Daily life of a cultivation judge-Chapter 1136 - Have you heard of the Xia family

1136: Have you heard of the Xia family?

1136: Have you heard of the Xia family?

Hearing her ‘new’ name, Yang Qing wasn’t all that surprised.

In fact, he had expected as much.

It would have been more shocking if her real name had actually been Ming Wa.

Her actions and demeanor—aside from her reckless decision to storm the Bluefin Spine-tailed Swift Escort Agency—all pointed to someone wary of being discovered.

People in such situations often went to great lengths to conceal key aspects of themselves, whether it be changing their names, altering their appearances, or even hiding their cultivation realms and auras.

In Xia Fang’s case, it seemed like the only changes she made was only to her name.

Yang Qing didn’t sense any artifacts or techniques altering her physical appearance, nor did he detect any concealment in her cultivation base.

She was indeed an eighth-stage Core Formation cultivator with a blue-grade core.

“Nice to officially meet you, Xia Fang,” Yang Qing said warmly.

His words elicited a soft, guilt-ridden smile from her, followed by a soft nod.

“So do you feel well enough to share what is going on?” Yang Qing softly and patiently asked.

Xia Fang went silent for a second, one of her hands still tightly gripping the helm of her robes.

She slowly let go, and relaxed her grip as best she could, though one could still see some faint tremors coursing through said hand.

“I am,” Xia Fang softly answered, her voice faint, almost a half-whisper.

“Whenever you’re ready, you can begin from any point you want,” said Yang Qing, his tone patient and accommodating.

He could have asked structured, guided questions, but even with Xia Fang revealing her real name, her story was still a mystery.

For now, all he could do was give her the space to start where she felt was best.

Xia Fang nodded and reached for her teacup.

The motion was hesitant, her fingers tightening slightly around the rim as she stole a quick glance at Yang Qing as if fearing he might judge her for stalling.

But she needed the tea fpr the liquid courage and serenity it offered.

If she was going to expose her wounds, she needed all the help she could get.

As she stared at the clear, light red hue of the tea—almost pink—she found herself wishing it were wine.

At least wine would do a better job of dulling her nerves and fortifying her resolve.

But she didn’t have the nerve or thick enough skin to ask Yang Qing for some.

As it stood, even just drinking the tea left her feeling like she was being burdensome or doing something she shouldn’t.

The thought of asking for wine made her heart threaten to jump out of her chest.

She quickly stole a furtive glance at Yang Qing, trying to gauge his reaction to her actions.

A soft sigh of relief escaped her lips when she saw he wasn’t the least bit annoyed—instead, he simply smiled.

Taking comfort in that, Xia Fang took a sip of the spirit-calming snow jujube tea, letting its soothing effects wash through her body.

With the warmth spreading through her, she finally steeled herself to go on.

“Have you heard of the Xia family?” she asked softly as she placed her teacup back down.

Yang Qing’s pupils flickered slightly at the unexpected question before his expression shifted into something more awkward.

“I’ve heard of a lot of families going by that name,” he replied, an apologetic smile tugging at his lips.

Realizing her mistake, Xia Fang quickly lowered her head in embarrassment, a faint blush creeping onto her cheeks.

“Sorry,” she whispered.

She had been so consumed with thoughts of her family all these years that it felt natural to assume others would know about them—especially given their pitiable state.

“So, which Xia family are you referring to?” Yang Qing asked.

His question only made Xia Fang shrink further into her embarrassment, her body curling in on itself as if hoping the seat would swallow her whole.

But alas, her wish was doomed to remain unfulfilled, leaving her no choice but to endure the moment.

“The Xia family of the Buzhe Plain Fields,” she finally said, a strange flicker appearing in her eyes as she did.

That look—Yang Qing recognized it immediately.

It was the gaze of desperation.

The look of someone clinging tightly to a fragile hope.

It reminded him of a parent placing all their faith in a healer, praying they could save their ailing child after every other remedy had failed.

Xia Fang’s expression made it clear—she desperately wanted him to recognize her clan, for her words to hold weight.

For reasons unknown to him yet, it seemed crucial to her that he understood which Xia family she belonged to.

But, unfortunately… he didn’t.

The continent was simply too vast, overflowing with as many sects, clans, and powers as there were grains of sand.

Keeping track of them all was impossible—especially in a world where powers could rise to prominence and fall into obscurity in the blink of an eye.

Yang Qing’s knowledge mainly focused on the major forces—those ranked second and above.

This included both current powers and those of the past, particularly ones that had produced soul formation experts.

Anything outside those circles became a blur, and, unfortunately for Xia Fang, the Xia family of the Buzhe plains seemed to fall into that blur.

As for organizations ranked three and below, Yang Qing could only do his best—learning case by case and gradually expanding his knowledge, just as he had been doing since taking on this case.

There were many factions he had only recently become acquainted with, thanks to his investigations—such as the Shi clan, to which Liu Ying, one of the escort supervisors of the Bluefin, belonged.

In Xia Fang’s case, while Yang Qing was familiar with several Xia families, none of them hailed from the Buzhe Plain Fields.

But after today, thanks to this encounter, another Xia family would be added to his ever-growing understanding of the Southern Continent’s powers.

For now, however, he had to confront the uncomfortable reality of shattering Xia Fang’s fragile hope by admitting the truth—he had never heard of her family.

He could have lied, pretended recognition, just to preserve the thread of hope she clung to.

But in matters like this, especially given her current state, honesty would serve her better than false reassurance.

“I can’t say I’ve heard of them,” Yang Qing admitted, with a gentle voice as he flashed an apologetic smile.

He saw the light in Xia Fang’s eyes dim before she quickly masked it as she deflected with an awkward laugh and a forced statement of understanding.

“No, it’s okay.

The continent is huge after all, and we’re not exactly big,” she said with a laugh.

“And we haven’t been particularly active for tens of thousands of years, so it’s expected you haven’t heard of us.

I doubt even our neighbors remember us,” she added, her tone carrying an even deeper undercurrent of bleakness.

She took another sip of tea before looking up again, a forced smile on her face—trying to project the image of someone who was fine and strong enough to press on.

Forcefully reining in her emotions, she continued.

“What about the Violet Feather Sword Sect—have you heard of them?”

“Can’t say I have,” Yang Qing replied with a shake of his head, offering a wry smile at his rotten luck.

It seemed like every organization she mentioned was one he had never heard of.

Inwardly, he chastised himself to read more and avoid falling into this situation again.

Of course, he knew he was only deceiving himself.

No amount of reading could guarantee he’d never face a similar scenario—but with how awkward he felt, clinging to that impossible goal was his way of coping with the uncomfortable setting.

Just as he worried he might have crushed yet another of Xia Fang’s dwindling hopes with his response—like he had earlier—he noticed something unexpected.

She smiled.

And unlike the brittle, bitter smile from before, this one held… relief.

Yang Qing found himself momentarily confounded.

Why would his lack of knowledge about the Violet Feather Sword Sect bring her relief?

“You haven’t?” Xia Fang asked again, a spark of life returning to her tone.

“No, I haven’t,” Yang Qing answered, his bewilderment clear.

Since he had given her the freedom to tell her story as she saw fit, he didn’t press her about why his lack of knowledge about the Violet Feather Sword Sect seemed to affect her so strongly.

Whatever the reason behind her reaction, he trusted it would reveal itself as she continued.

Taking a moment to settle herself—and offering a brief apology—Xia Fang resumed.

Her gaze turned solemn, a trace of coldness rising within it, and beneath that, a flicker of veiled anger.

“The Violet Feather Sword Sect is a rank three sect that came into existence exactly 11,478 years ago,” she began, her words sharp and weighted with emotion.

“It was born out of the slow destruction of my family.

It sucked our blood, our bones, our marrow..

everything!….

everything it could possibly get out of us, it took!” she added, her voice tightening as her fists clenched so hard her knuckles turned pale.

The air around her thickened—tinged with a cold, murderous intent.

“Its origin and history—even to the present—has been built on nothing but the lives and suffering of my family members,” Xia Fang added, her voice taut with unyielding emotion.

She fell silent for a moment before suddenly asking, “Do you believe the heavens to be fair and impartial?”

“Sometimes,” Yang Qing replied.

“Other times… not really,” he added, as a few memories flickered through his mind.

“I think it’s unfair,” Xia Fang said with a weak smile.

“From the moment I was born, all I’ve ever known is its cruelty and indifference,” she continued.

“If it were truly fair… then I wouldn’t be here.”