Confucianism is supreme? I am reciting Tang poems in another world!

Yansheng Academy, a luxurious institution located in Zhongzhou City, is so large that it seems like an independent small city. Within the walls, the buildings are scattered and the paths are winding. The pavilions are dotted with green pines and cypresses, which makes people linger. If you want to truly appreciate every inch of this academy and understand the historical connotation of each place, it may take several days.

However, Ci Song had no time to accompany Zhuang Diemeng to wander around, so he lent the map he got from Meng Ruo to Zhuang Diemeng, and let her pick the places on the map that she liked and go around by herself. As for Ci Song himself, he chose to walk towards his residence.

Along the way, Ci Song obviously found that there were fewer students in the academy than in the past, and the surrounding atmosphere was very different from the past. Those students who used to be bustling and walking in groups of three or five now seemed to have disappeared, and it was difficult to find their traces. He didn't meet many along the way. He didn't know the reason. Although he was curious, he was too lazy to find out the reason.

After passing through the residences of other students, Ci Song finally returned to his own courtyard. As soon as he stepped into the courtyard, a strange smell came to his face. He looked around, his eyes were like torches, trying to catch any abnormal signs. Suddenly, his eyes were fixed on a piece of wasteland in the courtyard. There, a patch of weeds grew, and the wind blew, blowing the weeds slightly.

Ci Song's mouth curled up a sneer, he seemed to have noticed something. He turned his head and looked coldly at the wasteland, with a chill in his voice: "Oh, I didn't expect that Dean Yan's brother would come to my small courtyard. Come here, and hide deliberately. Why, do you want to die in my hands so early?"

The whole courtyard was silent. However, at the moment when Ci Song's words fell, the silence was torn by a slight sound. It seemed that some kind of creature quietly awakened in the darkness and was slowly moving its body. Then, a figure walked out of the darkness. It was a man wearing a mysterious mask, Yan Wen.

The sunlight shone through the clouds and sprinkled on his mask, making the mask look even more weird.

Ci Song looked at Yan Wen in front of him, and a sarcastic smile appeared on the corner of his mouth. He whispered: "It's you, why, you care about me so much? I just returned to the academy, and you were waiting for me at my residence?"

"You little brat, you're looking for death."

Yan Wen was enraged by Ci Song's words, and his eyes flashed with dangerous fire. He instantly released his own talent, forming a powerful pressure, sweeping towards Ci Song like a storm. The pressure was so strong that it seemed to freeze the surrounding air.

Ci Song sensed the pressure released by Yan Wen, and at the same time released his own talent to resist. Ci Song's talent and Yan Wen's pressure collided violently in the air, making a deafening sound. The talents of the two intertwined with each other, and for a while it was difficult to tell who was better.

"I say, Senior Yan Wen, how come you are still a Hanlin? Is it because Senior Shenlong is stingy and didn't bless you?"

Ci Song clearly sensed that Yan Wen's cultivation in the way of literature was only that of a Hanlin, so he continued to mock him.

After saying that, Ci Song no longer gave Yan Wen a chance to respond. He moved his body and quickly drew out the Shuihan Sword from the jade pendant on his waist. He began to chant "Yi Shui Han" in his mouth, and then the sword released endless cold air, and the air around the sword condensed into ice crystals. He held the hilt tightly, and the tip of the sword pointed directly at Yan Wen.

As the poem was chanted, the temperature in the entire courtyard dropped sharply, as if in the cold winter. Ci Song's eyes flashed with a firm light, and his figure was like lightning, disappearing in an instant. When he appeared again, he had already swung the sword to slash at Yan Wen. The sword energy was sharp, with a sound of breaking through the air, and the cold air was overflowing, which made people shudder.

Seeing this, Yan Wen showed a trace of solemnity on his face, and then he took out a black brush and wrote the word "sword". Then the brush turned into a black long sword. Yan Wen held the hilt tightly, and the sword body trembled gently in his hand, making a low sword sound.

The two swords intersected, making a crisp metal collision sound. Yan Wen was shocked. He felt the amazing coldness contained in Ci Song's sword. This coldness passed through the black long sword in his hand and formed a cold current that penetrated his heart.

Under Yan Wen's astonished eyes, the Shuihan Sword in Ci Song's hand was like a towering iceberg, directly suppressing and freezing it. Then the black long sword transformed by the brush in his hand was eroded by frost. Yan Wen felt a strong sense of crisis in his heart, and immediately dispersed the talent in the sword, turning it back into a brush, breaking free from the shackles of the cold air.

"It seems that you are really a useless person. It is hard to imagine that you and Dean Yan are brothers. Whether in talent or character, you are not as good as the dean in the slightest."

Ci Song's voice echoed in the air, and his figure appeared above Yan Wen like a ghost. The Shuihan Sword in his hand once again condensed the cold sword intent, and slashed from top to bottom.

Ci Song's sword was extremely fast, as if even the air was cut open, making a sharp sound of breaking wind. Yan Wen's eyes condensed, and the brush in his hand danced like the wind, the tip of the brush flew in the air, and quickly drew a series of sharp trajectories. These trajectories condensed into sonorous and powerful "kill" characters in the air, as if carrying a strong killing intent, which made people feel afraid.

These "kill" characters exuded a strong momentum, as if the materialized killing intent gathered in the air, condensed into a red barrier, protecting Yan Wen behind him.

Ci Song's sword light approached, and violently collided with the red barrier, making a deafening roar. The sword energy and the red light intertwined, shining brightly and illuminating the entire courtyard.

"A dignified Hanlin, will you only be defensive when facing me?"

Ci Song's cold voice echoed in the air, with a hint of ridicule and disdain. His facial expression did not change at all, the Shuihan Sword shone with a cold light, and the sword spikes fluttered in the wind, but the sword light released was even more powerful, as if it was going to completely break through the obstacles in front of him.

"Ci Song, do you really think your strength can really suppress me? You just borrowed the power of the Semi-Saint Treasure."

The pen in Yan Wen's hand was like a flying swallow piercing a willow tree, and the words "kill" one after another were like sharp sword energy, blending into the barrier in front of him. The barrier seemed to have turned into a solid barrier, trying to block the frightening cold air released by the Shui Han Sword in Ci Song's hand. Ci Song's eyes were cold, as if he had everything under control.

Yan Wen's eyes narrowed, and he recognized that the sword spike was the semi-holy treasure that his brother had carried with him for many years. It was this treasure that enhanced Ci Song's Water Cold Sword by 50% of its cold sword intent, making Yan Wen always passive in battle.

"Why don't you use it? Don't you want to use it?"

. . . . . .