Open Literary Path, Butterflies Love Flowers

Lin Su gently patted his shoulder. "Second Brother, don't take it to heart. At the ends of the earth, where is there no fragrant grass?"

"At the ends of the earth, where is there no fragrant grass..." Lin Jialiang's eyes lit up. "Third Brother, that's a line of poetry too, isn't it? The flavor is endless. Is there a complete poem?"

Lin Su casually recited, "The blossoms fade, the lingering red gone, the green apricots small. When swallows fly, green waters wind around the homes. On branches, willow floss blows ever thinner—at the ends of the earth, where is there no fragrant grass?"

Lin Jialiang silently recited it, his eyes shining brightly...

"No one can match Third Brother's poetic talent! Though this poem does not conform to regulated verse, it is fresh and lucid, with endless flavor. It seems to open a new face, lifting another window onto poetry... Third Brother, write it down. Write it on Precious Paper!"

"Second Brother, you write it!"

"How could that do? This is Third Brother's original poem. If your elder brother wrote it down, would that not be the plagiarism most despised by scholars? Third Brother, come, write it!"

Lin Su sighed inwardly.

Second Brother, saying that puts a lot of pressure on me. I've been plagiarizing all along!

I wanted to let you leave behind a Seven-Colored Poem too, but you're too pedantic. A scholar's bottom line cannot be crossed. Fine, I'll be the one to cross it! Anyway, I'm a whore receiving clients—one client is receiving, ten clients are receiving too...

Precious Brush in hand, Precious Paper spread flat over the mountain rock...

Lin Jialiang gripped the corner of his clothes tightly. No such poem had ever existed in this world. This was an innovation.

People said Literary Heart was easy to obtain, but the Literary Path was hard to seek. Why was the Literary Path so difficult to seek? Because to Open Literary Path meant walking one's own new road. There were many new roads, but every one was as hard as climbing to heaven—for instance, offering a new interpretation of a sage's annotations, or creating an entirely new literary genre...

The latter was even harder than the former. Among the countless scholars in the world, how many could create a new literary genre?

Even figures at the level of Great Confucians found it difficult to create one.

Take Deng Xianchu, a Great Confucian of his generation. What he most wanted to do now was undoubtedly create a new literary genre, yet he could not. He was stuck at the Literary Heart Extreme Realm, unable to move.

What was Third Brother doing now?

He was going to create a new literary genre!

If he succeeded, what would it mean? It meant that if he entered the Literary Heart Extreme Realm one day, he could directly take one step into the Literary Path Realm.

The impassable chasm others could never cross simply did not exist for him!

What a terrifying thing that was!

The question now was whether the Sage's Will would recognize this new literary genre!

Lin Su raised the Precious Brush and began to write:

"The blossoms fade, the lingering red gone, the green apricots small. When swallows fly, green waters wind around the homes. On branches, willow floss blows ever thinner—at the ends of the earth, where is there no fragrant grass?"

Ink flowed with light across the Precious Paper, but that was merely the paper's original color. Not even a single glimmer emerged.

Lin Jialiang clutched his clothes until they tore, while his heart gradually turned cold.

It was over. The Sage's Will did not recognize it!

The Sage's Will did not recognize this genre, so the Precious Paper bearing the sages' will directly classified the poem as a Grass Poem and granted it no radiance.

Lin Su himself was rather baffled too.

Damn, not even white light? Old sage geezers, aren't you afraid Old Master Su will jump up and punch your knees?

Whatever, keep going. "Within the wall, a swing; beyond the wall, a path. Beyond the wall, a traveler; within the wall, a beauty laughs. The laughter fades, its sound fading too; the affectionate one is vexed by Wuqing!"

Lin Jialiang let out a long sigh. "Third Brother, though this poem does not follow the rhythms, it is so fresh and refined, so uniquely exquisite. Why must it..."

"Second Brother, I won't call it poetry. I call it Ci! Its tune title is Butterflies Love Flowers."

The instant his words fell, the earth suddenly shook violently!

In the clear sky stretching ten thousand miles, a golden light abruptly ignited and spanned the heavens. At the same time, the manuscript in Lin Jialiang's hands shone in all directions, Seven-colored Rosy Clouds casting the riverbank into a hazy glow.

Upon the golden road in the void appeared a line of enormous characters:

Butterflies Love Flowers. Baiji Plain. The blossoms fade, the lingering red gone, the green apricots small. When swallows fly, green waters wind around the homes. On branches, willow floss blows ever thinner—at the ends of the earth, where is there no fragrant grass...

Sacred music arose: Upon the Literary Path, a new gate has opened, named: Ci. Founding Ci tune title: Butterflies Love Flowers.

Lin Su's mouth fell wide open. Lin Jialiang abruptly dropped to his knees, raising the Ci manuscript in his hands as tears streamed down his face.

Across the ten-thousand-mile sky, the sacred voice instantly spread throughout the Nine Countries and Thirteen Continents...

Atop a great mountain, two men were playing chess. One of them was Deng Xianchu.

He suddenly raised his head and gazed up at the sky...

"Butterflies Love Flowers. Baiji Plain. The blossoms fade, the lingering red gone, the green apricots small. When swallows fly, green waters wind around the homes. On branches, willow floss blows ever thinner—at the ends of the earth, where is there no fragrant grass..."

With a crack, the chess piece at his fingertips shattered into powder.

"Who has opened a Great Literary Path?" Literary Paths were also divided into great paths and lesser paths. The sacred voice of a lesser path spread for a hundred li, while that of a great path spread throughout the Nine Countries and Thirteen Provinces. Lesser paths appeared every year—but how often did one hear of a great path?

"Du Tiange? Jin Yekong? Xu Jiangke?" The old man beside him named three people, all Great Confucians who had long since entered the Literary Heart Extreme Realm.

"Butterflies Love Flowers. Baiji Plain! Whoever he is, he must have been at Baiji Plain just now! Go..."

A wild wind rose, and the two shot straight into the clouds.

Outside the capital, a beautiful woman's jade zither fell silent in her hands as she stared blankly at the sky.

"The blossoms fade, the lingering red gone, the green apricots small. When swallows fly, green waters wind around the homes. On branches, willow floss blows ever thinner—at the ends of the earth, where is there no fragrant grass... Who was it? Who could write such exquisite Ci verses? Who could pierce through my heart's intent across ten thousand miles of empty sky?..."

"Third Brother!" Lin Jialiang tightly hugged Lin Su and spun around three times.

Lin Su sighed again. Second Brother really was strong.

"Third Brother, before even entering the Literary Altar, you have already opened a Literary Path—and a great path watched by all ages... Let's go home. Mother will have to worship the ancestors again... Hahahaha..."

He was delighted like a child.

Lin Su hurriedly stopped him. Second Brother, have you noticed something? The sacred voice only announced the opening of a new Literary Path to the world, without mentioning a name. Why was that?

Even the sages did not want me to become famous throughout the world because of this!

Glory was a double-edged sword. Right now, I could not bear the weight of such great fame.

Lin Jialiang abruptly stopped.

That was right. Opening a Great Literary Path was such a terrifying matter; it had not happened in all of Great Cang for centuries. Third Brother was only a minor figure at present, insignificant. Beneath great fame, the reality would be hard to match. If news that he had opened a Literary Path spread across the world, how many people would refuse to accept it? More terrifying still, races such as the Devil Race and Demon Race, long opposed to humanity, would not want another Literary Way Genius to arise among humans. They would try every possible means to strangle him in the cradle. The other Eight Kingdoms would likewise not want Great Cang to produce such a genius, and would also seek to destroy him.

"Third Brother is right. We must keep this matter absolutely secret! Let's return home at once..."

"There's no need for that. Let's continue our journey."

The two picked up their bags and continued onward.

Just after they left, two streaks of rosy light appeared in the sky. Two old men emerged in the void and looked down over the surroundings. They were Deng Xianchu and his chess companion, Five Peaks Mountain Dweller.

"Baiji Plain shows no aura of a Great Confucian appearing," Deng Xianchu said. "There is also a Baiji Plain in the Ancient Nanyang Kingdom. I heard a mysterious Great Confucian has lived in seclusion there for ten years. Could it be him?"

The rosy light flashed in a circle, and the two vanished at once.

Just as Lin Su had predicted, those Great Confucians standing high above would never notice the tiny ants below. They would never imagine that the mysterious person who had opened a Literary Path and sent the sacred voice in all directions was someone beneath Baiji Plain who had only just gained a Literary Root.