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

In an instant, the fragment of the Heaven-Turning Seal erupted with a thunderous roar! A piece of obscure ancient text was branded into his mind—each word like golden seal script, each sentence containing a spark of fire, it was the long-lost "True Secret of Reforging", which specifically describes how to use the divine as fuel and the body as a furnace to recreate the true form of the magic weapon.

A blazing light flashed in Lin Daochen's eyes. It turned out this seal had never died; it had merely slumbered, awaiting awakening. It contained not only power, but also another path to heaven.

Without hesitation, he immediately sent the fragment back to his dantian and nurtured it with the fire of his heart. In a moment, the seal stone roared again, and the ancient text surged like living water, unfolding into a diagram in his sea of ​​consciousness—the timing of the refining process, the time of the ritual, and the secrets to attracting the spirit were all clearly revealed.

Lin Daochen engraved this passage deep into his soul. He knew that this was the second ticket that fate had offered. Only by reforging the Heaven-Turning Seal could he awaken its dormant essence, allowing this world-shaking treasure to truly awaken and unleash its power to tear apart the heavens.

But he also knew that reforging a magical artifact was not as easy as drawing talismans behind closed doors; he needed to find rare and precious materials strong enough to bear its will. Lin Daochen clenched his fists, turned around, and embarked on the journey to find the materials. This trip was not for fame, but only to reignite the Heaven-Turning Seal's flames that had crushed countless ages.

He stood on the crater's edge, lava surging like a dragon beneath his feet, crimson flames licking his cold, handsome profile. He breathed slowly, his chest rising and falling, his gaze sharp as a knife, cleaving through the billowing smoke and smoke, piercing into the distance. This was no ordinary trial, but an expedition to defy the heavens. The road ahead was shrouded in mist, its fate uncertain, but he had long since disregarded life and death, seeking only to have the Heavenly Seal shine once more brightly in the nine heavens.

Among the precious materials for refining artifacts stored in the Guanghan Palace, he immediately took a liking to a piece of black gold—its entire body was dark, yet it seemed to contain star marrow; its aura was restrained but not lifeless, as if the entire night sky had been incorporated into this piece of metal. Lin Daochen's heart warmed, and he immediately made the decision: Use it! Temper it with the Heaven-Turning Seal, forge its bones, and temper its soul.

He chose a secluded, quiet room, arranged everything, and immersed his mind in the ancient scripture's structure. Within his dantian, the fragments of the Heaven-Turning Seal slowly swirled, gleaming with an unfathomable dark light. With a light touch of his fingertips, the scripture materialized into invisible threads, quietly binding the black gold.

Five-colored true fire roared up inside the room, its flames moving fluidly as if leaping into the air. His ten fingers flew, drawing brilliant, shimmering runes that enveloped the black gold layer by layer. The void trembled, energy surged like a tidal wave, and the black gold crumbled inch by inch within the runic fire, its dormant, violent power finally forced out. Ordinary cultivators would be horrified at this sight—this kind of refining method has always been forbidden territory for weapon refiners, requiring primordial fire seeds like the Earth Core Flame Marrow or the Nine Yang True Fire.

Lin Daochen, however, defied convention. He used the chaotic power fed back from the fragments of the Heaven-Turning Seal, employing his own body as a furnace and his divine power as a guide, to forge a new path. The temperature in the secret chamber rose steadily, the firelight reflecting on his face, sweat instantly evaporating before it even fell, but his eyes shone with an astonishing brightness, calm as an abyss, and blazing as the sun.

He was completely absorbed, oblivious to day and night. Five days and nights passed, and the black gold was finally formed. It was no longer the solid ore it had been before, but rather a body with flowing, liquid-like dark gold patterns, and with each breath, it seemed as if mountains were collapsing.

Lin Daochen held the black gold in his palm, and the smile that had just appeared on his lips was frozen again—the moment he embedded it into the base of the Heaven-Turning Seal, a blank rune domain suddenly appeared on the inside of the base, so empty that it made one's heart tremble.

His brows furrowed slightly, his fingertips hovering in mid-air. The Heaven-Turning Seal had accompanied him through life-or-death ordeals, but now it had suddenly undergone a strange change, like an old friend suddenly forgetting their old promise. He remained silent for a moment, then slowly exhaled a breath of stale air, exerting force in his palm and pressing down steadily.

Almost simultaneously, the situation outside the Blood Palace changed drastically. The seven sage corpses opened their eyes without warning, their pupils devoid of warmth, only filled with seven distinct divine radiances that swirled endlessly. They rose and formed a battle array, their feet treading on blood-red patterns, immovable as mountains, yet already woven into a defensive formation spanning the heavens and earth.

The starry sky roared as divine robes descended from the heavens, their brilliance exploding into seven dazzling stars, steadily hovering above the Blood Palace—the Seven Star Array was complete! A holy and vast aura poured forth like a tsunami, gently and unshakeably embracing the entire Blood Palace. Lin Daochen's refining was like a pebble thrown into the lake of destiny, its ripples spreading thousands of miles away.

The news swept into Guang'an Palace like a blood-red wind. The disciples in the palace burst out of the air, looked up at the sky, and their expressions changed drastically.

"What... what kind of formation is this? Could it be a hidden plan laid by Ancestor Guang'an?" one person asked in a tense voice.

"Seven stars descend upon the Blood Palace... an unprecedented phenomenon. Whom is the Blood Palace responding to?" The other person narrowed his eyes, his Adam's apple bobbing.

Although Lin Daochen remained in seclusion, he had already felt a slight tremor in his dantian, as if in response. A slight smile appeared on his lips—the Blood Palace's fortune had indeed risen because of him.

Outside the hall, the seven sages were enveloped in a surge of crimson light, with countless scarlet divine chains bursting forth from their spines, crisscrossing and weaving a giant net covering thousands of miles. A thick, pungent stench of blood permeated the air, condensing and refusing to dissipate, transforming into seven rotating crimson star rings that dyed the entire sky a poignant crimson.

The temple's patriarchs slumped on the high platform, their faces ashen, breathing heavily. The scene before them was beyond their comprehension. They wanted to be angry, but couldn't even lift a finger; they wanted to escape, but found even their divine senses were pinned to the spot by the blood chains. In that instant, the fear didn't come from death, but from a chilling realization—those seven blood chains weren't a barrier at all, but… chains. Locking up the Blood Temple, and locking them up as well.

Long Xiuyang hovered above the nine heavens, his gaze sharp as a blade, coldly sweeping over the strange phenomena of the Blood Palace below, yet his heart skipped a beat. The seven corpses of sages who should have slept for eternity had all opened their eyes, their auras surging like a tsunami, a heavy pressure striking his heart, making his fingertips feel slightly cold—this was not the awakening of sages; it was clearly a crack opening in the abyss.

Outside the Blood Palace, the temple's patriarchs were desperately scrambling for the corpses, but the moment they touched the hem of their robes, a crimson light suddenly erupted! Seven divine chains coiled around them like living snakes, their scales menacing and blood-red veins blazing. The moment they locked onto them, they acted like marrow-sucking poisons, frantically devouring their life essence and spirit. The two patriarchs instantly turned ashen-faced, their lips bluish-green, their pupils reflecting their rapidly withering reflections.

"Damn it! This chain... is devouring lives!" an old ancestor hissed, his wrist veins bulging, yet he could barely move an inch.

Before the words were finished, the sky suddenly rippled like water, and an ethereal voice emerged from nothingness, as soft as a sigh and as heavy as thunder. Everyone looked up and saw the blood-red starry river surging endlessly, and the seven corpses all raised their heads, their empty eye sockets facing the sky.

At that very moment, deep within the crimson light, one person stood in mid-air—clad in white, with an air of arrogance between his brows; another person stood quietly beside him, hands clasped behind his back, draped in a black robe, his aura as deep as an abyss, making it impossible to fathom his depths at a glance.

Mo Wuyan's gaze slowly swept over the ancestors, his eyes seemingly able to peel away their skin and reveal their true nature; Zhang Yang stood with his eyes lowered, his expression as indifferent as an ancient well, neither bowing his head nor observing from the sidelines, but standing like a mountain amidst the wind and thunder.

"Mo...Mo Wuyan?!" An old ancestor's throat bobbed, his voice trembling.

"It's him!" another person gasped. "And who is that boy?"

Everyone was deeply shocked. The name Mo Wuyan had always existed only in fragments of ancient books and secret scrolls—legend has it that he drank Kunlun snow with the first sage and slew the chaotic beast together; for thousands of years, countless cultivators have spent their entire lives searching for his whereabouts, but have not even found a single white hair of his.

Mo Wuyan spoke, his voice resounding like a bell: "The Seven Star Blood Chains are beyond your control. Having touched them, you must bear the backlash. This is not punishment, but destiny returning to its rightful place."

The patriarchs felt a chill run down their spines, their inner shirts soaked with cold sweat. The legendary being, whose name they had only heard but whose form they had never seen, had actually come stepping on a cloud of blood, not to save the world, but to awaken it.

"What you've been stealing has never been the remains of saints." His tone was calm, yet every word was like a knife. "They are the remains of seven sealed great demons. Blood Chain Town doesn't suppress corpses, it suppresses madness."

"A great demon?!" The ancestors turned pale and staggered backward.

Mo Wuyan nodded, saying nothing more. Zhang Yang suddenly raised his eyes, his gaze piercing like an icicle: "No need to ask any more questions. Now, let's go."

The crowd fell silent, bowed deeply, and turned to leave, their steps heavy as if carrying a thousand pounds. In their departing figures, there was reverence, but also the weariness of surviving a calamity.

But just as the last vestige of the robe was about to disappear through the palace gates—BOOM!!!

The outer walls of the Blood Palace crumbled like paper, and seven corpses exploded simultaneously into a cloud of blood mist, the stench filling the air. A colossal shadow rose from the mist: its horns tore through the clouds, its bone claws ripped through the sky, and its vertical pupils burned with eerie green flames. Its entire body churned with malevolent energy, as if it wanted to crush the entire divine city into dust.

"They came too fast." Mo Wuyan frowned slightly, his sleeves fluttering even though there was no wind.

Almost simultaneously, the seven blood chains disintegrated into billions of crimson stars, pouring down like rain, weaving a blood-red net that blotted out the sky, trapping the demonic shadow firmly in the center.

As the crisis in the divine city worsened, a sage suddenly appeared. The news spread like thunder through the long street, and the patriarchs of all the clans rushed out to greet him. The patriarch of the Ouyang family crawled three steps on his knees, his forehead touching the ground, his voice choked with emotion: "Sage above! The divine city is on the verge of collapse, please have mercy and lend a helping hand!"

The other elders knelt down, foreheads touching the ground, palms pressed to the dust, their piety bordering on humility. They knew in their hearts that if this person hadn't intervened today, the divine city would be nothing but ruins tomorrow.

Only Long Xiuyang stood at the edge of the crowd, his back as straight as a pine tree, his gaze like that of a hawk sweeping across the bowed faces, finally settling on that one person—Mo Wuyan. A stranger who appeared out of nowhere, yet commanded the venerable elders of the hall to bow their heads in submission. The moment that name struck his ears, his knuckles subtly tightened.

"Mo Wuyan?" His voice was low and hoarse, like sand grinding against iron, which drew the attention of all the elders around him.

Mo Wuyan's lips curled slightly, but the smile didn't reach his eyes: "Long Xiuyang, you haven't forgotten me after all."

"Who are you?" Long Xiuyang didn't move an inch, his gaze sharp as a blade. "Why are you staring at me like I'm an enemy?"

Mo Wuyan's gaze swept lightly across Long Xiuyang's face, a slight smile playing on his lips: "There are too many things I've remembered, but it's not time to settle our old scores yet."

Long Xiuyang's heart was churning with turmoil. Mo Wuyan's sudden appearance was like a thorn in his throat. But the Divine City was in grave danger, so he had no choice but to swallow his suspicions and suppress them for the time being.

That ancient, desolate voice descended from the heavens, causing the mountains and rivers of the small world to tremble slightly: "I am one of the ancient sages, summoned here. But the gravity of this calamity cannot be averted by the power of one person alone."

The faces of the patriarchs instantly darkened. They already knew that the appearance of a sage was a once-in-a-millennium opportunity, yet they still couldn't help but clench their fists, hoping that the legendary sword could cleave through the deadlock.