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

After Chen Wuyai's iron staff hit the ground with a thud, the air in the training ground felt as if it had been pinched by hot tongs, so hot that it was hard to breathe.

The breaths of hundreds of people converged in one place, steaming out a heat wave mixed with the smells of sweat, rust, and anticipation.

"The rules are simple."

Chen Wuyai stood on the high platform. His voice was not loud, but it carried extremely far. The way an Inner Qi Realm martial artist speaks is different from that of an ordinary person. Every word squeezed out of his throat is wrapped with strong energy, enough to make the back of a person's head clench tightly.

"Before entering, each of you received a waist tag."

He casually pulled a small bronze token from his sleeve, twirled it between his fingers, and then placed it face down.

"The cards are engraved with numbers, arranged according to the Qi and Blood cultivation levels that each person has declared. The higher the ranking, the smaller the card number."

Yi Yang glanced down at the inconspicuous bronze plaque at his waist.

One hundred and forty-seven.

When he applied, he filled in "Qi and Blood Level 3". What level is Level 3 in this training ground? It's slightly below average, not the best but not the worst either. The strongest of the 146 people ahead of him are at the peak of Level 4 Qi and Blood, and those at Level 5 Qi and Blood don't even need to prove themselves through this kind of test; they can just sit back and watch.

Chen Wuyai tossed the bronze medal back into his sleeve.

"Challenge system. Go up on stage to challenge, the winner takes the medal, the loser leaves the stage."

His gaze swept from the celestial patrol formation on the north side to the group of people from the martial arts school on the south side, and finally landed on the wooden platform covered with sand in the center of the training ground.

"No limit on the number of attempts, no limit on the methods used. Surrendering, fainting, or falling off the stage all result in a loss."

He paused, then added, "A murderer must pay with his life!"

Chen Wuyai held his iron staff horizontally to his side.

"start."

The audience stirred.

The first to rush forward were those ranked 300th and below, all of them patrol guards and martial arts school disciples at the first level of Qi and Blood cultivation or at the peak of the first level. These people knew perfectly well that the lower the ranking, the safer the target to challenge. Taking advantage of the initial melee to push their rankings up a few places and earn some bounty was not shameful.

The wooden platform suddenly became as lively as a market frenzy.

Two patrol guards at the first level of Qi and Blood were locked in a fierce battle at the east corner of the platform, their swords clashing against each other with a deafening clang, sparks flying everywhere. Meanwhile, on the west side of the platform, a disciple of the Iron Cry Hall had his sword knocked away by two punches from a young man from the White Tiger Martial Academy. Before he could even retrieve it, the latter kicked him in the chest, sending him tumbling headfirst off the edge of the platform and crashing heavily onto the bluestone slabs of the training ground.

On the veranda, wealthy merchants watched the spectacle, cracking melon seeds and offering casual comments.

"This boxing technique is loose and weak, all show and no substance."

"Why don't you go up and give it a try?"

"I wouldn't do it even if you paid me; I value my life."

The laughter dissipated in the wind.

Yi Yang stood at the end of the formation, his hands tucked into his sleeves. While the spectators on the stands were engaged in a heated exchange, his mind was elsewhere.

In his eyes, a sparring match between two people of the same Qi and Blood level was no different from village children fighting with tree branches.

boring.

He hasn't found a suitable opponent yet. Ranked 147, and scrolling up, there are mid-stage players between 146 and 100 with the third level of Qi and Blood. He can choose any of them, but it's not worthwhile to choose too early. He should wait for these people to fight a few rounds and wear them down before going up to reap the rewards; that would be much more efficient.

His gaze lazily slid across the table, then suddenly caught by the line of people from the Lei Yun Martial Arts School on the south side.

Yi Zhanzhi made his appearance.

The seventeen-year-old boy stepped onto the wooden platform with a springy gait characteristic of youth. His black uniform with gold trim accentuated his tall and straight figure, and the scabbard of the standard-issue longsword at his waist gleamed in the sunlight.

Ranked eighty-fourth. Reported as mid-stage of Qi and Blood Triple Level.

His chosen opponent was a disciple of Cangyun Pavilion ranked seventy-first, in his early twenties, at the mid-stage of the third level of Qi and Blood. This first challenge pushed him up thirteen places in the rankings, which was neither reckless nor conservative.

The disciple from Cangyun Pavilion was also a capable man. When he saw Yi Zhanzhi reveal his card, he knew there was no way to back down, so he drew his sword and attacked.

Two triples facing each other.

When the first move was exchanged, a few low gasps rippled out from the training ground.

Yi Zhanzhi's sword was fast. Extremely fast.

The speed at which the sword sprang from its sheath the instant it was drawn caused several low-level martial artists fighting nearby to turn their heads. The Cangyun Pavilion disciple parried with his sword, and the sound of the two swords clashing was not an ordinary clang, but a muffled hum, almost like plucking a string stretched to its limit.

A mid-stage Qi and Blood level cultivator fighting a mid-stage peak cultivator, their sword speeds were surprisingly comparable.

The Cangyun Pavilion disciple was forced back half a step by the shock, his hands went numb, and his finger joints twitched. Before he could regain his footing, Yi Zhanzhi's second sword strike had already arrived.

Thunder-breaking style.

Lei Yun Martial Arts School's signature sword technique emphasizes speed.

It's not the kind of brute force speed, but rather a speed crushing force achieved through the simplification of sword techniques to the extreme. Every strike follows the shortest straight line, without any unnecessary swings or fancy curves. The distance between the sword tip and the person is compressed to the minimum.

Three tricks.

The sword of the Cangyun Pavilion disciple was knocked away.

When the fourth move landed, the sword's edge stopped an inch from the side of the man's neck, and the wind pressure lifted half of his collar.

The Cangyun Pavilion disciple paused for a moment, then raised his hand.

"I admit defeat."

A burst of applause erupted from the audience.

The fellow students at Lei Yun Martial Arts School were the loudest, each with their own booming voice.

"Junior Brother Zhanzhi is awesome!"

"Four moves to take down a level three mid-stage opponent! Who can withstand that sword speed?"

Yi Zhanzhi sheathed his sword, his expression calm. He bowed slightly to the people below the platform and exchanged his waist token.

Seventy-one.

But he did not step down.

Yi Yang looked at him, chewed the dried fruit she had taken out of her pocket a couple of times, and showed no expression.

Yi Zhanzhi made another choice.

Ranked sixty-second. A disciple of Tie Ming Hall, twenty-three years old, late stage of Qi and Blood Triple Realm.

Six moves, and I won.

Ranked 53rd. A candidate for chief inspector of a branch of the Sky Patrol Bureau, 27 years old, at the peak of the Triple Realm.

Eleven moves, and I won.

Ranked forty-first. A direct disciple of the White Tiger Martial Academy, in his early thirties, a veteran expert who has been at the peak of the third level for many years.

The fight lasted for over thirty moves. The man from the White Tiger Martial Academy was using a spear, and long weapons should have an advantage over short swords. However, Yi Zhanzhi's footwork was excessively agile. He continuously circled around, pushing the spearhead's attack radius into a blind spot. Finally, taking advantage of the gap in the opponent's change of moves, he struck with the back of his sword, knocking the spear shaft out of the opponent's hand.

The disciples of the White Tiger Martial Academy gritted their teeth and raised their hands in surrender.

The waist tag price jumped from 84 to 41, and then directly changed to 36.

The noise in the room subsided.

At this ranking, one is already in the realm of Qi and Blood Level 4.

On the high platform, Song Tiecheng, who had been keeping his eyes closed, opened them.

He was a master of the first level of the Inner Qi Realm, and he sat there without moving an inch from beginning to end, not even lifting his teacup. At this moment, his gaze fell on Yi Zhanzhi, his lips moved, and his voice was so low that only Chen Wuyai and the two monks from Jinyang Temple sitting next to him could hear it.

"Your sword-drawing speed is quite good."

Four words.

Evaluations that come from the mouth of a martial artist at the Inner Qi Realm are more valuable than any reward.

Mu Fenghai stood at the back of the martial arts hall's line, his hands clasped in front of him. His expression remained largely unchanged, but the curve of his lips was slightly deeper than usual.

satisfaction.

The seventeen-year-old disciple, who had been the last disciple of the sect, had made it into the top forty without even using his full strength, which was even better than he had expected.