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

The next day, the main street of Yunlin County was packed with people.

Everyone craned their necks to look into the middle of the street, whispering amongst themselves.

"Is that the Grand Deacon of the Nine Evil Sects?"

"My goodness, sixth level of Qi and Blood! How many people would that take?"

"Look at that prison cart, it's made of black iron, like a tin can."

"The Sky Patrol Bureau has really gone all out this time, sending eight experts at the peak of the fourth level of Qi and Blood to escort them. Is this the Grand Steward of the Nine Evil Sect?"

Yi Yang stood at the edge of the crowd, not squeezing in. His gaze passed through the layers of people and landed on the prison van slowly moving in the middle of the street.

The prison cart was escorted by eight elite Sky Patrol officers clad in black armor. The eight men moved in perfect unison, their boots clattering rhythmically on the flagstones. Their hands rested on the hilts of their swords, their sharp eyes scanning their surroundings.

The carriage was constructed of thick, dark iron plates, with only a small window in the roof, sealed off by iron bars. The curtains were drawn, plunging the carriage into complete darkness, obscuring everything. Yet, even from this distance, Yi Yang's senses still detected an unusual aura.

It was a strong, suppressed surge of blood energy, like a wounded beast locked in an iron cage, barely clinging to life, yet still retaining its inherent ferocity.

"Six levels of Qi and Blood..." Yi Yang murmured to himself.

This fluctuation was more than one level stronger than the perfect fourth level of Qi and Blood that Qin Juji showed during the quarterly exam. Although it was obvious that the other party's aura was weak and listless, as if it was being suppressed by some means, the solid and profound foundation was undeniable.

Feng Haiyuan.

One of the Nine Evil Cult's chief stewards in Yunlin County, he had previously escaped the Sky Patrol Division's encirclement and suppression and was not killed, but now he has been captured again. He has gotten to this position by the blood on his hands. The things in his brain are more valuable than his life.

Yi Yang gently stroked his chin with his fingers.

Wang Gongqin.

That name that never gave him peace of mind—another high-ranking deacon of the Nine Evil Sect, a fifth-level Qi cultivator who practiced extremely strange and evil arts, skilled in concealing his whereabouts. As long as this person remained, it was like a sword hanging over his head, ready to fall at any moment.

Feng Haiyuan has been arrested. As a colleague, will Wang Gongqin attempt a prison break? Or, does Feng Haiyuan have any clues about Wang Gongqin's whereabouts?

Yi Yang's mind raced.

Just then.

The crowd stirred.

Several people dressed in the uniforms of ordinary patrol guards from the Sky Patrol Bureau pushed their way through the crowd, whips in hand, shouting for people to make way. A path was cleared through the crowd.

A man dressed in a dark blue brocade outfit walked over from the other end of the passage.

The man was in his early thirties, tall and ramrod straight. He walked slowly, but each step was steady, as if following a fixed rhythm. A black iron token hung at his waist, engraved with an auspicious cloud, within which was a miniature character for "dear".

The personal guard of the deputy director of the Sky Patrol Division.

The man's gaze swept across the crowd. His eyes were sharp, like a knife, cutting through the faces that were filled with curiosity or excitement.

Finally, his gaze settled on Yi Yang.

The man stopped seven or eight steps away. He didn't shout, but turned his head slightly towards Yi Yang and whispered something in a volume just loud enough for Yi Yang to hear.

"Chief Steward Yi."

Yi Yang was taken aback. He looked around to make sure the other person was indeed calling him.

The man took two steps forward and stopped in front of Yi Yang. He bowed slightly, his posture respectful, but his tone carried an unquestionable air.

"Deputy Director Chen requests your presence."

Countless thoughts flashed through Yi Yang's mind in an instant.

The matter concerning Ye Yang of Qianyang Tower was handled very cleanly, and the credit was given to Qin Ju. It shouldn't be this matter.

He ranked thirteenth in the quarterly exams, which was a good result in concealing his shortcomings and avoiding any major trouble.

Could it be... related to Feng Haiyuan, who was just brought back?

His expression instantly shifted to a perfectly measured look of confusion, tinged with a hint of flattery—the kind of bewilderment typical of the elderly.

"Sir, you mean... Deputy Director Chen is looking for me?" Yi Yang's voice trembled slightly, as if he couldn't believe it.

"Yes." The guard nodded. "Please, Steward Yi, come with me."

"Okay, coming right now." Yi Yang followed behind the guards, passing through the passage where the crowd parted.

After walking a few steps, he looked back at the prison van that was gradually disappearing into the distance. The black iron carriage gleamed with a cold, hard luster in the sunlight.

Feng Haiyuan was escorted into the South City Prison.

And I was invited to the director's office. Is there any connection between these two things?

Yi Yang's heart sank as he pondered what the deputy director wanted to see him about. He maintained his outward fluster and flattery flawlessly.

Is it a blessing?

Is it a disaster?

Or perhaps, it's an opportunity?

He took a deep breath, suppressed the turbulent thoughts in his heart, and followed the guard's footsteps.

Following the guard, Yi Yang passed through checkpoint after checkpoint.

The heart of the Sky Patrol Division was even more heavily guarded than he had imagined. At every corner stood elite captains with imposing presence, their eyes, like those of eagles, sweeping over every passerby.

Yi Yang suppressed his surging blood and qi with all his might.

He deliberately slowed his pace by half a step, letting his breathing take on the characteristic panting of an elderly person. His back was also more hunched than usual. He was like an old sword sheathed, its edge gone, leaving only the marks of time.

He precisely controlled his aura at the peak of the fourth level of Qi and Blood, just one step away from the fifth level, yet it exuded a sense of decline and exhaustion.

This state perfectly fits the image of an old man who likes to hide his strength.

Safety.

This is the first principle that Yi Yang has ingrained in his bones.

Finally, the guard stopped in front of a heavy ironwood door.

"Manager Yi, we've arrived. The deputy director is inside."

"Thank you for your trouble," Yi Yang replied repeatedly, bowing to the guard.

The guard pushed open the door expressionlessly and stepped aside.

Yi Yang stepped inside.

The public housing was spacious, but not luxurious. A huge map of Yunlin County hung on the wall, covered with dense markings in vermilion ink. On the other wall, several gleaming standard longswords lay across a weapons rack.

The air was filled with a faint scent of ink and leather.