Unity of the Hundred Sages

As the setting sun slanted westward, Hong Yi lay quietly on his bed, lost in wild thoughts.

His soul had been damaged, his eyes dull and unfocused. The thoughts in his mind were incomparably chaotic, cluttered with stray distractions. In such a state, let alone taking the imperial examinations or cultivating, he could not even understand a book placed before him.

Amid his frustration, Hong Yi rose and sat beside his desk.

The desk, once covered in brushes, ink, paper, and inkstones, now held several wine bottles. Disheartened by life, Hong Yi had been drinking heavily during this time as well.

Yet at that moment, a streak of light suddenly descended from beyond the heavens and plunged directly into Hong Yi's brow. In an instant, his vacant eyes became incomparably brilliant.

The soul that Hong Xuanji's blood and qi had injured was swiftly restored in the blink of an eye.

"Hm!?" At that instant, it was as though some switch had been flipped within Hong Yi. His thoughts flowed like a spring, and inspiration surged forth at once.

All manner of strange and wondrous ideas flooded into his heart in an instant. His past views and insights regarding countless things seemed to emerge all at once.

Subconsciously, he immediately wrote a poem upon a sheet of white paper—

"Who thinks of the west wind, alone in the cold? Rustling yellow leaves shut the sparse window; recalling old days, I stand beneath the fading sun. Do not be startled by deep spring slumber after wine; gambling over books, tea splashed in fragrant delight—at the time, I only thought it ordinary."

Its mournful, plaintive tone leapt from the page. Suddenly, every character shone with light, faintly carrying an air of sorrowful melancholy.

The radiance illuminated Hong Yi's face, and his gaze deepened