The crowd grew larger and larger.
Although the people had some illusions about Mo Lin's martial arts performance, they did not feel that there were still people who could do it despite the successive failures of the court musicians and the music masters in the divine capital.
Even when they hear the sound of the flute, most people subconsciously think that it is played by the Molin musician.
But a very simple inference is:
Even if it is a musician playing, it must not be easy for him to take it so seriously.
If you look down from the sky, you can clearly see that with Baidi Arena as the center, people flow like hundreds of rivers returning to the sea, gradually gathering.
…
Near the ring, a flute song also came to an end.
The turbulent river gradually calmed down, and the birds hovering in the sky also dropped from the branches. With the high-spirited and sad flute sound ending, the listeners on the shore also returned to reality from time.
The song ends.
"Time" returns to calmness, like an old man in the sun, telling the end of a long life, but it also implies the expectation of new life.
The noise disappeared, and there was only the sound of wind. Everyone was immersed in the emotions aroused by the music and could not extricate themselves.
Ji Ping'an put down his bamboo flute and turned around to see the female musician in a plain dress with a bookish air sitting cross-legged in silence.
"It's your turn."
Only then did Zhong Tongjun come back to his senses, his face was sentimental, excited, and confused.
At this moment, the Mo Lin genius forgot that he was in the ring, and his eyes showed respect and confusion:
"Why is the "Time" you played so profound?"
This is a euphemism. In fact, regardless of the level of technique and technique, she felt that the most powerful musician in Mo Lin was not as good as the person in front of her.
Ji Ping'an thought for a while and said, "Practice more?"
It’s hard for him to say, because I have lived long enough, and because I have personally improved this piece of music many times.
Practice more... Zhong Tongjun couldn't accept this answer and was a little stunned.
At this time, the Molin musicians and "referees" near the arena also came to their senses one after another.
The former was shocked and moved at first, and then suddenly realized that this was a "martial arts" arena, and couldn't help but become nervous.
It is also the song "Time". Zhong Tongjun has already played it once using her favorite piano as a carrier, giving it her best effort.
But even at that time, it couldn't compare to today's song, not to mention that according to the rules, Senior Sister Zhong had to use corresponding instruments?
The referees, who had been sitting there for several days without performing their role, were confused and excited.
I don’t know who this young man who suddenly broke out is. Is there really an expert among the people who keeps it secret?
But this is no longer important. The real key is that if the opponent plays in place of Da Zhou, does it count as a win now?
"Ahem, bell master, it's your turn." A referee urged.
"Yes, don't keep everyone waiting too long." Another referee also said.
But I have made a decision in my heart:
If Zhong Tongjun's music is only at the level of three days ago, then they will give Shendu a victory no matter what.
With such a clear gap, Liang Molin couldn't say "no".
However, Zhong Tongjun did not pick up the bamboo flute. She was silent for a moment and sighed:
"I don't know what your methods are, but as far as this piece of music is concerned, Mr. Tong is defeated. In this battle, I, Mo Lin, lost."
Wow——
Her voice expanded through the magic circle and swept through the crowd.
At this time, the onlookers who were immersed in emotions just woke up from a dream and were stunned. They felt that the surprise came so fast that they were unprepared.
After being stunned for several breaths, the first cheers sounded, and then more and more cheers, as dense as the sea.
"Victory."
"We finally won a game."
"The woman gave up."
The people of Shendu have been oppressed for several days, but unexpectedly there will be a turning point, and it will not occur in the game of Go, which everyone is most confident in, but in the competition of music.
Highlight an unexpected one.
Immediately, some people ran excitedly into the distance to share the news with their friends, but were startled by the mammoth crowd coming from afar.
Then, those people who still didn't know what happened heard Mo Lin's words of resignation and became excited and noisy, asking what exactly happened.
The scene was chaotic.
…
In the arena.
Ji Ping'an was surprised by this girl's magnanimity and straightforwardness. Thinking that the other party saved him a lot of time, he stood up and nodded:
"Concession."
Then he walked straight down. This decisive and straightforward action made Zhong Tongjun, who wanted to leave him to talk about music theory, was stunned for a moment, wondering whether he should stop him.
Seeing that Ji Ping'an was about to walk into the crowd, the young musician who had registered earlier finally got excited, picked up a pen and paper, and asked:
"Um...this young master, I don't know what to call him?"
Ji Ping'an didn't look back and said, "He."
The young musician confirmed Pandao: "Where can one be?"
Ji Ping'an said: "It's just a grain of rice."
After that, he walked among the crowd who consciously separated a path to the left and right, along the Baidi, and left in the distance.
The scene was too chaotic, too many people came, and the original layout was broken up.
Therefore, except for the closest group of people, the people behind did not know that this young man wearing a bamboo hat was the winner just now, and just let Ji Ping'an leave.
There were also a few curious people who pushed their way through the crowd and tried to follow Ji Pingan, wanting to know where this mysterious "Mr. He" lived.
"Senior sister, what should we do next?" The young musician walked onto the ring anxiously and looked at Zhong Tongjun.
They didn't expect that they would lose.
Zhong Tongjun shook his head, bit his lip, and said:
"I continued to guard the ring, and I only lost this one game. Two to one, we still won. But this matter is important, so you should go and report it to the Master."
"Yes." The young musician hurriedly left.
…
in the crowd.
"Hey mother!" The carriage was stuck in the sea of people and could not move forward. The grumpy Zhao Xinghuo angrily cursed:
"Why are there suddenly so many old people?"
Stupid Fire Academy Star Officer!
Others despised it, saying that it would be strange if there were so few people in the music formation.
Jian Zhuang shook his head, looking at the ring in the distance that was clearly very close yet very far away, and said:
"The people are all gone. There's no need to squeeze through, there are too many people. It seems that Mr. Zhong Tong won't take action."
Wang Xian said: "Then go back and report the news to the prison. I'm afraid the prison lords don't know yet."
Emperor Shi Hao said doubtfully:
"But who is this 'Mr. He'? Do gods have such powerful masters? Given his artistic conception, as long as his qualifications are not too bad, if he wants to join the Molin, it is not suitable to take the path of a musician."
Only the female Si Chen Lin Qin’s beautiful eyes remained unblinking as she recalled the shocking glimpse of the figure just now and said:
"Did you feel that when that person stepped down from the stage just now, his temperament and figure looked familiar?"
The geniuses were stunned and fell into deep thought.
Suddenly he remembered the same glance when Ji Ping'an killed the demon assassin not long ago outside Anxiang Tower.
But then they shook their heads and threw away this somewhat absurd idea.
Wang Xian said: "I guess those who are good at music and painting have similar temperaments, so they look similar, but their stature is still different from that of Junior Brother Ji."
Everyone nodded and accepted this more reasonable explanation.
"Your mother." Zhao Xinghuo cursed and interrupted:
"Let's not talk about these useless things. The carriage is stuck. How can we get back to Qintian Prison now?"
Stupid Fire Academy Star Officer!
Everyone was scornful and stood up one after another: "You can't walk with your legs?"
…
Posthouse.
As the disciples left for the three arenas, the place became obviously deserted.
Only some handymen responsible for cleaning were left, as well as a few painters and musicians who had not gone there to join in the fun.
Gao Mingjing didn't go out today. Maybe he was successful and in a good mood.
After getting up today, he suddenly got up and sat in the room spreading out drawing paper.
The witch, who was lying on the bed without any trouble, sleeping soundly buried in the ink, began to grind the ink and paint by herself, preparing to paint a landscape scroll.
"On the last day, after today, this martial arts performance will be considered complete."
Gao Mingjing put down the inkstone, picked up the brush and poked it into it, slowly soaking the tips of the hair with light cyan ink, as if talking to himself or conversing with the ink girl.
Based on his understanding of the divine capital during this period and his grasp of Emperor Yuan Qing's character, he was very sure that there would be no surprises today.
In the dark old inkstone, Mo Nu turned over and ignored him.
Gao Mingjing smiled and was about to put down his pen.
Suddenly, the door of the posthouse was slammed open, and a young musician ran in.
Under the surprised eyes of the handymen who were sweeping the courtyard, after a short search, they went straight to Gao Mingjing's room.
"What's wrong?" Gao Mingjing's heart skipped a beat, and he suddenly had a bad premonition.
The young musician panted and said:
"Oops! Someone just came from Senior Sister Zhong's side and challenged me with a rough bamboo flute. As a result..."
"What's the result?" Gao Mingjing's voice rose involuntarily.
The young musician cried sadly: "Senior Sister Zhong lost!"
"Crack."
The brush in Gao Mingjing's hand shook, and a huge drop of ink fell on the snow-white drawing paper on the desk, smearing a large area.
The great Molin painter maintained this posture, and after listening to the young musician's narration, the leisurely feeling in his heart disappeared.
He searched frantically in his mind, but couldn't find any Yili master named "He".
"How is the situation now?" Gao Mingjing put down his paintbrush and asked in a deep voice.
The young musician said:
"Senior Sister Zhong is still in the ring, and the challenger has left. More and more people are gathering around, so I managed to squeeze out."
Gao Mingjing took a deep breath and said, "I'll go over and take a look."
After a pause, seeing that the musician looked uneasy, he calmed down a little and said comfortingly:
"It doesn't matter. Even if I give them one of the three games in the arena, I still win."
"Yes." The girl musician nodded and could only comfort herself in this way.
…
…
The other side.
Ji Ping'an left the crowd behind, took advantage of the chaos to get rid of the boring people following him, changed direction, and walked towards the second "Green Apricot Garden".
The three arenas belong to different directions and are far apart from each other.
Even though the music was blessed by formations, in order to avoid noise interference, the transmission range was only limited to that side. As for the relevant news, it had not been transmitted for a while.
Therefore, Qingxingyuan has not received any news yet, so there is a time lag and information gap.
Just like the one at Baidi, the crowd of onlookers outside Qingxing Garden was also much smaller.
Only a few scholars lingered around, scattered outside the courtyard, passing the time admiring the long paintings posted on the wall.
There are no challengers here either. Therefore, when people saw a young man wearing a bamboo hat and ordinary clothes walking towards the courtyard gate, they were a little suspicious at first.
"Is it a challenge? Or is there something else?"
Not sure.
It wasn't until Ji Ping'an expressed his intention to the painter at the door that people finally cheered up:
"He really came here to compete. I don't know which young master he is from a big family."
"Why can't he be a disciple of a hermit? The so-called great hermit who lives in the city... For example, some time ago, I heard that there was a young master in Anxiang Tower who had excellent painting skills."
"Painting is expensive. How can a person without a wealthy family learn it? Of course, if you prefer to say that rural painters are included, then you are right."
A famous scholar commented, his mood was very stable and he also didn't have too many expectations.
If we say that in the field of "Go", where brainpower is at its peak, the peak period is in youth, so there are many young chess masters in history, then "painting" is a skill that requires more experience.
It's not that there are no masters among young people, but when the opponent is Mo Lin, who is famous for his "painting skills"... any painter will be eclipsed.
Therefore, when the court painter was defeated, the onlookers here were much calmer than those in the other two places.
It seemed that Mo Lin's victory was a matter of course.
"Please follow me." The young painter guarding the door looked at the person in front of him in surprise. He couldn't figure out the origin of the feet, but he still smiled and invited him in.
The rhetoric is very different from that of young musicians.
"Painting is about tranquility. It can only be viewed by people when it is completed. Therefore, there is no high platform and the place for competition is only in this garden."
The young painter explained that the two of them walked around the screen wall, and the front suddenly opened up. It turned out to be an elegant courtyard.
At this moment, there are tables and cases placed in the courtyard, with pen stands and drawing papers on them. Without exception, they are of the highest quality.
The "judicial panel" composed of a group of famous scholars sat under the eaves corridor on the left, closing their eyes and falling asleep. I have long since laid down without any hope.
The rest of the people in the courtyard, except for the boy and a famous Molin painter, were sitting in the center of the courtyard, and the most eye-catching man behind the desk was a handsome man.
Wearing a loose robe with some ink stains, he closed his eyes and breathed, his facial features were handsome, and he looked like a gentleman.
"How to compare?" Ji Ping'an walked straight over and said the same line as before.
Qu Chuchen opened his eyes and showed a graceful smile: "May I ask how you call the young master?"
"Grain." Ji Ping'an added, "Grain at noon on the day of hoeing."
Qu Chuchen smiled and praised:
"This poem by the National Master in the past reflects the sufferings of the people's livelihood. It is simple, unpretentious and catchy. It is indeed an eternal masterpiece."
But its author is a corrupt official... Ji Ping'an sighed and repeated: "How to compare?"
Qu Chuchen was stunned for a moment, surprised by the other party's eagerness, smiled casually, pointed at the tables and said:
"Young master can designate a theme, and you and I will paint the paintings respectively. After the paintings are completed, they will be handed over to famous artists for evaluation, and then posted for appreciation by those outside the courtyard."
Every painter has a theme that he is good at. Some are good at landscapes, some are good at figures, some are good at immortals and Buddhas...
Broken down, according to color, there are "ink", "splashed ink", "turquoise", "light crimson", etc.
When talking about painting techniques, they can also be divided into "meticulous brushwork", "cracking technique", "white drawing", "boneless" and so on.
There are many dimensions.
Qu Chuchen allowed the challenger to choose his area of expertise, which shows the absolute confidence of painter Mo Lin.
"Theme?" Ji Ping'an thought for a moment. He always paints according to his heart, regardless of technique or artistic conception. He has no area of expertise.
Difficulty choosing.
But Mo Lin's words... There was a moment of sadness in his eyes, and he said:
"Then...draw a dragon."
…
ps: Twelve thousand words, I only slept for three hours last night, so I went to catch up on my sleep.
(End of chapter)
