Before Young Master Zheng had finished speaking, Yue Ziling had already used his divine sense to carve a poem onto a spirit stone. He was just about to toss it toward the Immortal Song Tree when Yun Zhongge hurriedly stopped him.
"Brother Ziling, wait! If you toss it in rashly, the Immortal Song Tree may not open again for years."
Yue Ziling said gravely, "Why is that?"
Yun Zhongge said, "Brother Ziling, do you know how many leaves the Immortal Song Tree has? And do you know how many poems are recorded on it?"
Yue Ziling frowned. "At a time like this, Brother Yun, why are you being so mysterious?"
"It's not that I'm being mysterious," Yun Zhongge said. "This is truly a matter of great importance. The Immortal Song Tree records more than 107,000 poems, encompassing every famous work and masterpiece of our time. But the tree has one oddity: it loves new works and loathes old ones. If someone carves a poem recorded on one of its leaves onto a spirit stone and throws it at the tree, once it swallows it, it won't show its true form for years. It carries a proud heart of music and an unyielding spirit, like a refined scholar of the mortal world."
"What are we to do?" Young Master Zheng saw Fairy Qin's brows knitted with worry, and grew more anxious.
"It's not as if there's no other way," Yun Zhongge said. "All we need is a poem that hasn't appeared on the Immortal Song Tree's leaves, and we can solve this urgent problem. Everyone present is highly talented. Surely composing a fine poem from a few words won't be difficult?"
With that, he clasped his hands and bowed. "May I ask which of you would care to display your talent?"