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

The lighting in the public housing was not bright.

A bronze lamp sat on the desk by the window, its flame dimmed by the draft, casting only a faint outline on Chen Wuyai's profile. He sat in the main seat, his back ramrod straight, his fingertips resting on the edge of the file, motionless.

When Yi Yang followed the guards in, this was the first thing he saw.

He was slightly hunched, and his steps were slower than usual, the soles of his boots making a soft scraping sound on the blue brick floor. When he reached the center of the hall, he stopped, bowed, and moved as slowly as a true old man.

"This humble servant, Yi Yang, greets the Deputy Director." His voice carried just the right amount of respect.

When the person he had specifically requested to see arrived, Chen Wuyai raised his eyes. His gaze fell on Yi Yang, light as a feather, yet like a ruler measuring him from head to toe.

After a few breaths, he slowly said, "Sit."

With a single, decisive word, a servant brought over a round stool and placed it beside Yi Yang. Yi Yang thanked him, sat down sideways, his back still slightly hunched, and his hands neatly placed on his knees.

Chen Wuyai didn't look at him again, and lowered his head to open a document in front of him.

The room fell silent. Only the occasional crackling of the candle wick and the faint sound of guards changing shifts could be heard outside the window.

Yi Yang lowered his eyes, his gaze falling on the coarse cloth on his knees. He could feel two gazes—one from the person in the main seat, and the other from the person to his side.

Both gazes were steady, without any sense of oppression, simply resting quietly on him, as if observing him. This silence lasted for about half a cup of tea's time.

Finally, Chen Wuyai closed the document and looked up.

"You handled Ye Yang's matter well."

His tone was very calm, as if he were talking about today's weather, but Yi Yang could tell that something was pressing down beneath that calmness.

It's not just praise, it's more like a confirmation, a confirmation that he is a capable person.

Yi Yang immediately stood up, bowed, and clasped his hands in a fist salute: "It is Steward Qin who is decisive and efficient; this humble servant merely..."

"Alright, I understand about this," Chen Wuyai interrupted him, waving his hand and saying, "Sit down and talk."

Yi Yang sat back down as instructed, but his posture was a little straighter than before. He knew that the other party was implying that the matter of the Sky Patrol Division could not be kept from him.

Chen Wuyai's gaze shifted to the window, looking at the fading sunset on the distant horizon. "In the seven years since Ye Yang took office at Qianyang Tower, it's rotten to the bone. You dug it out completely in less than ten days." He paused, then turned his gaze back to Yi Yang's face. "You've done well."

"I dare not accept such praise," Yi Yang said respectfully, bowing his head. "It is my duty."

"Hmm." Chen Wuyai responded, neither confirming nor denying Yi Yang's answer. He picked up the teacup beside him, took a sip, and put it down.

Then, he changed the subject.

"Feng Haiyuan, the Grand Deacon of the Nine Evil Sects, has been brought back. Did you see him on the way here?"

"Reporting to the director, I saw it from afar on the street," Yi Yang replied truthfully.

"After deliberation, we plan to imprison him in the South City Jail." Chen Wuyai tapped his fingers lightly twice on the table, making a soft tapping sound. "The top four in the quarterly exam—Qin Ju, Wang Qiongyu, Tang Ji, and Zhao Tong—all wanted to participate. After two days of debate, Master Jingyuan of Jinyang Temple finally made the decision—he will be imprisoned in the Sky Patrol Division, and each of the four will send their trusted confidants to participate in the interrogation."

He briefly explained the matter, without mentioning details, only pointing out the result.

As Yi Yang listened, he quickly calculated in his mind: four powerful factions and one prisoner. This situation was both extremely deep and murky.

Chen Wuyai put down his teacup, leaned forward slightly, and rested his elbow on the table.

"The South City Prison is in a crucial position, holding important criminals for trial, having access to confidential files within the department, and even..." He paused here, lowering his voice slightly, "...involving certain 'channels' that are inconvenient to disclose. The position of prison warden has always been held by a reliable person."

Yi Yang's heart skipped a beat.

A reliable person.

These four words, spoken by Chen Wuyai, carried considerable weight, especially now, in front of him.

Sure enough, Chen Wuyai continued, "The current jailer, Zhang Debiao, was transferred from another county three years ago. He has mediocre qualifications and cultivation." He paused for a moment, a very faint smile appearing on his lips. "But strangely enough, he has remained in his position very steadily over the years and has kept a very low profile. If it weren't for this matter, I wouldn't have noticed him."

"According to our investigation, it seems that a branch of the Zhang family from the inner city went to that outlying county where he lived to multiply and develop decades ago."

Having said that, there's no need to elaborate further.

Zhang Jia and Zhang Debiao.

Upon hearing the other person's words, Yi Yang instantly understood a lot and roughly realized what the other person wanted to tell him to do.

As expected, Song Tiecheng, who had been silent all along, spoke up. His voice was deeper and slower than Chen Wuyai's, like a ballast stone.

"Chief Steward Yi."

Yi Yang immediately turned to him and bowed slightly: "Deputy Director."

"Your performance at Qianyang Tower is evident to all." Song Tiecheng spoke with a steady gaze, looking directly into Yi Yang's eyes. "You acted swiftly and decisively, yet without losing your composure. You cleaned up old malpractices while stabilizing the new situation. We two have considered that the position of Warden of the South City is of great importance."

He paused, then spoke each word very clearly.

"We need someone who is loyal and reliable, highly capable, and..." He emphasized, "experienced and steady."

Experienced and steady.

These four words, falling into Yi Yang's ears, were like four pebbles thrown into the deep, still waters of his heart.

Chen Wuyai took over the conversation, his tone becoming calm again, yet carrying an undeniable weight as he said, "We appoint you, effective immediately, as the head of Qianyang Tower, a candidate for Inspector General, and concurrently the head of the South City."

He picked up a black iron token from the table. Its edges were polished to a shine, and the character "南" (South) was engraved in the middle.

"You are in charge of prison security, the care of serious offenders, and the recording of interrogations, among other things." Chen Wuyai handed over the token. "I hope you will perform your duties faithfully and live up to my expectations."

Yi Yang stood up, took two steps forward, and accepted the token with both hands.

The token felt slightly heavy in his hand, carrying the coolness characteristic of metal. As his fingers touched the patterns on the edge of the token, he couldn't help but rub it, and he bowed deeply.

"Your subordinate obeys!" His voice held a mixture of excitement and feigned fear, delivered with perfect timing, "I will certainly fulfill my duties diligently and live up to the expectations of the Director and Deputy Director!"

As he straightened up, a perfectly timed blush of flattery appeared on his face, and his eyes even became slightly moist—the most genuine reaction of an elderly person when entrusted with an important task.

Chen Wuyai looked at him without changing his expression, simply nodding and instructing, "Okay. Go and prepare. Tomorrow at dawn, go to the South City Prison for the handover."

After speaking, Chen Wuyai lowered his head, picked up the document again, and clearly did not intend to say anything more.

Song Tiecheng also picked up his teacup and took a sip.

This means to see the guest off.

Yi Yang bowed, took three steps back, turned around, and walked towards the door. His steps were still slow, and his shadow stretched long in the dim light.

Just as his hand touched the door, Chen Wuyai's voice came from behind him.

"Yiyang".

Yi Yang paused, but did not turn around. He simply turned half his body to the side and waited respectfully.

Chen Wuyai continued to look down at the documents, his voice low but clear.

"The South City Prison is a deep and murky place. The Zhang family has been operating there for three years and has many loyal followers. The other four trusted men sent by those who participated in the Jinyang Temple assessment also have mixed intentions."

He paused for a moment, then said, "You just need to do your job, keep an eye on the prisoners, and record what needs to be recorded. Everything else..."

"You'll have to see how you do it!"

"Understood, Your Excellency," Yi Yang said respectfully. "I will follow the Director's instructions."

Song Tiecheng then put down his teacup, his tone softening: "Age is not a problem, ability is fundamental. The director and we all have high hopes for your future. Do a good job."

This is both an encouragement and a line drawn.

Inside the line is your future; outside the line, what lies ahead is self-evident.

Yi Yang thanked him again before opening the door and going out.

The door closed behind him, shutting out the dim light inside the public housing and those two meaningful gazes.

He walked along the corridor of the Sky Patrol Office, his steps more steady than before, his back slightly straighter, but the change was so subtle that it was barely noticeable unless one looked closely. He gripped the black iron token tightly in his hand, the coolness of the metal seeping through his palm and down into his arm.

I bumped into a familiar colleague, who greeted me with a smile: "Manager Yi, just came from the Director's office?"

Yi Yang immediately put on his usual slightly tired and humble smile, cupped his hands in greeting, and said, "Yes, I just finished listening to the instructions. You're busy." His speech was slow and flat, revealing the weariness that only the elderly have, a lack of interest in anything.

My colleague smiled and nodded, then we passed each other.

Yi Yang continued walking forward.

The smile on his face faded the moment he turned the corner of the corridor and confirmed that no one was around. It didn't disappear, but rather settled, sinking into the deepest recesses of his eyes.

His brain was working at lightning speed.

Zhang Jia and Zhang Debiao had been running the business for three years and were former subordinates.

Many things in this county town are related to the three major families in the inner city. Although his own sphere of power has been expanded this time, he has also gotten into trouble.

Four trusted confidants of top experts: Qin Ju, Wang Qiongyu, Tang Ji, and Zhao Tong. Four people, four different mindsets, four different methods. Would the people they sent be easy to deal with? The interrogation of Feng Haiyuan involves the core secrets of the Nine Evil Sects in Yunlin County, and may even involve the whereabouts of Wang Gongqin. Which of these people wouldn't want to extract exclusive information from Feng Haiyuan and gain the upper hand?

And he, the newly appointed prison warden, was caught in the middle, like a piece of meat in a sandwich. Above him were the expectations and warnings of the director and deputy director; to his left and right were the covetous eyes of Zhang's old subordinates and various forces; and below him was Feng Haiyuan, a serious criminal with the sixth level of Qi and Blood, whose mind was full of cult secrets.

Burning hot? It's more than just burning hot; it's like a branding iron that's just been pulled out of the furnace.

If you do it right, you can build a bright future. If you do it wrong, you might just burn off a layer of skin, which is the least of your worries.

but……

Yi Yang's fingers rubbed the edge of the token.

Feng Haiyuan, the Grand Deacon of the Nine Evil Sect. Does he know where Wang Gongqin is? The black-patterned longsword that was stolen from the ancestral hall in the deserted village—Wang Gongqin hasn't come to retrieve it yet. Is he preparing a major move, or does he know something that makes him afraid to act rashly?

To contact Feng Haiyuan and interrogate him. This opportunity was more than I could have hoped for.

He needed to know Wang Gongqin's whereabouts. He couldn't sleep soundly until this threat was eliminated, not to mention that he didn't need to worry too much about those people above him after today.

Stepping out of the gates of the Sky Patrol Office, the evening breeze rushed towards me, carrying the smells of everyday life and the dust of the city. The hustle and bustle of Qianyang Street filled my ears again—shouting, the sound of wheels, and the sounds of bargaining.

Yi Yang took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. That breath dissipated without a trace in the evening breeze.

By the time we got back to the fourth floor of Qianyang Tower, it was already getting dark.

He didn't light a lamp, but went straight to the window of the main hall and opened it. A few lanterns lit up the street below, their warm yellow glow shimmering on the cobblestones. In the distance, the silhouettes of taller buildings could be faintly seen from the direction of the inner city.

He stood there for a while before turning around, walking to the door, and knocking twice.

"Come in."

Huang Yushu slipped in and closed the door behind him. His face held his usual wariness, but deep in his eyes was an undisguised curiosity.

"Sir, I heard you went to the Chief Inspector's office earlier. What was the matter?"

Yi Yang did not answer immediately. He walked behind the rosewood table, sat down, and placed the black iron token on the table. The token tapped against the wood, making a soft "tap" sound.

Huang Yushu's gaze was immediately drawn to it. He recognized the design of the token.

"South City Prison." Yi Yang spoke, his voice as calm as a bowl of cooled water, uttering a startling statement with a placid tone: "Starting tomorrow, I will also serve as the prison warden there."

Huang Yushu's pupils contracted sharply, the shock lasting only a moment. Then, a burning light erupted from those eyes that always held a hint of obsession. He leaned forward, lowered his voice, and spoke faster.

"My lord! This is a golden opportunity! Feng Haiyuan! He's a core deacon of the Nine Evils! What's in his head is more valuable than gold! The Nine Evils' network in Yunlin County, even where they got their evil techniques... all we need to do is pry him open his mouth!"

"Quiet!"

The name "Yi Yang" wasn't a heavy blow, but it was like a bucket of cold water, instantly extinguishing the flames in Huang Yushu's eyes.

Huang Yushu was taken aback, then realized that things had been going too smoothly for him lately while working with Yi Yang, which had made him lose his composure. He lowered his head and said, "Your subordinate... misspoke."

Yi Yang looked at him with a calm gaze, which contained no blame, but something much heavier.

"Misfortune and fortune are intertwined," Yi Yang said slowly, each word spoken deliberately. "The South City Prison is a pit of fire, but also a springboard. The Zhang family's old subordinates, whom they've cultivated for three years, the four trusted confidants sent by potential disciples of Jinyang Temple to serve as jurors, and the Nine Evil Cults..."

He raised his hand, pointed to his mouth, and reminded Huang Yushu, "Be careful and discreet here. Walls have ears, so don't say anything carelessly. Do you understand?"

Huang Yu nodded emphatically: "Understood!"

"Tomorrow at Chenshi (7-9 AM), I will go to the prison to hand over my duties. Since there is no order for transfer, I cannot arrange for you to go there. Besides, Qianyang Tower cannot be without someone in charge." Yi Yang withdrew his hand and leaned back in his chair. "While I am away, you will keep an eye on Qianyang Tower for me and gain some experience."

"yes!"

"Go."

Huang Yushu clasped his hands in a fist salute, turned around, and quickly and lightly exited the room.

After the door closed, the main hall fell completely silent. The noise outside the window and downstairs seemed very distant at this moment, like the sounds of another world.

Yi Yang sat alone in the darkness, motionless.

A long time passed, so long that several lanterns outside the window went out.

He slowly sat up straight and sat cross-legged on the prayer mat beside him. He did not light a lamp, letting the darkness envelop him.

He closed his eyes.

The panel unfolded in my consciousness, its faint blue light standing out starkly in the darkness.

[Sixth Level of Yi Wood Health Preservation Exercise: (99875/100000)]

After these days of diligent training and elixirs, I'm still 125 points short.

The sixfold cleansing and blood-renewing of Qi and Blood has reached its peak.

The physical body is honed to its limits; the muscles, bones, skin, and internal organs are all permeated with the unique, inexhaustible energy of the Yi Mu Health Preservation Exercise. It lies dormant in every corner of the body, waiting for transformation.

Waiting for the moment when the limits are broken and the Qi Sea is opened.

Yi Yang adjusted his breathing and focused his consciousness into his body.

Qi and blood began to circulate slowly throughout the body, following the specific trajectory of the cultivation method. It was no longer a simple cycle, but a more refined and profound tempering. Every inch of muscle and every bone trembled slightly under the influence of this qi and blood.

They resonate.

It is calling.

Calling for that final transformation.

The Qi and blood circulate and gradually converge. No longer dispersed throughout the body, they flow in the same direction, like hundreds of rivers flowing into the sea.

Dantian.

Deep in the lower abdomen, that area that has been regarded as the foundation of martial arts practitioners since ancient times.

Yi Yang could "feel" it. Not by sight, not by touch, but by a mysterious and profound perception originating from the very source of life. It was a chaotic void, a void, yet it contained infinite possibilities.

The gathered blood and qi swirled, collided, and squeezed there.

A faint, aching sensation spread from deep within my abdomen. It wasn't pain; it was as if something was being stretched and reshaped.

The soreness and swelling became increasingly pronounced.

It's getting stronger and stronger.

It was as if an invisible barrier was bearing down on the continuous impact from within.

Fine beads of sweat appeared on Yi Yang's forehead. Not from heat, but from the natural bodily reaction of a leap in life's level. The sweat slid down the wrinkles on his forehead, dripping onto his clothes and spreading into a small, dark patch.

Within the body, the clash of qi and blood reached its peak.

That invisible barrier was squeezed to its limit.

Then--

click!

A faint yet crystal-clear cracking sound exploded deep within my consciousness.

It's not a sound heard by the ears, but a sound of some kind of shackle breaking that the soul directly perceives.

Deep within the abdomen, that chaotic void suddenly collapsed inward and then expanded outward!

A "space" was forcibly created.

It is formless and intangible, yet it truly exists. It is empty there, yet it seems to contain the entire universe.

The dantian and qi sea are initially formed!

At the same time, the massive amount of qi and blood that has gathered is no longer content with merely filling this newly formed "space". They begin to boil, begin to evaporate, and undergo a fundamental change.

The turbid, scorching, and primal energy of the Kunling Qi was repeatedly tempered, compressed, and purified by the newly formed Qi Sea. A faint yet incredibly pure cool aura quietly emerged where the turbid energy dissipated.

Internal Qi, Pure Qi!

The aura was pitifully weak, like a candle flickering in the wind, ready to be extinguished at any moment. Yet it was also terrifyingly resilient, firmly rooted deep within the dantian no matter how much blood and qi churned around it, and... slowly and steadily growing stronger.

The first stage of internal energy cultivation, the initial transformation of the Qi Sea, is complete!

Yi Yang suddenly opened his eyes.

The darkness remained. The noise outside the window continued.

But he could clearly feel that he had changed.

Suddenly, my five senses became incredibly sharp. The sound of a vendor knocking over a bamboo stool as he packed up his stall on the street downstairs, the hissing of stray cats fighting for food in the alley in the distance, and even further away... in the direction of the Sky Patrol Division's training ground, the subtle creaking of armor rubbing together as a guard changed shifts, all entered my ears with crystal clarity.

The path of air movement became traceable. The evening breeze, passing through the cracks in the window, stirred up a faint airflow that brushed against his skin, and he could "see" the almost invisible dust particles stirred up by that airflow.

He slowly raised his hand and opened his palm.

A thought subtly stirred within me.

A faint, almost imperceptible wisp of "aura" emanated from the Laogong acupoint in the palm. It had no color or shape, but it caused a very slight distortion in the air above the palm.

Like ripples spreading across the surface of water, except these ripples are in the air.

Internal energy leaves the body.

He tentatively guided that barely perceptible wisp of internal energy towards the long-extinguished bronze lamp on the desk.

The internal energy touched the cold copper wall.

There was no sound. There was no vibration.

But the bronze lamp slid back an inch very slightly, the lamp base rubbing against the rosewood tabletop, making a soft "hissing" sound.

Inner Qi Realm.

It became.

Yi Yang withdrew his hand, and the wisp of internal energy also shrank back into his dantian. Within his dantian, the newly generated pure energy appeared even more solid.

He stood up and walked to the window.

A night breeze blew, carrying the chill of early autumn. He stood straight, his back no longer hunched, his shoulders relaxed, his whole being like a sword finally drawn from its sheath, its sharpness concealed, yet different from before.

Tomorrow, to the South City Prison.

Zhang's old subordinates, his confidants from all sides, the notorious criminal Feng Haiyuan, and Wang Gongqin, who was lurking in the shadows, watching with predatory eyes.

In the darkness, the corners of Yi Yang's mouth slowly curved upwards into a tiny arc.

He turned around, walked back to the prayer mat, sat down again, closed his eyes, and his inner energy slowly circulated in his newly formed dantian, nourishing his body and warming himself.