Daily life of a cultivation judge

Yang Qing blinked a few times, then his eyes froze as they landed on the aged journal.

"Dragons?" he muttered incredulously. "He actually traveled around looking for dragons, phoenixes, kunpengs..."He didn’t even get to finish the sentence. Shaking his head, he let out a wry smile.

The author(who clearly seemed like someone with little regard for their own safety, given what they’d been trying to do) was right about one thing: almost everyone, dragons excluded, had dreamt of riding one. Yang Qing was no exception.It was something he still secretly imagined even now, during those moments when he had some wine in him and felt that liquid courage stir up the daringness to dream.

In those rare, fleeting instants where all sense left him and he was carried off by wild, boundless imagination—yes, he had pictured it in vivid detail: what it would feel like to ride a dragon, or to be one himself, soaring wherever he pleased in a majestic body that inspired both awe and fear in all who saw it.

And there were times when the desire to ride a dragon surged so high(usually thanks to Yi Jie’s wine, especially when he outdid himself in his brews) that Yang Qing actually tried mounting the Celestial Nesting Weaver, hoping that flying on it might somehow give him a taste of what riding a dragon would feel like.

After all, while it didn’t look like much, the foul-mannered weaver was still a mythical creature, just like a dragon.

Alas, while the Celestial Nesting Weaver lacked a dragon’s presence or majesty, it definitely had the pride of one. A few of the many fights they’d had were because of that. And over time, as it grew puffier and rounder, Yang Qing eventually gave up the idea of flying on it. He didn’t want to be mocked—or worse, cursed at—by the very creature carrying him. Which, knowing the weaver, was a guarantee it would.

So yes, Yang Qing wanted to ride a dragon. But even if one showed up and offered him its back, he wouldn’t dare accept. He knew better. Years of reading had made him painfully aware of how terrifying mythical creatures were...Well, all except the Celestial Nesting Weaver nesting in his abode.

Maybe it’s the runt of the runt of the runt of the litter among Celestial Nesting Weavers... the black sheep of their lot, Yang Qing often thought when he looked at it.

He didn’t have other Celestial Nesting Weavers to compare it to, but he was convinced the one in his home sat comfortably at the rock bottom of the pile.

So, did he want to ride a dragon? Yes, definitely. Does that even need to be asked?

But was he crazy enough to go searching for one like the author of that journal had? Never in a million years. Even the thought alone made his back run cold with sweat.No, thank you—he happened to value his life very much, unlike that scholar.