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

The other reclusive masters also revealed their trump cards: thunder talismans exploded like thunderbolts from the heavens, poisonous miasma spread like the opening of hell, golden bell shields, soul-suppressing banners, bone-corroding nails... a barrage of light and shadow poured down, weaving an impenetrable net of death.

Lin Daochen traversed the blood-soaked rain, his figure shifting left and right with incredible speed, leaving only a blur. Every time his blood sword was drawn, blood was drawn; none who were touched by its tip escaped. The cultivators retreated in panic, fearing that even a speck of blood would drag them into the relentless, stench of blood.

Far from being slowed down by the siege, his eyes gleamed red, and a long-suppressed thirst rolled in his throat—not a greed for life, but an instinctive craving for blood. The more he drank, the more ferocious he became, and the more frenzied he fought.

"Blood is my life, and life is my blood!" His voice was hoarse like the friction of sand and gravel, and his blood and qi surged like a river bursting its banks. It was as if every drop of the essence blood he had plundered was reshaping his bones and igniting his soul.

High in the sky, explosions resounded continuously, and shockwaves churned the clouds. The onlookers were horrified to discover that Lin Daochen showed no signs of weakness; on the contrary, his aura surged, and a swirling blood mist around him greedily absorbed every wisp of blood energy dissipating from the battlefield. The splattered, flowing, and even still-warm droplets of blood were all absorbed into his meridians, transforming into an even more violent source of power.

With another swing of the blood sword, a cultivator who had undergone a transformation was severed in two at the waist. His gaze was intense, and deep within his pupils there was no sorrow or joy, only an almost sacred obsession—for him, slaughter was the only path to heaven.

The onlookers were chilled to the bone, finally seeing the true nature of the blood-red sword: it not only wounded, but also devoured! With each slash, the sword flashed with a ghostly light, and the opponent's life essence was extracted and absorbed along with their blood. This was no orthodox attack method; it was clearly an ancient, forbidden blood-devouring secret technique!

"You wicked creature! How dare you practice such a heart-corrupting and soul-stealing evil technique!" someone gritted their teeth. In everyone's eyes, Lin Daochen was no longer a cultivator, but a blood demon in human skin. His methods were so bizarre and his arrogance so overbearing that it sent chills down everyone's spine.

But Lin Daochen paid no heed. He was immersed in the rhythm of the surging blood, letting the killing intent crash into his mind and the heat waves scorch his internal organs.

His body became increasingly firm and iron-like as he was infused with blood and qi, and his attacks became increasingly ruthless and decisive—he would raise his hand to sever a throat, turn to split the abdomen, and strike with his sword to decapitate someone, never missing his target.

Wherever his blood sword struck, Transcendent Realm experts fell in rows like stalks of wheat. Where the sword passed, blood light exploded, defensive magical artifacts shattered, and heads were precisely plucked and piled into towers.

Blood churned, corpses piled up like mountains, and onlookers fell silent—it was no longer a slaughter, but a sacrifice; it was no longer a pilgrimage for cultivators, but a calamity for humankind.

In this bloody battle, Lin Daochen showed no fear. Every step he took was like an iron stake driven into the ground, steady, ruthless, and leaving no room for hesitation.

His eyes burned brightly, and deep within his pupils surged an almost manic fighting spirit, as if he were not fighting for his life, but rather indulging in a thoroughly enjoyable slaughter.

His infamous reputation swept across the battlefield like a whirlwind, making onlookers' throats tighten, their spines go cold, and they even instinctively held their breath.

But just as the killing intent was at its peak, a sudden change occurred—a powerful aura that had been hidden for a long time suddenly exploded! The man flicked his hand and summoned a large net covered with dense blue scales. The net's threads twisted like living snakes, heading straight for Lin Daochen's vital points.

Almost simultaneously, a bald, burly man roared and leaped out, his golden knife slashing down from the sky. The whistling sound of the knife tore through the air, making people's eardrums buzz. The green net also descended upon him, its cold light gleaming, as if it wanted to shred Lin Daochen into dust.

Lin Daochen's brows furrowed, and a sudden alertness flashed in his eyes. He detected the chilling, ghostly aura emanating from the blue net—the unique decay and eeriness of ghost cultivators. He had his eye on this thing.

The battle raged on, with talisman fire, sword energy, corpse poison, and curse seals colliding wildly in the sky, leaving only a boiling killing intent in the world.

He sneered, spread his five fingers wide, and slammed his palm down on the blue net! The force of his palm strike was like a mountain collapsing, crashing into the net with a deafening roar.

The seemingly unbreakable blue net suddenly trembled, shaking incessantly like a spiderweb. The powerful figure hidden behind the net felt a jolt of surprise, his face filled with astonishment—this kid's brute strength was so great that he had actually withstood a magical artifact without collapsing!

The bald, burly man, convinced that Lin Daochen was merely bluffing, roared and unleashed his full power! The golden blade cleaved through the air currents, its blade light surging three zhang (approximately 10 meters) in size, slashing down with the force of a thunderbolt!

A cold glint flashed in Lin Daochen's eyes. Instead of retreating, he advanced, raising his head to meet the blade!

"boom--!"

The clang of metal on metal exploded with a piercing, sharp sound. Blade light and blood-stained sword collided violently, scattering crimson sparks everywhere. The bald, burly man's moves were deadly, each strike splitting the ground, the wind from his blade scraping painfully against faces, as if he would chop Lin Daochen into mincemeat at any moment.

But Lin Daochen's body surged like a wave of blood, his blood sword dancing wildly, transforming into a monstrous blood tide that swallowed all the blade light in one gulp! His whole body was steaming with a scorching, fishy smell, his muscles bulging, making him look exactly like a bloodthirsty beast that had broken free of its cage.

"He...he really withstood it?!" A spectator exclaimed in a low voice, his fingertips trembling. No one had expected that this young cultivator could withstand the bald man's deadly blade strike and still manage to handle it with ease!

But this was only the beginning of the battle. Lin Daochen raised the corner of his eye, his gaze like a hook, firmly locking onto the wisp of ghostly energy deep within the green net—he had made up his mind that he must seize this item! That bit of curiosity burned brighter than the flames of his blood at this moment.

His aura surged, and his blood sword moved swiftly and decisively, easily deflecting the opponent's relentless attacks.

The bald, burly man gritted his teeth and urged his sword strikes forward, the blade energy solidifying into a tangible form, like a giant python coiling around him, determined to grind Lin Daochen into dust.

The two clashed fiercely, their blades flashing like waterfalls, their swords gleaming like tides, their killing intent soaring to the heavens. The expressions of the several hidden masters watching from the sidelines gradually darkened—this Lin Daochen was becoming more and more frenzied and stronger with each battle, clearly no ordinary character, and a chill crept up the back of their necks.

The ghostly aura within the blue net grew clearer, chilling to the bone. Lin Daochen's lips curled into a sneer, his killing intent surging: Now!

His blood sword suddenly exploded, and thousands of blood rays poured down like a torrential rain, aiming to stab at the weak points of the green net! The bald giant's eyes widened in fury at the sight, and he abruptly changed the direction of his blade, frantically intercepting the attack.

"You're asking for death! How dare you steal my most treasured possession?!" A hoarse, stern shout came from within the blue net. The person suddenly activated a forbidden technique, and the blue net tightened instantly, rolling back like a prison!

Lin Daochen remained motionless, his blood energy surging like boiling water, as if he were connected to the entire battlefield by blood.

Under his repeated heavy blows, the blue net finally tore open with a "ripping" sound—the strong man behind the net turned pale and his heart sank: he had run into a ruthless person who didn't care about his life!

Blood splattered, blades exploded, Lin Daochen stood atop the corpses, like a demon god reborn from the ashes, and wherever he passed, war ignited.

"Where did this kid come from?!" someone's voice was hoarse.

"This is bizarre! Absolutely bizarre! This isn't a human, it's a living Yama descended to earth!" another person murmured, speechless.

As the battle intensified, Lin Daochen's blood energy surged even more, almost dissipating into mist; while the ghost cultivators in the Green Net grew increasingly panicked—if the battle dragged on any longer, they might not only lose their treasures but also have their bones torn apart by this madman!

He gritted his teeth, abandoned the net, and withdrew, his hands forming a hand seal. A sinister black blade with a ghostly head materialized out of thin air, accompanied by howling winds and mournful wails. He grinned maliciously, and the blade pierced the air, aiming straight for Lin Daochen's throat!

A cold glint flashed in Lin Daochen's eyes, and he slashed out with his blood sword, colliding fiercely with the ghost-head saber—Boom! A blinding golden-red shockwave exploded, tearing the air open with twisted cracks, a gale swept up, and sparks flew like a rainstorm.

The battle had reached its climax. Lin Daochen was locked in close combat with the top experts from the Qingwang, each move a life-or-death struggle. Every clash was like two torrents colliding head-on, shaking the earth, sending rocks flying, and even causing the robes of the spectators to flutter wildly in the aftershocks.

The onlookers held their breath, their spines tingling, their palms sweating. This cultivation world was full of powerful figures, but a ruthless individual like Lin Daochen, with his chilling killing intent and surging blood energy, was a rare find, perhaps only once in a century.

His figure flashed and disappeared into the smoke, then he quickly retreated, looking up at the sky—there, a magnificent array was slowly unfolding, the runes flowing like living things, and an ancient pressure silently permeating the air, as if the entire sky was bowing down for it.

Lin Daochen frowned slightly, his Adam's apple bobbing as he suppressed the oppressive feeling surging in his heart. The next instant, his ghostly aura surged, thick as ink and cold as an abyss, directly confronting the vast aura emanating from the array, tearing and grappling with each other.

"The Wang family's trump card is indeed well hidden... This formation is no ordinary method." He pressed his tongue against his palate, his breathing steady, but his fighting spirit burned like a raging fire in a forest, growing stronger and stronger.

The bald, burly man and his companions were also stunned by the array, their faces turning pale, their eyes fixed on the sky—those floating and wandering runes, their light shimmering like a cascading galaxy, captivating the soul.

"Lin Daochen, this battle is about to show the true strength," a cultivator whispered to the side.

Lin Daochen nodded, his eyes sharp as knives. He saw it clearly: this formation was not designed to trap the enemy, but rather to use intelligence to control strength and to overwhelm them with power. The slightest carelessness would lead to utter destruction.

The battlefield fell silent instantly, save for the howling wind, carrying with it the rusty stench of blood. This stillness was not tranquility, but the deathly silence before a thunderbolt, taut enough to make one's nerves ache.

Suddenly, the eighteen experts of the Wang family stepped forward in unison—each taking their place at the core of the formation, their words like thunderclaps, drawing spiritual energy from all directions to surge forth!

In an instant, the giant screen rose up, and flowing light wove a net. The entire formation trembled violently, as if an ancient beast had awakened and opened its blood-red maw to swallow the entire battlefield whole.

"The formation has been activated! They're about to unleash their primal power!" the spectators exclaimed in shock.

Lin Daochen's gaze was like a nail, firmly locking onto that dazzling screen. An invisible pressure descended upon him, as if the world had shrunk into an iron box, making even breathing difficult.

The eighteen men simultaneously bit their tongues, blood splattering and falling precisely into the array's core. Their eyes gleamed red, burning with an almost manic obsession, like armored war puppets descended to earth, every move affecting the pulse of the array.

The atmosphere within the formation changed drastically. The airflow surged back wildly, creating vortexes that compressed layer upon layer, eventually condensing into a blazing white core at the center of the formation. The core pulsed, as if it had a heartbeat, and as if thunder roared and surged within it.

"This power... is actually approaching the full force of a Nascent Soul Realm strike!" Lin Daochen was shocked. All his previous predictions were now completely shattered.

The light core suddenly exploded, and a towering phantom rose from the ground—clad in golden armor, with sculpted features; at a single glance, all living beings bowed in submission. It was the ultimate manifestation of the Wang family's clan-protecting formation: the Supreme Array Master!

"The Wang Family's Supreme Formation truly lives up to its name!" someone sighed in a trembling voice, their voice dry.

Lin Daochen grinned at that moment, his eyes no longer showing any hesitation. He took a deep breath and flicked his wrist—the blue net flew out of his hand, transforming into a streak of bluish-gray light, so fast that only a blur remained, like a dragon emerging from the abyss, stirring up the sky.