Logging into the Game World Early and Starting with a Royal Marriage to the Empress

Atop the elevated platform!

Both Yaoguang and Lu Tong lapsed into a state of silence, particularly Yaoguang; although it was true that Xia Chen’s rebuke was directed at those scholars, this Literary Gathering had been organized by her…

“Princess!”

Zi Yue softly called out from behind Yaoguang.

“It’s of no consequence—how could I possibly lack even this degree of magnanimity!”

Yaoguang shook her head, smiling as she spoke: “Moreover, what he said is not wrong—poetry and literary composition are, at their core, minor paths; throughout history, no Chief Grand Secretary governing the realm has ever relied upon poetry to rule the state!”

“The princess harbors grand aspirations within her heart; were it not for the fact that she is born a woman, she would undoubtedly achieve a monumental legacy!”

Lu Tong also smiled and offered his praise—such a pity for Yaoguang; her talents and abilities surpassed those of the Crown Prince and the Third Prince alike, yet alas, she was a woman.

Otherwise, the future of their Dawu dynasty would surely welcome a sagely and enlightened sovereign.

“What of being a woman? Who says that a woman’s form precludes the accomplishment of great deeds!”

Yaoguang replied with a tranquil smile.

Lu Tong was momentarily taken aback by these words; Yaoguang smiled once more but did not elaborate further—her gaze shifted toward Xia Chen, standing at the edge of the hall in its corner.

For reasons unbeknownst to her, a flicker of anticipation stirred within her heart, wondering what manner of poem Xia Chen might compose.

Within the grand hall!

Xia Chen, under the scrutiny of all present, regarded the crowd and spoke in a deep, resonant voice.

“Where are the brush, ink, paper, and inkstone?”

“Imperial Son-in-Law, the brush, ink, paper, and inkstone have arrived—please, Imperial Son-in-Law, simply recite, and this servant shall wield the brush on your behalf.”

A eunuch hastened forward, bearing the finest brush, ink, paper, and inkstone.

“I shall do it myself!”

Xia Chen shook his head and took the brush, ink, paper, and inkstone into his own hands.

“Then how about I grind the ink and recite for Young Master Xia!”

Master Tianhai approached Xia Chen with a smile; without awaiting Xia Chen’s response, he picked up the inkstone and began grinding the ink!

The crowd, witnessing this scene, felt a collective sense of astonishment verging on petrification.

Master Tianhai, acting akin to a humble bookboy, had taken the initiative to offer to grind ink for Xia Chen?

Had the world gone mad?

This was a direct disciple of Abbot Long Shu!

Even when meeting the various princes, he needn’t offer particular courtesies!

Seeing that Tianhai had already begun grinding the ink, Xia Chen dispensed with further formalities; soon, the ink was prepared.

Xia Chen was versed in calligraphy—his current incarnation had diligently practiced it since childhood within the marquis’s mansion, while in his past life, he had trained in the running script of Wang Xizhi; though not a master, he had attained a modest level of proficiency.

Thus, at this moment, his brush moved with the fluidity of drifting clouds and flowing water; the characters were bold and vigorous, imbued with a formidable aura, their strokes dynamic and imbued with an extraordinary valor.

Master Tianhai, standing aside, caught sight of the first line, and his eyes immediately brightened; then, with a resounding voice, he recited it aloud, ensuring the entire assembly knew the content of the opening verse.

“War songs ought to resound with the melody of Wu’s curved swords.”

Though it was merely the first line, and its full caliber was not yet apparent, its bold and vigorous spirit had already leapt vividly onto the page.

Swiftly thereafter, Tianhai proclaimed the second line.

“I vow to vanquish Daqing and Dafeng, marching forth from Wu Pass.”

The moment this line rang out, the faint murmurs that had lingered throughout the hall ceased entirely; all were struck by the majestic and resounding intent woven within this verse.

A vow to eradicate Daqing and Dafeng and unify the realm—Wu Pass, a crucial stronghold in Dawu’s northwest, served as the gateway to the northwest, a vital frontier fortress defending against Daqing and Dafeng.

To launch westward campaigns or northern expeditions, one must pass through this very gate; with this line, the poem’s grand and imposing intent burst forth in full.

This verse set the blood of some scholars in attendance aflame, flushing their faces and reddening their ears!

Yet immediately following, as they heard Master Tianhai’s tone shift, a wave of somber grandeur and a resolve to face death unflinchingly swept over them.

“To know only death upon the battlefield in service to the nation,”

“What need is there to return wrapped in horsehide?”

As Master Tianhai’s voice fell, goosebumps prickled across the skin of many present.

Someone murmured under their breath: “What need is there to return wrapped in horsehide…”

“Superb!”

A shout of astonishment erupted; one man, seated at the banquet table, couldn’t restrain himself and slammed his hand down in rapturous applause.

“Utterly majestic—utterly majestic!”

Another voice chimed in with praise.

“With this poem from Young Master Xia, all the verses we composed earlier pale in comparison, unfit to grace the stage.”

A young man rose to his feet, lifted his wine cup, and with a gravely earnest expression, offered Xia Chen a toast.

The crowd glanced over—this was none other than Yuan Yongkui, son of the Vice Minister of War.

Earlier, Yuan Yongkui had kept a low profile amidst the throng; now, to voice such words before all present.

Lin Zihan, too, quietly savored the poem; the more he contemplated it, the more he felt the boundless grandeur of its intent—the soldiers’ fearless resolve to meet death head-on.

“This poem stands as the foremost frontier verse of our Dawu in nearly three hundred years!”

From the high platform, Lu Tong declared with a solemn and earnest expression.

Zi Yue repeated the four lines under her breath, her eyes growing ever brighter.

Yaoguang gazed at Xia Chen amidst the crowd, his brilliance dazzling; her luminous eyes flickered, her thoughts inscrutable.

Having completed the composition of an entire poem, Xia Chen performed a bow of respect toward Master Tianhai, who had assisted him by grinding the ink.

“My thanks to Master Tianhai for aiding me in grinding the ink!”

“My assistance in grinding your ink pales in comparison to the precious Buddhist verse you bestowed upon me.”

Tianhai pressed his palms together, resembling a devout believer.

“Should the opportunity arise, I shall surely visit Tianlong Temple to discuss the Dharma with the Master!”

Xia Chen, too, brought his hands together in a returning salute; then his gaze shifted to Daoist Xuan Zhenzi, who had been silently observing from the sidelines.

“Daoist Xuan Zhenzi, should you find the time, feel free to seek me out—I have fine wine aplenty, and we can drink to our hearts’ content together!”

Xuan Zhenzi, his eyes bleary with drink, nodded with a smile.

“Xia Qian, let’s go!”

Xia Chen turned to Xia Qian behind him, whose face beamed with admiration, and spoke.

Then, leading Xia Qian, he wove through the crowd, striding out of the hall toward the exit.

As he reached the threshold, Xia Chen glanced back, his eyes meeting Yaoguang’s atop the platform; their gazes collided in the air. In the end, Xia Chen gave her a nod, then, without lingering further, vanished completely beyond the doorway.

Only after Xia Chen’s departure did the crowd finally unleash their pent-up clamor, erupting into loud discussion.

“Damn, this poem is phenomenal!”

“Such bold spirit—worthy of the Xia clan’s legitimate heir; the moment he speaks, it’s a vow to extinguish both Daqing and Dafeng!”

“Young Master Xia, so young yet harboring such ambition—perhaps in the future, he might emulate the old Marquis of Zhendong, charging into Dafeng’s heartland and seizing their capital!”

…

Most scholars, lacking steadfast principles, now began extolling Xia Chen with fervor, wholly forgetting how they had inwardly maligned him moments before.

Lin Zihan gazed at the wine cup in his hand, sitting in silence; at last, he too rose.

“Let us depart as well!” With that, he strode out the door.

Young Master Jingxuan remained rooted in place, his lips murmuring Xia Chen’s four lines over and over; the more he recited, the heavier his heart grew.

“Damn it—my looks can’t outshine him, and now my literary talent falls short too? Am I truly without hope?”

Young Master Jingxuan gazed at Yaoguang atop the platform, her beauty capable of toppling kingdoms and cities, a wave of powerlessness surging within his heart.

“Young Master, are we truly leaving just like this? The Literary Gathering hasn’t even concluded—what if the princess…”

On the bustling street, Xia Qian followed Xia Chen, voicing his concern with a hint of worry.

“When the crowd first demanded I compose a poem, though I deliberately feigned weakness, it wasn’t to spare those people’s pride—it was to gauge Yaoguang’s stance.”

Xia Chen didn’t turn his head, his tone serene and steady.

Xia Chen’s primary intent had been to test Yaoguang; those scholars were merely tools he’d employed.

Laughably, they’d been smugly self-assured, believing they’d cornered Xia Chen, leaving him no retreat—forcing him at last to lash out in fury and produce a poem.

In truth, he’d been waiting to see if Yaoguang would speak on his behalf, if she’d intervene to halt those pressing him—yet Xia Chen had waited in vain…

Yaoguang had chosen silence—perhaps she merely wished to ascertain whether he possessed genuine talent and learning; but by not siding with him, she had aligned herself against him.

There was nothing more to say about that!

“Has the visage of those who led the charge and clamored most vociferously been committed to memory?”

Xia Chen inquired with an expressionless face; Xia Qian, trailing behind, sensed an ill mood in his young master upon hearing these words—though the utterance was calm, it carried an icy chill that struck him as profoundly cold.

“I’ve committed them to memory!”

“In a few days, once I assume full control of the Eagle Eye Division, have others arrange a little something—bestow upon them a few lavish feasts as a reward!”

Xia Chen was never one to let a grudge go unaddressed; those individuals had sought to climb over him to curry favor with Lin Zihan—utterly laughable!

Though Xia Chen indeed lacked the means to pave their paths to promotion, he certainly possessed the power to cast them into the eighteen depths of hell.

Without doling out a lesson, the people of the capital might truly come to believe he was someone easily trifled with.

“Furthermore, assist me in investigating a scholar from the Imperial Academy by the name of Xu Xingchen—find an opportunity to bring him to me discreetly!”

Xia Chen gazed at the vendors lining the street, his eyes distant and profound, lost in thoughts unknown.