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

"Lin Daochen! Do you know who's standing behind me?!" he roared hoarsely, his voice filled with bloodlust and resentment.

Lin Daochen flicked his wrist, and the Demon-Subduing Pestle transformed into a long, dark golden rainbow, slashing down with the wind. Fu Yunzi hastily blocked, but the residual power of the Heaven-Turning Seal forced his knees to sink, and his shoulder blades creaked. Lin Daochen spun around, dodging the counter-attack of his palm wind, and pressed closer again, each step like a nail.

"Fu Yunzi," he said in a flat tone, yet each word was like a hammer blow, "in this body of Kuafu, there is no backing, only fists. The victor stands, the loser falls."

Fu Yunzi's breath weakened, and veins bulged on his forehead, yet he still straightened his back and raised his arms to form a spiritual shield to withstand the attacks. He deflected the attacks time and time again, and steadied himself each time, but Lin Daochen's rhythm became increasingly rapid, with each move targeting his weaknesses, leaving him overwhelmed.

"You can't beat me!" he roared, his body radiating a burst of spiritual light, as if he were about to burn away the last bit of his essence.

Lin Daochen responded calmly, "You lost long ago—you lost because of your arrogance, you lost because of your scheming, and you lost even more because I had already treated you like a fish on a chopping board."

Fu Yunzi frowned, a cold smile appearing on his face: "You? Your cultivation is two levels lower than mine, your foundation is shallow, and you haven't even entered the realm of body refinement... You dare to compete with me?"

Lin Daochen suddenly chuckled, his gaze sharp as needles, sending a chill down Fu Yunzi's spine: "Fu Yunzi, you've been feigning weakness, feigning defeat, and leaving openings all along... just waiting for me to catch up?"

Fu Yunzi's pupils contracted sharply, and her expression changed slightly.

Lin Daochen slowly raised his eyes, a slight smile playing on his lips: "You acted very well. It's a pity I never believed your 'last gasp' act."

Fu Yunzi's Adam's apple bobbed, and he forced a smile, saying, "Nonsense! My cultivation level surpasses yours; defeating you is as easy as turning my hand!"

"No." Lin Daochen said firmly, "You are more afraid than I am—afraid that I will see that you are not injured at all, afraid that I will see through your weak spiritual energy and empty dantian, afraid that I will expose that your so-called 'Heavenly Sensing Realm' is just a fake that is forcibly created by the formation."

Fu Yunzi froze, her fingertips trembling slightly.

"You've been acting with every move you make," Lin Daochen's voice deepened, "but you've forgotten—the best judges of character are never the blind, but the hunters."

Fu Yunzi's breath hitched, and cold sweat trickled down his temples. He wanted to change his tactics, launch a surprise attack, or escape... but Lin Daochen had already stood three steps away from him, his Vajra pestle hanging to the ground, its shadow like ink splashed on the rock surface, motionless, yet heavier than a thousand troops.

Lin Daochen swung his demon-subduing pestle with tremendous force, striking Fu Yunzi. Caught off guard, the pestle pierced Fu Yunzi's chest, the excruciating pain like a knife twisting in his bones. His throat tightened, and a bloodcurdling scream tore through the air. But Lin Daochen did not hesitate; his magic surged, and spiritual light shone once more.

Black flames erupted from the depths of Fu Yunzi's consciousness, licking his primordial spirit and scorching his soul—this was no ordinary fire, but a heart- and soul-corroding abyssal flame. It surged through his meridians and roamed between his internal organs, hissing and crackling, like a living creature gnawing at flesh and blood, even scorching his bones in the intense heat.

"Under the Vajra Pestle, even your wailing is superfluous." Lin Daochen's voice was as cold as iron, his gaze sweeping over Fu Yunzi's distorted face without the slightest ripple.

In the chaos, Fu Yunzi lost the initiative. He had intended to use the momentum to deflect the force, but was instead suppressed by the Heaven-Turning Seal from above, his body momentarily stunned, and he suffered another heavy blow. Lin Daochen seized the opportunity to close in, forcing him to the edge of the cliff, where he had nowhere to retreat.

"You really think you can step on me to reach the top?" Lin Daochen's voice rolled out from the depths of his Kuafu body, deep and thunderous, each word dripping with sarcasm.

Fu Yunzi was covered in blood, but she clenched her teeth and swallowed the churning, metallic taste of blood. She dismantled the attacks while keeping a close eye on the openings, like a wounded wolf, gathering strength to launch a counterattack amidst the excruciating pain.

Lin Daochen stepped out with the Seven Stars formation, his tone resolute: "Your arrogance will only drag you down a dead end, Fu Yunzi—accept your fate."

The Heaven-Turning Seal and the Lightning Leopard struck him together, shattering Fu Yunzi's spine, piercing his lungs, displacing his internal organs, and causing him to faint from the pain. But he did not fall; instead, he propped himself up in the pool of blood, his eyes not filled with despair, but with a burning hatred that consumed everything.

Regret gripped his heart like a poisonous vine, and he screamed a vow: Lin Daochen will die by my hand!

He staggered to his feet, his robes torn and his skin ripped open, but his eyes shone with a terrifying light, their coldness piercing to the bone, and his will was harder than iron.

Lin Daochen frowned slightly, a chill running down his spine: "If I had known that the Lightning Leopard's claw would have pierced his skull... there wouldn't have been so many variables."

The thought flashed through his mind. He steadied his breathing, focused his mind again, and his gaze was as calm as an ancient well, reflecting only one fact: Fu Yunzi was by no means someone who could be defeated in a single blow.

Golden light suddenly burst forth from the gash on Fu Yunzi's shoulder, and a surge of immense vitality erupted forth, mending broken bones and regenerating charred flesh. He stared at Lin Daochen, each word slamming onto the ground: "The humiliation of today, I will make you pay with your life."

Lin Daochen scoffed, "You recovered quite quickly—perhaps this physical body is your most prized magical artifact?"

Fu Yunzi smirked: "Lin Daochen, the one who laughs last is never the one with the harshest words."

Lin Daochen deliberately provoked him, his words striking at his pride. He knew that Fu Yunzi was unyielding and would lash out at the slightest slight. But the other man merely narrowed his eyes, his breathing remained steady, and his spine straightened even more.

"Don't be too smug!" Fu Yunzi's voice was hoarse, but every word was like a hammer blow. "I'm injured, but you're still alive—that means you're not as strong as you think."

Lin Daochen sneered and raised an eyebrow: "Trash? It's already a favor that you're worthy to stand in front of me and speak."

These words pierced Fu Yunzi's ears like needles, causing him to explode with shame and indignation. His anger surged to the top of his head, his eyes became bloodshot, and the wound on his chest suddenly split open, with dozens of crimson threads breaking through his skin, buzzing and trembling, exuding holy might, and actually condensing into a half-illusory and half-real demonic weapon!

Lin Daochen's pupils constricted sharply—he had underestimated them. Their foundation was terrifyingly deep.

Fu Yunzi actually used his own blood essence to feed the weapon, only unleashing one-tenth of its power. But as soon as half of the silk thread was pulled out, the other half had already deeply pierced his flesh and blood, growing in symbiosis with his tendons, causing him to throb with pain.

He raised his hand and drew the half-red thread into a crimson ribbon, tearing through the air and heading straight for Lin Daochen's heart!

Lin Daochen's eyes sharpened, and he raised his Vajra Pestle to seal the enemy, his spiritual power surging like a raging tide.

The two enormous forces collided in mid-air, exploding with a deafening roar. The shockwave sent rocks flying and dust falling from the mountainside.

……

"This little trick is hardly worthy of being called a killing move?" Lin Daochen sneered coldly, his Vajra Pestle vibrating and emitting a burst of dark light as it clashed head-on with the crimson radiance.

Ke Fuyunzi's red thread was faster than anything in the human world—it suddenly twisted, like a venomous snake raising its head, bypassing the pestle shadow, and shot towards Lin Daochen's heart gate like lightning!

Lin Daochen's heart sank, and the hairs on his back stood on end. In a panic, his spiritual power surged, and a cyan barrier appeared in his palm...

The sacred artifact that Fu Yunzi unleashed was so overwhelming that it was hard to breathe—a crimson embroidered ball hung in front of the chest, its light and flames surging, its power like a mountain collapsing and a tsunami crashing, even the air itself hummed under its strain.

The silk threads emitted by the embroidered ball blazed like solidified lava, their crimson light devouring the sky and earth. Its power far surpassed that of ordinary magical treasures, subtly stirring the winds and clouds across the land, causing the world to lose its color.

He hissed, flicked his finger, and a crimson thread shot out like a scorpion's tail, aiming straight for Lin Daochen's brow! As the thread tore through the air, it left a scarlet afterimage, and waves of heat rolled in, scorching the grass and trees in its path, even distorting the wind.

Lin Daochen's back tensed, his blood surged, and his fingertips trembled slightly, yet a cold fire ignited in his eyes. He gritted his teeth, a smirk playing on his lips, and without hesitation, struck his dantian with his palm!

"boom!"

A muffled thud exploded, and the dantian suddenly lit up. An ancient and massive stele rose from the ground—its surface was mottled, runes moved about, and the aura it exuded was as vast as the chaos at the beginning of creation, so heavy that it was suffocating.

The red line was already in sight, flames raging, as if to burn him to ashes.

Fu Yunzi laughed coldly, looking up at the sky: "Lin Daochen, trading your life for a move? Your desperate struggle is rather tragic!"

Before the words were finished, the red line struck the celestial monument—

"Crack!"

A blinding burst of fire erupted, the crimson line snapped inch by inch, turning into sparks that vanished in an instant.

Fu Yunzi's pupils contracted sharply, his Adam's apple bobbed violently, and all color drained from his face. He never expected that the seemingly ancient stone tablet could withstand the power of the sacred artifact without sustaining a single scratch!

"This... is actually the true form of the Heavenly Stele?" His heart sank, and a chill ran down his spine—it turned out that Lin Daochen had hidden something much deeper and more ruthless than he had imagined.

Lin Daochen slightly raised his sleeves, his gaze as cold as double-edged swords, the smile on his lips still lingering: "Fu Yunzi, you haven't even grasped the basics of the Heavenly Stele, yet you dare to utter such arrogant words?"

Fu Yunzi's face was ashen, his knuckles cracking as he clenched his fists. Rage surged through his chest, threatening to tear his veins apart. His meticulously planned killing spree had been shattered with a single palm strike, leaving him no chance to retaliate.

"I'll make a note of this for today." His voice was hoarse, and a sinister glint flashed in his eyes. "Next time, I'll make sure you don't even have the chance to destroy yourself."

Lin Daochen chuckled lightly, his voice calm: "Fu Yunzi, all your tricks are just adding fuel to the fire of your defeat. Stop now, or you'll be stuck in the quagmire."

Fu Yunzi's cheeks twitched, and he staggered back three steps, his spiritual energy surging wildly as he forcefully absorbed it into his body. A vortex of spiritual energy roared into shape, wrapped in golden-purple lightning, and poured into his seven orifices—but the veins on his forehead bulged, and blood seeped from his lips, clearly indicating that this forceful exertion was backfiring on him.

Despite knowing the immense cost, he still stared intently in the direction of Kuafu's heart—the opportunity he had endured for a century and risked everything to seize.

At this moment, the battlefield was completely shrouded in the blood mist unleashed by the sacred artifact. The stench was pungent, and dark red, fluffy substances floated in the mist, each wisp carrying a bone-corroding, sinister force that fiercely clashed with the ancient aura emanating from the Heavenly Stele, resulting in a stalemate.

Fu Yunzi squinted as he surveyed the battle, then suddenly turned his attention to Lightning Leopard—he wanted to distract Lin Daochen.

But the beast was as nimble as lightning, sometimes disappearing into the blood mist, sometimes flashing half a foot behind his neck, its sharp claws whistling through the air, just a hair's breadth away from tearing flesh. He turned to pounce several times, but only caught a fleeting afterimage.

Just as the stalemate reached its climax, a barely perceptible ripple appeared on the surface of the Heavenly Stele—as if in response to some kind of summons. Lin Daochen's heart trembled slightly, and a hoarse voice suddenly rang in his ears, as aged as if the earth were cracking and ancient trees were collapsing: "The Chosen One... is willing to exchange the secret key within the stele for your promise."

The address was unfamiliar and sharp, yet the voice seemed to seep from a crack in time, carrying an undeniable weight. Lin Daochen's spine stiffened, his senses tightened abruptly, and his gaze, sharp as a hook, silently locked onto every inch of the floating blood mist around him.

"The Chosen One?" Lin Daochen murmured, his gaze slightly narrowed, as if a spark had flashed across his eyes. Amidst the raging chaos, his heart grew calmer and calmer, like a deep pool slowly reflecting the image of his own destiny.

Fu Yunzi stood with his hands behind his back at the edge of the blood mist, his cold eyes like blades, sweeping over every inch of the battlefield churning with killing intent—but he still couldn't figure out the cause of that strange phenomenon. His gaze was fixed on Lin Daochen, his hatred already hardened into cold iron, burning his very insides.

"Lin Daochen, don't even think about escaping my net!" He curled his lips into a sinister smile, his eyes surging with malevolence like a venomous snake spitting its tongue. "The more you struggle, the more you'll die a horrible death." — That unwavering determination to win had long since taken hold of his mind, allowing no room for the slightest transgression.