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

After the vengeful spirit drank the blood of the underworld, its aura suddenly surged; and as the underworld's corpse disintegrated into countless fragments, they underwent another strange transformation—

Although Lin Daochen did not examine it closely, he recognized at a glance that every single ghost had actually ascended to the realm of Ghost Immortal! He knew very well that if he continued to hold back, he might really be doomed here today.

"That's quite interesting... Youming, no matter how powerful you are, we can't care about that now."

Before the words were even finished, the sky was filled with sword light that exploded with a deafening roar! Ten thousand flying swords spun rapidly in the air, densely covering the sky, as if a layer of the entire sky had been shaved off.

As if sensing something, the ghosts retreated in terror—just moments before they had surrounded Lin Daochen, but in an instant they had retreated to a thousand meters away, standing at a distance, watching him with sinister eyes.

Lin Daochen gave a cold laugh. They were instinctively afraid of danger and thought that they could survive by retreating to a safe distance.

Little did he know that the boundary between life and death spanning dozens of miles was right beneath his fingertips. This attempt to dodge was nothing but a futile struggle.

Seeing the vengeful ghost flee in panic, he simply flicked his finger.

Ding--

A clear, crisp sound pierced the sky, followed by churning dark clouds and a torrent of purple mist pouring down from the heavens, vast and boundless.

The purple aura flowed like lava, or like the blood-stained dawn, with lightning crackling and exploding across its surface.

Before the ghosts could react, the purple light swept across the ten directions like a tide, instantly covering a radius of ten miles.

At the same time, the remnant of the Netherworld suddenly exploded, leaving no trace of its form, only a wisp of green smoke that dissipated in an instant.

Seeing Youming completely disintegrate into a ball of flames, Lin Daochen immediately withdrew all surveillance measures—this person was no longer a threat. Youming's body had been secretly tampered with, which was why it underwent a series of changes, but it was obvious to anyone with eyes that he was not the mastermind at all, but merely a puppet being led by someone else.

Lin Daochen never expected that just as Youming turned into a wisp of green smoke and dissipated, a figure quietly emerged from the depths of the distant sea of ​​clouds. The person descended from a crack in the clouds, his robes fluttering, his eyes like hooks, scanning the ruins below.

A cold shout pierced the air: "Who dares to destroy my puppet!"

Before he could finish speaking, a colossal hand that blotted out the sky tore through the air and suddenly reached out from a thousand miles away—it was clearly far beyond the clouds, yet it seemed to be within reach. With a snap of its five fingers, it grabbed Lin Daochen in mid-air and forcefully pulled him off the ground.

Lin Daochen's temple veins throbbed, and cold sweat soaked his back. This ability to shrink the earth to an inch was no ordinary technique: it seemed to only raise his arm three feet, but in reality, it stirred up the warp and weft of time and space, crushing thousands of miles into a mere foot.

He remained unmoved, letting the immense force carry him straight into the sky—he wanted to see who was behind it all, and why they were using the Netherworld as a weapon, forcing him to devour the lives of everyone in the village.

With a swift movement of the giant hand, Lin Daochen was pulled into the churning sea of ​​clouds. The man's true face then appeared before him.

Lin Daochen's pupils contracted slightly as he suddenly realized: It was him!

This man was as tall and imposing as an iron tower, his face as pale as frost, yet his muscles were bulging and his killing intent was palpable. In particular, his enormous, copper-bell-shaped eyes were burning like torches, fixed intently on Lin Daochen's face, as if trying to burn through his skin and see into his very soul.

"I thought it was some powerful figure causing trouble, but I never expected it to be the King of Hell himself. Seeing him today is quite a surprise—how could the supreme ruler of the underworld meddle in mortal affairs? If the Heavenly Emperor knew that you had overstepped your bounds and committed evil, even the eighteen levels of hell wouldn't be able to contain this sin."

Indeed, the one before us, with his eyes wide with fury, is none other than Yama, the King of Hell, who rules the underworld.

King Yama's brows furrowed, and his copper bell-shaped eyes flashed with a sharp light: "Boy? It's you! You actually got involved in this matter... Could it be that all our years of defenses have been uncovered by you?"

Lin Daochen was taken aback, but remained outwardly calm. Now that he had run into the person in question, there was no way he could afford to beat around the bush.

"Enough with the idle talk. Even if you are the ruler of the Netherworld and the head of the Ghost Realm, you will still be punished for breaking the rules. I only ask one question: Did you personally commit the massacre in Netherworld Village?"

"Injustice!" Yama's voice boomed like thunder. "I have no interest whatsoever in this desolate place. It was that Netherworld King who knelt before me, begging for my power and promising to quell the chaos here—that's why I branded him with a monitoring talisman. But the talisman suddenly vanished, and that's why I rushed here to investigate."

He paused, glancing at Lin Daochen: "To think I'd run into a junior like you... Eh? How are that old immortal from Kunlun Mountain and Shen Gongbao doing lately?"

Lin Daochen ignored this and pressed on, "Stop with the nonsense. Since you're absolving yourself of responsibility, explain yourself clearly—you should know that thousands of souls within a ten-mile radius of Youming Village have all been transformed into vengeful ghosts, right? You rule the Underworld, and ghosts are under your control. Do you really think you can wash your hands of this?"

"You've misunderstood me." King Yama waved his hand, his tone turning somber. "I don't touch any living people in the mortal realm. Ox-Head and Horse-Face only collect souls after a person has died. It's clearly written in the Book of Life and Death—if a living person's lifespan hasn't ended, even if the Heavenly Emperor himself orders it, I cannot touch a single hair on their head."

Lin Daochen felt relieved after hearing this. He trusted Yama's character—this ruler of the underworld always spoke his mind and never lied, so this matter was most likely true.

The more true it seems, the more bizarre it appears. What exactly happened to Youming Spring? And who is the mastermind behind it all?

"Can you... restore the remains of Youming? There are some things I need to ask him in person."

King Yama's gaze swept across the scene, his brow twitching slightly—he smelled it! That lingering aura, faint yet familiar, was none other than the corpse of Youming. But now, that body had long since disintegrated into ashes, mixed in with the mud and dust, no longer able to be pieced together into even a semblance of human form.

He's beyond saving. But if he exerts all his strength, he can forcibly gather the wandering soul in the netherworld for a moment, no more than three to five minutes. Enough time for Lin Daochen to ask a few questions.

Since the matter concerned the life and death of Youming Village, Yama, the King of Hell, didn't bother with beating around the bush and immediately nodded to Lin Daochen.

"Don't worry, leave it to me. I'll summon your soul now, it'll only last a few minutes. If you have any questions, ask them now—once your soul dissipates, it will be a final farewell, and I can't bear that responsibility."

Lin Daochen nodded in agreement. He wasn't someone who didn't know when to back down; since he had asked someone to help, he had to be considerate of their limits.

With a flick of his sleeve, Yama, the King of Hell, unleashed a surge of black mist that swept across the surroundings like a living thing. In the blink of an eye, the mist abruptly receded, revealing a blurry figure before Lin Daochen—its features indistinct, yet its outline clearly identified it as Youming.

Time was of the essence, leaving no room for preamble. Lin Daochen cut straight to the point:

"Youming, I am Lin Daochen. You are the village chief of Youming Village, and those villagers were all your fellow villagers and your own flesh and blood. But now, they have all been turned into vengeful ghosts, their souls scattered, and they can never turn back."

"I don't believe you've completely lost your true self. You're probably doing all this to protect them."

"Now, I'm laying this out right here: tell me the whole truth about Youming Village, without missing a single word. If you're willing to tell, I'll take on this burden for you—protect them, give them justice, and give them a way to live."

As soon as he finished speaking, Lin Daochen was stunned. He suddenly realized that at this moment, Youming was nothing more than a lingering remnant of his will that had been forcibly dragged back to the mortal world. Even his consciousness was fragmented, so how could he possibly respond in a coherent way?

But this was a scheme personally set up by Yama, so he didn't need to doubt it. He just asked the questions and waited for the answer.

Sure enough, the illusory figure swayed, hesitated for a moment, and finally opened its lips. Its voice was dry and hoarse, like sandpaper rubbing against a stone slab, yet every word was clear and resonant.

Over the years, undercurrents have been brewing in Youming Village. Due to the strange changes in the soil and water, the villagers have begun to show signs of demonic transformation—their fingernails turn black, their eyes glow with a bluish light, and they cannot sleep at night… But no one cares, and no one listens.

For decades, the government has been oppressive to them, the sects have been ruthless towards them, and even passing cultivators have regarded them as a pestilential land, avoiding them at all costs.

Despair, like a vine, ensnared the entire village. No one spoke up for them, and no one offered a helping hand.

Until that time—when Lin Daochen personally visited Youming Spring, the villagers knelt and begged for immortal arts to prolong their lives, but he resolutely refused.

That single word, "No," became the final straw that broke the camel's back.

Just when the entire village was on the verge of collapse, a mysterious figure arrived under the moonlight. His origins were a mystery, yet his aura was strangely familiar… Lin Daochen should recognize him—that person was clearly the Celestial Immortal of Tianshui.

"So...all of this, including tampering with my magic, creating evil spells, and turning the villagers into ghosts...was all done at his behest?"

Lin Daochen frowned and stared at him. At this moment, Youming was already out of his mind, his consciousness scattered like a candle in the wind, and even basic reasoning was gone. He was just an empty shell supported by resentment, answering questions without hesitation.

His Adam's apple bobbed slightly, his voice dry and hoarse, and he continued speaking—

"When the Narcissus Immortal came to my door that day, he first gave me a long lecture on the 'rules' of cultivating immortality. In our eyes, immortals used to be high in the clouds, pure and otherworldly; but when he broke down and explained those shady old practices, the underhanded ways of currying favor with the powerful, and the methods of exchanging incense offerings and empty fame for spirit stones..."

"It suddenly dawned on me—you who wear celestial robes are nothing but mortals covered in cosmetics, just like everyone else, greedy for power, profit, afraid of death, and fond of fame."

"At that moment, the last vestige of awe in my heart burned into a raging fire. Hating you was no longer just anger; it was a curse etched into my very bones."

Lin Daochen sighed softly, shaking his head in silence. He couldn't suppress or stop the turbulent currents of this world. He was merely a cultivator who had just reached the threshold; even if his cultivation increased by three points, he couldn't change the deep-seated creases in people's hearts.

Youming took a breath and continued:

"Those spells of yours, I really didn't do them. How could I have that ability? It was the Celestial Immortal who came to me, patting his chest and saying, 'I know what he's afraid of, and I can ruin his reputation.'"

"Those words were like poisoned bait, striking the most festering wound in my heart. At that moment, only one thing was on my mind—to bring you down. Everything else? I would have thrown it into the ditch to feed the dogs long ago. When I heard that I could avenge this blood feud, I agreed without even blinking. Cultivating immortality? Bah! All I want is for you to kneel before me and hear my cold laugh."

"Who would have thought it would turn out like this..."

Lin Daochen sighed softly again. After hearing the whole story, his heart felt heavy; it was less like hearing about a conspiracy and more like hearing a lament.