"You've mastered it?"
Er Niu was initially startled, then shook his head with a wry smile.
On the continent, secret skills are divided into four tiers: Heaven, Earth, Mystic, and Yellow, with each tier further divided into superior, intermediate, and inferior grades, making twelve levels in total.
The Surging Wave Sword Technique was a Heaven-tier inferior grade secret skill his father bought at great cost for his breakthrough.
Once mastered, the sword strikes like a tidal wave, continuous and powerful.
Though his martial arts talent wasn't weak, it had still taken him almost half a year to barely achieve mastery.
And the Young Master saying he's mastered it... Well, he too could manage the simple sword-swinging moves.
"Don't worry, won't forget you,"
At this moment, Chang Qing patted Er Niu on the shoulder and said generously, "When there's time, I'll teach you."
Er Niu couldn't help but smile wryly, "Then I'll thank you in advance."
He didn't take these words to heart; right now, he was most concerned about that poem!
"Chang Qing, how's it going?"
"Did you get the poem today?" Er Niu asked a bit nervously.
"Poem?" Chang Qing was puzzled.
"The poem! The autumn poem, my dear Brother Qing."
Er Niu was almost in tears.
Chang Qing wouldn't have forgotten, right? He had bragged in front of his sweetheart.
If he stood her up, how could she ever talk to him again?
"I remember, look how anxious you are."
Chang Qing felt a bit embarrassed; he truly had forgotten about it.
But it wasn't a big problem; with the poems he remembered, producing even a hundred of them was effortless.
"You really got it?"
Er Niu, excited, almost jumped up.
This is a work of the Little Immortal—how could Qing Qiu not be impressed?
"A poem about 'autumn'."
Chang Qing pondered slightly, then glanced at the expectant Er Niu, and a flash of inspiration hit him.
"Since it's for your beloved, it should be fitting."
With this in mind, Chang Qing recalled briefly and then began to recite, as if singing:
"The autumn wind is clear, the autumn moon is bright."
"Fallen leaves gather and scatter, cold crows roost and startle."
"How is it when longing meets? At this moment, words fail!"
"Enter my longing gate, know my longing pain."
"Endless longing, endless remembrance, brief longing, endless extremes."
"If I knew the heartache, wouldn't it have been better not to meet at all."
Finishing the poem, Chang Qing nodded in satisfaction.
This autumn wind poem was written by the Poetry Immortal in a past life, a classic ode to autumn.
What's more, this poem not only depicts the essence of autumn but also expresses longing for a lover through its verses.
This poem was practically a perfect match for Er Niu's current situation.
Young people's emotions are not easy to express, and using poetry helps convey them in a refined manner.
"Perfect."
Chang Qing praised quietly to himself, then looked up at Er Niu, chuckling:
"How about this poem? Isn't it just right for you now?"
After all, it's a poem by the acclaimed Poetry Immortal from a past life, so Chang Qing had some confidence.
However, upon hearing Er Niu's words, his smile froze.
"Oh, what's all this 'suitable' nonsense? It's got autumn, it's got words, and it's from the master's hand—that's enough!"
Er Niu memorized it, greeted Chang Qing with a spirited nod, and ran off.
Being a martial artist, how could he truly appreciate the quality of poetry? As long as it's by the Little Immortal, it surely can't be wrong.
"Uh... is it the rustic people who don't get it, or is the Poetry Immortal's work not appreciated in this world?"
Chang Qing was stunned for a couple of seconds but then shrugged with a smile.
If it's not appreciated, so be it; he never planned on making a name for himself by copying famous works anyway.
What's important is cultivating noble righteousness!
With these thoughts, he didn't linger and turned to leave.
Unbeknownst to him, the poem he composed here caused quite a stir in Central Province City.
White Deer Academy.
The great sun set, night fell, and passersby on the street gradually became scarce.
Suddenly, an exceedingly brilliant light burst forth from the center of Central Province City, illuminating the entire sky.
A huge statue of the Literary Emperor shone with hundreds of meters of light, with a grand aura of righteousness descending from the void.
The literati and many students of White Deer Academy were stunned at the sight, and then an uproar ensued.
"Another great talent has emerged, composing rare poetry and embodying the essence of Confucianism!"
"A radiance of three hundred meters, twice as strong as the disciple of the head of the Wei Institute a few days ago!"
"Ah, I'm envious; the granted noble righteousness could advance me a tier upwards."
"Isn't it so, ah, the Confucian path is such that geniuses rise with a single step, while mediocrities struggle."'
Everyone looked enviously at the surging noble righteousness as it slowly entered the statue of the Literary Emperor above.
For those on the Confucian path, attaining the blessing of the Literary Emperor was the goal of most of their lives.
It wasn't just a quick path to advancement but also unparalleled honor.
Previously, the blessing of the Literary Emperor appeared occasionally, reminding the world that a great talent had emerged in Confucian circles, but it was never this frequent.
This caused a sense of urgency among many Confucian students.
Ling Si was among them.
At White Deer Academy, Ling Si was holding a book, gazing at the glowing sky outside, her expression dazed.
Two days ago, she too was proud, as she had been blessed by the Literary Emperor at a very young age, stunning everyone.
But this pride was shattered within just two days.
Endless glory, the Literary Emperor's words, a vast noble righteousness overshadowing everything...
Such phenomena made her proud hundred-meter light seem like a candle under the sun, dim and weak.
That was already mortifying enough, but she tried to console herself, thinking it was just a rare event that happens once in several millennia.
But just as she stepped out of the shadow, another blessing by the Literary Emperor happened the very next day...
For a young girl who had just come of age and had everything go smoothly in her life thus far, it was a blow to her confidence.
"Feeling discouraged?"
Just as Ling Si was feeling down, a kindly, elderly voice sounded.
"Teacher."
Seeing who it was, Ling Si quickly stood up and respectfully paid her respects.
"Don't belittle yourself; overthinking can be harmful."
As if seeing through the thoughts in the young girl's mind, Wei Cang looked out at the brightly lit sky, speaking softly:
"The suppression of the heavens and earth will soon be dissipating, the imperial path will appear, another era of genius tide and prodigies is upon us."
"Uncommon occurrences like these don't need to surprise you."
"Moreover..."
Wei Cang paused and comforted, "Who knows, this person who incited the blessing of the Literary Emperor might be a scholar immersed in Confucianism for many years."
Ling Si's eyes brightened upon hearing this.
"Only those with profound knowledge can incite the blessing of the Literary Emperor; not just anyone at your age can do it."
Wei Cang chuckled, patting Ling Si's shoulder, "So don't belittle yourself, you are already excellent."
"And as for the matters regarding the two-year agreement, don't put too much pressure on yourself, just do your best."
After a few encouraging words, Wei Cang slowly left the room.
And Ling Si, full of motivation, watched his elderly figure retreating and whispered in her heart,
"Don't worry, Teacher, I know you've staked your only chance of defeating the Little Immortal in this life on me."
"No matter what, I will win!"
Yet thinking about it, Ling Si felt a bit troubled.
Being the disciple of the Little Immortal, her opponent surely would be extraordinary, that's for sure.
But she wasn't intimidated; after all, she had entered the path two years earlier than the other.
In terms of music, chess, calligraphy, and painting, she believed she wouldn't lose, but she was unsure about poetry and lyrics.
After all, the Little Immortal made a name for himself through poetry in his youth.
In this aspect, she truly had no confidence in surpassing her opponent, and she'd been troubled by this for a long time.
"Should I outright forgo the poetry duel and win in other aspects like music, chess, calligraphy, and painting?"
"Still, that's not reliable enough; it's best to produce some impressive poetry within these two years..."
After pondering briefly, Ling Si nodded heavily, took out a book from her desk, and started reading intently.
But in that moment, the communication talisman at her waist suddenly started vibrating intensely.
And the caller was Su Mingyu.