Hit the jackpot, it's real

Participants in the poetry gathering need to pay a silver tael as an entry fee. After paying, a servant will bring ink and paper for the guests to write their poems, which will then be sent to the Scholar's Pavilion for evaluation by scholars.

If the poem is selected, it will be posted for public viewing.

The Scholar's Pavilion is known for its high standards. Despite many participants, only a few poems—perhaps three or four—will make the cut.

It's autumn evening, and the theme is obvious:

'The Moon.'

"Bring me the pen!"

Wu Chushu's chest nearly burst out of his clothes with confidence as he pulled out his silver tael, full of flair.

He had prepared diligently for today!

Young Wu believed he had a good command of literature, even though he hadn't written anything new recently.

But his master, Elder Zeng, was a man of culture!

One could tell from how Elder Zeng was always immersed in his books.

This poem was copied from his master. At the time his master wrote it, literary enthusiasts showered it with praise, declaring that such a poem should exist only in heaven, rarely heard on earth!

This was the source of Wu's confidence!

"Is there wine?"

"Sir, you only paid one silver tael. The wine at Scholar's Pavilion starts at three taels per pot..."

"I'll pay extra!"

And so Wu Chushu gulped down the wine, his face turning red, before finally 'brewing' his thoughts and letting the pen dance across the paper.

Seeing his unrestrained and wild demeanor, it seemed to be the work of a poetic immortal.

"I've heard Elder Zeng is renowned for his literary talent and has the reputation of a poetry enthusiast."

"Luckily, there are multiple prizes; otherwise, I might not be able to compete for one."

Little Li stepped forward to receive the pen handed over by the servant, smiling shyly.

After all, it was plagiarism.

He felt embarrassed to boast about the poem he copied, hoping to win a prize with the borrowed brilliance of his predecessor.

"Each has their own expertise; Young Master Li cannot excel in everything."

Wu Chushu indulged in his role as a wild poet, his smile returning to his face.

Bai Jinghong and Cao Mu exchanged glances, seeing the silence in each other's eyes.

Young Wu seemed to genuinely believe Elder Zeng had great literary talent...

Had he forgotten about killing six bandits and being praised for wiping out an entire bandit camp?

At this moment.

Li Mo also returned to his seat.

"What did you write?"

Ying Bing saw a servant carrying two sheets of paper into the Scholar's Pavilion and couldn't help but be curious.

He often spouted strange and peculiar phrases, rhymes.

But he hadn't shown any literary talent.

"Don't worry, bringing back a prize won't be a problem."

Li Mo winked.

Ying Bing vaguely recalled.

When Uncle Li hired a tutor for Li Mo as a child.

After just three days, Little Li was returned by the tutor, who insisted he couldn't teach him.

The private tutor came with ink-painted dark circles and a mustache, with his face covered in written characters...

"...I've been using this red string for a long time, and I'm quite accustomed to it."

...

Inside the Scholar's Pavilion.

Famous scholars and literary enthusiasts from the city gathered here, passing around the poems delivered from below, exchanging evaluations and discussions.

Sitting in the chief seat was none other than Elder Zeng.

It must be said, Elder Zeng had an impressive presence; dressed in a scholar's robe, he truly exuded the aura of a great and dignified figure.

He was reading a book with a blue cover, which seemed unusually large.

"Brother Zeng, what do you think of this poem?"

"Passable."

"How about this one?"

"It fits the theme."

Elder Zeng put the scroll away, tucking it into his robe, his expression indifferent.

Suddenly, someone exclaimed:

"Even poetry of this level is included?"

"Is there a masterpiece among them?"

"Tsk tsk, if it can make Instructor Song show such an expression, it must be a work of remarkable talent."

Everyone gathered around.

However, after his initial surprise, Instructor Song looked quite displeased:

"This poem is incoherent, lacks proper rhyme and structure, and its imagery is all over the place."

"Submitting something of this level is just a waste of money!"

"Hiss..."

Everyone looked at the poem, their expressions rather colorful.

"Hmm?" Elder Zeng stepped forward, his face suddenly twitching, a vein appearing on his forehead.

Wasn't this his 'masterpiece'?

Just then, someone asked him:

"Elder Zeng, what do you think?"

"A mere passerby, to be honest... At least the courage is commendable, and the yearning for poetry is worth acknowledging..." Elder Zeng clenched his fist tightly inside his sleeve.

Everyone exchanged glances.

Given Elder Zeng's usual sharpness, his evaluation should have been harsher...

Suddenly, they noticed the signature in the corner:

"Wu Chushu."

Ah, that explains it.

"Hahaha, if this poem isn't terrible, then it's actually quite good."

"Courage is commendable, courage is commendable!"

"I think, although it's not enough to display to the public, a prize should be given as encouragement."

Looking at Elder Zeng's Sword City Elder badge, the scholars were not dismissive at all.

"Let's focus on finding a poem that truly represents the literary spirit of the Champion Tower."

"If all else fails, we'll just have to brainstorm together."

Elder Zeng smiled kindly, contemplating the rules of his sect and how to punish Wu Chushu.

Forget it, no need for excuses, just make sure the left foot enters the door first.

Suddenly.

Another shout came from the side.

"Wait! This one!"

Instructor Song's face once again showed surprise, his expression incredibly vivid.

"What is it?"

"Let Elder Zeng take a look."

The scholar beside him was startled, but upon glancing at it, his expression froze immediately.

Elder Zeng frowned, feeling they lacked the demeanor of true scholars.

However, as soon as he took it, his expression turned to stone.

After seeing the signature in the corner, his body even began to tremble slightly.

He rushed to the edge of the building, looking down.

"Hehe... It really is them..."

"Great, struck gold, hehe..."

Elder Zeng chuckled foolishly.

Everyone felt Elder Zeng was truly a man of passion, seeing a good poem made him so ecstatic.

"Quick, frame it for display!"

"I'll write it myself! Find a larger piece of paper... Forget it, let's use brocade!"

Though Elder Zeng lacked poetic talent, he had excellent penmanship.

...

In front of Champion Tower.

A servant brought a jade hairpin, handing it to Wu Chushu.

Wu Chushu raised his chin, casually handing the pin to Miss She beside him.

"Wu brother is the best." Miss She, perhaps suffering from a cold, spoke with a heavy nasal tone.

In front of everyone, Miss She gave Wu Chushu a kiss on the cheek, a loud smack.

"Haha."

Wu Chushu was so delighted that he almost couldn't maintain his suave scholar image, his smile was hard to suppress.

He wondered if he could still smile like this when he returned to Sword City.

Ying Bing's eyes sparkled lightly.

She saw the pig run away, and her gaze inadvertently shifted to Li Mo's face.

"This doesn’t make sense."

Li Mo stroked his chin thoughtfully.

Could it be that the standards of beauty in the Nine Heavens and Ten Earths differ from those of his previous life?

At this moment, the servant who had just left returned once more, carrying an exquisitely crafted box made of purple sandalwood.

"Young Master, your prize."

"Why is it different from Wu Chushu’s…"

Li Mo opened the box and found inside a lotus-shaped hairpin. However, its material was a transparent jadeite of the finest quality, clearly far more valuable.

"Congratulations, Young Master, for winning the grand prize!"

Whoosh—

High-quality cloud brocade cascaded down from the Zhuangyuan Tower like waves, accompanied by an elegant display of calligraphy.

"Before the Bright Moon Tower on a moonlit night, the silver glow remains unchanged.

The bright moon was once my past self. Turning back with a smile, cold and distant for thousands of springs.

Illuminating the vast universe as clear as water, it once shone upon the smallest speck of dust.

Do not trade the perfect circle for furrowed brows.

Three-five nights of the human world, a fleeting mistake in the mirror’s reflection."

The girl recited the verse in a dazed voice.

Her beautiful eyelashes trembled lightly, her gaze complex with memories. As the recollection passed, her expression cleared like rain giving way to sunshine, resembling the moon emerging from behind the clouds.

…

Don’t worry, everyone! The Ice Block and Little Li won’t be separated for too long. As we all know, the southern borders are teeming with demon clans, and Little Li has inherited the divine ability of the Seventy-Two Transformations…

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