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墨書 Inktalez
The Poetry Gathering was held under the name of Mo Bao Fang, and the announcement had been posted for several days. The venue for the gathering was not on You Ran Mountain, but rather in the largest teahouse within Mo Bao Fang. By the time Mo Wen and Yin Jianren arrived, the place was already packed with people, and many had gathered outside, surrounding the entrance in layers.
"Brother Er Gou, it seems we can only enter through the back door," Mo Wen said as he peered over the crowd. Clearly, they could not enter through the front. It wasn't that they couldn't get in; rather, it was to avoid drawing attention. Within Mo Bao Fang, talents were ranked by their seniority, and Mo Wen's credentials were undoubtedly solid—his recent poignant poem had spread throughout Mo Bao Fang. However, Yin Jianren's identity as "Young Master Yin" did not hold much weight here; there were at least eighty others with that title in Mo Bao Fang. Furthermore, there was an unwritten rule that those who arrived first would be served first. Unless those who arrived earlier were willing to give up their spots, it wouldn't matter if the lord of Yinzhou City himself showed up. These literati were quite stubborn about such matters; when in Rome, one must do as the Romans do. They certainly could not break this rule. Besides, if they forced their way through the front door and no one made space for them in full view of everyone, it would be quite embarrassing.
"Everyone, this time Shu Cang has come to invade us. We, as writers, cannot wield swords and blades for the world. Although Shu Cang may retreat, their malicious intent remains; they will surely strike again. We have heard that General Yin himself is leading a campaign against the wicked of Shu Cang. While we cannot fight, we can bolster our morale with our writings..." As Mo Wen and Yin Jianren entered through the back door, they heard Mr. You Ran's attendant addressing the crowd from a high platform that had been set up in the hall.
Mo Wen looked at the attendant with curiosity. He had asked Yin Jianren about this attendant's background before; however, as a disciple of Mr. You Ran, Yin Jianren did not know the true identity or strength of this attendant either. All he knew was that what was said outside was false—that this attendant had followed Mr. You Ran since his arrival in Yinzhou City and was unmatched in strength within the city; even his father treated him with great respect. For Mo Wen, however, it was merely curiosity; he had no stake in what identity this attendant or Mr. You Ran held—he would not be staying long in Yinzhou.
"Alright, that's enough talk for now; you may begin. Those who wish to recite their works can come up to this high platform. If you prefer not to come up here, you can leave your writings at the tables on either side of the hall," said the attendant before effortlessly jumping down from the high platform to the third floor of the teahouse. Witnessing the agility of this young master from You Ran Mountain caused an uproar in the hall, and soon groups began to gather together to appreciate each other's works.
As time passed and noon approached, the teahouse remained crowded with people. Many had taken to the high platform to recite their masterpieces. Each time someone finished reciting on stage, applause was scarce while disapproving shakes of heads echoed like waves crashing against a shore. With this scene repeating itself continuously, fewer people dared to take the stage; literati valued their reputation highly and were reluctant to embarrass themselves publicly. Nearly an hour passed without anyone stepping up when Yin Jianren nudged Mo Wen beside him: "Brother He, it's your turn now."
Yin Jianren was excited; he was eager to see how his Brother He would perform today.
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