Daily life of a cultivation judge-Chapter 1034: Not bad at all

Zheng Hu gripped his sword tightly, poised like an arrow drawn back in a bow, waiting for the right moment to release. That moment arrived a second later.

With fierce momentum, Zheng Hu charged straight into the cluster of falling stars, the scarlet flames around him burning with even more intensity as they enveloped him, transforming into a majestic bird bathed in red-orange flames. It radiated an aura of royalty, further reinforced by the crest atop its head that formed a sort of crown.

The bird let out a terrifying screech that split the air and resounded throughout the abode, its beak brimming with deadly sharpness.

"Zheng Hu's sword intent is fully formed now, and his merge with the Descent of the Vermilion King of the South is flawless," Yang Qing noted with appreciation as he watched Zheng Hu charge into the barrage of shooting lights.

Any one of these lights carried enough power to destroy an ordinary quasi-palace stage cultivator, yet here was Zheng Hu, fearlessly confronting fifty of them.

A compressed light immediately appeared within the open beak of the vermilion bird, exploding with a bang as it tore through five of the stars in an instant.

A regal screech erupted from the bird's beak as it burst forward with blistering speed toward the remaining stars, its entire form cloaked in blazing sword intent from beak to tail.

It ripped through three more in a single pass, though its pace slowed slightly. A core formation expert, even a peak-stage one, might not have noticed the decrease in speed and would have struggled to follow the bird's form as it crisscrossed through the intense array of lights.

Explosions rumbled through the skies as one star after another exploded until only three were left. The sky seemed to scream, boiling under the heat waves created by the fierce clash.

Below, an ocean of green flames surged from the ground, covering half of Yang Qing's abode and focusing beneath the blazing sky, sheltering the ground from the scorching heat by absorbing the flames and oppressive waves above.

While this was happening, Zheng Hu was about to finish off the last falling star.

Boom.

Another explosion resounded as he delivered the final blow. But even with all the stars destroyed, Zheng Hu didn't have the look of someone pleased with their achievement.

The vermilion bird that had enveloped him had shrunk considerably, its flames thinning to the point where one could see his lone figure within, wheezing and gasping for air. The flames had also lost their earlier majesty and power, flickering like a candle wick about to burn out.

Zheng Hu gripped both his swords tightly, his hands bleeding over the handles as he solemnly faced his opponent.

Yang Qing looked completely different from Zheng Hu's haggard figure. Not a hair was out of place, his robes were intact, and his aura remained light and free, the same as it had been before the fight began.

Like a comet, Yang Qing charged toward Zheng Hu, his fists colliding with Zheng Hu's swords with a resounding clash.

Zheng Hu found himself overwhelmed by rapid punches, each deflected with great effort or dodged, though not all. Yang Qing's hands blurred, leaving trails of brilliant light, and each impact evoked a muffled grunt as Zheng Hu staggered under the onslaught.

In just ten seconds, Zheng Hu could have sworn he had received a thousand punches; he deflected and dodged six hundred, but four hundred made it through, each one making him feel as if he were struck by a flaming mountain.

The punishment his body endured in those seconds exceeded what he had experienced in the entire fight's first few minutes. Yet despite the pain, Zheng Hu's eyes only grew brighter.

Wasn't this exactly what he wanted? To find out how vast the gap truly was between him and the palace realm?

And now he had his answer. He was a single step away, but if this was the level of strength that awaited him in the palace realm, then that one step separating him might as well be an entire gulf.

Only now did Zheng Hu feel genuine excitement for the palace realm, for the strength it promised and the opponents it would bring. That thrill grew with each blow, each strike that pushed him further.

If the fight had been close, while he still would have pursued his breakthrough, he would have been less enthusiastic about it. A close gap would have meant his abilities as a core formation expert wouldn't differ much even in the palace realm. If that were true, then why get excited?

The only difference between the two realms, then, would be just in name, perhaps with the added benefit of flight upon breaking through to the palace realm. Other than that, there wouldn't be much to separate them.

But now, facing the sheer overwhelming strength of Yang Qing, where his only option was to defend, he found something to look forward to.

His only question now was how much strength Yang Qing was actually using.

"Knowing him, probably not that much... I've probably pushed him to use 20% at least, right?"

Zheng Hu's musings were cut short when a split-second lapse in concentration allowed one of Yang Qing's terrifying punches to hit the side of his head, nearly knocking him unconscious.

Borrowing the force of the attack, Zheng Hu swiftly dodged the ensuing blows, narrowly evading some while others connected, adding to his mounting injuries.

"I don't have the luxury of entertaining such thoughts. I'll just enjoy this. Though, getting treated like a ragdoll isn't exactly pleasant," Zheng Hu thought, glancing at his left shoulder, where his clavicle stood exposed and bent out of shape, before focusing back on Yang Qing, who was already upon him.

Zheng Hu quickly silenced all distractions coming from his mind and body. If he were to get any decent result out of this and avoid Yang Qing's inevitable mockery afterward, he would have to fight with everything he had, hoping to at least earn a respectable defeat.

His essence, qi, and spirit unified, pushing his concentration and abilities to a higher level as he managed to dodge Yang Qing's fist by a hair's breadth.

The fight spanned the entire abode, the two blurring between locations in an unceasing clash of attack and defense. Azure dragon, tortoise, and white tiger forms manifested in quick succession as Zheng Hu summoned every bit of his art's arsenal in his desperate attempts to hold his ground.

The azure dragon dissolved in seconds, the tortoise mere moments longer. The white tiger held out the longest, yet it, too, shattered under Yang Qing's strikes after a single, defiant minute.

As seconds passed, Zheng Hu's transitions between the forms became smoother, but Yang Qing's attacks still overwhelmed him. His situation grew more desperate with each passing moment.

The fight hadn't lasted ten minutes, but his battered form looked as though he had fought an entire army for a month without rest, when in reality, his opponent was only one man—and that man was holding back.

Both could sense the fight's end approaching, more so Zheng Hu, who understood his condition best. He had already lost one of his swords, shattered from a palm strike that broke his forearm, his qi reserves were dangerously low, and he was only holding everything together through sheer willpower. If not for his determination, he would have passed out long ago.

"I might as well try it," Zheng Hu thought, resolving himself as he raised his sword slightly above his shoulder like a spear primed for launch.

The world seemed to fall silent around him. The wind softened, his breathing slowed, and his mind cleared. Time seemed to slow, leaving only Yang Qing moving unaffected. A brimming power welled up from his heart, coursing through his body, into his arm, then to the handle of his sword, before finally settling at its tip.

His body felt lighter, his sword sharper. It felt like nothing was beyond the reach of his blade.

Zheng Hu drew back his sword, gathering momentum, then released it as a white line appeared, marking the path his sword would take, ending at Yang Qing's heart. As the sword connected with the line, an ancient dragon's roar erupted, distinct from the azure dragon.

This 𝓬ontent is taken from freeweɓnovel.cѳm.

Central Cardinal Path of the Yellow Dragon Monarch

Yang Qing's eyebrow raised slightly in surprise as he saw a yellow dragon radiant with heavenly light appear at the sword's tip.

"He mastered it," he muttered, his charge unhalted by the presence of the sacred beast.

Yang Qing's eyes shone with interest as he readied his fist, its delicate surface gleaming with archaic runes flashing within.

Brilliant Art: Yang Jade Fist of Dawn

A light both bright and gentle emanated from Yang Qing's hands as he clenched his fist. His movements seemed slow and simple as he punched forward, gentle light reflecting from his hands, almost like polished stone.

The moment his fist collided with the dragon, the world was still. No sound, no explosion .. only silence as his fist dissolved the dragon layer by layer, revealing Zheng Hu's exhausted form behind it. Yang Qing's fist stopped inches from Zheng Hu's face, a gentle light lingering in the space between them.

"You did well, Zheng Hu."

Zheng Hu's gaze was dazed, fixated on Yang Qing's glowing fist. "Was that…a new move?" he murmured, his voice faint as his body began to fall.

Yang Qing caught him before he fell, easing him to the ground.

"Yes," Yang Qing replied, his voice as calm as ever.

Zheng Hu's eyes drifted shut, exhaustion finally overtaking him. "How much…did you use?"

"Better than I expected. Thirty-five percent."

Zheng Hu managed a tired smile. "Not bad at all," he whispered before slipping into unconsciousness, a look of contentment on his face.