HOW WAS IT POSSIBLE?
The two souls that governed memory and mind had unmistakably been stripped from Gu Mang. By all accounts, the Time Mirror only allowed someone to return to an image of the past; it couldn't change anything about the real world. So how had Gu Mang regained his memories after his trip through the Mirror?
But Mo Xi had no time to devote further thought to this. There was a sharp cry from the upper reaches of the tower, and a bat monster came diving straight for Gu Mang. With a flap of its wings, a storm of fireglow arrows shot toward the ground.
"Watch out!" Jiang Yexue shouted.
Mo Xi wanted to shield Gu Mang, but the arrows flew too swiftly— there wasn't time to react or evade. As the arrows were practically upon him, a paper talisman flashed, expanding into a barrier that crackled with lightning. With a boom, the fireglow arrows crashed uselessly into the outside of the barrier.
The one who tossed out the talisman was none other than Gu Mang.
Even if Gu Mang had a million things on his mind, General Gu was General Gu. He leapt forward, his movements sharp as a blade unsheathed on a winter's night, gleaming with cold frost.
Moments later, rustling came from behind—a tide of rat monsters scurrying toward them. Jiang Yexue was instantly overwhelmed by this two-pronged attack. Gu Mang had no time to comb through his mess of memories nor think too deeply about his circumstances. Most wouldn't be able to jump into battle after such a mental shock, but Gu Mang was exceptional. He was a general who could direct ten thousand soldiers with a clear head after three days without sleep; he seemed to have been born with an innate readiness and capability for the battlefield.
Blue eyes scanned their surroundings, swift and decisive, ignoring all distractions as he surveyed their situation:
First was the Time Mirror, which had already sunk back into the blood pool.
Second was the shangao, who had been sealed by a tremendously complicated talisman. It had fallen into deep sleep and been discarded in a corner.
Beyond this, there was a golden demon-summoning token stuck in the ground, which the shangao had apparently managed to toss out before it succumbed. Innumerable demons were now pouring forth in answer to its summons.
As for their injuries, Mo Xi was in a bad state, and Jiang Yexue wasn't much better. He'd suffered several wounds, leaving his lotus-pale robes soaked in blood. As for Murong Chuyi…
Gu Mang frowned. "What about Murong Chuyi? Where is he?!"
"Chuyi's…" Jiang Yexue coughed. "He went to the top of the tower to rescue Chenqing."
Which was to say that they couldn't count on Murong Chuyi's support for the time being. Gu Mang swiftly weighed their strength against the enemy's. As the tide of rats surged toward them, he stood and faced the roiling crowd of demon beasts with a shout. "Fengbo!"
A beam of gold and silver light flashed in his palm and coalesced into the shape of a holy weapon suona. In the darkness, the white ribbon tied to its end glowed like the Milky Way.
"Come!"
Mo Xi's handsome face was completely drained of color as he watched Gu Mang's silhouette from behind. A distant, muffled cry issued from Gu Mang's former holy weapon, and it exploded in a dazzling halo— but in the next moment, that blazing light of the summons fractured. Before it could fully materialize, the holy weapon Fengbo became motes of scattered light drifting down around them.
Gu Mang sighed. It'd been a risky attempt, but there were too many beasts. A wide-range weapon was their best bet, but the only such weapon he had was Fengbo. He wasn't surprised that the summons had failed. His spiritual core had been shattered long ago. After regaining his memories in the Time Mirror, he could recall the incantation to summon Fengbo—but holy weapons were linked to the core and resided in the soul. Without a strong spiritual core and soul, he'd never be able to summon Fengbo for real.
The tide of demon rats drew nearer; Gu Mang's eyes darkened. In the end, what he shouted was, "Yongye, come!" Before the sparkling remains of Fengbo fully faded, an intense burst of black magic qi swarmed from his palms and coalesced into a wicked black dagger.
It was the demonic weapon the Liao Kingdom had forged for him upon his defection—the demonic weapon that nearly murdered Mo Xi at the battle of Dongting Lake. The dagger Yongye.
Gu Mang flicked his slender fingers, spinning the dagger nimbly in his palm. He shot forward like an arrow loosed, his movements swift and vicious as he slaughtered his way through that tide of demon beasts. This demonic weapon was imbued with soul-sucking power—so long as its formation was activated, it would attract the bats like fresh blood, then absorb all of these demons into itself.
In moments the rat beasts had him completely surrounded. A dense shroud of demonic energy enveloped him; his silhouette disappeared into it. All one could see within the horde was the intermittent fiery flash of magic as beast corpses and black blood spewed forth.
Unlike Mo Xi, Jiang Yexue only now recognized the change in Gu Mang. Face pale, he turned to Mo Xi. "Has…has Gu Mang somehow recovered?"
Mo Xi didn't answer, his reddened phoenix eyes fixed upon the center of that mass of black qi. But his expression told Jiang Yexue everything he needed to know. "When the shangao said it would 'flashback' Gu Mang's memories, did it mean 'repair'?" he asked, stunned. "The Time Mirror…could it have patched his memories even when he's missing two souls?"
Mo Xi wanted to reply, but when he opened his mouth, only black blood spilled out.
"Xihe-jun…" Jiang Yexue gasped.
Mo Xi's injuries were much worse than Gu Mang's. Gu Mang had entered the Mirror directly; although it had affected him, the Time Mirror was, after all, an ancient godly artifact, not some monstrous relic. One who entered and left it as designed shouldn't suffer serious harm.
But it was different for Mo Xi. He had been sucked into the Mirror while stubbornly trying to protect Gu Mang. He was essentially an uninvited guest, a trespasser. Hence, even though he hadn't exerted himself much inside the Time Mirror, the trip had exacted a great cost on his spiritual energy. When he emerged, his body was mortally weakened.
But as Mo Xi watched Gu Mang fight hand-to-hand with demons, watched him wield the demonic weapon Yongye encircled in black mist, he suppressed his discomfort. Swallowing the bloody tang in his mouth, he stretched out his hand: "Tuntian, come."
The tall scepter Tuntian appeared at his summons, glowing a pristine white.
As Gu Mang slashed through the horde with his Liao Kingdom blade, Mo Xi closed his eyes, enduring the dual exhaustion of heart and body. He lifted the scepter and pointed it into the air. Wind and waves swirled, and the sound of oceanic tides surrounded them. "Swallowing Leviathan!"
A beam of silver light rushed out, and a colossal spirit whale burst into being in midair. Its song seemed to resound through the ages as a wild gale whirled to life, its irresistible pull drawing all the attacking beasts into the air. With an explosive toss of its tail, the whale soared toward the tower's peak. Those monsters were swept along in its wake, only for the giant whale Tuntian to beat its tail in another vicious stroke.
Black blood filled the sky, plummeting toward the earth in a torrential downpour. Every one of the beasts had disintegrated.
Amid the bloody storm, Gu Mang whirled in astonishment, his clear blue eyes wide as he looked behind him. "Mo Xi…"
Mo Xi's hand around the scepter was shaking. He hadn't created a barrier, and those drops of still-warm blood fell upon his shoulders and hair, running past his pitch-black eyes to stream down his pale cheeks like gory tears.
He stood in this scarlet downpour, exhausted and helpless, and slowly closed his eyes. The Mo Clan bloodline ran with ferocious power, and this holy weapon Tuntian was the most terrifying of his birthrights. It was impossible to moderate—if the killing move was made, its wide swath left no survivors. Mo Xi had sworn never to use it regardless of how dire the situation their army found themselves in. He'd always kept himself under tight control, refusing to let himself summon Tuntian, to say the words "Swallowing Leviathan."
Not only would this move make him look monstrous in the eyes of onlookers, but more importantly: Mo Xi didn't wish to exterminate his opponents. He hated the battlefield. He enlisted in order to protect, not to conquer, and least of all for revenge. Whether his opponents were humans or beasts, good or evil, Mo Xi's instinct was to spare them whenever possible, to give them a chance to retreat. This power that could destroy thousands of living souls in an instant was one that he possessed, but never let himself use.
But now…
To put an end to the sight of Gu Mang killing with the Liao Kingdom's demonic weapon, to put an end to the strife as quickly as possible; on the verge of utter collapse, he unleashed this forbidden fatal blow.
"Mo Xi…" Jiang Yexue murmured.
Mo Xi didn't seem to have heard him. He was still haloed in Tuntian's fury, its power instantly piercing the barrier Jiang Yexue tried to erect over him. He stood silent, alone in the pouring blood rain.
The dagger in Gu Mang's hand retracted, becoming a cloud of black mist that disappeared into his body. He walked over to Mo Xi.
Mo Xi stood fixed in place like a broken statue; his face was pallid, his expression drained, eyes empty. He seemed submerged in the falling blood.
Gu Mang came to a stop before him, looking up at Mo Xi's figure, drenched to the skin. This proud man seemed to have been reduced to an abandoned dog—so deeply lost and injured that he didn't know where to go.
But Gu Mang's thoughts were also a mess. Although his returned memories granted him clarity, they also brought him a terrible unease and disorientation. His body had gone back in time within the Mirror and recovered the memories from before he'd defected. Once out of the mirror, those memories hadn't dissipated. Instead, they connected in his mind to the events after he'd returned to the city as a prisoner of war.
To him, it felt as if he'd left Chonghua bearing Lu Zhanxing's head on his back in one instant, and he had awoken in the next to find himself a traitor in the prison wagon of his own motherland. Gu Mang retained nothing of what had happened in between—nothing that happened in the five years he defected. Lacking this crucial information, Gu Mang regarded many things with suspicion and confusion. He felt profoundly lost and was all the more wary as a consequence.
Gu Mang deliberated for some time before he said to Mo Xi, "My thanks to Xihe-jun for the assistance."
Only Mo Xi's dark eyes shifted at the sound of Gu Mang's voice, his vacant gaze landing on his figure. After a beat of silence, he managed one word. "You…" His throat tasted bitter, and the next words he spoke were bitter too. "…remember everything now?"
Gu Mang was silent a moment. "Not everything. But…most of it."
Mo Xi made no reply.
"My mind is clear at least. I'm a functioning person now."
"Then…what happened in the Mirror… You still…"
"Mn," Gu Mang said. "I remember it all."
Mo Xi fell silent, eyes fluttering closed as he swallowed. He seemed to want to maintain a nonchalant, serene expression, but his mouth wobbled dangerously. He closed his eyes, his throat tight and acrid. "I'm glad."
His heart was in chaos, his body breaking down. He was nearly as weak as when he'd collapsed in a pool of blood at Dongting Lake, and just as physically and mentally worn. He didn't know how to approach Gu Mang, so he muttered hoarsely once more: "I'm glad…" After a pause, he continued. "Are you leaving?"
"Hm?"
"You wouldn't want to stay in Chonghua as a prisoner. Up till now, you've stayed because you didn't remember, but now you do," said Mo Xi. "Are you going to leave?"
Gu Mang was silent for a beat. He reached up to yank his collar open, exposing the black hoop around his pale neck.
No one spoke.
"Slave collar. The one you gave me." Gu Mang watched Mo Xi as he spoke. "I'm your slave. If you don't let me go, I'll never be able to leave."
The bland phrasing seemed to deal Mo Xi a piercing blow. He swayed. Not just because he had learned many new secrets inside the Mirror and felt a complex mixture of emotions toward Gu Mang, but because of the expression Gu Mang wore as he said it.
He'd seen Gu Mang in many moods: grinning, compassionate, earnest, bewildered, sorrowful, dazed. If Gu Mang had cried, laughed, or raged at this moment, it would have been a relief. At least then Mo Xi could believe Gu Mang was still a living person, someone he could chase down, someone real and tangible.
What he feared most was Gu Mang's apathy. Gu Mang had only worn such a light and emotionless expression on the handful of occasions they'd met after his defection. Seeing it swept Mo Xi without warning into those darkest bygone days: Gu Mang, standing on the deck, wielding a dagger, the bloodstained ribbon around his head fluttering, telling Mo Xi that nothing could be changed.
Mo Xi tried to speak, but the old scar on his chest flared with pain as if newly gouged by a knife. Or perhaps it was the spasming of the organ beneath as it slowly tore itself apart. His vision flashed dark. He seemed to see a vague hint of sorrow betrayed in Gu Mang's blue eyes. He wanted to get a better look—to see if that sorrow was real, or if, in his obsession, he had simply imagined it. He took a step forward…
But his legs felt full of lead. He crumpled.
The violent convulsions in his chest brought up another mouthful of blood. Surprised, Gu Mang instinctively reached out to catch him, the same way he had when Mo Xi was young and still called him Gu Mang-shixiong.
Jiang Yexue's voice rose anxiously from nearby: "He's at his limit. Put him down. I have spirit-concentrating powder. Give him a dose, quick."
Mo Xi didn't care. He felt very light, as if his soul might struggle free of his body and fly away at any moment. Strangely, the feeling of nearing death was one of release. Perhaps he should have died that year, on that ship in Dongting Lake. If he had, he wouldn't have lived through so many years of torment. He wasn't a person forged of steel and iron. Constrained by his circumstances for so long, he'd slowly been driven insane.
Harming Chonghua, harming Gu Mang, hurt him too. Every time he said something to wound Gu Mang, it hurt him too. Every time he told himself to hate Gu Mang, to not be selfish—every time he reminded himself of what Gu Mang had done and what Gu Mang had suffered— every time he tried to strip away the past, he felt like he was being flayed and torn open—it hurt him too!
But he had to live. Without him, the Northern Frontier Army would have ended up disbanded and destroyed. He had to use that body of his, which had already lost a decade of life, to bear the weight of the shadow his old friend left behind. Without him, Gu Mang would have to return to Luomei Pavilion. He had to use that manor of his, which would never be filled with merry reunion, to shelter the broken ruins a hero had left behind.
Jiang Yexue's voice seemed to grow more and more distant. "Mo Xi…wake up… Mo Xi…"
He was so tired. He studied Gu Mang's blue eyes. He wanted to reach out, but he couldn't even move his fingertips. "How nice…" he whispered.
How nice would it be…if your eyes were black."
If they were still black, I could lie to myself and pretend nothing's happened—that it was all just a ridiculous nightmare I had while we were stationed at the frontier. I could lie to myself and say, once I wake up, you'll be that brilliant, smiling youth with a heart full of joy, and I can stay by your side and listen to your jokes. We would still be in the barracks, our ranks not so high and our pay so very low. All the people you loved—your comrades, your brothers, your childhood friends—none of them had left you yet. I could hold your hand with a heart full of sincerity, gaze at your face with nothing but love, see how every inch of you seemed to be wreathed in sunshine.
Mo Xi's eyes fluttered shut.
Gu Mang, if your eyes were still black…how nice would that be. Back then, our biggest worry was whether Lu Zhanxing would lift the tent flap and come bursting in.
Back then, I could still look toward our future with boundless imagination and hope.
How nice.
Or perhaps, Mo Xi thought, not without sorrow, if he had truly died at the battle of Dongting Lake, that would be nice, too…
For someone as strong and unyielding as he to develop such a wish, it could only be that he'd suffered too many blows.
Before he completely lost consciousness, the last thing Mo Xi heard was the humming sound of a sword in motion. A voice as elegant and cold as jade spoke from afar: "I just went to the top of the tower to rescue one person; what are all of you doing, standing around in this river of blood?"