Yongdian, the pinnacle of the literary meeting!

Nearly 10,000 Confucian cultivators sat cross-legged and discussed poetry with the 32 great Confucians.

Chen Ping got up and became independent.

"Today's summit literary meeting, we invite everyone to come, not only to appreciate the texts of our thirty-two senior brothers, but also to share if you have good texts, and everyone can share them!" Chen Ping smiled

Road.

As soon as Chen Ping said, some people were suddenly ready to move. Who can't write two verses? If you can take this opportunity to show your talent today, you will be famous in Julu City tomorrow. Of course

Writing poetry is risky, and if it is written well, everyone will naturally recite it, and if it is poorly written, it will be discredited.

However, even if there is a risk, there are still flashes of anticrisy in the eyes of many people.

"The first one, let me hold the bricks and lead the jade!" Chen Ping saw that some people were about to move, and immediately smiled slightly.

Some of the attendants were holding a large amount of pen and ink. Some attendants quickly brought in pieces of ten-zhang high monuments.

Chen Ping grabbed the brush, looked at the stele, and immediately picked up the pen and wrote on the stele.

Under the pen, the white light burst out, and the righteousness of Haoran suddenly emitted a dazzling brilliance under the pen, and the brilliance was even brighter at night, and the Yong Hall was dazzling.

In the distance, Oriental Decency and Meow Meow of the Oriental Hall also stood aside and watched.

"Just write Haoran righteousness, but that's it!" Meow Meow said disdainfully.

Meow Meow disdainful, but nearly 10,000 Confucian cultivators in the distance applauded.

I saw that on the giant monument, a poem became in a blink of an eye-

Crazy and down-and-out has become a man, independent study howling evening breeze; the bottom of the pen sells nowhere to sell, idle throwing wild vines! ――

A poem is written, and the stone tablet is surrounded by a majestic and righteous atmosphere, with white light shining and radiant.

"Good!"

In the distance, there was a shout of admiration from Confucian Xiu.

"What a fart!" exclaimed Dongfang Decent suddenly.

"What's wrong?" Meowth asked.

"This is obviously aimed at Yan Chuan, crazy, down-and-out, independent study, selling fame at the bottom of the pen, throwing around, isn't this scolding Yan Chuan?" Dongfang Decent said angrily.

"Meow Meow, that bastard is not a thing!" Meow Meow suddenly looked into the distance angrily.

Dongfang Decent and Meow Meow were extremely angry outside the Oriental Palace.

In the distance, the hall is flattering. Many Confucian cultivators also saw what this poem was referring to, but, Zi said, repay grievances with straightforwardness, and repay virtue with virtue. If there is revenge, it is not a gentleman.

If Chen Ping is really generous enough to repay virtue with grievances, it makes the Confucians puzzled. Such a counterattack shows the gentlemanly demeanor.

In the compliment, Chen Ping smiled slightly and said: "Among the teacher's disciples, he is at the bottom of the list, and he is also the most indecent person

Comments!"

"The Great Confucian is humble!" all the Confucian cultivators laughed.

"Just to throw bricks and lead jade, if you have a good text, you can also leave a pen, this time, we have prepared a hundred stone tablets, for the fine text to pick up the pen, and erect this place, for all generations to see

Yang, the person who writes the pen will also be famous for eternity!" Chen Ping said.

Chen Pingyi said, and suddenly countless people were ready to move, and some people kept recalling their previous poems in their hearts, seeing if they were qualified to be on the monument!

Chen Ping squinted and smiled, inadvertently glanced at the Dongfang Hall opposite, and slowly sat down proudly.

The first poem is not only for the purpose of embracing bricks and attracting jade, but sometimes, it is also the theme of a literary meeting, aimed at Yan Chuan, which has already been long-sworded.

Below, no matter what the article is, it is to increase the bargaining chips of the first poem, one by one, to press Yan Chuan on the opposite side of the landless self-embarrassment!

The Confucian cultivators pushed and shouted, and some of the thirty-two Confucians came out to write poems.

It is also the spirit of Haoran rushing to the sky, shining brightly, shining in all directions of Yongdian.

The second stele was erected, and it was another good article that was well-known.

"Good!"

There was a lot of applause, and then there were some Confucian scholars who participated in the conference one after another, of course, only the kind of people who can write the spirit of grandeur in the pen have the courage to write.

One monument after another was erected, and one after another the majestic qi rushed into the night sky and went straight into the nine heavens.

Countless onlookers from all over the world were amazed by this grand event.

The event has gradually entered the **.

At this time, another Confucian mentioned words to an inscription -

Mountains and rivers have always existed in the universe, and I don't believe that Jianfei painted rocks. The four-character Xuanni was silent, and it was a pity that the good situation was stupid -

The pen of Confucianism is also heroic, and it is much more vigorous than the previous one.

"Whew!"

A strong wind blew in all directions, and in the strong wind, there was a trace of wet rain.

The strong wind blew to the entire Yongdian Square, and the Confucian cultivators danced and danced, and the robes swayed lightly.

The square cultivators suddenly fell silent.

"The pen is stormy?" Suddenly, a Confucian cultivator exclaimed.

"The pen falls into a storm, it is really a pen that falls into a storm! This, this ............!"

Many Confucian cultivators became excited. This is a very high level of calligraphy. Some Confucian cultivators can't reach heights in a lifetime.

The pen fell into a storm?

"That's the fiftieth disciple of the seventy-two disciples of the Great Sage Sima Yuntian!" Suddenly a Confucian cultivator recognized it.

A group of Confucian cultivators showed surprise.

The fiftieth disciple, can you write a storm?

The pen fell into a storm, and as soon as this article came out, there was no Confucian cultivation to write down.

There are only a few great Confucians left.

All the great Confucians showed smiles on their faces one by one, and found that today's Wenhui was really worth it, not only suppressed Yan Chuan, but after today, Sima Yuntian's seventy-two disciples

Fame must also take another leap forward.

"Meow, the pen is shocking, what's the big deal, just this little wind, Yan Chuan's left hand is a thousand times better than him!"

"You think the pen is a cabbage!" said Dongfang Decency in disbelief.

"If you don't believe it, forget it!" Meow said disdainfully.

Next, the forty-ninth disciple, the forty-eighth disciple .............

A group of great Confucians have put pen to paper. The next Confucian cultivation is full of storms.

Haoran righteousness has already washed away the heaven and earth around the Yong Palace. What is as bright as the day? Around the Yong Palace, it is as bright as the day!

Even if you look at it anywhere in Julu City, Yongdian is hanging in the air like a bright moon at this moment, dazzling. In comparison, the Oriental Hall was completely overshadowed.

At this moment, in the eyes of all Confucian cultivators, Yan Chuan was already nothing, and he had been reduced to no status at all in everyone's hearts.

The stone monuments, like mountains, crushed the Oriental Hall to death.

All the great Confucians wrote one after another, and only the last great Confucian head, Wang Long, remained.

Wang Long got up, and Chen Ping also stood up.

"Ladies and gentlemen, Senior Brother Forty-One is the head of our group of Confucianists here, and Senior Brother's article is not just a storm. Chen Ping said with a smile.

"Oh?"

Nearly 10,000 Confucian cultivators showed excitement, and at this moment, everything seemed to be pushed to the most. The Great Confucian Wang Long is going to make a move?

"If you have a literary ghost, you can take it out and use it to judge the senior brother's article!" Chen Ping said with a smile.

"Wen ghost?" nearly ten thousand Confucian cultivators' expressions moved.

Suddenly, among the nearly 10,000 Confucian cultivators, many Confucian cultivators turned their hands and made a move, and there were more green lights in their palms.

As soon as the green light came out, it suddenly flew into the sky and circled around Yongdian Square. It's like a myriad of ghosts flying.

"What is this?" Meow Meow looked at Oriental Decent.

"This is called the Wen Ghost, it is the resentful spirits baptized by Confucianism with Haoran righteousness, these resentful spirits were baptized by Haoran righteousness, lost their past memories, and were taken in by Confucianism, which can be sensed

Some of the articles are good or bad!", explained Oriental Decency.

"Meow, Wen ghost, Confucian cultivator still raises ghosts?" Meow Meow said in surprise.

"You can't be considered a ghost anymore, if you don't have a ghost and a literary atmosphere, you should be a demon pet!" Dongfang Zhengde explained.

"Meow!" Meow Meow seems to understand.

In the distance, thousands of ghosts flew and flew towards the stone monument in all directions, as if they felt the attraction of the words on the stone tablet, and they did not stop surrounding.

And Wang Long also grabbed the brush.

He touched his beard and smiled slightly: "In the past, the old man traveled the world with the teacher, passing through a mountain temple, and he felt something, and occasionally got literary thoughts, I hope you will comment on it!"

Wan Ru held his breath and waited.

I saw Wang Long pick up the pen and write on the stone tablet.

On the way to write, the ghosts who originally surrounded the Quartet Stone Tablet gradually flocked to Wang Long's place.

The depths of the white clouds are called Zen habitats, so they visit Yunguan to find a question. The dense snow buried in the river monk did not sweep, and the birds cried in the trees in Shaochun. The three quiet rooms are still there, and the five years of flow are also fast. It should not be far from Eagle Peak, and the jade jungle looks at the Dan Ladder -

"Whew!"

"Boom!"

The wind was blowing, and clouds and mist were faintly floating around.

Wang Long's pen fell into a storm, and suddenly overwhelmed the text of Confucianism, and Haoran was righteous and rushed to the sky, if the original Yongdian was a round of bright moon, the current Yongdian is a round of Hao

Day.

In Julu City, countless cultivators who did not come here were also awakened by the vision at this moment, and they all regretted it again and again, and they rushed here one after another.

Around the Yong Palace, there are more and more cultivators.

The pen fell into a storm.

Before it was over, the original thousands of literary ghosts suddenly gathered together at the place of Wang Long's stone stele.

"Woooooooo

"Woooooooooooo

..................

............

......

In the midst of the wind, there was the cry of the ghosts. The voice was very weak, but at this moment, Wan Ru quietly stood aside and looked at the scene in front of him in surprise.

"The pen falls into a storm, and the poem becomes a weeping ghost!" suddenly a Confucian Xiu exclaimed.

"The pen fell into a storm, and the poem became a weeping ghost and god? The great Confucian Wang Long, true, really ............!" The Confucian cultivators suddenly didn't know how to describe it.

When they looked at Wang Long, they all showed fanatical worship.

As soon as this article came out, tonight's article meeting was pushed to its peak, and countless Confucian cultivators were enthusiastic about it.

What a grand occasion!

"When the float is white!"

"What you do today, there are no regrets!"

"Seventy-two disciples of the Great Sage, sure enough, Wen can move the sky!"

................................................

......

The sound of wind and rain, the cry of ghosts, the sound of praise, the exclamation, the surrounding of the Yong Palace, there was a lot of noise, and the cultivators who came around were all moved.

The voice soared into the sky, showing the coldness of the Dongfang Hall at the moment.

"Kuang!"

The door of the Oriental Hall opened violently. An extremely discordant voice was transmitted to the Yong Palace.

"It's okay to be grandstanding, it's okay, how can I calm down and read a book when I make a noise in front of my palace?"

This voice is very rogue and very powerful!

Wang Longdaru, who was originally complimented, suddenly stiffened his face, and he felt disgusted.

Not only Wang Long, but also the Confucian cultivators who complimented him around him also looked at each other angrily.

The pen falls into a storm, and the poem becomes a crying ghost and god, is this grandstanding?

Suddenly, one by one, they glared angrily in the direction from which the voice came.

But in the distance, the door of the eastern hall was wide open.

After a series of gorgeous words came out, the Confucian cultivators almost forgot about Yan Chuan who was targeted, but at this time, everyone saw that Yan Chuan stepped out of the East Hall.

"Shouldn't you shrink your head turtle?" Chen Ping was slightly stunned.

Jumping out at this time? made the originally surprised crowd look puzzled.

I saw Yan Chuan stepping out, and Qinglong followed.

"Meow, Yan Chuan, that group of people is so hateful, they are all scolding you!" Meow Meow suddenly ran over.

"The pen is stormy, the poem is crying ghosts and gods, Yan Chuan, this is hard stubble, why did you come out at this time?" Dongfang Decent was puzzled.

"Is a ghost also a ghost?" Yan Chuan showed a hint of disdain.

"Huh?" Dongfang Deng said incomprehensibly.

"People have already kicked the door, let's go, let's go!" Yan Chuan said lightly.

"Past, present?" said Dongfang Deed.

You must know that the other party's thirty-two Confucians are already expected by everyone, and now they are not humiliating?

Yan Chuan stepped out with Meow Meow on his shoulder, followed by Qinglong, holding a huge plaque in his hand.

"Huh?" "Yan Chuan?"

"He still dares to come?"

........................

............

......

The cultivators of the Quartet all showed a look of surprise, and nearly ten thousand Confucian cultivators also showed a look of incomprehension, with a trace of pity in their eyes.

Although Chen Ping's eyes were mocking, for some reason, he suddenly felt a little uneasy. Disturbed?

The two floating islands are not far from each other, and in a blink of an eye, Yan Chuan is close to the front.

"Yan Chuan?" Wang Long frowned.

"What are you doing here?" said a big Confucian frown.

"Qinglong, show him the invitation, who sent it?" Yan Chuan said lightly.

"Yes!"

Qinglong took out the invitation, and as soon as the invitation came out, everyone immediately recognized the words on it. Wang Long's words.

The group of Ru stared at Yan Chuan. Although Yan Chuan came late, he still became the focus here, who made Chen Ping's poems aimed at Yan Chuan at the beginning?

"Woooooooooooo

In the distance, the literary ghosts were still crying and singing Wang Long's poem.

"The pen falls into a storm, and the poem becomes a crying ghost?" Yan Chuan showed a faint disdain.

"I don't know what to advise?" Wang Long said in the midst of the Confucianism, still maintaining his image.

"Yes, if you have the ability, you can also write!" Chen Ping shouted.

Yan Chuan glanced at Chen Ping. Wave slightly.

Qinglong immediately took out a brush.

Nearly 10,000 ghosts surrounded Wang Long's poems and wept, and Yan Chuan lifted his pen and landed on a huge stone tablet directly opposite.

Nearly 10,000 Confucian cultivators and nearly 100,000 onlookers all showed surprise.

"This Yan Chuan, really looking for death!"

"Yes, he also dares to fight poetry with Wang Long's great Confucian?" "I don't even have Haoran righteousness, what are you fighting?"

"I can't help myself!"

..............................

..................

......

There were bursts of mockery and disdain all around.

But at this moment, Wang Long suddenly had a bad premonition, his expression did not move, but his eyes were extremely sharp.

"Meow, meow!" Meow meow opened her teeth and claws at a group of people who counted down Yan Chuan.

Qinglong was slightly worried, Dongfang decency had no face and no skin, it didn't matter.

I saw Yan Chuan put pen to paper-

Thinking through the red dust road all his life, the sword is hidden in Luxuan. Wan Zhan claimed to be unskilled, and he was born with two eyes and contempt for the crowd -

"Groan!"

Yan Chuan's pen fell, and a powerful murderous aura filled the entire square.

The original wind and rain was suddenly rushed out by the murderous aura of the stone tablet where Yan Chuan put his pen, forcing the wind and rain to stop suddenly.

As soon as the murderous aura came out, the mocking people all felt a chill in their hearts.

"Boom!"

In Yan Chuan's poems, countless clouds and mist rushed out, and in the clouds, it seemed that there was a figure of a hundred zhang, a burly soldier, holding a long blade in his hand, holding a knife, and squinting

Slash at the front.

Under the knife momentum, people feel a pain of scraping bones.

At this moment, the voice of the ten thousand ghosts suddenly stopped, and under the fierce knife of Yan Chuan's poems, they trembled one by one, and they were inexplicably frightened.

There are countless heroic righteousness, and there are just a hundred peerless fierce generals in the clouds, who come with a knife to kill, and the fierce general's eyes are slightly narrowed, despising the heroes.

An endless domineering aura gushed out.

For a time, on the square, countless Confucian cultivators were breathless, and the thirty-two great Confucians were even more bloodless.

Wan Zhan claimed to have never lifted a sword, and he was born with two eyes to despise the heroes? When a poem came out, it soared into the sky, and the majestic momentum made ten thousand ghosts stop crying! The wind and rain suddenly stopped! Even the majestic and majestic aura changed in front of the general who loomed in the white mist

eclipsed.

"The pen is down?" exclaimed.

That's a higher level.

Nearly 10,000 Confucian cultivators can't even think of a level, appeared today?

The Confucian cultivators who used to mock Yan Chuan looked at Yan Chuan at this moment, and there was endless fanaticism in their eyes!

Domineering, domineering words, domineering poetry! This is Yan Chuan?

Dongfang Decent suddenly looked at Yan Chuan excitedly, turned to look at the bloodless thirty-two Confucians on the opposite side, and said with a trace of disdain: "What is written?" So

Happy?"

"You!" Chen Ping's face turned red with anger.

But as soon as Yan Chuan's poem came out in front of him, everyone could see that they couldn't fight at all, not that they were about the same, but that they were too different.

The pen falls into the storm, and the pen falls to show the weather, which is fundamentally different. Even a fool can see it.

The poems that were originally praised by Confucianism, in front of Yan Chuan's poem, it was bullshit!

The thirty-two Confucians suddenly showed shame and indignation.

Yan Chuan finished writing and threw away the pen.

The arrogance at this moment, in the eyes of nearly 10,000 Confucian cultivators, is a matter of course, that is uninhibited! This is the real Confucianism and Taoism.

Yan Chuan turned his head to look at the thirty-two great confucians.

The Confucian cultivators of the Quartet, although they were excited, they still didn't dare to take a breath after all, looking at Yan Chuan and the thirty-two great Confucians in the center.

"Shame on people, don't come to me, it's uncomfortable to look at, it's noisy to hear!" Yan Chuan said lightly.

Uncomfortable to watch, noisy to hear?

It seems that the thunder of heaven exploded in the ears of the thirty-two great confucians!

"Yan Chuan, what are you talking about, who do you say is embarrassing!" Chen Ping's face suddenly turned red.

Yan Chuan glanced at Chen Ping, looked up and down, and although he didn't say anything, his eyes seemed to say, 'Well, isn't this just embarrassing?'

Chen Ping saw Yan Chuan's eyes, and at this moment, he was even more depressed in his chest.

"Poof!" a mouthful of angry blood came out.

"The plaque has already been given to you, don't send it back, take it back, and keep it!" Yan Chuan said lightly.

As he spoke, the word 'invitation' behind the plaque was wiped. Highlight the four big words of 'selling fame and fishing reputation' on the front.

Fish for fame and reputation!

It was solemnly delivered to Wang Long by Qinglong.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is my son-in-law's ink treasure, a good collection!" Qinglong said lightly.

"Poof!"

Another great Confucian was angry and vomited blood by Yan Chuan's plaque.

"Let's go!" Yan Chuan said, turning around.

Fly to the East Hall.

All around, it was still quiet, and nearly 10,000 Confucian cultivators and nearly 100,000 cultivators gave way. There was amazement in his eyes.

And the thirty-two Confucians, holding a huge plaque at the moment, wrote the words 'selling fame and reputation', and were blinded by the above four words again.

ps: Two thousand words more, so it's a little late!