Gu Mang was trembling so violently that he could not stop. He had no choice but to tremble. He had always possessed so little. Clearly, he was a general whose name resounded throughout the world, yet he had always been like a beggar, shamelessly pestering the powerful and influential for a little benefit, begging for a word of recognition. And now, His Majesty was taking everything he had sorrowfully begged for and throwing it all at him, promising him every single thing. How could his spine possibly remain straight?
The unbreakable pride of people like Mo Xi and Murong Lian was a privilege. It had never been his.
Perhaps His Majesty understood this principle all too well. So he did not hurry. He stood there with his hands behind his back, waiting for Gu Mang to slowly calm down, waiting for Gu Mang to slowly submit, slowly walk toward the dead end.
Waiting for the beast from the altar of gods to have no choice but to put the bridle on itself.
And sure enough, after a long while, Gu Mang finally raised his face. His dark, moist eyes looked at the sovereign before him.
He had already become calm. Only, the light in his eyes had turned to dying embers, his heart reduced to ashes.
“May I trouble Your Majesty…”
At last, he whispered, “to promise me one thing.”
“Speak.”
“Zhanxing… He should not be kept in the dark. I want to personally go to the Yin Prison and tell him the whole truth.”
His Majesty was silent for a while. He closed his eyes and sighed.
“Gu Qing, why must you do this—”
“Because my conscience is troubled.”
“…But for him not to know the truth is the best choice, whether for you, for me, or for Chonghua.”
“No. He must know. His sacrifice has already been great enough. I beg you, at least this once… please, just consider things from his perspective.”
Gu Mang closed his eyes in pain. Tears seeped from beneath his thick lashes and fell freely.
“He has already suffered injustice. I can’t save him… I can’t save him. But at least I can let him…”
The final few words were each as cruel as red-hot iron branding itself into the heart.
“At least I can let him know that he never did anything wrong.”
“At least I can let him… not die… with his name unjustly stained…”
After those words, his voice weakened, and his figure gradually faded.
The scene before his eyes slowly darkened. Before darkness swallowed the entire Golden Terrace, what Mo Xi saw was Gu Mang slowly lowering his head toward His Majesty in a deep kowtow.
It did not look like submission.
It looked like complete exhaustion, a person utterly spent.
Everything before his eyes went black.
At the same time, a tremendous agony exploded through every part of Mo Xi’s body!
The historical jade slip once again began drawing power from his flesh and blood. But Mo Xi felt that what was leaving his body was not merely spiritual power. His very soul seemed to be pulled completely out of his shell and crushed into fine dust.
Yet Mo Xi did not feel pain.
The conversation from eight years ago on the Golden Terrace still echoed in his ears. The expression of utter despair on Gu Mang’s face still swayed before his eyes.
A night of rain.
A game of political intrigue.
A sacrifice.
Eight years of deceiving the world—
“Gu Qing, I need someone. He must be loyal enough, brave enough, and smart enough. I need such a person to infiltrate the Liao Kingdom, relay intelligence to me, and become the poison injected into the belly of the Liao Kingdom and the old aristocratic clans.”
“Are you willing to become one of Chonghua’s pillars, to endure humiliation and bear heavy burdens?”
…
Are you willing… from this day onward, for heaven above and earth below, to be the only person who knows the truth?
The people you protect will despise you.
All your former subordinates will misunderstand you.
Your lifelong closest friend will become your enemy.
You will tear out a burning heart and offer up the blood of your entire life, while everyone will remember only your betrayal and your infamy.
Gu Qing.
Commander Gu.
Gu Mang.
Are you willing?
One question after another, as though they came from the depths of the heavenly thunderclouds, like the voice of heaven grieving through his very lungs, like a sharp awl boring into the human heart.
The world spun before Mo Xi’s eyes. Every color in the scene shattered like snowflakes before gathering together again. Amid these trembling, unstable fragments, Mo Xi kept falling, as though he had plunged into an endless abyss.
His eyes were wide open. Only when something hot and wet slipped down from the corners of his eyes did he suddenly realize that he was crying.
His body no longer seemed to belong to him. Even his soul felt as though it had been split in two, fighting desperately within the collapsing scene.
All the conversations he had once had with Gu Mang surged back into his mind at this moment, breaking him down until nothing remained but ash—
Gu Mang had said:
“They are my blood, my eyes, my hands and legs. They are my family. They are my life.”
And Mo Xi had once angrily rebuked him:
“When you slaughtered countless brothers and comrades with your own blood-soaked hands—Gu Mang, did you ever have even the slightest regret?!”
Gu Mang had said:
“What would I have to be forced into becoming before I would betray my country and turn toward that absurd kingdom that killed countless of my brothers and comrades and spread the flames of war throughout the entire Nine Provinces?!”
And he had once said:
“You had more than one place to go if you wanted to betray your country, but you chose the Liao Kingdom. You wanted revenge—for your ambitions, for your comrades, for your way out. You did not care about the blood of everyone else.”
Gu Mang had said:
“They will always have a monument in my heart. I will remember every one of their names, every one of their faces, until the day I myself die. They will never become worthless scraps.”
And yet Mo Xi had once slapped him across the face, piercing straight through Gu Mang’s heart with a single word.
He had said he was…
Before he could even think of that word, Mo Xi began trembling uncontrollably. He was horrified by the viciousness of the words he had spoken back then.
But he had called him…
Dirty.
After losing his memory, Gu Mang had instinctively wanted to wear Chonghua’s sash honoring its fallen heroes. Instinctively, he yearned for the day when the injustice against him would finally be cleared, when he could once again openly and honorably put on his armor, stand before the three armies, and watch the gleam of their armor reflect the sunlight.
That was probably the only comfort Gu Mang had possessed throughout those years of infiltration.
All he had was this empty dream.
This foolish, devoted fantasy.
And yet Mo Xi had called him dirty.
“I should have one too… I should have one too…”
The blue-eyed Gu Mang, stripped of his consciousness, had fought over his sash. That stubborn yet sorrowful voice seemed to travel across the years and wash back into Mo Xi’s ears.
And the slap he had delivered so heavily across Gu Mang’s face back then now felt as though it had struck his own face instead, burning and stinging painfully.
How could you deserve it?
…How could you deserve it…!!!
Mo Xi was astonished that he had not broken down sobbing at this moment, that he could still endure it.
He did not even know whether he had already hurt so deeply that he had gone numb, or whether, after year upon year of despair, he had truly forged his heart into iron and stone.
Meaning on the Golden Terrace, yet who in heaven and earth could know it?
His entire body felt as though it were about to be torn apart. The jade slip gnawed at his soul, while deep inside his skull, a faint voice seemed to whisper, entangling him and repeatedly questioning him.
Do you still want to keep watching?
Mo Xi, Lord Xihe.
What is your heart made of?
Why are you still capable of facing this bloody past and this truth?
Every word, every question, was like a sharp blade slicing open his chest. Yet his body no longer seemed to belong to him. Blood filled his entire chest, and even that no longer seemed to matter.
He stared blankly with his eyes wide open, like a walking corpse.
Pain?
Death?
His spiritual core collapsing?
None of these things mattered anymore.
He only murmured—
Call me made of iron and stone if you will.
Call me cold as ice if you must.
Let me keep watching.
I want to know everything.
The truth that was hidden.
The truth that was swallowed.
The truth that was covered up and beautified.
Why did you hide it from me…?
Why… before you embarked upon this road… was even I excluded from it?
Why was I allowed to know nothing…?
Why?!
Why?!
The jade slip spoke in an eerie, somber voice:
“Since Your Majesty’s heart is thus, offer me your flesh and blood—so I may reveal the regret in your heart—”
A violent pain suddenly seized his chest, as though an invisible claw covered in barbs had thrust deep inside and viciously clutched his heart.
The spiritual energy within his spiritual core began to disperse as though exploding.
Jiang Yexue had once said that forcefully reading a jade slip that had not yet been completely restored would inevitably consume one’s Heavenly Origin spiritual power and inflict the agony of having one’s bones scraped and sinews torn.
But at this moment, Mo Xi felt that the so-called pain of having one’s bones scraped and sinews torn was nothing compared to this…
It could not conceal even the slightest fraction of the pain caused by the truth being hidden.
And so, countless years of the past drifted before him like layers of clouds, scattering and gathering again.
The Golden Terrace disappeared.
What reappeared before his eyes was the cold chamber of the Yin Prison.
This was the prison cell where he had seen Lu Zhanxing staying in the Time Mirror.
The jade slip brought him back into that gloomy, freezing hell where neither heaven nor earth could be seen.
As the scene before him gradually became clear, a thick taste of blood surged into Mo Xi’s throat.
He endured the waves of dizziness before his eyes and looked up at the truth rising once more from the depths—
Eight years ago, a dim lamp burned inside the Yin Prison.
The lamp listlessly breathed out a faint, ghostly flame, as though it might run out of oil and go dark at any moment.
Lu Zhanxing sat upon the narrow, cold stone bed.
At this time, he had not yet seen Gu Mang, so he looked completely different from the composed and self-righteous Vice Commander Lu in the Time Mirror.
He leaned dejectedly against the wall, his face buried deep in shadow. A few strands of disheveled hair hung over his forehead.
His entire body radiated the air of ruin and dejection.
At this moment, he was a genuine prisoner in every sense of the word.
The prison door creaked open.
The jailer said, “Lu, His Majesty has sent an interrogating official! If you have any grievances, you can state them. If you have any requests, you can make them. But remember to behave yourself! Don’t go crazy!”
After saying this, he immediately put on an ingratiating smile and said to the man standing outside the door:
“Sir, please.”
“You may leave.”
The masked “interrogating official” entered the cell. He activated his magic and raised his hand, closing the door.
Inside the cramped cell, aside from the invisible Mo Xi, there was no one else who could hear their conversation.
Lu Zhanxing did not become excited at the arrival of this “interrogating official” who supposedly allowed prisoners to voice their grievances.
Perhaps too many people like this had come during these days, yet not a single one had brought him any hope.
So he did not even raise his head.
His sturdy arms rested upon his knees as he merely repeated the same request he had perhaps already repeated thousands of times.
In a dry voice, he said:
“I want to see Gu Mang.”
“…”
“That’s all. I have no grievances. I have no other requests.”
Lu Zhanxing murmured lifelessly, as though every last bit of his soul had been drained away, leaving behind only this single obsession.
“I want to apologize to him in person. After that, you can kill me… Dismember me by chariot, slice me to death, boil me alive—anything is fine. I won’t plead my innocence.”
The “interrogating official” did not speak.
Instead, he suddenly knelt down before Lu Zhanxing’s filthy bed and kowtowed three times, each one precise and solemn.
Lu Zhanxing finally reacted. He was somewhat stunned.
“…What does this mean?”
“Before the battle at Fengming Mountain, I played dice with you. We hadn’t finished ten rounds when I was forced to leave. We agreed that once we returned victorious, we would continue.”
As the man spoke, he took two wooden dice from his Qiankun pouch.
“We won’t be able to win the battle.
But I brought the dice.”
Two wooden dice.
Beside the side marked with six pips was the red imprint of a lotus flower.
Lu Zhanxing froze.
Then, as though struck by thunder, he suddenly jumped down from the bed and nearly grabbed the “interrogating official” by the collar.
The mask had not yet been removed, and the man had not even finished speaking.
But the two brothers who had grown up together possessed a familiarity that ran too deep.
Lu Zhanxing stared at the black eyes behind the mask.
In his entire life, he had never seen anyone whose eyes were brighter, more vivid, or more spirited than those of his best brother—
His Mang’er.
The imposing eight-foot-tall tough man immediately choked up.
Looking into Gu Mang’s eyes, he cried out:
“Mang’er!! Is it you?!”
The “interrogating official” raised a hand and removed the mask covering his face.
In the dim lamplight, what appeared was Gu Mang’s face, already wet with tears.
The last time the two brothers had met, one had been a mighty general whose authority shook the heavens, while the other had been a commander in the prime of his life, filled with ambition.
Yet in the blink of an eye—
One had been demoted to a commoner.
The other had become a condemned prisoner.
“It’s me.”
Gu Mang’s voice was terribly hoarse. His eyes red, he said:
“…I’m sorry. After all this time… I only came to see you now…”
The two brothers had been separated for so long, and upon finally meeting again, their emotions inevitably overwhelmed them. They embraced each other and wept bitterly.
Only after a long while did Lu Zhanxing wipe the tears from his face and tightly clasp Gu Mang’s hand.
There were clearly so many other things he could have asked.
How did you get here?
Why did you come?
How are you now?
And yet, as Lu Zhanxing looked at his brother’s face, the first question he hoarsely managed to ask was—
“Mang’er, the battle at Fengming Mountain… You… do you still blame me?”
Gu Mang choked up.
“Zhanxing…”
But Lu Zhanxing was overwhelmed with regret and guilt.
He had held these words inside his heart for so long that they had already flooded beyond control.
He kept murmuring:
“It was my impulse. I don’t know what happened to me… It was as if… as if I had been possessed. Suddenly, I felt that spending this entire life throwing away our heads and spilling our blood for the country was not worth it. Suddenly, I felt that everything we had done was so pointless…”
“But… but…”
“That isn’t what I truly thought.”
“I only occasionally had a tiny thought like that. But I truly didn’t think that way!”
“I wronged the seventy thousand brothers at Fengming Mountain…”
“I don’t know what happened to me back then.”
“Mang’er, I betrayed your trust.”
“I betrayed the trust of all our brothers…”
Every word pierced straight through the heart.
The regret on Lu Zhanxing’s face was so profound. His eyes were bloodshot, the tear stains on his face not yet dry.
He looked like a sharp, barbed spike that had viciously pierced into Mo Xi’s flesh and blood.
Where was the slightest resemblance between the Lu Zhanxing before his eyes—the man overwhelmed by remorse for the grave mistake he had committed—and that carefree man in the Time Mirror?
Back then, the Lu Zhanxing he had seen in the Time Mirror had clearly said every word with an almost maddening conviction—
“I ruined his entire life, but that was still better than watching him destroy himself and the lives of even more people.”
“His Majesty stripping him of his authority… Good! He deserved it!!”
No…
No, no, no.
It was wrong.
Everything was wrong.
The truth was actually not like this.
Mo Xi watched Lu Zhanxing kneeling before Gu Mang, overwhelmed with regret, kneeling before Gu Mang in unbearable agony.
His ears rang violently.
Wrong…
Everything was wrong!!
He heard Lu Zhanxing repeatedly apologizing to Gu Mang.
He heard Lu Zhanxing saying to Gu Mang:
“Mang’er, I’m sorry.”
Mo Xi felt a chill spread through his entire body.
Now that he thought about it, the Lu Zhanxing in the Time Mirror had clearly already known that his death could preserve the lives of the thirty thousand surviving troops.
That was why he had wanted to shoulder all the blame himself.
He had never been some madman who arrogantly destroyed his brother’s dreams.
Yet he would rather die guarding the secret before Mo Xi than allow the world to know that a hero had been branded with the bones of a traitor, that a loyal and righteous man had suffered injustice.
To protect Gu Mang.
To protect the surviving comrades.
The mask of a criminal that His Majesty had given him—the mask of a reckless brute—
He had endured it and worn it all the way to his death!
…So this was the truth.
Lu Zhanxing had never betrayed Gu Mang.
He was Gu Mang’s closest friend.
He was Gu Mang’s vice commander.
They were both martyrs.
They were people who had walked the same road.
Gu Mang finally managed to calm Lu Zhanxing’s emotions somewhat. He helped him up and had him sit on the edge of the bed.
Then, choking back his tears, he said to this remorseful, anxious man:
“Zhanxing… You have never betrayed us in any way. From beginning to end, you have always been our brother.”
Those words caused Lu Zhanxing’s barely settled emotions to collapse once again.
He buried his face in his palms and rubbed at it helplessly, murmuring:
“No… I was the one who killed the Rouran envoy. I was the one who failed to restrain myself back then. I was blinded by my own selfish desires.”
Gu Mang tightly gripped his hand in return. His eyes were terribly red.
“That’s not what happened.”
“…”
Those words were like a bolt of lightning tearing through the heavens, splitting apart the layers of heavy clouds—
“Listen to me. What clouded your mind was not your selfish desire.”
“It was the Linglong chess game that the Liao Kingdom planted inside your body.”