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

The Long family cultivator gritted his teeth, a metallic taste rising in his throat, yet he still desperately urged his Dragon Essence forward. But the excruciating pain between his brows not only didn't lessen, but instead surged like a tidal wave, relentlessly crushing his consciousness. Just as his breath hitched, Lin Daochen moved—his palm strike, as sharp as a cleaving mountain, pierced straight into his chest.

The palm struck silently, yet the man collapsed to his knees with a thud. A deep, bone-revealing gash opened between his brows, and grayish-white brain matter mixed with blood splattered three feet wide. A scream was caught in his throat, leaving only a hoarse whimper. Waves of blood splashed out, spreading a glaring crimson across the bluestone ground.

The Wang family cultivator felt his hair stand on end, staggering back several steps until his heel collided with the shoulder of the still-warm corpse of the Long family cultivator. Just as he was about to regain his balance, he suddenly saw a black line tear through the air out of the corner of his eye—a chill ran down his spine and his neck felt cold. The next instant, he was sent flying as if swung by a giant hammer, his vision spinning, the eaves, tiles, and signs on the street all blurred into indistinct patches of color.

He desperately tried to stop, but his body wouldn't obey him; instead, it surged forward even faster. Lin Daochen's figure rapidly shrank at the edge of his vision, while he himself was being dragged away from the battlefield by a brute force. Immediately afterward, a sharp, stabbing pain shot through his neck, followed by a sharp, cracking sound in his ears—he saw his head thrown high into the air, his eyes still wide open; his torso continued its mad dash until it crashed into a stone wall and collapsed, hot blood splattering all over the wall.

Experts from the Liu, Wang, and Long families arrived almost simultaneously, the weakest being at the peak of the Transcendent Realm, with two white-haired elders riding on clouds to press in. But they only had time to see three headless corpses lying askew on the ground before Lin Daochen had already sheathed his sword, his fingertips holding three bulging storage bags, his clothes unstained by a single drop of blood.

Lin Daochen didn't care about their fear and resentment before they died. He only had one thing on his mind—the Divine City was like a tiger's mouth, every step fraught with danger.

He stepped forward, his boot crushing half a withered leaf beneath his foot, his gait steady as iron. Behind him, cultivators from the Long, Wang, and Liu families lay scattered in pools of blood, their former arrogance now solidified into a dark crimson. He had already pocketed the three heads; the wind swept through the long street, leaving only the thick, lingering smell of rust.

He had anticipated the dangers of the Divine City. The moment he stepped through the south gate, he sensed a murderous aura emanating from it. The Wang family's wanted posters were plastered all over the market and restaurants, and spies from various powerful families were constantly on his heels. He dared not linger; every step he took was a knife's edge.

The alleyways were teeming with people, their gazes like thorns in his back. He moved as lightly as a cat treading on roof tiles, his shadow barely flickering as he passed the base of the wall. But the city was too vast, and the eyes too numerous; it was impossible to hide someone being watched by the entire city.

Suddenly—a dragon's roar ripped through the sky! Five golden beams of light swooped down from the heavens, tearing through the air with a piercing shriek. The elder at the head grinned maliciously, but the smile didn't reach his eyes as his hand stealthily reached for the talisman pouch at his waist—he wanted to wait for reinforcements to surround him before making his move. The other four had blazing golden scales branded on their chests, each dragon shape gleaming with a cold, tempered light.

The old man was the first to leap up, his Azure Axe cleaving through the air currents, whipping up howling gales, his roar shaking the rubble: "Capture Lin Daochen, and reward him with a thousand spirit crystals if he lives!" The four Golden Scale cultivators attacked simultaneously: sword light flashed like lightning, dragon flames cascaded like waterfalls, and amidst the flurry of hand gestures, thunderclouds surged, the five powerful forces fiercely annihilating, causing the heavens and earth to change color.

Lin Daochen's breathing became slightly heavy, his divine sense already detecting several more streaks of light hurtling towards him from afar. With a flick of his sleeve, his figure vanished in an instant, his green axe grazing his ear as it cleaved into the ground, sending shards of stone flying. He drew his sword in a backhand motion, the blade tracing seven silver arcs as he met the killing attacks from all directions.

The flying sword hummed and pierced the air, dragon flames surged and churned, and the aftershocks of the divine power overturned the stalls along the entire street... His body moved like a fish, sometimes gliding close to the ground, sometimes twisting in mid-air, the tip of his sword pointing at every opening. The sword's momentum was like a torrential rain smashing against a window, or a thunderclap splitting a mountain, so fast that only afterimages remained, and so accurate that not a millimeter was missed.

The old man's pupils constricted, and a chill ran down his spine. Lin Daochen, who was wanted throughout the region, remained calm and composed even when surrounded and attacked by five top experts from the Long family, without even the hem of his clothes being ruffled. Alarm bells rang in his heart, his jaw clenched, the spiritual patterns in his sleeves surged, and he personally soared into the air.

Lin Daochen's brows furrowed slightly, his sword intent suddenly solidifying into a tangible form, a cold light shooting three feet away. In the distance, the sound of air being torn apart rose and fell, figures moving about. His eyes darkened: This cannot be delayed any longer.

Lin Daochen's gaze swept over the four staggering retreating cultivators, and an invisible mountain seemed to press down on them, making their throats tighten and their breaths catch. His voice wasn't loud, but each word was like an ice pick piercing the ground: "Still fighting?"

The four men froze, their hearts gripped by iron clamps, cold sweat instantly soaking their backs—there was no murderous intent in their eyes, only a deathly indifference, as if they were already corpses.

Before he could finish speaking, his palm strike arrived. Without using any magical artifacts or spiritual techniques, the blow was as powerful as a mountain collapsing and shattering, striking the nearest old man in the chest. The man didn't even have time to scream before his body exploded into a cloud of blood and gore, the stench filling the air. The surrounding cultivators all staggered back half a step, their faces deathly pale.

The remaining four experts at the ninth level of the Transcendent Realm stood frozen in place, their fingertips trembling and their knees buckling. Lin Daochen bent down to pick up the scattered storage rings, his robes fluttering as he rose, approaching step by step, his voice low and hoarse: "Still want to fight?"

The four men's Adam's apples bobbed, their throats so dry they couldn't utter a sound. What stood before them weren't cultivators at all; they were clearly Asuras who had trodden upon corpses!

That gaze was so cold it could freeze one's soul; that aura was so heavy it made one's knees go weak and one only wanted to kneel down.

Just as the stalemate was at its peak, a long howl ripped through the sky—the Liu family patriarch arrived on a cloud, his voice shaking the surrounding peaks. Dozens of streaks of light followed closely behind, whistling through the air. The patriarch wore a confident expression, waiting for reinforcements to surround him and trap him like a turtle in a jar.

At the same moment, the two powerful members of the Long family had their eyes wide with rage, their true essence surging through their meridians as they fiercely activated their natal flying swords. The sword light was as fast as lightning, aiming straight for Lin Daochen's throat! Lin Daochen's lips curled up slightly, his body remained still, but his eyes were already burning with fighting spirit.

The Liu family patriarch stood on the high cliff, his robes fluttering, and roared like thunder: "Hold him back tightly! Wait for me to arrive in person!" Dozens of people responded with a loud shout, their spiritual light exploding and their killing intent soaring into the sky. The entire divine city instantly boiled over—nearly a hundred Transcendent Realm experts moved at the sound of the wind, and a storm was brewing.

A fierce wind whipped up pebbles, howling and surging across the rugged mountain ridge. Lin Daochen, his black robes billowing, stood atop the summit, his long sword hanging low, its tip trembling slightly, reflecting the sky like a sliver of cold star. Amidst the flying black hair, his eyes were deep and sharp, calm as an ancient well, yet concealing a hidden thunderbolt.

Three cultivators from the Long family stood side by side, their killing intent condensing into frost and mist, causing the rocks beneath their feet to crack inch by inch—they were the elite of the Long family's elite.

Lin Daochen suddenly smiled, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. He didn't use any magic weapons or activate any array patterns; he simply took a step, and his figure became a blur.

"Come." He spoke softly, yet his words were like the low growl of a tiger, locking onto his prey.

The leader grinned and launched a fierce attack, his palms outstretched, his true essence roaring into two angry dragons, their claws tearing through the air. Lin Daochen neither dodged nor evaded, but instead struck down with his palm, the force of his palm like a guillotine severing the dragon's head. The remaining force swept across, sword energy bursting from his fingertips, instantly severing the man at the waist, blood raining down on the mountain rocks.

"One move." He said calmly, as if he were merely brushing a speck of dust off his shoulder.

The second man roared and swung his sword, its blade flashing three zhang (approximately 10 meters). Lin Daochen charged forward, his shoulder striking like a bell, the muffled thud deafening. The opponent's chest caved in, and he flew backward, blood tracing a mournful arc in the air.

Before three breaths had passed, the two had already transformed into two wisps of crimson mist. Lin Daochen opened his palm, cradling a still-beating heart, his gaze cold and unwavering. He continued his advance, closing in on the third person.

The man's throat bobbed as he roared and thrust his spear forward, the tip humming and vibrating. Lin Daochen sidestepped, his shoulder sinking as he slammed into the spear shaft. The force exploded, and the man crashed into the pile of rocks like a kite with a broken string, breaking several of his ribs.

"How...how dare you not use your magic weapon?!" He coughed up blood, looked up and screamed, his face full of disbelief.

Lin Daochen looked down silently, without uttering a word. In this cultivation world where magical artifacts reign supreme, he crushed three fierce generals of the Long family with his own flesh and blood, by the slightest margin—what was more terrifying than magical treasures was that absolute control.

Just as the man closed his eyes in despair, a golden light tore through the wind barrier, descending with overwhelming pressure. Golden robes fluttered, beard and hair like spears—the Liu family patriarch had arrived. The Long family's sworn enemy, having heard of the battle, came immediately.

"Boy, how dare you shatter the restrictions of my Liu family's mountain gate!" The Liu family patriarch roared like thunder, golden light exploded, and a giant hand that blotted out the sky suddenly condensed, carrying immense force, and crushed down on Lin Daochen.

Lin Daochen's eyes turned cold. He slashed his sword diagonally, and a bright sword aura shot through the air, slamming into the golden palm—BOOM! The air surged, rocks flew everywhere, and the entire cliff trembled. This was no mere sparring; it was a life-or-death struggle! The oppressive force surging from the golden palm seemed capable of melting gold and splitting mountains; a slight misstep would reduce flesh and bone to ashes.

"So you're the Liu family patriarch?" Lin Daochen's voice was deep, yet every word was sharp as a blade, his eyes burning with undisguised fighting spirit.

The Liu family patriarch sneered, "That's right! You callow brat, how dare you massacre my Liu family's gates! Today, I'll offer your head as a sacrifice to my family!"

Before he finished speaking, he clenched his fist, and golden light surged forth, unleashing a blade of light that tore through the sky! Lin Daochen touched the ground with his toes, his longsword sweeping horizontally, its light as fast as lightning, clashing head-on with the golden blade—clang! Sparks flew like rain, scorching the air with a hissing sound.

His movements were so fast that he was just a blur, weaving and dodging amidst the storm of golden palm strikes, neither taking them head-on nor retreating, waiting for an opening to appear. But the Liu family patriarch's moves were ruthless, his golden palms like collapsing mountains, pressing down on him again and again, determined to crush him into the ground.

The intensity of their battle shocked the entire city. Clouds churned above the divine city as cultivators leaped onto high cliffs and hovered in mid-air, their gazes fixed on the center of the battlefield.

The corpses of five powerful members of the Long family lay scattered atop the mountain, their severed limbs strewn about, their blood soaking the black rocks. Lin Daochen's clothes remained untouched by dust, his brows furrowed with a chilling killing intent.

"One person killed five experts from the Long family... This is not human, he is a reincarnation of Asura!" A rogue cultivator's Adam's apple bobbed, and his voice trembled.

"Look at the rhythm of his sword strikes—not a moment's hesitation, not an inch of feint, every strike is timed perfectly to coincide with the opponent's breath!" Another person clenched his fist, his eyes filled with shock.

As the crowd grew larger, a strange sense of dread arose in everyone's hearts: this person was not fighting, but using battle as a yardstick to measure the boundary between life and death in the world.

Suddenly, a furious roar ripped through the sky: "Halt! You've killed and stolen on my Liu family's territory, and you think you can just walk away?"

The Liu family patriarch strode forward, his body wreathed in golden flames, resembling an angry golden Buddha emerging from an ancient temple. With a flick of his sleeves, golden energy surged forth, and a giant sword three zhang long was forged out of thin air, carrying the force of a thunderbolt, aimed straight at Lin Daochen's heart!

Lin Daochen remained motionless until the sword tip pierced through the three-foot-long stream of air, then suddenly twisted his waist and turned to the side—the golden sword grazed past his clothes, raising a wisp of smoke. His hand holding the sword was as steady as a rock, the tip trembling slightly, its cold light flickering.

"Why must you press me so hard, Ancestor?" His voice was calm, yet like an undercurrent surging beneath the ice. "I am but a passerby, not one to cause trouble. Those who block my way, I will kill; those who obstruct my path, I will slay."