Becoming a Saint Starting with the Chasing Wind Leg Technique

Zhang Wu hosted a banquet at Juxian Pavilion to entertain his newly recruited disciples. The hall was filled with the sounds of clinking glasses, laughter, and the aroma of wine and meat.

Red candles burned brightly, and brocade curtains hung down, creating an atmosphere of extravagance.

During the meal, everyone toasted Zhang Wu, praising him as a "prodigy of the martial arts school," clearly regarding him as a strong candidate to succeed him.

Song Jing, however, never showed up from beginning to end.

Zhang Wu sat upright in the main seat, a smile on his face, chatting and laughing with others as if he didn't care at all. But in a moment when no one was watching, he suddenly clenched his fist over the wine glass in his hand—

"Click!"

The porcelain cup shattered with a crack, spilling wine that dripped through the fingers.

He calmly released his grip, letting the shards and leftover wine fall to the ground. The smile on his lips remained unchanged, but his eyes flashed with a cold light.

"Song Jing..." he sneered inwardly, "You think hiding and not showing up means you're not giving me face? You think you can fly after practicing leg techniques for a few days?"

He slowly raised his eyes, gazing at the deep night outside the window, a hint of murderous intent flashing in his eyes.

"You have no right to overturn the sky over Xiushui Village. You are nothing but a rootless duckweed, while I am an iron cavalryman who has risen to power by stepping on countless others."

"When you dare to take that step, I will show you who the true ruler of this land is."

The seventh day of the lunar month, noon.

Guiya'ao.

The valley is filled with jagged rocks, howling mountain winds, and the air thick with the smell of rust and blood, as if it had drunk the blood of countless dead souls. At the entrance, several broken wooden signs hang askew, bearing the words "Medicinal Herbs Purchase" and "Traded Veterans," their characters faded and almost blurred by wind and sun.

Song Jing and Zhou Xingyun set off early in the morning, treading mountain paths and passing through dense forests, finally arriving at the legendary black market.

Once you step inside, the scene before you is breathtaking.

Hidden in the rocky valley is a secret market.

Dozens of stalls are lined up along the mountainside, seemingly disorganized yet possessing their own order.

There were vendors selling herbs, their baskets piled high with poisonous plants like heart-breaking grass, dragon's blood, and dragon bone powder; there were also weapon repairmen, the sound of hammers striking never ceasing; and then there were those gambling with their lives, their caged dogs howling, their fangs stained with blood.

A masked man whispered his wares: "Ancestral secret recipe, strengthens bones and muscles, effective after just one pill! Opens the Ren meridian in three days, breaks through bottlenecks in five!"

The air was thick with the stench of blood, sweat, and rust, mixed with the pungent smell of cheap tobacco, suffocating yet inexplicably exciting—this was a lawless land, a jungle where the strong preyed on the weak, and a place of opportunity that countless martial arts practitioners dreamed of.

"This place..." Song Jing murmured, his gaze sweeping over the surroundings, "is more chaotic than I expected."

"Chaos creates opportunity." Zhou Xingyun chuckled, standing with his hands behind his back, his tone indifferent. "The black market is like a martial arts world, with only one rule—the strong profit, and the weak perish."

But if you have the courage and a discerning eye, you can find genuine treasures.

They walked slowly and soon arrived at the very center of the black market.

In a corner, a one-armed middle-aged man had several yellowed martial arts manuals on his stall: "Shattering Stele Palm," "River-Breaking Fist," and "Fiery Strength." The handwriting was messy, the paper was thin and brittle, and the edges were charred, as if they had been burned.

Further ahead, weapon stalls lined the streets, displaying a dazzling array of swords, spears, and halberds.

A long, black sword with dragon patterns carved along its spine, gleaming coldly, priced at five hundred taels;

A broken sword, its blade chipped and chipped, yet it exudes a menacing aura; priced at three hundred taels.

There are also custom-made soft armor, wrist guards, and sandbags for martial arts practitioners, each item is expensive and a real weapon in combat.

Song Jing's gaze swept over them, and he estimated in his mind:

"Five hundred taels... If you exclude food and drink when I work as a sparring partner, that's almost my savings from ten years of sparring. That's Fu Wu, it's tangible."

He shook his head with a wry smile, sighing as he secretly noted down the design and price of these weapons. He knew that he could only look at them now, but one day he would stand here with dignity and hold the weapon he desired in his hands.

He walked up to a stall and his gaze sharpened.

It was a black booklet with the four characters "Wind and Thunder Leg Technique" engraved on the cover. The strokes were vigorous and powerful, like those of a knife or axe, and there was a faint sense of thunder, as if the four characters themselves were vibrating the air.

The stall owner was a middle-aged martial artist, thin as a rake, wearing a tattered cloak, but his eyes gleamed with a sharp light, like an old wolf that had been lying in wait for many years, waiting for its next prey.

"How much is this book?" Song Jing asked.

The middle-aged man sneered: "Four hundred and fifty taels."

"Why is it so expensive?" Song Jing frowned slightly. "Other martial arts manuals, even incomplete scrolls, cost only around a hundred taels."

The middle-aged man slowly raised his head, his voice hoarse like rust scraping metal: "Do you know the 'Wind and Thunder Martial Arts School'?"

Song Jing shook his head.

"Three years ago, Fenglei Martial Arts School was one of the five major martial arts schools in the prefectural city, with three hundred disciples and a formidable reputation. The founder of this 'Fenglei Leg Technique' used it to break through five formations and kill six generals in the third stage of the martial arts examination, fighting against ten opponents single-handedly for three days, ultimately winning the championship and causing a sensation throughout the city!"

A hint of reminiscence flashed in his eyes: "Back then, the martial arts world was even saying—'When the wind and thunder appear, all magic dissipates!' That was a true legend!"

Song Jing was startled.

"But what happened next?"

"And then?" The middle-aged man sneered, "The descendants were unworthy. They did not receive the true teachings and offended the warlord's men in the east. Overnight, the entire family was slaughtered, leaving no one alive."

The martial arts techniques were confiscated, and almost all of the disciples were wiped out. Thus, the once mighty Fenglei Martial Arts School was destroyed.

And so it vanished into the long river of history, without even a ripple.

This is a fragment of a manuscript dictated by their last disciple before his death.

He stared at Song Jing: "It's hard to tell if it's real or fake. If you dare to take it, I'll sell it to you."

Song Jing pondered.

Zhou Xingyun leaned closer and whispered a reminder: "Incomplete scrolls are risky. Although this technique was indeed very powerful in the past, it may have errors and omissions. It would be better to choose a complete one, such as the 'River-Severing Leg Technique.' Although it is expensive, it is complete and safe."

The stall owner also advised, "Kid, this leg technique is incomplete; do you really want to learn it?"

Song Jing shook his head, his tone calm: "I'm just taking a look now, considering everything, and then picking a few to try."

Zhou Xingyun breathed a sigh of relief and said in a low voice, "Luckily you didn't act impulsively."

He pulled Song Jing aside and lowered his voice, "Do you know the reputation of the 'Wind and Thunder Leg Technique' on the black market?"

Song Jing shook his head.

"When this technique first came out, it was priced at one thousand taels! Everyone said it was an unparalleled leg technique that could make someone ascend to heaven in one step."

But what was the result? For eight years, countless people bought them to practice with, and all of them returned empty-handed!

Why?

"It's too difficult!" Zhou Xingyun smiled bitterly. "This leg technique emphasizes 'wind following thunder, thunder borrowing the wind's power,' requiring both internal and external cultivation, and demanding extremely strong comprehension and foundation. However, most people can't even master the first move, 'Wind-Stepping Step,' let alone 'Thunder Explosion Leg.'"

"And then?"

"Later, the price plummeted—900 taels, 800 taels, 700 taels... and within a year it dropped to 600 taels. After that, nobody dared to touch it, and it finally dropped to 200 taels, and to this day nobody wants it."

He shook his head and sighed: "This stall owner is the one who bought it back then."

He practiced for two years without any success, so he simply lowered the price in an attempt to recoup some of his losses.

Eight years have passed, and this technique has become infamous on the black market, practically considered "rotten goods." Who would dare touch it now? It's likely to be lost forever.

"If you really like it, don't worry. Just raise the money and buy it when the time comes. Rest assured, no fool will want to buy it."

Song Jing listened, but his gaze never left the black booklet.

"Senior brother," Song Jing suddenly spoke up, asking curiously, "You just said that the founder became famous in the 'third stage of the martial arts examination'? What is the martial arts examination?"