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

In Yang Kai's eyes, even the most human-like demon is still a monstrous creature that devours people and chews their bones. Pity? That's reserved for the living, not for monsters with dripping blood from their fangs.

Lin Daochen watched quietly, without speaking or raising his hand, taking in the entire scene.

Just as the sword was about to strike, he suddenly spoke, his voice low but overwhelming, drowning out all the wind:

"Stop. They are innocent. Killing them won't solve the problem—go find the village chief. He's the one who caused this trouble, and he's the one who must untie it."

Yang Kai paused, a fierce glint in his eyes, before slowly sheathing his sword. The two turned to walk away, but the villagers behind them suddenly erupted in chaos—

"Since we can't survive, let's rot in this mud together!"

"I'll bite off a piece of your flesh, and let the pain be etched into my bones!"

Before the words were even finished, the humanoid form suddenly changed: the back arched and the clothes tore apart, the tailbone burst out of the skin and lashed out like a whip; the shoulder blades burst open, and a pair of broken wings covered with black feathers were unfurled; the canine teeth grew wildly and pierced the lower lip, saliva mixed with blood dripping down; several more collapsed and deformed, their limbs twisted into beast claws, and their eyes glowed with eerie green phosphorescence...

An ordinary person seeing this scene would probably collapse and lose control of their bladder on the spot, having exhausted all the strength to escape.

But what they ran into was Lin Daochen.

He flicked his fingertips silently—the figures rushing towards him froze instantly, like insects frozen in amber, unable to even move their eyes.

"I know your suffering. I know your injustice. I know that this world has treated you like dirt, trampling you into the mud."

"But don't forget, justice isn't dead, it's just moving slower. A person doesn't necessarily have to swallow human blood to stand tall in life."

"This time, I'll spare your lives. If you try to kill me again—I'll grind your bones to dust and burn your souls to ashes. You'll have to think twice."

The crowd froze, their backs soaked with cold sweat. At that moment, they understood completely: the two people before them were not prey, but hunters; not passersby, but the pen that would cross their names off the list of the King of Hell.

Fight again? That will only lead to certain death.

Where is the way out? — It's under your feet, in every turn, in every breath of sprinting. One step slower, and you're gone.

These people knew exactly what was going on, so they didn't even hesitate and turned to run towards Lin Daochen. Seeing their hasty escape, Lin Daochen didn't bother to pursue them and simply stood by and watched.

But just as they took off, Lin Daochen's heart skipped a beat—what exactly were these people plotting? Were they really not afraid of death? Or was there an even more ruthless force backing them up, which was why they dared to gamble their lives on this life-or-death situation?

He pondered it over and over, becoming more and more confused, until finally he could only shake his head with a wry smile and put the matter out of his mind. It was none of his concern anyway.

No sooner had he breathed a sigh of relief than the villagers beside him, disregarding everything, roared and charged at Lin Daochen, swinging their fists and clubs. Lin Daochen, however, was not about to be trifled with. His feet remained firmly planted, his robes unfurled, and an overwhelming pressure, heavy as a mountain, exploded forth—the seven or eight men at the forefront were instantly thrown to the ground, as if struck in the chest by an invisible hammer, not even having time to utter a sound.

They struggled to their feet, their eyes bloodshot, their teeth clenched, wishing they could tear off Lin Daochen's flesh and chew it up and swallow it. But as soon as they straightened up, they were pressed back into the mud by that force, their faces pressed against the ground, even breathing was difficult.

Lin Daochen glanced down, too lazy to waste any more energy. But just then, the surrounding air suddenly darkened, and a cold wind, sharp as a knife and carrying a bone-chilling cold, howled and swept in, making one's scalp tingle.

His pupils contracted slightly—this chilling aura was no ordinary evil spirit; it sent a shiver down his spine and tightened his chest. With his current cultivation level, he should be immune to all evil spirits by now, so how could a gust of wind force him to feel a chill?

Could it be... that there are even deeper hidden dangers beneath the Ghost Village? Is the so-called "relief from calamity" just a pretext? What they really want is not to save people, but to use someone else to do their dirty work and lure the enemy out?

He lowered his brow, and his divine sense spread out like a tidal wave. In an instant, the entire village appeared in every detail: the spider webs under the eaves, the embers in the stove, the black blood seeping from the depths of the cellar... all within his mind.

He was only half a step away from the Integration Realm; to mortals, he was already a living god treading on clouds. Turning stone into gold? It was merely a matter of lifting a finger.

He loosely clenched his fist, and two villagers were instantly pulled into the air like puppets with broken strings. Their throats were gripped tightly by his iron-like palm force, and their feet kicked wildly off the ground.

"Where is the village chief?" The voice wasn't loud, but every word was like an icicle piercing the ground. "If you don't tell me, even if you grind your bones and this village into dust, it won't be filthy."

Yang Kai, standing to the side, froze—Lin Daochen had just been speaking gently and comfortingly, but in the blink of an eye, he was filled with murderous intent! He hurried forward, looking at Lin Daochen's tense shoulders and back, and his heart sank: something had happened, and it was a big one.

But Lin Daochen didn't turn around or say anything. As a master, he should shoulder the heavy responsibilities, and he wouldn't let his disciple utter a single word that he shouldn't say.

Yang Kai's lips moved, but he ultimately swallowed his question and silently followed. When Lin Daochen walked, he walked; when Lin Daochen stopped, he stopped too.

After turning three crooked alleyways, the view suddenly opened up—it was a desolate square. The ground was paved with white bones, layer upon layer, skulls with empty eye sockets facing the sky; blood was still wet, meandering and flowing between the stones, the stench so strong it was hard to dispel, sticking to the back of the tongue and making it bitter.

Lin Daochen stopped, his nails digging deeply into his palms. In his decades of cultivation, he had witnessed the slaughter of cities and the refining of souls, but he had never seen such a naked sacrificial site.

His killing intent surged like magma, burning his eyes red—that village chief wasn't saving the people from their suffering at all; instead, he was raising the entire village like livestock, waiting for them to grow plump and fleshy so he could carve them clean and refine them into a "living cauldron" to nourish the demon pill.

These poor villagers, still ringing the bell and keeping vigil for him, kneeling and burning incense, were completely unaware that they had long since become meat on a chopping board, being cut up and fed to the ghost.

These damned beasts are so cruel! He treated the entire village as living nourishment—open your eyes and see these twisted bodies; they are all demons he created with his own hands! No one in the village, young or old, escaped; they were all reduced to walking corpses!

Yang Kai, standing to the side, was completely confused, sensing that there was more to the story than met the eye; Lin Daochen, on the other hand, felt as if struck by lightning, his heart burning.

He gritted his teeth, his voice low but each word like a nail: "The cultivation world has a thousand-year-old rule: materials for crafting weapons and herbs for foundation building have always been used with moderation and integrity. Who would dare use mortal lives as firewood? But these people before me... their souls have already been ripped out, their hearts gouged out, and they're still foolishly counting copper coins for him! Do you know what that's called?"

"This is called becoming a demon! That Netherworld One stole my 'Mysterious Pivot Qi Guiding Technique,' altered it, and forcibly turned the righteous method into an evil art. Not only did he fall into demonic cultivation himself, but he also used the entire village as a furnace, wantonly ruining them!"

"If this gets out, I, Lin Daochen, won't even be able to find a single brick to stand on in the Nine Provinces cultivation world—it's all my fault for being too dismissive and not taking these 'villagers' seriously, which allowed them to be bewitched by the Netherworld and bite back."

He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. At this moment, he finally understood: it was his past negligence that had neglected the villagers and sown the seeds of resentment, allowing the Netherworld to take advantage of the situation and use illusions to blind them.

The only way to survive right now is to find Youming and break his mental block—otherwise, none of these people can be saved.

The surrounding demonic energy was so thick it was almost impenetrable. Lin Daochen felt a metallic taste in his throat, as if he were inhaling scalding asphalt instead of air. The black mist surged like a tide, and the ground cracked inch by inch, oozing a dark red viscous liquid. Let alone ordinary villagers, even a third-rate cultivator who stepped in would have their mind eroded within half an hour, reduced to a mere screaming puppet.

Less than two hours remain. If this drags on any longer, the entire village will completely collapse into a demon's lair, and the villagers will be utterly severed from their spiritual consciousness, becoming flesh and blood devoured by the underworld.

"Oh my, is Master really that scary? Your words are making my back teeth chatter... Is it really that bad? It sounds like a storyteller exaggerating."

Lin Daochen didn't even lift his eyelids. Believe it or not, he'll understand when he sees the Ten Thousand Souls Banner soaring into the sky and hears the wails coming from the bone array—there's no point in saying more, and any explanation would be a waste of breath.

The two walked another hundred paces before finally stopping in the central square of the village. Sure enough, a sinister magic array sat in the center, its interlocking skeletons forming a grotesque totem. A chilling wind swirled within the array, and gusts of thirsty, malevolent energy surged back and forth, yet no one was in sight, only shadows crawling between the bones.

Lin Daochen bent down to examine it closely, his fingertips brushing against a rib—icy cold, lifeless. Sure enough, no one was there. Just some wandering, lingering remnants.

But when he squinted and looked closely, he suddenly saw the earthen altar at the center of the formation pulsate slightly, and the mud seal on the mouth of the altar cracked, revealing pale white faces emerging from underneath—it turned out that the souls had long been extracted, crushed and refined, and sealed into this small pottery jar.

Ten Thousand Soul Banners!

Lin Daochen's pupils constricted sharply, a chill running down his spine. This object should only appear in the Demon Lord's mausoleum or the ruins of an ancient battlefield; it's a weapon that would require the slaughter of millions to amass. How could Youming Village, so remote and isolated, possibly harbor such a thing? Could it be... that even the Blood Fiend Demon Lord, who has been dormant for a hundred years, has quietly arrived?

If that's the case, I'm afraid I won't be able to escape today.

His brows furrowed, his sleeves billowed, and a silver light slashed towards the banner pole—but just as it touched the edge of the formation, a muffled boom resounded, and the crimson barrier exploded, like an impenetrable wall, forcefully repelling all spiritual energy.

His attack missed, his knuckles turning white. Just as he was about to gather his true energy again, the Myriad Soul Banner suddenly trembled violently, tearing through the night with a whoosh and shooting straight into the sky! A sinister laugh came from the tip of the banner, hoarse as a dull knife scraping bone:

"Little Taoist, you've finally arrived—I've been waiting for you in the bone array, my bones are practically moldy from waiting! Blame it on you for being so late... Now the entire village is my puppet. If I had arrived half an hour earlier, I might have been able to save a few lives."

He had been waiting for Lin Daochen to turn pale and become shaky, so he could take advantage of the moment and attack his defenses.

Unexpectedly, Lin Daochen suddenly threw his head back and laughed loudly. His clear laughter caused the surrounding black mist to disperse in a flurry.

"Fool! You really think this pathetic trick will make me feel guilty?"

"I've been in seclusion for ten years, and what I've refined is far more than just my muscles and bones. This Dao heart of mine has long been tempered to be harder than cold iron and colder than black ice—you think you can pry it open with regret? Ha, not a chance."

His body shuddered violently, and a boundless, ocean-like power suddenly enveloped him, its light swirling like a seven-colored glazed tile overturned from the sky, dazzling and eerie. The sounds emanating from within the Myriad Souls Banner also suddenly subsided, as if a colossal beast from the earth had slowly opened its eyes.

"Ha... The Light of the Great Dao? No wonder you're so confident. But you've only scratched the surface of such a supreme law—a mere junior in the Divine Conferring Realm, who hasn't even solidified his Dao Foundation, dares to talk about controlling it?"

"This Banner of Ten Thousand Souls in my hand was personally bestowed upon me by the Supreme Being of the Demon Realm! If I were to release all the billions of remnant souls within it, not only you, but the entire mountain sect would be reduced to dust in an instant, leaving not a blade of grass standing!"

Upon hearing this, Lin Daochen took a small step back, his gaze fixed on the banner churning with black energy. The Banner of Ten Thousand Souls was indeed extraordinary—it contained not ordinary wandering souls, but the spirits of the dead who had been skinned alive, had their tendons and bones pulled out, and were boiled alive with poisonous fire. They had long since lost their resentment, leaving only a raging fury that could burn everything in its path, and a hatred that could erode one's very soul.

Anyone who approaches will be torn to shreds; anyone who makes a rash move will be dragged into eternal night. These things cannot be dealt with by brute force with magic or by slashing with sword energy. They are not afraid of being destroyed; even if they are scattered a thousand times, they can reassemble themselves in the eerie wind.