The cool of summer, in quiescent warmth of just-dawning, touch of light kissing the top of trees and bleeding down dappled onto the park verdancy. A solemn quiet. A whisper, of cycles gone by, and cycles that would go by, continued onwards to future time… he stood there, breathing the soft, the cool, the peace of the moment.

  Not daring to go in to work, but neither quite willing to not… which was, itself, a decision of its own. He knew that there was only one result that could have happened there— beneath that crowning of saffron light, as the clouds themselves turned awash with the vermillion dawning… “you can hide remarkably well for someone who hasn’t stepped onto the path of cultivation.” The sound of soft footsteps on grass, a whisper, of air and shifting clothing. Robes, trailing over the dew-strung meadow green, the edge of it trailing harshly over the delineation between grasses’ growth and the hard-packed earth the kids had once used to practice.

  He didn’t even look at Zhihu, instead just staring at the place. It was a profoundly serene place… not by any nature of qi or heavenly decree, or law of domain and realm, but simply by… the soft beauty of it. It was not mystical. It was, to him, almost more beautiful than the highest mountains of Ca Cao or the depths of those ocean fissures wherein the dark things lurked. “I thought we gave up pretending I wasn’t a cultivator.”

  “No, because you always deny it.”

  “Probably because I’m not one.” There was no real heat to either of their words, obvious enough in the way Zhihu rolled her eyes lazily. “You were going to drag me out of my office either way, weren’t you?”

  She shrugged, stepping up beside him and staring at the same location he did. “I had considered it.” She wouldn’t get it. She hadn’t observed Lily and Avyr fight and train and simply relax there almost every day— had not shown a hint of the heavenly arts to his students there, and stood in the quiet cool of shadow’s embrace as they struggled for triumph and pushed through failure.

  Why didn’t you?” It was an unassuming clearing, he knew, but for the spirit of the place… not its aura, though their practice had left indelible marks on the area, but simply in its memory.

  “You were able to correctly identify me through the formations in your room— formations that I completely failed to notice, that is, and I’ve seen the sort of formations you can make. Suli is still gushing over the one you gave him— you might be pleased to know that he’s using it to great effect.”

  “I’m happy that this humble servant’s contribution to the Bloody Saffron Sect is not going to waste.”

  She turned to face him, robes swirling over themselves just barely— “you don’t sound pleased, though. You sound…” she hummed, softly tapping at her chin. “I don’t know. You make it remarkably hard to place your emotions sometimes. You should try wearing them a bit more openly.”

  “That would defeat the whole purpose of being a refined young man.”

  “Right, because the traditional virtues are what’re most important for cultivation, of course.”

  For the first time, he turned his gaze from the clearing and leveled it on her. The disciple of a Sect built for war— sword at her hip, robes woven of the finest silks and held together with cords the rival of most life-saving treasures, replete with subtly hidden jade tokens and deftly woven talisman-scrips… Mingtian wondered if she even knew half of the things on her own robe. The Bloody Saffron Sect clearly invested immensely into their disciples, if this was how they equipped even their outer disciples…

  Yet, he supposed that was simply part and parcel to being a part of a sect that was also a city. They could afford to support the best thusly, because the worst were still held beneath their authority. Clever, he had to admit, in a vulgar sort of way…

  From a glance, he could tell she was essentially the image of a young, powerful cultivator— strong, arrogant, unwilling to imagine that there were barriers in front of them that wouldn’t be solved by hard work or divine fortune… yet, in turn, he’d also gotten to know her better than that. Smart. Crass, at times… yet in turn, willing to stand up to injustice. There was something there, in that null-space between the dichotomy of image and person… “in the future,” he simply advised, knowing full well that she did not know he knew, and that she would not trust him— “it will be far more important.”

  Zhihu was silent for a moment before she just laughed. “Sure, sure. Anyways. We’re going to go get you a house.” Mingtian groaned softly at that. He’d started to hope she’d forget, but… of course not. Willful could be added straight onto the list of her characteristics… “have you looked at any interesting places since I last spoke with you?”

  “Not particularly… but, I do have an idea.” Without so much as a single iota of fanfare, he turned about and strode out of the clearing, not waiting for Zhihu to catch up with her. She’d follow, or not. “There is a house I know for certain was made vacant only recently, and it should still be available.”

  “Oh?”

  He nodded as they stepped out of the small park— out of that piece of peace, and nature, and onto the sidewalk not quite yet bustling as East Saffron woke around them. The last vestiges of that scarlet dawn so slowly fading, transforming, into slanted rays of golden sunlight streaming down over the city-scape, and clouds lit with silver fire… the two of them through it so strode, unbothered. “You know the person who used to live there.”

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  To Zhihu’s credit, it only took her a moment to figure it out. She did have the acuity of a Foundation Establishment cultivator after all. “Avyr.”

  “Of course.” It barely took them any time at all to get to the place… that tiny house, nestled right off the roadside, so stoically simple. Almost boring, in the way most of the newer buildings in the precinct tended to be… still. It had been Avyr’s before, and it wasn’t like he’d had a place to compare. Not even in the Celestial Realm, and though the celestial starforges and cosmic arrays certainly beat the place out in grandeur, it was perhaps telling that— merely by the nature of its history, he cared far more about this ephemeral little building than he did the starforge Baixue had destroyed before his departure.

  Zhihu frowned up at it— for a moment leaping up into the air and using a trick of cultivation to hover for a moment without her flying sword— before settling back on the ground beside him with the faintest hint of a sour expression on her face. “This is… I won’t disparage your choice, but—”

  “It sucks, yes.” Avyr had been forced to get not just the cheapest option— what with how he had to make the most of his limited budget— but also somewhere the landlord didn’t really care who he was renting to. As a giant cat, that tended to be a little more difficult than one might expect. “It suits my needs well enough.”

  “You don’t have any needs. You’ve— somehow— managed to live in East Saffron without a house at all— not once looking unkempt— overwinter no less.”

  He shrugged. “What can I say? Formations are a powerful tool?” That, and secretly being a supreme existence helped too. Even as a mortal, he wasn’t entirely exempt from his nature— he wasn’t sure what they’d call his cultivation physique if they could recognize it, but he was pretty sure it’d be something incredibly pretentious. At least five words, he didn’t doubt.

  “Fine.” Zhihu just rolled her eyes. “I’m pretty sure the landlord is in that building over there—” nearby, but significantly nicer, which was in a way just a little depressing— “so…” he rolled his eyes, and crossed the street to the nicer building, knocking loudly on the door.

  A minute or two passed before an aging mortal man opened the door, looking at the two of them suspiciously. “What is this supposed to be? A prank?” He frowned, as if looking about for anyone else, before his gaze settled solely on Mingtian. “Take your girlfriend and get out unless you have something to say.”

  Mingtian couldn’t help but snort in amusement at that— no, Zhihu was far too young for him— but Zhihu… did not quite take the insinuation as nicely. Scowling, she waved a hand and a bloody and terrible pressure crashed down over them, fierce enough to almost send him to his knees— and he was exempted from its effects. The landlord was forced down onto his knees, eyes wide. “Do not presume to know who you are talking to, mortal. Do you really think you can impinge the honor of the Bloody Saffron Sect while standing beneath its eaves?”

  A second passed before she released the pressure, allowing the man to babble out some sort of half-crazed, half-desperate, fully coherent apology. Mingtian turned an unimpressed glare Zhihu’s way. “Was that really necessary?”

  “You’re not a cultivator, so you probably couldn’t feel it, but there was a… maliciousness to his aura.” Obviously. He was a landlord. “Besides, he’ll definitely give you a good deal now.”

  “Or try to kill me.”

  “He wouldn’t dare. The Bloody Saffron Sect would fall on him like the judgement of Heaven.” She paused for a second, then had the audacity to smirk at him. “Besides, you wouldn’t die from a few measly assassins, would you now?”

  Mingtian didn’t rise to the bait, even though it was clear what she was referencing, instead just kneeling down and helping the old man to his feet. “Apologies, elder. The honorable outer disciple can get a bit… impulsive, at times. I simply came to talk to inquire as to renting a recently unoccupied building of yours—”

  “Yes, yes!” The man didn’t even wait for him to finish his sentence before blurting out his response. “Of course! Anything for the great Bloody Saffron Sect!” He kowtowed once more to Zhihu, then quickly scurried back inside his home and slammed the door behind him— so painfully deluded if he thought that such a simple barrier would do anything to stop Zhihu if she wanted to do him harm. Lucky for him, Zhihu had just been feeling a bit mischievous.

  Mingtian pursed his lips, turning to Zhihu. “I don’t think that was how these sorts of things typically go.”

  “Much more efficient, no?”

  “Not at all.” He sighed, shaking his head. “Still, at least you tried to help.”

  “So ungrateful. Your generous senior sister took time out of her day to assist you, and this is what you offer in return? You wound me.” She pulled out her sword, casting it to the ground and catching it with a beautifully deft weave of qi, freezing it just a few inches above the pavement. “See what happens when you need help next, hm?” Yet— the whole time— she was grinning so very broadly.

  With a pulse of qi and a rush of air, she ascended into the skies, leaving him behind— amidst the morning airs, amidst the dawning warmth, muggy and hot… alone, with a new house and a bunch of new problems. How very typical.

  He hadn’t even managed to get the keys yet…

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