Daily life of a cultivation judge-Chapter 1054: It’s time for you to be someone else’s light

Yang Qing's heart raced slightly at the thought. The enigmatic president of the Order was someone not many within the Order had ever laid their eyes on. Many, like Yang Qing, knew him only in title, not even in name.

Yang Qing often wondered what their mysterious president looked like and what kind of person they were. Was it a man or a woman? Did they have quirky habits?

During his time with the Order, he discovered a few veritable truths, and one of those truths was that the Order was full of persons with peculiar habits or likes. You couldn't throw a stone without it hitting one of them.

At this point, meeting anyone remotely normal, like him, was always a huge surprise. He had grown to expect the weird, and the Order didn't disappoint. Whether it was his circle of friends—he didn't even want to think about Kang Huilang—or his team, he couldn't help but sigh when he thought of Ellie, along with the starlight crab and Haishi. Then there was his pest of a roommate; he quickly shoved that thought aside, lest his anger flare up.

There was his family; the less he thought about them, the better.

There was the purple-haired lady who brought a warm smile to his face, but then there was his greatest nemesis, who quickly erased that smile and replaced it with clenched teeth.

The Institute wasn't that far behind, as it was packed with some of the most sadistic and bizarre personalities, especially among the instructors. The deans and vice deans were okay, but they had their quirks, too. The dean of survival and adaptation was particularly strange, which was understandable given his past. If Yang Qing had been trapped in a vast expanse filled with nothing but spirit beast excrement for miles on end and endured that for years, he, too, would likely develop some eccentric habits—perhaps even more than the dean.

Almost everywhere he turned, there was someone odd, and now, he couldn't help but wonder—was their illustrious president just as peculiar?

The thought brought a slight chuckle to Yang Qing as he mused to himself, "Can't anybody be normal like me?"

If anyone from the Order overheard that, they would likely slap him across the head before placing a crown on him, declaring him the founder and reigning king of that particular group. When it came to eccentricities, there was no one with more authority on the subject than him.

Yang Qing's disillusioned musings quickly gave way to clarity as his focus returned to Sage Mountain. Whether that enigmatic figure was truly the president or not was a mystery he might never solve. However, one thing he could confirm right now was Sage Mountain's staggering inventory: It had over a hundred scrolls whose look remained unchanged when he activated his tubing. These were over 100 cultivation arts that were potentially at the gold grade or higher.

Among Yang Qing's many fantasies—aside from one day ordering Old Fiend Lei around and slacking off right in front of him without a care in the world—was the dream of being stranded on an island, or better yet, owning one. This island would be filled with towering repository spires that stretched into the heavens, brimming with books on cultivation arts, lost legacies, fragmented techniques, obscure knowledge, esoteric tales, and all manner of things to spark the fire of his boundless curiosity.

Sage Mountain was a perfect depiction of that fantasy. A mountain full of scrolls that contained thousands upon thousands of cultivation arts that went beyond the scope of normal cultivation formulas, as they also provided a window into the thoughts of the creators of those arts—something most cultivation manuals almost never had.

To Yang Qing, those thoughts embodied the spirit of the creators—their vision and hopes etched into their art. To him, reading through them felt like sitting alongside those creators on the top floor of a cozy teahouse, steeped in the woody aroma mingling with the scent of various teas. The sun had just set, much like it had now, its crimson rays filtering through the windows, casting a warm, tranquil glow that heightened the charm of the moment.

In that imagined teahouse, Yang Qing was there with the creators, engrossed in lively conversations. They laughed, debated, compared notes, and shared insights—mutually appreciating the journeys that had led to the creation of their arts.

Yang Qing set his scrolls aside, his gaze sweeping over the thousands of scrolls that called this mountain home. Bathed in the setting sun's light, they all shimmered with the same warm orange-red glow. No hints of grey, silver, or rustic gold remained—only the unifying warmth of that hue.

Perhaps it was his sentimental mood, but Yang Qing could almost feel the presence of the creators behind each of those scrolls, their expressions soft and welcoming, as if they were smiling at him—embracing him as one of their own.

A gentle smile graced Yang Qing's face as he bowed deeply, his form sinking with genuine respect.

"I am deeply honored to stand among you and grateful to have leaned on your wisdom as you guided me forward," he said softly, his voice laced with reverence as he expressed his heartfelt thanks to the spirits of every scroll in the room.

It didn't matter whether the scrolls held red-grade arts or those containing techniques likely reaching gold grade and beyond—Yang Qing's bow of respect and gratitude encompassed them all.

As a fellow creator, he understood the arduous journey each represented—the sacrifices, the inspiration, and the relentless pursuit of excellence when it came to one's art. He felt the echoes of those efforts within himself, resonating deeply with their creators. This was his way of honoring them—not just as a budding cultivator who was reliant on the fruits of their efforts to serve as a torch for him as he searched for his own path, but as someone who recognized the beauty and struggle of the creation of an art.

As if moved by his intent, the scrolls responded. Gentle hums reverberated through the air, harmonizing with Yang Qing's tubing. Complex runes appeared along its surface, shimmering with a soft silver glow. The glow intensified, melting half the tubing into a stream of molten silver that began to drip onto the ground. Each drop coalesced, forming a pool that swiftly restructured itself into a complete scroll.

The newly formed scroll radiated silver light, its surface adorned with intricate runes that pulsed gently, as if alive. With a final hum, it sank into the earth, leaving only the scroll end visible above the surface—a testament to the moment's sanctity and acknowledgment. The other scrolls' humming gradually faded, the environment sinking into a deep, profound silence.

"It seems my guidance was unneeded," Wei Shen thought to himself as his gaze fell on the silver scroll a few feet away from Yang Qing, the newest member and addition to Sage Mountain.

As per the norm, provided the cultivation art gained the approval of Sage Mountain, for the creator's scroll to be embedded into the mountain, they would have to send their will into the scroll with the message that they accepted their art to be entombed into the mountain, and its contents free to be studied by all who met the criteria for it.

The criterion was straightforward, though it often felt unfair—only creators were typically allowed to access the scrolls. However, there was one exception: a creator could grant access to someone who wasn't a creator. This was done through a spell embedded in the scroll's tubing, which provided instructions on how to convert part of it into a token. The token could then be given to the chosen individual.

Once on Sage Mountain, the token bearer could locate and access the specific scroll it was tied to—but only that scroll. The rest remained inaccessible.

For creators, the rules were different. Anyone who had crafted a top-tier red-grade art, the minimum threshold for inclusion, was granted access to all arts entombed within the grey grade. This included top-tier red-grade arts up to top-tier orange-grade arts.

Someone like Yang Qing, who created middle-tier blue-grade art, could access all arts from top-tier red-grade going all the way to the top tier of blue-grade. If he succeeded in elevating his art to the top tier of blue grade, he would unlock access to low-tier gold-grade arts. By some rare chance, should his art ascend further into the gold grade, he would gain access to every art entombed within Sage Mountain.

This place was a paradise to all cultivators, but was even more so towards creators—understandably so at that, considering it was a reflection of the nature of its owner.

Wei Shen couldn't help but sigh once more as his attention fell on Yang Qing. Since his time stationed here, this was the first instance where he didn't need to guide someone through the process. Yang Qing ended up inadvertently completing that step all on his own, thanks to his sincere actions

"Maybe that's why he was able to create a middle-tier blue-grade art at such a young age," mused Wei Shen.

Yang Qing slowly rose, his gaze immediately drawn to the scroll lying just a few steps to the right of his left foot. Without even pulling it out, he knew it was his art. The moment it had been embedded, he had felt a thread of connection form, and through that bond, he could now sense the environment of Sage Mountain with newfound clarity.

A sense of familiarity had settled within him, allowing him to quickly notice the mountain's subtle change—a change brought about by the addition of his scroll.

Though intangible, he could sense a new characteristic had been woven into the essence of the mountain as a result of it. Yang Qing stretched out his hands, letting the sun's warmth seep into his palms.

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"It feels warmer," he murmured, sighing in awe at the grandeur of the place. Only now, thanks to the intrinsic connection brought by his scroll, did he get the chance to grasp a bit of its true depth. His previous interactions with it had felt as though he were peering through a veiled curtain, but now, a part of that curtain had been lifted, revealing a small edge of its brilliance.

Its magnificence humbled him, to say the least.

With his eyes on his scroll, he murmured, "It's time for you to be someone else's light now."