Hearing Su Chen’s humility, Duan Yicheng pressed aggressively, “Oh? Is Young Master Su afraid? No need to be, because—”
Su Chen interrupted sincerely, “No, no, no. I just think it’s too unfair to you.”
“It feels a bit like bullying.”
“What?”
At his words, the civil and military officials were dumbfounded.
Duan Yicheng, the Left Chancellor’s son, had manifested a river of literary aura, a Confucian righteous energy that alone made him invincible. Even in martial combat, he’d hold his own against anyone.
In literary talent, he was peerless.
And yet, they’d just heard Su Chen claim that competing with Duan Yicheng like this was bullying him?
This was utterly absurd!
“Hahaha, he must know he can’t break Young Master Duan’s river of literary aura, so he’s making excuses.”
“Indeed, in literature, there’s no ‘best.’ If he truly had talent, why dodge?”
“What a disappointment! I thought his immortal-like aura meant he was extraordinary, but he’s just mediocre.”
After Su Chen spoke, officials aligned with the Left Chancellor began playing the role of impartial critics, mocking him.
“Silence, all of you.”
At that moment, the Left Chancellor’s authoritative voice cut through the jeers.
His voice wasn’t loud, but it reached everyone clearly.
The crowd was baffled. They were praising Duan Yicheng and belittling Su Chen—why would the Left Chancellor stop them?
“My son Yicheng recognized a thousand characters at three, composed poetry at five, and by ten had mastered the classics, earning the title of Great Qin’s foremost scholar.”
“Using his lifelong learning to form a river of literary aura for this contest may indeed seem unfair, as it lacks the spirit of a true victory.”
“Since Young Master Su Chen has concerns, let’s compete according to his rules.”
The crowd suddenly understood.
Even Su Chen couldn’t help but give a mental thumbs-up. What a master of humble-bragging!
Aren’t you afraid your son will soar too high and crash hard?
Then, the Left Chancellor continued with calculated cunning, “Moreover, though the Empress is wise and a great ruler, even she can be deceived by petty men.”
“Choosing an Imperial Consort requires someone unrivaled in both literary and martial prowess, capable of serving as the Empress’s right hand and silencing doubters, lest she be slandered as a foolish ruler.”
In a few words, he not only lavished praise on Duan Yicheng but repeatedly disparaged Su Chen.
His implications were clear: Duan Yicheng was exceptional, while Su Chen was unworthy.
Furthermore, he suggested that Ying Qingge’s favoritism toward Su Chen stemmed from being misled by a villain—namely, Su Chen himself.
Worse still, he implied that Ying Qingge’s insistence on appointing Su Chen as Imperial Consort was tyrannical, already earning her the label of a foolish ruler.
Initially, Su Chen brushed off the Left Chancellor’s words.
He was a carefree slacker, unbothered by others’ opinions.
But one thing he couldn’t tolerate:
You can doubt me, but you can’t slander my Senior Sister, especially not publicly!!
That was a line Su Chen wouldn’t let slide.
If you’re so eager to court death, how can I stop you?
At that moment, Duan Yicheng chimed in opportunely, “Brother Su, if you’re truly afraid to compete, you can choose another method. I’m open to anything.”
Though his tone seemed kind, it was clearly a taunt.
With his mastery of the river of literary aura, no matter the format, Su Chen would lose spectacularly!
“No need.”
As Duan Yicheng expected Su Chen to propose some obscure method to grasp at straws, Su Chen simply dismissed the idea.
“No need?”
Most officials were puzzled.
Su Chen already had no chance of winning, and sticking to this format guaranteed his defeat.
Some officials shook their heads.
When Su Chen suggested changing the rules earlier, they’d thought that, while he might lack literary flair, he had some strategic cunning—using his strengths to exploit Duan Yicheng’s weaknesses.
Though it might earn scorn later, it showed he was adaptable, a true man of resilience.
But now, provoked by the Left Chancellor’s few words, he seemed to have lost all composure and strategy.
Those who’d held some hope for Su Chen sighed in disappointment.
But what happened next defied everyone’s expectations.
Far from appearing rattled, Su Chen’s opening words captivated the entire audience.
“Heaven and earth… possess righteous energy, manifold in its flowing forms.”
One line, and the arena fell silent.
A gentle breeze swept through, and the officials’ negativity vanished, replaced by sheer shock.
What an opening!
Su Chen glanced sidelong at the river of literary aura, his voice soft yet resounding, “Below, it forms rivers and peaks; above, it becomes sun and stars. In man, it is called浩然, vast and filling the cosmos…”
Each step he took seemed to pulse with the heartbeat of the crowd; each word sent tremors through the officials’ hearts.
Duan Yicheng stood frozen, dumbfounded.
With his knowledge, he couldn’t even gauge the value of this poem, while his father, the Left Chancellor, paled, wanting to intervene but too late.
Su Chen’s momentum was unstoppable—
The pen stirs storms, the poem moves gods and spirits!
This wasn’t a mortal’s poetry—it was the work of a celestial immortal!
“A heaven-sent genius! A heaven-sent genius!”
A white-haired scholar from the Imperial Academy rose trembling, staring at Su Chen in awe.
Such literary brilliance was rare in history, unmatched in the present!
Compared to Su Chen’s masterpiece, Duan Yicheng’s poems and essays seemed like childish scribbles.
Crack, crack!
At the same moment, Duan Yicheng’s river of literary aura began to shatter, collapsing uncontrollably.
No matter how he tried to salvage it, it was futile.
In the end, he could only watch as his life’s work exploded into fragments, his heart sinking into despair.
The sky has fallen!
“How is this possible?!”
The Left Chancellor shot to his feet, his eyes filled with disbelief and incredulity.
His heir, Duan Yicheng, surpassed even great Confucian scholars, Great Qin’s foremost talent!
Even past imperial exam champions marveled at Duan Yicheng’s work, admitting their inferiority.
How could Su Chen, with a few words, shatter his river of literary aura?
The Left Chancellor’s face flushed red, then paled.
The higher he’d praised Duan Yicheng earlier, the harder his face stung now.
Some rival officials struggled to suppress their laughter.
Premium Chapter
Login to buy access to this Chapter.