Great Zhou Wensheng

Chapter 89 Four Poems, Understanding the Sword Through Poetry!

Midnight.

Jiangzhou Prefecture, Zhao Mansion.

"Boom--!"

A bolt of purple lightning cleaved through the inky darkness of the night, and amidst the thunderous roar of Grain Rain, the shadows of the century-old locust tree in the Zhao family mansion twisted wildly against the blue brick walls.

"Father."

Zhao Zilu knelt heavily in the rain outside the main hall, his brocade robe soaked through to a deep crimson.

Another bolt of lightning struck, illuminating Zhao Zilu's pained face, which was covered in rain and tear stains.

The crimson lanterns under the eaves swayed violently in the wind. In the flickering light, deep in the main hall, the head of the family, Zhao Bingzhu, sat expressionless, his black cloak motionless.

Zhao Zilu's trembling knuckles turned white, and a metallic taste rose in his throat: "Jiang Xingzhou... he can crush the top scholar in a prefecture and five counties even in archery! I simply cannot defeat Jiang Xingzhou!"

The rain outside the eaves intensified, and large raindrops pelted his cheeks. He looked desperate and choked with sobs.

No matter how he looked at it, he couldn't find any weakness in Jiang Xingzhou.

Even in the game of "shooting the pot," a scholarly competition only enjoyed and mastered by the sons of powerful families in various counties, he thought he had victory in his grasp, but in front of Jiang Xingzhou, it was still like an egg hitting a rock.

Even more terrifying is that—the top candidates from the five counties of their prefecture joined forces, barely managing to match Jiang Xingzhou's prowess.

But which of these five people doesn't come from a distinguished family and have a profound background?
In Jiangzhou, Zhao Zilu, the illegitimate son of the Zhao family, the Grand Canal Commissioner, was in charge of the canal transport in the Jianghuai region. The Zhao family controlled the canal transport, and money flowed like water day and night.

In Jiyang, the Shen family, known as the Silk and Silk Manor, controlled half of Jiyang County's cloth business. Thousands of looms hummed all night long, supplying tribute brocade directly to the imperial capital.

Taicang, the shipping empire of the Lin family of Lin Haizhou. The Lin family owns hundreds of large multi-story ships, their sails blocking out the sun and their masts forming a forest, effectively blocking the flow of the Yangtze River.

Liang Feng, Zhou Wenyuan of Liang Feng Academy, whose students and former officials were all over Jiangnan, and many scholars would call him their teacher when they saw him.

In Kunshan, Du Qingyin, a member of the Du family, served as the Minister of the Court of Imperial Sacrifices for six hundred years, where the sounds of bells and chimes defined both refined and popular tastes.

Any one of these five individuals would be a top figure who could stand out from the crowd in a county. Ordinary students wouldn't even have the courage to look them in the eye.

But ironically, even when they joined forces, they couldn't suppress Jiang Xingzhou!

"The top official in five counties."

Zhao Zilu gave a bitter smile, his knuckles turning white as he clenched his fists. "Grain transport, silk, shipping, academies, rites and music—"

With each word he uttered, a metallic taste rose in his throat: "The accumulated wealth of five families over a century is barely enough to match the meager wealth of Jiang Xingzhou!"

He even tried to turn the tide in the couplet competition at the Guyu Literary Gathering, but ended up finishing last again.

Once again, facts have proven that luck is just luck.

Amidst the snickers of the assembled elites, he appeared utterly pathetic and disgraceful.

Jiang Xingzhou, however, remained as indifferent as ever, not even glancing at him. That disdain was utterly infuriating.

Listening to the pattering rain outside the hall, the remaining raindrops dripping from the eaves pounded on the bluestone slabs, each sound like a knife.

Zhao Bingzhu sat listlessly in the armchair, the candlelight illuminating half of his face while the other half remained in shadow, like a peeling ancient painting.

He slowly raised his eyes and looked at his illegitimate son kneeling in the rain in the courtyard, howling miserably. What surged in his eyes was not anger, but a kind of familiar sorrow.

"How do you feel right now?!"

His voice was hoarse, like sand worn away by time. "As a father, I have also felt the pain and heartache of these past twenty years."

A group of scholars from Jiangzhou went to the capital to take the imperial examination.

The imperial examination list was displayed prominently, bearing the names of Jiang Yan and Xue Chonghu, while Zhao Bingzhu failed the exam.

At the celebratory banquet for his classmates, amidst the clinking of glasses, Jiang Yan raised his glass to accept the congratulations, beaming with pride.

He could only lower his head and obediently step forward to offer a toast, the reflection in the cup showing his own repulsive jealousy.

Twenty years have passed.
Xue Chonghu was already the prefect of Jiangzhou Prefecture, and Zhou Shanzhang was firmly in his position in the Jiangzhou Prefecture Court, while he was still a candidate for the imperial examination, unable to even obtain a formal post.

Twenty years have passed in the blink of an eye. That jealousy and hatred have long since burned away his flesh and blood, leaving only a skeleton. He is now numb to the pain.

He slowly rose, his sleeve brushing against the table, and picked up a chess piece from the chess box, making a crisp ticking sound.

"That's enough, you're no match for him."

Zhao Bingzhu closed his eyes, his voice low and hoarse, like the wind passing through withered trees, "Go and focus entirely on preparing for the prefectural examination in February."

"As for him..."

The candlelight flickered, reflecting a cold glint in Zhao Bingzhu's eyes. "Your father has his own plans!"

"Yes!"

Zhao Zilu stumbled in the muddy water of the courtyard, then turned and went to the study in the side courtyard of the Zhao mansion, where he studied diligently by lamplight all night.

East China Sea, unnamed reefs and shoals.

The night fog was as black as ink, and the sound of the tide was mournful. The crests of the waves licked at the jagged rocks, breaking into a pale white foam.

"Whoosh-!"

A shadowy figure swept across the rugged, untouched rocks, its bronze mask gleaming coldly in the moonlight, eerily menacing.

The leader in black suddenly stopped, his hawk-like gaze sweeping around to make sure no one was following him before he flicked out a stick of incense from his sleeve.

With a flick of the fingertips, a wisp of smoke rose from the incense stick, drifting gently towards the sea.

a long time.

The sea suddenly churned, and turbid waves surged into the sky.

A shrimp demon burst out of the water, its carapace covered with mottled and rusted iron armor, its right arm transformed into a ten-foot-long sharp bone knife, gleaming coldly.

The protruding compound eyes were lifeless, devoid of any intelligence, only coldness and numbness.

It is the messenger of the demon race and also the contact person for the rebellious scholars.

The leader in black revealed his traitorous scholar's waist token, then took out a secret letter from his pocket, with strange runes branded on the sealing wax.

"Shrimp Nineteen!"

With a flick of his finger, he handed out the secret letter, the demonic script on the sealing wax gleaming coldly in the moonlight.

"Patriarch Zhao instructed that this secret letter must be personally presented to the Royal Fish Demon Commander of the East Sea Demon Court."

As he spoke, he slid four more sheets of paper from his sleeve, the paper revealing a hidden talent—two poems about leaving the county and two about reaching the prefecture, the ink still wet, as if concealing a sharp edge.

"There are also four poems, written by Jiang Xingzhou, a student from Jiangyin [who left the county and arrived at the prefecture]."

His eyes were sinister, and his voice was like a viper's tongue:
"Please, Lord Demon General, dispatch your demon generals to seize the opportunity to kill Jiang Xingzhou!"

In order to persuade the Demon King Huangyu, he presented Jiang Xingzhou with four poems he had written—two about leaving the county and two about reaching the prefecture.

Jiang Xingzhou, a mere student, has a more famous collection of poems and essays than most of the scholars who have passed the imperial examinations.

this is too scary!

I believe that after reading these four poems, the Demon King Huangyu will be greatly shocked and realize how terrifying Jiang Xingzhou's potential is. He must be eliminated as soon as possible, otherwise the consequences will be endless.

The waves suddenly stopped.

Shrimp Nineteen's pincers froze in mid-air, and for the first time, an unusual fluctuation appeared in its compound eyes—fear and apprehension!

Jiangyin Tongsheng... Jiang Xingzhou?

—Is this Jiang Xingzhou, the one who, aboard the towering ship, used a mysterious poem to trigger extraordinary phenomena in the heavens and earth, transforming the entire ship into a towering ship of locust trees radiating boundless light, leading three hundred students to kill two hundred demon soldiers?!
This boy gave it nightmares for half a month.

The leader in black noticed Xia Shijiu's unusual behavior, and sneered, his voice as cold as a blade scraping the bone: "What? Xia Shijiu, you've remembered this person too?"

He lightly tapped the poem on the paper with his fingertips, each word piercing the heart: "A mere child student, yet his poetic talent has already surpassed that of a scholar who has passed the imperial examination. If he is allowed to grow up, the Demon Court of the East Sea will surely suffer a great calamity."

This is not the East Sea Demon Court helping my Zhao family head, but us helping your East Sea Demon Court eliminate a great calamity!

I hope that Lord Demon General can understand this point!

"Gurgle!"

Shrimp Nineteen glared at him coldly, seemingly displeased that he addressed her as Shrimp Nineteen. Her bone knife trembled suddenly, her pincers gripping the secret letter and poem tightly, before she turned and sank into the deep sea, leaving only a ripple slowly spreading across the water.

The seawater was dark, and the currents were sharp as knives.

Shrimp Nineteen swam swiftly in the sea, weaving through the jagged rocks, tiny bubbles seeping from the gaps in its armor.

Its pincers gripped the secret letter tightly, and the four sheets of poetry trembled slightly in the seawater. The talent on the paper startled the surrounding fish and scattered them.

"Wow!"

It plunged suddenly into the deep sea, and the coral jungle burst into bloom before its eyes.

The seaweed belts on the seabed sway like long hair, interspersed with a rugged coral dwelling.

Shrimp Nineteen squeezed into one of the cramped rooms, and the coral door made a dull "thump" as it closed.

Water droplets slid down the shell, splashing softly on the stone table.

As the captain, its coral house is much more spacious than that of ordinary shrimp soldiers, measuring three zhang square.

Inside the cave, a ghostly blue phosphorescence seeped from the coral walls, illuminating its withered shrimp face—its compound eyes gleamed, and its pincers trembled slightly.

On the table, the secret letter and the poem lay quietly.

Looking at the secret letter and the poem.

A flicker of hesitation crossed its eyes.

The image of the locust tree-shaped ship bathed in radiant light and the awe-inspiring scene of three hundred students slaying two hundred fish demons and shrimp soldiers kept echoing in its mind.

Normally, by this time, the secret letter would have already been presented to the Fish Demon General, and he would not dare to look at it privately.

But this time.
Those four sheets of paper—Jiang Xingzhou's poems.

It is a work that has been passed through counties and prefectures!
Human poetry and literature are of great benefit to the cultivation of demons—which is why human literature, and even altered classics, are always in high demand in demon markets.

Half a page of poems about leaving the county can be exchanged for a box of aquatic treasures.

If one can decipher the poems and prose within, perhaps one can gain insight...
Should we open it?

The shrimp's nineteen segments slowly extended, then suddenly retracted.

Unauthorized dismantling of military intelligence is a capital offense, punishable by death by a thousand cuts.

but……

But if this opportunity is missed, its compound eyes gleam, and thousands of crystals contract simultaneously, reflecting the surging greed and fear in one's heart.

The talent contained in human poetry is of great benefit to the cultivation of demons.

It witnessed firsthand how powerful the young man on the locust tree-shaped ship was, single-handedly turning the tide.

They managed to drive their two hundred demon soldiers to the brink of collapse, leaving them with endless nightmares.

If one could memorize these four poems and diligently practice them day and night, perhaps one could glean even a single technique of demonic script from them?

After hesitating for a long time,

It finally mustered its courage, and with trembling hands, stretched out its claws and cautiously opened it.

Xia Shijiu held its breath, its compound eyes fixed on the four sheets of paper, each line etched into its demonic heart like a sharp blade, afraid of forgetting them.

"Seeking the Hermit in Vain [Where the Clouds Are Deep and Unseen]!"

With just this one sentence, it was as if it were in a fairy mountain shrouded in clouds and mist, as if even the demonic aura had been cleansed away.

"The Grass: [Wildfire cannot burn it all, the spring breeze brings it back to life!]"

That day, the locust tree and the boat, was that the poem from Dafu?

No wonder!
Those three hundred children suddenly became so tenacious, like wild grass that had died and then rekindled, that they could not be killed no matter what.

"The poem 'Ode to the Foot of the Bodhisattva' [must be viewed from the palm of one's hand]!"

It doesn't quite understand this sentence.
Yuzu?

What the hell is this?

Is it more powerful than the bone-scraping knife in its hand?
This must be a mysterious and sharp divine weapon cultivated by the human race!
But the frivolous yet sharp wit in the words still made it tremble slightly.

"The Shooting Pot: [The bronze pot pours forth cherry-like drops, golden arrows whirl and fly with a thunderous sound. Drunk, he leans against the screen, laughing at Zhou Chu, who in his youth only slew a dragon for fame.]"

Upon reading this, Xia Shijiu's scalp and shell almost exploded in fear!

It was completely terrified.

Slaying the dragon!?

The dragons are the natural-born demon kings of the East Sea Demon Court!
In the laws of the demon race, simply mentioning the word "dragon" is considered a grave offense, let alone such a blatant provocation!
Such writing is a grave crime in the Eastern Sea Demon Court; even glancing at it is a capital offense of treason, let alone writing it!
This is a big taboo!
It's like in the human realm, who would dare write the words "regicide" in a poem? — It would be a crime punishable by the extermination of nine generations of their family! No need for further explanation, they could be dragged out and beheaded on the spot!
But it couldn't help itself, its compound eyes fixed on the ink stain, as if it were being seized by some invisible force.

"Drunk, leaning against the screen, laughing at Zhou Chu..."

—How arrogant! How willful!

It was both terrified and inexplicably trembling.

The murderous aura contained in these verses made its demonic blood boil, as if even its own iron armor would be pierced by that sharp intent!

"[Drunk, leaning against the screen, laughing at Zhou Chu, who in his youth only slew the dragon's name]—Well written!"

Shrimp Nineteen's pincers trembled slightly, both afraid of being discovered by the demon general and unable to resist wanting to read it again and again...

I don't know how much time has passed.

Its shrimp-like eyes gradually became hazy and intoxicated.
As if drunk, they became drunken shrimp!

Of the four poems, its favorite is still "Shooting the Pot".

This young man actually dared to write a poem about slaying the dragon demon king of the Four Seas Dragon Palace. What a magnificent spirit he possessed!

What a domineering young man!
The demonic power within its body surged and boiled in rhythm with the verses.

Suddenly,
Its figure flickered like a ghost, its bone blades bursting forth from the water.

The bone blade in his hand drew a pale arc of light in the darkness, the water was slashed open with a "whoosh" and a vacuum crack appeared, the surrounding coral snapped in two, the cut surfaces as smooth as mirrors.

"Drunken Shrimp Dragon-Slaying Knife!"

Its pincers trembled slightly, it shuddered in fright, and its compound eyes reflected ecstatic joy.

"I actually gleaned a technique from human poetry: the Shrimp Soldier Slaying Dragon Blade Technique?"

If it can master more secret techniques and greatly increase its strength, it will probably be easy for it to become a shrimp demon general in a short time.

Before it knew it, three days had passed.

Xia Shijiu hurriedly grabbed the secret letter, turned around and rushed out of the coral room, speeding towards the deeper coral palace complex!

Amidst the surging undercurrents, a magnificent coral palace gradually emerges.

The palace was draped with dark green seaweed curtains, and the plaque was inscribed with five large, blood-red characters: "Royal Fish Demon General's Palace".

"My Lord Demon General, a secret letter from the traitorous scholar Zhao Bingzhu!"

Xia Shijiu dared not enter without permission. He knelt outside the hall, holding the secret letter aloft with his pincers, remaining motionless, like a frozen stone sculpture.

Inside the cave, a pair of scarlet eyes slowly opened, like two blood moons emerging from the abyss.
The secret letter suddenly slipped from his hand, was swept up by an invisible current, passed through the curtain, and fell into the hall.

With a flick of his finger, the demon general Huangyu unfolded the secret letter. After only a glance, he sneered, "Zhao Bingzhu? A mere student, does he even deserve my dispatch of a demon general? Let him deal with him himself!"

The secret letter was carelessly tossed aside, and a wisp of it rolled into dust.

The demon general closed his eyes and meditated, his demonic power surging and roaring like the tide, clearly showing his disdain for the matter.

Shrimp Nineteen slowly retreated, but the compound eyes beneath its carapace gleamed with an unusual light.

It dared not let the Demon General discover that it had secretly cultivated a poetic art related to slaying the dragon.

As expected, the Demon General will never notice... the missing four poem slips!
(End of this chapter)