Daily life of a cultivation judge Chapter 1450: Windfall (1)

Yang Qing couldn’t quite pinpoint the moment it happened, only that the transition was incredibly swift. What began as a gentle sip soon escalated into him draining the entire wine gourd in a single, continuous draught... or at least, it felt that way. His lips remained glued to the opening until the last drop flowed out, instilling within him a profound sense of exhilaration and contentment as the liquid completed its journey.

He shook the wine gourd side to side, attempting to ascertain if it was truly empty. He even peered into the opening, confirming its emptiness as the customary swishing sound was conspicuously absent.

With a soft gasp of surprise, Yang Qing examined the gourd once more before shrugging indifferently, accepting the outcome. He reached for another, a cheerful whistle escaping his lips.

"I have thirty-five thousand lesser dragon jade crystals... I have thirty-five thousand jade crystals... I have thirty-five thousand jade crystals... I am protected from all fiends," Yang Qing sang, his voice notably off-key and his whistling equally unimpressive, as he ambled towards the jade table laden with wine.

"I have thirty fi—" Yang Qing halted mid-song, as if suddenly turned to stone. His outstretched hand, reaching for the wine, froze in place. He remained thus for a full five seconds, his expression mirroring that of someone on the precipice of a momentous decision.

"This is more like it," Yang Qing muttered with a determined expression, withdrawing his hand. As he did, an ivory-white calabash, its body adorned with delicate, supple branches, materialized in the hand he pulled back.

Yang Qing murmured in satisfaction, licking his lips and sporting a broad grin as his gaze fixated with palpable excitement on what was arguably his most prized possession.

Grinning widely, evidently pleased with himself – a fact corroborated by his swaggering, duck-like gait – Yang Qing returned to his seat. This was now his favorite seat, from which he could admire one of the most breathtaking sights he had ever beheld.

Shaking his head slightly, Yang Qing narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing the pillars with the discerning gaze of a seasoned appraiser, knowledgeable in both craftsmanship and materials. He leaned closer to the window for an unobstructed view, murmuring in sheer amazement.

He truly resembled a seasoned expert, were it not for the wide grin that periodically erupted into unrestrained laughter, possessing a peculiar, distinctive quality.

"I have thirty-five thousand crystals and no dangerous stalkers in my immediate future." Following his brief, yet thorough, appraisal of the craftsmanship, Yang Qing resumed his singing, whistling, and drinking, his laughter growing increasingly untamed with each sip and verse.

"Vast Blue Merchant House, truly a magnificent establishment," Yang Qing mused wistfully between sips. He then stood, raising his wine gourd to the air with an expression of profound respect. "Li Gang," he continued, his voice earnest, "this toast is dedicated to you, the most honorable merchant I have ever encountered. Smile on, Li Gang, for this humble one bows in utter awe and admiration of your exceptional craft," Yang Qing declared solemnly, inclining his head slightly.

After offering his toast of reverence, he took a gentlemanly, honoring sip of his wine, only to quickly return to his seat upon noticing Li Gang producing the next silver ice-tea guava.

At this juncture, Yang Qing lacked for little. His heart and sense of contentment had attained the profundity of a seasoned ascetic monk, long accustomed to complete satisfaction with sparse offerings. His current state of mind was such that even a dewdrop from a random blade of grass, offered to quench his thirst, would be perceived as a celestial gift fallen from the heavens.

Should that silver ice-tear guava, currently cradled in Li Gang’s hands, command a thousand high-grade spirit stones, he would harbor no dissatisfaction. Why would he, when thirty-five thousand lesser dragon jade crystals were poised to annihilate the emptiness in his storage ring? He eagerly anticipated slamming those crystals upon the reception counter of the Formation Hall.

Yang Qing’s eyes blazed with anticipation at the mere thought. His past encounters with that hall had not been entirely favorable. He couldn't wait to return. While not one to indulge in petty vengeance, that hall had made his life exceedingly difficult for far too long. They were due for the reckoning he had meticulously planned.

Why was it necessary for them to embed countless surveillance arrays within his courtroom? Wasn't a single array sufficient? Yet, the Formation Hall, ever the epitome of overachievement, had to go and inscribe a hundred and fifteen of them. Not only that, but those insidious overachievers had to intricately conceal them behind myriad layers of other arrays designed to mask their true purpose.

If one hundred and fifteen surveillance arrays were planted in a person's work area, wouldn't basic courtesy, decency, and decorum dictate informing the individual? This way, he would know that his courtroom housed such a number of arrays, and consequently, he would understand not to host a private banquet or indulge in a much-needed two or three-hour break for meditation, ensuring he maintained his peak condition. After all, the fate of many rested in his hands, and it was imperative that his mind remained at its most optimal.

He would have valued a heads-up from his colleagues in the Formation Hall, a prior notice regarding those arrays, so he could have been mindful of what he voiced within that courtroom. This foresight would have spared him the humiliation of being exposed before his superiors due to rebellious thoughts and hidden desires, which they subsequently punished him for, and quite severely, even if they were mere contemplations.

In his estimation, those from the Formation Hall were equally deserving of retribution.

Furthermore, cultivators who proved themselves exceptionally diligent in deploying arrays detrimental to their colleagues' emotional and mental states became markedly lazy and underachieving when that same colleague sought them out for a reduced price on minor enhancements to the arrays in his own residence.

Yet, the moment he requested they apply that same expertise to install perhaps one, three, or at most four surveillance arrays in his abode – so he could be alerted whenever his gluttonous adopted bird-daughter came to pilfer his belongings, or to ascertain if his fiendish superior was spying on him during his sleep, as for a few nights, particularly during his days off, he had distinctly sensed a watchful presence… suddenly, those 'masters' from the Formation Hall would cite a myriad of obstacles:

"

"

Yang Qing frequently pondered: where was that meticulous deliberation and endless chain of approval when they were inscribing one hundred and fifteen surveillance arrays? Where was the delay? They didn't seem particularly concerned with resource conservation either, because if they were, he wouldn't find himself seated with one hundred and fifteen surveillance arrays cluttering his courtroom.

The individual who provided him with that response lacked the basic decency to put any real effort into his fabrication. Since when did making minor adjustments to a low-tier blue-grade array, changes that would merely elevate it to a mid-tier blue-grade array, suddenly necessitate the involvement of the Spirit Council? As if that were not sufficient, even the three Vice Presidents were implicated in the approval process. If borrowing an ascendant-grade artifact only required the sanction of Old Lei or one of the leisurely judges from the Judicial Review Committee, then how did one or two monarch-grade materials suddenly demand not only an interminable list of Formation Hall superiors, ascending all the way to the Spirit Council, before culminating in the hands of the three Vice Presidents?

That individual could have simply stated his unwillingness to offer a discount rather than resorting to such a transparent falsehood. For someone who placed significant importance and effort into constructing his excuses, it was safe to assert that Yang Qing felt profoundly insulted by the minimal thought invested in the execution of that particular one.