Becoming a Saint Starting with the Chasing Wind Leg Technique

The mountain wind howled, stirring up a bloody stench.

Song Jing stood amidst the pile of corpses, his hands clenched into fists, his nails digging deep into his palms.

He slowly raised his head, looking towards the martial arts school, a cold flame burning in his eyes.

Song Jing began clearing the battlefield. These people were dressed in rebel uniforms and carrying rebel weapons. They had chosen this place; the feng shui was quite good.

This saved a lot of time on concealment and cleaning; the next step was to search the body and loot the bag.

I wonder what surprises await. I hope these guys will become richer.

After all, we went through so much trouble this time, so we should have a good meal to make up for it when we get back.

Hopefully, these people can raise enough money to buy the cultivation technique.

After the bloody battle on the cliff ended, Song Jing stood amidst the pile of corpses, his cold sweat still damp, but he had already begun to tally up the spoils of war.

The eight crossbowmen had only a few copper coins and cheap short knives on them, totaling no more than ten taels of silver.

Song Jing sighed and complained, "Eight people combined have this little bit of money. They're really poor. They're risking their lives for the Black Tiger Gang for this little bit of money!"

No wonder they tried to run away when things went wrong; what a bunch of rabble!

This is the class limitation of gangs; how can such gangs grow big without any cohesion?

The only body left to be examined is He Dabiao's.

He Dabiao—as the de facto leader of the Black Tiger Gang, he must be very wealthy!

He searched He Dabiao's body many times and found that there were only a few taels of silver in his pocket.

This disappointed him greatly. Was this all the money the Black Tiger Gang's branch leader had? He didn't go to brothels every day, did he? He hadn't made any extravagant purchases.

Until he kept feeling around and felt something that looked like a stack of papers embedded inside, which he found in a hidden pocket close to his body:

There were ten silver notes totaling one hundred taels, printed with the four large characters "Xiushui Money Shop".

Something was still wrong; it was definitely more than just this amount of money. His sharp mind quickly realized that something was amiss.

Song Jing opened the document and looked at it. He then counted the money and realized it was more than that amount, and his brows furrowed.

Then they went to the Black Tiger Gang's branch to search for money. He Dabiao has been plundering the people's wealth for so many years, there's no way he only has one hundred taels of silver.

I wonder where this kid hid the money.

The mountain wind howled, stirring up the bloodshed beneath the cliff.

Standing amidst the pile of corpses, Song Jing covered He Dabiao's face with the last piece of rebel clothing.

Then they burned all these people to the ground, making it impossible to identify them, leaving behind only traces of the rebels.

They left no information about themselves, so others would just assume that it was a rebellion that killed a few nameless people.

He touched the hundred-tael silver note in his pocket, his brows furrowing slightly.

"He Dabiao has been in charge of the gambling dens, salt road, and docks in Xincheng Mountain for three years, taking a cut of at least fifty taels of silver every month. Over three years, he has earned at least eighteen hundred taels. Even if he hands over seventy percent to the gang, he can easily keep three hundred taels for himself."

Song Jing looked it over and over, counting it carefully, and confirmed that he had only found one hundred taels.

"The remaining money is most likely hidden in the branch headquarters, in his lair." His eyes turned cold. "That old thief is definitely hiding something."

Without further hesitation, he turned and disappeared into the night.

His blue robe was stained with blood, yet his steps were as light as a cat's.

At 11:45 AM, the Black Tiger Gang's Xinchengshan branch.

The once brightly lit and bustling stronghold is now as silent as a grave.

Even before He Dabiao died, the Black Tiger Gang was already demoralized and disorganized.

Most of his trusted men were taken away by him, leaving only a few unsuspecting low-level henchmen to guard the house.

The gate was ajar, and two guards were dozing against the gateposts, snoring loudly, their swords still sheathed at their waists.

Song Jing arrived like a ghost, gently pressing his palms against the back of the neck—

"Click! Click!"

The sound of bone cracking was so faint it was almost inaudible.

The two of them collapsed to the ground without even blinking.

He swaggered in, walking in with an air of nonchalance, and no one saw him or stopped him until he reached the lobby.

The main hall was empty, wine jars were overturned, and copper coins and dice were scattered on the ground.

Clearly, people gamble here during the day, but scatter like birds and beasts at night.

He walked through the corridor, and a commotion came from the inner hall.

"Hahaha! I won again! Pay up!"

"Damn it, I gambled away my entire salary this month!"

"Why isn't Boss He back yet? Weren't we supposed to divide the spoils tonight?"

Song Jing stopped outside the door and peered through the crack—

Five gang members sat around a gambling table, which was piled with broken silver and copper coins, and reeked of alcohol.

He took a deep breath and kicked the door open!

"Bang--!"

The wooden door slammed against the wall, causing the candlelight to flicker wildly.

"Who?!"

"The gang leader is back?"

Everyone looked up, their eyes blurry with drunkenness.

Upon seeing who it was, they froze instantly.

The three men suddenly stood up, their faces contorted with malice.

"You're Song Jing?!"

"Weren't you dead?!"

"Boss He himself said you're doomed!"

"How could you possibly be alive? He's a top-tier martial artist, renowned for many years!"

"There's no way I can't beat a greenhorn like you!"

"Could it be... that Boss He is dead? No! Impossible!"

The last man roared, "What did you do to Boss He?!"

The remaining two men's legs buckled, and they knelt down with a thud, their voices trembling:

"Brother Song... Brother Song! Spare me!"

"Master Song...Master Song! Spare me!"

"I have an eighty-year-old mother to support and a three-year-old child to raise; they all depend on me for survival!"

"Me too! My whole family depends on my meager monthly allowance to get through the winter!"

The three thugs glared angrily, pointing at the two kneeling men and cursing:

"You two cowards! Boss He treated you well, and now you're begging for mercy from your enemy?!"

"Who treated your mother's illness? Who buried your father?!"

"If we don't fight to the death today, how will we face Boss He after we die?!"

Song Jing stood at the door, his blue robe stained with blood, his eyes as cold as ice.

He glanced at the five men, a cold smile playing on his lips:

"If you want to know so much, why don't you go down and see him? You'll find out then."

Before the words were even finished, the person had already arrived like a thunderbolt!

Treading on the swallows!

With a sweeping right leg, the first person to be hit had their ribs shattered, spitting blood as they flew backward, crashing into the gambling table.

A fleeting glimpse!

He flashed behind the second person and struck him on the neck with his left palm—his throat bone broke, and he died on the spot.

The power is cut off!

The third leg struck the last man's temple like a steel whip—his skull caved in, his body fell to the ground, and blood flowed from his seven orifices!

Three breaths later, all three were dead!

Before the punch is thrown, the kick has already determined life or death.

The air was thick with the stench of blood and alcohol, a mixture that created a nauseatingly sweet and pungent smell.

The remaining two lay sprawled on the ground, their crotches soaked, shivering, and even forgot to kowtow.

Song Jing looked down at him, his voice as calm as still water:

"Where did you hide the money?"

The two men snapped out of their daze and scrambled to their feet, eager to claim credit and seize this only chance to earn a living.

"I know! I know!"

"He Dabiao is a cautious man. He secretly built a hidden room, and he always goes in alone. I know where it is!"

"We'll take Master Song there now." The two men led the way.

As they walked, they stumbled and lunged toward the opposite wall, their trembling fingers groping between the bricks.

"Click—"

A soft click of a mechanism.

The entire wall slowly slid away, revealing a secret room about three feet square!

Song Jing entered the secret room, his pupils slightly contracting.

His heart raced slightly. This was the first time he had experienced the feeling of "confiscating someone's home," and success or failure would determine whether he could purchase the "Wind and Thunder Leg Technique."

On the wooden shelf sat a small jade bottle, its packaging luxurious and ornate, the stopper tightly sealed, and a faint fragrance of medicine wafting out.

In the corner, a conspicuous little iron box was half-open, with neatly stacked white silver notes inside;

On the wall hung a fragment of a martial arts manual, a land deed, a stack of IOUs, and an account book.

He was first drawn to the fragments of a martial arts manual on the wall, which bore the three large characters "Golden Bell Cover".

After a closer look, it turned out to be the same martial arts manual that He Dabiao had bought on the black market.

That time I saw him use this technique, it was indeed extraordinary, as it could greatly enhance his defensive capabilities.

If he hadn't been so untrained at the time, he really wouldn't have been able to beat him. In the end, he relied on his own advantages and used a lot of his skills to wear him down to death.

Obtaining this skill now is a wonderful surprise, like adding wings to a tiger!

This also solves the weakness in defense, making the future competition between martial arts schools even more likely.

Then open the small jade bottle, take a sniff—one crimson pill, its medicinal power surging!

A molting pill! One! This is a rare and precious item!

I remember hearing that Zhang Wu paid for this pill in order to please Li Wei and receive his guidance.

Back then, it must have made countless people in the martial arts school envious.

I never imagined I'd get one myself.

This pill is enough to accelerate his breakthrough to the Iron Skin Realm! It will shorten the time by one month.

Lifting the small iron box again, I found two hundred taels of silver notes inside, brand new and neatly arranged.

Combined – Calmly concluded

He quickly packed the pills, silver, and fragments of martial arts manuals into his bag, his movements swift and fluid.

Wow, they're really rich!

Unfortunately, gangs always die quickly. They don't even get to enjoy themselves. Without a formal organization and scientific and meticulous management, how can they possibly develop in the long run?

The joy flashed in his eyes only for a moment before he returned to calm.

This was not a celebration of sudden wealth, but a confirmation that fate had finally turned in his favor.

He slung his pack over his shoulder, turned, and walked out of the secret room.

Outside the door, the two men were still kowtowing, their foreheads bleeding from the effort.

"Master Song...can we leave now?"

"We didn't see anything! We won't say anything!"

"Please... spare us..."

Song Jing stopped and smiled faintly:

"sure."

The two had just breathed a sigh of relief when their faces lit up with the ecstatic joy of surviving a disaster.

But then his tone changed, becoming as cold as a knife:

"—I'll send you to your deaths."

"No--!"

The two turned to flee.

Song Jing slightly raised his right leg and then suddenly kicked out.

"Bang! Bang!"

The two bodies crashed into the wall and slid down, already lifeless.

One man's chest collapsed, another's neck was broken—both died instantly from the blow.

He patted his sleeves, as if brushing away dust.

"He Dabiao treated you well, yet you all rushed to betray the secret room while his body was still warm."

Such people deserve to die more than the enemy.

The night wind swept through the hall, swirling up playing cards and wine stains scattered on the floor.

The Black Tiger branch has completely changed hands tonight.

Song Jing shouldered his bundle and disappeared into the darkness.

In his arms, three hundred taels of silver, a molting pill, and a fragment of a cultivation manual weighed heavily on his chest.

But he felt neither joy nor sorrow; only two words remained in his heart:

It seems the matter of the Wind and Thunder Leg Technique is settled.

With two hundred taels added to the previous amount, it was almost three hundred taels, not even including the value of this pill, and the money was already raised.

There was even more; he also acquired a defensive technique, truly a case of finding something after a long and arduous search.

There was also an account book in which an incredible secret was discovered.

The next move, "Wind and Thunder Leg Technique," is a must-win.

This establishes a comprehensive system of strength in speed, offense, and defense, making one far more powerful than those who can only specialize in one particular skill.

Meanwhile, on the distant mountain road, a homing pigeon flapped its wings and flew towards Xiushui City.

Black Tiger Headquarters is about to receive devastating news.

The storm has only just begun.