Meanwhile, at the Chonghua Bureau of Spiritual Arts.
“Elder Zhou!”
“Greetings, Elder Zhou!”
Zhou He was a very meticulous man, and he had excellent changing habits. Outside, he wore his family’s regular clothes, but as soon as he returned to the Bureau of Spiritual Arts, no matter how important the matters waiting for him were, he would always go to the changing room first and put on the Bureau’s robes.
Actually, at his position, no one would bother to criticize him for not wearing formal attire while on duty anymore. But Zhou He insisted otherwise.
He had to wear the ceremonial robes of a cultivator of the Bureau of Spiritual Arts.
Every administrative bureau in Chonghua had a set of clothing that represented its function.
The most popular among young men was the black fitted battle uniform of Mo Xi and the others from the Military Affairs Bureau: narrow sleeves, a fitted waist, a folded collar, gold buttons along the edges, and golden tassels and ribbons at the lapel.
The clothing most favored by young women was the attire of the Shennong Bureau: blue-green silk robes woven with peacock-colored threads, fumigated with agarwood, with a plain gauze cicada garment worn over them.
By comparison, the Bureau of Spiritual Arts had much less attractive attire—a single moon-white, narrow-sleeved, high-collared long robe, with nothing particularly distinctive about it.
Because of this, some people explained Elder Zhou’s obsession with the robes as a mild form of obsessive-compulsive disorder, while others claimed it was because of some kind of superstition. There were all kinds of rumors.
In reality, the reason Zhou He insisted on changing clothes was very simple:
He liked his job.
He liked it so much that every time he received an assignment, he felt an inexplicable sense of ritual. Putting on his robes was always the beginning of that ritual.
And at this moment, he was about to enjoy the revelry he was so obsessed with.
“Elder Zhou, the trial gu and magical artifacts have all been prepared. The trial subject has also been taken to the Asura Chamber. His condition is currently very stable.”
Zhou He was walking forward along the long corridor while adjusting the steel-claw finger guards on his left hand. Upon hearing this, he paused.
“Very stable? How stable?”
The attendant nodded.
“There have been no excessive reactions whatsoever. He is extremely calm.”
Zhou He did not immediately respond. After a moment, he murmured, “So he really is the legendary ‘Beast of the Divine Altar.’”
The Asura Chamber of the Bureau of Spiritual Arts was built underground.
As Zhou He approached, the iron chains on the great door rattled and retracted on their own. The stone doors, engraved with an image of Xing Tian, slowly opened to either side.
A piercing frost immediately blasted through the opening.
The guards standing on either side of the stone doors bowed to Zhou He. Then they shook out a black sable cloak that had been prepared beforehand, intending to drape it over the Elder.
But Zhou He merely raised his gloved hand, indicating that it was unnecessary, and walked straight inside.
The Asura Chamber was a cold room roughly five zhang in length and width.
Because most trials had to be conducted in cold environments, the inner walls of the Asura Chamber were carved from ten-thousand-year Kunlun ice. The walls, ceiling, and floor were all made of ice.
At first glance, it looked almost like a palace of mirrors from the legends of mythology.
Gu Mang was sitting cross-legged in meditation at the center of the Asura Chamber, his eyes closed.
Zhou He walked over and studied the man with considerable interest.
Since becoming an elder, he had encountered quite a number of trial subjects. Most people, let alone entering the Asura Chamber, were already so terrified by the time they were dragged through the gates of the Bureau of Spiritual Arts that they would be trembling violently and losing control of themselves.
But someone like Gu Mang, who seemed completely unaffected, was something he had never seen before.
Was this man simply so thoroughly foolish that he did not know what he was about to face?
Or had the black magic fusion of the Liao Kingdom endowed this mortal body with some special ability—for example, an inability to feel pain, or fearlessness toward death?
If so, how interesting it would be to dissect and analyze.
Zhou He grew increasingly excited. He stuck out the tip of his tongue and licked his lips, his slender fingers pressing against the “Falcon” at his waist.
Perhaps because both this man’s identity and his reactions were too unusual, Elder Zhou—who had always been accustomed to viewing trial subjects as livestock—actually felt something for the first time in his life:
Curiosity toward his subject.
He could not help wondering what Gu Mang was thinking at that moment.
And Gu Mang seemed almost to have seen through the question in his heart.
He slowly opened his eyes, his clear blue pupils looking toward Zhou He.
He uttered a single word.
“Cold.”
Cold?
Was that his only thought?
Zhou He stared into those deep blue eyes, seemingly wanting to seize some more stimulating emotion from them.
But there was nothing.
How could there be?
As long as Gu Mang did not want him to, how could Zhou He possibly discover even the slightest bit of his true emotions?
Who was Gu Mang, after all?
His Majesty’s personally appointed undercover agent.
A spy who had infiltrated the Liao Kingdom for eight years.
Marshal Gu, who carried countless misunderstandings, accusations, curses, lives, and self-reproach upon his shoulders, yet still clenched his teeth and persisted stubbornly along that one dark road.
Back then, when he had defected to the Liao Kingdom, they had initially been unwilling to trust him as well. They had subjected him to countless trials and employed every kind of poisonous technique, yet none of it had been able to pry even a single secret from his mouth.
How could Zhou He possibly succeed?
“It’s all right,” Zhou He said. “In a little while, you won’t care about this cold anymore.”
With that, he raised his hand and crooked one finger.
The attendants working with him in the trial immediately understood the command and entered the Asura Chamber.
Zhou He said, “Begin.”
Gu Mang raised his eyelashes. Through his thick, long lashes, he watched as the cultivators of the Bureau of Spiritual Arts, all dressed in moon-white robes, lined up in formation.
Each of them carried a wooden tray. Inside were daggers, gu insects, magical artifacts, and medicine for wounds.
The daggers were used to cut open flesh.
The gu insects and magical artifacts were used to conduct the black magic trials.
As for the medicine, it was extremely precious—the finest-grade Heavenly Fragrance Life-Sustaining Dew. In a critical situation, it could keep him alive for one more breath.
The cultivator closest to him had a roll of snow-white bandages on his tray.
Gu Mang knew those were not meant for wrapping wounds.
They were meant to be stuffed between his teeth, to prevent him from biting his tongue and committing suicide.
Gu Mang closed his eyes.
In his current memories, this was the second time in his life he had witnessed such a formation.
The first time had been in the Liao Kingdom.
Yes.
Although the Temporal Mirror had not returned all of his memories from after his treason, perhaps because this period had been too painful, this particular segment was an exception.
Back then, he had buried Lu Zhanxing’s head beside the Soul-Calling Abyss.
Then, according to his agreement with His Majesty, he had pretended that he had been forced into a corner, rebelled in anger, and defected to the Liao Kingdom.
The great hall of the Liao Kingdom was paved with golden-red bricks. The entire hall looked as though it were being scorched by raging flames.
The civil and military officials filling the hall all looked like demons and monsters, each possessing their own strange and sinister characteristics.
The young king sat upon the lofty throne beneath a crown of hanging beads.
He was only sixteen or seventeen years old, merely a child, and could not possibly suppress the demons dancing wildly beneath him.
The true authority belonged to the man standing beside the king, whose face was covered by a golden mask.
The Imperial Preceptor of the Liao Kingdom.
Gu Mang remembered that he had knelt on one knee at the time and presented his token of allegiance—the jade slip containing nearly a century of secret techniques developed by Chonghua.
Although he had already discussed it with His Majesty and removed several of the most important techniques, the scroll could still be considered one of Chonghua’s most important national secrets.
The moment the Liao officials saw the jade slip, everyone’s eyes lit up.
Even the Liao King could not help stretching his neck forward, his face filled with delight, eager to look through it.
Only the Imperial Preceptor laughed softly through the golden mask, his eyes curved into crescents.
“Marshal Gu, let us not discuss your offering just yet. Why don’t we first talk about why you betrayed Chonghua?”
Gu Mang then indignantly recounted everything he had suffered after the defeat at Fengming Mountain to the rulers and officials of the Liao Kingdom.
When he reached the part about his sworn elder brother being executed, tears streamed down his face, and he choked several times.
In truth, even before Gu Mang defected to the Liao Kingdom, quite a few people in Liao had already received word of what had happened.
They had all heard about everything Gu Mang had endured after his defeat at Fengming Mountain.
Now that they had witnessed it with their own eyes, coupled with a jade slip containing Chonghua’s secrets, their suspicions of him were considerably weakened.
Gu Mang finally said:
“I have experienced all the humiliation that Lord Hua suffered back then. Rather than remain in Chonghua and continue to be bullied and humiliated, I would rather make the same choice as Lord Hua and betray Chonghua.”
Hua Po’an was the founding sovereign of the Liao Kingdom.
And who among those present did not know how similar Hua Po’an and Gu Mang were?
The Liao King was immediately somewhat convinced.
His voice trembled slightly, filled with barely suppressed excitement.
“Since Your Excellency has reached such a realization, then…”
Halfway through his words, he suddenly realized that he had overstepped himself.
He abruptly stopped and secretly glanced at the Imperial Preceptor beside him, only to meet the latter’s smiling eyes.
Cold sweat instantly soaked through the Liao King’s inner robe.
He swallowed hard and hurriedly said, “Th-then everything shall be decided according to the Imperial Preceptor’s wishes!”
Only then did the Imperial Preceptor narrow his eyes, smiling as he gathered his broad sleeves and turned toward Gu Mang, who was kneeling in the great hall.
“General Gu, I have long heard of the illustrious reputation of the Beast of the Divine Altar. For such a beast to surrender is naturally Heaven’s blessing upon our great Liao Kingdom—a cause for great celebration.”
“However…”
His voice gradually softened.
The Imperial Preceptor suddenly opened his narrowed, smiling eyes. His long, narrow pupils glinted coldly as they peered at Gu Mang through the openings of the golden mask.
“However, Marshal Gu,” the Imperial Preceptor said, “do you know what the first thing Lord Hua did after betraying Chonghua was?”
“…”
Gu Mang was stared at by those dark, narrow eyes and actually felt as though a venomous snake had bitten him.
The Imperial Preceptor smiled, but there was not the slightest trace of a smile beneath those black eyes.
“Lord Hua found several of his own personal death guards and had them bind him. For three days and three nights, they cut open and expelled every single one of the spiritual arts and spells of Chonghua within his body…”
“Then they injected black demonic breath into the blood vessels of his chest.”
“To show that, for the rest of his life, whether with Chonghua or with his ‘teacher,’ Shen Tang, all ties of gratitude and loyalty had been severed.”
With every word he spoke, the viciousness and cruelty in his eyes grew by another degree.
By the end, the golden mask seemed almost about to melt beneath the sheer evil radiating from him, as though the vicious face behind it could nearly be seen.
The Imperial Preceptor smiled ominously.
“Marshal Gu, since you are willing to follow in Lord Hua’s footsteps, then what token of allegiance you ought to offer…”
“You should know very clearly, shouldn’t you?”
…
In the end, Gu Mang was escorted to the Soul-Tempering Chamber of the Liao Kingdom.
It was a place extremely similar to Chonghua’s Bureau of Spiritual Arts.
It was the exact same kind of icy chamber.
The exact same moon-white robes.
Even the trays holding the magical artifacts, gu insects, daggers, and gauze were identical.
Interrogation and spiritual re-tempering were carried out simultaneously, continuing for three days and three nights.
During those three days and three nights, the flesh on his back was cut completely open along his spine.
Gu insects that devoured spiritual energy were placed deep inside the wounds.
Tens of millions of puppet threads spread along his muscles and blood vessels, severing and scrambling, one by one, the spiritual-energy meridians through which Chonghua’s spells were cast, churning his internal organs into complete chaos.
And that Imperial Preceptor sat throughout the entire ordeal in a rosewood chair, legs crossed, both hands folded over his knees, calmly watching him.
As Gu Mang suffered, as he screamed in agony, as he lived a fate worse than death, drool and blood flowing from his mouth, flesh mangled and his very insides torn apart, the Imperial Preceptor gently asked him:
“Marshal Gu. Do you regret it?”
“From white to black, and from black back to white, neither path is easy. You had better think carefully. Once your body is filled with black demonic spiritual energy… among the twenty-seven nations of the Nine Provinces, only the Liao Kingdom will be able to take you in.”
“Is your hatred for Chonghua really that deep?”
Gu Mang’s entire body was drenched in his own blood, but that was nothing.
The greatest pain he suffered came from the puppet threads that pierced deep into his flesh from his back like the eight legs of a crab.
Among those countless steel threads, there had to be some that had been tempered with the ability to detect lies.
Whenever he lied, the steel wires covering his entire body would raise their barbs, and billions of tiny spikes would instantly explode inside his flesh, almost tearing his entire body apart alive.
Gu Mang’s vision had long since become blurred.
Blood, tears, sweat… everything mixed together.
He heard the Imperial Preceptor of the Liao Kingdom ask, his voice almost seductive:
“Do you truly hate them?”
“Hate them enough to turn your weapons against them. Hate them enough to become their enemy for the rest of your life.”
Gu Mang’s throat spasmed repeatedly, almost making him vomit.
He lowered his head and gave a broken, choked laugh.
He said, “Yes… Yes. I hate them terribly. I hate them so deeply…”
The steel spikes stood like bones.
His entire body trembled like a sieve.
The Beast of Chonghua’s Divine Altar still bit down tightly on his words, revealing nothing and letting nothing slip.
Even while enduring unbearable agony of both body and mind, he still forced his trembling lips to utter fragmented, broken words.
Yes.
I hate them.
I do not regret it.
I, Gu Mang, from this moment onward sever all ties of gratitude and loyalty with Chonghua.
I, Gu Mang… have defected to the Liao Kingdom, pledged allegiance to the Liao Kingdom, and, to avenge my blood feud, willingly undergo spiritual re-tempering, descend into the demonic path, and never regret it.
Never… regret it…
Murky tears mixed with blood streamed down his face.
He had been tormented into madness, his hair disheveled and his face filthy, looking like a vengeful ghost as he laughed wildly in grief.
He did not know how he had managed to keep his teeth clenched.
He only knew that whenever he could no longer endure, he would desperately force himself to remember each scene from the past.
He remembered His Majesty telling him on the Golden Terrace:
“Marshal Gu, please believe me. In this lifetime, I have never, and will never, regard you as weeds and stray dogs, slaves and lowly bodies.”
He remembered Lu Zhanxing telling him:
“Mang’er, keep walking forward. Whatever choice you make, your Brother Lu will be happy for you.”
He thought of Mo Xi…
Mo Xi.
Just thinking of that name brought a piercing pain to his heart.
He remembered the summer breeze he had felt when he first met Mo Xi.
He remembered the clear eyes when Mo Xi turned his face toward him.
He remembered the first smile Mo Xi had shown him, and the sorrowful look in Mo Xi’s eyes when they last parted.
More than ten years.
It was not that he had never been moved.
It was not that he had never had the impulse to throw everything away and accept Mo Xi’s request, believing that the two of them truly could cross the chasm between them and possess each other for a lifetime.
But…
In the end, they still could not defeat Heaven.
They could not struggle against fate.
His Princess.
His little Junior Brother.
What expression would Mo Xi have worn after learning that he had betrayed his country?
He must have hated him.
If he hated him, that would be good.
Don’t be so impulsive anymore.
Don’t be foolish enough to oppose all the civil and military officials of the entire court, willing to guarantee his innocence or anything like that…
Whatever happens, don’t do it…
Mo Xi.
I’m sorry.
Your Senior Brother really, truly loves you.
Every “I love you” I said before, every “I am willing,” was true.
Every “I hate you” and every mocking word I say from now on will be false.
And you absolutely, absolutely must not stubbornly dwell on the fact that you were not by my side when Senior Brother betrayed his country, that you failed to persuade me one final time, and then torture yourself with regret.
Because…
Gu Mang’s tears silently rolled down his face without end, mixing with sweat and blood as they streaked across that battered, almost inhuman face.
Because the person who arranged for you to be transferred to the border and delayed your return to the country was not His Majesty…
The person who proposed that plan was actually me!
It was me…
I was weak.
I did not dare let you watch me leave.
I did not dare hear you persuade me one more time, or see that sorrowful look in your eyes again.
I was afraid that if you looked at me, I would no longer be able to leave.
I’m sorry.
I had to travel far away.
I had to go.
I’m sorry.
In the end, I still chose Chonghua.
I chose my brothers.
I chose this path.
And I let you go.
I’m sorry…
More blood flowed down from his forehead, streaming into his eye sockets.
The handsome profile of his old friend suddenly slipped away through his tears.
Mo Xi disappeared.
Amid the blurred scarlet before his eyes, he saw the raging flames of Fengming Mountain and the defeat of the army.
He saw the mountains and rivers drenched in blood and gore.
He saw all those people who had once sat around the brazier with him, drunk wine with him on snowy nights, advanced and retreated together with him, talked with him about everyday necessities, and shared ambitions for the realm.
They were all standing on the opposite bank of the River of the Dead, looking back at him.
Gu Mang experienced an overwhelming hallucination.
It was as though he were immersed in the vast River of the Dead, desperately trying to swim across, desperately trying to grasp the hand of any one of them—
Wait for me.
Wait for me. I’m coming.
I’ll take you home.
I’ll bring you all back.
But at that very moment, a terrible pain that tore at his tendons and bones suddenly struck.
The demonic claw hook pressed against the white bones of his spine, having absorbed all the Chonghua spiritual arts and spiritual energy within his body.
Then it suddenly pulled backward from the exposed bones beneath his torn-open flesh—!!!
“Ah…!!!”
Seventy thousand comrades.
Innocent souls.
The future they had hoped for.
All of it vanished into nothingness beneath that savage, merciless tearing.
Black demonic spiritual energy then mixed with the blood of wolf demons and gurgled into his body.
The smiling faces of his comrades before him gradually receded into the sea of scarlet.
Gu Mang choked with tears.
He knew that from this moment onward, there was no longer any possibility that he could return to the past.
Never again…
He knew he could never return to their side.
“Tsk, tsk…”
At the appropriate moment, the Imperial Preceptor pinched Gu Mang’s face, extending his thumb to stroke that filthy face streaked with blood and tears.
He said softly:
“Marshal Gu. Does your heart ache? Do you regret having the upright and honorable spiritual arts of your homeland stripped away from you?”
Gu Mang convulsed and trembled.
His ** was not strong.
In truth, he was very afraid of pain.
He was also afraid of suffering, to the point that if he developed a hangnail around his fingernail, he would not even want to pull it off. When he fell ill, he would not even want to take medicine.
But a soft body did not necessarily contain an equally soft soul.
Gu Mang raised his eyes.
They were bloodshot.
His voice hoarse, he said:
“No.”
“…”
The Imperial Preceptor stared at his eyes in surprise, but found no hesitation or deceit whatsoever within those black pupils.
Gu Mang’s soft lips trembled.
He said weakly, yet stubbornly, in a low voice:
“I do not regret it. I want revenge…”
With tears streaming down his face, he suddenly lowered his head and almost screamed himself hoarse.
“Revenge!!!”
The Imperial Preceptor’s expression finally wavered somewhat.
He released his grip on Gu Mang’s chin and slowly raised his hand beside him, curling one finger.
“Guards.”
The attendant beside him immediately understood the Imperial Preceptor’s command.
“At the Imperial Preceptor’s service!”
The Imperial Preceptor said:
“Burn the black magic spells of the Liao Kingdom—all of them—into his bones.”
“Yes!”
After giving this command, he raised his hand.
As though it were some kind of recognition of status, he placed his bloodstained hand upon the top of Gu Mang’s head and gently stroked it.
“Marshal Gu, do you know what this means?”
There was an unfathomable light flowing within the Imperial Preceptor’s dark-brown pupils.
“It means that for the rest of your life, even if you lose your memory, even if your tendons and bones are shattered, even if your eyes are gouged out and your tongue is cut off, as long as you still have even a single bone left in your body, you will remain under the control of the black magic spells.”
“You will never be able to escape.”
“What you can use, what you will use, what has been carved into your bones—will forever be this filthy magic of ours, despised by all under Heaven.”
“You will never be able to forget it.”
After saying this, he bared his white canine teeth and gave an eerie smile.
“Congratulations, Marshal Gu. You are one of us in the Liao Kingdom now.”
…
The scene shifted.
Dream and waking became intertwined.
The face covered by the golden mask disappeared.
In its place was Zhou He’s frowning face.
Zhou He used the tip of the Falcon’s blade to lift Gu Mang’s chin.
“What are you thinking about?”
Gu Mang said nothing.
He did not know whether he had ever truly been a general whose past could still be accounted for.
But at least afterward, he had always been a conscientious and dutiful spy.
Although his memories were shattered and fragmented, and there were still many things he himself could not understand, he had always guarded his secrets to the death.
Whether toward the Liao Kingdom, toward Lu Zhanxing, or toward Mo Xi, he had guarded those truths he absolutely must never reveal.
Looking at it this way, at least for now, he had not been such a failure as a spy.
Zhou He was probably angered by his silence.
He said ominously:
“I want to see just how long you can hold out.”
The magical formation lit up.
Chains shot out from all four directions, locking down Gu Mang’s limbs and neck.
Zhou He ordered those around him:
“Begin.”