"Wine drowns sorrow, yet no tears remain."

"Blood ignites the endless battlefield."

"Warhorses thunder across the plains."

"…"

"On an autumn night, soldiers are called to arms." As Tang Yan seamlessly matched another poetic line with perfect imagery, the expressions of the onlookers shifted. Their gazes carried disbelief—was this truly Tang Yan? Had he been possessed? How could words like these come from his mouth?

…

"The moon waxes and wanes, an eternal cycle of change." When Liu Hailian recited a nine-character verse, several participants hesitated. Of the seven contestants left, three immediately withdrew.

"The tides rise and fall, leaving only wistful longing." Tang Yan countered with ease.

The audience turned their attention toward his table. How was this brat still in the game? Could he be cheating?

"A lonely boat drifts upon the river, the traveler gazes at twin moons in the celestial sea." Liu Hailian delivered a fourteen-character line, reducing the remaining contestants at Tang Yan’s table to three. One of them struggled for words, unable to respond.

Tang Yan chuckled and spoke effortlessly, "Beneath the morning sun, a young rider scales the emerald peaks, his journey brimming with boundless youth."

The contestant who failed to respond let out a bitter chuckle, clasped his hands in respect, and admitted, "I was blind to your talent, Tang Yan. I concede defeat." With that, he departed.

"Well done!" The Tang family erupted in cheers upon seeing that Tang Yan had remained in the competition.

The first round concluded swiftly, taking only about half an hour.

When the final twenty contestants were revealed, the entire city of Yun was left astounded—Tang Yan, the infamous good-for-nothing, had made it through.

Among the spectators, those who had been curious about him were now even more eager to see how he would perform in the next stage.

"Congratulations on advancing to the next round!" Zhou Ying announced. "This time, the topic will be chosen by the City Lord. You will have two incense sticks' time to complete your piece. It can be a poem or a verse, and the top five will advance, while the rest will be eliminated!"

After finishing, Zhou Ying turned to the City Lord and cupped his hands. "My lord, please provide the topic!"

"The first round demonstrated impressive wit and creativity. This time, we will continue to test your quick thinking and literary talent. In past years, we often used the Mid-Autumn Festival as the theme. This year, we will change it—your theme is 'Emotion.' You may begin your compositions now." Lin Xiao, the City Lord, stood up and announced.

Many contestants' expressions darkened. They had prepared verses related to the Mid-Autumn Festival, only to find them useless now. At once, they bowed their heads in deep contemplation.

Tang Yan, however, stood out the most. He casually poured himself a drink, tilting his head back to down the wine in one gulp.

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Seeing his carefree demeanor, many scoffed. This scoundrel had relied on sheer luck to survive the first round, but now his luck had run dry. And yet, he still put on airs, pretending to be refined and poetic? Utterly nauseating!

"I've got it!" A contestant suddenly exclaimed with excitement.

The outburst startled those around him, earning him a few irritated glances.

Ignoring them, he cleared his throat and recited:

"The autumn breeze stirs intoxication, a beauty walks beneath the moon.

From afar, though words are unsaid, the moon carries my affection."

A simple yet elegant four-line poem. The audience murmured their approval, and those who had ties with the young man cheered openly.

Even the four judges nodded in acknowledgment. The verse was short but well-composed, quite commendable given the time constraint.

Following that, several other contestants presented their works, each poem varying in artistic depth, but all earning a fair share of applause.

Now, only Yun City's most renowned scholars remained—Wu Jin of the Wu family, Qin An of the Qin family, Liu Zhi and Liu Hailian of the Liu family.

As for Yun City's most notorious wastrel? He had already been dismissed from their minds entirely.

True to their reputations, each of the four scholars delivered a poem that left the crowd in awe, marveling at the beauty of their words.

"City Lord, may we consider this round concluded?" Liu Zhi smirked as he glanced at Tang Yan, who had yet to write a single word.

His words triggered another wave of laughter from the crowd.

So, this was the true face of Tang Yan. He had somehow scraped by in the first round, but in the second, he had been utterly exposed. He couldn't compose a poem in front of an audience, making this failure even more humiliating. He would have been better off getting eliminated earlier.

However, the City Lord remained silent, his sharp gaze fixed on Tang Yan. Though he hadn't interacted with Tang Yan much, each encounter had left a strong impression. Would this young man really give up so easily?

"This is truly fine wine." Standing at the edge of the platform, Tang Yan gazed over Mingyue Lake, poured himself another drink, and slowly recited:

"Leaning upon the high tower, the breeze whispers soft.

I watch the distant sky, where sorrow dims the heavens.

Grass fades in the dusk, shadows veiled in mist.

Who can understand my silent longing?"

As he spoke, he infused his voice with a subtle thread of energy, ensuring his words carried clearly across the entire courtyard.

The moment his first stanza was completed, those who had been waiting to mock him were struck dumb with astonishment.

"Did… did Tang Yan really just compose a poem?" Someone in the crowd muttered in disbelief.

Though the opening stanza focused on scenery, each word was delicately crafted, painting a vivid picture of deep, yearning sorrow.

Zi Yun, hearing Tang Yan's poetry for the first time, fixed her gaze on him. This man—gifted in both martial prowess and literary grace—just what kind of upbringing had he received?

Qin Changdao, who had initially been worried, finally relaxed. He had known it! A man capable of creating a masterpiece like "Meeting Again" would never struggle with something like this.

Then, Tang Yan continued:

"Perhaps I should drink myself into madness,

Sing to the wine, yet joy feels hollow.

My robe grows loose, but I care not,

For I waste away willingly—for her."

As the last line echoed through the silent courtyard, the entire gathering fell into stunned quiet.

"My robe grows loose, but I care not,

For I waste away willingly—for her."

The final verse elevated the entire poem, intensifying the emotion to its peak.

At that moment, as Tang Yan stood alone under the moonlight, drinking in solitude, his presence exuded a cool melancholy—a romantic yet tragic figure. Many young women stole glances at him, their previous impressions wavering. Perhaps he was not as insufferable as they had believed.

A long pause followed before the City Lord clapped his hands and praised, "Excellent!"

"This round… Tang Yan wins again." Wu Xuan, after recovering from her shock, let out a chuckle.

The Tang family patriarch beamed with pride. Having read poetry his whole life, he could easily recognize the brilliance in his grandson’s work.

"I hereby announce the results!" Zhou Ying stood and declared, "First place: Tang Yan. Second: Liu Hailian. Third: Wu Jin. Fourth: Liu Zhi. Fifth: Qin An. These five contestants advance to the third round!"

The ranking was unquestioned.

"The next round will be even more challenging," Zhou Ying continued. "The first contestant to finish will set the pace—everyone else must complete their work within a single tea's time.

Additionally, each composition must be at least one hundred words long.

The theme: 'The Young Warriors of Yun City.'

You may begin!"