I proved immortality through the imperial examination.

Chapter 205 Overwhelmed for Three Hundred Years (Silver Sprout 7)
Lu Wenjue said loudly,

"Smoke locks the autumn pond, the moon's reflection is cold and broken."

A single chrysanthemum leans against the railing in the frost.

The wind comes silently, the flowers bloom like a dream.
The gentle rain adds fragrance to the brushstrokes.

Amidst the hazy glow of fireworks, layers of light rippled outwards.

First, there was a pool of autumn water, with shimmering light on the surface, like the moon in a dream;
Then, the shadows of chrysanthemums fell upon the railing, their petals frosted over, and white mist swirled around them...

Lu Wenjue's work is clearly a long poem, and its poetic meaning is not yet fully expressed.

Xue Xiang stood beneath the blue curtain, his robes fluttering lightly. Before Lu Wenjue could finish reciting, he spoke loudly, "

The spring river tide connects with the sea,
The bright moon rises with the tide over the sea.

Rippling waves stretch for thousands of miles,
Where on the spring river is there no moonlight?

As the sound of poetry rises, heaven and earth seem to resonate in response.

Amidst the hazy glow of fireworks, patterns of light spread out, and a watery hue slowly emerged from the sky.

First came the misty white reflections of the tide, and then the mirror-like river flowed in from the void.

The tide surges mightily, the river reflects the sky, the sea stretches as far as the eye can see, and the moon's reflection rises from the heart of the waves.

Silver light poured down, light and tide mingled.

Every ripple shimmered with the delicate light of moonlight.
Like a thousand bright mirrors shattering, or like flowing frost and flying snow.

The water and sky are boundless, and the moon shines brightly over the river.

That serene beauty almost made one forget to breathe.

The distant buildings and flowering trees blurred in the shimmering water.

The lights were bathed in a pale golden glow.
The crowd stood there, as if they were under the moonlit tide.

At that moment, the sky, the river tide, and people's hearts...
Everything was illuminated by the bright moon, making it crystal clear and spotless.

"This this……"

No one made any comment; the only sound in the room was the gasping of breath.

Experts will know if there is one as soon as they take action.

This time, however, Xue Xiang brought out a masterpiece of poetry that was said to be unparalleled in the entire Tang Dynasty.

Exquisite imagery spread across the heavens and earth, greatly expanding the scope of the hazy fireworks. The imagery of the poem spread directly into the distance, gradually covering half the city.

Xue Xiang continued reciting,

"The river meanders around the fragrant fields, and the moon shines on the flower forest like scattered snowflakes."

Frost flows silently through the air, and white sand on the riverbank is invisible.

The river and sky are one color, without a speck of dust; the bright moon hangs alone in the sky…

The imagery continues to unfold: flowing river, fragrant fields, moonlight, flower-filled forests, flowing frost...

A series of exquisite images converge in one place, forming the most beautiful and ethereal artistic conception.

The sky and water merge into one in the azure and silvery expanse, and the solitary moon, like a mirror, hangs quietly where everyone's hearts yearn, washing the red building and the shadows of people into clarity.

The imagery becomes increasingly unified and magnificent, with the tide and moonlight complementing each other. The entire sky seems to be smoothed by an invisible hand and then gently pushed open by another invisible hand.

Lu Wenjue's knuckles, which were holding the fan, turned slightly white. He gazed at the pristine river and sky, hastily recited the poem, and by the end, his words were almost incoherent.

Princess Yong withdrew her fingertips from the rim of the cup, her gaze sinking into the depths of the sky, as if she were in a moonlit flower forest, quietly awaiting the return of her beloved.

Wei Fan puffed on his pipe, and no matter how much he told himself to be composed, he couldn't suppress the smile on his face.

Shen Sanshan's face was ashen, and the shock in his heart was indescribable.

He had heard people say how formidable Xue Xiang was.

He had also heard his beloved concubine lament how ruthless Xue Xiang was.

Only now did he realize that Xue Xiang's true identity was indeed that of an unparalleled genius of his time.

The scholars, high-ranking officials, and noblewomen were so captivated by this extraordinary spectacle that they forgot all their discussions.

Lu Wenjue sighed and bowed to Xue Xiang, saying, "Brother Xue's literary talent is as vast as the sea, far surpassing my own."

After speaking, he stepped aside. The west wind blew, but it couldn't blow away the bitterness and admiration in his eyes.

As soon as he stepped down, another person stepped forward and recited aloud, "

The fading light of the rising tide lingers on the traveler's boat; the empty river, like a mirror, reflects the departing soul.

Upon hearing these two sentences, Lu Wenjue's expression changed drastically.

He could certainly tell that these two lines of poetry connected with his own poetic ideas. In this way, the poetic ideas were inherited and the imagery was continued. This was clearly a case of two against one.

This greatly contradicted his original intention of wanting to have a fair fight with Xue Xiang.

He was about to shout when he felt Shen Sanshan's burning gaze.

He suddenly realized that this challenge was not pure from the very beginning.

Wei Fan frowned, slammed his pipe down, sending sparks flying to the ground, and sternly stopped the Confucian scholar who was reciting, "The imagery of fireworks and jade motifs is meant to evoke poetic imagery, each revealing the poet's own literary talent. How could I have ever heard of adding the imagery of a previous poem to it? This is clearly cheating!"

Shen Sanshan said, "Poets express their innermost feelings, each forming their own realm. The overlapping of images is also a matter of fate; it can only be said that the candidates are good at using the rules."

What constitutes cheating?

These words immediately sparked a flurry of discussion among the audience.

Most people thought it shouldn't be done this way, and even the vast majority of the challengers who were eager to try felt that it was wrong to take a gamble.

However, there were also quite a few people who disliked Xue Xiang and loudly voiced their support for Shen Sanshan.

Shen Sanshan looked at Xue Xiang and said in a deep voice, "If my friend Xue also feels that this competition is unfair to you, then let's call it quits."

Shen Sanshan was certain that Xue Xiang would not give up so easily.

This was because the poem Xue Xiang was reciting was magnificent in its scope and extremely beautiful in its imagery.

If this decision is scrapped, it would be an enormous loss for Xue Xiang.

Xue Xiang raised his eyes, his expression calm, and said in a clear voice, "Lord Shen, there is no need to worry. Since we are making friends through literature, the important thing is to resonate with each other through poetry."

Since it wasn't stated that overlapping of artistic conceptions is prohibited, then it's permissible.

Okay then, those who want to come, let's all join in.

Even if Lord Shen were to join in, I, Xue, would have no objection.

Because of this piece by Xue, it should be suppressed for three hundred years.

These words caused an uproar in the hall.

One of the academic officials slammed his fist on the table and nearly knocked over the teacups.

"He's crazy?"

"They're going to have everyone on the field at the same time? Wouldn't that be one person fighting against many?"

"The beauty of fireworks changes with the atmosphere of literature; if poetic sentiments are added together, they may eventually burst into purple flames."

"Arrogant, truly arrogant! This work has been suppressed for three hundred years, how could he even utter such a thing?"

"The poem has reached its middle stage and there are no signs of collapse yet. If it can maintain its momentum and style, it will surely become a masterpiece. Saying that it has been suppressed for three hundred years is not necessarily an exaggeration."

The entire place was in complete chaos.

Shen Sanshan ignored all that and signaled to his men that he had planted that they had entered the arena.

The recitations continued, layered with imagery.

In an instant, a chaotic surge of light filled the sky.

Xue Xiangyi remained unfazed and continued reciting, "At this moment, we gaze at each other but cannot hear each other's voices; I wish to follow the moonlight to shine upon you. Wild geese fly far but cannot cross the light; fish and dragons leap and dive, creating patterns on the water."

Once the poem is uttered, the imagery continues to unfold.

The thousands of waves are reorganized under his pen, the flowing light reflects back, and they converge into a river that reaches the sky.

Along both banks of the river, flowering trees, ancient pagodas, long bridges, buildings, and palaces appear and disappear, as if the entire city of Canglan has been drawn into a poem.

Such a magnificent and spectacular sight attracted crowds from all over the city.

In the alleys of the southern part of the city, countless peddlers and laborers looked up.

Before the bell of the academy in the north of the city had even stopped ringing, disciples rushed out of the study hall and looked up.

The passenger boats on the river all stopped rowing, and the fishing lights lost their luster;

Even the clerk in the governor's mansion far away pushed open the window and stared blankly at the sky.

Half of Canglan City is reflected in this magnificent imagery of "Spring River Flower Moon Night".

The scholar who had challenged Xue Xiang was already deathly pale.

On the one hand, Xue Xiang's commotion was simply too magnificent; each sentence seemed to float out of his mouth as if he were stepping on a paintbrush.

Compared to Xue Xiang, the sentences he recited were merely for the sake of continuing.

Moreover, he was already the fourth person responsible for continuing the poetic lineage, and by this point, he simply couldn't continue anymore.

He opened his mouth several times, but couldn't utter a single word. He could only lower his head, sweat streaming down his face.

Shen Sanshan's gaze darkened, and he snapped his folding fan shut, saying coldly, "That's enough. The outcome of this match is already decided; there's no need to continue."

The hall fell silent instantly.

Everyone understood that although these words were meant to help the Confucian scholar out of his predicament, they were also tantamount to admitting that Xue Xiang had overwhelmingly dominated the entire scene.

Shen Sanshan's face was ashen, and the veins on his forehead were slightly bulging.

Although he was filled with resentment, he knew that continuing the competition would bring him no benefit whatsoever.

Although the competition is over, everyone is hoping that Xue Xiang will complete the poem. Some people have already shouted, "If Bei Qiu Ke completes this poem, it will be worthy of being overshadowed for three hundred years."

Xue Xiang wanted his masterpieces to be widely disseminated, because only in this way could he maximize his talent.

He roused himself and continued reciting, "The river flows on, spring is almost over, the moon sets over the river pool and slants westward, the slanting moon sinks into the sea mist, the road to Jieshi and Xiaoxiang stretches endlessly. I wonder how many will return by moonlight, the setting moon stirs emotions among the trees along the river."

The poem has just been written, and the imagery is already unfolding.

The river flows eastward, the sound of the tide is silent, and the sunlight and the reflection of the waves blend together.

The distant mountain shadows connect with Jieshi and Xiaoxiang, and the vast expanse of misty waves transforms into an endless road home.

Light rises from the bottom of the water, like the lingering homesickness in people's hearts.

The crescent moon hangs low, illuminating a lone boat and river trees. The wind stirs the shadows of the branches, as if countless old dreams are swaying among them.

All the noise faded away, leaving only the gentle sway of the moonlight and the distant sound of the river.

The world is filled with a vast and serene beauty, like a poem or a dream.

It was as if the entire Canglan was submerged in the deep affection of that setting moon.

Princess Yong's lips parted slightly, but no sound came out.

She stared blankly at the moonlit sky, as if her whole heart had been swallowed up by the river tide.

That was a realm she had never seen before, one that contained both the vast loneliness of heaven and earth and the tenderest warmth in one's heart.

She was sitting upright in the soft seat when she heard the line "The setting moon stirs emotions among the trees along the river," and suddenly felt as if something gently touched her chest.

Her fingertips trembled, the teacup tilted, and half a cup of warm tea spilled onto her sleeve, but she was completely unaware.

In that instant, she forgot that she was a princess, forgot power and status, and only felt that there really were men in the world who could open the heavens with poetry and create realms with their thoughts.

That bright moon shone on the river tide and also into her eyes.

She gently rose, unable to contain herself, and tried to walk toward Xue Xiang, but Xue Jian held her back tightly. She stumbled and almost fell.

Xue Jian softly called "Yuan Jun," and she dazedly came back to her senses, sighing softly, "This article is truly... capable of overturning the world."

…………

Song Tingfang stood there, stunned, as if she herself had been swept into the river tide by the moonlight.

The silvery sunlight fell on her eyelashes, as fine and delicate as tears.

She had never seen such poetry before, nor had she ever imagined that verses could open up such a world.

The shimmering water, the moon's reflection, and the unspoken longing for home surged like waves, crashing against her heart, each wave deeper than the last.

She had originally admired Xue Xiang's talent, but now, that admiration was slowly taking on a different meaning.

It turned into admiration, into infatuation, into a palpitation that made it hard to breathe.

"The spring river tide connects with the sea..."

She repeated it softly, her voice so low that she could barely hear it herself.

The light in his eyes was as if bathed in moonlight, so soft it could drip water.

At that moment, a ridiculous thought suddenly occurred to her—

If one could spend a lifetime listening to his poetry and witnessing how his writings could shake heaven and earth.

Even if it means this lifetime has been worthwhile.

Although Yin Tianci was also impressed by Xue Xiang's poetic talent, his focus remained on Song Tingfang.

He had never seen such a mesmerized expression on that stunningly beautiful face before.

He even suspected that at this juncture, if Xue's grandson asked the dignified Song Si Zun to undress, she wouldn't hesitate.

All he does is recite poetry, so why does he attract so many women?

He was filled with rage, knowing he could never win Song Tingfang's heart again. He leaned closer and whispered, "Don't forget, according to seniority, he is your junior disciple."

It can never be between you two.

Song Tingfang was startled.

The moonlight shone obliquely, and her face instantly turned cold.

With a "smack," a foot stomped heavily on Yin Tianci's instep. "Mind your own business and talk nonsense."

Song Tingfang turned and left.

Yin Tianci endured the excruciating pain, clutching his broken toe, his mind racing as he considered the order of the phrases "meddling" and "nonsense."

The fact that he, Mr. Yin, was "meddling in other people's business" is enough to prove that he guessed correctly.

"Nonsense" is nothing more than a fig leaf to cover up "meddling".

In an instant, Yin Tianci felt excruciating pain in his body and mind.

Gu Jianchen leaned against the railing, observing coldly.

He had seen Song Tingfang's expression as well.

He had long since let it go.

Xue Xiang was not only tall and handsome, but also had unparalleled poetic talent.

Even an ordinary person like this can attract attention and admirers.

Moreover, this guy has achieved great success in his cultivation and has earned fame and fortune.

What woman in the world wouldn't like a man like that?

He sighed softly, "Brother Yin, have you given in?"

Yin Tianci snorted coldly.

Gu Jianchen snorted, "Save your breath trying to compete with him for a woman."

This guy's talent is enough to shine throughout the land; trying to compete with him for attention is just asking for trouble.

At that very moment, the imagery of the horizon finally unfolded completely.

The silver tide, which was originally confined to the sky above the Red Mansion, suddenly seemed to be pushed apart by an invisible hand and overflowed into the sky.

The entire sky was swallowed by the bright moonlight, the river flowed and the clouds and mist merged, and the moon in the heart of the water cast thousands of silver lines, enveloping the entire Canglan City in a dream.

Inside Donghua Academy, the afternoon classes were not yet over. The old scholar in the lecture hall was lecturing on the third chapter of "Feng Ya" when he suddenly noticed that it was as bright as day outside the window, and his voice stopped abruptly.

"What's all this noise?" He looked up and the ruler in his hand slipped from his grasp.

"Sir, it's... the world has changed!"

Dozens of students rose from their seats, their sleeves fluttering, and rushed to the window.

The sight outside the window made them hold their breath—

The distant clouds had been dispersed by the silvery light, and the moon's reflection, like a mirror, was mirrored between heaven and earth, even the eaves of the lecture hall were gilded with a cold light.

One student whispered, "This...is a sign that the poem is complete."

"Whose poem could make nature a painting?"

"There are words on the sky: 'Spring River Flower Moon Night,' by Xue Xiang!"

“A Lament for Autumn, Xue Xiang”

When that name was uttered, everyone fell silent, with only the moonlight reflecting in their eyes, bright and quiet.

At the same moment, incense smoke swirled inside the Chun'ai Pavilion in the south of the city.

Several beautiful women were applying makeup in front of a mirror, their fair faces reflected in the bronze mirror. Suddenly, a burst of silver light shone through the window, illuminating the rouge stand as bright as water.

"Oh dear, what's wrong with the weather?"

“Look at that light—it’s as if the whole river is floating in the sky.”

The embroiderer put down her brush, braced her delicate hand against the window frame, and exclaimed in surprise.

Outside the building, the sky was like a surging tide, the reflection of the river and the moon blended together, and the red building in the distance seemed to float on the silver waves.

The light was not dazzling, but it was so clear and moving, as if it had enveloped all the dreams of the world in a bright moon.

A courtesan said in a trembling voice, "The poem is titled 'Spring River Flower Moon Night.' Quickly copy it down; it's a masterpiece by a poet lamenting autumn."

Another one leaned on her shoulder, her beautiful eyes shining as she gazed at the sky, saying, "To be able to keep a companion for a melancholy autumn traveler for one night, even death would be worthwhile in this life."

In the past, such crazy talk would undoubtedly have caused a great commotion among the women.

This time, it seems to have touched everyone's hearts, leaving only a low sigh.

The moonlight reflected in their eyes, as if flowing through their hearts.

Someone murmured, "A man who can move heaven and earth, if you can get a glance from him, it will be for a lifetime."

Before the words had even finished, the flute music outside also fell silent.

Everyone in Chun'ai Pavilion was standing on the balconies and by the windows.
Looking up at that celestial light built of poetry,

It was as if even the wind had been tinged with gentleness by Xue Xiang's name.

Finally, the spring river stopped rippling, the flower shadows stopped swaying, and the night pressed the pause button.

The imagery in the poem has been laid out to the very end.

Then, a soft light descended from the center of the sky, as if someone was gently gathering up that boundless dream.

The silver ripples slowly receded, turning into a ball of golden light.

A barely audible thud.

Golden flames rained down from the sky, like raindrops, or like shattered moonlight.

They weren't scorching hot; instead, they gently sprinkled on the eaves, the stone bridge, and the hair of passersby.

Each drop seems to carry the lingering warmth of poetry.

The students in front of the academy looked up in amazement.
The beauty in the brothel reached out to take it, and the moment her fingertips touched it, it turned into a glimmer of light.

Children cheered and ran through the streets and alleys.

Even the old man stopped using his cane, gazing at the sky with an indescribable sense of awe and tenderness in his eyes.

The entire Canglan was as if it had been washed by a golden shower of fireworks.

The moonlight, the sound of the tide, and the human heart are all cleared up together.

…………

In the north of the city, in front of a house, Zhao Huanhuan stood by the window, her sleeves half-rolled up, her fingertips peeking out.

A shower of golden light was falling from the sky, fine as silk, and landed in her palm.

She looked up and saw fireworks filling the sky, which made a strand of her dark hair appear to be gilded with gold.

"This handsome young man is probably going to win the hearts of half of Canglan again."

Although her words carried a hint of resentment, her tone was full of sweetness, "Hehe, this young lady is not very talented, but I was the one who got my hands on such a handsome young man first."

The golden light reflected in her eyes, shining so brightly it seemed to drip with honey.

She began to eagerly anticipate the daylight to fall.

…………

Everyone in the building was dazzled by the thousands of golden fireworks exploding in the sky.

At first there was only amazement, then came uproar.

Some people put down their teacups, forgetting to stop; others slammed their fists on the table and stood up, muttering under their breath.

"Golden flames...it's actually golden flames!"

"My God, this is not just the pinnacle of fireworks, it is a sign of the pinnacle of poetry, which has overshadowed three hundred years of history, and it is no exaggeration!"

Wei Fan's pipe had long since fallen to the ground, sparks flying everywhere, and he remained silent for a long time.

Shen Sanshan's face turned pale, and his folding fan trembled between his fingers. He knew he had lost his composure, but he couldn't take it back.

The assembled scholars, high-ranking officials, ladies, and Confucian students were all dumbfounded.

"I have never seen golden fireworks since the beginning of fireworks displays."

"Yes, since the establishment of the Literary Society of the Dynasty, no one has ever lit up the golden fireworks."

“Suppressed for three hundred years… what he just said was not just arrogance.”

"A melancholy autumn traveler, truly unparalleled in this world!"

The clamor surged like a tide, pushing outwards from the building floor by floor.

Countless people spread the news, and even distant streets and alleys were buzzing with the story.

Someone knelt down and kowtowed, exclaiming in astonishment, "This article should be included in the national history!"

Someone murmured absentmindedly, "Such golden flames, like holy light, have cleansed the city of evil spirits. This year, my Canglan City will surely enjoy peace and prosperity."

The shouts spread from outside the building to inside, and the entire Red Building trembled.

Song Huaizhang steadied himself, took a deep breath, and finally stepped forward.

He cupped his hands in a respectful gesture, his voice steady and sincere, “The talent of the Autumn Lamenter is unparalleled; we are truly convinced.”

This grand gathering was originally intended for friendly competition, but unexpectedly, we witnessed the emergence of the Golden Flame, a phenomenon not seen for a century.

On behalf of everyone, I, Song, concede defeat.

No one would disagree with the fact that it was defeated by a work of such high quality as "Spring River Flower Moon Night".

All the scholars rose and followed suit, bowing in unison.

In an instant, their clothes fluttered, like white waves rising and falling.

Xue Xiang smiled and said, "Gentlemen, you flatter me. In the exchange of poetry and prose, although there may be winners and losers, the meaning of the writing is boundless."

He paused for a moment, then said, "I intend to compile all the pieces I wrote today, along with my humble works, into a collection entitled 'A Collection of Essays on Viewing the Stele'."

I will ask "Yun Jian News" to publish it and spread it throughout the world to create a grand spectacle.

"If any of you have any masterpieces, whether recited or not, you may give them to me."

Everyone was stunned for a moment, then their faces lit up with joy.

When they eagerly took to the stage, weren't they all hoping to gain fame?

As soon as the fireworks were lit, everyone harbored ambitions, hoping to make a name for themselves throughout the state with a poem and a flame.

As a result, halfway through the battle, Shen Sanshan resorted to some tricks.

The vast majority of the Confucian scholars who participated in the challenge were too proud and arrogant to do such a lowly thing, and they never even showed up.

For example, Song Huaizhang was the first to challenge Xue Xiang, but he never even appeared on stage.

The wish for the cake was granted, but the fame and recognition were not gained. This literary gathering, which was originally intended to bring glory to the family,
It was about to turn into a heartbreaking disappointment.

However, Xue Xiang's words turned the tide.

The title "A Grand Gathering for Viewing Steles" alone is enough to stir the emotions of everyone.

To be ranked alongside the world-renowned "Spring River Flower Moon Night"
Even if it only occupies one page, it is enough to be passed down for generations.

The literary fame that everyone has been striving for has finally arrived, hasn't it?

The hall erupted in noise for a moment.

"Brother Xue, your righteousness is truly admirable!"

"The poet who laments autumn possesses both literary talent and moral virtue, truly admirable!"

"To be included in the same collection as this poem, I would die without regret!"

All the challengers stood up, bowed, and clasped their hands in greeting.

Some even knelt down, repeatedly expressing their gratitude.

Song Huaizhang could not hide his joy and said loudly, "With the publication of this collection, thanks to the reputation of the author of 'Autumn Lament,' it will surely become famous throughout the world, and we will be honored to share in it!"

Wei Fan chuckled heartily, tapped his pipe, sparks flying, "Excellent! Truly a literary boon in this prosperous age!"

He was very satisfied with Xue Xiang's actions.

Wei Fan had seen many talented young people.

Talented, socially adept, and worldly-wise, such people are few and far between at Xue Xiang's age.

The audience erupted in cheers, but Shen Sanshan's face turned ashen.

He never dreamed that Xue Xiang could be this strong.

I originally thought that by having those Confucian scholars add layers of imagery and press the enemy in, we could win by sheer numbers.

Regardless of whether the victory was honorable or not, it was still a victory.

Then, by hiring someone to stir up public opinion, they can nail the renowned writer Beiqiu Ke to the pillar of shame.

Given time, this person's literary reputation will fade, and it will be much easier to tidy it up again.

His plan was flawless; he even prepared the subsequent public opinion.

But to everyone's surprise, Xue Xiang not only survived the situation, but also used his extraordinary talent to overwhelm everyone with a single poem.

The moment the golden flames shot into the sky was equivalent to a resounding slap across Shen Sanshan's face.

A chill ran through him.

This person is incredibly fierce.

It would be fine if it were flawless in the art of poetry and prose, but...
What's even more terrifying is that he's also incredibly intelligent.

The current move of "joint publication" not only brings great prestige but also substantial profits.

Even the most unruly and troublesome among these Confucian scholars were completely won over by the man surnamed Xue.

Shen Sanshan's chest heaved, and he opened and closed his folding fan several times, but he could no longer suppress his anger.

"What a melancholy traveler in autumn..."

He thought to himself coldly, "This person has unparalleled literary talent and a deep and cunning mind."

If he is allowed to continue rising in power, he will one day become a great menace.

His gaze was somber, and his mind was racing.

Xue Xiang kept his eyes fixed on Shen Sanshan.

He knew very well that this competition was less a competition with a group of Confucian scholars and more a competition between himself and Shen Sanshan.

Moreover, Shen Sanshan also served as an arbitrator.

Xue Xiang cupped his hands and said, "Lord Shen, can I consider this a victory?"

The hall was silent.

Shen Sanshan paused between his fingers, then slowly closed his folding fan after a long while.

He smiled nonchalantly, "Congratulations, the name 'Autumn Lamenter' is well-deserved, a source of glory for our Great Xia Divine Kingdom."

Xue Xiang was about to step forward and accept the wishing cakes and morning and evening dew from the table.

Suddenly, a muffled, thunderous voice rang out, "Wait a minute."

The sound rolled across the eaves, causing the lamplight to tremble slightly.

Everyone turned around and saw a figure slowly walking out from behind the crowd.

The man wore a black cloak and walked with a steady, mountain-like gait.

As they approached the lamplight, a cold and rugged face was revealed beneath the cloak, golden eyes flashing with a beastly light in the twilight.

"Berserker".

"The Berserker Battle of the Bone Cavern!"

"What does this have to do with him?"

A murmur arose, a mixture of fear and excitement.

Someone whispered, "He comes from the White Bone Secret Land, and he proved his Dao through killing. His cultivation is said to be close to the peak of the Core Formation stage. But he is a barbarian. What does this gathering of poetry and literature have to do with him?"

If it weren't for the fact that his ancestors were Confucian sages, he would never have had the opportunity to contemplate the Wendao Stele.

Instead of staying within his bounds, what kind of trouble is he trying to cause?

Berserker stood at the entrance of the hall, his cloak billowing. "The duel isn't over yet, why are you already trying to take the bet?"

The entire audience erupted in uproar.

Shen Sanshan's brow twitched, and he closed his mouth again, which was about to open. If there was a good show to watch, why not watch it?

Song Huaizhang cupped his hands and said, "Brother Kuang, what makes you say this? This is a literary gathering, not a fighting arena."

All of you talented individuals have demonstrated your abilities, and with Lord Shen acting as arbitrator, the outcome is clear. How can you claim the competition is not yet over?

He was extremely fond of Xue Xiang, and even if his side failed, he would stand up for Xue Xiang.

The other Confucian scholars all joined in the rebuke.

They all recognized each other and were just waiting for the poetry collection to be published in "Yun Jian Xi Xue". At this juncture, what kind of trouble could an outsider cause?

The berserker's golden eyes reflected a cold light.

"The agreement was that whoever could step onto the stage to take on the challenge would wager a wishing cake. In other words, as long as a wishing cake was offered, they were considered to have joined the challenge, right?"

When these words were spoken, everyone was stunned.

"That's how it is, but what does it have to do with you?"

Shen Sanshan quickly took on the role of the straight man.

"So, according to the agreement at the time, whoever offered the wishing cake had the right to challenge, right?" the Berserker said.

Shen Sanshan feigned impatience, "You're right, but what exactly are you trying to say?"

The Berserker raised his hand and pointed to the table, "The first row, the sixth wishing cake, is mine, and it has the character 'Berserker' on it."

Everyone was stunned by these words.

(End of this chapter)