"Oh, Junior Brother, what kind of poetry do you know? Recite it for us," Gu Linglong and the others asked with curiosity.
Ling Feng casually recited, "Ten years I sharpened a sword, its frost-edged blade yet to be tried! Today, I show it to you, who has grievances to redress?"
As he finished, the young talents aboard the pleasure boat fell silent, staring at him in awe.
"Ten years I sharpened a sword, its frost-edged blade yet to be tried."
"Today, I show it to you, who has grievances to redress?"
"What boldness, what passion in these words!"
"A masterpiece, truly a masterpiece!"
One person stepped forward in amazement and asked, "Young man, may I ask who composed this verse?"
Ling Feng smiled slightly. "It was written by a poet with the surname Jia."
"A poet with the surname Jia… Could it be Jia Sheng from the capital?" the person asked, astonished.
"No," Ling Feng shook his head. "The poet I speak of is no longer in this world."
The poem was, of course, written by a poet from his past life in his previous homeland, and naturally, that poet didn't exist in this world. However, the listener seemed to misunderstand and lamented, "What a pity! Such a remarkable poet, yet I'll never have the chance to meet him."
"Hah! What Jia poet? Laughable! This poem was mine, but it was stolen a few years back," a man with a scheming look declared, stepping forward.
This man, sword at his waist and jade crown on his head, had an elegant and carefree demeanor. The onlookers murmured among themselves.
"This is the fifth-ranked Poet Swordsman from the Master's List!"
"Rumor has it that he loves to recite poetry while dueling, claiming that as long as his poetry flows, his sword energy is unending. He's exceptionally skilled."
"With his poetic talent and swordsmanship, it wouldn't be surprising if he wrote such an impassioned verse."
The Poet Swordsman strode toward Ling Feng and said nonchalantly, "I wrote this poem three years ago, but it was stolen afterward. Now I see that you're the thief!"
"What nonsense is this?"
"Yes, three years ago, Junior Brother was still at Ethereal Peak—how could he have stolen your poem? Poet Swordsman, stop accusing him!" Gu Linglong and Leng Ningshuang snapped back.
The Poet Swordsman continued, "Even if it wasn't him, then it must have been the Jia poet he mentioned who stole it."
Hearing this, Ling Feng raised an eyebrow. Unbelievable.
Accusing him was one thing, but daring to slander a poet from homeland? Unforgivable!
Ling Feng's anger turned to laughter as he retorted, "Just because you say it was stolen, it was? Do you have any evidence? And you claim you wrote this poem three years ago, yet didn't publish it. Why is it that only after I recited it do you claim it as yours?"
In response to Ling Feng's pointed questions, the Poet Swordsman replied calmly, "I composed it in a drunken moment and felt it was missing something, so I didn't publish it. I never expected it to be stolen and used by a thief!"
"As for evidence… hmph, my title of Poet Swordsman is all the evidence needed!"
He spoke arrogantly, confident in his reputation as the fifth-ranking poet on the Master's List. Compared to the obscure Jia poet that Ling Feng had mentioned, people were naturally more inclined to believe the renowned Poet Swordsman.
"The Poet Swordsman makes sense. He's a famous poet and swordsman. How could he lie about this?"
"Exactly. It seems the Jia poet mentioned by that young man really was a thief."
Seeing the public opinion shift in his favor, a faint smirk appeared on the Poet Swordsman's lips.
The claim that he had composed this poem years ago? Pure fabrication.
In reality, he hadn't written it at all. But he was captivated by the verse and wanted to claim it as his own. With it, his reputation would undoubtedly soar.
"Hah, very well, very well indeed…" Ling Feng chuckled coldly.
He could easily strike down the Poet Swordsman before him. However, doing so would only cement the accusation of stealing poetry. As a son of China, he couldn't stand by while someone slandered Chinese poets.
Ling Feng coldly challenged, "You say you composed this poem three years ago but didn't publish it. Then tell me, do you have many unpublished poems of equal quality?"
The Poet Swordsman frowned. "Not many."
"Is that so? Then listen carefully!"
"Today, I will utterly defeat this so-called Poet Swordsman!"
Ling Feng leaped to the bow of the pleasure boat and called out in a powerful voice:
"One man, three thousand miles in battle, one sword holds back a million soldiers!"
"Drunken revelry for three thousand guests, my sword's frosty gleam chills fourteen provinces!"
"A three-foot sword on my back, for heaven's sake, I show it to those wronged!"
"An ancient sword, dark and cold, forged through millennia. Its white light captures the sun and moon, purple aura stretches across the Big Dipper."
"And may this sword at my side strike down the enemy in the northern lands!"
"Setting down my cup and chopsticks, I cannot eat, I draw my sword and look around, heart full of emptiness."
"Raising my head to the drifting clouds in the northwest, I long for a sword to reach the endless skies."
"Summoning the bright moon, illuminating my heart of ice and snow, the grand rivers flow. A whale's drink does not drain the sea, yet my sword's spirit already spans the autumn."
"If, by chance, the Zen gates shatter, a beauty as jade, a sword as a rainbow."
"The sword's edge is honed through adversity, like plum blossoms exuding fragrance only in bitter cold."
One line after another about swords flowed from Ling Feng's mouth, filling the air with sword spirit, shaking the heavens and earth. His sword intent resonated with the poems, causing the entire Ten Thousand Sword City to tremble. Thousands of swords resonated, letting out a chorus of sword hums, as if echoing the endless verses.
In that moment, Ling Feng stood at the bow of the boat, like a celestial poet, a holy swordsman.
Everyone listened to his recitations, entranced, as if they were in a realm of swords, immersing themselves in the emotions of the verses. Some were even so moved that they laughed or cried, feeling joy or sorrow—creating a chaotic scene that left the onlookers astounded.
One after another, Ling Feng recited dozens of verses, each a masterpiece, each resonating with powerful sword intent!
As he finished, his gaze turned sharp as lightning, coldly staring at the speechless Poet Swordsman. "All these verses speak of swords, and I have hundreds, even thousands more poems that have nothing to do with swords! Are you going to claim that all these are also your unpublished works?"
The crowd, already in awe of Ling Feng, turned to the Poet Swordsman, their eyes filled with doubt.
But the Poet Swordsman stubbornly retorted, "So what if you can recite a hundred poems? It still doesn't prove that the first one wasn't stolen!"
"Nonsense!" Gu Linglong snapped. "My Junior Brother can compose timeless verses offhandedly. With such world-shaking talent, why would he need to steal your poem? Why would he even consider it?"
"Exactly!" Leng Ningshuang chimed in. "If you have the talent, compose a few poems here and now! Compete with my Junior Brother—then we'll see who's lying."
Hearing this, the crowd murmured in agreement, turning their gaze back to the Poet Swordsman.
However, after listening to Ling Feng's verses, the Poet Swordsman was already in turmoil, knowing he could never write poetry to rival Ling Feng's. His mind shaken, he found himself utterly incapable of composing anything on the spot.
Seeing his expression, everyone understood who the true talent was and who was the fraud.
"Who would've thought, the renowned Poet Swordsman turned out to be such a sham?"
"Maybe the poems he's claimed as his own were stolen as well."
"It's not impossible."
(End of Chapter)