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

Long Ze leaned against the window, his fingertips tracing an old jade pendant—a token personally returned by Lin Daochen after the battle at Guanghan Palace. Although several members of his clan had died at his hands, the entire Long family revered him as a reclusive sage. His expression was calm, showing neither hatred nor respect, only taking Nangong Piaomiao's suggestion to heart: In the cultivation world, might trumps reason; everything else is mere dust.

Lin Daochen's killing intent hadn't subsided as he turned and charged towards the Wang family's stronghold. His steps were steady, his target clear—to strike directly at the mentor of the Grand Elder, Wang Chong. The seeds of hatred had long been sown in his blood; today, they would be uprooted. The Grand Elder, his hair standing on end in fury, swore before everyone present, "If this scoundrel doesn't die, the Wang family will lose all face!" But before his words could finish, he met Lin Daochen's unwavering gaze, and the oath froze in his throat, as light as a piece of paper.

Screams surged like waves, yet he walked on, stopping before the Grand Elder. His gaze was calm as an abyss, but his killing intent had been tempered into steel. His opponent was not only Wang Chong's master but also a peak Golden Core cultivator, naturally becoming the first stele on his revenge list that he had to smash.

"Lin Daochen! You've walked right into a trap!" The elder's beard and hair bristled, his flying sword hummed as it was drawn, its tip gleaming with a three-foot-long cold light, his killing intent almost solidifying into frost and snow. The honor and disgrace of the family rested on his shoulders; he vowed to wash away the shame with blood.

"If your cultivation level isn't high enough, you're not even qualified to offer your sword." Lin Daochen's voice was calm, his smile not reaching his eyes. The crushed corpses on the battlefield were his strongest source of confidence—why fear a mere dying old dog?

The Grand Elder was burning with anguish; his flying sword pierced the air like lightning, tearing a pale trail in its wake. Lin Daochen slightly raised his sleeve, his sword already drawn, and the two cold lights clashed fiercely! Boom—the shockwave exploded, tiles on the eaves crumbled, and even the wine flags in the distance were shaken and fluttered wildly.

His movements were as swift as the wind and clouds, leaving no trace. No matter how fierce the Grand Elder's sword strikes were, he could only manage to sever a fleeting afterimage. The sword light flashed like a thunderbolt, then like a venomous snake's tongue, so fast it was mind-blowing. The Grand Elder gritted his teeth and parried, but his arm bones trembled slightly—this young man before him was no match at all, but a death warrant.

"You think you can escape the Wang family's ironclad rules?" Blood gushed from the First Elder's throat, his sword energy erupting like molten lava. His clan's dignity trampled underfoot; he would rather self-destruct his golden core than let this madman die with him!

Lin Daochen sidestepped the scorching sword energy, his gaze sweeping over the Grand Elder's distorted face, as indifferent as if he were looking at a piece of rotten wood. In his eyes, the mere Wang family steward was not even a stumbling block—nothing more than a speck of dust to be casually brushed away on the road to heaven.

The battle between Lin Daochen and the Grand Elder suddenly erupted above the Divine City. The air tightened, even the wind seemed to freeze. Blades tore through the sky, sword energy crisscrossed, and each clash exploded with a deafening roar, shaking the roof tiles. Lin Daochen moved like a fish in flight, his steps as swift as a startled swan. Sometimes he would sidestep three inches, sometimes he would twist his waist and thrust his sword back. His moves were clean and decisive, leaving onlookers breathless.

The Liu family patriarch, having pursued halfway, suddenly stopped, squinted at the battlefield, and, with a change of heart, decided to withdraw. He pulled a small flag wreathed in purple flames from his sleeve and unfurled it in the wind—the flag fluttered wildly, and instantly, a burst of radiant light erupted, transforming into a dome-like curtain of light that enveloped the entire battlefield. He sat cross-legged deep within the purple mist, his fingertips lightly tapping the flagpole, observing the changing winds and clouds while subtly transmitting messages through the spiritual patterns within the flag, secretly manipulating the battle.

"Stop the pursuit, let Zixia Tianfeng seal it!" His voice was like a low chime, and before the echo had faded, the sky had already fallen.

Amidst the swirling purple mist, the two clashed once more.

The Grand Elder arrived through the air, his robes billowing like thunder, his spiritual pressure as heavy as a mountain. His flying sword, once drawn, carried the force of collapsing clouds, and the void trembled and vibrated wherever its tip pointed. Lin Daochen, however, was like a reed against the current, leaping and maneuvering without a trace of malice. His sword light flashed only in dangerous places and moved through gaps, always brushing past killing intent at the last moment.

His expression was calm, his eyes as cold as a frosty deep pool. The difference in their skill levels was real, but his bones were as hard as iron and his reactions as fast as lightning. Whenever the sword was at his throat, he could turn his head, bend his waist, and twist his wrist by the slightest difference—as if his body had already seen through the killing move before his thoughts even began.

In that split second of passing, the Grand Elder's swordplay suddenly changed! The flying sword emitted an eerie purple light, hummed loudly, and moved so fast it left afterimages as it pierced straight for Lin Daochen's heart. The hairs on Lin Daochen's back stood on end, and he instinctively raised his sword to block—

"clang!"

The sound of metal clashing against metal exploded like tearing silk. His arms trembled violently, blood spurted from his tiger's mouth, and the blue bricks beneath his feet cracked inch by inch. The elder's lips had just curled into a sneer when his gaze suddenly froze: although Lin Daochen staggered backward, the tip of his sword remained firmly gripping the opponent's blade, without veering off course!

"You... you actually managed to withstand my sword strike?" The elder's voice was slightly hoarse, a hint of contempt flashing in his eyes. He had thought this young man should have been crushed to dust by the sword energy long ago, but now he saw that the young man's knuckles were white and his breathing was heavy, yet he still stood straight as a pine tree.

Lin Daochen raised his eyes, his gaze piercing like an ice pick: "You always use cultivation level as a yardstick to measure everyone in the world—but you forget that flesh and blood can also cleave through natural barriers."

The Grand Elder, enraged, laughed, his sleeves fluttering wildly. A purple rainbow sword aura tore through the air and slashed down! Lin Daochen neither dodged nor evaded, but merely flicked the blood-stained tip of his sword at an angle, his eyes calm enough to send chills down one's spine.

"Ignorant brat, how dare you talk about the Dao?" He roared like thunder, his sword energy growing ever more violent, determined to crush this arrogant figure completely.

Lin Daochen suddenly chuckled, his black robes fluttering in the gale. His smile didn't reach his eyes, but there was a heavy, ruthless force about him that made the Grand Elder's brow twitch.

"You still have a trump card?" The elder's voice tightened, and his pupils contracted slightly.

Lin Daochen nodded, his voice clear and cold like a spring striking stone: "For a blood cultivator, as long as the blood remains, the Dao will not be extinguished. Can your sword truly sever my lifeline?"

The Grand Elder scoffed, "Blood cultivator? You're covered in wounds, practically drained of blood, still pretending to be tough!" Before he finished speaking, his attack intensified, purple light cascading down like a waterfall—

Lin Daochen suddenly vanished!

The elder felt a chill run down his spine and turned around abruptly, only to be met with a gust of cold wind. The next instant, a black claw covered in dark scales shot out from the air, its five fingers like hooks, aimed straight for his throat!

A foul wind arose, and blood surged. Two figures collided violently in the purple light, their fists and claws clashing, causing the light barrier to vibrate and tremble.

"Blood Shadow Claw!" Lin Daochen's voice was low and hoarse, without any emotion, but his pupils suddenly shrank to a sliver of cold light. This was a blood cultivation technique that he had personally refined—using his own blood essence as a guide, condensing it into a shadow, as swift as an arrow cleaving through the sky, its sharpness causing even the air to ripple with scarlet red.

The Grand Elder was a level above him, but in that instant of clash, his back tensed slightly. The claw shadow was so fast it tore through the afterimages, forcing him to cross his arms to block, his palms humming and trembling with true energy.

"As expected of a blood cultivator... to be able to use such evil methods right under my nose." The elder's brows furrowed, a cold glint flashed in his eyes, and the slight disdain in his heart had quietly turned into ice.

Lin Daochen's lips curled into a smile, and the blood shadow suddenly exploded, transforming into a sky full of bloody mist and a shrill whistle as it descended upon the Grand Elder. Countless fine blades darted within the mist, scraping against his protective true essence with a hissing sound, causing his skin to sting faintly. He suddenly gathered his true essence, and golden light surged around him, attempting to break through the mist.

But in the instant the energy surged, Lin Daochen's figure suddenly disintegrated—when he reappeared, he was already right in front of the Grand Elder's face! A bloody shadow pierced straight into his heart, and blood flowers exploded, splashing onto half of his cheek.

"This move is called Blood Shadow Piercing the Heart." Lin Daochen's voice rang close to his ear, as cold as a knife just dug out of frozen soil.

The elder felt a sweet taste in his throat, and his face instantly turned ashen. He never expected the follow-up move to be so ruthless. Alarm bells rang wildly in his heart, and fear tightened around his internal organs like vines—if he were to be careless again, he would lose his life here.

The battle suddenly intensified. The Grand Elder no longer held back, his true energy surging forth, causing the world to lose its color: dark clouds rolled like boiling water, and lightning snakes darted wildly within the clouds, seemingly thrown into disarray by the fierce fighting.

Lin Daochen, however, moved like a fish swimming in the sea, his blood shadows gathering and dispersing, sometimes splashing like rain, sometimes condensing into hooks and claws to tear through the void; the Grand Elder, on the other hand, flew with his fists and palms, each strike causing the earth to crack, and the gale whipping up rubble like knives.

"You're more troublesome than I thought!" the elder roared, his chest suddenly bulging as a column of pale yellow energy shot into the sky, shattering the clouds and causing the entire wasteland to tremble.

Lin Daochen's eyes were like blood-red, cold blades, his black robes billowing in the wind. He had already soared into the air, leaving behind a thick, impenetrable shadow, like a demon crawling out of hell.

"Blood Pact—Today, you shall become the sacrifice of my blood blade!" he hissed, his chest erupting with crimson light as a longsword materialized out of thin air. Ancient runes floated on the blade, exhaling a nauseating stench of rust.

The blood pact has finally been unveiled.

The Grand Elder's pupils suddenly contracted, and his breath caught in his throat. The savage, ancient pressure, imbued with the aura of mountains of corpses and seas of blood, made his fingertips go numb—he had heard of this name, but had never imagined that someone could actually summon this forbidden vampire technique that had been dormant for thousands of years.

Lin Daochen stood with his sword in hand, his body enveloped in a mist of blood, his eyes burning with an almost manic crimson flame. Instead of retreating, he advanced, his blood-red sword slashing diagonally, tearing through the sky and leaving behind a mournful, tearing streak of blood-red light.

The Grand Elder stared intently at him, veins throbbing on his forehead. At that moment, he clearly felt the ground beneath his feet tremble and the thunderclouds above his head recoil, as if even heaven and earth recognized the origin of this sword.

The wind whipped up the remaining clouds, lightning cleaved the scorched earth, and the entire battlefield boiled like a furnace. Every move Lin Daochen made was wrapped in the power of the blood curse, making it difficult to distinguish between reality and illusion, and leaving no trace.

But the Grand Elder was, after all, a seasoned veteran who had lived through three dynasties. He gritted his teeth, his true essence exploded, and he brought his palms together, creating a golden and jade light shield more than ten feet thick that pressed down from nowhere, intending to crush Lin Daochen into the ground!

Lin Daochen sneered, his chest surging with blood-red light, the crimson glow erupting like magma, forcefully resisting the downward pressure of the light shield!

"You think you can bind me with such a trick?" A mocking glint flashed in his eyes. He slashed horizontally with his blood sword, and the light shield cracked open with spiderweb-like gaps. The sword's edge had already cut through the airflow and was aimed straight at the Grand Elder's throat!

The elder's scalp tingled, and he quickly stepped back and leaned back, the tip of the sword grazing his nose and severing a few strands of his white beard. But in that split second—

"Snap!"

A crisp sound, clear and distinct, pierced their eardrums.

The elder froze, his gaze sweeping blankly around him—this voice was strange.