Daily life of a cultivation judge-Chapter 1147 - Clouded view (1)
1147: Clouded view (1)
1147: Clouded view (1)
The mood in the office grew considerably heavier, mirroring Xia Fang’s emotions and the weight of her story.
She took a few more sips—far more than before—trying to use the drink’s properties as a refuge.
Though she had already steeled herself to tell her story to the end, no matter how uncomfortable it became, she could feel her willpower wavering as she approached the heaviest parts.
Speaking of tragedy always had a way of sapping one’s resolve, no matter how prepared they felt—or worse, instilling fear.
It was as if voicing the pain aloud gave it power, a chance to return and force you to relive it all over again.
That was exactly what Xia Fang was feeling.
The earlier parts of her story, though painful, had been a mix of good and bad—with the worst saved for last.
And even when recounting those dark moments, there had been some distance.
She had not witnessed or experienced those events personally.
While the destruction of her clan at the hands of that rogue cultivator’s son filled her with rage, it was still easier to speak of things she had not directly endured, only having a vivid imagination to go by.
Ultimately, no matter how good her imagination, it still fell short of the real thing, which in some way made it easier for her to retell that part of the story, though it was still a heavy task for her.
After all, it was the events of that day that became the origin story of the hell she and the rest of her clan members had to endure to date.
But she had no such ‘protection’ of distance or ignorance for what came next.
She had lived through it, tasted every part of it, over and over again.
Just the thought of speaking it aloud made her chest tighten as if an invisible force were constricting her lungs.
Despite the office’s cool temperatures and the refreshing sensation of the snow jujube tea, she felt like she was trapped in the heart of an erupting volcano—its searing heat blistering her skin, drying her tongue, and suffocating the air from her lungs.
Luckily for her, every time it felt like it was about to become unbearable, a spring-like breeze would appear, washing over her body, bringing gentle and comforting relief to the blistering and suffocating sensation she felt.
Afraid that if she didn’t open her mouth, she might never find the strength to do so, Xia Fang, seizing the window of relief the spring-like breeze afforded her, opened her mouth to continue the rest of her story.
“Like I mentioned before, it only took him about half an hour to sink the clan into oblivion, cutting down all our Palace Realm experts with ease,” Xia Fang began.
“It didn’t matter whether they had just freshly broken through or were seasoned veterans like the eight late-stage Palace Realm experts we had at the time—they all fell just the same beneath his blade,” she added, her gaze turning slightly distant.
That part of the story was one of the few she had never quite been able to imagine.
A strength so overwhelming, so absolute, that it could cut through the foundation of tens of thousands of years in mere moments.
“If it wasn’t for us throwing everything at our disposal, which included every trump card we had and us emptying three-quarters of our foundation while the elders used forbidden techniques with reckless abandon, I doubt they would have even made it past ten minutes,” said Xia Fang, a bitter smile tugging at her lips.
“But no matter what the clan threw at him, nothing could halt his blade from claiming its prize… They even tried to use the name of the Silver Crane Sect, but it proved as useless as everything else,” Xia Fang wistfully said, her eyes flashing with a mix of bitterness and shame.
That statement unearthed yet another piece of her immature past.
At the height of her despair and frustration, when she lashed out at anything and everything—including even her grandfather—the Silver Crane Sect hadn’t been spared from her list of those to blame for the miserable state she was in.
At the time, she had been so consumed by her own suffering that she convinced herself she had endured more than anyone else in the clan, a belief that couldn’t have been further from the truth. freewēbnoveℓ.com
That twisted logic had made her turn on her grandfather and the other elders, and when blaming them no longer felt enough, she set her sights even higher—onto the Silver Crane Sect.
She blamed them wholeheartedly for the misery they suffered.
She both hated and resented them for being fence-sitters while all those things were happening to their clan, despite having the power to stop it.
Her frustration went so deep that she quickly forgot all that the sect had done for them—how they had single-handedly established their clan’s foundation by supporting their founder.
That support included not only cultivation resources but also a blue-grade cultivation art.
Though it was a low-tier one, it was still a blue-grade art—freely given—to help their founder build the clan as he saw fit.
People and organizations didn’t just go around handing out blue-grade arts—even the rich and powerful ones—and yet, the Silver Crane Sect had done exactly that.
Not only did they give one away, but they gave it to someone whose prior relationship with them was merely that of a disciple.
Yes, he may have been a core disciple, but once his cultivation was crippled, everything changed.
Cultivating organizations, especially sects, were ruthlessly pragmatic.
The more value you brought to the sect, the better the resources and support you received.
However, the moment you could no longer demonstrate your worth, they would discard you without hesitation.
One day, you could be treated like a heavenly favored son or daughter of destiny, and the next, you’d be no different from a useless vermin to be thrown away.
Maybe that was why Xia Clan’s founder had chosen to leave when his cultivation was crippled.
Perhaps he wanted to get ahead of the inevitable before the sect cast him aside.
Raising experts required an immense amount of resources—resources that were not infinite.
For that reason, sects had to be ruthless in deciding who to invest in.
It had to be someone capable of repaying the sect’s investment, so it wouldn’t be surprising if the Xia Clan’s founder had left on his own.
With a crippled foundation, he couldn’t repay what the sect had spent on him.
Leaving was the only logical option—to lessen the sect’s burden.
And if he felt particularly indebted to them, he could always send some of his descendants their way to bolster the sect’s talent pool.
After all, a crippled cultivator was still a cultivator.
Their bloodline could still produce talented seedlings, especially if they had established a solid foundation before their downfall.
