Poetry at the Banquet! The Whole Hall Stunned!

The celebratory banquet grew increasingly lively.

After three rounds of wine and five courses of food, everyone gradually let go of their reservations, and laughter rose one after another.

Just then, a young man from a medium-sized sect stood up. His face was red as he raised his wine cup and looked around.

"Everyone, it is a rare fate that we have gathered here today."

"I have a suggestion. Since we are all talented elites from various sects and schools, merely drinking and eating is rather dull. Why not have each person compose an impromptu poem to add to the occasion? What do you think?"

The moment he said this, a chorus of agreement rose from the banquet.

"Good idea! A little cultured elegance is one of us young people's refined pleasures!"

"I'll go first, I'll go first! I just happened to write one recently!"

"Oh, come on. You call that poetry?"

Everyone laughed and bantered, and the atmosphere became even more relaxed.

Ning Rongrong sat beside Zhao Tian. Upon hearing this, she quietly leaned closer and muttered in a low voice, "Writing poetry? How boring... Rongrong doesn't know how to do that..."

Zhao Tian glanced at her and smiled. "It doesn't matter if you can't. Just listen."

Ning Rongrong nodded, feeling relieved.

But she soon remembered something and nervously tugged on Zhao Tian's sleeve.

"Zhao Tian, will they ask you to go up and compose a poem? You're only six, and you've never learned this..."

Zhao Tian did not answer. A trace of amusement merely flashed through his eyes.

Compose poetry?

In his previous life, he had been Chinese. He had memorized no fewer than eight hundred, if not a thousand, poems and verses while growing up.

He could pull out any one of them, and it would be enough to make these people's jaws drop.

But he did not say anything. He simply sat there quietly and watched as everyone went up one by one to make fools of themselves.

The first to stand was Feng Xiaotian.

Holding his wine cup, he walked to the center of the hall, cleared his throat, and solemnly recited:

"The fierce wind shatters clouds across ten thousand miles of sky; the Two-Headed Demon Wolf howls beneath the vault of heaven. Ask who in the world can stand against me—only I, Xiaotian, stand proud above all heroes!"

After reciting it, he tossed his hair and proudly swept his gaze across the hall.

"Good! A good poem! So imposing!"

"Brother Feng is truly skilled in both letters and martial arts!"

Everyone eagerly praised him.

Feng Xiaotian happily gulped down a mouthful of wine and returned to his seat.

Zhao Tian remained expressionless as he silently judged it. It was doggerel-level work; even the rhymes were forced, and there was no artistic conception to speak of. Still, everyone was just having fun on an occasion like this, so no one cared about such things.

The second to go up was Yu Tianheng.

He rose to his feet, coldly swept his eyes around the room, and stiffly spat out four lines:

"Blue lightning coils and shatters the nine heavens; tyrant claws rage and split mountains as they tremble. I was born with unyielding pride in my bones—why should I bow my head for others to see?"

After saying that, he heavily sat back down with an expressionless face.

"Good! Overwhelmingly domineering! As expected of a genius from the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Clan!"

The crowd erupted into applause once more.

Zhao Tian gently swirled the fruit juice in his cup, barely holding back his laughter.

This poem was even more blunt than Feng Xiaotian's. It was practically a self-introduction.

Still, given Yu Tianheng's personality, squeezing out four rhyming lines was already quite difficult for him.

After that, Shui Bing'er, Huo Wushuang, Tuoba Xin, and the others also composed poems one after another. Their standards varied, but they all followed the same straightforward pattern.

Either they wrote about how powerful their martial souls were, how lofty their ambitions were, or how invincible they would become in the future.

The more Zhao Tian listened, the more he wanted to laugh, though he maintained a polite smile throughout.

He simply had not expected that the amusement would soon turn to him.

"Brother Zhao Tian, you're today's champion. We've all witnessed how formidable you are, but we wonder whether you have any skill in poetry as well?"

A young man spoke with a grin, his gaze landing on Zhao Tian.

"Why don't you compose one too, and let us broaden our horizons?"

As soon as he finished speaking, the people around them immediately began to egg him on.

"Yes, yes, Brother Zhao Tian, give us one!"

"Let's see how good the champion's literary talent is!"

"A six-year-old kid composing poetry? I wonder what he can come up with?"

Some were sincerely expectant, while others merely wanted to watch a spectacle.

A six-year-old child who could fight and win on the arena was already extraordinary. But to say he could write poetry too? Who would believe that?

Ning Rongrong became anxious. Tugging on Zhao Tian's sleeve, she whispered, "Zhao Tian, don't listen to them. They just want to see you embarrass yourself because you're young!"

Zhao Tian lightly patted the back of her hand, signaling for her not to worry.

Then he stood up.

The hall gradually fell silent, and every gaze focused on him.

There was curiosity, anticipation, and quite a few people waiting to laugh at him.

Zhao Tian walked to the center of the hall and picked up the cup before him—it contained fruit juice. He was still a child, so he could only use juice in place of wine.

He looked around the room, his gaze calm.

"Since everyone has insisted so warmly, I shall make a fool of myself."

He paused. Great works from his past life swiftly flashed through his mind, and then he chose one most suited to the current setting.

Li Bai's "Bring in the Wine" was too wild and unrestrained, not quite suitable for this occasion.

Du Fu's somber and sorrowful style did not fit today's atmosphere either.

In the end, he chose one—

"Have you not seen the Yellow River's waters descend from heaven, rushing toward the sea, never to return?"

The instant the first line left his lips, the once-noisy hall fell silent for a moment.

Some frowned, seemingly savoring the meaning behind the line.

Surprise flashed through some people's eyes. They felt that the scope of this line was far grander than every poem composed before it.

Zhao Tian did not pause and continued to recite.

"Have you not seen bright mirrors in grand halls lament white hair, black silk at dawn turned snow by dusk?"

"When life goes well, one must delight to the fullest; do not let a golden cup face the moon empty."

"Talents granted me by heaven must have their use; though a thousand gold is spent, it will return again."

By the time he reached this point, the hall had fallen completely silent.

Even the sound of a needle dropping to the floor could have been heard.

Everyone's expressions had changed.

The earlier ease, teasing, and desire to watch a spectacle vanished without a trace at that moment.

In their place was profound shock and disbelief.

Feng Xiaotian's wine cup froze halfway to his mouth as he forgot to drink.

Yu Tianheng's brows were tightly furrowed, his gaze fixed firmly on Zhao Tian.

Shui Bing'er covered her mouth, her eyes filled with shock.

Huo Wu's eyes were wide and round, her small mouth forming an O.

Even the young man from the Zhu Family, who had remained silent in the corner all along, raised his head, an unusual light flickering in his eyes.

Zhao Tian did not stop and continued with the final lines.

"Roast sheep and slaughter cattle, and make merry; one should drink three hundred cups in a single draught."

"Master Cen, Dan Qiusheng, bring in the wine—let not the cups cease!"

"I will sing you a song; please lend me your ears and listen closely."

After reciting the final line, he set down his cup and gave a slight bow.

"My humble offering."

The entire hall was silent as death, remaining quiet for a full five breaths.

Then, someone shouted praise first, and immediately afterward, the whole hall erupted with deafening cheers.

"Excellent poem!!!"

"Th-this was written by a six-year-old child?!"

"Talents granted me by heaven must have their use; though a thousand gold is spent, it will return again... Those lines are simply incredible!"

"I've lived for so many years, yet I've never heard a poem so bold and heroic!"

"Zhao Tian! How did he do it? He's incredible at fighting, and he's this incredible at poetry too!"

Feng Xiaotian abruptly rose to his feet and slammed a hand onto the table, his face flushed with excitement.

"Good boy! It was one thing for you to beat me on the arena today, but you even had to surpass me in poetry?!"

"I, Feng Xiaotian, am convinced! Completely convinced!"

Yu Tianheng remained silent for a long time before finally saying in a low voice, "...Good poem."

Ning Rongrong had already stood up. Her small face was full of pride, and her eyes had even reddened.

She did not really understand whether poetry was good or bad, but she could tell from everyone's expressions—Zhao Tian had won!

He had won a contest even harder than an arena match!

Zhao Tian stood there with a calm expression and a faint smile on his lips.

"Bring in the Wine" was Li Bai's timeless masterpiece. He had only recited the first half rather than the entire work; otherwise, it would truly have aroused unnecessary suspicion.

But even so, it was enough to make everyone present wholeheartedly convinced.

Amid the crowd, Hu Liena had appeared at the entrance to the banquet hall at some point. Leaning against the doorframe, a complicated light flickered in her violet eyes as she murmured softly.

"Talents granted me by heaven must have their use... though a thousand gold is spent, it will return again..."

"Zhao Tian, just who are you?"