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

Just past dawn, a thin mist still shrouded the south of the city. Yi Yang changed into the official robes of a candidate patrol chief, with the South City Prison token hanging from his waist, and walked alone towards the south of the city.

The southern part of Yunlin County has never been a bustling place.

The street grew narrower and narrower, with fewer and fewer shops on both sides. The breakfast stalls disappeared after the third alley, leaving only a few dilapidated houses with yellowed door gods pasted on the doors, their corners rustling in the wind.

Further on, even the barking of dogs became less frequent, and the South City Prison stood at the end of a low-lying area.

The walls, built of black stone, were two zhang high. The walls were covered with dark marks from the rain. From a distance, the entire prison looked like an old beast lying on the ground, its eyes closed, yet ready to open its mouth and devour people at any moment.

There were guards patrolling on the wall, but they walked rather lazily.

One of the guards even leaned against the wall and yawned. He only straightened up slowly when he saw Yi Yang approaching.

There was no one to greet them, and no handover team.

There was no Zhang Debiao, the prison warden who was about to step down.

There wasn't even a lowly clerk to relay the message.

Yi Yang stopped in front of the gate and looked up at the peeling plaque above the door.

South City Prison.

The four characters, weathered and worn by wind and rain, actually fit the rules of this place quite well.

At this moment, one of the two guards at the door raised his eyelids and looked Yi Yang up and down when he was five steps away. His gaze lingered on Yi Yang's official robes for two seconds before sliding down to his face, and there was no respect in his eyes.

One of them, about twenty-seven or twenty-eight years old, with a long, thin face and his hand on the hilt of his sword, seemingly unaware that he was a candidate for the position of chief steward in Yiyang, said in a nonchalant tone, "What are you here for?"

Yi Yang took off the token, handed it over, and said, "By order of the General's Office, I am taking over as the head jailer of the South City today."

The guard took the token, examined it several times, frowned, and said uncertainly, "The South City jailer?"

Another, slightly overweight guard next to him scratched his neck, his eyes filled with confusion.

"I haven't heard of it."

Finally, the thin-faced guard gripped the token in his hand and said, "I can't tell if this token is real or fake. You wait outside, I'll go in and report."

After saying that, he turned to leave.

Seeing the other party's attitude, Yi Yang neither cursed nor got impatient; he simply narrowed his eyes.

The village thugs are more adept at this trick than they are.

First, play dumb, then stall for time, and finally leave the new official out in the sun.

Zhang Debiao isn't very capable, but he's adept at being disgusting.

"Halt." Yi Yang said calmly to the guards who were about to leave.

The thin-faced guard didn't stop walking despite these words; he swayed back slightly, pretending not to hear.

Seeing this, Yi Yang remained standing in the same spot.

The next moment, the wisp of internal energy in his body gently swirled in his dantian, not releasing any killing intent, but merely suppressing a bit of the power that should be present at the peak of the fourth level of Qi and Blood.

The air in front of the door seemed to have been pressed down by an invisible hand.

The thin-faced guard's steps faltered, the hairs on his back stood on end. He wanted to go further, but his legs were weak, the soles of his boots stuck to the bluestone slab, and he couldn't lift them.

The fat guard was more direct; his spear clanged against the door studs, causing him to shrink back and make a gurgling sound in his throat.

Seeing that the two were intimidated, Yi Yang walked over and took the token back from the thin-faced guard.

"Don't take public property without permission."

The thin-faced guard's lips trembled: "Sir... I was just..."

"Just doing his duty?"

Yi Yang finished speaking for him and patted him on the shoulder.

The movement was very gentle.

The thin-faced guard felt as if a millstone was pressing on his shoulder, and his knees almost buckled.

Yi Yang withdrew his hand, walked past the two people, and headed towards the gate. When he reached the threshold, he stopped again, turned his head, and said, "Next time you play dumb, remember to act more convincingly."

Neither of the two guards dared to speak.

The heavy door was pushed open, and a gust of wind carrying a mixture of musty, bloody, and alcoholic smells rushed out.

Yi Yang stepped inside, and found the southern city prison even more chaotic than he had imagined.

The weapons rack was cluttered with swords and spears, a few pieces of leather armor lay discarded beside the stone steps, and in the corner lay an unwashed rice bowl with half a piece of fatty meat left inside, flies buzzing around it.

As you walk further in, a commotion arises.

"666! Open!"

"Old Liu, you absolutely have to drink this time!"

"Drink! What's there to be afraid of!"

Yi Yang passed through an archway, and a large courtyard with guardhouses suddenly opened up before him.

A dozen or so guards were gathered around a table, on which were placed wine jars, roast chicken, dice cups, and several strings of copper coins.

A man who looked like the leader of a squad was standing on a stool, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, shouting with his face flushed red.

"Whoever loses crawls under the table! I'm going to drink you all under the table today, or I'll change my surname to yours!"

As soon as he finished speaking, everyone burst into laughter again.

Yi Yang stood at the door and watched them for a long time.

No one cares about him.

Another jailer, annoyed by his presence, waved his hand without turning his head.

"Old man, take the food to the kitchen, don't barge in."

Yi Yang straightened his sleeves and said, "South City Prison is changing hands today. Who is the duty officer?"

The lively atmosphere in the courtyard had subsided by half.

The man standing on the stool turned his head and looked over; his eyes were red from the smell of alcohol.

Who are you?

"Yiyang".

Yi Yang placed the token on the table.

"The newly appointed jailer of the South City."

The people at the table didn't react at first.

Two breaths later, the dice cup rolled off the table and landed with two thuds at Yi Yang's feet.

Someone sobered up.

Someone stood up too quickly and knocked over a stool with their knee.

The drunkenness on the man's face vanished almost instantly. He hurriedly got off the stool and frantically tried to straighten his clothes.

"M-Sir? You've come today?"

"The handover will take place at 5:00 AM (卯时), as clearly stated in the transfer order."

Yi Yang looked at him. "What, didn't Warden Zhang tell you?"

The group looked at each other.

No one dared to answer.

The answer is written all over their faces.

Zhang Debiao didn't say it, but he wanted the new prison warden to see a complete mess in the yard on his first day.

If Yi Yang loses his temper, his subordinates will inevitably harbor resentment; if Yi Yang tolerates it, his authority will crumble on the spot.

The dirty tricks of an old hand aren't sophisticated, but they're disgusting enough.

Yi Yang did not punish the prison guards on the spot; at this time, it was pointless to catch small fry.

The fishpond owner is still sitting inside.

Yi Yang calmly asked the prison guards, "Where is Zhang Debiao?"

The team leader swallowed hard and pointed to the backyard.

"In...in the jail cell."

Yi Yang nodded and said, "Put away the wine, and put the weapons and armor back in their places. I want to see everyone standing at attention in half an incense stick's time."

"yes!"

The courtyard was in complete chaos.

Yi Yang didn't look any further and walked along the bluestone path to the backyard.

The door to the duty room was tightly closed.

Yi Yang walked to the door and knocked.

There was no movement inside.

He knocked twice more, this time with slightly more force.

The sound of a chair being moved came from inside the door, drawn out and slow. Then came footsteps, walking unhurriedly to the back of the door.

The latch was pulled open, revealing a face.

He was in his early forties, with a thin, long face, high cheekbones, deep-set eyes, and a sparse goatee on his chin. He was dressed in a black silk outfit. He leaned against the door frame, looking Yi Yang up and down with a sinister gaze, as if he were weighing a piece of meat on a chopping board.

"Who is it?"

"Yi Yang." Yi Yang handed over the transfer order. "By order of the Director and Deputy Director of the Sky Patrol Bureau, you are to take over the position of Chief of the Southern City. This is the transfer order."

Zhang Debiao looked up and saw Yi Yang, but his face showed no surprise.

But his eyes were very gloomy, like a rat in a ditch that never gets any sun.

"Manager Yi arrived quite early."

"Official business cannot be delayed."

Yi Yang entered and placed the transfer order on the table: "Let's hand over the reins."

Zhang Debiao didn't touch the transfer order; he just stared at Yi Yang.

"Chief Steward Yi is not young anymore, why bother coming to the South City Prison? Qianyang Tower is much better, with more money, less trouble, and more prestige."

Yi Yang did not sit down, and calmly said, "It is an order from the Director's Office."

"An order is an order, and personal feelings are personal feelings."

Zhang Debiao picked up his teacup, blew on the tea, and said, "The South City Prison is not like Qianyang Tower. It's full of desperados. If you're not careful, you might die in the night and no one will even collect your body."

The wind squeezed in through the window cracks, dispersing the tea smoke.

Yi Yang looked at him and smiled slightly, "Is Warden Zhang teaching me how to do my job?"

Zhang Debiao smiled as well, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. He said, "I mean well. Manager Yi is new here and doesn't know many of the rules. The people here follow the old rules. If you take it too seriously, you won't have a good time."

Upon hearing this, Yi Yang finally sat down. He sat very steadily, his back slightly hunched, and he still looked like a sixty-year-old man.

The aura of a peak fourth level Qi and Blood was released from his body, causing the teacups in the room to tremble slightly and dust to fall from the corner of the table.

Zhang Debiao stopped holding the teacup.

Yi Yang spoke in a low but authoritative voice: "I am acting under orders. You only need to do your duty."

He raised his eyes, staring at Zhang Debiao, and said, word by word, "Does Warden Zhang intend to disobey orders and defy the orders of the Sky Patrol Bureau?"

The words "Sky Patrol Division" weighed down on Zhang Debiao, causing his face to twitch.

It's true that he has the Zhang family backing him.

No matter how powerful the Zhang family is, they will not openly allow him to resist the orders of the Sky Patrol Division.

That's not about protecting one's own.

That's suicide.

Zhang Debiao put down his teacup, his movements stiff as if he were injured.

"Manager Yi is too kind. I, Zhang, will naturally obey orders."

He got up and took out three sets of keys, a roster, and a defense map from a hidden cabinet on the wall, and placed them on the table.

"The master key to the prison gate, the key to the serious offender area, the key to the storeroom. The prison guard roster, the duty roster, and the defense map are all here."

Yi Yang accepted them all.

"And the prisoner's files."

Zhang Debiao's face tightened again, and he pulled out two stacks of case files from under the desk.

"They're all here."

Yi Yang flipped through a few pages.

The handwriting is of varying ages, with several places clearly showing signs of having been rewritten.

He didn't point it out, but today wasn't the day for settling accounts.

First, hold the door firmly, then slowly sharpen the knife.

"Take good care of Zhang the jailer."

Yi Yang closed the file. "From now on, I will take over the South City Prison. If you still have any personal belongings, move them out before noon."

Zhang Debiao stared at him for a long time before slowly saying, "Manager Yi, the road is long."

Yi Yang hung the keys on his waist and said nonchalantly, "A long road is good, so walk slowly so you can see who's digging a hole under your feet."

Zhang Debiao left with a cold face. As soon as he left, several of his trusted men in the backyard also started to move.

Yi Yang didn't stop him.

When removing thorns, you have to pull them out by the roots.

Just trim the part that's sticking out, and it will sprout again in a few days.

In the afternoon, Yi Yang began inspecting the prison.

The South City Prison has three levels.

Ordinary criminals are held above ground, martial arts criminals are held semi-underground, and the real hardened criminal area is deep underground.

The further down you go, the worse the smell gets.

The smells of dampness, blood, medicine, and moldy straw mingled together, filling the nasal cavity and making one's throat taste bitter.

Oil lamps were embedded in the wall every ten steps, their dim light casting slanted shadows on the iron railings.

The jailers followed behind, their backs straighter than in the morning.

Everyone can see that the new jailer's calm demeanor doesn't mean he's easy to fool.

It's not that they don't know how to use their hands.

They wouldn't stoop to attacking the low-level minions first.

At the entrance to the third underground level, there are two black iron gates.

The door was covered with densely packed runes, the patterns filled with dark red cinnabar. When you got close, you could feel your blood circulation slow down by half a beat.

Yi Yang reached out and touched the edge of the door.

The runes suppress blood and qi, and isolate internal energy.

It's fairly complete.

However, the third pin in the bottom left corner has loosened.

The ventilation opening was too large; although there was an iron mesh, a thin bamboo tube about two fingers wide could be stuffed in.

On the duty roster, there is a half-quarter blank between midnight and 1-3 am, which is said to be the shift change.

A brief moment of silence after the shift change?

You're kidding me.

Yi Yang memorized all of this, without showing it on his face.

Upon reaching the deepest part, the prison cell for hardened criminals came into view.

The entire cell was made of cast iron, with no gaps in the four walls, except for a small window for delivering food and interrogation.

Eight elite soldiers stood outside the iron cage.

They were all people transferred by Chen Wuyai and were not under the jurisdiction of Zhang Debiao's former subordinates.

Inside the prison, Feng Haiyuan sat cross-legged on the ground.

His hair was disheveled, his hands and feet were bound by thick black iron chains, and he wore two blood-suppressing nails on his shoulder blades.

Even through the iron gate, Yi Yang could still hear the deep flow of qi and blood within his body.

Like the churning undercurrents deep within an old well.

Feng Haiyuan suddenly looked up, revealing half of his thin, bony face behind his disheveled hair.

"A new jailer?"

Yi Yang did not answer.

Feng Haiyuan grinned, revealing dried blood between his teeth.

"Old man, you smell of medicine and blood. You've killed someone, haven't you?"

An elite soldier nearby shouted, "Shut up!"

Feng Haiyuan laughed so hard his shoulders shook, and the chains rattled loudly.

"The Sky Patrol Bureau is really something, sending an old codger who's practically on his deathbed to see me. Are you out of options?"

Yi Yang looked at him, her tone mild.

"Save your energy. With your physique, you still have to hold out until the interrogation."

Feng Haiyuan stared at Yi Yang.

The two stared at each other for a moment through the black iron gate.

Feng Haiyuan looked away first.

Before turning to leave, Yi Yang glanced one last time at the locks, the array patterns, and the ground drainage ditch.

Feng Haiyuan is important.

But more importantly, who wants him to speak, and who wants him to shut up?

After finishing his shift in the evening, Yi Yang returned to the small courtyard assigned to him by the county.

He paused before even entering the room.

The courtyard smelled of burning firewood.

And there's that familiar taste of rice porridge.

Yi Yang pushed open the door and saw Jiang Yuexin carrying a plate of green vegetables out of the kitchen.

The girl was wearing a light-colored cloth dress, her hair was tied up with a wooden hairpin, and there was a little sweat on her forehead. When she saw Yi Yang, her eyes lit up.

"grandfather!"

Upon seeing the other person, Yi Yang was taken aback and asked in surprise, "What brings you here?"

Jiang Yuexin put down the vegetables, ran to him, checked him for injuries, and then whispered, "I don't want to stay in Yunwen Town forever. Since you've come to the county, the house feels empty. So I asked Uncle Zhao to bring me here."

Yi Yang frowned, somewhat worried, and asked, "Is anyone following us on the road?"

"No, Uncle Zhao delivered it personally. He even said that if you scold me, you can scold him instead."

As she said this, she chuckled to herself, "Uncle Zhao also said that he has thick skin and can take a lot of scolding."

After listening, Yi Yang's brows relaxed.

Zhao Gang is fairly reliable when it comes to getting things done.

"Don't run around like that next time."

"Um."

Jiang Yuexin answered obediently, but her little expression clearly said that she would do it again next time, but she would give a heads-up beforehand.

Yi Yang looked on with a sense of helplessness.

This girl looks as soft as a freshly steamed rice cake, but she has a stubborn streak deep down.

Dinner was simple.

A bowl of porridge, a plate of green vegetables, a dish of pickled radishes, and half a stewed chicken.

Jiang Yuexin placed the chicken leg into Yi Yang's bowl.

"Grandpa, eat more. You've been so busy lately, you've lost weight."

Yi Yang looked down at his wrist, which was stronger than before.

瘦？

Only she would dare to say something like that.

He put the chicken leg back into her bowl.

"My teeth aren't good, I can't chew it."

Jiang Yuexin stared at him and said with a smile, "Grandpa, with your full head of black hair, how come you can't chew it? I think you're getting younger and younger."

Yi Yang paused for a moment, then lied and said, "I had someone else dye it."

The girl couldn't help but laugh at her grandfather's slapstick explanation, her eyes crinkling into crescents.

The room was warmly lit.

The night wind blew through the eaves, making the tiles rustle softly.

Yi Yang took a sip of the porridge, and the warmth in his stomach seemed to have suppressed much of the musty, bloody, and scheming smells from the daytime prison.

Jiang Yuexin sat opposite her, chatting about the little things in Yunwen Town.

Yang Hui's injuries had mostly healed, the aunt next door gave her two bunches of scallions, and the chickens in the yard started laying eggs again.

They're all trivial matters.

But Yi Yang found it more comfortable to listen to than to hear the respectful words of his subordinates.

After the meal, Jiang Yuexin cleared away the dishes.

Yi Yang sat in the courtyard, looking at the sparse stars in the sky, his fingers gently stroking the South City Prison token at his waist.

During the day, the black stone prison concealed the Zhang family's influence, the mouth of the Nine Evil Sect, and the shadow of Wang Gongqin.

In this small courtyard, there is a lamp, a bowl of rice, and someone waiting for him to come home.

Yi Yang lowered his eyes.

so.

Who dares to bring those dirty things from outside into this yard?

No one can expect to live to see the next day's sun.