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

The one leading the group, with his striking blond hair and gleaming blue eyes, was no foreign visitor; he was none other than the Great Sage Equaling Heaven, Sun Wukong. His entire body was covered in golden hair, as if cast from molten gold, shimmering brilliantly in the sunlight, as if he were draped in a flowing sun crown.

The Six-Eared Macaque following closely behind was beaming with pride, his brows sparkling as if he had just received a great fortune.

"Ha! So that's how it is!" Sun Wukong laughed loudly. "That spirit stone is actually a fragment of the original essence left behind by the four ancient monkeys. It has no malicious intent and does not interfere with one's destiny—from now on, let's just treat it as a wandering stone and not worry about it!"

The Six-Eared Macaque nodded, glanced at him sideways, and said with a hint of sarcasm, "You're quite something, coming all this way with me, yet you can't even be bothered to move your real form, just throwing out a thick hair to fool people—is your monkey hair growing on a gold mine, inexhaustible?"

Sun Wukong didn't bother to reply, turned to look at Lin Daochen, and a glint of light flashed in his eyes: "Little brother, have you been waiting long? Don't worry, now that you're here, I won't let you leave empty-handed."

Lin Daochen hurriedly stepped forward. Sun Wukong raised his hand and lightly touched his brow with his fingertips, feeling a warm, branding sensation; then he opened his palm, and a soft, luminous hair lay quietly between the lines of his palm.

"It contains all the imprints of my breakthroughs, enlightenment, defying fate, and ascension to immortality. If you calmly contemplate it, those key points, sudden insights, forks in the road, and treacherous shoals will naturally surface—this is the lamp I lit for you."

Before he finished speaking, his entire body collapsed and turned into a wisp of green smoke that rose into the air. Only a few hairs remained, slightly warm in Lin Daochen's palm—it was indeed an avatar, and it had burned out its last bit of spiritual energy.

With a gentle flick of the fingertip, the hair was supple and slightly cool. It looked ordinary, with no spiritual light flowing or pressure surging, yet it could transform into all things at will—the mystery was extremely deep, and for a moment, the intricacies could not be grasped.

Sun Wukong had already flown away on the clouds, leaving only the Six-Eared Macaque and a group of furry little monkeys in the same spot, along with an old monkey squatting beside him, staring longingly at the hair in Lin Daochen's palm, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down, clearly craving it.

A moment later, the old monkey slowly strolled up to Lin Daochen, placed his paw on his knee, and said in a deep voice, "The Great King never gives away a hair easily. This is a spiritual object that he has personally refined. It is not an exaggeration to say that it is a living magic treasure."

"Now that your wish has been fulfilled, where do you plan to settle down next?"

Lin Daochen paused slightly upon hearing this, a hint of bewilderment appearing between his brows. He had originally come seeking a method to break through his cultivation realm, hoping to solidify his power and go further with the guidance of the Great Sage Equaling Heaven. Now that his goal had been achieved, he was at a loss as to where to settle down—perhaps he should find a quiet place to properly contemplate this newly acquired fortune.

After bidding farewell to the old monkey and his companions, he rode the wind and headed straight for the vast sea outside Flower Fruit Mountain. The blue waves stretched for miles, the sky and sea merging into one, a blue so intense it made one's heart tremble.

He traveled swiftly through the clouds for a long time before finally spotting a small, isolated island in the sea: jagged rocks, swaying pine shadows, the faint sound of the tide, and no sign of human habitation. Lin Daochen's heart warmed, and he bent down to examine it closely—indeed, it was serene and tranquil, indeed a place suitable for cultivation.

He immediately chose a sheltered, sunny spot on a green cliff, sat cross-legged, closed his eyes, and concentrated. He remained there for a full six months.

Six months later, a few fishing boats happened to pass by and suddenly saw a person sitting motionless on the cliff of the island, like an ancient Buddha in deep meditation.

At first, the fishermen scoffed, "They must be crazy! This is a desolate island with no food or water. They'll starve to death in less than three days."

Three or four days later, someone with a soft heart rowed a boat to shore to deliver some dry food, but stopped halfway—the person was still sitting upright as before, breathing deeply, with a radiant complexion, and not even a speck of dust on the corner of his clothes.

Even more strangely, despite several cold rains, his plain robe remained spotless, without a trace of mud or water. There were no streams to wash in, no soap to cleanse, and not even a needle and thread to be found on the island. How could his clothes remain so clean and fresh?

Three months later, everyone finally realized: This was no ordinary person in distress, but a legendary immortal who was detached from worldly affairs and could transcend time!

The news spread like wildfire through the treetops, reaching every fishing village for miles around in half a day. Fishermen flocked to the island, but only dared to moor their boats far away, peering out on tiptoe; no one dared to set foot on the island.

Before long, hundreds of small boats had gathered around the island, forming a dense circle, like devout pilgrims worshipping across the sea.

"Brother, just watching isn't enough!" an old fisherman who had been keeping an eye on things for two months finally couldn't contain himself and shouted in a low voice, "If we could get closer and ask for some pointers, it would be an incredible stroke of luck!"

He had wanted to go forward for a while, but was afraid of offending anyone, so he urged the others, "Who among you is brave enough to scout ahead for us?"

The crowd exchanged bewildered glances, none daring to respond—the difference between immortals and mortals was stark; they were nothing more than ants begging for food in the waves, and a single misstep could send them annihilated.

Finally, a young fisherman gritted his teeth and rowed forward, stopping on a shallow beach a hundred paces away from Lin Daochen. He held his breath and looked up, trying to see the man's face clearly.

But as soon as your gaze falls on the other person's face, you feel a mist rising before your eyes, and a thin, milky-white halo, as thin as a cicada's wing, quietly emerges, shrouding the entire face in a hazy mist, as if it were close at hand, yet as if separated by thousands of mountains and rivers. No matter how much you stare, you cannot discern even a fraction of its outline.

In fact, this aura belonged to the immortals and permeated Lin Daochen's body. Ordinary people could not see it with their naked eyes, so they could not see his true appearance.

A fire ignited in the hearts of everyone in the fishing village, who longed to absorb even a tiny bit of immortal energy—just a wisp, perhaps enough to crack open the door to cultivation and taste a trace of the Great Dao.

One day, I hope that I can also embark on the path of enlightenment like Lin Daoxuan and break free from the shackles of mortal life.

Days passed by one by one.

The man stood there, trying to take a step forward, but his feet seemed rooted to the spot, unable to move. Suddenly, Lin Daochen slightly lifted his eyelids and slowly opened his eyes.

Everyone saw him open his eyes, but his face was still shrouded in mist, blurry and indistinct, as if seen through a shimmering curtain of water, so strange that it sent chills down their spines.

Someone finally couldn't contain themselves any longer and stopped to shout:

"Immortal Master! Please guide us! We are all poor people toiling in the fields, our backs to the sky. Lately, disasters have been relentless. If we don't find a way out, we may not even see the sun rise tomorrow!"

Before he finished speaking, Lin Daochen had already quietly stood up. A faint look of doubt appeared on his face, which was shrouded in an ethereal aura, and his gaze swept around like the wind.

He seemed startled by the crowd surrounding him, or astonished that someone would dare to ask for an opportunity so openly.

In short, a hint of displeasure was already evident in his expression.

The fisherman who had just shouted trembled, breaking out in a cold sweat. He knew he had made a terrible mistake and hurriedly took two steps back, almost tripping and falling to the ground.

"Immortal Master, please forgive us! We had no intention of offending you! We came here only to seek a proper method. Even if we only gain the slightest bit of opportunity from you, it would be enough for us to risk our lives!"

Lin Daochen finally spoke, his voice not loud, but as resounding as a thunderclap:

"Since you all want to emulate me and ascend to immortality—then you'll have to pay with your lives."

The words had barely left his mouth when he strode forward. The fishermen were instantly terrified, thinking they were really going to be killed. They turned tail and ran, crying and screaming, scattering in all directions. In the blink of an eye, only that fisherman was left standing there all alone.

Lin Daochen looked over through the celestial mist, his tone slightly somber: "Everyone else has run away, why don't you leave? Are you not afraid of death?"

The man was taken aback, then threw his head back and burst into laughter, a rough but clear laugh.

"Death? What's so scary! If one cannot achieve what one desires in this life, living is just being a walking corpse; death, on the other hand, is clean and decisive!"

"Even if I die, I will fall on the path to immortality, rather than live a cowardly life as an ordinary mortal!"

Upon hearing this, Lin Daochen gave a bitter smile.

"What's wrong with being a mortal? Do you really hate your fate that much?"

The fisherman's face suddenly tightened, his fists clenched so tightly they cracked, his nails digging deep into his palms until blood seeped out.

"Your Excellency is unaware—a mortal's lifespan is like a candle flame, extinguished in the blink of an eye. As for me, I am already utterly alone, my parents gone, my brothers scattered, with no one even to see me off in my final moments..."

"What is there in this world that I cannot bear to part with? Death is simply the inevitable end that was bound to come sooner or later."

Having said that, he knelt heavily on the ground with a thud, his forehead touching the earth, his voice hoarse yet each word resounding:

"I humbly beg you, Immortal Master, to accept me as your disciple!"

Looking at the stubbornness etched on his forehead by veins and grime, Lin Daoxuan felt a slight tremor in his heart. But he also knew that cultivating the Dao was not something that could be accomplished simply by kowtowing a few times.

He clutched a single hair tightly in his palm—a gift from Sun Wukong himself. For three months, he had nurtured and repeatedly meditated on it, and had already firmly solidified his nine primordial spirits, eliminating any risk of them devouring each other. Yet, he remained stuck at the peak of the Golden Core stage, unable to break through and merge with the primordial spirit.

The "Tao" is ethereal and intangible, impossible to grasp or hold, yet it truly weighs on the shoulders of every cultivator. Once one fully comprehends its form and essence, one's cultivation will surge like a spring flood bursting its banks, unstoppable.

That feeling is more mysterious than winning the lottery, more amazing than having a cheat code—you clearly did nothing, yet your realm suddenly leaps up, leaving people speechless.

Now, he had absorbed all the remaining wisdom from that single hair. He opened his palm, gently lifted the hair as thin as a spider's thread, and presented it to the fisherman:

"This is a hair left behind by the Great Sage Equal to Heaven. Take it and meditate on it; perhaps... you can see a ray of light in the sky."

"But if you want to transcend the mortal world and ascend to the path of immortality, there is one thing you must grit your teeth and persevere in, something ingrained in your very bones—if you slacken halfway or hesitate at some juncture, that path to heaven will crumble into dust on the spot."

"This is no child's play. You must be completely focused and fully prepared before you can hope to one day knock on the gates of immortality like I have."

Lin Daochen himself couldn't say whether he could be considered a true immortal now, but in the eyes of others, he was undoubtedly a living immortal.

"Thank you for your mercy, Immortal Master! If there is ever a need for my service, I will brave mountains of knives and seas of fire, and I will never refuse your call!"

The man fell to his knees with a thud, his forehead touching the ground, his voice trembling. But when he looked up, there was nothing there—Lin Daochen had vanished without a trace.

Only a single, faintly shimmering golden hair remained in his palm, lying quietly, silently proclaiming that the immortal had indeed stopped and reached out to help him.

At this moment, Lin Daochen was riding a cloud across the blue sea, his clothes fluttering and ethereal mist surrounding him. Every move he made seemed like a banished immortal stepping out of a painting.

Suddenly, a vast and clear Daoist sound pierced the air, seemingly whispering in someone's ear despite being thousands of miles away:

"Young friend Lin Daochen, you have sown a great seed of karma this time! Do you know who that person was just now? Your brief guidance may one day be the turning point in your destiny."

Lin Daochen's heart skipped a beat: Oh? Could it be that he had accidentally bumped into some reclusive master? The person's aura was restrained, and his temperament was indeed different from ordinary people, but he couldn't figure out his background - this was not his forte, and he was too lazy to investigate further.

A slight smile played on his lips, tinged with self-deprecation: the voice belonged to Chen Hao. The fact that this guy had been secretly watching him all along was strangely comforting.

"Fine, I don't know anything about him anyway. Since we've run into each other, what harm is there in offering a little guidance? You just said he has quite a background... Could he be the reincarnation of some ancient sage or great being?"

The voice suddenly burst into loud laughter, tinged with sarcasm: "You underestimate him too much—do you think he's only fit to be described as 'reincarnated'? I do sense something unusual about him, but ultimately, it's his own path. Let him be."

"How high he can climb in the future depends entirely on his own efforts. Even if a saint were to return, if he is unwilling to sweat and dare not bear the pressure, he will ultimately be nothing more than a clay figure or a wooden sculpture, mingling in the mundane world, and finding it difficult to hold his head high again."

Lin Daochen remained silent for a moment, then urged his cloud power and sped toward the misty, ink-wash painting-like world—he needed to find Jiang Ziya and Shen Gongbao to get some real insights.

Only when he finally understood the meaning of that single hair did he truly see the tribulations Sun Wukong had faced on his journey to the West: On the road to the West, it wasn't just demons who blocked his way, but also the crooked rules of Tang Sanzang—he would recite the Tightening-Headband Mantra at the drop of a hat. Even after defeating the demons and achieving merit, he was still punished by kneeling and copying scriptures. Frustrated as he was, it was precisely these little grievances and repeated forbearance that forged his rebellious heart into an indestructible Buddha-heart.

Everything seemed accidental, but in fact, they were all interconnected, as if an invisible hand was pushing him step by step up the stairs.