Daily life of a cultivation judge

It wasn't long before Yang Qing was within earshot of Hebei's border province, Baishui Province. About twenty or so kilometers out, he asked Haishi to halt her movements—he needed a few seconds to consider something.

The matter under consideration was whether to enter using his real identity as a member of the Order or to assume another persona.

The scholars of Hebei who opposed the Order were unlikely to do anything to him. Scholars, after all, preferred convincing others of their errors through words, not force. And while they had their own views about the Order, they still respected and admired its role. Their issue wasn't with what the Order did or stood for—it was with how its presence interfered with the natural flow of the continent.

That aside, they bore no real animosity toward it.

The very fact that a branch of the Order had been allowed to operate within their kingdom, despite the ideological differences, was proof of Hebei's approach when dealing with the Order. So as far as his safety was concerned, Yang Qing didn't believe he was in any real danger using his true identity.

(Or at least, he hoped not… the paranoid side of him couldn't rule out the possibility entirely.)

Still, while his safety might not be at risk, he wasn't sure whether revealing himself as a judge would help or hinder what he was about to do. It could go either way—his identity might open the right doors, or it might close them entirely.

After a few seconds of debate, he ultimately decided to take on another persona and leave his judge identity behind.

Having made up his mind, Yang Qing's aura subtly began to shift, affecting some of his physical traits as well. His hair grew lighter, taking on an almost cyan glow that matched his eyes, which also adopted the same hue. Along with the color change, his hair grew longer and neater, which he quickly tied into a bun.

His aura now felt tranquil, gentle, and carefree, like a slow-flowing river, which fit perfectly with the nature of his qi at that moment, having become water-based.

It was one of the many remarkable wonders of his purple-grade art. Thanks to the universal qi it granted him, he could seamlessly switch the nature of his qi to any element he desired, especially if said element was tied to his yin yang jade nature bones peerless jade physique, i.e., wood, water, earth, fire, and lightning.

Even when it came to other elements, the transition remained smooth. What made it so natural was that the transformation wasn't merely a mimicry; his very essence changed with it. He could manipulate water with the same skill and finesse as someone born with a natural affinity for it.

Bolin and Wenling stared wide-eyed at Yang Qing when they saw—or rather, felt—his transformation. The effect was even more pronounced on Haishi, whose head shifted slightly to give Yang Qing a quick look. As a spirit beast attuned with both water and light elements, she could sense the change in him more deeply than the other two.

Yang Qing nodded in satisfaction at their reactions, then glanced down at his golden robes, debating whether to change them. He decided he would. The golden robes clashed with the image he was aiming for, which was that of a tranquil, easygoing, and gentle wanderer with an appreciation for nearly everything.

To match the new temperament, he chose light grey robes. Still feeling something was missing, he retrieved his purple lightning bamboo staff. Normally coated in its signature deep green and violet sheen, the staff's color and aura shifted the instant it touched his palm, adopting a cyan glow to mirror his current state.

If one listened closely, they could hear the gentle swoosh of flowing water and catch the crisp, breezy scent of a river, all of which created an aura that evoked relaxation in all who laid eyes on it.

Yang Qing nodded in satisfaction once again and fastened the staff to the left side of his waistband. This was why the purple lightning bamboo was his favored weapon—its abilities were perfectly aligned with his own. It could adapt to the elemental nature of its wielder.

Satisfied that everything was in order, Yang Qing asked Haishi to resume the journey.

Entry into the kingdom was far less of a hassle compared to what he'd gone through entering the Wan clan's territory. To gain access, all he needed to do was provide his name and cultivation base, while a secret inspection was carried out to detect any trace of fiendish qi in his body or artifacts. This was done through the use of a top-tier blue-grade array working in concert with a monarch-grade treasure.

Once Yang Qing and his companions were confirmed to be free of fiendish taint, they were granted entry into the Hebei Kingdom.

Yang Qing had never been here before, and he couldn't help but gasp in amazement as he looked around.

"As expected of a nation built by scholars," he murmured, taking in the vibrant liveliness that surrounded him.

Since the kingdom had no restrictions on flight, they chose to travel by air—it would shorten the distance to Yunnan Province considerably. From above, his admiration for Baishui grew even more.

The streets, buildings, pedestrians, carriages, and market stalls—everything that made up the city below (or was it a town? Yang Qing wasn't sure)—was clean, structured, and yet somehow still open and free.

There was no congestion. The roads and streets were clean, as was the air. The buildings didn't feel clustered together, and each had its own distinct design. One was shaped like a scroll, another resembled an open book with rafters designed to look like bookmarks, and yet another mimicked the form of a stylus pen.

Even the buildings that weren't as overtly creative still had their own uniqueness. One three-story building, for instance, could easily be mistaken for a small mountain, complete with a flowing river, trees, and other plants growing on it. The "mountain," river, trees, and plants were all part of a vivid painting etched into the timber that made up the structure. The painting was so lifelike that Yang Qing could actually smell pine and catch a faint, damp, earthy scent wafting from the building.

On the streets, different people played various musical instruments. Despite each musician performing their own tune, the sounds somehow blended together as if they were all part of a single band, though in truth, they weren't.

Yang Qing chuckled when he saw a child who couldn't have been more than four years old sitting beside three old men gathered around a round table on the terrace of what appeared to be a teahouse. The three elders were animatedly exchanging tales, while the four-year-old—dressed in oversized white robes that looked more like a tent on his tiny frame, and wearing a tiny scholar's cap—listened intently, taking notes on a piece of parchment neatly placed beside him.

Yang Qing's laughter was cut short when he caught a glimpse of the child's notes—and realized the boy's handwriting was far more elegant than his own.

He snorted, adding yet another reason to his growing list of grudges against his insidious clan. His childhood was spent more on screaming, crying, hiding, and fighting with a petty dog that peed in his bath and stole his food.