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

He extended two fingers and lightly flicked them in the air. The old man immediately understood, without even blinking: "Alright, I'll offer you everything I've ever possessed. You can refine it to whatever extent you want—but on one condition: my only son must not die in your furnace!"

Lin Daochen nodded in agreement. From that day on, the name Lu Wuyai began to rise higher, harder, and brighter day by day.

This child's ability is simple to explain—an indestructible body. By using specially made pills to unleash his potential and repeatedly forging him with ancient formations, his flesh and blood body has been refined inch by inch into a living magic weapon, harder than black iron and more resilient than dragon tendons. This is a unique path that Lin Daochen personally tailored for him.

No one knows why this child has such a temperament.

He was in so much pain that he convulsed, but he bit his lip to keep quiet; he was in so much pain that he fainted, but he kept his eyes open and waited to regain consciousness; even when his skin was torn open and his veins were bulging, he held on to the very end—just to drive his strength inch by inch into his bones.

Naturally, this process consumed thousands of medicinal herbs.

It was all the wealth that old ghost had accumulated over the years, and it was truly astonishingly thick. Lin Daochen reaped a lot of benefits, while Lu Wuyai's body was pushed to its limit through repeated crushing, reshaping, exploding, and regeneration.

A child's body is as supple as a vine, far more malleable than an adult's. What we're experiencing now is merely the slow, gentle warming before the true forging of bones and soul. The real tempering and soul-building are yet to come.

To forge this young man into the strongest weapon of the world, Lin Daochen had cleared the entire open space until not a blade of grass remained. He also meticulously carved dozens of ancient spirit-gathering arrays on the bluestone ground. This time, to summon the heavenly tribulation and refine the weapon, spiritual energy must surge like a river. Even the slightest oversight could lead to failure.

With everything in place, Lu Wuyai sat cross-legged on the high platform at the center of the formation. With a flick of his finger, a lightning-attracting bead shot into the air.

In an instant, the clouds tore apart, lightning exploded, and the entire night sky was ripped to pieces by the silvery thunder.

Above the sky, swirling clouds rapidly coalesced into a cold and majestic celestial eye; a thunderous python roared and writhed, meandering through the depths of the dark clouds, its scales and claws flashing. Lin Daochen's eyes blazed like torches as he swept across the surrounding landscape, his ten fingers flying like butterflies, strands of spiritual contracts like golden threads piercing the void.

One after another, the lightning bolts swooped down and burrowed into the array patterns, causing the ground array to light up in succession, with layers of light overlapping and as intense as molten gold being poured.

The moonlight in the sky was completely swallowed up. The old man gasped and stared up in a daze. He had lived for over 300 years and had witnessed the founding of a sect and the retreat of the demonic tide, but he had never personally experienced such a world-shaking act that defied the laws of nature and the natural order.

"What exactly do you want?!"

His voice was strained, almost cracking.

Lin Daochen's lips curled slightly, his gaze fixed intently on the impending torrent of purplish-black lightning: "I'm not going to 'do' anything... but rather, by borrowing the wrath of heaven and bearing the weight of earth, I will forge an unparalleled living divine weapon!"

"The sky is the furnace lid, the earth the anvil—man is the weapon, and the weapon is my body!"

What is the strongest weapon?

No matter how sharp ordinary swords are, they are ultimately external objects; only when flesh and blood form the blade and sinews and bones form the sheath can they unleash truly inexhaustible power.

He was born with a body that was both human and weapon of the same origin, and could be forged and tempered a hundred times, becoming stronger with each battle—this was the path to the top that he had chosen for the young man before him.

"Old man, if you're free, lend a hand!"

The two channeled their true energy together, summoning lightning bolts like chains, which struck down one after another.

Lin Daochen slowly stepped onto the high platform at the center of the formation, his robes fluttering, and looked down at the young man below.

"Now, I'm giving you one last choice—turn away and live a peaceful and ordinary life; or if you insist on staying, you'll face life and death head-on, and the slightest mistake will result in your soul being scattered! To obtain that kind of power, without the ruthlessness to fight to the death and the unwavering determination to never give up, you won't even last until the lightning strikes!"

"This is the last chance. Even if you cry your lungs out when the lightning and fire strike, I will not stop—the formation has been activated and its momentum is unstoppable."

Lu Wuyai remained silent for a long time, then nodded slightly. His Adam's apple bobbed, but his eyes were like red-hot iron, hard and burning.

He wanted to become stronger—strong enough to protect his parents' graves from being trampled, strong enough to tear apart the black-robed man who had kidnapped his sister, strong enough that no one would dare to trample him into the mud again.

The old man brought him here precisely because he saw this: this child harbored a burning passion within him, yearning for power more than anyone else, yet suffering from weak meridians and a lack of foundation. But precisely because of this, once ignited, it would consume the entire world.

At that moment, seeing the boy's straight back and piercing gaze, Lin Daochen suddenly opened his arms wide—

In an instant, a torrent of thunder surged down from the heavens, converging entirely into his palm.

The world suddenly fell silent; the wind stopped, the clouds stagnated, and even the heartbeat seemed to be ripped away.

He channeled his life's cultivation into his fingertips, using his will to control the lightning, so that the raging current no longer rushed about recklessly, but instead, like embroidery needles, it slowly traveled, etched, and took root beneath the boy's skin along a predetermined path.

The first array pattern lit up, the second emerged, the third embedded... the array layers overlapped, densely covering the limbs and bones.

If you were to dissect his arm and examine it closely, you would find a miniature magic array beneath every inch of his muscle, interconnected and endlessly circulating—harder than fine steel, capable of teleporting without a trace, and able to control his qi as easily as his own fingers… He would eventually transform into a walking killing machine, with a single thought, all laws would follow.

Whenever he wanted to unleash his supernatural powers, he only needed to think about it, and the corresponding array patterns would respond instantly—this combat strength was beyond human comprehension.

Time passed slowly, and beads of sweat rolled down Lin Daochen's forehead, hissing and smoking as they hit the bluestone.

The intensity of the spirit rune engraving had already drained him of every last bit of strength, and his internal organs were trembling slightly.

The battle is not yet complete, the thunder has not yet subsided, we must not stop.

Finally, the last line on the arm closed, and the golden light disappeared.

Lin Daochen's knees buckled, and he fell heavily to the ground.

His chest heaved violently, his heavy breathing still catching in his throat. The clouds on the horizon had receded like the tide, and golden light poured down, illuminating the hems of the three men's clothes. But the two old men's pupils shrank sharply as they stared intently at Xiao Wuyai's fingertip—the finger joint trembled slightly, and a gale suddenly exploded, whipping up sand and gravel that swirled and roared.

The two elders exchanged a smile, their brows furrowed with satisfaction.

Lin Daochen gazed at Lu Wuyai with eyes as intense and focused as a craftsman examining a newly forged divine weapon.

"You're still lacking in skill; your body can't yet control your strength at will. From now on, you have to train like crazy!"

"Once you can truly tame this body, your combat power will be comparable to that of a Nascent Soul stage expert. As for how much power you can unleash, that depends on how quickly you think and how ruthless you are in battle."

"If you want to break through another level, you must make your physical body harder, more resilient, and more insane—after all, your current physique is already capable of withstanding the tearing of multiple laws. But remember: even at your peak, you must never last more than three hours."

"If the time limit is exceeded by even one second, he will suffer a massive hemorrhage and bone fractures, and will be reduced to dust on the spot."

Xiao Wuyai's body tempering has come to an end, but a new problem is pressing down on him—he lacks a sparring partner of equal skill.

Lin Daochen was no match, and the old man was even less capable. Even if the two of them joined forces, they might not be able to suppress this child's sweeping attack. There were a few capable fighters within the Kunlun Sect, but if they were invited, the secret runes on Lu Wuyai's body, mixed with the aura of chaos and ancient wilderness, would likely be immediately exposed. Just as they were at their wits' end, Qingluan returned, stepping into the night.

She had lost a lot of weight, her eyes were sunken, and her face was ashen. Her left arm was severed cleanly below the elbow, leaving only half of the limb wrapped in dark red bandages.

Lin Daochen was shocked—this woman was so badly injured?

Back then, a demonic beast at the Tribulation Transcending stage fought her for three days, only to achieve a draw. What kind of being could possibly drive her to this point?

"Who did it?"

He rushed forward, but Qingluan only shook her head, pulled out the wine flask from her waist, tilted her head back and took a big gulp. Her Adam's apple bobbed, and her gaze fell heavily on his face, as complex as churning dark clouds.

"Ten years from now, I will personally open the road to heaven."

What does that mean?

"Tonight, I'll tell you everything I didn't finish talking about last time. But... I don't know if it's too late to say it now."

What exactly did this woman bump into?

That night, the lamplight flickered in Qingluan's room. There were two low stools, a small table, a few plates of cold dishes, and two jugs of strong liquor.

She kept chugging glass after glass, the liquor sliding down her chin and into her collar, but her eyes grew increasingly vacant.

Lin Daochen sat down closer, his gaze like a nail, piercing straight into her eyes.

"What exactly happened? Tell me, we'll face this together. I'll figure out a solution."

How can we carry it?

Qingluan suddenly chuckled softly, the sound as dry as withered branches scraping against a stone slab.

"We can't hold on. This is fate. We're just insects crawling in the mud. Taking a few more breaths is just taking a few more glimpses before we die."

"There's no solution, absolutely no solution. We can only wait, wait for ourselves to slowly rot away, disintegrate, and completely return to nothingness."

Lin Daochen was stunned.

What shocking secret lies behind this?

But she only focused on drinking, the rim of the glass touching her lips, without uttering a sound. He opened his mouth several times, but the words all stuck in his throat.

As she became increasingly tipsy and her eyes began to glaze over, Lin Daochen cleared his throat, moved to sit opposite her, leaned forward, and spoke in a low, deep voice:

"Now, things must be made clear. If we don't, nobody will live a life of clarity."

"What good will it do to tell you? It'll just give you a taste of despair ahead of time. Once the path to heaven opens, everything will be destroyed. Whether you go back or not, the result will be the same—you'll all die."

This woman's refusal to speak, even at the cost of her life, was what tormented him most. Lin Daochen grabbed her collar, his knuckles turning white.

"Damn it, just shut up already! If you keep pretending to be mute, believe me, I'll break your bones right here and now!"

"How so?... How do you want me to explain it? Standing at the end of the path to heaven is the very essence of the Heavenly Way!"

"I've fought it before—in that battle, I lost my friends, my brothers, and my parents. I was all alone, dragging this broken body all the way back."

"But the second great battle is just around the corner. What am I supposed to do? As the one who opened the gate to the Heavenly Path, I can't even hold a sword—to put it bluntly, I can only watch helplessly as you all fall before me, bleeding to death!"

Before Qingluan could finish speaking, she choked up and lost her voice, her forehead pressed against the edge of the table, her body swaying slightly, her vision blurring, and even her words trembling and incoherent.

"That is the Way of Heaven! The true Way of Heaven! You have never witnessed its ruthlessness in crushing all things!"

"We only have ten years left. When those ten years are up, a great calamity will strike, and no one will escape unscathed!"

Lin Daochen listened quietly for a while, then suddenly spoke: "Now, can you tell me the truth about the Nine Provinces Realm?"

Last time, she personally promised that as long as he helped her retrieve the Haotian Mirror, she would uncover the secrets of the Nine Provinces.

"Since you insist on hearing this, then I will tell you—the Nine Provinces was originally a fragment of a shattered world... After being nurtured for ten thousand years, it became a small world of its own, but it has always been without a master."

"If someone could truly take control of the Nine Provinces, perhaps there would still be a glimmer of hope to escape the bloody battle on the path to heaven. But you—can you bear that responsibility?"

"At first I believed you could do it. But after a few things happened, I realized that you are not the destined one I'm waiting for."

"Who exactly are you waiting for?" Lin Daochen pressed.

"What I'm waiting for is an unparalleled powerhouse capable of suppressing the Nine Provinces and influencing the power of the realms. Only by borrowing the power of the world's origin can we dare to face the Heavenly Dao. Otherwise, even if we struggle to the death, we'll only be able to postpone the end of the world by a few steps... just like last time."

"Last time? Which time?" Lin Daochen immediately pressed.

"What exactly happened on the battlefield last time? Tell me clearly! If you don't, I won't even be able to catch a glimpse of the enemy, how am I supposed to survive?"

Qingluan sighed and finally took out the Haotian Mirror.

"It's fine to show you—you'll find out sooner or later anyway."

The mirror suddenly shone brightly, and countless fragmented images flooded into the sea of ​​consciousness like a tidal wave.

At that time, countless cultivators defied the heavens and fought against fate, and prodigies roared to the sky as they ascended the steps. But of those who returned alive, less than one in ten survived; the entire continent was torn to pieces by the aftershocks, mountains and rivers turned to dust, and the seas became scorched earth.

The geniuses gave it their all, burning their souls and exploding their bodies, but ultimately they were defeated by that indifferent giant face in the sky.

Three years of fierce fighting left mountains of corpses in the outer heavens; new heroes rose up, bathing in blood to become gods.

But before the laws of Heaven, even the strongest god is but a speck of dust.

Lin Daochen closed his eyes for a long time, his mind churning—those fragments of memory were completely contrary to what he knew in his heart: ascension was not the way home, but a deception.

But now I realize that what I know is only the tip of the iceberg, with fragments scattered everywhere, unable to piece together the whole picture.

"You only see these things... but do you know what Heaven truly intends to do?"

"I'm just a mortal, how could I possibly fathom its schemes? All I know is—our days are numbered!"

Asking any further would be futile.