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

His fingers flew, forming hand seals and guiding the flow, making him seem like a tributary of the Milky Way—his robes fluttered, his pupils reflected the starry sky, and his aura suddenly deepened, sending chills down one's spine.

In the Milky Way, sword energy suddenly burst forth! Countless condensed, icy rays burst forth from the water, sharp and menacing, intertwining, clashing, and converging, finally melting in mid-air to form a giant phantom sword that spanned the heavens and the earth. On the spine of the sword, three ancient and unrestrained seal characters appeared: Heaven-Turning Seal!

Yang Kai's throat tightened, and he almost lost his voice: "The Heaven-Turning Seal?!" His fingertips felt cold, and his heart pounded—that was the most ferocious divine weapon that could tear apart the sky and suppress mountains and seas, and legend has it that even the Heavenly Dao trembled before it! The person in front of him could actually summon its original talisman form, and his identity suddenly became shrouded in mystery.

The sword light slashed down with a deafening roar! Crimson flames surged, runes blazed, the entire valley trembled and vibrated, the ground cracked, and dark gold blood patterns seeped from the rock walls—the three characters "Turning Heaven Seal" burned brightly in the void, as if a fierce soul that had been sleeping for ten thousand years was slowly opening its eyes.

Tianlangzi's temple throbbed slightly, but he gritted his teeth and urged the Great River Diagram again. The Heavenly River surged more and more violently, but the formation was like a living thing. As soon as the cracks appeared, black mist wriggled and closed them, so fast that it was suffocating.

He frankly admitted that it would take ten days to completely dismantle the formation. Upon hearing this, Lin Daochen's fingers quietly clenched in his sleeve—the longer it dragged on, the more variables would arise. But at the moment, no one could replace him, so he had to trust him this once.

After reaching an agreement, Tianlangzi requested a magical artifact to lend him its power. Lin Daochen readily handed over a Crimson Scaled Dragon Pendant, its warm jade surface emanating a faint dragon's roar. He knew that treasure hunting was never just about luck, but about exchanging real treasures for real opportunities. He also nodded in agreement: the essence of the treasure bottle could be used as a catalyst to help loosen the formation.

Tianlangzi took the ornament, a glint of light flashing in his eyes, and immediately rearranged the formation. The celadon bottle hung high, the Milky Way surged again, the fire cover was rekindled, and runes appeared densely like a rising tide, as if the entire valley was being dragged into a sinister ancient scroll that was slowly unfolding.

But the more Yang Kai looked, the more something seemed off—Tianlangzi's gestures didn't look like he was dismantling the formation, but rather like he was questioning something; the sword light wasn't aimed at the formation's core, but at some fold in the void... This person probably had something else in mind.

He activated the Great River Diagram for the third time, unleashing a torrent of sword energy that finally tore a dark crack about a foot long in the array wall! But the celadon bottle instantly dimmed, its glaze turning gray, as if it had lost a hundred years of spiritual energy.

As soon as the crack appeared, the formation trembled violently, the black mist surged, and it was about to close in the blink of an eye. Tianlangzi was panting heavily, but he suddenly slammed his palm down on the porcelain bottle! With a crash, the thousands of ice crystal mirrors inside the bottle shattered, and the crack broke open again, but the formation still quickly closed, leaving only a sliver of light flickering.

……

Tianlangzi wiped the blood from his lips, then suddenly looked up: "Lin Daochen, now! Its healing requires a split second—rush in through the crack, the treasure's aura is inside!"

Lin Daochen and Yang Kai's eyes met, and no words were needed. Despite a thousand doubts, at this moment, they had no choice but to risk their lives and charge forward.

……

"Go!" Lin Daochen shouted, and the two of them, riding on the sword light wielded by Tianlangzi, shot towards the dark rift that was about to close.

Wherever the sword light passed, the air emitted a piercing wail, and the surrounding space twisted layer by layer, as if countless invisible hands were tearing at their bodies—but that sliver of a gap was the only way out.

At that very moment, in the darkest part of the valley, the Blood Lake was eerily still. In the center of the lake sat a bald monk, his body immersed in thick, dark red blood that gleamed with a metallic sheen, seeping into his seven orifices in thin strands.

His eyes were tightly closed, his face serene, but a winding blood-red line, like a living snake, appeared between his brows. This body had long been soaked in demonic blood, resonating in sync with the pulse of the entire valley.

Several tattered scrolls floated on the surface of the blood, their pages moving without wind; a broken blade was stuck diagonally at the bottom of the lake, its tip occasionally flashing a scarlet glint—all these traces pointed to a secret buried deep, one that no one dared to mention.

Lin Daochen and Yang Kai leaped into the crevice, and the space of the entire valley was instantly distorted and torn apart, like a piece of thin paper crumpled by a giant hand.

Tianlangzi finally broke through the valley's barrier, the array patterns crumbled inch by inch, and a violent energy exploded out, causing the entire valley to tremble violently.

The monk Jianren, who had been separated from his family for many years, suddenly opened his eyes. A glimmer of clarity flashed in his eyes, but it was quickly swallowed up by a thick, inky drowsiness—he seemed to be sinking to the bottom of a cold lake, his breath being held captive by the water.

As Lin Daochen and his companions stepped into the valley after it was unsealed, they found that it was no longer the place they had come from: the sky hung low, the clouds were a dark red like rust, the earth beneath their feet was cracked, and the scorched soil was still embedded with the remains of weapons that had not yet cooled.

The heavy stench of blood pressed down on his throat, the air so thick it felt like black blood could be squeezed out. Lin Daochen crouched down and picked up a pinch of dust, a chill running through his fingertips—this was no battlefield remnant, but a scene of unprecedented slaughter, the resentment lingering and howling for centuries, millennia.

What kind of brutal battle could have turned the world into such a hellish inferno? Lin Daochen's heart sank, as if he had fallen into an ice cave.

Looking up, the withered forest resembled a forest of skeletons. From the cracks in the tree trunks, the outlines of human faces, half-hidden and half-revealed, floated out, with crooked eyebrows and eyes, and mouths stretched to the ears; the wind rustled through the treetops, and the whistling sound came from near and far, like crying and laughing, or like the gasps squeezed out by countless throats that had been choked.

The entire forest resembled a giant screen pieced together from countless ghostly faces, silently grinning.

The resentment was so thick it seemed impossible to dissipate; inhaling it felt like swallowing shards of glass. Lin Lei's pupils constricted, his knuckles clenched until they turned white, his gaze scraping over every inch of shadow.

Tianlangzi leaned against a broken stele, panting, veins throbbing on his forehead: "This... I really didn't mean to trick you out of your magic weapon." His voice was hoarse, and his sleeves rolled up to reveal several deep, bone-revealing burn marks. "It's even more sinister than described in ancient books. I forced myself to eat it, and I almost lost half my life."

He stared at Lin Daochen, his eyes frank: "I'm not lying to you—it's ridiculously strong, so strong that it made me lose my composure."

Lin Daochen remained silent for a moment, then slowly exhaled, his breath steady: "I trust you. We share the same goal, and neither of us wants to fail here. But next time, leave yourself some leeway before you act."

Tianlangzi nodded, a hint of guilt flashing across his brow, but he also breathed a sigh of relief—his weariness was finally not taken as an excuse.

Lin Lei suddenly raised his hand, the tip of his sword pointing directly into the depths of the forest: "Something's moving!"

Everyone turned around in unison—the shadows, like ink dripping into clear water, silently seeped out from the gaps in the forest. Those shadows were hunched and twisted, their joints bent backward, each step dragging a foul wind; two clusters of eerie blue flames burned in their eye sockets, and inhuman gurgling sounds rolled from their throats, like rusty iron chains scraping against bones.

"What the hell?" Yang Kai drew his long sword with a clang, the blade trembling slightly in the moonlight.

Tianlangzi blocked the crowd with his arm, his voice taut: "These old ghosts are born from resentment! Don't blink, they specifically target the weakest points!"

The fuse for a fierce battle was lit in that instant.

Lin Daochen stood at the edge of the forest, his back straight as a blade. He didn't move, but placed his palm on the Vajra Pestle, feeling the heavy, cool sensation creep up his palm—this forest was too quiet, abnormally quiet; too old, blood-soaked. He dared not step in, afraid that one wrong step would plunge him into a pile of corpses from a hundred years ago.

Lin Lei stayed close by, his blade pointed diagonally at the ground, his eyes scanning every swaying, withered leaf. The silver moon rose high in the sky, but its clear light was filtered by the blood mist into a sickly orange-red, even the shadows were crooked and elongated, as if they were about to break free from their ankles and crawl away at any moment.

Tianlangzi and Yang Kai had already entered the forest. They thought Lin Daochen was too slow and insisted on getting ahead. But the forest wouldn't cooperate—a cold wind swept by, and Tianlangzi shivered violently, cursing under his breath; Yang Kai had just lifted his foot when a sharp, jagged black rock slammed into his shin, causing him to gasp and fall to his knees. The shadows of the trees behind them swayed eerily, like a group of crouching spectators, suppressing their laughter.

The night grew darker, the fog thicker. Yang Kai stumbled and cried out in alarm—the scream seemed to stir up a hornet's nest, and the entire forest instantly came alive: branches twitched, leaves rustled, and ghostly faces slowly rotated on the tree trunks, all facing the two of them.

Tianlangzi chuckled and shook his head, about to make a joke, when he suddenly fell silent.

The hairs on his neck stood on end. He gripped Yang Kai's wrist tightly and spat out three words through gritted teeth:

"There's a ghost!"

Lin Daochen stood at a distance, his gaze sharp as a blade, fixed intently on the peach grove, a faint frown appearing between his brows. He knew in his heart that this place was no ordinary place, and the taut nerves of Tianlangzi had also subtly tugged at his own sense of vigilance.

Tianlangzi scrambled back to Lin Daochen's side, his robes torn and blood seeping from his forehead. Panting, he pointed at Yang Kai and berated him, "Don't you have any sense of brotherhood? There are ghosts in this forest! And you just stood by and watched me run into them to my death, almost losing my soul!"

Yang Kai spread his hands, looking helpless: "Which part of your statement was clear? I haven't activated my Yin Eyes, so I can't just shout 'there's a ghost' based on hearsay, can I?"

Lin Daochen watched the two bickering, a bitter smile curving his lips. He knew this wasn't the time for banter, so he immediately turned and strode deeper into the woods.

Yang Kai suddenly stopped, his brows furrowed tightly, and he lowered his voice to remind him, "Master, something is wrong with this forest—the yin energy is condensed and doesn't dissipate, which may indicate that a fierce spirit is lurking there. If we go in rashly, something unforeseen may happen."

"There is indeed something strange here." Lin Daochen didn't stop walking, only shook his head slightly. "My divine sense senses that something alive is throbbing under the tree bark. Now that things have come to this, how can we stand idly by?"

He drew his sword and disappeared into the dark forest. The night fog was thick as blood, carrying a rusty, metallic stench that weighed heavily on one's throat. Yang Kai silently followed, his fingertips unconsciously pressing against the short sword at his waist, his knuckles turning white.

The magical artifact in Lin Daochen's hand trembled violently, and the sword slashed out diagonally—crack! A peach tree exploded in response, and amidst the flying wood chips, a human-shaped outline was clearly revealed inside: the skin and flesh were as dry as paper, the tendons were twisted into branches, and the ten fingers transformed into twisted roots that were deeply embedded in the soil.

Lin Daochen's breath hitched. Using a living person as a embryo to create a tree embryo? Such a vicious method sent chills down one's spine.

Before him stretched a vast, boundless peach orchard, a million peach trees standing silently, each one once a mortal who could cry and laugh, with parents, a wife, and children. Now, however, they were imprisoned within wooden shells by evil magic, reduced to sinister and bizarre living cages. His throat tightened slightly, and his chest felt as if a block of ice iron was pressing down on it.

Yang Kai stared at the broken tree trunk, his face suddenly turning ashen: "Legend has it that Kuafu died from exhaustion while chasing the sun, and his peach wood staff fell to the ground and took root... Could this entire forest be the true form of his remnant soul?"

Tianlangzi nodded, his voice deep: "If that's true, then that primal power hasn't dissipated yet."