MO XI WAS SILENT for a moment. He crossed his arms and stretched his long legs to lean against the pillar behind Gu Mang. "You think the Wise Gentleman looks familiar?"
"Mn. I think I've seen him before, but I forget who he was."
Mo Xi arched one sharp brow. "The Wise Gentleman died hundreds of years ago. Perhaps you've gotten him mixed up with someone else."
Gu Mang didn't appear to accept that explanation. He stared at the painting for several more seconds, and then proclaimed resolutely, "I've definitely seen someone who looks like him. Do you think he could have ascended and become immortal, so he wouldn't have died?"
"That's impossible."
"Why?"
"The Wise Gentleman died of a shattered core in the battle that consecrated his name in history. Chonghua has never again named anyone Wisdom in honor of his memory."
Having personally experienced the pain of a shattered core, Gu Mang flinched involuntarily. "Why was his core destroyed? Did he do something wrong?"
"The Wise Gentleman was always pure and beyond reproach. But if you were to say he did something wrong…it was probably in making an exception to shelter an academy disciple." Mo Xi paused. "He trusted the wrong person."
The painted subject gazed out from the silk scroll, his expression serene. His eyes seemed to contain compassion as well as gentleness. "Trusted the wrong person," Gu Mang murmured. He hesitated. "But it's not written in the book."
"History of Chonghua is an abridged history. It doesn't contain the biographies of every notable person—it only lists the spells they created and their achievements. Of course you won't find every detail here."
"Will you tell me about it, then?" Gu Mang turned around and propped his long legs on the bench, gazing at Mo Xi in anticipation. Mo Xi paused. "Sit properly, not like a ruffian."
Gu Mang reluctantly set his feet back on the ground.
Happily, Mo Xi had nothing else to attend to. After a moment spent recalling this particular history, he began to tell Gu Mang of the past.
"The Wise Gentleman was named Chen Tang. He was once the headmaster of the cultivation academy as well as state preceptor. Under his leadership, the academy produced countless talented commanders and grandmasters and devised many new spells and techniques. There was a saying back then that, with Preceptor Chen Tang's guidance, even the least talented disciple could transform themselves and achieve success. Thus people named him 'The Wise Gentleman with the Golden Touch.'"
"Then wouldn't everyone be begging him to teach them?" Gu Mang asked.
"There was no need to beg—Chen Tang taught everyone regardless of background. As the headmaster of the academy, he paid personal attention to every single disciple." Mo Xi paused. "Even the academy's slaves."
"Back then, there was a young slave at the cultivation academy who refused to resign himself to a lifetime of inferiority. He wished to wield the same power as cultivators, so each time Chen Tang gave a lecture, he would pretend to be cleaning the seats very slowly in order to eavesdrop next to the platform."
"Ah…how daring. Wouldn't he get shooed away?"
"Other elders might have done so, but Chen Tang didn't," said Mo Xi. "That slave knew the headmaster's benevolence and picked his lectures for that very reason. What's more, he was very intelligent; he memorized nearly everything Preceptor Chen Tang imparted to his disciples."
Gu Mang raised his hand: "I got it! And then this little slave secretly cultivated and became terrifically powerful, and then fought Princess Haitang—"
Mo Xi blinked, his habitually grave expression giving way to rare confusion. "Who?"
"That amazing princess, like Mengze. Princess Haitang."
"…It's Preceptor Chen Tang, not Haitang. Preceptor as in headmaster of the academy—it's a different thing from Princess Mengze."
"Fine," Gu Mang answered, "but it sounds the same to me. Princess Chen Tang, then."
Mo Xi pursed his lips slightly. Gu-shixiong had always liked to tease Mo Xi by calling him "Princess." It turned out this rascal's habit of calling men princess hadn't changed even now. Mo Xi kneaded his temple with slender fingers, as if afflicted with a sudden headache. He didn't want to discuss semantics of preceptor or princess, so after taking a few breaths, he continued, "You guessed the first part right: that slave indeed cultivated in secret, but things weren't so neat. Developing a spiritual core is a dangerous process. The stronger a cultivator's innate ability, the more torment they must endure. That slave had no idea he possessed astonishing potential, to the extent that he lost control and went berserk as soon as he started developing his core. The academy dorms burst into flames, and the secret of his cultivation was exposed. He was brought before Preceptor Chen Tang."
Gu Mang was entranced. As soon as Mo Xi stopped to take a breath, he blurted out: "Then what happened? Did Princess Chen Tang break the slave's spiritual core?"
"No. The slave's core hadn't yet fully formed—it was still in the process of coalescing, and he was in a great deal of pain. Chen Tang knew that if no one reached out to guide him, he would combust and die. So, because of his great compassion, he defied the law that forbade slaves from cultivating and helped the young man through his trial."
The plants in the courtyard swayed. Mo Xi gazed at the glimmering ripples on the water and continued. "After Chen Tang helped him, the slave knelt and thanked him profusely; he would do anything to repay this gift of life. Seeing that the slave had a strong spiritual foundation, Chen Tang's heart softened. He reported the incident to the emperor and took the young man in as an academy disciple."
Gu Mang sighed. "That slave was so lucky. In any case, what was his name?"
"He had no parents to give him one. The academy overseers usually called him Thirteen, his slave registry number. But after Chen Tang took him in, he gave him a new name." Mo Xi hesitated for a moment. "Hua Po'an."
Chen Tang, Hua Po'an. As if spooked by the sound, several birds in the surrounding trees startled into flight, clearing the high walls and soaring into the sky.
Mo Xi shot a glance at Gu Mang. Here was an interesting situation— Hua Po'an's infamy was such that his name was almost an unspeakable taboo and uttering it akin to a curse. Even now, many in Chonghua wouldn't dare mention him in casual conversation.
But Gu Mang didn't react at all to this monster's name, as if it was that of any ordinary person. He merely asked, "Was Hua Po'an the person Princess Chen Tang shouldn't have trusted?"
"Correct. Chen Tang's faith in him was misplaced. He had no idea what kind of evil he'd taken in and was completely oblivious to the fact that he had personally bestowed a name on the monster who would bring disaster to the Nine Provinces for nearly a century. He thought things would carry on as usual, and that he'd only performed a truly insignificant action."
Mo Xi lowered his head and gazed at the painting of Chen Tang, saturated with sunlight. The brushstrokes lent him a gentle and warm appearance, as if the subject were gazing through time to meet the viewer's eye.
"Years went by. Chen Tang's care wasn't wasted on Hua Po'an—he grew stronger and more powerful. He accomplished many remarkable feats for Chonghua and received the emperor's regard and commendation. The emperor even tried to end the ban on slaves cultivating in hopes of finding more incredible talents like him."
Gu Mang was amazed. So Chonghua had thought of putting slaves to use en masse even back then? He couldn't help but ask, "Did he succeed?"
"No. Abolishing the prohibition was no trivial matter. The emperor first specially allowed Hua Po'an to select some clever slaves from among the people and instruct them in cultivation."
Gu Mang seemed somewhat disappointed, but he said, "That's all right too—at least they had an opportunity to prove themselves…"
"Prove themselves?" Mo Xi scoffed as though he'd heard a great joke. "Yes, they proved themselves. But what they proved wasn't impressive spiritual power, but rather ravenous ambition."
As he spoke, he met Gu Mang's blue eyes, clear as river water. "Gu Mang, do you know why Chonghua's nobles are so skittish about allowing slaves to cultivate?"
Gu Mang shook his head.
"Because of Hua Po'an. The emperor gave him the power to raise an army, but in the end, he turned this knife against the heart of Chonghua." Mo Xi's face was grim. "The cultivators Hua Po'an taught didn't seek to repay the country's kindness—rather, they wanted to overturn established order and throw Chonghua into chaos. Hua Po'an defected."
Gu Mang fell silent as a realization slowly dawned. "Then…the army I had was very similar to Hua Po'an's, wasn't it?"
"Yes." Mo Xi also paused for a beat before slowly continuing. "Many people saw Hua Po'an in you. Back when Hua Po'an made his move, Preceptor Chen Tang was there to stop him. But if you were to repeat his crime, a similar disaster would undoubtedly befall Chonghua. And if it did, no one knew who could stop it."
Gu Mang paled slightly, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the scroll. "Are we alike?" he asked quietly. "Hua Po'an and I?"
Noting Gu Mang's unease, Mo Xi softened his tone. "You aren't the same. It's true that you also committed treason, but Hua Po'an was a madman beyond imagination. In order to strengthen his slave cultivators as quickly as possible, he kidnapped many Butterfly-Boned Beauty Feasts for military use."
"What are Butterfly-Boned Beauty Feasts?"
"They are people with a special constitution." Mo Xi's tone held disgust; he was unwilling to say much on the subject. "They can be used as dual cultivation vessels, or eaten directly," he simply said. "Even the most ordinary cultivator can improve their cultivation instantaneously by consuming the flesh of such people. Hua Po'an used this cruel method of cannibalism to pull up a group of slaves sworn to him with their lives. He left to establish his own country on Chonghua's northern frontier and proclaimed himself king."
As he spoke, Mo Xi closed the scroll of History of Chonghua on Gu Mang's knees. "Now that I've said all this," he said, lowering his head, "let me ask you: Do you know which country Hua Po'an was the founding monarch of?"
Gu Mang looked at him blankly. "L-Liao…" he stuttered.
"Correct." Mo Xi's expression became graver. "The Liao Kingdom's founding monarch, Hua Po'an. He was the ruinous consequence of the first time Chonghua trusted a slave."
Mo Xi had only meant to tell Gu Mang something of the Liao Kingdom and Chonghua's history; he hadn't meant to insinuate anything about Gu Mang. Nevertheless, his words were taken with intent. Gu Mang was overcome with embarrassment and shame. He felt as though a hand had tightened around his throat, rendering him momentarily unable to speak.
As he had regained some sense of his past self in recent days, he'd felt ever more strongly that his actions from before he lost his memories had been incomprehensible. Even if Chonghua had its flaws, at least it was a nation that had once tried to change for the better, only to end up as the victim of other schemes. Chonghua had believed in Hua Po'an, but Hua Po'an turned and dealt a blow to the nobles led by Chen Tang. If Gu Mang were in their shoes, could he ever unreservedly trust a slave-born person again? Who knew if that person might become the next Hua Po'an, or whether they would found the next black magic Liao Kingdom.
Yet, under these conditions, Chonghua had still given its slaves a second chance. Whether to achieve a balance of power, or to exploit them, or for other reasons, Chonghua once again gave power to a slave—to Gu Mang and his army. How much determination and courage must it have taken the former emperor to make such a decision?
But in the end, Gu Mang had become an exemplary Hua Po'an. He might not have led his army in an uprising, but he still defected and fled to the very Liao Kingdom that Hua Po'an founded. He'd walked a path far too similar to that of his predecessor.
After a long, conflicted silence, Gu Mang slowly set down the bamboo scroll. "I'm sorry…" The most worthless phrase in the world. One Gu Mang had already repeated thousands of times in front of those heroes' gravestones.
It took Mo Xi a moment to understand what Gu Mang meant. He didn't know how to respond. He heard Gu Mang speak up again: "What about Princess Chen Tang? In the end, how…how was his core destroyed?"