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

Yi Yang pressed himself against the wall and waited for three breaths.

There was no breathing, no footsteps, and no fluctuation of internal energy inside the room.

The host was a living person with three levels of internal energy before entering the room, but he disappeared as soon as the door closed.

The windows were locked from the inside, and no one moved the roof.

Yi Yang's mental energy covered both courtyards, but he didn't detect anyone climbing over the wall to leave.

"We can't just crawl through mouse holes anymore."

He pressed himself against the wall and mentally reviewed the situation at Shanruo Temple.

A wild temple hidden deep in Qingfeng Ridge, where fourteen monks are all martial artists, the weakest of whom is at the fourth level of Qi and Blood.

There were no worshippers or incense offerings at the temple, and no monks were seen coming down the mountain to beg for alms.

Furthermore, the host was a powerful cultivator at the third level of internal energy. He returned with his men in the middle of the night, carrying something unknown into the warehouse.

The most crucial point—the host entered the room, closed the door, and disappeared.

The window didn't make a sound, and the door didn't open a second time.

We can rule out the possibility that the other party is digging three feet into the ground to hide—no, that's actually the most likely possibility.

darkroom.

Underground passage.

Yi Yang had seen a similar trick in Yunwen Town when he was young.

There was a family in town that ran a leather goods business. They appeared to be doing their job properly, but they had dug a secret tunnel underground that led to the next alley, where they smuggled stolen goods out.

The monk's technique wasn't particularly skillful.

Enter the house, close the door, and use a mechanism inside to enter the underground area.

People outside only saw that the door was closed and assumed that the host was sleeping inside.

After figuring this out, Yi Yang's mind started to wander.

What's hidden in the dark room? That's a question that piques curiosity.

More importantly, Shanruo Temple is very close to Qingfeng Ridge, where Ding Xiang was murdered.

The gentle slope where Ding Xiang's body was found showed no signs of a fight, but nearby lay an undocumented underground passage.

Yi Yang finds it difficult to separate the two things.

"It's called Shanruo Temple, but the things they do are quite shady."

Yi Yang squatted against the wall for half an hour, scanning the aura of everyone in the temple once again.

Thirteen monks were all in the monks' quarters, their snores rising and falling. The two on night duty were dozing in the front yard, their breathing steady.

The room where the host was located remained empty.

Yi Yang moved.

He climbed over the back wall into the yard, his boots landing silently on the muddy ground.

Following the shadows past the moon gate, I arrived at the window of the presiding officer's room.

The window is the old-fashioned kind with wooden lattice covered with paper; the paper is intact and without any tears.

Yi Yang dipped his index finger in saliva, poked a small hole in the corner of the window paper, and peered inside.

The furnishings inside the house were very simple.

Against the north wall was a single wooden bed, its bedding neatly folded. A futon sat at the head of the bed, and next to it were a pair of cloth shoes.

The west wall is a desk, on which are scriptures, an inkstone, and a copper oil lamp.

There was an old cabinet standing against the east wall, its door ajar, and two monks' robes hanging inside.

The ground was paved with blue bricks. The grout lines were clean, with no signs of recent planing.

After observing the situation inside the room, Yi Yang took out a thin iron sheet from his sleeve, slipped it through the crack in the door, and pried open the wooden latch.

The wooden door can be opened half a foot.

Yi Yang stepped inside and put the latch back in place.

The interior was simply furnished, with the floor paved with blue bricks.

Yi Yang squatted down and tapped each piece with the back of his hand.

The echo from under the brick was thick and resonant, with no hollows to be heard.

He then checked under the bed, behind the cabinet, the bookshelves, and the walls.

There were no signs of the bed legs being moved, the wall tiles were not loose, and the dust behind the bookshelf was completely accumulated, indicating that the host had not touched it recently.

Finally, he stopped in front of the oil lamp.

The lamp holder was fixed on a wooden frame, with a copper sheet pressing down on the bottom. There was still a little oil left in the lamp, and the edges were covered with black ash.

Yi Yang did not reach out.

If the structure is equipped with an alarm device, his turn will alert those below that a guest has arrived above.

He was capable of killing all the monks in the temple.

But the trail went cold, making it difficult to continue the investigation.

Let's wait for the host to return and see how he opens the door.

Yi Yang looked around the room, preparing to find a place to hide.

The space under the bed was too low, making it easy to hide, but the host could simply bend down to take off his shoes and the two of them could be face to face.

The cabinet was even worse; it contained monks' robes, and there wasn't even enough room to stretch one's legs.

The roof beam was only eight feet above the bed. If a martial artist at the third level of internal energy slept on it, even half a breath above his head wouldn't be hidden.

There was a half-foot gap behind the scripture stand, just big enough to squeeze in. The problem was that with Yi Yang carrying Xuan Yuan on his back, when he stood inside, the scripture stand had to stick his belly out forward.

He looked around the room but couldn't find a suitable spot.

"The people who built the house were very honest; they left no room for anyone to steal anything."

Yi Yang unlatched the door again and retreated into the courtyard.

There are risks involved in entering the house.

He couldn't be sure when the host would emerge from underground.

If the other person crawls out from under your feet while you're searching the house, it's like trapping a dog in a cage—except you're the one who gets trapped.

Yi Yang retreated to the backyard, thought for a moment, and then turned to the roof.

He silently leaped from a crooked pine branch in the backyard and landed on the roof of the monks' quarters.

The tiles were laid tightly. Yi Yang chose a spot near the ridge, pulled out a tile, and pushed the adjacent tile away by half an inch.

The gap faces the oil lamp and the bed.

He lay on the back of the roof ridge, suppressing his energy to the level of an ordinary person.

and so on.

Sixty years of life taught him that the most important skill was not killing, but waiting.

The night breeze swept through the pine forest, carrying the astringent smell of pine resin.

Yi Yang closed his eyes, regulated his breathing, and transformed himself into an inconspicuous old tile on the roof.

About half an hour later, the soft sound of gears meshing came from inside the house.

Yi Yang looked down.

The ordinary oil lamp, along with its wooden frame, spun halfway around.

The four blue bricks in front of the bed sank down, and the stone slabs split to the sides, revealing a set of steps.

The host came up from underground.

He was carrying a black cloth bag, which was only slightly wider than the palm of his hand and was wrapped with three thin ropes.

After the host exited the tunnel, there was no mechanism to close it.

He stood in front of the table, put down the black cloth bag, and took a look at it by untying the outermost rope.

Because the roof blocked Yi Yang's view, he could not see the contents of the bag.

The spiritual energy probed downwards, but was blocked by the outer layer of the cloth. That black cloth was mixed with special threads, specifically designed to prevent martial artists from probing.

This is no ordinary thing.

Yi Yang gripped the hilt of Xuan Yuan's sword.

With his current level of cultivation, he only needed one strike to land. The abbot didn't even have a chance to warn him, and the other monks in the temple couldn't stop him either.

It's easy to kill someone, but difficult to uncover the person behind the host.

Ding Xiang's case dragged on for a year, and Ning Xiong investigated all three factions but still found no evidence.

The line had just begun to emerge when I sliced ​​it off with my knife. It was quick and satisfying, but all that remained was a pile of broken threads.

Yi Yang loosened the handle of the knife.

Having endured for sixty years, he has no shortage of time for this.

Inside the room, the host rewrapped the items and stuffed them into a hidden compartment by the bedside.

He walked back to the oil lamp and turned the lamp holder half a turn in the opposite direction.

The underground stone slabs closed, and the four blue bricks rose back to their original positions. The brick joints were tight, and even the ash and dirt were swept away by the wooden pieces on both sides.

No wonder Yi Yang couldn't produce a hollow sound.

There is a thick layer of soil underneath the stone slab, which will be pulled out when the mechanism is activated.

The host bent down to inspect the brickwork and then moved the shoes from beside the bed back to their original positions.

After doing all that, he didn't sleep.

He sat down at his desk, picked up a book of scriptures, and flipped through a few pages, but his right hand remained resting on the corner of the table. After a moment, he suddenly looked up at the ceiling.

Yi Yang remained lying down without moving.

All his spiritual energy was withdrawn to his spiritual platform, and the True Qi of Yi Wood was locked deep within his meridians; even his breathing stopped.

The host stared at the roof tiles for more than ten breaths.

There was no sound from the roof ridge.

He looked away and muttered to himself, "I've been having a lot of paranoia these past few days."

After speaking, the host blew out the oil lamp and went to bed to rest.

Yi Yang remained motionless.

The old monk muttered about being paranoid, but his right hand was pressed under his pillow. There, hidden, was a short knife, its blade coated with poison.

Anyone who enters the room, even a monk from the temple, will be stabbed if they get within three steps of the bed.

Cautious enough.

They value their lives enough.

Yi Yang lay on the roof until dawn.

Just after dawn, the host got up.

He first went to the yard to fetch water to wash his face, then returned and closed the door tightly before dragging a wooden box out from under the bed.

Inside the box were a wig, a beard, a cloth garment, and two bottles of a skin-tone corrector.

The abbot took off his monk's robe and put on a brown short shirt. He applied a layer of dark yellow ointment to his face, then attached a short beard and put a gray hairnet on his head.

After a short while, the monk was gone from the room, and a traveling medicine merchant in his fifties had joined him.

He looked at himself in the bronze mirror several times, then bent down and tried to take a few steps.

"Pharmacists don't bend over too much, which makes them easier to remember."

The host noticed something amiss in his reflection in the mirror and changed his posture, hunching his shoulders and slowing his steps.

He took out a black cloth bag from a hidden compartment by the bed, tied it close to his abdomen, and then put on an outer garment to cover it up.

After tying it up, he pressed the package to make sure the rope knots were secure.

Once is not enough.

He unbuttoned his shirt and checked it twice more.

The host only opened the door after everything was tidied up.

A young monk from the courtyard came up and asked:

"Host, shall we continue along the northern mountain path today?"

"Let's go down the west slope."

"The prefectural city just got a new commander for the Zhenfu Guard, and I heard he's a True Qi Realm expert. Won't going out at this time cause trouble?"

The host straightened his collar and said nonchalantly:

"A new broom sweeps clean the ranks of his troops. He has no time to come here. Besides, what does what happened a year ago have to do with him?"

The young monk lowered his voice and tentatively asked:

"But what about Qingfeng Ridge..."

The host looked up at him, his eyes revealing a fierce glint.

Seeing the abbot's expression, the young monk shut his mouth.

"Guard the temple gate well."

The host patted the package on his abdomen.

"I will be back in two days. In the meantime, if anyone comes up the mountain, do as I always have instructed you."

The abbot gave no further instructions, picked up his medicine basket, and left the temple.

Yi Yang lay on the roof, taking in all of their conversation.

Something that happened a year ago?

It seems I really came to the right place.

The presiding officer understood the Ding Xiang case and also knew when the commander of the Sky Patrol Division had been replaced.

Shanruo Temple, hidden in Qingfeng Ridge, is not a temporary stop. It is a transit point that has been in operation for many years, and it is even connected to an underground escape tunnel.

Yi Yang didn't chase after the host, clearly indicating that what was inside the secret passage was more important.

Yi Yang remained lying on the roof.

Half an hour later, the presiding master's energy had already left the two-hundred-foot perception range.

The monks inside the temple began their morning prayers, and no one approached the backyard.

He rolled to the ground, unlatched the door, and entered the room where he was in charge.

The oil lamp is still on the wooden frame.

Yi Yang walked over and first used his mental power to check the inside of the lamp holder. There was no poison powder, no bell wire, and no ignition device.

He gripped the lamp base and spun halfway around, mimicking the host's movements from the previous night.

Click.

The blue bricks in front of the bed have sunk.

The thick soil was pulled to both sides by the mechanism, the stone slabs were pushed aside, and a set of steps extending downwards appeared at Yiyang's feet.

There are no lights below.

The opening was small, just enough for one person to pass through sideways.

Below are stone steps, one after another, leading to a bottomless darkness.

A cold, damp airflow rose from below, carrying a faint scent of herbs and another indescribable fishy smell.

Yi Yang squatted by the cave entrance, trying to use his mental power to investigate.

The shielding layer extends about three zhang (approximately 10 meters) downwards from the opening, and cannot be explored any deeper.

He didn't know what was down there, but that didn't matter; he was just going to investigate, so the danger shouldn't be too great.

Yi Yang stood up and took Xuan Yuan off his back and held it in his hand.

With a thought, the black patterns on the blade lit up for a moment and then dimmed again.

With a spiritual weapon in hand, his strength was still at the mid-stage of True Qi.

Even if there's a man-eating creature lurking underneath, he still has to check what kind it is.

Yi Yang stepped onto the first stone step and disappeared into the darkness.