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

In the woods outside the back mountain of Xuanjian Pavilion, the tree canopy blocked out most of the sunlight.

Yi Yang used "Flowing Crane Soaring Through the Clouds" to move at high speed through the dense forest, his toes touching the branches and rocks, each step covering seven or eight zhang, his figure leaving afterimages among the shadows of the trees.

He kept his mental energy constantly alert, keeping an eye on every move within a hundred-foot radius. Now that a fierce battle was taking place here, he couldn't afford to be careless.

He vaguely sensed that the two powerful auras from the direction of the back mountain of Xuanjian Pavilion had dissipated.

This means that the battle has already been decided there, but Yi Yang cannot tell who won.

But he guessed that Chief Inspector Lu Quan'an had already realized that with him around, there shouldn't be any problems.

At this moment, we are still about three hundred feet away from the back mountain of Xuanjian Pavilion.

Suddenly, Yi Yang sensed an aura ahead, and the other party was also moving at an extremely fast speed.

His steps were suddenly a beat slower.

The aura ahead was thick and profound, and the slight leakage of its power indicated that the other party's cultivation level was at the peak of True Qi.

Moreover, the other party sensed him and was heading in this direction.

Facing this unknown enemy, Yi Yang's back tensed, and a vague guess formed in his mind.

The only powerful individuals who could appear here are those two.

But before Yi Yang could change direction and leave, a figure appeared thirty feet ahead of him in the dense forest.

The monk's robe, with its ochre base and gold embroidery, was open at the front. A long, slanted sword wound ran from his left chest to his right rib, the flesh torn and the edges of the wound charred and blackened, with pale golden blood still flowing out.

Mysterious meaning.

Abbot of Jinyang Temple.

The old monk walked slowly, his prayer beads hanging on his left wrist, his right hand tucked into his sleeve.

"It was indeed the worst guess, but the abbot of Jinyang Temple looks injured, and quite badly so. There's still sword energy left in the wound on his chest."

Yi Yang stared at the other person, his heart skipped a beat, but he forcibly suppressed it.

Xuan Yi's gaze swept over.

He saw an old man wearing a dark gray official uniform, with a full head of black hair and an aged face, whose aura was at the late stage of True Qi.

He didn't intend to stay after seeing the other person.

Xuan Yi turned to leave, not wanting to fight Yi Yang, and headed towards the dense forest to the north.

He needs to leave quickly.

Chief Inspector Lu Quan'an is in the back mountain, and the other side will likely catch up within ten breaths.

The old man in the late stage of True Qi Realm ahead wasn't worth wasting even a single breath on.

But in that half-breath of turning around, Xuan Yi caught a glimpse of something slung across Yi Yang's back.

It was a jet-black blade with dark patterns on it. Although it was mostly covered, it couldn't hide the heavy, almost tangible sense of oppression.

The feeling emanating from that knife was all too familiar.

Sensing this aura, Xuan Yi's foot planted firmly on the rubble.

He froze for a moment, even suppressing his worries about being caught up by Lu Quan'an.

Xuan Yi slowly turned his head, the prayer beads in his palm stopping their spinning. His cloudy old eyes stared at the knife, a faint scarlet light flashing deep in his pupils.

It was exactly the same as the bloodshot color under He Dingbo's eyes.

Yi Yang did not breathe a sigh of relief just because the other party was injured.

The True Qi Perfection is the same as the True Qi Perfection, and there is a huge gap between the True Qi Realm late stage and the True Qi Realm late stage.

Even if the opponent is injured, they are not someone that an ordinary late-stage True Qi cultivator can face head-on.

After thinking for a moment, Yi Yang made a decision: there was no need to fight a major battle with the other party, as there would be no benefit in it.

escape!

Without saying a word, he flashed away and fled into the dense forest behind him.

The "Flowing Crane Soaring Through the Clouds" movement technique was pushed to its limit, preparing to bypass the giant Buddha.

Lu Quan'an is in the back mountain. As long as they go around to meet up with the chief inspector, Xuan Yi will be like meat on a chopping board, completely at their mercy.

But Yi Yang had only taken two steps when he heard a sound

"Amitabha."

The sound wasn't loud, but it was extremely penetrating; when it reached my ears, my chest hummed.

Upon hearing this Buddhist chant, Yi Yang had no intention of stopping.

But Xuan Yi suddenly appeared in front of him, and what he said next made Yi Yang's face turn ugly.

"The knife on your back, benefactor, originally belonged to my Jinyang Temple."

Yi Yang looked at the figure blocking his way, his face extremely ugly. The other party had no intention of letting him go, and the old monk was fast enough that he couldn't escape.

Xuan Yi's gaze did not fall on Yi Yang, but instead landed on the black longsword behind him.

Upon seeing this extraordinary longsword, a red light flashed in the old monk's cloudy eyes.

"Hand over the knife and come with me; there's still a glimmer of hope for your survival."

As Xuan Yi uttered the words "a glimmer of hope," the soil beneath his feet cracked.

The cracked lines spread outwards from the soles of his shoes, and the surrounding gravel and fallen leaves were blown away by his aura.

This is a blatant threat.

Yi Yang looked at this renowned expert from the prefecture with a solemn expression. The other party was the abbot of Jin Yang Temple, who had been famous for many years.

They can't escape.

With his perfected True Qi speed, even with injuries, he couldn't run more than 300 zhang even if he used "Flowing Crane Soaring Clouds" at full power.

If we can't run away, then we won't run.

Yi Yang reached out and grasped the hilt of Xuan Yuan's sword behind him.

He looked at the old monk covered in blood thirty feet away and said, "Master's injury is not light. Why cause trouble over a knife?"

Xuan Yi's prayer beads spun half a circle and then stopped. He didn't say anything more.

His figure disappeared from thirty feet away.

Yi Yang's mental energy detected the direction of his opponent's movement half a breath before he took his first step. He held Xuan Yuan horizontally in front of him with the blade facing outwards.

The profound meaning appeared within five zhang.

His right fist, wrapped in golden energy, with the unique power of the "Vajra Fist of Subduing Demons" appearing on its surface, slammed towards Yi Yang's face.

That punch wasn't delivered with full force, only about 30%.

But the moment the fist struck, the gravel beneath Yi Yang's feet was crushed into powder and scattered in all directions.

Yi Yang parried with his sword.

when.

Xuan Yuan's blade collided with the golden fist. Azure True Qi and gray-gold Qi exploded at the point of contact, creating a shower of shattered rocks.

Yi Yang's arms felt numb and sore for a moment.

He slid back three steps, his boots leaving two grooves on the gravel.

But he held firm.

Seeing that the other party had actually caught it, Xuan Yi withdrew his fist.

He looked down at the surface of his fist.

There was a shallow bloodstain on it, as thin as a hair.

The moment Xuan Yuan's blade made contact, it sliced ​​through his protective aura, leaving a gash on his fist.

Spirit weapon.

Xuan Yi's pupils contracted.

He was even more certain that this was the lost treasure of Jinyang Temple.

"Give it back."

Xuan Yi gave Yi Yang no chance to catch his breath.

With his left palm, he unleashed the "Great Compassion Breaking Palm," a true skill from the Golden Sun Temple. The golden palm wind spread out in a fan shape, sealing off both sides of Yi Yang.

At the same time, his right fist followed up with a second "Vajra Fist of Subduing Demons," the wind from the fist slipping through the gap in the palm strike and heading straight for his chest.

One palm and one punch sealed off all escape routes.