Wei Wuxin smiled and said: "Today is really an eye-opener. I didn't expect that poems can be written like this. I laughed to death."

The old man with long eyebrows has an old face that looks like the color of pig liver.

"Hmph, you are a bunch of people who don't know how to appreciate things. I don't have the same experience as you." Master Changmei snorted coldly and returned behind Ye Qiu.

Wei Wuxin asked: "Ye Changsheng, is this Taoist writing on your behalf?"

"If so, then you will definitely lose this literary fight."

Ye Qiu immediately denied it: "The old man only represents himself."

"As for writing poetry, to be honest, I don't have much experience, but since it's a competition, it's okay not to write."

"Then I'll write a song to inspire others."

"Everyone, listen up."

In the Jinluan Palace, when Ning An heard that Ye Qiu was going to write a poem, he immediately sat up straight, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.
Chapter completed!