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

He waved it casually.

click-

The air shattered like glass, spiderweb-like cracks spreading wildly through the void, tearing open a deep crevice in the blink of an eye.

Lin Daochen gasped.

Without summoning spirits or exerting any force, just a flick of the wrist shattered the void... Just how ferocious is this thing?

What's more, it's only half a club. If you could gather the whole thing, you could probably cleave a small world with a single swing!

"What exactly is this?"

He examined it repeatedly, his fingertips tracing the fine, hair-like etched lines on the flagpole. The more he looked, the more unfamiliar it became, and the more alarmed he felt. In the end, he could only shake his head and give up.

Three months later.

Tianjian Mountain.

An elderly man with white hair and beard stood atop a precipice. With a flash of his sword, the enemy's head fell to the ground.

"Who's next?"

His gaze swept across the entire area, his voice low but each word as firm as iron: "I have come here today not to spar, but to test my skills—does your Heavenly Sword Manor truly have no one worthy of withstanding three of my moves?"

Zhang Sanfeng, the number one madman in the cultivation world.

In just a few months, he traversed the seven major martial arts sects, defeating all the young talents; even the senior masters who had been in seclusion for many years could not withstand a single move or two of his sword strikes.

Such a prodigy must have protectors behind him—ordinary people would find it difficult to even get within a hundred paces, let alone harm him. And among the younger generation, none can rival him.

"Today I'll do only two things—either you join forces to suppress me, or I'll single-handedly smash through your entire mountain gate!"

He sneered as he surveyed the surroundings, his eyes burning with a fierce fighting spirit, like fire, like a blade, as if to burn away all cowardice.

"Is there truly no one from Heavenly Sword Manor who dares to accept the challenge?"

"If that's truly the case—" He turned to leave, "I'll descend the mountain now!"

He can't leave! If he walks away, the century-old reputation of Tianjian Manor will vanish in an instant!

"Wait!" A clear shout rang out.

A young man in a blue robe leaped into the air, his toes touching the flowing clouds, his robes fluttering like the outstretched wings of a crane. His spirit and energy were so solid that they seemed tangible, and his brows held the sharpness of a rising sun.

Zhang Sanfeng didn't even lift his eyelids, but slowly raised his hand and pushed out with a palm strike.

boom--

The air suddenly collapsed and distorted, and a huge Bagua diagram appeared out of thin air, with the Yin and Yang fish spinning like a millstone, crushing all life!

The boy narrowly avoided the attack, his knees buckling as he landed, cold sweat pouring down his forehead. In that brief moment, he seemed to hear his own soul wailing within the force of the palm strike.

I knew Zhang Sanfeng was powerful, but only when I actually stood in front of him did I understand what it meant to be an ant looking up at a mountain.

"Step back," Zhang Sanfeng said calmly. "Stop now and you'll still have your life; take another step and you'll be doomed."

The boy gritted his teeth, drew his longsword with a backhand, the tip of the sword trembling slightly, reflecting the last trace of stubborn smile in his eyes.

Thirty-seven

"What do life and death matter? Today I'll show you all—the people of Heavenly Sword Manor have bones harder than black iron; not a single one of them is a coward!"

A moment later, only a still-warm corpse remained on the bluestone steps. More than thirty people had already fallen in this area. Zhang Sanfeng stood with his hands behind his back, his robes fluttering, his gaze sharp as a knife, sweeping over every young face in the room.

"Who else?"

In an instant, the entire arena fell silent, even breathing was suppressed, and all the teenagers lowered their heads, not daring to meet his gaze even slightly.

Just as the deathly silence was about to solidify, a sudden commotion erupted in the crowd.

"He's here! He's really here!"

"Who's here?"

"You didn't know?"

"That's the old beggar our sect leader picked up from the foot of the mountain a few days ago! I heard he has exceptional talent, but he entered the Dao too late—but his comprehension is high and his ruthlessness is undeniable!"

Before the words were even finished, the surrounding crowd automatically parted to create a narrow path.

An elderly man in his nineties slowly ascended the steps. His muscular frame was wrapped in a coarse linen coat patched with gray cloth. His bare feet trod on the stone steps, each step deliberate yet steady as a mountain.

Zhang Sanfeng's pupils suddenly contracted, his throat tightened, and he almost lost his voice.

He never expected to run into his senior brother, whom he hadn't seen for many years, at this time and place.

Many years have passed, and his appearance and voice have changed. But the hidden sharpness between his brows and the unyielding tenacity in his spine are like a thunderbolt that splits open his memory—Lin Daochen, who once wiped out the masters of the seven sects of the Spirit Realm with a single sword, is actually standing right in front of me!

"You...you are..."

Zhang Sanfeng's voice was strained, his eyes were red, and the second half of his sentence was stuck in his throat, unable to be uttered.

The old beggar opposite him gently shook his head, his withered finger slowly rising and pointing to Zhang Sanfeng's heart: "Since we've run into each other, let's have a fight. Let me see how much you've gained in the last six months."

The two stood facing each other in silence, the wind still and the clouds stagnant.

Zhang Sanfeng lowered his arms to his shoulders, his palms slightly turned, and sword energy flickered at his fingertips—this was the first time he had adopted a posture of fighting with all his might since reaching the peak of the Golden Core stage.

Lin Daochen stood there, his eyes flashing as if they had swept across the cold light of his sword practice on a snowy night in the past, but more so with a burning desire and expectation.

For the past six months, he has traveled to remote mountains and ancient caves, fighting with rogue cultivators for spiritual veins and with demon cultivators for incomplete scrolls, until he was personally brought back by the master of Tianjian Manor half a month ago.

Just when I was about to catch my breath, Zhang Sanfeng arrived, his sword energy tearing through the air.

The Taishu clan never ceased their pursuit, forcing him to hide his identity and live as a beggar in the marketplace.

But at this moment, looking at the few new strands of frost on his junior brother's temples, he felt a strange warmth in his heart.

The entire room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop; all eyes were fixed on the steps.

"Who do you think is better, the one or the other?"

"Why ask that? How can a ragged old beggar compare to Elder Zhang?"

"Hey, that's a lie! I saw him spar with the Master of the Manor—before the three moves were over, the Master's sword sheath was broken! He's a true master!"

"Bah! Senior? You dare call yourself a senior with only mid-Golden Core cultivation? Do you think Nascent Soul cultivators are made of paper?"

The buzzing of voices did not disturb the two people on the steps in the slightest.

Zhang Sanfeng held his breath and focused his mind, his eyes as sharp as tempered steel.

He is indeed no longer the same as before. With the full support of major sects, he has been cultivated with piles of pills, secret manuals, and sword formations, and his foundation is now incredibly strong.

But the one before me had once ventured alone into the forbidden area of ​​the spirit realm with his Golden Core body, and had severed the life-bound soul lamps of three Nascent Soul level monsters.

Having returned from the spirit realm, his spiritual pressure had already solidified into a tangible form. Even when he used only seven-tenths of his strength, he could still overwhelm an ordinary Nascent Soul cultivator.

Zhang Sanfeng still harbored a sliver of hope: the resource gap was so large that his chances of winning might not be small.

Thoughts raced through his mind, and a murderous intent surged beneath the surface.

Before either of them even made a move, the air was already taut like a bowstring, ready to snap at any moment.

In that very instant—

The figure vanished in an instant!

A blinding burst of spiritual light suddenly erupted in mid-air as the two powerful energies collided violently, causing the entire training ground to tremble.

The crowd below gasped in shock.

"My God... this isn't a fight, it's like a mountain being cleaved by lightning!"

"My eyes can't keep up! Are they really Golden Core cultivators? Or are they some centuries-old monsters who have rejuvenated?!"

No one was wrong—

Zhang Sanfeng's golden elixir was perfected, and his aura was as vast and profound as the sea.

Although Lin Daochen was only at the mid-stage of the Golden Core realm, the void hummed wherever his fist struck, and even the Nascent Soul elders watching from afar couldn't help but clench their sleeves.

Thirty-eight

This duel has reached a state of perfection; the two men's control over their strength is as precise as a skilled butcher dissecting an ox, with not a single flaw.

Both sides gave it their all, but Zhang Sanfeng became increasingly alarmed as the fight progressed—he clearly sensed that his senior brother Lin Daochen had not truly unleashed his full power; that deep, untamed strength was still holding back seven-tenths of its intensity.

"Senior brother, please reveal all your trump cards! I want to see with my own eyes just how high your true peak really is!"

Before he finished speaking, Zhang Sanfeng had already retreated to the center of the formation. With a light spin of his toes, a continuously flowing Tai Chi diagram suddenly appeared on the ground.

In an instant, the vast spiritual energy flowed like a hundred rivers flowing into the sea, condensing into a perfectly round and flawless shield of light, steadily protecting him in the center.

Lin Daochen's gaze sharpened, and he swept his leg out—before his foot even arrived, his aura collapsed! The entire spiritual shield shattered with a deafening roar, but he was sent flying backward like a kite with a broken string.

"Interesting." He smiled slightly. "Junior Brother, your Tai Chi skills have become increasingly refined and comprehensive over the past few years of hard work."

Yet, his heart remained calm. No matter how amazing Zhang Sanfeng was, his cultivation was still stuck at the peak of the Golden Core stage. He could handle ordinary Nascent Soul cultivators, but when faced with those monstrous talents who had grown up through tribulations, he was ultimately outmatched.

"Unfortunately, you are too arrogant. You are far inferior to the true dragon species I have ever seen."

Zhang Sanfeng was jolted, as if struck by lightning. A genius even stronger than himself? Could it be that ten years of tireless effort, day and night, still couldn't catch up with the one destined by fate?

Before he could even make up his mind, a blinding golden light suddenly struck—he was kicked away like a pebble, and the seemingly indestructible spiritual shield was pierced through by the kick, leaving not even a trace.

He stared wide-eyed at Lin Daochen, who had pulled his legs back.

That kick was so fast it left no afterimage, as if it appeared out of thin air and then instantly retracted. It was eerily unsettling.

Only Lin Daochen knew: it wasn't brute force that broke the shield, but rather the sudden flickering of the array patterns within his body as his toes swept past, causing his figure to instantly shift half a foot and directly attack his main body—this was the true reason for his disappearance for three years.

He intended to return to the Five Elements Sect, but when he stepped into the old site of the mountain gate, he saw only broken walls and scorched earth, withered grass and trees, and even the chirping of insects and the traces of birds had all disappeared.

With nowhere else to go, I ended up here.

Zhang Sanfeng staggered to his feet, his brows furrowed, still unable to understand the reason for his defeat. But a loss is a loss, and to be able to reunite with his senior brother in a foreign land was already a blessing from heaven. He gave Lin Daochen a deep look, turned and left, his clothes fluttering, silent and still.

As soon as the figure disappeared, the surrounding disciples surged forward like a tide, lifting Lin Daochen high into the night sky.

The cheers shook the birds roosting in the forest into flight, and the entire Tianjian Manor erupted in cheers—without his battle, the manor's reputation would have been trampled into the mud long ago.

That night, the grove behind the mountain was brightly lit. The disciples all abandoned their martial arts and sang and danced around the campfire. A fat sheep sizzled on the embers, oil droplets splattering, and the aroma filled the air. Lin Daochen sat on a blue stone, quietly watching the group of lively young faces.

Several teenagers gathered around, chattering and asking questions incessantly.

"Senior brother, how did you develop such skills?"

"Shut up! How dare you ask such a question? That's extremely rude!"

"Exactly! Senior Brother's success today is due to his own good fortune and hard work; why should we pry into his past?"

The young apprentice who asked the question immediately wilted, his lips pressed into a thin line, his head drooping almost to his chest, looking just like a scolded little sparrow.

He was only twelve or thirteen years old, with clear, bright eyes that showed no trace of worldliness, only an innocent naivety untouched by the world.

Seeing this, Lin Daochen reached out and ruffled his hair, his voice low and gentle: "My path is different from yours."

As he spoke, he picked up a dry twig and slowly sketched on the soft soil.

"You are cultivating stages: Foundation Establishment, Golden Core, Nascent Soul, Body Integration... One step, one bow; one trial, one level."

"But what I'm doing is building momentum."

"You climb mountains, I fill seas; you light lamps, I gather stars."

"Imagine—if someone could condense a thousand years of hard work into a single moment and directly break through the gate to ascension without having to endure the tribulation of the Golden Core stage, without having to withstand the lightning and fire of the Nascent Soul stage, and without having to tear their soul apart during the fusion stage... Is that possible?"

Everyone fell silent for a moment, and even the crackling of the campfire seemed to pause for a beat.

The youngest junior brother looked up, his eyes shining brightly: "Then... is there really such a method? If senior brother can do it, can we learn it too?"

These words gently touched a nerve in everyone's hearts.

Just as Lin Daochen was about to speak, a piercing, cold sneer suddenly came from afar.

"Ha—unorthodox methods! Absurd nonsense! Cultivation is about defying fate and fighting against destiny, yet you dare to dream of soaring through the clouds and ascending to heaven in one step!"

"Do you even know what nonsense you're spouting? Stop trying to mislead people!"

"In my opinion, you will likely never even cross the threshold of the Nascent Soul stage in your lifetime; the Golden Core stage is the pinnacle you are destined to reach!"

Before the words were finished, an old man in a gray robe stepped out slowly. His single eye was cloudy but gleamed with a cold light. Although his robe was neat, it faintly exuded a cloying and putrid odor, like old blood residue mixed with burnt bone ashes.

Upon seeing this, all the disciples bowed in unison:

"Elder Lei Ming!"

"Just because you defeated Zhang Sanfeng, you dare to point fingers? Stop mistaking your fallacies for truth!"

"The path of cultivation is always like climbing a precipice pierced by a thousand blades—each step must be firm, each inch tempering the bones, only then can one break through barriers and ascend!"

Elder Lei Ming stood tall and spoke with unwavering conviction, as if every word had been personally taught by the Heavenly Dao.

Lin Daochen simply lowered his eyes and chuckled softly, his voice as calm as a deep pool:

"The elder is absolutely right. I have indeed gone astray, my heart is burning with anger, and my mind is about to collapse... Everyone, please disperse quickly. What I just said was nothing but the ravings of a madman."

Lei Ming's lips immediately curled into a smug smile.

But just as he turned to leave, Lin Daochen suddenly looked up, his voice clear and melodious:

"All methods lead to the same source, but the great path is diverse. Some walk the righteous road of yang, while others tread the dark and sinister paths—but if one uses living people to refine elixirs and feeds them with blood, that is not opening up a new path, but falling into a demonic abyss!"

Magic Pill?

The disciples looked at each other, bewildered.

But when the words "Demon Pill" entered Lei Ming's ears, he was struck as if by lightning. He suddenly sprang up, his five fingers like hooks, and grabbed Lin Daochen's front!