“Eh? Only calling Gu Mang? Lord Wangshu, you should bring more people.”
Someone casually mocked without restraint. “Xi He and Wangshu both have deep grudges with Gu Mang. Just him alone would already kill the mood.”
Murong Lian ignored him, still staring at Mo Xi. But after hearing this, the corner of his lips still curved slightly into a smile.
With that smile, several juniors who were trying to flatter him also laughed along.
“Haha, yes, yes. Only calling Gu Mang really isn’t enough. How would he know how to serve people? He’d probably just ruin the mood.”
“You’ve dealt with his business before?”
“He used to be quite famous in that regard. I was curious, wanted to try it out, and you know, he…”
Before he could finish, he suddenly felt a cold sting at his neck. He looked around and saw Mo Xi staring at him coldly. That gaze was like a blade in a frozen night—so sharp it made him instantly forget his words. He swallowed hard, breaking into a cold sweat.
Did I say something wrong?
Before he could think further, Mo Xi had already looked away. His sharply defined profile was calm and expressionless, as if the killing intent just now had been an illusion.
Murong Lian acted like a spoiled noble youth, lazily saying, “You people are quite interesting. Gu Mang—who is he? He was once Chonghua’s number one general, my former slave, and also Mo Xi’s senior brother.”
Mo Xi: “……”
“Even if he can’t serve people,” Murong Lian continued, eyes glinting with malice as they drifted toward Mo Xi, “tonight’s banquet—how could we be without him?”
“Now that Marshal Mo has returned and even come to my residence for a gathering, how could I not show proper hospitality and let you all enjoy it together?”
With every word he spoke, the darkness in Mo Xi’s eyes deepened.
By the end, it was already like storm clouds collapsing over a city—rage restrained behind lowered lashes, ready to erupt.
He did not want to personally witness Gu Mang in such a humiliating state before these people.
But Murong Lian kept pressing every weak point, stabbing straight into his heart.
Murong Lian then grinned, showing a chilling smile.
“Marshal Mo. Your sworn enemy—your Senior Brother Gu—what he’s become under my ‘training’… aren’t you curious? Don’t you want to see him with your own eyes?”
In the end, the group still went.
Wangshu Manor was located in the east of Chonghua. The estate was vast and grand, with bat-shaped sigil patterns constantly flowing above it—the emblem of the Wangshu lineage. Most servants wore deep-blue robes trimmed with gold.
This was Chonghua’s rule: noble families had gold-trimmed attire, but the base color varied depending on imperial designation. For example, the Xi He residence used black with gold trim, while the Yue residence used white with gold trim.
At this moment, eight thousand exquisite spirit lanterns illuminated the sky. The banquet was lavish, overflowing with wine and light. As the banquet progressed, the guests gradually relaxed, and the younger attendees who had previously restrained themselves began to loosen up, drinking and playing games loudly.
Murong Lian reclined on a bamboo couch, holding a silver stick in his pale, slender hand, idly stirring the incense in a burner.
This was a kind of intoxicating incense produced in the Liao Kingdom. From a distance it was harmless, but up close it induced a sensation of floating pleasure. Once the effect faded, however, it left the body extremely weak. To continuously obtain that stimulation, one had to keep using it every so often—addictive and difficult to quit. It had been strictly banned during the reign of the old emperor.
Mo Xi looked at Murong Lian’s intoxicated, decadent appearance. His pale, thin face blurred in the smoke like a fleeting illusion, and Mo Xi felt a surge of disgust.
Yue Chenqing sat beside Mo Xi. Seeing Murong Lian sniffing the incense, he curiously leaned forward, but Mo Xi stopped him.
“Sit down.”
“What… is that?”
Mo Xi said coldly, “Fusheng Ruomeng.”
Yue Chenqing was startled. “Ah! The Liao Kingdom’s Fusheng Ruomeng?” He looked over uneasily. “Lord Wangshu seems heavily dependent on it. No wonder he looked so off this time.”
“If you touch that incense once, your father would lock you up for three to five years without letting you out.”
Yue Chenqing replied, “My father? He’s not that violent. At most he’d threaten to hang me up and beat me. Locking someone up for years—that sounds like something Marshal Mo would think of.”
Before Mo Xi could get angry, Yue Chenqing added with a smile, “But don’t worry. I don’t want that kind of fake pleasure. I’m very likable already—I don’t need ‘Fusheng Ruomeng’ to be happy.”
Those last words, however, happened to fall directly into Murong Lian’s ears.
Murong Lian lightly stirred the remaining incense in the burner and let out a lazy, cold laugh.
“Can’t afford it? ‘Fusheng Ruomeng’ is priceless. With the Yue family’s wealth, even if you wanted it, you couldn’t afford to keep it.”
Yue Chenqing didn’t bother arguing. “Yes, yes. Lord Wangshu is noble, wealthy, and incomparable. I can’t match you.”
Murong Lian seemed satisfied and turned again.
“Xi He, what about you? Want some?”
Seeing Mo Xi’s cold expression, Murong Lian chuckled. “Ah, I almost forgot. Marshal Mo is used to being frugal and never wastes anything. Looks like only I can enjoy such Liao Kingdom treasures in all of Chonghua.”
Mo Xi truly did not want to engage with him.
In his memory, Murong Lian had already been the limit of human filth. He did not expect that years later, he could still sink even lower.
This man prided himself on noble bloodline, yet never worked for anything, instead sinking deeper into decay—now reduced to a walking corpse living in intoxication and excess.
Li Wei was right. He truly was rotten to the bone.
“Master.” At that moment, the steward of Wangshu Manor entered. “As you instructed, the people from Falling Plum Estate have arrived.”
“Good. Let them in.”
The banquet was already in full swing, and the guests were slightly drunk. The steward obeyed and clapped his hands, signaling for the finest men and women from the estate to be brought in for entertainment. Mo Xi turned his head, his hawk-like black eyes fixed on the entrance.
Beaded curtains swayed. Several men and women of varying appearance were led in—beautiful or plain, proud or humble, willing or unwilling.
But Gu Mang was not among them.
“These are all entertainers from Falling Plum Estate. If you like any of them, feel free to take them and play,” Murong Lian said lazily, waving his hand. “But they’re all lowly stock. Even if you play them to death, it’s on me. Tonight is my treat—why aren’t you all praising me with gratitude?”
The crowd immediately fawned over him.
“Lord Wangshu is truly generous!”
“As expected of His Majesty’s relative—everything he does is extraordinary. How admirable!”
A group of people flattered him while pulling the helpless captives into their arms, drinking and playing games. The scene quickly turned chaotic and obscene.
“Pretty one, what’s your name?”
“Come on, pour me another drink.”
Mo Xi’s expression grew darker by the moment. After enduring for a long time, he finally stood up, intending to leave—when Murong Lian suddenly smiled.
“Xi He, you don’t like any of them?”
“You’re drunk.”
Murong Lian laughed. “I’m not drunk. And don’t rush to leave. The person you want to see has already arrived. He’s just become so strange that, after leaving Falling Plum Estate, he feels uneasy. So he’s standing outside, afraid to come in.”
He poured himself another cup of wine and drank it in one gulp.
“If you don’t believe me, take a look yourself.”
Mo Xi turned toward the entrance.
Indeed, through the bead curtains, a faint shadow could be seen—hesitating like a wary beast hiding in the dark, cautiously peering in.
“See?” Murong Lian said. “Want me to bring him in for you to play with?”
When Mo Xi did not respond, Murong Lian smiled, stretched lazily with flushed cheeks, and suddenly called out:
“Everyone, wait a moment!”
“Lord Wangshu, what is it?”
Murong Lian narrowed his eyes, malice and contempt rising instantly to their peak.
“You all truly have no manners. Each of you is busy holding your beauties—did anyone notice that our honorable Marshal Xi He is still empty-handed?”
Mo Xi: “……”
Normally, no one would dare joke with Mo Xi. But most of these young nobles were useless playboys who had never truly served in war, and they were also drunk.
Someone slurred with a laugh, “Marshal Xi He, the capital isn’t like the military. There are beauties everywhere. The ones under Lord Wangshu are especially exquisite—you really don’t have to refuse—”
“Right, right. Marshal Mo spends all his time on military matters. He should relax sometimes.”
“Exactly! He’s been through countless battlefields but never even entered a pleasure hall. Life is short, enjoy it while you can, haha.”
Among them, Yue Chenqing was the only one somewhat sober. Seeing Mo Xi’s expression, he realized something was wrong and quickly said, “Hey, shut up, all of you!”
Mo Xi looked at him, thinking at least this child had some sense today.
Then Yue Chenqing added, “If you keep talking, I’m running first when Marshal Mo starts killing people!”
Mo Xi: “………………”
The crowd looked at each other, half drunk and half confused.
In the suffocating silence, Murong Lian tilted his peach-blossom eyes and smiled faintly, carrying intoxication and coldness.
“Xi He, out of these dozen beauties—you don’t want women, you don’t want men. Ah… I see.”
He smiled maliciously.
“What you’re thinking about… is your enemy, isn’t it?”
Then he suddenly shouted toward the bead curtain outside:
“Bring—Gu Mang, the traitor, to our Marshal Mo!”