Chapter 62: Confess If You Can't Bear It

A scene of utter carnage unfolded within the Gu residence. The once proud members of the Gu clan, who ruled over Tielin City with arrogance, now trembled like livestock before Zheng Dali’s blade. Their pleas and howls were as meaningless to Zheng Dali as a breeze sweeping over a mountain; he paid them no heed.

“If any of you know anything, speak up now—perhaps you’ll be spared,” Zheng Dali said coldly as he wiped his treasured sword. He knew these ordinary clansmen were unlikely to possess any secrets, but there was always a chance.

“General, we truly know nothing!” The Gu clan members wept, their terror and helplessness all too apparent as death loomed.

Compared to the Gu family, the servants stood in near silence, their worry somewhat less intense. Even as heads rolled and blood flowed, these servants forced themselves to remain quiet, terrified of attracting Zheng Dali’s deadly attention.

“Uncle, just tell them what the young master wants to know!” came a shout from a younger Gu clansman outside the hall. “Look! Second Brother and Uncle-in-law are both dead. We can’t fight the young master!”

The desperate urge to survive had turned the Gu clan members into cowards.

In the main hall, Gu Mu could no longer hold back his tears. They fell in great drops, one after another. As his kin were slaughtered before him, even a heart of stone could not withstand such grief. Yet, despite his sorrow, Gu Mu gave not the slightest hint of relenting; his gaze remained steadfast, his jaw clenched.

The other Gu family members, seeing no response, lost all hope—only death awaited them now. Yet in their hearts, their deepest hatred was not reserved for Wei Wuji, but for Gu Mu himself, who had brought this calamity upon them.

“Gu Mu, you old bastard! If you want to die, don’t drag the whole Gu family down with you!” the hopeless clansmen cursed him with wild abandon, their reason and humanity lost.

They dared not curse Wei Wuji, for that would seal their fates even faster.

The abuse flew without end—from Gu Mu himself to his ancestors, each insult more venomous than the last.

“You decrepit wretch! You and your daughter, that pair of—”

Kneeling on the floor, Gu Mu endured torments beyond imagination—his family destroyed, kin turned against each other, the very fabric of kinship torn asunder…

At last, Gu Mu, whom Wei Wuji had been waiting on, finally spoke. Through clenched teeth, he said, “Young master, grant them a swift death.”

Seated in the place of honor, Wei Wuji was momentarily speechless. He had underestimated how much this old man could withstand.

Wei Wuji could not help but admire Gu Mu’s stubbornness. Had they not been enemies, a man of such resolve would surely have been a friend he’d wished for most. But alas, their paths were irreconcilable—they could only hate and wish each other dead.

Wei Wuji sneered, “Gu Mu, you truly are heartless.”

It was almost laughable: the merciless Wei Wuji now accused his victim of lacking mercy.

Of course, he had no intention of granting Gu Mu’s request. He would let these people curse as long as they pleased—the one suffering was Gu Mu.

“Huan’er, pour Master Gu a drink. Such a vicious man deserves a final toast.”

Gu Mu’s agony only made Wei Wuji more eager to humiliate him. But Huan’er could barely move, shaken to her very core by the cold cruelty she’d witnessed this day.

A young master who saw human life as worthless, Zheng Dali who killed as easily as slaughtering chickens, the inhuman Gu Mu… All of it made Huan’er question whether the rituals and decorum of daily life had ever been more than a façade.

Yet she had no choice but to obey. She could not defy the will of the man beside her—no one could.

After filling the cup, Huan’er brought it to Gu Mu.

“Master…”

Though Gu Mu was now a prisoner, Huan’er still addressed him as “Master.” She knew no other way.

Gu Mu accepted the cup, managing a sorrowful smile. “Don’t call me that anymore, lest you anger the young master and get yourself killed as well.”

At his words, Huan’er instinctively glanced at Wei Wuji, only to find him looking back at her with a smile. A chill ran down her spine. In the past, if Wei Wuji had smiled at her, she would have blushed and lowered her head, heart fluttering. Now, that smile filled her with terror. After handing over the wine, she hurried back to Wei Wuji’s side.

Gu Mu drained the cup in one gulp. “Good wine,” he said.

As his words faded, another scream rang out—the loss of yet another relative.

Wei Wuji was out of options. He had already sealed the Gu family’s fate; now, only the inevitable remained.

Just as Wei Wuji prepared to leave and consign the rest of the Gu family to death, a commotion arose outside the hall. A man strode in, followed by a squad of soldiers.

Wei Wuji looked closely—it was Liu Xuanba.

Why was he here instead of guarding the city? Wei Wuji wondered.

“Young master, I’ve caught one who slipped through the net!” Liu Xuanba’s voice reached the hall before he did.

At the sound, Gu Mu, who had barely moved, trembled almost imperceptibly.

“One who slipped through the net?” Wei Wuji’s interest was piqued; perhaps Liu Xuanba had brought him a surprise.

Liu Xuanba entered, bowed, and reported, “After you ordered all troops to tighten security, I had the city sealed off and sent out patrols. And lo and behold—we found a suspicious man skulking in an alley. My men apprehended him at once!”

But as Liu Xuanba rambled on, Wei Wuji grew impatient. “Lieutenant Liu, get to the point!” he barked.

Sensing Wei Wuji’s displeasure, Liu Xuanba became serious. The horrors outside had left him with a deep respect—even fear—for this young master.

Liu Xuanba quickly continued, “After a brief interrogation, we confirmed his identity—he is Gu Mu’s eldest son, Gu Yulin.”

He glanced at Gu Mu with a touch of pity. The man was truly unlucky; his whole family had been wiped out.

Wei Wuji turned to Gu Mu and saw all composure gone, a look of despair creeping into his eyes.

Wei Wuji was pleased—at last, Gu Mu was breaking. He had wondered if the man truly cared nothing for his kin, cared nothing for the legacy of his clan. Now he understood.

Gu Mu must have reasoned that, given his crimes, he would die whether he spoke or not. But if he kept silent and his son escaped, there’d be merit to claim from his master, and perhaps a chance to rise again. Now, though, all his schemes were dashed; his last hope—his son—had been captured.

“Gu Mu, will you confess your plot now?” Wei Wuji asked coolly, settling comfortably back in his seat.

Gu Mu shook his head, calm. “Young master, confessing or not, I still die. Why should I speak?”

So he wants to bargain, Wei Wuji thought with satisfaction. If he’s bargaining, that means we can talk.

“What do you want?” Wei Wuji asked.

Gu Mu looked up at him. “If I tell you everything, will you spare my life?”

Wei Wuji shook his head. “That’s impossible. You must die.”

It was inevitable. The enmity between Wei Wuji and the Gu family was irreconcilable; Wei Wuji would never let them live. Nor did he need to lie—only the truth would convince a man as shrewd as Gu Mu.

With that, the conversation reached an impasse. Both fell silent.

At length, Wei Wuji spoke again. “If you confess everything, the infants in your household will be spared.”

At these words, a faint light returned to Gu Mu’s deadened eyes.

“Do you swear it, young master?” Gu Mu asked quietly.

Wei Wuji’s face was grave. “I swear.”

Gu Mu studied Wei Wuji’s inscrutable expression for a long time before finally looking away.

“I believe you,” he replied, calm at last. He had no choice—this was the only hope left for the Gu family to endure.

Wei Wuji showed no sign of triumph. “Very well. Then tell me your entire plan.”