After everyone had finished reading the poem, they were utterly amazed.
Mo Bai froze where he stood.
He knew that he had lost this round—and lost badly.
He understood poetry, so he knew exactly how high the standard of Ye Tianyi's poem was.
"Th-This... Master Wuxin, this junior considers his own study of poetry and prose to be merely superficial. Do you think Ye Tianyi's poem is particularly exceptional? Because this junior felt his blood boil just from reading it."
A relatively young man spoke bluntly.
"Yes, yes, I felt the same way."
"Of course, Venerable Mo's poem was also excellent. It's just that Ye Tianyi's truly gives one a hot-blooded feeling."
"..."
Master Wuxin stood up and looked at Ye Tianyi's poem, then nodded. "Not bad. Even this old monk feels that, on the surface, this poem does not seem to contain any especially remarkable elements, nor does it use any particularly extraordinary words that make one feel its brilliance. Yet once formed into a poem, it truly gives one a hot-blooded feeling! When a poem reaches such a level, it can truly be considered a good poem."
"Mm."
Huang Lian nodded as well. "Like that Song of Everlasting Regret—it showed us a story, a scene, and a stretch of desolation. This poem, too, showed us a person with a strong inner heart."
Ye Tianyi then said, "Actually, I don't think this poem's standard is particularly, particularly high, but I like it quite a bit too."
"A poem's standard is not reflected by using rare or impressive words. What matters is whether it can resonate with people and contain no contradictions. Your poem has done that as well. This old man especially likes the line, 'One day, when the tiger returns to the mountain, half the sky shall be