Mo Xi could not care less about his own injuries. The moment he heard the news, he hurried toward the training grounds.
Along the way, Meng Ze’s conversation with him just now kept echoing in his ears—
“After Murong Chen used the power of his life force to shatter the soul box, the power of the Blood Demon Beast scattered in all directions, and that wisp of Gu Mang’s soul that had been guarding the box was also scattered. Ordinarily, once a soul scatters, it should fly across the Nine Provinces and Four Seas, no one knowing where it will go. But when we found you in the ruins of the Golden Terrace, we discovered that it was lingering around you, as though it had retained a trace of consciousness, continuously protecting you among the broken bricks and rubble.”
Mo Xi was silent for a long time before he could speak. When he finally did, his voice was so hoarse that even he could barely recognize it.
“…Then… what about the other wisp of soul? The one that he refined into the key to the soul box. Didn’t Murong Lian already destroy it?”
“Lian-ge didn’t destroy it. He was deceiving Murong Chen. Think about it. If Gu Mang created this key simply for the sake of destruction, then why would Gu Mang have created it in the first place? Wouldn’t it have been better to simply make the soul box something that could never be opened?”
Mo Xi: “…”
Meng Ze continued, “But at that time, Murong Chen had already lost his reason, and the situation was extremely urgent. Naturally, he didn’t notice the loophole in Lian-ge’s words. Even you and I didn’t realize it in time. Later, Lian-ge told me that when Gu Mang gave him the key, what Gu Mang truly entrusted him with was not to destroy the key, but to find a way to completely destroy the power of the Blood Demon Beast. He hoped that after Lian-ge found such a method, he would use the key to open the box and permanently eliminate the possibility of the Blood Demon Beast ever recovering in this world.”
“Marshal Gu has always been cautious in his actions. He knew very clearly that although the Blood Demon Beast’s power had been sealed, a seal was still a seal—it was not complete destruction. …Sigh, it’s just a pity that Lian-ge originally harbored suspicions toward Marshal Gu and didn’t seriously think of a way to deal with it. Later, although those suspicions gradually disappeared, he no longer had the opportunity to investigate it further. In the end, he still allowed the Blood Demon Beast’s power to spill out.”
Murong Meng Ze closed his eyes and sighed.
“Lian-ge doesn’t say it aloud, but I can tell that he feels terrible too. He’s blaming himself.”
Mo Xi’s head was buzzing. His condition was still extremely poor. Although he had not personally killed Murong Chen, his actions had already crossed the bottom line of the Heavenly Tribulation Oath. The backlash from the oath had not killed him, but it had nevertheless left him seriously injured. That was why he had remained unconscious for a full seven days after the battle at the Golden Terrace.
And yet, it seemed that whenever anything related to Gu Mang was concerned, no matter how utterly exhausted and battered he was, his mind would always remain clear.
It was as though the soul Gu Mang had scattered would also linger around him to protect him. Their long bond had already caused them to form an instinctive connection with one another.
Thus, after only a moment of silence, Mo Xi seized the fragments within his memories and understood.
“…The thumb ring.”
Meng Ze: “What?”
“The key is the thumb ring that Murong Lian wears.” Mo Xi murmured, “So back then, when Zhou He was trying to destroy Gu Mang’s spiritual consciousness, Murong Lian gave that thumb ring to Gu Mang because he knew there was a fragment of Gu Mang’s soul inside it, which could allow Gu Mang to hold on for a little longer. That’s why every time the hunting dogs Gu Mang raised saw Murong Lian, they would act as though they were seeing their master, especially loving to sniff the hand on which he wore the thumb ring…”
Mo Xi’s lips trembled slightly, and he could no longer continue.
So that was how it was.
He had always felt that the road he and Gu Mang had traveled together had been far too painful. When he heard Murong Lian say in the Golden Palace that one of Gu Mang’s souls had already been destroyed, he had actually felt himself collapse. He understood that Gu Mang could never recover his health again.
And yet he had still gone to stop Murong Chen from shattering the soul box. At the time, apart from wanting to protect Chonghua, deep down he had also hoped to find a way to preserve the wisp of soul inside the soul box. Even if it was destined to be incomplete, having it was still better than having nothing.
He had always carried this kind of bitterly struggling state of mind.
Everything he had experienced over these thirty-odd years had already taught him that asking for something complete was too difficult. Even something broken was good. He was willing to use his own life to slowly piece the broken things back together, bit by bit. Such a form of completeness was enough to satisfy him.
But this time, it seemed that Heaven pitied how hard his life had been, and for once, it actually gave him a reunion—
Both souls. Both of Gu Mang’s souls were still there. They had returned to his body. They had healed.
Mo Xi walked along the road toward the training grounds, going faster and faster. When he arrived at the training field and saw that figure standing in the midst of ten thousand people, his vision had already become hazy with tears.
He rarely shed tears because of sorrow, but at this moment, they were tears of joy.
The commander of the Northern Frontier Army had finally returned.
His Gu Mang-gege, that complete Gu Mang—who smiled boldly, was invincible in battle, and could bring hope to countless people simply by being there—had finally returned.
He had never dared to hope for this.
Fate had finally taken pity on him and bestowed upon him the best dream of his life.
No.
It was not a dream.
It was real.
And all the stains had finally been washed away. Gu Mang was no longer a traitor, a villain, or a spy. Instead, he could stand beneath the sunlight, beneath the fluttering crimson military banners, standing on the general’s platform with his hands behind his back, gazing across the training grounds at the gleaming armor reflecting the sun.
His Senior Martial Brother Gu—stumbling along, wearing his hands and feet raw, enduring endless suffering and humiliation, passing through sorrow and separation—had finally returned to the position where he had always belonged.
The First Commander of Chonghua.
A young cultivator spotted Mo Xi standing at the edge of the training grounds and could not help calling out,
“Ah, it’s Marshal Mo!”
“Marshal Mo is here…”
“Lord Xihe is here!”
The commotion spread like wind across a lake, reaching all the way to the general’s platform.
Gu Mang had been talking with Murong Lian. Sensing this ripple of movement, he narrowed his eyes against the noonday sunlight and the strong wind sweeping across the training grounds, then looked toward the sound.
And then he saw Mo Xi across the sea of people and the glint of weapons.
Gu Mang froze for a moment before breaking into a radiant smile.
His black eyes were gone, but his blue eyes were as clear as they had been when the two of them had ridden horses and joined the military in their youth.
He raised his hand and waved vigorously at Mo Xi beneath the fluttering military banners of the Northern Frontier Army.
“Marshal Mo!” he called out, with a little childish teasing and the gentleness of an elder brother. “Come on up! You’ve slept for so long, you’re the only one left!”
The Northern Frontier Army, which Mo Xi had disciplined for so many years until seriousness seemed to have been carved into their very bones, could not help bursting into laughter.
Mo Xi suddenly realized that this army had never changed at all.
They had behaved obediently under him for so long, but how could they truly be serious to the bone?
The flamboyance and laughter that their Marshal Gu could pour into them was the true soul of the Northern Frontier.
He held back the tears of joy that were about to overflow from his eyes and tilted his head upward, thinking that he could not let the soldiers laugh at him.
But as he walked toward the general’s platform where Gu Mang stood, through the crowd that had spontaneously divided into two sides, he knew that he had still shed tears.
He could no longer be stern.
Nor could he remain cold.
He would feel hurt, feel sorrow, feel joy. He possessed every emotion that a flesh-and-blood human being ought to have.
On this day, the ice and snow melted away. None of his sorrow or joy could be concealed any longer. Every emotion was displayed before his soldiers.
But to his surprise, not a single person laughed at him.
Those teasing, warm smiles gradually faded. They looked at him intently, as though the barrier that had long stood between him and them had finally shattered.
Suddenly, someone shouted fearlessly,
“Welcome home, Lord Xihe!”
Silence descended.
Mo Xi said nothing.
Then Gu Mang smiled.
From the high platform, Gu Mang said,
“Welcome home, Marshal Mo.”
Yes.
They had a home.
It did not have to be some building with walls and roofs, some pavilion or little courtyard.
It was being together with this group of people whom they had once protected, and who had also protected them.
It turned out that from the very day the two of them had devoted themselves to military life, they had already had a home.
And now, whether it was Marshal Gu, Marshal Mo, or even Murong Lian, who was leaning beside them with a face full of impatience yet had not the slightest intention of leaving—
They had all come home.
The preparations for war and the mobilization before battle proceeded extremely smoothly.
How could they not go smoothly?
Mo Xi looked at Gu Mang beside him and thought this.
Wherever Gu Mang was, there was fire.
Marshal Gu could rekindle even an extinguished fire.
Clearly, what they were about to face was a catastrophe.
Their opponent was the Blood Demon Beast that, a hundred years ago, even Palace Master Chen Tang had needed to seal with his own life.
And there was also that mysterious National Preceptor whose identity was unknown and whose very existence made people tremble.
But Gu Mang seemed not to care.
In front of his comrades-in-arms, he was always so confident of victory.
He was born with this kind of charm. It could make everyone gathered around him feel that as long as he was there, they would overcome any obstacle, and no matter how difficult the battle, they could win.
After the war-preparation meeting ended, the crowd gradually dispersed.
Gu Mang blinked at Mo Xi.
Beneath the gradually darkening sky, his eyes seemed almost black.
“I’m really sorry. I wasn’t by your side when you woke up.”
Mo Xi instead said, “No. You were always with me.”
After a pause, he added, “At the Golden Terrace. Do you remember? That wisp of your soul.”
Gu Mang smiled.
Mo Xi had not seen such a smile for far too long.
His spirit was full and abundant, his lips rosy, with a small, sharp canine tooth beneath them.
“…The two of you.”
Suddenly, a hand intruded between them and waved twice.
“May I ask if you’re treating me as though I’m dead?”
Gu Mang turned his head and came face-to-face with Murong Lian’s utterly detestable expression.
Murong Lian had always been this kind of person.
He was suspicious, ruthless, underhanded in his methods, and extremely proud.
Even though he now knew that he had done many things wrong, he still could not rid himself of his arrogant and overbearing manner.
Just as he could not rid himself of the Fusheng Ruomeng he had been forced to consume.
Gu Mang smiled.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m telling you something.”
Murong Lian still carried the lofty bearing of a master, but the shifting uncertainty in his peach-blossom triple-white eyes exposed the unease in his heart.
“What is it?”
“Ahem. Here. This is for you.”
What he handed over was an exquisitely embroidered blue-and-gold Heroic Silk Sash.
It was precisely the one that Murong Xuan had left behind all those years ago.
Murong Lian’s expression was quite unnatural as he said,
“Wangshu Manor will always be mine, and the position of its head will always be mine as well—but this, I thought about it, and reluctantly feel that perhaps you wearing it… would be just a tiny bit more appropriate than me.”
Gu Mang lowered his head and looked at it.
Beneath the thick golden afterglow, it was impossible to make out exactly what his expression was.
And when he finally raised his head, Murong Lian had not even had time to see his face.
Gu Mang reached out and embraced him.
“I… fuck.”
Murong Lian’s arms stiffened and spread open. He held his smoking pipe in one hand, his face full of disgust, looking like a wooden puppet with damaged joints that had been posed into a ridiculous shape by someone else.
“You’d better not expect me to personally put the sash on you.”
He finally spoke stiffly.
His response was Gu Mang’s hearty laughter.
“If you personally put it on me, then life is short, so let’s laugh away our grudges. I won’t hold all the things you did to screw me over in the past against you.”
Murong Lian shoved him away and snapped,
“That was because you were scheming and sly from childhood! That’s why I didn’t trust you! I should be the one setting the condition. If you keep calling me Master, then I’ll reluctantly start looking out for you.”
Gu Mang touched his own neck.
The slave-locking ring had already been removed.
Whether it had belonged to Wangshu Manor in the past or to Xihe Manor later, neither remained anymore.
Gu Mang grinned at Murong Lian and winked.
“Lian-di.”
“…”
Murong Lian flew into a rage. He threw the blue-and-gold Heroic Sash directly at Gu Mang’s forehead, turned around, flung his sleeves, and stormed away while cursing and grumbling.