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

Yi Yang stepped onto the first stone step, his foot landing on the hardest part of the stone's edge.

He took three steps down, then stopped, turned around, and went back to the cave entrance, where there was another oil lamp, which should be controlled from inside.

He gripped the lamp base with his right hand and turned it half a turn.

"Click."

A muffled closing sound came from above Yi Yang's head.

As the oil lamp rotated, the blue brick that had been covering the opening returned to its place, and the thick layer of soil refilled the gaps, completely cutting off the light.

But as you descend the stairs, there are lights burning at every point, so it's not completely dark all around.

Yi Yang glanced at the oil lamp inside the cave and realized that his escape route was under control.

Only after confirming this did he continue.

The passage downwards is very narrow; if you turn your shoulder even slightly, you'll brush against the stone walls on either side.

The first dozen or so steps were rather rough, made of rubble, with dampness seeping through the joints.

But the further down you go, the smoother the surrounding stone walls become, which is clearly an abnormal environment.

Around level 130, when Yi Yang's fingertips brushed against the wall, the sensation completely changed.

It is no longer the roughness of natural rock strata, but a smooth surface that has been artificially polished, and you can even feel the direction of the chisel marks—from top to bottom, even and powerful.

This is a job that can't be done by just one or two people.

There was some air circulating around, indicating that the road below was not a dead end, but rather connected to somewhere else.

As the air rose, a smell of herbs mixed with a burnt, fishy odor wafted up, and the burnt, fishy smell grew stronger the further down you went.

Yi Yang slowed his pace and explored the cave downwards very slowly.

The "Hidden Breath Without Form Technique" suppresses the body's surface energy to the level of an ordinary person, reducing heart rate, respiration, and body temperature to the lowest possible level.

He didn't project his mental energy outwards, but instead kept it close to his body within a three-foot radius to observe the situation.

He had previously reviewed many files at the archives and knew that the Nine Evil Cult's important strongholds would be equipped with sensory arrays.

That thing is sensitive to fluctuations in true energy; the higher a person's cultivation level, the easier it is to detect them when they enter its range.

But that thing has no effect on ordinary people without cultivation, because in the eyes of those cultists, ordinary people are just two-legged sheep waiting to be slaughtered, and there is no need to guard against them.

To other martial artists, Yi Yang is now just an ordinary person.

At least at the level of Qi, there was no leakage whatsoever, making him seem completely unlike someone with cultivation.

There were seventy-nine more stone steps leading down.

Yi Yang silently counted in his mind that this habit was something he had developed when he went into the mountains to chop firewood back then.

Remember the slope and the number of steps so you won't get lost.

After stepping down the last step, the ground beneath my feet turned into a large flat area.

Yi Yang knew he had almost reached the underground. He wanted to see what secrets were hidden here and whether they were related to Jin Yang Temple.

As Yi Yiyang's gaze followed, she saw an iron gate half-open about three zhang away.

Light peeked out from the crack in the door.

It wasn't the usual light color; it was a bluish, cold glow that made the muddy ground uncomfortable to look at.

Seeing this situation, Yi Yang did not walk over directly.

He pressed his body against the stone wall on the left side of the passage and moved forward inch by inch.

When they reached the iron gate, they peeked out with half their face to observe.

Behind the iron gate was a huge underground hall.

And it was bigger than Yi Yang had expected.

Visually, it is estimated to be more than 15 zhang deep and more than 10 zhang wide.

The roof of the hall is raised high, about three zhang (approximately 10 meters), with an arched structure and black mortar filling the joints between the stones.

Dozens of lamps burned perpetually on iron rings on the four walls. The lamp oil was dark red, but the flames emitted a bluish hue.

Yi Yang stared at the lamp oil for a couple of breaths.

Normal lamp oil is not this color.

One of the files in the museum mentions that the Nine Evils used special lamp oil mixed with human blood to keep the altar burning forever.

This fire can burn for months without going out, but the price is that each lamp needs to be infused with the lifeblood of at least three people.

There are at least dozens of lights here.

Seeing this, Yi Yang's eyes revealed a hint of ruthlessness and anger.

He shifted his gaze to the ground in the center of the hall.

On the floor of the main hall was a huge circular pattern, with a diameter of four zhang (approximately 13 meters).

The design depicts nine intertwined snakes, all with their heads facing outwards, and in the very center of the design is the shape of a human heart.

The snake's eyes in the picture are inlaid with obsidian, which gleams with an oily luster under the blue firelight.

Upon seeing the pattern that exuded an indescribable evil aura, Yi Yang immediately knew what it was.

The symbol of the Nine Heretical Cults' altar.

He had seen a simplified version in the basement of the Wei family's house in White Fish City.

But that one was only the size of a fist, carved on a stone slab, with rough lines.

The stone before us is carved with patterns several inches into its surface, each snake scale clearly defined, indicating it is well over a century old.

The presence of such a thing indicates that this main hall is not a temporary hideout of the Nine Evils Cult.

On the contrary, it was a core node hidden in Suining Prefecture that had been cultivated for a very long time.

Yi Yang held his breath and moved slowly along the palace wall, carefully observing his surroundings.

At each of the four corners of the main hall stood a bronze pillar, its shaft as thick as a person's waist, with iron chains wrapped around it.

The iron ring at the end of the chain is open, with the opening hanging down.

Yi Yang walked closer to take a look.

The inner wall of the iron ring had signs of wear, dried and blackened scabs, and—dandruff.

People have been locked here before, not just one or two. The uneven wear on the iron rings indicates that they have been replaced many times.

Yi Yang turned his gaze away from the bronze pillar and looked at the inner side wall of the hall.

Three hidden doors stand on the ground in the very center, which is engraved with the Nine Heretical Cult symbols.

The smell of medicine seeped from under the crack in the door on the left, so strong it was pungent.

The middle gate was sealed tightly, and you couldn't see anything through it.

There was a faint sound of water coming from behind the door on the right. It didn't sound like an underground river; it sounded more like water flowing through a pipe.

Yi Yang did not go deeper; he stood in a corner of the hall, his feet flat on the ground, without moving.

There was silence for three breaths.

Then he felt it.

He used his mental power to probe—he condensed his mental power into a thin thread and probed towards the three doors.

There were people behind the door, and more than one.

Yi Yang quickly calculated in his mind.

The spiritual energy sensed three to four overlapping auras, indicating that there were at least three to four True Qi Realm experts cultivating behind the hidden door.

One of the auras exerted several times more pressure on him than the others; it was stable, heavy, and carried an overwhelming rhythm.

It is the late stage of True Qi.

Sensing this situation, the hairs on Yi Yang's back stood on end.

He couldn't help but take a half step back.

The size and layout of this underground palace far exceeded his expectations.

The abbot of Shanruo Temple, who possesses the third level of internal energy, wouldn't even be qualified to be a gatekeeper here.

Altar Master? No, that's not right. An altar master is at most at the third level of internal energy to the early stage of True Qi.

The person in charge here is at least at the level of a temple master.

There might be even higher prices.

Yi Yang's heart was racing, not from fear—but from regret.

He suddenly realized something.

I made a big mistake.

He fought his way from Yunlin County to the prefectural city, progressing from the first level of Qi and Blood cultivation to the mid-stage of True Qi, and defeating Kong Wu and Xu Yu on the arena to seize the position of commander. This series of victories led him to misjudge the situation.

Alone, without any backup or to notify anyone, he ventured into the lair of the Nine Evil Cults, a place he couldn't even fathom.

If the people behind those three doors find him—

The terrain is enclosed, and the only way to retreat is a stone staircase.

Even with Xuan Yuan in his possession, he would still be doomed if a late-stage True Qi cultivator joined forces with several early-to-mid-stage True Qi cultivators to kill him.

The Xuan Yuan in Yi Yang's hand gave a soft chime.

The patterns on the blade flashed and then dimmed, as the spiritual weapon sensed the emotional fluctuations of the person wielding the blade.

Yi Yang gripped the hilt of his knife tightly, suppressing the restlessness in his heart, and thought to himself:

"Not now, I can't handle this by myself."

He said to himself.

We've endured sixty years already, what's a little more?

Yi Yang turned around and returned the way he came.

My steps were lighter than when I came.

He stepped on the hardest edge of each stone step, minimizing the contact area between his shoes and the stone surface. He controlled his breathing to one inhale and one exhale every four breaths, even suppressing his heartbeat with internal energy.

Two hundred steps.

Not a step too much, not a step too little.

Upon reaching the top of the passage, Yi Yang stopped and probed upwards with his spiritual power—no one was in the abbot's room, but intermittent chanting could be heard from the front courtyard; all thirteen monks were present.

He reached out and pressed the copper buckle in the groove on the inner wall.

The blue bricks sank, and the stone slabs separated.

Yi Yang climbed up and returned to the host's room.

He didn't leave immediately after landing.

He raised his right hand, and a wisp of extremely fine Yi Wood True Qi flowed out from his fingertips.

The true nature of wood is gentle and restrained, without any aggression, but it has one advantage—it can repair.

Yi Yang channeled his true energy to every place he had touched: fingerprints on the door latch, the lingering warmth of his body on the oil lamp holder, and the marks left by his shoes rubbing against the edges of the stone steps. After the true energy of Yi Wood swept over them, those extremely subtle scents and residual energy were smoothed away one by one.

Finally, he walked to the window.

Last night he poked a small hole in the window paper.

Yi Yang pressed a wisp of true energy onto the breach, and the self-healing properties of the Yi Wood True Qi were guided onto the paper.

The fibers of the window paper slowly adhere, shrink, and reconnect as one under the nourishment of true qi.

Three breaths later, the hole disappeared.

Yi Yang gave the room one last look. The dust distribution was unchanged, the angle at which the mattresses were folded was unchanged, and the level of the oil in the lamp was the same as when he came in.

He climbed out of the window.

The shadow cast by the backyard wall engulfed him completely.

They huddled along the low fence, bypassed the moon gate, avoided the thirteen people chanting sutras in the front yard, and climbed over the back wall to escape the temple.

He looked back as he left.

The three characters "Shanruo Temple" hung above the door, most of the paint peeled off, and the wooden planks were grayed from being soaked by wind and rain.

The morning light shone on the old plaque, making it look no different from any other dilapidated temple in the surrounding mountains.

Who would have thought that something like that was hidden down there?

Yi Yang found a large, sheltered rock in the mountains and sat down.

The cold sweat on his back had soaked through his undershirt, making it feel cool and sticky against his skin. He tore open one side of his outer garment, letting the mountain wind in.

Close your eyes and begin the debriefing.

Shanruo Temple is located on the gentle slope of Qingfeng Ridge, where Ding Xiang was murdered.

The scale and craftsmanship of the underground passage indicate that it has been in operation for at least several decades or even a century.

The abbot would disguise himself every few days, carrying a special package to prevent detection, and travel between the temple and an unknown location.

Bloodstains on the iron chains on the altar, the smell of medicine and the sound of water behind the hidden door, the resonance of the auras of several True Qi Realm experts—

All the clues, pieced together, point to the same conclusion.

A year ago, Ding Xiang deviated from the official road and entered Qingfeng Ridge, where he was led to this stronghold by someone.

Then he died.

Ning Xiong investigated for a year, and three clues pointed to three different factions.

Jin Guangzong, Huajian Alliance, and Wanyue Manor—each of these is backed by one of the three major sects.

But perhaps the truth is simpler—it doesn't require the three families to conspire; all that's needed is for someone from one of the families to know about the existence of Shanruo Temple and to tip off Ding Xiang when he gets close.

The rest can be handled by those Nine Evil Cult beasts at the True Qi Realm level.

Yi Yang opened his eyes.

The mountain wind dried the sweat on his back, and his undershirt became cold against his skin.

He stood up and patted the mud off his trousers.

He couldn't handle the situation at Shanruo Temple alone.

I have to go back.

Yi Yang used his skillful manipulation of water to cross the river, and his figure disappeared into the mountains and forests.

On his way back to the prefectural city, he kept thinking about one thing—who exactly was that late-stage True Qi being beneath Shanruo Temple?