Elderly Martial Saint: Sixty Times the Cultivation Speed ​​at the Start

The Great Yu Empire, Qingzhou, Yunlin County.

Miki Village.

The midday sun in summer is extremely harsh; when it shines on your skin, it feels like being licked by flames.

In the courtyard of the three small houses at the east end of the village, there is an old reclining chair under the eaves.

Yi Yang lay on top of it, wearing a faded short-sleeved shirt and trousers rolled up to his knees, revealing his two thin calves.

His hair was already gray, his face was deeply lined, and the veins on the back of his hands were coiled like old tree roots.

He slowly waved a tattered fan in his hand.

The fan was made of wood chips and yellow paper, and the edges were already torn. It would even shed paper scraps after a couple of fannings.

But in this awful weather, something is better than nothing.

Yi Yang squinted at the dappled sunlight filtering through the leaves and murmured, "By the time of the autumn harvest, this old man will be sixty."

He paused, then tapped his fan twice against his chest.

"The ancients said that at sixty one's ears are attuned to the truth. Tsk, I can't tell if one's ears are attuned to the truth or not, but I'm definitely getting hard of hearing quickly."

After saying that, Yi Yang laughed at himself.

The laugh was soft, tinged with self-mockery and an indescribable weariness.

Sixty years.

From the time he transmigrated to this world until now, with his hair completely white, a full sixty years have passed.

If this were my previous life, I could still dance in the square at sixty and watch short videos criticizing young people for not knowing how to take care of their health.

In Miki Village, sixty years old is considered a long life.

Many people are worn down by forced labor before they are forty, and by illness before they are fifty. In years of bad harvest, they are buried in straw mats, and their names are added to the earthen pits outside the village.

Being alive is already a victory over too many people.

During his childhood, Yi Yang lived in Yunwen Town with his parents and two younger siblings. His family owned two shops, so they were not worried about making a living.

When Yi Yang was sixteen, he broke the mystery of his birth and remembered his past life.

At that time, he was so excited that he almost thought he was the protagonist of a destiny.

What kind of soap, what kind of sugar, what kind of glass, what kind of distilled liquor?

His mind was full of plans, and he had even thought of a name for his business empire.

As a result, the world turned around and gave him a huge slap in the face.

This is not the place to reason.

This is about fists.

There are martial artists in this world.

It's not some street performance or trick involving breaking rocks on one's chest; it's a real, ruthless person who can split rocks and scale walls.

Even beginners in martial arts have stronger skin and flesh than ordinary people.

Further up, I've heard there are masters who can take lives from afar, their blade energy leaving their bodies to behead people from a hundred paces away.

Those at a higher level are things that ordinary people can't understand.

Mountains crumble and rivers break; mountains are moved and seas are filled.

It sounds mysterious, but when the storyteller in the county talked about those big sect figures, none of the men in the teahouse dared to laugh out loud.

Because everyone knows it's true.

In this kind of world, those clever tricks from your past life can only fool ordinary people.

But if you actually make money, can you hold onto it?

A martial artist came to the door and said, "I've taken a liking to your prescription. Will you give it to me?"

You won't give it to me?

Then the whole family will be together, and tomorrow morning there will be a few more stray dogs at the village entrance carrying bones.

Is it under the government's jurisdiction?

Most of the people sitting in the government offices were martial artists, or martial artists standing behind them.

Without real strength, following the rules is just digging your own grave and planting weeds on your tomb.

In his early years, Yi Yang aspired to become a powerful martial artist capable of splitting mountains and seas.

When he was sixteen, he and his younger brother Yi Xun went to the martial arts school in Yunwen Town to have their physiques tested.

A long line formed outside the martial arts school. The children were dressed in clean clothes, and the parents clutched their coins, staring intently inside, as if they were waiting for a judge to pronounce their life or death.

When it was Yiyang's turn, the instructor pinched his bones and pressed his tendons, and then had him practice the most basic stance.

In the end, only four words were uttered.

"Unable to pursue martial arts."

The four words "light and airy" shaped Yi Yang's life.

However, my younger brother, Yi Xun, is of decent physical condition and could begin learning martial arts.

For the Yi family, this sentence was like their ancestral graves emitting auspicious smoke.

That night, my father drank half a pot of turbid wine and slammed his fist on the table with red eyes.

"Our family is about to produce a martial artist!"

The mother rummaged through the bottom of the chest and pawned even the silver hairpins from her dowry.

Beast meat, medicinal herbs, martial arts school fees—these were all stuffed into Yi Xun's body.

Yi Yang wanted some capital to start a small business.

Not much, just a few taels of silver.

The father slammed his pipe on the table and scolded his son for being ignorant. "Your brother has potential; he's the family's hope! You, who can't even practice martial arts, what kind of business are you going to do? How will you make up for the losses?"

His mother wiped away her tears and tried to comfort him. "Yang'er, you're older, give in to your brother. When he becomes successful, will he forget you?"

His younger sister, Yi Yun, stood at the door, her face flushed, and whispered a few words on his behalf.

But the two younger generations were less important in that house than the ashes in the stove.

They separated from the family when he was twenty-five.

Yi Xun acquired two shops in Yunwen Town, as well as the connections his family had built up.

My younger sister got married.

Yi Yang was allocated this dilapidated old house in Sanmu Village, along with a few acres of meager land.

He didn't argue, because he had already seen through his parents by the time he turned sixteen.

From then on, there was one more woodcutter in Miki Village.

They go into the mountains at dawn and return at dusk carrying firewood.

Decades passed, and the young woodcutter became a middle-aged woodcutter, and the middle-aged woodcutter became an old woodcutter.

He went through three machetes, wore out countless straw sandals, and his calluses were so thick they could be used to ignite fire. The arrogance he once had as a transmigrator had long been worn away by the daily grind of life, rain, snow, and frost.

Yi Yang fanned himself, his eyelids half-closed.

"Life is hard."

He uttered those words softly.

Just as Yi Yang was about to doze off, hurried footsteps suddenly came from outside the courtyard gate.

Tapping.

My footsteps trod on the dry, hard dirt road, kicking up fine dust.

A girl slipped in through the gate of the courtyard.

She was about fourteen or fifteen years old, wearing a light blue old dress with faded hem, her hair stuck to her face, sweat beading on her nose, and her chest heaving.

It was Jiang Yuexin.

Yi Yang's sister's granddaughter.

This child had a hard life. When he was ten years old, his parents disappeared and never returned.

She later lived with her grandmother. Three years ago, her grandmother entrusted her to Yiyang on her deathbed.

From then on, the little girl called Yiyang Grandpa and said she would take care of him in his old age and see him off when he died.

Yi Yang always complained that she was troublesome, but at the dinner table, he would always push the slightly softer pancakes to her.

"Why are you running?"

Yi Yang lifted his eyelids, tapped his tattered fan on his palm, and said, "A young lady like you, darting into the door like a wild rabbit running away from its burrow. Who taught you that? Perhaps those mischievous monkeys from the west of the village?"

Jiang Yuexin, who was still catching her breath, quickly stopped and stood up straight when she heard this.

She clutched the hem of her skirt with both hands, trying her best to look obedient.

"Grandpa, I'm back."

"Um."

Seeing the sweat trickling down her temples, Yi Yang frowned slightly. "The sun is scorching outside. Go inside and have some water. Don't drink anything cold; let the water in the jar cool down first."

"I understand, Grandpa."

Jiang Yuexin answered quickly, without pausing for long, and walked around the recliner toward her little hut.

She tried to walk softly, but her steps were still unsteady.

As Yi Yang watched her retreating figure, the fan in his hand slowed down.

Something's wrong with this girl.

She runs regularly, but after she finishes running, she always chatters on and on for a long time.

Today, however, he swallowed his words completely.

There was mud on the hem of the skirt, not the dry mud from the field ridges, but wet mud from the roadside ditch, which was very conspicuous on the blue cloth.

Her right sleeve was also wrinkled, as if someone had tugged at it.

Before Yi Yang could figure things out, a piece of unfamiliar information suddenly appeared in his mind.

A line of small text appeared before my eyes.

[Destiny: An old steed in its stall may still aspire to gallop a thousand miles]

Through the remaining information, Yi Yang understood the power of this destiny.

Any skill, technique, or method he practices will improve his progress.

There are no qualification requirements or bottlenecks; as long as you are willing to put in the effort, you will eventually succeed.

Even more impressively, this destiny is blessed by lifespan; when he reaches sixty, any progress he makes is counted as sixty points.

Seeing this, Yi Yang sat up straight, the recliner creaking loudly under his weight.

Sixty years.

Sixty years in total.

In his youth, he was blocked from pursuing martial arts by the phrase "I have no chance to pursue martial arts."

In his middle age, he watched his younger brother's family live in town while he himself dealt with withered branches and rotten leaves in the mountains.

Finally, when I was almost sixty, my cheat code arrived.

What is this?

Is a belated cheat code cheaper than grass?

No.

Yi Yang lifted his eyelids, revealing a sharpness in his cloudy eyes that had not been seen for many years.

It's better to be late than never.

Someone once said that starting a business at sixty is not too late in my past life, so in this life, I'm practicing martial arts at sixty, which is just right.

Young people rely on natural talent, resources, and their parents' financial support to practice martial arts; he relies on his age.

The longer you live, the faster you learn.

This isn't just having a child late in life, it's like having a cheat code in old age. It's outrageous, but it's undeniably amazing.

Yi Yang almost burst out laughing, but his throat was extremely dry.

He picked up the rough porcelain bowl next to him, drank half a mouthful of warm water, and suppressed the burning sensation in his chest.

It cannot float.

Getting carried away can lead to disaster.

In this world, if you show your surprise on your face, you'll become someone else's prey the moment you turn your back.

Yi Yang's decades of experience taught him that he should avoid showing his face if possible.

If they don't act, all is well; but if they do, they'll leave nothing but ashes.

Yi Yang put the tattered fan back in front of his chest, trying his best to regain the appearance of an old woodcutter.

Before he could catch his breath, someone else arrived at the courtyard gate.

This time the footsteps were even faster, accompanied by the woman's rough, loud voice.

"Old man! Old man!"

A woman in her thirties rushed into the yard.

She was dressed in coarse cloth, with an apron tied around her waist, her hair pinned up with a wooden hairpin, and her forehead covered in sweat.

It was Yang Hui, their neighbor.

Yang Hui was a widow with a loud voice and a fiery temper, and many men in the village were afraid of her.

She grew up under Yi Yang's watchful eye, calling him "Old Man Yi" but actually helping with laundry, cooking, and taking care of Jiang Yuexin.

In her eyes, Jiang Yuexin was almost like her own daughter.

"Has Yuexin returned yet?"

As soon as Yang Hui entered the door, she asked, still panting and leaning on the door frame.

Yi Yang lowered his gaze.

"You're back, inside. What's wrong?"

When Yang Hui heard that someone was there, she breathed a sigh of relief, but then her anger flared up again.

"I just came back from the village entrance and saw Yuexin running into the village with her head down. I called to her, but she didn't respond. I was wondering why she was acting like she was being chased by a dog, since she's usually so sweet-talking."

She raised her hand to wipe away her sweat, becoming increasingly angry as she spoke.

"Not long after, that Sun Mazi popped out from behind, acting suspiciously with his eyes darting around. I knew something was wrong as soon as I saw him, so I stopped him."

Yi Yang tightened his grip on the fan handle.

The fan handle made a slight cracking sound.

"Sun Mazi?"

"That's definitely that piece of junk!"

Yang Hui stood with her hands on her hips, her chest heaving. "I asked him what he was doing, and he just grinned and said he was passing by. Pah! Passing by in the middle of summer? Is his ancestral grave at the east end of our village?"

Yi Yang didn't respond.

Seeing that he didn't say anything, Yang Hui thought the old man was frightened, so she quickly lowered her voice.

"Uncle Yi, I'm not trying to scare you, but that Sun Mazi is a scoundrel. He's always stealing chickens and dogs, and lately he's been getting close to Yang Er, so he's become quite arrogant. Yuexin is pretty and a young girl; if he really gets involved with her, it'll be a huge problem."