Wu Song strode forward for nearly five miles before reaching the foot of Jingyang Ridge. Along the way, he noticed a large tree with a wide strip of bark torn away, exposing a pale surface covered with writing. He stepped closer, looked up, and read the warning carved into the wood. It said that a huge man eating tiger had recently appeared on Jingyang Ridge and had already killed many travelers. Anyone crossing the ridge was advised to travel only in groups and pass through during specific daylight hours, otherwise they risked losing their life.
Wu Song laughed out loud. He mocked the warning, convinced it was just a trick by the roadside innkeeper to scare travelers into staying the night. Holding his staff across his body, he climbed the ridge without hesitation. By then, the sun was already sinking in the west, its red glow fading quickly. Fueled by wine and confidence, he kept moving upward until he came across a crumbling mountain shrine. Another official notice was posted there, stamped with a government seal, repeating the same warning about the tiger. Only then did Wu Song believe the danger was real. For a brief moment, he considered turning back. Then he spat lightly and decided to keep going, determined to face whatever awaited him.
As night fell and the wine heat surged through his body, Wu Song loosened his clothes and pressed on. He soon reached a smooth blue stone beside the path, set down his staff, and lay back to rest. Just as his eyes began to close, a violent gust of foul smelling wind swept past him. Leaves rustled wildly. Something heavy landed behind him with a thunderous crash. Wu Song turned and saw a massive tiger, its body as large as a water buffalo, eyes blazing, fangs exposed.
He shouted in shock, leapt up, and seized his staff. The tiger crouched low, gathered its strength, and launched itself through the air. Wu Song dodged at the last instant, narrowly escaping death. In a heartbeat, the wine haze vanished and his mind became clear. The tiger spun around, clawed, roared like thunder, and lashed its iron hard tail, unleashing all its killing techniques in rapid succession. Each deadly strike missed. The beast’s confidence faltered.
Seizing the moment, Wu Song raised his staff and brought it down with all his strength. The blow shattered a tree branch instead of the tiger’s skull, snapping the staff in two. The tiger charged again. Wu Song dropped the broken weapon, grabbed the tiger by the head with both hands, and forced its jaws into the dirt. Using his full body weight, he pinned the beast down. As it struggled violently, he kicked its eyes until blood burst forth. The ground was torn into deep trenches by the tiger’s claws.
With the tiger weakening, Wu Song hammered its head and ears with his fists again and again, dozens of crushing blows, until blood poured from its mouth, nose, eyes, and ears. Finally, the beast lay still. To be sure it was dead, Wu Song retrieved the broken staff and smashed its skull several more times. Only then did he stop, gasping for breath.
Exhausted beyond measure, Wu Song tried to lift the tiger’s body but could not. His strength was completely spent. Realizing the danger of staying on the ridge at night, he decided to descend and rest until morning. As he staggered downhill, he suddenly saw two more tigers emerge from the tall grass. Certain death had come, he cried out in despair. Then he noticed the creatures standing upright. They were hunters wearing tiger skins, holding spears.
The hunters were terrified, convinced Wu Song was either a ghost or something beyond human. When Wu Song explained who he was and calmly told them he had beaten the tiger to death with his bare hands, they could hardly believe it. He showed them the blood stains covering his body. After hearing the full story, the hunters called their companions. Armed villagers arrived with torches, bows, and spears, and followed Wu Song back up the ridge. There they saw the enormous tiger lying dead.
Joy erupted instantly. The villagers bound the tiger, carried it down the mountain, and welcomed Wu Song as a hero. He was praised, rewarded, and honored. The local magistrate summoned him, granted him official recognition, and appointed him as a military officer responsible for maintaining order in the district.
Thus, Wu Song’s fearless strength and unyielding courage turned a deadly ridge into a legend remembered for generations.