Chapter 68: Forcing Me to Slap Your Face?

Wang Zhe received Jiang Jiang Mingyu in the main hall of the Inspector's Yamen.

Sunlight streaming through the lattice windows bathed the hall, making the floor appear exceptionally clean and bright.

Sandalwood incense burned within the hall; a magnificent fur rug covered the floor, and weapons hanging on the walls gleamed with cold light under the candle flames.

Jiang Jiang Mingyu had his subordinates carry dozens of bloody human heads onto the long table and arrange them in rows.

Looking at the rows of gruesome severed heads, Wang Zhe could not help but smile knowingly, his face beaming with praise as he said, "The foreign tribes have been a scourge for many years; I never expected them to be utterly routed by you, my lord Jiang. I am truly in awe! I had intended to send troops to support you that day, but before they even arrived, you had already achieved a great victory. This brings great honor to me, the Inspector!"

Thinking that Shangmu on the border had been the most unrestful place in Great Feng for years, with this great victory, his own promotion was surely within his grasp.

Looking at Wang Zhe, whose face was beaming with smiles and whose eyes were covered in age spots, Jiang Jiang Mingyu secretly sneered in his heart. When he had requested aid before, this man had made all sorts of excuses; now that he had won, he was eager to take credit. Truly a sycophantic mediocrity.

Jiang Jiang Mingyu feigned humility, saying, "This great victory could not have happened without your strong support, my lord Wang."

Just as the two were exchanging polite greetings back and forth, a Yamen Runner suddenly reported from outside the door, "My lord, Mr. Master Zhuge is here to visit."

Wang Zhe seemed even happier and hurriedly ordered, "Quickly remove the heads! Invite Mr. Master Zhuge in immediately!"

Seeing that he intended to welcome the guest personally, Jiang Jiang Mingyu quickly asked, "Who is this Mr. Master Zhuge?"

Wang Zhe hurriedly explained, "Mr. Master Zhuge is a scion of a prominent family from the Regional Military Commissioner's office of Yasmo. He was a great talent in his early years but simply did not wish to hold office, choosing instead to live a carefree life. He is truly a hermit of the clouds and cranes."

Before his words had even finished, a booming laugh was heard from outside the door: "Where, where? My lord the Inspector flatters me too much."

A robust man in his early thirties, wearing a brand-new yellow robe and looking full of vitality, walked in.

After the pleasantries, Mr. Master Zhuge finally noticed Jiang Jiang Mingyu. After sizing him up from head to toe, he asked with a hint of arrogance, "Who is this?"

Mr. Master Zhuge did not yet know Jiang Jiang Mingyu's identity and assumed he was merely a minor county official, so he spoke somewhat presumptuously, "I have long heard of your great name."

Jiang Jiang Mingyu, having lived two lives, knew well that scholars could be arrogant, so he merely responded with a bow of his hands.

Unexpectedly, Wang Zhe took over the conversation: "Mr. Master Zhuge, you may not know, but this gentleman is the Imperial Envoy and Censor appointed by the Emperor himself, and he is a Zhuangyuan."

Upon hearing that Jiang Jiang Mingyu was a Zhuangyuan, Mr. Master Zhuge was instantly startled. He quickly stood up, plastered a sycophantic smile on his face, and feigned surprise as he apologized, "Oh? Then I have indeed been rude. Please forgive me, my lord!"

Jiang Jiang Mingyu calmly and indifferently said, "It is merely a hollow title; it is not worth mentioning."

His tone was flat, and his eyes did not look at Mr. Master Zhuge, appearing very humble.

Seeing his humility, Mr. Master Zhuge inexplicably felt a trace of displeasure. Frowning, he criticized, "My lord Jiang truly treats fame and fortune like dung." His brows were tightly furrowed, and his tone carried obvious sarcasm.

Although Mr. Master Zhuge lived in the remote mountains of the border, he was arrogant about his talents. He immediately proposed a literary contest with Jiang Jiang Mingyu, feigning humility as he said, "Though I dwell in the mountains, I have read some books. Might I have the honor of witnessing my lord Jiang's learning today?" His tone revealed a confident and proud certainty of victory.

In his heart, Jiang Jiang Mingyu had no desire for this contest; he was in a hurry to find a buyer for the coal he had brought and had no leisure time here to discuss literature and recite poetry with Mr. Master Zhuge.

Jiang Jiang Mingyu showed no expression on his face but secretly found it amusing. It turned out this Mr. Master Zhuge was a person who feigned aloofness while being eager to display his talents; his own humility had only stung the man's vanity.

But Jiang Jiang Mingyu also understood that directly refusing a literary contest upon their first meeting might make Mr. Master Zhuge suspicious and displeased, so he could only humbly decline, saying, "Where, where? My level is truly not worthy of showing off before you, sir."

However, Mr. Master Zhuge seemed unwilling to let it go and pressed, "Could it be that my lord Jiang looks down on me, a person living in the remote border mountains, and believes I am not worthy to compete with you in poetry and song?" He raised his eyebrows, and his tone faintly revealed suspicion and dissatisfaction.

Seeing that Mr. Master Zhuge harbored doubts about his literary talent, Jiang Jiang Mingyu quickly shook his head and explained, "Sir, you misunderstand. I indeed have urgent matters to attend to; it is not that I intentionally wish to evade you."

Wang Zhe, standing nearby, interjected, "My lord Jiang, since Mr. Master Zhuge has such good intentions, do not decline any longer. Today, as a Zhuangyuan, you should compete with the sir; it can be considered making friends through literature."

Mr. Master Zhuge quickly chimed in as well, "Exactly so. I also wish to see what extraordinary literary talent this Zhuangyuan, my lord Jiang, truly possesses." His tone faintly revealed a trace of contempt.

Seeing Jiang Jiang Mingyu decline repeatedly, Mr. Master Zhuge became even more convinced that the title of Zhuangyuan held by Jiang Jiang Mingyu was likely not earned through true talent.

Speaking, Mr. Master Zhuge took a crystal-clear ancient jade from his waist, held it in his hand, and said, "This jade is a treasure passed down through my family for generations. Let it serve as the stake for today's contest."

Wang Zhe quickly added, "My lord Jiang, you must perform seriously. You absolutely cannot disgrace the face of Great Feng officials before Mr. Master Zhuge."

Seeing that Jiang Jiang Mingyu seemed to have no choice, he could only smile faintly and say, "Very well. Then I will trouble Mr. Master Zhuge to go easy on me."

Mr. Master Zhuge adjusted his sleeves and smiled, "Excellent. My lord Jiang has finally agreed to the contest."

In his heart, he thought, "Jiang Jiang Mingyu has delayed for so long; he must be incompetent. That Zhuangyuan title was likely obtained only by currying favor with the powerful."

Mr. Master Zhuge said leisurely, "Rest assured, my lord Jiang. In the presence of the Inspector, I will go easy on you and show you some courtesy."

"However, if you lose, it would be better not to claim the title of Zhuangyuan in the future, lest scholars across the land laugh at you."

"I do not hold office simply because I cannot stand some people who have empty bellies yet are smug about buying official titles."

"Such conduct is not only a disgrace to Great Feng but also a disgrace to scholars."

"How can such people have the face to call themselves scholars? It is simply a decline in the morals of the age."

"Do you not agree, my lord Jiang?"

Jiang Jiang Mingyu chuckled lightly: "Sir's high words. There are more and more people seeking fame and profit; one wonders what has happened to this world."

Mr. Master Zhuge snorted coldly: "That is a question for those who spend money to buy titles and pretend to be important figures."

Mr. Master Zhuge waved his hand and said, "Let us not speak of those things. I am not one of them, nor do I know their filth. My lord Jiang, let us return to the main topic."

"Since we are in a border region, let us take the border as the subject and compose a poem for the Inspector to judge, how about that?"

Jiang Jiang Mingyu smiled faintly: "Very well. Then please, sir, go first."

Mr. Master Zhuge stood up with an expression of disdain and strolled slowly. After half a stick of incense had burned, he finally began to recite:

"Where the sun rises over the vast sea and clouds part, sheep and horses on the frontier neigh at the sky. The golden sand dunes and valleys are dyed by the evening, and the magnificent Heshan reflects the setting sun."

After reciting, he flicked his wide sleeves: "My lord Jiang, your turn."

Jiang Jiang Mingyu understood clearly that Mr. Master Zhuge's meaning was that these officials were not even worthy of his notice.

What made him want to laugh was that this nonsensical rubbish could even be called a poem?

Recalling Wang Zhe's words that this man possessed great talent, it seemed the so-called reputation for talent was merely piled up with money.

As for not wishing to hold office, it was likely because he simply could not pass the exams.

He was a transmigrator; border poems were something he could produce effortlessly. If they insisted on him slapping their face, then this official would give them a lesson.

Jiang Jiang Mingyu chuckled softly: "You two also know that Shangmu, where I, Jiang Mou, am located, is a place of barren mountains and evil waters."

"To speak bluntly, the only thing presentable is likely the foreign tribes that frequently appear."

"Just as I, Jiang Mou, was fortunate enough to achieve a small victory, let me casually recite a few lines on this topic."

Seeing his words become even more casual, Mr. Master Zhuge snorted coldly: "My lord Jiang, your preparation is dragging on far too long. Please display your talents quickly so we may see what kind of literary skill truly deserves the title of Zhuangyuan."

Jiang Jiang Mingyu was tired of wasting words with him. He adjusted his sleeves, cleared his throat, and recited loudly: "The moon of the Qin dynasty, the passes of the Han dynasty; ten thousand miles of long march, men have not returned. If the Flying General of Longcheng were still here, he would not allow the Hu cavalry to cross the Yin Mountains."

Wang Zhe heard this and immediately slammed the table in praise: "Good, what a fine poem, truly damn good, what magnificent spirit!"

In his excitement, he couldn't help but curse. Upon hearing this, Mr. Master Zhuge's face immediately darkened.