Past—

He snapped himself out of the memory with a jolt, lips pressed into a thin line as he looked up at Song Shun. If he didn't need to, Qian Meng preferred not to think about the blood he'd shed that day. Both his own and others. . . But the world wouldn't let him. It had been so long since it occurred, and yet the rumors grew out of control rather than diminish. He'd long since known the explanation—only villains were remembered so clearly, and Qian Meng had never once claimed to be the hero. He didn't truly know what such a word meant, at least not really. For not a single soul—not even the Celestial Beings of the Heavenly Court—were free of corruption.

"Would you like some fruit? I have many apples," Qian Meng said.

Song Shun's lips twisted to the side, revealing one of his canine teeth. The scowl morphed his radiant beauty into something ugly, sinister. As if a divine man like him was never meant to show emotion, let alone anger.

"You have many apples? None of this belongs to you! How could someone like you even discover this sacred place? And why did you pick all the apples and fix the shack? What's your end goal here?" The man seethed, fists clenched at his sides.

Qian Meng glanced around, trying to figure out what he'd done wrong now. "What do you mean? It was run down by time and neglect. I only fixed it up a bit."

He was about to stand so he could talk it all out when the man's sword unsheathed with a high whine, coming to hover before his face. It was incredibly bright, almost blinding, forcing Qian Meng to lean away and shield his eyes.

"You! You!" Son Shun stuttered, face turning red.

Qian Meng used one finger to push the blade away from his face so he could look at him. "Me, what? I have done nothing wrong. Put your sword away."

Song Shun didn't listen, only thrust the blade back into his personal space, teeth clenched. "No, I won't! Stand up!"

With a sigh, Qian Meng did as he was told, palming Yu Chang and planting his other hand on his hip. It was easy to tell that he was exasperated and that only made the other cultivator all the more rageful. How dare Qian Meng act like the great Song Shun, the young head of the Zephyr Temple, was anything less than exceedingly powerful!

"Draw your sword," Song Shun bit out.

Qian Meng raised his brows. "No."

"Then I will make you."

The younger man swung, the blade cutting through the air so quickly it blurred, but Qian Meng was faster. Sidestepping before turning in a whirl of dark cotton to avoid another strike. He was ahead of every move the Zephyr disciple made, keeping his hands tucked behind his back and a smile on his lips. It infuriated Song Shun to no end, and the attempted blows came faster and with more weight behind them. One could hear the iron whistling with every swipe of the blade.

"Stop evading and fight me!"

Qian Meng clicked his tongue. "No. There is no reason to draw my sword for something so frivolous."

The tone was matter-of-fact, similar to that of a teacher informing a student of a very important lesson. Song Shun took a step back to pace in a tight circle, radiating barely controlled anger. The dark cultivator only watched it unfold, biting his tongue to keep himself from saying anything else that could set the man off. He'd really hate to kill him for no other reason than self-defense.

"What? Am I not good enough to fight someone like you?" Song Shun spat, cutting him a glare.

Qian Meng took a few steps forward until he was a hair's breadth away from being impaled by Song Shun's sword. When he spoke, it was low and captivating. His eyes were pools of dark starlight, black as sin yet brighter than anything he'd seen before—forcing the younger cultivator to lean in.

"It is not about strength. Think when you pick up your sword. That blade can take a life. Can maim. Can torture. It is what makes you powerful, and it is a privilege, not a right, to wield it."

Song Shun sheathed his sword—Claíomh Solais—with a scowl, pushing the dark cultivator away with the flat of his hand. Why would he say something like that, as if Song Shun didn't already know? Did he find him so unworthy that he believes him dumb? Uneducated?

"You think I'm impulsive?" Song Shun asked, unable to stop himself.

Meanwhile, Qian Meng was simply trying to get his point across. He held up his hands, scarred palms up, and tried to defuse the situation.

"No, that is not what I said, nor what I meant."

He expected Song Shun to argue yet again, but the man only glanced away, changing the subject.

"How did you get in here?"

Qian Meng tilted his head. "Get in here? I was wandering, looking for food when I discovered this orchard."

The man pursed his lips. "That's all?"

Qian Meng nodded, keeping his face blank. Was there something about this place he'd missed? Did it hold some sort of magical properties? He had so many questions, but he didn't dare ask them as Song Shun whirled closer, coming within a foot of the Qian Meng's boots. He prepared himself to block a hit, muscles tensing, but it never came. And when Qian Meng glanced down from beneath furrowed brows, Song Shun was staring up at him with great focus.

"So you came into this place by chance, cleaned it up by choice, and picked all the fruit to store it here for... What? Whoever stops by next?" Song Shun asked, doubtfully.

Qian Meng only looked back at him blankly for a moment. Sure, his reputation wasn't stellar, but that didn't mean everything he did was evil! He didn't go around kicking kittens and killing babies! Nor would he see a wondrous place such as this and destroy it for no good reason at all. If this was truly what the world thought of him, he did not know what to make of it. Normally, he could brush off prejudices and move on as long as he knew he only killed those who deserved it. But this felt like too much.

"Yes, that's all true."

Song Shun straightened to his full height with a scoff, rolling his eyes. "It's all true. . ."

The words were murmured, not inviting a reply. Silence enveloped them in a tight grip, the air between the two cultivators growing awkward. Qian Meng didn't know what to do now. Clearly, this man had been here before and felt he had some kind of claim on it. Should he leave to reduce the trouble? Stand his ground? And if he did, for what? There really was no reason for him to stay here beyond the tranquility it brought him during meditation. But there were hundreds of places he could go for that. He could even think of ten right off the top of his head. All Qian Meng had to say for himself was the truth: He liked it here. Perhaps more than he liked it anywhere else on Rasheia.

Regardless, he bent over with a sigh, patting down his dark pants to remove the dust. He was already wearing his pack and sword, and he owned nothing else. The house behind him, while now sturdy and clean, remained empty. He'd rarely even used the bed, preferring to sleep outside before the fire and beneath the stars.

"I apologize for disturbing your orchard," Qian Meng said with a dip of his chin, moving to walk past him.

However, Song Shun stopped him by latching onto his upper arm. A tremor shivered across Qian Meng's body, his qi growing restless. He couldn't help glancing toward the younger cultivator, eyes flaring with irritation. It brought them mere inches apart. The silence was palpable, the kind that felt like a dull buzz in the back of your skull. Seconds felt like hours, and Song Shun swore he saw Qian Meng's eyes glow a brief, bright crimson. With a deep breath, his grip softened, fingers trembling as he stepped away from the dark cultivator.

"I apologize for my behavior," Song Shun eventually ground out, eyes downcast. "Let us talk."

Qian Meng wasn't looking for a fight, nor was he looking for friends.

"No, thank you. I have my fill of dried apples here," he said, patting his pack. "I have no need of your orchard any longer. However, for a better return next year, remember to trim the branches, yeah?"

Song Shun only stared at him. His obvious bewilderment hit Qian Meng with a bright flash of embarrassment—he did not know why he was lecturing this man about the proper care of apple trees. And while Song Shun eventually nodded, his brows furrowed as his lips parted to speak. Qian Meng waited on the edge of his seat for an incense time, but the man only shut his mouth with a snap. Then there was nothing else to say.

Qian Meng took that as a sign to slip away, drifting the few hundred yards out of the orchard to the path beyond it. Song Shun's eyes twitched as he watched him go. He'd assumed the great Qian Meng knew what this place was. But the man appeared oblivious, only having stopped for a few apples to eat and, out of the goodness of his heart, do a few chores.

Either that or the dark cultivator was incredibly good at manipulating others.

Even as the thought crossed his mind, Song Shun didn't particularly believe it. An all-powerful being like Qian Meng had no need for manipulation. Plus, the man tried to leave without a fight. Actually refused to spar, leaving Song Shun near speechless. Was he truly . ?

"Wait!" Song Shun yelped, startling even himself.

Qian Meng wavered but didn't turn back. "Yes?"

There were many things Song Shun wanted to say, but he held his tongue. His forefathers would curse him if they knew he allowed Qian Meng to loiter around here, let alone if he told the man the well-guarded secrets of Rasheia's five Grand Temples.

"Do you really not know what this place is?" Song Shun asked him, almost desperately.

"An orchard. That's what it is, right?" Qian Meng replied, eyes darting toward the dewy trees.

And for the first time since they'd encountered one another, the dark cultivator's expression softened, revealing the true beauty of his features. Song Shun searched it fervently. Trying to find an inkling of a lie or the truth. He found neither.

"You differ from what I've heard," he eventually said, trying to prolong their meeting.

Qian Meng simply turned away, steps lazy as he slipped beneath the canopy of trees. But his parting words echoed and echoed, striking a chord in Song Shun's chest.

"No need for flattery, young cultivator! Good day now, and take care of the trees!"