The moment the Tear of Li Jun finished speaking, Mo Xi felt a dizzying pain on the side of his head.
Immediately afterward, memories and emotions that did not belong to him surged abruptly into his mind…
——
Not long before, Lord Xihe had received a dispatch from Chonghua’s imperial capital.
It was a confidential letter, and an urgent one at that. The letter had been personally written by Chonghua’s current sovereign, with a blood-curse seal placed upon it. No one but Lord Xihe himself could break the seal. After receiving it, he read it over and over three times before finally confirming that he hadn’t misread a single word.
The war was to cease immediately. The troops were to remain on defensive duty, with no attacks permitted. The ruler of the Liao Kingdom had proposed a three-year truce between the two nations. As one of the conditions for the ceasefire, they would return Chonghua’s traitorous general, Gu Mang, to his homeland under escort.
That was precisely why Lord Xihe had received no imperial order to attack for so many days, and why the Liao Kingdom had made no move either. Yue Chenqing had actually come surprisingly close to guessing the truth. This deathly silence wasn’t the result of some scheme devised by Gu Mang. It was because Gu Mang himself had already been stripped of his military rank and reduced to a prisoner, soon to be returned to Chonghua as a token of peace.
Gu Mang was coming back.
The letter was now tucked inside Lord Xihe’s robes, pressed against his heavy, powerful heartbeat and warmed by the heat of his body.
Gu Mang was returning to Chonghua.
The news felt like a thorn lodged in his chest, stabbing him again and again.
So… was this really how it would end?
All those years of hatred, all those years of misplaced devotion and obsessive fixation—would they really come to such an abrupt conclusion?
He wouldn’t get to face him in battle.
He wouldn’t get to question him in person.
He wouldn’t get to see him with his own eyes…
Pain. Hatred. Rage. Resentment.
How absurd!
Anger rampaged through his chest and ribs. At that moment, after learning this almost mocking piece of news, the fictional Marshal Mo was suddenly overcome by a crushing sense of helplessness. It was as though he had been holding his breath, waiting with every fiber of his being for dawn, only to plunge back into an unfathomably deep abyss just before daybreak.
Lord Xihe furrowed his brows, struggling to suppress his agitation. In the end, however, his pent-up fury burst forth. He abruptly opened his eyes and kicked the table in front of him so hard that it overturned with a crash, his long legs still encased in black leather military boots.
Crash!
“Oh, Marshal Mo!” The personal guard stationed outside hurriedly poked his head into the tent, his expression anxious and fearful. “Please calm down! Young Master Yue is still young. It’s only natural for him to enjoy himself and fool around. This subordinate failed in his duty by not stopping him from listening to the opera. If you wish to punish someone, please punish me. Just please don’t let your anger harm your health…”
Lord Xihe whipped around. In the dim light, his eyes blazed like flames.
“Get out.”
“…”
“Without my permission, no one is to enter.”
“Yes…”
The tent flap fell shut again. An almost terrifying silence settled over the interior and exterior of the tent. Only the howling northern wind and driving snow could be heard outside, along with the distant movements of soldiers, the soft crunch of military boots on snow, and the neighing of warhorses from the spirit-beast stables.
Lord Xihe turned his face to the side and lowered his eyes, staring at the mulberries that had rolled across the ground. Those fallen fruits looked like the heads Gu Mang had personally severed over the past several years.
He thought—and his thoughts passed into the heart of the real-world Mo Xi almost simultaneously—
Why is it that someone who has committed so many cruel, wicked, unforgivable deeds, who has betrayed his country, his comrades, and his closest friend, who now bears infamy, a mountain of blood debts, and the hatred of countless people, still has the nerve to remain alive? How can he possibly have the courage to come back?
How can Gu Mang still have the face to return?
Lord Xihe took a while to steady himself. Only after barely regaining his composure did he retrieve the confidential letter he had read so many times that he could almost recite it by heart.
The sovereign’s handwriting was elegant and precise:
The Liao Kingdom has expressed its willingness to make peace with our nation. To demonstrate the sincerity of its intentions, its ruler has already ordered the return of our traitorous general, Gu Mang, under escort.
Gu Mang is a son of Chonghua. He once enjoyed Your Excellency’s profound trust and also received My favor. Yet instead of remaining loyal and repaying the kindness shown to him, he betrayed his country and defected to the enemy for his own selfish reasons. For five years, he has plundered our homeland’s cities, destroyed the peace of our ancestral lands, slaughtered his former comrades, and abandoned his former friends. His crimes may be beyond forgiveness.
In ten days, Gu Mang will return to the capital bearing thorn branches as a sign of his willingness to submit to punishment. His many enemies and grievances are too numerous for Me alone to decide his fate. I have therefore urgently summoned the ten great noble lords to deliberate together. Although Your Excellency is stationed far away at the mountain passes, you remain one of My most trusted pillars. I sincerely request your presence. Please do not decline.
I pray that you take good care of yourself.
Lord Xihe stared at the letter for a long time. Then he suddenly let out a cold laugh. As he continued laughing, traces of anguish and hatred gradually emerged on his face.
Should Gu Mang be killed, or kept alive for some other purpose?
By this point, Lord Xihe no longer wanted to concern himself with the question. His mind was in such turmoil that he could barely think straight. He picked up his wolf-hair brush and held it suspended over the paper.
He had written half of the character for kill when his hand began to tremble, and the ink bled into the silk paper.
In the desolate wilderness beyond the border, the mournful sound of a clay ocarina suddenly drifted through the night. Somewhere in a forgotten corner of the camp, some homesick young soldier must have been playing it, pouring his sorrow over separation into the desolate encampment and the frost-covered ground.
Lord Xihe sat stunned for a moment. An indescribable light flickered in his dark eyes.
At last, he cursed under his breath, tossed the brush aside, and snatched up the confidential letter. Flames suddenly burst from his palm, their tongues devouring the letter in an instant until nothing remained but ashes.
Amid the swirling flecks of ash, Lord Xihe blew gently. The ashes gathered and condensed into a butterfly capable of carrying a message across a thousand miles.
“Gu Mang was personally recommended and vouched for by me, Mo Xi. I cannot escape responsibility for his betrayal of our country. As for his trial, I should naturally recuse myself to avoid any conflict of interest and take no part in the proceedings.”
He paused, then added in a quieter voice, “Mo Xi of the Northern Frontier sends his respects to Your Majesty.”
With that, he raised his hand, and the spirit butterfly fluttered away.
Watching the place where it had disappeared, he thought that this was it. His ten-year entanglement with Gu Mang had finally reached its conclusion.
Gu Mang had killed so many Chonghua soldiers and broken the hearts of countless civilians. Now that he had outlived his usefulness and been returned by the enemy after serving their purposes, the civil and military officials in the capital would surely be eager to settle old scores.
Unfortunately, he still had another two years of border duty ahead of him. It seemed he wouldn’t be around to witness Gu Mang’s execution.
Rival. Enemy. Archenemy.
These were the words the world would use to define their relationship once it was all over. Their hatred ran so deep that only death could resolve it.
Inside the tent, Lord Xihe slowly closed his eyes. His face betrayed no emotion, yet his fingernails had already dug deep into his palms.
It was over.
Former friends had taken different paths, and there was no turning back.
They would meet again, but nothing would be as it once was.
What kind of feeling was this?
Perhaps no one else would ever understand. But Officer Mo, standing beside Lord Xihe at that very moment, understood it with a clarity that felt as though the same strings of their hearts had been plucked together.
He looked at the commander sitting alone in the military tent. The man’s face appeared utterly exhausted in the empty space around him.
The Tear of Li Jun continued issuing its notifications without pause.
【Empathy value continues to rise. Attempting soul fusion.】
Although the cold voice was clearly sounding inside his head, it now seemed to come from the ends of the earth, so distant and indistinct that he could barely make it out.
【Attempting soul fusion…】
Neither the fictional version of himself nor the real one had been able to bring this to a personal conclusion. Neither had managed to pull Gu Mang back from the path he had taken.
As Mo Xi watched the silent figure in profile, he gradually felt his body growing lighter and lighter, while the light before his eyes dimmed.
【Attempting soul fusion…】
The voice grew increasingly ethereal.
Everything before his eyes began to fade and disappear. Suddenly, a gust of wind swept through, scattering every color. The military tent vanished. The candle flames went out.
He seemed to be standing amid an immense river of stars, yet at the same time, he felt as though he were drifting and sinking among towering, surging waves.
Darkness surrounded him on every side.
In that vast emptiness, Mo Xi suddenly saw a blurred figure approaching from the distance.
The man wore a black military uniform and dragon-hide gloves. His features carried an air of proud aloofness and cold reserve.
It was none other than the version of himself he had just seen in the novel—the man who had become one of Chonghua’s commanders.
They were like reflections in a mirror, each gazing directly into the other’s eyes.
【Attempting soul fusion…】
So many things were unavoidable.
Whether in this world or in reality, Gu Mang and Mo Xi had quarreled, fought, confided in each other, and shared drinks. In the novel, they had known each other for ten years. Outside the novel, their acquaintance had lasted even longer—nearly twenty years. In both worlds, they had weathered countless storms and hardships together. Yet in the end, both versions of them had gone from bright-eyed youths to people who had become unrecognizable.
Lord Xihe looked into Officer Mo’s eyes and slowly began to speak. His voice sounded as though he were recounting the past, yet also as though he were murmuring to himself.
“Gu Mang was once my comrade. He became my opponent, was my senior fellow disciple, and was once my closest friend. In the end, he became my sworn enemy, fighting me to the death on the battlefield.”
Officer Mo was startled by the calmness he felt—and by the anguish buried beneath it. Looking into the eyes of his fictional counterpart, he replied, “The same goes for me.”
“I can’t help hating him.”
“Neither can I.”
“But I…”
Lord Xihe did not continue. His words abruptly stopped, and he closed his eyes.
Officer Mo remained silent for a while before finally saying, “…I understand.”
No matter which world they were in, the relationship between them had been fragile from the very beginning. They had gone from old friends who could share a carriage or a humble meal to bitter enemies who could never turn back from their estrangement.
In reality, one was a police officer, while the other was a criminal guilty of the most heinous offenses. Their lives had become so deeply and intricately entangled that, in the end, Gu Mang had even tried to drag Mo Xi to his death with him.
In the novel, the gulf between Marshal Mo and Gu Mang was even greater. One stood in heaven while the other languished on earth; one was water and the other fire, one a saint and the other a beast. On top of that, they were divided by the hatred between their countries and the blood debts of war—grievances that could last a lifetime.
So both Lord Xihe and Officer Mo had been utterly disappointed in Gu Mang. In the end, they had both come to hate him so deeply that they wanted nothing more than to cut open his chest with their own hands and see whether his blood was cold and his heart black.
But beyond that bone-deep hatred, was there anything else left?
Neither of them truly knew.
It was the same for both.
The powerful resonance of their emotions transformed into gusts of wind and smoke swirling beneath their feet, enveloping the figures of Lord Xihe and Officer Mo completely.
Mo Xi closed his eyes. Countless unfamiliar memories suddenly surged toward him like a flood bursting through a dam. He sank deeper and deeper into those memories, until finally, he heard the Tear of Li Jun’s emotionless voice beside his ear.
【Congratulations, Marshal Mo. Soul fusion successful.】
Mo Xi moved his fingers slightly. His fingertips were still somewhat numb, but he could feel that he was no longer a transparent spirit.
The Tear of Li Jun announced, 【Initial character fidelity: 70%. You have now fully entered the world of the book. We hope you will successfully rewrite the story and avoid the OOC ending in which you marry Princess Mengze and Gu Mang dies.】
【From this point onward, please experience the characters’ inner worlds for yourself and understand the author Ba Niao’s intentions in writing this book. On behalf of the characters within these pages, I wish you every success.】