GU MANG HAD predicted the emperor's response, but when these words crashed down like thunder, his voice still shook. "Why?!"
"Because this chess piece was tempered with demonic qi. Lu Zhanxing's spiritual flow is no longer pure. How many in all of Chonghua would let a man who bears traces of black magic on his body live in peace? Since antiquity, those stained with demonic qi are either drawn and quartered, or tormented to death upon the experimentation table. Do you prefer to clear his name only for him to die under torture, or is it better for his death to at least pave the way for Chonghua, for all of you?"
Gu Mang couldn't summon a reply.
"We want Chonghua to accept slaves and to understand black magic." After a pause, the emperor continued. "But the price is that the injustice Lu Zhanxing has suffered will only ever be known to the two of us. He must be sentenced."
In the squalling wind, another handful of lanterns went dark. The light on the Golden Terrace dimmed further.
Gu Mang raised his head slightly, blinking away the wetness in his eyes. It seemed he didn't want to keep arguing with the emperor. After a beat he asked, his voice low and hoarse, "Then…what next? What next, after the sentencing?"
"Next, we will lay down a logical path for your treason. After the autumn hunt this year, Lu Zhanxing will be executed, and the remnants of your army will be detained. We will betray not the slightest hint of gentleness or compassion toward slave cultivators. We will be meticulous; the entire court will believe we have chosen to cleave to the mores of the old nobles. Everyone will watch as we abrogate your authority, demote you, and replace you. We will set your feet on the road of despair. After the execution following the autumn hunt is complete, we will give you the last push and provide you sufficient reason to defect."
"To the Liao Kingdom?" Gu Mang asked.
"To the Liao Kingdom."
Gu Mang guffawed as if he had heard some absurd joke. "How far does Your Imperial Majesty plan to go for others to believe that I, Gu Mang, would choose the darkest, most depraved nation in all the Nine Provinces and Twenty-Eight Nations? Defecting to the Liao Kingdom…" The last traces of his smile twisted on his face, his hatred seeming to imbue his expression with a beastly malevolence. "How far would I have to be pushed to defect to the nation that has slaughtered countless of my comrades and stirred the flames of war across the Nine Provinces?!"
"You see why Lu Zhanxing must die," replied the emperor. "If Lu Zhanxing lives, no one would believe the once earth-shatteringly powerful General Gu, so devoted to his nation and its ruler, would pass willingly through the gates of the Liao Kingdom. Only if Lu Zhanxing dies does that seed of hatred sprout in your heart; only then do these events have a turning point, rational and believable."
He paused, then repeated, "Subject Gu, think about it. If Lu Zhanxing is saved, what would be lost? Everyone would see he's been wronged; his name would be exonerated. But he's infected with the black magic demonic qi—he's doomed to execution regardless. Perhaps you believe that if he dies this way, at least those seventy thousand graves, those thirty thousand heroes of your army, will be treated fairly. But we tell you now they will not."
The emperor's black eyes swirled with thick clouds and heavy mist. That darkness was a wall no one could break through anymore.
"If Lu Zhanxing doesn't die, we could try to redress the injustice done to your army and give your soldiers rewards or gravestones, but the old nobles would most certainly jump out with all sorts of bizarre excuses to stop us. Most terrifying of all…they might say, Deputy General Lu was infected with demonic qi. No one can say for sure whether other soldiers in the camp were infected, so it'd be safer to show no mercy—they might demand we execute every single one of those thirty thousand comrades you have left. Subject Gu, right now, your army is like an old manor that has caught fire. We will do our best to retrieve whatever can be rescued, but the first spark fell on Lu Zhanxing. He has been reduced to ash; we cannot save him. We are so very sorry."
Gu Mang was quiet for a long interval. Almost indifferently, he said, "Okay. I understand. We are treasures, but a single spark can reduce Your Imperial Majesty's treasures to ash." He looked up. "Your Imperial Majesty, do you know what my army is to me?"
This was an insubordinate question, but the emperor didn't rebuke him. His lashes trembled, and his expression was evasive, even sorrowful.
Gu Mang continued, "They are my blood, my eyes, my arms and my legs, my family, and my life. However precious a treasure may be, it's useless once destroyed, merely dust after the flames blaze through. But family and kin are different. Even if they die, even if they're burned, even if they're nothing but ash… They will have a tombstone in my heart. I will remember every one of their names, every one of their faces, until the day I join them in death."
"We didn't mean…" the emperor started.
"Then what did you mean?" Gu Mang showed him a gentle, hollow smile. "Your Imperial Majesty, you say we are your treasures, but treasures are not alive; we are living people! For you, we've shed blood; for Chonghua, we've shed tears. We've worked, we've given, we've tried—even died… I'm not sure if you've noticed?"
His questions came one after another, as if those seventy thousand dead had become vengeful ghosts, overtaking his body, the mass of them possessing his solitary figure. They demanded restitution from their emperor.
"General Gu…" The emperor's eyes dulled, but he raised them to gaze back into Gu Mang's. "We have noticed. But to sacrifice the lives of thirty thousand men and the glory of another seventy thousand, to give up the future of all slave cultivators in Chonghua to cleanse the reputation of one man—is it worth it?"
Gu Mang's shoulders shook; his lips trembled. He wanted to refute the emperor's words, but he couldn't speak. He was a preternaturally talented commander; of course he understood what the emperor said was true. His ruler's words were heartless, but they were also correct. This was the path involving the least sacrifice, yet how could he simply nod, how could he accept it…?
"That day in the throne room, when you knelt at our feet begging for gravestones for your dead men, to show mercy to your remaining soldiers, we said you were delusional. But now as we stand before you, we swear you this oath: we will not let Deputy General Lu's sacrifice be in vain. We will give you everything you asked that day, but for Lu Zhanxing's life. The rest is yours—those seventy thousand gravestones, and the safety of your thirty thousand remaining soldiers. We promise that one day, we will show you a future where heroes can become heroes no matter the circumstances of their birth, and every life will be treated equally."
Gu Mang took a step back, shaking his head. The emperor's promise was too heavy, weighing him down until he almost seemed stooped. Only after a long while did he hoarsely mutter, "Lies…"
"We never lie."
Gu Mang was on the edge of insanity; he looked up, his gaze like a sharp sword unsheathing, eyes scarlet as he hurled a reckless shout at the emperor. "Liar!"
His voice was thunderous with rage. In the roiling storm and whipping wind, the blinded and declawed Beast of the Altar had been spun round and round by the carrot and the stick until he didn't know what he should believe. He railed at the master who tamed him, slamming over and over against the bars of his cage.
Mo Xi closed his eyes. The pain of a body that had endured the jade scroll repair could not be more than a cowering, bleeding, loyal heart.
Beast of the Altar… Beast of the Altar…
In the past, people had spoken this epithet as they spread stories of General Gu's glory. But now, Mo Xi could only see a bloody beast in truth, flayed of its skin, trapped and howling in a cage. The emperor's beast, Chonghua's beast—it hurt so keenly for its comrades that it longed for death, yet those who had raised it now tore off its hide, wrapping a new layer of skin over that mutilated body. They wanted to send it to another country, instructing it to endure the pain and burn up the last wisps of warmth and light it possessed.
The rain poured down around them. The emperor stood ramrod straight, supported by some power inherent to monarchs that allowed him neither to cower nor to shrink back in the face of Gu Mang's intense emotion. His expression was unsightly, but still he persisted.
After a long silence, the emperor finally answered with a quiet question of his own. "Do you think we made this decision lightly? Do you think framing loyal subjects is something that brings us ease? Do you think tormenting our greatest general and chasing him off to another nation is something that brings us ease? Do you think that, as we stand here today, surrounded by thunder beneath the nine heavens upon the Golden Terrace, telling you these things, we can be at ease?!"
The emperor's voice became louder and louder. His fingertips were trembling, his eyes flashing with an unsteady light. "Subject Gu…you once said seventy thousand people died at the battle of Phoenix Cry Mountain, so you see seventy thousand wronged ghosts demanding justice from you day and night, reproaching you, cursing you, spurning you, asking you why…" His voice shook mightily, each word ground out from between his teeth, each phrase stained with blood. "Do you think…it is different for us?"
Gu Mang looked up with ridicule in his eyes. "What does Your Imperial Majesty see? Seventy thousand broken treasures? Or is it a mountain of destroyed clay servants, all identical?"
He'd gone mad; he must have gone mad. After having his arms torn off and his heart cut out, Gu Mang was no longer afraid of saying anything to the emperor's face. Irreverent words burst from his lips: "Your Imperial Majesty says over and over again that you think of us as people. Over and over again, you say you can see my dead brothers, your dead subjects… But you grieve that your invincible army lost seventy thousand soldiers. You grieve a number, a ledger full of heroes—you don't grieve for each and every human life!"
Outside the Golden Terrace was the endless storm; inside the Golden Terrace was boundless silence.
At length, the emperor squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them once more. His lips moved as if to speak, then he pursed them again… Finally, in a choked voice, he softly, sorrowfully, spoke a name—
"Xu Xiaomao."
Just one name. Gu Mang froze.
His fingers, originally shaking from rage, seemed to be locked in by black ice. He stood motionless, staring at the emperor in disbelief, as though he thought it might be a figment of his imagination. He was certainly mistaken to have heard this sort of pathetic, ridiculous name —the name of his brother, his comrade—from the mouth of the Son of Heaven.
But such names issued one after another from the lips of the emperor, clearly, sorrowfully, solemnly. "Lan Yufei, Jin Cheng, Sun He, Luo Chuan…" He recited them one by one.
With each name, a brother's voice and features rose before Gu Mang's eyes.
A man who liked to drink fiery, cheap shaodaozi wine.
A cousin who had a mole on the bridge of his nose.
A little scamp who always lost his money gambling but never learned any better.
And that little devil who recklessly squeezed himself into the squadron at the age of sixteen, his face so terribly young.
The invocation of these names seemed to summon their souls; Gu Mang bowed his head, his back bending. He buried his face in his palms, fingers digging into his hair, and cried brokenly, "Stop talking…"
"Qin Fei, Zhao Sheng, Wei Ping…"
Qin Fei's bright laughter seemed to echo back into the world of the living and ring in his ears.
Zhao Sheng had once run over to his commander's tent in one of the garrisons to bring him a pot of sweet wine from the village nearby. When he had clasped it to his chest, it was still warm.
Wei Ping was thirty years old already, but he looked so young. When he smiled, his canines would show sweetly, and he had grinned and laughed arrogantly when he requested to stay behind at Phoenix Cry Mountain. That had become Gu Mang's last farewell with the rascal.
Who would remember these men's names… Who would remember?!
General Gu…
General Gu…
In life, a hero among men; in death, a hero among ghosts.
No, no, all of this is meaningless. I only wanted every one of you to return safely after each battle. No one would want their brothers to receive posthumous glory after a horsehide burial.
"Stop reciting them…" Gu Mang clutched his head in pain, crumpling to his knees. He howled, on the verge of collapse, crying out like a trapped beast, "Don't say any more! Don't say any more!"
"I remember them too." The emperor walked over to Gu Mang, gazing down at the man who had buried himself in the dust in front of him, curled in on himself in the muddy sand, and murmured, "Gu Mang, I remember them all too."
He spoke frankly, setting aside the royal we. "I'm sorry. Unlike you, I never spent my days with them from dawn until dusk. I can't remember their ages, appearances, interests…any of those details. But since I received the list of soldiers who perished at Phoenix Cry Mountain, I've been committing their names to memory."
Gu Mang's icy forehead pressed pathetically against the floor. His tears fell in fat drops down his cheeks as he sobbed, howling in grief…
He had finally fallen apart.
He had silently endured the wounds that covered his body, had painstakingly subdued his own agony and licked away the blood, just barely enough to put on a brave face before others. But the emperor tore open the wounds that had begun to scab over, and scarlet blood and flesh spilled outward in a great rush. It hurt so much, it hurt so much…it hurt so much he was going to die.
"I thought," the emperor said, "that even if I can't openly give them the gravestones of heroes, I can still honor them in my heart… General Gu, every day and every night, I am engraving them into memory. We're sorry, we are powerless to change many things…" He gripped Gu Mang's arms, helping him to stand, letting Gu Mang slowly lift his head. The rims of the emperor's eyes were wet. "But we ask you to believe us. We have never, will never, see you as cheap pawns, as lowly slave-born bodies."
It was an unremarkable sentence, containing neither praise nor commendation, yet Gu Mang sobbed uncontrollably. He knelt and staggered forward; struggling free of the emperor's hands, he pulled himself to the edge of the Golden Terrace.
He looked up at those towering mountains and the vast sky. The sounds of his weeping seemed to be carved out of his throat, dripping with crimson blood. The torrential storm swallowed his sobs; the nation was an expanse of grieving rain. Gu Mang was completely drained; he pressed his head to the railing as his shoulders shook. The ends of his eyes and the tip of his nose were flushed red. He had nothing left to say.
Eventually, the emperor slowly crossed the terrace to stand next to him. "Subject Gu, do you believe us now? We meant every word; we would not lie to you. We swear you this oath." He pressed two fingers to his temple, taking Chonghua's customary position for vows.
Under the lightning that arced across the nine heavens, there upon the Golden Terrace, Chonghua's new ruler made Chonghua's subject a most solemn promise: "If General Gu accepts our request, we swear to three things. First, General Gu's thirty thousand soldiers will receive proper protections. Second, the law allowing slaves to cultivate in Chonghua will never be repealed. Third, we will inter those seventy thousand souls lost at Phoenix Cry Mountain with all the customary national rites upon Warrior Soul Mountain, complete with inscribed gravestones. Should we renege on any of these promises, may we live without the love of our descendants and die without a place of burial. Chonghua's fortunes will turn to ash in our hands, and we shall be condemned for all eternity."
After a pause, those final words fell from his mouth. "In life and after death, we shall never know peace."