Slowly, Li Qingxian’s brows furrowed.
He felt like he’d heard *Roar of the Dragon* somewhere before, but he was certain there were no similar poems in his memory of Blue Star.
In the end, Li Qingxian returned to the top of North City’s wall. He placed the full text of Songg Yunjing’s *Roar of the Dragon* before him and sank into deep thought.
Winds sweep the heavens, layering yellow clouds,
A single white stream from Kunlun flows.
The Great River comes from the west, heading to the east,
Roaring for ten thousand li, spreading the dragon’s cry.
Li Qingxian’s memory was average, but he had been exposed to a vast number of famous poems. The foundation of this one was decent, but its momentum was far weaker than that of the classics.
After a long while, Zhou Henn, smelling even more strongly of blood, walked over and said in a low voice, "Get ready. Their Literary Qi has already dropped to half, and there’s still no word from the Imperial Court. In half an hour at most, the three Demon Kings will make their move."
Li Qingxian looked up at the night sky, sighed softly, and asked, "Is it past midnight?"
"It is. Today is your birthday. You won’t be able to return to the Divine Capital," Zhou Henn said.
Li Qingxian fell silent.
"If you have any messages for your family, I’ll have someone deliver them. Also, I will arrange for them to leave the Divine Capital and head to Wusu City," Zhou Henn said.
"Is there really no hope at all?"
"See for yourself." Zhou Henn pointed ahead.
Li Qingxian looked forward.
The white antlers on King Shujiao’s head had originally only emitted a faint glow, but now, they radiated a blinding white light, like a small sun in the dark night.
The antlers, once solid and unmoving, had now transformed into flowing white light, drifting like water and exuding a dense, immense aura.
The bands of light from the antlers slowly extended, dense and numerous, like long strands of white hair, covering an area thirty to forty zhang in radius.
Visible waves of Qi Force blasted out in all directions.
The white-fanged and black-striped Demon Kings kept their distance, fear on their faces.
Just one glance made Li Qingxian’s chest tighten.
"That is..."
"A powerful innate talent of the Deer Demon race. As long as those horns of light are active, I can never get close to him."
Li Qingxian looked toward the Demon Race’s main camp.
The camp was empty.
All the demons were now standing between the city wall and their camp.
Countless pairs of green eyes glinted in the darkness.
The final assault was about to begin.
Li Qingxian let out a long sigh. "Uncle Xiaozhou, let’s get ready."
"Alright. I’ll go get the Wooden Eagle." Zhou Henn turned and left.
Li Qingxian took one last look at *Roar of the Dragon* as Songg Yunjing’s voice, reciting the poem, reached his ears.
"Winds sweep the heavens, layering yellow clouds. A single white stream from Kunlun flows. The Great River comes from the west, heading to the east. Roaring for ten thousand li, spreading the dragon’s cry."
Li Qingxian closed the sheet of poetry, then suddenly froze.
Because four lines of a poem had suddenly surfaced in his mind.
Li Qingxian had an epiphany. No wonder it felt so familiar, yet he couldn’t recall it. The four lines were split between two different poems—two long ones, at that. He had never memorized them and had even forgotten their titles.
The only reason he could remember them was because those four lines by Li Bai were so powerful and commonplace.
Li Qingxian spread the sheet of poetry out again, picked up a brush, dipped it in ink until it was saturated, and began to scribble and sketch on the page.
Seeing this, Songg Baige ran over from a short distance away. "What are you doing? Aren’t we supposed to be preparing to leave? Are you trying to alter my father’s Battle Poem? This is a Fourth-Grade Battle Poem!"
Just then, the rolling thunder of war drums sounded from all directions, and a tide of demons surged toward the city.
The three Demon Kings strode forward.
Dark clouds gathered in the sky and a fierce wind began to blow. In an instant, the dark clouds covered dozens of li, pressing down on Beichen City.
"Li Qingxian!" Songg Baige roared in a low voice.
Li Qingxian paid him no mind. He scribbled and sketched for a long time, then dipped his brush in thick ink. Just as he was about to write, an idea struck him. He said, "I was just lost in thought about this Battle Poem. I don’t know why, but I kept feeling that it could be improved, though I didn’t know how. I thought and thought but couldn’t find a breakthrough. Then it hit me—this poem is called *Roar of the Dragon*. And what is a dragon? The dragon is the True Dragon Emperor! An image of the Emperor from the Night Guard Department’s Disciplinary Hall appeared in my mind. As I kept thinking about it, the scene before my eyes suddenly changed..."
Li Qingxian paused for a moment, then continued, "It was as if I saw the Emperor, high above the Divine Capital. With a wave of his hand, the snow on Kunlun Mountain melted, and nine streams of snowmelt converged into a torrent, surging from the west. The Emperor waved his hand again, and those nine streams of water transformed into nine white dragons, crashing toward Dragon Gate Gorge. In that instant, I understood! This is the Emperor saving Beichen! This is him granting me the chance of Touching Dragon Gate!"
Li Qingxian paused again, a look of ecstatic joy on his face, and shouted, "The Emperor is wise and brilliant! The Emperor is wise and brilliant! Such a poem should only belong to the Emperor; how often could a mortal ever hope to hear it!"
Songg Baige stared, dumbfounded, watching Li Qingxian like he was a madman. With his chicken-scratch handwriting, Li Qingxian wrote out a new poem below *Roar of the Dragon*.
Yellow clouds drift north, moving the color of the wind,
Nine streams of white waves from Kunlun flow.
The Great River comes from the west, cleaving heaven and earth,
Roaring for ten thousand li, it strikes the Dragon Gate!
The moment this poem appeared, a colossal, bridge-shaped rainbow, hundreds of zhang long, materialized high above Beichen City.
Songg Baige threw his head back and looked at the sky, counting quickly. "One, two... nine! A nine-colored rainbow! A First-Grade poem? Dad! Come quick! Beichen City is saved!"
On the word "Dad," Songg Baige’s voice cracked.
The nine-colored rainbow rose abruptly, then slowly faded away.
While everyone was still in a daze, Songg Yunjing activated a Cultural Treasure. A white wind swirled around him, and he flew directly over.
"What happened? Who modified a poem to First Grade? Which of the Battle Poems was it?" Songg Yunjing arrived before Zhou Chunfeng.
"You... see for yourself..." Songg Baige pointed with a trembling finger at the four lines Li Qingxian had just written.
Songg Yunjing looked down.
Yellow clouds drift north, moving the color of the wind,
Nine streams of white waves from Kunlun flow.
The Great River comes from the west, cleaving heaven and earth,
Roaring for ten thousand li, it strikes the Dragon Gate!
Songg Yunjing felt a BUZZ in his ears, and the world went silent.
This poem was very similar to his own *Roar of the Dragon*, but in terms of wording, imagery, artistic conception, and its vast, majestic momentum, it far surpassed the original.
With just one glance, Songg Yunjing saw the genius of this poem.
The wind is what moves the yellow clouds, and the wind itself is colorless. But by writing that the ’yellow clouds move the color of the wind,’ it uses the tangible to describe the intangible. It inverts cause and effect, elevating both the wording and the imagery to a higher level.
The word "cleaving" in "The Great River comes from the west, cleaving heaven and earth" was a stroke of divine inspiration. That single word immediately brought to mind the image of a river bursting its dams as it surged forward, elevating the poem yet another level.
As for the last line, changing "spreading the dragon’s cry" to "strikes the Dragon Gate" was heroic and grand. The single word "strikes" simultaneously conveyed the meanings of both impact and contact, blending the grandeur of the Great River with fine detail, making it so vivid it seemed to leap off the page.
"Excellent! Excellent! Excellent!" the good-natured scholar praised repeatedly.
Zhou Chunfeng walked over, took one look, and his eyes shone with a brilliant, star-like light.
"Beichen City is saved!" After saying this, Zhou Chunfeng looked at Li Qingxian and said, "You deserve the highest merit for this!"
"Legendary merit," Songg Yunjing said.
The breathing of the Soldier Generals present grew ragged. Secondary merit, highest merit, and legendary merit were tiers of increasing honor. Many Middle-Grade Generals went their entire lives without ever achieving legendary merit.
"Slaying the demons is what’s important," Li Qingxian said humbly.
All of Songg Baige’s questions were caught in his throat.
Zhou Chunfeng nodded and said to Songg Yunjing, "Get ready. We will sacrifice my Cultural Treasure to prevent any accidents!"
As he spoke, Zhou Chunfeng held out the Great Scholar’s Fragment.
Songg Yunjing shook his head. "I have a Fourth-Grade Cultural Treasure. We can just sacrifice that. Your Life Meaning Treasure is far too precious. You should keep it."
"When do we make our move?" Zhou Chunfeng glanced at the three Demon Kings, who were slowly approaching.
"Right now! Chunfeng, cover me!" Songg Yunjing said.
"Alright!"