At that, Mingjue's other hand came up so he could cup A-Yao's face, fingers gentle beneath A-Yao's jaw. His skin was warm in Mingjue's palms, and Mingjue felt a crackle of the ferocity that could spark his temper if he wasn't careful.

Because that... "If the cultivation world were not filled with corruption, we would not have had a war—two wars, you said—within years of each other." With the memory of frustration, the bright living of the world he'd been pulled from and that man whose head he'd love to cleave from his shoulders with Baxia, his voice roughened. "Your mother shouldn't come into it. And if I could do more than fight a war and make sure you're in a place to show how clever you are, to put the cultivation world to rights, I would be doing it."

With a heavy breath, he went to pull his hands away, lingering for a moment. The last thing he wanted to do would be to reinforce A-Yao's perceptions of other cultivators thoughts on his bloodline.