"It doesn't matter, we still have a lot of time to think about it slowly, and there is no need to compete with Ying Wuxin in one day. Qin He comforted everyone.

Originally, he wanted to hit Ying Wuxin by surprise, relying on the advantage of numbers, and overwhelmingly stomped on Ying Wuxin on the ground, but he didn't expect that he would become the one who was stepped on, and he was constantly ravaged and rubbed by the other party.

Everyone had no choice but to admit it, and many people gritted their teeth and went back, ready to rest in preparation for the war.

Fifty thousand, sixty thousand, seventy thousand, eighty thousand.

In the evening, when night fell, the lights were lit again in the royal capital, and Ying Wuxin's poems had reached an incredible 80,000, and there were no repetitions, which basically met the requirements, and there was not a single word yet.

Many onlookers sat on the ground, dozing off, and they had to continue to watch, while Liu Yuan and other old men, who were too old to carry it, had already fallen asleep in the carriage on the side.

In the palace, the older ministers basically fell asleep on their chairs, and the younger ones also yawned, only the people of the White Tiger Team were still in good spirits and watched with great interest.

The two brothers, Wen Liang and Wen Yu, were no exception, looking at the red glow in the night sky, in a trance, they felt like they were dreaming.

"Eighty thousand?"

Qin He stood in the darkness on the side, his dark eyes burning with a flame of resentment and unwillingness, Ying Wuxin had already composed 80,000 poems, in less than a day, it was simply not something that people could do, but he did it.

Qin He deliberately checked it, although Ying Wuxin's poems were written at a very high speed, the quality was also very high, far better than what they had worked so hard to write, which made him extremely depressed.

The speed is fast, the quantity is large, and the quality is excellent, so you should have no intention of doing these things alone, and the readers in the Jin Kingdom have been trampled down.

"How is that possible?"

Many people who had gone and returned came back and heard that Ying Wuxin's poems had reached an incredible 80,000, and they all suspected that they were dreaming, and they had not woken up at all when they had just slept at all.

But no matter how they pinched their thighs and pinched their arms, the pain was a clear reminder that it was true, that everything was real.

"Are we going to continue competing?" Meng Feiyu asked.

In three days, he worked hard to create a good poem, but he also hollowed out his brain, and after writing a poem on stage last night, he went back to rest, but he didn't expect to wake up and watch it again, and he should have reached the height that all readers in the Jin Kingdom need to look up to.

And this height is rising, and there is a tendency to go out of their sight.

"Naturally, we still have a lot of time, a whole month. Qin He roared unwillingly.

The others gritted their teeth and nodded, now that they have reached this step of the field, they take the initiative to admit defeat, and it is even more embarrassing, it is better to fight, after all, they still have time, and there are still a large number of readers who have not participated.

Liu Yuan woke up and heard the servants around him report the number of poems that Ying Wuxin had written, and he was stunned for a moment, and after a long time, he let out a long sigh.

"Is there a word to come out?" asked Liu Yuan.

"There has never been a song. ”

Liu Yuan said angrily: "The poems are already 80,000, presumably as soon as the words come out, there will be tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands of poems, not to mention the readers of the Jin Kingdom, that is, all the readers of the three states and five countries in the world combined, I am afraid that it will be difficult to reach a fraction of Ying Wuxin, this time we will lose." ”

As far as he knows, the three states of the world have been inherited for more than 4,000 years, and there are only more than 60,000 poems extant, although some of them have been lost, but most of them have been recorded.

This is the cultural wealth left by the civilization in which tens of millions of people have lived for thousands of years, only more than 60,000 poems, or the sum of poems, and even the poems that should be done by one person without intention now, what is the result of this game, he naturally understands in his heart, it is indeed as the head of the family said.

"Shall we stay here then?" asked the servant.

Liu Yuandao: "Even if we want to lose, we have to persist until the end, you go and prepare, we will stay here in the next month." ”

"Yes. ”

The servant turned around and left, Liu Yuan tidied up his clothes, got out of the carriage, and saw several other literary veterans, each with a wry smile, obviously everyone had understood the result of this competition.

In the middle of the night, the hoarse voice of the eunuch sounded in the palace, "One hundred thousand!"

"One hundred thousand. ”

The other eunuchs also shouted.

The ministers woke up in shock, looking at the night sky in a daze, and the genius recalled that the game was still going on, and Ying Wuxin's poems had reached an outrageous 100,000.

"One hundred thousand, one hundred thousand, how can this be something that a person can do, Ying Da is a talented man who must be a poet and immortal. The young officer was amazed.

Zhao Anbang, Feng Qinglu and other old ministers could only shake their heads and smile bitterly, and now, they didn't know how to evaluate Ying Wuxin.

"One hundred thousand, this-" Sun Xiaoman stared at the night sky with bloodshot eyes, her face was full of shock, and at this moment, her heart had been completely impressed by Ying Wuxin.

"Wuxin Senior Brother is so powerful. ”

Bai Miaozhen's eyes looked at the night sky, his eyes were extremely adoring, and he was even more bright.

Li Zhengdao let out a sigh, but didn't say anything, smiled faintly, Wang Banxian on the side woke up in a daze, heard the number of 100,000, and muttered in a low voice: "100,000 seems to be a bit little, I already knew to let Xiao Dao Ye memorize more, in the mobile phone, there are obviously more than 300,000 poems, more than 200,000 poems, more than 100,000 words, but it seems that Xiao Daoye's memory has reached the limit, forget it, it seems that this time it will be like this." ”

"One hundred thousand, it should be enough, if it's not enough, I'll make some words later, let's do it first, you feel free-" Ying Wuxin waved his hand, smiled and invited Wen He into the palace, and didn't take a second look at the readers near the poetry platform.

"Hmph, what kind of garlic to pretend, you can only write poems, don't brag, have the ability to write a poem for us to see?" Zhou Qian said disdainfully.

"That's right, this guy obviously doesn't know how to write words, and he even wants to cheat us, so we will be fooled, everyone continues to work hard, I believe that as long as we write 100,000 poems a month, we will definitely be able to defeat Ying Wuxin, after all, we also have more than 10,000 poems now. A young man shouted.

Liu Yuan and the other old men blushed for a while, the scholars did write more than 10,000 poems here, but most of the back did not meet the requirements at all, and they didn't count at all, but they couldn't hit them at the moment, so they had to pretend not to hear.

In the palace, Ying Wuxin bowed with Wenhe and said: "Your Majesty, the grass people specially composed a lyric and presented it to Your Majesty as a congratulatory gift." ”

"Hurry up. Wen Liang was overjoyed, he wanted to see how a talented man who could compose 100,000 poems a day presented a poem.

Yang Shuyu beckoned someone to send a pen and paper, Ying Wuxin finished writing in a moment, handed it over, and after Wen Liang saw it, he clapped his hands and shouted: "Okay, it is worthy of being a great talent." ”

"Wenhe Daozong, let's put this word out as well. ”

Wen He nodded, and the red glow flew out of his body, dividing a hundred again, and condensing words one by one in the sky above the poetry platform:

"Drunk to pick up the lamp to look at the sword, dream back to blow the horn company camp. Eight hundred miles under the command, fifty strings turned over the outside sound. Autumn soldiers on the battlefield. The horse-made Lu was fast, and the bow was like a thunderbolt. But the king of the world, won the name before and after his death. Poor white happens!"