Ready to die?

Jiang Tian raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth curling into a smile as he asked, "Why wouldn't I be able to come? What about you? What are you doing here?"

Upon hearing this, Xiao Ce let out a sigh, his voice tinged with an indescribable bitterness: "You know the situation at my house. My mother's illness has worsened recently... It just so happens that if I come to this poetry gathering, I can receive ten taels of silver, regardless of whether my poem is any good."

Having said that, he looked at Jiang Tian with concern and lowered his voice: "Brother Tian, since you're already here, then this time... please be careful with your words and actions! Don't be like last time. I know you've been learning boxing at the Martial Arts Hall for a few days, but that attendant beside Wang Moshan is no ordinary person..."

Before he could finish, Jiang Tian reached out and gave Xiao Ce's shoulder a heavy, steady pat: "Don't worry!"

Seeing Jiang Tian agree so readily, Xiao Ce didn't know what else to say. Yet, looking at Jiang Tian's calm and composed face, he felt a vague sense of unease in his heart, as if a stone were pressing against his chest, refusing to settle.

As everyone took their seats, the poetry gathering officially began.

Cups of clear tea were poured, plates of melon seeds and fruits were set out, and candle flames flickered on the bronze lamp stands, illuminating the cabin brightly.

Most people composed mundane, uninspired verses that were as bland as plain water. Sentences like "The spring breeze turns the willows green, flowers bloom on every branch" were repeated over and over, making people yawn.

After each person recited their original poem, everyone would offer critiques—though, of course, they were all compliments, all flattery, without a single word of truth.

Jiang Tian did not join in at all; he simply ate the fruit on the table and sipped his tea. The tea was warm, slightly bitter upon entry, with a long-lasting sweetness. He sat in the corner like an outsider, watching this farce with cold eyes.

Soon, it was Jiang Tian's turn.

Wang Moshan said loudly: "Come on, let our Blackwater County's famous scholar compose a poem for everyone!"

As soon as these words were spoken, everyone's gaze turned toward Jiang Tian in unison.

In their impression, Jiang Tian lacked social awareness and had studied himself silly—but he certainly had real talent!

Jiang Tian took a sip of tea and slowly stood up.

This poem was one he had seen online in his previous life, and it was quite arrogant.

He clasped his hands behind his back, straightened his waist, adjusted his tone, and recited loudly:

"Clouds part over the long ridge, the mountain path stretches wide; the breeze from the clear cliff carries the fragrance of the temple."

"Even if I have the ambition to save the world, the Buddha in the hall should be the one bowing to me."

The moment the poem was finished, everyone was instantly stunned.

Some repeated it in low voices, savoring the imagery, their eyes growing brighter with each repetition; others simply took out paper and brush, scribbling it down, terrified they might forget it.

After a long while, someone loudly praised: "Good poem! Truly a good poem!"

"What an arrogant poem!"

"The spirit and vigor are overwhelming!"

"This Momentum, this vision—it's superb!"

Even a vulgar person like Wang Moshan could taste the flavor of it. He slapped the table in admiration, his voice filled with genuine excitement: "One hundred taels—no! I'll make an exception and give three hundred taels for this one!"

Facing the praise of the crowd, Jiang Tian smiled slightly, sat back down, picked up his teacup, and continued sipping, as if that poem had just been a casual remark, not worth mentioning.

Soon, it was the turn of the poetry gathering's host—Wang Moshan.

Wang Moshan gave a light cough, straightened his collar, stood up, flicked his sleeves, and walked to the center of the venue with a proud expression: "I've been brewing this poem at home for several days. Hosting this gathering today is also to let everyone give an objective evaluation."

Having said that, he looked arrogant, cleared his throat, and recited loudly:

"The crooked wind howls at night,"

"Blowing away the tattered cotton jacket."

"The old tree breaks its waist,"

"Old Granny Wang chases after it."

"Ask her what she's chasing?"

"The vegetable basket is caught on the top."

"This wind has no class,"

"Only picking on poor families to sweep."

As soon as his voice fell, people couldn't wait to praise him, fearing that if they were a step slow, someone else would beat them to it.

"Oh my, your poem is absolutely brilliant! The more I read it, the more flavor I find..."

"My goodness, look at this rhyme scheme; it intentionally breaks the rules, yet it has a kind of wild, natural spirit, like a loach jumping in a mountain spring—slippery and free!"

"I can only use four words to describe this poem—great skill looks like clumsiness!"

"..."

The flattery poured in like a tide, each sentence more nauseating and absurd than the last.

Wang Moshan thoroughly enjoyed the feeling of being fawned over. His mouth stretched almost to his ears, and he felt as if he were floating on clouds.

After listening for a while, he suddenly turned his gaze toward Jiang Tian, who was sitting in the corner. The corners of his mouth lifted slightly with a provocative smile: "Brother Jiang Tian, why don't you evaluate my poem!"

Having said that, he raised his hand and made a gesture for silence.

Everyone immediately shut their mouths. The cabin fell into sudden silence, with only the occasional "crackling" sound of the candle flames. Then, everyone's eyes fell squarely on Jiang Tian.

Xiao Ce's heart jumped into his throat. His Adam's apple bobbed, his fingers clenched into fists, and his palms were slick with sweat. He was afraid that Jiang Tian would act like he did last time, rattling off a long string of words...

However, Jiang Tian's first sentence made the heart that had been stuck in his throat instantly relax.

"Good, I think that's quite good."

Xiao Ce let out a long sigh of relief, his tense shoulders finally relaxing—

But Jiang Tian's next sentence made his eyes widen and his pupils constrict.

"Good my ass!"

Jiang Tian set down his teacup and stood up. His voice wasn't loud, but every word was clear, piercing the ears of everyone present like a knife.

"This trashy poem is written like a dung beetle rolling a ball of manure—stinking and stiff!"

"You can't even get the rhymes right; reading it is more stumbling than an old woman's foot-binding cloth. Don't even get me started on the content—you're dirt poor yet trying so hard to be humorous. 'Wicked winds chasing tattered coats,' 'Old Granny chasing a vegetable basket'—what kind of rotten jokes are these? Who are you trying to insult?"

Jiang Tian's mouth moved like a machine gun, never stopping, spitting out words one after another, fast and vicious.

Wang Moshan's complexion darkened with every word that fell, shifting from red to white, white to green, and green to purple.

"You wanted to imitate those who satirize the suffering of the lower classes, but you ended up with a monstrosity that doesn't resemble anything. Even the old man at the village entrance rambling about gossip is more compelling than this. Calling it doggerel is an insult to doggerel; at best, it's a wilted green onion stuck in a pile of cow dung—it's disgusting to look at, and even more disgusting to smell!"

After finishing, Jiang Tian picked up his teacup and took a slow, unhurried sip, as if he had just finished reciting a textbook passage.

A deathly silence filled the cabin.

The expressions on the faces of the others were nothing short of spectacular—there was shock, fear, secret pleasure, and suppressed laughter.

Jiang Tian had voiced the inner thoughts they were all too afraid to speak aloud.

But... they couldn't have said it so viciously!

As expected, the more ink one has in their brain, the more cutting their insults become!

Someone couldn't hold it in any longer and let out a "pfft" of laughter, the sound jarringly sharp in the silent cabin.

The moment the person laughed, they looked up and met Wang Moshan's knife-like gaze. Their smile instantly froze, and they shrank their neck, wishing they could crawl into a crack in the floor.

"Alright, this poetry gathering ends here! Everyone, remember to come to my Wang Family tomorrow to collect your silver!"

Wang Moshan flicked his sleeve, his voice as cold as ice shards in the dead of winter. He turned and returned to the main seat, sitting down heavily with a groan from the chair that could barely support his weight.

Many people looked at Jiang Tian with strange expressions.

There were all kinds of looks—gloating, head-shaking sighs, indifferent detachment, and a few who quietly gave a thumbs-up before quickly pulling it back.

"Brother Tian!"

Xiao Ce trotted over to Jiang Tian's side, his face dark. He grabbed Jiang Tian's sleeve, his voice changing pitch in his anxiety: "You! Why didn't you listen to reason?!"

Jiang Tian smiled calmly and patted the back of his hand: "Alright, you should go. Don't worry about me."

"Sigh!!!" Xiao Ce's expression flickered between uncertainty and anger, and he gritted his teeth, saying, "I clearly couldn't stop you. Fine, you wait here, I'm going to notify your elder brother right now. With your brother here, they wouldn't dare do anything! You must stall him!"

Jiang Tian picked up his teacup and took a sip, saying softly: "No need to call my brother. At worst, I'll just kowtow to him."

Once these words were out, Xiao Ce froze.

Although Jiang Tian had become a bit different from before... he still believed that Jiang Tian's spine would never bend.

"Remember, don't go call my brother. I can handle this." Jiang Tian's voice was not loud, but it carried an unquestionable certainty.

"Fine, fine, fine!" Xiao Ce replied perfunctorily before striding away. But his hurried footsteps and tense back clearly spelled out "I don't believe you."

After Xiao Ce left, only Jiang Tian, Wang Moshan, and a few of Wang Moshan's attendants remained on the large boat.

The river water outside slapped against the hull with a splashing sound, and the candlelight flickered in the night breeze, casting long and short shadows across the cabin.

Wang Moshan slowly stood up, all the pretense on his face peeling away like a mask to reveal a sinister, twisted visage.

He stared at Jiang Tian, his mouth slowly stretching wide to reveal a row of ghastly white teeth, and he sneered:

"Jiang Tian, are you prepared... for how you're going to die?"