Daily life of a cultivation judge

The office sank into a deafening silence once more, leaving Yang Qing with no choice but to try and lighten the mood slightly before steering the conversation toward the matter that concerned him.

"You said your grandfather was among the six who mastered the final ability of the formation diagram," Yang Qing softly began, his words pulling Xia Fang slightly from her worry and guilt as she looked up to face him.

"Was there anyone among the remaining five who could use your founder's sword intent?"

He couldn't deny that the more stories he heard of their founder, the more curious he became of him. What he accomplished and the circumstances through which he made said accomplishments garnered respect and admiration from Yang Qing as a cultivator and a fellow creator.

Yang Qing's thoughts kept drifting to what Xia Fang's founder might have achieved had his cultivation base not been crippled. Based on the talent he'd shown, Yang Qing had little doubt that the man would have become a key figure within the Silver Crane Sect. Who knows? The odds were high that he might have even been counted among their domain experts.

He clearly had the talent, which only deepened Yang Qing's curiosity about the nature of his sword intent. For it to possess the ability to devour other sword intents—to the point that only two individuals had ever managed to meet the standard since the formation diagram's creation—spoke volumes of its strength.

The cultivation technique collector in Yang Qing couldn't help but be curious about it. Though he wasn't a sword cultivator himself, he admired them greatly and, if he was being perfectly honest with himself, he even envied them a little.

Out of almost every child out there who held any ambitions of cultivating, nine out of ten would dream of being a revered sword cultivator, traveling east to west on his sword and creating tales that bards would sing for eons to come.

Alas, for Yang Qing, that path had been barred. Thanks to the peculiar nature of his Yin-Yang Jade Nature Peerless Jade Physique, the way of the sword was not one he could take—not that he regretted it. His current path was the one best suited to him, and he knew that. Sword cultivators looked cool, mesmerizing even, but that was when viewed from the comfort of a spectator's seat. Stepping into that world as a participant painted a very different picture.

It wasn't set in stone, but most sword cultivators found their greatest and quickest growth through combat. Battle honed their skills, tempered their sword hearts and wills, and often offered glimpses of insight and enlightenment that deepened their understanding of the way of the sword and, as a result, their path forward.

Given his nature, Yang Qing couldn't imagine such a life for himself. He was far more comfortable watching from the sidelines, admiring from a distance… and perhaps indulging in a little daydreaming. In his mind, he wielded powerful sword skills capable of cleaving through the River of Chaos and the River of Destiny in one swing, his sword shaking the entire continent while the world drowned him in praise.

Imagination… it truly was a precious gift.

Yang Qing was quickly pulled out of his wandering thoughts as Xia Fang gave her response to his question.

Sighing, Xia Fang slightly shook her head, a bitter smile tugging at her lips. "Since its inception, no one has ever been able to resonate with it deeply enough to wield it," she replied.

"A pity I'll never get to see it," she softly added, another sigh escaping her lips.

Seeing her founder's sword intent was something she had yearned for—not just as a descendant eager to witness the abilities of their gifted founder so as to get a visible feel of how wonderous his talent had truly been—but also as a sword cultivator. Even catching a glimpse of it would have meant the world to her.

In a family made up predominantly of sword cultivators, her sentiment was one shared by every member of the Xia clan.

During her childhood, in the rare moments of peace she managed to find, imagining what their founder's sword intent might look like was a favorite pastime between her and her grandfather. They would spend hours lost in that shared dream, weaving vivid visions that let them forget the hardships outside, if only for a while.

Part of the reason Xia Fang had so desperately wanted to become a node in the formation was that deep-seated hope—that maybe she could be the one to fulfill the dream every Xia clan member carried: to let their founder's sword intent see the light of day once more, and let its brilliance shine across the world.

If there was one thing that all Xia clan members were united on, it was that. They all deeply revered their founder, and that veneration remained steadfast from generation to generation, surviving even through the clan's darkest times.

How could it not, given all that their founder had accomplished? Even tens of thousands of years after his passing, his achievements continued to nurture, support, and even protect the clan.

Letting his sword intent grace the world was, to them, a way of paying their respects. It was a way for them to express their gratitude to the man whose legacy still sheltered them. There was nothing considered more sacred within the clan. In fact, it had once been declared that whoever managed to resonate with that sword intent would be instantly named clan patriarch. That decision garnered immediate, unanimous support and has continued to be upheld across every generation.

To them, no undertaking carried greater meaning. Resonating with that sword intent meant proving they hadn't failed their founder in ability or spirit. It was also seen as a rare chance to express filial piety by helping fulfill, even partially, one of their founder's regrets or unfulfilled wishes.

Since only those who had stepped into the palace realm were qualified to trigger that final ability, being possessed by his sword intent was seen as giving their founder's remnant will a fleeting chance to experience life as a palace realm expert, even if only through another's body, and only for a brief moment.

This was considered their way of giving back to the person who had given them so much. But alas, that hope was doomed to forever remain unfulfilled. No one could resonate with his sword intent, not even one of the most talented cores from the golden era. And now, that dream was likely to remain just that—a dream.

The formation diagram that held their founder's will was most likely destroyed by the three retainer clans. And if not by them, then knowing her grandfather, he would have chosen to destroy it himself rather than let it fall into enemy hands. With it, one of their founder's final remnants would be gone.

Just when Xia Fang thought she had hit rock bottom and thought she couldn't possibly lose more, the world kept ruthlessly reminding her that there was still more she could lose. She lost her family, she lost her home, she lost her dreams, she lost hope, she lost courage, she lost excitement—now, in the absence of those things, all she was left with was nothing but an abundance of pain, regret, despair, fear, helplessness, and confusion.

The beatings life gave her led to her mocking her younger self and those grand ambitions she once held—ambitions that remained ruthlessly unfulfilled because of her lack of self-awareness, which led her to overestimate her abilities. But now, seated here, telling her story and drowning in helplessness and despair as she took stock of all she had lost, she couldn't help but look back enviously at that young Xia Fang.

That Xia Fang may not have had much—lacking even in sense—but at least she had one thing whose value the current Xia Fang was only now realizing: that young Xia Fang wasn't afraid of the future but looked forward to it with boldness and gladness, with imagination of what it would be like. But her current self had lost that.

She had lost her imagination... well, that's not entirely true. She could still imagine—only the content now was a little different than that of her younger version. Where her younger version looked ahead with eagerness, imagining all these wonderful scenarios playing out, her current self could only imagine how she wasn't going to survive the next ten seconds, as she envisioned all kinds of brutal endings that awaited her.

The next ten seconds terrified her. And the next after that. And the next after that—to the point that all she had was the perpetual torment of how she'd meet her tragic end.

How many more things would she have to lose before that end came?

It was the burden of that fear that pushed her to lash out at the escort supervisors of the Bluefin, even though she knew that her partner's disappearance likely had more to do with her and her past than with them. Even as she attacked them and yelled at them, she knew they weren't to blame. She was. Yet she couldn't stop her body from reacting.

She couldn't lose more. She can't.

"Judge Yang Qing.." she softly said as she looked at Yang Qing. "I am sorry," she added, her eyes reflecting her anguish and inner turmoil.

"I think the ferry's disappearance may have something to do with me," she continued, her expression ridden with guilt.

"As you can see from the story I just shared, I have no shortage of enemies, each one more powerful than the last," she said, a fragile smile curling her lips, though it quickly faded. "Any one of them could have done it," she added weakly before cupping her fists in front of her.

"I truly am sorry for implicating the people from the Bluefin Spine-tailed Swift Escort Agency," she said, her voice soft, as if every word was a struggle. She paused as though gathering the strength for something more.

"Yet, I must ask two shameless requests, if you'll permit me," she said with a faint tremor in her voice.

"Go on."

Nodding in gratitude, Xia Fang took a shallow breath before speaking again.

"My first request is... I hope to find out what happened to my clan..."

"And your second?"

"I can't lose more," she said with a pleading look bordering on helplessness but, strangely enough, had some resolve to it, albeit in a scant dosage. "I know I have no right to ask, since this is all likely my fault… but please, help me find my partner, Lai Hu," she said, bowing her head deeply, as if surrendering a piece of her soul in the act.

"I will willingly trade my life for his—and for the lives of the others from the ferry—if that's the price demanded by those who took them," she said staunchly, her voice filled with conviction, before lifting her head once more.

"I don't want to lose more. I don't have it in me to have more taken," she said again, her voice trailing off into a tired smile. Her eyes reflected the faint glow of a dying candle flame struggling desperately to stay lit.