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

When Yi Yang walked down from the stage, his steps were still the same unhurried and leisurely manner.

Zhao Gang was the first to come over, grinning from ear to ear, and asked, "Old man, what a sight you have! You didn't draw your sword in either of the two matches. While the other guy was fighting for his life, you just strolled around, treating that guy like a dog. If this were in the black market before, it would have been worth five taels of silver for a ticket."

Yi Yang wiped the sand off the back of his hand and casually said, "Isn't it better to take a walk? It saves energy."

Zhao Gang had nothing to say, and could only extend his hand in admiration.

Huang Yushu walked out of the queue, cupped his hands and said, "Your movements are exquisite, sir. I have learned a great deal from them."

That's true. Huang Yushu watched the dodging footwork on stage so intently that he didn't even blink. He memorized the landing point and timing of each step, enough to keep him studying it for half a month.

Sun Hao squeezed to the front, his mouth moving faster than anyone else's.

"Sir, let me tell you, those moves you just made, I felt they were no less impressive than my uncle's."

The courtyard fell silent for a moment.

Zhao Gang raised an eyebrow. Huang Yushu's lips twitched.

The "uncle" Sun Hao mentioned was Sun Xing, the deputy patrol chief. He possessed four levels of Qi and Blood.

This might sound like bragging to anyone else, but to Sun Hao—this kid is being sincere. He doesn't have the brains to flatter; he speaks from the heart.

Yi Yang tucked his hands back into his sleeves and waved his hand: "Your uncle is a fourth-level expert. How can an old man like me who flips through files compare? The fight I had on stage was all due to good luck. I only encountered people without proper lineage."

Sun Hao opened his mouth as if to say something, but Zhao Gang slapped him on the back of the head and laughed, scolding, "Say less. Even when you're praising someone, you should choose a place. There are so many ears here."

Sun Hao touched the spot where he had been patted, chuckled, and shrank back into the queue.

Yi Yang fastened the waist tag and turned his gaze back to the table.

The assessment has entered its most intense phase.

The battles at the third level of Qi and Blood are on a completely different level compared to the back-and-forth exchanges between the previous second-level opponents. With each exchange, the sand and gravel on the table were sent flying everywhere by the force of the blows, and the wooden planks creaked loudly.

The Sky Patrol Division of Yunwen Town has lost face badly.

Several reserve patrol captains went up on stage one after another. Some of them were defeated after ten or so moves, their swords flying out of their hands. Others were kicked off the stage before they could even figure out their opponent's rhythm. When they came down, their faces were pale and ashen, and they wished they could disappear into a crack in the ground.

Only one person remained steadfastly on the stage, refusing to come down.

Du Qinghe.

The head of the Hall of Contribution of the Celestial Patrol Division was in his early thirties, with a long face, thin eyebrows, and a slender build. He wasn't the kind of person who would immediately strike you as formidable. He wore the standard Celestial Patrol Division uniform, with the cuffs rolled up to his elbows, revealing his lean but well-defined forearms.

Late stage of Qi and Blood Triple Stage.

This person wielded a narrow, straight sword, three inches shorter than the standard-issue sword of the Sky Patrol Division. The blade was thin and light, designed for agility. The strike was quiet, without shouts or grand gestures; a flick of the wrist and the sword was there.

The person fighting him on the stage was a hall master of the Red Tiger Gang, who had reached the third level of perfect Qi and Blood.

In terms of the later stages, the side that achieves perfection should logically have the advantage.

But Du Qinghe's swordsmanship defies conventional rules.

His footwork is so fragmented that the audience can hardly see him moving. He is like a shadow stuck to his opponent's side, always managing to strike at the most awkward angle.

After fifteen moves, the Red Tiger Gang leader began to sweat.

It's not that I'm tired, it's that I'm anxious.

Du Qinghe's blade always arrived half a beat ahead, not because it was fast, but because of its perfect positioning. Every time the sect leader swung his blade, the opponent was no longer in the previous position, and a new attack had already come close.

In the twenty-third move, Du Qinghe's blade tip touched the wrist bone of the master swordsman, the force of which was excessively precise.

The hall master's hand went numb, the knife almost slipped from his grasp, and he staggered back two steps.

"I admit defeat."

The audience erupted in discussion.

"When did Du Qinghe become such a good fighter?"

"A triple late-stage mastery of swordsmanship, surpassing a triple perfect mastery—how many years has this swordsmanship been practiced?"

Yi Yang stood at the end of the line, chewing the last dried fruit slowly.

He had met Du Qinghe a few times at the Sky Patrol Division. Du was a man of few words, efficient in his work, and in charge of the accounts of the Contribution Hall and the distribution of elixirs. He never expected Du to have this hidden talent.

What's truly interesting about this assessment is that it forces everyone to reveal their true colors.

The battle was delayed by more than half an hour.

Towards the end of the match, all the top-ranked positions were reshuffled.

The original candidates for patrol chiefs of Yunwen Town were all overturned, chairs and all. The deputy patrol chiefs who came from the county to take the exam didn't fare much better; two out of three were knocked out, and their rankings plummeted to outside the top twentieth.

Elites from various martial arts schools and gang masters joined, and most of the names on the ranking list were changed.

On the high platform, Chen Wuyai rested his iron staff on his lap and looked up from the roster.

The curve of her lips was very shallow, but Song Tiecheng, who was sitting next to her, saw it.

The examiner, who was at the Inner Qi Realm level, was very satisfied with the current situation.

The more chaotic, the better. Only by breaking up the old structure can new pieces be inserted. That's exactly what Director Qi wants—to stir up the Sky Patrol Bureau from a monolithic old government office into a hot pot of porridge where everyone wants a piece in. The fiercer the competition, the deeper the loyalty, and the more talented people you'll find.

Chen Wuyai closed the register, rested two fingers on the tip of the iron staff, and continued watching the show.

Then, the air in the training ground changed.

A person stepped onto the wooden platform.

They didn't jump up, they didn't run up, they walked up step by step. The sound of each step on the platform was deep and even, almost like the prelude to a war drum.

Qin Dynasty phrase.

The deputy curator of Cangyun Pavilion, nicknamed "Stone-Breaking Spear".

Thirty-four years old, with broad shoulders and a solid waist, his arms were a size thicker than the average person's. In his right hand, he held a long black iron spear, the shaft of which was entirely black, the tip of which gleamed with a cold white metallic luster in the sunlight.

Qi and blood are perfectly balanced in all four aspects.

He stood in the middle of the stage, the gun resting at his feet. The butt of the gun struck the stage board with a dull thud, and the mouths of all three hundred-plus people in the audience fell silent at the same moment.

It's not because of the pomp and circumstance, but because of the momentum.

A powerful aura, perfectly balanced at the fourth level, emanated from his body. It wasn't a deliberate release; he was simply standing there, and the air within three steps around him seemed to thicken. The sand on the table gathered at his feet, propelled by that invisible pressure.

Zhao Gang's smile vanished, and Huang Yushu's hand unconsciously went to the hilt of his knife.

The expressions of everyone in the audience who were eyeing the spot at Jinyang Temple changed at the same moment.

"Qin Ju, the Stone-Splitting Spear..."

"A person at the fourth level of perfection, not even thirty-five years old, who can stop him from competing for a spot at Jinyang Temple?"

"I heard that he has mastered his spear technique to perfection, the intermediate level of perfection. Many veteran experts at the fourth level do not have a martial art at the perfection level."

"It's over. He's taken at least one of the top four spots. We'll have to fight for the remaining three."