The excruciating pain was like a fissure splitting open the earth, exploding from his chest and spreading throughout his entire body.
Inside the Historical Record Jade Slip, Mo Xi knelt on one knee, struggling desperately to hold himself up, yet suddenly choked out a mouthful of blood.
The Yin Prison before him had already been shattered, leaving behind only vague, indistinct light and shadows—or perhaps it was not the light and shadows that had become indistinct, but his vision. The jade slip continuously stripped away his spiritual energy, tearing apart his flesh. The agony of his soul and the torment of his ** were like a vast flood of ten-thousand-jun seawater surging backward, forcing its way into his organs and lungs.
The jade slip’s cold voice sounded again, echoing and circling inside his ears.
“The slip is damaged. A great portion of its pages has been destroyed. If you insist on reading it by force, your flesh and blood will suffer severe injury…”
Severe injury to his flesh and blood…
What was severe injury to the flesh and blood? What kind of physical wound could possibly hurt more than the truth?
He was clearly a loyal subject carrying a mission, yet he had to bury himself deep within a filthy mire, unable to escape.
He clearly knew the entire truth, yet he had to smash his teeth and swallow the blood.
He clearly wanted to be a fire that brought warmth to the human world, yet he had to be extinguished beneath one foot after another, trampled out, crushed into cold ashes.
He had clearly just acknowledged an elder brother…
Mo Xi coughed blood, suppressing the broken sob caught in his throat. His trembling lashes closed, and tears immediately burst from his eyes, rolling continuously down his cheeks—he was almost on the verge of breaking down.
What had Gu Mang felt back then…?
He had clearly just acknowledged an elder brother. In this entire lifetime, he had called him “Big Brother” only that once, yet he had to send that man to the gallows. He clearly knew that Big Brother was innocent, that he had been wrongfully accused, yet he could neither clear his name nor reveal the truth.
When Gu Mang had smiled and sworn brotherhood with Lu Zhanxing, bowing his head in worship together with him, what exactly had he felt…?
What kind of physical and emotional torment in this world could possibly hurt more than the grief of being a spy?
Knowing, yet being unable to speak.
Loving, yet being unable to say it.
A pair of hands… forced by circumstance, stained with the blood of comrades and brothers.
Watching as the tigers, wolves, demons, and monsters around him ravaged the land he had sworn to protect, yet still having to laugh heartily and say, “How satisfying!”
Hearing the cries of the people of his homeland, the wails of infants, the furious roars of soldiers, yet still having to put on an indestructible mask, unable to shed a single tear, unable to show even the slightest softness or mercy, unable to let anyone see even the smallest trace of hesitation or sorrow.
What kind of feeling was that…?
His Gu Mang, his Senior Brother Gu, Marshal Gu of Chonghua—he was clearly someone who would earnestly hold military registers and scrolls in his arms, muttering to himself as he committed the name of every nameless soldier to memory.
He had once been so gentle, so kind, so fond of smiling, cherishing and respecting every single life.
He had once been unwilling even to hurt a tiny flower on the battlefield, yet he had to use the blade in his hand to personally stab into those living bodies of flesh and blood—how was he not cutting into his own heart as well?!
Mo Xi choked on blood as he slowly moved his staggering steps forward. The surroundings had already become a chaotic darkness. Only a faint glow shone at the distant end.
He knew that was the next memory he needed, carried within the Historical Record Jade Slip.
He walked forward.
Every step felt as though invisible hands were tearing apart his internal organs, violently ripping blood and true essence from his body. His spiritual energy had already been almost completely devoured by the Historical Record Jade Slip, yet that source of light remained just as distant.
So distant that it was almost like Gu Mang eight years ago, carrying an old, shabby little cloth bundle, containing the head of his sworn elder brother, walking away beneath the setting sun while an old beggar sorrowfully sang the Lotus Flower song.
—“Today, my gold is all spent; who will cherish me now? Friends scatter, and the hunting dogs are cooked. By day I have no congee to spare, by night I cannot sleep; all I have left is to sing this Lotus song in the streets. How can anyone endure a life split in two? I blame neither my parents nor Heaven. Had I known I would suffer such hardship, I would regret ever befriending demons. Now I have no means and can do nothing about it; I earnestly advise others, do not become like me!”
So it turned out… that silhouette had never been the silhouette of a traitorous subject.
It had been the farewell of a hero.
Gu Mang stood upon Chonghua Bridge and turned his head to gaze once toward the gates of the Imperial Capital. With a quiet murmur, he knew he was about to fight a battle for which no one would come to support him. He was about to enter a blood-soaked game in which flesh and blood would be torn apart.
He knew he was about to enter Hell.
He softly said, “I’m leaving.”
Then, carefully carrying the only travel money his homeland could give him—the already-cold flatbread that the old beggar had given him—he lowered his head and walked toward the seventy thousand brothers who had died.
Gu Mang… Gu Mang…
Please stop walking… Why can’t I catch up to you…
Mo Xi moved toward the light one step at a time, tears continuously rolling down his face. In the surrounding darkness, countless reflections seemed to dance wildly, laughing at him, cursing him, stabbing each poisonous piece of his past back into his bones and blood.
“Traitor!”
“Do you know just how filthy you are…?”
“All you want is revenge! For your ambition, for your comrades, for a way out for yourselves, you don’t care how much more blood other people shed!”
No…
No.
Don’t curse him. Don’t curse him. He’s innocent…!!!
Mo Xi was nearly driven insane by the mad reflections in the darkness. He could no longer even feel the heart-rending pain inflicted by the jade slip. All he wanted was to cross back through the river of time, to tell his past self:
No. The truth isn’t like this.
Gu Mang… had never once thought of revenge. He had never possessed any ambition.
He only wanted to protect those seventy thousand tombstones, and preserve the final dignity of being human for that group of brothers of his.
He only wanted to see the snow of Chonghua melt, the mountains and rivers turn green again, and peach blossoms redden both banks. He only wanted… he only wanted to see that just and peaceful world His Majesty had promised him upon the Golden Terrace take root and sprout from their bodies, which had already been trampled into mud and ashes.
He wanted to see the new replace the old, fragrance and flowers replace bloodshed, right replace wrong, and happiness replace sorrow.
He only wanted to see heroes finally judged without regard to their birth, and for a jar of fine wine to finally be placed before the tombstones of the martyrs, transforming into a piece of peace.
How could he have possessed even the slightest bit of hatred…?
He only wanted to bring his brothers home.
Mo Xi staggered forward, one step at a time, toward the light and shadows—as though with every step, he could draw a little closer to the Marshal Gu of eight years ago.
It hurt so much…
His spiritual energy had been completely drained. When he still refused to stop, the jade slip began drawing power from his spiritual core, as though it intended to tear his heart into five pieces.
But that heart-shattering pain was not what he felt.
What he felt was…
With only a single thought, tears poured down like rain.
He was thinking: When Gu Mang’s spiritual core had been destroyed, was this what it had felt like?
His Senior Brother, who was actually very afraid of pain, so soft-hearted, and so easily brought to tears—had he once endured pain ten times, twenty times worse than what Mo Xi was suffering now?
And after suffering such pain, he still had to endure the cold looks and misunderstandings of his comrades. No one cared about him. No one took care of him. No one knew what he had sacrificed.
Even fewer people knew what expression Marshal Gu had worn when that smiling Gu Mang turned around and left Chonghua.
“Gu Mang…”
Amid this desperate struggle forward, Mo Xi actually began hallucinating.
He saw Gu Mang walk out from within that faint light, dressed in the Chonghua military ceremonial uniform. He was grinning happily, with Lu Zhanxing following behind him, along with the phantoms of his fallen brothers—Zhao Sheng, Wei Ping, Luo Xiaochuan… all of them surrounded him.
Gu Mang looked extraordinarily happy, cleaner and more handsome than at any time Mo Xi had ever seen him, his spirit soaring.
Mo Xi walked toward them. Gu Mang seemed to see him. A flash of surprise appeared in his dark eyes before it spread to the corners of his long, slender eyes, becoming the most brilliant smile imaginable.
He laughed boldly, without the slightest trace of pain or gloom between his brows and eyes. He reached out his hand toward Mo Xi and said:
“Junior Brother, don’t cry. It’s all right…”
“Look, this has always been my dream. I hope that one day, whether it’s Chonghua or this entire cultivation continent, everything can become right. Don’t laugh at me for being too naive or too idealistic. I know things will always get better and better, just like flowers will bloom, rain will stop, and winter will pass…”
“My Princess, you have to believe me. Look, when has your Gu Mang brother ever lied to you?”
—Those were the words he had spoken to the young Mo Xi when they had lain beside the river at the Academy.
Across the dust-covered mortal world, those words had arrived with tears already wetting his cheeks.
Flowers will bloom.
Rain will stop.
Winter will pass.
You have to believe me.
My Princess.
Because… if even you don’t believe me…
The light suddenly dimmed.
Gu Mang’s figure blurred. The military ceremonial uniform became snow-white slave garments, and a black collar hook tightened around his neck. The phantoms of Lu Zhanxing and the others scattered and withered behind him like snowflakes.
Gu Mang fell to his knees in the pitch-black night. His hands were covered in blood, and he curled himself up like a lone beast.
If even you don’t believe me, then I really am fighting this battle alone.
Then I really will have no one left.
Believe me…
That figure grew smaller and smaller, more and more hunched.
Mo Xi suddenly went mad and charged toward him without regard for anything, crying out in anguish—
“Gu Mang!!”
Gu Mang.
I believe you… I believe what you said, that flowers will bloom, rain will stop, and winter will pass…
Can you come back? Can you please not keep walking down this pitch-black road alone?
Thirty-three years.
His Senior Brother Gu had been a slave for more than twenty years, a traitor for five years, and a prisoner for three years.
When he counted it all up, there had not even been a single good day in his entire life.
Only at this moment did Mo Xi finally understand completely that Gu Mang had never once thought of himself.
He had never thought about where he himself would be when the flowers bloomed, the rain stopped, and winter passed—when a man covered in filth, with blood staining his hands, would finally reach the end.
And yet Mo Xi had once said to such a selfless commander—
“You don’t care how much more blood is shed!”
How could Gu Mang possibly have not cared about more blood being shed?
When he was forced to kill the first innocent citizen of Chonghua…
He had probably already buried himself in his own heart.
The light and shadows at the end of the jade slip swayed. That Gu Mang rose and walked farther and farther away. Mo Xi could not catch up.
Then he began to hear Jiang Yexue’s voice, as though it were coming from across mountains and seas, calling for him:
“Mo Xi! Mo Xi!!”
“…”
“Wake up! If you keep forcing yourself like this, your spiritual core will shatter! Mo Xi!!!”
The phantom of Gu Mang inside the jade slip suddenly stopped.
He turned his head.
“Mo Xi… don’t chase me.”
His snow-white, thin garments fluttered gently in the wind, while his ink-black hair fell beside his gaunt cheeks.
After all these years, from a commander whom everyone had once answered to, to a traitor whom everyone cursed, he had grown much thinner and far more haggard. He no longer possessed his former healthy appearance. Even the color of his eyes had changed.
Yet those eyes, which had endured countless encounters with death and blood, concealing countless secrets and sorrows, were still so bright.
Still so gentle.
And within the deepest pain, they still concealed the most tenacious hope.
Gu Mang said, “Don’t chase me. Everyone has their own path. I chose mine long ago… It isn’t an easy road to walk. But I know it’s the right one.”
“Gu Mang…”
“It’s the right one, so I have no regrets.”
The wind rose, blowing Gu Mang’s clothes into the air. Gradually, his entire figure was scattered by the wind like crushed flower petals until he disappeared.
At the very end, Gu Mang smiled at Mo Xi once more.
That smile was brilliant like the first golden winter jasmine of spring, bravely pushing its head out from beneath the snow that had endured the winter.
As though it were saying:
See? I didn’t lie to you.
Spring will come.
Spring has already come.
Suddenly, a powerful force shoved him out of the heavy darkness.
The phantom of Gu Mang within the jade slip was still before his eyes, still not dissipated, while he had already returned completely to Jiang Yexue’s residence.
He did not regain consciousness.
Blood continued to flow from his cracked flesh and the corners of his lips, but he felt no pain.
He heard Jiang Yexue anxiously calling his name and channeling spiritual energy into him while checking his pulse.
Yet he could feel nothing.
His eyes were wide open, and he did not blink even once.
He was afraid that if he blinked, the remnants of that smile would disappear completely.
Tears flowed down his blood-stained face and disappeared into his hair at the temples.
“Mo Xi…”
After checking him, Jiang Yexue found that his spiritual energy was completely exhausted. That spiritual core, which Gu Mang had already destroyed before, had once again reached the brink of collapse.
Even Jiang Yexue could not help choking up.
“You… why did you have to…”
Mo Xi did not answer, as though his soul had already died.
After a long while, his lips moved slightly, and he gently pulled his hand from Jiang Yexue’s grasp.
“Mo Xi…?”
Mo Xi struggled.
He was already in such a state, yet no one knew what was supporting him. Somehow, he was still able to struggle out of bed, struggle to his feet, and walk toward the door.
Seeing him on the verge of collapse yet still stubbornly insisting on moving forward, Jiang Yexue’s face turned pale as paper.
“Where are you going?”
“…”
Mo Xi paused.
Then he said, “Home.”
He wanted to go home to see Gu Mang…
He wanted to return and tell the Gu Mang who had actually recovered his memories everything he had seen and learned about the truth…
He had to hurry back…
He had to hurry back and make up for the “wait for me” he had failed to say eight years ago.
And make up for the “I believe you” of eight years later.
I’m sorry…
I won’t let you be alone anymore.
Whether it is darkness or disgrace, I will go through it with you.
You and I… will bear it together…
“He’s no longer in Xihe Manor!”
Suddenly, the words struck like a thunderclap.
Mo Xi abruptly turned his head.
Jiang Yexue’s complexion was even worse. He seemed unable to decide whether he should say it or not, but in the end, he gritted his teeth and said:
“…While you were reading the scroll, Murong Lian came.”
“…”
“Gu Mang has already been taken away by the Bureau of Spiritual Arts.”