Chapter 251: A Scholar of the Age

Everyone looked expectant, especially those who disliked Ye Qingran, all waiting to see her make a fool of herself.

"Sect disciple, you really care about me, figuring out my background so quickly!" The tone was hard not to hear as mocking.

The Xuan Yuan Sword Sect disciple seemed not to have heard Ye Qingran's mockery, and called out loudly: "Ye Qingran, do you dare to compete in literature with our Senior Sister Qingwu?"

Ye Qingran raised her eyebrows: "Why should I compete?"

"You don't dare?" the sect disciple sneered.

"The last person who competed with me in literature was either a great scholar of the age or an industry master..."

How familiar this sounds.

It sounds like what Ling Qingwu said to Ye Qingran that day.

Is this mocking Ling Qingwu for not being qualified enough?

Ling Qingwu today didn't have the nerve to say to Ye Qingran, "Those who lost to me before also said that," because she had lost to Ye Qingran.

Ling Qingwu's expression turned grim.

Ye Qingran is just a nobody from a small state, yet she dares to act high and mighty over her?

Dongfang Qingxuan knew Ling Qingwu would not let Ye Qingran off today, so he smiled and advised: "Qingran, just compete with Senior Sister Ling."

Ye Qingran's eyes flickered, and she deliberately asked, "What if I lose?"

Lose?

Dongfang Qingxuan blinked. He didn't think Ye Qingran would win. After all, Ling Qingwu's talent was outstanding in the Xuan Yuan Sword Sect. He had never seen Ye Qingran's literary ability.

Seeing Dongfang Qingxuan's expression, Ye Qingran felt a cold smile rise in her heart, feeling ever more that the original owner was not worth it.

Ye Qingran, Ye Qingran, look well from heaven: the person you like, what kind of trash is he really!

Dongfang Qingxuan hadn't thought that much; he was eager to turn past this chapter, and then...

"Since the Crown Prince said so, I'll compete with Miss Ling. Miss Ling, please go easy on me!"

Go easy?

Ling Qingwu's eyes flashed with cold intent.

She wanted Ye Qingran to suffer a crushing defeat!

"In the time it takes for half an incense stick to burn, each of you compose a poem, with osmanthus as the theme."

The theme was proposed on the spot by Dongfang Qingxuan.

Soon, servants had prepared the table, laying out brush, ink, paper, and inkstone.

Ling Qingwu stood before the platform, gazing at the osmanthus tree not far away that had inspired Dongfang Qingxuan's theme, stroking her chin in thought, her face full of confident vigor.

In contrast, Ye Qingran...

"Uh... she doesn't even need to think? She's already writing?"

"She must be just scribbling nonsense!"

"I said it before—no one's heard of Ye Qingran having any literary accomplishment..."

Seeing this, Dongfang Qingxuan couldn't help but frown and remind: "No copying others' verses; you must write your own!"

Ye Qingran's lips curled mysteriously. "Sister, I'm copying, and you can't even tell!"

In her previous life in Huaxia, Ye Qingran's literary attainment was also high; she could compose poetry, but she didn't see the need to waste time and energy on this.

There's a ready-made masterpiece—wouldn't using it to slap faces be satisfying?

Soon, half an incense stick burned down; Ling Qingwu stopped her brush on cue, lifted her gaze toward Ye Qingran, full of confidence.

Dongfang Qingxuan went first to Ling Qingwu's side, glanced at her work, nodded, very pleased.

He personally held up Ling Qingwu's work for everyone to see: "One autumn, the feeling runs deep; ten miles of osmanthus fragrance—fine poem! Especially this character, upright and proper, truly exquisite beyond compare!"

Upon seeing it, everyone nodded, thinking Ling Qingwu truly had exceptional talent.

Ye Qingran glanced at it, showing surprise.

This counts as a good poem?

This counts as good calligraphy?

Should she not have held too many fantasies about literature in a world that venerates martial prowess?

She suddenly felt utterly sorry to Li Qingzhao, sorry to Li Bai.

Because using their poems to compare with Ling Qingwu is like using a butcher's knife to kill a chicken—utter overkill, a waste of value!

Seeing Ye Qingran's expression, everyone guessed she too must have been stunned by Ling Qingwu's fine poem and words. Those who disliked Ye Qingran all showed mocking looks.

"I wonder what good poem Ye Qingran can write?"

"Needless to say, it's definitely not worth looking at! Absolutely nothing as good as what Ling Qingwu wrote!"

"Ling Qingwu's literary talent truly astonished me; Ye Qingran will surely lose!"

Hearing the crowd's chatter, several Xuan Yuan disciples showed looks of pride.

They just knew Ye Qingran's talent in this area was certainly inferior to Ling Qingwu's!

Dongfang Qingxuan walked over to Ye Qingran, not holding much hope in his heart. In his view, Ye Qingran defeating Ling Qingwu in swordsmanship was already remarkable; how could she possibly beat her in literary talent?

"Qingran, you..." Dongfang Qingxuan started to ask what Ye Qingran had written, but when he glanced at the work before her, his pupils shrank!

Seeing this, Dongfang Xuan stood up, smiling contemptuously: "Royal brother, just how awful is Ye Qingran's work? Look at your expression—you look scared stupid!"

Mu Qingrou and the others all showed ill‑meaning smiles.

Just look at the Crown Prince's face to know how shocking Ye Qingran's work is!

The Xuan Yuan disciples, led by Ling Qingwu, looked at Ye Qingran's expression, full of mockery.

Dongfang Qingxuan read Ye Qingran's work from beginning to end, his whole body as if frozen, motionless.

"How is this possible? How could this be?!" he murmured in a low voice, his face full of shock.

At that moment, everyone realized something was off, and the expressions on their faces gradually stiffened.

They couldn't wait and rushed to Ye Qingran's work, lowering their heads to look…

Then, they were stunned!

Only see on the xuan paper, dragons flying and phoenixes dancing, the characters like snakes in motion, the force penetrating the back of the paper, revealing the writer's immense heroic spirit!

The content of the poems is also breathtaking.

Dim and pale yellow, the texture is soft. The feeling is sparse, the traces distant, only fragrance remains.

Why need pale green and light red? It is naturally the finest among flowers.

Plums are definitely envious, chrysanthemums should be ashamed. Where the painted railing opens, it dominates mid-autumn.

Scholars can dispel indifferent thoughts; why were things not gathered back then?

Everyone plants peach and plum trees, all at Jinzhangmen.

They scramble to pluck and break, seeking shortcuts, as the spring breeze warms.

One morning, when heavenly frost falls, glory is hard to retain.

Who knows the southern mountain's cassia, with green leaves drooping fragrant roots?

The cool shade can also be relied upon; why begrudge the ruler's garden?

Not a mortal kind, transplanted from within the moon.

A hint of fragrance from the Broad Cold Palace, blown makes the whole mountain bloom.

She actually lifted three poems in one breath!

And the three poems are all top‑notch masterpieces!

Such brushwork and conception—if not a top‑tier erudite, it cannot be done!

After the brief silence, everyone's gaze on Ye Qingran was filled with utter shock.

Is this poem really by Ye Qingran? Is this calligraphy really by Ye Qingran?

Simply, unbelievable!

Seeing the others' strange looks, Ling Qingwu could no longer hold back, rose and came over; when she saw this poem and this calligraphy, her pupils shrank sharply.

"Impossible!" she whispered.

Whether the poem's content or the brush's elegance, she had never heard or seen anything like it—even the most talented of the sword sect could not do it, unless…

"Ye Qingran, you copied Old Master Wu Ya Zi's poem!" Ling Qingwu declared firmly.

Wu Ya Zi?

Everyone's expressions changed.

Everyone knows that in the Central Region there is a literary grand scholar named Wu Ya Zi, who enjoys great fame in the Central Region.

"Literary talent bears special grace, spreads and must be unparalleled"—this refers to Wu Ya Zi!

One can imagine how astonishing his talent is.

Look again at Ye Qingran's poem—whether word choice or literary style, it is top‑grade; in the vast Central Region, only Wu Ya Zi could produce such a work!

Could it be that Ye Qingran really plagiarized Wu Ya Zi's?

Mu Qingrou let out a breath, her face full of sarcasm: "Ye Qingran, I said you were so overconfident—turns out you plagiarized!"

Everyone then believed Ye Qingran's three poems were copied from Wu Ya Zi, and they began to blame Ye Qingran.

Ling Qingwu's expression softened a little.

Actually, she wasn't sure whether Ye Qingran had plagiarized Wu Ya Zi, but it didn't matter—since everyone now disbelieved that Ye Qingran wrote those three poems herself, she had already won!

"Crown Prince, you can announce the result now!" a disciple of the Xuan Yuan Sword Sect reminded.

Dongfang Qingxuan nodded; he also believed Ye Qingran's three poems were plagiarized from Wu Ya Zi.

"I announce, the winner is…"

Ye Qingran's lips curled slightly, she was about to speak when a clear voice sounded.