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

Lin Daochen stood atop a reef a hundred feet away, his robes fluttering in the wind, his eyes cold and unwavering. The Hunyuan Bell swayed gently between his fingers, each soft sound causing the swarm of bees to turn, accelerate, and encircle. He knew very well—this battle was not about brute force, but about who could see through the opponent's weaknesses first, who could tear through that seemingly impenetrable shell first.

"Ancestor Guang'an, you should feel dignified." His voice was not loud, but every word pierced the depths of the sea of ​​blood. "You are the first Heavenly Sensing Realm cultivator for whom I personally summoned the Asura Bees—in this battle, I will leave no survivors."

Guang An Patriarch gritted his teeth, veins bulging on his cheeks. He thought he had it all figured out, but little did he know Lin Daochen had such a ruthless and cunning backup plan. He finally understood that this was no one-on-one fight, but a carefully laid trap.

A sea of ​​blood surged, and the Ancestor Guang'an transformed into a dark shadow tearing through the undercurrents, darting and dodging amidst the crimson waves, attempting to shake off the Asura Bee swarm. But those bees were incredibly intelligent, their wings flapping like blades, their formations shifting unpredictably, relentlessly pursuing his vital points. In a sudden instant, an Asura Bee shattered his protective black aura, its stinger piercing deeply into the Ancestor Guang'an's left shoulder—the pitch-black venom, like a living thing, burrowed into his tendons, hissing and burning.

Guang'an Ancestor's pupils constricted sharply, a metallic taste rising in his throat, and excruciating pain, like thousands of ants gnawing at his bone marrow, nearly shattered his true essence. He roared to the sky, his body surging with Yin energy, black mist boiling as he desperately tried to expel the toxins from his body. But the poison was like a bone-deep affliction, growing stronger the more he suppressed it, causing his knuckles to turn white and his back to tense like a bow.

Lin Daochen stood atop the blood-red waves, his expression as cold and resolute as iron. He knew this was merely the prologue.

The Asura Bees were merely the trigger; hidden in his sleeves were three layers of restrictions, seven sword talismans, and a scroll of the Ancient Soul-Burning Incantation—all prepared for this day. His gaze was like a nail, firmly fixed on the Ancestor Guang'an: in this battle, he must cut off his retreat and carve a path for the cultivation world to survive.

At the darkest depths of the Blood Sea, a pitch-black stone tablet quietly emitted a faint glow, three times brighter than before; the seven silver chains before the Blood Palace gate pulsated slightly, as if the blood of living beings were breathing. The cultivators watching the battle held their breath, their hearts pounding, silently clenching their fists as they gazed at this fierce battle teetering on the edge of life and death.

In the most silent corner of the sea of ​​blood, a sage who had been sleeping for a thousand years slowly opened his eyes.

His eyes were calm, yet reflected a thousand years of frost and snow; his brows were still, yet weighed down by the vastness of eternity. He took a deep breath, and the mist receded like a tide—the faint hum of the fragments of the Heaven-Turning Seal, and the lingering childlike innocence of the mysterious boy, were all hidden in the thick, impenetrable darkness, elusive and indistinct.

The sage sighed deeply, his voice like the gentle tremor of an ancient bell. Through countless ages, how many vows have turned to ashes? He closed his eyes, not in annihilation, but in the lingering effect of waking from a long sleep; that long slumber was an unfinished old dream; and now he opens his eyes only to retrieve the names and causes and effects left behind in that dream.

The Ancestor Guang'an was repeatedly wounded in the blood waves; his robes were torn, his shoulders were festering and blackened, and the swarm of Asura bees followed him relentlessly, their buzzing deafening. He suddenly flung out a jade bottle, a fragrant aroma wafting out, and a stream of azure light shot from its mouth, instantly pulverizing the first few dozen bees. But the swarm was overwhelming, relentless, its poisonous stings raining down, forcing him to exude black energy and his steps to falter.

"Lin Daochen, this junior's methods are quite cunning." Ancestor Guang'an sneered, a hint of mockery on his lips, but his eyes were filled with a chilling light—such a small creature could actually stir up the foundation of a Heavenly Sensing Realm cultivator, so we must be wary.

Deep within the sea of ​​blood, the sage slowly rose, his robes fluttering without wind, as if stardust were swirling around him. He raised his eyes to gaze at the edge of the battlefield, his gaze piercing through the blood mist and reaching the very heart—fragments of the Heaven-Turning Seal trembled, the aura of the child was fading, and the entire sea of ​​blood was being quietly tightened by a force of destiny. He knew that this game was a pawn laid out by the very hand of Reincarnation.

"Lin Daochen, his strength can shake mountains, but his momentum cannot reverse the abyss." The sage whispered, his voice rising and falling with the waves of blood, like the tide pushing against the shore, "Be careful, be extremely careful."

Guang'an Ancestor said no more. With a stomp of his foot, a wave of blood exploded, and he transformed into a black streak that tore through the air, rushing straight at Lin Daochen with immense force! He wanted to use brute force to overcome skill and speed to defeat slowness, giving his opponent no room to breathe.

Lin Daochen remained motionless, his fingertips slightly raised—the Hunyuan Bell rang out clearly, the swarm of bees gathered again, dark clouds pressed down overhead, bee stings were menacing, and every flap of their wings carried a soul-devouring ferocity.

Guang'an Ancestor grinned maliciously, and the jade bottle soared into the air once more, its azure light surging like a knife cleaving through waves, forcefully splitting a gap in the beehive cloud! He leaped into the black mist, his body like a demon lord surveying the world, blood waves surging wherever he went. Though his words were contemptuous, in his heart he had already listed Lin Daochen as his lifelong rival.

Above the sea of ​​blood, Lin Daochen's eyes darkened, and he formed hand seals, causing the world to change color—the Overturning Clouds and Rain Technique was activated with a roar, and monstrous blood energy poured into his palm, condensing into a gigantic black hand that blotted out the sky! The palm lines were like an abyss, and the palm was like a prison. As soon as it landed, a gale howled, blood waves surged, and the entire sea of ​​blood groaned—its power was clearly the strike of a peak Heavenly Sensing Realm expert!

Guang'an Ancestor's expression hardened, and the blood waves beneath his feet cracked inch by inch. Even though he was trapped in the mist, he could clearly sense the destructive power surging from that palm. As a Heavenly Sensing expert, he had his trump cards yet to be revealed; but at this moment, before that palm even landed, its power was already upon him—Lin Daochen was truly willing to risk his life.

The moment Lin Daochen activated his supernatural power, a burning, exhausting sensation shot straight to the top of his head, his limbs feeling as if they were filled with lead. Yet he dared not relax even for a moment—his jaw snapped open, the taste of blood escaping his tongue, his mind instantly tensing like a bowstring. With a flick of his wrist, the Vajra Pestle was now firmly held in his palm. Since inheriting the Rain Gate lineage, this weapon was no longer an ordinary magical artifact, but rather the sharpest blade he could use to cleave through a deadly predicament.

That enormous, pitch-black hand, carrying the force to shatter mountains and split seas, forcefully suppressed the surging, bloody waves on the sea of ​​blood. Guang'an Ancestor was driven to the brink of despair; even though he was trapped in the mist and his steps hadn't stopped, he had no room to maneuver—that palm strike sealed off all escape routes.

Lin Daochen's heart sank; this strike was the turning point between victory and defeat. Meanwhile, the Guang'an Ancestor had already withstood three bolts of lightning, his shoulder blades splitting open with two deep gashes; his breathing was now as heavy as a broken bellows. He had considered abandoning his body and escaping, but his sworn allies stood behind him… The thought had barely formed when it was crushed to dust by the overwhelming palm shadow.

The black palm, like an abyss, descended upon him, completely engulfing the Ancestor of Guang'an. He tried to brace himself with his arms, but felt as if his spine was about to be crushed by an invisible mountain. A sweet taste rose in his throat, and he hissed, "Damn it!"

Lin Daochen's eyes turned icy cold. He made a hand seal, and the true meaning of the Rain Gate poured out—a sky full of green rain poured down, fine as needles and as powerful as a waterfall, instantly submerging the entire sea of ​​blood. This was the "Overturning Clouds and Rain Palm" that he had condensed after comprehending the secrets of the Rain Gate. Each drop of rain was a secret of heaven, and each palm strike was a knock on the door to the realm of heavenly perception.

The continuous drizzle weaves a flowing net of death. The raindrops fall silently to the ground, yet they send chills down one's spine, as if every drop of water harbors a coldness that can devour one's soul.

Guang'an Ancestor's pupils shrank sharply. Before the rain even arrived, his divine sense felt as if it had been pierced by an ice spike. Lin Daochen's move had already transcended the realm of techniques—it was a precise grasp of the laws of heaven and earth, making the surrounding cultivators watching the battle hold their breath and their throats tighten.

"Turning Clouds and Rain!" Lin Daochen roared like thunder. Raindrops instantly transformed into blades, and hundreds of azure rays tore through the sky, aiming straight for the vital points of the Guang'an Ancestor.

Guang'an Patriarch's expression changed drastically. He brandished his staff wildly, and thick black energy surged into a wall. But wherever the rain blades passed, the black energy melted away like snow being poured into boiling water. He staggered backward, his robe sleeves tattered, and veins bulging on his forehead, clearly at his last gasp.

Lin Daochen's eyes narrowed, his killing intent fully revealed. He channeled all his supernatural power into his fingertips, and with a stomp of his foot, he transformed into a silver streak and shot out—the tip of his sword gleamed coldly, piercing straight into the heart of the Guang'an Ancestor!

Guang An Ancestor's lips twitched, and before his eyes flashed the cold moon of the corpse refining on the lonely peak ten thousand years ago, and the bloody light when his best friend betrayed him... Hatred and sorrow surged in his eyes like a tide.

"How could ants understand our eternal loneliness?" he growled hoarsely, his voice filled with a bitter, rusty tone.

Lin Daochen remained expressionless, his sword thrust unwavering: "What does your past have to do with me? In this battle today, you will surely perish here."

Before he finished speaking, his sleeves suddenly trembled, and a burst of blood-red light erupted—the Crimson Lightning Leopard appeared out of thin air, so fast that only a blur remained! It walked on the rain with its four paws, its red mane fluttering, and its sharp claws brought a piercing shriek as they tore through the air, heading straight for the face of the Ancestor Guang'an!

The Ancestor Guang An hurriedly dodged to the side, only to find the leopard's shadow following him relentlessly, its claws already scraping his cheeks painfully. He struggled to defend himself, casting three protective talismans, all of which were torn to shreds by the leopard's claws.

Lin Daochen's lips curled slightly, his palm flipped, and he shouted sharply: "Your primordial spirit has left your body—let's see how filthy your true form becomes!"

Guang'an Ancestor sneered, his incantation like a venomous snake spitting its tongue. Black light shot into the sky, and a withered primordial spirit burst out of his body, its eyes burning with ghostly fire, determined to chew Lin Daochen's soul to pieces!

As soon as the primordial spirit took to the air, black mist surged around him like an ink sea, just about to condense into a spear—when suddenly a sharp and piercing sound was heard as an inconspicuous wooden stick came crashing down on his head!

"Huh? This broken firewood?" Guang'an Patriarch sneered, his eyes full of mockery.

Lin Daochen's expression was cold and stern. He hurled the wooden stick with even greater speed, and it struck the primordial spirit squarely between the eyebrows! The Guang'an Ancestor let out a miserable howl, and his primordial spirit was shaken open like a spider web of cracks.

"What... what is this thing? You blew up all your magic weapons?" He was shocked and angry, and his voice changed.

Lin Daochen calmly sheathed his staff, a cold smile playing on his lips. This was no ordinary piece of rotten wood. It was clearly the Demon-Subduing Pestle, seized after the bloody battle at Guanghan Palace—an ancient sacred artifact for suppressing evil, its power hidden beneath its simplicity. Because that great battle was shrouded in secrecy by all sides, the Ancestor of Guanghan naturally didn't know the true, biting point of this "wooden staff."

The Vajra Pestle, imbued with the force of thunder, pierced deeply into the core of Guang'an Ancestor's primordial spirit, causing excruciating pain as if being stabbed in the marrow. His primordial spirit trembled and was on the verge of collapse. His cultivation was already inferior to that of Beiming Qinghe, and this blow was like a heavy hammer striking thin ice, almost causing his soul to disintegrate on the spot.

"Absolutely impossible!" Guang An Ancestor roared, a metallic, bloody stench rising from his throat—a chilling, unprecedented fear that pierced to the bone.

Without hesitation, Lin Daochen made a hand seal, causing the Hunyuan Bell to vibrate violently. A crack appeared in the seal within the bell, and a lightning leopard, suppressed for many years, burst forth. Its fur bristled with silvery-white arcs of electricity, and its pupils resembled two clusters of ghostly blue flames, firmly locking onto the primordial spirit of the Guang'an Ancestor. This Hunyuan Bell was something he had seized from the ancient forbidden land "Zhong," its interior layered with seals, imprisoning several ferocious demonic beasts. He only dared to loosen the outermost layer of restrictions, barely pushing the lightning leopard to the Heavenly Sensing Realm, yet his palms were still sweating—removing each additional seal increased the risk of backlash.

A leopard's shadow flashed, tearing through the air with a roar that shook the eardrums. Its nostrils flared as it greedily inhaled the dissipating essence of the primordial spirit—to demonic beasts, the primordial spirit was a supreme treasure for tempering the soul, a living elixir capable of breaking through the shackles of cultivation realms.