Vanquishing Demons with Poetry
Song Mu, a scholar of Chinese language and literature, was swept into an extraordinary world through a mysterious transmigration, only to discover that after the Tang dynasty, history had veered onto an unexpected path. In this realm, demons and spirits roam, yet scholars possess the power of literature itself. With poetry and verse, they exorcise monsters; with the majestic texts of great Confucian sages, they subdue fiends. Relying on a rare anthology of poetry spanning the ages, and drawing upon the rich repertoire of Song lyrics and Yuan dramas stored in his mind, Song Mu embarks on the imperial examination path, forging a destiny to uphold the Way by destroying demons and purging evil. When the starlight falls and chaos descends upon the world, it is the sudden rise of literary power that brings peace to the land. In my eyes, all beneath heaven is but illusion—yet with a single stroke of the brush, I compose a poem that cleaves through monsters and demons!
Vanquishing Demons with Poetry
“Heaven help us! My dear Mu is a child scholar of the Grand Wen Dynasty!”
“Which spiteful family envies the Songs so much? They want to sever the three-hundred-year scholarly lineage of our family!”
...
Song Mu awoke from a haze, the distant cries of grieving women echoing in his ears, his thoughts still muddled.
He remembered only that moments ago, he was bargaining with a vendor at the antique market, his words sharp as knives, finally acquiring a copy of the “Compendium of Ancient and Modern Poetry” for just ten yuan.
He was about to take it home to examine its authenticity, when disaster struck—out of nowhere, a beer bottle plummeted from the sky.
The hurtling bottle grazed his head and shattered by his side, green shards scattering across the ground, sending him stumbling back, only for his foot to slip through a nearby storm drain grate.
As he struggled to free himself, a pink sports car came barreling toward him at breakneck speed...
Song Mu, ascending heavenward with the storm drain grate, only heard a tremendous crash before seeing, on the curb, a heavily made-up woman in the driver’s seat clutch her chest and scream in terror.
The windshield wipers, flailing wildly on a clear day, revealed the driver’s last desperate attempt to swerve.
Song Mu’s head struck the ground after two and a half somersaults through the air; the last thing he saw before death was the “Compendium of Ancient and Modern Poetry” falling open before him, his lifeblood staining the yellowed pages.
So, was he dead?
But why were there
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