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

As people went on stage, whispers began to emerge from all corners. Hearing the discussions, some clenched their fists, while others quietly took a half-step back. These were all contestants hoping to secure a spot at Jinyang Temple.

When they saw Qin Ju step onto the stage, their eyes couldn't help but scrutinize and look solemn. With his cultivation at the fourth level of perfect Qi and Blood, he was almost the strongest among all the contestants present.

Yi Zhanzhi stood in the queue of Lei Yun Martial Arts School, his gaze fixed on Qin Ju, his pupils slightly contracting.

He had fought many opponents at the third level, but the oppressive feeling of a perfect fourth level was a different story. It wasn't a difference in strength; it was a crushing disparity in levels. The gap between the third and fourth levels was deeper than the combined gap between the first and third levels.

Liao Xu whispered behind him, "Stay calm and observe his spear technique. He is the senior disciple of the previous generation of Cangyun Martial Arts School. There are some grudges between our martial arts school and Cangyun Martial Arts School. You need to be careful of the senior disciple of Cangyun Martial Arts School in this generation. He is no weaker than Qin Ju. You can observe his style now."

Yi Zhanzhi didn't answer; his jawline was taut.

Qin Ju stood on the platform, raised the tip of his spear, and pointed it towards the north side of the training ground.

The person he chose was Sun Xing.

The deputy inspector of Yunwen Town, with a late-stage cultivation level of the fourth level of Qi and Blood, is considered the only strong person in Yunwen Town besides Fang Yue.

The training ground was quiet for a couple of breaths after Qin Ju chose his opponent, then the commotion grew even louder. The deputy headmaster was choosing the deputy chief steward, which meant he was aiming directly for a core position in the Sky Patrol Division, and Sun Xing's strength was definitely not weak either.

Upon seeing that he had been challenged and was sitting on a makeshift stool at the back of the line, Sun Xing's expression darkened. His opponent was none other than the renowned Qin Ju.

He slowly stood up, patted the hem of his robe, and walked onto the stage without refusing. His refined demeanor was still there, but Yi Yang, with his excellent eyesight, noticed that Sun Xing's hand on the knife was clenched three times tighter than usual.

The two faced off on the stage. After exchanging greetings, Qin Ju didn't waste any words. He flicked his spear and thrust it directly at Sun Xing.

The first shot is all-out.

The sound of the gun tip piercing the air was sharp and shrill, and the shockwave spread outwards along the gun barrel, stirring up a thin mist of sand on the table.

Sun Xing sidestepped and parried with his sword. The two weapons clashed, and the clanging sound of metal against metal echoed from the table all the way to the lids of the teacups in the side corridor, ringing incessantly.

Sun Xing's foot slid back half a foot, and the second shot followed immediately, its trajectory descending from the midline, aiming for the area below the knee. Sun Xing was forced to jump to avoid it, his rhythm immediately disrupted.

Qin Ju's spear technique had no unnecessary frills.

Heavy, fast.

Each thrust carried the full weight of a fourth-level perfected Qi and Blood technique; the frequency of the spear's tremors was visibly perceptible, a resonance generated by the power of the tendons and bones penetrating the weapon. The power of a mid-level perfected spear technique was displayed to its fullest extent at this moment.

Sun Xing held on until the sixteenth move.

His right arm was numb from the shock, a thin crack appeared at the base of his thumb, and blood trickled down the hilt of his sword. The rhythm of his swordsmanship became increasingly erratic, and his footwork began to falter.

On the nineteenth move, Qin Ju swept his spear across, and Sun Xing raised his knife to parry, but was swept back three steps.

Sun Xing stood on the edge of the stage, his chest heaving violently, sweat streaming down his forehead and temples.

He looked down at the blood on his hand, then looked up at Qin Ju's unmoving black iron spear.

"I admit defeat."

The two words were squeezed out through clenched teeth, hoarse and filled with resentment.

Applause from the audience was sparse. Most people dared not clap, not because they didn't admire Qin Ju, but because they were afraid of offending the Sky Patrol Division.

Qin Ju sheathed his spear, cupped his hands in a respectful gesture towards Sun Xing, and showed no particular expression on his face.

Ranking updated—Qin Ju, fifth.

When Sun Xing stepped down from the stage, his face was ashen. His ranking as deputy inspector had been lowered, and according to the rules, he lost his position as well. To get it back, he would have to go back on stage and fight again.

Sun Xing found a corner at the back of the line and sat down. He took out some medicine from his pocket and applied it to the back of his hand. He did this very slowly and no one paid any attention to him.

The other two deputy inspectors glanced at Sun Xing across the crowd, and when they looked at each other, they both understood the meaning in each other's eyes.

Today's assessment was much more dangerous than expected.

Just then, Zhao Gang stretched his shoulders and stepped out of the queue.

"Old man, it's my turn."

He went up on stage to choose a patrolman who was at the early stage of the third level of Qi and Blood cultivation. He was from the county branch, thirty-six or thirty-seven years old, and his martial arts skills were average.

Zhao Gang's playing style is just like him—he doesn't care about looking good, he only cares about being effective.

He started with close-quarters combat right from the start. If he couldn't slash with his knife, he'd use his elbows; if that didn't work, he'd use his knees. He acted like a thuggish shopkeeper, using whatever was convenient and never wasting a chance to annoy his opponent.

After about twenty moves, his opponent was forced to admit defeat when he held a horizontal blade to his neck.

Zhao Gang clapped his hands and jumped off the stage, his waist tag now showing as ninety-three.

He grinned, revealing a set of white teeth.

"That's enough, that's enough. Ninety-three, that's enough to brag about to the brothers for half a year when we get back."

Yi Yang didn't wait for him there.

When Zhao Gang walked over, Yi Yang was staring at the stage, his hands already pulled out of his sleeves.

Zhao Gang's smile froze for a moment.

"Old man, you don't actually want to go up there again, do you?"

Yi Yang's gaze shifted from the table to the wooden board displaying the waist tag number. Ranked twenty-fifth, Zheng Qiao, the candidate for the Chief Inspector of Yunlin County under the Heavenly Patrol Division, possessed the fourth level of Qi and Blood.

Zhao Gang followed his gaze, his pupils dilating.

"Are you crazy? That's a quadruple level!"

Yi Yang ignored him, took off the bronze pendant from his waist, and weighed it in his hand.

Zhao Gang's face turned red with anxiety, and he shouted in a low voice, "Old man, listen to me! You signed up for the triple challenge, but you're going to choose the quadruple challenge! What if something goes wrong—"

"Didn't you just say I'm no weaker than Son Heung-min?"

These words left Zhao Gang speechless. It was Sun Hao, that simpleton, who said it. What did it have to do with him?

Yi Yang didn't explain further and started walking towards the platform.

At the same time, on the south side of the training ground, in front of the Lei Yun Martial Arts School's line, Yi Zhanzhi also moved.

The seventeen-year-old boy unfastened the clasp on the scabbard, his fingertips tracing the rope wrapped around the hilt, and took his first step toward the platform.

Two people, one old and one young, one from the south and one from the north, walked towards the wooden platform at the same time, under the watchful eyes of hundreds of people in the training ground.

The buzzing from the crowd suddenly rose a notch.

Yi Yang stopped at the edge of the platform.

He turned his head, and across most of the training ground, his gaze pierced through the dense crowd of people, meeting that of the boy in the black uniform with gold trim.

Yi Zhanzhi also stopped in his tracks.

The two were about a hundred paces apart.

The old man's eyes were cloudy yet indifferent, while the boy's eyes were bright yet sharp.

No one spoke, and no one moved.

The martial artists fighting on the stage had not yet determined a winner when the wind blew from above the training ground, causing the corners of the flags to flutter loudly.