The air at this moment is as thick as grease.
Qingjingzi felt deeply the greatest insult he had ever suffered in his life.
Every breath is like a drowning person with sea water filling his mouth and nose, desperately searching for a trace of air.
He had a blank expression on his face and narrowed his eyes tightly just to hide the murderous intent in his eyes!
However, his fist, which was clenched tightly and trembling with the rosary beads held in front of his abdomen, betrayed his emotions.
Qing Jingzi tilted his head slightly to the left and right and found that everyone within his field of vision was staring at him, just like the young Confucian scholar whom he wished to skin and torture to death, waiting for his answer.
He even had the illusion that the people around him all looked at him with the same mocking and contemptuous eyes as Zhao Ziyu.
Qingjingzi's blood rushed to his head, his face turned red, and he opened his lips, about to agree in the next second, but suddenly he stopped!
It was the vigilance and steadiness that he had always been proud of that stopped him.
He had long passed the age of being hot-blooded and reckless, and although he had been living a life of luxury and practicing Taoism leisurely for so many years, Lin Wenruo's sudden attack not long ago awakened his vigilance as a Jindan realm cultivator who was fighting for his life against the heavens.
He keenly smelled something wrong, but in the short term he couldn't figure out where this uneasiness came from.
Zhao Rong saw the Taoist priest wearing a yellow and purple robe of the national teacher, who was tightly holding the incandescent beads that he had been thinking about. When he was about to open his mouth, he suddenly stopped and closed his mouth. Although his face remained unchanged, his narrowed eyes slowly opened, and he loosened his fists and continued to turn the rosary beads.
Zhao Rong's heart suddenly sank, but soon he took action.
Zhao Rong's originally calm expression raised his eyebrows. He turned his head to the right and glanced at Lin Wenruo and the audience on the right. Suddenly, as if he was amused by something, he smiled happily, shrugged and shook his head. He no longer looked at Qing Jingzi, nor said anything more. He turned around and prepared to leave.
Qing Jingzi had just begun to carefully speculate on the motives of Zhao Ziyu's behavior, but he couldn't help but get angry again when he saw this. Being repeatedly ridiculed and despised in public by a yellow-haired kid who was probably not even one-tenth of his age, even though he thought he was good at cultivating his qi, he couldn't help but get a little angry.
However, he did not speak immediately. Instead, he took advantage of Zhao Rong's turning around to look around. After receiving a nod of confirmation from a woman in purple, he thought quietly for three breaths and suddenly spoke.
"Betting, why not? Boy, why are you running?"
Zhao Rong stopped walking upon hearing this. He did not turn around immediately, but slowly turned his head and glanced at Qing Jingzi behind him. "What? I gave you so much time, and you finally figured it out? Decided not to be a coward anymore? Forget it. You have to think for so long even for such a small matter. I am afraid you will not be able to afford to lose later."
Qing Jingzi snorted coldly and did not respond. Instead, he said directly: "This imperial robe of mine is called Tianxiandongyi. It is a thousand-year-old inheritance of Zhongnan Country. It is made of many spiritual treasures from Zhongnan Mountain. The 1,800 magic arrays and prohibitions on it have been blessed and supplemented by successive Zhongnan imperial masters. It has many uses, such as concealing the owner's cultivation..."
"Alright, alright. Who cares what this junk of yours can be used for? In the conversation later, if you lose, you will leave all your stuff behind, put on your underwear and get out of here. Don't let me see you again." Zhao Rong said impatiently.
As soon as these words were spoken, the noise from the more than 2,000 people who were witnessing this gambling game became louder, one wave after another, and for a moment, drowned out the noise from Zhao Rong's side.
"quiet!"
Mr. Liuyi frowned and shouted.
The originally boiling air suddenly became quiet.
Everyone's eyes were on Zhao Rong and Qing Jingzi, wondering whether the latter dared to take on this ridiculous gamble.
After a few moments, the onlookers were not disappointed.
"Okay." Taoist Huang Zi spat out two words from between his teeth, and then the corners of his mouth drew an exaggerated curve that was almost a semicircle, revealing his sharp white teeth, and said word by word, "Then, what do you want to bet with me?"
Zhao Rong looked at Qing Jingzi quietly and finally got the answer, but he could feel at this moment that this Taoist priest in yellow and purple had been completely enraged by him, and the look in his eyes when he looked at him was filled with terrifying pressure.
The Taoist priest in front of him was a Taoist of the fifth realm who had constructed a small world within his human body, turned the heaven and earth into a furnace, and refined an elixir of immortality.
But Zhao Rong felt... that was it. After all, he had even touched the tiger whiskers of the Nascent Soul Realm sword cultivator who was a big shot in the mountain, and he had already embarked on the path of cultivation. In addition, he was born extraordinary, had a heroic appearance, and was extremely courageous... Well, Zhao Rong admitted that this was only part of the reason. The main reason was that Mr. Liuyi was not far away blocking the factors that would affect the fairness of the discussion, so he was so relaxed.
Zhao Rong turned around and walked straight to the table where the folded paper was placed before. He gently extended his index finger and picked up a corner of the poem paper that was folded twice.
A glimpse of the starry sky and a corner of the bright moon suddenly appeared between the cracks in the paper.
Slowly, a breeze blew by, lifting the sleeve of the young scholar's right hand as he was picking up paper.
At this moment, if you look at this scene from a distance.
A piece of poetry, a desk, and a scholar.
The breeze fills my sleeves, and the stars and the moon fill my poetry paper.
“This is…” Mr. Liuyi glanced at it drunkenly and muttered.
The little fox demon widened his eyes.
Qingjingzi's expression became serious.
"Falling flowers, a state of no self." Lin Wenruo said softly.
Mr. Liuyi nodded, then looked around and suppressed the sighs of the people at the table who were about to start a commotion.
The old man turned around and couldn't help but take another look at the piece of poem.
Back then, he was still an ordinary prince, and also a Confucian scholar who admired the ancient sages and was full of hope for Confucianism. How old was he when he first composed Fallen Flowers? He must have been thirty, and it was only the Fallen Flowers with a self-realm. I remember that she always laughed at him for being too melancholy and too artificial, saying that if nothing unexpected happened, he would never be able to compose a poem with a selfless state...
But later, he wrote the lyrics of the "No Self" for her. Where was she? It seemed that she was left in the afterglow of her homeland.
His homeland has long been shattered, and he has also become gray-haired. Now, looking back... Why didn't he stay with that woman, that Confucian robe, those autumn osmanthus flowers, and that city full of flames?
The drunken old man took a sip of wine in a hurry, as if the sorrow in the gourd that was endlessly drunk was overflowing from his white beard.
Mr. Liuyi came to his senses and looked at the two young Confucian scholars in front of him.
One wants to govern his country with Confucianism.
A young man with scholarly spirit.
Then he looked deeply at Zhao Rong, who was casually pressing a finger on a poem about falling flowers and appreciating the state of selflessness, wondering what he was thinking of.
The poem at Zhao Rong's fingertips was written on the night when he was admiring the moon at the Pavilion on the Lake Center. He had intended to give it to someone before leaving, but now the situation forced him to take it out in advance as a bet to deal with the current situation.
Seeing that no one was talking around him, Zhao Rong said softly, "This is my bet."
Qing Jingzi looked away from the poem and glanced at Zhao Rong. Suddenly, he sneered, "Not enough. Is this all you have?"
Zhao Rong frowned slightly and looked at Mr. Liuyi.
Mr. Liuyi pondered for a while and nodded.
The stakes are indeed off.
Poems about falling flowers and the state of selflessness are indeed precious, especially for an immortal sect on the mountain. It can continuously provide the immortal disciples with opportunities to directly break through the bottleneck of the Fuyao realm and advance to the Haoran realm, as long as the user fits its artistic conception.
Moreover, the poems that enter the realm of selflessness of the Fallen Flower Grade are like rare objects, most of which are in the hands of academies and some Confucian monks. Very few of them are circulated on the mountain, and most of them are disposable consumables, not to mention the poems of the Fallen Flower Grade that can be used continuously. It is unknown whether more than one hand has been circulated and traded on the Wangquezhou Mountain in the past hundred years.
However, it is ultimately limited to the lower realms and can only help novice monks pass the first major hurdle in their practice. As for monks above the third realm, the higher they go, the less useful it becomes.
What Qingjingzi took out was a heritage robe that was of considerable value even to a half-step Nascent Soul cultivator, and it also contained... dignity.
All in all, this poem alone is indeed a little lacking as a bet.
Lin Wenruo, who was standing aside, had no idea what Zhao Rong was up to and thought that he was just trying to help him out and continue to stir up hatred and play the role of a superior horse.
He took off the blue and white jade disk from his waist, which symbolized his status as a scholar in the academy and was also his natal object. He took a few steps forward, ready to put it together with the poem about falling flowers as a bet with Zhao Rong. However, Zhao Rong stopped him.
Zhao Rong turned around and said to Qing Jingzi nonchalantly, "Then tell me what you want. As long as it's mine, I can give it to you. Otherwise, forget it."
Qing Jingzi spoke directly and aggressively, "I also want to bet on your rags. If you lose, you can take them off and leave them in Chongxu Temple to be used as rags. You can put on your underwear and roll down Taibai Mountain for me!"
Zhao Rong thought for a while and said softly, "Okay."
"besides……"
Zhao Rong interrupted, saying seriously, "If you deliberately don't want to gamble, you can just say so. You don't have to pretend that it's not me who doesn't want to gamble, but he who can't afford it. Aren't you just not willing to admit that you're a coward? You've been the Imperial Master for so long, and you still need to lose face?"
After hearing this, Qing Jingzi was furious again. He had been doing well since he became a monk, so how could he quarrel with others in the market? He said in a firm tone, "There is one last thing."
Zhao Rong curled his lips and was silent for a moment, "Tell me about it."
Taoist Huang Zi cast a gloomy look at a pretty figure beside Zhao Rong.
"I'm betting on this fox girl next to you who is at the Jindan stage. If you lose, you'll let her be my furnace cauldron!"
The young scholar narrowed his eyes.
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