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

"Thump! Thump! Thump!" A series of muffled thuds echoed, and the earth trembled violently. Where dust rose, craters and ravines appeared, steep mountain ridges rose abruptly, and deep canyons meandered outwards. In just a few breaths, the plain had transformed into a rugged mountain range!

Everyone froze completely, their throats tightened, and they even forgot to breathe.

"He...he really reshaped the terrain?"

"This isn't just moving mountains and filling seas, it's creating mountains from the ground!"

The leading fire-elemental cultivator's face was ashen, veins bulging on his forehead—his mouth, which had once spewed flames, was now cracked and parched. He finally understood: Lin Daochen had never intended to leave any survivors.

Now that the road is blocked, there's no need for reasoning. Seeing the mountains rising higher and higher, peaks gradually forming, he suddenly roared to the sky: "Kill! Before he can regain his footing, chop this madman to pieces!"

"Yes! If he finishes his plan, we won't even be able to escape!"

"That spatial fluctuation just now almost severed my meridians—if it had dragged on any longer, I would have been buried in this new mountain!"

The scent of death was no longer just a legend. It lingered along the neck, licked the earlobes, making every inch of skin taut and shiny, stretching every nerve to its limit, almost breaking it.

If we wait any longer, there will only be one outcome: corpses lying among the rocks, blood staining the new peak.

Nobody wants to die. So the only option is to fight to the death.

Their eyes gleamed with murderous intent, their killing intent as sharp as a drawn blade, sending chills down one's spine.

The air around them suddenly froze, and even the wind stopped.

"Lin Daochen! Are you really going to kill us all? We have no blood feud!"

His voice was hoarse, but it couldn't hide the despair and resentment surging in his eyes. But what could he do? To retreat was to die; to stop was to die; to not fight was to die even more.

Lin Daochen remained silent. He slowly raised his hand and clenched his fist.

A sudden gust of wind arose, whipping up massive amounts of sand and gravel, howling like the wailing of ten thousand ghosts. The purple-gold longsword in his hand hummed and trembled, its blade gleaming with an intense, chilling light—as if it would sever someone's throat and decapitate them at any moment.

The cold light reflected on everyone's faces, causing their pupils to shrink sharply. Some people's legs went weak, and they turned around to run away.

The raging hurricane, like a thousand blades, howled and tore through the surrounding area, ready to sever everyone's heads in the next instant.

Lin Daochen, however, slowly rose into the air from the center of the storm, his robes fluttering, and drifted toward the group of cultivators who were discussing amongst themselves in the distance.

Every time he raised his hand and swung his sword, a head fell to the ground and rolled into the dust.

At this moment, a bizarre and poignant scene unfolded in this world—the cultivators who had just been filled with murderous intent, vowing to capture and kill Lin Daochen and cut off his head, had long since lost their ferocity, leaving only deathly paleness and shock on their faces. They were even holding their breath; how could they dare to hope for seizing treasures and gaining merit? Their only thought now was to fight with all their might to escape from Lin Daochen's clutches.

Seeing Lin Daochen grow increasingly frenzied and his eyes grow colder and fiercer, everyone was terrified. They turned to flee, but there was nowhere left to go.

His last hope was that he suddenly felt compassion and decided to let her go.

Unfortunately, this thought was crushed by reality the moment it arose. Lin Daochen's eyes were like ancient ice, chilling to the bone, as he coldly swept over the distorted faces.

His figure flickered in and out of existence in the wind, so fast that only afterimages remained—with each flash, a corpse would collapse, blood gushing from its neck.

Nerves stretched to the brink of breakage; even breath tasted metallic. Death wasn't a sword hanging over one's head, but rather the sand beneath one's feet, seeping down grain by grain.

Surrounded by mountains like a prison, escape is impossible. Hide in a crevice? He cleaves the cliff face with a single sword stroke, corpses flying everywhere. Hide behind a peak? He leaps across the clouds, taking lives with a swift backhand. Want to encircle and annihilate? The peaks obscure his view; he always manages to slip away silently in the mist or shadows, like a fish darting through waves.

The leading cultivator's temples throbbed with rage, and he laughed in fury, "What a vicious tactic! Seeing that we outnumbered him, he simply altered the landscape, turning this trial ground into his hunting ground!"

"Otherwise, how could he, alone, slaughter so wantonly? But now... he's using guerrilla tactics, we can't even touch the hem of his clothes, we can only wait to die!"

The others stood frozen in place, watching helplessly as their companions fell one by one, their hearts sinking – if this dragged on any longer, they would be terrified before they even had a chance to lift a finger.

Several attendants, their hands trembling, asked, "My lords, are you the 'Four Protectors,' the strongest fighting force here? This trial is specifically to eliminate Lin Daochen; we can't delay any longer, we must act immediately!"

The leader clenched his teeth, his cheeks twitching. How could he not know? If he hadn't planned ahead, why would he have led this group into such a dangerous place? But now, a murderous intent surged in his eyes, almost solidifying.

On the other side, Lin Daochen frowned slightly, looking puzzled.

He came here to participate in the trial, so how did he suddenly become a target of a hunt? And they even want to take his life?

Although he hadn't fully grasped the situation, he had guessed about 70-80% of it—someone must have instructed him to orchestrate this in secret. As for who the mastermind was, that remained unknown; but if he were to actually confront them, he would surely be beheaded and his soul scattered to the winds.

"This is damn weird! This place is ridiculously dangerous. What kind of ruthless character did I offend? Could it be that old immortal from Tianshan again? He's got a tough bone, but his brain isn't working properly."

He glanced at the endless stream of figures coming from all around, too lazy to waste any more time dealing with them.

First, avoid their sharp edge, use the mountain's terrain to conceal your tracks, and wait until they are exhausted and in disarray before calling them out one by one, one sword at a time, cleanly and efficiently.

Just then, the sky suddenly split open—a figure stood on the clouds, his voice like the tolling of a bell, carrying for miles, chuckling softly, as if he were savoring a good show.

The man looked down at Lin Daochen with a playful gaze, as if he were looking at an object he had personally trained for many years.

A clear, cool voice followed, unhurried and unhurried:

"Lin Daochen, oh Lin Daochen, you can never escape my grasp. No matter how far you go, I will wait for you—between us, it's more than just fate."

Before he finished speaking, a long laugh shook the rocks. Then he turned his head, his eyes like hooks, and pierced the four guardians who were on high alert.

The four individuals practiced different cultivation methods and possessed distinct auras, but they shared one thing in common: they were definitely not from Lin Daochen's school.

These men gritted their teeth, their eyes like knives, fixed on Lin Daochen, wishing they could tear him to pieces immediately. But right now, even if they wanted to, they couldn't get close to him at all.

What to do? Everyone's throat bobbed, cold sweat poured down their backs, and they all looked up at the white-robed old man in the sky.

This white-robed old man was completely different from the ones of the past.

The white-robed elders who appeared before, despite their varied appearances, always exuded an otherworldly aura, their brows gentle and kind, displaying the demeanor of immortals. But the one before them had a face ashen, high brow bones, deep-set eyes, and a murderous intent as sharp as a drawn frost blade, its chill penetrating to the bone—as if with a single thought, he could slaughter everyone on the spot, leaving half the cultivators on the mountain lying dead.

His eyes were sinister, flashing with cold light, and he suddenly roared sharply downwards:

"Fool! You're asking for it! If you don't personally kill this brat today and use his life to quell your anger, within three days, the mastermind behind it all will come here and wipe you out—along with your sect, bloodline, and lineage!"

"Listen up, you fools! Stop thinking crookedly, and don't even think about trying to tough it out!"

"If you're really looking for death, first weigh your own strength—if you're not tough enough, then obediently submit to our orders! As long as you do as we say, we'll reward you with all the riches, elixirs, and secret techniques!"

Before the words were even finished, everyone present turned pale and trembled. Who dared to provoke that being? The legendary Ziwei Emperor, who ruled the Ziwei Star Domain and established order in the heavens—that was the supreme deity who cleaved chaos and established moral order! If you offended him, you wouldn't even have time to cry out for justice before you were crushed into ashes, without even a chance to be reincarnated.

As for Lin Daochen... although strong, he is still within the realm of predictability. He is only slightly superior, not capable of deciding a person's life or death with a single move.

The answer was already obvious: the Ziwei Emperor was untouchable, so the only option was to target Lin Daochen.

"Young man, to be honest, we have no prior grudges." One of them forced a smile, but his voice was dry and tight. "But you heard it just now—that man, we really can't afford to offend him. Offending him would mean the annihilation of our entire family in an instant. Today... I'm sorry to trouble you."

Before he finished speaking, the smile on his face suddenly froze, his eyes flashed with a fierce light, and his right fist, wrapped in a shrill sound that tore through the air, slammed into Lin Daochen's face!

This strike was as powerful as a collapsing mountain, the force of the punch stinging the faces of those struck. Lin Daochen indeed found it difficult to withstand—his physical strength was not significantly greater than that of the others.

His true reliance lies in the power of the Great Dao that he has quietly comprehended. He has already gained a preliminary understanding of the laws of heaven and earth, and with just a thought, he can distort the surrounding rules and rewrite cause and effect in an instant.

Once the rules change, even the strongest punch will land in mid-air; even the fastest movement will lead to disaster. This is his trump card that allows him to dominate the competition.

"No--!"

But it was too late.

The moment the white figure in the sky uttered the word "annihilate," the crowd below, as if possessed by madmen, roared and pounced on Lin Daochen. In an instant, all sorts of immortal techniques exploded: crimson flames, azure lightning, golden blades, black miasma... dancing wildly in the sky, bizarre and grotesque, yet without any order, leaving only a suffocatingly violent aura.

These spells were not orthodox immortal techniques, but because they were imbued with the despair of desperate fugitives, they became all the more bizarre and terrifying. Streams of light darted across the mountains and fields, and anyone touched by one would have their bones broken, their soul scattered.

At that moment, they all knew in their hearts that death was their only destination.

So she stopped struggling and just stood there silently, watching Lin Daochen move like lightning among the peaks, using the surging mist to conceal his figure, striking with deadly precision, always targeting his weaknesses—in the blink of an eye, seven or eight corpses had rolled down the cliff.

For a moment, no one could stop him in the slightest. Yet even so, Lin Daochen showed no sign of backing down.

The white-robed old man in the sky grew increasingly gloomy, clearly having reached his limit.

He flicked the whisk in his hand slightly—

"Clang!"

A clear, crisp sound, neither quite a bell nor a chime, pierced the eardrums and went straight to the mind. The listener was first jolted, as if drinking the finest nectar, then felt dizzy, as if their internal organs were churning, their vision went black, and they could not even stand steadily.

This dizziness was no ordinary thing—some people had veins bulging on their foreheads and their teeth were clenched until they bled, yet they still couldn't control their bodies from swaying. They could only watch helplessly as Lin Daochen moved with ease amidst the flashing swords and clashing blades, reaping lives time and time again.

An overwhelming pressure enveloped the entire area; no one dared to raise their head, much less resist. It wasn't that they didn't want to, but that they dared not—with a flick of the whisk lay the power of life and death.

Lin Daochen also frowned, his fingertips trembling slightly.

Good heavens... this feeling is truly numbing and bloating, floating and sinking.

While others felt the end of the world was nigh, he experienced a strange clarity amidst the dizziness.