That's right, this is the Western Regions, the so-called poetry is very different from the Tang Dynasty, in Zhenanzi's heart, it is not too simple to torture and kill Xiang Gong.

However, he could never have imagined that Xiang Gong was a person who traveled over a thousand years later, and he would not only know metrical poetry, but also modern poetry.

Modern poetry and popular poetry in the Western Regions are very close in terms of system, as long as the elements and characteristics of the grassland or the Western Regions are integrated, isn't it okay?

Xiang Gong, that's what I think!

People began to gather, there were scholars, poets, poetry lovers, and even more people who watched the excitement.

Poetry Race is a very open event in Turkic, as long as you are interested, you can participate, whether you want to show your face in your own poems, or you can share poems from other places with everyone.

As a famous Turkic steppe, Zhenanzi, of course, has to create it himself, Xiang Gongmo, with his own ability, to write three or two sentences, it is not impossible, but after all, it is still not as good as the accumulation of thousands of years of ancestors.

However, there is a lot of ancient poetry, but the poetry of the Western Regions and the grasslands is really too little, which is really troublesome.

One by one, the old men with gray beards walked into the ring that had been prepared long ago, holding strange three-stringed instruments, sitting upright, looking like they were not in their hearts, as if all the cheers and discussions outside had nothing to do with them.

Finally, Zhenanzi took the stage, and there was a burst of cheers and commotion from the crowd below.

"Ah, Zhenanzi, I'm willing to give everything for you."

"Zhenanzi, you appear in my dreams every day, accept my love!"

"Zhenanzi, I want to marry you, take my cattle and sheep with me to the end of the grassland and live the kind of life you say in your poem!"

……

I'll go, Xiang Gong is covered in cold sweat, the woman in the Western Regions is really ...... Speechless!

However, it seems that in which period, there is no shortage of fan economy, aren't these girls from the Western Regions just like those brainless fans in later generations who have a virtue?

Zhenanzi ignored all this, tilted his chin slightly, caught a glimpse of Xiang Gong with a slightly bad face out of the corner of his eye, and snorted disdainfully.

Obviously, he thought that Xiang Gong was stunned by his charm, but as everyone knows, Xiang Gong didn't take it seriously at all.

Xiang Gong came to the stage, there was no cheer, no commotion, and of course no screams from female fans to show love, but sitting in the special audience on the side, Aqina's eyes never left Xiang Gong's confident face like a fan.

An old man like a host, after muttering nonsense for a long time, finally the game began, the stinky virtues of the literati, sure enough, they were all the same there, no one walked up first, everyone knew that the more weighty the person, the more he had to appear in the finale.

However, there is one person who is impatient, he is Zhenanzi, what he hopes most now is to let Xiang Gong be defeated as soon as possible, so he is the most pretending and wants the finale, but he is the first to play.

"Xiang Gong, do you dare to come to fight?" Zhenanzi half-squinted, didn't look at Xiang Gong, and said coldly.

"Huh? Zhenanzi actually took the initiative to challenge? Who is that Xiang Gong? ”

"Wow, Zhenanzi is so cold, I like it so much, that Xiang Gong will definitely lose to his knees begging for mercy."

"Zhenanzi actually fought a duel with someone again? Oh my God, which poor creature is it this time? ”

……

People's discussions, naturally can't escape Xiang Gong's ears, I didn't expect Zhenanzi to be really a little charming, it seems that his strength should be good, he has to be calm to fight.

Calm and calm, this only means that Xiang Gong has decided to take a more serious attitude, in response, Xiang Gong will never be afraid, how can a man say no?

"Zhenanzi, don't talk nonsense, you come first and I'll hear how many catties you can have!" Xiang Gong asked nonchalantly, the reason why Zhenan Zixian was asked was to explore his reality and reality, and the key was to understand what the poetry of the ancient Turks was like.

Zhenanzi was naturally prepared, after Xiang Gong finished speaking, he immediately smiled slightly, and his little white face was full of confidence, as if he could get Xiang Gong with just one poem.

"Men say that our good gods are treasures,

Men say that our good gods are treasures;

Our good gods are more precious than treasures, our Lord!

Our good gods are more precious than treasures, our Lord!

Thou art as bright as the god of the sun, Lord of our hearts,

Thou art as bright as the god of the sun, Lord of our hearts,

Our wonderful God, our glory, our protector,

Our wonderful God, our glory, our God Almighty. ”

As soon as Zhenanzi opened his mouth, Xiang Gong immediately smelled the smell of modern poetry, but when the second sentence came out, Xiang Gong sprayed, and Xiang Gong listened to every subsequent sentence.

Oh my God, this is the so-called poetry of the first genius of the Turkic steppe? Damn, the repeater can also be a poet, okay? Why don't you loop indefinitely?

However, the audience in the audience seemed to hear the sounds of heaven, all kinds of cheers and all kinds of hysterical screams, Xiang Gong was a little confused, if it was this level of appreciation, wouldn't they be able to understand them with some high difficulty?

Seeing Xiang Gong's dumbfounded expression, Zhenanzi was almost stunned, and thought that Xiang Gong was shocked by his talent and didn't dare to fight.

I have to say that the Turks really like the tone of this cycle mode, and even Akina looked at Xiang Gong worriedly, afraid that he wouldn't be able to win.

However, Xiang Gong was only out of his mind for a while, then stood up and said lightly: "Zhenanzi, I want to ask, is the person who started the war the treasure of the good god?"

A person who predates everywhere and causes pain to other countries, tribes, and tribesmen, and is in dire straits, is it considered a treasure of a good god? ”

Listening to Xiang Gong's words, everyone was stunned, Zhenanzi's face was a little ugly, he was a Turk, what the Turks did after last year's famine was to start a war, that is, to predate everywhere, Xiang Gong was mocking him, of course he could hear it, but what does this have to do with literature and poetry?

"Don't talk about him left and right, this is the Poetry Club, not your grievance meeting, the Tang people are defeated, this is the truth!"

Zhenanzi was hard-mouthed, if it was someone else, he might have to admit defeat in shame, because they didn't know the truth, and only saw that the Tang Dynasty gave in and provided the Turks with materials to survive the disaster year.

However, Xiang Gong knew the twists and turns, and said with a disdainful smile: "If you are killed by thousands of soldiers and horses into the hinterland, and you will be defeated by chasing thousands of miles, then I admit it, but don't take the materials that you wagged and begged for mercy and lied to yourself that you won."

Victory or defeat is the least important thing, you know? The important thing is that the people of Li are the victims of the war, and this is indeed the Poetry Competition, but poetry is not for your self-deception, it should speak for the people who are suffering in the war. ”

This is not the Turkic steppe, this is Uszang, Uszang has also become the object of predation of the Turks, the painful memory is not far away, the Usti Tibetans were stabbed by Xiang Gong's words, and they instantly had a sense of identity.

Seeing that Xiang Gong's few words moved the audience, and some even nodded frequently, Zhenanzi immediately became anxious, "Don't talk nonsense, if you have the ability, you let me listen to the voices of the people from your poems." ”

Listening to Zhenanzi's words, Xiang Gong smiled, he didn't make any preparations, but isn't this kind of poetry easy?