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

Lin Daochen had already broken free from the divine rings that bound him. Those divine rings were all forged by his own hands in the Blood Palace; each one was as heavy as a mountain, weighing over a thousand pounds. With the shackles gone, the pressure of two thousand pounds was relieved from his shoulders, and his whole body instantly became as light as an arrow released from a bow, rapidly expanding.

The elder's pupils shrank drastically, his face filled with astonishment, but he didn't even have time to blink—Lin Daochen had already taken a step forward, his figure tearing through the air, turning into a crimson afterimage as he rushed straight at him! This sudden change caught him off guard, and he only had time to hastily raise his arm to block.

Lin Daochen spun around like a vortex of blood, his fists, palms, and sword shadows moving so fast they were nothing but streaks of light. The Grand Elder's reaction was completely crushed, his parrying rhythm instantly collapsed, and he could only grit his teeth and endure it. "You really think you can dodge my killing move?" Lin Daochen's voice was like cold iron, his blood sword hissing through the air, accompanied by a piercing sharp sound as it slashed towards the Grand Elder's face.

The elder staggered backward, scattering gravel beneath his feet, yet he remained firmly pinned to the rhythm of the attack and defense by the blood-red sword. A trace of anxiety flashed in his eyes—Lin Daochen's offensive was like a tidal wave, dense and impenetrable, almost suffocating him.

Lin Daochen slammed his fists down onto the ground, the force of the impact creating a gust of wind that shook the earth as if struck by lightning. The Grand Elder was forced into a defensive posture, finding no opening to counterattack. The surrounding spectators gasped, their mouths agape, their eyes nearly popping out of their sockets—no one had expected the duel to turn so completely around.

Sensing something amiss, the Wang family's elite troops rushed into the arena. But Lin Daochen didn't hesitate, his pursuit like a raging fire, delivering a devastating mountain-shattering punch that slammed into the Grand Elder's chest!

The Grand Elder was sent flying backward like a kite with a broken string, crashing into three massive blue rock monuments before finally collapsing into a pile of rubble, lifeless. Lin Daochen stood atop the high cliff, his blood-red sword pointing diagonally at the ground, dripping crimson blood from its tip, like a blood-soaked Asura war god.

He stood silently in the center of the battlefield, enveloped by the vast, surging blood mist emanating from the Grand Elder. The entire world was dyed a dark crimson, so thick it seemed as if blood could drip from it; standing within it felt as if one were sinking into a boiling sea of ​​blood.

"You think you can trap me with this little bit of fog?" Lin Daochen's cold voice pierced through the blood-red curtain, clear as a knife. Before he finished speaking, he leaped into the air with his toes touching the ground, his figure disappearing in an instant, then reappearing elusively in the fog, like a phantom.

A cold glint flashed in the Grand Elder's eyes; he wouldn't give him a moment's respite. He reached into his storage ring and pulled out a blood spear, its blade gleaming with a damp, dark red sheen, as if it had just been drawn from the blood of a living being. He swung the spear horizontally, unleashing a burst of crimson light, a scarlet streak aimed straight for Lin Daochen's throat!

Lin Daochen slid sideways, his figure flickering in and out of the blood mist, like smoke and illusion. But the Grand Elder did not stop. With a flick of his wrist, a golden ancient talisman appeared in mid-air—its surface flowed with a ghostly light, faintly exuding a pressure that could tear through the void.

"Blood Spear paired with Heavenly Sensing Talisman? This is your trump card?" Lin Daochen's gaze was sharp as he coldly swept over the two weapons, already having a plan in mind.

The Grand Elder grinned maliciously: "Indeed. I've refined this spear for half a year, infusing it with my own life essence; this talisman was unearthed from the depths of an ancient tomb, said to be able to trigger the 'Heavenly Strike,' capable of destroying the heavens and the earth. Today, you will surely perish here!"

Before he could finish speaking, he bit his tongue hard, spitting a drop of scalding blood onto the talisman. Instantly, golden light burst forth, and a gigantic hand, blotting out the sky, materialized from the void, carrying immense force, and pressed down upon Lin Daochen in the mist!

Lin Daochen frowned slightly, alarm bells ringing in his mind. He swayed and deliberately sank into the depths of the blood mist, using the thick fog to conceal himself and avoid its attack.

At the same instant, the Grand Elder's Blood Spear struck again, transforming into a soul-devouring bloodline, as swift as a venomous python biting a throat! Lin Daochen, amidst the mist, moved like a fish, twisting his waist and lightly tapping his ankles, narrowly dodging the two deadly attacks.

But the elder's lips curled into a sneer, and his eyes suddenly gleamed with a sinister light—he suddenly twitched the tip of his spear, and a large amount of foul-smelling blood mist exploded out, like a net covering the sky, descending upon Lin Daochen!

A stench filled the air, but Lin Daochen remained unmoved. He arched his back and sprang forward, his figure flashing out to the side, barely dodging the barrage of deadly attacks. But the Grand Elder showed no sign of stopping, his eyes blazing with murderous intent.

"You're still too green, Lin Daochen." He sneered in a low voice, the blood spear in his hand humming and trembling, its crimson light growing stronger and more unpredictable.

Lin Daochen returned the gaze indifferently: "Your tricks are nothing special. You want to kill me? You're far from it."

Before he finished speaking, he flicked his sleeve, and a surge of powerful blood energy erupted forth. The aura within the mist suddenly deepened, becoming as heavy as lead and as sticky as glue. The Grand Elder felt a chill run down his spine, clearly sensing that the other's aura had subtly transformed.

In that instant, Lin Daochen suddenly accelerated, clinging to the Grand Elder's side like a shadow! The blood sword was drawn, its cold light flashing, and a fierce slash went straight for his neck!

The elder retreated hastily in horror, but was a beat too late—the sword's edge grazed his shoulder, his robe ripped open, flesh torn open, and a deep, bone-revealing bloodstain was clearly visible.

Lin Daochen's attacks surged like a tide, his figure transforming into a streak of crimson afterimage, swiftly weaving around the Grand Elder. The blood-red longsword hummed and trembled, trailing dozens of crimson rays that tore through the air, slashing, chopping, cutting, and thrusting, each move aimed directly at the vital points of the defense.

The Grand Elder's pupils contracted sharply. He swept and blocked with his blood-red spear, his blood mist technique surging continuously, the gray-red mist boiling as if trying to weave a barrier. But Lin Daochen was as fast as a sudden tearing sound, his force like a mountain collapsing, forcing him to retreat three steps, the tip of his spear trembling frequently, his knuckles turning white.

The battlefield was already engulfed by thick blood mist, and the blood-red light in the void exploded and then died down, as if countless setting suns were shattering in the blink of an eye. The two moved and attacked with lightning speed, leaving only afterimages and muffled sounds. The spectators held their breath and watched the light and shadows, but they were always a beat too slow. They only felt a blur before their eyes, and the outcome of the battle had changed hands repeatedly in the blink of an eye.

The fog thickened, and the crimson intensified. The Grand Elder's spear gleamed with a chilling light, its momentum like an angry dragon emerging from the abyss, pressing down relentlessly. Lin Daochen retreated step by step, his robes fluttering wildly, seemingly on the verge of collapse. The Blood Mist Technique swept across the sky, its stench piercing the throat. Within the fog, it seemed as if countless wronged souls were weeping, sending chills down one's spine, as if one had fallen into a living hell.

Lin Daochen was trapped in the fog, his vision blurred as if veiled by blood, his skin burning and itching as if fine needles were slowly piercing his veins. The Grand Elder's lips curled slightly, his eyes filled with the coldness of victory in his grasp—in this game, he had long considered Lin Daochen to be a caged beast.

But just as the spear tip was three inches from his heart, Lin Daochen's right arm suddenly exploded! Blood spurted out like a torrential rain, and his flesh tore open, but he showed no sign of weakness. Instead, he used the intense pain to burst forward and crash into the spearhead head head-on!

"A blood cultivator? How dare you take a direct hit from a Heavenly Sense attack!" The Grand Elder exclaimed in shock, his eyes surging with astonishment.

Before the explosion subsided, an extremely domineering aura of a blood cultivator erupted—his right fist, enveloped in boiling blood energy, slammed solidly into the center of the spear shaft! "Clang—!" The sound of metal clashing pierced through the clouds and mist, causing the surrounding blood mist to scatter in a flurry.

Blood spurted from the tiger's mouth, and the spear trembled violently, as if it had struck a massive iron wall, unable to advance even an inch further. He gritted his teeth and channeled all his true energy, his meridians bulging and veins popping, but the spear tip remained completely still.

Lin Daochen trembled violently, his shoulder blades feeling as if they were about to shatter, yet his fists swung with increasing ferocity—a second punch! A third punch! The wind from his punches whipped up swirling vortexes of blood mist, each strike like a heavy hammer pounding on the heart. His fists tore open, flesh ripped and rolled, but that unyielding, ferocious power burned so intensely that the entire sea of ​​mist seemed to scorch.

"A body forged in blood will never bend!" he roared, his voice like tearing silk, savage and awe-inspiring. His figure in the mist swelled, fangs looming, his eyes as red as lava, a veritable bloodthirsty beast tearing open its cage.

The wind from the punch rose again, and the blood mist exploded in response! Where the fourth punch landed, the spear hummed and groaned, and spiderweb-like cracks spread wildly from the fist mark—crack! With a crisp sound, the spear broke in two, the broken ends charred black, and the blood light faded away.

"Impossible..." the Grand Elder murmured, staring at the half-destroyed weapon in his palm, his fingertips icy cold.

Lin Daochen stood at the heart of the mist, his blood energy surging like flames, causing the surrounding blood mist to automatically recoil three feet, as if a god had descended upon him on a descent of blood. He raised his eyes, his gaze chillingly indifferent, yet his voice was as sharp as nails: "Blood cultivators are not to be insulted. Your measly mist barrier dares to call itself 'trapped'?"

The Grand Elder's throat tightened, his chest churning with turmoil—his meticulously planned killing scheme had been torn open by a single pair of hands. The surrounding onlookers fell silent, only heavy breathing could be heard. No one had expected that the young man who had been being beaten so badly could actually smash the Grand Elder's spear into dust, punch after punch.

Lin Daochen's gaze was like a knife, slowly sweeping over the other's pale face: "The path of blood cultivation has always been about drinking the blood of one's enemies to strengthen oneself. This spear of yours is soaked entirely in your own blood essence..." He paused, a sinister smile appearing on his lips, "Now, it's your turn to taste just how hot your own blood is."

The Grand Elder felt a chill run through him, beads of sweat mingling with the blood mist sliding down his neck—the oppressive feeling emanating from the depths of his blood was suffocating. Lin Daochen took a step forward, and a blood shadow rose like a hurricane, whipping up waves of mist, chilling him to the bone. Only then did he truly understand: the person before him was never a lamb to the slaughter, but a long-dormant bloodthirsty hunter.

The fragments of the broken spear were still drifting in the air when a new killing intent quietly tightened the bowstring. The Grand Elder's cold laughter still lingered in the mist, his smugness undiminished, but in Lin Daochen's eyes, there was no wavering, only a cluster of crimson flames burning ever brighter.

"Ha! Blood cultivators are nothing special—daring to take my Heavenly Sense strike head-on, they're really tired of living!" The elder's laughter hadn't stopped, and although his spear momentum had been lost, his aura remained high, as if victory had been won, only a moment later.

Lin Daochen ignored the elder's taunts and took a steady step forward. Facing the fierce attack that tore through the air, he neither used a teleportation talisman nor summoned the Star Compass to dodge. Instead, he stood tall against the raging storm, his gaze sharp as a blade and cold as iron.

The Grand Elder flicked his wrist, and a gleaming golden jade talisman once again appeared in his palm. This time, he dared not be careless. His eyes narrowed slightly, and his aura locked onto Lin Daochen. A sinister smile flickered across his lips, and a gigantic golden hand that blotted out the sky crashed down, carrying the power to crush mountains, heading straight for Lin Daochen's face.

Lin Daochen frowned slightly, no longer yielding an inch. His blood and qi surged suddenly, and a vast and profound aura rose from his body, as if resonating with the entire world. With a slight thought, a hot and familiar force instantly poured into his right palm.

This was the true essence of the Heavenly Stele Hand. This ancient martial art, lost for so long, has always only recognized one kind of person—one with a will as strong as steel and a belief as fiery as fire. Lin Daochen's anger burned undiminished, and his will grew even stronger. In the face of life and death, he truly opened the door to the Heavenly Stele Hand.

The giant golden palm came crashing down with overwhelming force, but Lin Daochen stepped forward, his five fingers taut as a monument, and met it head-on!