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

Above the sky, thunderclouds churned and boiled, with lightning bolts dancing wildly through the gaps. The spiritual energy was already out of control, and the air was as thick as waterlogged cotton—if this continued, the folds of space would tear apart. Cultivators gathered together were already dangerous, but now it was like dancing on a knife's edge.

Old Master Ye finally dropped his teasing, his voice sharp and piercing: "Stop dawdling! Two options: either take out your crystals to make the decision, or—" He raised his hand and gestured, causing eight figures behind him to simultaneously take half a step forward, their spiritual pressure surging forth like a tidal wave. "Can you withstand eight pairs of hands from the Integration Stage, a hundred pairs of claws from the peak Foundation Establishment Stage, and three thousand hungry wolf mouths?"

"If you remain obstinate today, your foundation for enlightenment will be severed right here."

Lin Daochen turned around with a flick of his sleeve, his long hair sweeping over his shoulders, his eyes clear as fresh snow: "Compensation? Don't even think about it. Fight, then fight. I, Lin Daochen, never beg for life on my knees."

A burst of silvery-white immortal mist suddenly erupted from Lin Daochen's body, sweeping over a hundred feet and causing the surrounding crowd to be thrown back like kites.

Old Master Ye's face turned ashen; he never expected Lin Daochen to be so stubborn—even when pushed to this point, he still refused to back down.

He thought to himself: This kid is really troublesome. He's impervious to both soft and hard approaches, and stubborn as a mule. If I really try to force him, I probably won't even be able to find a reason to do so. After thinking it over, a gentle smile suddenly appeared on his lips.

"Alright! Since you're unwilling to pay the spirit stones, let's take another route. I've heard that you've done many good deeds, such as building bridges and roads for the people and driving away miasma and plague."

"Your current cultivation level is not high enough to withstand the golden light of merit. Why not transfer all that merit to us? With this pure and righteous power, your cultivation can advance to the next level."

"Consider this compensation for your previous disruption of our order and justice, how about that?"

Upon hearing this, Lin Daochen turned his head and scanned the entire scene. There was a huge crowd, but the "compensation" mentioned by Elder Ye did not mention the unarmed mortals at all, and only focused on seven or eight Nascent Soul stage cultivators.

Ordinary people? They were long ago excluded from the game, their right to even bargain completely erased.

"Oh... I see." Lin Daochen's tone softened slightly. "Elder Ye, your move is truly impressive. If we really follow this approach, I might agree—but before I nod, please allow me to ask a question."

His brows relaxed, and his expression was no longer as tense as before. Seeing this, Old Master Ye felt relieved: as expected, this young man had not come seeking trouble. His previous toughness was merely an instinctive struggle after being forced into a corner; as long as a ladder was offered, he would naturally take it.

"Excellent, excellent!" Old Master Ye laughed heartily. "It's wonderful that you're willing to turn hostility into friendship! How about this—I'll dismiss the others now, and we can find a private place to talk, shall we?"

Before the words were even finished, a cold glint tore through the air, its killing intent sharp as a needle, aimed straight at the back of the neck!

Immediately following, with a loud clang, the black hunting blade in his hand trembled violently, as if struck in the chest by a heavy hammer, and his entire arm went numb instantly.

Before he could react, the blade shattered in the middle, breaking in two! He staggered back three steps, cold sweat beading on his forehead.

"Dare to launch a sneak attack? You won't drink a toast but insist on drinking a penalty shot—if I don't show you what the dignity of a senior is today, you've probably forgotten how to spell the word 'respect'!"

Old Ye's beard and hair stood on end, his face swelling to the color of liver. He grabbed the broken blade and leaped forward, moving so fast that only a blur remained. Lin Daochen had no time to catch his trajectory.

Although he couldn't see it, his reaction was as fast as lightning—the instant the old man's figure disappeared, he touched the ground with his toes, spun around, and retreated rapidly, narrowly avoiding the horizontal slash.

Even more strangely, the broken blade in Old Master Ye's hand miraculously healed itself in mid-air, its edge lengthening by three inches, shimmering with a ghostly light, and exuding a chilling aura.

He sneered, "You greenhorn, do you even know the meaning of 'nurturing a weapon'? My hunting blade grows by drinking in the souls of the living, becoming sharper with each kill. Even if crushed to dust, it will instantly regenerate upon being touched by blood!"

Before the words were even finished, the blade flashed again, as fast as thunder!

He was fast, but Lin Daochen was even faster—not by sight, but by an almost beast-like instinct, dodging and weaving at the last second before the blade touched his body. Ten times, twenty times… Old Ye attacked relentlessly, each time missing his target; the wind from his fists grazed past his clothes, yet didn't even manage to cut off a corner of his garment.

Finally, the old man, panting heavily, stopped his attack, veins bulging on his forehead: "Who exactly are you? Why do you always manage to dodge my attacks a fraction of a second in advance? What secret treasure are you hiding?!"

Old Master Ye stomped his foot in anger, but Lin Daochen ignored him. His eyes were calm, and he focused intently on every flaw, moving around to deflect the force while quietly gathering his strength, waiting for the moment to launch a counterattack.

The duel had lasted for over a quarter of an hour, and the onlookers held their breath, watching intently without stepping forward. However, the seven or eight cultivators of the same level as Elder Ye couldn't contain themselves any longer and quietly gathered together, whispering amongst themselves:

"If this drags on any longer, who knows when it will end? Why don't we join forces? This person's methods are unpredictable; if we let him continue to cause trouble, I'm afraid none of us will benefit."

The other person frowned, but ultimately swallowed his anger and decisively rejected the suggestion.

"Indeed, Lin Daochen made a mistake this time, causing us considerable losses and forcing us to reconsider the value of our merits—but he is, after all, a cultivator. For everyone to gang up on a junior is hardly respectable."

"If word gets out, it will probably be ridiculed."

As soon as he finished speaking, the surroundings fell silent. These words hit the nail on the head—their cultivation levels far surpassed Lin Daochen's, and bullying the weak with numbers was already beneath their dignity; if they continued to cause trouble, they would truly lose all face.

The group exchanged glances and ultimately abandoned the idea of ​​joining forces to encircle and annihilate the enemy. No one wanted to get involved in something so undignified.

Meanwhile, on the other side, Elder Ye had tried to pounce three times but failed to get close to Lin Daochen. His breathing was heavy, his movements were noticeably sluggish, and even his steps were starting to falter.

In the back-and-forth maneuvering, Lin Daochen seized the opportunity and delivered three consecutive vicious blows to his shoulders, back, waist, and ribs, making him feel a sweet taste in his throat and a panic in his heart.

"Quick! Come and lend a hand!"

He frantically parried while turning his head to shout, but his voice was hoarse and trembling. The people behind him didn't move an inch, not even lifting their eyelids.

Without the approval of those seven or eight Nascent Soul stage experts, who among the other Nascent Soul, Golden Core, or even Foundation Establishment cultivators would dare to cross the line?

Old Master Ye was so angry that his eyes turned red, but he could only grit his teeth and endure it, staggering backward as he parried.

Lin Daochen's attacks were like a tidal wave, his fists carrying a fierce aura crashing down on Ye Lao. Ye Lao was struggling to defend himself, and four new bloody wounds appeared on his body, his skin torn and flesh ripped open. Age catches up with him; even with his cultivation at the Integration Realm, his muscles and bones were no longer what they used to be, and his blood and qi could not keep up with the pace.

The wound burned intensely, and the pain made the veins on his forehead throb.

Finally, he couldn't hold on any longer—he suddenly clenched the jade ball in his palm and squeezed it hard!

"Bang!"

The entire space seemed to freeze instantly, as if time itself had been frozen. Lin Daochen stood frozen in mid-air, even the hem of his clothes stopped swaying.

Only Elder Ye was still able to move. But he didn't dare to look at Lin Daochen even once, turned around and ran away, running wildly for several kilometers until he crashed into the depths of a mountain ravine before daring to catch his breath.

Just a few miles outside that forbidden area, the jade sphere in his hand that imprisoned the space shattered into dust with a "crack," turning into specks of light that scattered into the wind.

Lin Daochen slowly opened his palm, then looked up in the direction where Elder Ye had fled, and gently shook his head.

Old ginger is spicier—I never expected this old guy to have such a trump card up his sleeve. Otherwise, I might have really dragged him down.

He turned around, his gaze sweeping over the crowd of onlookers, a glint of something unfathomable flashing in his eyes.

During the fierce battle just now, no one stepped forward; they all stood by and watched. He had already seen through them: those few Nascent Soul stage experts disdained to make a move; the rest, whether at the same level as him or with lower cultivation, either found it too troublesome and thankless, or dared not act without permission.

Whatever the reason, at least they didn't kick someone when they were down—that's enough.

Lin Daochen slowly stepped forward, clasped his hands in greeting to the Nascent Soul stage experts, and spoke in a calm yet measured tone:

"Dear seniors, we address you as 'senior' out of courtesy."

"It was indeed I who provoked the conflict today. Your restraint and refrain from taking drastic measures is already a testament to your magnanimity."

"However, we have also suffered some losses. If we can make some compensation, we can save face and leave each other a way out."

After he finished speaking, everyone fell silent, including Lin Daochen. The reason was clear—he had to be given a way out, otherwise, if they lost face, it would be even harder to see each other in the future.

After a moment, he nodded in agreement.

"Alright, since we've come this far, compensation is of course offered. If there's anything else I can do, I'm also willing to lend you all a hand."

With a flick of his sleeve, a warm yet powerful spiritual energy surged forth, gently soothing the wounds of everyone like spring water.

"I have noted your kindness. If anything changes in the future, the concessions we made today will surely be reciprocated in the future."

To everyone's surprise, the Nascent Soul stage cultivators all shook their heads, their expressions indifferent and unmoved.

"Don't try to guess our thoughts. We're here only to seek justice—you've dragged us into this without cause, damaging our performance. Shouldn't you compensate us?"

"Old Ye's words just now were indeed too fiery. We did not intervene to support him, nor did we want to bully the young because of our age—we do not approve of his actions from the bottom of our hearts."

"But then again, with the losses looming, we can't just swallow this insult. Before you take action, you might want to consider this: if things really come to blows, how many can you withstand?"

Lin Daochen lowered his eyes and remained silent. They were right—he was all alone, while the other side was a group of seasoned cultivators. If things really came to a head, he could at most lose two or three, but the rest would still crush him to dust.

They might not go all out, but after a hard-fought battle, spiritual energy depleted, meridians burned, and primordial spirit shaken... it's no exaggeration to say that one or two levels of cultivation might regress. For a cultivator, a loss of foundation is more heartbreaking than losing half their life.

After much deliberation, Lin Daochen finally relented: since the trouble was caused by him, he would compensate. Even if it was just a few spiritual materials or a few batches of pills, it would at least save face for the other party and lessen their hostility.

"Alright, I accept that. Since it was my fault that I caused the deficit, I'll make up for it today. However, before we start taking out the spirit stones, there's something I need to tell you all first."

"The sect is about to make a major move, quite a stir. Rest assured, the compensation will be delivered before the operation begins—we'll save face, and this matter will be over. What do you all think?"

This senior in the Integration Stage spoke in a calm tone, without the slightest hint of aggressiveness, a stark contrast to Elder Ye's fierce and stern demeanor.

Seeing that Lin Daochen agreed so readily, the group exchanged glances and shook their heads with amusement—good that he was happy, they weren't there to cause trouble anyway.