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

Fang Zhongyong cursed in his heart, and then spat out a mouthful of blood, and coughed several times in succession. At this moment, he finally sensed Ci Song's talent and cultivation. He did not expect that Ci Song had reached the talent of two fists. This level of cultivation, placed in all the students participating in the five colleges tea party selection, can be ranked in the top ten.

He really didn't understand why Ci Song's realm was improved so quickly. He also used poetry to write ink, and during this period, he had written nearly a hundred poems to improve his realm. Why couldn't he compare with him?

Although Fang Zhongyong was indignant, he did not have any fear. He saw him use his talent to stop the wound and prevent the blood from continuing to flow out. Then he poured all his talent into the black long sword in his hand, and smeared a trace of blood on the tip of the sword. The long sword seemed to be called by life and began to emit a low hum.

The originally dim and dark long sword gradually dissipated in Fang Zhongyong's hand, turning into dots of black light, stagnating in mid-air. These black rays began to flow slowly as if they had life, condensing into the image of a hideous evil ghost.

The evil ghost had a hideous face and red eyes. It opened its bloody mouth and swallowed the golden sword light released by Ci Song. The golden sword light disappeared without a trace in its mouth.

"Huh? Is this the breath of the ghost clan? And only the ghost king level can emit the breath of the soul. The sword in Fang Zhongyong's hand is a bit strange."

Ci Song looked at the hideous evil ghost, full of doubts in his heart. When Mr. Yi, who was standing in the air, saw the evil ghost, he subconsciously thought that it was really the ghost king who appeared in the world, but when he used his talent to carefully explore the evil ghost, he found that it was not the real ghost king, but only the ghost king's soul, and this soul was extremely incomplete.

"To be able to refine the ghost king-level soul and forge it into a sword, only a true forging master can have such skills."

Mr. Yi sighed in his heart, and then turned his eyes to Ci Song. Although he knew that Ci Song had gone to the Heavenly Gate, he didn't know what Ci Song had done specifically, whether he had seen the ghost clan, and whether there was a way to restrain it.

But what he was more curious about now was where Fang Zhongyong got this sword. Since Fang Zhongyong joined the academy, he rarely left the academy. Where did he get such an opportunity? The calligraphy of the literary masters is not cabbage that can be picked up casually.

"Ci Song, your behavior is like an evil ghost. Today I will use the power of evil ghosts to completely kill you and make you completely disappear from the world."

Fang Zhongyong noticed the "shock" in Ci Song's eyes, sneered in his heart, and a smug smile appeared on his face.

"The monstrous ghost power, kill."

After saying that, Fang Zhongyong took a deep breath and closed his eyes tightly, as if he had concentrated all his strength in his palm. He swung his sword violently, and saw that his remaining talent poured into the evil ghost's body. The evil ghost's originally ferocious face gradually became softer and its outline became clearer under the infiltration of talent.

In a blink of an eye, the evil ghost had turned into a man in a black robe. He stood in the open field, tall and straight. The black robe fluttered in the wind, as if fighting against the power between heaven and earth. The ghost energy around the man was surging like hot magma, and every wisp exuded a terrifying breath that made people's heart palpitate.

As the ghost energy surged, the surrounding air seemed to be torn apart by an invisible force, making a sharp hissing sound. The monstrous ghost power exploded instantly, swallowing everything around it and turning it into nothingness.

"Kill."

Fang Zhongyong showed a crazy smile on his face, and then he controlled the tall evil ghost figure and slowly approached Ci Song.

"I have killed the Ghost Ancestor before. Why are you, a Ghost King, showing off in front of me?"

Ci Song sneered in his heart, and then sheathed the Shuihan Sword. The golden talent gathered in the palm of his right hand.

"What? Are you scared?"

Fang Zhongyong sneered in his heart when he saw Ci Song put away his long sword, and a more complacent smile appeared on his face.

"A frog in the well, sitting in the well and looking at the sky."

The strands of golden lightning, like a dragon, leaped and wrapped around Ci Song's right arm. The lightning seemed to be given life, shining with dazzling light. They seemed to have endless vitality, like fine silver snakes circling and dancing in the air.

Under the shining of this dazzling lightning, the surrounding air seemed to become thinner, with a burning breath. The collision of lightning and air made a "sizzling" sound.

"Shangqing Thunder Method, lightning strike."

Ci Song shouted in a low voice, full of majesty and power. He raised his right hand and released a light golden lightning to the evil ghost controlled by Fang Zhongyong. The lightning was like a sharp sword, cutting through the darkness, instantly penetrating the heavy black fog, and directly hitting the seven orifices of the evil ghost.

The evil ghost looked extremely ferocious under the illumination of the lightning. It let out a shrill hissing sound, which was full of fear and despair. As the lightning penetrated, the evil ghost's body began to twitch violently, and as the black fog rolled, it seemed that an invisible force was tearing its body apart.

The next second, the light golden lightning pierced the body of the evil ghost, turning it into countless black ashes. Those black ashes drifted in the air, like dust blown away by the wind, and gradually disappeared between heaven and earth.

"How is it possible? How is it possible? Where is my literary masterpiece?"

Fang Zhongyong saw that his ghost king was directly killed by Ci Song with one blow. His eyes were red, and a shrill hissing sound came out of his mouth. What followed was the backlash from his talent,

Fang Zhongyong almost spat out a mouthful of blood. His legs went weak and he knelt on the ground. His face was pale and the surging emotions in his heart overwhelmed him.

"With the calligraphy of a great writer and the cultivation of a Hanlin scholar, why would I lose? This is impossible?"

"Why? Tell me why? I obviously have the treasure of a great writer and the cultivation of a Hanlin scholar. Why can't I defeat you?"

"Why?"

"Tell me!"

Fang Zhongyong slumped on the ground, his eyes red. He stared at Ci Song, his eyes full of confusion and puzzlement.

Ci Song did not answer, but just looked at Fang Zhongyong coldly. Until now, he still didn't understand how he had offended Fang Zhongyong and why he had taken on a "life and death" feud with him. If it was because he had beaten him severely before, it was Fang Zhongyong who provoked him first, and it was Fang Zhongyong who attacked him first. Ci Song himself was just defending and counterattacking.

"Tell me, why? Why?"

Fang Zhongyong spat out blood again, and his whole body was extremely depressed. Even so, he still asked without giving up. He was eager to know what the gap was between him and Ci Song.

"The gap between you and me is a chasm. If you want to kill me, it's a fool's dream."

... . . . . .