Daily life of a cultivation judge

Yang Qing looked away from the painting and turned to face Sun Biya, who was smiling at him with a special glimmer in her eyes—one she quickly moved to hide. In truth, she wasn't as calm and relaxed as she appeared. The man standing before her had genuinely surprised her.

From the moment she first laid eyes on him, she could tell there was something unique about him. She wasn't alone in this—Madame Cai Shan had sensed it too. Otherwise, she wouldn't have stepped forward to welcome him personally.

But as unique as Yang Qing already seemed, his performance just now went far beyond her expectations. That painting was considered one of the most precious treasures in the teahouse. It was one of the main reasons entry to the fourth floor was restricted—and why so many tried to gain access to it.

The painting itself served as a silent measure of qualification. It required a certain level of perception to see its true form, and Yang Qing had clearly done so and at a stupendous speed at that, which was what shocked her. She had ushered in hundreds of guests over the years since the painting was placed here, and in all that time, few had taken to it as quickly as Yang Qing had, and even fewer had seen through it as swiftly as he did.

Barely thirty seconds had passed since they entered, and yet Yang Qing had already seen through it completely.

She could count no more than four people who had achieved a similar feat—and one of them had been the inspiration for the painting itself, so it was only natural that they'd be able to see into its heart.

Most took weeks or even months to truly see through it. A rare few managed it in hours, while others never saw anything at all.

Personally, it had taken her three years to see through the painting. Cao Shan had done it in four hours. Sun Biya often consoled herself with the thought that her talents lay not in the arts, but in the sword. Cao Shan, on the other hand, was a craftswoman—a blue-grade one at that. The design and furnishings used in the Velvet Orchid Teahouse were all her handiwork. So, for Cao Shan to perceive the painting's heart in such a short time made sense to Sun Biya.

But even with all her skills, Cao Shan still fell short of the performance this new guest had just shown. Sun Biya couldn't help but wonder if he was yet another heaven-defying genius, like the one who had drawn that painting.

The painting did not discriminate by cultivation base. All that mattered was perception and insight. There had been palace realm experts who failed to grasp its essence, while there were core formation cultivators who had managed to see through it—some even in less time than Cao Shan.

Sun Biya's heart couldn't help but stir with excitement as she wondered whether their teahouse had once again been blessed with another extraordinarily gifted painter. If that were the case, a small part of her secretly hoped they might one day have the pleasure of adding another masterpiece to their collection.

She knew it was wishful thinking. Most would never part with a painting of that caliber, nor offer it away cheaply.

The only reason they even possessed the one they had was because the proprietor of the Velvet Orchid had been one of the muses behind it—and the one who painted it shared a special relationship with her. Without that connection, the Velvet Orchid Teahouse would have never qualified to house a painting of such quality.

Sun Biya had found her path to the palace realm thanks to that painting, and she wasn't alone. So far, nearly thirty palace realm experts had credited their breakthroughs to it. Even among those already in the palace realm, many had experienced sudden moments of clarity or deep enlightenment from simply engaging with it.

If not for the Hebei Kingdom's strict protection of creator rights, the painting would likely have been bought, seized, or enshrined in the Hebei National Royal College as a national treasure. Fortunately, the kingdom exercised great propriety in such matters—and, more importantly, the painting had awakened a spirit that had clearly expressed its will: it would only reside within the teahouse its creator placed it in.

If it weren't for those two factors, that painting—given its quality—would likely have ended up under different ownership.

Sun Biya was quickly pulled from her thoughts when Yang Qing posed another question.

"What is this?" he asked, gesturing toward the silver-gold Go tile that had suddenly shot to his palm from the painting.

Within the tile, one could see a replication of the painting's imagery, though it wasn't as vivid or alive. Not all the figures from the original were present either. At the moment, the scene depicted the baby and the mother locked in their fierce battle over bath time. But as Yang Qing raised his palm, bringing the tile closer to eye level—for both himself and Sun Biya to see—the image shifted from the mother and child to the fisherman.

"That tile," Sun Biya began, pointing at it with a smile, "is an approval token from the painting, designating you as a special guest of the Velvet Orchid Teahouse."

"Special guest?" Yang Qing echoed, his eyes secretly lighting up at the implications behind the title. Special guest meant special privileges, and if there was anything special to be had, he certainly wanted in on it.

Feigning a look of detached calm, he asked, "What does being a special guest entail?"

"You won't ask me to compose poems, will you?" he added jokingly.

"No, nothing like that," Sun Biya said with a laugh. "Though, if you ever wanted to donate some poems, paintings, or anything else you create, we would be more than honored to host it."

"The poems, artworks, and other pieces featured in the teahouse are all gifts from patrons who wished to share them freely with others," she added.

"Even that painting?" Yang Qing asked, his expression tinged with disbelief as he pointed toward the mysterious artwork—the very one from which the Go tile, now nestled between his index finger and thumb, had emerged.

"Yes, even that painting," Sun Biya answered serenely.

Yang Qing was once again taken aback. Based on quality alone, the painting was as valuable as a top-tier monarch-grade artifact. But for someone who truly needed its effects, its worth was immeasurable. The painting's effects, especially now that he could see it moving with life, seemed to help cultivate the mind and the heart.

Someone plagued by serious heart and mental demons would be served well meditating on that painting, and would do wonders in helping them overcome them. To such a person, its value would far exceed that of any artifact, even one of the highest grade.

And yet, here it was, hanging freely for anyone to interact with it.

As for the Velvet Orchid Teahouse, they could have easily hidden it away or charged an astronomical fee for access. But instead, they had left it exposed, allowing anyone to interact with it freely, with the only prerequisite being: reaching whatever evaluation measure the teahouse had set for allowing someone into the fourth floor (which Yang Qing was now curious what it could be, having seen that painting).

Yang Qing couldn't help but admire the breadth of spirit shown by both the painter and the Velvet Orchid Teahouse.

Maybe that's why it's grown so much, he thought, shooting the painting a surreptitious glance. This time, however, his gaze focused more on its materials than its contents. From what he could estimate, everything— from the canvas, the wood lining the frame, even the ink—was made from low-tier monarch-grade materials. And yet, the fluctuations he felt from it, guided by his intuition and experience, were undoubtedly those of a top-tier monarch-grade artifact.

The most likely explanation for that was the painting's spirit.

Artifact spirits, much like cultivators, could grow. Their paths differed, but they too could improve. For some, their progress was tied to the cultivator they were bonded to. For others, their growth depended on the role they played and the experiences they gathered. This painting, Yang Qing suspected, belonged to the latter.

Just as a cauldron could awaken its spirit and grow stronger through the successful brewing of pills and potions, paintings—or any artifact that thrived through interaction—could follow a similar path.

By allowing anyone to interact with it freely, the teahouse might have unintentionally (Or intentionally) nurtured the painting's spirit. The more cultivators who engaged with it and gained something from it, the more the spirit likely evolved. Who's to say what he saw or felt was the same as what another cultivator would experience? Perhaps every interaction was different—and it was through those variations that the painting's spirit continued to grow.

His mind couldn't help but drift back to the words he had read, wondering if there was a deeper meaning behind them. However, his contemplation was cut short as Sun Biya began to elaborate on what being a special guest entailed.

"Being our special guest means you'll have access to our collection... our collection here referring to all excerpts, journals, and various materials spanning different topics and interests. This includes even cultivation-related matters such as cultivation arts, alchemy recipes, formation blueprints, and other information drawn from different schools of cultivation," Sun Biya explained.

"Though not for free," she quickly added, noticing the undisguised gleam of excitement lighting up Yang Qing's eyes, which promptly dimmed at her ruthless clarification.

"But," she continued right away, her voice softening into a soothing tone that sounded almost like she was crooning to him, "as our special guest, not only will you have unrestricted access to the entire collection, but you may do so for the price of four high-grade spirit stones. That will grant you access to everything we have, for three months. After that, you'll need to top up another four high-grade spirit stones to continue enjoying the same service, running once more for three months.

That is the privilege of our special guest."

"Four high-grade spirit stones..." murmured Yang Qing, as the light in his eyes flared again, this time with even more fervor.

Sixteen glittering high-grade spirit stones immediately appeared on the table. With as much composure as he could muster, he gently pressed them into Sun Biya's hands and closed her fingers over them—almost as if afraid she might refuse.

"This should be enough for a year, right?" he asked softly, wearing a feigned calm smile that twitched ever so slightly, looking ready to tear at the seams and erupt into a wide, maddened grin.