Chapter 1: Suffered Seventy Years, Ascend the Divine Stairway!

Zhou Country, Linzhou, Anxi County.

The winter wind cut like a blade.

At the gate of Qingshi Martial Academy.

“Old man, please, let me in to meet Master Liu. Since childhood, I’ve been stronger than others—I’ve never lost a fight in the village. Everyone says I have a good physique, born for martial arts!”

“If the headmaster sees me, he’ll surely take me as his disciple!”

“When I master martial arts, I’ll never forget your kindness in introducing me!”

A thin, yellow-faced youth in tattered clothes pleaded desperately to an elderly man with white hair and beard.

The elder fell silent for a moment, then spoke in a hoarse voice: “Go home. You’re too old. The academy’s rule is to accept only students under sixteen.”

“But I’m... only two years over...”

The youth’s throat tightened, each word hard-won.

“Go home.”

The elder slowly shook his head and said no more.

The youth stood frozen, lips parting, then left with a face full of resentment.

“Sigh.”

Watching the youth’s retreating figure, the elder sighed softly, a trace of melancholy in his cloudy eyes.

Once, he too had been turned away at the gate.

The elder’s name was Jiang Ye, a transmigrator—though his experience was tragic, the very shame of transmigrators.

When he first transmigrated, he believed his two-lifetime experience would let him rise to the peak of life, even starting as a lowly commoner in this alien world.

Then reality taught him his place.

This world revered martial strength, so he sought to learn martial arts and become someone above others.

But the academy’s tuition was exorbitant—common folk simply couldn’t afford it.

He tried to earn money first, only to discover that for a lowly commoner, business had only one outcome.

Small-scale trade lasted no more than three days; by day five, thugs and officials would target him. If his business improved slightly, hoodlums surrounded his stall, clerks demanded bribes.

If he refused to “be sensible,” his stall would be smashed and goods scattered overnight—common enough.

Over those years, he tried everything, endured every hardship.

By the time he’d saved enough for academy tuition, he was already twenty.

At twenty, his bones and sinews had already hardened—he was past the age for martial training.

No reputable martial academy would accept such an “overage” student—unless he paid extra, and a great deal extra.

But where could he get that money?

In that moment, he truly understood: in this world, a commoner with no connections had almost no chance of rising.

The days that followed were spent in a daze.

Seasons passed, years slipped by, until the winter of his fiftieth year.

That day, as usual, he climbed the mountain to chop firewood, and deep in the barren woods, he stumbled upon a bloody man.

The man was covered in wounds, his breath faint, collapsed among jagged rocks, barely clinging to life—it was Liu Qingshi, later headmaster of Qingshi Martial Academy.

Jiang Ye didn’t hesitate—he carried the man back to his leaky straw hut, saved his rations, gathered herbs, and tended to him day and night.

After recovering, Liu Qingshi insisted on repaying him with a fortune.

Jiang Ye refused.

Having struggled for decades in this world, he knew too well: a powerless, weak commoner suddenly becoming rich was like a child walking through a crowded market with gold—he’d invite disaster, not fortune.

Later, Liu Qingshi established himself in Anxi County and opened Qingshi Martial Academy; Jiang Ye became its gatekeeper.

Twenty years had passed.

“Time flies—I’m already seventy.”

Jiang Ye looked down at his wrinkled hands and murmured softly.

Seventy years since transmigration—alone, with nothing to show for it.

He had accepted his fate; he just didn’t know how many more years he had left.

Then—

A line of small characters suddenly appeared before his eyes.

【Destiny: Ascend the Divine Stairway】

【Effect 1: Extraordinary Comprehension—Martial Path Has No Bottlenecks; One Day of Cultivation Equals a Year of Others’ Effort】

【Effect 2: Unlocked】

Jiang Ye froze.

He blinked.

The characters remained.

Not an illusion.

After a long while, he slowly drew in a sharp breath.

Just before death, a golden finger appeared?!

His hunched back snapped straight.

One day’s cultivation equals a year of others’...

What did that mean?

It meant his seventy-year-old body, ravaged by time and frost, now held terrifying potential to reverse the flow of years!

It meant the bottlenecks and barriers that terrified ordinary martial artists might now lie flat before him!

He had thought his life at seventy had reached its end—but now, it was a second spring.

Because in this world, reaching certain martial realms extended one’s lifespan.

Jiang Ye had once heard Liu Qingshi say that reaching the True Qi realm allowed one to live two full lifespans without illness or disaster.

With his current cultivation potential, once he began training, not even True Qi was out of reach—higher realms were within sight.

“I need a good excuse to start training.”

Jiang Ye forced down his racing emotions.

He knew that given his relationship with Liu Qingshi, the man would likely agree if he asked to train.

But a seventy-year-old, near-death old man suddenly requesting to train? It was deeply strange.

Though their bond was strong, the system could never be revealed.

“Jiang Lao, thinking about something so deeply?”

A faint fragrance drifted from behind, interrupting Jiang Ye’s thoughts.

Jiang Ye turned to see a young woman standing a few steps away, dressed in a fitted green lotus martial robe.

Her skin outshone snow, her features like a painted scroll, her black hair loosely tied with a white jade hairpin—Su Yan, an inner-court disciple of the academy and the eldest daughter of the Su family of Anxi County.

“Miss Su,” Jiang Ye bowed slightly. “Did your training end early today?”

“Yes, there were guests at home, so I returned early.”

Su Yan smiled faintly and handed Jiang Ye a sealed box of delicate pastries. “Extra snacks—take them if you don’t mind.”

As a wealthy young lady, she often brought pastries to the academy for tea breaks; if she forgot to eat them after training, she’d give them away.

“Miss Su, you’re so generous!”

Jiang Ye smiled warmly as he accepted the mung bean cake, watching Su Yan’s graceful figure depart.

He gently opened the box—the pastries were exquisitely made, fragrant and inviting. He picked one up, slowly placed it in his mouth, savoring its sweet, delicate texture.

His mind grew active.

He had already decided on his excuse to begin training.

“The academy is too crowded now—I’ll wait until closing.”

Jiang Ye felt at ease.

He’d endured seventy years—what was a little longer?

Throughout the afternoon, several more groups arrived seeking martial training, all dismissed with a few words.

Having guarded the gate for twenty years, his eyes had grown as precise as a ruler—he could judge at a glance whether a visitor exceeded the age limit, could afford the tuition, or merely clung to false hope.

Yet among today’s visitors, several were emaciated, spoke in mixed dialects—refugees from afar, their eyes filled not just with longing, but with desperate fear.

“Even refugees are coming to the martial academy...”

Jiang Ye leaned against the gatepost, watching the last one limp away, his brow tightening as he murmured: “The world is growing increasingly unstable.”

He had lived too long, seen too much.

The Zhou Country now suffered frequent natural disasters and rampant banditry; the people were displaced—clear signs of a dynasty’s end, dragons and snakes rising from the earth.

In such chaotic times, martial strength became ever more vital.