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

The Empty Prince laughed in anger, his fingertips flashing as he unleashed a magical seal that cleaved through the air—

But at the very moment the talisman light burst forth, the two figures suddenly blurred, and in the next instant, they both vanished without a trace, leaving only the ice puppet standing alone in place.

The entire audience paused for a moment, then erupted in uproar.

"Spatial teleportation?!"

"No, it's a personal spatial artifact! How could they possibly control a secret technique of this level with their current cultivation levels?!"

At this moment, Lin Daochen was suspended in mid-air, his sleeves fluttering lightly. The surrounding void suddenly froze and collapsed, and heavy pressure rolled down like a tide.

Caught off guard and dragged into this place, the Empty Young Master's knees buckled, and he knelt heavily on the ground with a "thud," veins bulging on his forehead.

This is the power of chaos—the source of all laws, the origin of all things. It does not belong to the five elements, nor is it bound by yin and yang; it can create and destroy thunder, and it can freeze time.

Lin Daochen lured him into the realm not to show off his skills, but to conceal his methods and prevent too many eyes from focusing on his trump card.

The Void Prince looked around at the distorted void, his face instantly turning ashen.

"A spatial...magic artifact?"

"Fellow Daoist! I concede!"

The surrender came too quickly and abruptly, and Lin Daochen was stunned for a moment.

They were so menacing just a moment ago, how come they surrendered in the blink of an eye?

"Please put away your image; I will leave Taiwan on my own."

Seeing his opponent bow his head in surrender, Lin Daochen bowed his hands, and as expected, Young Master Kongxu withdrew from the arena.

As he was about to descend the steps, the man suddenly turned his head, his gaze sharp as a knife, sweeping over Lin Daochen, a slight smile playing on his lips.

Lin Daochen pretended not to notice and turned around to bow to the audience below the stage.

"Is there any fellow cultivator willing to step forward and offer their guidance? My injuries are severe, and I am no longer able to fight!"

The injuries are severe?

His face was as radiant as the spring sun, his breathing was even and long, and not a single bead of sweat appeared on his forehead.

Every cultivator in the arena was shrewd and calculating. Who would believe such a blatant lie? For a moment, the arena fell silent.

Previously, the Void Prince swept through the nine formations, his power overwhelming the entire arena; now, Lin Daochen has managed to force this man back with a single move, making his strength unfathomable. Who would dare to step forward and invite humiliation without some real skill?

Lin Daochen slightly raised his eyelids, glanced at the crowd, and unconsciously rubbed his cuff with his fingertips—still no one responded.

The trial was already over, and he was just waiting for one person to come up on stage so he could concede defeat. But all around was so quiet that only the sound of the wind rustling the corner of the flag could be heard.

He frowned slightly, his gaze quietly drifting towards the elders' seat.

An elder in a grey robe immediately stood up and proclaimed in a powerful voice:

"If no one challenges within the time limit, you will immediately advance to the next round!"

Everyone remained calm—this was the usual practice at the monthly disciple exchange meeting.

But Lin Daochen secretly shook his head. At this moment, he would rather retreat to the Scripture Pavilion, hold a tattered scroll, and deduce the profound meaning of the attack techniques word by word, than stand on this bare platform.

However, the sect's rules were ironclad, so he could only stand in the center of the platform and wait for his opponent to arrive, who was slow to arrive.

As the sun began to set and the gong was about to sound, no one stepped onto the steps—the unpredictable spatial magic treasure had long since crushed any lingering thoughts of testing the waters in their hearts. Moreover, among all the disciples present, those who had cultivated to the Golden Core stage were few and far between.

When the time came, Lin Daochen, along with the sixteen disciples defending the arena, stepped into the second round. A quick glance revealed that there were actually twenty-six people standing in a line.

Logically, there should only be ten people left in ten arenas.

Who are the extra sixteen?

He heard whispers in his ear and realized they were cultivators from the neighboring Divine Sword Manor, who had quietly taken their seats sometime earlier.

The disciples of Shenjian Manor have honed their swordsmanship since childhood, each possessing a formidable sword intent and a disciplined approach to combat. Their uninvited arrival is certainly not a casual stroll.

As expected, the elder on the platform stroked his beard and spoke: "This month's exchange meeting has been slightly adjusted—the disciples of Divine Sword Manor have been invited to come and will spar with the disciples of my Five Elements Sect. This is a testament to friendship, so please don't worry about the outcome."

Although he spoke casually, the disciples below all had bright eyes and were cracking their knuckles.

On the path of cultivation, how can winning or losing be unimportant? Everyone in the Five Elements Sect knows this perfectly well: the victor will gain the favor of the elders, be bestowed with elixirs, and be taught secret techniques; the loser, even if not punished, will be categorized as "unfit for great use"—who can swallow such an insult?

So before the afternoon match started, everyone changed into their new magic-refining tools, straightened their clothes, and even regulated their breathing to be more steady.

In the crowd, Lin Daochen silently flexed his wrists, pondering how to lose cleanly and decisively, leaving no room for error.

He disliked showing his face in public. The Taishu clan had already sketched his appearance, and revealing his true face here would likely bring him to his death. Not to mention that he had also killed Wuma Hongfei, a direct descendant of the Wuma family of the Cangxuan Dynasty—the blood feud was now irreconcilable.

The best course of action right now is to remain anonymous, diligently hone one's skills, and wait until one has gained sufficient experience before making further plans.

The second round of drawing lots was randomly determined by the spirit talismans, and Lin Daochen deliberately waited until the very end to go forward.

When the bamboo tube was shaken, the number drawn was "number one".

He paused for a moment, then shook his head and chuckled – clearly someone had tampered with it.

It's all good, though. We can finish quickly and finish reading Volume 3 of "The Nine Luminaries Illustrated" before 5 PM.

As the gong sounded, he leaped onto the arena. This time, the stone platform was much wider, its blue bricks gleaming coldly.

Standing opposite was a woman in her early twenties dressed in green, with a long sword at her waist and sharp, angular eyebrows.

Seven spirit swords were slung across her back, their blades shimmering with light and exuding a chilling aura that made one's brow furrow.

Upon seeing this, the audience members all gasped and took a deep breath.

"Zhuge Xue!"

"Zhuge Xue, the top disciple of the Divine Sword Manor's Heavenly Terrace? Wasn't it rumored that she had already reached the Perfect Golden Core stage? Why is she appearing at the Five Elements Sect's arena?"

"Tian Ji's horse racing strategy!"

Someone uttered these four words in a low growl, and the eyes of all the cultivators in the room lit up instantly—this was the Five Elements Sect's home ground, so who would believe it was completely clean?

They dare not use underhanded tactics openly, but secretly changing the order of battle is just a matter of lifting a finger.

This Zhuge Xue is clearly the sharpest sword of the Divine Sword Manor. Before she was even thirty, she had already reached the peak of the Golden Core stage. Her spiritual root was burning brightly, and her Dao foundation was being forged. Her talent was so fierce that it sent chills down one's spine.

The two stood still, and Lin Daochen slowly raised his finger. His fingertip trembled slightly, and a silver-white sword aura suddenly shot out, seemingly perfunctory, yet also a test.

He had just touched the ground with his toes and was about to step back from the stage when suddenly he heard a "clang" and a long sword came flying through the air, embedding itself three inches into the blue brick. The sword hummed incessantly, and the cold air made his sleeves flutter.

The swordsman's sword intent was sharp and fierce, like a double-edged sword drawn from its sheath; he was indeed a top-tier master. However, Lin Daochen had no intention of risking his life here.

He immediately clasped his hands in a fist and bowed, his voice ringing out: "My old injuries have flared up again, my blood and energy are depleted, and further combat would likely cost me my life. I willingly concede defeat!"

The disciples below the stage remained calm upon hearing this, as if they had expected it.

Only Zhuge Xue's eyes remained unmoved. With light steps and without her skirt fluttering, she quietly stood within three steps of him.

"Old sir, you've kept this a secret for a long time."

"Please lend me a hand—shatter the Golden Core and open the gate to the Nascent Soul stage!"

Lin Daochen's heart skipped a beat, and he instantly realized: this person had reached a bottleneck and could only try to break through by engaging in a life-or-death battle. He himself had become the whetstone for her to sharpen her blade.

But he was neither a guardian elder nor a guest minister of the sect, so why would he risk his life to feed others?

He shook his head and sighed, "My bones and muscles are decaying, and my dantian is weak. I am truly unable to fight any longer. Please, young lady, show mercy."

What if I say no?

Before the words were finished, thick clouds suddenly rose, and white mist surged like boiling water, instantly engulfing the area within a radius of ten feet of the arena.

In the mist, Zhuge Xue slightly raised her hand, holding a small jade bell in her palm—the Cloud and Mist Bell.

"When this bell rings, the inside and outside are cut off. Outsiders will only see the fog, not the battle. Sir, please fight with all your might!"

Lin Daochen frowned slightly. There must be a reason why this girl had her eye on him.

Since there's no way to avoid it, we might as well ask for clarification.

"May I ask, young lady, among all these outstanding talents, why did you choose this old man?"

Zhuge Xue hesitated for a moment, then lowered her voice to a whisper: "I have a seven-tailed spirit fox lying in my arms. This beast is not skilled in combat, but it is adept at discerning strength—among all the Golden Core cultivators present, you have the deepest aura and the strongest energy."

Seven-tailed spirit fox!

Lin Daochen felt a slight tremor in his heart—he had seen this beast's illustration in "The Strange Records of the Spirit Realm" half a month ago.

Sure enough, it doesn't measure spiritual power values, but only distinguishes between high and low strength, like an eagle surveying a flock of birds, able to tell who will rise and fall at a glance.

It seems this disguise needs further polishing; the spirit world is far more murky than what is written on the pages of books.

"The strongest one in the early stages of the Golden Core realm?"

He raised the corners of his lips slightly, neither agreeing nor disagreeing, yet he had already removed all pretense, his aura receding like the tide, or like a mountain just awakening.

Since I am regarded as the strongest, I should show my strongest posture. Hiding my strength for too long will only tarnish my Dao heart. Today, I will test my full strength and do justice to this body.

In that instant, Zhuge Xue felt her hair stand on end, and an overwhelming chill enveloped her limbs and bones.

It was a long-lost, soul-searching premonition of death.

But her heart pounded faster, her blood surged like a river bursting its banks, and her eyes flashed with a crimson light as she stared intently at the withered, aged figure before her.

"Thank you for your kind consideration, sir!"

Lin Daochen nodded and said nothing more.

In an instant, thunderous sounds shattered the void, and his figure vanished like smoke.

The Nine Heavens Thunder Control Technique poured forth with a thunderous roar, lightning like a dragon, cleaving through the fog barrier—

Clang! The sound of metal clashing was deafening. Seven spirit swords soared into the air, their tips pointing skyward, humming in unison.

Zhuge Xue spun her wrist rapidly, unleashing a burst of swordplay. The seven swords instantly transformed into wrathful Vajras, their eight arms wielding weapons, crashing down from the heavens with the force of wind and thunder!

The Seven Swords of Gods and Demons, each sword bringing calamity.

Zhuge Xue's swordsmanship had already reached a state of perfection, but she was stuck at the last threshold and could not break through it.

"break!"

With a soft shout like tearing silk, the Vajra Illusion Array collapsed, the surrounding light and shadow dissipated, and the illusion vanished like smoke.

"Young lady, why don't you try my move too?"

"A sword comes from the west, the Milky Way sets in the sky!"

This was his peak move after a month of arduous study, refining and reshaping the Heavenly River Sword Intent.

Purple energy surged across the sky, and a cold blade rushed in from the east, its body wreathed in a chilling aura of death; high in the heavens, the Yellow River cascaded down, its oppressive power like that of a god descending upon the mortal realm.

Look closely—what is that surging water? It is clearly a river of swords formed from thousands of sharp blades rushing down!

As she watched the countless sword shadows, each carrying a murderous intent, rush towards her, Zhuge Xue's heart tightened, and her fingertips grew cold. She couldn't understand: with such a vast difference in their cultivation levels, why did she find herself clumsy and helpless even in a real fight?

Is this truly the end? They haven't even taken the final step to the Golden Core stage...

She slowly lowered her head, but a cold flame suddenly ignited in her eyes.

"I possess a sword that can bury heaven and earth!"

Before she finished speaking, the entire arena trembled violently—the swords at the waists of the disciples outside the arena rang out in unison, like a hundred birds paying homage to a phoenix, all gathering in her palm.

Sword intent! She comprehended sword intent on the brink of life and death!

In an instant, the Heavenly River and the Sword River surged backward, their waves crashing back, and the sword light tore through the sky.

Lin Daochen's pupils shrank suddenly, and he stood there stunned.

He never expected that his initial attempt would be so easily seen through.

What happened?

His gaze swept over the longsword that hovered in Zhuge Xue's palm, emitting starlight, and he suddenly understood—it was sword intent. Only true sword intent could sever the form and momentum of a sword move.

Instead of being annoyed, she was provoked and her blood boiled: what she sought was a breakthrough, but after fighting to this point, there was still no sign of the Nascent Soul stage... Could it be that she hadn't suppressed herself hard enough?

In a flash of inspiration, he no longer held back. The Five Elements Sword was drawn with a clang, and his sword techniques flew, each move capable of splitting mountains and cleaving peaks. Every move was exhilarating, and he poured out all the knowledge he had acquired in his life.

Zhuge Xue was then surprised to realize that this seemingly ordinary old man had long since entered the realm of sword intent, and his understanding of it was profound and well-rounded, far surpassing her own nascent stage.

The Five Elements Sect...when did such a figure emerge?

But there was no time to think it through—the two sword forces collided, the world lost its color, and the energy was strangled to its peak. If there was the slightest mistake, the soul would be scattered.

She suddenly felt a surge of pride: at this moment, she was already capable of competing with the legendary geniuses who were invincible at the same level.

Those renowned geniuses who shook the Nine Realms were nothing special.

She looked up at the gray-robed figure opposite her, and her heart sank suddenly—

Could it be that……

She dared not think about what came next. The thought was too terrifying, like a cold needle piercing her mind.

He may be far more complex than he appears on the surface. But right now, there's no time to lose focus.

With swords clashing, all other thoughts vanished, leaving only the flow of swordplay and the clash of minds.

Fists and kicks have their limits, and swordsmanship has its end. When her spiritual energy was exhausted and her meridians were burning, Zhuge Xue suddenly realized that she was already exhausted like a lamp going out, while her opponent's sword momentum was still strong and unstoppable.

We lost... we really lost.

But she gritted her teeth and refused to accept her fate.

The deathly aura surged like a tide; with the next strike, death and annihilation would ensue.

Just as consciousness was about to collapse, a soft, crisp sound exploded—the golden core, which had long since dimmed, suddenly burst forth with a blazing purple light!