In the blink of an eye, the Northern Border Army had completed two full years guarding the frontier.
By the banks of Fu River, an army of a hundred thousand had made camp. Once tonight passed, and after one more day of travel tomorrow, they could return home in glory.
Cultivators cooked meals in iron pots, fed their horses, and washed their clothes. The great river reflected the shimmering glow of the sunset, illuminating the spirit beasts resting by the shore and the men bathing in the shallow waters.
“Hey, scrub my back for me. We’re going home tomorrow. I’m filthy as mud—my mother will scold me to death.”
“Brother, help shave my face later. I’m bad at doing it myself.”
A group of men laughed and joked in the shallows, teasing one another while cleaning up. Their faces could barely hide their joy.
A mother’s waiting hands. A lover in spring chambers.
Those returning home would honor parents, marry wives, and reunite with loved ones.
Everyone had something to look forward to.
Probably only Mo Xi had nothing.
His parents were dead, and he had no wife or concubines. All of Chonghua’s capital awaited his return, but among the lights of ten thousand homes, not one lamp burned solely for him.
So there was no warmth in his eyes.
Only the cold ashes of years of war.
“Lord Xihe, we return to the capital tomorrow. You’ll get to see Princess Mengze again.” Yue Chenqing had just finished bathing. Seeing Mo Xi, he smiled. “May your reunion after separation—”
“If you want me to kick you back into the river, keep talking.”
Yue Chenqing shut up immediately.
He bowed devoutly.
“…Commander Mo, I think in this lifetime you might actually become a Buddha.”
Mo Xi ignored him, standing by the river and staring at the dark mountains in the distance.
Two years of frontier duty.
By calculation, it had been nearly a thousand days and nights since he last returned home.
He truly did not know how Princess Mengze was doing.
And Gu Mang…
Mo Xi’s gaze darkened slightly.
Two years ago, Gu Mang had been sent back to the capital by Wanku as part of peace negotiations.
The moment he entered the city, chaos erupted.
“Hah! The city gates opened, the escort came in, and when we saw what the great Commander Gu looked like—we were all dumbstruck!”
“Unbelievable! I’ll never forget that scene!”
What kind of scene had it been?
Mo Xi still didn’t know.
He only knew that something had happened to Gu Mang’s body.
But what exactly did something happened mean?
Had he lost an arm?
A leg?
Gone blind?
Mute?
Mo Xi didn’t know.
Given his identity and position, he should not ask about such things.
Besides, he was too cold by nature. The soldiers respected and feared him. Whenever he appeared, the cultivators who had been gossiping immediately fell silent and saluted.
“Commander Mo.”
Mo Xi could say little.
He would simply nod, stand for a while, then quietly leave.
Yue Chenqing had babbled about it near him several times, but Yue Chenqing’s words were never reliable. Ten times spoken meant ten different stories.
Mo Xi himself was taciturn and never asked directly.
So even now, he still did not know Gu Mang’s exact condition.
He only knew one thing.
Gu Mang wasn’t dead.
And that was enough.
That night, Mo Xi sat alone in his tent.
Listening to the howling wind outside, hearing water birds cry, he found himself unable to sleep.
During past campaigns, he had mostly marched alongside Gu Mang.
Even when they were apart, whenever Mo Xi returned to court, Gu Mang would always come wait for him outside the city.
He could not stop himself from remembering.
How had things ended up like this?
Thinking back now, the warning signs had always been there.
When he first met Gu Mang, Gu Mang had still been a slave.
But this slave carried armies in his heart.
And ambition.
Gu Mang had always wanted to achieve great things.
Unfortunately, in the Nine Provinces, bloodline ruled above all.
Though the old king had cherished his talent and made an exception by granting him command, after the old ruler died, the new king never regarded Gu Mang—a lowborn slave—as worthy.
He doubted him.
Suspected him.
Stripped his authority.
And eventually did something Gu Mang could no longer tolerate.
Mo Xi had watched him fall into darkness with his own eyes.
As a close friend, he had tried to persuade him.
As a colleague, he had argued fiercely with him.
At that time, both served in military administration. Gu Mang had become despondent, absenting himself from duty constantly.
When Mo Xi found him, Gu Mang was drinking and listening to music in a brothel, reclining against the soft thighs of a dancer.
Seeing Mo Xi enter, Gu Mang half-lowered his star-bright eyes and smiled lazily.
“Lord Xihe. You came.”
Mo Xi was furious.
He slammed the door aside and strode into the room. Before everyone’s shocked cries, he slapped Gu Mang hard across the face.
“Are you going to rot like this for the rest of your life?”
Gu Mang was drunk.
Grinning, he wrapped his arms around Mo Xi’s neck and asked intimately:
“Yes, Young Master Mo. Want to rot with me?”
“Get lost.”
Gu Mang burst into laughter.
“It’s fine,” he said. “At the end of the day, you’re nobility. I’m a slave.”
“I know you think I’m dirty.”
“I also know that no matter how hard my army fights, no matter how much blood we spill or how many men die, in His Majesty’s eyes we’re still worthless.”
“After all, people like us were never meant to cultivate or wield power.”
“We were lowborn to begin with, yet we dared to force our way upward.”
Later, Gu Mang was sent away from the capital by royal decree.
And he never returned.
At first, people thought he had died in some accident. Many girls who admired him cried over the news.
But one day, military reports arrived from the front.
Gu Mang had been seen among Liao’s forces.
Gu Mang had defected.
The scandal spread through Chonghua like wildfire.
Everyone burned with fury.
Only Mo Xi’s heart turned to ice.
He refused to believe it.
He never believed it.
Until he saw it with his own eyes.
It was on the mist-shrouded waters of Dongting Lake.
Warships and water beasts clashed in violent chaos.
Liao’s battle tactics were horrifyingly familiar.
That monstrous, unpredictable, suicidal style—
Mo Xi had seen it countless times.
On Gu Mang’s war tables.
In every glorious battle of the Bastard Army.
Mo Xi told the commanding general of that campaign:
“We must retreat. All of us. If we keep fighting, this vanguard will sink to the bottom of the lake.”
“You are not Gu Mang’s match.”
But the commander refused.
“What is Gu Mang? A brat. A slave-blooded mongrel. I’m a pure-blood divine descendant. You think I can’t beat him?”
The old nobleman with graying beard looked utterly arrogant.
He thought nothing of Gu Mang.
So battle erupted.
For the first time, Chonghua’s once-invincible forces collapsed against Liao’s fleet.
Spirit ships exploded one after another.
Water demons surged from beneath the lake and tore cultivators apart.
Fire reddened the sky.
Blood stained the waters.
Amid the screams and devastation, Mo Xi flew alone by sword to Liao’s flagship.
Flames roared.
Black smoke rose.
Liao was a nation of demonic cultivators. Their spells were cruel and vicious.
Hundreds of attacks turned toward Mo Xi—
“Stop.”
A familiar voice rang out.
A figure emerged slowly from the shadows of the cabin.
Mo Xi saw Gu Mang again.
Gu Mang’s skin was darker from the sun.
His body was stronger, lean and powerful.
But his eyes were unchanged.
Dark.
Bright.
As if they could see through everything.
His upper body was bare.
Bandages wrapped several times around his narrow waist.
A black cloak hung loosely over his shoulders.
Across his forehead was tied a blue headband edged in gold, stained with blood—
Taken from a fallen Chonghua soldier.
He leaned lazily against the ship rail, squinting forward.
Then he smiled.
“Lord Xihe. Long time no see.”
The bloody wind howled.
Mo Xi had finally seen the traitor with his own eyes.
This rebel.
This betrayer.
How had it come to this?
He had always thought Liao was a nation that worshipped brutality and violence.
Gu Mang’s nature had once been kind.
Even if he left Chonghua, Mo Xi had never imagined he would join Liao.
Yet now…
Mo Xi closed his eyes.
His throat tightened.
After a long silence, he finally spoke.
“Gu Mang…”
“Mm?”
Mo Xi’s voice was low, trembling with suppressed emotion.
“…So this is what you’ve reduced yourself to.”
Gu Mang smiled in the firelight, dark hair shifting against his face.
He spread his hands casually.
“What’s wrong with this?”
“….”
“I think it’s pretty good. Liao values talent. Their methods may be dark, but at least they’re fair.”
He pointed to the blue-and-gold headband.
“This kind of noble bloodline insignia—no matter how much I fought for Chonghua, no matter how many achievements I earned, because of my birth, I could never obtain one.”
“…Do you know what that exhaustion feels like?”
Gu Mang smiled faintly.
“I wasn’t willing to accept it.”
Mo Xi snapped:
“That insignia belongs to descendants of heroic martyrs. Take it off.”
Gu Mang touched the bloodstained cloth with amusement.
“Really? A young cultivator was wearing it. My men cut off his head. I thought the band looked nice—too much of a waste to leave on a corpse.”
He grinned wickedly.
“You want it too? Don’t you already have one?”
Mo Xi’s voice rose with fury.
“Take it off!”
Gu Mang’s tone turned sweet—
Dangerously sweet.
“Lord Xihe. You entered enemy territory alone, yet you’re not polite at all.”
He gathered a black demonic dagger in his hand.
“You really think I’ll spare you out of old affection?”
Dark mist swirled around the blade.
“Today, Dongting Lake swallowed nearly all of Chonghua’s vanguard.”
“Mo Xi, you’re powerful. But you’re still just a deputy. You couldn’t overrule that idiot noble commander.”
“So many are dead.”
“He didn’t come begging.”
“You came instead.”
Gu Mang smiled.
“Did you come here to be buried with Chonghua’s dead?”
Mo Xi remained silent for a long moment.
Then he walked toward him.
His boots left bloody prints across the deck.
Finally, he spoke.
“Gu Mang. I know Chonghua wronged you.”
“And I wronged you.”
“You did too much for me.”
“So today, I won’t fight you.”
Gu Mang sneered.
“Try me.”
“You asked if I came to be buried with the dead.”
Mo Xi continued walking closer.
“…If my death can make you leave Liao.”
“Then fine.”
“My life is yours.”
Gu Mang stopped smiling.
His dark eyes locked onto Mo Xi.
“…I really will kill you.”
Mo Xi said nothing.
His gaze lingered on the bloodstained headband, then moved to Gu Mang’s face.
“Then kill me.”
“Afterward…”
“Turn back.”
This was the last time Mo Xi tried to save him.
A white hawk swept past the mast.
Steel flashed—
A wet, sickening sound.
Blood poured from the wound.
The blade pierced his chest—
Then twisted viciously.
“I told you I’d kill you.”
The dagger remained buried in Mo Xi’s flesh.
After a pause, Gu Mang suddenly laughed coldly.
“What are you?”
“What gives you the right to negotiate with me?”
“You think if you die I’ll feel guilty? You think I’ll turn back?”
“Don’t be stupid.”
He tilted his head and looked down coldly.
“As a soldier, as a commander, as a human…”
“You can’t cling too much to old feelings.”
Kneeling on one knee, Gu Mang rested an elbow casually on his leg.
Then he pulled the dagger free.
Blood sprayed.
Using the bloody blade tip, he lifted Mo Xi’s chin.
“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing.”
“Lord Xihe.”
“You don’t truly refuse to fight me.”
“You simply know you can’t win.”
“So you gamble your life on my conscience.”
Blood spread through Mo Xi’s robes.
Yet he barely felt pain.
Only cold.
So cold.
He closed his eyes.
No.
That’s not it.
If possible—
I never wanted to fight you.
Once, all light came from you.
All warmth came from you.
Every drop of blood burning in my heart came because of you.
Without you, I would never have become who I am.
Gu Mang said coldly:
“Sorry to disappoint you.”
“….”
“Mo Xi.”
“If I were you, cornered like this…”
“I’d rather gamble everything on mutual destruction than naively ask an enemy to turn back.”
“We were brothers once.”
“This is the last thing I can teach you.”
The final thing Mo Xi remembered before losing consciousness was a Liao cultivator flying in urgently over the lake.
“Commander Gu! Reinforcements are coming from the northeast—it’s Princess Mengze’s healing corps—what should we—”
Before he heard the rest, Mo Xi collapsed onto the bloodstained deck.
That battle confirmed it.
Gu Mang had truly defected to Liao.
The old commander’s failed strategy caused catastrophic losses. Of ten thousand vanguard troops, fewer than a hundred survived.
Mo Xi himself remained unconscious for days.
Gu Mang stabbed him in the chest.
And still did not turn back.
Long ago, before leaving the capital, Gu Mang had once said:
“Mo Xi, every path upward has been blocked for me.”
“There’s nowhere left to go.”
“I can only keep walking toward hell.”
After saying that, he had asked for a jar of wine.
He broke the seal, smiling as he filled two cups.
One for himself.
One for Mo Xi.
The cups clinked together.
Wine splashed.
Gu Mang’s eyes sparkled.
“One more drink.”
“From now on, your brother Gu Mang is going to become a bad man.”
Back then, Mo Xi had only shaken his head, thinking Gu Mang was joking as always.
This brother he had known for so many years—
His heart was too soft.
He wouldn’t even step on an ant.
How could someone with such a pure heart become evil?
And yet?
That pure-hearted man’s soldiers killed his comrades.
And that pure-hearted man nearly killed him.
“Fortunately Princess Mengze arrived in time and saved you. That dagger was a divine weapon from Liao, coated in demonic poison. Any later and you wouldn’t have survived. The wound will scar. You’ll need months of rest…”
Mo Xi heard none of the rest.
He looked down at the bandages wrapped around his chest.
The rotting flesh had been cut away.
But something else had been carved out too.
Something torn from deep inside him.
Leaving emptiness.
Pain.
Resentment.
Hatred.
Only later, when Gu Mang finally met retribution and was sent back to Chonghua—
Did Mo Xi feel the wound in his chest finally stop bleeding.
Yet it still hurt.
Years later, on the night before the Northern Border Army returned home, sleepless, Mo Xi sat alone in his tent.
His fingers pressed against his brow.
His fingertips brushed dampness near his eyes.
He turned away.
Soft candlelight spilled through silk screens, illuminating the sharp lines of his face.
He closed his eyes.
Gu Mang…
Gu Mang.
Without question, Mo Xi was a loyal subject.
Gu Mang was a traitor.
Mo Xi hated him.
And knew him guilty.
Yet as his eyelashes trembled, he seemed to see Gu Mang as he had been in their academy days.
Grinning.
Half righteous, half wicked.
A tiger tooth showing when he smiled.
Eyes brighter than any star.
Back then, sunlight was brilliant.
The elder droned endlessly during lectures.
And Gu Mang lay on his desk, secretly writing ridiculous erotic stories, smugly delighted that every girl in them was in love with him.
Back then, neither of them knew what kind of tomorrow awaited.