62: Chapter 62 Young Master Yin

Fortunately, from the memory of a song, Su Fan recalled the pronunciation of this character.

"Wei," w-e-i, the 'wei' in Maweipo.

After recognizing the character, he lined up on the side to wait.

The bailiff held up a piece of white paper; the character on it had been changed, and he let the prisoners behind Su Fan continue to identify it...

Finally, all the prisoners finished identifying the characters, and there were about twenty people left.

The noble-looking man sitting on the grand chair on the high platform covered his mouth with a white handkerchief, coughing violently as if suffering from some serious illness, coughing up a mouthful of fresh blood that stained the handkerchief red.

He called over a servant dressed in black and whispered to him for a moment...

The black-clad servant nodded, then came before the twenty-some prisoners. His sharp gaze swept across everyone's faces as he coldly demanded, "Among you... is there anyone who can compose poetry?"

As soon as his voice fell, a male prisoner of about forty or fifty years old raised his hand and shouted, "My lord, I can, I can!"

The black-clad servant lifted his chin, signaling him to step forward.

Then, he said coldly, "Begin."

The male prisoner looked confused as he gazed at the black-clad servant and said, "Could you please give me a topic, my lord?"

A murderous intent surged across the black-clad servant's face as he coldly glared at the prisoner.

The prisoner trembled all over, not daring to ask for a topic again. Instead, he raised his shackled hands and began to compose: "The bright sun shines in the sky, ten thousand... ten thousand rays of light... ten thousand rays of light shine... late... late... la..."

The prisoner was deep in thought. After twenty seconds, he still had not figured out how to continue the poem.

Slash!

The black-clad servant suddenly drew his waist saber and decapitated him with a single stroke, then spat, "Late your mother's head, you could not come up with it after so long, die!"

The prisoner's head rolled onto the ground, his eyes staring fixedly...

All the prisoners were startled, shivering uncontrollably!

Just a moment ago, they were envying this man for having the chance to become a servant to a noble, yet in the blink of an eye, he had been slashed to death just because he was slow at composing poetry...

This psychological gap was truly difficult to describe...

Su Fan had also been startled just now. He truly had not expected that being slow at poetry would also get one killed!

Fortunately, he had hesitated for a second and did not step forward immediately; otherwise, the one being killed might have been him...

"Who else can compose poetry?"

The black-clad servant glared at the group of prisoners, blood still dripping from the tip of his waist saber...

Everyone was silent, as if struck dumb by fear.

"Is there no one else who can compose poetry?"

"Fine, then let us just leave it at that..."

Just when everyone thought it was over and they could return to their cells...

The black-clad servant suddenly turned around, raised his blade, his eyes filled with a cold, murderous light: "Today, you have all displeased my master, so you can all... die!"

As he spoke, he raised his blade, preparing to rush over and slaughter them...

Su Fan could not hold back anymore and had to raise his small hand and shout, "My lord, I can compose poetry!"

The black-clad servant once again lifted his chin coldly.

Su Fan stepped forward.

When the prisoners saw that he was just a child, their expressions became complex. Although they dared not discuss it, one could tell from their eyes that they did not believe a little brat could compose any poetry...

The black-clad servant did not care whether he was an adult or a child; he stared at Su Fan with a murderous gaze: "My master has no patience. If you cannot compose it within ten breaths, you die!"

Su Fan glanced at the corpse on the ground, a look of determination appearing on his youthful face. After nodding, he began to speak:

"Boiling beans with beanstalks, the beans weep in the pot."

"Born from the same root, why be so eager to destroy each other?"

After reciting this "Quatrain of Seven Steps" by Cao Zhi, only three breaths of time had passed.

"Finished?"

The black-clad servant's gaze remained cold as he stared at the young boy. He did not understand the meaning of the poem at all and thought the child was just trying to fool him...

Just then, he suddenly heard his master's voice: "Call him over."

The noble-looking man's voice was very low, and the black-clad servant immediately brought Su Fan to the foot of the high platform.

Looking at the noble-looking man on the platform, Su Fan felt a bit nervous, his eyes flickering, not knowing what would happen next...

"Recite the poem you just composed once more."

The noble-looking man's voice was very soft, as if his breath were as thin as silk, giving the impression that he could die at any moment...

Su Fan recited the four lines of the "Quatrain of Seven Steps" again.

Prince Yin looked at the little boy below the platform, then slowly stood up. He appeared so frail that it seemed he would collapse at any moment, and the servants on either side immediately rushed to support him...

"Boiling beans... burning beanstalks..."

"The beans... in the pot... weep!"

"Born from... the same... root!"

"Why be... so eager to destroy each other!?"

Prince Yin softly recited these lines of poetry, and a sense of sorrow surged across his face like a tidal wave. His steps were unsteady, like a candle flickering in the wind. It was as if this poem had been custom-made for him, vividly displaying his sorrow and helplessness...

And Su Fan also seemed to see a living Cao Zhi!

It seemed that the "Quatrain of Seven Steps" he recited, originally intended to satirize this man-eating True Martial World and this heartless principality, had unexpectedly struck a chord with something on this nobleman's mind...

He would only learn later that the nobleman before him was the fourth son of Duke Yan Huan of the Shanhai Principality, known as "Prince Yin."

Just last December, the ruler of the Shanhai Principality, Duke Huan, passed away.

Duke Yan Huan's seven sons had launched a thrilling palace struggle to seize the throne.

The First Young Master was framed by the Third Young Master and died unjustly.

The Second Young Master, under the banner of avenging the crown prince, allied with the Fifth Young Master to engage in a life-or-death struggle against the Third Young Master.

However, the Second Young Master was betrayed by the Fifth Young Master at the critical moment and was brutally murdered.

The Fifth Young Master appeared calm and composed, but in reality, he had secretly befriended a group of Great Grandmasters, attempting to eliminate all his competitors...

In the end, no one expected that it would be the seemingly harmless Seventh Young Master who, relying on ruthless methods, successfully ascended the throne and became the ultimate victor of this cruel palace struggle.

And the first thing the Seventh Young Master did upon ascending the throne was to attempt to exterminate all his brothers.

During the competition, he had already killed the Third Young Master, the Fifth Young Master, and their entire Families. After ascending the throne, he had also cruelly slaughtered the Sixth Young Master's entire Family. Only the Fourth Young Master, who had never participated in any of the struggles—that is, Prince Yin—remained, and he too was forced to take a poisonous pill, leaving him with only three years to live...

...

At this moment.

Upon hearing this poem, Prince Yin felt a surge of sadness and unwillingness in his heart. He gazed deeply at the young boy before him, his mind becoming active...

This young boy, despite his tender age, could actually compose such a poem. Even though he lacked a True Qi Spiritual Root, this level of intellect was truly rare...

Prince Yin waved his hand and summoned the county magistrate.

"He is still young, yet he is here; what crime has he committed?"

The county magistrate bowed respectfully and replied, "Answering to the Young Master, although this child is young, he is quite bold. He is being detained here for private salt trafficking."

Prince Yin let out an "Oh," stared at Su Fan, and then ordered the county magistrate to bring over the case file.

He flipped through the case file, then looked at Su Fan with great interest and said to the county magistrate, "At such a young age, he actually knows how to sun-dry and sell salt. This child is not bad; he can be a study companion for my son. This child... I, this Young Master, will take him!"