Adult Tang Dynasty: I, the Scoundrel, Fully Support the Empress

Chapter 25: A Single Verse Stunned the Four Great Scholars of the Early Tang!

Cao Zhi.

One of the most renowned poets and literary figures of the Three Kingdoms era celebrated as one of the greatest talents of the Jian’an period. His masterpiece, “The Rhapsody on the Goddess of the Luo River”, shook the literary world of his time.

Centuries later, during the Southern Dynasties, the famous poet Xie Lingyun once commented, “The world’s talent is like a stone—Cao Zhi alone holds eight parts, I have one, and the rest of the world shares the last.” This showed the immense respect scholars had for Cao Zhi. The phrase “talent as high as eight dou” even originated from this admiration.

Because of this, countless poets and writers throughout history revered Cao Zhi as an idol. Even during the early years of the Tang Dynasty, the legendary Four Great Scholars of the Early Tang, including Wang Bo, spoke of him with awe and reverence. No one dared to disrespect his legacy.

But now…

Su Yang, a man widely known for being a reckless playboy, dared to claim that he could compose a poem in seven steps, just like Cao Zhi.

This wasn’t just arrogance; it was downright ridiculous. He wasn’t just making a fool of himself—he was outright insulting one of the greatest literary figures in history.

As expected, the moment Su Yang spoke, the entire room erupted in outrage. Even the esteemed scholars sitting above gasped in shock, their faces darkening with fury. Their eyes burned with rage—they would never allow anyone to disgrace their idol like this!

The uproar spread fast. When word reached the imperial palace, even the court’s literary officials were livid, some ready to grab their swords and cut Su Yang down on the spot.

“This is pure madness!”

“How dare he insult Cao Zhi like this?”

“He thinks he’s worthy of composing a poem in seven steps?”

“He should be dragged out and executed!”

The scholars were furious. To them, Su Yang’s claim wasn’t just an act of arrogance—it was a direct attack on everything they held sacred. He was mocking the foundation of their beliefs.

Meanwhile, the Four Great Scholars of the Early Tang, the most revered poets of their time, were just as enraged. To them, Su Yang’s arrogance was beyond infuriating—he was openly disrespecting the literary giants they revered. Even though they usually prided themselves on being calm and collected, at that moment, they were so outraged they nearly stood up and started cursing him out loud.

…

At the Imperial Academy.

Su Yang remained completely unfazed by the anger and accusations surrounding him. He didn’t care about them, at all.

Then, right in front of everyone, he took a step forward, raised his cup of wine, and boldly began to recite:

“Have you not seen how the Yellow River’s waters come from the heavens, Rushing to the sea, never to return?”

“Have you not seen how the mirrors in high halls reflect sorrowful silver hair, Morning like black silk, by evening turned to snow?”

“Seize the moment and take your joy, Never let your golden cup be empty beneath the moon.”

At first, no one paid him much attention. The scholars and students around him scoffed—what could a spoiled rich kid possibly come up with? They were certain his so-called poetry would be nothing but nonsense.

But as he continued, verse after verse, the crowd’s expression changed. The sneers vanished as shock took over them

Even the esteemed scholars, who had been the most dismissive of him, were now completely stunned. Their initial mockery turned into disbelief, and then into pure, speechless awe.

Because they knew better than anyone…

What Su Yang had just composed wasn’t just good. It was masterful.

It was beyond anything they could have imagined.

The moment his poem reached the Four Great Scholars of the Early Tang, their faces turned pale. As they held the transcribed verses in their trembling hands, it felt as if they were holding an imperial decree, personally written by the emperor himself.

Then…

Thud!

One of them suddenly dropped to his knees.

The others, including Wang Bo, were stunned.

“This poem is beyond anything we’ve ever seen.”

“It’s not something mere mortals like us can even judge!”

“I feel ashamed to even call myself one of the Four Great Scholars of the Early Tang.”

“The only way I can ease my conscience is by kneeling before it.”

Lu Zhaolin, one of the Four Great Scholars, spoke with deep reverence, his anger from earlier completely gone. Now, all he felt was overwhelming admiration.