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

When the Celestial Immortal from Tianshui visited, his promises were scathing: to remove the label of "lowly" from them, to stop the neighboring villages from spitting on them; to teach them true magic, and then to personally nail Lin Daochen to the pillar of shame—to give the entire village an explanation. The villagers immediately knelt down, kowtowing repeatedly. After all, Lin Daochen's sword strike that year had severed not only the arm of their father, Youming, but also the very backbone of the entire village.

The Celestial Immortal immediately unfolded a handwritten copy and ordered Youming to thoroughly understand the revised methods within it within three days. He then supervised thousands of villagers to drip their fingertips of blood into a celadon pottery jar—the very jar being the rough draft of the Ten Thousand Souls Banner.

Blood must be from the same source, and people must be sincere. Only when a thousand people unite and shed their blood to acknowledge the Lord can the banner truly come to life.

Once unsealed, it is difficult to rein in. Especially after the Netherworld has mastered the evil technique, its soul has been bound to death by the banner threads, and its escape route has long been burned away by the Heavenly Water Immortal's fire. It can only follow his steps and step by step into the mire.

But trouble soon followed—the sorcery was so obscure and difficult to understand that even Youming, biting his lip until it bled, couldn't decipher a single page. The villagers, impatient and desperate, grabbed the Heavenly Water Immortal and demanded, "How can we learn it faster?"

The other party simply smiled calmly: "I'll use my life as a shield."

Thus, dozens of lives were sacrificed alive at the bottom of the altar. The blood was not yet cold, and the technique was already mastered. But no one expected that once this technique was mastered, it would be like swallowing a live scorpion—it would feed on him and periodically claim his life. At first, You tried to stop, but as soon as he uttered a word, he was surrounded by people who called him a coward, a traitor, and a sinner to the entire village.

Behind him were hundreds of eyes; before him was Lin Daochen's name engraved on a wooden plaque, which was smoked by incense every day.

If he falls, the village's hopes will crumble; if he stops, Lin Daochen will forever sit high above the clouds, while they will never be able to lift their heads again.

And so, one wrong step led to another. The villagers pushed him forward with their lives, and he gradually forgot who he was. The light in his eyes went out, leaving only two eerie flames, burning with the word "revenge."

Not just you, Lin Daochen—he will tear out the flesh from the hearts of everyone who ever glanced at them, covered their noses and walked around them, or spat at the base of their courtyard wall, to atone for their blood debts.

He thought he was the chosen protagonist, but in the end, he discovered that he was nothing more than a carefully manipulated pawn. The thousands of remnant souls suppressed in the Banner of Ten Thousand Souls were all "live bait" twisted and refined by the Heavenly Water Immortal using evil magic—blood food prepared specifically to feed himself on his shortcut to heaven.

The insidious attack technique practiced by Youming was actually bait planted by the Celestial Immortal himself. This technique uses the burning of one's lifespan as fuel to nourish the souls of the dead under his command; the stronger the souls, the more intense the backlash, but in the end, they all become nourishment for the Celestial Immortal, layer upon layer, weaving a colossal net that devours the heavens.

The blood of the underworld is a natural breeding ground for the souls of the dead—a single drop entering a soul is like sweet rain nourishing withered bones, causing it to surge with ferocity; and the surging malevolence and resentment of these souls flow back into the underworld's body, helping it break through its shackles. The two are each other's furnace and cauldron, pushing each other forward until the last trace of life is burned away.

When the Netherworld reaches its peak and its divine soul is at its strongest, the Celestial Water Immortal will appear, open his mouth and inhale, swallowing everything, skin and bones—that is the ripe fruit he truly wants to harvest.

Upon hearing this, Lin Daochen's lips curled into a cold smile. Just as expected, Youming was nothing more than a puppet dancing on someone else's knife from beginning to end. The villagers of Youming Village were all dragged into this bloody altar, suffering endless torment.

"Alright, I understand the whole story. You're really unlucky this time—after all, you ended up like this because you were protecting the villagers. The ending may be tragic, but your good intentions remain. I'll make an exception this time and allow your soul to return to the six realms and re-enter the cycle of reincarnation."

But this is a one-time exception; there will be no second leniency. If you commit this offense again, even if you hide in the deepest crevice of the underworld or the darkest crevices of Yinshan Mountain, I will dig three feet into the ground and crush your soul inch by inch, so that you may never be reincarnated.

The ghostly figure in the netherworld slowly nodded. Though now a wandering spirit, the moment of death, the laws of the underworld immediately descend upon him—the excruciating pain and torture of that instant were like a thousand years of ice, ten thousand years of branding, corroding his bones and burning his spirit. He had barely breathed his last, yet his soul had already endured a hundred lifetimes of torture in the depths of the netherworld, his will tempered to the point of being as hard as iron and steel, impossible to shake again.

Of course, there are a few exceptions: for example, those born with the fate of a hungry ghost, who are insatiable in life and even more so after death, will not change their insatiable, ravenous appearance no matter how much you skin them or feed them soup or oil. Such people, even if they roll in hell for tens of thousands of years, will still be hungry ghosts when they open their eyes, with no room for redemption.

Such an exceptional individual is extremely rare, appearing only once in a century. Lin Daochen has walked the Yin-Yang path for many years and has only encountered him twice so far.

Not long after the ghostly shadows dissipated, Yama, the King of Hell, came swaying over, scratching the back of his head.

At first glance, Lin Daochen thought he was a vicious fiend who would devour anyone he wanted. But when he saw his face clearly—blue face with fangs, two horns on his forehead, and red hair like flames—he realized that he was indeed ferocious, but also genuinely honest.

King Yama grinned, his voice muffled like a drumbeat: "Is the job done? That's about it! Don't push it too hard, what else can we do? I'm leaving now. Call me if you need anything, I'm available anytime!"

Seeing him turn to slip away, Lin Daochen shook his head and chuckled. This King Yama certainly had enough imposing presence, but his demeanor was loose and unassuming, not at all like the intimidating and stern figure from legends.

"Let's go, let's go. Thanks for your help. I was worried you were with them, but I was wrong. But when we get back, you have to keep a close eye on that soul of Youming—make sure she doesn't go astray at the Meng Po Bridge, and don't let any little ghosts take advantage of the chaos to bite her. After all... her life has been truly heartbreaking."

"Hmph, do you need to tell me that?" King Yama waved his hand, his voice booming. "Don't worry! Just give my regards to your master and tell him that I, Old Man Yama, remember the kindness he showed me with that pot of 'Forget-Me-Not Brew' from back then!"

Before the words were finished, the figure vanished in a flash.

Silence returned. The horde of ghosts that had been stirred up by the Netherworld had long since been casually collected into the black patterned cloth bag at Yama's waist, leaving not even a whimper.

The Netherworld Village finally quieted down. But Lin Daochen stood at the village entrance, his anger burning ever brighter, almost bursting out of his throat.

"Immortal of Tianshui...Immortal of Tianshui! So you've been lurking in the shadows all this time, playing tricks and toying with life and death—if I don't beat you to your knees begging for mercy and have your soul scattered today, I, Lin Daochen, will write my name backwards!"

Before he finished speaking, he had already stepped out, his robes fluttering, heading straight for the edge of the village.

At this moment, on the barren slope outside the village, Li Kui and Li Yangkai stood there, staring blankly at the strange phenomenon that had just vanished, their eyes wide and their lips trembling slightly.

Li Kui, in particular, had barely seen the Thunder God split a tree in his life, let alone witnessed such a scene of upheaval and divine retribution. In his eyes, this was not a battle of magic, but a divine punishment of the collapsing sky and sinking earth.

He froze, his eyes darting around, and he saw Lin Daochen slowly walking towards him from the darkness. Behind him were the silhouettes of the crooked and dilapidated old houses of Youming Village, gleaming with a cold, grayish light under the pale moonlight—the entire village looked exactly like a graveyard that had just crawled out of hell.

At this moment, in Li Kui's eyes, Lin Daochen was like a war god returning from the ashes, cleaving through the evil spirits and blocking the vengeful ghosts, tearing open a path to survival for everyone. His heart burned with passion, and he ran towards Lin Daochen, his steps faltering but not daring to stop for a moment.

"Thank you so much! I don't know how to thank you enough! If it weren't for your help, we wouldn't even be alive, let alone able to clean up this mess!"

"Now Tianyun City can finally sleep soundly—within six months, villagers from the surrounding areas will surely bring their families here to attend the market and temple fair!"

Seeing Li Kui's excited, gesticulating manner, Quan shook his head slightly. This man was indeed pitiful—all his loved ones had died tragically at the hands of those monsters, their bodies never recovered, not even a grave was left.

He traveled thousands of miles to seek revenge, his body covered in scars and filled with a solitary courage. Both sides were people crushed by fate, but how could Lin Daochen easily determine who should live and who should die? Good and evil are never a monolithic entity, but rather a scale that tilts with one's stance.

Lin Daochen is not a god, he has no right to act on behalf of Heaven, and he has no right to make a final judgment on a living person.

Now that the dust has settled, he didn't interfere with the ruling, but only upheld the bottom line—he feels at ease with this outcome.

With revenge avenged and the poisonous miasma of Youming Spring dissipated, the days ahead in Tianyong City will only grow brighter, and caravans and horse caravans will soon arrive in droves.

"What are your plans for the future?"

Li Kui was taken aback and couldn't answer. He had never thought about the word "later." But at this moment, his chest was warm because Lin Daochen's approval had allowed him to see a light he had never dared to imagine before—that mortals could also stand at the forefront of the storm and face ghosts and gods directly.

Before he could finish speaking, he slammed one knee into the ground, the knee hitting the bluestone with a dull thud.

"My lord! You are my second parents! If it weren't for your help, our village would still be suffering in hell... What a pity, my parents, my sister, my brothers who used to climb trees and raid bird nests with me when I was a child... were all devoured by Youmingchun."

His voice choked, he closed his eyes tightly, the corners of his eyes reddening, as if clutching the last piece of an old garment in the wind.

Lin Daochen remained silent for a moment, then finally sighed. What's done is done; bringing up the past wouldn't bring him back. He could only offer practical words of comfort: "Alright, it's over. Don't dwell on it. A person has to move forward—thinking too much will only block your path. Don't you agree?"

Li Kui nodded, but his gaze couldn't help but drift to Yang Kai beside him. Where did this young man come from? His "Master" was called out crisply and decisively, and his demeanor was composed; he was clearly no ordinary person.

Could it be... that Lin Daochen has really taken on a disciple? Could it be that he will also teach him those methods that can burn mountains and boil seas?

The thought had barely formed when his heart warmed up—even if he only learned one or two moves, it would be worth it for his life! But then he thought again, he was just a roughneck guarding the city gate, and had nothing to do with Lin Daochen, so how could he dare to ask for his guidance?

He could only swallow the hot breath rising in his throat, forcefully pressing his thoughts back into his stomach, and dared not utter another word.

At this moment, Yang Kai stepped forward and said calmly, "Master, you have sorted out the matter of Youming Village, but there are a few hidden details that you may not know."

"What Heavenly Water Immortal? This disciple has never heard of him. But from my recent secret investigation, I have found that Youming Spring is not an isolated case. There are at least three other similar places around Tianyong City, but they are hidden very well, and even the official records cannot find any trace of them."

"They lie dormant, yet like poisonous vines, they will break through the soil and devour us sooner or later. We cannot wait; we must investigate immediately."

"Master, what do you think?"

Lin Daochen's gaze sharpened, and he said without hesitation, "That's right. Since we've run into them, there's no reason to stand idly by. Turning a blind eye is tantamount to handing a knife to an accomplice."

"You lead the way. You know this area best—the terrain, the clues, the hidden agents—I'll leave the rest to you."

Yang Kai clasped his hands in response and turned to leave. The two figures shot off like arrows, suddenly disappearing into the distance where black smoke rose, leaving Li Kui standing there, staring at the horizon where they had vanished, unable to move for a long time.