Police Inspector Luigi Teluriah was set to find a serial killer/ writer. The writer was known for her pen name Karma and with her relatable stories.

Little did the writers know is that the stories were true to life and the writer even kill to make a perfect story for everyone to read.

Stay tuned as Inspector Luigi unveil the true identity of Karma.

Some Poems/Short Stories I will write on my free time. It'll mostly be poems. Any type of poem. You might like them, you might not. Criticise if I do anything wrong. I might use a title out of the comments to name some poems.

The next day on the way to work, while walking past the subway's west newsstand, Zhang Ye asked, "Has the Beijing Times newspaper arrived? How much?"

"A dollar." the owner replied mechanically.

Zhang Ye took out some money, "Give me a copy."

The owner took the money and handed a copy over, "Okay, take it."

Zhang Ye, broke as hell, felt bad giving the dollar. But it was unavoidable; money ought to be spent that had to be spent. He held up the paper and flipped through it page by page. When he arrived at the subway and pushed through the crowd at line 10, a sparkle appeared in his eyes. He flipped to the center page, saw his name printed across the page with the headlines especially attention-capturing - "Two Poems Saved a Life"!

Yesterday night, on Beijing Radio Station's Literature Channel program "Talk About the World" special, during the call-in session for the "Matters of the Heart" topic, a female university student attempted suicide on the air over her boyfriend's plans to further his studies in New York. The program host, Wang Xiaomei, attempted to talk her out of it, but failed. In the end, the guest of the show, the Literature Channel's "Late-night Ghost Stories" host, Teacher Zhang Ye, saved her life with two poems!

The dark night gave me black eyes, but I use them to seek the light – A Generation.

The furthest distance in the world is not the distance between opposite sides of the world. It is that you don’t know that I love you, when I stand in front of you...The furthest distance in the world is the love between the bird and fish. One is flying in the sky, the other is looking upon the sea. – "The Furthest Distance in the World", also named "Flying Bird and Fish".

The above are the poems in their original form.

According to sources, the two poems were composed on the spot by Teacher Zhang Ye. Our reporter also contacted Teacher Zhang for an interview late last night. Although it was just a phone call, he was awed by Teacher Zhang Ye's literary talent.

Ah?

Awed by my literary talent?

Zhang Ye blushed a little. He had taken the reporter to be a ham salesman. Literary talent, my ass!

The report continued: We have to mention here a side story. At midnight, the editorial department was rushing the report. After seeing the two works, they were moved. An explanation and review of the two poems were done, but when handed over to the head editor for checks, we were held back from publishing it. After reading the poems, his own words were, "Delete all the reviews and analysis. Do not use the old way of writing the report. ‘Flying Bird and Fish’, a modern poem like this would immediately hit it off with the reader. And the other, ‘A Generation’, the strength in this cannot be explained by words. This is a great modern poem. Whether or not the author is a rookie, the only word to describe this poem is 'Great'. Maybe the author's fame and current era's background are not enough to make this poem well-known throughout the world, but I believe time will prove much. A few years or maybe a few decades, or even a few hundreds years down the road, the future generations will remember this poem and remember a person - Zhang Ye and his ‘A Generation’. Our generation, their next generation and the future generation of the next generation.”

The review was highly positive. Zhang Ye’s heart fluttered.

...

Department.

"Morning." Zhang Ye walked into the office.

Assistant Xiaofang was the first to welcome him, smiling and revealing her small canine teeth, "Teacher Zhang, you came at the right time. We were just talking about the report in the Beijing Times. Have you seen it?"

Zhang Ye smiled. "I've also seen it."

Xiaofang giggled, "People were chatting before about it. You are the first person in our Literature Channel to go in the Beijing Times in the recent years." She was happy for Zhang Ye. "This is, after all, the Beijing Times. Even though it's limited to the capital area, the circulation numbers are in the hundreds of thousands. Most people don't have such a treatment!"

The old host, Teacher Feng, of "Old and Young Story Club" looked over and gave high praises, "Teacher Little Zhang, I heard the rebroadcast last night. I listened to the two poems again and again. Hai, indeed the younger generations will surpass us in time. I'm about to retire soon, so this station will be in the hands of you young people."

Zhang Ye quickly said, "It's not as serious as you make it out to be. My literary standard is still far from accomplished. I came to the station with a learning attitude. Today, it will still be the same. I'm hoping to receive lots of advice from every Teacher."

Tian Bin and Li Si had already came to work.

Zhang Ye also noticed him and saw the rage in Tian Bin's eyes. He was jealous and ignored Zhang Ye, before sitting at his desk. After having Zhang Ye rob the position of main host of "Late-night Ghost Stories" from him, Tian Bin was now a stand-in DJ. He usually did not have any work to do and only stood in when there was a shortage. He had not gone on a program for days, so it wasn't strange that he was mad.

However, Li Si's attitude today was completely different. It was clear he did not want to speak, but for some unknown reason, he suddenly stopped just as he was about to turn around, "...Teacher Zhang, morning."

Zhang Ye looked at him, "Oh, morning."

Li Si nodded with his head and then returned to his seat. It seemed like he had given in and had sized up the situation.

Seeing this, Tian Bin's expression turned worse. His popularity was always average amongst his colleagues. Previously, he would often speak about people behind their backs, so it was not strange that he was abandoned by the masses today.

Later on, the top celebrity of the station, Wang Xiaomei, came in. She did not look towards Zhang Ye and greeted a few old comrades and friends she had good relations with, before surprisingly saying to Zhang Ye, "Teacher Zhang, quite a number of letters from my program's listeners were written to you. I will get an assistant to give it to you in a while." Although her attitude did not seem to change, one had to know that Wang Xiaomei had never privately addressed Zhang Ye as "Teacher Zhang". A change in salutation clearly showed a subtle form of recognition.

Twenty minutes later, Zhang Ye received the letters from the listeners of "Talk About the World". In the generation where the internet was pervasive, this world was similar to Zhang Ye's world. Few people wrote letters, but Zhang Ye remained serious about it. Words written on a piece of paper felt more real and sincere.

"Hello, Teacher Zhang Ye. I heard the program yesterday. I'm also a parent, so I won't say much. I'll just thank you for that child's parents."

There was a total of 37 letters and all the feedback from the listeners was very positive.

Zhang Ye then went through the official e-mail inbox of "Late-night Ghost Stories". He read every mail sent by the listeners and then read the comments left on Beijing Radio Station's website. Suddenly, he saw a link and upon clicking it, he realized his "The Furthest Distance in the World" had been posted on a large discussion forum!

There had been 750,000 views!

There were more than 3,000 replies!

"This poem is too touching!"

"Why are there so many views? Isn't this the early stages of going viral!?"

"It has gone viral online, too? When I saw this poem in the Beijing Times in the morning, I was impressed. However, I prefer ‘A Generation’ more."

"I'm a moderator for the literature section on a website and an outright literature lover. I have always liked modern poems and I especially like writing them. I have always thought that I write very well and have left many modern poems in the literature section. However, after seeing Teacher Zhang Ye's two poems, I now know what it means to be the frog in the well. This is a real modern poem and what I wrote wasn't!"

There were praises and there were, of course, doubts.

"What rotten poem is this? It's just so-so."

"Right, it's too lame. One moment the furthest distance is this, then the next moment the furthest distance is that. There is no precision!"

No matter how well anything was done, it could not satisfy everyone. Zhang Ye knew this, so when he logged on, he wore an anti-troll fire vest before leaving a message. He did not have any strengths; only his attitude was good and tended to be more peaceful and calm. Seeing all the cursing, he only smiled and had the bearing of a literature writer and great poet. 

He answered in style, "...I f**k your second granny's lungs! Just so-so? Do you even f**king know literature? Eh? You dare think lightly of this divine work that can last the ages!? You all are a piece of s**t! A stinking piece of ****!"

People immediately felt the rush, "Eh, why are you cursing?"

Another netizen chimed in, "#3256 is right. All of you don't understand art!"

Another netizen said, "How can there be criticisms for a poem this classic? I really don't understand the aesthetic values of others!"

"Right, this is a poem that has saved a life. Still so-so? Then write a poem to save a life for me to see!"

Under Zhang Ye's lead, those people who had left their negative opinions were drowned by their spit and no longer posted. Seeing the warm enthusiasm, Zhang Ye logged off without his face red or heart throbbing excitedly. He did not feel that he was wretched. This was the attitude a literature writer had!

Lao Tze said this before: take actions when the right time comes!


Zhang Ye was originally a mundane college graduate with aspiring dreams to become a star, but unfortunately has below average looks and height. However one day, he woke up and suddenly found himself in a parallel world! 
It’s like the same world, but wait a minute…many brands, celebrities and even famous works from his world changed and are gone in this new world! Armed with the profound literary knowledge of his previous world and a heaven-defying Game Ring that gives him magical items, stats and skills, Zhang Ye embarks on a journey to pursue his life-long dream of becoming famous!
Follow Zhang Ye as he takes the new world by storm, one plagiarized piece at a time, to hilarious reactions!

A BEST SELLING AUTHOR ON AMAZON for Poems Book 1, Poems Book 3, Poetry on Inspiring Women -Book One AND You Can Lose Weight Just Like Me – From 85kg to 68kg – A Real Life Story











D.S.PAIS










Poetry on Inspiring Women -Book Three












Copyright 2019 D. S. Pais
Amazon Edition



ALSO BY D.S.PAIS


Best Sellers:
Poems Book 1, Poems Book 3, Poetry on Inspiring Women -Book One AND You Can Lose Weight Just Like Me – From 85kg to 68kg – A Real Life Story





Rescue
Diane
Tiene
Rescue Book 2: Giselle
Matters of the Heart
An Unlikely Christmas
The Spell of an Irresistible Woman
The silhouette in the picture









Self - Help:
How to Identify My Greatest Passion in Life
A PRAGMATIC Method to face repeated failures
The METHOD





Poetry:
Poems Book 2, Poems Book 4, Poetry on Inspiring Women -Book Two








Acknowledgements:






I dedicate this book to my family, relatives and friends who have been an inspiration in my life to continue with my work, in particular my husband Brayan, my children, Gavin and Glen.

I am indebted to my readers, because of whom I derive my inspiration to keep writing.

There are women who continue to inspire me in my life and this book is dedicated to them.

In this book, tributes have been written to the following ten women who made an impact in society: Mary Shelley, Catherine the Great, Vera Atkins, Cleopatra, Elizabeth Fry, Mary Anning, Joan of Arc, Isabella of Castile, Catherine of Siena and Wangari Maathai



















Selected comments for other books:


"Hello DSPais, thank you for this nice short sensible book. I bought your kindle for 99 cents and have already read it in ten minutes! I really like your approach of creative visualization. I weighed 91 kg and reduced to 72 kg but have increased back to 78 kg now, so am interested in ways to reinforce good diet and practice psychology of weight loss, especially just reducing amount of food. I will try your recipe of apple cider vinegar before meals. Reading your short book has helped me to focus my mind on good habits."
Book: You can lose weight just like me – from 85kg to 68kg – A Real Life Story.

"An ideal book for any normal person, who wants to lose weight. Steps mentioned can be followed by any one, who has the desire to lose weight. Overall a good one."
Book: You can lose weight just like me – from 85kg to 68kg – A Real Life Story.

"Read Matters of the Heart today. Beautifully written."
Book: Matters Of The Heart.

"Reading the Repeated Failures Book. Found a few good points".
Book: A PRAGMATIC Method to face repeated failures

"I read your book; it is nice in the way people can relate to as people face the same issues in their everyday life"
Book: You can lose weight just like me – from 85kg to 68kg – A Real Life Story

"I read your book on how to lose weight…..so nicely written. All your steps are very easy and normal to follow."
Book: You can lose weight just like me – from 85kg to 68kg – A Real Life Story

"It's really great that you did this… both the weight loss and the book. Very admirable."
Book: You can lose weight just like me – from 85kg to 68kg – A Real Life Story

"For a nice experience, turn to Beauty of the Night Surrounds Me, where we find this: "When the Sun has worn her evening gown; /The wind is gushing her wings /and around me, the lark sings. I should also mention Journey of an Individual, which is about meeting after a long-distance relationship.  Pais is from a culture different from mine, and this poem gives an insight into another world view – which, like yours and mine, includes love and hope."
Book: Poems Book One

"Ten poems is a small taste of a promising writer. I will content myself with a couple of comments. The opening poem, An Odd Encounter with Fate, is a narrative of how a relationship that seems a total non-starter can later catch up with both individuals. For a tough poem, turn to Infidelity. Here Pais begins to reach into your gut. Finally, Season of Love is a nice and gentle romantic poem. I should mention that Pais generally rhymes, exactly or closely. For those who prefer careful stanzas, that is a plus you will get from this book."
Book: Poems Book Two

"Now, let's go into what I enjoyed about "Poems." This short collection did what many others have not, and what many short stories try to do but aren't able to do; it made me feel. These poems individually but collectively made me feel so much. If you have ever felt love and know the joy and pains of what it is to love someone, then the first one is touching. I do not think D.S wrote either poem one or poem four for that matter, about the type of people I lost that I loved and that this poem reminded me of. I think hers was intended more romantic and less the love I had for the family members I miss. But there is this line at the end that touched my soul near the end and reminded me immediately of the pain of the loss of love that I still shoulder. With everything taken into consideration with my math, I'm Scoring "Poems" with a score of 92/100. That is a five-star review on Goodreads and Amazon."
Book: Poems Book One

The author lays out clearly the steps that aided her in losing weight. It is easy to follow and the suggestions are easy to implement into your daily life. The book gives you exactly what the author intended to and that is to provide insight on what worked for her.
Book: You can lose weight just like me – from 85kg to 68kg – A Real Life Story

This novella is quick, sweet romance. Kate was with her boyfriend for two years in a dead end relationship. A chance sighting at a job interview places Kate at her dream job and in the presence of her future. She meets Ernst who is seemingly living a double life. Fate draws them together for a HEA. The story was told from a third party point of view. It was very descriptive and the plot was clear and easy to follow. While you knew the plot and where it was going, at times the wording was very stilted, which could lead to some confusion when reading. This also made it difficult for me to connect with the characters and truly invest in the story.
Book: Matters Of The Heart.

The ladies of importance well chosen. The simple words of yours to give them glory, well written.
Book: Poetry on Inspiring Women -Book One























Dedicated to the spirit of freedom and determination

























Poetry on Inspiring Women -Book Three




















Contents








• A Dream Writer
• The Star of the North
• Lady Spy
• I will not be led in a triumph
• Angel of Prisons
• She sells seashells
• The maid of Orleans
• The Queen of Castile
• Doctor of the Church
• The Nobel Peace Prize Environmentalist












A Dream Writer

(In praise of Mary Shelley)





She had a thirst for knowledge and a mind that persevered
A prompt from Byron to write a ghost story, she considered
Morning after morning when all she replied with a negative
It was from one of her wakeful nights, a story she would give

She saw her ghost fable in front of her eyes, with signs of life
She was frightened and spent the night in uneasy wakerife
She began writing her dream and it became "Frankenstein"
She realised that she had stepped out from childhood wherein


When two of her children met with unexpected death
She turned to writing, weeping and holding her breath
She channelled her thoughts on her political freedom
She came up with novels and plays in creative wisdom

She financially aided the women whom society disapproved
It was not in boast, but simple justice that she was moved
She was a political radical throughout her life with empathy
She reformed the society through cooperation and sympathy














The Star of the North

(In praise of Catherine the Great)





Her coronation was one of the main treasures along with cadastres
The Russian Empire extended a little over 2 million square kilometres
Russia emerged as the dominant leader, defeating mighty powers
The Glory of Catherine amidst victories ushered in like thundershowers

She was the pioneer for Russia as an international mediator in disputes
League of Armed Neutrality was one of her key mediation attributes
Industries rose in textiles and ironworks with serfs during her reign
Russian economy, modernized by Volga Germans who were foreign

For funding military needs Government paper money was issued
Assignation Bank and its bank branches were thus pursued
In arts, literature and education, she had earned a reputation
Contributed to comedies, memoirs, encyclopaedia's proliferation

Leading economists became members of Free Economic Society
She recruited scientists to the Russian capital for scientific satiety
In her Nakaz, she issued codes to address modernisation trends
"The Star of the North" in 500 districts and 50 provinces she propends

She was a great patron of Russian opera, culture and arts
With head held high and regal costume, she won over hearts
She conferred "Charter of the Towns" and "Charter to the Nobility"
Her legal innovations bolted Russia to the phase of hypnotisability



Catherine the Great became Russia's longest ruling female leader
She was influenced by modernism and was a conceptualizer
The Catherinian Era was famed the Golden Age of Russia
The enlightened queen revitalised the country in nostalgia

















Lady Spy

(In praise of Vera Atkins)





She began her work in the French section of the SOE as a secretary
She became a de facto intelligence officer as deemed necessary
She recruited and deployed British agents in occupied France
She awaited decoded transmissions sent by them furtherance

Known for her steel-trap intelligence and fierce loyalty absolute
She stood on the runway to watch each take off in a parachute
While Hitler was unaware of Atkin's street smart brilliance
The F Section was equivalent to fifteen division's endurance

She was ardent in the search for F Section's 118 missing agents
Ensured that they were widely recognized for their achievements
In the world of spies, the tight-lipped, outspoken lady was the boss
The Knight of the Legion of Honour was grieved with tremendous loss

In this book, tributes have been written to the following ten women who made an impact in society: Mary Shelley, Catherine the Great, Vera Atkins, Cleopatra, Elizabeth Fry, Mary Anning, Joan of Arc, Isabella of Castile, Catherine of Siena and Wangari Maathai

"The river comes from west in turns; I am startled by the featured scenery. Hundreds of houses gather here to form a county; although having no city walls, they lean against a mountain. The shadow of the sail is looming in the river not far away from the maple leaves. Water gurgled near my bed. In straw rain cape, I am close to Yan Ling; pitifully, I could only look at the crystal river and pass by...What a nice poem! This poem could at least stay in the list of Talents' Pavilion for one year. It's said that it was written by a talent surnamed Xu in Xintong City. Not bad! Not bad..."
"Look at this one. I feel this poem is more artistic. The wild wind blows my white coat; I move on the river by boat. As the sun sets in the distance, green contours of mountains undulate. Feeling cold, flowers drop their heads; being tired, birds twittered occasionally. After seeing smoke rising, I anchor my fishing boat and come to Zhuxi Temple..."
"I don't agree with you, brother Ou. If this poem appears in a remote hotel or a residence of a hermit in the deep mountain, it would be amazing. However, it appears in the Talents' Pavilion. Therefore, I think the poet perhaps want to show off his talent; instead of aiming to be a real hermit. I would not vote him..."
"You're right, brother Li; you're right..."
In the afternoon, after circling around the city for a few hours, Zhang Tie was finally sent to the Talents' Pavilion in Datang City cordially by the taxi driver. Through the constant introduction of the taxi driver, Zhang Tie gradually learned more about Datang City and Xuanyuan Wuji and acquired a lot of useful information.
Xuanyuan Wuji's position in Datang City was like that of Zhang Tie in Fiery-Dragon Bounty Territory. Each action of him would be eye-catching. Therefore, Zhang Tie easily got the message that Xuanyuan Wuji was in Datang City these days from the taxi driver.
According to the taxi driver, at the end of each year, the adorable third prince would host philanthropic campaigns like providing porridge and money and giving condolence to soldiers, civilians and students in the city. Therefore, Xuanyuan Wuji would always stay in Datang City in the entire December. After hearing this message, Zhang Tie finally felt relaxed.
After making a plan to pay a secret visit to the third prince's mansion tonight and kill him when possible, Zhang Tie finished his lunch in a hotel before being led to the Talents' Pavilion by the taxi driver. With the attitude of doing as the Romans do, Zhang Tie started to wander in the Talents' Pavilion.
Talents' Pavilion was a vast octagonal traditional Hua building. Being located in the west of Datang City, Talents' Pavilion was in a hill not far from Datang Learning Academy. It was surrounded by beautiful scenery. No ticket was required to enter the Talents' Pavilion. Instead, each one could get a ticket for free at the entrance. As many people came here, after receiving tickets, they would vote for their most favorite works, political opinions, poems or essays of those "talents" by putting their tickets into the ballot boxes under the creators. In each fixed period, the ballot boxes would be opened and the tickets would be counted. Those with more tickets would rank higher on the list and would win chances to be promoted to high-level officials. 
On the taxi, Zhang Tie had been told about the game rules in Talents' Pavilion. After entering it, Zhang Tie felt strange watching those literati concentrating on those works. 
As for Zhang Tie, the so-called Talents' Pavilion was just a trick that Xuanyuan Wuji used to buy the hearts of people at the bottom of the society and control the public opinions. As he wanted to fight for the throne, Xuanyuan Wuji had to act like a "sagacious emperor". Such a trick would work more or less. However, the so-called talents in the Talents' Pavilion were actually some bottom literati in Datang City and nearby provinces or prefectures. What about those knights of Taixia Country if these people could be called talents? Real knights always neglected these things. A real knight didn't need to show off his literary talents for fame and wealth here. 
These literati had a big say at the bottom of society, who could influence many people's opinions. That might be the reason that Xuanyuan Wuji played such a trick. 
In a world dominated by knights, literati who only thought about reading instead of cultivating their battle strength would not enjoy high positions. Even if these literati could make some achievements in literature, most of them could at most be some grass-root clerks and officials. Very few of them could become the trusted subordinates of third prince like Fang Qingming on His Majesty's side. Right because of this reason, so many literati were longing for showing off their talents in the pavilion as they all dreamed to be the very trusted subordinate of the third prince and provide political suggestions to him. 
Zhang Tie was not interested in poems and essays; however, he was clear about the function of Talents' Pavilion. Standing behind those literati and listening to their comments, Zhang Tie revealed a despised look as if he was watching some kids building a castle using sand.
"Bro, I wonder about your noble opinion..." One of the literati in front of Zhang Tie asked when he caught Zhang Tie's contemptuous look and became irritated. Hearing his words, all the other literati in front turned around and fixated onto Zhang Tie at a stroke.
"Haha, I have no noble opinion; I have no noble opinion. Now that these poems and essays could be displayed here, they are nice for real..." Zhang Tie replied with a big smile as he cupped his hands towards them and intended to leave. Because Zhang Tie didn't feel like wasting time with these humble literati at all. 
"Bro, you're so presumptuous!" One of those literati was instantly driven mad by Zhang Tie's response, although Zhang Tie didn't have malicious intent. As a result, all of them were glaring at Zhang Tie as if Zhang Tie had insulted their belief. "These poems and essays are all top works among hundreds of millions of works. Bro, you might be erudite; how about showing us...We want to broaden our vision..."
"When I watched the snow last year, I got a poem by accident. Its name is Falling Snow. If you want to hear it, this humble man would read it for you..."
"Hmm, go ahead. I would like to appreciate your good piece..." a literati said with a sneer.
After looking around, Zhang Tie cleared his voice. After that, he read his poem under the gaze of all the others, "What is flying in the sky? There's a pile in the east, another pile in the west. Is the Jade Emperor building the Imperial Palace? Screening lime yo, screening lime!"
After Zhang Tie finished his poem, all the onlooking literati were petrified as their faces turned purple, quivering all over...
It appeared that Zhang Tie's interest was aroused. Before those people opened their mouth, he continued, "This humble man got another one when I watched the lightning bolt in the sky. Its name is Singing the Lightning Bolt. Glad to hear your comments about it. Ahem, ahem. I suddenly see a fiery chain in the sky as if the Jade Emperor is smoking; if Jade Emperor doesn't smoke, why is there a fiery chain...Eh, brothers, brothers, don't run away; I've got some more..."
Those literati who intended to make Zhang Tie embarrassed were severely injured by Zhang Tie's two poems. Soon after Zhang Tie finished his second poem, those literati had covered their faces with sleeves and left there as they didn't feel like talking with Zhang Tie any more.
Zhang Tie pretended to persuade them to stay; however, those literati paced up in case of being influenced by the bad luck brought by Zhang Tie. 
Shaking his head, Zhang Tie smiled and was going to leave. Unimaginably, a burst of applaud sounded behind him. 
"What nice poems! What nice poems..."
Zhang Tie turned around as he saw a hermit-like middle-aged literati in white robe clapping his hands.
"Young brother. Your poems look coarse; however, they're of great charisma. If charisma only is considered, your poems are much better than all the others in the Talents' Pavilion..."
After hearing the middle-aged literati's comment, Zhang Tie knew that he was not jeering at him. Given his personality, Zhang Tie started to like him. 
"Haha, to tell the truth, the two poems are not created by me; instead, I read it from a book by accident. The writer is a rude soldier of Hua people before the Catastrophe..."
"Oh, I see!" the literati replied as he continued, "Young brother, now that you could admit it frankly, you must be a straight-forward man. It must be your first time in Datang City. Me too! Young brother, how about traveling around the city with me..."
"Nice..." Zhang Tie replied with a smile too. 
　　


After the Catastrophe, every rule in the world was rewritten.
In the Age of Black Iron, steel, iron, steam engines and fighting force became the crux in which human beings depended on to survive.
A commoner boy by the name Zhang Tie was selected by the gods of fortune and was gifted a small tree which could constantly produce various marvelous fruits. At the same time, Zhang Tie was thrown into the flames of war, a three-hundred-year war between humans and demons on the vacant continent. Using crystals to tap into the potentials of the human body, one must cultivate to become stronger.
The thrilling legends of mysterious clans, secrets of Oriental fantasies, numerous treasures and legacies in the underground world — All in the Castle of Black Iron!
Written by Drunk Tiger, this novel is a prime example of fantasy steampunk. Let us journey through the world of limitless possibilities and inventions together!
------
**Warning: This novel contains mature content**



Time is unpredictable. Every action we make leads to a different heading. Still every one of us worries about what lies ahead. On what's in store for our lives. We worry about the tomorrow every single day.  Wishing that tomorrow will be better from today. A tomorrow in which there's no pain, suffering and hurt, a new beginning, new chances and opportunities. We all wish for a tomorrow like that. Still I learned in my life to never look forward. To not expect on what tomorrow will bring. Because I don't want to be disappointed. To look forward for a future that I know I can never have. Yeah it's depressing, but I've live my life like this. Always looking back, never forward. It's one of the curses of being able to remember everything. You'll keep on wanting to forget or either go back to the times you still can laugh and be happy. In which I didn't have any of those.
It's been about seven years or so. Since I last saw the girl who gave color and happiness to my life. The girl that I haven't seen in such a long time. Still I remember everything about her. But the worst part is I know that she doesn't recall any moment of us being together, well it's been seven years and some people might have moved on and had met other people. Found happiness and know where their lives are heading to. But not me. I still feel heavy and empty. Yet I'm getting by. I college graduate with a degree in literature. Can't even believe that the course that I would choose is about writing. Right now I'm working at a newspaper. But I don't write news article. I'm still writing with my specialty. Poems that I don't know if anyone actually notices. I get feedback from readers every once and a while. But I think no ones that interested in my work.
I've been also trying to write my own book that I would publish with the many I have. Well it's a move that's unlike me. But I have a story to tell. Yet I'm having troubles in writing neither the ending nor the next events. Well you see since I can't forget her and almost every night she is still on my mind. What I do is write about her. Write a story about me and her. Our ifs. Yet I can't really be optimistic. That's why even on the book I'm writing it still ends up like this. The lead character being lost. Having to say goodbye to the only thing that's giving his world light. I really miss Ana. Each night I go on wondering where is she now. Still hoping that we will see each other again. Though my heart knows it's impossible
For seven years it's been like this. At first I stayed in touch with Ana's parents but after some time. I can't contact them. That's why for seven years I've been living my life wondering. There are moment where I almost gave into depression. But I held on because deep inside a fragment of my sanity believes that we will see each other again. Well I think that's about it. Your all caught up with my life. Nothing really much happened in college. As always I was a loner and an outcast, because I choose to be one. That's why for seven years. The only person I interacted with is my boss. Who discovered my poems when I was still a student. Ironically the poem that my boss read to hire me. Was the first poem I wrote for Ana, but I just went with it. My boss is really nice. He loves poetry that's why he keeps on insisting putting a section of it in his newspaper, thanks to him I have a job.
A job that I'm not that passionate about. But I'm ok with it. Because maybe this was it. The last remnant of  Ana that is still in me. That spark of being able to write once more. Maybe someday I'll get over everything. Someday I'll be fine. I'll just continue writing poems. And writing my book. I'm ok with this being the ending of a story. But once more things change. Another event that would make me hope for a better tomorrow that I know will be sorrow.
I was walking home. I went of my office minding my own business. Just like when I was in high school. Ears plug with music not minding the world or my surrounding. Lost in thought instead of the melody that I'm hearing. Thinking. Being on my own even surrounded by many people walking. Then something broke the silence. Someone burst my bubble. A person that I've been wanting to see for this whole seven years. It was her Ana
"Hey" she said to me as she tries to get my attention
But I didn't hear her at first because I'm listening to music. So he touched my shoulder and once again said
"Hey are you Joseph"
Then I finally notice her. I turned around and saw her. It's been seven years. I don't know what to actually feel. My mind turned blank. The thoughts that I was lost in suddenly  disappear and all I wanted to do was to hug her. But I didn't because this all feels unreal that's why I thought I was imagining things. But no it was really her. That smile. That voice, that same innocence in her eyes. It was really her. And she remembers me.
"Ana is that you?"
"Oh how do you know my name? That's weird I didn't remember we have met before"
Then once again my hope turned into nothing. Because she don't remember me but how can she recognize me then from what I can see. I figure it out.
"Uhm no but it's written in your name tag"
Luckily she was wearing a nametag I was safe. 
"Oh yes my bad. Well I don't really know you as a person but I recognize you from this" she said and showed me the newspaper
Then just like I thought she only recognize me because of the newspaper she was holding. I didn't know what to feel. Happy that she continues to read my work or sad because she can't remember me and that I once wrote for her
"I see well thanks for your support"
I wanted to end the conversation. Because I thought to myself it's better to end things here. Rather than make myself hope that the new memories that will about the make if I keep the conversation going is a memory she'll remember. 
"Your welcome" she said with a smile on her face
"Well I have to get going now once again thanks and it was nice meeting you"
I said those words. Because I cant bear looking at that smile. I don't want to be hopeful once more. But as I was about to leave she grabbed my hand. Then it reminded me when we first met on that bridge.
"Wait don't leave"
"Why?"
"Well two reasons. Let me know more about your work. The second reason is…"
"What is it?"
"Is I don't how to get home will you help me?"
I just don't know what is happening. What is causing this turn of events. After seven long years we met again. But why me to all the people to ask. Why me? For all the people that is walking in this area why did she ask me?
"I don't know how to help you and why me?
"Because I want it to be you, I don't know how to explain it. But your poems has always spoke to me. Each time I read your work on this newspaper I feel as if we know each other and I cant remember. Then as I forget how to get home. I was holding this newspaper then I saw you and recognize your face from the picture here posted as the writer. Well I'm sorry for being a bother but I just really need your help"
What she said made me happy. Because I've been writing in the news paper for about 3 years and if she was reading my work all this time that meant one thing. All the poems I've written so far have reached her. Just hearing her say the word that my poems spoke to her. That made me feel so relieved. That all this time I wasn't writing for nothing. All my efforts was not in vain. that's why with that being said. I didn't overthink. I just smiled at her and walked with her.
"Fine I'll help you get home"
Those were my words but yes deep inside I'm happy but still holding back my words
"Yay Thanks and let me properly introduce myself I'm Ana."
"Ok I'm Joseph got any idea where you live?"
"Not a clue, you see I suffer from short term memory loss. So sometimes there are details in my life that I tend to forget."
"Well I guess for now lets walk around and see if you can spot a familiar place for you"
We started walking around and talking. Then we decided to rest for a bit by sitting down on a bench. There we continued our conversation
"so tell me more about yourself Ana?"
I tried small talk. Asking her questions to get some hint about what was she doing in the past seven years
"Well right now I honestly don't know what to do."
"What do you mean by that?"
"You see I have short term memory loss"
"Yeah you told me that and so?"
"Because of this condition. I forget a lot things about my life. I cant retain any memory. I only remember the now then later on forget it. Living like this has been hard. Especially for those I love. My parents have the hardest jobs. Because for years they have been taking care of me. Enduring hospital bills and buying the medication I need. Also I cant really bear to see them cry sometimes. Because there are moments when I make them cry."
"How do you know that?"
"I've started writing a journal a while back. Sometimes when I wake up I read it. But there are days when I don't believe I have short term memory loss. Those are the normal days for me. And today is where I believe I have short term memory in which are the weird days. But the worst days is when I cant remember anything"
What she told me had open my eyes on how hard it must be for her parents and also for her. No wonder they didn't stay in contact since they have to focus in caring for Ana
"then how come you remember my work?"
"well its because it's a weird day. And theres a whole section of your poems in my journal. That's why on weird days like these I read some of them. Luckily today I met you. That's why let me ask you. Who are you really writing for? Or what is your inspiration"
As she asked that question. I don't know weather to tell her the truth about its for her, or not. That's why as I writer I just answer vaguely. By telling her a story about a girl.  Because I don't want to really hope once again that I will be remembered
"Uhm its for a girl I met seven years ago. A girl that bought color to my life. And through my poems I hope I could reach her"
"Why? Where did this girl go anyway?"
"She went abroad. I haven't really heard from her since. For seven years I worry about her. Wondering if shes ok or if I'll ever meet her again. I keep on thinking if she will remember me when we see each other again or not"
"I'm sure she remembers you not unless…"
"Unless what?"
"She has short term memory loss like I do hahaha"
Then she laugh. I cant believe even knowing her situation she still laughed about it.  But me I just stared at her
"Oh sorry my bad. But really, I know she remembers you. Especially when she read some of your poems I'm sure she will remember you"
" I hope she does"
After that we just go on talking. Then I remember how she can get home.  I remember when we were highs school her phone has directions to their home. So she checked it and I walked her home.
"I had a really fun time" she said with a smile
"Me too it was nice talking to you. Also meeting you"
This has been like the seventh first meeting I had with her. But after this I don't know what to do. How can I stay in touch with her. That's why I did something for the first time. 
"Can I borrow your phone for a few minutes?"
"Sure why?"
"Uhm it's a surprise?
Then there I was once again writing for her
Tomorrow
To you everyday
Is a new day
Every night your memories go away
And that's not really ok
That's why I hope I can find a way
For me in your mind to stay
Can you write this day
In your journal so you could remember
The moments we had together
And on your weird days remember
To call me cause here is my number
I'll be waiting even its winter or summer
What lies ahead we may not know
But still I hope you never let go
Of the hope for a better tomorrow

This was all I can write at the moment. A short poem for her. In which I hope she read sometimes. After that. I went on home said my goodbye and hoping to see her again. We can never really predict whats coming. What time will bring. May it be new beginnings or old ones. But that is how life is. Always changing. Every choice we make leads to a different direction. That's why I learn to never expect. But right now I think for once I'll be expecting again for a better tomorrow. Without really knowing what comes next?.....



Time is unpredictable. Every action we make leads to a different heading. Still every one of us worries about what lies ahead. On what’s in store for our lives. We worry about the tomorrow every single day. Wishing that tomorrow will be better from today. A tomorrow in which there’s no pain, suffering and hurt, a new beginning, new chances and opportunities. We all wish for a tomorrow like that. Still I learned in my life to never look forward. To not expect on what tomorrow will bring. Because I don’t want to be disappointed. To look forward for a future that I know I can never have. Yeah it’s depressing, but I’ve live my life like this. Always looking back, never forward. It’s one of the curses of being able to remember everything. You’ll keep on wanting to forget or either go back to the times you still can laugh and be happy. In which I didn’t have any of those. 

It’s been about seven years or so. Since I last saw the girl who gave color and happiness to my life. The girl that I haven’t seen in such a long time. Still I remember everything about her. But the worst part is I know that she doesn’t recall any moment of us being together, well it’s been seven years and some people might have moved on and had met other people. Found happiness and know where their lives are heading to. But not me. I still feel heavy and empty. Yet I’m getting by. I college graduate with a degree in literature. Can’t even believe that the course that I would choose is about writing. Right now I’m working at a newspaper. But I don’t write news article. I’m still writing with my specialty. Poems that I don’t know if anyone actually notices. I get feedback from readers every once and a while. But I think no ones that interested in my work. 

I’ve been also trying to write my own book that I would publish with the many I have. Well it’s a move that’s unlike me. But I have a story to tell. Yet I’m having troubles in writing neither the ending nor the next events. Well you see since I can’t forget her and almost every night she is still on my mind. What I do is write about her. Write a story about me and her. Our ifs. Yet I can’t really be optimistic. That’s why even on the book I’m writing it still ends up like this. The lead character being lost. Having to say goodbye to the only thing that’s giving his world light. I really miss Ana. Each night I go on wondering where is she now. Still hoping that we will see each other again. Though my heart knows it’s impossible 

For seven years it’s been like this. At first I stayed in touch with Ana’s parents but after some time. I can’t contact them. That’s why for seven years I’ve been living my life wondering. There are moment where I almost gave into depression. But I held on because deep inside a fragment of my sanity believes that we will see each other again. Well I think that’s about it. Your all caught up with my life. Nothing really much happened in college. As always I was a loner and an outcast, because I choose to be one. That’s why for seven years. The only person I interacted with is my boss. Who discovered my poems when I was still a student. Ironically the poem that my boss read to hire me. Was the first poem I wrote for Ana, but I just went with it. My boss is really nice. He loves poetry that’s why he keeps on insisting putting a section of it in his newspaper, thanks to him I have a job. 

A job that I’m not that passionate about. But I’m ok with it. Because maybe this was it. The last remnant of Ana that is still in me. That spark of being able to write once more. Maybe someday I’ll get over everything. Someday I’ll be fine. I’ll just continue writing poems. And writing my book. I’m ok with this being the ending of a story. But once more things change. Another event that would make me hope for a better tomorrow that I know will be sorrow. 

I was walking home. I went of my office minding my own business. Just like when I was in high school. Ears plug with music not minding the world or my surrounding. Lost in thought instead of the melody that I’m hearing. Thinking. Being on my own even surrounded by many people walking. Then something broke the silence. Someone burst my bubble. A person that I’ve been wanting to see for this whole seven years. It was her Ana 

“Hey” she said to me as she tries to get my attention 

But I didn’t hear her at first because I’m listening to music. So he touched my shoulder and once again said 

“Hey are you Joseph” 

Then I finally notice her. I turned around and saw her. It’s been seven years. I don’t know what to actually feel. My mind turned blank. The thoughts that I was lost in suddenly disappear and all I wanted to do was to hug her. But I didn’t because this all feels unreal that’s why I thought I was imagining things. But no it was really her. That smile. That voice, that same innocence in her eyes. It was really her. And she remembers me. 

“Ana is that you?” 

“Oh how do you know my name? That’s weird I didn’t remember we have met before” 

Then once again my hope turned into nothing. Because she don’t remember me but how can she recognize me then from what I can see. I figure it out. 

“Uhm no but it’s written in your name tag” 

Luckily she was wearing a nametag I was safe. 

“Oh yes my bad. Well I don’t really know you as a person but I recognize you from this” she said and showed me the newspaper 

Then just like I thought she only recognize me because of the newspaper she was holding. I didn’t know what to feel. Happy that she continues to read my work or sad because she can’t remember me and that I once wrote for her 

“I see well thanks for your support” 

I wanted to end the conversation. Because I thought to myself it’s better to end things here. Rather than make myself hope that the new memories that will about the make if I keep the conversation going is a memory she’ll remember. 

“Your welcome” she said with a smile on her face 

“Well I have to get going now once again thanks and it was nice meeting you” 

I said those words. Because I cant bear looking at that smile. I don’t want to be hopeful once more. But as I was about to leave she grabbed my hand. Then it reminded me when we first met on that bridge. 

“Wait don’t leave” 

“Why?” 

“Well two reasons. Let me know more about your work. The second reason is…” 

“What is it?” 

“Is I don’t how to get home will you help me?” 

I just don’t know what is happening. What is causing this turn of events. After seven long years we met again. But why me to all the people to ask. Why me? For all the people that is walking in this area why did she ask me? 

“I don’t know how to help you and why me? 

“Because I want it to be you, I don’t know how to explain it. But your poems has always spoke to me. Each time I read your work on this newspaper I feel as if we know each other and I cant remember. Then as I forget how to get home. I was holding this newspaper then I saw you and recognize your face from the picture here posted as the writer. Well I’m sorry for being a bother but I just really need your help” 

What she said made me happy. Because I’ve been writing in the news paper for about 3 years and if she was reading my work all this time that meant one thing. All the poems I’ve written so far have reached her. Just hearing her say the word that my poems spoke to her. That made me feel so relieved. That all this time I wasn’t writing for nothing. All my efforts was not in vain. that’s why with that being said. I didn’t overthink. I just smiled at her and walked with her. 

“Fine I’ll help you get home” 

Those were my words but yes deep inside I’m happy but still holding back my words 

“Yay Thanks and let me properly introduce myself I’m Ana.” 

“Ok I’m Joseph got any idea where you live?” 

“Not a clue, you see I suffer from short term memory loss. So sometimes there are details in my life that I tend to forget.” 

“Well I guess for now lets walk around and see if you can spot a familiar place for you” 

We started walking around and talking. Then we decided to rest for a bit by sitting down on a bench. There we continued our conversation 

“so tell me more about yourself Ana?” 

I tried small talk. Asking her questions to get some hint about what was she doing in the past seven years 

“Well right now I honestly don’t know what to do.” 

“What do you mean by that?” 

“You see I have short term memory loss” 

“Yeah you told me that and so?” 

“Because of this condition. I forget a lot things about my life. I cant retain any memory. I only remember the now then later on forget it. Living like this has been hard. Especially for those I love. My parents have the hardest jobs. Because for years they have been taking care of me. Enduring hospital bills and buying the medication I need. Also I cant really bear to see them cry sometimes. Because there are moments when I make them cry.” 

“How do you know that?” 

“I’ve started writing a journal a while back. Sometimes when I wake up I read it. But there are days when I don’t believe I have short term memory loss. Those are the normal days for me. And today is where I believe I have short term memory in which are the weird days. But the worst days is when I cant remember anything” 

What she told me had open my eyes on how hard it must be for her parents and also for her. No wonder they didn’t stay in contact since they have to focus in caring for Ana 

“then how come you remember my work?” 

“well its because it’s a weird day. And theres a whole section of your poems in my journal. That’s why on weird days like these I read some of them. Luckily today I met you. That’s why let me ask you. Who are you really writing for? Or what is your inspiration” 

As she asked that question. I don’t know weather to tell her the truth about its for her, or not. That’s why as I writer I just answer vaguely. By telling her a story about a girl. Because I don’t want to really hope once again that I will be remembered 

“Uhm its for a girl I met seven years ago. A girl that bought color to my life. And through my poems I hope I could reach her” 

“Why? Where did this girl go anyway?” 

“She went abroad. I haven’t really heard from her since. For seven years I worry about her. Wondering if shes ok or if I’ll ever meet her again. I keep on thinking if she will remember me when we see each other again or not” 

“I’m sure she remembers you not unless…” 

“Unless what?” 

“She has short term memory loss like I do hahaha” 

Then she laugh. I cant believe even knowing her situation she still laughed about it. But me I just stared at her 

“Oh sorry my bad. But really, I know she remembers you. Especially when she read some of your poems I’m sure she will remember you” 

“ I hope she does” 

After that we just go on talking. Then I remember how she can get home. I remember when we were highs school her phone has directions to their home. So she checked it and I walked her home. 

“I had a really fun time” she said with a smile 

“Me too it was nice talking to you. Also meeting you” 

This has been like the seventh first meeting I had with her. But after this I don’t know what to do. How can I stay in touch with her. That’s why I did something for the first time. 

“Can I borrow your phone for a few minutes?” 

“Sure why?” 

“Uhm it’s a surprise? 

Then there I was once again writing for her 

Tomorrow 

To you everyday 

Is a new day 

Every night your memories go away 

And that’s not really ok 

That’s why I hope I can find a way 

For me in your mind to stay 

Can you write this day 

In your journal so you could remember 

The moments we had together 

And on your weird days remember 

To call me cause here is my number 

I’ll be waiting even its winter or summer 

What lies ahead we may not know 

But still I hope you never let go 

Of the hope for a better tomorrow 

This was all I can write at the moment. A short poem for her. In which I hope she read sometimes. After that. I went on home said my goodbye and hoping to see her again. We can never really predict whats coming. What time will bring. May it be new beginnings or old ones. But that is how life is. Always changing. Every choice we make leads to a different direction. That’s why I learn to never expect. But right now I think for once I’ll be expecting again for a better tomorrow. Without really knowing what comes next?........

A love story about a guy with hyperthymesia and a girl with short term memory loss. The guy has a disorder that makes him able to recall every event in his life. The girl on the other hand got into an accident his temporal lobe got damage so she is unable to attain short term memories. As the plot continues the main character Joseph will keep on trying to make Ana remember her. John is Ana's best friend. Marie is the first love of Joseph. They will be the hurdles at first. Then Ana's disorder worsens she will forget everything. For years they'll be separated and when they meet again. Joseph will redo and try if Ana will remember her. Then in the end they will create a sort of journal and video. By doing so Ana will remember Joseph through what Joseph write

"What would you like to be? A toad, serpent, bench, signet, papyrus, pot of Cauldron? Say."

What kinda crazy list was she making? How crazy she was. She couldn't even make any soothing and pleasurable form. He would take those as a message from a cherub in hell.

"A necklace!"

"So be it."

She touch his erection (the closest thing to her) and he turned immediately into a necklace. A necklace with a green blob.

She wore it around her neck and slid it into the path between the two enormous boobs.

That was all Vulcan had ever wanted. That moment should never pass away...

* * *

Vulcan was a horror poet when he was alive. On the day when Myclops, the village priest was to dedicate the cave to Medusa, Vulcan got drunk. And in his subconsciousness, he was caught up into his fantasy. There he was met by Poseidon, the god of the sea, before a sea of glass. He was welcomed into his fantasy. There he was to act all the things he had written in his poems.
Hello, I am a new author. I hope for your support, information. I am an Arab. I hope for your support

It aint as easy as whichever way you are looking at it. Remember he was a horror poet. Enjoy his fantasy with him. How he met Medusa, several nymphs and fairies and discovered the secret of the wierd priest.

He would fight Poseidon, Leviathan and maybe God too, because he wrote all those in his poems.

* * *

DISCLAIMER

TO ALL THE READERS. ESPECIALLY TO THOSE WHO THINK THEY KNOW ALL. {APOLOGY IF THAT WAS RUDE}

FROM CHAPTER 2 - 50 PERHAPS, THE USE OF WORDS IS QUITE REMOTE AND COULD BE A LITTLE BIT ANNOYING SINCE THE WRITER MADE AN EXCESSIVE USAGE OF "THE THIRD PERSON OMNISCIENT NARRATIVE TECHNIQUE". THAT IS, THE WRITER EXCESSIVELY PLAYED ON THE THOUGHTS OF THE CHARACTERS BY REPEATING AND REPEATING AND REPEATING WHICH COULD PRETTILY BE ANNOYING.

THEREFORE, TO SAVE YOURSELF OF THE STRESS, YOU CAN SIMPLY START READING THE BOOK FROM CHAPTER 60 OR SO. DO NOT BE BOTHERED. YOU WON'T MISS OUT ON MUCH. IT'S A BOOK OF STAGES OF FANTASY. PLUS THE BOOK WILL EXTEND TO 1K CHAPTERS.

SO, NO READER SHOULD GO TO THE REVIEW SECTION AND START COMPLAINING ABOUT REPETITION OF THOUGHTS OF THE CHARACTERS BECAUSE IT HAS BEEN DISCUSSED HERE. DO NOT DIMINISH THE REPUTATION OF THIS BOOK. READING IS BY CHOICE.

PLUS, THE WRITER MIGHT FIND TIME TO EDIT THE MENTIONED CHAPTERS AND HELP THE READERS TO UNDERSTAND WHAT HE WAS TRYING TO DO WITH THE EXCESSIVE PLAY ON WORDS.

WELCOME TO THE WORLD OF AN ANCESTOR.

TO BE FOREWARNED IS TO BE FOREARMED.

THANKS FOR STOPPING BY.

Needless to say, because of that group's participation, the entire poem platform turned into their dominion; writing poems and stroking each other's ego.
On Weibo, the flame war started long ago.
[WTF is this? Good poem? Good my *ss!]
[Very wet[1], definitely wet. It's so wet that I can't bear to look at it.]
[Even professional circle jerks should have a limit. This is jerking it to the milky way!]
[They dared to criticize Y's poem before this. Now that you compare them, Y is like a scholar!]
[Previous poster, you're wrong to say that. Y is a scholar to start with!]
[I can't take it anymore. Someone please get Y out of hiding and compose a few poems so I can wash my eyes. Our Chinese literature is being sullied by these idiots.]
…
Voices of complaints went on. It was no wonder they would bring it to Ye Lingchen's Weibo account.
However, the more dissents there were on the internet, the more it fueled that group's excitement. They had never been so famous. Now that they had the attention of so many people, it was impossible to not feel excited.
They were spreading Chinese culture. They were bringing Chinese poems into the sights of the public!
They instantly felt sacred, as though their shoulders were loaded with heavy responsibilities.
Right then, the WA's Vice-Chairman Huang Lihua, who dissed Celestial Bane online, put forward his opinion once again.
Reading through the criticisms on the internet, his heart already felt annoyed. When he saw so many people bringing up Y's name and claiming that his group's poem was nothing compared to Y, his patience ran out.
What did his association stand for? Bathed in decades of traditional literature, they were the heirs of Chinese literature. How could they be surpassed by a web novel writer?
He could not help but make a post on Weibo:
[Lately, Weibo is becoming lively with people writing poems. Everyone's voices are loud. This represents the rise of Chinese traditional literature, and the phenomenon is inseparable from the hard works of traditional literary scholars. It is a form of recognition for us; one that I'm comforted by! However, I still hear the other voices. On this, I must speak up and say my piece.]
[First, I admit that within our WA, some poems fall short of the standards. However, everyone had to start off as a beginner. For them to present their works to everyone, that takes courage! Secondly, there are plenty of good compositions within our works. For example, Moon, So Bright! by XX WA President; Wind, So Comforting! by XX WA Vice President; Snow, So White! by XX WA[2] Chairman. These compositions are considered classics! Compared to Y's poems, they are much better!] 
He quickly wrote an entire paragraph. With a smug smile on his face, he uploaded it to Weibo.
As expected, once it was uploaded, the views skyrocketed.
[F*ck! So shameless! What does the rise of traditional literature have to do with them?]
[Please check the facts. It's because of Y's poem that triggered this event alright?]
[F*ck! I can't take it anymore. This bugger is feeding us bullsh*t. Please get Y to save me…]
…
Meanwhile, a few other major WA members started to reply to the post.
[Thank you, Chairman Huang. Your poem, Flower, So Beautiful! is the true classic.]
[Chairman Huang's words resonate deeply with me. That's the truth!]
[Chairman Huang's summary is very accurate. However, I need to add on a little bit.] Right then, another vice-chairman of the WA came forward and interjected, [Many people are still tagging Y, asking for him to compose a poem. Seeing that, I feel that it's laughable. These people don't understand poems at all!]
[When it comes to writing poems, apart from talent, one would also require inspiration. As the saying goes, the abundance of the heart leads to the spring of ideas. Our poems were all born through trials, tribulations, along with the right environment for its conception. These people tagged Y to call him out, but did he show himself? Not at all! Are they expecting him to create a poem on the fly? Based on his talents, I'm sorry, that's impossible!]
[Chairman Shi is right, it makes sense!]
[Hahaha, that's right. You see lately Y hasn't been showing himself. You want him to compose a poem? Wait on!]
[Straight to the point, as expected of the chairman. Since when was writing a poem easy? If he can compose one, I'll eat three pounds of poop!]
Members of the WA continued to sing their praises.
[I can't take it anymore, I need to escape. These people are too much.]
[At least I feel that Y's poems are a hundred times better than theirs. Shameless bunch!]
[Even a scumbag is not as scummy as them. They're the best... at losing themselves in their boast.]
However, quite a number of people were shaken. After all, the WA was the authority in such issues, making it easier for them to be convincing.
[Guys, let's not argue. The WA has their point too. How can he just compose a poem on the fly?]
[I think these chairmans' poems are quite good. They read well.]
[Most of Y's die-hard fans can't recognize reality and live in their own dream world.]
[Hehe, a lot of people refuse to believe it. Why don't you get Y to show himself? I don't need him to compose a poem on the fly. If he can compose a poem that everyone likes within three days, I'll submit to him!] Chairman Shi grew more prideful as he typed. [I'll bet that he won't dare to show himself!]
At first, Ye Lingchen was only there to watch the drama and did not consider taking part. However, the flames of war had mysteriously latched onto him.
Ye Lingchen's heart was unaffected by the provocations, but rather, it brought him a slight twinge of excitement.
These people were delivering popularity right to his doorsteps!
It was originally a trivial matter, but they managed to blow it to the point of being the top search result. That was a major assistance for him.
'F*ck! What wonderful people!'
'I don't dare to show myself? Why won't I, the prodigy, show myself?'
'Since you're forcing me to compose a poem, then I'll have to take you up on it.'
Without hesitation, Ye Lingchen announced on Weibo. [Is composing a poem on the fly that difficult?]
In just a simple sentence, but it sent Weibo into a frenzy in an instant.
[F*ck! Novel Y replied immediately?]
[OMG, OMG! It's going to be another bloodbath!]
[You see that tone. Y is going to compose a poem on the spot?]
[Y, you're too impulsive. The opposing party is obviously trying to agitate you and have you embarrass yourself.]
[Y, let's ignore them. Why should you compose a poem on the fly for them? We need time too!]
At the same time, Capital University's Professor Wan Yun was also following this incident. After seeing Novel Y making a statement, he unwittingly frowned his brows. That was just too impulsive! Composing a poem on the spot was no different from the seven-step verse[3]. Even the legends of ancient times were awed by such a feat. How was it possible for those in the modern age?
Ye Lingchen ignored the excited crowd, but instead closed his eyes and went into deep thoughts for a moment before typing on his computer.
[The first poem, on wind.]
[Lyrics to the Melody of Green Jadeite Bowl-New Year's Night
Easterlies of the night call to bloom blossoms of a thousand trees,
As if blowing adrift stars that drizzle like rain.
Precious horses and lavish carriages go by leaving a scented trail.
Phoenix flutes music perform as the timekeeper witnesses the turning of hours,
Throughout the night lanterns in the shape of fish and dragons dance and gyrate.
Golden are the willowy tassels of her butterfly hairpin,
Among giggles and chatters, her scent is fading away.
In the crowd, I look for her presence everywhere time and again,
Suddenly I turn around, and I see her there,
Where lights are dim and faint[4].]
...
[1] 好湿 (Hao Shi / very wet) and 好诗 (Hao Shi / good poem) sound the same.
[2] XX WA- In raw, the author did not put XX City or XX District, so we just went with XX. WA over here is the acronym for Writer's Association.
[3] The Seven-step verse tells the story of a genius scholar in classical literature who was issued an ultimatum: Compose a poem within 7 steps or be executed. The scholar managed to recite a poem consisting of four verses with five chinese characters in each line.
[4] The translation of this poem is sourced from https://28utscprojects.wordpress.com/2011/10/01/s202/


Ye Lingchen was a regular high schooler who struggled with exams and expectations from his parents.
All that changed after he woke up from a strange dream and discovered that he had been granted the 'Prodigy System'. His life changed from this point on. Reading a book allowed him to learn its content immediately. Listening to lectures granted instant understanding of the lesson. Observation of a technique imprinted knowledge of the technique used.
Learning had never been so easy, and as the saying goes, knowledge is power. In this case, he now had access to a ton of unbridled power. 
What does it feel like to become a 'prodigy' overnight? Follow Ye Lingchen on this journey to discover the limitless possibilities...

Standing on the gate of this Wandering sect, Tang Ling could see no one standing on the gate. On the front, there was a wooden plaque which was majestically written: Wandering. And besides it, laid a beautiful written poem.

'Wandering through the world, I dream of freedom.
Be it warm or cold, what I experience is wisdom.
The world has countless treasures, some hidden, some shown.
Seeking the pleasure of life, I explore the unknown.

I am not interested in glory or fame, I only wish to travel.
The world is large, with great humility, I desire to see everything the world has to offer !'

Tang Ling was really impressed by the poem. Sects mostly showed bold and hot-blooded words and 'elegant' or 'scholarly' sect put well-constructed, celestial poems but this one... It didn't talk about power nor did it talk about elegance. The poem here was rather crude if compared against the other elegant sects but in it laid something deep, something that Tang Ling could resonate with.

If there was one or two words to express the state of mind of the writer, it would be 'Free' and 'Pure'! These subjects somehow resonated with his heart and his conviction to join this sect strengthened.

Freedom. It was almost an unfamiliar term to Tang Ling. All his life he followed the rules, officials enforcing new rules and he kept following them. He kept thinking that it was natural to follow orders, that it was for his own good. 
It was only after he got to know Ducke that he slowly started to understand the world. The Brokang Empire is corrupt, the citizens lived a robotic life and he desired to break away from this rigid system.

Yes! To break free from these chains of regulations! To have the choice of choosing his destiny! But to be free, one must be powerful and this Wandering Sect could solve this problem!

While he thought about that, the plaque started to shine. It shined softly like the first radiance of the sun. Golden words appeared in front of him, scaring him a lot.

'Great affinity with sect's values. Great talent'

"Great character, excellent potential and common desire! You are made to be a member of our Wandering Sect." an old elder came from nowhere (but probably from a side pillar).

Tang Ling looked at the elder with suspicious eyes. Although this man looked like a wise elder, the way he presented himself was very aligned with perverts in his neighborhood. 

The old man could see the suspicion in his eyes and coughed an explanation : "This old man is the supervisor of these trials."
Tang Ling nodded as he understood what he meant and could easily guess that he somehow managed to pass the test in a special way which wasn't common. Uncommon enough for this unfathomable elder to come out from his hiding spot.

"Follow me." 
 Tang Ling nodded and followed him, curious about what he would encounter. He followed the old man in the building.

Tang Ling only traversed two hundred meters inside but could see the atmosphere of the hall: elegant and carefree. Multiple small rivers inside were relaxing and Tang Ling could hear some chirps of birds inside a small garden. It was as though it was a small world, a utopia!

"This is an arrangement of Landscape Master Huxian, this is his masterpiece. This arrangement purifies the spirit and aid recovery as a whole. Stay here with the other disciples until the selection finishes. Until then, interact with your brothers and sisters disciples. It's good to have some connections when traveling."

To be free and unbound in Jianghu, you need either great backing or power. Possessing neither of those would only result in being bullied and killed. It was simple as that, just like you need power to survive in the slums. You need enough strength to make the other party feel they will lose out if they ever fought if stealing your house posed no consequences, well, these ruffians would gladly do that.

[Player has reached Sword City and joined a faction! Activating the Faction Expansion...]

[Faction joined: Wandering Sect 
Fame: Well-known
Other names: Freedom Sect, Traveller's Hub, Transcendence Dao Admiration Sect (...)
Noteworthy Personages: Travelling the Earth in One Step, Li Shang, the Imperial Worldly Elder, and the Treasure Seeker (...)
Signature Move(s) : Clear Minded Characters and Steady Wind Qigong.
Alignment: Righteous (Neutral)

Description: Wandering Sect has a rich history and it is shown from the many names it got through. While it has the name 'sect' in it, it is a very loose organization. There's only three ranks: Disciples, Masters, and Elders. Of which, there's no sect master as elders are the 'masters' of the branch. They're old retirees, staying in one area and tending care to hot-blooded youngsters who wish to explore. They aren't well-known in attacking moves but in the exceptional defense techniques and qigong they possess. As long a disciple is able to reach the required level, the sect would allow the disciple to browse the relevant skills and books in his level but services are to be paid. No fee and regular payment, the sect only provide free lodging (Psst ! The Sect only survive with donations so make your part too !)]

The sect's description started very well but at the end of it... He really wishes to have never seen that. Which organization relies on charity to function ?! Probably nobody with the right mind would create such a sect. Although freedom was in the sect's values, he expected to at least pay some taxes or something...

Tang Ling could see beside the artificial landscape, a couple disciple chatting and meditating. By a couple, he meant ten. Ten seemed okay but judging from the last day participants who were around a thousand, it was little and this doesn't include the other days. Third-rate sects, although not popular, would have slightly more than this number of disciples.

'Probably of low-key and difficult tests' Tang Ling thought as he greeted his fellow brothers and sisters. While others only nodded at his greetings, two brothers came to him and greeted him too.

Hidden under this seemingly prosperous modern world is a desolate and broken civilization, recovering from a deep wound. In this resource-poor world, natural resources are scarce and people compensate with strange alloys made of energy called 'Flux'.  What's more, looming over this peaceful scenery is these strange invasions of mutated creatures, capable of destroying buildings in a split second.

No one knows what life was before the Great Destruction, survivors from this era picked up some knowledge before rebuilding civilization creating this weird world where some fields are extremely advanced while others lag behind by three hundred years. Monarchy and Religion prevails in this seemingly modern world and powerful beings called 'Orderers' who protects the land that humanity has claimed are so powerful and their status so respected that it seems that they were simply a higher species than the common man. Inequality is so huge but nothing can be done, in front of those evolved humans, number is meaningless. Because they are stronger, capable of wiping out entire armies, they are respected and feared

From the ruins, ashes flutter and is reborn again. Three continents still exist in this planet, namely: Brokang Continent, named after the first conqueror and savior of humanity's dynasty; the Holy Continent, where the Sacred Spirit, lies and is worshipped and the Higher Dimensional Continent where even to this day, is the major forefront and battlefield between the creatures from the void and humanity.

In an outer city of the Brokang Empire, a youngster is struck by a rock and mysteriously gains a System that comes with a world where resources are plentiful and another power system that can give Orderers a run of their money!

Let us see what the main character can do in this chaotic era disguised as an orderly one, where mutated beasts run amok and human figures scheming against each other for more power and benefits, where unethical laws are put as well-intentioned ones and when it seems that God has abandoned this world for good! 

Chapter Update: Inconsistent, averaging 1 chap/month. This story has started a long time ago when my writing was a little bit immature so bear with it. The writing should be getting better as I get a clearer view of the world I want to create and build.

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