The Undying Immortal System Chapter 354: Life 92, Age 16, Martial Disciple 1

The people of the Scholar’s Tower were incredibly efficient. Only monts after their Young Master requested a formal competition, an earth cultivator was sent to the square in front of the pagoda to transform it into an impromptu stage. The citizens of Proud Eagle City imdiately noticed this activity, and a crowd soon gathered to watch the show.

While I did my best to blend in with these spectators, the Young Master of the Scholar’s Tower stood off to the left of the square, surrounded by a group of admirers, and Jon stood off to the right, alone.

As we waited for the Tower to finish its preparations, the crowd around chatted excitedly.

A young man ran up to a group of youths. “Soone challenged Young Master Ling to a poetry competition? Are they insane?”

A girl shook her head and gestured at Jon. “No, look at him. He’s too confident. He must have sothing to rely on.”

One of the boys nodded. “Exactly! Young Master Ling is in trouble. Think about it. Who would dare to make trouble in the Scholar’s Tower? Only soone who knew victory was a certainty.”

The girl grinned excitedly. “I can’t wait to see it! Young Master Ling’s poetry is already so magical. How amazing must that man’s be? What do you think his blessing is?”

When we had first exited the Tower, Jon’s chin had been up in the air, and a smile had been plastered across his face. As the crowd continued to speculate about him, however, his expression turned sour.

Catching looking his way, Jon made a few surreptitious gestures, indicating that he wanted to talk to in a nearby alleyway. While I didn’t want to get any more involved in this pantomi than I already was, I did still want to learn more about the man’s blessing. So, after giving him a slight nod, I slipped out of the crowd and snuck away to where he had pointed.

Only monts after I arrived, Jon appeared in front of .

“Fang, I need your help. Go out there and start insulting . Do your best to turn the crowd against . Convince them that I have no hope of winning.”

“W… What? Why? Jon… Just tell why. I get it. I know this has sothing to do with your blessing—that’s obvious—but why do you need to do all this? Why cause such a commotion in the Tower? Why turn the crowd against you? Just… tell sothing.”

Jon pursed his lips in annoyance, and as he studied , I noticed the flas of anger burning deep inside him. Then, after taking several long monts to scan up and down, he nodded decisively.

“You’re right. I do need to explain.” He crossed his arms and began pacing back and forth. “My blessing… I… I get rewarded for… defeating people. The more powerful or skilled my opponent, the greater the rewards.”

“Why the act? Why not just challenge people openly?”

John snorted derisively. “Because I would lose. How much do you think I actually know about poetry? I know a few old poems that no one around here has heard before, but they aren’t enough. I need more.”

“But—”

Jon’s upper lip curled, and I sensed a hint of malice in it. “If I had challenged that guy, I would have lost, but he challenged . So, my blessing will boost my capabilities, giving the edge I need to defeat him.”

“I… see. And the crowd?”

“The reward I receive is based on both the strength of my opponent and how shocking my victory is. Both are important. If everyone thinks I’m going to win, then I won’t gain much, no matter how strong my opponent is.”

I was certain that there was more to Jon’s blessing than he was telling . For example, why did he just happen to join the Hall shortly after I did? Why did he decide to challenge the Tower on the sa day that I chose to visit it? There was more, but I could sense truth in what he had told .

Jon walked over and put an arm around my shoulder. “Look, Fang, this is why I need your help. Encourage people to challenge . Convince everyone that I can’t possibly have any chance of winning. This will allow to harvest the best reward possible. Then, when I eat at, you will get to drink the soup.”

Jon was smiling at , and his voice was filled with kindness, but it felt… off. I could sense a simring resentnt underlying everything he said.

Still, while I had no desire to beco the man’s perpetual lackey, and I definitely didn’t want to help him reap endless rewards, he had answered my questions, so I would assist him this one ti. This would give a chance to see what he gained from such encounters.

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“Alright. I’ll… see what I can do.”

After using environntal earth qi to remove the mud that Jon had gotten on my robes, I snuck back into the crowd and listened as people continued to gossip about what hidden advantages Jon might have.

“No, that can’t be right,” said a young woman. “He must be absolutely certain in his success. I bet his blessing has sothing to do with foresight. He knows he’s going to win because he can see the future.”

I let out a loud braying laugh, drawing everyone’s attention. “You think so? Don’t kid yourself. That boy is just a fool. After all, would anyone other than a fool dare to challenge Young Master Ling?”

The crowd around turned and gave confused looks.

“But—”

I waved a hand, interrupting the young woman. “But nothing. That boy doesn’t stand a chance. He’s just so thief that was trying to steal books from the Scholar’s Tower. This whole competition is a farce. He’s just trying to use this ‘competition’ to escape punishnt.”

There were holes in my explanation, but no one seed to notice them. The mont I gave people a new frawork for understanding Jon’s actions, they began to look at him in a new light. His relaxed posture and light smile were no longer signs of confidence. They were the signs of a foolish man who didn’t understand the situation he was in.

One of the young n pointed at Jon. “You’re right! Look at him. Does he look like soone who could defeat Young Master Ling in poetry?”

As the crowd turned against him, Jon’s smile grew, and I was able to use this reaction to convince the crowd of the ‘truth’ that Jon had absolutely no understanding of the situation he was in.

Half an hour later, it was ti for the competition to begin.

An elder from the Scholar’s tower stood at the center of the raised platform while Jon and Young Master Ling stood behind podiums to either side. When the elder raised his hand, the crowd fell silent.

“The Elders of the Tower have chosen three prompts. Both contestants will write a poem for each one, and a panel of elders will judge whose is superior. Whoever is victorious in two out of the three rounds will win this competition. Understood?”

Young Master Ling cupped his fists and bowed. “Yes, Elder.”

Jon just raised his chin. “Sure.”

“Very well. Your first prompt is ‘The Changing of the Seasons.’ You have fifteen minutes.”

On the left side of the stage, Young Master Ling imdiately grabbed a stack of scrap paper and began scribbling down ideas. As the minutes ticked by, he worked and reworked exactly what he wanted to say and how he wanted his poem to say it. Then, when there were only a few minutes left, he took out a scroll and carefully wrote down his final poem.

In contrast, on the right side of the stage, Jon spent most of the competition standing silent sentinel. His eyes were closed, and he didn’t move a single muscle. It wasn’t until he had less than a minute left that he grabbed a brush and hastily scrawled sothing on a black sheet of parchnt.

Seeing this, I encouraged the crowd to mock Jon’s efforts, but by this point, it was unnecessary. No one was willing to believe that he was taking the competition seriously.

“Ti’s up,” announced the elder. “Ling WenLong, please, show us your poem.”

Young Master Ling gave the elder a bow, then placed his poem on a stand in front of his podium, where everyone could see it.

Falling leaves strike the lake’s still surface.

After reading just this one line, I stopped paying attention to the words of this poem entirely. Instead, my eyes were focused on the energy that Young Master Ling had imbued into brush strokes. The characters for ‘falling leaves’ radiated a powerful sense of wood, while the characters for ‘lake’s still surface’ exuded the power of water.

This was similar to the energy that one might find in a talisman, but it was distinct. Young Master Ling hadn’t imbued his poem with qi. He had done sothing else, and I wasn’t sure what.

A young woman let out a soft sigh. “It’s so beautiful. Young Master Ling has the blessing of a true poet.”

No one in the crowd offered any rebuttal. The Tower’s elders, however, appeared less than enamored with this poem. They didn’t say anything, but I could sense that they were disappointed.

The elder on stage turned to Jon. “Yong JinZhan, please, show us your poem.”

With a casual flick of his wrist, Jon sent the parchnt containing his poem to the stand where everyone could see it.

I sleep in Spring, unaware of the dawn.

Everywhere, I hear the chirping of birds.

Last night ca the sound of wind and rain.

How many flowers fell?

At first, Jon’s hastily written poem looked like it had been scribbled down by a child, but the more I studied it, the more I felt that the flow of the ink was akin to the falling rain and the death of flowers. Jon’s poem lacked the strange energy contained in Ling’s poem, but it did contain a more subtle charm.

When the Tower’s elders saw this poem, they revealed looks of shock and delight. Unlike their stoic deanors when reviewing Ling’s poem, they couldn’t help but chat animatedly while discussing Jon’s. So, when the elder on stage announced the winner of the first round, no one was overly surprised.

“Congratulations, Young Master Yong. Thank you for sharing such an excellent poem with us.”

Young Master Ling looked like he wanted to object, but, seeing the behavior of the elders, he didn’t dare to.

The elder on stage raised his hand. “The second prompt is ‘The Union of Love and Nature.’”

This ti, Jon didn’t hesitate. He whipped out his brush, scrawled his poem, and then threw it onto the stand for everyone to see.

Red beans grow in the south, sprouting a few branches in spring.

I wish you would pick more of them, this is what makes one yearn.

Jon's behavior shocked the elders, but after seeing his poem, they no longer cared.

“Marvelous. Simply marvelous. It is so simple, yet it contains such hidden depths.” One of the elders looked up to where Jon stood on this podium with his back straight and head held high. “Young man, would you be willing to join the Scholar’s Tower?”

Young Master Ling was completely forgotten as everyone looked between the elders and Jon.

Jon cupped his fists but shook his head with feigned regret. “Apologies, elder. I cannot. My journey is not yet complete. My ti here is not but a fleeting mory amongst my endless travels.”

Jon gave Young Master Ling a kind smile. “I can only hope that my efforts have opened your eyes. The sky is high, and the mountains are far away. Do not beco complacent.”