Chapter 18: The Battle of Zhen Ling Pass
“Alright, alright, I don’t want to argue with you, little girl. Since you said the rules were set by me, I’ll change them today.” Bai Li, the old man, raised an eyebrow and looked at Qin Feng with malicious intent.
“You old rascal, why are you looking at me like that? Just because I won in the matching couplets yesterday, do you think I can’t handle this?”
“Hey, young brat, I admit you have some talent in couplets, but today, I’m not testing your couplets. I’ll test your poetry skills!”
“Poetry?” Qin Feng looked puzzled.
“Yes,” Bai Li lightly touched the wicker chair, and in an instant, a bronze incense burner appeared in the attic. The surface of the incense burner was engraved with exquisite patterns, shimmering with golden light.
“This is the Ascension Incense Burner. Its function is simple. As long as someone composes poetry in front of it, it will emit white smoke to determine the quality of the poem. The higher the smoke rises, the better the poem. Young man, I won’t bully you. If the poem you create reaches a height of more than three zhang, I’ll let both of you into the Listen To Rain Pavilion. How about it?”
“This…”
Qin Feng hadn’t responded yet, but Cang Feilan couldn’t help herself: “The literary tradition of the Great Qian Dynasty has been weak for a long time, and poetry is declining. In the past decade, how many poems exceeding three zhang have been produced in the Great Qian Dynasty? Your requirements are just unfair.”
“Heh, anyway, I set the rules. If you can’t do it, you can leave. I won’t force you.” Bai Li sneered with his legs crossed, looking incredibly smug.
I really want to punch this guy. Qin Feng clenched his fists, then turned to Cang Feilan and asked, “Miss Cang, is it very difficult for the white smoke to reach more than three zhang?”
Cang Feilan nodded slightly. “The white smoke from the Ascension Incense Burner is usually divided into three grades. One to three zhang is ordinary, four to six zhang is rare, and seven to nine zhang is sacred. It’s not easy to achieve the rare grade in spontaneous poetry. Even the top scholars from the Heavenly City Grand Literature Academy might not be able to do it, let alone you.”
“Ugh,” you’re underestimating me a bit too much, aren’t you? Although I can’t do it, I can be a copy cat. Qin Feng complained in his mind, then turned to Bai Li and asked, “What if I can create poetry exceeding six zhang?”
“Six zhang? Just based on you?!” Bai Li laughed disdainfully.
Under her black scarf, Cang Feilan also emitted a faint snort.
Hey, don’t believe me, huh? With my temper… “Don’t worry about whether I can do it or not. I just want to ask, what if I succeed?”
“Young brat, if you can create poetry exceeding six zhang, from now on, you can come and go freely in the Listen To Rain Pavilion, as you please!”
“Good, it’s a deal!” Qin Feng was secretly delighted. There were many high-quality books in this attic, and he could read them for free. It was truly a treasure trove. However, he could only stay until sunset each time, which was inconvenient. If he could come and go freely, he could read from morning till night.
“Go ahead and set the topic.” Qin Feng waved his hand confidently, feeling heroic.
“What topic?” Bai Li was stunned, and Cang Feilan beside him also looked at him in confusion.
“Just writing a random poem might not convince you if it exceeds six zhang. So, you set the range of the poem’s content!” Anyway, I was a top student in my past life. In university, I chose humanities to interact with more girls. The vast number of poems in my mind is beyond my own comprehension. I am determined to show off!
Bai Li uttered three consecutive words of approval. Having lived for so many years, there were only a handful of young people who dared to be so arrogant in front of him. Today, he would teach this young man a lesson in self-awareness!
“Since you said so, then write a poem based on the Battle of Zhen Ling Pass eighteen years ago in the Great Qian Dynasty,” Bai Li said.
Cang Feilan trembled when she heard this.
Qin Feng fell into contemplation, trying to recall. Finally, he remembered the battle from a history book.
In the southernmost part of Great Qian, stretching across the Qinghai region, there’s a mountain named Tianling Mountain, soaring into the clouds. On top of Tianling Mountain resides a powerful foreign tribe known as the Garuda Clan.
The Garuda Clan consists of mythical creatures with human faces and bird bodies, born with divine power. They prey on dragons and can soar up to 90,000 miles with a flap of their wings.
Eighteen years ago, the Garuda Clan invaded Great Qian in full force, breaking through Zhen Ling Pass and causing widespread devastation.
In a fit of rage, the previous Emperor Mingde dispatched a hundred thousand soldiers along with the powerful warriors from the Demon Slayer Department to defend Zhen Ling Pass and engage in a deadly battle with the Garuda Clan.
The battle plunged the world into darkness. Even though the Human Race had the help of the Dragon Clan, they still won miserably. The Garuda Clan was forced to retreat outside Zhen Ling Pass, but out of the initial hundred thousand soldiers who participated in the battle, less than a hundred returned.
Underneath Zhen Ling Pass, the land was stained dark red with blood, a color that didn’t fade for nearly a year.
As Qin Feng recalled these events, his mood became heavy, and even his initial intention of showing off faded away considerably.
“Do you have paper and pen?” he asked.
In the attic, a white scroll and a brush flew out in response.
Qin Feng took a deep breath. Just as he was about to start writing, he suddenly remembered the scene from yesterday when he wrote the couplets. The brush remained suspended in the air.
Bai Li sensed his hesitation and said, “Don’t worry. Yesterday, you were competing with someone else when you wrote the couplets, so you felt immense pressure. Today, while you’re composing poetry, you won’t face the same situation.”
“I see,” Qin Feng nodded. The brush touched the white scroll and a black ink dot appeared.
The opening line emerged on the paper: “In Qinghai, beneath the eternal clouds, lies Tianling Mountain.”
The Ascension Incense Burner trembled, emitting white smoke that rose to a height of one zhang. Bai Li was astonished and stood up, moving closer to the white scroll.
Cang Feilan stared at the paper, lost in a trance, as if she could see the scene vividly.
Qin Feng wrote the second line: “A lone city gazes from afar at Zhen Ling Pass.”
A hundred thousand soldiers gathered in the dead city, confronting the formidable Garuda Clan. Although they knew the vast power difference between the two sides, the hundred thousand soldiers stood their ground with a determination to defend the dead city to the death.
The Ascension Incense Burner chimed with a golden sound, and the white smoke rose to three zhang!
Qin Feng’s eyes widened. The brush in his hand, like a sharp sword, carved out the final verse on the white scroll: “A hundred battles pierce the golden armor amidst the yellow sands.”
The soldiers roared, their voices shaking the heavens. With their flesh and blood, they paved the path of slaughter. Even if their battle armor was stained with blood and their bodies were encased in iron, what else could they do?
Bai Li stared wide-eyed, clenching his right fist, while Cang Feilan breathed rapidly, her chest rising and falling.
The Ascension Incense Burner began to tremble violently, and the white smoke had already reached six zhang!
Qin Feng’s eyes widened, and the brush in his hand, like a sword, inscribed the final epic line: “Garuda shall not return until it is shattered!”
Ding!
A piercing sound of gold resounded through the sky. The white smoke from the Ascension Incense Burner surged, soaring straight into the sky. Its height had already surpassed nine zhang!
And above nine zhang was the realm of the divine!
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