The situation was urgent. Mo Xi had no time to inform the Lord in person. He only sent a Message Butterfly to the palace and immediately rode ahead toward the foot of War Soul Mountain.
The moment he arrived at the entrance, he saw the two mountain guards already dead—both had their eyeballs gouged out and their hearts torn away.
The same method of death as Elder Yu.
The ring on his hand grew hotter and hotter, pointing straight up the blood-stained mountain path. Mo Xi stared at it for a moment and gritted his teeth.
“…Gu Mang… was it really you?”
His heart turned colder. He shot upward into the mountain.
War Soul Mountain had extremely complex terrain. At its mist-shrouded peak lay the heroes of Chonghua from past dynasties. It was said that on quiet nights, one could sometimes hear warhorses neighing and bronze bells chiming in the mountains, as if confirming the legend: “As long as war burns across the nine provinces, the heroic souls of Chonghua shall never rest.”
Here, many tracking artifacts were disrupted by spiritual currents. Even Mo Xi’s silver ring was affected, forcing him to adjust it several times before it began turning correctly again.
He reached the mountain base.
There, he stopped.
Within the forest, pale cold mist drifted.
He murmured, “Dream Man…”
Yes. This was not ordinary mountain fog, but a high-level illusion technique used only by certain elite spellcasters of the Liao Kingdom.
Dream Man was an illusion that could rewrite reality within a space, constructing an entirely new world. If one became consumed by desire within it, their mind could easily be destroyed. But Mo Xi had faced Liao Kingdom illusionists like this many times on the battlefield. Resisting it was not difficult for him.
The ring’s pointer was aimed directly here.
Gu Mang was inside.
He had to go in.
After a moment of thought, Mo Xi raised his hand.
“Phantom Butterfly.”
A transmission butterfly appeared at once.
“Report the location and situation to the Lord. I will enter first. Send reinforcements.”
The butterfly fluttered away into the forest.
Mo Xi stepped into the thick, unmoving fog.
White. Endless white. Nothing could be seen beyond an arm’s length.
“Gu Mang!” he called. “Gu Mang, come out!”
His voice echoed in the fog.
After a moment, a soft laugh came from within.
“Xihe Jun?”
It was not Gu Mang’s voice.
The man sighed lightly.
“Ah, I was careless. I sensed something strange in the captured beast’s spiritual flow. So it was you who planted the tracking mark in him.”
“…Who are you?”
“Who I am? After you’ve investigated the Red Candle Pavilion case for so long, don’t you already have guesses?”
A faint silhouette appeared for an instant in the mist, then vanished again.
In that fleeting glimpse, Mo Xi struck instantly—flames exploding forward like a blazing fireball.
“Ah.” A muffled sound came from the fog. Then a pause.
A soft sigh.
“Impressive, as expected of Xihe Jun.”
Then a low, dangerous laugh.
“Your temper really is terrible.”
Mo Xi gritted his teeth. “Where is Gu Mang? What is your relationship with him?!”
“I have no relationship with him.” The voice sounded almost amused. “As for who I am… haven’t there been many rumors in Chonghua City already?”
A playful tone, like recounting something entertaining.
“Brothel murderer. Runaway cook from the Plum Garden Estate…”
He laughed softly.
“I’ve even told one of those stories myself.”
Mo Xi’s pupils tightened.
“You even—?”
“Yes.” The voice grew delighted. “I was bored, so I disguised myself as a storyteller and went to teahouses to speak. I said I slept with seventy people in one night. That Yue young master of yours wasn’t satisfied though—he insisted on calling me something like ‘the premature brothel guest.’ How mischievous.”
“You… the storyteller…”
“Of course I killed him.” The voice was casual. “Tossed him into a dry well? Or maybe a mass grave? I kill too many people to remember.”
Then, softly:
“But you’re better than Wangshu Jun. He just guesses randomly and forces confessions. You, at least, examine the sword marks carefully.”
A pause.
“Then—what did you find?”
Mo Xi’s voice turned cold. “Are you Li Qingqian?”
Silence.
Then suddenly—
The mist erupted in laughter.
“Li Qingqian… Li Qingqian… hahahahaha…”
The name seemed to trigger something. The laughter became shrill, distorted.
“I am NOT!”
A furious voice exploded.
“‘Broken Water Sword Manual’—what a joke! What justice sword, mercy sword, saving the poor and suffering—ridiculous! Li Qingqian? Just a poor fool! A useless coward!”
The laughter slowly subsided.
“I despise people like you. So-called righteous gentlemen, all hypocrisy. Desire, greed, obsession—you all have them. Yet you cling to fame and purity, unable to let go of either.”
Mo Xi instantly sensed killing intent.
“Rufang! Manifest!”
A red light flashed. A serpentine whip appeared in his hand, crackling with fire.
“Oh, Rufang.” The voice hummed. “A magnificent weapon. Unfortunately, you can’t use it here.”
“I won’t fight you head-on. But I’ve heard things about you.”
A pause.
“Did you once tell Gu Mang, when he was imprisoned at Plum Garden Estate… that the lotus mark on his neck was branded by you?”
Mo Xi’s expression froze.
“Who exactly are you?!”
“Don’t rush.” The voice became playful again.
“Let me ask you instead.”
“The great Xihe Jun of Chonghua. Cold, pure, untouchable. Thirty years of self-restraint. Even Princess Mengze could not move your heart.”
The voice drifted closer, almost against his ear.
“What is your relationship with Gu Mang?”
The whip struck out violently, exploding with rage.
But the shadow was gone again.
“Too fierce,” the voice sighed. “So I guessed right, didn’t I?”
“Hand Gu Mang over!” Mo Xi roared.
“Hand him over? I’m not stupid. He was once the strongest general of Liao. Even without his spiritual core, I can still use him.”
A soft laugh.
“In Chonghua, only you can match him one-on-one. As long as I have him, no one else can interfere.”
“And you, Xihe Jun…”
The tone turned indulgent.
“I have other ways to deal with you.”
The voice began to fade.
“Since you’ve walked into my illusion tonight… then I shall properly entertain you.”
“Xihe Jun, enjoy your night.”
“You—!”
As if in response, red light suddenly lit up ahead. A singer’s voice rose:
“Rain falls on jade magnolia pond. Gold-roofed pavilion under clear skies…”
Mo Xi knew once one entered “Dream Man,” there was no breaking out from within. One could only wait for reinforcements. Until then, the illusions could not be avoided.
But he only needed to remain conscious.
However—
The voice returned.
“Xihe Jun, I know what you’re planning.”
“You’re trying to endure, aren’t you?”
A faint laugh.
“Too bad. You may endure it—but Gu Mang may not.”
Mo Xi’s eyes sharpened. “What do you mean?”
“You are strong-willed. Hard to break. So I won’t target you.”
“But Gu Mang… a broken soul, incomplete mind. Much easier.”
A pause.
“And your ring… did it tell you he’s been drugged?”
Mo Xi’s blood ran cold.
“You—!”
“I only gave him something to awaken his strength,” the voice said innocently. “How suspicious of you.”
Then, softly:
“But yes… I do have something else prepared for him.”
“He is not only in this illusion with you.”
“He is already inside it.”
Mo Xi’s expression darkened with rage.
“Go forward,” the voice whispered. “Your Gu Mang is waiting.”
The fog dispersed.
—
Mo Xi stood in a brilliantly lit night world.
Crowds moved through lantern-lit streets like flowing stars.
Ahead was a grand gate.
Blue walls, gold trim, lightning-cloud patterns.
The emblem of the Murong clan.
The Wangshu Residence.
Mo Xi’s expression changed instantly.
Dream Man illusions were often shaped from buried memories.
If Gu Mang was also inside this illusion… then this scene was not born from Mo Xi’s heart.
It was from Gu Mang.
And if Gu Mang’s memories were being extracted—
Mo Xi’s face went cold.
Had they drawn out… that past?
Without hesitation, he leapt onto the roof and rushed toward the Wangshu Residence’s inner courtyard.