Scholars from every nation silently praised him.
"I shall take them all" and "you had best catch this"-Li Wenying made no attempt to conceal his contempt for the Qing Kingdom, nor his mighty confidence and fighting spirit.
Victory or defeat aside, the man who first called for battle was a true hero.
Li Wenying lifted his brush, soaked it in thick ink, and wrote three large characters on the paper.
Praising Fang Yun.
Then he held his brush poised in thought and gazed into the distance.
Some followed Li Wenying's gaze. That seemed to be the direction of Ning'an City, the most important of all the cities Fang Yun had passed through.
Li Wenying did not put brush to paper for a long while. The entire assembly was silent as the grave. However much the Qing Kingdom scholars had jeered earlier, now none spoke; some even pressed their lips together in nervousness.
Li Wenying stood with brush in hand, like a heaven-piercing sword as tall as a mountain, unstoppable by anyone.
Ji Anchang had been smiling all along, but now he watched Li Wenying intently, his expression solemn and his eyes bright. A faint flush rose on his face, his blood surged, and his literary qi billowed.
The general closed his eyes to hear the harp, for no worthy opponent stood before him.
Several dozen more breaths passed before Li Wenying began to write, reciting as he did.
His brush falls, literary qi surges to the stars; dragons soar and phoenixes wheel, their momentum beyond restraint.
Blossoms throughout the hall intoxicate three thousand guests; one sword frosts fourteen prefectures.
Drums and horns lift the heavens, auspicious air turns cold; wind and waves shake the earth, seas and mountains fall to autumn.
May Ning'an forever stand, a golden pillar of heaven;