Daily life of a cultivation judge

When Yang Qing withdrew his palace sense, another thought struck him—something he should have asked Duan Ting and Liu Ying the moment they revealed that Jiang Hao and their boss, Bai Chen, had gone missing.

Taking a brief pause to gather his thoughts and frame the question properly, Yang Qing finally asked,

"Your boss and Escort Supervisor Jiang Hao—do they, by any chance, have soul lamps?"

"They do," Duan Ting replied, though a flicker of hesitation crossed his eyes—something Yang Qing immediately noticed.

Just as Yang Qing opened his mouth to ask about the lamps' condition, Duan Ting, anticipating the question, quickly continued,

"The soul lamps..." He hesitated, searching for the right words. "They're... dormant," he said at last, though his tone betrayed uncertainty.

Even as he spoke, it was clear that the word "dormant" didn't entirely capture what he wanted to convey. He frowned slightly, as if dissatisfied with his own explanation.

"I think it's better if we show you," Liu Ying interjected. "They're back at our building."

"Alright," Yang Qing replied, pushing down the growing list of questions forming in his mind.

Soul lamps were considered the most reliable tools for monitoring a cultivator's condition. However, most soul lamps only indicated two states—whether the cultivator was alive or dead. They revealed nothing about the in-between.

A cultivator could be teetering on the brink of death, gravely injured, or even unconscious, yet the soul lamp would continue to burn with the same brightness as if they were in perfect health. The only time a noticeable change would occur was when the cultivator died, causing the lamp to extinguish.

Because of this limited functionality, such soul lamps were the most affordable and widely used in many organizations. But even so, they remained extraordinarily expensive.

As far as Yang Qing knew, the cheapest soul lamp he'd ever encountered cost 12 high-grade spirit stones. When converted, that amounted to 12,000 middle-grade spirit stones or a staggering 1,200,000 low-grade spirit stones.

For most Rank 5 organizations, obtaining such an amount was no easy feat. Even if they somehow managed to scrape together the funds, spending it on a soul lamp was often seen as impractical.

While soul lamps provided peace of mind, especially regarding a cultivator's life-and-death status, their cost made them a luxury that lower-ranked organizations simply couldn't afford.

Other than confirming whether someone was dead or alive, a regular soul lamp offered nothing else. It didn't send a warning when death was near, didn't record final moments to shed light on what happened, and it sure as Dao didn't provide any life-saving measures for its owner.

It was nothing more than a death notification tool—one that came with glaring limitations. Worse yet, it could only be bound to a single cultivator and was a single-use item. The moment a cultivator died, the sliver of their soul bound to the lamp shattered, destroying the soul lamp along with it.

This cost alone made soul lamps inaccessible to lower-ranked organizations. Even moderately higher-ranked groups, such as Rank 4 organizations, had to be selective about their use. In Yang Qing's experience, most Rank 4 sects only reserved soul lamps for their prized talents—core disciples, elders, and a few key figures—while leaving outer sect disciples without any such protection.

It was a similar case in prestigious clans, where only main family members—particularly those with exceptional talent—were granted soul lamps. The rest? The clans and sects seemed perfectly fine not knowing their life-or-death status.

However, things were different as one moved higher up the hierarchy. Starting from Rank 3 organizations all the way to Rank 1 organizations—and especially the two holy lands—soul lamps became more commonplace. At those levels, most members had access to them, and the lamps themselves offered far more than simple death notifications.

For example, heartshade candles—a moderately advanced type of soul lamp—provided greater insight into a cultivator's condition. The brightness of the flames reflected their overall well-being—strong and vibrant flames signaled good health, while dim and flickering flames indicated weakness or injury.

Some high-quality heartshade candles took it a step further. Their flames burned in different colors to pinpoint the exact area of injury, offering a detailed status of the cultivator's condition.

For instance, if a blue outer flame surrounded the original flame, it indicated qi exhaustion. A deep red flame signaled an injury to the body, while a pure white flame pointed to damage to the soul. A black flame revealed the presence of a curse, and a purple-green flame signified poisoning. If the entire flame turned dark grey, it suggested the cultivator was in a state of stasis, caught between life and death.

This dark grey flame often appeared in cases where a cultivator's body had been possessed or if they were inside a mysterious realm, grotto, or restricted area where the local laws interfered with the soul lamp's functionality.

That said, soul lamps weren't foolproof, especially lower-quality ones. There had been recorded cases where a soul lamp declared someone dead, only for them to later reappear alive. Many such incidents occurred during breakthroughs, where the tribulation lightning seemed to disrupt the lamp's function.

Yang Qing speculated that this interference stemmed from the elevation of life essence and transformation of being that accompanied a breakthrough. After all, breakthroughs were akin to rebirths—shedding one's old form to evolve into something stronger. It wasn't surprising that some soul lamps misinterpreted this transformation as death, given how closely it mirrored the end of a life cycle.

To avoid such mishaps, cultivators required higher-grade soul lamps—but these came at an exorbitant cost, with some rivaling the price of saint-grade treasures.

They were well worth the price as these premium soul lamps offered far more than just accurate readings. Some not only monitored a cultivator's state but could even affect it—providing additional protection or life-saving measures during critical moments.

The Order possessed one such soul lamp of extraordinary caliber—it was called the Voyager's Bell.

Beyond simply monitoring the user's state, the Voyager's Bell offered additional protections. It could shield their soul from being probed by soul-searching techniques and, in the event of the worst-case scenario, where the cultivator's body was destroyed, the bell could safeguard or even forcibly teleport their soul back to the Order, where the bell's physical body resided.

As long as the soul remained stable, the Order had the means to help reform a body. Though the new body wouldn't match the potential of the original, and the cultivator would need to recultivate from the ground up, it was still infinitely better than death.

With the Voyager's Bell, members of the Order gained an extra layer of security when traveling outside the headquarters. Its most remarkable feature, however, was its capacity—it could accommodate multiple cultivators simultaneously. Unfortunately, this number was finite, so its protection was prioritized for those with extended assignments away from headquarters, such as roaming inquisitors, special inquisitors, and Flying Shadow Hawk members.

For these three groups, the Voyager's Bell served as a permanent safety net. However, for someone like Yang Qing, who was stationed at headquarters, its protection was only temporary—limited to instances when he was dispatched on missions outside the Order, such as ranking appraisals or the time he was sent to oversee the Deer Mountain Branch as its acting branch manager.

Those were the only times he stood under the Voyager's Bell's halo.

The rest of the time, while stationed at headquarters—like he was now—his soul lamp was of the ascendant-grade variety. Though not as powerful as the Voyager's Bell, it was still impressive in its own right.

The ascendant-grade soul lamp could monitor his physical and emotional state, shield his soul from being read, and even bypass restrictions imposed by mysterious realms, grottos, and unstable zones to transmit real-time updates about his condition.

Yet, despite its capabilities, it lacked the life-saving features of the Voyager's Bell—a stark reminder of the difference in value and protection the two provided.

Yet, despite its capabilities, it lacked the life-saving features of the Voyager's Bell—a stark reminder of the difference in value and protection the two artifacts provided.

Across the continent, prominent organizations—including the holy lands and rank-one sects—were bound to possess soul lamp artifacts of similar worth to the Voyager's Bell, albeit with different features that were equally valuable in their own right.

For instance, when Yang Qing had redeemed the seed of the green flame tree, which now resided in his abode, he had been told that if it ever reached the soul formation realm, it could grant him a second life.

The reason for this was that the green flame tree was destined to develop abilities at that level, abilities that bore similarities to those of the Voyager's Bell.

By imprinting a sliver of his soul into the tree—and with the tree's permission—that soul imprint would form a connection between Yang Qing and the tree. At the soul formation realm, the tree could channel its restorative powers across vast distances, using the soul imprint as a conduit.

It could heal him remotely, no matter where he was, and given how monstrous its regenerative abilities already were at the palace realm, Yang Qing could only imagine how stupendous they'd become at the soul formation realm.

With it by his side, dying would become a difficult task, especially for someone like Yang Qing, whose regenerative powers already matched the tree's current capabilities. The thought of the two working together often brought a smile to his face.

If that day ever came, Yang Qing doubted he'd even bother defending himself in battle. Well—he would. He was still a highly paranoid individual, after all. But still…

He often imagined scenarios where he squared off against an opponent, fought a grueling battle, and lost—only for his opponent to be utterly exhausted while Yang Qing was instantly restored to his peak condition.

What kind of face would they make?

Unbeknownst to him, a small smile had already crept onto his face. Given the seriousness of their earlier discussion, its suddenness caught the two escort supervisors off guard—especially Duan Ting, who had just finished explaining how their boss's and Jiang Hao's soul lamps were dormant.

To see Yang Qing suddenly smiling left him feeling a mix of shock and confusion.

"Could it be...?" Duan Ting's pupils trembled as excitement bubbled in them at the prospect of his unfinished thought. Liu Ying, standing beside him, seemed to share the same sentiment, her expression one of restrained hope and excitement.

Yang Qing quickly pulled his wayward thoughts back when he sensed the gazes of the two escort supervisors on him, especially the hope swirling in their eyes. Catching their expectant looks, it didn't take much for him to guess their thoughts, which left him feeling embarrassed.

He quickly apologized and made a polite move to deflect.

"After we're done here, we can pass by your building, and I'll take a look then," Yang Qing said, doing his best to hide his embarrassment. When it became too difficul to do so, especially when Duan Ting's eyes dimmed slightly, he shifted his attention to Ming Wa, who shrank back slightly as she sensed his gaze.

"I hope Miss Ming Wa is much calmer now," Yang Qing said, his words carrying a deeper meaning as he looked at the mercurial young cultivator.