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

"They're here."

Yi Yang stood ten feet away, his tone no different from a greeting.

But upon hearing the other party's words, Wu Jin, who was leading the group, stopped in his tracks.

He had already moved closer when he saw Yi Yang appear, step by step, his fists clenched, his inner energy pushed to its limit, wanting to catch Yi Yang off guard.

But upon hearing those two words, the foot that had taken a half-step froze in mid-air.

Not right.

This is an old man being chased and killed by three experts at the Inner Qi Realm.

But now the other side isn't running away or hiding; instead, they're waiting for them in the woods.

After they showed up, they actually dared to come out on their own.

Such a person is either insane or has absolute confidence.

The experienced Wu Jin chose to believe the latter.

But as one of the six bandits, he couldn't back down verbally, and he didn't really believe that Yi Yang could defeat him; he just maintained a skeptical attitude.

He slammed his foot down heavily, shaking the leaf-covered ground for a moment, then forced a grin and said gruffly:

"That old codger's got guts, not running away after all?"

"Knowing you can't escape, you showed up on your own to save me the trouble of looking for you."

"Since you're so sensible, I've decided to leave you a whole corpse later!"

"I'll settle the score for killing Lao Liu today."

When Wu Jin said this, his right fist was already secretly filled with internal energy.

The power of the superior fist technique, the Mountain-Shattering Fist, at its perfect state is no exaggeration; the fist's energy is concentrated and does not dissipate, and can be unleashed at any time.

But he didn't rush.

A person who can survive for seven years underground in the prefectural city will not entrust their life to impulsiveness.

Three steps away on the flank, Jiang Sha gripped the hilt of his sword and took half a step back, his voice hushed:

"Third Brother, don't be careless. He dares to wait for us alone in the woods; he must have something to rely on—"

"Fifth brother, can't you be a little more sensible?"

Chen Xinhu's voice drifted over from the other side, carrying a sarcastic sneer that went straight to the bone.

She twirled the short dagger between her fingers, the blade reflecting shimmering light, and smiled crookedly, "Third Brother's Mountain-Shattering Fist is perfected; this sixty-year-old good-for-nothing is at most at the second level of internal energy."

She paused, then tilted her chin toward Yi Yang.

"It'll be over in one punch."

That's easy for you to say.

But her eyes remained fixed on Yi Yang, and something twitched deep within her pupils.

disturbed.

An inexplicable unease.

Yi Yang took in the reactions of the three people.

After that greeting, he didn't say a word from beginning to end.

No explanations, no provocations, no nonsense.

Yi Yang slowly reached his right hand behind his back.

Five fingers touched the cold hilt of the Tiger Roar sword.

Just this one action, without any unnecessary frills.

But the moment he gripped the hilt of the sword, the dormant internal energy deep within his dantian stirred.

After the heavenly rain descended, it condensed into a terrifying energy that was somewhere between liquid and solid, which surged down along the meridians of his right arm at such a speed that even his own bones emitted a slight hum.

Then, hidden deep within its sheath, the tiger's roar reverberated.

Then Yi Yang drew his sword!

"roar!"

"roar!"

That wasn't the sound of a knife.

It was the resonance emanating from deep within the blade after the seventy-two jin of black fire iron was filled with internal energy.

Deep and heavy, like the first breath that escapes from the throat of a sleeping beast after it has been startled awake.

Upon seeing this, Wu Jin's pupils shrank to the size of pinpoints in an instant.

He never expected that Yi Yang, the weakest among them, would dare to make the first move.

But then, the sudden burst of energy emanating from Yi Yang's body made him roar:

"This old man isn't at the second level of internal energy cultivation!"

But he hadn't finished speaking.

The tiger roars as it is unsheathed!

The 72-pound Black Fire Iron Heavy Blade, under the full force of the triple infusion of internal energy, transformed into a jet-black arc of light.

The ninth move of the Nine Peaks Saber – Absolute Peak.

The ultimate killing move of the Yi Yang Perfect Realm.

This was the first strike Yi Yang unleashed after entering the third level.

The moment the blade energy detached from the blade, a visible crack was torn open in the air.

The deep hum was not the sound of something breaking through the air; it seemed to be the lament of the forest space itself in the face of this force.

The blade energy covered a distance of ten zhang in two breaths.

But Wu Jin, who had been sitting and preparing, reacted quickly.

The person who ranked third among the six bandits had a fighting instinct etched into his very bones.

The moment the blade energy struck, he clasped his fists together to protect his chest, and the power of his perfected Shattering Mountain Fist condensed into a visible barrier of energy on his fists.

He believed in his fists.

In all his years in the business, no opponent of equal strength has ever been able to break through his Mountain-Shattering Fist defense head-on.

But this time is different.

Fists and knives clashed.

There was no stalemate.

There was no sticking.

The powerful black fire iron blade sliced ​​through the wall of fist energy, and the defense he was so proud of was as brittle as a thin sheet of paper in front of the blade energy.

Then the blade continued to slice downwards—

Split open the knuckles of the right fist.

Tear of the metacarpal bone.

Cut along the ulna of the forearm all the way to the elbow joint.

Only when the shattered bones flew out amidst a mist of blood did Wu Jin's body begin to show signs of pain.

But he no longer had the chance to shout it out.

The immense force of the blade's energy sent him flying four zhang away, his back slamming into a thick, broken tree trunk that snapped in two, sending a string of branches and leaves crashing down.

Wu Jin, crippled by Yi Yang's single strike, leaned against the broken wood.

What he spat out wasn't just streaks of blood, but a large cloud of blood mist.

Feeling the injuries on his body, Wu Jin looked down to check his condition.

The right arm was positioned at an angle that shouldn't exist below the elbow.

The bone fragments pierced through the skin and flesh, exposed and white, covered with bits of bark and dirt.

Three levels of internal energy!

This sixty-year-old man has reached the third level of internal energy.

The fear of death crept up from the base of my spine. It wasn't the cold; it was the spasms in my entire back muscles, telling my brain a fact—

I'm going to die.

The difference between the two is not just a little bit, it's worlds apart.

Even though they were both at the third level of internal energy cultivation, this difference was enough to kill him here.

To save his life, Wu Jin let out a hoarse sound, using his last strength to shout to both sides:

"He must have used a secret technique! He's definitely exhausted now! Hurry! Kill him together!"

Wu Jin's rough voice echoed through the forest.

But in response, he was met with two whooshing sounds of wind rushing away.

Jiang Sha made his choice the moment he saw Yi Yang draw his sword.

His brain wasn't even involved in the decision-making process; his body's instincts bypassed all the thinking in his head and transmitted the commands directly to his legs.

run.

Run back, run for your life.

Only by running can you survive.

Chen Xinhu on the other side was half a step faster than him.

She still had the pair of short daggers clutched in her hand, and before she could put them away, her legs were kicking the ground so fast it was like she was convulsing. Her body shoved through the dense forest, creating a rustling sound.

Neither of the two men turned around when they heard their third brother's voice.

Not a single person hesitated.

Wu Jin watched as the two figures disappeared into the depths of the forest.

Blood was trickling down from the corner of his mouth.

He wasn't afraid of death; he had been a member of the Six Bandits for seven years and was used to living a life where his head was always on the line.

But he was afraid of being left behind.

He truly considered these people as brothers and sisters.

A mouthful of blood welled up in his throat. It wasn't from internal injuries caused by the beating, but from anger.

I was so angry that my heart was pounding and my internal organs were churning.

Yi Yang didn't give him time to savor this feeling.

Movement technique activated.

The ten-zhang distance between the two was just a step away.

When my toes touched the ground, the dead leaves on the ground didn't budge.

Yi Yang's figure appeared out of thin air in front of Wu Jin from ten zhang away, so close that the two were only three feet apart.

Wu Jin, who was seriously injured and lying on the ground, tried to stand up.

The excruciating pain from his severed arm left his entire right side limp and powerless.

He braced his left hand against the ground and pushed upwards with all his might, his fingers digging into the soil, his fingernails splitting in two.

Useless.

I can't stand up.

He looked up at Yi Yang, who was approaching him.

The Tiger Roar sword was raised again in Yi Yang's hand.

The seventy-two-pound black iron blade reflected a sliver of light filtering through the forest. That light slid down the blade to the tip, as cold as the winter moon.

"wait……"

The fifth move of the Nine Peaks Saber: Strange Peak.

The knife fell from above at an angle. A single cut pierced through the diagonal line from the left shoulder to the right waist.

Wu Jin's body was separated from the middle.

The upper half leaned to the left, while the lower half remained still against the broken wood. The blood at the cut wasn't spurting out—it gushed out, like a spring being pierced open, flowing all over the ground with a whoosh.

Once he was certain that the other party was beyond dead, Yi Yang sheathed his sword.

From the moment the sword was drawn to the moment it was sheathed, the entire process took no more than twenty breaths.

My breathing was steady, my heart rate did not increase, and less than 10% of my Qi was consumed.

This is the difference between three-level and two-level internal energy.

It's not a gap, it's a crushing defeat.

Yi Yang did not linger beside the corpse. He could clearly sense the two fleeing figures; Chen Xinhu had run far away, taking cunning directions, weaving left and right through the dense forest like an eel.

Jiang Sha was a little slower, but his direction was straight, heading directly for the official road.

Heading straight back to the prefectural city.

Yi Yang made his choice.

Jiang Sha died first.

We must exert all our efforts to accelerate its development.

Yi Yang's figure transformed into a gray phantom in the forest. With his triple cultivation and perfected movement technique, his speed overwhelmed Jiang Sha, who was only at the second level of internal energy.

The distance between the two was constantly shrinking.

One hundred zhang.

Fifty feet.

Thirty zhang (approximately 33 meters).

The distance is getting shorter.

Jiang Sha also sensed the aura emanating from Yi Yang behind him.

He glanced back as he ran for his life.

That one glance drained the last trace of color from his face.

Getting closer and closer.

Jiang Sha wanted to draw his sword.

It wasn't that he wanted to resist; he wanted to use the scabbard to wedge himself against the tree trunk behind him and use it to change direction.

But before his hand could even touch the bark, Yi Yang had already arrived.

Tiger roars and slashes horizontally.

The blade energy arrived before the blade itself, and the sharpness, barely perceptible to the naked eye, struck Jiang Sha's right hand holding the sword. The black-sheathed longsword flew out of his hand, spinning and disappearing into the bushes.

Jiang Sha's tiger's mouth split open from the middle, and blood seeped out from between his fingers.

Jiang Sha wanted to turn around and speak.

They wanted to say something—whether it was begging for mercy, threatening, or revealing their own name.

His lips were only half open.

Yi Yang's second strike landed.

The blade cut into the left side of the neck.

It pierced through the right side of the neck and came out.

A head spun twice in mid-air before landing in a pile of dead leaves, rolling twice before coming to a stop.

His eyes were still open before he died, and the last image reflected in his pupils was an upside-down sky and intertwined tree canopies.

The headless body took two more steps forward.

Inertia propelled it forward, its steps unsteady, like a drunkard.

Then his knees buckled, and he collapsed onto the edge of the official road. Blood gushed from the broken surface, staining the soil within a half-foot radius beneath his feet a deep brown.

Yi Yang stopped and wiped the blood off his knife.

Two, solved.

There's one left.

His senses penetrated the dense forest and locked onto the rapidly receding aura.

Yi Yang narrowed his eyes.

They run pretty fast.

But it's not fast enough.

He sheathed the Tiger Roar, touched the ground with his toes, and disappeared into the forest once more.

Only a headless corpse remained lying beside the official road behind him.

Blood was still seeping out, slowly flowing through the cracks in the soil, and pooling into a small dark red puddle on a few withered leaves.

The wind blows, carrying the flocks of birds startled from the treetops to the far reaches of the sky.

The woods fell silent again.