madnovel Chapter 100 Tasteless
Chapter 100 Tasteless
The author "Pu Nan Shusheng" recommends reading "Joy of Life: Ye Qingmei, the birth mother, raised by Li Yunrui" using the "Renren Bookstore" APP. Download and install it.
"To compete for fame with younger generations, resorting to such despicable means, truly disgraces scholars!"
These undisguised comments were like countless steel needles, piercing Zhuang Mohan's heart. He could feel those tangible gazes, filled with contempt and disdain, enveloping him.
Zhuang Mohan raised his head, staring blankly at the young Ye Tian, who remained calm and composed, as if the astonishing "Hundred Poems in a Row" performance had nothing to do with him. He looked at Ye Tian as if he were looking at a real monster, an existence that could not be fathomed by common sense. A deathly gloom filled his eyes.
For some reason, he suddenly felt a tightness in his chest, as if a huge rock was pressing down on him, making it hard to breathe. A sweet taste rose in his throat, and a hot, metallic liquid surged up uncontrollably.
"puff--!"
Zhuang Mohan abruptly covered his mouth with his wide white Confucian sleeve, but bright red blood still seeped out from between his fingers, dripping onto his clean robes, looking particularly glaring.
He was so angry that he vomited blood on the spot!
This scene left everyone sighing with emotion.
From this moment on, or rather, from this very moment, the fourteen-year-old Prince Ye Tian of Qin, with his astonishing martial arts skills and the miracle of "three jugs of wine and a hundred poems," will spread his name as "a master of both poetry and martial arts," "a man of both literary and martial virtues," and "a peerless prodigy" like the fiercest storm throughout the seven kingdoms and nine provinces of the world!
"Poetry God" and "Martial Saint"—these titles, which originally only existed in legends, seem insufficient to describe the awe he brought!
Zhuang Mohan, a great Confucian scholar of the Northern Qi Dynasty, was ruined in this meticulously planned but disastrous "framing" incident. He went from being a literary master to a despicable villain despised by scholars all over the world, losing his integrity in his later years and leaving a lasting stain on his reputation.
The scheme set up by Emperor Qing ultimately came to a dramatic end in a way that he could neither foresee nor control.
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When Ye Tian finished "creating" his hundreds of poems, each with a distinct style and none of which were earth-shattering, like a celestial river pouring down, the entire Golden Hall was completely silent.
Everyone stood frozen in place, like clay puppets under a spell, their minds blank, their souls seemingly shaken away by the incredible "miracle" that had just occurred.
The eunuch in charge of recording had already collapsed to the ground, pen and all, due to excessive excitement and aching arms. The mountain of Xuan paper beside him contained exquisite chapters that would put any writer or scholar of any era to shame.
It was unclear how much time had passed before someone finally regained some of their senses from that extreme shock.
"Gulp," a difficult swallowing sound broke the deathly silence.
Immediately following, like a chain reaction, gasps, gasps of cold air, and the faint sound of some liquid dripping quietly filled the hall.
Yes, someone else was scared out of their wits!
This time, it wasn't out of fear, but because of a kind of awe and submission that transcended the limits of human understanding, almost like facing a god!
What did they witness? A fourteen-year-old boy, amidst laughter and conversation, and in the time it takes to drink three jugs of wine, effortlessly composed hundreds of unparalleled poems, each worthy of being sung for eternity, encompassing a wide range of moods and styles! This is beyond the description of "genius"! This is the descent of the "Poetry God"! This is the manifestation of the "God of Literature"! This is a living miracle!
"If Ye Tian had not been born, the path of poetry would have remained in perpetual darkness!" An elderly minister with white hair and beard, tears streaming down his face, bowed deeply to Ye Tian, his voice choked with emotion, filled with indescribable excitement and admiration.
"A divine being! This is a divine being! We mere mortals are fortunate enough to witness such a miracle. We are truly blessed and have no regrets even if we die!" Another official even knelt down on the ground, prostrating himself as if worshipping a deity walking among mortals.
"Your Highness, King Qin—no, by the Muse of Poetry! Please accept my humble bow!"
"The Muse! The Muse!"
In an instant, the numerous civil officials in the hall, especially those who considered themselves learned, looked at Ye Tian with the fervent admiration and worship of the most devout believers. Their previous contempt and anger towards Ye Tian were matched only by the intensity and fervor of their current adoration!
As for the military generals and nobles, although they didn't understand the subtleties of poetry, they could still tell that the hundreds of poems were extraordinary, and they could even sense the "miraculous" atmosphere surrounding them. They simply felt that this Prince Qin was not only unfathomably skilled in martial arts, but also possessed such literary talent that he was beyond human comprehension!
The members of the Northern Qi delegation, except for Zhuang Mohan, who was already ashen-faced and swaying precariously, were all dumbfounded, exchanging horrified glances. They had come on a mission with a sense of superiority and a critical eye, but they never expected to witness firsthand the emergence of such a monstrous talent in the Qing Kingdom! This instilled in them a deep sense of worry and fear about the future of both the Qing Kingdom and the Northern Qi.
At this moment, everyone couldn't help but have a new judgment about Zhuang Mohan's previous actions.
"Before this, Zhuang Mohan was already famous throughout the land, a literary giant of Northern Qi, and a renowned Confucian scholar. He was over seventy years old this year, an age rarely seen in ancient times, and had always been a man of upright character, cherishing his reputation. What could possibly have driven such a highly respected figure, almost a pillar of the literary world, to commit such a despicable act of framing someone against his conscience and ruining his own honor?"
This question, like an invisible hook, has aroused everyone's suspicions.
They weren't fools. Zhuang Mohan's earlier claim about "his late master's posthumous works" had already crumbled under the weight of Ye Tian's hundreds of "impromptu masterpieces," appearing pale and laughable. So why did he do it?
The answer is self-evident.
Everyone's gaze, without prior agreement, turned with a barely perceptible unease towards the Qing Emperor on the dragon throne, whose face was ashen and extremely unpleasant.
Who else but Emperor Qing could instruct someone of Zhuang Mohan's stature to risk his own disgrace to do such a despicable thing?
It turns out that all of this was orchestrated by Emperor Qing behind the scenes!
Having figured this out, the way everyone looked at Emperor Qing now held not only the original awe, but also a hint of disappointment, a hint of contempt, and even a hint of pity? No, perhaps it was a deeper fear of the emperor's magnanimity and methods.
Emperor Qing naturally felt these gazes as well. He felt his cheeks burning, as if he had been slapped countless times by invisible hands. He had schemed and plotted, intending to use Zhuang Mohan to send Ye Tian to his doom, but he never expected that this brat Ye Tian would not only easily resolve the crisis in a way he could never have imagined, but also use this opportunity to push his own reputation to an unprecedented peak!
Ye Tian, the "Poet God"!
From this day forward, this name will surely spread throughout the world, known to all!
As for Emperor Qing, he became the pathetic background figure who tried so hard to suppress the genius, but was ultimately humiliated by the genius instead!
"puff--!"
Emperor Qing felt a surge of anger rising in his chest and throat. He forced it down, but a trickle of blood still escaped from the corner of his mouth. He gripped the armrests of the dragon throne tightly, his nails digging deep into the wood, his eyes filled with overwhelming rage and a profound sense of powerlessness.
He experienced the fear and humiliation of incontinence again, but this time, with his strong willpower, he forced himself to endure it and did not embarrass himself in front of the civil and military officials. However, this frustration and anger caused even more severe damage to his internal organs.
He knew he had lost completely. He had suffered a crushing defeat in this battle of wits.
The atmosphere at the banquet had become extremely awkward.
After spitting out a mouthful of blood, Zhuang Mohan was hurriedly helped away by several officials from the Northern Qi delegation. His old face was lifeless, his eyes empty, as if he had aged decades in an instant. He knew that he was finished; his lifelong reputation was completely ruined today, ruined by Emperor Qing's scheming and Ye Tian's "miracle."
Emperor Qing suppressed his anger and humiliation, barely maintaining his imperial demeanor, and announced that the banquet would continue.
But at this moment, everyone was bored and had their own thoughts.
Not long after, the Northern Qi delegation used the excuse that Zhuang Mohan was unwell.
Prioritizing the important matter of diplomatic relations between the two countries, they formally requested Emperor Qing to exchange Yan Bingyun for Xiao En.
Emperor Qing had long since lost all interest in maneuvering. He only wanted to end this humiliating state banquet as soon as possible and get rid of these Northern Qi people. He was even somewhat relieved that he hadn't made things too difficult for Xiao En earlier; otherwise, if news of today's events had reached Northern Qi, that old monk Ku He would probably have harbored even greater resentment towards him.
Thus, in an extremely oppressive and eerie atmosphere, the envoys of the two countries began to handle the handover procedures.
Soon, Yan Bingyun, who had been imprisoned for several years and was emaciated but whose eyes were still sharp, was brought up by the people of the Censorate and handed over to the officials of the Court of State Ceremonies of the Qing Kingdom.