In Mingtian’s experience, the one surefire way to eliminate scheming and ensure prosperity was to be so overwhelmingly, terrifyingly strong that nobody would dare stand against you. It really did work wonders back in the Heavenly Realm, before he’d ascended to the comparatively far more boring Celestial Realm… he sighed fondly, a smile slipping across his face. Yes, those had been the times. Planetary magistrates would’ve quaked in their boots at his passing. Divines that ruled entire galaxies would kowtow one thousand times at his passing, offering gifts worth more than some small star clusters made in a small era. His enemies fled at the whisper of his name and the sect behind him, and those that dared to meddle in his plans swiftly learned just how high Mt. Tai really was.

  It was a fond thing to reminisce on— now of all times especially, with Jie standing in front of his door. Or rather, Principal Yuxan’s messenger stood in front of his door, nervous enough that even a mortal would’ve been able to see through the disguise. This was some sort of horrible, no good power play, he was certain, and the worst thing was that he was still pretending to be mortal. Unless he wanted to drop his facade of power— and really, he didn’t; slight annoyances aside, the whole deal was so much fun— he’d just have to put up with that sort of thing.

  If only he was able to dash them upon the rocks or throw them into a star or… whatever. Alas, those workings were beyond the ability of mere mortals, unfortunately. So, with a sigh, he picked himself up and padded over to the door. “Jie. It’s been a while. You can come in if you want, but I can’t host you forever. Lexi needs me to show up at the library later today— I’ve some paperwork I need to fill out for her.” He grimaced at the thought. The bureaucracy of East Saffron never failed to incense him with its immense stupidity.

  “Uh, of course… I didn’t want to talk to you for more than a moment anyways. I was just…” he grimaced. “I didn’t want to come here at all— not in a bad way! But, well, you know… Principal Yuxan wanted me to convey a message.”

  Mingtian pulled out two cups, setting water to boil— and subtly stoking it with a touch of his domain, twisting reality and bringing it to a boil far faster than it might have otherwise. Jie gave the kettle a surprised glance as it shrieked so soon, but didn’t say anything. To him… Mingtian was pretty sure it’d be taken more as a reminder of his formations skill than anything deeper. “So.” He poured out the water, steam billowing almost delicately in the placid cool of the room. “I was wondering when he’d come to me. What pleas does he have this time? Or threats?”

  “He wouldn’t—” Jie gulped as Mingtian leveled a stare at him, gaze heavy with some blank, indescribable thing. A weight, utterly unconcerned with whatever ploy Yuxan had thought to try this time. “He, um. Wanted to say that he would pay triple your salary from last year if you agree to teach one day a week, just like before.”

  “That’s all?”

  “Yes.” Jie nodded confidently. “That’s it. He said that the rest should be obvious.”

  “Alright.” Mingtian resisted the peculiar urge to groan and slump in his seat. Mortal bodies were so weak… and, the weight of it— the matter was too great. It came together to a terrible annoyance, all things considered…

  He wondered what message the principal could’ve been trying to send. There really was no shortage of possibilities— limited more by the man’s near-mortality than anything, and Mingtian knew better than to underestimate just what a well-equipped junior could accomplish. Worse, a well connected junior… he repressed a shiver at some of the memories of his past entanglements, where killing a random mook had summoned their venerable ancestor, then the ancestor’s dharma guardian, then the… so on and so forth until he and Baixue had still been feuding with that faction when they’d been Peak Divines.

  Perhaps a message of generosity? That was, in his opinion, the least likely. Yuxan was the sort that liked to have power, and spent no shortage of effort securing it no matter what stood in their way. More likely, it was some manner of veiled threat— maybe that he would exact as much from him as he had to gain from returning to teach, or that he could still leverage significant funds despite the current atmosphere of deprivation that had already begun to settle over the various ministries and divisions fo the city…

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  Once again, he could not help that it felt so very petty.

  He passed the tea to Jie, whose eyes widened just a little as he took a sip. “This is well made. Practice? Or technique?”

  “My heaven-defying tea-making techniques are not for mere mortals to hear. Imagine the harm that might happen if an Immortal Ascension cultivator got hold of them. The whole order of the world might be thrown into chaos.”

  Jie snorted, not realizing that he wasn’t entirely joking. “Of course. Either way, it’s good.” He leaned back, sighing with satisfaction as he inhaled the rich aroma. “I wish you were in a better position. I’m pretty sure if Yuxan saw me associating with you, I’d lose my job.” He shrugged. “You know how it is. I’m not even one of the important professors… all I had was your support, and the Outer Disciple’s acknowledgement.”

  “Zhihu’s word should at least mean something. I doubt even Guxi would dare to go against the Bloody Saffron Sect.”

  “I would hope not… but, they don’t really need to go against the Bloody Saffron Sect to contravene its wishes. It’s always been a thing. The sect is…” he waved a hand with a light frown— “loose, I’m sure you’re aware. Other than the necessary functions, their disciples largely don’t interact with the city. We are as bugs— beneath the notice of the great beings who walk above us.”

  Mingtian snorted. “Mortals, cultivators— the two are not so far apart.”

  “Interesting…” Jie leaned back, looking… pensive. He’d clearly gotten more out of his dismissive statement than Mingtian had put in in the first place.

  Not that there was no difference— a mere mortal against him was a difference so utterly vast, so incomparably and enormously large that there might be nobody in the entire realm bar him that could truly even begin to understand just how wide the gulf between them lay. In respect to that, how truly different were mortals from the realm’s low rank cultivators, anyways?

  The two of them sat in silence for a long while, until Jie finally finished his tea— pushing aside the cup and standing, a little sheepishly. “Thank you for having me, even if it wasn’t under the, uh, best of circumstances."

  Mingtian nodded. “I understand.” He really did. Even if he didn’t like the situation… “continue to teach well. If you have any concerns… feel free to write. I’ll help if it’s not too much trouble.”

  Jie’s eyes widened ever so slightly. “Oh! Uh, thank you!” Then— without much further ado— he slipped his coat on, glanced around the room one final time— and slid away into the late-summer daylight, golden over East Saffron.

  Leaving Mingtian wondering— what to do, what to do…

  ………

  He finished the last bit of paperwork for the day, shifting the stack off to the side with a sigh. How Lexi managed to do all that in a day… it was admirable, in the sort of painful way that watching someone walk on coals without wincing was admirable…

  Someone tapped on his window, and with a thoughtless gesture he flipped it open with a thread of qi. There was only one person who’d try and enter the room that way, anyways. “Zhihu. It’s been a while.”

  “Yes, yes…” she gave him a smile— though it didn’t really reach her eyes. “I’ve been busy. I’m almost done building my foundations, which means that I’ll be ready to risk the breakthrough to Core Formation soon.”

  Mingtian hummed consideringly. “Your cultivation is good.” A second— “or at least, I assume it is. Given you’re part of the Bloody Saffron Sect and whatnot.” It wasn’t a very convincing correction, and even he could tell that.

  “Not every member of the Bloody Saffron Sect manages to reach Core Formation. I’m still young enough to make the attempt, but if I fail…” she grimaced. “Or, worse, if I damage my foundations, I’ll probably be forced to restart from scratch. The sect’s method is exacting. Powerful, but exacting, if I want any hope at reaching beyond Core Formation one day.”

  “And you’re telling me this because…”

  Zhihu grinned. “Oh, who knows. If you have any secret formations that would guarantee my advancement, I’ll take payment in advance.” He gave her a flat look— that sort of formation would hurt her more than it’d help in the long run— if it was even possible to make with the basic materials he had access to at the moment. “No, I just wanted to let you know that your not-disciples are doing well. I stopped by and asked Daoist Severing Dust— that’s Lily’s liaison, by the way— how they’re doing so far, and he was very impressed with her. I might have managed to impress upon him just how exceptional a student she really is.”

  Mingtian couldn’t quite prevent a smile from slipping onto his face. “That’s good.” The place felt so… dreary, without the two of them around. He wondered when he’d get to see them in the future. One day, probably— unless they died before then, he’d see them again one day. Such was the nature of immortality.

  Hopefully, they’d do well at the university. He was rooting for them.

  Until then… he continued chatting with Zhihu, dodging her attempts to get anything concrete out of him, mind adrift in curious dimensions— wondering, now that he was free of so much—

  What was there to even do?

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