Becoming a Saint Starting with the Chasing Wind Leg Technique

They simply cannot imagine that Song Jing, who was ridiculed for "only knowing how to cultivate asceticism," could kill two major thugs with his bare hands in one night!

In their minds, martial artists are geniuses like Zhang Wu, direct descendants of Li Wei, elites cultivated with precious medicines, and proud sons of heaven who chat and laugh at banquets and are surrounded by beauties.

And what about Song Jing? He was nothing but a poor wretch who couldn't even afford to go to a brothel. He wore faded coarse clothes, ate cold bread every day, yet stubbornly insisted on cultivating, using "asceticism" to numb his incompetent reality.

But the truth has already overturned everything.

Poverty limits one's imagination, and the extraordinary cultivation speed of a reborn individual is a secret beyond the comprehension of ordinary people.

The villagers were abuzz with discussion:

"Have you heard? Two thugs from the Black Tiger Gang were beaten to death in the middle of the night!"

"He was beaten horribly! Every rib was broken, and his chest was caved in, like he'd been smashed by a thousand-pound hammer!"

"It must be some reclusive master passing by! Xiushui Town is saved!"

"If you ask me, it must be Young Hero Zhou Xingyun! Although he's gone, he still cares about his hometown and secretly sent people to eliminate this scourge!"

"Yes! Young Master Zhou hates evil and cannot stand the oppression of the good! He must have asked his friends in the martial arts world to help!"

Despite the uproar surrounding the matter, fortunately no one suspected Song Jing.

In the eyes of others, he remains that taciturn, mediocre talent, a "weirdo" who only knows how to bury himself in hard work but has no real ability. An outcast, a fool abandoned by the times.

But Song Jing didn't care and silently worked on the progress.

[Person] Song Jing

[Realm Progress] Minor Success in Skin Forging - Bullhide Realm (1/100)

[Technique Progress] Introduction to the Wind Chasing Leg Technique (60/100)

He looked up towards the martial arts school; the first rays of dawn illuminated the two characters "Chasing the Wind" on the plaque, making them gleam with golden light. A flame ignited in his eyes—

The real test has only just begun.

Zhang Wu was the envy of everyone at the banquet, and Li Wei declared that "the virtuous should be chosen," which his fellow disciples ridiculed as utterly foolish...

But now, he has entered the Bullhide Realm, with unparalleled defense. When he throws a punch, accompanied by gusts of wind, the edge of his palm tears through the air and emits a soft "hissing" sound.

It was late at night, in the back room of the Black Tiger Gang's headquarters.

The oil lamp cast a dim, flickering light, making the shadows of knives on the wall appear like ghostly claws dancing wildly. The air was thick with the mingled smells of cheap tobacco and blood, and half-dried bloodstains remained on the ground—left over from the punishment of the traitor the day before.

"Snapped!"

A rough porcelain wine bowl was smashed to the ground, shards flying everywhere.

"He Dabiao! You fucking piece of trash!" Deputy gang leader Tu Jiu stood in the hall, his face contorted with rage, veins bulging in his neck like a coiled venomous snake. He kicked over the wooden table in front of him, wine jars and meat platters crashing to the ground, spilling oil and soup everywhere.

"Twenty taels of silver for the monthly payment! A full twenty taels! And you're telling me—I was robbed?!"

"Who has the guts to mess with the Black Tiger Gang?"

He Dabiao knelt below the hall, his head bowed low, cold sweat trickling down his temples and landing on the blue bricks.

He was a burly man, usually a big shot in the gang, but now he looked like a dog with its spine cut off, even his breathing was cautious.

"Vice... Vice-Sir, I deserve to die..." His voice trembled. "That night we took the small path west of the village. I thought we were safe, but then I heard that a man suddenly appeared. He was dressed in black and masked, and his movements were so fast that he was inhuman!"

Before Ironhead could even cry for help, and before he could even see the other person's shadow clearly, he collapsed...

"Bullshit!" Tu Jiu roared, his eyes bloodshot.

He Dabiao's face was deathly pale, his lips trembling: "Vice-Commander... I'm willing to atone for my crime! I'm willing to investigate! I'm willing..."

"Investigate? Investigate my ass!" Tu Jiu slammed him to the ground, stomping on his chest with such force that it almost made him gasp for breath. "You don't even know who the robbers are, what are you investigating? Is your Black Tiger Gang's reputation not prestigious enough? Or do you think outsiders dare to touch our money?!"

He leaned down, his voice as cold as a viper's hiss: "Let me tell you, if something like this happens again, even if you're Chief Qiu's cousin, you won't escape the gang rules!"

He Dabiao shuddered at the thought of the gang rules, his back soaked with cold sweat.

He knew this wasn't a bluff.

This has always been the rule of the Black Tiger Gang.

He Dabiao's pupils contracted.

Although Vajra and Iron Head were only low-level thugs, they were still skilled fighters, capable of holding their own against half a Forging Skin Realm martial artist, and each of them could take on three to five strong men.

The person who can kill them in one move... is no ordinary person.

"You'd better get out here and investigate!" Tu Jiu kicked him away, roaring like thunder. "If you can't find anything, don't come back! The Black Tiger Gang doesn't keep useless people!"

He Dabiao staggered to his feet, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, but he dared not wipe it away. He lowered his head and walked out of the hall step by step, his back hunched, as if he had aged ten years overnight.

He Dabiao was also annoyed by the scolding, thinking to himself: I don't know who exposed my affairs. This time I have really lost face.

Behind him, Tu Jiu stared at the candlelight and murmured softly:

"Xiushui Village... things haven't been peaceful lately."

"Someone wants to harm us."

"Investigate! Investigate to the death!"

As the morning light shone down, Song Jing walked toward the iron casserole.

A new day of tempering begins.

This time, everything is for the sake of moving forward alone.

Because the pinnacle of martial arts is loneliness, solitude, a long and arduous quest, and the unbearable cold at the top.

Since that night when he ambushed and killed Tie Tou and Jingang, Song Jing continued to come and go from the martial arts arena as usual, doing iron shot drills, weighted runs, and cold water baths every day, as if nothing had happened.

The next morning, as soon as he arrived at the martial arts school, he heard the steward announce: "Due to the escalating war outside the city, the official roads are blocked, and the supply of medicinal herbs is cut off, the martial arts school's skin-tempering ointment will be borne by the disciples themselves from today onwards, two bottles per person per month, first come, first served."

Song Jing remained calm and composed.

Fortunately, the twenty-odd taels of silver that were found on the corpses of the Black Tiger Gang members that night were still in his pocket.

He took out three ounces and bought two bottles of ordinary skin-tempering ointment—its efficacy was far less than before. Now his skin was like cowhide, and when ordinary ointment was applied, his palms only turned slightly red, and even the pain was barely felt; the tempering efficiency had plummeted.

"If it's a high-quality skin-tempering ointment, it might be able to make up for the progress and maintain at least one improvement in proficiency per day," he thought to himself.

After all, since breaking through to the Bull-skin Realm, the proficiency increase has dropped from two points per day to one point per day, and there is even a trend of one point every two days.

The Bullhide Realm is a higher level, and it's harder to master. The level of mastery doesn't increase linearly, but rather increases more slowly with each breakthrough. The edge effect diminishes, the burning sensation of the iron sand weakens, and the intensity of cultivation becomes insufficient.

After another full day of cultivation, Song Jing lay down for a while, feeling a bit tired.

[Person] Song Jing

[Realm Progress] Minor Success in Skin Forging - Bullhide Realm (1/100)

[Technique Progress] Introduction to the Wind Chasing Leg Technique (61/100)

The following evening, he found Fatty Chen Fu and asked in a low voice, "Do you have any high-quality skin-tempering ointment? I'll pay double the price."

The fat man patted his chest and declared, "Leave it to me! I have connections at the pharmacy and am quite familiar with the manager. Through insider channels, it's three ounces a bottle; buy in bulk, and it'll cost two and a half ounces!"

Without saying a word, Song Jing immediately took out ten taels of silver and handed it over: "Give me four bottles, enough for two months."

This thing is the hard currency of the first realm, and there is a constant demand from first-realm martial artists. In times of war, there is no guarantee that the supply will be cut off one day, and it may even appreciate in value.

The following evening, the fat man only delivered two bottles, his face full of apology: "Brother, I'm so sorry! The rebels outside the city have occupied Qingyang Mountain, which is the main production area of ​​'Blood Vine Grass,' and we've run out of raw materials for our high-quality plaster! Now a bottle costs five taels, and it's in limited supply. I had to go through a lot of trouble and beg to get these two bottles..."

Song Jing gritted his teeth and accepted the money, paying ten taels of silver, which was almost equivalent to two months' income for an ordinary sparring instructor at the martial arts school.

For an ordinary person, a year's income might not be that much; it's hard to imagine how many stitches they would need to mend shoes or how many kilograms of fish they would catch.

He knew that prices would only increase in the future, and that demand would even exceed supply.

The external situation is becoming more severe, with increased uncertainty. Resources have become a zero-sum game, and the path of the martial artist is becoming increasingly brutal.

Now, the 70-degree iron sand is like warm water to him; the pain is minimal, the burning sensation is almost gone, and his cultivation progress has slowed down significantly.

"I need to ask Senior Brother Zhou for advice on how to advance," he thought. "Perhaps I should switch to hotter iron sand, or introduce the methods of 'weighted tempering' and 'alternating cold and fire'."

But he didn't act immediately.

Now is not the time.

He had to wait—wait for the assessment to end, wait for his official registration, wait for his cultivation to be partially completed, and wait for Senior Brother Zhou to return.

I'll go and ask for advice, and also have a friendly exchange to test my limits.

After all, others are not trustworthy. It's better to be slow and steady than to go far.

He deliberately concealed his breathing, walked lightly, spoke in a low voice, and even his eyes were calmer than usual.

He had already achieved his goal, but he didn't want to publicize it.

If the Black Tiger Gang knew he was the murderer, given his current strength and status, they would surely launch a full-scale revenge, bringing immense disaster and directly disrupting his cultivation progress.

If Zhang Wu's faction sees him making rapid progress, they will definitely intensify their suppression efforts and even set traps to frame him.

The wood is beautiful in the forest, and the wind will destroy it.

Now, only Senior Brother Zhou is trustworthy.

But he can't reveal too much.

He would wait—wait until the three-month trial period was over, until he had mastered the basics of his technique, until he had the ability to protect himself, before making a name for himself.

With March approaching, the martial arts arena at Zhuifeng Martial Arts School was bustling with activity.

Today is the final assessment day for Niu Pi Jing's qualifications.

There are two rules:

First, insert both palms into scalding hot iron sand at 70 degrees Celsius and persist for the time it takes for three incense sticks to burn. If the skin is not ulcerated or charred after being removed, but only slightly red, then you pass the test.

Secondly, those who can simultaneously smash three stacked blue bricks and penetrate to the bottom layer pass the test.

Only after passing both can one enter the realm of "cowhack".

The first twenty players took to the field, and nineteen were eliminated.

Some people initially tried to hold on, but after an incense stick's time, they screamed and pulled their hands away, their palms were charred and smoking, and their skin and flesh were torn open.

Some people gritted their teeth and endured the Iron Sand Pass, but when they slammed their palms onto the blue bricks, the shock caused their tiger's mouth to split open, blood staining the stone block, and they were too weak to raise their palms again.

The atmosphere was tense, and everyone's eyes were drawn to one person—Sun Li.

With Zhang Wu's financial support, he had already been using premium skin-strengthening ointment, and his qi and blood were far superior to his peers. He was recognized as "the most promising candidate to break through" and was the biggest favorite in this assessment.

Sun Li made his first appearance, dressed in a newly made outfit and leather boots, exuding confidence and the air of a master.

First test: Iron sand test.

He took a deep breath and slowly inserted his palms into the crimson iron sand.

At first, he appeared calm, but by the time the second incense stick had burned, his forehead was covered in cold sweat, his jaw was clenched, and his body was trembling slightly.

When the third incense stick had just burned halfway down, he suddenly groaned three times: "Ah, ah, ah!"

His right hand instinctively tried to pull away, but he forcefully held it down!

"Hold on... I have to hold on..." His eyes were bloodshot, and he was relying entirely on his willpower to persevere.

"Time's up!" The deacon struck the gong.

Sun Li breathed a sigh of relief and staggered as he withdrew his hand—

My palms are bright red, covered in blisters, and the edges are charred black! Although they haven't ulcerated, they've clearly reached their limit.

"He passed! Senior Brother Sun passed!" The crowd erupted in cheers.

Zhang Wu sat under the high platform pavilion, fanning himself with a folding fan, and nodded with satisfaction: "Not bad, you didn't embarrass me."

Despite the excruciating pain, Sun Li knelt and kowtowed, saying, "It is entirely thanks to Senior Brother Zhang's assistance that I was able to pass this ordeal by sheer luck!"

Liu Jiankun crossed his arms and congratulated him: "Congratulations, Senior Brother Zhang, on gaining another capable assistant."

Zhou Xingyun frowned and whispered to Xu Qian, "He forcibly took 'Pain Relief Powder' to numb his pain, which allowed him to endure for the time it takes for three incense sticks to burn. His foundation is weak, and he may suffer hidden injuries in the future. His qi and blood will be unstable, making it difficult for him to achieve great success."

Xu nodded in agreement: "Such a hasty pursuit of quick success and instant benefits will ultimately prevent one from achieving great things."

The old curator kept his eyes closed and remained silent, seemingly unconcerned, but a barely perceptible hint of disappointment flashed across his face.

Second challenge: Crush the blue bricks with your palm.

Sun Li walked to the stone pier, took a few deep breaths, and suddenly swung his palm!

"Snapped!"

The first brick showed no reaction, the second trembled slightly, and the third remained completely still!

His face turned deathly pale, and he delivered another blow—

"Click!"

It's still not over.

On the third strike, the three bricks finally broke, but the break was jagged, and the palm was scratched and bled by the broken stones.

"Barely... barely passable." The steward hesitated for a moment before finally nodding.

The applause was sparse.

Some people muttered, "This is considered a boastful realm? It's probably at the bottom."

Sun Li, however, felt as if he had been granted a pardon. He straightened his back, scanned the crowd, and glared fiercely at Song Jing in the corner: "Some people don't even have the courage to step onto the stage, yet they dare to dream of breaking through?"

Laughter erupted from all sides.

Liu Jiankun scoffed, "Look, that Song Jing is still practicing! Who's he trying to impress? Three months have passed, and he probably hasn't made a single improvement, has he? Does he really think that hard training can defy the heavens? If that's the case, then wouldn't labor make you rich? If that's the case, then the village's cows would be the richest people!"

The crowd immediately echoed, causing a burst of laughter.

Then the crowd began to murmur among themselves:

"Song Jing? He definitely won't pass!"

"I heard he's aloof and withdrawn, and doesn't talk to anyone."

"Anyone who doesn't know better would think he's made a breakthrough. He's got some serious skills, and he's even more arrogant than Senior Brother Zhang."

Song Jing ignored him and just kept wiping his hands.

The skin is dark and leathery, slightly cool to the touch, and faintly gleams with a black iron sheen—the leather is already made, so what is there to fear from this iron sand that is only seventy degrees Celsius?

Finally, the deacon shouted, "Next, Song Jing!"

The entire room fell silent for a moment, then burst into laughter.

Zhang Wu lazily raised his eyes, a playful smirk playing on his lips: "Oh? He still dares to go? Is he trying to embarrass himself in public and gain some sympathy? I heard he's repeatedly refused your offers?"

"That's right, Senior Brother Zhang, this person really doesn't know what's good for him."

Moreover, he hasn't used a single precious medicine in the past three months, and he can't even bear to go to brothels. Does this poor wretch really think he can defy the heavens through asceticism?

"To think you can outdo Senior Brother Zhang's family's three generations of accumulated wealth with your meager training is utterly delusional!" Sun Li immediately added fuel to the fire, then sneered at Song Jing on the stage, "Junior Brother Song, why don't you just admit defeat? Otherwise you'll burn your hands and it'll be inconvenient to beg later!"

Liu Jiankun turned his back and said, "It's just a waste of everyone's time anyway. There's no need to watch. The result is predictable."

On the high platform, the old curator closed his eyes to rest, seemingly oblivious to everything around him.

Xu stood by the pillar, his gaze calm, and nodded slightly.

Zhou Xingyun, who had just returned to town, had bright eyes, leaned forward, and unconsciously dug his fingertips into his palms, muttering softly, "Junior Brother... this time, it's time to draw your sword."

Song Jing stepped forward slowly, his expression calm and his steps steady, as if he were not there to take an exam, but to complete a preordained ceremony.