Daily life of a cultivation judge

Yang Qing took his time refining his energy and restoring his strength as he sipped his wine. His fight with the celestial nesting weaver had ended not too long ago. Although they had restricted themselves to only using their base abilities, the clash still took a toll on their bodies and minds, especially with the need to hold back while simultaneously aiming to cause significant damage.

Achieving such a feat was much harder than going all out; restraining themselves while still aiming for maximum impact within an acceptable range required great finesse, placing considerable demand on both body and mind.

He needed a bit of time to fully recover, and while he felt confident he could still best Zheng Hu even while fatigued, he refused to do so. This wasn't just any sparring match, more so for Zheng Hu; it was possibly his last as a core formation expert. He had come here with a purpose, a purpose Yang Qing had recognized the moment he sensed the improvement in Zheng Hu's cultivation.

As someone deeply devoted to the art of combat, Zheng Hu had come to test himself against Yang Qing, seeking to assess his current abilities and understand the gap between himself and the palace realm, as well as what lay ahead.

Yang Qing could only respond with honesty, and that honesty meant facing Zheng Hu at his peak, even if Zheng Hu had little chance of pushing him to his limits.

As Yang Qing was revitalizing, Zheng Hu sat in a perfectly balanced lotus position. His broad shoulders were relaxed as he held two swords, their design simple and elegant, resting gently on his thighs. The blades were of medium length, matching the span of his arms, and gleamed with a deep red-black hue. As the sun shone down on them, they seemed to emit a faint light that matched perfectly with his fiery hair.

It was clear from his subtle movements and posture that he had mastered this weapon, making it an extension of himself.

At first, Zheng Hu's presence felt distant and withdrawn, almost as if he wasn't there at all. But after a few seconds, this changed and gained a new quality that seemed to shift every two seconds like clockwork. It was intense and fiery one moment, refreshing and airy the next, then frigid and heavy, until finally becoming pliable and adaptable in another split second.

Along with these changes came faint roars from various creatures, barely audible but present nonetheless.

In response, spirit beasts scurried away in fear, taking shelter under nearby trees, particularly the green flame tree. It was clear they were reacting to Zheng Hu's presence, evidenced by the anxious glances they kept casting his way.

Just like Zheng Hu, Yang Qing closed his eyes and shut out the world around him. He focused solely on preparing for the upcoming duel, as the unspoken tension between them built like a silent drumbeat. The appointed time was drawing near.

A few minutes passed by in that heavy silence before Yang Qing finally stood up and while his air was unassuming and carefree as it had always been, one could feel the distinct vibrant nature of the sun being released from his body, while his breadth of spirit was gentle and peaceful like the moon and his qi boomed with the vastness of the ocean.

As he made his way towards Zheng Hu, the latter seemed to sense his approach and opened one eye with a small smile.

"Took you long enough," Zheng Hu commented as he stood up, gripping his swords tightly in both hands.

While Yang Qing's essence and aura remained steady and unchanged, Zheng Hu was different. He lacked the usual energetic and carefree air he often carried. Now, his temperament was refined and measured, resembling the noble bearing he had once faked having when he was in the criminal syndicate. Every part of him seemed tuned to a precise purpose.

Yang Qing smiled at his response, stopping a few meters away from him.

Zheng Hu's fingers danced in small, circular motions as he gently stretched his wrists, trying to shake off the lingering numbness. His focus was intense, his movements precise and deliberate. He could feel the anticipation building in his chest, the determination pulsing through his veins. The air around him seemed charged with energy, heightening his senses and sharpening his reflexes. With a deep breath, he steeled himself for what was to come, his hands now nimble and ready for action.

"How much will you be using?" Zheng Hu asked, relaxing his hands slightly from the stretch.

"Better to tell you after, I think," answered Yang Qing, shaking his head when he saw the burning flames of eagerness in Zheng Hu's eyes.

"Makes sense," Zheng Hu replied. "Better to leave that mystery till after the fight," he added as the air around him shifted slightly. A sharp but gentle wind released from his body, flowing down to his swords.

"Not using the bamboo?"

"I made some gains with the Brilliant Ray Fist Art. I was hoping to use that instead," Yang Qing explained as he clenched and unclenched his fists, which sparkled with a golden-white light with every clench.

"Shall we start?" he asked, looking up to meet Zheng Hu's gaze.

"Let's," Zheng Hu replied eagerly.

As soon as the words left his lips, a deafening explosion echoed through the air, reminiscent of a volcano erupting. The source of the explosive sound was none other than Yang Qing's golden fists, colliding with Zheng Hu's crossed swords in an attempt to deflect his opponent's powerful blow.

"Still lacking," Yang Qing mumbled in disappointment as he noted Zheng Hu's still-intact swords.

"This will be quite interesting. You've certainly improved, Zheng Hu," he remarked with a sly smile, readying himself for another attack.

Zheng Hu responded confidently, swinging his swords with the agility and precision of a dragon's tail. He aimed to slice one of Yang Qing's wrists while simultaneously attempting to impale his torso with the other sword, moving at an unnaturally swift pace. Swords and fists clashed and glinted in the sunlight, creating a dazzling display of skill and strength between the two.

Roar of the Azure Dragon, Lotus of the East

Zheng Hu's attack manifested as the tempestuous maw of an azure dragon, ready to devour everything in its path, Yang Qing's arms and torso included.

Far Horizon, Brilliant Shooting Star

A blindingly golden, radiant light erupted within the tempest, tearing through the dragon with rapid, fierce momentum. The dragon shattered as the light surged onward, undiminished, aiming straight for Zheng Hu, who planted his right foot firmly in the ground, bracing to deflect the blazing assault.

Black Lotus Tortoise, Warrior of the North

A grey tortoise emerged from the tip of Zheng Hu's sword, instantly shielding him. The tortoise, as large as a small hill, had a shell adorned with glittering lotus symbols that oozed black water with an icy heaviness.

The tortoise leveraged its massive frame, striving to halt the relentless light that looked like it would streak across the horizon.

The black tortoise emitted a guttural roar, pouring dark, tundra-cold water from its mouth, as though trying to drown and freeze the light along with Yang Qing's entire abode. The ground beneath them frosted over rapidly under the spreading darkness and cold.

Despite being the size of a pebble, the radiant light persisted, cutting through the dark water like the morning sun dispersing the fog. It melted away both the water and the chilling aura it brought, restoring warmth and light to the area.

With the dark water dealt with, the light set its sights on the black tortoise. Looking depleted from its last attack, the tortoise could only brace before the light struck, fracturing its shell. In a last-ditch effort, the tortoise's tail morphed into a snake, which deflected the shooting light just enough to divert its path slightly.

The light veered off by mere millimeters, the snake vaporized in the process.

As the tortoise and snake dissipated, a thunderous impact echoed as an indistinct figure was hurled backward, spinning like a cyclone, until he collided with a massive tree, its trunk the width of a cow. The tree stopped the figure's motion, but the impact was immense, shaking its branches as an explosion sounded on contact, splintering the bark into a crater-like dent in the process.

Zheng Hu let out a pained chuckle, his body embedded in the tree trunk as though an immovable force had slammed into him. It felt as if he'd been crushed under ten thousand mountains, every nerve in his body screaming. His skin felt seared and blistered, and his insides boiling as if he were roasting alive under a merciless sun.

The swords that had once felt light now weighed on him like continents, each movement demanding colossal effort.

Yet, despite his battered state, a wide grin split Zheng Hu's face as he looked ahead of him. The sight that greeted him was fifty golden lights descending on him from the sky like falling stars. It looked like the advent of an armageddon.

"Good.... very good," he roared with exhilaration, embracing the challenge with unrestrained joy.

Descent of the Vermilion King of the South

A wave of scarlet flames erupted around Zheng Hu, burning with fierce, unyielding heat as the air turned molten. The flames coiled around his battered form, a vermilion aura pulsing from his swords as he readied himself to meet the descending lights head-on, his eyes locked on Yang Qing with an unbreakable focus.