Becoming a Saint Starting with the Chasing Wind Leg Technique

Song Jing started jumping left and right, throwing a punch, kicking, doing push-ups, pull-ups, and sit-ups.

Why isn't it responding? Isn't this how you usually unlock cheat codes?

Is it because of the wrong posture, or because of insufficient force?

After struggling for a long time, I was covered in sweat and almost exhausted. My vision was starting to blur, so I took the opportunity to lie down on the ground, panting heavily.

At this point, the panel prompts that you need to obtain the correct training method and load the technique in order to achieve success.

Looking at the night sky, Song Jing suddenly smiled, though with a hint of frost.

Indeed, great force does not necessarily produce miracles, but sustained great force certainly does.

But having a high level of skill is not enough; the right techniques are also very important.

Realm is like the number before it, and cultivation method is like the number after it. Only when the two are closely combined and neither can be missing can one obtain great strength.

But here's the question—where do the techniques come from?

The Great Qian Dynasty had a flourishing martial arts tradition for two hundred years, and had long since turned martial arts techniques into the most strictly monopolized resource.

Top-tier martial arts techniques are only found in the hands of aristocratic families, the imperial court, and sects; ordinary people never even hear of their names.

In this small town, only the county government, local powerful families, and martial arts schools possess the methods to enter the sect.

Although it cannot compare to those giants with a history spanning thousands of years, it is the only ladder to heaven for those at the bottom.

Beneath the Heavenly Ladder, mountains of corpses lay.

Song Jing knew that he came from a humble background, had no money or power, and dreamed of entering the county government.

Not only was great strength required, but also a reputation for "high moral character and prestige," and recommendation from local gentry was essential—he was an orphan from a fishing village, and no one was willing to write him a letter of recommendation.

Gangs? Even less desirable.

The Black Tiger Gang and its ilk are nothing but thugs and ruffians disguised as martial artists. They may be powerful today, but they will be destroyed tomorrow. Their future is uncertain.

To throw yourself into it is not to strive for a better future, but to risk your life.

The only viable path is through a martial arts school.

The martial arts school emphasizes tradition, rules, and the continuation of its traditions. Although it also pursues profit, it at least has a training system: providing special ointment within three months to help break through to the skin-strengthening stage.

If successful, they will leap over the dragon gate; if unsuccessful, they will be sent back to their fields, and their money will be wasted.

But the five taels of silver entrance fee was like a mountain to him.

After much thought, he decided to go find his elder brother, Song Yi—who had worked at the blacksmith shop for many years and, though his connections were limited, his information network was excellent.

A night breeze swept through the hall, the oil lamp flickered, and the lamplight cast ghostly shadows on the earthen walls.

"Brother, I want to go to a martial arts school to learn martial arts." Song Jing got straight to the point, his voice low and carrying a hint of barely perceptible guilt.

He knew this was tantamount to asking for money. And his elder brother's family was already completely controlled by his sister-in-law, Wang.

The dark-skinned man's rough earthenware bowl froze in mid-air, his brow furrowed. "Learn martial arts? Have you thought this through? Five taels of silver per session! If you can't break through to the 'Oxhide Realm' within three months, the ointment supply will be cut off, and you'll be sent back immediately—so many people have gone, and in the end, they didn't even hear a sound!"

His eyes were full of worry, mixed with heartache.

My younger brother was stubborn and smart from a young age, and he was also physically strong. But in this world, martial arts can't be mastered just by hard work.

Moreover, this money is not a small amount; it's almost all of his savings. It will inevitably alarm his wife, and there will certainly be a quarrel.

Song Jing took a deep breath, understanding that his elder brother was not in a good situation. He felt helpless and heartbroken: "Brother, I will definitely learn something and repay you in full."

Based on the panel, Song Jing could only make this promise to his elder brother, even though it was just empty talk, it was a last resort.

Looking into my younger brother's eyes, filled with hope and determination, I realized that perhaps going to the martial arts school might offer a glimmer of hope.

Then he thought of his parents drowning in a stormy night while fishing in their early years, and his heart softened again.

"If you really want to try, I'll give it to you." He gritted his teeth, as if forcing the words out of his mouth, and slowly got up. "I put the money under the bed board, just... just this once."

But once he made up his mind, he immediately bent down to lift the bedsheet, his movements swift yet resolute, and pulled out all his belongings.

"Here's five taels of silver, little brother."

Just as Song Jing was about to take the money from his elder brother's hand.

Just then, the door creaked open.

Wang, the eldest sister-in-law, stood at the doorway holding an empty winnowing basket. Upon hearing the word "money," her face instantly darkened. She slammed the basket on the ground, her voice sharp as a razor scraping the bottom of a pot: "Who wants money? Huh? Here to squander it again?"

Song Yi: "This time, my younger brother wants to practice martial arts, which shows his ambition, and that's a good thing."

Wang was instantly enraged. She stormed in, her gaze sweeping over Song Jing like a hook: "It's you again! Martial arts? You? Ha! Do you think the martial arts school is a garbage dump? They choose disciples based on aptitude, comprehension, and family background! What do you have? You look strong, but you're actually very weak! You'd be exhausted after three days of training!"

She grew angrier and angrier, turning to yell at the honest and simple-minded Song Yi: "You're brainless too! You eat coarse food and vegetables yourself, yet you support his extravagant spending? Did the little money you earn fall from the sky? Did it grow on the ground? He wants to practice martial arts? And you go crazy with him too? Are you even planning to sell the house and land to support his dream of becoming a martial artist?"

Song Yi's face turned purplish-red, his hands trembled and he withdrew them, his lips moved but no sound came out. He lowered his head, as if his spine had been pulled out, his shoulders slumped.

He was about to explain further when he started to say, "He..." before he could finish.

"What do you mean, 'him'!" Wang interrupted shrilly. "You're just soft-hearted! Useless thing! Look at how many people go to martial arts schools to learn martial arts, how many of them actually succeed!"

Many people paid the money but couldn't even pass the first test, which required enduring the heat of burning iron sand for the duration of an incense stick burning.

What's even more ruthless is that if you don't make a breakthrough after three months, you're simply kicked out.

Do you think that martial arts school is a place where people can get something for free?

You couldn't even get past the first hurdle. Your brother is the same race as you, how could he possibly be any different?

The room was deathly silent until the oil lamp flickered and burst into flame, shattering the silence.

Song Jing slowly stood up, his knees making a slight cracking sound.

He didn't look at Wang Shi or his elder brother; he simply straightened his collar, turned, and walked towards the door.

Despite the wind and snow hitting his face, he did not stop walking.

"Madam, I'll go see him off." Song Yi suddenly chased after him, his bulky body running across the grass as he shouted, "Ah Jing, wait for me!"

Upon hearing the sound on the grass, Song Jing stopped abruptly, his back as firm as iron.

Panting, Song Yi's half-cracked hand was visible through his sleeve as he gripped Song Jing's hands tightly.

His voice was extremely low, yet every word was clear and firm as he said, "Don't worry, Ah Jing, I will definitely raise the money for you."

Song Jing nodded gratefully and stepped into the darkness.

Standing at the doorway, watching his younger brother's departing figure, the wind and snow stung his face like knives. He murmured something, his voice so soft it was swallowed by the wind and snow:

"When I was a child, a fortune teller passed by and cast a divination for my grandfather, saying that there would definitely be a son who would bring prosperity to the family within three generations."

When I was young, I also wanted to learn martial arts, but I didn't have the talent. I spent a lot of money but achieved nothing. Now I'm old.

Before my father passed away, he always hoped that our family could produce a martial artist to bring honor to the Song family.

I didn't expect you to repay me. This is all I have in my life, but Xiao Jing, you still have endless hope.

So I can only place my hopes on you, and believe in you; I'm sure you'll amount to something great in this life.

Song Yi paused for a moment, then said firmly, "Don't worry, I'll definitely raise the money for you when the time comes."

Song Jing had already left. As he walked, he thought to himself, "At worst, I'll have to live frugally and endure some hardship. I'll make sure I can scrape together the money."

I went to town to find some short-term jobs, and with some of my savings, I sold some of my non-essential property.

I should be able to raise the money in a short time, but if I can't, I'm afraid I won't be able to make ends meet in the future.

Now we have no choice but to take a desperate gamble and cut off all other options.

Song Jing immediately took action, visiting every blacksmith shop, dock, and warehouse in town, and even waiting outside the livestock market and salt warehouse, asking one by one if there were any short-term jobs available.

However, it was overcrowded everywhere.

The blacksmith shop needed strong men who could wield a sledgehammer, but although he was sturdy, he had no experience; the dockworker jobs were already controlled by gangs, and outsiders couldn't get involved; the warehouse only accepted referrals from acquaintances and didn't even bother to ask any more questions.

The remaining jobs were either pitifully low pay—ten coins a day, not even enough to buy two coarse flour buns; or extremely dangerous: going down into the mine to clear silt, carrying saltpeter and gunpowder, taking the fall for others to test poison... A slight mistake could result in broken hands or feet, or even death on the spot.

Ironically, even so, people are still eager to do it.

"You're not going to do it? There are plenty of others who will!" A foreman with a pipe in his mouth glanced at him sideways, not even raising his eyelids. "There are twenty people waiting in line behind you, get out of the way!"

Song Jing stood on the street corner, looking at the numb and anxious faces in the bustling crowd—there were teenagers, old people, and women, and only two words remained in their eyes: to live.

He suddenly remembered a sentence he had read in his previous life: "When a person can't even sell their dignity, they can only sell their life."

You can risk your life, but someone has to pay you.

He turned around silently, his steps steady, but in his mind he had already considered several possible paths:

Xu Family's Huichun Hall is currently recruiting apprentices to sort medicinal herbs. Although there is no wage, they will provide two meals of thin porridge and allow the apprentices to handle medicinal herbs. Iron Scale Grass, Cold Marrow Dew, and other auxiliary materials needed for the Forging Skin Realm come directly from the pharmacy.

The temple in the east of the village opens on the first day of each month as a "celebration day," where visitors can enjoy free congee.

If all else fails, go to the black market and take on some shady errand jobs... High risk, but quick money.

Even a narrow road can be made if you keep walking.

Back home, he found the last half-bag of brown rice, a few old clothes, and an ancestral harpoon, and dragged them, along with the leaky fishing boat, to the market to sell them.

The fishing net was riddled with holes, and the buyer was only willing to pay eighty coins; the boat planks were old but still durable and in good condition, barely fetching seven hundred and twenty-five coins; the harpoon, however, was made of fine iron, barely fetching two hundred coins.

Adding them together gives us exactly one tael, but we're still short four taels of silver.

In the stillness of the night, the oil lamp flickered dimly.

Song Jing sat on the edge of the bed, his fingers gently stroking the edge of the panel, as if he could touch that cold hope.

With the control panel in hand, the direction is clear.

What he lacked was never talent, but opportunity.

Opportunity is always reserved for those who are prepared.

He blew out the oil lamp and lay down with his back straight as a pine tree.

Tomorrow, at daybreak, I'll go to the entrance of Xu Family's Huichun Hall and wait there, hoping to collect as much as I can.

Even if it's just sweeping the floor, you still have to step through that door.

Because behind that door might lie the first ray of light that could change one's destiny.