I Will Grind My Way To Godhood

“I was wrong, brother, I was wrong! I beg you, don’t…”

“Bang!”

“Wait, we’re from the Razor Gang, you…”

“Bang!”

“Hey, can we make peace?”

“Bang!”

On the street, members of the Razor Gang lay sprawled like overturned golf balls. Xue Jing sauntered up to them, holding a metal baseball bat. One by one, irrespective of their pleas, he cracked their heads with immense force.

Before long, only one crew-cut young man remained standing.

Xue Jing approached the young man slowly. The metal bat in his hand, battered from excessive use, had dents and was smeared with blood.

“I’m curious,” he said.

“As an innocent student, visiting a schoolmate's house should be perfectly normal, shouldn’t it?”

“I don’t look for trouble. I don’t drive onto pedestrian paths in traffic, pay for overpriced meals without complaint, and I fear small-time hooligans like you, always taking a detour to avoid you.

And I’ve never even been to the southern district, so there’s no way I inadvertently offended you.”

“So why did you suddenly decide to go after me?”

Xue Jing's tone was casual, as if chatting with a friend. Yet, the crew-cut youth’s fear deepened with each word, until at the last word, he crumpled to the ground.

He waved his hands frantically, insisting, “No, no, brother, we were just passing by… ah!!”

Before he could finish, Xue Jing swung and struck his ankle.

A sharp sound of bone cracking echoed, as the crew-cut youth's ankle twisted into a grotesque angle.

“When someone asks you a question, be honest. Didn't your teacher ever tell you that?”

“Y-yes...”

The crew-cut youth, drenched in cold sweat from the pain, hurriedly responded, “We're with the Razor Gang under Duan Kaiping, Brother Duan. He saw you walking alone in your school uniform and planned to kidnap you and extort your family...”

Xue Jing swung the baseball bat in his hand and asked, “So where is this Brother Duan?”

“Brother Duan figured you, just a student, weren't worth him getting involved with personally. So, he sent us. He's waiting in a nearby warehouse on the next street.”

The crew-cut youth spoke swiftly, fearing another swing of the bat if he failed to satisfy Xue Jing.

“Is this Brother Duan really that good?” Xue Jing inquired.

“Brother Duan is a core member of the Razor Gang, qualified to have a ‘Razor’ tattooed over his heart... He leveraged connections with the gang leader to enter the Jin Feng Dojo to train in martial arts. I've seen him in action once; he sliced an aluminum can of soda in half with a mere hand swing, as if wielding a razor!”

Xue Jing narrowed his eyes.

Jin Feng Dojo... He’d just heard Pei Youguang mention it, the place where the latter trained and learned ‘Jin Li’.

Allowing gang members involved in kidnappings and extortion to train there didn't make it a reputable place, which explained its location in the southern district.

‘If he can slice through an aluminum can barehanded, cutting a throat would be even simpler… Quite formidable.’

Xue Jing pondered.

With this incident, he and the Razor Gang were at odds. Injuring so many members, despite the fault lying entirely with these rogue scoundrels themselves, he harbored no illusions that the gang would be reasonable with him.

Xue Jing briefly considered the possibility of silencing them, but quickly dismissed it as impractical.

Aside from whether he could bring himself to do it, the commotion caused was already too great, likely witnessed by many. Just ask any eyewitness, follow the clues, and they could easily track him down.

Thus, there was no way out.

Xue Jing pondered for a moment before asking, "Can you give me a detailed rundown on your Razor Gang?"

After a brief pause, he continued, "How big is your territory? How formidable are you exactly? And how many core members, like 'Brother Duan,' do you have?"

The young man with a crew cut hesitated for a moment before answering carefully, "Our Razor Gang is one of the seven outside factions in the southern district. Several nearby streets are under our control... There are dozens of core members like Brother Duan."

Xue Jing squinted his eyes, "What's the relationship between your boss and the Jinfeng Dojo?"

"The boss is a direct disciple of the master of the Jinfeng Dojo..."

Upon hearing this, Xue Jing felt a headache emerging.

As expected, it was just as he thought—like pulling a carrot and bringing up mud with it. These local gang powers are interlinked and deeply entrenched. Offending one would drag a whole bunch after it.

Was he really supposed to take on the Razor Gang and then the Jinfeng Dojo as well? And after dealing with the Jinfeng Dojo, what else would pop up?

Wouldn't it just be endless trouble?

Could there be a peaceful resolution?

'However... there's a way to break this deadlock,' he considered.

Xue Jing realized that he might be able to use the situation to his advantage. The Razor Gang had the support of the Jinfeng Dojo, but this wasn't the only dojo in the sunny city. All the dojos needed to do business; one could become a disciple and train by paying the fees.

"You claim the backing of a big name, huh? Your influence is vast? I'll match your power in no time!"

Moreover, he even thought of an unexpected maneuver.

He'd make the first move and pay to join the Jinfeng Dojo!

So that when the Razor Gang came looking for trouble...

"I acknowledge that your influence is great, but if I choose to join directly, how would you respond?"

However, he's now got a very poor impression of the Jin Feng Dojo and the Razor Gang. Unless he has no other choice, he really doesn't want to get involved.

A sense of urgency welled up in Xue Jing's heart.

Previously, he hadn't felt much pressure. Although he wanted to practice martial arts, he wasn't in any hurry. Now, however, he had to find a way to quickly gather enough money to join the dojo.

"Thanks for the information."

Xue Jing said to the young man with the crew cut.

The latter quickly grinned sheepishly, "No problem, bro. It's what I should do... but, do you think you could just let me off the hook?"

Xue Jing nodded.

"Alright, I'll give you a chance."

With that, he looked around and picked up a few handy stones from the ground not far away.

Seeing this, the young man with the crew cut felt his PTSD flare up, sensing a bad premonition.

"Run, I'll count to ten."

Xue Jing tossed the stone in his hand up and down.

"One."

"Hey? Bro, look at my foot..."

The young man pleaded, pointing to his foot, which Xue Jing had broken with a stick.

"Two."

"Wait, wait, can we start over?"

"Three."

The young man gritted his teeth, enduring the intense pain in his ankle. He leaned against the wall and started hopping towards the street across.

"Four."

Yet with only one good leg, his speed was painfully slow.

"Five."

The counting voice, like a death sentence, grew closer behind him. In panic, he tried to move faster, only to fall to the ground.

"Six."

He struggled to stand, but in his haste, he hit his injured ankle, collapsing again from the pain.

"Seven."

He crawled forward in a desperate, rolling scramble.

"Eight."

"Aaaahhh!"

His scream was one of pure terror.

"Nine."

"Ten."

Xue Jing watched the young man with the crew cut, struggling pathetically, still over twenty meters away. With a flick of his wrist, he threw a stone.

"Bang!"

The final shot cracked through the night's air.

Xue Jing surveyed the scattered bodies around him, looked down at the pebble in his palm, clenched it tight, and declared with unwavering confidence:

"This is a victory for martial arts!"

……

As the dust settled, Xue Jing stood victorious beside the fallen opponent, his breath steady, his stance unyielding. The once chaotic alley was now a testament to his indomitable spirit.

The figures who had lingered in the shadows—members of the Razor Gang—stepped back, awe struck by the unexpected defeat of their comrade.\n

Xue Jing's focus remained on the task at hand, his mind clear, resolute in his pursuit of justice. In that moment, silence reigned, interrupted only by the distant echoes of the city beyond.

It was more than a battle of fists; it was a clash of principles—a triumph of martial virtue in the face of adversity.\n

Among those watching, an unnamed man with white-dyed hair nodded silently, acknowledging the skill and dedication that had led to this outcome.

A sense of respect had been earned, bridging the gap between adversaries, if only momentarily.