Qin Mu has already attracted everyone's attention today. Now that he has agreed to Dongfang Yu's conditions despite being in such an unfavorable situation, some people are wondering if the young man has become arrogant after winning two rounds.
Several people who had originally wanted to befriend Qin Mu gave up the idea and stopped to continue watching the battle from a distance.
Seeing Qin Mu pick up a pen and start writing again, his smooth and effortless movements almost stunned everyone, including the unhurried Dongfang Yu. He couldn't understand why Qin Mu had started writing after only a short while of thought.
"Did he know he couldn't win, so he just wrote a random poem?" Dongfang Yu wondered to himself.
"You've finished writing?" Dongfang Yu asked in surprise.
“That’s right, what about you?” Qin Mu nodded and asked in return.
"It'll be ready soon!" Dongfang Yu suppressed his doubts, took a deep breath to calm himself, picked up his pen, and wrote down his poem.
From his actions, everyone could tell that he had definitely planned this out in advance. But there's not much to say about it, since he had said beforehand that he had been thinking about how to surpass his predecessors.
"Why don't we read it aloud and let everyone judge?" Dongfang Yu asked with a smile.
"Whatever!" Qin Mu said nonchalantly, waving his fan. The outcome was already decided when Dongfang Yu set the topic; people are always uninterested in things they have no expectations for.
"Who should go first, you or me?" Dongfang Yu asked with a slight smug smile as he picked up the Xuan paper.
"Let me read it! Let me read it!" Xiangli Yanran, who had been watching Qin Mu write the poem from beginning to end, couldn't wait to tease Dongfang Yu and eagerly volunteered.
"Please!" Dongfang Yu gracefully gestured.
"I hope you can still smile later." Xiangli Yanran pouted and said, then picked up the Xuan paper, raised her little head and walked to the middle.
"The spring river rises with the tide, level with the sea; the bright moon rises with the tide. Rippling waves stretch for thousands of miles; where on the spring river is there no moonlight?"
As Xiangli Yanran recited the poem in a sweet voice, a beautiful picture unfolded in his mind. Qin Mu listened quietly, experiencing the imagery along with the verses. This was the first time he had experienced poetry from an observer's perspective. Unlike before, when he copied poems to compose them or glanced at them while looking up information, he was truly experiencing it with his heart, following the original author's intention to understand the scene depicted in the verses.
It must be said that Xiangli Yanran recited the poem more beautifully than him; her recitation was full of emotion and captivating, with its rhythm and intonation.
While ancient Chinese punctuation wasn't as rigorous, it still used symbols, typically a small circle or dot, known as a "circle." Therefore, when ancient people thought someone's writing was worth reading, they would say "worthy of praise and punctuation." Thus, the punctuation used in Qin Mu's writings and poems is not surprising. At most, it makes reading easier for others.
After Xiangli Yanran finished reading, a long sigh was heard after a while. It turned out that many people had been listening intently, holding their breath, afraid of missing a single sentence.
"What a beautiful poem! What a beautiful poem!" This time, it was the middle-aged nun from Cihang Jingzhai who spoke first. As she spoke, the guests in the audience stood up and came forward.
The current status of Confucian scholars is rather ordinary. Top-tier combatants, such as high-ranking Grand Scholars and Confucian Masters, are few and far between. Scholars and Confucian students, on the other hand, have relatively few offensive methods, generally focusing on swordsmanship. This undoubtedly disperses too much of their energy, or they tend to favor close combat, resulting in a lack of proficiency in either literature or martial arts. Add to that experience and talent, and it's clear that very few truly embark on the path of Confucian cultivation.
Being a scholar doesn't necessarily mean being a Confucian scholar; after all, literacy is the first requirement for any discipline. The difficulty of Confucian scholarship doesn't mean it's ineffective. Once one reaches the level of a Grand Scholar, their entire being is filled with righteous energy, making them impervious to all evils and untouched by any law. At that time, a Confucian scholar is arguably an opponent no one wants to face.
Confucian scholars who reach the level of Grand Scholar have extraordinary status and position. They are almost always accompanied by guards, making them immune to all evil and magic. This eliminates many means of sneak attacks. In close combat, they are protected by guards, so by the time the Confucian scholar realizes what's happening, they can launch a fierce counterattack.
Although Qin Mu was Qin Qiong's son, everyone present, except for the guards, was a master and elite from their respective schools of martial arts, and they were not afraid of Qin Qiong. The various schools of martial arts had always maintained a relationship of both cooperation and distance with the imperial court. However, Qin Mu's displayed talent was enough for them to curry favor with him.
A talented and outstanding Confucian scholar, coupled with Qin Qiong's influence, would undoubtedly receive the court's support. Barring any unforeseen circumstances, becoming a Grand Secretary would be no problem. As the eldest son, he might even inherit Qin Qiong's title.
"What a wonderful poem! It vividly depicts the sea, flowers, moon, and river. I can feel the magnificent scene just by closing my eyes." A lean, muscular monk with prominent cheekbones stepped forward and nodded in admiration.
"You flatter me, everyone!" Qin Mu said humbly with a smile.
"We only know that the young master won the poem just now, but we haven't had a chance to appreciate it yet. May we have a look?" the middle-aged nun asked with a smile.
"Of course, Yanran, would you please read this poem again?" Qin Mu asked with a smile.
"Of course." Xiangli Yanran naturally wouldn't refuse him, and agreed with a smile.
Then he went to Qin Yao's place to retrieve the text about the ancient battlefield and read it aloud again.
Literature conveys the Way, and songs express aspirations. A good article always evokes feelings in people; coupled with Xiangli Yanran's ethereal and clear voice, it becomes even more captivating.
As the poem was finished, everyone's expressions became more serious, and there were almost no smiles. Even those who did not understand it could feel the brutality of the battlefield and the cruelty of war.
"Young Master Qin is truly talented! I admire you greatly," Ling Wushuang said, cupping her hands in greeting.
"Miss Ling, you flatter me. It was just a fluke." Qin Mu returned the greeting calmly. Compared to these martial arts sects, he preferred to associate with inheritors of schools of thought like Xiangli Yanran. At least the philosophy passed down by Xiangli Yanran and her ilk meant that they wouldn't be without principles in their conduct.
The martial arts sects, coming from another world, gave him the impression that they were ruthless and unscrupulous in their actions, with no distinction between good and evil. Often, the righteous sects were more insidious and cunning, hiding their true intentions more deeply. Therefore, Qin Mu kept his distance from them from the bottom of his heart, even though he had once longed for the life of the martial arts world.
Qin Mu's indifference, tinged with a hint of aloofness, puzzled Ling Wushuang. Though veiled, she was brimming with confidence in the allure of her figure to men. Even those who feigned propriety would secretly glance at her. Yet, in Qin Mu's eyes, she saw only indifference, as if he were no different from any other woman on the street.
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