The emperor faked his death? Never mind, I will ascend the throne directly!

No matter they are rich kids or common people, they only know the King of Pingxi and do not recognize the imperial court!

Until it was Song Yuwei's turn. When she walked onto the stage in a man's disguise, the whole audience fell silent. Everyone held their breath, anticipating the masterpiece of this champion of the poetry competition.

She pondered for a moment, then opened her red lips and a fresh and unworldly poem slowly flowed out, like moonlight shining on a calm lake, creating ripples.

"The candlelight on the mica screen is deep, the long river gradually falls and the morning stars sink. Chang'e should regret stealing the elixir, the blue sea and blue sky are in her heart every night."

After the poem was finished, everyone was stunned for a moment, and then broke into even more enthusiastic applause.

"Mr. Song's poems are truly unique, fresh and elegant!"

"Yes, it's like the sound of nature, it makes people intoxicated!"

"Mr. Song is indeed worthy of being the champion of the poetry gathering. This poem is truly marvelous!"

"Yeah, I think we have a sure win this time!"

Listening to everyone's flattery, Song Yuwei just smiled slightly and bowed, showing a bit of the demeanor of a celebrity.

Li Chengfeng couldn't help but nod his head. Song Yuwei's talent was indeed worthy of her reputation.

As the highlight of this poetry gathering, Liu Xu was naturally the last to appear.

He knew the theme of this poetry gathering in advance, so he consulted great scholars and studied it for three days to avoid any mistakes.

He walked up to the stage with his head held high and began to recite:

"On the 16th day of the Mid-Autumn Festival, the moon is full, and I am writing with great enthusiasm. I have worked tirelessly to cultivate peach and plum trees, and now I stroke my beard. When will this night come?"

As soon as this statement came out, the whole place was in an uproar.

"Oh my God! This poem... this poem is simply a stroke of genius!"

"'I have worked tirelessly to cultivate peach and plum trees, and now I stroke my beard, when will it be?' This last line is the finishing touch! It has a profound meaning and is thought-provoking!"

"Mr. Liu is indeed Mr. Liu, he is truly talented!"

"I thought Young Master Song's poem was the best today, but I didn't expect Young Master Liu's to be even better! What a feast for the ears today!"

Song Yuwei didn't expect that Liu Xu's poems were as good as hers, which made her feel incredible.

Could it be that he had prepared it in advance?

Liu Xu walked off the stage with a smug smile on his face.

As he passed by Li Chengfeng, he deliberately slowed down his pace, glanced at him with contempt, and deliberately said loudly: "What's the matter, Master Li? Are you shocked by my excellent work? Are you afraid to go on stage and make a fool of yourself?"

The Confucian scholars around also joined in the fun and laughed.

"I think Master Li must be feeling empty-headed and afraid of embarrassing himself, so he doesn't dare to go on stage!"

"Hush, keep your voice down! If Master Li gets angry and draws his sword, we'll be in trouble!"

As everyone was talking, Li Chengfeng slowly stood up.

He walked up to the platform, looked at the bright moon in the sky, and his mind was filled with thoughts.

After a long pause, he spoke, his voice clear but with a subtle hint of sarcasm: "The autumn moon turns to golden waves, the flying mirror is polished again. I raise my cup to ask Chang'e. What can this man do with his white hair?"

With just this opening sentence, everyone's expression changed.

It's like a picture of a golden autumn night with a bright moon hanging high in the sky unfolding before your eyes.

Li Chengfeng did not stop and continued to recite.

"It's good to ride the wind, the vast sky, looking down at the mountains and rivers. Cut off the swaying osmanthus trees. People say that there is more clear light."

After the poem was finished, everyone was immediately immersed in shock, unable to extricate themselves. Ten lines in a row, it can be said that each line can be called a famous line through the ages.

The words express that Li Chengfeng wants to ride the wind to fly into the sky and overlook the beautiful mountains and rivers.

That’s not all. In order to make the moon shine more light on the world, he also wants to cut down the laurel tree in the moon, leaving more light of justice in the world!

Sima Xin's face turned ashen. He didn't expect Li Chengfeng to be able to create such a masterpiece.

This poem is clearly satirizing the separatist rule of King Pingxi!

He also indirectly criticized the heavy local taxes and the mutual protection among officials.

The people in the audience were so shocked by Li Chengfeng's poem that they couldn't recover for a long time.

They couldn't find any poem that could compare with this one at the moment!

It seems that one can feel it without any literary attainments.

Song Yuwei was moved. This young emperor really had a great vision.

She gently tugged at Li Chengfeng's sleeve and whispered, "A good poem! But... it's too sharp. I'm afraid it will bring disaster."

"What are you afraid of? Even if what I said is true, no one would dare to point it out. It's enough that someone understands it."

Li Chengfeng looked calm and indifferent.

As he was speaking, a sarcastic voice suddenly broke the silence.

"Hmph, pretending to be profound! What kind of poem is this? I think it's superficial and has no depth at all!"

The person who spoke was Liu Xu, who looked at Li Chengfeng with disdain.

With Liu Xu taking the lead, others, due to the tyranny of the Prince of Pingxi's Mansion, were unwilling to go against Liu Xu and followed suit to belittle him.

"That's right, isn't this poem too ordinary?"

"I think he's just grandstanding!"

But anyone with some literary accomplishment can see that Li Chengfeng's poem is majestic and heroic, forming a sharp contrast with the previous flattering works.

Sima Xin became more and more frightened the more he listened.

He chewed over Li Chengfeng's poems over and over again, his eyes as sharp as torches, as if he wanted to see through Li Chengfeng's heart.

Could this kid be hinting that the King of Pingxi has his own army and is causing the people to suffer?

Liu Xu's shouting was like a stone thrown into a calm lake, causing ripples.

Everyone came back to their senses from Li Chengfeng's poem and began to whisper.

Some people echoed Liu Xu, saying that Li Chengfeng's poems were too arrogant and ignorant of the immensity of the world.

Some people also think that this poem is majestic and profound, but they dare not openly support Li Chengfeng. After all, Liu Xu is the eldest son of King Pingxi, and offending him is no joke.

Li Chengfeng turned a deaf ear to these discussions. He had no intention of catering to these people who were sycophanting.

He smiled slightly, bowed to Sima Jingshan, and walked down the platform.

After the first round of poetry competition, although Li Chengfeng's work caused controversy, Sima Jingshan ignored the opposition and kept him in the second round.

The purpose is to make him recite more poems with similar allegory of rebellion.

The rules for the second round of competition were soon announced: Flying Flowers, with the word "Autumn" as the theme.

Compared with the free performance in the first round, Feihualing tests one's poetry reserves and on-the-spot reaction more.

The rules are simple: a designated character is chosen, and the contestants take turns composing a poem. The poem must contain that character, and no one can repeat it. If someone fails to follow the character, or their poem doesn't conform to the rules, they lose.

This was a piece of cake for the talented people present.

The autumn air is clear and the wind is blowing, and the autumn scenery is pleasant. Many poems and songs revolve around this word.

The first talented man to come on stage shook his head and recited some verses that were standard but there was nothing wrong with them.

The next few people followed suit, each one posting a line of mediocre poetry...