Reflecting on that day's experience.

In Venerable Compassion's eyes, there was infinite compassion.

In his youth, he had diligently practiced Buddhist martial arts, and back then, he had fantasized that perhaps one day he would meet a formidable opponent.

That opponent would be eight feet tall, broad-shouldered and strong, with martial skills honed to perfection, wielding a staff even heavier than his Refined Iron Demon-Subduing Staff, using profound martial arts to pin him to the ground.

But back then, Venerable Compassion never imagined.

One day, he would truly encounter a formidable opponent.

That opponent had not a trace of martial arts.

Only a small, exquisite, seemingly harmless stick that crackled with electricity.

"I lost to him, not because of him, but because of the times."

"Amitabha."

Venerable Compassion sighed, once again chanting his beads and reciting scriptures.

It seemed that only in this way could he ease the sorrow in his heart.

As if touched by this sorrowful atmosphere, the Great Scholar of the Confucian Sect, Mo Buzhi, sighed, as if recalling something as well.

"That day, I debated philosophy with someone."

"You know, I'm known as Mo Buzhi, and though I can't claim to know everything, I've read extensively."

"The principles of humanity, the principles of heaven and earth, I understand them all."

"But... he asked me how to prove d?x/dt?= (-d?t/dx?)/(dt/dx)^3?"

"I... sigh, it's better not to mention it! And if that wasn't enough, the most unacceptable thing was that he answered all my questions without a single mistake. I thought I had met a reclusive Great Scholar, but it turned out there was something called Baidu!"

"What a pity, what a pity."

Mo Buzhi sighed, put down the book in his hand, and took out a phone from his pocket, fiddling with it.

Lin Fan: "..."

This kid is also a pitiful soul!

Dao Wanqian, the old man, seemed to have a peculiar fondness for exposing others' shortcomings. He turned to look at the Mohist heir beside him, Gongshu Ming, who was still playing with birds, dressed in a black Zhongshan suit.

"Don't be fooled by how happy he is playing with birds now."

"Heh, once upon a time, the Mohist Sect was so glorious."

"The founding master Gongshu Ban created the art of flying birds, carving wooden birds that could ride the wind, captivating the world, like immortals."

"There was also the art of wooden horses, with hidden mechanisms inside, capable of traveling a thousand miles a day."

"But now..." Dao Wanqian looked at Gongshu Ming, "I heard you raced against an airplane last time, how did that go?"

Gongshu Ming's fingers, teasing the bird, trembled slightly.

After a long while, Gongshu Ming, with a flushed face, replied with two words: "Not bad."

"How exactly?" Dao Wanqian smiled at Gongshu Ming.

"I hadn't even taken off yet when I was knocked over by the jet stream from that airplane..." Gongshu Ming's face was flushed, but he still stubbornly said, "But you can't say that my Mohist flying bird can't compete with an airplane, it's just... just... just that the airplane was despicable, using its jet stream against me!"

"Come on, you only got to feel the exhaust at the start." Dao Wanqian sneered, "Otherwise, you wouldn't even see the tail of the plane."

"No, no..." Gongshu Ming shook his head, wanting to refute, but after saying "no" for a long time, he couldn't utter another word.

"Alright." Dao Wanqian waved his hand, looking around at everyone, "Actually, we all know very well what our current situation is, there's no need to hide it."

"And you."

Dao Wanqian looked at Lin Fan with a complex expression: "Do you understand our situation now?"

"If it were in the past, perhaps we could have helped you somehow."

"But now."

"The times have changed."

"For example, our Daoist Sect used to have the 'Flying Sound Transmission', which was actually an exaggeration, just some specialized Daoists raising carrier pigeons to deliver messages. But even so, the speed of message delivery was incredible back then, and it was praised as miraculous."

"But now." Dao Wanqian carefully took out a phone from his pocket, speaking solemnly: "This magical device called a phone, with just a few taps, it truly is 'Flying Sound Transmission', and even has young ladies dancing inside... ahem."

"In short."

"We are not masters now, just people abandoned by the times."

"Unmatched in fist power? Can you compete with a cannon?"

"Superb swordsmanship? Can you fight against a Gatling gun?"

"And what about the Mohist invisibility technique, or the so-called 'Starfall Slash' that claims to be as fast as a falling star... isn't a sniper rifle simpler and more efficient?"

"Can Mr. Mo Buzhi compare his knowledge to Baidu?"

"And the Demon-Subduing Iron Staff, isn't it just rendered obedient by electricity?"

"So."

"Martial arts in this era are no longer a killing technique, at most a way to strengthen the body."

"We really can't help you with anything."

"Moreover, the opponent is a Deity. Even if we wanted to help you, it's just human effort," Dao Wanqian sighed, "Seeking our help, you'd be better off finding a few bulldozers, hydraulic machines, they are stronger than us."

No one else could find words to say.

Even Xingye, who had been nonchalant, now lowered her head, clenching her fists.

How could they not want to contribute to Great Xia?

But.

The times have changed!

In this era of rapid technological advancement, what can these martial arts families and sects do for Great Xia?

Airplanes, high-speed trains, tanks, cannons.

Hydraulic machines, bulldozers.

Aren't these faster, more destructive, more powerful than them?

Human strength has long been crushed by modern technology.

How can they fight against a Deity?

In such an advanced technological era, can their martial arts still be of use?

And seeing the despondent, silent crowd.

Lin Fan understood too.

These guys don't want to contribute to Great Xia, but they feel they simply don't have the ability to help Great Xia!

Nor do they believe they can use human martial arts to fight against a Deity!

At this moment.

Lin Fan suddenly understood why in the past life, Xingye had shouted with all her might, "If you give me five more years, even a Deity wouldn't be able to step into Great Xia!"

Because.

At this moment, they have not yet realized how powerful they will become in the near future!

And by the time they realize it.

The Deity has already descended!

And they are still unprepared!

So, these guilt-ridden guys would cherish time so much in the future, fighting for Great Xia every moment.

In an instant.

"Hahaha."

"Interesting."

Seeing the somber atmosphere, Lin Fan suddenly laughed.

The laughter was particularly abrupt.

Out of place with the atmosphere.

The laughter was like salt, sprinkled on the wounds of the despondent crowd.

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"What," the hot-tempered Wang Hu was the first to stand up, slamming his fist on the table, "are you mocking us simple-minded, physically strong guys, abandoned by the times?"

"Hehe." Lin Fan looked at Wang Hu, smiling, "I'm not laughing at you being abandoned by the times."

"I'm laughing because you have no idea how strong you will become, how powerful your martial arts will be!"

"What do you mean?" Wang Hu frowned, "Are you saying that you, who haven't practiced, understand better than us..."

Lin Fan ignored Wang Hu, pointing a finger at the solid, heavy mahogany table in front of him!

"Crack!"

The next moment, Wang Hu's voice stopped abruptly, his eyes widened, staring at Lin Fan!

And the mahogany table in front of him!