"Do you concede?"
Hong Yu asked calmly.
Chen Tao looked as if he had been struck by lightning, his body trembling slightly. His focus gradually returned, and he looked up to gaze at Hong Yu.
After a long while...
Chen Tao took a deep breath, stood up, and said in a heavy voice, "In the literary contest, you won!"
Although he had been immersed in solving the chess game, he had seen the outcome in everyone's eyes.
A glance at the poetry and paintings revealed them to be superior masterpieces, a cut above his own.
No matter how unwilling he was, it was no use. He could only lower his head and admit defeat.
Hong Yu wore a calm expression and offered no taunts. In truth, the war song he had just played had stirred his emotions, and his heavy mood had not yet lifted.
Mao Mei'Er scanned the crowd, then nodded. "Everyone's performance was excellent. The winner of the first round of the literary contest is Beichen, with a total of fifteen points. Does anyone have any objections?"
