How can one cultivate immortality without learning modern knowledge?

A single line flew across the sky.

This character is "礼" (lǐ).

A giant character for "rites" appeared, like a flying carpet, coming from the east of the city, and the light of literature and morality covered the entire city.

Above the character for "rites" is an old man, dressed in the purple robes of a great Confucian scholar, his presence as heavy as a mountain.

It soared through the air and landed on the high platform.

He is Dai Shucheng, a renowned Confucian scholar from Jiangnan and the host of this poetry gathering.

"Master Dai!" The hundred people below the stage stood up in unison and bowed.

"Great Scholar Dai!" On the high platform, all the poetic prodigies bowed at the same time, though the depth of their bows varied.

The child prodigy Li Muyun, the poet and relative of the emperor Wang Luoshui, and the poetic genius Du Yuxin bowed deeply.

Li Yufei bowed very lightly.

Li Yuecheng merely gave a slight bow.

This is the hierarchy in literature and morality.

Dai Shucheng was a great Confucian scholar.

Li Muyun, Wang Luoshui, and Du Yuxin were all just Juren (successful candidates in the provincial examinations) who were granted the title of Wenshan. In terms of literary rank, they were one level below him, so they needed to pay their respects with great ceremony.

Li Yufei was a Jinshi (successful candidate in the highest imperial examination) and had already been awarded the title of Wenxin (literary talent), making his literary rank equal to that of Dai Shucheng.

But since he was a junior, he gave a slight bow.

Li Yuecheng was different.

He was a Jinshi (a successful candidate in the highest imperial examinations) and also ranked third among the top three scholars, receiving a literary award. His literary rank was one level higher than Dai Shucheng's.

A slight bow is a sign of respect for this renowned figure from Jiangnan.

Dai Shucheng straightened his clothes, returned the greetings to everyone, and slowly raised his head: "Today's Nanyang Poetry Gathering is filled with distinguished guests. Fellow poets from Jiangnan have generously invited me to preside over this grand event. It would be disrespectful to refuse, and I would be unworthy to accept!"

"Master Dai is too modest!" Li Yuecheng said. "Master Dai is a renowned scholar of Jiangnan, whose literary influence extends far and wide. Even at a poetry gathering of this caliber, or even at a poetry gathering in Luoyang, it would be perfectly fitting for Master Dai to preside. Please, Master Dai, take a seat!"

"Please, esteemed scholar Dai, take your seat!" the crowd exclaimed in unison.

Dai Shucheng bowed deeply, thanked everyone again, and took the seat of honor.

The others also took their seats.

On the left, the one in dark purple is in the lead.

To her left was Zhou Wenju.

On the right, Li Yuecheng is in the head seat, and to his left are Li Yufei, Wang Luoshui, Du Yuxin, and Li Muyun.

The seating arrangement showed absolutely no disrespect to the Mohists.

Most importantly, Mo Ziyi's literary rank is the highest among everyone; she is a half-step literary fruit.

Only those who possess literary talent can be called masters.

She is a half-step Grandmaster.

After everyone was seated, a maidservant bowed and served tea.

The incense burns, and wisps of smoke curl upwards.

Dai Shucheng began, "After learning that I would be hosting this Nanyang Poetry Festival, I've been racking my brains about how to set the theme. Until last night, an idea came to me, and if it gains the approval of all you talented individuals, it might become a celebrated story in the literary world!"

Mo Ziyi smiled slightly: "I wonder what ingenious ideas Great Scholar Dai has in store?"

Dai Shucheng said, "Today's poetry gathering happens to be the last day of autumn. I think it would be wonderful if all of you talented poets could express yourselves through poetry from different perspectives!"

Upon hearing this, the eyes of all the hundred people below lit up.

This is a brilliant idea!

In a typical poetry gathering, a fixed theme is usually given, and everyone writes at the same time. The final result is then evaluated, which has the advantage of fairness.

However, there are also downsides, namely, monotony.

Today's topic seems fixed: Autumn.

However, it needs to be written from different perspectives, as everyone's angle is different, depending on which aspect you encounter.

This leads to endless variables...

"To capture the essence of autumn in poetry! How wonderful!" Li Yuecheng was the first to agree.

"Dai Daru's suggestion is absolutely brilliant!" Li Yufei chimed in.

"I have only one concern," said Du Yuxin, the eccentric poet, with a smile. "After the Nanyang Poetry Gathering, there will be no more poems about autumn in Jiangnan..."

That's a bit arrogant, but who can blame him when he's a poetry fanatic?

Li Muyun and Wang Luoshui nodded in agreement at the same time...

Mo Ziyi turned her gaze to Zhou Wenju, who nodded slightly in approval.

Mo Ziyi's gaze slowly shifted to Dai Shucheng.

The scholar just now seemed to intentionally or unintentionally emphasize that this brilliant idea was something he came up with on the spot last night, in order to tell everyone that he absolutely did not leak the questions in advance.

But was there really no leak of the exam questions?

Why are these five people in front of me not flustered at all?

After all, the word "autumn" encompasses a wide range of meanings, and no one knows which angle they will encounter. Under such circumstances, it is impossible for a poet to be certain.

"Since all the prodigies agree!" Dai Shucheng said, "Bring paper and pen!"

Six maids stepped forward at the same time and presented the tray.

On the tray were a precious writing brush and five sheets of gold paper.

It was placed in front of the six attendees.

With this atmosphere established, the poetry gathering officially began.

All eyes were on Dai Shucheng, anticipating his first gesture and the first question.

If the topic is fixed, there should be no order in which poems are written. Once there is an order, later writers will have more time to think, and they will gain too much advantage.

However, today's topic is not fixed.

Anyway, the people behind don't know which angle they will be facing, so it doesn't matter who comes first.

"I have long admired Young Master Muyun's exceptional poetic talent. I have set a task for you: please write a poem within a quarter of an hour that reflects the 'loneliness of autumn'!"

lonely!

The first keyword has been revealed.

The people below were buzzing with discussion...

"The word 'loneliness' is often used in autumn poems, but with so many brilliant works by predecessors, it is also a constraint," an old man said softly.

"Although loneliness is common in autumn poems, it depends on the person. This young master Muyun has achieved success at a young age and has had a smooth journey, but he has never experienced true loneliness. The first question creates a contrast," said the old man next to him.

"That's right. It's clear that Dai Daru is truly putting these poetic prodigies to a profound test."

Everyone around nodded.

Yes, these keywords vary from person to person.

How could a romantic figure like Prince Muyun have ever tasted the bitterness of loneliness? And how could he possibly write a poem about loneliness that resonates so deeply with the soul?

This shows that Dai Daru had no intention of going easy on anyone.

The clock is ticking.

Half an hour passed in the blink of an eye.

Li Muyun gently opened her slightly closed eyes, raised her hand, picked up the precious pen, and wrote...

"The hibernation's chirping has ceased on the cold steps, leaves fall in the lonely inn; where can I go in this long night? I'll hold the wine jug and pour myself a drink!"

The final stroke was made.

The tip of the pen gleamed with golden light.

"Golden Poem!" the people below cheered in unison.

All eyes in the city were on them.

The first poem at the meeting was the Golden Light Poem!

Many scholars spend their entire lives without being able to write a poem of golden light, but this person, faced with a completely unfamiliar artistic conception, wrote a poem of golden light in just half an hour!

This is the profound essence of a poetic genius!

On the high platform, everyone offered their congratulations, including Zhou Wenju. Only now did the poetry gathering truly have the atmosphere it should have: setting aside prejudices and fully appreciating the beautiful lines of literature...

Dai Daru smiled slightly: "The second one is Young Master Yuxin. I am familiar with the style of the Poetry Madman's poetry, but I'm sorry, today I'm giving you a topic that won't allow you to be mad. Please write an autumn poem that depicts the homesickness of autumn!"

The poetic genius Du Yuxin's face stiffened slightly...

This subtle expression caught everyone's attention, and those below all laughed...

The poet, known as the "Poet Madman," always claimed that he considered the whole world his home.

He is indeed the type who travels the world without a care in the world. Wherever he goes, someone will pay the bill. Going to a brothel is like going home, and going to a restaurant is also like going home. You want him to seriously miss home now?

Mo Ziyi smiled slightly, and a voice entered Zhou Wenju's mind: "First there was Li Muyun, who wrote about loneliness even though he had never experienced it, and now there is Du Yuxin, a poetic madman whose style is completely different from the established ones. What do you think of Dai Shucheng's move?"

Zhou Wenju watched with a smile!

He did not answer because his literary rank was insufficient; he had not yet reached the threshold for the transmission of literary voice—the transmission of literary voice begins in Wenshan, and there is a saying that "on Wenshan, literary voice can be transmitted."

Half an hour later, amidst the curious stares of the crowd, the eccentric poet Du Yuxin picked up his brush and wrote…

"The moon hangs low in the frosty sky, the traveler's old clothes are worn and thin, his heart longs to return home with the wild geese, and tears of homesickness fly as he faces the lamp."

After it was finished writing, silver light shone forth.

A poem of silver light.

Poetry Maniac's expression was rather unpleasant, clearly indicating his dissatisfaction with the outcome.

However, the public's reaction to it was extremely enthusiastic.

Every writer has a comfort zone, and stepping out of that zone is painful. The pain that the poet madman tasted is something that everyone has experienced.

But the difference lies in the fact that even in this painful, uncomfortable zone, the poems written by the poetry fanatic still possess a divine and radiant light, a testament to his unfathomable skill.

the third time……

He was facing Wang Luoshui, a poet and relative of the emperor.