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

The thought was extinguished as soon as it arose. He couldn't care less about the future right now; he only wanted the most stable foundation and the deepest reserves!

With a thought, all the abundant spiritual power within his dantian poured out, instantly condensing into a second golden core!

As soon as the second pill took shape, it began to buzz as if about to explode—the power overflowing from the original pill far exceeded its carrying capacity.

Without hesitation, Lin Daochen channeled his spiritual energy again, and the third and fourth pills appeared one after another, but they were still trembling under the strain.

Until the fifth golden core was formed, the six golden cores finally distributed spiritual pressure evenly, and the original golden core, which was full of cracks, quietly healed and returned to its original state.

The six pills floated within his abdomen, drawing in each other and summoning spiritual energy from all directions like a dragon drawing water, spinning at high speed. Lin Daochen's eyes flashed, a golden light sweeping across them, and he abruptly stood up!

"How long has it been?"

Wang Sanpang rubbed his aching back and slid over, waving three fingers.

"Three days?"

"Three months! Brother, your seclusion has really been going on for a long time... Wait, what you're doing—"

He was about to offer his congratulations when his voice suddenly stopped—Lin Daochen was clearly still at the Golden Core stage, showing no signs of Nascent Soul transformation whatsoever!

But I clearly saw with my own eyes that the golden core had cracked and the spiritual tide was about to surge, so why was it stuck in place?

This is illogical! This is outrageous!

"Brother... you can break through whenever you want, and not break through whenever you don't want to?"

Lin Daochen was speechless for a moment, and could only nod vaguely, making up an excuse:

"Perhaps... I wasn't ready yet, and I failed to break through."

Can a breakthrough fail?

Wang Sanpang subconsciously touched the back of his head—if he were truly going to fail, his cultivation level should have dropped and his aura should have weakened. But the old man in front of him had an aura that was deeper and sharper than before, like an ancient sword sheathed in its sheath, capable of cleaving him in two with the slightest touch!

Unable to figure it out, he simply shook his head: "Forget it, we're in the same boat anyway. The stronger this old guy is, the greater my chances of survival."

After all, we've only just stepped into the second floor of the Exquisite Pagoda, which has a total of seven floors.

"When will we make it to the next level?"

Wang Sanpang asked in a low voice, but Lin Daochen had already stepped onto the steps—he quickened his pace, his brow furrowed, and his expression became serious, as if he had encountered something unusual.

This section of the staircase was completely different from the previous one; thick, black mist swirled around it, cold and sticky, coiling and twisting as if it were alive. This was the entrance to the next level, and also the first silent warning.

The two held their breath as they climbed the steps, each step extremely light, even their breathing deliberately slowed, for fear of disturbing anything.

The third level suddenly unfolds into a vast plain, with lush green grass undulating endlessly, and tender stems and leaves densely covering the entire space.

Lin Daochen stood in the center of the meadow, with no sun or moon overhead, yet a soft light permeated the air—it was the grass itself emitting a faint, emerald glow, like fireflies weaving a net, casting a cool and eerie light all around.

Upon seeing the grass, Wang Sanpang's face turned deathly pale, his eyes nearly popping out of their sockets: "Forget-Me-Not Grass... How can Forget-Me-Not Grass grow here? And it stretches as far as the eye can see! Old man! Quick! Dig up a few and take them back—"

Before he could finish speaking, Lin Daochen coldly shouted, "Don't touch it! Come with me right now!"

"What happened?"

Although Wang Sanpang was completely bewildered, he instinctively followed. At this moment, Lin Daochen's gaze was like a knife, sweeping over every inch of the ground—the grass seemed to grow randomly, but in fact it contained hidden secrets: the tips of each blade of grass were perfectly embedded in the positions of the Big Dipper; and several clumps were rooted on the five elements and eight trigrams engravings that appeared on the ground.

This place appears peaceful on the surface, but it is actually a deadly trap. One wrong step and you will be pierced by a thousand blades and your soul will be scattered.

Lin Daochen reached into his storage bag, grabbed a handful of soybeans, and tossed them diagonally forward.

In an instant, the beans landed and created a gust of wind, transforming into dozens of snow-white rabbit shadows that scattered and fled in all directions, nimble and swift.

"It's just turning beans into soldiers, don't panic."

Scattering beans to create soldiers is "not enough"?!

Wang Sanpang's throat tightened, and his mind buzzed—this old guy's skills were getting more and more overwhelming, making him see stars.

But before he could recover, his horror suddenly escalated.

The rabbits had only darted about ten steps when they exploded as if struck by an invisible noose! Blood mist burst forth, limbs flew everywhere, and in the blink of an eye, they were all swept up and dragged by the roots of the forget-me-not, swallowed up into the depths of the soil.

Wang Sanpang swallowed hard, his back teeth chattering.

This test tested their foundation in array formations. Fortunately, Lin Daochen was sharp-eyed and meticulous, and through step-by-step deduction, he finally led Wang Sanpang safely through to the entrance of the fourth level—the end of that deep staircase, where the black mist was even thicker, churning like an ink tide.

Lin Daochen's brows were furrowed tightly, his fingertips slightly cold. The unknown darkness was always more agonizing than open warfare.

Just as they were hesitating, a clear, melodious bell suddenly rang out from the depths of the black mist, followed by a burst of bright red light that was so dazzling and intense that it was impossible to open one's eyes.

The red light grew brighter, and the black mist thinned. About two minutes later, the light faded and the mist dissipated—a huge, chilling ice coffin lay before them.

Lin Daochen tensed up, wary, and dared not approach rashly. But Wang Sanpang paid no heed to this, rushing forward before him, his head almost touching the coffin lid, and blurting out in alarm:

"Old man, look! There's a stunning beauty lying inside!"

His eyes shone brightly, his face was full of excitement, and he wished he could squeeze his face into the crack of the coffin to get a clear look.

A beauty? How could a beauty suddenly appear in this godforsaken place?

Before the words were finished, a red light flared up again from within the ice coffin, its intense rays like needles piercing the eyes. Everyone closed their eyes for a moment, and when they opened them again—the coffin was empty, only the chilling frost remained.

Wang Sanpang took three steps back, tripped on the steps, and fell down on his backside, scrambling back behind Lin Daochen.

"Brave cultivators, welcome to the fourth level of the trial—I am the guardian spirit of this level, Mirror Heart Demon."

A melodious, captivating voice rang out from behind him, making Wang Sanpang's hair stand on end. He drew his short dagger from his waist with a "whoosh".

Lin Daochen suddenly turned around—a woman in red with white hair was suspended in mid-air, her eyes like spring water, her lips like vermilion, and her gaze seemed to be able to erode the soul.

When Wang Sanpang saw her face clearly, he exclaimed in disbelief, "You...you weren't just lying in the coffin?!"

The Mirror Demon drifted closer, extended her slender fingers, and gently pinched his chubby cheek, her smile languid: "Little fatty, I was just taking a nap, how could I be dead?"

With that pinch, Wang Sanpang's heart skipped a beat, and his ears burned.

Lin Daochen's gaze darkened—only then did he realize that her feet were three inches off the ground, floating without falling; upon closer examination of her aura, it was as bottomless as an abyss, and he could not discern even a trace of her cultivation.

The Mirror Demon floated lightly onto the coffin lid, her skirts unmoved, and she sat down.

"Fellow cultivators of exceptional courage, this trial is merely an unspoken test—if you pass it, I will release you immediately; if you stumble..." She flicked her finger, and crimson mist swirled in her palm, "your souls will be at my command."

Before she finished speaking, the corners of her lips lifted slightly, a smile as red as vermilion, both alluring and sharp.

"Come on! Fatty, it's your turn!" Lin Daochen clenched his fist and turned to the side, shouting.

Wang Sanpang shook his head nonchalantly: "What trouble can a woman cause? Bring it on, I can't wait!"

Lin Daochen silently shook his head, his Adam's apple bobbing slightly—this nonchalant attitude made his heart sink. He had a premonition that this was no child's play; the more arrogant the fat man was, the harsher the knife he would be stabbed later.

"The trial begins!" Mirror Demon's voice was like an icy spring striking jade, clear and resonant. In an instant, thick red mist surged from the four walls, engulfing the two like living things. Lin Daochen shouted sharply, "Wang Sanpang, don't be overconfident! This trial is far more dangerous than you imagine!"

He knew perfectly well that this test was a test of his mental fortitude. When he first saw this woman, his name sounded familiar; it wasn't until the red mist spread that he suddenly remembered—the Mirror Heart Demon who had fallen into a love affair and torn apart her divine status during the war of punishment was none other than this beautiful woman before him.

He was deathly silent all around, with only the sound of his own heavy breathing hitting his eardrums. He tentatively called out, "Fatty? Fatty—where are you?"

No one answered.

Oh no, the person is missing.

Suddenly, a burst of golden light exploded overhead! After the light dissipated, an ancient mirror appeared suspended in mid-air, its image crystal clear—it was none other than the vanished Wang Sanpang!

"Fatty!" Lin Daochen was about to rush forward when his feet were suddenly caught by black thorns that burst out of the ground. The roots were like iron chains, cutting into his flesh inch by inch, making him unable to move.

At this moment, the Mirror Demon was lazily floating above the churning red mist, watching Wang Sanpang's struggle in the mirror with great interest. But when her gaze swept down to Lin Daochen, who was bound below, her captivating eyes suddenly narrowed, and then a meaningful smile curved her lips.

She floated down silently, nestled against Lin Daochen's back, her slender fingers encircling his waist, her warm breath brushing against the back of his ear: "Strange... how come you didn't get infected?"

Lin Daochen's face was ashen, he remained silent, his gaze fixed on the void ahead.

Jingxin's eyes flashed, her curiosity piqued. Her fingertips slowly traced the fabric of his clothes, as if trying to dissect the surface and find the root of the anomaly.

The moment her fingertips touched his left chest, her lips parted sharply, almost reaching her ears: "Ha—I found it!"

But that smile froze instantly, her brows furrowed slightly, and her voice carried a hint of confusion: "Huh? You... don't even have a trace of love?"

Before he could finish speaking, Wang Sanpang in the mirror suddenly roared, as if he were going mad. Lin Daochen's heart tightened, and he could no longer ask any questions—at this moment, the thorns under his feet were closing in tighter and tighter, and the mirror above his head was reflecting the bulging veins on his forehead.

The Mirror Demon chuckled lightly: "Since you're so heartless, then taste the pain."

The red mist rushed in again, but it was completely different—it had previously carried a sweet, fishy smell, but now it reeked of rust, making one's throat tighten and the world spin. Lin Daochen's vision went black, and when he opened his eyes again, he was plunged into a thick, indistinct blackness.

Wang Sanpang in the mirror is also mired in the quagmire.

This fog specifically targets the most burning obsessions in people's hearts—love, grief, resentment, and infatuation all become its fuse.

At this moment, Wang Sanpang is staggering through his old dreams, returning to that night that is etched into his very bones.

That night, his father smashed a teacup and scolded him for being "useless." He stormed out of the house and bumped into the woman singing "Broken Bridge" in the market, which was brightly lit by lanterns.

He knew perfectly well that she was an actress. Yet his heart wouldn't obey, sinking deeper and deeper into her. And when she looked at him, her eyes always held a hint of warmth. The two of them continued their back-and-forth, growing closer and deeper, sinking deeper and deeper—ultimately becoming the most stubborn obstacle in his heart.

Those who cultivate the Dao must be wary of worldly thoughts, and the slightest tremor in his mind was immediately noticed by his father. Right before his eyes, his father spent a fortune to buy the woman—killing and killing were commonplace here, like drinking tea or eating a meal. To help him sever his mental obstacles and rebuild his Dao heart, his father actually forced him to end the woman's life with his own hands.

This became the deepest mark on his heart. Wang Sanpang dared not disobey and could only watch helplessly as the blade fell, his whole body stiff and cold, unable to even lift his fingertips.

Seeing him curled up on the ground, his face ashen, Lin Daochen felt a burning rage in his heart. He knew all too well the methods of the Mirror Heart Demon—if he couldn't break free, he would be forever trapped in this bloody old dream, unable to extricate himself.

"Fatty, you'll have to get through this on your own."

Before the words were even finished, Mirror Demon's laughter lingered in her ears, like honey wrapped around an icy blade: "Your own life hangs by a thread, and you still have the leisure to worry about others?"

Lin Daochen looked around but could not see its form. He knew that he could not force his way through this fourth illusion. Only by illuminating his own mind could he have a chance of survival.

"If you've got the guts, bring it on!"

Upon hearing this, she threw her head back and laughed loudly, her voice booming through the air: "Fine! As you wish!"

In an instant, a door appeared ahead, its entire body gleaming with a cold white light. Lin Daochen carefully examined it, finding no hidden killing intent, and stepped forward. The moment his hand touched the door, his vision blurred—behind the door stood a person identical to him.

Lin Daochen's pupils contracted sharply, and he gritted his teeth, telling himself: It's fake, it's all an illusion. But the clearer his mind became, the more clearly he could feel the despair, confusion, and tearing anguish surging in the chest of the person opposite him.

Suddenly, "Lin Daochen" covered his face and wept bitterly, his voice hoarse and broken: "I have already reached the pinnacle of the Dao, why must you force me to go further? At the end of the road ahead, is it emptiness or death? Who will tell me?!"

Lin Daochen's mind exploded—these words were like a blunt knife, scraping his most hidden weakness.