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

The mountain path outside the village is covered with lush grass.

Sun Mazi huddled in a haystack outside the Yi family's courtyard wall, enduring the entire night.

Summer isn't cold, but mosquitoes are a real pain.

He had seven or eight bites on his neck, and his arms were even worse; scratching them left red welts.

There was a musty smell in the haystack, mixed with the smell of chicken manure, which made him dizzy.

"Damn it, Yang Er's job is inhuman."

Sun Mazi hugged his knees, his eyelids drooping, and he cursed softly.

Despite the insults, he dared not leave.

Yang Er's fat face from yesterday is still fresh in my mind.

"Keep a close eye on that old man. If he messes up, I'll have my brother throw you in the county jail to wake you up."

What is a county jail?

Go in once, and you'll come out half dead.

Sun Mazi was usually incredibly ruthless in bullying the elderly, weak, women, and children, but when he encountered someone like Yang Er who could really torture people to death, his back was as soft as overcooked noodles.

As the sky turned gray, there was finally movement at the gate of the Yi family's courtyard.

The bolt was pulled open.

Squeak.

Sun Mazi was instantly wide awake.

He peeked out from the haystack, revealing half of his pockmarked face and two bright, cunning eyes.

The courtyard gate opened.

Yi Yang carried a firewood basket on his back, held an old wood-chopping knife in his hand, and wore a faded short jacket as he slowly walked out of the village.

The old man's back was still a little hunched, and he walked on the dirt road in his straw sandals, unhurried and calm, just like when he went up the mountain to chop firewood.

But Sun Mazi was overjoyed.

Going up the mountain so early in the morning?

And it just so happens that it was after Yang Er asked Zi Mu about it yesterday?

Is there even a need to guess?

They're just feeling guilty!

"Old man, still pretending."

Sun Mazi grinned and said, "If you weren't hiding anything, why would you go into the mountains before dawn? You're kidding me."

In his mind, that piece of purple wood had long been hailed as a priceless treasure.

The wood used by wealthy families in the inner city to make incense tables.

Something that even the martial arts school master would appreciate.

As long as he finds the hiding place, even if he doesn't take everything, he can still live a carefree life for a long time by cutting off a piece and secretly selling it.

He had been eyeing those girls in the brothel alley for so long that he couldn't sleep soundly.

Especially that girl named Xing'er.

That waist, that face, that soft, sweet voice—it was simply irresistible.

As Sun Mazi pondered this, a low, eerie laugh escaped his throat.

"It's not unreasonable for me to have a sip of soup while Yang Er eats the meat, is it?"

He emerged from the haystack, brushed the hay dust off his clothes, and crouched down to follow.

The mountain road is difficult to travel.

The morning mist hadn't yet dissipated, and the forest was shrouded in a gray haze. The dampness seeped into our noses, carrying the smell of mud and rotting leaves.

Yi Yang walked ahead, his pace slow, occasionally stopping to look at the trees, cutting off a couple of dead branches and throwing them into the firewood basket; there was not a single fault with his manners.

Sun Mazi hung in the distance.

Sometimes they hide behind trees, sometimes they lie in the grass.

He felt he was very professional.

At least they're better than those idiots in the village who only know how to steal chickens.

"An old bone is an old bone."

Sun Mazi stared at the hunched back in front of him, his eyes full of disdain.

If it weren't for his younger brother in town, Yang Er would have devoured Old Man Yi, bones and all, long ago.

Sun Mazi became more and more sleepy the longer he followed.

I didn't sleep well last night; my eyelids drooped down as if they were covered in glue.

Yi Yang stopped by the side of a mountain road ahead, bent over and lowered his head, as if tying the straps of his straw sandals.

Sun Mazi quickly hid behind an old tree and held his breath.

He held his breath for a few moments, then opened his mouth and let out a long, deep yawn.

I yawned so much that tears welled up in my eyes.

He raised his hand to rub his eyes.

Probe again.

The person was gone; only the morning mist clung to the grass along the mountain path. The hunched figure carrying the firewood basket had vanished.

Seeing only dense trees in front of him, Sun Mazi's head buzzed.

What about people?

It was just there!

In the blink of an eye, where could an old man possibly slip away?

He rubbed his eyes and looked left and right but couldn't see Yi Yang anywhere.

The mountain road ahead wound its way up, but it was completely empty; there wasn't a soul in sight.

"broken."

Sun Mazi's back was sweating.

If Yang Er lost track of someone right under his nose, he could hang him up and whip him.

The more affectionate the fat pig's smile, the more ruthless his actions.

Sun Mazi, disregarding his hiding place, bent down and darted out of the bushes, rushing to the spot where Yi Yang had just been standing.

"You old codger!"

He cursed in a low voice.

"Why are your legs suddenly so fast? Are you in a hurry to be reincarnated?"

There was no response from those around.

Only the birds were startled and flew away in a flurry.

Sun Mazi wandered aimlessly through the woods, prying at branches and parting the grass, his shoes sinking into the wet mud, making a sticky sound as he pulled them out.

The more I searched, the more panicked I became.

The more panicked they become, the more anxious they get.

Sweat streamed down his forehead, filling the pockmarked face with sweat and making him look even worse.

"Come out, you old man."

"Don't let Master Ma find you, or you'll be in big trouble."

He's tough on the outside, but his legs are a little weak on the inside.

After another half a cup of tea's time, Sun Mazi stopped at the edge of a muddy ditch.

There were footprints of straw sandals on the ground.

Sun Mazi let out a long breath, and the fear that had been hanging in his throat subsided.

"I knew it!"

He wiped his face and sneered.

"An old man is still an old man. No matter how fast he runs, he'll still leave his claws on the ground."

The footprints on the straw sandals led all the way into the deep mountains.

That direction is quite off-center; even woodcutters rarely go that way.

Sun Mazi's eyes shone even brighter.

Purple wood!

It's definitely over there!

The old man was afraid of being targeted, so he tried to move his stash of goods, but he was still too naive.

"Wait until Master Ma finds the spot first, hehe..."

He hunched over, staring intently at the footprints as he crawled into them.

The mountain road is getting narrower and narrower.

The grass is getting denser and denser.

The trees on both sides blocked out the sunlight, and the shady slope was damp all year round, with thick layers of dead leaves that were soft, slippery, and soft to the touch.

Sun Mazi walked until his nose was sweating, and his trouser legs were torn in several places by the brambles.

But he couldn't bear to stop.

There seemed to be silver coins laid out before him, gleaming white, piled on the table, ready for him to grab.

When we reached a shady slope, the footprints on our straw sandals broke off.

The break was abrupt.

Ahead lay a dense forest, the ground piled high with fallen leaves, but the trail of footprints disappeared at the edge of the forest.

Where are they?

Sun Mazi spun around halfway, his eyes straining from staring.

"Old man, stop playing tricks."

No one answered.

The mist in the forest clung to the tree trunks, and the dampness seeped into my collar and crept up my neck.

Sun Mazi suddenly felt that this place was extremely eerie.

Shady slope.

Few people come.

If something really happens here, the body might rot to the bone and no one might even find it.

The moment the thought crossed his mind, Sun Mazi shuddered.

wrong.

What are you afraid of?

The other person was just an old man.

If old man Yi were truly capable, he would have gone to town to enjoy a life of luxury long ago. Why would he need to chop firewood in Sanmu Village?

"Damn, they hid it pretty well."

He gritted his teeth and cursed under his breath.

"Once I find Zimu, I'll first have my way with your little granddaughter and see if you still dare to act tough."

The words had barely left his mouth when he felt a very light rubbing of fabric against the tree trunk above his head.

Sun Mazi's neck skin tightened instantly.

He was about to look up.

A gaunt figure descended from the tree branch.

As Yi Yang fell from the tree, his face was frighteningly calm, and he held a thick hemp rope in both hands.

The hemp rope had been soaked in tung oil beforehand, giving it a dark sheen; it was smooth and sturdy.

The moment he landed, the rope loop went down over Sun Mazi's head and caught precisely around his neck.

Sun Mazi didn't even manage to shout.

His neck was strangled, and his throat was crushed.

His eyes bulged outwards, and the whites of his eyes were covered with dense red veins.

He stretched his mouth as wide as he could, his tongue sticking out halfway, and his sallow face quickly turned purplish-blue.

"Heh...heh..."

A hissing sound, like air leaking from a broken bellows, was squeezed out of his throat.

Sun Mazi grabbed wildly with both hands, his ten fingers gripping the rope, trying to pull it apart.

But the rope was soaked in tung oil, making it incredibly slippery.

What's even more terrifying are the old hands behind him. They are thin and rough, yet surprisingly strong, unlike what one would expect from a sixty-year-old.

Yi Yang twisted his arms behind him, planted his feet firmly on the muddy ground, and used his waist and back muscles to exert force.

The warmth I've cultivated over the past few days through the Yi Mu Health Preservation Exercise flows from my lower abdomen to my shoulders and arms.

Even if he hadn't reached the first level of Qi and Blood Refining Skin Realm, he would still be able to deal with a scoundrel who had been drained by wine and women.

Sun Mazi has gone mad.

His legs kicked wildly in the mud, his shoes flew into the grass, and his heels dug two deep holes in the ground.

Mud splattered onto the hem of his trousers and also onto the edge of his straw sandals.

He scratched his neck with his fingernails, drawing blood that mixed with sweat and mud, creating a filthy mess.

The more you struggle, the tighter the rope becomes.

The tighter it is, the less air there is.

All those thoughts of brothels, silver, and purple wood vanished from his mind.

Only one thought remained.

live.

He wants to live.

Sun Mazi tilted his head desperately, trying to see Yi Yang.

The malice in his eyes vanished, leaving only pleading.

His face was covered in snot and tears, and he mumbled pleas for mercy.

"Spare me... spare me..."

Yi Yang didn't respond.

Over the past sixty years, he has seen far too many rotten people.

Before kneeling down, this kind of person is full of harsh words.

After kneeling down, he was full of words of remorse.

Once it catches its breath, it will turn back into a biting dog.

Dogs cannot change shit.

A vicious dog can't stop biting people.

Having lived to this age, Yi Yang is well past the age of listening to bad people confess, and besides, he wouldn't easily take back what he's made up his mind about.

He pulled his arm back and pressed his knee down on Sun Mazi's back.

Click.

A sickening cracking sound came from his neck.

Sun Mazi's kicking legs stopped.

Both hands were still clasped to the rope, but they had lost their strength and slowly drooped down.

Its body lay limply in the mud, its face pressed against the withered leaves, its mouth still open, its eyes bulging out, and the plea it made before death still lingered on its face. It was both ugly and ridiculous.

The woods fell silent again.

Yi Yang loosened the rope, stood still, and his chest heaved a few times.

This was the first time in his sixty years in this world that he had killed someone with his own hands.

There was no vomiting, and no weakness in his hands.

There was no mental or physical turmoil as described in the storybooks.

He only felt soreness in his shoulders, his palms were burning from the hemp rope, and his nose was filled with the smell of mud, sweat, and urine.

Sun Mazi was so scared he wet himself.

Yi Yang looked down at the corpse and exhaled a long breath.

"I already said that."

The old man spoke in a very low voice, as if he were talking to a piece of wood.

"If you don't make a move, then you don't."

"Once you've made your move, leave no survivors."

The sense of groundedness that martial arts brings me seeped into my bones at this moment.

So this is how decisive power can be.

A vicious dog that could frighten an orphan girl into staying indoors, make a village woman grit her teeth and swallow her anger, and make an honest man lock his door at night.

But once the rope is put on, it only takes a few dozen breaths.

Yi Yang bent down and grabbed Sun Mazi's ankle.

The corpse left a long trail on the withered leaves.

The old man dragged him deeper into the woods, his steps slow but steady.

There was a pit there that I had spotted before. It was surrounded by soft, rotten soil, shady, and rarely visited by people or wild animals.

Dig a hole.

Burying the body.

Scatter withered leaves.

Clean up drag marks.

After finishing everything, Yi Yang looked at the few copper coins in his hand with a disdainful look. This Sun Mazi is really a poor wretch.

Half an hour later, only the turned-up damp soil remained on the shady slope.

Yi Yang put away the hemp rope, wiped the mud off his hands with withered leaves, picked up the wood-chopping knife, and put a few dry branches into the wood basket.

An old woodcutter can't go up the mountain to chop firewood empty-handed.