A voice rang out behind them, probing, and the three seated—Shen Hao and his companions—turned to look. A few paces away, three men approached, all dressed like scholars, the very ones who had been sitting across from them earlier. One of them was even one of those so-called "Seventh Young Masters."

"And you are?" Shen Hao smiled without getting up, not even bothering to straighten in his chair, a picture of nonchalance.

Perhaps because Shen Hao remained seated, the three men frowned slightly. The man in the middle snorted coldly, "Heard Young Master Shen is famed for his literary talent, so we came over to see if your reputation matches reality."

"Oh. So now you’ve seen for yourself? Suit yourself." Shen Hao dismissed them with a wave, utterly unfazed by their barbed words. A few pampered young lords who scraped by on poetry hardly even registered in his mind. Just responding to them at all was already giving them more face than they deserved.

Gan Lin and Zhang Qian, both enjoying the show, burst out laughing, raising their cups to clink with Shen Hao’s, their smiling eyes sweeping over the now-livid trio. Their look seemed to say: Where did these nobodies come from? Hop it!

Now that’s what you call provocation! Zhang Qian and Gan Lin, after years in the military, had weathered far worse. But these bookish types across from them—could they really stomach such looks?

Besides, to soldiers, most scholars were penniless pretenders, while the scholars in turn looked down on the army, dismissing all soldiers as mere brutes. Now to be scorned by brutes?

"Hmph, thought he was just a young up-and-comer, turns out he’s nothing but a rude, ill-mannered brat. Forget it, just wasted this lord’s time!"

"Pfft! Hahaha..." Shen Hao failed to stifle his laughter, spraying a mouthful of wine mid-guffaw. Luckily, he ducked his head and didn’t splatter Gan Lin across the table.

"What’s so funny? You think being rude and uneducated is amusing? Tsk, so much for the rumors. With such poor cultivation, how could you possibly have written ’A Cut of Plum’? Plagiarism, clearly!"

A torrent of invective followed, each word maliciously chosen. In a single sentence, he tried to deny Shen Hao’s past achievements to his face, poisoning his reputation at the root.

Plagiarism? Baseless, but he blurted it out anyway. Now, all eyes turned to Shen Hao. Ignore me, will you? Let’s see how you answer! Don’t rebut, and everyone will think I struck a nerve. Do rebut, and you lose that aloof indifference. Your previous condescension crumbles.

Isn’t it said that scholars are schemers? Not an insult—just fact.

Shen Hao’s eyes twitched at these words, and his smile faded. He turned, fixing the blustering older dandy with a stare, and pronounced each word clearly: "I laughed at how a man well past fifty calls himself ’this young master.’ At your age, ’this old man’ would be more fitting, wouldn’t it?"

"Moreover, whether ’A Cut of Plum’ and other poems are my work—there are witnesses. If you wish to question this, take it to the Government Office, accuse me there of stealing another’s glory. But if you make baseless slanders, that’s defaming a Court official. And as the Xuanqing Guard, I am within my rights to arrest you and question you at length."

"So, let me ask you again: were you spouting nonsense just now?"

Shen Hao’s voice, infused with True Qi, rang out loud and clear, carrying far even above the din. Everyone in Hong’en Hall heard him and turned in surprise, all stilled mid-gesture, looking toward the source.

"You—!"

’A Cut of Plum’ really was by Shen Hao; the blustering dandy knew this perfectly well but just wanted to provoke him, to see if he’d lose his temper. Ideally, they’d debate—that was much more in his comfort zone.

But who could have foreseen Shen Hao’s one-man show of force: You’ll be held accountable for your mouth! And I’m the Xuanqing Guard!

This left the aging dandy not just embarrassed, but driven into a corner. Now the eyes of the whole Hong’en Hall were on them.

Stand firm against Shen Hao’s accusations? The other side could really have him arrested for "defaming a Court official." Back down? That would be a humiliating loss of face before everyone present.

But Shen Hao gave him no time to think, raising his voice again: "Well? Admit it! Were you spouting nonsense just now!"

Gan Lin and Zhang Qian chimed in, lending their support: "Exactly! Don’t even know each other, yet you come over accusing Lord Shen of plagiarizing poems. Tsk, tsk, show us your evidence then! Anyone can talk nonsense."

"Tsk, calling himself ’young master,’ huh? Pah! Older than I am, and still dares?"

The aging dandy was livid, but didn’t know what to do—truly stuck and squirming.

Just then, a chuckle from across the courtyard: "Lord Shen, why take offense? It’s all just jesting. This is Xiao Qi from the Imperial City, Young Master Xiao. He came specially, having long admired your incomparable verse, but he’s not the most polished speaker and may have offended. Please, Lord Shen, grant us a little leeway?"

The speaker’s words also bore the weight of cultivation, though not as much as Shen Hao’s. Following the voice, it was an elderly man with graying hair—someone Shen Hao recognized as Xie Youlin, Chief Officer of Fengri City.

Shen Hao smiled, rose, cupped his hand to Xie Youlin, and raised his cup in distant salute, thus acknowledging him. He then turned away, no longer sparing the mortified, blanching dandy so much as a glance.

Gan Lin and Zhang Qian, too, ceased their jibes. After all, the dignity of Fengri City’s Chief Officer must be respected.

With Shen Hao resuming his indifference, the trio behind him dared not linger, and could only slink back across the courtyard, their eyes now burning with undisguised resentment.

Back at their table, a few friends poured them wine and tried to console the dandy, whose expression slowly eased as he brooded on his humiliation.

"That Shen bastard has always been arrogant and overbearing. Young Master Xiao, don’t lower yourself to such a brute’s level."

"Agreed. When it comes time to pick flowers later, let’s see if he can produce any poems on the spot—that’ll be our chance to strike back."

"Not so sure. ’A Cut of Plum’ and those three poems are all masterpieces. Shen’s character may be trash, but there’s real skill in his verses."

"Skill, my ass. I still say he plagiarized. If not, why only three poems and nothing else? You’re all experts—doesn’t that seem suspicious?"

The group murmured in low voices, debating in secret. Xie Youlin in the center merely smiled, not joining in. His stance was clear—he was with the scholarly faction. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have spoken up for Xiao Qi earlier. In fact, Xie Youlin had his own beef with Shen Hao—most recently, Shen’s merciless crackdown on the Wan River plague cover-up had made the Chief Officer look bad. And soon, when it came to handling the Special Land, Shen Hao had again strong-armed the Fengri City Government Office.

How could someone so arrogant and contemptuous be allowed to have his way?

Isn’t he called a genius? As long as he loses today to the four gouged-out experts from the Imperial City, you can bet that, with the gossiping crowd of scholars here, his reputation will be utterly trashed.

Xie Youlin looked forward to all this immensely.