The Emperor of the Immortal Realm Chapter 9: Born to look down upon the heroes
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Yongdian, the pinnacle literary society!
Nearly ten thousand Confucian scholars sat cross-legged, discussing poems with the thirty-two great Confucian scholars.
Chen Ping got up and became independent of the Confucian group.
"Today's Pinnacle Literary Conference, I invite you to come, not only to taste the writings of my thirty-two brothers, but if you have good writings, you can also express them and share them with you!" Chen Ping smiled.
Chen Ping said that some people were suddenly ready to move. Who can't write two verses? If you can take this opportunity to show off your talents today, you will be famous for Julu City tomorrow. Of course, there are risks in writing poems. If you write well, everyone will reciting it. If you write poorly, you will lose your reputation.
However, even if there is a risk, many people still look forward to it.
"The first song, let me hold a brick to attract jade!" Chen Ping suddenly smiled when he saw some people about to move.
Some attendants are holding a lot of pen and ink. Some attendants quickly moved in pieces of ten-foot-tall monuments.
Chen Ping grabbed the brush, looked at the stele, and immediately started writing on the stele.
Under the pen, white light burst out, and Haoran's righteousness immediately radiated dazzling brilliance under the pen. The brilliance was even brighter at night, and above the palace, it was extremely dazzling.
In the distance, Dongfang Zhengpai and Miao Miao from the Dongfang Temple also stood and watched.
"Just write Haoran righteousness, but so!" Miao Miao said with disdain.
Miao Miao disdain, but thousands of Confucian scholars in the distance applauded.
On top of the monument, a poem is completed in a blink of an eye——
Crazy life and desolation has become a wives, independent study screams the evening breeze; the pen is nowhere to sell the name, just toss in the wild vines! ——
A poem is completed, and the stone monument is full of righteousness, and the white light shines brightly.
"Good!"
Suddenly there was a cry of admiration from Confucianism in the distance.
"What a shit!" Dongfang Zhengpai shouted suddenly.
"What's wrong?" Meow asked.
"This is obviously aimed at Yan Chuan, madness? Lost? Independent study? The underwriting? Tossing around? Isn't this scolding Yan Chuan?" Dongfang Zheng said angrily.
"Meow, that **** is not a thing!" Meow immediately looked angrily into the distance.
Dongfang Zhengpai and Miao Miao are very angry outside the Oriental Hall.
In the distance, there is a compliment. Many Confucianists have also seen what this poem is about, but, Zi said, repaying grievances directly and repaying virtue by virtue. If you have grudges, don't avenge non-gentlemen.
Chen Pingruo is so magnanimous that he repays his virtue with grievances, which makes the Confucians puzzled. Such a counterattack demonstrates the gentleman's demeanor.
In the compliment, Chen Ping smiled slightly and said: "Among the teachers and disciples, he is at the bottom of the row, and he is also the most influential in literary talent. You can comment on what you think!"
"The great Confucian is humble!" All the Confucianists laughed.
"It’s just to throw a brick to attract jade. If you have good writing, you can also keep writing. This time, I have prepared a hundred stone monuments for writing fine writings and erecting this place for generations to pay tribute to them. Those who write writings will also be named. Eternal!" Chen Ping said.
Chen Ping said that immediately countless people were ready to move, and some people kept recalling their previous poems in their hearts, and it seemed that they were qualified to be on the monument!
Chen Ping narrowed his eyes and smiled, and glanced at the East Hall opposite, and sat down proudly.
The first poem is not only for the purpose of holding bricks and attracting jade, but sometimes it is the theme of a literary meeting. Aiming at Yan Chuan, the sword has already been directed.
The following, no matter what the article, is to add to the bargaining chip of the first poem, one by one, to put the opposite Yan Chuan down!
The Confucian cultivators pushed and yelled, and some of the thirty-two great Confucian scholars came out to write poems.
The same awe-inspiring aura soared up into the sky, shining brightly and shining all over the hall of Yong.
The second stone tablet stands up, and it is another good article that has become popular.
"Good!"
There was a lot of applause, and then there were a number of Confucianist poems one after another. Of course, only those who can write awe-inspiring in their pens have the courage to write them.
One stele was erected, and a wave of awe-inspiring aura rushed into the night sky, straight into the nine heavens.
There were countless onlookers in the Quartet who were all amazed at this grand event.
The event has gradually entered a high tide.
At this time, another big scholar raised a word to an inscription——
Mountains and rivers have existed in the universe, how can I believe Jianfei's paintings are rocks. The four-character Xuan Ni has been silent, but I am so beautiful and foolish——
The great Confucian writing style is equally upright, and it is much more vigorous than the previous ones.
"Huh!"
A strong wind blows across the four directions, and there is a trace of wet rain in the strong wind.
The strong wind blows across the entire hall of Yongdian, and a group of Confucian scholars dances, and their robes are lightly swinging.
The cultivators of Guangdichang suddenly fell silent.
"The fall of the pen is frightening?" Suddenly, a Confucian exclaimed.
"The fall of the pen shocked the wind and rain, really is the fall of the pen shocked the wind and rain! This, this...!"
Many Confucian cultivators started to move. This is an extremely high level of calligraphy. Some Confucian cultivators can't reach the height in a lifetime.
The fall of the pen is frightening?
"That is, the fiftieth disciple of Daxian Sima Yuntian's 72 disciples!" Confucian scholars suddenly recognized it.
A group of Confucianists showed surprises.
Is the fiftieth disciple able to write down the storm?
The fall of the pen was shocking. As soon as this article was published, there was no Confucianism to write.
Only a group of great scholars are left.
All the great Confucian scholars showed smiles on their faces and found that today's literary meeting was really worth it. Not only did it suppress Yan Chuan, but after today, the reputation of Sima Yuntian's 72 disciples will surely leap again.
"Meow, the pen is frightening, what's so great, just this little breeze, Yan Chuan's left-hand writing is a thousand times better than him!" Meow suddenly said sourly.
"Do you think Pen Luo Jingfengyu is Chinese cabbage!" Dongfang Zhengpai did not believe it.
"If you don't believe me!" Miao Miao said with disdain.
Next, the forty-ninth disciple, the forty-eighth disciple.............
A lot of great scholars started writing. The next Confucianism, one by one, was full of frightening winds and rains.
Hao Ran's righteousness has already washed away the world around the Hall of Yong Hall. What is shining as day? The surroundings of Yongdian are as bright as day!
Even from anywhere in Julu City, Yongdian is hanging in the sky like a bright moon at this moment, dazzling.
In comparison, the Oriental Palace was completely eclipsed.
In the eyes of the Confucianists at this moment, Yan Chuan has long been nothing, and in everyone's hearts, he has no status at all.
Stone steles are like mountains, crushing the Eastern Palace to death.
The great Confucians wrote one after another, and only the head of the last great Confucian was left, Wang Long.
Wang Long got up, and Chen Ping also got up.
"Everyone! Forty-one brothers are the leader of our group of Confucian scholars. The writings of brothers are not only shocking." Chen Ping smiled.
"Oh?"
Nearly thousands of Confucian scholars showed excitement, and at this moment, everything seemed to be pushed to the highest tide. Great Confucian Wang Long is going to make a move?
"If you have a literary ghost, you can take it out and use it to judge the senior brother's article!" Chen Ping smiled.
"Wengui?" Nearly Wan Ruxiu's expression moved.
Suddenly, among the nearly ten thousand Confucian cultivators, many Confucian cultivators turned their hands, and there was a green light in their palms.
As soon as the green light came out, it flew up into the sky and circled the hall of Yongdian. Like countless ghosts flying around.
"This is?" Meow looked at Dongfang decent.
"This is called Wengui. It is a resentful spirit baptized by Confucianism with Haoran's righteousness. After being baptized by Haoran's righteousness, these resentful spirits have lost their memories of the past. They were taken in by Confucianism, which can sense the quality of some articles!" Dongfang Decent explained.
"Meow, Wengui? Ruxiu still raises ghosts?" Meow was surprised.
"You can't count as a ghost anymore. If you don't have a ghost, you can become a kind of demon pet!" Dongfang Zhengpai explained.
"Meow!" Meow seems to understand but not understand.
In the distance, thousands of ghosts flew toward the stone tablet, as if they were attracted by the words of the stone tablet, surrounded by them.
Wang Long also grabbed a brush.
I touched his beard and smiled slightly and said: "In the past, the old man traveled around the world with his teacher, passing by a mountain temple, and I felt something in my heart. I occasionally learned the thoughts. I hope you can comment together!"
Wan Ru held his breath and waited.
I saw Wang Long picking up a pen and writing on the stone tablet.
On the way of writing, the ghosts that originally surrounded the square stone tablets gradually flocked to Wang Longzhi's place——
The depths of Baiyun called Zen Habitat, so I visited Yunguan for a topic. The dense snow buried the stream and the monk did not sweep, and Shaochun entered the tree and the birds sang.
The three quiet rooms are still there, and the five-year-old is also fast. It should not be far from Jiufeng, looking at Danti in the Jade Forest——
"Huh!"
"Boom!"
The strong wind was blowing, and clouds and mists loomed around.
Wang Long's pen was shocked by the wind and rain, and he immediately overwhelmed the Confucianist writings, and his righteousness rose to the sky. If the original Yongdian was a round of bright moon, the current Yongdian is a round of Haori.
In Julu City, countless cultivators who hadn't come here were also awakened by the vision at this moment. They all regretted and rushed towards this place.
There are more and more cultivators around Yongdian.
The fall of the pen is shocking.
It's not over yet, the original thousands of ghosts, suddenly gathered together to Wang Long's stone stele.
"Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu!"
"Uuuuuuuuuuuuuu!"
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Amidst the sound of the wind, there was the cry of the ghosts. The voice was very weak, but at this moment Wan Ru quietly stood aside, looking at the scene in surprise.
"The fall of the pen is shocking the wind and rain, and the poem becomes a weeping ghost!" Suddenly, Confucianism exclaimed.
"The writing is frightening, and the poem turns into a weeping ghost? Great Confucian Wang Long, true, true...!" A group of Confucian scholars suddenly did not know how to describe it.
When looking at Wang Long, they all showed fanatical worship.
As soon as this article is published, tonight's article will be pushed to its peak, and countless Confucianism will be full of enthusiasm.
The grand occasion!
"When the float is overwhelming!"
"What I did today, no regrets!"
"The seventy-two disciples of Daxian, as expected, the writing can move the sky!"
The sound of wind and rain, the cry of ghosts, the sound of praise, and the sound of exclamation, there is a lot of noise around the hall, and the cultivators coming around are all moved.
The voice soared to the sky, and it became more and more deserted at the moment in the Dongfang Palace.
"Marina!"
The door of the Oriental Palace opened suddenly. An extremely discordant voice spread to Yongdian.
"It's all about grandstanding. It quarrels in front of my temple, and how can I calm down and read a book?"
This voice is rogue and powerful!
Wang Long Daru, who was originally complimented, suddenly stiffened on his face, a feeling of being disgusted.
Not only Wang Long, the Confucian scholars, but also the Confucianists who complimented him, all glared at each other.
The writing is frightening, and the poem turns into a weeping ghost. Is this grandstanding?
Suddenly, one by one glared in the direction of the sound.
But the door of the Oriental Palace in the distance opened wide.
After a series of gorgeous words came out, the Confucianists almost forgot the targeted Yan Chuan, but at this time, everyone saw that Yan Chuan stepped out of the Oriental Hall.
"Is it wrong to shrink your head?" Chen Ping was slightly startled.
Jump out at this time? Let the originally surprised people show their incomprehension.
I saw Yan Chuan stepping out, followed by Qinglong.
"Meow, Yan Chuan, those people are too hateful, they are all scolding you!" Meow ran over.
"The fall of the pen frightened the wind and rain, the poem turned into a weeping ghost, Yan Chuan, this is a stubborn stubbornness, why are you coming out at this time?" Dongfang Zhengpai asked in a puzzled way.
"Wen ghosts are also considered ghosts?" Yan Chuan showed a slight disdain.
"Huh?" Dongfang Zhengpai was puzzled.
"People have already kicked the door, let's go, let's go over!" Yan Chuan said lightly.
"In the past? Now?" Dongfang Zhengpai asked in surprise.
You must know that the thirty-two great Confucian scholars of the other party are already expected by the public. Going now, isn't it humiliating?
Yan Chuan stepped out carrying Miao Miao, Qinglong followed closely behind, holding a huge plaque in his hand.
"Huh?"
"Yan Chuan?"
"Does he dare to come?"
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The cultivators in the Quartet all showed surprise, and nearly ten thousand Confucian scholars also showed incomprehension, with a trace of pity in their eyes.
Although Chen Ping was mocking in his eyes, for some reason, he suddenly felt uneasy. disturbed?
The two floating islands are not far apart, and in a blink of an eye, Yan Chuan is near.
"Yan Chuan?" Wang Long frowned.
"What are you doing?" a big scholar frowned.
"Qinglong, show him the invitation, who issued it?" Yan Chuan said lightly.
"Yes!"
Qinglong took out the invitation card. As soon as the invitation card came out, everyone immediately recognized the words on it. Wang Long's words.
The group of scholars stared at Yan Chuan. Although Yan Chuan came late, it still became the focus here. Who made Chen Ping's poems aimed at Yan Chuan in the first place?
"Uuuuuuuuuuuuuu!"
In the distance, the ghosts are still crying and praising Wang Long's poem.
"The fall of the pen frightened the wind and rain, and the poem turned into a weeping ghost?" Yan Chuan showed a slight disdain.
"I don't know what to advise?" Wang Long still maintained his image among the Confucian scholars.
"Yes, if you have the ability, you can write too!" Chen Ping exclaimed.
Yan Chuan glanced at Chen Ping. Waved slightly.
Qinglong immediately took out a brush.
Nearly thousands of ghosts surrounded Wang Long’s poems and cried, Yan Chuan picked up a pen, and landed on a huge stone monument directly opposite.
Nearly ten thousand Confucian scholars and nearly one hundred thousand onlookers were surprised.
"Yan Chuan, you really want to die!"
"Yes, he would dare to fight Wang Long's great Confucian poetry?"
"I don't even have Haoran righteousness, why are you fighting?"
"I can't help myself!"
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There were waves of mockery and disdain from all around.
But at this moment, Wang Long suddenly had a bad premonition, his expression was still, but his eyes were extremely sharp.
"Meow, Meow!" Meow Meow opened her teeth and danced her claws to face a group of people who had scorned Yanchuan.
Qinglong is slightly worried, that the Eastern decent school has no face and no skin, it doesn't matter.
I saw Yan Chuan writing--
Thinking about breaking through the red road in my life, the sword is hidden in Luxuan. Wan Zhan claimed not to mention the blade, he was born with eyes contemptuous of the heroes——
"Moan!"
Yan Chuan's brushstrokes fell, and a powerful murderous aura suddenly flooded the entire field.
The original wind and rain was suddenly stopped by the murderous intent from the stone stele where Yan Chuan wrote.
As soon as the murderous spirit came out, all the mockers felt chills.
"Boom!"
In Yan Chuan’s poems, there are countless clouds and mist. In the clouds and mist, it looks like a figure standing a hundred meters tall, a burly soldier, holding a long blade in his hand, carrying a knife, and squinting his eyes to the front. .
Under the knife, it makes people feel a pain of scraping bones.
Oppositely, ten thousand ghosts crying? At this moment, the voice of Wangui suddenly stopped, and after Yan Chuan's poems rushed out of the sword, each one shivered and was inexplicably frightened.
There is no countless awe-inspiring righteousness, but some, just amidst the clouds and mist, a peerless general who lifted a knife to kill, squinted his eyes slightly, and scorned the crowd.
A burst of endless domineering gushes out.
For a time, on the vast field, countless Confucian cultivators did not breathe, and the thirty-two great Confucian scholars were completely scarce.
Wan Zhan claims that he doesn't lift the blade? Born to scorn the heroes?
A poem comes out, soaring to the sky, majestic and majestic, all ghosts will stop crying! Suddenly rested in wind and rain! Even the majestic aura, in front of the general looming in the white mist, has become eclipsed.
"The pen does not show up?" someone exclaimed.
That is a higher level.
A level that nearly ten thousand Confucianists would never even think about, has it appeared today?
The Confucianists who originally mocked Yan Chuan, now look at Yan Chuan again, with endless fanaticism in his eyes!
Domineering, word domineering, poetry domineering! This is Yan Chuan?
Dongfang Zhengpai immediately looked at Yan Chuan with excitement, then turned to look at the thirty-two great scholars on the opposite side with no blood on their faces, revealing a trace of disdain: "What are you writing? So happy?"
"You!" Chen Ping flushed with anger.
Yan Chuan had a poem out in front of him. Everyone could understand it. They couldn't compete at all. It wasn't that they were similar, but they were too different.
The fall of the pen is shocking, and the fall of the pen shows the atmosphere. It is a world of difference. Even a fool can see it.
The poem that was originally praised by thousands of scholars, in front of this poem by Yan Chuan, that is bullshit!
The thirty-two great scholars suddenly showed shame and anger.
Yan Chuan discarded the pen after finishing writing.
The arrogance at this moment, in the eyes of nearly ten thousand Confucian scholars, that is a matter of course, that is arrogance! This is the real Confucianism and Taoism.
Yan Chuan turned to look at the thirty-two Confucian scholars.
Sifang Confucian cultivators, even though they are constantly moving, they still dare not take a breath, looking at Yan Chuan and the thirty-two great Confucians in the center.
"Ashamed, don't come in front of me. It's uncomfortable to see and noisy to hear!" Yan Chuan said lightly.
Is it uncomfortable to see? Noisy listening?
It seems that the sky thunder is blowing in the ears of thirty-two scholars!
"Yan Chuan, what did you say, who did you say is embarrassing!" Chen Ping's face flushed immediately.
Yan Chuan glanced at Chen Ping and looked up and down. Although he didn't say anything, his eyes seemed to say, "Hey, isn't this shameful?"
When Chen Ping saw Yan Chuan's eyes, he felt depressed at this moment.
"Puff!" An angry blood came out.
"The plaque has already been given to you, so don't send it back again. Take it back and keep it in good health!" Yan Chuan said lightly.
Speaking, the word'invitation' after a touch of the plaque. Highlight the positive four characters of "Pursuing Fame and Fishing Fame".
Sell your fame and catch your fame!
Delivered to Wang Long by Qinglong solemnly.
"Everyone, this is my son's calligraphy, a good collection!" Qinglong said lightly.
"Puff!"
Another great scholar was vomiting blood by Yan Chuan's plaque.
"Let's go!" Yan Chuan turned around.
Step by step and fly to the East Hall.
All around, there was still a quiet area, and nearly 10,000 scholars and nearly 100,000 cultivators gave way. His eyes were filled with wonder.
The thirty-two Confucian scholars, holding a huge plaque at the moment, wrote the four characters "Pursuing Fame and Fishing for Fame", and once again were blinded by the four characters.
ps: Two thousand more words, so it's a bit late! (To be continued)
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