Several Poetry Masters were on the first floor, responsible for overseeing the competition among the participants there.
"Everyone who was supposed to come should be here by now. It's about time."
An old man swept his gaze over the crowd and spoke.
"Then let this competition begin."
He Yu cupped his fists and asked, "May I ask Elder Yang, what is the topic for this competition?"
"There is no topic. You only need to submit one original poem or lyric that you believe is your best. After our evaluation, one hundred people will be selected from the nearly eight hundred of you to enter the second floor."
Elder Yang stroked his beard and spoke calmly.
"Isn't that somewhat inappropriate? Without a set topic, it would be easy for people to submit plagiarized works or poems prepared in advance."
The talented scholar Liu Buhui cupped his fists as he spoke.
"Heh heh heh."
Elder Yang stroked his beard and smiled. "What meaning would there be in that? If you lack real talent, then even if you make it to the second floor, what can you gain? Not only will you fail to obtain anything you want, you may even embarrass yourself—or merely serve as a foil for others."
"But wouldn't that be unfair to other people?"
"This world was never fair to begin with. If you have the ability, then produce a good poem, and you will naturally enter the poetry gathering on the second floor. If you lack the ability, what use would it be even if you went? You have fifteen minutes to compose your work. Write your name on it. The list of those advancing will be announced in an hour!"
Then Duanmu Xuan looked at Ye Tianyi with her beautiful eyes and said, "I'll write one for