Chapter 123: Joy Turns to Sorrow

There exists a certain kind of person in this world, unlike ordinary folk, capable of feats beyond their reach—these are geniuses.

At this moment, Su Tong had already been recognized as a prodigy unseen in a millennium. How could someone who composed poems destined to be eternal classics hide behind the crowd, pushing forth a mere puppet to the world?

Moreover, from works like "Nian Nu Jiao: Reminiscing at Red Cliffs" and "Invitation to Wine," it was clear to all that a person of such breadth and spirit would never stoop to such deception.

It’s akin to asking if, during the struggle between Chu and Han, Xiang Yu would ever surrender to Liu Bang.

Impossible. That’s not in Xiang Yu’s nature; he could not do it. He would rather take his own life at Wu River.

When the crowd read the poem "Ascending Yellow Crane Tower," a wave of sorrow washed over them, rendering them speechless.

This poem was unbearably poignant.

They had come out merely for spectacle, yet they found themselves moved to tears and deep melancholy.

Many were now left wanting to weep but found no tears.

Huang He, upon reading the poem—being personally involved—paid no heed to its artistic realm. He only knew that he had been publicly humiliated once again, his anger flaring through every pore, nearly collapsing to the ground.

Even his mortal enemies joined in to lash his memory.

Such cruelty!

Clutching his chest, Huang He was close to fainting.

Yet, the ancients held Su Tong’s poem in the highest esteem, unable to put it down, reading it again and again. They were seized with an irresistible urge to ascend Yellow Crane Tower anew, to behold and fully immerse themselves in the poem’s profound imagery.

Not only the ancients, but everyone who encountered the poem shared this desire.

Those who had visited Yellow Crane Tower longed to return.

Those who had yet to see it resolved then and there to make the pilgrimage someday.

“To leave Yellow Crane Tower unvisited is an enduring regret.”

“‘Nian Nu Jiao,’ it’s too late, rest early,” Principal Song finally stepped forward on the broadcast to halt Su Tong’s relentless verbal onslaught.

Targeted and decisive, it was a time-consuming process. Now, it was already half past eleven at night.

When Su Tong first logged into the broadcast platform, it was just shy of eight o’clock in the evening. Time truly flies like a river.

Principal Song and his colleagues silently lamented: those writers whom Su Tong had struck down this night were likely doomed to bear the mark of humiliation forever, with no hope of redemption.

Especially Huang He—his spirit now tormented by a dark obsession, rising again would be nearly impossible.

“Every general’s triumph is built upon countless fallen bones,” Principal Song feared Su Tong’s “killing spree” had gone too deep and thus had no choice but to intervene.

The poets and writers present sighed in unison.

“Lushan Mountain and Yellow Crane Tower—both have been severed by his hand. Even two thousand years from now, no one will craft poems on those sites that rival these two masterpieces.”

“Alas, no matter how skilled others might be, we would still harbor a competitive spirit. But these two poems... their heights transcend the mortal realm. There is nowhere left for us to climb, no ground to contest.”

“To witness such sublime poetry in our lifetime—what more could one ask for?”

“Yellow Crane Tower: the view before my eyes defies words; the ‘Nian Nu Jiao’ poem crowns it.”

“Gazing upon Lushan, nothing else compares; it seems the Milky Way has descended from the heavens, majestic and overwhelming, reaching the utmost pinnacle.”

“...”

In that moment, numerous writers’ associations, whether national or provincial level, turned their full attention to “Nian Nu Jiao,” hoping for more timeless works.

Yet, alongside hope, there was also a hint of fear—fear that wherever Su Tong ventured next would become an eternal sanctuary, a forbidden zone where no one else dared tread.

“Haha, Principal’s orders must be obeyed. Tonight, we’ve all been entertained enough; let this be the end. May the two worlds henceforth find peace, and may the mortal realm enjoy lasting harmony.”

Su Tong had not noticed Principal Song’s reply and was about to continue when the Principal, aware of the gravity, immediately called him to cease the battle.

“Oh no, how can this be? The verse is still flowing! Brother, insert, keep inserting—pierce me hard, with all your strength!”

“Brother, I want more.”

“Give me more, I still crave it.”

“Haha, darling, we’re not satisfied yet—let’s finish off those wretched scoundrels and fight again!”

“Ah, all these works are classics; darling, once more! Oh, it’s so beautiful, I’m reluctant to part with it.”

“What Principal? Brother’s poetic fervor is in full bloom—how can it end like this?”

“Brother, from now on I’m your devoted fan. I want to bear your children—not monkeys—I’m serious.”

“Darling, you’re my idol.”

“Brother, I love you so much, not because you’re handsome, truly, your talent has melted my heart. From now on, I’m yours.”

“...”

“Nian Nu Jiao’s” fans surged explosively. In just a few hours, his broadcast followers exceeded one million and were swiftly approaching the 1.5 million mark.

These were genuine fans—unlike those famed streamers whose three-million followers were mostly inactive or bots.

Meanwhile, Su Tong checked the system: his base points had exceeded two million and were climbing rapidly, changing every second.

His current points stood at over one million.

“Host, quick! Redeem the System Assistant Evolution Fruit!” the little demon urged anxiously in Su Tong’s mind, excited.

“Alright.” Su Tong was delighted as well. Once the little demon obtained the Evolution Fruit, it could grow independently, learn various skills, and master esoteric techniques on his behalf. If Su Tong ever lacked knowledge, he could consult it.

He hastily opened the system’s points mall and found the Evolution Fruit.

“Seriously, system? Could you be less stingy?” Su Tong couldn’t help but curse upon seeing the price. The fruit’s cost had mysteriously risen.

Just a few days ago, it was eighty thousand points; now it was one hundred and twenty thousand.

“Whoosh—”

No sooner had he cursed than his body suddenly felt heavy.

“Oh no!” Su Tong checked himself and nearly fainted.

The system’s warning sounded promptly: “Host showed disrespect to the divine. Punishment: genital length increased by ten centimeters for forty-eight hours.”

His size was already somewhat excessive; with insufficient depth, intimacy was precarious. Now, this was outright overkill—no woman in the world could accommodate him.

Thankfully, it was only for forty-eight hours.

Otherwise, Su Tong would have surely passed out.

“Redeem it quickly! If the price rises again, your points won’t suffice,” the little demon urged impatiently, indifferent to Su Tong’s plight and gleefully reveling in his misfortune.

Su Tong had no time to mourn; he had to redeem immediately, issuing the command without delay.

The little demon, as an assistant, could view system items but could not handle points transactions without Su Tong’s authorization or direct operation.

While Su Tong lamented his predicament, the online world continued to blaze, each fan’s enthusiasm erupting like a supernova.

(The book’s group chat is linked in the profile—everyone is welcome to join. Currently, it’s just me and the group leader, both men, which feels awkward. Please come join! It’s free. Although, if you want to pay, I wouldn’t mind. Star King Fan Group: 208357110)