Let the scourge go to the right path, and you make games to reward them?.

Chapter 909 Caifeng Hall (12)

Unable to figure it out, Huang Xi simply stopped thinking about it.

After resting, she took the two poems and went to Caifeng Hall to meet the head of the hall.

Before leaving her sycamore tree, she specially transformed herself into human form and carefully prepared herself in front of the bronze mirror, making sure she was perfect before leaving home.

Every time she transformed into human form, she felt that her two legs were superfluous, like two lumps of bones of unknown origin, and walking was always awkward.

Her arms were also a burden, and she would want to swing them every now and then when walking. But every time she did, she would attract disgusted looks from others, forcing her to suppress the urge.

Moreover, the magical power required for transformation is enormous. Maintaining her original form or human form would not be a problem, but each transformation requires a large amount of magical power, which has delayed her cultivation.

However, this is a necessary investment to maintain our image; we have to do it, and we have no other choice!
Human form is an essential part of poetry competitions. Cultivators who cannot transform into human form are like wild beasts that eat raw meat and drink blood, unable to even cross the threshold of poetry competitions.

There were many pedestrians on the road, each of whom had transformed into human form, but few were as perfect as Huang Xi.

Some of them have three eyes, some have noses below their mouths, and some have facial features that are normal but upside down, making them look quite strange.

With a secret sense of superiority, Huang Xi stepped into Caifeng Hall and saw that it was already full of his colleagues.

The air is filled with the fresh scent of bamboo. Freshly picked bamboo sections, along with their leaves, are delivered here, making the place a verdant landscape.

They wrote the collected poems on bamboo boards, drilled small holes in the bamboo boards, and then hung them in the ventilation openings.

When the wind blows, it flows through the small holes, and the sound of poetry is put into the tranquil stream, flowing out slowly, carrying distant memories and romantic starlight, flowing through Caifeng Hall.

There are thirty-six Fenghuang Halls in the Blissful Realm, each with a different function. The Fenghuang Hall here is managed by the Phoenix Clan, and the head of the hall is also a member of the Phoenix Clan.

Smelling Huang Xi's scent, the old man lifted his drooping eyelids, and after seeing Huang Xi's face clearly, he smiled and said, "Huang Xi, you're back. What good poems did you bring today?"

"I brought back two poems, and each one has its own merits and unique features. I dare not keep them to myself, so I am sharing them with you all for your appreciation."

"I trust you to do things. Go and carve it."

When Huang Xi received the bamboo strip, he took a special look at the old man's hands and once again admired them.

The original image of the old man is extremely beautiful, with colorful feathers complementing his slender, bridge-like neck, giving people a dreamlike and stunning feeling every time they see it.

But after transforming into human form, he was so simple and elegant, with brown age spots on the back of his hands, making him look almost exactly like the ancient saint.

Even after just a few days apart, the imitation had improved, making the old man appear even more aged, indicating that the imitation had reached a high level of perfection.

Holding the two bamboo slips, Huang Xi exclaimed, "Master, your imitation skills are getting better and better."

"Oh, not at all. It's just that I've lived a long time, so I've seen a lot. Keep growing, and one day you'll be able to do it too. Alright, go on."

Nodding, Huang Xi carried the bamboo slips and came to the eaves.

She didn't use any magic, but instead used her dough-like hands to pick up the carving knife with difficulty, and then began to carve small holes in the bamboo strip.

If one can use magic, then carving is very simple.

By guiding the magic along a predetermined path, the magic will automatically melt the surface of the bamboo strip, leaving the wind's trail on it. Afterward, hanging it under the eaves will create a poem.

But carving poems is an extremely sacred process. Ancient sages also carved in this way, and the entire process now is an imitation of those sages, a form of worship towards the ancients. Kneeling, sitting, teasing, taking the knife…

Huang Xi quietly performed the predetermined actions, silently reciting the ancient sage's records during the process, harmonizing her own state of mind with that of the ancient sage, and trying to imitate the ancient sage's state of mind as much as possible.

After all the rituals were completed, she felt as if she had taken another step on the path of the ancient saints and understood their feelings and thoughts better.

Filled with a strange sense of sorrow, she picked up a carving knife and carved a path on the bamboo strip.

Unable to use his magic and unfamiliar with his human form, Huang Xi's carving movements were unusually slow, but he made no mistakes.

It took her a full hour to finish carving the poem.

Wiping the sweat from her brow, Huang Xi tiptoed, fetched a red thread, and hung the bamboo strips under the eaves. Before long, she saw the wind.

The corridor of Caifeng Hall is a thousand feet long. Every half hour, a gentle breeze will appear from the west and then dissipate in the east.

The invisible wind takes on a form here; it travels through the long corridor, stirring every bamboo strip. The raised bamboo strips disrupt the wind's path and carry the sound of poetry to everyone's ears.

This time was no exception. When the wind blew, the sound of poetry filled the Caifeng Hall. Everyone who did not have a poem inscribed on their name would stop and listen to the sounds inside.

The first thing to be heard was the poetry of the ancient sages.

Those poems are simple and unadorned, with straightforward language, and possess a reassuring quality.

Next came the good poems collected by everyone.

The more beautiful the poem, the more likely it is to be listed first, as people will focus their attention there and listen to its beauty.

By the time Feng reached Huang Xi, everyone's interest had waned, and some had already resumed their work, no longer paying attention to the poems at the end.

However, when they passed Huang Xi, the sudden poetic breeze made everyone stop. The clear, melodious wind, like the bells of summer, dispelled the sweltering heat, leaving only tranquility.

Although it was only for a few breaths, everyone heard a complete poem, a poem that surprised them.

Soon after, some people stopped, some began to ponder, and others silently stepped forward and moved the bamboo strip that Huang Xi had hung up.

With each gust of wind, the bamboo strips would move forward a little, until they were placed behind the ancient sage.

Huang Xi was not surprised by this result.

The poem written by Lingjing was indeed brilliant, and the general public's aesthetic sense was also quite good, so it's normal that it ranked second.

Moreover, this was Huang Xi's best result ever. It was the first time Huang Xi had ever encountered a poem that could climb to second place so quickly.

The thought that this was a poem she had brought made Huang Xi feel extremely proud, and she immediately set to work, carving Lin Yuan's poem onto it as well.

In her opinion, this poem is equally wonderful. It may not immediately surpass the level of the Spirit Realm, but it will still achieve a good result.

But after she finished carving and hung it up, the poem did not attract the amazement of others. Instead, the hall master said softly, "Huang Xi, this poem is a bit below standard."

(End of this chapter)