Cang smiled disdainfully and stomped in the air. In an instant, the clouds exploded, and his body disappeared into the sky like a cannonball.
There were only mocking words lingering in the sky.
