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

The lights in Jiang Yuexin's room were already off late at night.

Yi Yang sat at the kitchen door, wrapped the piece of purple wood he had shaved off in three layers of old cloth, and stuffed it into his bosom.

Yi Yang changed into an old gray coat and smeared some soot from the bottom of a pot on his face.

His hair was wrapped in a tattered cloth, revealing only half of his dry, wrinkled old face.

Judging from his back, he still looks like an old man from the countryside.

From the front, he just looks like an even poorer old man from the countryside.

Before leaving, he stood outside Jiang Yuexin's house and listened for a while.

The little girl slept soundly, her breathing rising and falling gently.

Yi Yang tightened the door bolt again, swept away the footprints along the courtyard wall, and then, carrying his small bag, left the courtyard through the back door.

In the southeast of Yunwen Town, there is an old village that has been abandoned for many years.

Outsiders say the place is haunted, with blue flames floating in the chaotic graveyard at night, scaring the timid halfway there.

But the hunters in Miki Village said in private that the place wasn't a den of ghosts, but a black market.

If the animals hunted in the mountains are taken through legitimate means, the government will levy taxes, and the brokers in town will drive down the price. In the end, the hunters will receive less money than a rabbit's tail.

Therefore, some people would rather take a detour to the black market in the middle of the night.

Yi Yang had heard these rumors in his early years, but at the time he just ignored them.

Who would have thought that a sixty-year-old would have to work as a peddler in the middle of the night?

He wasn't walking fast.

The night breeze slipped into my collar, carrying the smell of damp mud from the paddy fields.

Occasionally, the barking of wild dogs could be heard in the distance, but it was quickly swallowed up by the sounds of insects.

About half an hour later, the outline of the abandoned village emerged from the darkness.

A broken wall, a crooked door, and a mud house that had collapsed halfway.

Two dim yellow lanterns hung at the entrance of the village, covered with black cloth, revealing only a narrow halo of light.

Two men were squatting by the door.

One of them was holding a short stick, while the other had a bulging waistband that looked like it concealed a knife.

"Going into the market, half a small amount of money."

The man with the short stick raised his chin.

Yi Yang took out a small coin from his sleeve and put it into the wooden bowl.

The man looked down, nodded, and said:

"You know the rules. Go inside, don't ask questions, don't look around. Whether the deal goes through or not depends on your own abilities. Once you leave the village, your life or death is no longer our concern."

Yi Yang nodded and entered the village.

The black market was more bustling than he had imagined.

An oil lamp was lit in the dilapidated house, and a stall was set up in the corner.

Someone was selling old porcelain vases, claiming they were used by nobles of a previous dynasty, but the clay at the bottom of the vases hadn't even dried yet—it was a blatant lie.

Someone was selling medicinal herbs: dried ginseng rootlets, deer antler slices, and snake gallbladders soaked in wine. The stall owner talked so enthusiastically that he practically turned a single herb into a magical herb.

Some people also sell crossbows.

The crossbow was half-covered with a black cloth, only revealing the gleaming crossbow arm.

There were also several packets of blood-activating powder on the side, with red marks pressed onto the paper packets.

Most of the people coming and going were masked; some wore straw hats, and some wore raincoats.

A poor man wants to find a bargain, a hunter wants to sell his goods, and an idle loafer wants to catch a fat sheep.

Yi Yang looked around, but didn't stay for long.

His goal today is very clear.

Sell ​​purple wood to exchange for blood-activating powder.

No matter how tempting other things are, I won't touch them.

The old man was not destined to find a bargain.

He found a spot against the wall, spread out the old cloth, and placed the small piece of purple wood on it.

The purple wood wasn't large, about the length of a palm and the thickness of two fingers.

The deep purple veins of the broken surface gleamed darkly under the light, and the woody scent was faint, only detectable up close, with a bitter taste mixed with a medicinal aroma.

There was no shouting in Yiyang.

They didn't greet us proactively.

He sat against the wall, his hands tucked into his sleeves, his eyelids half-closed, as if he were there to bask in the moonlight.

An old man selling snake wine nearby glanced at it and couldn't help but strike up a conversation.

"Hey bro, selling timber?"

Yi Yang nodded.

"What wood? It looks pretty eerie."

"Yamaki."

"How much?"

"Don't ask if you're not buying."

The old man who made snake wine was rebuffed. He muttered a few words, then turned around and continued to boast that his snake wine could enhance male virility.

Yi Yang ignored him.

In places like this, the more anxious you are, the less respectable you become.

If you rush to praise something, others will know you're short of money, and they'll be able to cut you to the bone by nitpicking over the price.

About half an incense stick later, a tall, thin, masked man stopped in front of the stall.

The man had wide sleeves, long, slender fingers, and neatly manicured nails, which didn't quite fit the image of a rough man in the black market.

He bent down to look at the purple wood, then looked at the two pieces of ginseng rootlets beside it.

"Sir, how much are these ginseng roots?"

Yi Yang didn't look up.

"Not for sale."

The tall, thin man chuckled twice.

"You're displaying it but not selling it? Old man, you have quite the personality in business, you're all about 'whatever happens, happens' right?"

Before he could finish speaking, he reached for the purple wood.

Snapped.

Yi Yang reached out from his sleeve and patted the back of the man's hand.

The movements are not flashy, but they are very fast.

The tall, thin man's hand immediately turned red.

His eyelids twitched, and he took a half step back.

"Old man, you've got quite a temper."

Yi Yang looked up at him and said indifferently, "Don't touch it if you're not going to buy it. Didn't your mother teach you that?"

Several stall owners nearby chuckled softly upon hearing this.

The tall, thin man's gaze darkened.

But he didn't react.

That move just now was something no untrained person could do; this old man must be at least a martial artist at the first level of Qi and Blood.

No one who's active in the black market is truly stupid.

"Fine, you've got a temper."

The tall, thin man shook his hand and turned to leave.

Yi Yang gathered his sleeves again and waited quietly.

Several more groups of people arrived later, some asking about the price, others trying to find out where they came from.

Some tried to trade inferior medicinal herbs, making grandiose claims about family secret recipes or martial arts school supplies. Yi Yang almost wanted to roll up their stalls and smear them in their faces.

He always said the same thing.

"Fifty taels."

Most people who ask the question just say "You're crazy" and walk away.

Fifty taels is not a small amount.

In Sanmu Village, there is enough coarse grain to feed a family for two years.

Even on the black market, money isn't something you can just casually pull out.

Yi Yang sat for a long time.

The flame in the oil lamp dimmed, and he figured if no one else made an offer, he'd close up shop for the night.

Just as he reached out to wrap the cloth, a burly man squatted down in front of the stall.

The man wore a straw hat, half of his face was hidden in the shadows, he had broad shoulders, thick palms, and calluses from years of holding a knife between his fingers.

He didn't rush to touch it, but just looked down at it for a while.

"Zimu?"

Yi Yang looked at him, somewhat surprised, and said, "You recognize him?"

The burly man took out a small piece of copper knife, lightly scraped some wood shavings off the edge of the purple wood, and smelled them.

A moment later, he put the bronze knife away.

"The goods are genuine."

Yi Yang didn't say anything.

The burly man looked up and asked casually:

"Where did it come from?"

"I found it on the mountain."

"This is it?"

"This one."

The burly man stared at him, and Yi Yang also looked at the burly man.

There was a piece of purple wood between the two, and the atmosphere was somewhat tense.

The old man selling snake wine next to us stopped shouting and secretly glanced over here.

Finally, the burly man couldn't hold on any longer and spoke up:

"Fifty taels is too expensive."

Yi Yang reached out to wrap the cloth.

"Then forget it."

"Ten taels."

Yi Yang's hands never stopped.

The burly man frowned and said in a displeased tone, "Old man, there's no point in doing business here if you keep asking for exorbitant prices. Ten taels isn't a small amount; you can use that to buy your future coffin back in the village."

Yi Yang wrapped the purple wood halfway up and looked up.

"That's bad luck, you'll have to pay more."

The burly man was stunned for a moment, then laughed.

"You old man are interesting. Fifteen taels."

Yi Yang continued to wrap the package.

Thirty-five.

"twenty."

Thirty-two.

"Twenty-two."

"thirty."

The burly man pressed the tip of his tongue against his cheek.

"Twenty-five. Any more and I'll turn around and leave."

Yi Yang tied the old cloth in a knot.

"Go away."

The burly man stared at the cloth bag and tapped his fingers on his knee a few times.

"Twenty-eight."

Yi Yang finally agreed with some satisfaction, saying, "Cash."

The burly man took out silver ingots and pieces of silver from his pocket and placed them on the cloth.

Yi Yang didn't rush to collect them. He weighed each piece in his fingers and then bit off two pieces of silver with his teeth.

The burly man frowned as he watched.

"Old man, are you taking me for a swindler?"

Yi Yang put the silver into his pocket.

"In the black market, if you don't treat people like swindlers, are you expecting them to be your own father?"

Yi Yang pushed the purple wood over.

The burly man received the goods and quickly blended into the crowd.

Yi Yang did not stay long.

He went to the herbal medicine stall, where blood and qi were scattered on a wooden tray, each item wrapped in paper with rough red marks on it.

The stall owner was a short, plump woman with small eyes, who was making rapid, clicking sounds with her abacus.

"Blood Qi Powder, three taels per serving, no bargaining."

Yi Yang asked, "The finished product?"

The woman rolled her eyes. "Nonsense. Take it back, make hot water, and drink it before practicing. Don't drink too much, or you'll get a nosebleed and come crying to me."

Yi Yang counted out twenty-four taels.

"Eight portions."

Only then did the woman glance at him again.

"Who is the old man buying this for? Is it for a younger member of the family who practices martial arts?"

"Um."

"Use it sparingly. For poor people practicing martial arts, Blood Qi Dispersant can only be an aid. If you really want to improve your skills, you need lean meat and medicinal food. Don't force yourself to practice if you don't have money. If you ruin your skills, no one will collect your corpse."

It's harsh to say, but it's true.

Yi Yang carefully put away the eight packets of Xueqi San (a traditional Chinese medicine).

"Thanks for reminding me."

"Thank me for nothing, it's just a business transaction."

Yi Yang turned and left.

He had only taken a few steps when he caught a glimpse of a scarred man standing by the broken wall.

The man leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, his eyes following him the whole time.

The scar runs diagonally from the left eyebrow to the jawline, the skin and flesh turned out ugly, as if it had been gnawed by a wild animal.

Yi Yang paused in front of the crossbow stall, then circled around to the dilapidated house selling old porcelain.

The scarred man also changed positions.

Not too close, not too far, very sticky.

Yi Yang tapped his fingers lightly in his sleeve.

Trouble is brewing.

The money from selling the purple wood was only a little over four taels, and there were also eight portions of Blood Qi Powder.

The other party may not be eyeing the money.

Perhaps it's purple wood.

Yiyang has entered the black market.

The two gatekeepers at the village entrance only glanced at it and no one paid any attention.

The rules were already stated: once you leave the village, you're on your own.

The night road grew even darker, and as Yi Yang walked past the abandoned fields, his pace quickened.

The pace quickened behind them.

He turned onto a country road, where the weeds on both sides were waist-high and the road surface was full of potholes, making it easy to twist your ankle at night.

The scarred man who had been following them stopped pretending.

"Old man, why are you walking so fast?"

Yi Yang didn't turn around, and the scarred man scoffed at the sight.

"Don't be afraid, I'll just ask you a few questions. Do you still have any purple wood? If so, let's do a big deal."

Yiyang continued forward.

The scarred man cursed and gave chase.

They chased him to a patch of grass, but the figure suddenly disappeared.

The scarred man paused.

"Old man?"

The blades of grass swayed.

The next moment, white ash rose from the side and covered his face.

"what!"

The scarred man covered his eyes and backed away, his voice cracking.

Yi Yang sprang out of the bushes, grabbed his neck tightly with his arms, pressed his knees against his lower back, and twisted his arms behind his back.

The scarred man grabbed wildly with both hands.

He did not become a martial artist.

They were only slightly stronger than the average hunter.

His eyes were blinded by lime, and he couldn't even tell which way was which. He struggled with all his might.

Yi Yang tightened his arms.

The Qi and blood cultivated through the Yi Mu Health Preservation Exercise circulated beneath the skin and flesh, making the elderly body remarkably stable.

The scarred man made intermittent, strange noises coming from his throat.

"Rao... has something to say..."

Yi Yang stayed close behind him, speaking in a very low voice.

"In your next life, don't try to outsmart an old man at night."

The withered arms were brought to the bottom.

The scarred man twitched a few times and then fell silent.

Yi Yang waited for another dozen breaths before letting go.

Being prudent is not the same as being timid.

Finishing off an opponent is a virtue of a decent person.

He touched the corpse.

Three taels of silver, a short dagger, a few coins, and a folded piece of paper.

Yi Yang didn't open it to look.

He stuffed the items into his clothes, dragged the body deep into the grass, covered it with withered grass, and trampled over the nearby tracks.

This place isn't far from the black market. Even if the wild dogs find out about it tomorrow morning, no one will trace it back to an old woodcutter from Sanmu Village.

Yi Yang did not return by the same route. On the way, he guessed that the other party probably suspected that he still had purple wood, after all, how could there be so little left of a tree?

He bypassed the abandoned fields, crossed a low-lying ditch, and washed his hands and the soles of his straw sandals by the stream.

By the time the outline of Miki Village appeared in the night, the sky was already turning gray.

Yi Yang climbed over into the backyard and bolted the door shut.

The room was quiet.

Jiang Yuexin is still asleep.

Yi Yang returned to his room, took out eight portions of Blood Qi Powder, and only had a little over four taels left after exchanging twenty-eight taels of purple wood coins. Adding the three taels he had taken from the scarred man, he wasn't actually at a loss.

Finally, he took out the folded piece of paper.