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

The moment the Blood Gate opened, Lin Daochen shuddered, and the fragments within his body suddenly hummed, like a sleeping beast awakened by a sea of ​​blood, all heating up and resonating.

These fragments were far superior to ordinary jade slips; their texture was more solid, and their aura more profound, as if they contained the primordial power tempered for thousands of years in an ancient furnace. A crimson corridor suddenly unfolded before him—boiling crimson magma surged on the ground, and dense scarlet runes floated on the rock walls, each one breathing out restrictions like a living thing, tightly blocking all paths of entry.

A burst of golden light erupted! The fragments instantly coalesced and fused together, transforming in the blink of an eye into a dazzling suit of runic armor, golden patterns swirling and blazing like the sun. The moment the armor enveloped him, Lin Daochen felt a surge of energy coursing through his bones, all pressure shattering beneath him. He was like an arrow released from a bow, tearing through layers of restrictions and hurtling straight into the heart of the Blood Palace. This golden armor was clearly a token of the Blood Sea's recognition of its master, forcefully carving a path to his survival.

The further they went in, the more intense the heat became. Red lava surged and roared on either side, billowing acrid sulfurous fumes that hissed and burned their skin, making their breath feel hot. Lin Daochen's forehead was beaded with sweat, and Yang Kai felt a sweet taste in his throat, his steps unsteady.

With a flick of his finger, the Star Compass leaped into his palm. The surface of the compass trembled slightly, space suddenly distorted, and the two figures vanished like ink drops into water in an instant.

When he reappeared, he was already at the end of the Blood Sea Plaza. Lin Daochen pressed the Star Compass back into his arms, only to find that the cracks on the surface had deepened, spreading like a spider web—this treasure was no longer able to withstand the weight. He frowned slightly, his heart sinking: without it, in this boundless blood domain, even his escape route would likely be burned to ashes.

The plaza beneath his feet was paved with a single piece of fire spirit stone, its crimson light subtly emanating, and a scorching heat emanated from it. Lin Daochen bent down and picked up a raw stone the size of an infant's fist; it was burning hot to the touch, as if he were holding a small, beating heart. The immense fire energy crashed into his sea of ​​consciousness, even causing the two patriarchs in the distance to turn their heads sharply.

What kind of spirit stone is this? Ancestor Fuyun's pupils contracted, his Adam's apple bobbed, and his greed was undisguised in his eyes—a fire-type treasure, a material he had always dreamed of for mending the heavens.

Lin Daochen played with the spirit stone, a faint smile on his face, his voice unhurried: "A low-grade fire spirit stone, its fire essence is as pure as mercury, excellent for both body tempering and spirit cultivation." He paused, his gaze sweeping over the two of them, "If you two like, I have a few more here."

A golden light flashed in Old Master Mei's eyes, and he nodded, saying, "Give me one."

Ancestor Fuyun flicked his sleeve: "Same to you."

Lin Daochen handed it over with a smile. The two of them took the spirit stones, and as soon as their fingertips touched the burning pulse, they were both stunned, and then slowly nodded—this weight, this fire essence, it was genuine.

In an instant, Lin Daochen was no longer a down-on-his-luck youth being hunted down, but a treasure-bearer standing on equal footing with two powerful Heavenly Sensing experts. When Mei and Fu looked at him again, their gazes held a hint of caution and apprehension.

In the distance, the Lightning Leopard was swishing its tail, crunching away at the scattered fire spirit stones on the ground, tiny flames dancing around its body, and small clusters of blue flames burning at the tip of its tail, eating with great delight. Yang Kai, however, leaned against a stone pillar, his face ashen, blood still clinging to the corner of his mouth—the backlash from the Heavenly Ghost Cry hadn't subsided, his internal organs were convulsing, and even lifting his hand was difficult.

"Master...you should go." His voice was hoarse, his nails digging deeply into his palms. "I can't hold them off, and I can't protect you anymore."

Lin Daochen laughed loudly, and with a flick of his sleeves, a delicate and exquisite seven-story pagoda appeared out of thin air. With a swirling of light from the pagoda, Yang Kai's figure had already quietly disappeared into the quiet room on the second floor.

"Get some sleep and recharge your energy." Lin Daochen patted the tower. "The rest is up to you."

He turned and strode forward, his gaze fixed intently on the depths of the Blood Palace—a place filled with mysteries, dangers, and, more importantly, the opportunity for him to break free from his shackles.

He didn't choose the seemingly easy path out of the crater. The dark sky hung low, the lava roared, but that sky... was too quiet, too unreal, like a perfectly painted mask. He withdrew his gaze, flipped over, and leaped onto the back of the lightning leopard.

The leopard's belly was round and bulging, and it growled softly as it sprinted along, its four paws treading on fire. Lin Daochen crouched low, his eyes sharp as an eagle's, rapidly scanning the fork in the road where shadows and crimson light intertwined—where should he land next?

The wind whistled past his ears, like countless fine blades scraping against his eardrums and stabbing fiercely at his nerve endings—it was the shriek of approaching danger. Lin Daochen, however, remained completely calm. His eyes were as deep as an ancient well, his pupils rapidly scanning the terrain, distance, landing point, and variables. His whole body was taut like a bowstring, waiting for the twang to be plucked.

Suddenly, he snapped to attention and looked up at the inky black dome. A streak of silver light cleaved down from the sky, silently enveloping his entire body. It was no ordinary spiritual light, but rather the subtle tremor of some ancient covenant between heaven and earth, as if the entire void was whispering: what lies ahead is deeper than imagined.

He breathed slowly, his gaze sweeping across the four walls—the lava had long since cooled into dark black rock, yet scorching red steam still rose from its surface, the heat distorting the air, even his breath smelling burnt. His heart sank; this was no ordinary cave. It was clearly a half-open portal, beyond which lay another living world.

Standing before the third volcano, Lin Daochen's brows furrowed, his knuckles unconsciously tapping against the scabbard of his sword. He had wound his way through this small realm, which seemed to have no beginning and no end, meandering as if pulled by invisible threads. His fingertips traced the rough texture of the rock face, a chill penetrating to his very bones: Were these volcanoes exits? Traps? Or a labyrinthine illusion laid by some powerful being?

"Stop!" he hissed, his voice as hard as iron. "Lightning Leopard, don't charge forward."

The silver-maned beast stamped its foot in response, its forelimbs slightly bent, its back taut in a poised arc, as still as a breathing rock. Lin Daochen squinted, scanning his surroundings—rock crevices, air currents, light and shadow… He was looking for flaws, and even more so, for traces that had been deliberately erased.

Before his chest, the fragment of the Blood Palace floated silently, its eerie light flickering intermittently. Whenever it approached the edge of the barrier, it would warm slightly, revealing pale golden patterns like spiderwebs—this was not a warning, but a living response. The more he looked, the more he felt something was amiss with the Blood Palace: if even a fragment was like this, then the entire palace was probably no longer what it once was.

The three Heavenly Sensing Ancestors sent by the Loose Cultivator Alliance… A cold glint flashed across Lin Daochen’s lips. Intelligence? They themselves had probably only lifted a corner of the curtain. The Blood Palace upheaval was no longer some kind of spiritual energy anomaly, but rather some kind of out-of-control “activation”—like maggots crawling from rotting flesh, quietly gnawing at the very foundation of the entire small world. Behind it all, there must be a deeper, more sinister force at play.

He didn't believe in coincidences. This anomaly was too "accurate," as if someone had precisely timed the ignition. Deep within the Blood Palace, there must be hidden foreshadowing, waiting to be uncovered by his own hands.

Perhaps those three patriarchs are also trapped in this realm. They may not be here to besiege us, but rather... to find the key. Lin Daochen's fingertips traced the spine of the sword, his mind clear: friend and foe are not yet distinguished, but their predicaments share the same origin.

He stared intently at the dark red mist billowing from the crater, his eyes unwavering, with the focus of a hunter eyeing his prey's throat. Floating within the mist were not just heat waves, but also obscured patterns, misaligned star maps, and fleeting afterimages.

"Let's try another way," he whispered to his companion. "The exit isn't under our feet, but somewhere we can't see."

Everyone nodded, no one questioning. In this eerie realm, Lin Daochen's judgment was the compass for survival. They spread out, their fingertips brushing against the moss on the rock walls, their ears catching the slightest sounds of air currents, their eyes fixed on every reflection—even the dampness seeping from the cracks in the rocks became clues.

Boom—!

The ground suddenly exploded! Scorching red lava erupted like a venomous snake, and flying debris grazed past their ears. Lin Daochen grabbed the person, rolled into a crevice, and the heat scorched his temples.

What emerged from the crack was not magma, but living things.

Lizards with three pairs of compound eyes, dog heads with bony wings growing from their ribs, giant scorpions with corrosive saliva dripping from their tails... their appearances are ferocious, yet they exude an unnatural "familiarity"—as if this space itself is their lair.

"Form ranks! Weak points are the left eye, the soft armor under the throat, and the tail hook joint!" Lin Daochen's sword was already drawn, the dark blue sword light tearing through the hot mist like lightning. He touched the ground with his toes, his figure transforming into a phantom, moving between the claws and teeth, and wherever the sword passed, blood would be splattered.

"Watch out for the illusion! Don't listen to that hiss!" His roar cut through the noise, his gaze sweeping over a lizard with its mouth open, the tip of his sword already severing its tympanic membrane.

The firelight danced wildly in the narrow passage, casting flickering shadows on people's faces. Lin Daochen's sword strikes rained down like a storm, each blow landing just before the demon could unleash its full power; his companions used talisman explosions, chains, or poisonous mists to repel the demon, their attacks and defenses locked together like interlocking gears.

The roar of lava, the howls of monsters, and the crisp clash of metal... all blended into a scorching and violent battle song. Lin Daochen trudged forward through the pool of blood, the blood droplets still dripping from the tip of his sword, when he looked up into the depths of the crater—where the mist was slowly swirling into a vortex.

The battle had just ended, and the passage was filled with choking smoke and billowing gray mist. Lin Daochen's eyes were calm, yet they seemed to hold immense weight beneath the surface—this commotion was merely the first crack quietly appearing beneath the ice; this small world likely concealed many more hidden dangers, waiting for them to slip and fall.

A cloud of doubt suddenly rose in his mind, his brows furrowed slightly, and an unease surged within him, growing stronger with each passing thought. The more he pondered, the more suspicious it seemed: could this series of events be part of a pre-arranged scheme? Was someone using others as pawns, employing the three patriarchs as bait to disrupt the situation and ignite conflict, all to cover up some ulterior motive? This thought seemed absurd, but once it took root, it clung to his heart like a vine, impossible to shake off or suppress.

His thoughts raced, and a sudden realization struck him—if he dug any deeper, he risked getting lost in a maze. He immediately turned, his steps steady yet unwavering, and swiftly retreated from the misty, eerie passage. He trusted this small world completely, viewing it as a meticulously laid spiderweb, where the slightest misstep could lead to utter destruction.

At this moment, inside the council hall of the main city of the Divine City, the patriarchs of all the families had gathered, and the air was thick with tension. Mo Wuyan stood to the side of the steps, his deep blue robe flowing like ink, his brows showing no sign of yielding, only an unyielding sharpness.

All eyes were fixed on the towering figure in the center of the hall—Long Xiuyang. His hair was as black as iron, his skull gleaming with a cold light, and his spine was as straight as a dragon's spine piercing the sky. His aura surged like a tidal wave, making hearts tighten even before he moved. His voice exploded like thunder: "The Divine City is indestructible! The contingency plans laid by the ancient sages are awakening one by one. We inherit their traditions, guard their lands, and crush any invading enemies!"

The patriarchs of each family wore solemn expressions, yet their eyes burned with a fire—a fire that ran deep in their blood. They believed in the divine city, and even more so in the ancient traditions etched in stone tablets and ingrained in their very being.

Only Mo Wuyan stood motionless, a flash of cold light passing through his eyes. The blood feud between the two families was etched into their very bones; there was no room for a handshake. He stepped forward, his voice clear and sharp as a blade: "The Long family wants us to use the lives of our clansmen to fill the holes in those 'inheritances'? Absurd! If the Divine City were built with living people, it would no longer be a place of protection, but a cannibalistic altar!"

The entire hall fell silent; even the candlelight seemed to freeze.