A Poem Emerges, Startling Ghosts and Gods

"Time's up, everyone stop writing!" Lei Dongyang shouted.

Maids, like gusts of wind, entered from the periphery, collecting the poetry manuscripts from in front of everyone. As they reached Lin Su's table, one maid was visibly surprised. He had actually written something. Of course, she couldn't judge the quality of the poem, so she handed it over to the teacher...

Lei Dongyang picked up the collected manuscripts and nodded with satisfaction. "Recite!"

Someone next to him stood up and began to chant from a manuscript...

"Young Master Guiyang's poem: A hundred ren high tower is but ordinary, looking up, we see a sky full of light..."

"Good poem!"

The crowd erupted in cheers, and countless maids' eyes sparkled. It seemed they had no immunity to true literary talents.

Lin Su wasn't surprised by this phenomenon. In the Song Dynasty, an ideal kingdom for scholars, a certain old rake named Liu Yong could sleep with all the top courtesans with just his lyrics. What's more, here? Here, scholars weren't synonymous with frailty; they were powerful in every way.

"Young Master Duling's poem: The Yangtze River flows ten thousand li straight to the heavens..."

"Good poem!"

More applause.

"Young Master Qingyang's poem..."

"Young Master Li Ding of Luozhou's poem. Although Young Master Li Ding is not from Qu Prefecture, his ancestral home is here. His poem says..."

In the blink of an eye, dozens of poems were recited. Lin Su himself wasn't particularly skilled in ancient-style poetry, but he understood it somewhat. He estimated that the quality of these poems was roughly the same as his own work – not too good, but not too bad either. The people here had reason to love poetry; they possessed a profound cultural heritage. Even an unknown Tong Sheng, who hadn't even established a "Literary World," had a line in his poem that was quite novel.

"Young Master Zhang Xiu's new work: The Yangtze tide stands at the forefront, why ask about leaving or staying? How can the tide know the ambition of reaching the blue clouds? It treads through the clouds and sky for another autumn!"

"Good!" Everyone stood up simultaneously and applauded!

Lei Dongyang stroked his beard and sighed, "What a line, 'treading through the clouds and sky for another autumn,' truly a stroke of genius, a stroke of genius! This poem shall be the finest of this grand gathering... Is there anything else?"

"There's one more, by Young Master Lin San..." the young reader's expression was peculiar.

"We don't need to read that one, do we?" Young Master Jin said. "It would only spoil everyone's mood."

"Let's hear it!" Young Master Zhang Xiu laughed. "We can also see if the poem has any limits."

Everyone laughed. The limits of poetry? That was indeed an interesting topic...

Mr. Lei smiled slightly. "The Literary Way is inclusive and vast. Talk of limits is just a joke... Please read it!"

The reader cleared his throat and began: "Nobility forces itself upon me, I have no freedom..."

Everyone was slightly taken aback. It was indeed a poem, and the opening line was extraordinary!

"The dragon soars and the phoenix dances, the momentum is hard to contain..."

Lei Dongyang was moved!

"The hall is filled with flowers intoxicating three thousand guests, A sword's frost chills forty prefectures."

Everyone was stunned, feeling as if they had seen a ghost. Could this poem really have been written by this useless Third Young Master? How could I possibly believe it...

The zither girl's gaze was locked onto Lin Su, her eyes now filled with infinite light...

"Good!" A loud shout came from a corner. It was a middle-aged man, dressed in ordinary cloth, but as he stood up, he exuded an extraordinary presence.

"Good!"

Someone called out "good" in a clear voice, setting the rhythm, and countless people echoed. Were any of the people present unable to recognize quality? With this poem, its grandeur and sharp edge were unparalleled!

Although most of the Nine Beauties of Qu Prefecture were aligned with Young Master Zhang Xiu and couldn't easily praise it, they ultimately couldn't deny its merit.

"Young man, this poem has unparalleled grandeur, but its meaning seems incomplete..." The elder raised his hand, interrupting the applause.

Lin Su said, "Esteemed elder, you are remarkable... This poem has eight lines. Please finish reciting the remaining four!"

The reader continued: "The drums and horns pierce the sky, the auspicious air is cold, The wind and waves shake the earth, the autumn of mountains and seas. The southeast shall forever be a golden pillar of heaven, Who envies the myriad marquises of old?"

As the last four lines were uttered, the entire venue fell silent. If the first four lines were full of heroic spirit, why did the last four carry a sense of desolation?

The elder sighed deeply, "The southeast shall forever be a golden pillar of heaven, who envies the myriad marquises of old? The golden pillar of heaven of yesterday is now a soul slain by the sword! Heaven, Earth, Time, and Fate!"

He raised his hand, and a slender character "Wind" appeared out of thin air. A strong wind swept through the restaurant, and the elder rode the wind, disappearing into the sky in an instant.

"The pinnacle of Literary Heart? Which Senior Great Confucian is this?" Lei Dongyang exclaimed in shock. Writing in the air, a single character for wind sent someone soaring into the sky. What power was this? The visitor must be a Great Confucian, and one who had cultivated their Literary Heart to its zenith. Such a person was like a god in the entire Great Cang.

"It's Great Confucian Deng Xianchu!" someone shouted, "Look!"

Everyone followed his finger and saw the golden light radiating from the character "Rise" hanging at the end of the corridor. This was the unique resonance between the original owner and his lingering masterpiece.

Lin Su's heart stirred, and he gazed for a long time in the direction Deng Xianchu had disappeared. A Great Confucian, meeting and knowing him, then vanishing into the heavens in the blink of an eye. This was what a scholar was! This was the direction he was seeking!

His gaze slowly returned, and he turned to Lei Dongyang, "Mr. Lei, can this casually written poem still enter your dharma eye?"

Casually written...

Cough... Lei Dongyang began to cough.

"A seditious poem!" Young Master Zhang Xiu shouted, "How dare you, you dog, inscribe a seditious poem? Are you trying to rebel?"

Everyone was shocked.

"Your father once guarded the southeast. If you call your father the Golden Pillar of the Southeast, then what position do you place His Majesty in? A foolish ruler who overthrows the pillars of the court? Based on this, you want to recruit soldiers and horses for your father, to have a hall full of drunken guests and three thousand visitors, with one sword's frost chilling forty prefectures!"

Lin Su's hair stood on end. Holy crap!

How could I forget about the literary inquisition in a feudal society?

Did I mess up on my very first appearance?

Once this poem reaches the Capital City, coupled with the Minister of War fanning the flames from the side, this foolish emperor will absolutely have me killed! The entire Lin family will be in grave danger!

Imperial power is supreme. How can I undo the mess I've made?

Lin Su's mind raced. A dangerous thought surfaced in his mind, but it was the only way.

"It was originally a poem expressing my ambition, but it has been maliciously interpreted by a villain. I cannot clarify it myself. There is only one method: I request a divine decree!"

He raised his hand, and half a stick of incense appeared in his palm. This incense was extremely special, entirely golden, like half a gold bar. This was Sage Incense.

Light the Sage Incense and reach the heavens directly!

Sage Incense is the channel for scholars to communicate with all Sages. It is extremely precious and one of the high-end "Five Treasures" exclusively managed by the Confucian Temple, worth as much as an equal amount of gold. Not to mention that ordinary people are not qualified to use it at all; even orthodox scholars can only buy one limited stick when they advance. This half stick in Lin Su's hand was taken from his Second Brother's study.

He had originally planned to set a trap and use this half stick of incense to lead Young Master Zhang Xiu into a corner (for example, by secretly lighting the Sage Incense and using modern rhetoric and psychology to lure Young Master Zhang Xiu into saying something disrespectful to all Sages). But now, he had brought this disaster upon himself and could only use this half stick of incense to save his life. In the face of imperial power, only a divine decree could save him.

All Sages are the true supreme beings.

As long as he passed this hurdle with all Sages, no one in the world would dare to trouble him about this poem again.

If the situation were not so critical, he would not have dared to present a plagiarized poem before all Sages, because he didn't know if they would see through it. If all Sages discovered he was a plagiarist, he would truly be finished.

But now, there was no other way. He had to take a gamble.

As the incense was lit, everyone in the hall was greatly alarmed. They immediately got up from their seats and knelt down!

The incense was lit, meaning this restaurant was now under the watchful eyes of all Sages.

Everyone's heart pounded...

Lin Su said, "I report to all Sages. Disciple Lin Su has a poem that has been maliciously interpreted, and the consequences are extremely severe. The flourishing of the Literary Way should be inclusive. If poems can also be used as evidence of crimes, who would dare to write poems and essays anymore? How can the Literary Way flourish? I request all Sages to uphold justice for me!"

The clouds in the sky suddenly parted, and a desolate voice echoed, "Present the poem!"

A cold sweat broke out on Young Master Zhang Xiu's back.

A divine decree?

Although theoretically, every scholar could communicate directly with all Sages, nine out of ten people only had a one-way communication. What did that mean? You could pray to all Sages, but you would never receive a single word from them.

Today, a divine decree was issued, as if a Sage were present in person.

What virtue and ability does this kid have? How could a divine decree be issued for him?

This is not a good sign.

Lin Su, however, felt a great sense of relief. The Sage Incense had connected him to the Sages. He had used psychology.

All Sages were high above and would not care about the life and death of an ordinary person, but they would definitely care about the flourishing or decline of the Literary Way and the smooth or obstructed progress of the Literary Path.

If the Literary Way did not flourish, the schools of thought created by the Sages could not be spread and developed. This would be like digging up their ancestral graves.

Establishing a literary inquisition was precisely hindering cultural prosperity, wasn't it? Modern online novels had sensitive words blocked, and writers deeply felt the difficulty of writing. What about feudal society? If everyone had to check for taboos before creating anything, what would be left to write? How could the Literary Way flourish?

As expected, his "scratching" opening remark had a huge effect. The Sages had spoken!

Present the poem?

How do I present it?

Lin Su was stunned for a moment. He remembered that in "Miscellaneous Talks on the Literary Path," it was recorded that poems written to all Sages could not be recited, nor could they be written with conventional ink and paper. He had none of those.

"Who has Precious Ink and Paper? Lend it to me!" Lin Su's gaze fell on the proprietor of Haining Tower.

"Quickly bring the Precious Ink and Paper!" Although the proprietor's heart was also in turmoil, he was also seven parts excited. His Precious Ink and Paper had become the medium for conveying information face-to-face with a Sage. What an honor this was!

A sheet of golden paper and a golden brush constituted Precious Ink and Paper. Under normal circumstances, ink was also needed, but a high-end golden brush was a two-in-one. Within the golden brush, there was a hidden mechanism, containing the blood of exotic beasts, inexhaustible.

With a Sage present, what Haining Tower brought was naturally the best.

Lin Su held the golden brush and began to write...

Nobility forces its way in, lacking freedom...

Suddenly, white light flickered on the paper, and three streaks appeared at once.

A poem written on ordinary paper would not reveal any marvels, but when written on Precious Ink and Paper, it would be judged immediately.

Poems were divided into seven grades, from lowest to highest:

Grass Poem: Meaning it was no different from ordinary weeds, completely beneath notice, thus having no light or color.

Floating Light Poem: Meaning the poem had some highlights for the day, and a streak of floating light was bestowed.

White Light Poem: Meaning the poem was outstanding within the month, and three streaks of white light were bestowed.

Silver Light Poem: A few bright spots within a year. Bestowed with a streak of silver light.

Golden Light Poem: A rare masterpiece within a decade. Bestowed with golden light.

Five-Colored Poem: A masterpiece within a century. Marked by five-colored auspicious clouds.

Seven-Colored Poem: Sufficient to be passed down for a thousand years. Marked by seven-colored auspicious clouds.

Eternal Blue Sky Poem: An immortal poem lasting ten thousand years, considered a legend.

The moment Lin Su put brush to paper, three streaks of white light appeared. This was the mark of a White Light Poem, truly an extraordinary start. Everyone's eyes widened, utterly disbelieving. How could he possibly write a White Light Poem? Had Lin Jialiang prepared in advance, bringing his most prized work with him? But Lin Jialiang himself had only ever written one White Light Poem, the one born of inspiration that propelled him into the ranks of the Ten Beauties of Qu Prefecture.

After that, he could never replicate it, no matter how hard he tried.

The Lin family suffered a great upheaval, and you, Lin Jialiang, had your Literary Path opened?

Was there any justice?

As Lin Su penned his second line, a gasp suddenly echoed. The white light on the paper transformed into a faint silver!

With the third line, the silver light blazed, stunning the entire hall. A masterpiece of the year, appearing right here in Haining Tower?

With the fourth line, "A sword's chill frost covers forty states," a soft chī sound, and golden light spread across the floor!

Before anyone could exclaim, the golden light suddenly shifted, becoming five-colored auspicious clouds!

The entire hall was petrified!

A poem of five colors, a century's legend!

The remaining four lines were swiftly written. As the final stroke fell, the auspicious clouds shifted again, seven colors filling the entire wine house.

A peerless poem, destined to be passed down for a thousand years!

With a chī sound, like a brand descending from the heavens, six characters appeared above the poem: "Haining's Declaration of Ambition, Lin Su!"

The poem rose with the wind, soaring straight into the sky.

Lin Su was dumbfounded.

A Seven-Colored Poem was within his expectations; this poem had already been passed down for a thousand years!

His only surprise was that he hadn't written a title, nor had he signed his name as the author. Yet, the manuscript bore his name and a title – bestowed by a Sage!

He hadn't written the author's name because of a small scheme. He worried that the Sage, with his immense power, would know the poem was plagiarized, so he dared not sign it.

But the Sage had directly provided a title and definitively identified him as the author.

This made things interesting.

I didn't say this poem was mine; it's the Sage's judgment. If it gets exposed and there's trouble, the Sage will take the blame...

What was even more interesting was that this meant the Sage didn't know the poem's origin either. They couldn't cross the boundaries between two timelines!

His path of plagiarism had suddenly become infinitely vast. He could copy until the world turned dark, eclipsing the sun and moon...

A desolate voice echoed from the sky: "A Seven-Colored Poem is truly not easy to achieve. I bestow upon you a Literary Root. Cultivate it well!"

The poem in the sky suddenly transformed into a seven-colored phoenix. It descended from the heavens and enveloped Lin Su. As the colorful light receded, beneath the withered branch in Lin Su's mind, a new root appeared. With this root's emergence, the withered tree came alive. It was no longer a withered tree but a vibrant, flourishing one. The leaves on the tree rustled with life and spiritual energy, as if suddenly imbued with sentience. Lin Su's comprehension of the profound and obscure sacred texts in his mind greatly improved, and his memory became astonishing. Every word and sentence from all the books he had ever read reappeared clearly...

Lin Su's heart pounded. He had a Literary Root; his Literary Way had been activated. The withered tree in his mind was indeed closely related to the Literary Way. Possessing a Literary Root was like painting the eyes on a dragon, allowing it to soar into the heavens, an unrepeatable feat. All abilities related to literature were now skyrocketing...

The entire crowd was petrified.

A Sage bestowed a Literary Root? What was going on today?

The original intention was to utterly crush the Lin family, but in the end, the Lin family produced a genius...

"I thank the Sage Master!" Lin Su said. "I am grateful for the Sage Master's regard, for recognizing my poem and bestowing upon me a Literary Root. I am willing to give my all, but I still have something to say, which I dare not withhold."

The sky fell silent, but the profound mystery remained.

Lin Su looked up and said, "What I wish to say concerns the flourishing of the contemporary Literary Way. The Literary Way is like the path of speech; it prospers when open and decays when closed. Many scholars, upholding the great aspirations of all Sages, have forged ahead, leading to today's prosperous Literary Way. However, some insidious individuals fabricate baseless accusations and establish literary prisons, seeking to sever the root of the Literary Way. If this trend is not stopped, the consequences will be endless!"

Young Master Zhang Xiu trembled violently!

He suddenly felt a sense of immense crisis...

"Well reasoned!" Two words echoed from the sky. With a chī sound, Young Master Zhang Xiu let out a scream. His entire body contorted, and a point of blood-red appeared on his brow. The literary world within his brow had already shattered into pieces.

The floating clouds in the sky receded, and the Sage Incense burned down to its end at this moment.