Tang Yan said casually, "I did say that, but if he can win the championship, even I wouldn't dare to say that I can win the championship, but he dares to make such a bold statement. This guy is even more arrogant than me, so I don't like him."

"Aren't you afraid that he will really win the championship? Then you will be in trouble."

"snort."

Tang Yan said disdainfully, "A nobody, without a master, wants to win the championship? You're simply dreaming!"

Everyone had different expressions.

Song Chi didn't care about these looks and walked straight over. In front of the judging panel, Song Minggang had just written a poem, which aroused a round of admiration.

"As expected of the title of the capital's young poet, he can produce such a masterpiece!"

"Yes, Master Ming, this poem will surely reach the top of Mingzhou."

"Mingzhou? I think it can reach Zhenguo!"

People around praised it continuously.

The "Mingzhou" and "Zhenguo" they mentioned refer to the spread of the poems. Mingzhou will only be spread in the province, while Zhenguo will spread throughout the entire Da Zhou to the extent that everyone knows it.

Above this, there is a highest level of poetry, which is to be passed down from generation to generation.

Masterpieces are passed down through the ages and remain immortal for centuries.

"I wonder if this literary gathering can produce a masterpiece that will be passed down through the ages!" Several people sighed, and the results were already announced at the judging table.

"As you can see, Song Ming's poetry is excellent, and he deserves first place in this round. Young Master Ming will be the first person to enter Wangjiang Tower."

Hearing this, Song Ming walked forward. He turned around and looked at Song Chi coldly.

"You will stop here? You think you can fight me!" Song Ming's eyes were full of resentment, and then he went straight into Wangjiang Tower.

This level is right at the entrance of Wangjiang Tower.

Song Chi's eyes flashed with coldness, "Good brother, wait for me..."