Daily life of a cultivation judge

"So, will anyone tell me what's going on?" Yang Qing asked again, his tone soft, as the silence stretched on with no response from those present.

"Did I overdo it?" he wondered, his gaze sweeping over their frozen expressions. Yang Qing took pride in the precise control of his aura—a mastery born from his unique physique and years of meticulous training. He was certain he hadn't gone too far in subduing them, but their reactions were beginning to make him doubt himself.

The three combatants had completely forgotten the fierce battle they were engaged in just moments before. Their bodies remained locked in place, mid-motion, save for their heads, which had turned toward Yang Qing, their faces pale and stricken with fear.

Whatever emotions had consumed them earlier—anger, desperation, or worry—had been utterly erased, replaced by one singular and overwhelming feeling: fear.

Even the lady in the light blue robes, who had moments ago moved with the frenzied intensity of a tempest, was no exception. The wild, almost uncontrollable aura she exuded had been smothered, leaving her trembling in silent terror.

One couldn't entirely blame her—or the others—for their reactions. What they had experienced when Yang Qing unleashed his aura was beyond comprehension.

To them, it felt as though an ocean vast enough to drown the entire world had descended upon them, swallowing them whole. The suffocating weight of it crushed their bodies until they burst apart, only for their souls to suffer the same fate immediately after. And just as quickly, they were reformed, their bodies and spirits whole again—but not untouched by the ordeal.

Though Yang Qing had retracted his aura the instant he subdued them, the memory of that moment clung to them like a phantom, unshakable. Their lingering fear was etched plainly on their faces, a silent testament to the overwhelming power he had just displayed.

Yang Qing might have believed his control was flawless. After all, he had used his aura in similar ways before—whether to discipline Cheng Yuan or correct the three Shen brothers when they misbehaved in his court. But this time, he had overlooked a crucial detail: his strength was no longer what it had been back then, particularly in terms of his understanding of the Dao.

The deeper one's comprehension of the Dao grew, the more profound their aura became. Those exposed to such an aura, especially those unfamiliar with the Dao, experienced it differently—often as an overwhelming force beyond their understanding.

Yang Qing had thought he had controlled his aura appropriately. However, he failed to account for the significant changes brought about by his recent expedition at Sage Mountain. Fresh from that experience, his aura still carried the wild, untamed essence of the mountain. It had not yet been fully refined or smoothened out to the point he could release it without worry.

He was a third-stage palace realm expert, yes, but he was a third-stage palace realm expert who was just from evolving his cultivating art into a middle-tier blue grade, and had been soaking in an environment filled with the presence of countless Daos which only further deepened his aura, growing its weight and complexity.

To the three core formation cultivators, even the faintest sliver of that aura—barely 5% of his full strength—was akin to mortals standing in the presence of divinity. It wasn't just intimidating; it was overwhelming.

Its potency elicited nothing but raw, unrestrained fear from them. Fortunately, that was the extent of their suffering. There had been cases where weaker cultivators exposed to such auras had lost their minds, their spirits fracturing under the strain. Others had suffered even graver fates, with their spirits completely dissipating into nothingness.

Yang Qing sensing the chaotic spikes in the flow of their qi's and soul signatures, restrained his aura, as he released a bit of his qi that was layered with a calming effect as he sighed in relief that he had shielded Li Mei from his aura.

If the three core formation experts had reacted that way, he shuddered at the thought of what would have happened to her if she had been caught up in it, as another part of him worked hard at blocking out certain memories of his time at the Institute where the Instructors constantly bathed them with their auras so they could get used to it and not freeze up during battle.

While he saw the reasoning in it, he couldn't forget the gleeful looks those instructors wore whenever they did, especially when they passed out or worse...

With some effort, Yang Qing pushed those grim recollections aside and turned his focus back to the three cultivators. As he moved toward them, their bodies tensed involuntarily, and they flinched, the fear in their eyes still palpable. He froze mid-step, stopping a few meters away to avoid exacerbating their distress.

The sound of their erratic heartbeats reached his ears, deepening his embarrassment. Despite the awkwardness of the situation, he knew he needed to ask his questions, however uncomfortable it might be for both sides.

"Could you please tell me what happened?" Yang Qing asked, carefully imbuing his voice with a calming spell powered by his soul.

The spell seemed to take effect. The color slowly returned to their pale faces, and while fear still lingered in their eyes, it no longer consumed them entirely. They could now meet Yang Qing's gaze—though only fleetingly—and with this newfound clarity, they noticed something they hadn't before: his robes.

Duan being the first to recover, straightened his body, and was moving to straighten his robes, but paused when he saw their partly tattered state, a wry smile creeping on his face at the realization.

"Apologies for the poor display, Judge," Duan Ting said respectfully, cupping his fists in apology.

As someone working in an establishment located in a town governed by the Order, it was only natural that he recognized Yang Qing's identity and station through his robes. The same realization flickered in the eyes of the lady wielding the artifact fan. Yang Qing noted her brief, calculating glance at his attire, but the third cultivator—the lady in light blue robes—showed no such reaction. Her attention remained firmly fixed on him, her stance the most guarded of the three.

One of her hands was subtly concealed within the wide sleeve of her robe, clutching something tightly. She likely believed her movements were undetectable, but because of the huge gap in abilities and realm, her actions were as glaringly obvious to Yang Qing, as the moon on a clear night.

Beneath his spiritual sense, he could discern the faint, pulsing undulations of a talisman hidden in her grasp. Judging from its aura, it seemed to hold the power of a palace realm cultivator. However, its exact rank was indeterminate without activation. Even so, Yang Qing's instincts told him it likely originated from someone in the early stages of the palace realm because of the lack of immediate threat he felt from it.

His eyes briefly flashed with curiosity before he shifted his attention back to Duan Ting. There was no urgency in addressing the concealed talisman; the lady was already firmly within his sphere of influence. At this distance, disabling her from activating it would take less effort than a thought.

If clutching the talisman gave her some measure of calm, far be it for him to ruin that. The calmer she was, the better it was for him. At least maybe then he would be able to get the answers he sought concerning the fight he had just interuppted.

Meanwhile, Duan Ting, still trying to salvage his disheveled appearance, turned toward Li Mei and instructed her to fetch some seats and prepare jade spring rabbit tea.

Under different circumstances, Yang Qing might have been delighted by the mention of the tea. However, the sight of Li Mei's trembling steps, her terror-stricken face, the shattered remains of the reception area, and the wary gaze of the young lady in light blue robes—who eyed him as though he were a deadly assassin—all these factors ensured he wouldn't be able to enjoy the tea as much as he would have liked.

The enjoyment of tea was part flavor, part ambiance, of which the latter was severely lacking at the moment.

"Perhaps we could move this discussion elsewhere?" Yang Qing suggested his voice even and calm as he addressed Duan Ting and the lady with the fan, whom he guessed was more than likely to be another one of his colleagues just like Li Mei.

Both nodded in agreement, Duan Ting offering an apologetic smile as he surveyed the chaos around them.

Yang Qing then turned his focus to the last member of the trio—the slender woman clutching the hidden talisman. A soft sigh escaped him as he noticed a slight spike in its energy, indicating her growing unease.

"Who does she think I am for her to be so wary?"

As an avid student and practitioner of paranoia, suffice it to say, Yang Qing had developed a good eye for it, and the lady before him looked startled, and by the looks of it, it didn't seem it was just because he was a palace realm cultivator.

Hoping to ease her apprehension, Yang Qing prepared to introduce himself as a judge from the Order. Surely, that should help dispel some of her tension—or at least her suspicion. However, just as the words were about to leave his mouth, he hesitated, casting a quick, subtle glance toward Duan Ting.

The last time Yang Qing had visited this establishment, he had come under a different guise, his appearance altered. Yet, in a fit of laziness, he hadn't bothered to change his name to match that identity, reasoning that "Yang Qing" was a common enough name. Surely, there were countless others out there. What harm could it cause?

Now, that decision was coming back to haunt him.

Two Yang Qings appearing at the same establishment within the span of a month was bound to raise questions, and Duan Ting—astute as he was—would no doubt notice the oddity and draw his own conclusions.

Yang Qing sighed internally, cursing his past self's lackadaisical attitude.

"Well, what's done is done," he thought, resigning himself to the situation. Duan Ting was sharp, yes, but sharp people often valued discretion. Whatever suspicions he harbored, he was unlikely to voice them outright. That was good enough for now.

Sensing the lady in blue teetering on the edge of detonating her talisman, Yang Qing decided to go ahead with his introduction.

"My name is Yang Qing, and I am a judge of the Order. Whatever threats you might fear, I can assure you, they won't come from me—unless, of course, you've broken one of the Order's governing laws."

His voice was calm and measured, carrying a reassuring undertone. "So, please, put the talisman away, Miss…"

Yang Qing's words, though soft, ended up startling the young woman, especially when he directly revealed her hidden card. In her sudden panic, she inadvertently channeled a surge of qi into the talisman. It flared to life, its activation sequence already underway.

"I should have expected as much," Yang Qing muttered under his breath, vanishing from his spot and reappearing at her side in an instant.

Before she could fully register his movement, the talisman—her supposed lifeline—was no longer in her grasp. It rested instead in Yang Qing's hand, his fingers glowing faintly as silver glyphs formed at their tips. With practiced precision, he pressed the glyphs onto the talisman, suppressing its qi and sealing its power.

"You can have this back," Yang Qing said, tossing the now-sealed talisman toward her with a casual flick of his wrist.

"You won't be able to use it for now," he continued, his tone soft but firm. "It should reactivate in about two days."

Perhaps it was the loss of her trump card or the sheer ease with which Yang Qing had disarmed her, but the young woman's trembling gradually subsided as she lowered her gaze.

"Thanks..." she muttered softly, her voice barely audible, as she gently bobbed her head in acknowledgment.