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

As evening fell, the sun over Yunwen Town was finally half-swallowed by the western rooftops, and the sky turned from scorching white to orange-yellow, soon to darken.

Yi Yang walked along the old road towards the courtyard. He had finished his errands at the museum and didn't have to work overtime today. He figured he could get back before dark and catch the meal Jiang Yuexin had prepared. That girl's cooking skills had improved recently; yesterday's stewed meat soup was so thick it practically stuck to the bowl, and Yang Hui had praised it several times.

As you step over the blue bricks at the alley entrance and turn the corner past Old Zhou's tofu shop, the outline of the small courtyard comes into view.

The locust tree's canopy covered half the yard, and its leaves swayed in the evening breeze.

Everything was as usual, but Yi Yang's pace suddenly slowed down. He spread out his five senses in the Refining Realm, covering a range of thirty steps inside and outside the courtyard.

Jiang Yuexin was in the kitchen, her breathing rhythm was normal, and occasionally the clanging sound of a spatula hitting a wok could be heard.

Yang Hui is not here; she probably hasn't returned yet.

Then—in the east corner of the courtyard, under the locust tree.

someone.

His breathing is long and even, and the flow of Qi and blood is deep and strong. Judging from his breath, he is a master of the four levels of Qi and blood.

Yi Yang's right hand slid silently to his waist. His five fingers gripped the hilt of the knife, his thumb pressed against the guard, and his fingertips touched the cold iron. At the same time, the main tendons in his spine tightened, the frequency of the internal energy cultivation in his five internal organs increased, and his blood and qi circulated faster in his limbs and bones, ready to explode at any moment.

He didn't stop moving, maintaining the leisurely pace of an old patrolman heading home after his shift, but his pupils had already constricted.

Who?

People from the Sky Patrol Bureau wouldn't come to his house at this hour. Zhao Gang would give advance notice if he had something to say, and Sun Xing would never lower himself to visit in person.

Yi Yang walked to the courtyard gate, gripped the latch with his five fingers, and did not push it open.

Listen first.

Even with my hearing strained to its limit, I could hear no fluctuations in the breathing of the group inside the courtyard. Their breathing was even and calm, their heartbeats were stable, and there was no tension before gathering strength, nor the feeling of holding one's breath during an ambush.

More importantly—Jiang Yuexin.

The little girl's heartbeat was perfectly normal, even carrying a light and energetic feel as she ran around carrying things. There was no fear, no stiffness from being coerced.

If the person who came was going to harm Yuexin, the atmosphere in the courtyard wouldn't be so relaxed.

Not an enemy, at least not for now.

Yi Yang loosened his fingers an inch from the hilt of the knife, but not completely. He flexed his wrist, took a step forward, and pushed open the door.

The courtyard gate creaked open.

Jiang Yuexin was carrying a bowl of hot tea out of the kitchen when she saw Yi Yang. The little girl's eyes crinkled into a smile.

"Grandpa! You're back! Dinner's ready, I stewed some today—"

Yi Yang's gaze passed over her and landed directly on the person sitting by the stone table in the courtyard.

The middle-aged man, around forty-five or forty-six years old, had fair skin and was more meticulously groomed than the women who sold rouge in town. His short beard was trimmed neatly, and his hair was tied up in a neat bun.

He wore a dark blue brocade robe with inconspicuous dark patterns embroidered on the cuffs and hem, and a jade belt tied around his waist. Yi Yang had seen the style of the jade belt buckle in the files of the Sky Patrol Bureau before—the regulations for county-level officials.

The other party's identity was obvious: Zhou Jiang, the county magistrate.

The person who sent Lu Neng to retrieve the martial arts manual, the person who conspired with Tang Hao to kill him, and the mastermind behind it all—all of whom had a grudge against him.

Yi Yang didn't move, his gaze sweeping back and forth between Zhou Jiang and Jiang Yuexin. The little girl looked perfectly normal, showing no signs of fright, her clothes were neat, there were no red marks on her wrists, and no traces of tears in her eyes.

If the other side didn't touch Yuexin, then they weren't here to fight to the death.

Yi Yang released his hand from the hilt of the knife, his tone no different from usual.

"Yuexin, come inside."

Jiang Yuexin was stunned for a moment, her gaze shifting between Yi Yang and the unfamiliar middle-aged man. She opened her mouth as if to ask something.

"obedient."

Yi Yang's tone remained unchanged, but the little girl had followed him for so long that she understood the meaning behind those two words. She bit her lip, wiped her hands on her apron, and obediently retreated to her room, closing the door behind her.

The courtyard fell silent.

The locust tree leaves rustled in the evening breeze.

Zhou Jiang stood up from the stone bench, dusted off the corner of his robe, and wore a proper smile on his face—the kind of smile that comes from years of being a local official—neither humble nor arrogant, just right, leaving no room for criticism but also no room for intimacy.

"Old man Yi."

Yi Yang looked at him but didn't reply.

Zhou Jiang wasn't embarrassed at all. He smiled and said, "What a sensible granddaughter! I was sitting here just now, and she brought me a bowl of water. She's so well-mannered; it's truly rare for someone her age."

Yi Yang said expressionlessly, "Let's talk inside."

After saying that, he turned and walked towards his room, his steps neither fast nor slow, his back to Zhou Jiang, without even turning his head back.

Zhou Jiang followed.

The door opened, and dim light slanted in from the entrance, illuminating the contents of the room: a wooden bed with neatly folded bedding; an old square table with several knife marks on its surface; and a stool.

Gone.

There wasn't even a seat for a customer.

Zhou Jiang stood on the threshold for two breaths, his gaze sweeping over the entire room. The corner of his mouth tightened slightly. How could a powerful expert at the fifth level of Qi and Blood live in such a shabby place?

Yi Yang was already sitting on the only bench. He poured half a bowl of cold water from the rough porcelain bowl on the table, tilted his head back and gulped down two mouthfuls, then wiped his mouth.

They didn't pour tea, offered a seat, or speak.

Just sitting there doing nothing.

Silence spread through the humble abode; silence carried more weight than words.

Zhou Jiang stood by the door, his back ramrod straight, the hem of his dark blue brocade robe swaying slightly in the evening breeze. He knew Yi Yang was waiting, waiting for him to speak first, waiting for him to reveal his hand. After a few moments, seeing that Yi Yang neither offered him a seat nor made any attempt at small talk, he understood—this man had no intention of putting on a show of politeness.

Zhou Jiang decided not to delay any longer. He cupped his hands in a gesture of respect, bowing even more deeply than when facing a superior.

"Uncle Yi, I, Zhou, have come to your door today for only one thing."

He slowly straightened up, observed Yi Yang's expression, and said, "Apologize."

Yi Yang put down the rough porcelain bowl. He placed his hands on his knees, his face full of wrinkles showing just the right amount of surprise.

"Yo."

He patted his knee, his tone tinged with the fear typical of an elderly person, and said, "What makes you say that? I'm just a lowly patrol captain in the Sky Patrol Division, in charge of files. How could I possibly have any reason to make the County Commandant apologize?"

He paused, then added, "Sir, have you perhaps come to the wrong door?"

Zhou Jiang gave a bitter smile, a smile that contained both the resignation of a failed scheme and the bitterness of having to bow one's head in the face of an absolute disparity in power. He said, "Old Master Yi, please don't flatter me."

He waved his hand, making his point clear: "Old man, you are a powerful expert at the fifth level of Qi and Blood. I was ignorant and foolish before, which caused an unnecessary rift between us."

His voice was steady, but his confidence was much weaker than when he was giving orders in the county government office.

"Today, Mr. Zhou has personally come to resolve this grievance."

He stared intently into Yi Yang's eyes and said earnestly, "If you are willing to be lenient, I, Zhou, am willing to repay you with my sincerity."

Having said that, Zhou Jiang took out a wooden box from his sleeve. The box wasn't large, about the length of a palm. It was made of rosewood with copper corners, and the clasp was sealed with wax for preservation—clearly the kind of box used for storing valuable medicinal herbs.

He held the box in both hands and opened it.

The moment the lid was opened, a refreshing medicinal fragrance wafted out. It wasn't strong or overpowering, but it penetrated deep into one's nostrils, like the scent of a rare herb in a deep mountain forest after being moistened by morning dew.

Inside the box was a silk handkerchief, and on the handkerchief lay a flower quietly.

The petals are pale gold, with a subtle, warm hue at the edges, and a short, emerald-green stem is retained at the base of the flower, giving it a vibrant appearance even after being dried for a long time.

"Five-year-old sunflower".

When Zhou Jiang said these words, his voice was filled with pain as he said, "It's one of the main ingredients for the precious pills taken by those in the Inner Qi Realm. It's priceless on the market, and even if you take silver to the black market, a Qi and Blood Realm martial artist like us might not be able to find one in three to five years."

Yi Yang's gaze fell on the flower, and something gleamed deep in his pupils—the main ingredient for an Inner Qi Realm Elixir. He was currently at the fifth level of Qi and Blood, still some distance from the sixth. Consuming such a precious ingredient now would undoubtedly greatly accelerate his progress towards the sixth level.

Seeing that his gaze lingered on him, Zhou Jiang felt a little more at ease and then took out a stack of things from his pocket.

Silver notes. Wrapped in oilcloth, they were neatly stacked on the table. Each note was worth one hundred taels of silver; Yi Yang glanced at their thickness.

About thirty sheets, roughly three thousand taels of silver.

"This is all the wealth that Zhou has accumulated over the years."

When Zhou Jiang said this, the corner of his mouth twitched and his Adam's apple bobbed up and down twice.

Three thousand taels of silver plus a five-year-old sunflower.

A county constable emptied his pockets of all his savings, just to find a way to survive.

The room fell silent.