AS THE COURT was in recess the next day, Mo Xi took Gu Mang to be registered as a slave.
In most countries, slaves had no status. They were not permitted to cultivate or attend school, and were referred to as "the underclass." Chonghua wasn't fundamentally much different from the others, but it did treat slaves with a touch more lenience. Under the late emperor, Chonghua had abolished the demeaning term "the underclass" and made exceptions for slaves with aptitude—these few could enter the academy and cultivate spiritual cores. The late emperor had even appointed someone born a slave to the rank of general, and thereby allowed them to organize troops and serve their nation.
These actions had once stirred enormous controversy in Chonghua. The old nobles put up fierce remonstrations one after another. History has proven this to be a mistake, they said. The appetites of slavering beasts are insatiable. Your Imperial Majesty, if slaves are given a bit of power, they'll hunger for even more. What they meant was: if slaves were allowed to learn cultivation and establish themselves, it was only a matter of time before they would start eyeing the throne and rise in bloody revolution. Who would want to get trampled underfoot?
But the old emperor didn't listen. Fire beacons were lit all across the Nine Provinces, and skirmishes between nations grew more intense by the day. The old emperor thought that anyone with the appropriate talents should be allowed to put them to use; even if civil conflicts were avoided, the threat of external conflicts still loomed.
These were the circumstances under which Gu Mang and his Wangba Army had risen to fame. However, every emperor established his own court. When the new emperor succeeded to the throne, he feared civil conflict more than external threats. He took these fears out on Gu Mang, demoting him and removing him from power in order to appease the established noble clans.
This was how the current situation came to be.
"We're here," the coachman announced. The carriage pulled up next to a small shop near the cultivation academy. Mo Xi stepped out and knocked on the shop's door, which stood slightly ajar.
The cramped entrance led to an old and dilapidated shop. A single wooden board carelessly propped up outside was the only sign, and it had been boldly inscribed with the words "Cixin (kind heart) Artificing Forge." Part of the red paint on the word "Forge" had worn off.
"Where are we?" Gu Mang asked.
Mo Xi didn't answer. He pushed open the flimsy old door and led Gu Mang inside.
The interior of the shop was poorly lit. There was no direct sunlight, and the room reeked of rotting wood. The stubborn proprietor was too stingy for lamps and relied solely on the light from the smelting furnace.
Before that furnace sat a hunchbacked old man, slowly working the bellows. Red embers flickered madly within dark smoke, and dazzlingly orange molten iron flowed into the grooves like magma pouring from the depths of the earth.
"Uncle Song," Mo Xi called out.
The old metalworker was fully engrossed in his work. He was rather hard of hearing, and hadn't noticed the movement behind him.
Mo Xi raised his voice. "Uncle."
Only then did the old man turn his head, the fire's light shining on his wrinkled face. He looked exactly like a tangerine left out in the sun for too long, shriveled and yellow. Blankly, he looked at Mo Xi, then turned his gaze on Gu Mang. Realization dawned on his face. He scrambled to his feet and bowed unsteadily as he muttered, "Oh, oh...it's General Gu..."
Gu Mang remained rooted to the spot, thoroughly perplexed. Upon noticing that the old man was making obeisance to him, he clumsily mirrored the gesture.
After a moment of silence, Mo Xi said, "He hasn't been General Gu in a long time."
The doddering Uncle Song asked blankly, "Is that so? So what is he now?"
"A prisoner."
Astonished, Uncle Song stared blankly at Gu Mang for a long while. "Prisoner...a prisoner..." he muttered.
He took a slow step forward and grasped Gu Mang's hands in his wrinkled palms. After a befuddled pause, he smiled and began babbling incoherently, "Aiya, Xiao-Gu, you've lucked out. See, Uncle didn't lie to you, did he? There are more good people in the world than bad. From now on, you'll no longer be a Wangshu Manor slave." As he spoke, he jubilantly patted the back of Gu Mang's head. "Come, Uncle will take off that collar on your neck."
The old man's nonsensical mutters sent a flash of agony across Mo Xi's vision. He closed his eyes, and his throat bobbed as he swallowed. Just as he was about to speak, he heard a muffled noise from upstairs. The wooden steps creaked, and a gentle voice called out, "Xihe-jun, what brings you here?"
Mo Xi turned to see a man in flaxen robes hobbling down the stairs with his cane.
It was Jiang Yexue.
Jiang Yexue was the owner of this artificing forge. Uncle Song had been an artificer in Yue Manor, and had been Jiang Yexue's first and oldest mentor. After Jiang Yexue was cast out of the Yue Clan, this old retainer was the only one willing to take him in.
"I brought him to be registered as a slave," Mo Xi said.
Jiang Yexue was startled. "Who?"
Mo Xi's turned his tall and stately figure to reveal Gu Mang behind him, who was looking around inquisitively.
"Ah? General Gu..." Jiang Yexue muttered.
Uncle Song wasn't about to be left out of the conversation. He slapped his disciple's back with one bark-like hand. "Today's a good day— Yexue, take a look," he said happily. "Our Xiao-Gu's made it now. Isn't he the first slave to have his status revoked? How hard it must've been."
After a moment, Jiang Yexue sighed. "Shifu, that all happened long ago.
"I misremembered something again?" Uncle Song asked, perplexed. "Yes. Back then, I could still walk and run." Jiang Yexue lowered his lashes and smiled as he spoke to the old man. "Shifu, you're tired. Why don't you go rest?"
Jiang Yexue helped the old man out of the room and settled him before he returned to Mo Xi and Gu Mang. "My apologies, Xihe-jun. Shifu hasn't been making much sense these past few years. Please don't hold it against him."
"Of course not," Mo Xi replied.
Gu Mang blinked and echoed Mo Xi's words. "Of course not."
Mo Xi glanced at him. Today, the gaze he leveled at Gu Mang wasn't sharp, but rather slightly cryptic, as though enshrouded in the shadows of the past.
Jiang Yexue saw all this pass between them and heaved a soft sigh. "If he's to be registered as a slave, please follow me upstairs."
"But your legs..." Mo Xi began.
"I have the cane." Jiang Yexue smiled. "Don't worry, I can walk."
The trio climbed to the second floor of the smelting shop. It was much brighter here, with all sorts of weapons made from condensed spiritual energy hanging from racks on the walls.
Nowadays, the weapons wielded by cultivators were most often forged with spiritual energy. After a cultivator went to an artificing forge and selected a weapon they liked, the artificer would meld the weapon with the cultivator's spiritual core. Whenever they wanted to use the weapon, they only needed to think the incantation and the weapon would be summoned. These types of weapons weren't as powerful as holy weapons, but they were still formidable, as the principles behind their creation were similar.
In an effort to create even more fearsome weapons, artificers traveled the land to seek out different types of spiritual ingredients—the beaks of fire phoenixes, the claws of jiao dragons, the tusks of sky-swallowing white elephants... The more fiendish the spirit beast, the stronger the spiritual power, and the more formidable the resulting weapon. Some artificers even forged vengeful spirits into their weapons, which would summon said spirits in battle. The Water Demon Talisman passed down through Wangshu-jun's family was an excellent example of this—rumor said it had been created with nine thousand drowned ghosts that seethed with resentment. The same idea was also behind the forging of the sword spirit Li Qingqian.
But Jiang Yexue's artificing forge was different. Forget the old man downstairs, half-blind and ridiculously senile—Jiang Yexue himself was a soft-hearted man whose kindness bordered on absurdity. He couldn't bear to step on an ant, let alone fight phoenixes and slaughter dragons—the thought was completely ludicrous.
"The spiritual energy we use in our weapons is all derived from flora," said Jiang Yexue. He turned and saw that Mo Xi was staring at his windowsill, which made him feel somewhat self-conscious. The spiritual forms drying on the sill were all soft and pliable. One could tell at a glance they were not very useful. "The kids from the cultivation academy...come here to buy weapons. They're unlikely to hurt themselves with these."
"There's nothing wrong with that," said Mo Xi.
Jiang Yexue offered him a small smile. His artificing techniques had originated within the Yue Clan, but the way he put them into practice was entirely different. Yue Juntian pursued sheer power above all else, and Murong Chuyi didn't care if his inventions were cruel. Since he was a boy, Jiang Yexue had always clashed with his father due to their philosophical differences. It was often the case that, unless they met with extreme suffering, people's beliefs were difficult to change. However, Mo Xi thought that even if Jiang Yexue hadn't lost his wife, he still would have eventually parted ways with the Yue Clan.
Jiang Yexue retrieved an iron box from a shelf piled high with artificing materials. He brushed off the dust and brought it over to Mo Xi and Gu Mang.
Years ago, Mo Xi had accompanied Gu Mang to remove his slave collar, so he was intimately familiar with this box. Knowing this, Jiang Yexue hesitated and glanced at Mo Xi. "Xihe-jun, I'm about to perform the spell," he said. "Would you like to step out of the room?"
Mo Xi's features were perfectly composed. He looked at that pitch- black box without any hint of emotion. "I'm fine."
"Okay. Then I'll begin."
Jiang Yexue put the box on the floor, and then spoke to Gu Mang. "Gu..." He had already opened his mouth, but he still didn't know how best to address him. In the end, he sighed. "You, please sit. Close your eyes. Put your hand on the box."
Gu Mang calmly obeyed the first two requests, but he refused the last one. He opened his eyes again, stared at the box for a time, then finally mumbled, "I don't like this thing." He looked up at Mo Xi. "I'm leaving."
"Sit down," said Mo Xi.
"Leaving."
"If you want to stay at Xihe Manor, then you must do as this person says," Mo Xi warned.
Gu Mang didn't really have a choice. He pouted, looking both wronged and wary, but after a moment's hesitation, he put his hand on the box.
"Perform the spell," Mo Xi told Jiang Yexue.
Jiang Yexue nodded.
Back in the day, Murong Lian's slapdash procedure for conferring a slave collar had been badly conceived. The collar's inherent power was considerable, so putting it on carelessly could cause the wearer's spiritual energy to go berserk or even result in their death. However, no one in that crowd of youths back then had been aware of these risks.
The master artificer Jiang Yexue lowered his gaze as he chanted the incantation. Nigh instantly, a stream of black spiritual energy issued from the hole in the iron box. It coiled like a snake along Gu Mang's arm, from his wrist to his shoulder, to his collarbones... At last, it looped itself around his neck and coalesced into a ring of black iron. The final tendril of smoke became a little tag hanging off its side.
"Its done."
Gu Mang opened his eyes and touched his neck without a word. Very quickly, he reached up again, this time turning his head and mumbling pensively, "Necklace..."
Mo Xi was leaning against the window, all long legs and narrow waist. When he heard Gu Mang say this, he stared blankly. "What?"
"Did you give me a necklace?" Gu Mang asked in astonishment.
Silence.
Mo Xi didn't respond, but Jiang Yexue couldn't help himself and nodded. At this, Gu Mang's blue eyes sparkled brilliantly. He touched his slave collar again and again, his face shining with cautious joy, looking every bit as kind and gentle as it had in the past.
He turned to Mo Xi and said, "Thank you."
A humid breeze blew in through the window, ruffling the wisps of hair at Mo Xi's temples. He stood with his arms crossed, wordlessly studying Gu Mang's profile from a few feet away. The Gu Mang before him was like shattered fragments of the former General Gu. Mo Xi wanted to see the shadow of his old friend in him, but in the end, this was all he would get. Those jagged shards left the rims of his eyes red and stinging. While no one was looking, he closed his eyes in despair and swallowed with difficulty.
Many years ago, it had also been on the second floor of Cixin Forge, in this very room, that the young Gu Mang had likewise touched a slave collar, his smile radiant. That collar had been removed by Uncle Song.
"It's over, Gu-shixiong. You won't belong to Murong Lian anymore," Mo Xi, gazing at Gu Mang's face, had solemnly said. "You're free now."
Back then, the collar was being taken off, and Gu Mang had been smiling. Time had slipped between them, bringing change with its passage. Now, the collar was being put on, yet Gu Mang was still smiling. Now, nothing seemed to have changed. But Mo Xi felt as though a bitter olive was stuck in his throat, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't swallow it. This bitterness felt like it would follow him for the rest of his life.
"Wait a moment," Jiang Yexue said to Gu Mang. "It's not over yet. I still need to add a few words to this...necklace."
"What words?"
"Your name and registry number." He flipped through Chonghua's slave registry records to look up the number of Gu Mang's collar. "Here— seven hundred and ninety."
Gu Mang didn't know what this meant. He sat listening without comprehension.
Jiang Yexue used spiritual energy to engrave those characters into the collar. After he finished with the front, he flipped the tag around. This time, he looked not at Gu Mang, but rather at Mo Xi, who stood with the light from the window behind him, his face cast in shadow.
"Xihe-jun, as for the other side..."
"Let's not," Mo Xi said.
"But I'm afraid it may be against the rules. If we're not inscribing an individual's name, it should at least be a noble's family name, or the name of the manor."
"None of that is necessary." Mo Xi paused, then turned away.
Jiang Yexue sighed. "But..."
"The other side still needs to be engraved?" Gu Mang piped up. "With what?"
"It does," Jiang Yexue told him. "It needs to be engraved with your lord's name."
Gu Mang furrowed his brow thoughtfully for a moment. Just as Mo Xi was about to impatiently tell him they were leaving, he suddenly said: "I know whose name to carve." He turned to look at Mo Xi. "Yours."
A pause. "What are you talking about," Mo Xi retorted.
"You're my lord. Lots of people call you that."
Mo Xi closed his eyes, brows dipping in a deep frown. "You talk too much. Hurry up and come with me."
"We can't engrave your name?"
"No," Mo Xi snapped. For some reason, the mere thought of his name inscribed on something looped around Gu Mang's neck sent a burst of frustrated heat coursing through his blood. He shook his head in annoyance, as if shaking off a mosquito that disturbed his peace. Grabbing Gu Mang by the back of his robe's collar, he pulled him upright and said to Jiang Yexue, "Qingxu Elder, farewell."
"I'll see you off," Jiang Yexue replied.
"There's no need to trouble yourself, with your condition..."
Jiang Yexue smiled. "It's nothing, don't worry about it. Besides, I needed to go to the west street for some pine oil anyway. Wait a moment, I'll grab some money..."
"Where's your wheelchair?" Mo Xi asked. "I'll fetch it for you."
"It's not good to be sitting all the time. My cane will suffice." Jiang Yexue slipped some coins into his qiankun pouch. "Let's go."
The three of them headed to the general shop on the west street. Jiang Yexue asked the shopkeeper for two jugs of pine oil. As he was waiting for the shopkeeper to fill the bottles, the curtain at the door fluttered and a youth strode in. "Hey, Shopkeeper!" the youth hollered. "Have all the things we ordered arrived yet?"
This shout was followed by a cold and stern voice. "Behave, Yue Chenqing. Don't jump around like that in here."
Mo Xi and Jiang Yexue turned their heads to see Yue Chenqing, who had just blown in like a winter gale. One step behind him was the white- robed Murong Chuyi.
Neither party had expected such a chance meeting. The two groups stared at each other blankly. Murong Chuyi seemed especially taken aback. His severe phoenix eyes fell on Jiang Yexue and immediately narrowed.
Neither spoke. The atmosphere turned tense.
Murong Chuyi's older sister was Yue Juntian's first wife, while Jiang Yexue's mother was Yue Juntian's concubine. Both women had since passed, but the events of those years remained fresh in the memories of these two members of the younger generation.
"Chuyi..." Jiang Yexue said quietly.
Murong Chuyi didn't say anything. With a sweep of his sleeves, he turned to leave.
Yue Chenqing hastily tried to call him back. "Fourth Uncle..." But Murong Chuyi had already lifted the curtain and walked out of the shop.
His frosty voice filtered backward, filled with palpable anger. "Yue Chenqing, nothing good happens when I come out with you."
In a moment of desperation, Yue Chenqing completely ignored Jiang Yexue as he stomped his feet and cried, "Fourth Uncle! It's not like I knew he was here... Don't go, wait for me..."
But Murong Chuyi replied, "Don't follow me!" How could Yue Chenging dare disobey? He stood there dejected, looking back at everyone else. The room fell quiet.
Jiang Yexue let out a sigh and finally broke the silence. "Chenqing. Chuyi...still treats you like this?"