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

The Liu family patriarch, his beard and hair bristling, roared: "Lies! You possess the Nine-Turn Rejuvenating Dew from the Osmanthus Divine Tree—this is the Liu family's most precious life-extending treasure. Hand it over, and I'll spare your life! If you submit, I'll bestow upon you the true teachings of the inner sect, and you can choose any magic weapon you desire!"

Lin Daochen's lips curled slightly, but the smile didn't reach his eyes: "What if I said I don't have this on me?"

The Liu family patriarch's eyes flashed with a sharp light: "Then don't blame me for searching your soul and refining your spirit!"

"Without any grudge or enmity, you forcibly demand and rob—" Lin Daochen slowly raised his sword, the tip pointing at the other's brow, "In my eyes, the name of your Liu family patriarch is nothing more than a stone blocking my way."

As soon as the words were spoken, the Liu family patriarch's expression changed drastically, and his throat tightened. The young man before him exuded not arrogance, but an absolute control that made a thousand armies retreat—as if the outcome had already been decided, and he had merely come to turn the page himself.

A sudden gust of mountain wind startled more and more cultivators from the Long family, who flew in on their swords. Throughout the divine city, talismanic lamps lit up, spiritual artifacts hummed, and countless beams of magical light intertwined like a net. People held their breath, gazing upwards, their blood boiling, afraid to even breathe to disturb this battle that was about to incinerate the heavens.

As the Liu family patriarch gave chase, he offered an even more tempting bargaining chip: "Lin Daochen! The Liu family can open an ancient secret realm for you, allowing you to enjoy it exclusively for a hundred years! We'll help you build a flawless foundation for your Dao—isn't that enough? Do you really want to force me to use the clan's killing formation?!"

Lin Daochen remained unmoved: "I only care about my own freedom. I don't kneel before heaven or bow to anyone. I don't care for your spirit stones, pills, or attack techniques, and I will never bow my head."

His tone was as firm as iron, his eyes as sharp as blades. The Liu family cultivator's throat tightened, and cold sweat silently seeped out—it wasn't fear of a particular opponent, but rather the instinctive sense of suffocation that arises when facing an unshakeable mountain. Among his peers, no one could withstand three moves from him; this reputation had long since transformed into an invisible abyss, looming over everyone's hearts.

The battle quickly escalated, turning into a naked carnival of slaughter. The sharp cracks of exploding magical artifacts tore through the sky, the streaks of true energy scorched the retinas, and the clash of metal mingled with screams, like a long scroll of wild cursive script being splashed with hot blood.

Lin Daochen was wanted, and the Wang family offered an astronomical reward, attracting cultivators from all directions like sharks smelling blood, rushing to his aid. But when they actually encountered Lin Daochen's fists, palms, or even the cold glint in his eyes, they were shocked to realize that the rumors were far from what they had seen with their own eyes—this man was not a fierce tiger, but an ancient sword shrouded in blood mist, which would draw blood when drawn and sever souls when sheathed.

On the high platform, the elder of the Wang family slightly raised his sleeves, a faint smile appearing on his lips: "Fellow Daoists, whoever can capture Lin Daochen will receive a 'Substitute Appendix' from my Wang family. This treasure is an ancient relic, capable of taking on the fate of its master in a life-or-death situation, enough to transform you all!"

The moment the words "Substitute Appendix" were uttered, the crowd erupted into a boiling turmoil. It was a life-saving charm that countless people dreamed of holding onto, a key to defying fate. Greed instantly overwhelmed fear, and blades flashed as they slashed towards Lin Daochen's back.

Lin Daochen's eyes turned cold, and instead of retreating, he advanced. A cultivator swung his arm in a sweeping motion, but before the fist even arrived, he had already seen through the opening—he sidestepped and delivered a powerful punch to the inside of the opponent's forearm. With a crisp crack, the man's entire arm twisted and snapped, flying backward and crashing into half of a brick wall.

His face showed neither anger nor pleasure, only a calm, cold hardness. Beads of blood slid down his forehead, dripping onto his clothes and blooming into dark red flower-like marks. He walked forward through the mess, the pursuers gathering behind him in increasing numbers, yet they slowed down more and more, as if dragged down by invisible chains, moving further and further away from the city gate.

At the city gate, the Wang family cultivators stood in formation like an iron wall. The old man personally summoned the Purple Gold Divine Stone Cauldron—its body was engraved with suppressing runes, humming and trembling, causing ripples in the air. Lin Daochen chuckled, raised his hand and pressed down, the Hunyuan Bell rang clearly, and the cauldron was sucked into the bell's belly as if it were made of paper, without even a ripple.

"You think you can stop me with such a simple trick?" His voice wasn't loud, but it sounded like an ice pick piercing my eardrum. The Hunyuan Bell hung on his wrist and swayed gently. Any enemy magic weapons—whether throwing knives, iron chains, fire wheels, or poison needles—that came within three zhang would disappear into the bell like weary birds returning to their nests, leaving no trace.

A green chain wrapped around him, but he flicked his finger, and the chain snapped in two. A flaming flying knife swept towards his neck, but he turned his head and exhaled, the flames surging back and devouring their master. His figure flickered left and right, seemingly real yet illusory, and the cultivators couldn't even touch the hem of his robe. They felt like mice being toyed with by a cat, futilely struggling in a desperate situation.

What's even more infuriating is that he actually refined the magical treasures he had seized on the spot—some people had just summoned their natal magical artifacts, and in the blink of an eye, they saw it spinning inside the Hunyuan Bell, its spiritual energy being sucked away like silk threads being peeled away! The Wang family cultivators turned pale. This wasn't a battle of magic; it was clearly fishing, and they were all fish that had taken the bait.

The human wall closed again, layer upon layer, with swords and shields looming menacingly. Lin Daochen took a deep breath, clasped his hands together, and the Heavenly Stele Handprint crashed down—the shockwave slammed into the ground like a giant hammer, breaking the tendons and bones of the cultivators in the front row, their flesh exploding like mud, tearing a bloody path through them.

Blood rained down on his face, his eyelashes trembled slightly, and a dull pain flashed across his eyes, as if an old wound had been pierced. Perhaps it was for an unfulfilled promise, or perhaps for a corpse buried somewhere unknown. But his steps did not falter; his boots crushed the scabs of blood as he continued forward.

Within the divine city, his slaughter was like an out-of-control black tide, leaving corpses strewn across the steps and blood soaking into the cracks in the stones wherever he went. Each time the Heavenly Stele Hand fell, it was as if a thousand-pound mountain was crushing down from the sky, those who stood in his way were either killed or maimed, without even having time to utter a scream.

"I will make the divine city remember—whoever utters my name must hold their breath for three breaths!" His voice was not loud, but it was like double blades scraping against blue bricks, and the entire city seemed to shudder. Wherever his gaze swept, no one dared to meet him, leaving only a deathly silence of awe.

Wanted posters were plastered all over the street corner. He glanced at them as he passed by and sneered, "A piece of trash like that, worthy of having my name on it? I'm not afraid of death, I'm just afraid you don't even have the guts to look me in the eye."

Before the words were even finished, the entire street fell silent. Some people's palms were sweating, some quietly took a half step back, and many more huddled under the eaves, whispering among themselves, "This guy... really crawled back from hell?"

Deep in the dungeon, the one-armed giant was dozing against the rusty iron bars when he suddenly heard that cold laugh. His whole body trembled violently, his one eye snapped open, and his pupil shrank to the tip of a pinhead—he had heard that voice thousands of times, it was etched into his very bones!

"Young Master! It really is Young Master!" he growled hoarsely, struggling to sit up. The chains rattled, and murky tears mixed with blood scabbed down his face. "I'm still alive... I've been waiting for this day!"

Behind Lin Daochen, severed limbs and remains formed a crimson path. His Heavenly Stele Hand technique, used in close combat, was like a heavy hammer blow, each strike spraying blood mist and shattered bone, as if Death himself were carving punishment in the streets. The cultivator of the ultimate path grew more and more intense with each battle, his muscles and bones seemingly burning, his aura boiling, staining the bluestone and leaving a trail of corpses in his wake.

The Liu family patriarch gritted his teeth and gave chase, his heart burning with anxiety. However, restricted by the divine city's restrictions, he couldn't teleport, his steps were sluggish, and he was always three to five zhang behind. He could only watch helplessly as the man cleaved through the crowd and crushed the archways, as if entering an empty field. Within the divine city, no one could withstand his onslaught. The Liu family patriarch felt a sweet taste in his throat and a sense of dejection arose within him.

"Lin Daochen, you will die in my hands today!" The Liu family patriarch roared, his voice carrying a surge of blood energy.

To eliminate any future trouble, he immediately offered a large sum of money to lure out three cultivators. The three possessed a deep and imposing aura, their presence subtly exuding the pressure of a half-step Heavenly Sensing Realm cultivator; their mere presence caused the plane trees along the street to rustle and shed leaves. Suddenly, a slender figure appeared directly in front of Lin Daochen, holding a cup in her delicate hand, smiling brightly: "Want to rest a bit? How about having a cup of tea with me?"

Lin Daochen stopped, a slight smile playing on his lips: "Who are you? Why are you blocking my way?"

The female cultivator twirled her black hair between her fingers, her eyes as sweet as honey: "My name is Li'er. Seeing you fight so hard, my stomach is rumbling with hunger—stop and have a drink with me, and I'll guarantee your safe exit from the city."

Lin Daochen sneered lightly: "I won't touch your tea; I will trample your path. You standing here are destined to die under my control."

Li'er covered her mouth and chuckled, "Young master, you have quite the temper. Considering we're both cultivators, I'll let you off this time, okay?"

A cold glint flashed in Lin Daochen's eyes: "I established my name in the Divine City not with words, but with blood. You cannot stop me."

Before she could finish speaking, Li'er twisted her waist, and the green scale iron chain shot through the air with the speed of a lightning python pouncing on her throat. Lin Daochen tilted his head and neck, and with a backhand slap, the iron chain shattered, scattering fragments like stars.

"It's truly time to see the real deal." Li'er lowered her brow, her wrist whirling rapidly, the broken chains reuniting, transforming into a spinning iron lotus, its blades chilling, aimed straight for Lin Daochen's throat. The other two also attacked simultaneously, one summoning crimson flame chains, the other wielding a gray mist poison banner, forming a three-sided encirclement, their killing intent dense.

Lin Daochen stood against the wind, his eyes blazing with fighting spirit. He raised the Heavenly Stele Hand again, and even before the palm strike arrived, the air hummed with pressure. The iron lotus collided with the palm shadow, exploding with a deafening roar. The shockwave blew off roof tiles, and dust billowed everywhere.

In the narrow alley of the divine city, four figures moved with lightning speed. The alluring female cultivator smiled, her eyes sparkling, and with just a few words, she made the two male cultivators' faces burn and their hands hesitate. Lin Daochen, however, only smiled coldly, neither listening nor watching, unmoved.

"Of the three of you, who will be the first to die?" His voice was not loud, but every word was like an icicle striking the ground, cold and piercing.

The three men's expressions changed drastically. One of the brown-robed cultivators swallowed hard, took a step forward with a stiff upper lip, and clenched his knuckles until they turned white.

"You're the Lin Daochen who razed the East Market of Shencheng?" Li'er swirled her wine cup, her tone soft and sweet, but her smile was laced with venom.

Lin Daochen nodded, and said nothing more.

She flicked a strand of her long hair with her fingertip, her voice as melodious as a nightingale's song: "Young man, do you know—playing with me is like betting your life on something else?"

Lin Daochen's gaze turned icy, and he didn't bother to reply. His spiritual energy surged suddenly, and clouds rose from beneath his feet, instantly engulfing the street scene, making the world seem upside down.

"Turning the clouds and rain!" he uttered in a low voice, and the wind and clouds suddenly parted. Azure rain poured down, each drop like a sharp blade, piercing through the distorted space-time. The two male cultivators and Li'er suddenly felt as small as ants, retreating several steps, but there was nowhere to avoid it.

"This is... a lost divine power!" The brown-robed cultivator's pupils shrank, and he cried out in shock.

It was too late. The azure rain pierced through their bodies, leaving a series of muffled thuds and streaks of blood. The two instantly exploded into two clouds of crimson mist, their very souls unable to escape.

Li'er opened her mouth, making a gurgling sound in her throat, but ultimately couldn't utter a single word. She was enveloped by the blue rain, which seeped into her bones inch by inch.