Daily life of a cultivation judge

Whether it was the North, East, or West Continents, none could compare to the paradise that was the Southern Continent. Only the Central Continent was rumored to be on par. Yet, despite the countless wars that had scarred the Southern Continent and damaged its environment, the Central Continent had never truly surpassed it—not even with the lasting peace it was said to have, in contrast to the Southern Continent's perpetual chaos.

The richness of the Southern Continent was another one of those mysteries that got Yang Qing's curious mind buzzing. He often wondered whether the reason it was so rich was because it was surrounded on all three of its borders by wonderous places like the Millionsfold Treasure Ocean to its left, the enigmatic Blue Origin Ocean to the left, or the tumultuous Bestial Churning Sea to the North.

What was it that made the Southern Continent the way it was? Was it because of those three places? Or was it because of something else, something far deeper? Or, perhaps it was simply just a stroke of luck like the heavenly dao randomly looking favorably upon them, without rhyme or reason guiding it.

Beyond simple curiosity, Yang Qing's interest in this mystery stemmed from a peculiar sensation he had experienced when breaking through to the Palace Realm.

During that critical moment—when he had survived the final tribulation, and his body and soul were being reforged by the combined forces of the tribulation and the powers of the Dao he had used in his breakthrough—he had felt something strange. A peculiar feedback occurred during that process.

As he was merging with his dao, he had the unsettling feeling that the continent was staring at him. Not the entire landmass, but certain parts of it. It was a strange sensation, one he initially chalked up to paranoia, thinking his mind was playing tricks on him again.

At the time, he was dead certain it was Old Fiend Lei watching him closely, having somehow sensed Yang Qing's plan to give himself a three-month break under the guise of "breaking through and stabilizing his realm."

And when the old fiend inevitably caught him afterward, Yang Qing became even more convinced that it had to be Lei Weiyuan. After all, the man was an expert lurker who lived for the sole purpose of ruining Yang Qing's plans.

But the dreamer in him—the deep wanderer in him—couldn't help but wonder. What if it wasn't the old fiend spying on him?

What if, just what if, maybe, for a fleeting moment, his breakthrough had opened a window to something else—like a curtain that held one of the many secrets of the continent had been parted slightly in that brief window, giving a brief glimpse at what lay beyond?

That thought kept his imaginative juices flowing even though it had no legs to stand on.

There was something exhilarating about having a good mystery to throw yourself into, especially for cultivators and their long lifespans. One couldn't simply spend all those years in seclusion, cultivating away the centuries. There had to be something to add substance, to bring a spark of excitement to that long existence.

At least, that was what Yang Qing believed.

But regardless of its countless unsolved mysteries, the Southern Continent was, without a doubt, a land of fortune for cultivators. And for those with the means and the ability—like the Order—it was even more so.

The Order's wide and expansive roots were their powerful experts who would continue to provide support to the others, providing them ample time and opportunity to grow. As long as they were around, the Order would endure and keep flourishing, and the good thing with the Order was, given enough time, those wide roots would have successors. Each generation would reinforce the foundation, strengthening the trunk, expanding the branches, and producing even more leaves, allowing the Order to thrive across eras.

They had formidable experts who safeguarded continuity, ensuring stability, guidance, and resources. And because they were rooted in the Southern Continent—one of the richest lands on the planet—resources were never a concern. This, more than anything, was what separated them from the Xia clan.

The Xia clan's roots had been cut out from under them, leaving their entire tree in a precarious state. Even with the resources they had left, they lacked the foundation to make full use of them. Had they managed to retain or produce just one palace realm expert in the early days of their conflict with the three retainer clans, the outcome could have been vastly different.

A single palace realm expert, combined with the defensive might of the formation diagram, could have bought them crucial time and some measure of safety. That stability, in turn, would have fostered an environment more conducive to breakthroughs. With their mental burdens eased by the presence of a powerful guardian and a fortified stronghold, the odds of producing more palace realm experts would have increased significantly.

Yes, the Ning family may have been receiving support from the Song Kingdom, and yes, they had seven palace realm experts on their side, while the Xia clan had none. Yet, despite this overwhelming disparity, the Xia clan, relying solely on the formation diagram, had managed to drag the conflict out for thousands of years.

How much more could they have achieved if they had a palace realm expert at the time when they managed to injure three of their opponents' seven palace realm experts?

Yang Qing was certain that with just one such expert in their ranks back then, they could have extended their resistance far beyond what they had or perhaps even turned the tide against the three clans.

It was the same for the Order. This was why he couldn't envision a scenario where they would be driven to infighting. But if—on the off chance—it ever happened, he was certain that it would take something extraordinary to push them to that point.

At the very least, he was sure, a single holy land turning against them was incapable of driving them to that point; it would take at least two of them, and even then, Yang Qing didn't believe it would be enough.

Yes, they could lose, but those two holy lands would not get out of it scot-free either. The victory would be a pyrrhic one, leaving them exposed to other organizations to exploit, which would leave them susceptible to the same fate that awaited the Order. If there was one thing the continent had no shortage of, it was opportunists.

If the two holy lands were not involved and it was instead the rest of the continent making a move, then by Yang Qing's humble estimate, it would take at least half the continent's combined forces, united in earnest, just to shake the Order. And even then, just like with the two holy lands, the only outcome awaiting them would be a pyrrhic victory.

Half the continent would have to pay a steep price merely to damage the Order's roots, and still, Yang Qing didn't feel it would be enough to sever the entire tree. With the Order's strength, there was no way it could be eliminated in a single decisive moment—not even if the entire continent were involved. At the very least, it would take five hundred years of sustained effort to completely defeat them.

This wasn't just Yang Qing's wishful thinking. His estimate was based on historical precedent—specifically, the destruction of the former holy land, the Myriad Beasts Sect. It had taken half the continent and another holy land, the Flowing Leaves Valley Sect, working together to eliminate them. And even with those overwhelming forces, the war lasted 6,800 years.

The Myriad Beasts Sect had been much younger in both history and foundation compared to the Flowing Leaves Valley Sect, yet it still took that long to bring them down. The cost of victory had been staggering for all involved. And if the rumors circulating within the Order were to be believed, not everyone from the sect had been annihilated.

There were whispers that the sect had managed to preserve its embers by hiding away a few of its members within some mysterious realm deep in the void, protected by one of the legendary void creatures the sect had once befriended.

Yang Qing wasn't sure how true that rumor was, but whether some members of the Myriad Beasts Sect had survived or not, one fact remained—it had endured for more than 5,000 years despite being targeted by half the continent and a holy land. While the Order hadn't existed as long as the Myriad Beasts Sect, in terms of power, Yang Qing didn't believe they were any weaker.

Given that, he was certain they couldn't be wiped out in a single strike, even if the entire continent came for them. Their strength and foundation ensured they could hold out for a time. And if they could last as long as the Myriad Beasts Sect had… well, while Yang Qing wasn't one to toot his own horn—actually, he was, because he just couldn't help himself sometimes—he was confident that 5,000 years would be more than enough for him to reach the Soul Formation Realm.

And it wouldn't just be him. He was certain Zhang Qingge could do it, too. So could Kang Huilang—much as he hated to admit it, that yellow-haired gambler was undeniably gifted. Dai Chen, Yu Huifeng, Yi Jie, Feng Xin (if he didn't slack off), and countless others would also have the time to reach those heights.

As long as the Order wasn't destroyed in a single day, they would have a chance to turn things around. And this wasn't just his confidence—it was a belief shared by most within the Order. This was a confidence born of their strength, talent, and foundation.

But if, by some chance, they did face annihilation with no way out—despite being the coward that he was, despite how he avoided danger like the plague and clung to life—when that moment came, Yang Qing was certain he'd face it head-on without shrinking back an inch. Hopefully, by then, he'd have fewer regrets in his heart and most of his goals accomplished.

It would really suck to meet his end without getting back at Old Fiend Lei, without successfully pulling a few over on the Order, or without tasting the soft life he envisioned.

So, if a shameless coward like himself could hold such resolve in the face of destruction, how much stronger would the others stand?