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

Lin Daochen sat cross-legged on the bluestone platform, eyes closed, concentrating on nurturing the innate spiritual root within his body. But before he could finish speaking, the surrounding mountain shadows trembled, and figures silently appeared—golden light flowed, auspicious energy enveloped them—it was the arrival of various deities. But they had no intention of reasoning; the moment they landed, they unleashed their thunderous power…

The ground suddenly cracked open, and spiderweb-like fissures burst forth. Lin Daochen was caught off guard and plummeted straight to the center of the earth!

The next instant, the earth closed up like a giant jaws snapping shut, with a muffled "bang," sealing him firmly in the depths of darkness. Lightning struck, electric snakes danced wildly, scorched earth churned, and the entire mountain range trembled.

Lin Daochen was stunned for a moment—who would have thought he would be surrounded and attacked? He immediately urged his spiritual energy to break out of the ground, but divine might from all directions pressed down like mountains, and the laws of the other world imprisoned him layer by layer. By the time he came to his senses, he was already deep in the heart of the earth vein, and dozens of powerful divine forces were intertwined into a net, bombarding him in turn, making it difficult for him to even breathe.

He suddenly turned his head and was shocked to find countless eyes piercing through the rock strata, coldly looking down at him.

"Young friend, do you know how many temples were destroyed and how many believers' hearts were shattered by this act of vandalism?"

"Now that the incense has been burned out, my divine body has dimmed by thirty percent; the people do not bow before my statue, but instead point at it as a clay or wooden puppet... How can this enmity be avenged?"

Lin Daochen remained silent. He hadn't expected the consequences to be so severe, nor had he anticipated that by taking action himself, he would actually have to bear the brunt of the collapse of the entire divine realm.

"My lords, I understand your anger." He slowly raised his head, his voice not loud, but every word clear. "But are the gods enshrined in those temples truly righteous? Or are they masked villains who use their names to amass wealth and condone evil spirits? They oppress the villagers, forcibly conscript young boys and girls to sacrifice to the mountains, and even dare to beat weapon refiners to death in the street—if I stand idly by, I will be the root of all evil."

He had no intention of arguing. The truth was there; whether one listened or not depended entirely on one's state of mind. Further discussion was pointless and only a waste of energy.

He turned to leave, and just as a wisp of cloud rose from his feet, suddenly, a surge of figures appeared across the mountains and valleys—firelight blazed, waves surged, and lightning crackled as one figure after another tore through the sky. Their cultivation levels varied, but their expressions were identical: their eyes were like knives, their killing intent chilling. Anyone who tarnished the reputation of the cultivation world would pay with their life today!

Without a word, Lin Daochen turned and leaped away, but each time he took to the air, several supernatural powers would cut him off in half.

A gaunt old man slowly stepped forward, his black robe trailing on the ground. His brows and eyes were sinister, and a frost-covered blade in his hand gleamed with an eerie light. The air itself seemed to condense into fine frost as it approached. The moment one got close, it felt as if a cold blade was pressed against one's neck, and life or death hung in the balance.

"Young friend, you did this, so you're responsible for settling the score." His voice was hoarse, each word like a nail. "Nowadays, mortals no longer prostrate themselves before us cultivators; instead, they take detours—do you know that we cultivators, cloaked in divine status, rely not on our inner energy, but on the adoration of the masses?"

"The more genuine their belief, the brighter our divine light shines; the deeper their doubt, the more fragile our foundation. Your blow isn't just tearing down the temple, it's cutting off our livelihood—will you take the blame?"

Lin Daochen lowered his eyes and remained silent. His throat moved slightly, but he ultimately did not utter a single word.

He had intended to leave immediately, but he was now surrounded by layers upon layers of people, and it would take some effort to escape. So he simply lifted his robe, sat cross-legged on the spot, closed his eyes slightly, and looked calm, as if the surrounding swords and shadows were nothing more than a gentle breeze.

Everyone was taken aback, exchanging glances, unsure of his intentions. Only the old man leaning on the black frost blade let out a cold sneer, and the cold blade suddenly pressed against Lin Daochen's neck, its edge gleaming with a cold, eerie blue light, even the air seemed to condense into fine frost.

"Playing dumb? Fine—we're not here to hear your excuses, we're here to demand an explanation. Don't even think about moving an inch until you've explained yourself clearly."

The others immediately joined in the cheers:

"Indeed! Don't let his thin frame fool you, he's a true master of the System Realm! That 'Pitch Black' sword in his hand, he once beheaded over ten thousand people in a single night, the blood hadn't even dried yet, the blade was still dripping!"

"You've angered him? Hmph, sparing your body is a favor—at least I'll take your two arms as a greeting gift!"

Seeing their beaming faces and arrogant demeanor, Lin Daochen felt a sense of absurdity, as if their overwhelming cultivation was truly reflected on their faces.

He shook his head slightly, too lazy to bother with this group of noisy clowns. He had already secretly scanned the entire scene—only three or five people were truly worthy of his attention; the rest weren't even qualified to be targets.

He turned his head, his gaze falling directly on the old man wielding the frost-covered blade, his tone calm yet clear: "May I ask your esteemed name, senior?"

The old man was taken aback, then his lips curled into a grin, the wrinkles around his eyes smoothed out, and he deliberately glanced around at the young cultivators, as if he were holding a rare elixir he had just acquired, waiting for everyone to look up in envy.

Lin Daochen was genuinely curious—this person's origins were shrouded in mystery, yet he spoke first, while thousands of cultivators around him had all arrived riding on spiritual clouds and magical artifacts. The old man's reputation had truly been elevated to an unparalleled level.

He cleared his throat, slowly turned around, flicked his sleeves, and struck a pose befitting a master:

"I must say, you do have some guts. But this time, you've really messed things up badly; it's like spitting a horrible slap in the face of the cultivation world!"

"If you really want to make amends? I'll give you a way: erase the memories of every mortal who has witnessed your presence—only when they don't remember you, don't remember what happened today, will this matter be over."

Lin Daochen's eyelids twitched. Good heavens, this wasn't offering a way out; it was clearly pushing someone to the edge of a cliff. The crowd of at least three or four hundred onlookers in the streets and alleys had long since dispersed, not to mention that the news had already spread like wildfire, and even more people were rushing here.

He was expected to chase after ordinary people, searching their souls and washing their memories one by one? Not only was it impossible for him, but even if he could, he would never point his knife at unarmed ordinary people.

He slowly lifted his eyelids, his gaze as indifferent as a winter lake, but his voice betrayed undisguised annoyance:

"I'm asking for your name, not to give you orders. Name, tell me."

The old man's face instantly turned purplish-brown, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as if he had swallowed a piece of burning coal—being humiliated so thoroughly by a junior in front of thousands of eyes, his anger almost materialized, bursting out from between his teeth:

"Very well! What an arrogant young man! Since you won't listen to reason... then don't blame me for unleashing my trump card—the Nine Heavens Annihilation Sword! Today, I'll let you taste what it means to be utterly destroyed!"

Before he finished speaking, he flicked his wrist, and a longsword engulfed in crimson flames was drawn from its sheath. The blade was gleaming with gold and leaping with fire, its intense heat was so striking that the mere exudation of sword energy scorched the temples of several people nearby.

His black robes fluttered, and his murderous aura surged. Coupled with his distorted old face, he truly resembled a ferocious god crawling out of the deepest hell. Even Lin Daochen nodded slightly—this aura indeed deserved the title of "System Realm".

But he merely glanced around coldly, a slight smile playing on his lips, his voice like cold iron striking the ground:

"Gentlemen, there's no need for this act. You've traveled a long way not for an apology, but for compensation. If that's the case, why not be straightforward—tell us the numbers: how many spirit stones, how many magic treasures, how many batches of pills. Lay everything out clearly. That will save us from wasting time and energy."

"I know in my heart whether I can swallow the price you're offering—but what's the point of just making a fuss here, hiding your true intentions?"

Everyone was taken aback by these words, exchanging glances, and found them quite sharp. Suddenly, a man with a cold face stepped forward, his sleeves billowing like ink.

"Since you've put it bluntly, let's not beat around the bush: if you want to settle this peacefully today, each of you will have to pay two thousand crystal stones; as for those senior cultivators in the Integration stage, less than ten thousand crystal stones is out of the question."

Lin Daochen's face instantly darkened. This amount wasn't negotiable; it was blatant disruption—with three to four thousand people present, the basic compensation alone was approaching eight million crystal stones. They weren't there to demand an explanation; they had timed their visit perfectly to force their way in. This was trouble; things were really about to explode.

He stomped his right foot, and the blue bricks shattered, spiderweb-like cracks shooting out three feet away. The onlookers all took a half step back, their hands on their sword hilts, their Adam's apples bobbing—who didn't know that Lin Daochen's fists were harder than reason?

The old man in black robes stepped forward slowly, flicking his withered finger. The night blade in his hand gleamed with a cold, eerie blue light, and a chilling wind seemed to hiss from its tip. "Young friend, you've got quite a temper, haven't you? But you were in the wrong first. Now, with your fierce expression, are you trying to turn this into a dead end? Admit your mistake, and compensate for it—that's only right and proper."

"Admit your mistake?" Lin Daochen sneered. "This isn't an admission of mistake, it's clearly a trap to strangle you! Two thousand spirit stones per person, eight million in total, do you think I'm running a spirit stone mine?"

Before he finished speaking, his dantian suddenly trembled, and his spiritual power surged like boiling water, causing his robes to billow wildly. Escape? No way. Since he was blocked at the alley entrance today, he might as well overturn the table and fight to the death.

An uproar erupted. They'd only wanted a small cut, but this kid actually dared to show his claws! The stalemate was untenable; retreat meant a wasted trip, advance risked a broken back. Yet, the enormous sum was undeniably tempting. After all, Lin Daochen's actions had truly humiliated them.

"Tsk, sharp-tongued, quite the smooth talker!" someone sneered. "But no matter how eloquent you are, you're the one who did the deed, you're the one who made the mistake. Your actions have sent shivers down the spines of the entire cultivation world! Not only are we holding our breath, but others are already pointing fingers behind our backs!"

The crowd buzzed, their eyes glued to Lin Daochen's storage ring, wishing they could tear it off right then and there and weigh it. But his strength was undeniable—there were only seven or eight people in the entire crowd who could easily overpower him; about a hundred were his equals; and the rest, though weak, could still overwhelm an elephant with sheer numbers.

At this moment, the old man in black robes straightened his collar and his voice suddenly rose: "Judging by your tough bones, you must have heard of the name 'Old Ye'—yes, that's me."

"You may not be familiar with my name, but in the past six months, seventeen of my comrades have fallen into my hands because they didn't know their place." He paused, and slowly raised his Nightblade, the blade's light reflecting off his pupils in a bluish hue. "If you insist on hitting a brick wall... you'll soon understand what it means to be 'disappeared alive and vanished without a trace.'"

Lin Daochen threw his head back and laughed, his gaze sweeping over the dense crowd of people—more than three thousand in total, eight or nine out of ten of them were rogue cultivators who had come just to join the fun, second-rate people who were just trying to make a living. Real swords and spears? Not enough to see.

"Save your energy. If you're going to do it, do it now. All this talk is just like hammering nails into a coffin."

Elder Ye's face suddenly turned purple, and the veins on his forehead throbbed. He had never wanted to fight seriously—in the cultivation world, it was always about exchanging benefits for friendship, leveraging each other's strengths, and breaking through realms together. There was no reason for bloodshed to happen so easily. But Lin Daochen's ruthless move shattered all the rules.