The computers of this realm were a really interesting thing. In function they were far more limited than something like his codex token, which was chock full with everything, ever, give or take— mostly give. He supposed that wasn’t fair to the Order of the Fathomless Codex— they operated largely on a level far higher than mere existence and nonexistence, which made the prior statement all but moot…

  No, what made the computers on Aurelia so interesting was the same thing that had made the realm itself so interesting; not the technical matters, definitely, because they were impossibly limited in that capacity, but the human matter. And their network, just like the world about him, carried forward that vibrancy.

  All that was to say, he was using the incredible power of his codex token, immeasurable in its capacity, beyond even his capacity to fully discern— to more efficiently search through the tangled snarl of interconnecting and barely interlocking networks to watch as many funny reactions to that phoenix's ascension as he could. There were a lot.

  He was on his… some hundreth, he’d lost count, the particular one being a rather foolish misinterpretation of the events that speculated the phoenix had been a vermillion phoenix from some outer realm rather, which… the irony of it was just scrumptious.

  “Huh. That’s a new one.” Mingtian didn’t look up, as per usual— just one part of their typical little greeting. “You left the window unlocked. What if some thieves break in? You might be hurt.”

  Mingtian didn’t even spare Zhihu a glance. “My third story window?”

  “Maybe the thieves are really good at climbing.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Or maybe they’re Foundation Establishment cultivators with stealth techniques and a compulsive need to spy on interesting local librarians.”

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  “I’ll have you know, there was nothing compulsive about that.”

  “Right.” He manged to fit a truly remarkable amount of sarcasm into that. It really was a lot like bantering with Baixue… he sighed, suddenly melancholy. Zhihu wasn’t at all like Lily or Avyr, and they weren’t like Baixue… for a second, he contemplated just revealing everything to the outer disciple, before he restrained himself. That’d be counterproductive.

  Still, it didn’t stop him from feeling so very bored. “What brings you?”

  “What makes you think that I need a reason to visit my favorite definitely-a-mortal?”

  “You always have a reason. It doesn’t take a masterful leap of logic to think that you have one now.”

  “Yeah.” Zhihu chuckled, leaning against the window. “I was wondering if you had a plan for winter break. It’s coming soon, and Yuxan’s definitely going to try something far more… dramatic. I’m certain.”

  “Hm.” Briefly, he glanced to Lily’s most recent letter— spread out on his desk, still rumpled where she’d accidentally crumpled it before putting it to post. “They’ll be back soon. I’ve missed them a lot more than I thought I would.”

  “It’s only right for a master to miss his disciples.” Mingtian just rolled his eyes at the jest. It was such a tired repetition that he barely even needed to react; the whole song and dance played itself out in the silence between them. Then, more seriously, she settled her gaze on her— backed by the slightest hint of her aura, subtle enough to empower her words but not even enough to make a mortal sweat. “I hope you’re ready.”

  “I’m sure a helpful outer disciple could cut through whatever problems come to bear.”

  “I’m not a magic solution to all your issues.” She shrugged. “Besides, you were the one who tangled yourself up in the local politic by being so incredibly capable. Capable and independent— the perfect mix to invite trouble down on your head.”

  “That, and the outer disciple who always seems to hang around me— but surely that has nothing to do with their interest at all.”

  Zhihu just chuckled. “I’ll help if I can.” She swung the window open, a quiet and chill breeze swirling in— caught up in the room’s wuxing formation, and clashing against it. Just for a moment— she paused at the edge, and gave him a look that bore profound depths. “And maybe even if I can’t. Stay well, Librarian.”

  Then, she was gone, the window snapping shut behind her, leaving— alone, in his office, an Immortal Sovereign and his worries.