Gu Mang didn't speak, his blue eyes looked at the black ones, and the incense ash brushed silently around them.
Jiang Yexue's sigh seemed to be ringing in his ears again, Jiang Yexue told him—
"The year Mr. Fuling left, Mo Xi was only seven years old."
"I was betrayed by the deputy commander, the head was separated, and the spiritual core was stripped. In the unsent letter, it was written that Qiyue Wuyi, with the son in the same robe."
"You did almost the same thing as him, how could you ask Mo Xi to forgive you?"
The soot was blown away by the wind, and the incense was misty. Gu Mang murmured in a low voice, "Mo Xi, I don't think I... don't want to fight."
When he said this, for some reason, his heart was sore and he almost choked up. Although he didn't remember it, he felt that his sentence was sincere.
It was Mo Xi who didn't understand him, and it was Mo Xi who misunderstood him.
How could he like to fight... So many people died, the corpses were in the mountains and the seas of blood, and the bones were withered once they succeeded. How could he like it.
He's not fighting to get over, not fighting for fame, not fighting for his own way out - otherwise he wouldn't have seen so many ghosts, and he wouldn't have seen them questioning him and blaming him. He has always lived in sin.
"I know... how you feel."
I understand how you feel about losing your father.
I get it...
Mo Xi said nothing.
In front of his father's tomb, he didn't want to quarrel. He used to believe that Gu Mang regarded human life and human affection as the most important thing, but now he only thinks Gu Mang's words are ridiculous. How can a person who said "you can't miss old feelings too much", a person who can point a sharp knife at his former siblings for revenge, how can he understand his feelings
He was different from Gu Mang, he couldn't let go of his old feelings from the bottom of his heart, as if he still didn't like to smell the sweet fragrance of osmanthus in full bloom.
It was as if he had never forgotten all the things his father had when he was alive, even though he was so young at the time. But as long as he thought about it, as soon as he closed his eyes, he could see the scenes of the past.
Seeing Mo Qingchi standing under the laurel tree, his back is tall and straight.
He couldn't even like his weapon, because after so many years, he couldn't forget the words he once asked his father - "Dad, what are your weapons made of?"
like a curse.
Mo Xi looked at the golden characters "Fling Jun Moqing Pond, the heroic spirits sleep forever", and he could easily outline the grass and trees in the backyard of Mo Mansion back then. And the agreement he had with his father.
He closed his eyes and said, "You won't understand me."
From the age of seven, he understood what the fire of war meant. At the cruelest price - his father's life.
At that time, Mo Xi was young and inexperienced. At first, the child didn't know what war meant. He just thought it was very powerful. He just thought that the pleasures and grievances of fighting and killing were unspeakable, so he pestered his father to ask about it. , almost all about weapons.
He liked the way his father wore a military uniform.
He liked his father to go to the battlefield. In his heart, his father would not lose, and the war brought only supreme glory to the Mo family.
He was still too naive after all.
No idea what the flames of war would take away from him.
As for Mo Qingchi, he probably felt that the child was too young to talk about life and death, so he answered him with a smile: "Father has two, one is cast by the soul of Shuran, and that is us. The Mo family's weapons will be handed down to you in the future. The other one is the one that Dad got when he was young and just entered the Cultivation Academy."
Mo Xi was full of admiration, raised his head and clasped his father's sleeve and said, "I want to see, I want to see!"
Mo Qingchi stood under the osmanthus tree, picked up the fine flowers on the corner of Mo Xi's forehead, then raised his palm, and said with a smile, "Xiaoyue, call me."
A golden light flew out from his hand, and the little aura merged into the shape of a sperm whale. It swam gracefully through the laurel tree, swept its tail, and the courtyard was filled with laurel rain in an instant.
The little child stood beside his father's lap, looking up with wide black eyes in amazement.
"Blade." Mo Qingchi gave an order, and the sperm whale's spiritual body quickly turned into a golden shield, which was held by Mo Qingchi, Mo Qingchi bowed his head and smiled at his son, "Xiaoyue is a whale spirit that has turned into an essence. Forged from the nucleus, after the blade is turned, it is a shield. This is Dad's second weapon."
He was both envious and curious at the time, reached out his hand, and carefully touched the shield body.
"So the weapons used by monks are all made of spiritual bodies?"
"Almost all." Mo Qingchi said with a smile, "Blades made of copper and iron often can't withstand spiritual currents, and they can't be summoned by a bond, so they must be by their side at all times. So few people would choose ordinary iron."
At that time, Mo Xi could not understand what he heard. He blinked his eyes ignorantly and looked at the shield again: "Father, can I have it too?"
"You are the only son of the Mo family, and you will enter the Cultivation Academy in the future, of course you will."
Mo Xi's mood suddenly jumped up. The newborn calf didn't have any reverence for weapons or death. He just thought it was very powerful. In the future, he would also step on the horse like his father and fight in the north and south.
He didn't go through life and death at that time, he just thought rashly and ignorantly that he would love that bloody life.
The longbow broke through the blizzard, and the horse leather wrapped the body.
What a hero's dream.
Mo Xi couldn't help raising his hand to touch his father's shield, his eyes flashing brightly, and he asked, "Then what would mine be? Could it be a big fish like daddy?"
Mo Qingchi lowered his body and tried to be as flush with his son as possible, and touched his soft black hair with a smile: "The elders of the school will give you an assignment, and in that assignment, you will summon the person closest to your soul. A magic weapon. Yes, you may get the same big fish as your father, or it may be something else, birds and beasts, spiritual trees and different flowers, all are possible."
"Is it there as soon as you enter the school palace?"
"Almost so." Mo Qingchi laughed.
"Then let's go to the Cultivation Academy!" He took his father's clothes and said eagerly, "Can we go tomorrow?"
"Haha, not tomorrow. At least you have to wait until you are seven years old. Children younger than seven years old will not be accepted by the Academy." Mo Qingchi said patiently, "When you are seven years old, Dad will play your majesty. You are allowed to enter the palace. Then you can accept that appointment, and after completing the appointment, our fireball will be a real little monk."
He, who was not familiar with the world, was showing a happy expression, but suddenly he seemed to have thought of something, stunned for a moment, and hesitated: "Dad..."
"Um?"
"Is that appointment difficult? Will I fail and be driven back?" After all, four or five-year-old children were apprehensive.
"No." Mo Qingchi said with a smile, "You can pass an appointment that a fool can pass, you can pass it while lying down, you can pass it with your eyes closed, you don't have to be afraid at all." After a pause, he suddenly patted his head, "Yes. Now, there will be a senior brother or senior sister to accompany you, if there is any difficulty, they will also help you."
He was relieved. He was fascinated by what his father said, and it seemed that he could not wait to grow up quickly, so that he could get a weapon of his own.
Dad said that he would take him there when he was seven years old.
So he looked forward to it every day, looking forward to it, counting the days and looking forward to the age of seven. I even took a Chonghua calendar and made a serious note on the calendar every day before going to bed.
Every time he made a note, it was as if he was one step closer to his dream of a god of war. He loves fighting, can't wait to get a weapon, train hard, grow up, and fight alongside his father—what a joy.
Later, when Liaoguo invaded, Mo Qingchi took command as usual and rushed to the battlefield.
That year, Mo Xi finally looked forward to his seven years old.
But what he was looking forward to was not Lingwu, nor admission, but a piece of paper for military declarations. Before he could realize what life and death meant, the white silk of the Mo residence was already falling, and the death knell of the palace was ringing.
"Fuling-kun has passed away!"
The city wailed, and the paper money fell to the ground, like a heavy snowfall that would not melt for years.
Everyone was crying and grabbing the ground, people who knew them, people who didn't know them, people who were familiar, and those who were very few came to Mo Mansion to shed tears and sacrifices. The uncle of Tiger and Wolf Heart was also doing his best at that time, and was grief-stricken to handle the funeral of his righteous brother. Everyone wears burlap and filial piety, and even when the king comes up, he is all white.
"I lost Fuling, as if I lost my liver and gall..." Lao Junshang rested his head on the coffin, burst into tears and choked with grief, "Yuyou heaven, why are you less than me!"
All the ministers knelt down even more, crying and mourning.
Outside the main hall, the gold and silver ingots for sacrificing are piled high on the mountain, the high priest blew the yak's horn, and a golden light floated out of the coffin, and the little golden light turned into a swimming whale, lingering in the hall for several times, and swimming out of the court. .
The osmanthus trees outside the courtyard have long since lost their osmanthus flowers, and the big fish has swum past, and the scene of the courtyard full of osmanthus rain is no longer the same.
It rushed up to the high sky and returned from the sea of clouds.
"Shenwu has been resolved." The high priest sang, knelt down and kowtowed, "Hunxi - An Ning -"
Everyone cried and worshipped, "Jun Fuling is heroic."
"The return of the heroic spirit—"
In this group of white monsters, only Mo Xi didn't cry. He knelt there without saying a word, watching blankly. who went
who died...
Who is the hero
Who is the heroic spirit
Hero, what does that mean? The two words that he had been listening to since he was a child, suddenly became so unfamiliar because of his father's death.
He once felt that the dazzling words, the battlefield that he had infinitely longed for, what was it
"The Heroic Spirit Returns - Soul Comes to Changning -"
No no, he shuddered suddenly. He doesn't want heroes, he doesn't want his father to be heroic, he just wants his father to stand in the courtyard and take him to pick sweet-scented osmanthus flowers in the autumn and make a pot of sweet wine.
He just wanted his father to come back, take his hand, lowered his head and said to him with a smile: "Little Fireball, you are seven years old this year, father will take you to the school, you have to be obedient and follow the elders to cultivate."
He thought like this, as if he really saw Dad standing at the door, turned around and smiled at him.
"Fireball," he said to him, "good boy, come here and let Daddy take a look."
Mo Xi walked towards the figure in the light that day in a trance.
Suddenly, the funeral firecrackers exploded, and the crackling sound was like awakening a dream deep in the soul.
"Father?" He blankly said, "Father, where are you?"
you, where are you
There was no one at the door, only the white silk hanging low.
His fingers were cold, and at that cruel moment, he suddenly understood what "death" meant. He suddenly shouted loudly, shouting for Dad, and ran towards the outside of the hall. Seeing this, the courtiers were even more shocked and saddened, wiping away tears. His uncle stepped out in a hurry, hugged Mo Xi who was struggling, and said with red eyes, "Xi'er is obedient, come to my uncle, come to my uncle..."
"I saw Daddy! I saw him!" He shouted, and suddenly lost his voice, and fell into his uncle's arms and finally burst into tears, "I saw his...why did he leave? Why? Why did he leave? Why doesn't he want me anymore!" The seven-year-old boy screamed hoarsely, and his face was full of tears.
At the end, the lips were trembling and murmured, and there was only one sentence: "Why doesn't he want me..."
He is seven years old.
He looked forward to the stars and the moon, earnestly, and looked forward to the seven-year-old with his father.
It turned out to be such a scene.
It turned out to be war. It is also the price of glory.
More than half a year later, his birthday came. He still wears mourning clothes, the finest silk threads, and the most exquisite workmanship. But so what.
He came to the Xuan window, and the osmanthus flowers outside the window were blooming again. He sat down in the fragrant fragrance and took out the Chonghua Calendar that he had painted for more than two years, which was already covered with thick dust.
"How many days do I have before my seven-year-old birthday?" Years ago, his own voice seemed to be in his ears.
At that time, Mo Qingchi put his big hand on his head and rubbed lovingly: "No hurry."
"But I'm in a hurry, Daddy." He muttered, "I really want to skip these two years, and when I open my eyes, I'll be seven years old."
Mo Qingchi laughed loudly, the laughter went from clear to vague, and finally turned into soft leaves outside the window.
Mo Xi didn't know what the future would be like at the time. He only felt that these two years were long and boring, and he wanted to spend it in a hurry, so that he could get closer to the battlefield he longed for when he was seven years old. But he didn't know, it turned out that he was eagerly looking forward to the past two years, which would be the last time in his life that he had Dad.
From now on, no matter how remorseful he is or how sensible he becomes, he will never be able to go back—that which he once despised, wished he could not.
The last seven hundred days.
He held the calendar, and the line of the calendar stayed on the New Year's Eve of the sixteenth year of the Chonghua calendar forever. The day they received the battle report.
"Father..." he read softly, "our appointment has come. I can go to the school now."
After waiting for a while, no one answered him.
No one answered him again.
Mo Xi buried his head deeply, curled up in front of the table, and moved his shoulders slightly, sobbing in the end.
"Daddy... we won't be fighting, okay... don't leave... come back... "
you come back...
The word heroic and martyr is too cruel. I just want you to stand in the bright hall and watch the sweet-scented osmanthus bloom with me in autumn.
you come back...
When I grow up, let me go to the battlefield, okay? I no longer do it for fame and fortune, I no longer like to fight, I just want to protect you, I want to be by your side.
I want you to go home.
Daddy...
"...You'll never understand me." On the top of the cloud-shrouded Battle Soul, Mo Xi, who was already standing there, slowly opened his eyes. His gaze stayed on the jade tablet of Lord Fu Ling for a while, and then turned to Gu Mang.
He said to Gu Mang lightly, "If you didn't indulge in the war for your own sake, I don't understand why you would join the enemy Liao Kingdom."
"… "
"Chonghua is sorry for you, we owe you. But there is more than one road before you, and there is more than one place for you to betray the country. But you chose Liao Kingdom." Mo Xi's dark eyes were cold, "What do you think? It's revenge, for your ambition, for your comrades, for your way out, you don't care about other people's more blood."
"Ink extinguished..."
Mo Xi almost laughed at himself: "I'm sorry, I'm useless. Even if you put your life as a pledge, you won't get your back."
Gu Mang looked into his eyes. Those eyes were too dark, too cold, too deep. They contained seven years of disappointment, and they seemed so clear on the top of Zhanhun Mountain where the sky was bright. Gu Mang felt a sudden surge of excitement in his heart.
He didn't know what kind of mood that agitation was, but he only knew that he didn't want to see Mo Xi's expression.
He didn't want Mo Xi to treat him like this all the time.
While the blood was surging, a sentence rushed out: "Can you trust me again?"
This sentence is like a cold arrow, and both the speaker and the obedient are caught off guard.
Mo Xi opened his eyes slightly, and there was surprise on that handsome face, a rare daze, and even a little dazed: "What?"
Gu Mang bit his lip, stood up, and looked at him against the light of the sky: "I don't know what I was in the past. I have forgotten all about the past. But now I think you're right. I too I don't like fighting, and I don't like being betrayed."
The cold wind was blowing his white robe, and a thick cloud was slowly moving past the day before the confession, and the golden light of ten thousand rays was like a feather arrow piercing the forest, shooting down from behind Gu Mang.
As if to slay someone from yesterday.
It's like trying to pierce someone's heart.
The old altar beast stood in front of Mo Xi, and Mo Xi couldn't see his face in the backlight, but the voice that reached his ears was as solid as before he lost his memory.
"I want to atone for my sins, and I don't want to disappoint you." Gu Mang said, the innate power in his voice hitting his soul, "Can you trust me again."
"… "
Robe sleeves flutter.
Gu Mang knelt down halfway in front of Mo Xi, bowed his head for the first time in the true sense, respectful, guilty, with hope and heat, blood and cold, he whispered, "I beg the Lord, Teach me."
Mo Xi couldn't say anything for a while.
But at this moment, there was a sudden applause twice, and a cold voice like a thin smoke came from not far away: "It's touching, where is this song? Impressed."
The author has something to say:
Youyou Cangtian, what's more than me, from the old version of Romance of the Three Kingdoms, the episode of Xingluoqiufengwuzhangyuan, when I watched it before, I thought it was too cruel and impressive. After so many years, I haven't forgotten this sentence. Here I bring it to Laojun I used it, it is not an original short sentence, it is hung in the copy to avoid unnecessary misunderstanding~
"Smokers, Choked by Fate. 》
[System]: Due to your excellent performance at the New Year's Eve Banquet, your hatred value is reduced by 30 points.
Alian: So happy! ! Finally lowered! ! If it's a little lower, I can stop being the villain! !
[System]: Hello, I have received a new quest [Go to War Soul Mountain to abuse the protagonist with real name]. This quest is a necessary quest. If Chonghua is not completed, a smoking ban will be issued.
Alian: ... rnm I'll take it. Can't I take it? ! !