Open Literary Path, Butterflies Love Flowers

Lin Su gently patted his shoulder. "Second Brother, no need to mind. Where in the world can you not find fragrant grass?"

"Where in the world can you not find fragrant grass..." Lin Jialiang's eyes lit up. "Third Brother, that's a line of poetry too, isn't it? Truly rich in meaning. Have you written the complete poem?"

Lin Su recited casually: "Faded red petals fall, green apricots small; when swallows pass, green water laps the house wall. Willow fluff blown away grows less and less—where in the world can you not find fragrant grass!"

Lin Jialiang murmured the lines to himself, his eyes blazing with light...

"Third Brother, your poetic talent is truly unmatched! This poem, though it doesn't quite fit the meter, is fresh and thoroughly transparent, rich in lingering charm. It seems to open a new window for poetry... Third Brother, write it down—write it on treasure paper!"

"Second Brother, you write it!"

"How could that be? This is Third Brother's original poem. If I wrote it down, wouldn't that be the plagiarism most shameful to a scholar? Third Brother, come, write it down!"

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 rigid. A scholar's bottom line cannot be crossed. Fine, I'll be the one to cross the bottom line! I'm like a prostitute receiving clients anyway—once is the same as ten times...

Treasure brush in hand, treasure paper spread flat on the mountain stone...

Lin Jialiang gripped the corner of his robe tightly. There had never been such a poem in this world. This was a pioneering act.

The world says a Literary Heart is easy to obtain, but a Literary Path is hard to seek. Why is the Literary Path so hard to find? Because opening a Literary Path means walking your own new road. There are many new roads, but each is as difficult as ascending to heaven. For example, offering a new interpretation of a sage's commentary, or creating a brand-new literary genre...

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

Even great Confucians find it extremely difficult.

Take the great Confucian Deng Xianchu, for instance. What he most wants to do right now is undoubtedly create a new literary genre, but he can't. He's stuck at the Literary Heart Extreme Realm, unable to move.

What is Third Brother doing now?

He wants to create a new literary genre!

If he succeeds, what does it mean? It means that if he one day steps into the Literary Heart Extreme Realm, he can directly cross into the Literary Path Realm in a single step.

A chasm others cannot cross simply doesn't exist for him!

How terrifying is that?

The question now is: will the Sage's will recognize this new literary genre or not?

Lin Su raised his treasure brush and began to write:

"Faded red petals fall, green apricots small; when swallows pass, green water laps the house wall. Willow fluff blown away grows less and less—where in the world can you not find fragrant grass!"

On the treasure paper, the ink shimmered with light, but it was only the paper's natural color—not even a single glimmer appeared.

Lin Jialiang's robe was nearly torn by his grip. His heart grew cold little by little.

It's over. The Sage's will doesn't recognize it!

The Sage's will doesn't accept this genre, so the treasure paper, imbued with the Sage's will, has directly relegated this poem to the ranks of grass poems, granting it no radiance.

Lin Su himself was a bit puzzled.

Damn, not even white light? Sage elders, aren't you afraid Old Man Su will jump up and smack your knees?

Never mind, he continued: "Inside the wall a swing, outside the wall a path. Outside the wall a passerby, inside the wall a beauty's laugh. The laughter fades, gradually gone; the sentimental are vexed by the heartless!"

Lin Jialiang let out a long sigh. "Third Brother, although this poem doesn't conform to meter, it's so fresh and refined, so uniquely exquisite—why does it have to..."

"Second Brother, I don't call it a poem. I call it a ci! The ci title is 'Butterflies Love Flowers.'"

The moment the words fell, the earth suddenly shook violently!

In the clear sky, a golden light blazed forth, spanning the heavens. At the same time, the poem draft in Lin Jialiang's hands burst with dazzling radiance—seven-colored rosy clouds bathed the riverbank in a hazy glow.

On the golden road in the void, a line of large characters appeared:

"Butterflies Love Flowers. Baiji Plain: Faded red petals fall, green apricots small; when swallows pass, green water laps the house wall. Willow fluff blown away grows less and less—where in the world can you not find fragrant grass..."

Sacred music resounded: On the Great Literary Path, a new gate has opened, named: Ci. The founding ci title: Butterflies Love Flowers.

Lin Su's mouth hung wide open. Lin Jialiang fell to his knees, lifting the ci draft with both hands, tears streaming down his face.

Across the vast sky, the sacred sound instantly spread through the Nine Countries and Thirteen Continents...

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

He suddenly looked up at the sky...

"Butterflies Love Flowers. Baiji Plain: Faded red petals fall, green apricots small; when swallows pass, green water laps the house wall. Willow fluff blown away grows less and less—where in the world can you not find fragrant grass..."

With a crack, the chess piece between his fingers crumbled to dust.

"Who opened a great road on the Literary Path?" Literary Paths are divided into great and small. A small road's sacred sound travels a hundred li; a great road's sacred sound spreads through all Nine Countries and Thirteen Continents. Small roads appear every year—how often does a great road come?

"Du Tiange? Jin Yekong? Xu Jiangke?" The old man beside him listed three names, all great Confucians who had already stepped into the Literary Heart Extreme Realm.

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

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

Outside the capital, a beautiful woman's zither fell silent. She stared blankly at the sky.

"Faded red petals fall, green apricots small; when swallows pass, green water laps the house wall. Willow fluff blown away grows less and less—where in the world can you not find fragrant grass... Who is it? Who could write such a beautiful ci? Who could pierce through the void and see into my heart?..."

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

Lin Su sighed again—Second Brother really was incredibly strong.

"Third Brother, you haven't even entered the literary world yet, but you've already opened a Literary Path, and a Great Path that all ages look up to... When we get home, Mother will have to make another offering to the ancestors... Hahaha..."

He was as delighted as a child.

Lin Su quickly stopped him. "Second Brother, have you noticed something? The Sacred Sound only proclaimed the opening of a new Literary Path to the world, but didn't mention any name. What principle is at work here?"

Even the Sage doesn't want me to become famous across the land just yet!

Glory is a double-edged sword. Right now, I still cannot afford the weight of such renown.

Lin Jialiang abruptly halted.

Yes. Opening the Great Literary Path—what a terrifying feat. The entire Great Cang Kingdom hadn't seen one in centuries. Third Brother was currently just a small figure, utterly insignificant. Beneath great fame, reality often falls short. If news of him opening the Literary Path spread across the world, how many would refuse to accept it? Even more terrifying were the Devil Race and Demon Race, races long opposed to humanity. They wouldn't want another Literary Way Genius to emerge among humans and would do everything to snuff him out. The other Eight Kingdoms also wouldn't want Great Cang to produce such a genius; they too would seek to destroy him.

"Third Brother is right. This matter must be kept absolutely secret! Let's head home immediately..."

"No need for that. Let's continue our journey."

The two picked up their bags and kept walking.

No sooner had they left than two beams of multicolored light descended from the sky. Two old men appeared in the void, looking down at the surroundings. They were Deng Xianchu and his chess friend, Five Peaks Mountain Dweller.

"On Baiji Plain, there is no aura of a Great Confucian appearing," Deng Xianchu said. "The Ancient Nanyang Kingdom also has a Baiji Plain. I hear a mysterious Great Confucian has been living in seclusion there for ten years. Could it be him?"

A ring of multicolored light swirled, and both vanished at once.

Just as Lin Su had anticipated, the lofty Great Confucian-level figures ultimately had no eyes for the tiny ants below. It never occurred to them that the mysterious figure who had opened the Literary Path and spread the Sacred Sound to all directions was merely a man beneath Baiji Plain who had just obtained his Literary Root.