Gu Mang didn't say anything. His blue eyes looked at the black eyes. The ashes from the incense brushed past them.
Jiang Yexue's sigh seemed to ring in his ears again. Jiang Yexue had told him before —
"Mo Xi was only seven years old when Lord Fu Lingjun left."
"He was betrayed by the deputy commander. His head was separated from his body, and his spiritual core was removed. In the letter that was not sent, it was written that Qiyue Wuyi was wearing the same robe as his son. "
"You did almost the same thing as him. How can Mo Xi forgive you?"
The ashes from the incense were blown away by the wind. Gu Mang whispered, "Mo Xi, I think, I also … don't want to go to war."
When he said this, he didn't know why, but his heart and throat were sore and he almost choked. Although he couldn't remember, he felt that he was sincere.
Mo Xi didn't understand him. Mo Xi misunderstood him.
How could he like to go to war … So many people died. Mountains of corpses and seas of blood. A general's success was built on thousands of bones. How could he like it?
He didn't fight to turn over a new leaf. He didn't fight for fame. He didn't fight for his own way out. Otherwise, he wouldn't have seen so many ghosts. He wouldn't have seen them questioning him and blaming him. He had always been living in sin.
"I know … how you feel."
I know how you feel when you lost your father.
I know …
Mo Xi didn't say a word.
In front of his father's grave, he didn't want to argue. He used to believe that Gu Mang valued human life and human relationships. But now, he only felt that Gu Mang's words were ridiculous. How could a person who said "don't think too much about old relationships", who could point a sharp knife at his former brothers for revenge, understand his feelings?
He was different from Gu Mang. He couldn't give up old relationships. Even now, he still didn't like the sweet scent of osmanthus blooming.
It was just like how he could never forget his father's life, even though he was still so young back then. But as long as he wanted to, he could see the past when he closed his eyes.
She saw Mo Qingchi standing under the laurel tree with his back straight and tall.
He couldn't even like his own weapon, because after so many years, he still couldn't forget the question he had asked his father: "Father, what is your weapon made of?"
It was like a curse.
Mo Xi stared at the line of golden words, "Flingjun's Mo Crystal Pool, where his heroic spirit sleeps forever." He could easily picture every blade of grass and every tree in the backyard of the Mo clan. There was also the agreement between him and his father.
He closed his eyes and said, "You don't understand."
Ever since he was seven years old, he understood what the flames of war meant. He paid the cruelest price — his father's life.
At that time, Mo Xi was still young and inexperienced. He didn't know what war meant at first. He only thought that it was awesome. He only thought that the thrill of fighting and killing was indescribably attractive. Therefore, he pestered his father to ask about weapons.
He liked the way his father looked in his military uniform. It was dignified and dignified.
He liked it when his father went to the battlefield. In his heart, his father would never lose. The flames of war would only bring the Mo Family supreme glory.
In the end, he was still too naive.
He didn't know what the flames of war would take away from him.
As for Mo Qingchi, at that time, he probably felt that it was too serious to talk about life and death because of his young age. Therefore, he smiled and replied, "I have two. One was made by Shuai Ran's soul. It is the family weapon of the Mo Family. It will be passed down to you in the future. The other one was obtained when I first entered the Cultivation School when I was young. "
Mo Xi's eyes were full of admiration. He raised his head and grabbed his father's sleeve, saying, "I want to see it, I want to see it!"
Mo Qingchi stood under the laurel tree and picked up the fine flowers on Mo Xi's forehead. Then he raised his palm and said with a smile, "Howling Moon, summon."
A golden light flew out from his hand and gathered into the shape of a sperm whale. It swam leisurely through the laurel tree. With a sweep of its tail, laurel rain filled the courtyard.
The little child stood beside his father's legs and looked up with wide black eyes in surprise.
"Transform into a blade." At Mo Qingchi's command, the soul of the sperm whale quickly transformed into a golden shield and was held in Mo Qingchi's hand. Mo Qingchi lowered his head and smiled at his son, "Howling Moon was made by the soul core of a whale. After transforming into a blade, it became a shield. This is Father's second weapon. "
At that time, he was both envious and curious. He reached out his hand and carefully touched the shield.
"So the weapons used by cultivators are all transformed by souls?"
"Almost all of them." Mo Qingchi smiled, "Weapons made of copper and iron often can't withstand spiritual currents. Also, they can't be summoned by a contract. They must be by your side at all times. Therefore, no one will choose ordinary iron. "
Mo Xi didn't quite understand. He blinked his eyes in confusion and looked at the shield again. "Father, will I have one too?"
"You are the only son of the Mo Family. In the future, you will enter the Cultivation School. Of course, you will have one too."
Mo Xi's mood suddenly became excited. As a newborn calf, he didn't have any reverence for weapons or death. He only felt that this was very powerful. In the future, he also wanted to mount a warhorse like his father and fight all over the world.
At that time, he didn't experience life and death. He only recklessly and ignorantly thought that he would definitely like that kind of bloody life.
The longbow pierced through the wind and snow, and the corpse was wrapped in the horse's hide.
What a heroic dream.
Mo Xi couldn't help but touch his father's shield. His eyes flashed and he asked, "Then what will mine be? Will it be a big fish like Father? "
Mo Qingchi lowered his body and tried his best to be at the same level as his son. He smiled and stroked his soft black hair: "The elders of the academy will give you a mission. In that mission, you will summon the Divine Martial Sword closest to your soul. Yes, you may get a big fish like Father, or it may be something else. Birds, beasts, spiritual plants, flowers, anything is possible. "
"Will I get one as soon as I enter the School?"
"Something like that." Mo Qingchi smiled.
"Then let's quickly go to the School of Cultivation!" He pulled his father's clothes and looked at him eagerly. "Can we go tomorrow?"
"Haha, not tomorrow. You have to wait until you are at least seven years old. The academy will not accept children younger than seven years old. "Mo Qingchi said patiently," When you are seven years old, I will ask His Majesty to allow you to enter the academy. Then you can accept the commission. After completing the commission, our Fireball will be a real Xiao Xiu Scholar. "
Ignorant of worldly affairs, he revealed a happy expression. Suddenly, he seemed to think of something. He was startled and hesitated. "Father …"
"Hm?"
"That commission, is it difficult? Will I not pass and be driven back? "Children of four or five years old were always nervous.
"You won't." Mo Qingchi smiled. "Even a fool can pass the commission. You can pass it lying down or closing your eyes. You don't have to be afraid." After a pause, he suddenly patted his head. "Right, there will be a senior brother or sister accompanying you. If you have any difficulties, they will help you."
Only then did he feel relieved. Father's words fascinated him. It seemed that he couldn't wait to grow up quickly so that he could have a weapon of his own.
Father said that he would take him when he was seven years old.
So he looked forward to it every day. He counted the days until he was seven years old. He even took a Chong Hua calendar. Every day before he went to bed, he seriously made a stroke on the calendar.
Every time he recorded a stroke, it was as if he was one step closer to his dream of being the God of War. He liked fighting. He couldn't wait to get a weapon, to improve his cultivation, to grow up, and then to fight side by side with his father. How delightful.
Later, the Liao Country invaded. Mo Qingchi took command as usual and rushed to the battlefield.
That year, Mo Xi finally reached his seventh year old.
However, what he hoped for was not Lingwu, nor was it to enter the school. It was a military report. Before he could react to the meaning of life and death, the Mo manor was already covered with white silk, and the bell of the royal palace tolled.
"Fu Lingjun is dead!"
The entire city wailed and mourned. Paper money fluttered to the ground like heavy snow that had not melted for many years.
Everyone was weeping. They knew each other, they didn't know each other, they were familiar with each other. Wave after wave of people came to the Mo Estate to shed tears and offer wine. His mother had already cried herself unconscious several times. His ruthless uncle had also put on an act of hypocrisy, grieving over his adopted brother's funeral. Everyone was dressed in mourning clothes. Even Jun Mo Xie was dressed in white when he came up.
"Losing Fu Lingjun is like losing my liver and gallbladder …" The Lord leaned his head on the coffin. Tears flowed down his face. He sobbed, "Heaven, why are you so mean to me?"
All the officials knelt on the ground and cried.
Outside the main hall, gold and silver ingots were piled up high. The high priest blew on the yak's horn, and a beam of golden light floated out from the coffin. The golden light turned into a swimming whale, circling around the hall several times, and then swam out of the hall.
The osmanthus trees outside the hall no longer had osmanthus flowers. The big fish swam past. It was no longer the scene of osmanthus rain.
It rushed to the sky and returned from the sea of clouds.
"Shen Wu has been resolved." The High Priest chanted. He knelt down and kowtowed. "The soul is at peace."
Everyone cried and kowtowed. "Fu Lingjun died a heroic death."
"Return of the heroic spirit."
Among this group of white demons and monsters, only Mo Xi didn't cry. He knelt there silently and looked at the scene blankly. Who went?
Who died …
Who was a heroic death?
Who was a heroic spirit?
Heroic death, what did it mean? He had heard this word since he was young. Suddenly, it became so unfamiliar because of his father's death.
He used to think that these words were dazzling. He used to yearn for the battlefield. What was it?
"Return of the heroic spirit. The soul is at peace."
No, no. He suddenly trembled. He didn't want to die a heroic death. He didn't want his father to be a hero. He only wanted his father to stand in the courtyard. In autumn, he wanted his father to bring him to gather osmanthus flowers and brew a pot of sweet wine.
He only wanted his father to come back. He wanted his father to come back and hold his hand. He lowered his head and said with a smile, "Little Fireball, you are seven years old this year. Father will bring you to the school. You must be obedient and cultivate well with the elders."
As he thought this, it was as if he really saw his father standing at the door. He turned around and smiled at him.
"Little Fireball," he said to him. "Good child, come here. Let Father see you again."
Mo Xi walked absentmindedly towards the figure reflected in the sunlight.
Suddenly, the funeral firecrackers exploded. The crackling sound seemed to awaken the depths of his soul from a dream.
"Father?" He was at a loss. "Father, where are you?"
You, where are you?
There was no one at the door. There was only a white silk cloth hanging low.
His fingers were cold. In that cruel moment, he vaguely understood what "death" meant. He suddenly screamed and shouted for his father. He ran out of the hall. The officials were even more shocked and sorrowful when they saw this. They kept wiping their tears. His uncle hurriedly walked out and picked up the struggling Mo Xie. His eyes were red as he said, "Little Xie, listen to me. Come to uncle, come to uncle …"
"I saw Father! I saw him! " He shouted. Suddenly, he lost his voice and threw himself into his uncle's arms. He finally burst into tears. "I saw him … Why did he leave? Why did he leave? Why doesn't he want me anymore? "The seven year old child cried out hoarsely, each cry louder than the last, tears streaming down his face.
In the end, his lips trembled as he muttered, "Why did he not want me …"
He was seven years old.
He looked forward to the stars and the moon. He looked forward to the age of seven with his father.
So this was what it was like.
So this was war. This was also the price of glory.
More than half a year later, his birthday arrived. He still wore the clothes of mourning. It was the finest silk and the most exquisite workmanship. The Mo family's mourning was glorious and their status was even higher than before. But so what?
He came to the window. The osmanthus flowers outside bloomed again. The green pavilion was filled with golden stars. Every star was like a reflection of last year. He sat down in the fragrant scent and took out the Chong Hua calendar that he had been drawing for more than two years. It was already covered in a thick layer of dust.
"How many more days until my seventh birthday?" His voice from years ago seemed to be beside his ear.
At that time, Mo Qingchi pressed his hand on his head and rubbed it lovingly. "There's no hurry."
"But I'm in a hurry, Father." He muttered. "I really want to skip these two years. When I open my eyes, I'll be seven years old."
Mo Qingchi laughed. His laughter went from clear to vague and finally became the soft rustling of leaves outside the window.
Mo Xi didn't know what the future would be like. He only felt that these two years were long and boring. He wanted to rush through them so that he could reach his seventh birthday and get closer to the battlefield that he yearned for. But he didn't know that the two years that he had been looking forward to would be the last time in his life when he had his father.
From now on, no matter how regretful he was or how sensible he became, he couldn't go back — the one that he despised and hated.
The last seven hundred days.
He hugged the calendar. The lines of the calendar forever stopped at the New Year's Eve of the 16th year of the Chong Hua calendar. The day they received the war report.
"Father …" he said softly. "The day that we agreed on has arrived. I can go to the school. "
He waited for a while, but no one answered him.
No one answered him again.
Mo Xi lowered his head deeply and curled up in front of the table. His shoulders trembled slightly. In the end, he cried silently.
"Father … let's not fight anymore, okay … don't go … come back …"
Come back …
The word 'heroic' is too cruel. I just want you to stand in the Ming Hall and watch the osmanthus flowers bloom with me in the autumn.
Come back …
When I grow up, let me go to the battlefield, okay? I don't want fame and fortune anymore. I don't like to fight anymore. I just want to protect you. I want to be by your side.
I want you to come home.
Father …
"… You will never understand me." On the top of War Soul Mountain, Mo Xi, who had already arrived, slowly opened his eyes. His gaze lingered on Fu Lingjun's jade tablet for a while, then turned to Gu Mang.
He said to Gu Mang indifferently, "If you didn't indulge in war for your own sake, I don't understand why you defected to the enemy Liao Country."
"…"
"Chong Hua has let you down. We owe you. But there is more than one path in front of you. There is also more than one place for you to betray your country. But you chose Liao Country. " Mo Xi's black eyes were cold. "You only think about revenge. For your ambition, for your comrades, for your own way out. You don't care about other people's blood."
"Mo Xi …"
Mo Xi was almost self-deprecating. "I'm sorry. I'm useless. Even if I used my life as a hostage, I still couldn't get you to turn back. "
Gu Mang looked into his eyes. Those eyes were too black, too cold, too deep. There were seven years of disappointment in them. It was so clear in the bright sky on the top of War Soul Mountain. Gu Mang's heart was suddenly stirred up.
He didn't know what kind of emotion it was. He only knew that he didn't want to see Mo Xi like that.
He didn't want Mo Xi to always see him like that.
As his blood boiled, he blurted out, "Can you trust me one more time?"
This sentence was like a cold arrow. The person who spoke and the person who listened to it were both caught off guard.
Mo Xi's eyes widened slightly. There was surprise on his handsome face. There was also a rare look of bewilderment. He was even a little absent-minded. "What?"
Gu Mang bit his lips. He stood up and looked at him against the sky. "I don't know what I was before. I've forgotten all about the past. But now I think what you said is right. I don't like fighting and killing. I also don't like being betrayed. "
His white robe fluttered in the cold wind. A thick layer of clouds was slowly moving across the sky. Thousands of golden rays shot down behind Gu Mang like arrows piercing through the forest.
It seemed like they were going to kill someone from yesterday.
Or like they were going to pierce someone's heart.
The beast of the past stood in front of Mo Xi. Under the backlight, Mo Xi couldn't see his face clearly. But the voice that reached his ears was as firm as before he lost his memory.
"I want to atone for my sins. I don't want to disappoint you." Gu Mang said. There was a natural power in his voice that struck the soul. "Can you trust me one more time?"
"…"
His robe fluttered.
Gu Mang half-knelt in front of Mo Extinguish. For the first time, he truly lowered his head. Respectfully, guiltily, with hope and passion, bearing the burden of blood and cold, he said in a low voice, "Master, please teach me."
Mo Xi couldn't say anything for a while.
At this moment, there was a sudden clap, and a voice as cold as smoke came from not far away. "How touching. What's going on? A prodigal son turning over a new leaf is more precious than gold? Tsk, tsk, tsk. I'm really touched to death. "
The author had something to say:
"The heavens, why are you so mean to me?" It came from the old Romance of the Three Kingdoms, the episode of Wuzhang Plains. When I watched it before, I felt that it was too sadistic and left a deep impression. After so many years, I still haven't forgotten this sentence. Here, I'm using it for Lord Laojun. It's not an original short sentence. It's to be hung in the script to avoid unnecessary misunderstandings.
"Smoker, choked by fate."
System: Due to your outstanding performance at the New Year's Eve banquet, your hatred has decreased by 30 points.
Ah Lian: I'm so happy!! It's finally decreased!! If it was a little lower, I wouldn't have to be the antagonist anymore!!
System: Hello, you've received a new mission [Go to War Spirit Mountain and insult the protagonist]. This mission is a must. If you don't complete it, Chong Hua will issue a smoking ban.
Ah Lian: … RN, I'll accept. I'll accept, okay?!!
You've already exceeded your reading limit for today. If you want to read more, please log in.
Login
Select text and click 'Report' to let us know about any bad translation.
