Chapter 460: Two hundred fifty-four, [Craftsman] Sword Art, Legendary Sword Master

Two hundred fifty-four, 【Craftsman】 Sword Art, Legendary Sword Master

Xunyang Ward and Xingzi Ward, as the two largest wards in Xunyang City, are located on the east and west sides of Xunyang City respectively, echoing each other from afar.

Xunyang Ancient Ferry is located in the middle of the two wards.

And Xunyang Building is located at the easternmost side of Xunyang Ward, near the street that is several miles long and prosperous by the Xunyang River.

A cold, palace-dressed girl's figure silently passed by Xunyang Ferry, left the Xingzi Ward boundary, and entered Xunyang Ward.

Along the way, the black-armored generals and white-clad female officials who were under martial law and blocked traffic in Xingzi Ward saw her figure, and their expressions were full of awe, automatically making way.

For a time, it could be considered a focus on the silent street, watched by eyes carefully behind the doors.

A huge Xingzi Ward had been fully controlled, and the common people of every household were ordered to stay at home unless there were special circumstances, accepting door-to-door spot checks by female officials and generals.

Although all non-official Qi-refining practitioners who emitted blue and red "Qi columns" were slaughtered by the Sitianjian Qi-refining practitioners and black-armored generals.

But a zither sound that had not yet finished still lingered inside and outside Xingzi Ward.

And the construction site by Xingzi Lake, Lin Cheng, Wang Lengran, Yuan Huaimin, and others were installing the Buddha head to return to its place.

Under these circumstances, a certain Lady Female Official did not guard the Donglin Great Buddha at the construction site to follow the rules and combine the body and head on time, nor did she go with Wei Shaoqi and others to search for the mythical Xin Dingjian.

Perhaps because of the blockade, or perhaps because of the long distance, the storm on the Xingzi Ward side had not yet been fully transmitted.

"And looking at the literary world of this dynasty, among the large and small poetry gatherings since the founding of the country, the chrysanthemum-chanting poem that is most talked about and rated as the best is that "Chrysanthemum" from the eighth year of Zhenyuan... Autumn clusters surround the house like Tao's home, walking around the fence as the sun gradually slants. It's not that I prefer chrysanthemums among flowers, but there are no more flowers after this one blooms...

This is a tradition of some poetry gatherings and elegant gatherings in Xunyang City at the moment. Once there is an outstanding poem at a poetry gathering, it can be transmitted out for the first time. Among these audiences, hand-copied and orally transmitted, it can spread throughout Xunyang City within half a day and become famous.

It really made a group of female officials and leading generals puzzled, thinking she had something important to do, and no one dared to ask.

Rong Zhen accelerated her pace, walked all the way to the riverfront street on the east side of Xunyang Ward without turning her head.

Clearly, she had been dreaming of this day, catching all the rebels like the owner of 'Butterfly Loves Flowers' in one net and exposing their true faces.

The west wind blowing the fine, fragmented rain curtain slightly blew away the bloody smell on her dress. Although she had just cleaned it, she still felt her palms were sticky.

Just like the common people at the feet of the Emperor in Luoyang and Chang'an like to discuss imperial family affairs and political rumors, perhaps because of the immersion of Kuanglu culture, the people of Xunyang were exceptionally tolerant of the uninhibited style and romantic deeds of talented scholars and celebrities.

Especially the Xingzi Lake construction site in the center of the ward, which was now not even letting in any miscellaneous people.

Also because it was hosted by the little Princess, who was talented and beautiful, and the Xunyang Prince's family also attended in person to have fun with the people.

Many talented scholars were ready to show their skills, and the common people who came for the name were naturally looking forward to it, gathering one after another to inquire about the gossip about the poetry gathering. The poetry gatherings, talented scholars, and beautiful ladies of this era were similar to the film and television celebrities of Ouyang Rong's previous life, which could be considered a kind of national entertainment. The top poets of the Great Zhou literary world were the top streams of this era.

Instead, she buried her head and walked out of Xingzi Ward.

But Xunyang Ward was full of dignitaries and relatively wealthy citizens, as well as literati and ink guests looking for pleasure, and Xunyang Building was a representative occasion among them.

But at the moment... Rong Zhen's eyes flashed with the tall back of Xie Lingjiang in a skirt when they parted at the West City Gate.

Actually, Rong Zhen didn't know why her footsteps would walk out unconsciously, leaving the search team and staying away from Xingzi Ward.

This Lady Female Official, who was decisive and impartial in the eyes of others, had a trace of hesitation on her pale, cold, and beautiful face for the first time.

Facing the high-end restaurant in front that was dedicated to talented scholars, beautiful ladies, red sleeves adding fragrance, and elegant celebrities drinking and chatting.

Under the skirt, a pair of embroidered shoes had not moved for a long time.

Xingzi Ward was mostly bottom-level common people and poor scholars, similar to a slum.

The entire Xingzi Ward had been declared safe in the zither sound and in a realistic sense, but because the Buddha head was still being installed, it was still in a state of being tight outside and tighter inside.

Wei Shaoqi, Changshi Qin, and others were also leading people to clean up the corpses and search for that legendary mythical Xin Dingjian.

"This poem was written by Master Yuan, who is known as the master of the literary world by people of the time. The last two lines have not been surpassed by anyone in the Great Zhou literary world to this day. Little girl personally thinks that this is the second chrysanthemum-chanting poem after "Drinking Wine"...

If it were in the past, she would not care about these trivial image matters and would not care about others' opinions at all.

But when it really came to this time, she felt bored... or rather, it wasn't bored, but suddenly felt that this matter was no longer the most important thing for her.

This matter had become the hottest focus of the Xunyang City literary world recently.

"As everyone knows, Tao Yuanming loves chrysanthemums alone, and it is precisely because of him that chrysanthemums have been raised to a very high status in the literary world. Also because such dazzling celebrities have been born, Xunyang City is also known as the Capital of Chrysanthemums.

And the poetry gathering held at Xunyang Building today, not only because of "not chanting snow but chanting chrysanthemums,"

The sparse light rain falling from the overcast sky did not affect the enthusiasm of the crowd on the entire long street.

Outside the building, there were many literati and ink guests gathering to watch, and passing common people stopped to watch the fun.

A thing she wanted to do more, or a person she wanted to see more...

Rong Zhen stopped on the street, lowered her head to look at the bloodstains left on her palace dress, and a moment later, raised her hand and sniffed her sleeve lightly.

"The famous lines in it... Picking chrysanthemums under the eastern fence, leisurely seeing the southern mountain... have been popular for hundreds of years.

The blockade of Xingzi Ward did not affect the living atmosphere of Xunyang Ward too much. The gap between the rich and the poor of the main people living in the two wards was still very large.

A new strong impulse surged in her heart for no reason.

Looking around, a prosperous Xunyang Building stood at the end of the long street.

Rong Zhen walked toward the Xunyang Building silently. Along the way, the streets of Xunyang Ward were much livelier.

At the moment, many figures were entering and leaving it, all of them were celebrities, literati, talented scholars of Xunyang City, as well as dignitaries, wealthy merchants, and children of noble families.

"The first chrysanthemum-chanting poem recognized by the literary world in ancient and modern times comes from the famous scholar Tao Yuanming of the Eastern Jin Dynasty. He once served as a county magistrate for eighty-one days in Longcheng County under the jurisdiction of this state, and later resigned and lived in seclusion... This poem was also written after he lived in seclusion, titled "Drinking Wine".

"Building a hut in the human realm, without the noise of carriages and horses. Ask you, how can you do this? The heart is far, and the place is biased. Picking chrysanthemums under the eastern fence, leisurely seeing the southern mountain...

Rong Zhen stopped for a long time.

In the main hall of Xunyang Building, Li Guoer's hibiscus-like small face was covered with a light purple thin veil, and she pointed to a pot of chrysanthemums on the table in front of her that was still standing proudly in early winter, commenting with a crisp voice.

Wang Lixian, Li Dalang, and a group of celebrities and literati around all held their breath and listened to the voice of this little Princess, which was like an oriole.

Many young scholars were still ready to show their skills secretly, and their eyes looked at the poetry wall with white paper pasted behind Li Guoer with some longing and enthusiasm.

This was the most important session of this Chrysanthemum Poetry Gathering today, and also the climax—only the top three excellent chrysanthemum-chanting poems could be inscribed on the wall and guaranteed by the owner of Xunyang Building to be preserved by this famous Jiang Nan building.

Li Guoer spoke clearly, finished commenting, and the celebrities and judges around also talked one after another for a while, hmm, nothing more than some irrelevant mutual praise.

Finally, the poetry inscription session began, and the scholars waved their ink to compose poems one after another, and the atmosphere became lively. From time to time, there were two eye-catching poems that were circulated.

However, interested people found that the little Princess on the high platform, although nodding from time to time when browsing the poems, and a smile seemed to hang under the hazy purple veil, but deep in those clear eyes, it was ancient well without waves.

And the Xunyang Prince Wang Lixian and the Heir Li Dalang's attention didn't seem to be on the poetry gathering either, drinking tea absent-mindedly, looking back at a certain corner in the building frequently...

Half an hour later, Li Guoer and the celebrity judges roughly screened out three chrysanthemum-chanting poems that were not bad. She turned her head and said softly, ordering them to be copied and posted on the white paper wall. The scholars whose poems were selected were either happy or proud, and some were humble.

But at this time, a slender figure walked over swaying from the corner and appeared not far behind everyone.

"Tanlang?"

Wang Lixian and Li Dalang put down their teacups and stood up.

Li Guoer, who was surrounded by celebrities and scholars, couldn't help but look sideways.

Only to see a young man with a face like a crown of jade, brows divided into eight colors, eyes like bright stars, nose like a hanging gall, very handsome. Someone immediately recognized that it was the current Jiangzhou Sima, Ouyang Lianghan.

Ouyang Rong turned a deaf ear, walked through the crowd full of alcohol, pushed away a few chairs blocking the way from time to time, and walked to the table with a bit of staggering, bent down, examined the autumn chrysanthemum that was not withering in early winter in front of him with drunken eyes narrowed, and then looked around left and right.

"You guys are so noisy, really so noisy, so noisy." He suddenly spoke.

In the main hall, some arrogant scholars immediately showed anger, and the celebrity monks looked unhappy. Someone immediately opened his mouth unhappily: "I used to respect Ouyang Sima so much, I didn't expect that he was a..."

But the next instant, the scholar who was speaking stopped, because Ouyang Rong had already ignored him and walked to the table, took out a brush, checked the brush while lowering his head, and walked toward the white paper wall that was the focus of everyone's attention.

Just when everyone was surprised by this strange behavior, Ouyang Rong suddenly shook a heavy ink ingot from his sleeve and threw it onto the soft chair on the side.

Hua Xuanji, he was single-minded, spread the paper flat, and dipped the brush to the fullest.

Under the eyes of everyone, the handsome young man held the brush with his left hand, waved ink and splashed hair, and on the white paper on the wall, a seven-character quatrain was completed in one go:

Rustling west wind planted in the courtyard, the stamens are cold and the fragrance is cold, butterflies are hard to come.

If I am the Green Emperor in another year, report to the peach blossoms... bloom in one place!

Silence, the whole hall was only silence.

Everyone looked at each other, those faces were first stunned for a while, and then, like fireworks during the Spring Festival, one after another brilliant expressions bloomed.

Li Guoer, don't know when, had already stood up, her gaze looking at the seven-character poem with ink not yet dry on the wall with some amazement.

Xie Lingjiang, who followed closely behind, first bent down to pick up the small ink ingot that was trembling more secretly than a certain "jumping egg bell"... She didn't care about the strong protest and dissatisfaction reminder of the little girl in her hand, and together with Wang Lixian and his son, stared at this poem with stunned expressions.

At this very moment, everyone's eyes in the hall were attracted by this poem "Inscribed on Chrysanthemums" on the wall.

"Finally... quiet."

Ouyang Rong suddenly dropped the brush, drooped his drunken eyes, and laughed lightly.

This murmur didn't know what it was saying.

A moment later, the smiling young man, with a drunken posture like a jade mountain about to fall, lay on the table, in front of a pot of autumn chrysanthemums, and fell into a sound sleep... in public.

The whole hall was silent for a moment. A moment later, the noise exploded, but under the "shh" sound of Xie Lingjiang looking around with her index finger on her lips, the hall suddenly returned to silence. Everyone covered their mouths and tacitly lowered their voices, as if afraid of waking someone up.

A moment later, everyone, either with respect, conviction, or shame, stepped forward to watch the chrysanthemum poem on the white wall; while Xie Lingjiang, Wang Lixian, and others were the first to run to care about Ouyang Rong's physical condition.

Li Guoer was the closest, and after Ouyang Rong fell drunk, she was also the first to reach out to support his soft body. For a time, she couldn't care about the gender defense... While supporting, the little Princess with plum blossom makeup lowered her head and stared at the poem, whispering:

"If I am the Green Emperor in another year, report to the peach blossoms in one place... Good poem, so good that... it is a bit rebellious... This poem should be the first chrysanthemum-chanting poem in the last five hundred years. Ouyang Lianghan, you can compare with Tao Yuanming."

Xie Lingjiang, who had just rushed to the table, suddenly widened her eyes. It turned out that the little Princess in front had playfully patted his bound head buried in his elbows.

"Bravo!"

Xingzi Lake construction site.

The zither sound that had lingered for a long time had not disappeared for long.

Water room, inside a simple compartment, a burly man with a thick beard sitting on the ground and wearing a felt hat finally finished drinking the human blood wine soaked with red and black talisman ashes hidden in the gourd.

He who had eaten sauce meat to his fill when going out in the morning was chanting words. A moment later, he poured out a dark green round pill used for soaking wine at the bottom of the gourd and swallowed it looking up.

It was called Ink Dragon, spicier than snake gall, and in a moment, it turned into a dragon-shaped blazing fire from his throat to his chest.

In the humble room, Huang Feihong's muttering just now faintly echoed.

"Young Master said... I can also carry firewood for the people."

A moment later, the burly man with a thick beard suddenly opened his eyes and stood up. He, who had always had a great capacity for liquor and was truly never drunk, was now swaying with drunken shadows. The man woke up from a big dream, looked around left and right. Outside the water room, the sound of laborers and livestock pulling the Buddha head faintly came... He was drunk and hazy, raised his hand and pressed his felt hat.

At the end of the long street outside Xunyang Building, Rong Zhen stood under an eave, the expression on her face hesitant. At this time, the crowd in front suddenly made a noise, like boiling water.

She saw many people running and copying poems, circulating a freshly released manuscript, talking about it with great interest, and some people were excitedly squeezing into Xunyang Building...

Rong Zhen frowned, listened carefully, and her expression changed slightly...

It turned out that Ouyang Sima, who was talked about by Xunyang literati for the phrase "Lianghan was also not asleep," had actually composed a poem today, and it was designated as the best by the little Princess and all the celebrities in the hall, and there was no objection from the whole hall.

"Wasn't the hand injured..." Rong Zhen remembered something, bit her lower lip lightly, and narrowed her eyes slightly.

A moment later, Rong Zhen took out an orange-red sachet, took out a small IOU for "one poem owed" from it, clenched it in her palm, and walked toward Xunyang Building with big strides, no longer hesitating.

You composed for your Junior Sister, but can't compose for this Palace?

Besides, this Palace wants to see what the poem you just composed is like.

"Hmm, it's not that this Palace wants to come, it's just that you owe this Palace, black and white..."

Muttering, she walked forward for more than ten steps, and the next instant, Rong Zhen braked fiercely.

She looked back suddenly, her pupils shrinking slightly.

The picture of the palace-dressed girl being fixed in place made the passersby around turn their heads curiously.

But three breaths after this cold palace-dressed girl looked back and stared, everyone suddenly heard from the Xingzi Ward direction behind... a thunderous sound faintly came.

No, it was not a thunderous sound, it was the initial ripple of something huge collapsing...

(End of chapter)

, ===== CHAPTER 461 =====