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

As the tea steam rose gently, Mo Chen took the cup, took a small sip, and a long-lost warmth spread across his lips.

"Speaking of which, I did a few foolish things when I was young... Looking back now, it was all just a pipe dream. Would you like to hear me ramble on for a bit?"

Lin Daochen nodded quietly.

Mo Chen then slowly began to tell his own story.

This was just an ordinary encounter for an ordinary cultivator, but one unexpected event after another made Lin Daochen's heart skip a beat, and he suddenly grasped a clue that had been overlooked for a long time.

"Wait—you just said you once controlled the Qiankun Mirror?"

The white-browed old Taoist in the cave clearly said that the mirror was the one that shattered into pieces when the path to heaven opened last time.

"Who exactly are you?"

"Heh...it must have been those two old fogies who let slip the secret, huh? It doesn't matter. My lifespan is nearing its end, and I don't have many words to speak anyway, but there's one thing you must etch into your very bones!"

"Once the path to heaven appears in the world, it must never be trodden upon! These words carry immense weight!"

What lies hidden at the end of the road?

Lin Daochen blurted out, but Mo Chen only shook his head slightly, a meaningful smile appearing on his lips, and then turned to talk about other old stories.

Seeing that he couldn't get the truth out of him, Lin Daochen simply sat down on the prayer mat and listened quietly as this aging man reminisced about his last few days.

How glorious was this old man in the past? He was once a pinnacle figure admired by the entire cultivation world. But once the path to heaven opened, he was like a hawk with broken wings, falling straight from the clouds into the mire. His cultivation withered day by day until he was in this state of utter exhaustion.

When he recounted the past, he always spoke vaguely at crucial points, as if intentionally erasing some ink marks, making it impossible for Lin Daochen to grasp the facts. But even so, these fragments were already a heavy gift to Lin Daochen now.

This man's life was truly an anomaly among legends.

Whether it was his analysis of offensive techniques or his understanding of the ultimate principles of heaven and earth, his casual remarks were like sparks falling into a pile of dry firewood—for Lin Daochen, they were all timely opportunities for enlightenment.

The two elderly people lingered in the library for a long time, only dispersing when twilight seeped through the windowpanes. Lin Daochen returned to his room under the moonlight, and only then did he truly begin to sort out the events of the day: Qingluan, that woman, had vanished without a trace, disappearing like a yellow crane after obtaining the Haotian Mirror; the words "Path to Heaven" were like a fine thorn stuck in his heart, impossible to shake off.

He had to find out the details—there was a deep-seated certainty that soon he and that path would be entangled in a fateful bond.

Time flies like a stream, and three years have passed in the blink of an eye. Spring comes and autumn goes, and the seasons change. Lin Daochen tempers his foundation every day in the training room. In these three years on Kunlun Mountain, he has pushed his Golden Core cultivation to the perfect state.

Leaving aside those exceptionally talented individuals outside, in terms of his mastery of martial arts techniques alone, he has already undergone a complete transformation—in the past three years, he has read through most of the tens of thousands of books in the Scripture Pavilion, and every inch of his bones and every spiritual vein has been reforged.

Two days ago, I heard that Zhang Sanfeng had broken through to the peak of the Nascent Soul stage, a truly unprecedented achievement. Upon learning this, Lin Daochen drank three cups of tea in succession, his smile lingering for a long time. He was pleased with this, for the Nine Provinces Realm and the Spirit Realm were two sides of the same coin.

Although I don’t know why the world suddenly revived, spiritual energy is indeed surging quietly, and plants are breathing more vigorously. The path of cultivation in the future may no longer be as difficult as before.

The day he sets off to return will be when the cultivators of the Nine Provinces are truly able to support a region.

On the other hand, the Taishu clan is also acting strangely—they have recently fallen silent and completely stopped their pursuit of him. Could it be that something more pressing has held them back?

But Qingluan remained missing, like a fallen leaf swept away by the wind, leaving no trace.

The promised payment had vanished without a trace. Lin Daochen's only remaining concern was: what exactly was the "secret" she spoke of?

After three years, things had finally calmed down a bit. At least on Mount Kunlun, there were no more disturbances to disturb his peaceful cultivation. Just as he finished his practice and was preparing to go to bed, Mo Chen, leaning on his ebony cane, slowly strolled in.

Behind him followed a child of six or seven years old, with hazy eyes, a round face, and wet eyes, like dew just seeping from a mountain stream in early spring.

"Old ghost, why aren't you dying yet? If you drag this out any longer, I'm afraid I'll be the one burning paper money for you first."

Lin Daochen joked with a smile, but Mo Chen was not annoyed. He simply gently pulled the child forward.

"This is my elder brother's bloodline. He was born with blocked spiritual energy channels, unable to draw qi into his body. I beg you to take him in as a disciple and teach him the methods of cultivation. If you have any conditions, please speak up!"

Lin Daochen was stunned for a moment—this old man went out and brought back a living little tail.

"You can't teach me yourself? Don't try to fool me with that 'I'm about to die' thing. I'm sick of hearing that."

Three years ago, the old man was already emaciated with sunken eyes, looking like a skeleton covered in human skin; three years later, he still looked the same, without even a single wrinkle added, as if time had completely frozen on him—to say he was about to die would be like saying he jumped out and kicked himself before his coffin was even nailed shut.

The old man didn't mince words at all; he went straight to the point.

"If I could teach him, I would have done so long ago! This child's meridians are congenitally blocked, his spiritual roots are severed, and he can't even do the most basic breathing exercises. So... I beg you, please help him!"

"If you nod your head, my old life and my skills are at your disposal!"

He spoke with his back ramrod straight, his eyes shining with an astonishing brightness, devoid of any humble pleading, as if he were handing over a heavy token. Lin Daochen's heart skipped a beat: What kind of body could block the path of cultivation so completely? What's even stranger is that this old man and this young man are separated by countless generations and are not even direct blood relatives, so why are they so concerned?

"Stop beating around the bush—what's your connection with this child?"

"He's just a continuation of my bloodline." The old man said calmly, but paused. "I've never begged anyone in my life. Today, I beg you to take him as your disciple."

Lin Daochen raised an eyebrow: Had this old man lost his mind? He was actually using him as a lifeline?

His gaze darkened, and he raised his hand to grasp the boy's wrist. His spiritual energy probed into the boy's meridians like fine needles—sure enough, there was no sign of spiritual energy flowing through the internal organs, the twelve regular meridians were like dried-up riverbeds, and the eight extraordinary meridians were stiff and lifeless. This was a completely "body of severed meridians," where even practicing martial arts would be difficult, let alone cultivating the Tao.

Take him in? Teach him what? Teach him how to watch others fly on swords while he can't even cross the threshold himself?

Lin Daochen stared at the old man, his voice lowering slightly: "Old man, this isn't an entrustment, it's like shoving a red-hot branding iron into my hand. You've seen it yourself—this child finds even being a mortal too much of a struggle."

Ordinary people should farm, marry, have children, and live a peaceful old age. Forcing them into the world of cultivation is just putting their hearts on the edge of a cliff every day. It's better to settle down early and live a down-to-earth life.

Before he could finish speaking, the child fell to his knees with a thud, his forehead slamming hard against the blue brick, the dull thud causing the windowpane to tremble slightly.

"Please, sir, take me in! Sweeping, chopping wood, feeding the horses, emptying the chamber pot... I'll do anything! Just please, let me call you master!"

Lin Daochen's throat bobbed slightly, but he ultimately didn't respond. It wasn't that he was heartless, but rather that this child was truly beyond help—forcing him forward would be like dragging a crippled body along a knife's edge, destined to fall and be shattered to pieces sooner or later.

Just then, the old man grabbed his wrist and pulled him into the inner room, his voice low but each word piercing his ears:

"He can become a powerful being without cultivating spiritual roots! You have a way—you definitely do!"

Lin Daochen shook his head with a wry smile: Does this old man think he's a god? Born with a useless body, he's a hot potato that even Medicine King Valley doesn't dare to take on. Where would he get the ability to bring someone back from the dead?

But when he met the old man's bright, piercing eyes, his fingertips unconsciously traced the dark patterns on his cuff, then he suddenly stopped—wait…

Azure Phoenix Body Refining Technique.

It doesn't rely on spiritual roots or the spiritual energy of heaven and earth; it relies entirely on the tempering of flesh and blood and the reshaping of bones and muscles. The pain is real, excruciating, but... it can truly bypass that insurmountable barrier.

However, the price is too high: lifespan is reduced rather than increased, and one will not live past fifty.

Is a strongman destined to die young truly more worthy of a peaceful old age than a mortal who lives a long and peaceful life?

"There is a way... but it would involve excruciating pain, and a child's bones might not be able to withstand it."

"The Azure Phoenix Body Tempering Technique is the one I practice. The array patterns can be engraved into the flesh by outsiders, but each one is like being skinned alive."

The old man didn't even blink: "As long as he can stand up, I'd be willing to go through any lengths, even if it meant having his bones removed and his marrow ripped out!"

Lin Daochen turned to look at the kneeling figure outside the door, then slowly fixed his gaze on the old man: "Now, tell me—is he really your descendant?"

"Yes, my grand-nephew."

Lin Daochen was taken aback: "Didn't you say that your brother's branch of the family line had long since died out?"

The old man was silent for a moment, then suddenly grinned, a hint of desolation showing in the wrinkles around his eyes: "It's broken... but this child, I brought him home with my own hands back then."

"Those were mistakes I made when I was young and impetuous. Back then, my sister-in-law was still very attractive, and we had a brief but passionate affair. Actually, my brother's wife should have been my betrothed—but I insisted on embarking on the path of spiritual practice and resolutely left home. What happened after that... you can probably understand."

Good heavens, it turns out his own brother raised his son for him. That revelation was a stroke of genius.

Lin Daochen's expression gradually darkened, and his gaze changed. The look in his eyes as he stared at the old man became more scrutinizing, and there was an indescribable meaning in it.

"So, senior, what are your plans for this child?"

"At first, I only wanted him to live an ordinary life, peacefully passing away. But now that's impossible—within ten years, the world will undergo a tremendous change! At that time, the Heavenly Dao will be ruthless, regarding all living beings as worthless weeds. Mortals will find it difficult to escape the calamity, and even those old monsters who have shattered the void may collapse on the spot, their bodies and souls annihilated!"

"My life is long gone, I don't care whether I live or die. But that child has so much time ahead of him, it would be such a waste if he were to perish in this turbulent world. He... is the last seed I have left in this world."

The thin figure outside the door was actually the old man's bloodline. But Lin Daochen didn't linger on the bloodline; he gripped the thread even tighter:

"What will happen in ten years? I won't get involved until that's clear."

"Don't try to fool me with ambiguous statements. I can tell the truth from the falsehood—I'll just ask one question: how will the world turn against us in ten years? Don't spout any empty talk about the unpredictability of fate or the elusive nature of destiny."

The old man's pupils contracted, his Adam's apple bobbed, and after a moment of silence, he finally gritted his teeth and said, "Fine! Since you insist on knowing, then tell me. Anyway, by then, I'll have long since turned to dust, while you... well, that's another story."

According to him, ten years from now will be a once-in-a-millennium catastrophe for heaven and earth. That is why Qingluan spared no effort to hoard magical power, just to seize a sliver of survival in the calamity and fight for a ticket to a new era.

As for the exact nature of the calamity, the old man didn't know the details. He only knew that this calamity would occur once every ten thousand years, and after the calamity fire was extinguished, mountains and rivers would collapse, all living beings would perish, and heaven and earth would return to the state of primordial chaos.

The only thing he was certain of was that when the calamity began, the "Path to Heaven" would inevitably appear—all cultivators would tear each other apart like hungry wolves pouncing on their prey, fighting to the death. At that time, the strongest fist would be the only way to survive. And that child who was only five or six years old, who would be a teenager just beginning to grow up in ten years, if he fell at that moment, wouldn't all his strength have been wasted?

The old man was determined to help this child gain a foothold, even if it meant burning the last of his life.

"You mean—you're willing to bear any cost?"

Lin Daochen asked one more question. The old man nodded without hesitation; with his lifespan nearing its end, only this one bloodline remained in his eyes.

"I do have a way to completely transform him. But the materials... you know how it is."