After Xiao Yang spoke, no one moved. Everyone feared getting too close to him and being resented later by the Second Prince.
“Ninth Prince…”
Ma Wencai, however, braved the pressure and jogged over to pour him a full cup of fine wine.
“Allow me to grind the ink,” Yan Ruyu stepped gracefully to the inkstone, extending her jade-like hand to begin grinding.
A lady aiding with ink while a poet writes—a perfect scene of elegance and artistry!
Then, Xiao Yang took up the brush, and with bold and fluid strokes, a majestic poem appeared on the paper.
“When will the bright moon appear? I raise my wine and ask the heavens.
I do not know, in the celestial palaces above, what year this night belongs to…”
…
“People experience joy and sorrow, partings and reunions; the moon waxes and wanes—such things are hard to perfect since ancient times.
May we live long and share the moonlight, even if we are a thousand miles apart.”
Upon seeing the completed poem, the crowd of scholars, even those who had accepted favors from Xiao Ziwen, couldn’t help but be awestruck.
“Another eternal masterpiece!”
“What a line—‘May we live long and share the moonlight, even if we are a thousand miles apart!’”
“This level of poetry will spread across the land and make his name known far and wide!”
However, the Second Prince’s expression twisted with rage. His teeth clenched.
“No! This is impossible! Ninth Brother, you’re nothing more than a crude martial brute who’s never read the classics. How could you write such poetry?!”
“Still don’t believe me, Second Brother?” Xiao Yang said calmly. “Then how about I write a few more and you can ‘advise’ me?”
Though he said ‘advise,’ his tone was brimming with confidence.
He picked up the brush again and continued to write. One by one, brilliant classics from his past life emerged before their eyes.
“Have you not seen the waters of the Yellow River, flowing from the sky, rushing to the sea, never to return…”
“The sun sets behind the mountains; the Yellow River flows into the sea. If you want to see farther, climb up one more floor.”
“Fine wine of grapes in luminous cups, just as I lift it to drink, the pipa urges from horseback. Drunken on the battlefield, do not mock me; since ancient times, how many return from war?”
…
…
…
The entire room was stunned.
Everyone held their breath, eyes wide open, staring at Xiao Yang’s poetry, afraid to miss even a line.
These were all timeless masterpieces, and yet he was producing them like cabbage at the market.
How could they not be shaken?
“Drunken on the battlefield, do not mock me; since ancient times, how many return from war?”
In the distance, Ning Hongye silently repeated the line, a shimmer of brilliance in her beautiful eyes.
“Xiao Yang… just how many hidden talents do you have?”
…
Central Region.
An ancient temple.
Though modest in appearance, this place was a sacred land in the hearts of all scholars—
Portraits of ancient sages adorned the walls, and miniature bronze statues were enshrined upon the altar.
The Four Sages, Ten Philosophers, Seventy-Two Worthies!
At this moment, an elderly man with white hair was flipping through a worn classic text.
He was the Sub-Sage, spiritual leader of the literary world.
A single word from him could stir national fortune or save a crumbling regime.
The Wen Temple’s history surpassed even that of the Grand Xia Empire, spanning over three millennia, and yet only four Sages had ever been born.
Buzz… Buzz… Buzz…
Suddenly, the portraits on the walls began to flutter without wind.
The bronze statues on the altar trembled violently, letting out a deafening rumble.
“The sages speak in unison!”
The Sub-Sage lowered the book in his hands. His eyes sparkled as he looked toward the northern lands, his gaze seemingly piercing through countless mountains and rivers.
“In the north… a true sage has emerged!”
“Which great Confucian scholar has written such words to cause the sages to resonate together?!”
…
Back at the Orchid Pavilion.
Xiao Yang drank and composed endlessly. No one knew how many poetic gems he had written before he finally set the brush down.
“Now, does anyone still dare say I plagiarized?”
Slightly drunk, he laughed arrogantly, eyes fierce as he stared down the crowd.
One by one, the gathered scholars lowered their heads in shame.
“Second Brother, are you convinced now?” Xiao Yang asked again.
“I…”
Xiao Ziwen opened his mouth but suddenly stuttered, unable to say a single word.
If it were just one or two poems, he could still claim plagiarism.
But Xiao Yang had just composed dozens of masterpieces in one breath—brilliant beyond compare, enough to outshine all of history.
Damn it!
If he could write poetry like this, why didn’t he say so earlier?
Was it just to slap me in the face in front of Fairy Yan?
Too devious!
He’s done it again!
Xiao Ziwen nearly coughed up blood from frustration.
Meanwhile, Yan Ruyu gazed at Xiao Yang with admiration, her cheeks glowing like peach blossoms.
“So Ninth Prince is the reincarnation of the Star of Literature! If all the world’s talent was a stone, you’d own eight out of the ten measures! After tonight, your name will surely shake the literary world of the Grand Xia Empire!”
Xiao Yang only shook his head and said, “Miss Yan, it’s not that I’m too brilliant—they’re just too mediocre. ‘Your names and bodies will perish together, but the rivers flow forever through the ages.'”
A scathing insult without a single curse word!
All the phony scholars in the room had just been lumped together as worthless trash.
Yet they couldn’t utter a word in rebuttal.
“Second Brother, since I’ve fulfilled our agreement, hand over the Yue Wu Military Treatise,” Xiao Yang urged.
“Take it!”
Though bitter, Xiao Ziwen had no choice but to surrender the ancient book.
“If there’s nothing else, I’ll be taking my leave.”
Xiao Yang turned to go.
“Ninth Prince, wait!” Yan Ruyu suddenly called out, eyes brimming with affection.
“About the poem—‘The clouds dream of her robe, the flowers envy her face’—may I have it?”
“Of course, I won’t take it for free!”
“As a Female Confucian Scholar of Jixia Academy, I have the authority to open the Scripture Pavilion and allow you to borrow any ancient text you wish!”
The entire hall was stunned.
The Scripture Pavilion contained writings from ancient sages and scholars, never shared outside.
It was said that some Confucian cultivators had experienced instant enlightenment from reading a single page.
Even Xiao Ziwen had been rejected when he sought entry.
And now she offered that opportunity to Xiao Yang…
“Sorry,” Xiao Yang shook his head, visibly annoyed. “I already said—that poem was for my fiancée. Didn’t you understand?”
Yan Ruyu hadn’t expected to be rejected. Her expression grew misty like a rain-drenched peach blossom.
That pitiful look, like a flower in the rain, evoked a deep desire to protect her.
“Ninth Brother, don’t go too far! Fairy Yan admires your poem—it’s your greatest honor! If you refuse to give it to her, I’ll unite everyone here and blacklist you from the literary world! No matter how much talent you have, you’ll have no place to use it!”
Xiao Ziwen shouted threateningly, thinking this would win Yan Ruyu’s favor.
Little did he know, she was already cursing him in her heart—
I share a deep bond with Ninth Prince. We’re a match made in heaven!
Who do you think you are to interfere, you freak?
“Second Brother, you really overestimate yourself. That so-called literary world of yours? I, Xiao Yang, don’t give a damn! Facing the sky with a roaring laugh, how could we be weeds or mere men? Hahaha…”
With that, Xiao Yang took the Yue Wu Military Treatise and walked off laughing.
“Ninth Prince, wait for me!”
Yan Ruyu chased after him.
“Fairy Yan!”
Xiao Ziwen saw this and couldn’t help but follow with his gang of attendants.
Soon, they all arrived at the entrance of the Orchid Pavilion.
What appeared next was utterly unbelievable.
Xiao Yang’s Treading Cloud Black Dragon Stallion, which had supposedly been tied in the royal stables, had somehow broken free.
“Neighhh—”
The spirited black horse pranced energetically, full of vigor…
And was currently madly trying to mount the white deer Yan Ruyu had brought with her…