Daily life of a cultivation judge-Chapter 1150 The three snakes

1150: The three snakes

1150: The three snakes

Yang Qing quickly reined in his thoughts as Xia Fang continued her story.

“When we decided to rebuild from scratch, a few of the surviving senior figures debated whether to stay where we were or start over somewhere else.

Ultimately, because of the cost, the various uncertainties that came with relocating, and the fact that we were no longer as strong as before, we chose to stay put and focus on rebuilding where we were,” said Xia Fang, a strange light flashing in her eyes.

What she had said was the truth..

at least part of it.

Her clan had indeed deliberated on whether to leave and ultimately decided to stay because logistics and what they had on hand couldn’t support the move.

However, she left out a crucial detail concerning the biggest underlying reason they didn’t pull the trigger and leave.

Though her leaving that particular detail out wasn’t out of malice or anything, but rather shame.

Yes, moving would have been costly, and their resources were scarce after the decimation.

But if they had truly been determined to leave and start over somewhere else, what they had left would have been enough to sustain them through the early stages of rebuilding.

But they couldn’t leave and the primary underlying reason for that was fear.

In the face of extreme terror, death could sometimes feel like a kindness or a reprieve, while survival became a form of eternal damnation.

That was exactly how the survivors of the Xia Clan felt.

They had witnessed someone single-handedly cleave through their foundations, saber in hand, as he effortlessly cut down the most powerful experts their clan had ever produced and through it, mercilessly shatter the clan’s golden era.

For those who survived and saw it firsthand, that scene was something they could never unsee.

It wasn’t surprising, then, that their courage had completely left them.

Rather than venturing into the unknown where potentially even more terrifying figures awaited, it felt much safer to remain in the same place, even if that place harbored one of the clan’s worst experiences.

After all, it was robbing a rogue cultivator that brought disaster upon them in the first place.

Many within the clan felt that leaving to start over elsewhere had a huge likelihood of inviting a repeat of that calamity—because starting over meant displacing someone else.

As vast and rich as the southern continent was, that didn’t mean there were large swathes of unclaimed land simply lying around.

Most territories had owners—and the more precious or desirable the land, the more dangerous its owner was likely to be.

With not even a single palace realm cultivator left, if the Xia Clan chose to move, they would have to settle in a territory suited for a rank-four organization.

That meant downgrading and this was a reality among other things, that many in the Xia Clan were unwilling to accept.

The rogue cultivator’s son may have decimated a third of their territory—rendering that portion forever useless—but the Xia Clan still had the remaining two-thirds.

Though parts of it had suffered significant damage, it was still far better than most territories held by rank four powers.

While the clan had lost its wealth, resources, and top experts, it still had its land.

That excuse became the anchor they clung to—a convenient justification to avoid facing the truth.

The real reason they didn’t leave was that their wills had been shattered, and they were terrified of inviting another disaster by venturing out.

It was easier to stay put and minimize the risks.

What if they left and ended up offending someone with a far worse temperament than the rogue cultivator’s son?

What would they do then?

It felt safer to remain where they were—where the enemies were known, and the chances of encountering unknown threats were slim to none.

On top of that, some within the clan held out hope that staying might earn them sympathy from the Silver Crane Sect.

After all, a few of their clan members had once joined the sect.

Perhaps if the sect saw how pitiful their situation had become, they might extend a helping hand.

Others had no such hopes but believed that as long as they remained, they could continue borrowing the Silver Crane Sect’s name for protection—just as the Xia Clan had done when it first established itself.

If they remained, their known association with the Silver Crane Sect would deter others from exploiting their weakened state.

But if they left, they would have to face the unpredictable winds and storms of the world alone, without the implied protective halo of the Silver Crane Sect to rely on.

That was a future many within the Xia Clan did not have the courage to face.

There were times when Xia Fang found herself wondering—if those same Xia Clan members could see what had become of the clan thousands of years later, would they have made the same choice?

Or would they have braved the unknown despite their fears?

What would have happened if they had chosen to leave?

Would the clan have survived, endured, and perhaps even thrived?

Or would its fate have been even worse than what they ultimately suffered?

“I doubt it could have been worse,” Xia Fang thought, pushing those musings aside.

“Our elders at the time, beyond deciding to rebuild on our shattered grounds, also chose to allocate what meager resources we had left to a select group within the clan,” she said.

“I’m guessing that group consisted of those at the late stages of the Core Formation Realm?” Yang Qing asked.

Xia Fang nodded.

“They believed that what we needed most at the time was a powerful figure to center the rebuild around,” she continued.

“On the list of priorities at the time, having a palace realm expert was at the very top—especially since our enemies had palace realm experts of their own,” Xia Fang explained.

“The only thing keeping them from attacking us was the thin association we had with the Silver Crane Sect.”

“Since we didn’t know when things would take a turn for the worse, we decided that having a palace realm expert as soon as possible was crucial.

However…” Xia Fang paused, a wry smile tugging at her lips.

“We underestimated how difficult it would be,” she added, shaking her head.

“We went into it thinking we were the Xia Clan of old—where producing a palace realm expert in every generation was par for the course as long as the basic standards were met.

But things…

weren’t as easy as we assumed,” she admitted.

“Unlike before, we no longer had the luxury of powerful seniors to act as dharma protectors, and we weren’t as lax as before.

There was now a pressure born out of desperation to produce a palace realm expert.

And…” Xia Fang trailed off briefly.

“..

Along with that weight, we also carried with us the mental burden of watching our clan teeter on the edge of annihilation,” she added with a somber look.

“Our clan didn’t expect that the scar we suffered that day wouldn’t just be on those we lost, the land that was ruined, or the treasures that were destroyed—but it was also on the minds of every single person who bore witness to those events,” Xia Fang said quietly.

“Every single person who was there that day was plagued by heart and mental demons that ran deeper than we expected,” she softly added.

“We only realized how bad things truly were when those who met the threshold to break through to the palace realm died under its tribulation because their minds and hearts were not steady enough,” Xia Fang said slowly.

“In 300 years, nine people made that attempt, and without fail, every single one of them died when their mental and heart demons erupted during the process,” she continued, a mournful look crossing her face.

Her great-grandmother had been one of those nine who failed, a loss that weighed heavily on her grandfather.

“Those failures and the seeds of fear they left behind ended up birthing even more heart demons within our clan.

Some quickly lost the courage to attempt the palace realm, while others found their cultivation bases stagnating, either voluntarily or involuntarily,” Xia Fang said with a sigh.

That period of stagnation could be said to be the second precursor to her clan’s decline.

The first had been when they stole the celestial light hawthorn from that rogue cultivator, which invited the calamity that was his son to their doorstep.

The second was when the weight of their circumstances crushed their spirits, leaving them unable to improve.

Those at the peak of the core formation realm struggled to find the doors to the palace realm, while those in the late stages found it difficult to advance to the peak.

Those in the middle stages faced similar obstacles reaching the late stages, and the same pattern repeated itself all the way down to the foundation establishment realm,” explained Xia Fang.

“That stagnation bred frustration, and as a result, those at the top no longer had the time or the presence of mind to guide the cultivation of those at the bottom,” she continued.

“Not that they had the time to do so in the first place, considering the clan’s entire focus and resources were devoted to producing a palace realm expert,” Xia Fang added bitterly.

“As a result, our levels as a whole dropped,” she said, her fists subtly clenching at her sides.

“This, in turn, gave the three clans I mentioned earlier a chance to usurp our position.” Her voice grew colder as anger flickered in her eyes.

“The Fan, Chi, and Ning families you mentioned earlier?” Yang Qing asked tentatively. fɾēewebnσveℓ.com

“Yes…

them,” Xia Fang replied through gritted teeth.

“Those three were once retainer clans under us, with their founders having been personal disciples of our own founder,” she said, her tone laced with barely restrained fury.