No matter how turbulent the storm grew, the Heavenly Street Poetry Gathering went on.
As the gathering continued and the first surge of hot blood faded, the young geniuses from every faction began to calm down.
Performances of poetry and song, music, chess, calligraphy, and painting took the stage one after another.
Like the Eight Immortals crossing the sea, each displayed their own powers.
"I have to say, this poetry gathering is pretty entertaining."
The performers were all scions of Xuanting's finest families, like An Qing. With beauties as lovely as poetry, the sight was naturally a pleasure.
But clearly, these young geniuses were still caught up in Li Tianming's battles with Huangji Yan and Taicang Yin!
For the Divine Tomb disciples, the words "The so-called supreme bloodline of the Divine Tomb is nothing special" remained stuck in their throats like a fishbone, their chests burning with rage.
Among Xuanting's factions, though, something strange had happened. Apart from An Tianyi's group, plenty of the other young geniuses—even those of the imperial Ghost God clans—were still swept up in the exhilaration Li Tianming had brought them. They had cheered for him earlier, too.
That was how a shared sense of honor could change their view of a person.
Li Tianming had won back their pride and dignity. He had avenged years of humiliation and slapped the Divine Tomb geniuses hard across the face. It was difficult for Xuanting's young geniuses to keep seeing him as they once had.
As for the retired emperor... he was merely the strongest Ghost God of the branch that currently controlled the imperial court. He was hardly an elder to every imperial Ghost God.
"Neither the Divine Tomb nor Xuanting is a solid block. There's room to work with on both sides."
Li Tianming was now