Martial Arts Crossover: The Sweeping Monk of Wudang? That's our patriarch!

I had the map memorized and the route was crystal clear.

As shown in the diagram, the next round of trials is called "Ascension to the Godhood".

A thousand stone steps, each one leading higher than the last; the higher you climb, the greater the reward.

The highest level ever reached was 722 steps.

The steps were now empty and deserted—the challengers had already received their prizes and left. Lin Daochen lifted his foot and stepped onto the first step.

His body slumped slightly, the pressure felt almost imperceptible, like a gentle breeze on his face.

The pressure doubled the moment I stepped on the second step, my bones throbbed, and I felt a chill run down my spine—this step was far more menacing than it appeared.

Wan Botao and the others had already passed the level, and could only stand below the steps looking up, waiting for him to climb alone.

Level 1, Level 2, Level 10... Level 100... The pressure was like mountains pressing down, my skin and flesh were taut, and my blood vessels were throbbing, but I didn't stop.

Seven hundred and sixty-five steps, right beneath my feet!

Wan Botao gasped – the limit of this level in recorded history was only seven hundred and twenty steps!

Lin Daochen, with only the early stage of the Golden Core realm, easily broke through the barriers set by his predecessors. And the upper limit of the restrictions here was the peak of the Nascent Soul stage…

He trembled violently, his skin was red and cracked, and every inch of him was groaning.

Just as he gritted his teeth and stepped onto the 766th step—

The heavy pressure suddenly dissipated.

But a wave of dizziness washed over him, the world collapsed, and the scenery crumbled. He found himself standing amidst the vast wilderness of the Nine Provinces!

However, everything was like a bubble, fleeting and ephemeral.

A flood of memories rushed back: old grudges, bloody battles, choices, killings... all came at once, yet no longer disturbed his mind.

Lin Daochen's lips slowly curved upwards, his steps becoming increasingly steady, each step leaving a mark, fifty steps as if walking on flat ground.

From the 630th step upwards, the illusion becomes more and more real—wronged souls crawl along the side of the steps, wailing mournfully; all of them are people he personally killed.

Without even glancing at it, he let out a long, resounding cry, each word as sharp as iron:

"Those who cultivate the Tao are inherently defying fate and fighting for supremacy! Those who block my path shall die! Those who thwart my plans shall die! Those who deceive my heart shall die!"

"I, Lin Daochen, kneel neither to Heaven nor to Earth. Heaven, Earth, Man, God, Ghost, and Demon—who dares to block my path to immortality!"

Before the words were even finished, the demons scattered, and all was silent.

Lin Daochen stopped on the 800th stone step, his steps faltering.

The two hundred steps in front of him were as sharp as if cut by a knife, piercing straight into the clouds. Every ridge gleamed with a cold, hard light. His heart sank, as if an invisible thread was tightening around his dantian, reminding him that stepping on it now would be courting disaster.

He slowly turned around and retreated step by step. The soles of his boots scraped against the blue stone, making a faint, hesitant friction sound. Just as he stepped firmly on the last step, a sliver of light suddenly split open in mid-air, and an ebony box fell down, landing with a "thud" in the center of the stone steps. The lid popped open, revealing a vermilion fruit that was entirely crimson and covered with dark gold patterns on its surface.

"What is this?"

Wan Botao reached out to grab it, but just as his fingertips touched the edge of the box, Lin Daochen slapped his wrist hard with a backhand strike.

"Don't touch it! This fruit is extremely poisonous; anyone below the Nascent Soul stage will suffer skin ulceration upon contact."

Lin Daochen narrowed his eyes, his gaze like needles, piercing the fruit inch by inch.

"Black Fiend Cashew Fruit—the name sounds like a tonic, but it is actually a vicious creature that devours souls and steals spirits. Consuming it can temper one's consciousness, but only if one's soul is harder and more resilient than this poison."

Wan Botao gasped sharply, his face turning deathly pale. "This...this isn't an opportunity! It's a death sentence! Aren't the ruins supposed to only hold good fortune? How could they set up such a deadly trap?"

Lin Daochen didn't respond, but simply tucked the wooden box into his clothes with a swift and decisive movement.

They had to move on to the next level quickly. The map clearly showed that the entire ruins were divided into four realms. The first was a labyrinth, the second a grassland, and the third was the thousand-step ladder before them. As for the fourth? The map only showed a vague entrance, without a single word of explanation.

The group hurried toward that place, but the journey was unusually quiet.

The ruins were already sparsely visited, but the deathly silence, where even the whistling of the wind through the cracks in the rocks could not be heard, gave off a chilling and eerie atmosphere.

Lin Daochen stared at the empty teleportation array in front of him—the place indicated by the map had not been visited by anyone: no footprints, no residual magic power, not even a single fiber of clothing.

But dozens of teams had already passed through this place before, how could it not have caused a speck of dust to be disturbed?

"Boss, what are we waiting for?"

Wan Botao's voice tightened. Time was running out, and no one knew what calamity lay hidden in the fourth realm—after all, no one had ever come out of there alive.

Lin Daochen raised his hand to stop the crowd and stepped forward alone. His boot tip just touched the center of the formation when he suddenly stopped. He bent down and kicked a floating stone on his left with his heel. With a "crack," the stone slab flipped up, revealing rings of dark blue etched patterns underneath, nested layer upon layer, pulsating slightly like a living thing.

Wan Botao and the others exchanged glances, then worked together to lift up all the surrounding stone slabs.

The truth is suddenly revealed—

From above, the entire ground resembles a giant, white wolf totem, its fangs menacing. But upon closer inspection, the wolf's shape is revealed to be composed of countless intricate patterns, each stroke imbued with the power to reverse the course of the universe.

The array was extremely complex, but Lin Daochen only glanced at it a few times before his heart skipped a beat: this was an ultra-long-distance interdimensional teleportation array, powered not by spirit stones, but by directly drawing upon the power of mountains, rivers, and the tides of the sun and moon. Even more terrifying was that a faint blue light was moving along the edges of the patterns—it was self-healing, automatically repairing the wear and tear of a thousand years.

The more I look at it, the colder it gets.

The person who sets up the formation could probably tear through the void with a wave of their hand and alter the celestial phenomena with a breath.

But why were these ruins built? Was the one who set up the formation the master or a prisoner?

The answers have all been swallowed up by time.

Just as they were at an impasse, Lin Daochen suddenly noticed something amiss with the map. He retreated to the corner, leaped into the air, and then landed on foot, comparing the map repeatedly—finally realizing that from the air, the path matched the map perfectly; but only when he was on solid ground did he see the teleportation array quietly appear.

Ordinary cultivators can fly through the air; who would be willing to walk with their head down? This formation was originally designed to filter out those who are restless, arrogant, and conceited.

If he hadn't noticed the unusual movement of the clouds earlier and landed in time, he probably would have missed the opportunity.

Wan Botao clutched the hem of his clothes, fine beads of sweat appearing on his forehead.

"Boss, we have to get out of here right now! The ruins are sealed off for only one day—if we miss the deadline, we'll be stuck in this hellhole for a full ten years. Forget about surviving, it's a mystery if even a bone fragment will remain."

Wan Botao wasn't just spouting nonsense. In previous years, there were indeed contestants who dragged it out until the very last minute, but when the site reopened ten years later, those people had vanished without a trace, not even a hair remained.

It's obvious even to a fool—it's probably been completely eaten away by these ruins.

This is the most terrifying part.

Lin Daochen, however, seemed not to hear, squatting motionless in front of the array patterns, his fingertips tracing the stone surface, his eyes shining: behind this array, there must be some earth-shattering secret.

Half a day passed in the blink of an eye, but the array patterns remained as silent as iron. He gritted his teeth and got up, knowing he had no choice but to try to pass the level and leave the ruins as quickly as possible.

As soon as I stepped into the fourth trial ground, a strong stench hit me – dark red blood was splattered all over the ground, the sand was soaked with blood, and even the wind smelled of rust.

What happened?

Severed hands, broken legs, half a spine... scattered among withered branches and fallen leaves. Familiar faces who were chatting and laughing just a few days ago are now lying dead in the weeds, their deaths bizarre.

Wan Botao's pupils contracted. He had seen dead people before, but never one like this—the perpetrator was ruthless beyond measure and frighteningly steady, showing utter disregard for sect rules.

"Who did this? Aren't they afraid of being hunted down by the entire cultivation world?"

Lin Daochen bent down to examine the wounds closely, his fingertips tracing the torn flesh at the cut. His heart sank: these wounds... didn't seem to be left by weapons, but rather looked like they had been torn open while the person was still alive.

"Watch out! Something is hunting them—don't fall behind, one wrong step and you'll be the next corpse!"

Even without him shouting, everyone was already on edge. Who didn't want to live? But the air around them was thick with murderous intent.

The further in you go, the more corpses you find. Many of the bodies are mutilated, with their waists and abdomens ripped open and neck bones exposed, while the magical artifacts they carry bear deep marks of animal teeth.

Clearly, it was swallowed alive.

Further on, the trees thinned out, and suddenly the world expanded—an endless expanse of yellow sand stretched to the horizon. The wind stopped, the sand stilled, leaving only the winding brownish-red streaks on the grains of sand.

You know, there are Golden Core and Nascent Soul cultivators everywhere among this group of contestants, how could they all have failed here so quietly?

Lin Daochen led the way, with the others following closely behind. The ancient map in their hands had long since lost its effectiveness; they had to forge their own path. At this point, only three hours remained before the ruins would completely close.

They must rush out before the hourglass runs out, or they will be imprisoned here forever.

Although solitary demonic creatures occasionally flit through the desert, they pose no threat. What is truly strange are those colossal beings—scales like mountains, eyes like furnaces, and cultivation far exceeding that of Nascent Soul cultivators—yet they merely stand at a distance, watching them pass by without moving.

Lin Daochen felt a chill run down his spine, and his palms were sweaty. The silence was more oppressive than any roar; for the first time, he couldn't quite figure out what this ruin was planning.

Beyond the edge of the desert, a gray stone altar stood prominently. Engraved on the altar was a teleportation array, its patterns and the flow of spiritual energy identical to the one he had previously comprehended.

However, what was different was that more than twenty Nascent Soul cultivators stood around the altar.

Each of them exuded an aura of profound depth, their robes fluttering even without wind. They were the elite forces hidden away by various sects, the true pinnacle of combat power.

Originally, they kept to themselves and went their separate ways peacefully. But now, more than twenty pairs of eyes were fixed on them, their gazes burning as if they were lambs to the slaughter.

Lin Daochen stepped forward, clasped his hands in a fist and bow, and said in a gentle tone, "Fellow Daoists, we are in a hurry to return. If we have offended you in any way, we are willing to apologize and express our sincerity."

He adopted an extremely humble posture, and the tense atmosphere around him indeed eased for a moment.

But in the next instant, the several people opposite him flipped their wrists, and a cold light flashed—long swords were drawn and slashed straight at their faces!

Lin Daochen was prepared and dodged to the side, then shouted sharply behind him:

"quick--"

The words came to an abrupt halt.

He turned around abruptly, only to find nothing behind him. Wan Botao had vanished without a trace, running faster than a frightened bird.

Lin Daochen's lips twitched, and he actually breathed a sigh of relief. This result was exactly what he wanted.

Now that there was no one else around, he could finally reveal his trump card without any hesitation.

Just as he raised his hand to strike, he suddenly saw a young woman in her early twenties, covered in blood, swinging her sword straight down. The blade tore through the air, emitting a piercing shriek.

"You lackeys of reputable sects, how dare you set up an ambush! Do you think we deserve to be trampled under your feet?"

"Sword Domain: Ten Thousand Blades Return to Ruins!"

Before the words were even finished, the sky changed drastically. The clear sky turned as black as ink in an instant, dark clouds boiled over, and a gale, carrying the glint of swords and the shadows of blades, poured down from the heavens as dense as a torrential rain, with the force of a collapsing mountain.

Such a killing move, covering a hundred feet, was indeed terrifying in its power. However, the people standing opposite were all senior cultivators who had been immersed in the Nascent Soul Realm for decades. They were used to seeing all kinds of storms. With just a slight shift of their steps, a hand seal, and a flick of their sleeves, they completely neutralized the sword energy that filled the sky.

Lin Daochen's gaze sharpened—the woman wielding the sword was none other than Zhuge Xue from the Divine Sword Manor, an opponent he had personally defeated before.

Her breathing was disordered and her spiritual energy was depleted. Although she was still in the guise of a Nascent Soul cultivator, she was actually exhausted and her hand holding the sword was trembling.

Just as he was slightly taken aback, a cold hand suddenly gripped his forearm.

"I'll take you away—it's my debt! You're not allowed to die until I defeat you with my own hands!"

So that's what she was planning all along, rushing at the risk of her life. Lin Daochen didn't even lift his eyelids, and delivered a vicious kick to her abdomen.

"Women will only slow down my knife-wielding rhythm."

Zhuge Xue's pupils constricted sharply, and she flew backward in disbelief. She had risked her life to pull him back, only to be kicked in return? A thought flashed through her mind: Was she really so ugly that everyone avoided her?

Lin Daochen didn't even glance at her. He quickly tore open his outer robe, revealing a dazzling golden rune on his chest. Spiritual energy surged into him, and in an instant, his aura surged, forcefully elevating him to a peak combat power he shouldn't have possessed.

"Today, I'll show you what true, trump card moves are!"

With a single swirl of his palm, a strange phenomenon appeared in the void: a constantly flowing Tai Chi diagram emerged out of thin air, with the Yin and Yang fish swimming as if they were alive, their movements causing the heavens and earth to hold their breath.

The onlookers gasped in astonishment—only a supreme being with profound understanding of the Great Dao could condense a complete Tai Chi diagram. Yet this person before them was clearly only at the Golden Core stage!

Absurd! Utterly ridiculous!

The Way of Tai Chi is about returning to simplicity and achieving a comprehensive understanding. How could a Golden Core cultivator forcibly control it? Yet, the pattern was right there, undeniably real.

Several men, refusing to believe the danger, charged forward with their swords. But the moment they touched the edge of the Tai Chi symbol, their bodies were crushed as if by a giant crusher, their bones shattered, and they were twisted into a pretzel shape and sent flying.