"Ready." Everyone shouted coldly, vaguely taking in their true energy, and their voices resounded like thunder.
"The mainland respects martial arts, and its warriors must experience bloodshed. The path of martial arts must be inseparable from killing. Today, you will write a poem with the theme of killing." Mo Che said calmly, his eyes slightly narrowed.
As soon as the killing came out, a bit of chilling air appeared in the whole place. Confucianism promotes benevolence and righteousness, but does not oppose killing. Repay kindness with kindness and stop killing with killing.
Hearing this, the whole place was in an uproar. Even if he thought about reincarnation today, he would not have expected that Mo Che would ask such a question.
However, perhaps this theme is the only one that can satisfy the taste of the people present. If these proud men of heaven are to write some poems praising virtue, they might as well just put them out there.
Those who practice martial arts pursue the path of being strong, and those who practice literature pursue understanding and understanding. Those who practice martial arts do not seek to learn and gain knowledge from the princes, but seek to be worthy of heaven and earth.
After finishing speaking, Mo Che closed his eyes and slowly sat on the stone chair. His plain voice floated out again: "Time is like a stick of incense. When the incense is gone, I will stop writing."
The incense candle with white smoke fell from the sky, and finally floated strangely in mid-air. The smoke it emitted floated in the wind, making it look so strange.
After everyone looked at each other for a few times, they all chose a stone table and left. Ye Shaohan also randomly found a stone table, sat on the stone chair, took out the wine bottle in his arms, and took a sip casually without caring about the public occasion.
Qingwu wine, its taste is sweet at first, then bitter. When the wine enters the mouth, Ye Shaohan's mouth is filled with the aroma of wine. Ye Shaohan doesn't say much and also closes his eyes tightly.
Compared with Ye Shaohan's calmness and calmness, Fatty Xiao seemed more nervous. He held the pen in his right hand and looked at the rice paper as white as snow with a blank expression.
Everyone had different reactions and looked at each other in confusion. Except for a few people, their expressions changed slightly.
Most people usually focus on practicing martial arts, but they have never experienced writing poetry. Therefore, writing poetry is difficult for those who have no writing in mind.
The most eye-catching people in the audience were undoubtedly Ye Shaohan and Feng Yunxiao. Everyone in the stands was in an uproar when they saw him drinking alone with a calm face. Looking at Feng Yunxiao, his eyebrows were furrowed, sometimes he looked happy, sometimes he looked bitter. Obviously
While thinking, after a few moments, Feng Yunxiao quietly lowered his right hand that was holding the pen, looked at Mo Che with a deep look in his eyes, and then closed his eyes as well.
On the other hand, Situ Fang was full of confidence and confident, his right hand holding the pen was dancing, and his scrawled handwriting also appeared on the paper.
However, after a few breaths, Situ Fang had to crumble the paper into a ball and throw it aside. He frowned and saw that both Ye Shaohan and Feng Yunxiao had their eyes closed. Therefore, Situ Fang also closed his eyes and thought deeply.
The entire scene was silent except for the roar of the cold wind. The cold wind blew everyone's robes and also blew the white paper on the stone table, making a rustling sound.
The brief silence undoubtedly brought inexplicable pressure to the contestants. The seven phantoms above their heads were still floating, and their inexplicable pressure caused the statue to emerge.
Time passed slowly like running water, and besides the sound of the wind, the sound of my own heartbeat surrounded my ears. At this moment, it was as if some contestants began to write and write, and their majestic and beautiful articles also emerged. However, those few
Before they could finish writing, a force generated out of thin air knocked those people down to the foot of the jade platform.
Several embarrassed figures looked at the seven stone statues in the sky in horror, and Mo Che's slightly angry voice also sounded: "Those who quote the classics of the ancients will withdraw."
After finishing speaking, there were dozens of dull collision sounds all around, and dozens of figures fell from the jade platform in an extremely embarrassed manner, all looking at Mo Che with horrified faces.
Although these people had pen and ink in their minds, they were not strong enough to write poems. Therefore, these people came up with the idea of ancient poetry. They originally wanted to modify it slightly, but Mo Che would discover it.
In this regard, everyone just realized that the three Mo Che, who looked like ordinary old men, could not be easily messed with.
In an instant, the seven stone statues once again burst out with a surge of righteousness, while everyone below was sweating with cold sweat, and there was no longer any thought of trickery in their hearts.
In the cold wind, the white smoke coming out of the incense candle drifted with the cold wind. Inadvertently, nearly half of the incense candle seemed to be burned, and only a few people had to finish it at this moment. They all breathed a sigh of relief.
When he stopped writing, his rice paper automatically floated out from the stone table, suspended in mid-air, and his handwriting appeared in front of everyone's eyes.
Seeing this, everyone burst into laughter. These handwritings were all extremely sloppy. Even the handwriting written by an ordinary scholar would be more beautiful than this.
What makes people laugh endlessly is that these poems either lack neat dialogue or are frivolous in content, and they don’t even have basic rhymes.
Mo Che and the others didn't even open their eyes, but shook their heads slightly, and several pieces of rice paper fell to the ground. All the contestants left the stage with sad faces.
In this regard, the contestants who had already finished their work could not help but revise it again, but their results remained the same, batch after batch, and the figures on the entire jade platform became fewer and fewer.
His green shirt made a rustling sound, and the burnt incense candles were scattered all over the floor. Inadvertently, the incense candles seemed to have burned down to three-quarters.
At this moment, Xiao Ziyun seemed to have stopped writing, looking helplessly at the incense candle above the void, and then turned to look at Ye Shaohan, who still had his eyes closed.
With a slight sigh, Xiao Ziyun started to write without any hesitation. After a few breaths, Xiao Ziyun seemed to give up the pen. A faint smile floated downwards on his face, and his figure also appeared to be free and unrestrained.
The rice paper also floated up, and what shocked everyone was that there was only an unfinished poem on it: "If I become Emperor Wu in another year, my reward will be that the peach blossoms will bloom at the same place."
In response to this, everyone couldn't help but look at the figure floating down under the jade platform in confusion. Is this poem related to today's theme?
On the other hand, Ye Shaohan rarely opened his eyes and looked at the handwriting that was not scrawled. Then he glanced at Fatty Xiao's figure, and an inexplicable smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.
The rice paper fell to the ground, and Ye Shaohan closed his eyes again, while Fatty Xiao ignored the surprised looks from around him and also closed his eyes.
If I become Emperor Wu in that year, I will be rewarded with peach blossoms.
At this moment, Fatty Xiao's whole temperament also changed, and a look of confidence appeared inadvertently between his brows.
Although my qualifications are ordinary, I am not willing to be ordinary. In this place where geniuses gather, I will definitely use my sword to carve out a piece of heaven and earth.
Emperor Wu, as the name suggests, is the emperor of martial arts. Xiao Ziyun made an oath with a poem today, his eyes were closed tightly, and a confident smile appeared at the corner of Xiao Ziyun's mouth.
This confident smile was something Xiao Yan had never seen on Xiao Ziyun before. At this moment, Xiao Yan seemed to be in a daze, with Xiao Ziyun's poem still surrounding her eyes: If I were Emperor Wu in another year, I would be rewarded with peach blossoms.
The once familiar figure was no longer seen in Xiao Ziyun, and there was no longer the cowardice and low self-esteem in him. However, these changes in Xiao Ziyun made Xiao Yan feel inexplicable panic.
Everything that was once familiar gradually became unfamiliar, and only the memories of the past remained. Xiao Yan knew that the relationship between herself and Xiao Ziyun was gradually going away, and they became strangers.
The rice paper fell to the ground, and an inexplicable smile flashed across the corner of Mo Che's mouth, who was sitting in the center. The smile disappeared in an instant, so no one noticed it.
The ground was covered with rice paper, and from a distance, the entire jade platform looked like there was a pile of snow. Fatty Xiao's graceful departure also stimulated everyone who was still struggling.
The power of the leader was extremely great. Under the leadership of Fatty Xiao, those who were still struggling also abandoned their pens and left, jumping towards the foot of the jade platform with relaxed faces, and their figures were also chic.
"You have to specialize in the arts, you know you can't do it, but you give up, and you know how to make choices. This freshmen class is pretty good." Chu Sanjian held his chin and said with admiration.
"kindness."
Hearing this, Zi Ning responded softly, her beautiful watery eyes motionless, her eyes always staring at the thin figure on the jade platform. Will he continue to create miracles?
Seeing this, everyone who was still struggling felt inexplicably nervous. They all waved their pens and their beautiful articles came out, but the result was the same as the previous ones.
In response, these people only sighed sadly, and their bodies also jumped towards the bottom of the jade platform. In an instant, there were only three figures of the contestants left on the entire jade platform, Ye Shaohan, Feng Yunxiao, and Situ Fang.
The incense ashes were scattered all over the floor. At this moment, Situ Fang suddenly stood up, with a hint of ecstasy emerging from the corner of his mouth.
Holding the pen, without any hesitation, Situ Fang waved the pen with his right hand in a fluid motion, and the ink was thrown out according to a certain trajectory, and when it fell on the paper, it became flying and phoenix-like handwriting.
Situ Fang looked confident, without any pauses along the way, and finished it in one breath. After a few breaths, a complete poem jumped on the paper.
When he stopped writing, the rice paper floated out strangely, suspended in mid-air, and everyone just saw the poem written by Situ Fang.
"The sky is filled with strong winds and thick rain and frost, and the cold light on the back of my neck is as cold as autumn. I hold my sword and smile to the sky. I must remember the kindness of using the sword."
The pen fell from Situ Fang's hand to the ground. At this moment, Situ Fang's eyes were looking at the rice paper motionless.
Only four short verses vividly convey the image of a warrior repaying his kindness. If you want to repay your kindness, why not kill someone for you?
Confucianism advocates benevolence and righteousness, so killing is a matter of justice, and the killing in Situ Fang's poem is because of repaying kindness. Killing to repay kindness is worthy of heaven and earth.
The murderous intention that faintly appeared in his handwriting is moving, and the actions of the warrior are also admirable. He kills people, not for himself, but just to repay a favor.
At this moment, Mo Che and the others, whose eyes had been closed, rarely opened their eyes. Their eyes were fixed on the rice paper. After a few breaths, a calm voice came out of Mo Che's mouth: "Not bad."
Mo Che's voice fell into Situ Fang's ears like fairy music, and a look of relief appeared on Situ Fang's face.
Among the hundreds of contestants, only Situ Fang's poems could open the eyes of Mo Che and the others, and his poems were the only ones that could be commented on by Mo Che and the others. To a certain extent, Situ Fang was also proud of himself.