Xu Yi could see that the female soldier was dressed as the North Guards.

Obviously, she should be Chen Xiaojun's personal soldier.

"Why doesn't it work?" Xu Yi asked.

The female soldier pointed to a sign beside her and said, "Don't dare to make things difficult for King Nan. This is the rule set by General Chen of my family. It is only aimed at young heroes, not at the level of positions. King Nan is also one of the young heroes. To pass this path, you also need to write a poem that can be passed down from generation to generation."

"poetry?"

Xu Yi looked along the female soldier's finger and saw a big poem on the sign.

Looking around again, Xu Yi saw another four roads with troops guarding each of them. They all had a sign. The difference was that the words written on them were "qin", "chess", "drawing", and "wu".

"I report to the King of Southern, General Chen of my family is not only his birthday, but also his son-in-law. Only those who pass through the road can enter the main hall by passing through the piano, chess, poetry, painting and martial arts." The female soldier said respectfully.

"Select a son-in-law!"

Xu Yi was shocked.

Beizhao's daughter chooses a son-in-law!

If this news comes out, I am afraid that the whole young talent of Tianlong will come in like crazy.

Obviously, the news has not started to spread, otherwise there would be more than a few hundred people at the gate of the Beiwang Mansion at this moment.

"The King of Southern is the God of War in Mutian. You should follow the martial arts path and pass through without any obstacles. However, if you have to follow the poetry path, you have to write a poem that has been passed down from generation to generation." The female soldier said again.

A young man walked out and shouted: "Do you look down on our Nanwang? The Nanwang must be a genius with both civil and military affairs. It's just a poem that has passed down from generation to generation. How could it be difficult for us Nanwang? You still let your martial arts go? This is a humiliation."

Xu Yi looked at the young man with deep meaning: "Who are you?"

"You are the King of Southern and the minister Yan Ming, but you are just an unknown young man." The young man bowed and smiled.

Xu Yi smiled: "It turns out it is Dazai's son."

"King Nan, I was angry when I heard that this man humiliated the King of Southern, so I couldn't help but interrupt. Please forgive me."

"It's no wonder, it's not a surprise. In fact, I really can't write poetry." Xu Yi said.

Yan Ming was surprised when he heard this: "How is it possible? It is rumored that you are both civil and military, and are the first example of the younger generation of Tianlong. How could you not write poetry?"

"It's true." Xu Yi said.

Yan Ming was a little embarrassed: "Some time ago, it was rumored that you only know how to kill and fight, but not how to write poems, songs and essays. My subordinates tried hard to argue, are you..."

Xu Yi seemed to be smiling but not smiling.

This Yan Ming praised and criticized Xu Yi's prestige in front of everyone.

It is clearly telling others: The King of Southern is a man who only knows how to dance with swords and guns. How could he have any elegant atmosphere?

Many people's eyes flashed.

Everyone has their own ideas in their hearts.

The dragon established the country with martial arts, but that was already a thing of the past.

The three generations of kings valued culture and suppressed martial arts, and governed the country with martial arts.

The status of literati and poets has been greatly improved.

If Xu Yi was really a man without any worries, even if he was one of the kings of the four directions, it would not make people feel that it was too great.

The first thing a person in a high position needs to do is to keep people respectful to him.

Once you lose your awe, this so-called high position is just a joke.

It was like the stupid prince from the previous dynasty, who respected him at all? Even the servant didn't like him, and in the end he died tragically, his body was not found.

In front of everyone, Xu Yi was already in a difficult situation by Yan Ming's words.

Today, Xu Yi did not follow the poetry path and had no majesty.

But Xu Yi turned around resolutely and walked towards the martial arts.

Everyone's expressions changed and their eyes were filled with contempt.

Yan Ming curled a smile at the corner of his mouth, and his smile seemed cold.

But at this moment, a faint voice came from Xu Yi's mouth: "The spring breeze in the southern border is slaying, and the north border welcomes the evening snow.

The cold iron of the Western Yuan Jia, and the sky reflects the moon in the East China Sea.

The high hall is so prosperous, and the lights are full of heroes.

The dragon's jars and ten thousand lords, and the people's blood."

One step, one sentence.

When Xu Yi walked on the road where the word Wu was written, the last blood word fell.

The whole audience was silent, and you could clearly hear a needle falling to the ground.

Everyone looked at Xu Yi's upright back in horror, but Xu Yi turned around and smiled at Yan Ming, and said calmly: "What kind of love between children and children, what kind of love are? If it is all poetry, I really can't write poetry, I only write about the world."

After the words came, Xu Yi took a big stroll from the martial arts, his steps were gentle and powerful, as if he was stepping on the tip of everyone's heart, making their breathing become rapid.

Yan Ming's face was pale, cold sweat came out of his forehead, then slid down his cheeks, dripped onto the ground, breaking into several petals.

Xu Yi can’t write poetry, he only writes about the world!

The world he wrote was countless times sharper than the so-called poems!

Moreover, in a short time, one step at a time.

This level is probably difficult to achieve as a so-called poetic god and poet saint!

The eight-line poems are so profound that they are incredible.

This is a true masterpiece!

Almost at the same time, someone wrote the poems that Xu Yi read and instantly spread throughout the capital.

In the Northern Palace, in Shen Xiaojun’s boudoir, eight lines of poetry, the pen and ink are not dry.

She chanted softly and looked more and more happy.

"The man I, Shen Xiaojun, likes is indeed not an ordinary person!"

Putting down the paper in his hand, Shen Xiaojun walked out with a smile on his face.

The door of the hall was open, and countless young heroes looked at each other.

The next second, the dizziness is dazzling.

Under the light, Shen Xiaojun was wearing a long red dress with golden scales. She was decorated with no makeup on her face, and her hair was tied up high, noble, gorgeous, and dazzling, like a banished immortal.

"Xiaojun has seen you all." Shen Xiaojun bowed.

"Congratulations to Miss Shen on a happy birthday!" The young heroes' eyes were extremely hot.

As long as you can marry Shen Xiaojun, you will be the pinnacle of your life in an instant.

Not to mention how respectful her father's status is, not to mention how amazing her background is.

With her beauty alone, she is enough to be charming and has a reputation in history!

Which man wouldn’t like such a woman? Don’t want it?

"Thank you all the young heroes for gathering together to celebrate Xiaojun's birthday. Tonight is Xiaojun's birthday. At the same time, because Xiaojun is over twenty-four years old, the father urges Xiaojun to find a good husband, so..."

Shen Xiaojun was shy and pretty: "Tonight, Xiaojun will also find a husband from all the heroes."

One sentence ignited countless restless hearts.

The ladies of wealthy people naturally watch the fun.

The young heroes have already glared at each other and regarded each other as their competitors.

At this moment, compared to the bustling and boiling atmosphere of the Northern Palace, the imperial study room was quiet.

The king of the country holds a wolf's hair and is writing quietly.

Lin Dong handed a piece of paper: "Lord, this is written by the Southern King Xu Mutian in the Northern King's Mansion."

The spring breeze in the southern border is blowing, and the evening snow in the northern border is greeted.

The cold iron of the Western Yuan Jia, and the sky reflects the moon in the East China Sea.

The high hall is so prosperous, and the lights are full of heroes.

The dragon's jars are thousands of ranks, and the people's blood is a drop of blood.

The king read it word by word, and then threw away the four words "Destiny like a dragon" written on the table, held the wolf's hair tightly, and wrote these eight lines of poetry on the brand new white paper.

After writing the last sentence, he laughed.

Winter's face is expressionless.

After a long time, the king said, "Okay! What a good Xu Mutian! The first four sentences describe the suffering of protecting the country and guarding the borders of the four major war zones, but the last four sentences mocked the countless prosperity of the capital. The so-called young heroes, all the wine bags and the nectar and jade liquid they drank were the blood of the people of the world! Is this so decay now?"

After a pause, the king asked again: "What else did he say?"

Winter still had no expression on his face and no human emotions: "The King of Southern said that he could not write poetry, but only wrote about the world."

"What a Xu Mutian."
Chapter completed!