They stepped ashore.
Unlike the other ferry landings, the shore where their little boat had docked had a man sitting there in a straw rain cape and hat. When they came ashore, the man stood.
They assumed he was simply someone who had grown tired while traveling the road to the Yellow Springs and had stopped here to rest, so they paid him little attention.
But just as they were about to leave, the man suddenly called out to them.
“Wait, you two.”
Gu Mang turned around.
“Hmm?”
The man sighed.
“Mo Xi, Gu Mang. I’ve been waiting for you for a very long time.”
“…How do you…”
Mo Xi froze, intending to ask how he knew his name. But then he remembered that this was the realm of the dead, a place of darkness and mystery, and that mortal ways of seeing things could not be applied here.
So he changed his question.
“Who… are you?”
The man did not answer immediately.
After a moment, while Mo Xi and Gu Mang looked at him hesitantly, he opened his palm.
At once, they both saw the pitch-black Reverse Stone lying unmistakably in his hand.
Yet unlike before, the stone was now radiating a warm, lustrous white light, as though it truly possessed the divine power to reverse everything.
Mo Xi looked more closely at him.
From beneath the straw hat, only half of the man’s face was visible.
After a moment, Mo Xi suddenly stiffened.
“It’s you?”
“…”
“You’re the one inside the Reverse Stone—the…!”
That divine spirit who made people choose without giving a damn about anything else!!
The divine spirit smiled faintly. His robes fluttered gently in the breeze of the Yellow Springs.
“Yes. I knew you would eventually return here, so I’ve been waiting for you all this time… This Reverse Stone is the final thing I have to give you.”
Gu Mang narrowed his eyes.
He was quite clever.
“Oh, so you’re that con-artist stone god?”
“…Something like that.”
“Then now that you’ve finished messing with us, what are you still doing here? Move aside, move aside.”
Gu Mang had no reverence whatsoever for gods or ghosts, and he certainly had no patience for this one.
“We’re in a hurry to reincarnate.”
“Wait.”
Mo Xi grabbed Gu Mang.
He stared at the divine spirit, his heart pounding violently.
At that moment, he suddenly realized that there was something different about him and Gu Mang compared with the other souls around them.
Compared with the ghosts traveling along the road to the Yellow Springs, Gu Mang and Mo Xi were… different.
Those souls had already become insubstantial, drifting like wisps.
But the two of them still had flesh and blood.
Could it be because…
A spark of hope suddenly appeared in Mo Xi’s eyes.
His blood surged.
At that moment, the divine spirit also raised his face.
Mo Xi found himself looking into a pair of tranquil, warm eyes that gazed at him with a smile.
“There is a Reverse Stone in this world. It truly can reverse life, reverse death, reverse mortality and pain.”
The god’s voice was low and hoarse, his words gentle.
The crimson flowers of the Yellow Springs swayed gracefully, burning like a prairie fire along both sides of the road to the underworld.
He solemnly placed the Reverse Stone, glowing with lustrous white light, into Mo Xi’s hand.
“But the one who can illuminate it isn’t me. It is the person who withstands its trial. And you, in the end, made the choice that caused it to willingly submit to you.”
The wind rose.
The grass and trees rustled mournfully, while the clouds over the Yellow Springs gathered and dispersed.
The divine spirit said to the stunned Mo Xi,
“The Reverse Stone’s power of reversal can only be used once. Mo Xi, it belongs to you now.”
Gu Mang abruptly turned toward Mo Xi.
Their gazes met.
After the overwhelming shock, brilliant light seemed to burst through the clouds and shimmer in their eyes.
And the words spoken by the man in the straw rain cape dispelled the final shadow of despair.
“Make your wish.”
The little boats moored along the banks of the Soul River rocked gently, as though urging Mo Xi to speak.
“Mo Xi, let it take you both home…”
One month later.
Chonghua City.
The imperial capital.
Murong Mengze stood with her hands behind her back on a white-jade stone plaza carved with a hundred-clawed coiling dragons.
Before her, craftsmen in hemp clothing and straw sandals were busy repairing the ruined imperial palace, their hammers ringing as they worked.
More than a month had passed since the great battle.
During this period, she had personally overseen the restoration efforts.
Murong Mengze had ordered the craftsmen and cultivators to first help the people of the city rebuild their homes.
Only after most of Chonghua’s residents had somewhere to live did she order the craftsmen to begin restoring the imperial palace and its facilities.
The brazier that Murong Chen had once placed in the Golden Hall had been smashed to pieces.
Yet the little golden beast attached to its handles and rim was still feebly mumbling,
“May His Majesty enjoy boundless blessings… May His Majesty’s grace endure for ten thousand generations…”
The craftsmen swept the fragments of the brazier into a carrying basket and hauled them away, intending to dump them in the wilderness along with the broken bricks and tiles left behind by the old dynasty.
“May His Majesty’s grace endure for ten thousand generations…”
The little golden beast continued mumbling and whining as it lay among broken timber and shattered bricks, endlessly repeating yesterday’s sycophantic flattery.
It was, after all, only an inanimate object. It had no idea what fate awaited it.
Its collisions had stripped away much of its gold paint, revealing the black Xuan iron underneath and leaving it looking utterly desolate.
Murong Mengze glanced sideways at the cart carrying it but said nothing.
When the craftsmen greeted her nervously, she merely gave them a gentle, gracious smile.
“You’ve worked hard making this trip.”
The craftsmen shivered one after another, both terrified and delighted, hurriedly answering her with repeated assurances.
Dressed in black with a gold sash, Murong Mengze stood alone for a while longer, watching the palace being rebuilt.
She had given them two requirements:
Keep the scale simple.
Make the style new.
Of course, she knew the people of Chonghua were deeply grateful for what she had done.
After a great war, construction was needed everywhere. Since she did not flaunt imperial authority, she naturally won even more praise and acclaim.
She knew very well that in the war against Liao, Jiang Fuli’s military achievements were the greatest.
Because he had ultimately defeated Hua Po’an.
Murong Mengze had not personally witnessed the final duel between them.
But she had heard from a young cultivator who had seen the entire battle that after Hua Po’an lost the power of the Blood Demon Beast, he still had the Nine-Eyed Qin with which to fight Jiang Fuli.
At the time, Hua Po’an had exhausted eight of its eyes, one after another, and Jiang Fuli had destroyed every single one.
Only the final eye refused to open.
Some people thought that eye must conceal some world-shaking forbidden technique, something Hua Po’an would unleash only when absolutely necessary.
Yet until Hua Po’an was ultimately defeated by Jiang Fuli’s sword, the final eye of the Nine-Eyed Qin remained closed.
No one knew what was hidden inside that last eye.
Hua Po’an had never allowed it to reveal itself before anyone.
It was like a seed buried deep within his heart, forever unable to sprout.
“Is Hua Po’an dead?”
These days, Murong Mengze often heard people asking that question in the streets and alleyways.
And the answers varied.
“He should be dead.”
“Of course. I saw him lose to Physician Jiang’s sword with my own eyes. His primordial spirit scattered and he turned to ash.”
“But I still don’t think it’s certain… He’s practically become a demon, hasn’t he…?”
“Even if he isn’t dead, he can’t cause any more trouble.”
Murong Mengze thought Jiang Fuli must know the answer.
But no one had been able to get one from him.
After the war, Jiang Fuli had left Chonghua with Su Yurou.
He said that he had never truly known who he was, and that everything he had done in the past, aside from pursuing wealth, had held little meaning.
Now, at last, he had done something that was not merely about money.
It was Jiang Fuli who had done it.
Not Shentang.
Not a puppet.
Perhaps this experience had finally made him want to carry Shentang’s memories with him and travel throughout the world again.
And this time, Su Yurou would no longer imprison his heart or his memories.
Perhaps, after his long journey, he would eventually find a concrete answer and discover what he, Jiang Fuli, truly sought from this life.
And besides Jiang Fuli, there was another person whose popularity among the people had soared after the war.
That was Lord Wangshu, Murong Lian.
However, Murong Mengze knew that Murong Lian had been ill beyond recovery after inhaling Fusheng Ruomeng for too long.
He would not live much longer.
Murong Lian had always done whatever pleased himself.
Having gained the recognition of the people, he could consider his life’s wish fulfilled.
As for matters of the throne, he had long since grown indescribably weary of them.
Yesterday, she had visited the Wangshu Residence.
She had found him drinking alone beneath the paulownia blossoms, gazing at the moon.
Illusory butterflies created by his magic fluttered around the courtyard, while his divine-weapon huqin rested on the stone table.
Murong Lian had finally reconciled with himself.
The illusion magic he loved, and the musical instruments he had once rejected, could both finally be summoned to his side.
“Brother Lian, are you really not going to reconsider staying in the capital?”
Murong Lian continued smoking his water pipe, his peach-blossom eyes calm and distant.
“No. It’s nothing but a city the size of a few feet in every direction. I find the place cramped and suffocating.”
“…Then what are you planning to do?”
“I plan to head north and spend some time in my mother’s family’s fief.”
Murong Mengze considered it for a moment before smiling.
“Then, Brother Lian, if you ever get tired of traveling, remember to come back anytime. I’ll take care of Wangshu Residence for you all this time.”
Murong Lian looked at her thoughtfully.
His limpid peach-blossom eyes seemed to see straight through her thoughts.
But Mengze’s smile did not falter. She continued to look back at him openly and calmly.
“There’s no need to take care of it,” Murong Lian said. “Linyi is a simple place that hasn’t flourished in a long time. I’ve spent the first half of my life having fun fighting cocks and running dogs. For the rest of my life, I want to do something there.”
“What kind of thing does Brother Lian have in mind?”
“I think opening an academy would be nice. What Shentang did back then was pretty interesting. I’ve had enough of being a prince. I want to be an academy master. Just imagine people calling me something like Grandmaster Wangshu. Thinking about it already makes me happy.”
Murong Mengze smiled, her tone extremely tactful.
“But Brother Lian, you know that Chonghua’s academy exists only in the imperial capital. If another one were established elsewhere, I’m afraid it wouldn’t be easy to govern.”
Murong Lian did not immediately argue with her.
He smoked his water pipe.
After a while, he slowly exhaled, blowing the smoke directly into Murong Mengze’s face.
“Then forget it. I’ll still devote myself to governing the country and see if I can quit smoking and live to a hundred. I’ll take good care of Chonghua.”
“…”
Murong Mengze smiled.
“What are you talking about, Brother Lian? You will certainly quit Fusheng Ruomeng, and you will certainly live to a hundred.”
Murong Lian smiled at her too.
“That might be a little difficult.”
For a while, no one spoke in the little courtyard.
A butterfly formed from illusion magic fluttered over and landed on Murong Mengze’s shoulder.
Mengze glanced at it and said gently,
“Since this is what Brother Lian wishes for, then go.”
“After Chen-ge passed away, technically speaking, you’re the acting ruler. If you want to make an exception and establish an academy in Linyi…”
She smiled.
“There’s really nothing I can do to stop you.”
“I intend for my academy to accept everyone, regardless of bloodline or background. That would make things interesting enough.”
Murong Lian’s tone was calm.
“What do you think?”
Unexpectedly, Murong Mengze showed no resistance to the proposal whatsoever.
She said,
“I’ll leave it to you, Brother Lian.”
When it was time to part, Murong Lian did not rise to see her off.
But just as she was about to disappear around the corner of the flower corridor, he suddenly tapped the remaining ashes out of his pipe and said calmly,
“Mengze, when the time comes, you should restore your true identity.”
Murong Mengze stopped abruptly.
“If you restore your identity, I’ll only be second in line. The person closest to the throne has never been me.”
Murong Lian said,
“It has always been you.”
“…”
Murong Mengze did not turn around.
Nor did she answer.
Her expression changed countless times.
Part of her wanted to ask, When did you discover my secret?
Another part wanted to ask, If you already knew, why didn’t you say anything sooner?
But all those thoughts gathered in her heart were no match for the calm way Murong Lian was relinquishing his claim at that very moment.
Yes.
For her, what mattered most was that Murong Lian had voluntarily withdrawn from the competition.
Everything else could remain unasked.
So in the end, she simply said softly,
“Thank you. If the Linyi Academy ever needs assistance, you can come to the imperial capital and find me anytime.”
Then she turned and walked away.