Chapter 14: The Autumn Wind Poem

Chapter 14: The Autumn Wind Poem

"Did you master it?"

Erbu was taken aback at first, then he shook his head in a mix of amusement and disbelief.

Secret techniques on the continent were divided into four ranks: Heaven, Earth, Mystical, and Yellow. Within each rank were three subcategories: Upper, Middle, and Lower, making a total of twelve levels.

The Surging Wave Sword Technique, bought by his father at a great cost, was a Lower Heaven Rank secret technique designed to help him break through his current limitations.

When perfected, the sword strikes like surging waves, relentless and powerful.

Erbu had decent martial talent, but even so, it took him nearly half a year to master it.

When the Young Master said he had "mastered" it, he meant he could perform the basic moves, which Erbu could do as well.

"Don’t worry, I won’t forget you."

At that moment, Su Changqing patted Erbu’s shoulder and said confidently, "When I have the time, I’ll teach you."

Erbu couldn’t help but laugh and cry at the same time. "Thanks in advance, then."

He didn’t take the offer seriously; what he cared about most was the poem!

"Changqing, how did it go?"

"Did you get the poem today?" Erbu asked nervously.

"Poem?" Su Changqing was taken aback.

"The poem! The autumn poem, my dear Changqing!"

Erbu was on the verge of tears.

Surely Changqing hadn’t forgotten? He had made a grand promise in front of his beloved.

If he stood her up, would she ever speak to him again?

"I remember, look at you, so tense."

Su Changqing felt a bit embarrassed; he had genuinely forgotten about it.

But it wasn’t a problem. He could recite not just one, but a hundred poems from memory.

"Really got it?"

Erbu was so excited he nearly jumped out of his skin.

This was a work by the Scholar Immortal, and a mere autumn poem would be a piece of cake.

"An autumn poem."

Su Changqing paused for a moment, then glanced at Erbu’s eager face, a spark of inspiration flashing in his mind.

"Since it’s for your beloved, it should be fitting for the occasion."

With that thought, Su Changqing recalled the poem and began to recite it, almost singing and chanting at the same time:

"Autumn wind clear, autumn moon bright.

Leaves gather and scatter, cold crows roost and startle.

When will we meet again, my love? This night, this moment, is hard to bear!

Enter my door of longing, know my heart’s sorrow.

Longing and memories, endless and deep.

If I had known this would bind my heart, why would I have met you at all?"

After finishing the poem, Su Changqing nodded in satisfaction.

This "Autumn Wind Poem" was written by the Poet Immortal from his past life, a typical poem of autumn melancholy.

What made it even more remarkable was that the poem not only described the autumn scene but also expressed deep longing for a lover.

It was a perfect match for Erbu’s current situation.

Young people’s emotions are hard to express, and a poem like this would convey them without being abrupt, adding a touch of elegance.

"Perfect."

Su Changqing praised inwardly, then looked at Erbu and smiled lightly.

"How does this poem sound? Isn’t it perfect for you right now?"

After all, it was a poem by the Poet Immortal from his past life, and Su Changqing had some confidence in it.

However, his smile faltered when he heard Erbu’s response.

"Oh, whether it’s perfect or not, it’s about autumn and it’s in verse, and it’s from you! That’s enough!"

Erbu jotted down the poem, then left with a look of excitement, bidding Su Changqing farewell.

As a martial artist, he didn’t understand the nuances of poetry. As long as it was by the Scholar Immortal, it couldn’t be wrong.

"Am I just a simple villager who doesn’t understand, or is the Poet Immortal’s work not appreciated in this world?"

Su Changqing was taken aback for a moment, then shrugged and smiled.

If it wasn’t appreciated, so be it. He didn’t plan to become famous by reciting poems.

What mattered was invoking the righteous spirit!

With that thought, he left without further ado.

Unbeknownst to him, the poem he had composed caused no immediate stir, but it would soon create a significant buzz in Central State.

The Imperial Academy

The sun set, night fell, and the streets grew quiet.

Suddenly, a brilliant light erupted from the center of Central State, illuminating the entire sky.

The massive statue of the Scholar Emperor radiated light for hundreds of feet, and a vast, righteous energy descended from the heavens.

The scholars and students of the Holy Academy were taken aback, and the commotion soon erupted.

"Another prodigy has emerged, creating a rare poem that embodies the essence of Confucianism!"

"The aura is three hundred feet tall, far surpassing the disciple of the Wei Academy's head just a few days ago!"

"Jealousy strikes me. This righteous aura is enough to propel me to the next level."

"Who can deny it? Confucianism is like this—geniuses can leap to greatness in a single step, while the mediocre struggle every inch of the way."

Everyone gazed enviously at the vast righteous aura slowly descending into the statue of the Wenhua Emperor.

As followers of Confucianism, most of their life goals were to receive the Wenhua Emperor's blessing.

It wasn't just a shortcut to advancement but also an unparalleled honor.

While the Wenhua Emperor's blessings used to appear occasionally, reminding the world of new prodigies, they had never been as frequent as they were now.

This made many Confucian students feel a sense of urgency.

Ling Si was one of them.

At the White Deer Academy, Ling Si held a book and gazed out the window at the radiant light that illuminated the heavens, her expression dazed.

A few days ago, she had been proud, having received the Wenhua Emperor's blessing at a young age, astonishing everyone.

But this pride was shattered just two days later.

The towering radiance, the Wenhua Emperor's words, and the overwhelming righteous aura made her own proud light seem like a mere candle in the sun, dim and insignificant.

She could have consoled herself that it was a rare occurrence, something that happened only once in a thousand years.

But just as she was beginning to recover from the blow, another Wenhua Emperor's blessing came the very next day.

The once-smooth-sailing young woman felt a deep sense of defeat.

"Feeling the sting of defeat?"

As Ling Si was feeling down, a kind, elderly voice spoke.

"Teacher."

Seeing the person, Ling Si quickly stood up and bowed respectfully.

"Don't undervalue yourself. Overthinking will only harm your spirit."

Seemingly seeing through the young woman's thoughts, Wei Cang looked out at the bright sky and said softly:

"The suppression of the heavens is fading, and the path of the emperor will soon be revealed. It's an era where geniuses will surge and prodigies will emerge."

"There's no need to be overly surprised by unusual events."

"Besides,"

Wei Cang paused, then comforted her, "Who knows if the one who received the Wenhua Emperor's blessing isn't an old scholar who has immersed himself in Confucianism for years?"

Ling Si's eyes lit up at this.

"Those who can invoke the Wenhua Emperor's blessing must have profound knowledge. Not just anyone can achieve this at your age."

Wei Cang gently patted Ling Si's shoulder and smiled, "So, don't undervalue yourself. You are already very excellent."

"As for the two-year agreement, don't put too much pressure on yourself. Do your best."

After a few words of encouragement, Wei Cang slowly left the room.

Ling Si, feeling reinvigorated, watched the elderly back of her teacher as he left, murmuring to herself,

"Teacher, I know you've placed all your hopes on me to surpass Ru Xian in this lifetime."

"Regardless, I will win!"

But the thought of it also made her head ache.

To become a disciple of Ru Xian, one must have extraordinary qualities, that much was certain.

But she wasn't afraid. After all, she had a two-year head start.

In music, chess, calligraphy, and painting, she was confident she wouldn't be outdone. However, when it came to poetry, she was less certain.

After all, Ru Xian had gained fame in his youth through poetry.

In this area, she lacked the confidence to surpass him, and this had been a source of worry for a long time.

"Should I just give up on the poetry competition and win in other areas like music, chess, calligraphy, and painting?"

"But that's not enough. I need to create a few outstanding poems within the next two years."

After a moment of reflection, Ling Si nodded firmly, picked up the book on the desk, and began to read with renewed focus.

But at that moment, the communication talisman at her waist suddenly vibrated violently.

The person on the other end was Su Mingyu.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end