Becoming a Saint Starting with the Chasing Wind Leg Technique

Qiu Daxuan looked at him coldly: "Although your Zhang family and my Black Tiger Gang have a past relationship, now... you can't order me around."

Is revenge something I can just take whenever I want? It would only be a pointless death!

Moreover, if I were to act without the leader's knowledge, it would be a grave taboo, and I would surely die.

Not only will the Chasing Wind Martial Arts School hunt me down, but even the gang leader might try to kill me.

Moreover, the Chasing Wind Martial Arts School has many experts at the Bronze Skin Realm, not to mention its master, Lin Xuanyue.

Zhang Yulong chuckled: "It's alright, we understand that Chief Qiu has concerns."

Things that Zhang Jiaming cannot do openly can be done by the Black Tiger Gang.

As for things the Black Tiger Gang can't easily do... the Zhang family can pave the way for you.

He whispered, "Song Jing is safe and sound only because of the protection of the martial arts school."

However, if one day the Hall Master and Second Senior Brother Zhuo Bufan leave, Zhou Xingyun is held back, and even those in the Copper Skin Realm do not make a move, then the others are not a threat.

Twelve days later, the master of the Chasing Wind Martial Arts School will go out with his second senior brother, Zhuo Bufan.

We will arrange for our senior brother Li Wei to use a sparring match as an excuse to delay Zhou Xingyun for the time it takes for an incense stick to burn, ensuring that no one comes to his aid above the Bronze Skin Realm of the Chasing Wind Martial Arts School.

At that time, with Chief Qiu's late-stage Iron Skin Realm power, killing a mere Bull Skin Realm brat in the time it takes for an incense stick to burn would be a piece of cake, wouldn't it?

Qiu Daxuan's eyes flickered slightly, but he simply said:

Why should I cut off my own escape route and agree to your demands?

Zhang Yulong remained calm and took out an item from his sleeve: five neatly arranged hundred-tael silver notes.

"If Chief Qiu is willing to make a move, this item will be yours for another five hundred taels."

With this pass, he will surely be able to escape the city. In addition, with five hundred taels of silver and Chief Qiu's skills, it will be enough for Chief Qiu to establish himself elsewhere. How can you say that he has cut off his own escape route?

"Chief Qiu, is everything alright now?"

Qiu Daxuan stared at the token, remaining silent for a long time.

Finally, he slowly spoke:

"I agree to the conditions."

"I must see Song Jing die with my own eyes, so that he may die with his eyes open in disgrace."

At midday, in the backyard of the Chasing Wind Martial Arts School.

On the stone steps, a dozen or so new disciples stood in a line, each dressed simply, some with patched cuffs, some with worn-out straw sandals and toes sticking out.

They stood ramrod straight, sweat beading on their foreheads, but their eyes burned with fervor—it was the only way out for the poor boys: to learn martial arts, to rise above their circumstances, and to change their fate.

Song Jing walked slowly, shirtless, his bronze skin glowing with a faint golden light, his steps steady as a mountain.

"Today, practice breathing." His voice was not loud, but clear and easy to hear. "Close your eyes, regulate your breathing. When you inhale, imagine the wind rushing into your body from all directions; when you exhale, imagine your blood and qi flowing like a stream, cleansing your meridians."

The boys did as instructed.

Song Jing walked slowly around, his gaze sharp as a knife, sweeping over everything.

"Your shoulders are too tense, relax."

"You're breathing too fast, like you're fighting for your life."

"Your weight is shifted to the left, and your right leg doesn't bear enough weight, making you prone to knee injuries."

He pointed out each point in detail, saying little but hitting the nail on the head.

He taught someone how to nourish their body by combining whole grains with herbal medicine because of long-term malnutrition and weakness of qi and blood.

For those with stiff muscles and tendons, he personally demonstrated stretching techniques and corrected their movements step by step.

Time passed by, bit by bit.

Every day, he would spend two hours here teaching breathing techniques, standing meditation, and the four basic forms of the Chasing Wind Leg Technique.

He was open-minded and patient, even with his most dull-witted disciple, he would patiently break down and demonstrate in slow motion, even using himself as a target for his disciple to kick and strike, so that the disciple could feel the flow of energy.

But reality is as cold as an iron wall.

Today is another annual assessment day.

Of the dozen or so disciples, only three broke through the Skin Forging Realm and entered the early stage of the Ox-Hide Realm.

No matter how hard the others practiced, their blood and qi remained stagnant, their muscles and bones were difficult to open, and they couldn't even achieve the most basic "skin as thick as cowhide".

A young man stood before Song Jing, his hands trembling: "Senior Brother Song... I practice until I vomit blood every day, and I can't even get enough to eat, but... but it's still not working... I really tried my best, but I just can't do it!"

Looking at his sunken cheeks and chapped lips, Song Jing felt a heavy weight pressing down on his heart.

He knew that the child studied hard every day, but the resources and medicines were insufficient, and his talent was mediocre, so it was really not enough.

"You've done your best," Song Jing said softly. "Go back and take care of your family."

The boy collapsed to the ground and wept bitterly for a long time before staggering away, his back hunched over like that of an old man.

Another girl practiced diligently day and night, but due to her weak constitution, her qi and blood could not circulate through her skin. On the day of the assessment, she tried her best to unleash a "flow interruption" attack, but the force was weak and it did not even shake the wooden stake.

She stood frozen in place, facing the martial arts school steward, then suddenly knelt down and kowtowed heavily: "Please...please take me on as a handyman. I don't want wages, I just want to stay at the martial arts school and continue training..."

The martial arts school steward closed his eyes, unable to bear the sight of her despair.

"You should leave," the martial arts school steward said in a low voice. "Your father needs you."

Clutching the tattered cloth bag left by her mother, she walked out of the martial arts school step by step, each step feeling like she was stepping on a knife's edge.

The dreams of the poor shattered silently.

The fates of those disciples who were contemporaries of Song Jing also varied.

Some people manage to break through the "cow-skin" realm by sheer luck, but then get stuck in the initial stage for many years without making any progress.

Some people, though they entered the martial arts school, could only do odd jobs, chopping wood and carrying water every day, barely surviving.

That day, the group gathered around the stone table in the backyard to drink and say goodbye.

"I plan to go to a security escort agency," one of them sighed. "It's dangerous, but the monthly pay is high, and I can meet people from all walks of life. Perhaps I'll even have a chance to have a serendipitous encounter."

The other man smiled bitterly: "I'll join the army. Although the court is conscripting able-bodied men, if I can make a name for myself and be appointed as a squad leader, that would be a great stroke of luck, and it would be a step up in life."

The third person shook his head: "I asked someone to introduce me to a job as a guard at the Xu family. Although I'm considered inferior, at least I'll have enough to eat and wear, and I can provide for my younger siblings' food and lodging."

They looked at Song Jing with a mixture of envy and relief in their eyes.

"Song Jing, you're different." Someone patted him on the shoulder. "You have talent, perseverance, and the master values ​​you."

We... have long since reached our limit.

"Yes." The other person tilted his head back and drank it all. "We've been working hard for almost half a year, but we're still far behind you."

Now... it's time to accept it.

Song Jing remained silent, but his heart was churning with emotions. Under the rules of the martial arts school, he had no power to change anything.

He knew that these people had once been young and ambitious, and had dreamed of sweeping across the land and becoming famous throughout the martial arts world.

But reality is like a knife, cutting away their sharpness and smoothing out their dreams, one cut at a time.

It's not that they don't work hard, but rather—

This world never leaves a way out for ordinary people.

It is difficult for children from poor families to achieve great things.

It shouldn't be said that it's due to poverty, but rather that it's difficult for those from the lower classes to achieve success. The martial arts world is increasingly rigid in its social hierarchy; if you fall behind at one step, you fall behind at every step.

In the stillness of the night, Song Jing sat alone in the courtyard, gazing at the starry sky.

He knew he had to go further.

Not only for myself, but also for those—

Those who couldn't escape the quagmire.

Of course, some disciples also shared good news with him.

For example, they might have broken through to the Bull Skin Realm or mastered the Chasing Wind Leg Technique, but most of them were from wealthy families.

In this world, it's incredibly difficult for poor people to rise above their circumstances.

These people who have failed are just like me in the past, like me in my previous life, like countless others!