Daily life of a cultivation judge

Yang Qing unconsciously moved deeper and deeper into the mountain, guided slowly by the mysterious hums of the scrolls. As he ventured further, the scrolls appeared increasingly exposed.

At last, on his eleventh scroll, he came across one fully exposed. But just like before, he was too engrossed in the world the Brilliant Ray Fist Art had drawn him into to notice that one of his greatest obsessions had finally appeared before him.

The fully exposed scroll floated gently a few meters above him, releasing an ethereal, soft glow that made it both mesmerizing and mysterious. One glance at it, and anyone could tell it was no ordinary scroll; its presence even managed to stand out in a wondrous place like Sage Mountain, a place so dense with the presence of countless Daos.

The scroll vibrated slightly, causing the gold-leaf silk that acted as its protective cover to shift. One by one, the leaves cascaded from it, like trees shedding leaves in autumn, revealing an ancient-looking parchment marked with countless glyphs.

On close examination, there were about a thousand glyphs, and among them, about fifteen vibrated with the power of distinct Daos, while the rest remained dormant.

The power of Dao emitted by those glyphs was far purer and much more powerful than the Dao emanating from the surrounding area. The density of Dao in those glyphs was so intense that, even in his trance-like state, Yang Qing noticed the change. His thoughts became suddenly clearer, as though a massive light had cut through the fog in his mind. New ideas flooded his mind from angles he hadn't even considered, and his body instinctively adapted to these ideas as if receiving prior notice.

Not one to pass up an opportunity, Yang Qing went with the flow. Meanwhile, outside, the scroll pulsed with scattered golden light, which surrounded Yang Qing's figure.

Its effects did not stop at Yang Qing's body alone. The light that cascaded down him extended to the ground, scattering outward and forming a golden circle roughly 200 meters in diameter.

Within that circle, glyphs began forming, resembling the same activated glyphs on the scroll. They combined with the circle to create a formation diagram that enveloped Yang Qing in a faint golden glow, and, in the next instant, his entire body disappeared.

He reappeared next to an elm tree whose leaves, instead of being normal, resembled scroll pages, each shielded by a blue bubble that had a certain otherworldly quality to it.

Unaware that he had just been transported to a different location, Yang Qing continued his training, losing himself in the flow of the Brilliant Ray Fist Art. After a quarter of an hour, his momentum began to wane as his rumbling qi and essence gradually quieted. With one final punch, his movements stopped.

Yang Qing panted, his forehead glistening with sweat, staring at his clenched fist with eyes full of exhilaration and a broad smile on his face.

"This…" he murmured, gazing at his fists in joyous disbelief.

"It's reached the middle tier," he added in a tone that suggested even he could hardly believe it, his eyes fixed on the golden steam flowing out of his hands, giving them an ethereal quality.

"Hahahahahaha! It's reached the middle tier! I, Yang Qing, have created a middle-tier BLUE GRADE ART!" he roared, overcome with joy as he jumped in triumphant glee.

As his body leaped into the air, he let himself fall gently back down, landing on his back.

He slowly opened his right fist, bringing it closer to his eyes as he spread his fingers. He gazed at his hand with fervor and disbelief.

"I really did it," he whispered, his voice sounding slightly raspy, thick with emotion.

"I did it," he murmured once more, his eyes glistening with tears as he examined his hand, seeing in it the memory of his tireless efforts.

"Middle tier," he muttered softly, a contented smile settling on his face as he spread his arms wide, closed his eyes, and allowed his body and mind to relax, soaking in the achievement.

The Brilliant Ray Fist Art was still just a blue-grade art, and the improvement was only a single tier. But to Yang Qing, with the way he felt now, that small improvement may as well have been as momentous as creating a purple-grade art.

To him, this was a proof of concept, that his art could truly be improved. That his dream of elevating it to the purple grade was not as far-fetched as it once seemed.

Yes, there was a massive chasm between the blue-grade and the purple-grade, but right now, he wanted to lose himself in the optimism of his present achievement and dream—dream of the possibilities brought forth by that minor improvement.

"Middle-tier Blue Grade." No matter how many times he said it, he still couldn't believe it.

"Huh? I've broken through?" Yang Qing muttered in surprise, sensing his increase in strength. He was now a third-stage Palace Realm expert.

"How long has it been since I reached the Palace Realm?... Eight months?... Maybe my dreams aren't as far away as I thought…" he remarked with a shameless smile as he rubbed his nose, looking smug.

Deep down, though, he knew the cause of these rapid improvements. While his foundation before breaking through to the Palace Realm was deep and firm, and he was talented, this was still the Palace Realm. It was not like the three previous realms that relied more on talent than effort to advance, and where the parameters were simpler: sense the qi, absorb the qi, circulate the qi, refine the qi, and master arts to help refine and operate the qi smoothly.

Anyone with talent could achieve that easily in their sleep, but advancing in the Palace Realm required a deeper understanding of the Dao. It demanded more of one's powers of comprehension and dedication than mere talent.

And with how vast and deep the Daos were, its demands were high. There was no shortage of cultivators who forever stalled out at the first stage of the palace realm, never making a single improvement immediately after breaking through. It wasn't that they were lazy or anything, it was just that they couldn't meet the demands asked of them. And because they couldn't, their path forward got forever closed, unless something unexpected happened..

As talented as he was in both natural ability and comprehension, Yang Qing knew that the only reason he had advanced so quickly, rising by two levels in just eight months, was due to fortunate encounters.

Every powerful cultivator attained their level through a combination of effort, opportunity, talent, and luck, and Yang Qing was no different, a little bit of luck played a significant part in his present achievements.

His first stroke of luck had been the accident in the Medical Valley. While doing his rounds, he had shown off by pushing his abilities to the maximum, which triggered a hidden bomb made of saint-grade material within a patient. This, in turn, had caused his physique to react autonomously, rushing to protect him from that danger.

His physique went dormant for a month after that, and in its absence, it was as if a veil had lifted. Yang Qing gained a new, intrinsic understanding of the essential role his physique played in his cultivation all these years, without him realizing it, lending credence to one of his grandfather's hypotheses about the peerless jade physiques holding more secrets. When it returned, he gained an intimate understanding of it that hadn't been there before, which profoundly influenced his cultivation.

His second stroke of luck was here, the Sage Mountain—a paradise for cultivators. The insights he gained here elevated his art to the middle tier of the blue grade and his cultivation to the third stage. None of it would have happened as quickly or smoothly as it did, without the influence of the Sage Mountain.

Yang Qing sighed, his heart filled with gratitude and a trace of disbelief at his gains.

"Thank you, Sage Mountain," he murmured, turning his head to the left to express his thanks.

His gaze froze when he found himself staring at an elm tree he had never seen before, instead of the mountain he expected to find there.

"Huh?" Yang Qing blinked a few times, increasingly confounded as he looked ahead. He frantically sat up, looking around in every direction, searching for anything familiar.

"Where am I? What is this? Huh?! What happened?!"

Gears of worry and paranoia began turning in Yang Qing's mind as he scanned his surroundings. He couldn't see the mountain or the river he had grown to associate Sage Mountain with, and though there was a similar kind of grass here, it lacked the charm of Dao that had infused the grass he'd interacted with before.

Then there was the strange elm tree before him. With his senses heightened and focus sharpened, he could finally sense its peculiarity—and it wasn't just the fact that its leaves resembled paper scrolls. The bizarre thing was that, despite standing just a few centimeters away from it, Yang Qing couldn't sense it at all with his spirit.

Cultivators relied on the perception of their spirit to sense the world around them; it was their primary conduit for sight, hearing, and even smell, while their other sensory organs became secondary.

Many things could deceive the eyes, ears, and nose, but a keen and well-trained spirit would always perceive them.

Yet here he was, staring at a tree right before him that he could see with his eyes, but could not sense with his spirit. And though he was tempted to touch it to confirm it was real, his cautious nature held him back.

"What is this place?" he murmured with a serious gaze as he scanned his surroundings, his essence, qi, and spirit fully primed, ready for whatever might come.