Next came the three days during which Lu Zhanxing’s corpse was exposed to the public.
During those three days, everything in the mirror continued to fade. People’s voices became indistinct, as though separated from him by a vast ocean. Mo Xi no longer needed his invisibility cloak and could freely travel anywhere, but time was already running out. He could no longer speak to anyone from eight years ago, nor could he use them to uncover more truths.
He was reduced to passively waiting.
And during those three days, Gu Mang went nowhere. Not a single person came to visit him either.
That was only natural. Lu Zhanxing had been Gu Mang’s closest friend in the past, as well as the Deputy Marshal of the Turtle Army. Many people had once believed that Lu Zhanxing would not ultimately die, that at the final moment he would surely receive His Majesty’s pardon.
But His Majesty had not cared about Gu Mang’s feelings or dignity. Lu Zhanxing had still been beheaded.
Thus, almost everyone had sensed the message behind it—
Gu Mang had truly fallen from power. There was no possibility of his rising again.
The Gu Family Army was finished.
No one would accompany a fallen lackey whose fortunes had gone from high to low. The once-crowded gate of the general’s residence now saw barely a horse or carriage.
Only Mo Xi, who had come from eight years in the future, stayed with him.
But Gu Mang could not see him.
He remained at home, lying on his bed in a daze. If he could avoid eating, he did not eat; if he could avoid moving, he did not move. It was as though time itself had stopped.
But Mo Xi knew that time was still moving forward mercilessly.
Sometimes Mo Xi would look at his own hands. All ten fingers had already become transparent.
It seemed that leaving the mirror world was only a matter of these next few hours.
He did not even know whether he could hold on until tonight.
“Marshal Gu.”
A knock sounded at the door, followed by someone’s voice from outside.
Gu Mang stared blankly for a while before staggering to his feet. Having gone hungry for too long and lain down for too long, his head was dizzy. The moment he stepped down from the bed, he nearly collapsed.
Mo Xi instinctively reached out to support him, but he could not.
Gu Mang still fell awkwardly to the floor, then quickly scrambled back up.
The door opened.
Standing outside was a messenger from the palace.
“His Majesty has an edict. Please go to the Golden Hall immediately.”
Gu Mang looked exhausted.
“What is it about?”
“This…” the messenger said, “This subordinate does not know either. Marshal Gu will know once you go.”
Mo Xi understood.
His Majesty was about to give Gu Mang his final mission.
He could not help praying that he would be able to remain in the Mirror of Time a little longer, that he would not leave at this moment.
He truly wanted to see what Gu Mang’s final commission before his rebellion had been.
After seeing the official off, Gu Mang came before the dim bronze mirror.
He changed into a clean coarse-cloth robe and scooped up water to wash his face. Droplets ran down his cheeks, washing away the exhaustion from his face but not the bloodshot veins in his eyes.
Wanting to make himself look more spirited, Gu Mang raised his hands and tied up his hair, making a high ponytail.
Then, out of habit, he reached for the crown clasp representing his military rank and insignia.
His fingers found nothing on the table.
He was no longer a general.
“……”
Gu Mang remained silent for a moment.
Feeling around, he found a strip of silk and wrapped it around his hair to secure the knot.
The silk was a pale lotus-white.
No one knew for whom he was secretly and recklessly wearing mourning.
He entered the palace.
When the Imperial Guards saw him, the red pheasant feathers on their helmets rustled. They instinctively wanted to salute, but quickly remembered that they should no longer do so and straightened their heads again.
—Within the forbidden depths of the imperial palace, the majesty of Heaven was solemn. The Imperial Guards could not openly scrutinize him, but their gazes secretly followed him as he appeared at the end of the corridor and disappeared into the depths of the royal city.
Gu Mang had walked this corridor countless times over the years.
The steps had grown higher and higher, and the crowds around him had become increasingly dense.
But now, he had once again become an ordinary commoner, dressed in a blue-green robe and cloth shoes, walking alone.
He had spilled half a lifetime of blood and spent all his sincerity.
In the end, after going around and around, he had returned to where he started.
Compared with when he had first entered the imperial city as a slave, there was surprisingly little difference.
When he entered the hall, the royal throne atop the high steps carried its usual majestic authority.
Because it was not the time for court assembly, three layers of pale-yellow silk curtains hung before the throne, repeatedly obscuring everything behind them.
The sovereign’s countenance was not something to be casually glimpsed.
Gu Mang paused.
He did not raise his eyes. His lashes hung low, his gaze lowered toward his nose, his nose toward his heart.
He knelt and bowed deeply.
“Commoner Gu Mang. I pay my respects to Your Majesty.”
The Golden Hall was deathly silent.
There was no response.
Gu Mang waited for a moment, then rose and bowed again.
“Commoner Gu Mang, I pay my respects to Your Majesty.”
This time there was finally a response.
But it did not come from the throne of the Golden Hall.
Instead, it drifted lightly from behind Gu Mang, like thin smoke.
“Well, well. You know that you’re a commoner now. Why would His Majesty be willing to see you?”
Mo Xi and Gu Mang turned around together.
They saw Murong Lian standing at the entrance, his face full of disgust, his broad sleeves hanging around him.
Eight years earlier, Murong Lian had not yet begun taking Floating Life, If a Dream. His mental state therefore looked much better than it would later. He was not nearly as haggard or emaciated.
He wore a noble’s robe of blue with golden trim. Although his expression and bearing were somewhat spoiled and frivolous, his shoulders were straight and his long legs stood upright.
Unlike later, when wherever he went he always looked as though he might collapse from exhaustion.
Gu Mang straightened and asked, “Why are you here?”
“What’s wrong with me?” Murong Lian sneered. “Marshal Gu has quite the memory. You served in my residence for so many years, kneading my shoulders and massaging my legs, flattering me in every possible way. What? After being a general for a few years, have you forgotten your roots?”
“……”
“Besides, you’re a commoner now, while I am a prince. Having me deliver His Majesty’s words to you is already an honor.”
He raised his sharp chin, a mocking smile appearing on his pale face.
“Kneel and receive the edict.”
Gu Mang was silent for a while.
In the end, he lowered his eyes and knelt on the ground. The pale blue hem of his robe spread limply across the floor.
Mo Xi had always been accustomed to seeing Marshal Gu clad in armor.
Only now did he realize that after shedding his armor, Gu Mang’s frame was so lean and slender.
The section of neck exposed beneath his wide collar looked so exhausted that it seemed it might snap with the slightest squeeze.
With a flourish, Murong Lian spread his splendid golden-trimmed sleeves and took out His Majesty’s decree.
He read slowly:
“By the Heavenly Mandate of Huangxi, by decree of the Lord of Chonghua: In the Battle of Fengming, corpses floated for a thousand miles. Tracing the matter to its source, the disaster was caused by Commander Gu Mang’s failure to judge men properly, and Deputy Commander Lu Zhanxing’s misconduct before the battle. Having slain the envoy of Roury, he cast ten thousand troops into the cauldron and damaged Chonghua’s diplomatic relations.
“Now that the criminal subject Lu Zhanxing has been beheaded and his head displayed before the public, the former commander Gu Mang is ordered to bear his severed head and personally travel to Roury to apologize for his crime.
“Respect this decree.”
When the imperial edict was finished, not only Gu Mang but even Mo Xi was stunned.
His Majesty’s meaning was actually to make Gu Mang personally carry Lu Zhanxing’s head to Roury and apologize for Lu Zhanxing’s previous killing of that nation’s envoy!
The voices within the Mirror of Time had already become fainter and fainter.
At this moment, Mo Xi’s ears rang even more violently.
Gu Mang was actually being ordered to personally deliver his brother’s head to a neighboring nation…
His Majesty simply did not care how Gu Mang felt.
He did not care whether Gu Mang would collapse.
He did not care whether Gu Mang would rebel!
He was indeed testing Gu Mang’s limits.
Even if it meant forcing this man to leave.
Murong Lian narrowed his three-white peach-blossom eyes.
“What? Marshal Gu still isn’t accepting the decree?”
Mo Xi shook his head.
No.
Don’t accept it…
Don’t…
But from Gu Mang’s expression, it seemed that he had already seen through His Majesty’s malice.
After the initial shock, Gu Mang’s expression became cold.
Then calm.
And finally, it carried an almost undisguised disgust.
Don’t accept it…
“Commoner Gu Mang…”
The blurred words fell from between Gu Mang’s lips and teeth.
“…accepts the decree.”
He raised his slightly trembling fingers and took the imperial edict from Murong Lian’s hands.
The cliff had been crossed.
Everything was now irrevocably decided.
Thus, in the late autumn of that year, many people received new destinies.
Chonghua’s only slave-born army became imperiled from one day to the next.
Lu Zhanxing was executed at the Eastern Market, his head hung in the bustling marketplace for three days.
And in order to humiliate Gu Mang, who had once openly challenged him in court, His Majesty ordered Gu Mang, three days later, to personally deliver Lu Zhanxing’s head to Roury as an apology for the disrespectful killing of their envoy.
Gu Mang set out carrying his brother’s head.
The sunset at dusk should have been rich and magnificent, but in Mo Xi’s eyes it was almost transparently white.
The power of the Mirror of Time was growing weaker and weaker.
The world inside the mirror was beginning to overlap with the outside world.
Mo Xi could even occasionally hear chanting from beyond the Mirror of Time.
It was Jiang Yexue’s voice, reciting the spell to break the curse.
“Cross the bitter sea of suffering; yesterday leaves no trace…”
“The golden millet is but a dream; why do you not return…”
In his daze, Jiang Yexue’s voice disappeared again, leaving only the various sounds of the world inside the mirror.
Gu Mang, about to embark on his long journey, tightened the cloth bundle on his back and arrived at the gate of Chonghua’s Eastern Market.
He stopped before a steamed-flatbread stall.
“Madam, five steamed flatbreads.”
The woman selling the flatbreads was a pretty young wife.
In the past, whenever Gu Mang visited her stall, she would shout and laugh, her voice booming as though she wanted the entire world to know that Marshal Gu had eaten the roasted-meat flatbreads from her stall.
But today, when she raised her head from the oven with a smile, that smile froze.
Gu Mang thought he had not spoken clearly enough.
“Five steamed flatbreads. The usual kind.”
The woman immediately became somewhat embarrassed.
On one hand, she was desperate to distance herself from this fallen man. Even a mere business relationship seemed enough to make her uncomfortable.
On the other hand, she felt terribly ashamed.
Her conscience was uneasy over her own snobbery.
She remained frozen in this internal struggle for a while.
Then her husband came over.
“We’re not selling anymore. We’re closed!”
Gu Mang was stunned.
He slightly widened his eyes.
“But the evening market has only just begun…”
The man rudely said, “We’re not selling!”
Gu Mang understood.
He glanced at the woman.
Her face had turned scarlet with shame.
It was as though her conscience had completely shattered at this moment, and all the blood from those broken pieces had surged into her face, dyeing it crimson.
He remembered the first time he had come to her stall to buy flatbreads.
She had not yet married then.
She had been a tender, fresh young girl.
When she saw him come to her stall, she had been so excited that she could barely speak properly.
At that time, just like now, her cheeks had been flushed.
Unfortunately, times had changed.
The girl had become a married woman, and the reason for her blush was now completely different.
Gu Mang sighed.
“Then forget it. I originally wanted to buy some to eat along the way. Your steamed flatbreads are very similar to one I ate in the Northern Frontier. They’re both very good. Thank you for doing honest business all these years.”
After saying that, he turned and walked away.
The woman was so ashamed she could have died.
Unable to stop herself, she called after him:
“Marshal Gu—!”
Her husband was horrified and immediately covered her mouth.
“What are you shouting for? Do you want to die?!”
The woman trembled.
After that single cry, she completely lost the courage to be righteous.
She lowered her head and did not dare make another sound.
Gu Mang paused slightly in his steps before disappearing into the bustling crowd.
By the time she raised her tear-filled eyes again, she could no longer see him.
……
Mo Xi stayed beside Gu Mang, accompanying him as he walked from stall to stall, watching.
Gu Mang seemed to have originally wanted to bring some food from his homeland with him.
He had even stopped for a moment in front of a stall selling Chonghua paper cuttings and little painted pictures, looking at them with some longing.
But he was simply too conspicuous.
The longer he stayed in the Eastern Market, the more people stared at him.
The stall owners who normally enthusiastically called out to customers would lower their eyes and remain silent whenever he passed.
They almost seemed to wish they could disappear from this mortal world along with their stalls.
Gu Mang understood people’s circumstances.
He did not resent them.
These small merchants depended on their modest businesses for survival. Anyone who showed kindness to him might have a difficult time afterward.
He had lived at the bottom himself.
He knew how painful it was to be looked down upon and to go hungry.
Thus, when he looked at these vendors avoiding him, there was no resentment in his eyes.
He simply did not know that when he was finally leaving, buying even one or two local keepsakes from his homeland would become such a difficult thing.
In the end, Gu Mang left the bustling Eastern Market empty-handed.
As he walked, he sighed.
“Zhanxing, I’m sorry. I can’t find your favorite Pear Blossom White in such a short time. I can’t drink it for you.”
Naturally, the head inside the bundle on his back did not answer.
Gu Mang tightened the bundle again and continued walking.
Before long, he passed through the guards and left the city gate.
He walked onto an ancient bridge carved from white jade stone.
The bridge was called Chonghua Bridge. It crossed the broad moat, with one end leading toward the road he had once come from and the other connected to the desolate outskirts, where overgrown grass surrounded a winding post road and a long pavilion.
At the end of the bridge, an old beggar well over seventy was hunched over.
Both his legs were rotten, covered with mosquitoes and flies.
Gu Mang knew this man.
For years, he had remained hunched here, begging for food from those entering and leaving the city.
The old beggar was advanced in years and never moved from his spot.
The city guards had driven him away countless times. Each time, he would roll his cloudy old eyes, brace himself with both hands, and curse as he crawled away.
But after a day or two, he would return like a parasite attached to the bones, crawling back and stubbornly begging here again.
Gu Mang had once asked someone why the old man insisted on staying at the city gate, why he insisted on lying helplessly beside Chonghua Bridge instead of leaving.
An older cultivator had told him—
This old man had once gone to war.
Later, his entire army had been wiped out.
The old man had been afraid of death and fled the battlefield, saving his own life.
His conscience could not bear it.
Before long, he could no longer endure it and went to the old sovereign to confess his crime.
But the old sovereign had practiced benevolent rule and was unwilling to kill him. He merely stripped him of his military rank, destroyed his spiritual core, and exiled him as an ordinary commoner.
He had tried drowning his sorrows in wine.
He had tried believing in virtue and seeking transcendence.
But in the end, none of it could undo the knot in his heart.
Later, the days slowly wore away, and his mind deteriorated day by day.
The young cultivator became an old cultivator.
The old cultivator became senile and deranged.
Every day, he would remember that instant when he had abandoned his comrades and fled the battlefield.
It drove him completely mad.
In his frenzy, he chopped off his own legs.
He thought that by doing so, he could change the past.
He thought that if he did this, the man he had been back then would never have turned around and fled.
But it was useless.
The old man became increasingly insane.
Now he was nearly eighty.
For all these years, day and night, he had remained beside Chonghua Bridge.
He stayed on the road that the army would inevitably pass when returning from war.
His pair of cloudy old eyes forever gazed toward the distant horizon.
No one knew what he was waiting for.
Until that day.
The first time Gu Mang returned victorious as a commander-in-chief, a bright red cloak wrapped around his gleaming armor.
He rode a Golden-Winged Drifting-Snow Horse, leading his vast army through billowing clouds of dust as they came thundering home.
At the bridge beside Chonghua Bridge, that filthy, mangy old beggar suddenly seemed more spirited than Gu Mang had ever seen him before. Dragging his severed limbs, he struggled to sit upright and waved desperately at them, tears filling his eyes as he cried, “You’re back! You’re finally back!”
Sui Xing asked in surprise, “Who is that old man talking about?”
Gu Mang looked left and right. All he could see was himself, along with his brothers-in-arms behind him, weary and covered in dust from their journey.
Gu Mang pondered for only a moment before something suddenly stirred in his heart. He abruptly understood what the old fellow had been waiting for all along—
He had been waiting for those brothers he had abandoned all those years ago to cross the span of decades and return to the city, young and spirited once more, dressed in fine clothes and riding fine horses.
The old fellow had been waiting all this time.
So, when Gu Mang dismounted that day and walked up to him, the old man raised his head to look at him. The sunlight stabbed into the old fellow’s dim, clouded eyes, and he immediately began to sob. Crying, he kowtowed to Gu Mang, then struggled to move closer, wanting to embrace him.
Back then, Lu Zhanxing had clicked his tongue and said, “Mang’er, he’s filthy!”
“It’s fine,” Gu Mang replied.
He raised his hand and gently patted the old fellow’s head.
Everyone had moments of weakness. Everyone made mistakes. The deserter had suffered over his escape for most of his life. Gu Mang thought that was enough.
The old fellow, with his toothless, drafty mouth, cried hysterically. One moment he called Gu Mang “Little Zhao,” the next “Little Chen,” and then “Little Winter Melon.”
Gu Mang answered to every one of them.
From that day onward, the old fellow settled down.
He was still a little crazy, but he no longer stared fixedly at the horizon. He had begun to behave like a proper filthy beggar, smiling at passersby, rattling his grimy, broken bowl, and singing his lotus-fall songs.
“……”
Gu Mang tightened the cloth bundle wrapped around Lu Zhanxing’s head and walked to the end of Chonghua Bridge. He knew that today might be the last time he would pass this old beggar.
“Old man.”
The old beggar had made quite a haul today. A large steamed bun sat in his broken begging bowl, and there was a flatbread tucked against his chest. He actually no longer remembered who Gu Mang was. Although Gu Mang had untied the knot in his heart when he returned from the campaign years ago, the old man was, after all, old. After being tormented by his obsession for so long, he could no longer remember which general it had been who dismounted his horse, willingly forgave a sinner like him, and allowed him to call him Little Zhao, Little Chen, and Little Winter Melon.
Thus, he tilted his head up and smiled foolishly, looking at Gu Mang in a leisurely manner.
“Good sir, spare me some alms.”
Gu Mang also looked down at the filthy beggar. After watching him for a while, he smiled as well.
“Nowadays, you’re the only one willing to talk to me.”
With that, he handed the old beggar all the loose shell coins and valuables from his Qiankun pouch.
“I’m leaving.”
He rose to his feet, but at that moment the old man suddenly grabbed his wrist.
“What is it?”
The old man seemed to have sensed something, yet also seemed not to have realized anything at all. In the end, trembling, he extended his chicken-claw-like, withered hand and fumbled the filthy flatbread from inside his clothes.
As though offering a precious treasure, his entire wrinkled face overflowed with a smile.
“Here… here.”
“For me?”
Perhaps because he was nearing the end of his allotted lifespan, the old man possessed a perception ordinary people did not. He kept stuffing the flatbread into Gu Mang’s hand.
“Take it… with your brothers… eat it on the road… eat it on the road…”
Gu Mang froze.
Perhaps the eyes of the elderly and children really could see ghosts and the future.
He looked at that old face, covered in wrinkles and shriveled like a walnut. After a long while, he slowly composed a smile and accepted the flatbread of his homeland from the old beggar’s hands.
“Thank you. At least I can still take one reminder of my homeland with me.”
The old man nodded at him in bewilderment, his trembling lips repeatedly murmuring, “You have to come back. You have to come back…”
Gu Mang’s smile faltered, but it did not fall away. His eyelashes trembled as he rose and said, “I’m leaving.”
After saying that, he carried the cloth bundle on his back and looked back at the city gate tower, its jagged eaves and imposing silhouette.
On the tower, the two vigorous and solemn seal-script characters “Chonghua” were illuminated by the setting sun, flowing with brilliant light and dazzling the eyes.
Gu Mang gazed at them for a long time, as though murmuring to himself, or perhaps speaking to someone else.
Then he said again, “I’m leaving.”
I’m leaving.
The remnants of the Bastard Army were still being held prisoner by the Monarch, while Lu Zhanxing’s mutilated remains were in Gu Mang’s pack. No one had come to see Gu Mang off.
He turned and walked alone across Chonghua Bridge.
Below the bridge, the river rolled on relentlessly, just as yesterday’s glory had already vanished into the distance.
And then, at that very moment, the old man beside Chonghua Bridge suddenly stretched his neck and let out a shout.
His voice was like a broken gong. The old man craned his neck, watching Gu Mang’s figure walk toward the horizon where the evening darkness was descending. His voice hoarse, his trembling hand tapping against his begging bowl, he opened his mouth and began to sing, in his clumsy, harsh voice, the lotus-fall song he remembered most fluently—
“People say time flies as swiftly as a shuttle,
I say time passes in two different ways.
Once, prosperity made others envy me,
Yet year after year slips away in vain.
Pitifully, today I have no money,
And every moment stretches like a year.
I too once rode in a lofty carriage, dressed in light furs and astride a fine horse,
Commanding thousands to drive the enemy before us.
With one cry to surround them, demons and spirits were terrified,
And the common people welcomed me as though I were a divine being.
Today, my gold is all gone—who would still cherish me?
Friends have scattered, and the hunting hounds are slaughtered once the prey is caught.
By day I have no porridge, by night I cannot sleep,
Reduced to singing lotus-fall songs on the street.
A lifetime split in two—who could endure such a fate?
I blame neither my parents nor Heaven.
Had I known I would suffer such hardship,
I would have regretted making friends with demons back then.
Now there is no way to endure it,
So I earnestly urge others: do not become like me!”
I too once—
rode in a lofty carriage, dressed in light furs and astride a fine horse,
commanding thousands to drive the enemy before us.
I too once—
wore a helmet and black armor, holding a jade-waisted blade,
my arrows shattering the startled feathers, their force shaking the Ninth Heaven.
But now…
Mo Xi stared at Gu Mang’s retreating back without blinking.
If he blinked even once, there would be one less moment to see him.
And so he watched Gu Mang leave, until at last tears streamed down his face.
He had always known that Gu Mang’s betrayal of the country was painful. But knowing it in his heart and witnessing it with his own eyes were ultimately two entirely different things.
It was pain that pierced the heart and bones, pain that seized the soul and shattered the spirit.
Why had things come to this…
Why had it come to this?!!
The young man who had once ridden a fine horse in bright clothes, full of youthful spirit, now looked like a beggar who had lost his soul, a wandering ghost stumbling onward in a daze, walking from the ancient road by the pavilion all the way toward the distant horizon…
And Mo Xi knew that once Gu Mang left, it would be a seven-year separation from Chonghua.
When he returned, two of his souls would be gone, his mind would be damaged, his entire body stained with blood, and the gulf between them impossible to bridge.
When he returned, whether it was Mo Xi or Gu Mang—regardless of what schemes, open or hidden, had taken place eight years ago—the mistakes had already been made.
Nothing could ever be changed again.
“Gu Mang…”
Mo Xi’s heart felt as though it had been pierced by a sharp awl. He wanted to follow him, but Jiang Yexue’s chanting grew clearer in his ears, while the countless colors within the Mirror of Time had already faded beyond recognition.
Even Gu Mang’s figure had become so thin it seemed as though it might disappear at any moment.
Mo Xi felt as though he wanted to cross the sea of time and reach the end of the years, just to embrace that lonely figure.
He wanted to cross a vast ocean of blood and water to bring back that old friend who would never turn around again.
But as the chanting of the spell approached its end, Mo Xi could no longer move.
His departure from this world was only moments away.
All Mo Xi could do was watch helplessly as that small, lonely figure, accompanied by no one, set off alone—
His internal organs felt as though they had been torn apart.
He even wanted to beg Jiang Yexue to wait a little longer…
Don’t chant anymore…
Just wait a little longer.
Give him one last moment.
At the very least, let him accompany Gu Mang along this road.
At the very least, let him stay with him a little longer.
“Across the sea of suffering, yesterday leaves no trace…”
Let me stay with him a little longer.
Without hatred.
Without old grudges.
Even one more moment would be enough.
“Yellow Millet is but a dream; why do you not return…”
Don’t chant anymore…
Finally, amid the agony of this farewell between life and death, Mo Xi watched Gu Mang’s figure finally disappear beneath the light of heaven and earth.
Endless darkness descended.
His heart convulsed, struggled, and spasmed. His heartbeat could not slow. The pain was so intense that it nearly destroyed his mind along with it.
He did not even want to return to reality.
Because once he returned to reality, the pain would only be worse than before.
He would once again have to face the shattered fragments of Gu Mang.
He would once again have to pick through a world lying in ruins.
How was he supposed to face Gu Mang?
How was he supposed to regard the Monarch?
How could he cast aside the sins Gu Mang had committed, yet suppress the heartache he felt for him?
Time and space are but a Yellow Millet dream within a mirror; how many people have been drunk to death in this mortal world.
The academy elders’ description of this mirror in the past had turned out not to be an empty phrase at all…
Amid this unbearable agony, an unfeeling force violently dragged Mo Xi out.
Countless bizarre and fantastical reflections flashed before his eyes—
The smile at the corners of Gu Mang’s eyes.
The irritation in Gu Mang’s gaze.
The eternally passionate young man from their academy days.
The traitorous general aboard the Dongting warship, swearing never to turn back.
The joys and sorrows they had experienced together throughout half their lives surged into his mind at this moment, only to shatter completely beneath the setting sun on Chonghua Bridge…
—
“Lord Xihe!”
Jiang Yexue’s voice reached him.
Mo Xi suddenly collapsed onto the cold floor of the Bat Tower.
His eyes were wide and unfocused, his chest heaving violently. He could not breathe…
He was like a fish dragged onto the shore. That unbearable, torn-between-two-worlds agony felt as though it were stripping the flesh from his bones.
He lay on the ground, gasping desperately for air. In his confusion, he saw Jiang Yexue approaching and saw him kneel and collapse beside him.
“Gu Mang…”
Mo Xi was almost choking on his sobs.
“Gu Mang…”
“Don’t go any farther… Don’t keep going…”
Jiang Yexue grabbed his hand and checked his pulse.
His condition was actually one of impending death.
The pain was so severe that his heart seemed ready to stop.
Piercing the bones and stabbing the heart.
Piercing the bones and stabbing the heart…
It felt as though his bones and flesh were being torn apart…
That heart seemed to be crying out desperately, as though saying that it truly did not know how it was supposed to face love and sin.
Why not kill him?
Why not just make it stop?
It was too painful.
Once again, he had watched helplessly as the person most important to him walked toward hell.
No…
No…
He had been forced toward hell.
Lured toward hell.
And once again, Mo Xi could do nothing to save him, could not even accompany him.
He still could not learn the ultimate truth behind Gu Mang’s betrayal of the country…
“Lord Xihe!!”
Jiang Yexue called out anxiously.
“Mo Xi! Mo Xi!!!”
Don’t go any farther…
There is only a dead end ahead…
Just then, another burst of golden light suddenly radiated from within the Mirror of Time.
Gu Mang was also pulled out of the mirror—
He crashed heavily onto the floor of the Demon Tower.
Mo Xi forced himself to support his body, which had nearly collapsed from exhaustion after enduring the Mirror of Time.
“Gu Mang…”
He staggered forward, stumbling and crawling toward him.
He looked at that body lying prone on the ground.
He struggled to reach for Gu Mang’s hand—
That same hand that he had failed to hold eight years ago, and had failed to hold inside the mirror as well.
“Gu Mang…”
His fingertips trembled violently.
They were just about to interlock—
But at that instant, the man lying on the ground suddenly moved.
His palm curled inward, unconsciously withdrawing.
Then Gu Mang slowly—
very slowly—
sat up.
Dead silence.
His eyes remained closed. His brows were furrowed, his eyelashes trembling.
Then, slowly, he opened his eyes.
His face was pale, his lips faint in color.
“……”
He turned his head toward Mo Xi, but said nothing for a long time.
His gaze shifted from dazed to lucid, from fragmented to focused. The emotions and vitality that had been absent when he first awakened were like ink spreading across paper, slowly sketching out his spirit and bearing, stroke by stroke.
A familiar face was reflected in Mo Xi’s eyes.
During that transition from unconsciousness to awakening, he seemed to see a night-blooming cereus that had slept for a very long time finally beginning to flower.
Gu Mang was no longer that bewildered, ignorant puppet.
No longer that prisoner who did not know what year it was.
His eyes were still the same blue, tempered through countless trials.
But the spirit within that face was gradually changing—
from dazed confusion,
to composure,
defiance,
clarity,
and an indomitable strength.
No explanation was needed.
Not even a single word.
With just one glance, Mo Xi could recognize that this Gu Mang was absolutely not the Gu Mang whose consciousness had been shattered.
But rather…
The Gu Mang who had returned from the Mirror of Time with his memories of the past restored!!!
The ferocious beast upon Chonghua’s altar.
The Gu Shuai.
The Senior Brother Gu of old!