Talented Generation Emerges

Magnus couldn't help but feel slightly annoyed at Seraphina's laughter and her thinly veiled skepticism. "Why are you laughing?" he asked, puzzled.

"Magnus, let's not joke around," Seraphina replied, her tone diplomatic. "Honestly, winning the first prize in poetry might be a bit... challenging for you."

Her understatement was as gentle as it could be. As Magnus's closest attendant, Seraphina was well aware of his limited literary skills. His reading was often patchy, let alone his poetry, which often included such laughable 'masterpieces' as 'The bold blade of a hero never ages, as the charm of an old lady never fades', or 'In poverty, cherish your own virtue; in wealth, enjoy the company of many' – hardly suitable for such a distinguished gathering.

Now, here was Magnus, determined to win a poetry contest amid a host of scholars and literati. Seraphina was pretty sure he would excel in a contest for the last place but seriously doubted his chances for the first—unless, of course, he was the only contestant.

Seeing Seraphina's amusement at his determination, Magnus felt a need to restore his dignity. "Fine, you doubt me, Seraphina? Just you wait. Get me some ink and paper. I'm going to write a poem that'll win us that cloud weapon."

Taking his words lightly, Seraphina fetched the writing materials, setting them before him with a smile. She was curious to see what sort of amusing verse he would come up with this time.

Magnus, ignoring her amusement, began to prepare for writing with an air of seriousness. He washed the brush, carefully plucked a stray bristle, and set up his paper, all with the demeanor of a seasoned poet. Then he instructed Seraphina, "Grind the ink for me."

With a mixture of amusement and intrigue, Seraphina ground the ink on the stone, producing a smooth, rich black liquid.

Watching Magnus's grandiose preparations, Seraphina couldn't help but find the whole situation entertaining. Yet, as she handed him the freshly ground ink, she wondered, against her better judgment, if he might just surprise her after all.

Magnus, deeply immersed in his own thoughts, gazed at the moon, seemingly lost in another world. Seraphina, observing this unusual behavior, couldn't help but feel puzzled, not understanding his mumbling in a strange and foreign language.

Breaking free from his reverie, Magnus finally dipped his brush into the ink and began to write. In his previous life, he had majored in Classical Chinese and had also taken courses in calligraphy. His calligraphy teacher, an old scholar who deeply admired the works of Wang Xizhi, had instilled a profound appreciation for the art in him.

As Magnus's brush danced across the paper, his strokes revealed a mastery not only of poetry but also of the brush. He moved with a confident fluidity, each character a testament to his hidden talent. Seraphina watched in silent awe, her previous doubts fading away as the verses took shape before her eyes.

Even to her untrained eye, the elegance and skill in his writing were evident. It was a side of Magnus she had never seen before. She found herself wondering, not for the first time, how many more surprises her young master had hidden away.

The poem Magnus composed was not just a mere collection of words; it was a reflection of his deep emotions and thoughts, a bridge connecting his past life to his current one. As he wrote the final character, he sat back, a subtle yet triumphant smile on his face. He knew he had created something special, something that might just earn him that coveted cloud weapon.

Having been instructed in calligraphy during his studies in Classical Chinese, Magnus had become proficient in the art, particularly in the style of the renowned calligrapher Wang Xizhi. Though his work didn't quite capture the full essence of Wang's spirit, Magnus had mastered the shapes and forms to a commendable degree.

Now, as the poems collected from the contest were being scrutinized, the excitement and anticipation in the air were palpable. Led by William Wong, a group of officials, all well-versed in literature, commenced the evaluation process. They worked efficiently, each poem receiving only a brief consideration unless it showcased exceptional merit.

As the poems were reviewed, one particular piece caught everyone's attention. It read:

"In the courtyard, crows perch in the white trees; Dew wets the osmanthus flowers, silent and cold. Tonight the moon shines bright, all gaze upon, Whose autumn longing, unknown, does it bestow?"

The poem's straightforward language, paired with its concise and potent imagery, impressed William Wong, who couldn't help but read it aloud. The audience, upon hearing it, was equally captivated. This poem seemed to rival even the work of William Wong himself.

Curious about the author, William Wong checked the name: "From Fuzhou County, Showy Wong."

Recognizing the name, he shared his knowledge with the crowd.

"Showy Wong is a graduate of the Avaloria National Academy. His family has a long history of literary achievement, though mostly of modest renown. "

"However, in his generation, Showy Wong has shown exceptional talent in poetry. He was quite renowned during his time at the Academy. It's impressive that he's here to celebrate the Peerless King's birthday."

Understanding dawned on the audience as they realized the author was a talented graduate from Avaloria's most prestigious educational institution. The Academy was known for shaping many of the nation's key scholars and officials, and Showy Wong's poem was a testament to the high caliber of its students.

"I think this Showy Wong is very likely to be one of tonight's top three. Your Highness, come and appreciate it, and see how these verses are." William Wong handed the scroll to Gideon Astor.

Gideon Astor read it for a moment, also showing appreciation, nodding frequently, obviously highly praising this poem as well.

"Oh... this is a good poem!" After a moment, the Prefect of Xiliang County suddenly exclaimed with joy, surprising everyone.

It should be noted that this poetry session has a time limit. It's not easy to create a seven-character quatrain. It's even more challenging to compose a longer poem. Yet someone was able to produce a poem praised by the Prefect of Xiliang County, immediately arousing everyone's interest.

"Your Excellency, please recite it for everyone to hear," William Wong urged with curiosity.

The Prefect of Xiliang County immediately recited: "Life is but a big dream, how many autumns in one's life? The wind and leaves rustle in the night. Look closely at the worries on the brow. Cheap wine often worries about few guests, and the moonlight is often obstructed by clouds. Who will share the lonely light of the Mid-Autumn Festival? Holding a cup, sadly looking north."

"Wow..."

Upon hearing this poem, William Wong's eyes suddenly brightened, showing a surprised expression. This expression was even more astonishing than when he had seen Showy Wong's verses from the Imperial Academy earlier.

Although others might not have William Wong's depth of understanding and research in this field, they were also highly skilled. Upon hearing it, they immediately sensed the extraordinary charm of this poem.

"What a good poem... This is definitely an excellent piece of work! 'Life is but a big dream, how many autumns in one's life?' Truly remarkable!"

"This poem is both delicate and melancholic, yet it does not lack grandeur. Truly wonderful, even better than Showy Wong's poem by three points!"

William Wong didn't say "better by one point", but "better by three points", indicating his high admiration for this poem!

"Your Excellency, what is the name of this poem, and who is the author? Is he also a student of the Imperial Academy?" William Wong asked eagerly.

"This poem is called 'West River Moon: Life is but a big dream', and the author is Phone Lincoln from Nanping County."

"Phone Lincoln! So it's him!" William Wong's eyes immediately lit up, showing a surprised and delighted expression.

"Does Your Excellency know this person?" Gideon Astor also asked curiously. Even he, who found the artistic conception profound and the style outstanding, was curious about the author.

"Your Highness, this Phone Lincoln is also a top student of our Imperial Academy!"

"Oh..." Everyone showed surprise upon hearing this. They didn't expect this person to be a student of the Imperial Academy. But on second thought, how could a talent who could write such a masterpiece not be a student of the Imperial Academy? The latter gathered all the top literati in Fengyun Nation. In terms of poetry, it naturally ranked at the top of Fengyun Nation!

William Wong continued, "Your Highness, Phone Lincoln is currently a student of Class A in our Imperial Academy. He is the grandson of Lin Xuan, a Grand Academician of the Hanlin Academy. He has extraordinary talent since childhood and is proficient in all aspects of poetry and prose, each of which is outstanding."

"He ranked second in this imperial examination. If nothing unexpected happens, he will definitely be among the top three in the palace examination a few months later!"

"By the way, Phone Lincoln was also a classmate of the Crown Prince. Thinking about it, the two of them were classmates." William Wong suddenly remembered something and added.