Daily life of a cultivation judge

The air in the room seemed heavier at Xia Fang's words. It would have already been that way, given the gravity of the topic, but her question seemed to hasten the forming process of it.

Yang Qing sighed inwardly as he mulled over the best way to break the news. Not that there was ever a good way with something like this.

She seems even thinner, he thought as his gaze fell on Xia Fang. He knew it was probably his mind playing tricks on him to prolong the delay. As beaten down as she was, she was still a late-stage core formation expert with a decent foundation. Losing weight would be impossible for her unless she was injured, cursed, poisoned, or infested by something that ate away at her vitality.

She may not have lost her weight, but she still looked frail.

Sighing once more at the unavoidable truth that no amount of planning could soften the blow, Yang Qing tried to sound as gentle as possible and chose to be direct.

"Your grandfather died," he said softly. "And so did the rest of the Xia clan elders who remained behind with him."

As he spoke, Yang Qing closely monitored Xia Fang, ready to intervene and envelop her in his evernight cocoon spell if her body showed signs of going berserk. Luckily, gaunt and hollow as she looked, she still had enough strength to keep herself at bay.

That said, she was far from unshaken. Her eyes widened, tears immediately spilling the instant Yang Qing finished speaking, and her body trembled with what seemed like convulsions. Even though nothing spilled out, Yang Qing's sharp sense of smell caught the faint metallic scent wafting from her mouth. The subtle but forceful gulp Xia Fang took right after more than confirmed the source of that metallic scent, and it was definitely not saliva.

The two sat in silence, Yang Qing waiting for her to acclimate to the heart-rending reality of his shared news.

"I c-could use that tea… or wine," Xia Fang said at last, her weak voice cracking and trembling.

"Sure," Yang Qing said softly as a rice wine jar appeared. It was colloquially dubbed "resting heart and mind wine" due to its effects and the ingredients used. Another of Yi Jie's masterpieces, it was excellent for soothing a tumultuous heart and mind plagued by demons.

It didn't eliminate them outright, nor did it help one face them like the brook waters of the Auspicious Wood Grove senior. What it did was help someone stay afloat. It wouldn't bring them ashore, but it gave them just enough strength to keep their head above water in that turbulent river.

Yang Qing poured Xia Fang a cup before filling his own.

Xia Fang nodded and gave a weak smile. "Thanks," she said feebly as she reached for her cup. Her hands trembled as she took hold of it, and even when it was in her grasp, the shaking didn't stop. It only seemed to ease a little after she took a sip, closed her eyes, and let tears roll down her cheeks.

"Goodbye, Grandpa," she whispered softly.

Sniffling, she opened her reddened eyes again and smiled faintly at Yang Qing before taking another sip. Then she fell into silence as her mind drifted elsewhere. Another sip followed, and before long, the cup was empty.

"Did he suffer?" she asked as she placed her empty cup on the table, which Yang Qing promptly refilled before moving to answer her question.

"I don't think he did," he said comfortingly. "He went valiantly, protecting those he wanted to protect." He added the words with a reassuring smile, though he doubted either would help in this moment.

He wanted to say that her grandfather had taken a good chunk out of the Ning family and weakened them considerably, hoping that news might soothe Xia Fang a little, but he held back. If he had lost his own grandfather, would hearing such a thing make it easier?

Would he smile and think to himself, Grandpa went out in a cool way. At least those bastards didn't get off easy? Or would he be crushed by the sorrow of knowing he'd never see him again, never talk behind his back with his father, never share discoveries about his physique with him, never tumble down rabbit holes about the mysteries it might hold?

For him, all he would feel was loss, and all he would care about was never seeing his grandfather again. Killing or injuring his enemies would be at the very bottom of the things that could bring comfort in the face of such devastating news.

Minutes passed in silence as Xia Fang nursed her wine.

"What about Lai Hu?" she asked slowly, her gaze fixed on her reflection in the wine cup. "Did they kill him too?" She looked up with the same weak smile as before, despite the grimness of her question.

Here it comes, Yang Qing thought bitterly as her words opened the floodgates for the main storm.

"There is something I should tell you about the Lai family," Yang Qing said.

"They all got killed, too, didn't they? Even the ones who escaped, too?" Xia Fang asked softly. Her focus slipped as her head and gaze lowered to her knees, where her wine rested.

"It's not surprising, really," she said in a low, weary voice. "We implicated them, and given the loyalty they showed us down to the very end, the other three clans didn't take it well.

They must have hated them even more than they hated us," she added in a monotone, as though speaking to herself.

"They got tortured before they were killed, right?" she asked softly, looking up with a gaze and a smile that, though frail, carried the bleak confidence that this was exactly how it had happened. "What you want to tell me..." she continued, "is they got tortured?" She smiled faintly as she asked.

"How bad was it?" she added in a low, almost muffled tone.

"They weren't tortured," Yang Qing sighed.

"They weren't?!" Xia Fang asked in surprise—at least as much surprise as someone so weathered and broken down could show. Her tone was still weak, and her aura still that of a dying candle flame about to go out.

"They are alive," Yang Qing said softly.

This, at last, managed to stir Xia Fang. Her eyes widened as though she had been jolted by a heavenly tribulation.

Before she could ask for clarification, Yang Qing dropped yet another bombshell. "The current sect master of the Violet Feather Sword Sect is from the Lai clan, more specifically, Lai Hu's uncle."

"What?" Xia Fang whispered dumbfoundedly. "How... How... How..." she mumbled, her gaze shifting between her knees and Yang Qing before finally settling on him.

"What?" she weakly repeated.

"Lai Hu alive... Lai Clan sect master..." she mumbled in confusion, in an almost mantra-like fashion, hoping that maybe the longer she muttered those words, they would transform into some mnemonic chant that would suddenly fill her with much-needed understanding about the entire situation.

Sadly, no matter how much she weakly repeated those words, the situation remained just as confusing as when she first heard it. In fact, the more she 'chanted' that mantra, the more confused she became.

"I don't understand," she finally said, giving Yang Qing a lost look.

Sighing to himself, Yang Qing took a sip of his wine—then shifted midway into a large gulp—before moving to encourage Xia Fang to do the same.

"Take a drink first," he urged.

Xia Fang absentmindedly nodded as she reached for her cup. From the moment her grandfather's death was confirmed, her mind had felt foggy, almost as if a part of her soul had departed her body the instant the news was delivered and gone back to the Xia clan grounds—more specifically, the abode she had shared with her grandfather—to confirm if he was truly gone.

But all she found there were the memories of what once was, which she gladly allowed herself to get lost in. So, though her body was here, a good chunk of her soul was in the past. There was nothing in the present for her, so it was better to get lost in the past. It wasn't rainbows and roses, but at least she had her grandfather.

If there was one thing that kept her anchored in the present at the moment, it was Lai Hu. Though if this question had been asked immediately after escaping the encirclement of the three clans, her answer would have been three. Three things kept her firmly tied to the present: the faint hope that her grandfather had managed to escape, vengeance on the three retainer clans, and lastly, Lai Hu. The weight of those three anchors, and their influence on her hold to the present, would have been exactly in that order.

But ever since she got separated from Lai Hu, and the strain of everything she had been through finally caught up to her, that list of three had shrunk to one and a half. What kept her tethered to the present was Lai Hu, and the naïve part of her that still weakly held on to the faint hope her grandfather was alive, even though a big part of her already knew he wasn't in this world anymore.

As for vengeance… well, she was tired. She had been tired for a long while. She no longer had the strength, the appetite, or the determination for it.

All she craved now was peace. To not have to carry the fear she had been carrying ever since childhood, when death and despair personally appointed themselves as her constant companions and tutors in life. She had been exhausted for so long, and it took Lai Hu's incident to make her realize just how much—and to finally admit to herself that she was indeed tired.

And now, given the expression Yang Qing wore and the tone of his voice, she felt she was about to lose her last tether. The thought made her anxious, as she wondered how bad it was, yet at the same time, she faintly felt at ease, as though a burden was slowly lifting from her.

All this time—her whole life, really, from the moment she gained awareness in this world—the one emotion that reigned over her life was fear. The fear of having what she held dear taken away from her.

It was maddening and suffocating. And now, here in this place, faced with the notion that she was about to once more lose something she cared for, she felt anxious and bitter that it was happening again. Yet at the same time, she also felt relief—relief that with this loss, there would be nothing else of worth left in her life, and with it, the shackles of fear that had long held her captive could finally begin to loosen.

The thought that she would not have to carry that weight any longer made her heart start to feel lighter, leaving her in a mixed state of anxiety and weird anticipation at Yang Qing's next words.

"I'm okay now," she said to Yang Qing after a few sips of her wine.

"Okay," Yang Qing somberly said as he put down his cup. "Where do I start?" he sighed.

"I guess at the beginning... from your founder, would be a good place to start," he added as he gazed at Xia Fang. Though she looked bewildered at why Yang Qing chose to start there and its relevance to Lai Hu's matter, she chose not to interrupt and listened attentively.