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

The fog had not yet completely dissipated in the southern city prison in the early morning.

Yi Yang arrived very early. He was wearing the official robes of a candidate patrol chief, with a black iron token of the South City Prison hanging from his waist. He walked slowly and his back was slightly hunched. When he reached the gate, the two guards from yesterday were already standing straight.

The smell of wine, meat, and sweat that had filled the duty room yesterday was gone.

In the courtyard, several jailers were bringing in breakfast: rice porridge, pickled vegetables, and coarse flatbread. It wasn't anything special, but at least it was served on time.

Have these people learned their lesson?

Yi Yang, with his sleeves tucked in, slowly walked through the gate.

The thin-faced guard at the gate quickly lowered his head.

"Good morning, my lord."

The fat guard also saluted, bowing much more smoothly than yesterday.

"morning."

Yi Yang replied with a single word, his face still bearing that mild, easygoing expression.

But as soon as he entered the first courtyard gate, he caught the whispers under the west corridor.

"Let's just pretend for a couple of days. Master Zhang said to just put on a show for now."

"In a few days, this old man will have to slink away in disgrace."

"Exactly, Qianyang Tower got a bargain, do they really think the prison is under their control?"

Shh, keep it down, don't let anyone hear.

"He's sixty years old, can his hearing still be sharper than a dog's?"

Several people chuckled in hushed tones.

That smile contained disdain, malice, and a sense of confidence that its backer hadn't fallen.

Yi Yang didn't stop walking, his face remained completely expressionless. Zhang Debiao handed over the keys and moved out of the jailer's cell, but Ke Gen was still there.

This prison cannot be changed simply by altering its name or sign.

Yi Yang entered the jailer's cell. The room had been cleaned; the tabletop was polished to a shine, the teacups were neatly arranged, and much of the smell left by the former owner from yesterday had dissipated.

After he sat down, he first opened the duty roster.

The paper was old, with curled edges, and a few ink stains were freshly repaired. On the duty roster, the half-hour between midnight and 1 AM was still blank.

Yi Yang drew a circle next to it with a pen, and then flipped through the prisoner's file.

Ordinary offenders, martial arts offenders, serious offenders.

Some people write clearly when they go to jail, but when they are released, all they have are a few words like "died of illness," "transferred to another prison," or "fell into a trap."

The fewer the words, the dirtier the story.

He flipped through the pages slowly, without rushing.

The real drama today doesn't lie in these old grievances.

Just as the third quarter of Chen Shi (7:45 AM) arrived, footsteps came from outside the door.

The first person to come in was a man who was about forty-five or forty-six years old.

The man was wearing an old Sky Patrol uniform. The sword at his waist was not ornate, but the scabbard was in excellent condition, with no green rust even on the copper clasp.

He has an honest and kind face, thick eyebrows, and a wide nose. After entering the room, he stands still and then cups his hands in greeting.

"Chief Steward Yi."

"Deputy Chief Steward Tang has ordered my humble servant Li Shaoan to come and assist in the interrogation. Please make the arrangements, sir."

The first confidant of Don Quixote who came to interrogate him spoke in a lukewarm manner, as if it were a business matter.

Yi Yang glanced up and sensed the other party's strength—mid-stage of the fourth level of Qi and Blood. He politely replied, "Vice Steward Li, you're too kind. Please have a seat."

Li Shaoan nodded and sat down to the side.

The second person to arrive was a woman.

When she entered, the musty smell of the South City Prison seemed to be somewhat suppressed by the fragrance of cosmetics. Her dark purple tight-fitting clothes clung to her figure, and a silver snake whip was coiled twice around her waist. As she walked, the end of the whip swayed gently, and the small silver pieces made a crisp sound.

She was thirty-seven or thirty-eight years old, with striking features, yet not frivolous.

Those eyes could speak; whoever they glanced at had to mentally rehearse their lines twice.

"Manager Yi looks great."

She stood at the door, smiling and giving a half-bow: "I am Su Wanning, here on behalf of Chief Zhao Tong to attend the trial. I have long admired the Chief Steward's reputation, and seeing him today, I find him to be quite different from the rumors..."

She paused deliberately, her voice trailing off softly.

Upon seeing this alluring woman, Yi Yang held up his teacup and displayed the amiable demeanor of an elder.

"Vice Chief Su is joking. I am just a lousy old man who guards the gate and keeps accounts. I don't have any great name."

Su Wanning's smile deepened, and she said softly, "If you were just a doorman, Ye Yang would probably crawl up from the ground and cry foul."

Su Wanning made a judgment about Yi Yang in her heart: "This old man is very slippery."

The Sanyuan Society and the inner city families were at odds, and Zhao Tong sent her here with the intention of using the Sky Patrol Division to investigate.

But the person in front of her, according to her intuition, was not as simple as he seemed on the surface.

The third person to arrive had a completely different air about them.

Liu Chongyue, a retainer of the Wang family in the inner city, was in his early forties. He was tall and wore a brocade outfit embroidered with the Wang family crest. The emblem on his chest was so bright it was almost blinding. When he entered the guard room, he didn't even bother to look at the threshold. His boots stomped loudly on the blue bricks.

As he entered, his gaze swept over Yi Yang, his contempt barely concealed. He went straight to a chair, crossed his legs, and asked rudely, "Warden, when does the interrogation begin?"

The term "prison head" reveals his attitude towards Yi Yang; it's not an official title but a term used to address someone who commands him.

Li Shaoan lowered his eyes and remained silent.

Su Wanning covered her lips with her sleeve and watched the show with great interest.

Yi Yang picked up the teacup, blew on the tea foam, and the steam hit his face, masking the coldness in his eyes.

"Let's talk about it once everyone's here."

Liu Chongyue snorted in dissatisfaction, "My time is precious; don't let irrelevant people delay important matters."

Yi Yang nodded and replied without ceremony, "What Wang Gongfeng said is right, so we should wait in line. Otherwise, someone might say they missed half a sentence, and we'll have to start over, which would be troublesome for everyone."

Liu Chongyue's eyelids twitched, but he didn't reply.

The last one to arrive was a young man.

Sixteen or seventeen years old.

The disciple of Cangyun Martial Arts School wore a uniform, a long sword at his waist, had a handsome face, and walked with a composed gait.

Young in age, yet possessing sharp and vigorous energy.

Zhang Songqing.

The boy who destroyed Yi Zhanzhi's foundation during the quarterly exam.

Yi Yang was no stranger to this face. On the martial arts stage that day, Yi Zhanzhi was crippled, and Yi Xun's devastated expression was still fresh in his memory.

Yi Yang showed no pity for Yi Zhanzhi.

But he remembered the Zhang family behind Zhang Songqing.

When Zhang Songqing stepped through the door and saw Yi Yang, a hint of coldness flickered in his eyes.

The family had already informed him that this old man was Yi Zhanzhi's great-grandfather, but that wasn't important. He barely remembered Yi Zhanzhi anymore. What was more important was that Yi Yang had replaced Zhang Debiao.

Zhang Debiao was a thorn in the side of the Zhang family.

Nobody's happy when a nail is pulled out.

"Chief Steward Yi."

Zhang Songqing pronounced the three words slowly, his tone carrying the arrogance of a young man, and said, "I heard that you are sixty years old and still have to take charge of both Qianyang Tower and the prison. That's remarkable."

He paused, his gaze falling on Yi Yang's dark hair.

"I just don't know if your body can handle it?"

As soon as these words were spoken, the atmosphere in the duty room immediately became tense.

Liu Chongyue watched the spectacle, Su Wanning's eyes darted around, while Li Shaoan kept his head down, seemingly unconcerned about the matter.

Yi Yang slowly put down his teacup, forcing a gentle smile on his old face, and said:

"You're very kind, young man."

"I'm still in good health, but I'm a little hard of hearing."

He dragged out the words "hard of hearing" very slowly, deliberately saying, "What did you say just now, little brother? I was too young to hear you clearly."

Zhang Songqing's cheek muscles twitched. He was very dissatisfied with Yi Yang's "little brother" nickname. Outside, everyone called him Young Master Zhang.

Seeing the tense atmosphere between the two, Liu Chongyue coldly said, "Enough with the nonsense, interrogating the prisoner is the priority."

"Let's go then."

Yi Yang got up, picked up the key, and the five of them passed through the guard room and entered the prison area. The further down they went, the damper it became.

The jailer opened the door.

The runes on the black iron gate glowed with a faint dark red light.

Yi Yang walked at the front.

With his five senses fully activated at the Inner Qi Realm, he could discern the fluctuations of the blood and qi of the four people behind him without revealing his true abilities.

Li Shaoan is at the mid-stage of the fourth level, and Su Wanning is at the late-stage of the fourth level. Their blood circulation is different from ordinary people, and their soft whip technique contains yin and soft energy. In a real fight, they are best at entangling people.

Liu Chongyue is at the fourth level of perfection, with abundant qi and blood, and a heavy gait. The Wang family's support is not for nothing. Zhang Songqing is at the middle stage of the fourth level, but his qi and blood are excessively sharp. He already has the foundation for killing at a young age.

Especially the latter two, even ordinary people at the fifth level of Qi and Blood might not be able to defeat them easily.

pity.

Yi Yang is neither in the fourth level of Qi and Blood, nor in the sixth level.

The Qi Sea has been opened, and internal Qi has been generated.

If things really come to a head, before reinforcements arrive, the number of people in this prison who die will depend on his mood, no matter how many times he wants.

Of course, there's no need.

The younger generation had a few loose tongues; there was no need to collect the bodies on the spot.

The first lesson of the Way of the Gou: Don't pay the price for your emotions.

Upon arriving at the high-prison area, eight elite guards stood watch outside the Xuan Tie prison.

The iron gate opened.

Feng Haiyuan sat cross-legged on the ground.

His hair was disheveled and draped over his shoulders. The blood-stained nails on his shoulder blades revealed a dark rust color. His hands and feet were bound by black iron shackles, and the chains were so thick that they could tether an ox.

But when he raised his head, everyone felt as if a cold wind had pierced their chests. On Feng Haiyuan's thin face, there was no panic or pleading, but rather a kind of lazy spectator's demeanor.

"Wow, quite a few people have come."

Feng Haiyuan first looked at Li Shaoan, then at Su Wanning, then at Liu Chongyue and Zhang Songqing, and finally fixed his gaze on Yi Yang.

"The old man from yesterday is here too."

"It's lively today."

Liu Chongyue was the first to step forward.

"Feng Haiyuan."

He demanded in a condescending and impolite tone, "Tell me the distribution of the Nine Evils' strongholds in Yunlin County, their clandestine dealings with various forces, and the whereabouts of Wang Gongqin."

Upon hearing this, Feng Haiyuan closed his eyes, leaned his head against the wall, and completely ignored him.

Liu Chongyue lowered his brow and threatened in an arrogant tone, "You think the Wang family can't pry your mouth open if you don't talk?"

Feng Haiyuan still did not answer.

Liu Chongyue raised his hand and slapped the stone bench next to him.

Snapped!

The stone bench shattered, and pieces flew everywhere.

The jailer was so frightened that he backed away.

Feng Haiyuan opened his eyes and used the chain to brush away the pieces that had fallen on his legs.

"Someone from the Wang family?"

His voice was hoarse, yet his tone was flippant: "You make quite a racket hitting things, almost like a band banging gongs. What, does your Wang family rely on music and drums for interrogation?"

Liu Chongyue's face was grim, and his fists were clenched.

Su Wanning chuckled, "Lord Wang, don't be so hasty. The prisoner wasn't scared, but we, the ones listening to the trial, were."

Liu Chongyue glared at her and said, "Su Wanning, stop making sarcastic remarks."

"How dare I?"

Su Wanning spread her hands, smiling innocently.

Zhang Songqing then took half a step forward.

He didn't draw his sword, nor did he display his power. He simply looked at Feng Haiyuan and said calmly, "Grand Deacon Feng, are you not speaking because you still hope the Nine Evils Church will save you?"

Feng Haiyuan lifted his eyelids.

Zhang Songqing continued, "Before you were captured, the Black Wind Ridge stronghold was destroyed, and thirty-seven followers died; the Stone Bridge abandoned village line was cut off, and Wang Gongqin disappeared; the medicine storehouse you hid in on the south slope was searched by Jinyang Temple; in addition, the three bandit dens outside the city were also cleared out by the Patrol Division."

With each word he spoke, the amusement in Feng Haiyuan's eyes faded a little.

"Guess who provided these clues?"

Zhang Songqing continued in a calm and unhurried tone, "Within the Nine Evil Sects, some have already offered their pledges of allegiance."

"If you don't speak up, the credit will go to someone else. You'll die in prison, but the person who betrayed you will get a better life, or even a new identity."

"Feng Haiyuan, who are you taking the blame for?"

These words were far more powerful than Liu Chongyue's palm strike.

Yi Yang stood behind and nodded secretly. Zhang Songqing was young but had a big temper, and his methods were not naive.

To win hearts and minds, to divide and conquer, to sow discord.

If it were a cult leader with an unstable mind, he might actually slip up.

After listening, Feng Haiyuan suddenly chuckled softly, making the chains rattle.

"Kid."

He looked up at Zhang Songqing.

"You acted well."

Zhang Songqing's expression remained unchanged.

Feng Haiyuan grinned, his teeth glistening with old bloodstains, and sneered, "Too bad, the aristocratic air about you can't be covered up no matter how much face powder you apply."

"Everyone says the Nine Evil Cults are terrifying, but people know even better that you can't believe a single word from aristocratic families."

A hint of coldness flashed in Zhang Songqing's eyes, but he quickly suppressed it.

Feng Haiyuan leaned back, his gaze sweeping over everyone's faces.

"You want to ask about Wang Gongqin?"

"Want to know the location?"

"I want to know who handed over money to the Nine Evils Sect, and who used the Nine Evils Sect's weapons to kill people?"

In the cell, everyone fell silent, even Liu Chongyue didn't say another word, looking expectantly at the prisoner.

Feng Haiyuan let out a strange laugh.

"sure."

"However, if anyone wants to know these things, just send a few people in so I can indulge my killing urge. I haven't killed anyone for days, it's hard to quit!"