Becoming a Saint Starting with the Chasing Wind Leg Technique

He slowly said, "The current quota for martial arts exams is related to the county's martial arts spirit. If the quota cannot be fixed, it will not be conducive to the vigorous development of martial arts schools."

Sheng Huaixu picked up his pen, wrote the document, stamped it with the county magistrate's seal, and handed it to Cui Jianzhang: "You accompany Deputy Master Li to the Zhuifeng Martial Arts School to read it aloud."

The next morning, in front of the gate of the Chasing Wind Martial Arts School.

Holding the document, Cui Jianzhang read aloud expressionlessly:

"In order to promote the spirit of martial arts, implement the general principles, and select truly outstanding young talents, this county has decided:"

The number of recommended candidates for the Martial Arts University competition will be allocated at the discretion of the university, based on the teaching strength and youth talent cultivation of each martial arts school as quantitative assessment standards.

Witness the contest between Zhou Xingyun of the Chasing Wind Martial Arts School and Xiao Miechen of the Broken Mountain Martial Arts School, with the winner taking all.

The results will be revealed at the martial arts arena at the end of this month.

There are only 25 days left until the end of the month.

Overall, Xiao Miechen ranked sixth in strength at both the Zhuifeng Martial Arts School and the Duanyue Martial Arts School, while Zhou Xingyun could only be seventh, so he never accepted the traditional fixed allocation rules.

Therefore, this action is taken based on the principle of respecting strength, and it has a legitimate reason to stop criticism.

As dusk settled, the evening wind swirled dust around the town entrance.

Song Jing walked slowly along the dirt road leading to his new home, his steps steady, but his gaze was as heavy as iron.

Along the roadside, the once tidy houses are now dilapidated, with garbage piled up in the corners and several stray dogs rummaging through the scraps.

Even more alarming is the increasing number of refugees.

Not only were farmers fleeing the village displaced, but people in the town also began to be displaced.

Ragged people huddled under the eaves, children cried, and the elderly coughed incessantly.

Several gaunt men squatted in the corner, their eyes vacant, as if they were laborers who had just fled back from the front lines.

"Have you heard?" an old man whispered to his companion. "The three counties in the north have been breached. The imperial court has conscripted three batches of able-bodied men, even fifty-year-olds... A few days ago, even rogue martial artists were conscripted. They are all old guys with declining blood and stiff muscles, supposedly to support logistical work."

Another person smiled bitterly: "Our small place will be subject to conscription sooner or later."

I heard that last month, the state government discussed issuing a secret order that all those in the leather-forging region and above would have a quota allocated to each county for "reserve military service," to be conscripted in wartime, and those who violated this order would be treated as traitors.

Song Jing paused slightly, his eyes turning cold.

Above the Skin Forging Realm... that includes me, right?

Although martial arts schools provide protection, if the imperial court issues an ironclad decree, even martial arts schools cannot guarantee the safety of their disciples.

Ultimately, in chaotic times, only strength is the true talisman.

He quickened his pace, and soon he saw two familiar figures waiting expectantly in front of his courtyard gate—Fatty Chen and Monkey Lin.

"Brother Jing!" The two greeted him immediately upon seeing him, their faces beaming with joy and their eyes sparkling with admiration.

"Brother Jing, the news's going crazy outside!" Lin Hou'er grabbed his arm. "They're saying you knocked Wang Hu of the Duan Yue Martial Arts School away in three moves, is that true? Tell me quickly, how did you do it? Did you use the ultimate technique of the Chasing Wind Leg Style? One kick sent him flying three zhang (approximately 10 meters)?"

Fatty Chen chimed in, his eyes gleaming: "Did you use some kind of invulnerability technique? Impervious to knife cuts and punches?"

Looking at his two childhood friends, Song Jing felt a warmth in his heart and said with a smile, "Brothers, don't stand outside in the wind."

He patted the money pouch at his waist, making a crisp sound, "Let's go, Li's Restaurant, it's on me!"

"Let's eat and talk. Whatever you want to know, I'll tell you everything I know!"

Upon hearing this, the two cheered and ran to catch up.

Li Ji Restaurant, the most magnificent tavern in town, with carved beams and painted rafters, and the aroma of wine wafting through the air.

As soon as the three entered, Lin Hou'er couldn't help but sigh, "Sigh, we're just getting in here because of Brother Jing. With our meager wages, how could we dare to step into this place? One meal here would probably cost us next month's taxes."

"That's right." Fatty Chen smiled wryly. "The government has been collecting taxes heavily lately, and they've already collected next year's taxes in advance!"

They said it was a "wartime special requisition," and even the spinning wheel from the widow's house was taken away.

"I'm relatively safe now, thanks to the Xu family's backing, and I have my sister with me."

Song Jing frowned slightly and sighed inwardly.

Taxes have already been collected for next year; how will ordinary people survive?

The three sat down, and food and drinks were served. Fatty Chen didn't stand on ceremony, eating meat and drinking wine with gusto, his mouth glistening with oil. Suddenly, he felt a little embarrassed: "Brother Jing, you've gone to so much trouble this time. I can eat a lot..."

"It's alright," Song Jing said with a smile as he poured the wine. "How much did it cost? You all should eat more. Don't worry, eat as much as you like!"

His gaze was gentle, but his tone was firm: "Now that Brother Jing is rich, Brother Jing will protect you."

He paused, then said seriously, "As for the tax, I'll ask the martial arts school later if we can transfer Lin Houzi in, even if he's just doing odd jobs."

At least there's a job with room and board included, and the salary is enough to pay taxes.

Safety is guaranteed at the martial arts school.

He lowered his voice: "The Black Tiger Gang is running rampant outside. I'm afraid they might do something desperate. I'm worried about you working outside."

Chen Pangzi and Lin Hou'er's eyes reddened as they listened.

Song Jing added, "There's one more thing—recently, a lot of people have gone missing in the city, and dark figures are often seen at night, but the government isn't doing anything about it. You must not go out at night, and if it's not necessary, try to travel in groups."

He pondered for a moment, then slowly said, "If there is an opportunity... I will keep an eye out and try to find a chance for you to become martial artists."

Upon hearing this, the two were struck dumb, frozen in place.

The next moment, tears welled up in their eyes, and their voices choked with emotion: "Thank you, Brother Jing! Thank you, Brother Jing! Thank you, Brother Jing!"

Song Jing quickly helped him up, but in his heart he knew—

If we cannot lead them out of this quagmire, today's gratitude will turn into tomorrow's lamentation.

Another place, a deserted alley in the west of the town.

The former residence of He Dabiao was dilapidated, overgrown with weeds. Qiu Daxuan stood in the courtyard, dressed in black, his face somber.

He is He Dabiao's cousin. He has practiced martial arts since childhood and is at the late stage of the Iron Skin Realm. His strength is second only to the leader of the Black Tiger Gang.

But now, the gang leader is in seclusion trying to break through to the Flesh Refining Realm, and all affairs are being managed by Tu Jiu.

Although Tu Jiu was slightly weaker, he was a trusted confidant of the gang leader and had a powerful background.

After He Dabiao's death, he wanted to avenge his cousin, but Song Jing was hiding near the martial arts school. If he made a move, the Zhuifeng Martial Arts School would definitely come to his aid within an hour.

He was afraid to act rashly, and had no way to seek revenge.

Just then, Tu Jiu walked into the courtyard, looked at Old Man He's hunched figure, opened his mouth, but didn't know how to speak.

He was the one who led He Dabiao out, but now he can't even bring back a complete corpse.

He felt guilty, but was powerless to do anything about it.

Suddenly, a figure emerged from the shadows—

Zhang Yulong, a steward of the Zhang family, was ordered by Zhang Wu to kill Song Jing at all costs and by any opportunity.

He wore a smile, but his eyes were like those of a venomous snake.

"Chief Qiu," he said, bowing slightly, "are you willing to avenge your family?"