Martial Arts Hall's Personal Disciple Goes Pig Slaughtering?

Chen Jing drew in a deep breath.

His nose was filled with that fishy, musky stench he knew all too well.

He tucked in the hem of his dark martial uniform, rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, baring both forearms, then walked toward the chopping block.

Liu Yunfei and Qian Zheng stood off to the side, both their gazes falling on him—one curious, the other skeptical.

Chen Jing pressed one hand onto the restless meat pig and gently stroked its belly, the motion soft and natural.

The corner of Liu Yunfei's mouth twitched. He felt as if Chen Jing were caressing one of the girls from Hundred Flowers Pavilion. The sight was indescribably out of place.

The next second, Chen Jing reached back and brushed a hand over his lower back.

A black gleam flashed!

With a swish, the pig-slaughtering knife had already sunk into the meat pig's throat.

It was so fast that even the butchers watching from the side did not see clearly how the blade had left its sheath.

Scalding pig blood gushed out, splashing noisily into the blood basin below, not a single drop spilling outside.

Liu Yunfei's eyelid jumped.

What a fast blade. Even he had barely seen it clearly.

Bleeding, scalding the bristles, opening the belly, removing the offal, deboning, portioning the meat—Chen Jing went through the entire pig-slaughtering process as smoothly as drifting clouds and flowing water.

The blade wandered through the seams of the bones, every cut precise to perfection, not carrying away a sliver too much meat, not wasting an inch of material.

With the great-success Pig-Slaughtering Blade Technique, plus the dual-attribute bonus from the [Butcher] talent, his pig-slaughtering methods had long since surpassed Butcher Zhang's.

When the pig was fully slaughtered, not a single drop of blood had stained Chen Jing.

He rinsed the pig-slaughtering knife in clean water, flicked the droplets from the blade, slid it back behind his waist, then turned to look at Qian Zheng.

The butchers beside him had, at some unknown point, all stopped the work in their hands and were standing rooted in place, staring at him.

Their expressions were as if they had seen a ghost.

Watching Chen Jing slaughter a pig was simply a kind of enjoyment.

That flowing knife work, those clean and decisive movements—every step actually carried an indescribable sense of beauty.

It was as if he had turned the crude, unbearable matter of slaughtering pigs into an art. This was the art of pig slaughter.

Qian Zheng stared with his mouth open for a long while before muttering:

"Good heavens, he really can slaughter pigs..."

Liu Yunfei, even more so, loudly cheered and clapped again and again.

"Little Junior Brother, so you really do know how!"

Chen Jing smiled and asked again:

"Manager Qian, then are you still short of hands here?"

"We are!"

Qian Zheng hurriedly nodded, as if afraid Chen Jing would run off.

"You can come tomorrow. With your speed, if you can slaughter more than ten each day, I'll give you a monthly wage of—"

He gritted his teeth and held up three fingers.

"Three taels. How about it?"

Liu Yunfei crossed his arms and gave a cold laugh.

"Old Qian, are you trying to fob off a beggar?"

"My little junior brother's skill is only worth three taels?"

"Take a look yourself at the butchers in your yard. Which one has handiwork as neat as his? Which one can finish slaughtering a pig without getting even a bit of blood on himself?"

"Don't you go bullying him just because he's young."

When Qian Zheng heard this, his face flushed red, then turned pale.

He gritted his teeth and held up five fingers.

"Five taels! This is already the highest market price for a butcher in Green Mountain City. Any higher and I truly can't afford it."

"Brother Liu, you work at the docks too. You know the going rate."

Liu Yunfei smiled and glanced at Chen Jing.

The meaning was that he should decide for himself.

Chen Jing thought it over. Five taels of silver truly was not a small sum.

Besides, what he wanted was not this bit of monthly pay in the first place.

What he wanted was the act of slaughtering pigs itself. If he slaughtered ten pigs every day, the proficiency of his Pig-Slaughtering Blade Technique could steadily rise by 50 points.

That was the greatest gain.

"Many thanks, Manager Qian. I'll come tomorrow."

Chen Jing cupped his fists and said so.

The next day, Chen Jing and Liang Youheng's schedules fell into step. The two rose early to practice their fists, trained for half an hour, then went to the kitchen together for breakfast.

After breakfast, Liang Youheng and Chen Jing went to the Martial Arts Arena together and trained for another hour before both heading out, each to his own work.

Chen Jing now used the qi, blood, and force of his perfected stance work to shake his bone marrow as he practiced the Nine Forms of the Mountain Lord, and his efficiency was a cut above when he had only reached major accomplishment.

One hour could raise his proficiency by 15 points. And after his physique and qi and blood climbed another level, the amount of time he could endure each day grew longer as well; roughly, he could train for a full three hours before exhausting his strength.

In a single day, the proficiency of the Nine Forms of the Mountain Lord rose steadily by 45 points.

Aside from practicing the Nine Forms of the Mountain Lord morning and night, Chen Jing spent the daytime at the slaughterhouse, killing pigs to earn money and improving his Pig-Slaughtering Blade Technique on the side.

Chen Jing did not wear the black martial outfit Hu Yang had given him. Instead, he dug out the coarse-cloth short robe he had brought from Shuang'an Town.

After all, the clothes his Fifth Senior Brother had given him were made of good material. Wearing them to slaughter pigs would be too much of a waste.

Chen Jing put on the short robe, tied a cloth belt around his waist, tucked the pig-slaughtering knife at the small of his back, and in a shake of his body, he turned back into that little butcher from Shuang'an Town.

When he arrived at Livestock Lane, Qian Zheng saw Chen Jing dressed like this and froze for a moment.

Yesterday, he had still been an imposing and spirited martial hall disciple. Today, he had become a dusty, rough young lad.

Now he looked somewhat like a butcher. Qian Zheng led him past several rows of pigsties and arranged an empty worktable for him against the wall.

Buckets, blood basins, hooks, whetstones—all the tools he needed were provided.

Chen Jing rolled his sleeves up to the crook of his elbows and wasted no words.

Sharpen the knife, drive in the pig, get to work.

Then the butchers in the yard discovered, to their surprise, that this young man was truly fierce.

After killing a pig, other butchers had to rest a while, take a drink of water, smoke a pouch of tobacco, and brag a few lines.

Chen Jing, however, did not rest.

Once one pig was done, he rinsed his knife in clear water, and the next pig had already been trussed up and carried onto the chopping block.

He killed them one after another, bleeding them, opening their bellies, deboning them, the entire process flowing like moving clouds and running water, hardly pausing at all.

The only time he rested was when they ate at noon.

The butchers carried bowls of pork rice and squatted on the steps to eat and chat. Chen Jing also carried a bowl and squatted among them, listening to them boast and banter, occasionally adding a sentence or two.

Before he had even swallowed his meal properly, while the others were still picking their teeth and dozing off, Chen Jing had already stood before the chopping block again, his blade flashing as he sharpened it toward the meat pigs.

Qian Zheng had originally been somewhat displeased that Chen Jing arrived rather late.

After all, the other butchers arrived before dawn, while Chen Jing only came after the sun had risen.

But he knew this one was a martial artist from Lianshan Martial Arts Hall, and also Liu Yunfei's junior brother, so it was not easy to flare up.

As a result, after watching for most of the day, that bit of displeasure had long since been tossed beyond the nine heavens.

The work this kid did in one hour was equal to most of another man's day. He did not rest at noon, and in the afternoon he could still keep going.

Watching his focused and efficient manner, Qian Zheng was thoroughly convinced.

This one had been born to be a butcher!

Chen Jing worked around three hours a day at the slaughterhouse and could kill ten pigs, with the proficiency of his Pig-Slaughtering Blade Technique rising steadily by 50 points.

If the slaughterhouse did not have to close and cease business after dark, and if Qian Zheng had not begged him to go back, he could have carried his knife and killed a few more.

Several days passed like this. Chen Jing wore coarse cloth and hemp, a butcher's knife at his waist, leaving early and returning late, and when he came back, his body still carried a lingering stink of blood and urine that would not disperse.

The servants and disciples in the martial hall all more or less came to know of it.

The newly arrived inner-courtyard disciple, Chen Jing, had become a pig butcher outside.

The outer-courtyard disciples immediately began discussing it in a flurry.

Butchery was a trade among the lower nine streams, and those who could come to the martial hall to practice martial arts had at least some family foundation, so naturally they looked down on pig butchers.

However, Chen Jing had shown his hand in the outer courtyard before, and his strength was right there for all to see, so no one dared say anything to his face. They only treated it as gossip in private.

Zhou Fan, however, took it to heart.

Ever since Chen Jing had knocked him down in one move, he had been unable to lift his head.

When he walked through the Martial Arts Arena, he always felt as if people were pointing and whispering behind his back.

His stance work had reached major accomplishment, and his Tiger Form Fist was also among the best in the outer courtyard. Why should he be trampled underfoot by some parachuted-in connection?

But he could not beat Chen Jing, and the gap between them was so great that he did not even have the confidence to feel unconvinced.

Until he heard about Chen Jing slaughtering pigs.

Master Cheng's direct disciple had run off to become a pig butcher. An absurd feeling rose in Zhou Fan's heart.

He secretly followed Chen Jing.

From Deer Cry Alley to Livestock Lane, he ordered a pot of the cheapest coarse tea at the tea stall opposite the slaughterhouse and squatted there for an entire noon.

With his own eyes, he saw Chen Jing wearing a coarse-cloth short robe, swinging his knife to slaughter pigs before a chopping block where pig blood flowed in rivulets, laughing and talking with those butchers whose bodies reeked of blood and filth, and squatting with them on the stone steps to eat pork rice.

A twisted delight rose in Zhou Fan's heart. He felt that he had finally found one place where he was stronger than Chen Jing.

At the very least, he was not a pig butcher.