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

On the ground, a monk's robe was torn, blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, and he slumped to the ground, his breath weak, like a candle about to go out.

More than ten feet away, the heavy and ancient Kunwu ring knife was suddenly broken in two, its blade dull and devoid of any sharpness.

Meanwhile, in mid-air, Lin Daochen, his robes fluttering, held the Heavenly Prison Sword, surrounded by wisps of clear and ethereal Dao light, like a celestial being descending to earth, wielding his sword and questioning the heavens.

Like an ancestor, like a revered figure, looking down upon the world!

silence.

A deathly silence.

Everyone expected that the attack just now would be a fierce battle, and even if a winner was determined, both sides would be severely injured.

But the reality is—a complete and utter crushing defeat!

No further explanation is needed; just looking at their current situations, the outcome is already obvious.

Tongming's defeat was not the only one.

He was utterly defeated!

This was simply unbelievable, completely overturning the understanding of all spectators.

Only now did everyone realize that the power of Lin Daochen's previous sword strike was far more terrifying than they had imagined!

The silence was as still as an abyss, then erupted into a deafening clamor:

"Master Dao Chen's demeanor is unparalleled; he truly deserves the title of 'Sword Immortal'!"

"To witness such a divine sword, a marvel of nature's creation, is to have no regrets in this life!"

"Suppressing a terrestrial immortal with hundreds of years of cultivation with a single sword? Dao Chen Zhenren's true strength is unfathomable!"

"In this world, who else can rival Dao Chen Zhenren?"

"With such a person in charge, Wudang is truly blessed! Wudang is now the supreme holy land of the martial arts world!"

"..."

The heroes of the martial arts world sighed in admiration, regarding Lin Daochen as a deity.

On the Wudang side, Song Yuanqiao and the others were overjoyed.

Won!

Their senior master won! Wudang won!

This battle was a gamble on the rise and fall, life and death of the sects. In the end, Wudang had the last laugh!

"Master Uncle, you are truly a divine being!"

After much searching, Song Yuanqiao couldn't find a more fitting word to describe the shock in his heart; only this heartfelt exclamation remained.

On the other hand, Shaolin Temple...

The monks led by Kongwen looked ashen-faced, as if they had lost a loved one.

They never dared to dream of such an ending.

Who is Tongming? He is Shaolin's last trump card, a terrestrial immortal who has cultivated for hundreds of years, and an invincible powerhouse they are proud of!

Yet such a figure was defeated by a former disciple who had been expelled from the sect decades ago.

"No! Impossible! This shouldn't be happening!"

Kong Wen and the others roared inwardly, their eyes bloodshot, but they were powerless to change reality.

The facts are clear—Shaolin has lost. Utterly and completely.

"What should we do next... to end this?"

Hearing this, his mind was in turmoil, and cold sweat soaked through his robe.

Tongming, barely clinging to life, mustered his last ounce of strength and asked Lin Daochen in a trembling voice, "How...how can you be so strong?"

He was arrogant all his life, and apart from the reclusive patriarch in the temple, he never took anyone seriously. But today he suffered a crushing defeat, and his heart was filled with resentment and confusion.

Lin Daochen had already landed lightly, his clothes unmoved, his tone as indifferent as frost: "It's because you're too weak."

"Am I...too weak?"

Tongming was stunned.

A moment later, a bitter smile appeared on his lips.

The person before me certainly has the right to say that.

That sword strike was so stunning it instilled despair.

He once said, "There are always people more capable than you, and there is always something beyond your understanding. Only by maintaining a sense of awe can you achieve your goals. It is better to meditate and seek enlightenment than to be aggressive and violent."

"Only today... do I truly understand. Unfortunately, it's too late."

His expression gradually calmed down, and the previous hostility disappeared. A hint of Buddhist light appeared between his brows, clear and peaceful.

"Amitabha."

As the chant of the Buddha's name faded, he clasped his hands together, closed his eyes, and his breath slowly dissipated.

In an instant, all hope was lost.

Lin Daochen's Great Freedom Gengjin Sword Qi had already shattered his heart meridian, and his death was inevitable and irreversible.

Those few words just now were nothing more than a final burst of energy before the storm had passed.

"Grandmaster!"

Kong Wen and the others cried out in grief, tears streaming down their faces.

Previously, Shaolin had been publicizing this battle everywhere, intending to use Tongming to kill Lin Daochen and restore its prestige.

But the result was that he shot himself in the foot.

Not only did they lose their last terrestrial immortal, but the sect also faced the crisis of disbanding.

Thinking of the bet with Wudang, Kong Wen felt a chill run down his spine and his whole body went cold.

Among the onlookers, many sighed and shook their heads.

The fall of a top-tier expert is a great loss to the martial arts world.

"This is the fourth terrestrial immortal that Dao Chen Zhenren has killed."

Suddenly, someone in the crowd spoke in a low voice.

Everyone was taken aback, then sighed in disbelief.

Land immortals are beings at the pinnacle of martial arts; for ordinary people, even meeting one in their lifetime is a luxury.

However, in just over a month, four people fell in succession, all at the hands of Lin Daochen.

More than all of the past few centuries combined.

"Master Dao Chen... could probably be called the 'Land Immortal Killer'."

Such thoughts quietly arose in the minds of countless people, and awe surged forth.

Of course, they only dared to think these words in their hearts; none of them dared to actually say them out loud.

Lin Daochen slew a terrestrial immortal with a single sword strike, yet his mind remained as calm as a still well.

Whether it's the path of martial arts or the path of cultivation, it has always been a battlefield of life and death paved with blood and bones. Let alone a mere terrestrial immortal, even the legendary peerless immortals who can pluck stars from the sky and seize the moon, and overturn rivers and seas, cannot escape the calamity of death on the vast path of immortality.

All things are empty, only strength is immortal.

This battle made Lin Daochen's resolve even stronger—only by wielding the power to reach the heavens could he truly control his own destiny.

He concealed his aura and glanced indifferently at Song Yuanqiao.

Song Yuanqiao immediately understood and led Yu Lianzhou and the others forward slowly, facing Kong Wen and the group of Shaolin monks. He said in a deep voice, "Abbot Kong Wen, the outcome of the battle between my senior uncle and your sect's Master Tongming is already decided."

"Now, it's time to fulfill the bet."

The so-called bet was that Shaolin would be disbanded and all its scriptures, secret collections, and cultivation resources would be transferred to Wudang.

Kong Wen's expression changed drastically, and he suddenly shouted, "Hero Song, does Wudang really intend to exterminate us all?"

Song Yuanqiao remained expressionless, his tone stern: "Abbot, you are mistaken."

"The bet was entered into voluntarily by both parties, clearly stated beforehand, and was made openly and fairly, without any coercion. Today, I am merely acting in accordance with the agreement; how can you accuse me of trying to kill you?"

"It is rather undignified for the abbot to shirk responsibility like this."

His voice was slightly cold, carrying a hint of anger.

This old monk is clearly trying to renege on his debt.

And indeed, things turned out exactly as he predicted.

When Kongwen accepted the bet, he was certain that Tongming would win and never thought he would actually hand over the Shaolin legacy.

"Master Song, you have wronged our temple in this matter." Kong Wen said solemnly, "That bet was merely a private agreement between Master Tongming and your sect. It was not agreed upon by Shaolin and is therefore invalid."

"Although Tongming was a senior, he could not represent the will of the entire temple."

"The entire Shaolin Temple has never acknowledged this agreement."

"Now that Master Tongming has passed away, the old agreement has naturally come to an end, and there will be no more follow-up."

He spoke with an air of righteousness, his words were impeccable, and he simply shifted the blame for the whole thing onto the deceased Tongming.

Even if it tarnishes the reputation of our ancestors, we are willing to do it. After all, with the survival of the sect at stake, what does personal honor or disgrace matter?

At this moment, Shaolin was powerless to resist and could only rely on stubbornness to argue "reason"—even if it was fallacious reasoning.

Upon hearing this, Song Yuanqiao flew into a rage, his eyes flashing like lightning, and he shouted angrily, "Kong Wen! How can you, as the leader of a sect, be so faithless and treacherous? The bet was made immediately, known throughout the martial world, and witnessed by all! Today you are shifting all the blame onto a deceased person; it is utterly shameless!"

The surrounding heroes who were watching the battle all turned their heads, their eyes filled with disdain.

People in the martial arts world value their promises above all else. To hear of such an act is tantamount to ruining one's own reputation, and it will also cause the entire Shaolin Temple to lose face.

Ke Kongwen remained calm and composed, showing no sign of wavering.

What does it matter if we bear some infamy for the sake of a thousand-year-old heritage?

He raised his head and retorted, "Great Hero Song, our temple's position has already been made clear—this agreement was made by Tongming personally and has nothing to do with Shaolin! Don't use this to cause trouble!"

"Hmph!" Song Yuanqiao sneered, "You're the one being unreasonable! An agreement has been made; how can it be changed so easily? If you refuse to honor the agreement, then I, Wu, will carry it out!"

"You—!" Kong Wen's expression changed, and he immediately shouted angrily, "Wudang is also a prestigious and righteous sect. Do you intend to use your power to oppress others? To bully the weak?"

"Even though Shaolin is not what it used to be, and its strength has been greatly diminished, it will never sit idly by and wait for death! At worst, it will fight to the death!"

Immediately, he turned sharply, looked at Lin Daochen who was standing silently to the side, and asked in a sorrowful voice:

"Master Dao Chen! You are a celestial being of immeasurable status! Do you truly intend to defy your superior and presume that Shaolin has no one to rely on? Aren't you afraid of being ridiculed by the heroes of the world?"

His tone was mournful, as if he had suffered a great injustice.

He knew perfectly well that the true mastermind of Wudang was the unfathomable Dao Chen Zhenren.

But Lin Daochen didn't even glance at him, merely flicking his sleeve and calmly saying to Song Yuanqiao:

"Nephew Yuanqiao, do you see? There are some people in this world who are completely unreasonable. It's pointless to talk to them."

Song Yuanqiao is gentle and refined, humble and polite, and his every move exudes gentlemanly grace. However, sometimes his excessive concern for appearances makes him appear indecisive. Lin Daochen's intervention this time was also an opportunity to give him a heads-up, to help him see the bigger picture and stop being so bookish.

"Master Dao Chen..."

Seeing that Lin Daochen remained unmoved, Kong Wen on the other side wanted to try to persuade him again.

Before he could finish speaking, Lin Daochen had already flicked his fingers lightly.

boom--!

A sharp, unparalleled finger strike tore through the air, so fast that its trajectory was almost invisible, aiming straight for Kong Wen's throat. The force was like a knife, arriving in an instant, and it seemed about to pierce his throat. Kong Wen didn't even have time to react, and all that remained in his pupils was a deathly despair.

At this critical moment—

A figure appeared out of thin air, abruptly blocking Kong Wen's path, standing as still as a pine tree, unmoved.

boom!

The force of the finger struck the man solidly, creating a muffled thud that sent shockwaves scattering before vanishing without a trace.

Those who witnessed this scene were so shocked that they gasped in astonishment.

But Lin Daochen could see it clearly—three feet in front of that person was an invisible wall of energy, and his finger strikes were silently neutralized when they hit this barrier.

"This person's cultivation level is indeed above the Transcendent Realm!"

Lin Daochen's gaze darkened slightly, his fighting spirit undiminished, but a sense of gravity settled in his heart.

He had already guessed the other person's identity.

The surrounding crowd also focused their attention on the old monk who had suddenly appeared.

He was a gaunt monk in a blue robe, with a kind face and a few strands of white beard that fluttered in the wind. He had no sharp edges and looked like an ordinary servant who had spent half his life sweeping fallen leaves. He showed no signs of being a master.

"Benefactor Lin, it's wise to be lenient when possible. You've already won today, why not stop here?"

The old monk's voice was calm, yet carried an undeniable weight.

Lin Daochen did not answer, but only asked calmly, "May I ask your Dharma name, Master?"

"I've been here so long that I've long forgotten my Dharma name," the old monk smiled slightly. "Just call me the Sweeping Monk."

Upon hearing this, the Shaolin monks exchanged bewildered glances, their hearts pounding – when had such a person appeared in their temple? They had never seen him before!

But just now, he withstood Lin Daochen's killing move without a scratch. This strength is extraordinary.

A glimmer of hope quietly rose in my heart: Could there be a chance for things to turn around today?

The sweeping monk spoke again, his tone still calm: "Benefactor Lin, this humble monk will ask one more question: are you willing to leave today?"

"I refuse." Lin Daochen's eyes were cold. "Since Shaolin has been defeated, we must honor our agreement."

A single sentence, decisive and leaving no room for negotiation.

You think a mere word of advice will make him stop? That's wishful thinking.