If I Don’t Die, I’ll Truly Be Invincible

Chapter 58: I Have a Poem, and I Want to Recite it to Everyone

Mighty Marquis was furious.

Anyone could feel his anger!

His breathing suddenly became heavy, his face darkened like the bottom of a pot, and a dangerous glint flashed in his eyes.

Those familiar with Mighty Marquis knew that whenever he showed this expression, it meant he had the intention to kill.

Why was he so angry?

Because he felt deceived.

He had thought his steward had committed some heinous crime, which was why Ye Ning came knocking on his door.

A despicable scoundrel who caused trouble under his banner—giving such a person to Ye Ning was no big deal.

But once he understood the whole situation, he realized it wasn’t that simple.

One cart of charcoal.

A charcoal seller.

Was this even a matter?

He reacted just like the people in the Supervision Institute at the time—coming to kick down Mighty Marquis’s gate for such a trivial matter?

Mighty Marquis thought it impossible. No one would be so bored. Ye Ning must be targeting him specifically!

The reason of “the steward stole a cart of charcoal” was just a flimsy excuse.

It’s like accusing someone of a crime because they step with their left foot first.

“It seems Master Ye’s intentions are not on the surface. It’s not about catching my steward but coming for me!” Mighty Marquis had no good feelings for Ye Ning.

After his internal speculations, his desire to kill Ye Ning resurfaced.

“Just for a cart of charcoal?” Even the scholars on Ye Ning’s side were a bit bemused.

What’s this all about?

It turns out it’s just a cart of charcoal.

This reason was indeed far-fetched…

“Lord Ye, this…” Ji Mingyue in the palace didn’t know what to say either.

Was Ye Ning making trouble out of nothing?

Despite her deep trust in Ye Ning, she couldn’t help but feel that this time, Ye Ning had gone too far.

Ye Ning was unaware of Ji Mingyue’s reaction.

But looking at Mighty Marquis, the scholars, and recalling the reaction of the Supervision Institute’s people earlier, Ye Ning suddenly laughed.

“A cart of charcoal, that’s all…”

Is it really as simple as a cart of charcoal?

Ye Ning felt a deep sadness within.

This world is truly sick. People have come to regard “plundering others’ property” as a trivial matter.

“I have a poem, and I want to recite it to everyone.” Ye Ning looked around at the crowd.

He didn’t know how to describe his feelings.

Since his transmigration, he mostly regarded himself as a passerby.

But at this moment, he felt a deep sorrow.

“The old man who sells charcoal, cuts wood and burns charcoal in the southern mountains.”

Ye Ning began softly.

The crowd couldn’t understand Ye Ning’s sorrow but listened to him recite the poem.

Ye Ning’s talent was already famous in the capital.

Among the scholars, many had given him the nickname “Ye, the National Defender” because he wrote a national treasure.

But since then, Ye Ning hadn’t written any more poems.

Many people were eagerly awaiting his next masterpiece.

Now, it was finally here!

The scholars listened intently, but when the first line was recited, they all frowned.

“Is this even a poem?”

How can a poem be so straightforward and simple…

Is this a poem or plain prose?

But Ye Ning ignored others’ thoughts and continued reciting the poem.

“His face is covered in dust, the color of smoke, his temples gray, his ten fingers black.”

Still very straightforward, so plain that it didn’t show any talent.

But the literary aura from Ye Ning’s literary courage started to surge.

It flowed out from his Baihui acupoint, floating and then forming a vivid picture in mid-air.

In the painting was the image of the charcoal seller.

He spent all year cutting wood and burning charcoal in the southern mountains. His face was covered in dust, showing the color of smoke, his temples were gray, and his ten fingers were black from handling charcoal.

This scene puzzled the scholars and Mighty Marquis.

But the onlookers, the common people, instantly felt a connection.

Because through the charcoal seller, they saw themselves.

Aren’t the working people just like this?

Selling their strength, facing the earth with their backs to the sky, using labor to survive.

Mighty Marquis couldn’t empathize with this because he was a marquis for generations, enjoying wealth and honor.

Most scholars couldn’t empathize either. In this era, studying wasn’t easy. Poor families couldn’t necessarily afford education or have the means to get into it.

Those who could study usually came from good backgrounds.

From childhood to adulthood, they might not live luxuriously, but they didn’t worry about making a living.

Their only task was to study well.

So their understanding of the real lives of the lower-class people came from books, detached from reality.

Only a few scholars from poor backgrounds felt touched when they saw the literary aura transforming.

The poem continued.

What does he spend the money he earns from selling charcoal on? Clothes on his body and food in his mouth.

Unfortunately, he was still wearing thin clothes, worrying that the cheap price of charcoal wouldn’t get them through the winter.

Ye Ning recited slowly.

The literary aura surged, and the charcoal seller’s image changed. He wore thin clothes, looking at the empty rice jar at home and his sick wife in bed, his brows filled with worry.

Snow fell a foot thick outside the city at night, he drove his charcoal cart over the frozen ruts early in the morning.

The ox was tired, the man was hungry, the sun was already high, and they rested in the muddy market outside the south gate.

This world’s poets mostly used their literary aura to depict the grandeur of mountains and rivers, the triumph of soldiers, and the allure of beauties.

Rarely did anyone use it to show the life of a lower-class person.

So when people saw the image of the charcoal seller, they felt a sense of unreality.

“Is life so hard for the lower-class people?”

Many were even taken aback.

But Mighty Marquis remained furious, unmoved by the poem. What did he care about the lives of these lower-class ants?

The people are like ants. How could those in power care about the ants’ lives?

Then he quickly realized he was wrong—it did matter to him.

Because Ye Ning continued to recite.

“Who are the two riders? They are servants from Mighty Marquis’s mansion.

“They wield official documents, claiming orders, driving the ox cart north.”

The literary aura surged again.

The next moment, the scene changed.

They saw Li San with a contemptuous smile leading a group of people, waving his hand, taking away both the ox and the charcoal.

The whole process was very brief.

So brief that it seemed like a trivial matter.

“Stop reciting!”

But Mighty Marquis’s face changed drastically.

He couldn’t empathize with the charcoal seller but knew the great harm this poem could cause!

Poems were the easiest things to spread.

A good poem, along with its background story, could be passed down for generations.

At first, he thought Ye Ning’s poem wouldn’t have that kind of impact.

But hearing the latter part, he changed his mind.

Because he saw the reaction of the masses.

The common people seemed to be under a spell, standing frozen in place with tears streaming down their faces.

They saw the fate of the charcoal seller and related it to themselves.

Yes, isn’t our life just like that?

Bearing heavy taxes while laboring hard.

But when it’s time to reap the fruits of their labor, they must be cautious, as they might encounter what happened to the charcoal seller.

They were used to being oppressed, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t get angry or feel heartbroken.

They were human too.

The tragic fate of the charcoal seller reflected their own.

“A cart of charcoal, over a thousand pounds, the steward forcibly took away, not even sparing a second thought.”

The cart of charcoal, over a thousand pounds, the steward forcefully took away, leaving the old man helpless.

He could only collapse to the ground, covering his face with his blackened fingers, tears flowing through his fingers.

He didn’t know how to survive this winter, nor did he know how to explain to his sick wife lying in bed.

Seeing this, the cries of the common people grew louder.

The cries shook the heavens.

This wasn’t the charcoal seller’s experience but their own suffering.

Their past, present, and future could all face such situations.

How could they not feel empathetic?

Ye Ning’s poem wasn’t about anything else but the hardworking people.

But in fact, this poem still had the last line missing.

The last line was, “Half a piece of red silk and a length of damask, tied to the ox’s head as payment.”

The person who took the charcoal even left half a piece of red silk, hanging it on the ox’s head, as payment.

Ye Ning didn’t add this line.

Because Li San didn’t give any payment. He took the ox cart and the charcoal.

One could say he went to the extreme.

That’s why the charcoal seller was so desperate, even risking his life to seek justice from the Supervision Institute.

“Good poem!” Cai Xianggao was the first to praise.

He bowed to Ye Ning.

“What a great poem about the charcoal seller, Lord Ye’s talent opens a new trend for our Great Zhou dynasty’s poetry!”

No one had ever used such a way to directly and simply describe the life of a lower-class person.

In Cai Xianggao’s view, the emergence of this poem was groundbreaking.

“Congratulations, Lord Ye, for starting a new trend in poetry!”

The scholars bowed one after another.

Their feelings were complex.

Because most of them didn’t truly know what the common people’s lives were like.

Now, seeing it through Ye Ning’s depiction, their hearts were filled with mixed emotions.

It turns out the common people’s lives were so miserable.

“Ye Ning, you deserve to die!” While others were moved and thoughtful, Mighty Marquis was unprecedentedly furious.

He hated it!

This poem’s emergence meant he was completely ruined.

As mentioned earlier, a good poem had endless charm, and as time went by, it would not lose its brilliance but become even more dazzling.

Is “The Charcoal Seller” a good poem?

From the perspective of its literary elegance, certainly not.

But elegant poems were for scholars, while “The Charcoal Seller” was written for the hardworking common people.

The simple and straightforward language allowed ordinary people to relate deeply.

This poem would undoubtedly spread among the common people.

It would be praised for generations.

It would become a timeless classic!

Every timeless story had a villain.

Undoubtedly, that person was Mighty Marquis!

He didn’t fear being cursed by others.

But that didn’t mean he wanted to be infamous for eternity.

Being cursed for a time and being infamous for eternity were two different things.

However, Ye Ning’s poem firmly nailed him to the pillar of shame.

The pen of a scholar was sharper than a knife!

Mighty Marquis was furious, his eyes bloodthirsty as he stared at Ye Ning.

“You deserve to die!”

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