Daily life of a cultivation judge

The room was once again enveloped in silence, though this time it wasn't as heavy as before. Xia Fang unconsciously pursed her lips as her gaze grew distant. With a thoughtful look on her face, her fingers moved as if she were counting while she inaudibly mumbled something.

As for what that something was, Yang Qing felt it was safe to assume it had to do with the conversations she'd had with her grandfather, and likely with what he would have wanted her life to be if she hadn't grown up in the environment she was raised in.

For her sake, Yang Qing hoped that list was a long one. Xia Fang desperately needed it. Her qi wasn't erratic, and she hadn't tried to take her life immediately, but that didn't change the fact that she was still standing at the edge of a precarious cliff.

The jury was still out on whether she would jump into the abyss or walk away from that edge. But as Yang Qing saw it, there was a third possibility too: she might not leap on her own, but her legs could give out and send her tumbling over regardless.

He couldn't see them, but he had no doubt in his heart that she was plagued by countless mental and heart demons. How could she not be, given all she had endured, along with the weight of the news Yang Qing had shared with her? Any other cultivator, no matter how tempered their will, would not remain untouched if they went through what Xia Fang had.

Mental and heart demons were counted among the greatest threats to a cultivator's life, and if cultivators were asked which carried the most risk, or which they feared most, a sizeable number would say inner demons. And the reason for that was they were incredibly difficult to get rid of once they had their hooks in you, and the means available to deal with them were always time-consuming and arduous.

Beyond that, they were also difficult to detect, which was why they were called the silent assassins of a cultivator's path. More often than not, one only realized they were afflicted when they were already dying or irreparably damaged by it. Inner demons were a coiled, venomous serpent disguising itself as an unassuming rock, waiting for the opportune moment to strike.

You never knew when it would strike, but when it did, its impact was unforgettable.

There was no shortage of cultivators whose paths had been permanently halted by the inner demons that plagued them. Some were left broken, existing only as husks of their former selves, while others outright died to them. Of the many recorded tribulation ascension failures, a good number were attributed to inner demons choosing that opportune moment when someone was going through their tribulation to erupt and cause their downfall.

Yang Qing had even heard rumors that in the domain realm, part of the reason its tribulation carried such a high fatality rate was because it could give mental and heart demons a corporeal form with the same strength as the host that birthed them. So if you had ten inner demons, that meant facing ten opponents with the same foundation and power as yourself. Yang Qing wasn't sure how credible that rumor was, but if it were true and he had to square up against corporeal heart demons of equal strength, then no matter how heaven-defying he was, he would have no choice but to consider his life forfeit against such a lineup.

This was why he couldn't help but worry about Xia Fang. She was an eighth-stage core formation expert with a blue grade core; she was young, and she cultivated a blue grade art. By all accounts, this meant she had a good shot at reaching the palace realm. And while palace realm tribulations didn't give form to inner demons, those mental and heart demons still presented a considerable risk during the process. Tribulations, by design, were inherently dangerous without adding an unstable element like inner demons.

The way she was now, Yang Qing did not doubt that if those heart demons remained unchecked, then when Xia Fang faced her palace realm tribulation, they would undoubtedly cause her death. And when that moment came, he wondered whether she would fight it or welcome it.

And if those inner demons didn't strike her during her tribulation, then they were sure to get her before she even approached the doors of the palace realm. To survive, she needed an anchor to keep her footing steady when those waves hit, and he hoped the conversations with her grandfather would serve as that anchor.

He had many external treasures excellent for dealing with inner demons, like the waters from the Brook of Clarity, of which he had several vats. But no matter how precious, none of those treasures would have any effect if Xia Fang wasn't willing to fight first. Her desire to live had to come before anything else. Without that, even a saint-grade treasure might as well be as worthless as a piece of rock when it came to helping her.

Minutes flew by with Xia Fang murmuring to herself, sometimes ending with a chuckle that Yang Qing hoped was a good sign. But with how frail and weathered she looked, he couldn't quite tell if the chuckles were hollow and resigned like her expression, or if they carried a spark of life to kickstart her rebirth, or at least some semblance of it.

Only when it was close to the one-hour mark did Xia Fang finally leave the state she was in, as her eyes regained focus.

Humming as she nodded, she smiled and said, "I will try to do that."

"Good," Yang Qing said gently. "Where will you be starting?"

"I think I will go to the Banyan Battlefield first," she said softly. "Lai Hu may have taken whatever resources had been stored there, I know. But my Grandfather also said he left other things for me there that may not hold that much value to Lai Hu, but do to me." Her voice dropped to a faint whisper as her hands fondly clasped the necklace she wore. "... Like the recorded talismans my parents left behind, and some from my grandfather," she added as her reminiscent gaze lingered on the necklace.

"Maybe it's wishful thinking, or me being naive," she said, still smiling as her eyes stayed fixed on the necklace. "I know Lai Hu maybe didn't..." She paused, as if wrestling with the words. "...like me the way I liked him, and was probably only pretending and using me all this time," she continued with a pitiful smile.

"But," she said as she looked up, "I may have been a naive fool, and maybe it's my naivety talking still, but I think, however much he pretended with me, it couldn't have been all pretense. There must have been moments where he showed me a true reflection of himself. Because of that, I don't think he'd take away the talismans left for me, since they hold no value to anyone else but me.

"And other than that," she went on, as her gaze turned distant and her smile colored with nostalgia, bitterness, and a tinge of hope, "I hope he left something for me there too… as a farewell, maybe." Her voice lowered and softened toward the end.

Her fingers absentmindedly fiddled with the pendant as her eyes grew distant. Paired with her smile, it painted the expression of someone who understood the futility of her words, who even expected to be wrong, yet still held on to the faint hope that maybe she wasn't. There was no desperation in that hope. It was the kind of hope where one would be glad if it came true, but even if it didn't, it would still bring a measure of peace.

"Do you think I am foolish to think so?" she asked faintly as her focus returned.