Chapter 778: First Volume_Chapter 778 You Can't Control Me

First Volume_Chapter 778 You Can't Control Me

The green-robed scholar refused to believe Qin Feng was truly the Wenchang Star Descended to Earth, spouting poetry effortlessly.

"Winter is nearly here; when the cold sets in, the people look forward to spring's warmth. If you compose a poem on 'Spring Rain' on the spot, I will truly bow to you."

"With Qin Hou's talent, surely no long time is needed—would one incense stick time suffice?"

The green-robed scholar secretly sneered; though Qin Feng had indeed shown some talent with the snow poem, the earlier composition had already disrupted his thoughts, and following it with another theme would surely cause him to stumble.

The green-robed scholar knew he couldn't stump Qin Feng, but he aimed to crush his confidence, so that when Qin Feng entered Huijuan Lou and faced the true Talented Scholars and Beauties, his pressure would multiply.

The bystanders among the crowd all shook their heads, certain Qin Feng could not pull it off.

Yet Qin Feng merely shrugged: "One incense stick time? A single poem—why take so long?"

"Listen well."

"Spring Rain Precious as Oil, flows full through every Street. Falls Scholar Xie, laughs to death a herd of Cows."

Again, a doggerel poem, again, effortlessly composed, without a hint of strain.

The green-robed scholar's face darkened and brightened in turns; only now did he realize that challenging Qin Feng was like brandishing a great sword before Guan Gong.

He himself was the Jumping Clown…

The crowd's gaze toward Qin Feng shifted repeatedly; though their resentment remained, they now understood Qin Feng's talent was beyond the grasp of ordinary mortals.

Instantly, murmurs filled the air.

"Writing one doggerel poem isn't hard, but Qin Feng produced two in a row, both fitting the theme—that's extraordinary."

"Indeed, to defeat Qin Feng, we need the Young Masters of Yucheng to step forward!"

"What's the hurry? I… I refuse to believe he can keep doing this. Even if he's the Wenchang Star Descended to Earth, even he must run out of inspiration!"

"True enough—that green-robed scholar means nothing. The real Talented Scholars and Beauties are waiting inside Huijuan Lou."

Qin Feng ignored the murmurs around him and smiled at the green-robed scholar: "Can I go in now? If you're still unconvinced, I'll give you ten or eight more poems—no problem."

The green-robed scholar, who had been choking on humiliation, suddenly laughed, sneering: "Qin Hou is just another boastful man."

"Ten or eight poems? Hah! Do you think you're the Poetry Immortal? If you can write three more, I'll kneel and kowtow to you!"

Hearing this, Qin Feng sneered: "That's what you said."

Under the skeptical gaze of the crowd, Qin Feng slowly turned, scanning the diverse faces of the bystanders, his expression utterly calm.

"I hear the Northern Di are masters at cooking meat? Then I'll compose a poem on meat."

"No Bamboo Makes One Su, no meat makes one thin. Neither vulgar nor thin—Bamboo Shoots Braised Pork."

"Bamboo Shoots Braised Pork" comes from the Tang-Song First Foodie, Su Dongpo.

Seeing Qin Feng casually produce another rhyming, balanced doggerel poem, the onlookers' mouths slowly widened.

But it wasn't over—Qin Feng turned and pointed at the Huijuan Lou before him.

"One Punch Shatters Huijuan Lou, one kick overturns Saibei Zhou. The scene before me cannot be described—Qin Hou inscribes poem above."

Qin Feng had directly replaced Li Bai's "Inscription on Yellow Crane Tower" with Huijuan Lou, claiming it as his own. As a poetry tailor, Qin Feng's brazenness sometimes even made him feel ashamed.

The crowd who had waited for Qin Feng to humiliate himself were now deeply shaken.

Though all these poems were doggerel, unfit for Da Yao Zhi Tang, none of them had ever seen anyone produce four doggerel poems in a row—each rhymed, each balanced, each on a different theme.

At that moment, Qin Feng turned again and pointed to the wall of the Huijuan Lou, covered in inscriptions left by the city's Literary Gatherings.

Qin Feng made no effort to hide his contempt: "Dog farts on pink wall, neither poem nor song. If you truly had talent, why didn't you pass the imperial exams back then?"

Silence fell over the crowd; all stared at Qin Feng in disbelief.

When Qin Feng turned to face the green-robed scholar, he saw the boy—no longer arrogant, his face as white as paper, desperate to crawl into a crack in the ground.

Seeing the green-robed scholar about to weasel out, Ning Hu glared, his overwhelming aura shaking the scholar to his core, forcing him to kneel without hesitation, thudding to the ground.

He bowed three hard kowtows toward Qin Feng.

Qin Feng laughed upward, ignoring the humiliated green-robed scholar and the stunned crowd, and strode boldly into Huijuan Lou.

Inside the First Floor DaTang, the atmosphere had grown gloomy.

Everyone had witnessed Qin Feng's five doggerel poems outside; they had planned to humiliate him, yet he had turned the tables and flaunted himself instead.

Not only the crowd was baffled—even Jing Ci, seated in the Wine House Elegant Room and watching the entire scene through the Window, was caught off guard.

"Good… good sharp tongue. It seems Qin Feng isn't just seeking fame—he truly has some ink in him."

"White Dog with Swelling, One Punch Shatters Huijuan Lou… Good heavens, so vulgar, yet so catchy."

Beside her, Qi Ya bit her thin lips and whispered softly: "Your Highness, don't panic—doggerel poems can never rise to Da Yao Zhi Tang."

"Inside Huijuan Lou, Talented Scholars gather—Qin Feng will surely stumble like an old horse."

Hearing this, Jing Ci felt slightly reassured and sighed: "True enough—three mediocre men can match Zhuge Liang. Even if Qin Feng has eight measures of talent, he cannot withstand Carriage Wheel Battle."

Since this was not the City Main Road and the Street was narrow, Jing Ci, seated by the Wine House Window, could see everything happening inside Huijuan Lou.

Meanwhile, in the First Floor DaTang, waves of sneers and mockery had begun.

The Literary Gatherings gathered there all sneered at Qin Feng's "talent."

"Hah! Who knew Qin Hou was so humorous, fond of crude, vulgar doggerel? Doesn't that disgrace his status?"

"If Qin Hou has only this much ink, don't bother competing—it's just a waste of time."

Facing the scholars' mockery, Qin Feng stretched lazily: "I write whatever poem I want. You can't control me."

At that moment, a light snort sounded.

Among the crowd stood a young man in White Clothes, about eighteen or nineteen, decent-looking, but his gaze toward Qin Feng was filled with utter contempt.

"Bold words. I hope Qin Hou can back them up with real talent—don't just rely on your mouth."

As soon as he spoke, cheers erupted outside the door?

Qin Feng turned to see a crowd of women gathered outside, gazing at the white-clad youth with admiration.

"No wonder he's Liu Lang—so young and already so commanding. No wonder he's one of Yucheng's most promising Talented Scholars!"