Although Confucianism takes 'benevolence' as its own responsibility and cares about the people in the world, after all, the human heart is still long, and the seven emotions and six desires still exist in the heart. If you are a rising Confucian tycoon, are you willing to share your scarce talent with disciples who are not Confucian sects?

The obvious answer is no. This also led to the fact that when Ye Liancheng first crossed over, even if he broke his mouth, he couldn't cause the world to change, and he didn't know the specific role of the talent at that time.

This seems to make sense, but it is difficult to explain how the first Confucian scholar in the world acquired talent, which one did not have his predecessors, and whose reward was his writings?

Thinking of this, Ye Liancheng frowned, and a word popped up in his mind, 'Heavenly Dao'... Ye Liancheng, who has been immersed in all kinds of fantasy immortal cultivation novels for many years, knows the mysteries, the one who is in charge of all things in the world is the way of heaven, the way of heaven is not a person or any thing, he is the rule between the underworld, and anything he does without any emotion is just to make the rules he makes a better continuation.

Perhaps at that time, the human race was a more optimistic vein of the Heavenly Dao, so it gave the human race talent, so that the founder of Confucianism, Kong Sheng, could have the next series of achievements. But later, for some reason, Heavenly Dao no longer served as the promulgator and selection of talents, and this task was entrusted to the Confucian ascendants.

Wait, why does it have to be handed over to them, it can't be snatched from the Heavenly Dao by the Ascendant...

"Boom!" Ye Liancheng's mind sounded like thunder, and when he violated a certain taboo, he only felt that his brain was blank, and the whole world was rejecting this Ye Liancheng, and a certain existence only needed to move his mind to put Ye Liancheng to death.

Outside the sky, a black-robed man was playing boredly with a white chess piece, and the next moment he slowly opened his eyes.

"Tsk, it's me. He praised himself, and the black-robed man threw the white chess piece in his hand between the clouds.

At the same time, inside a majestic palace, the hall was laid out like a lecture and teaching, with several futons on the upper floor and many straw mats on the lower floor.

At this moment, the futon was in the middle of a position on the right-hand side, and the Confucian sage sitting on it suddenly opened his eyes and looked at the world suspiciously. Sensing that someone had seen through the heavens, and he was thinking about what to do, the old man on his left, who was closest to the middle futon, stroked his beard and smiled, "Let's see what he has to write." ”

Based on the words of his master Wen Sheng, the younger Confucian sage knew that the person in the world was not simple, and he subconsciously looked at the person sitting in the middle and found that he was still like that, with his eyes closed kindly, without the slightest movement on his body, like a stone statue.

Since he came to this position, the Holy Master has always been like this, and he felt a little worried in his eyes when he felt helpless, but with his master's words, he still honestly did not move.

On the other hand, Ye Liancheng, who came back to his senses, was afraid that he couldn't imagine how much had happened in that moment just now, so he sucked it up and sucked back the nosebleed in his nostrils.

It wasn't until the nasal cavity and mouth were filled with a faint fishy sweet smell that Ye Liancheng realized that he had a nosebleed. With an indifferent smile, he didn't care about these things, and after having the courage, his physical strength was improved again, and I believe that this small injury will heal itself after not much.

"Bang~" A long string of nosebleeds fell down Ye Liancheng's nostrils on the rice paper, dyeing the white and flawless rice paper red.

Hmm? Ye Liancheng slowly put out a question mark, could it be that this little injury is not better? In order not to affect his next poem, he had no choice but to use softer straw paper to plug his bleeding nostrils, which made him feel relieved.

Ye Liancheng, who changed a piece of rice paper, knew that he was afraid that he had just thought of the idea, and the so-called body was not afraid of the shadow, cough cough, don't think about it anymore, maybe someone above is watching.

According to Yu Lao, when a person's realm reaches a certain level, as long as others think about this great power in their hearts, that great power will know something, no matter where this person is. When Ye Liancheng asked what realm he needed to do this, Yu Lao was stuck, because he didn't know, he just relayed what he heard to Ye Liancheng.

Although Yu Lao is a hanger on weekdays, it is easy to drop the chain at critical moments, he looks a little obscene, and he doesn't like to be clean, and all he thinks about all day long is some fancy intestines, which is still very good, at least what he said is basically true. So after realizing this, Ye Liancheng became more cautious and forced himself not to think about the previous things anymore.

So which poem should he write next? After having the courage to write, Ye Liancheng became cautious when writing a poem, knowing that it was the power of Confucianism that reviewed the poems, so how could he be a child's play?

If he writes a poem that doesn't match the current theme, Ye Liancheng estimates that the poetry in his body will explode in the next second, and if he writes a long list of good poems in his past life in a row, he won't have to think about it, he will be caught by the Confucian power and read his own thoughts.

Thinking about it, Ye Liancheng couldn't help it, but fortunately, most of the creative process was meditative rather than short-lived inspiration.

Ye Liancheng, who was racking his brains to think, inadvertently glanced at the open window, because Hongying came in in the middle of the night, the window was still open, and the official bright moon outside was already its bright moonlight.

Where the moonlight went, it happened to be the head of his bed, Ye Liancheng's eyes lit up when he saw this scene, and he knew that the feeling was coming, and the poem he was going to write next came to mind.

Bright moon, homesickness, cold. Fusion of the three elements, the birth of the poem is a poem immortal popular masterpiece, in the previous life of the Celestial Empire, this poem can be said to be known to everyone, even so this does not mean that the poem is bad, but proves that it is in a certain aspect is good to the extreme.

After moistening the tip of the pen, Ye Liancheng brushed his sleeves and picked up the pen, and began to write the title of the poem on rice paper: "Silent Night Thoughts".

"Moonlight in front of the bed,

It is suspected to be underground frost.

Look up at the bright moon.

Bow your head and think of your hometown. ”

When the last word was written, Ye Liancheng's nosebleed could no longer be controlled, and it squirted out, along with the nosebleed and thatched paper, on the desk...