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

Lin Lei stood guard beside Lin Daochen, never leaving his side. His eyes were calm as an ancient well, yet they held an unwavering trust. For the past half month, the two had long since become accustomed to speaking—a single glance from Lin Lei was enough to tell whether to stop or protect; a pause in his breath was the signal to act.

For the past two weeks, Lin Lei had been on edge, like a fully drawn bowstring, silently suppressing a suffocating sense of impending doom. It wasn't an ordinary crisis, but a violent aura about to tear the heavens and earth apart.

He stood closer, his back straight as a blade, his ears twitching slightly as he swept over every gust of wind and every trembling leaf.

Tianlangzi, Yang Kai, and Lin Lei all felt a chill in their hearts. Lin Daochen stood under the moon, eyes closed, concentrating for a full thirty days.

Thick, dark red mist rose from his body, so heavy it weighed down the branches. The entire forest seemed to be enveloped in a nightmare from which he had not yet awakened, eerily quiet and suffocatingly oppressive.

As the full moon rose to its zenith, a sudden change occurred. The blood mist receded like a tide, moonlight spilled into the forest, the tree bark shimmered with a faint silver light, and fireflies seemed to dance among the veins of the leaves. The three held their breath, their throats tightening, both hoping for the light that would break through their current realm and fearing that light would pierce their hearts.

Lin Daochen stood there alone, his eyes clear as mirrors, reflecting a bright, full moon—but not the one in the sky. That moon hung in his pupils, cold, warm, piercing, soft… all the flavors of longing.

Suddenly, his nose stung, and tears rolled down his cheeks, landing on the fallen leaves and spreading a small, dark patch. His thoughts seemed to be grasped, crumpled, and twisted by an invisible hand; the more he tried to hold on, the more they scattered into countless threads.

"Longing..." His voice was as soft as a sigh, yet it made his heart tremble.

But the crescent moon, unable to bear the weight any longer, shattered suddenly. Its silvery light crumbled into chaotic fragments, churning and swirling, the air in the forest buzzing and vibrating, even the light and shadow began to slip, fold, and shift. Time was like a torn thread, space like crumpled paper.

"Oh no!" Tianlangzi's expression changed drastically, and his shoulders felt heavy, as if an entire mountain had pressed down on him.

Yang Kai gritted his teeth: "He's shaking the very foundation of the forest! This isn't enlightenment, it's dismantling boundaries!"

Just as that crescent moon completely dissipated, Lin Daochen slowly closed his eyes. His face showed no defeat, no anxiety, only an almost transparent calm. Lin Lei, Tianlangzi, and Yang Kai felt a chill run down their spines—this calm was more chilling than rage. Tonight, the Milky Way poured down, the stars blindingly bright, as if all unspoken encouragement had been poured onto his shoulders.

He stood alone in the moonlight, his robes damp with dew, his shoulders slightly drooping, like an old bamboo that had been washed by wind and rain three times.

He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, as if prying a certain thought out of his very bones. This defeat wasn't because the path was blocked, but because the threshold was too high, so high that he had to risk his life to try again.

Tianlangzi's Adam's apple bobbed as he looked up at the moon: "He... really didn't cross it."

Yang Kai didn't respond, only digging his nails into his palms. The light in his eyes flickered, like a lamp wick about to go out in the wind. This defeat was too quiet, abnormally quiet; this person was too indifferent, unsettlingly indifferent.

The old peach trees in the woods also drooped their branches, silent as monuments. They had once placed all their hopes on him, but now only their branches were cold and their petals were falling softly.

Just as it was about to wither away, a familiar and long-lost scent quietly brushed past the heartwood—warm, comforting, and carrying the lingering warmth of the stove and the smoke of firewood.

"This...is this the taste of home?" an old peach tree murmured in a trembling voice, its bark slightly warm.

Another tree swayed its branches, rustling softly: "This person is truly entwined with the roots of his homeland... Perhaps he understands that what we guard is never the tree, but the door."

Suddenly, the forest came alive. The peach trees were no longer just trees; they stretched out their roots to sense the earth's veins, shook off their petals to measure the wind direction, and in each ring of their growth, the most basic interpretation of the word "Tao" emerged.

Thousands of miles away, the Demon Sea churned like boiling water. Monk Jianren sat cross-legged on the crest of a wave, his hand forming a mudra, his Buddhist light suppressing the tsunami. Yet the Buddha statue's features were crooked, and a bluish-black mist seeped from the peeling gold paint, a faint, almost imperceptible, cold smile lingering at the corner of its mouth.

His gaze pierced through the turbid waves, reaching deep into the forest, as if he could already see the two peaches atop the peach tree—full, glistening, radiating the glow of the sunset, life-saving elixirs capable of cleansing marrow and bones, and altering one's destiny.

"Save him? Ha..." He licked his chapped lips with his tongue. "It's just picking fruit on the side."

Greed burned like two eerie flames in his eyes. He remained unmoved, letting the demonic waves lash against his robes, while he probed the underwater currents inch by inch with his divine sense, searching for the rift that had been sealed for a thousand years.

Behind him, the tsunami surged higher and higher, its crests gleaming with an ominous purple light; the Buddha statue on his chest flickered in and out of focus, entwined with the evil aura, whispering and exchanging secrets that no one could understand.

The next instant, he lightly touched the ground with his toes, and his figure transformed into a gray shadow as he swept towards the peach grove—hunched over and with his neck tucked in, his steps as light as a raccoon stealing food, his eyes darting around, locked on the two swaying peaches on the tree canopy.

Sensing the danger, the peach trees instantly twitched their roots, shedding countless golden threads of law that twisted into a blazing divine chain, cleaving through the air to block Monk Jianren. But he lightly touched the ground with his toes, his figure moving like the wind through a bamboo forest, without the slightest hesitation, and he had already slipped out of the range of the divine chain's strangulation.

"Stop! One more step and you're doomed!" The leader of the peach trees roared like thunder, and the divine chains suddenly swelled, crisscrossing and weaving a giant, dazzling net in mid-air, airtight.

The monk Jianren's lips curled slightly, but his gaze was as cold and hard as iron, and he did not stop for a moment. His Buddhist aura surged silently around him, condensing into a warm golden halo, which seemed both like a compassionate whisper and a judgment hanging high.

"I will take the peaches. If you are willing to offer them up, there is still a way out for me." His tone was calm, but each word was like a boulder falling to the ground, making the branches tremble.

The peach trees all shook their heads, their gnarled branches stretching out, refusing to bend even an inch. The old peach tree at the head of the trees suddenly felt a jolt in its heart—the aura emanating from the cultivator before it was faintly in harmony with the traces of the Dao left behind by ancient sages! A deep and ancient tremor ran along the rings of the tree straight to the core of its soul.

Monk Jianren's eyes narrowed, and his smile turned cold: "The Peaches of Immortality are the key to my breakthrough. You plant spirits dare to block my way? If you don't hand them over today, don't blame me for severing your roots and burning your veins."

The old peach tree stood tall and proud, its bark cracked like armor: "This fruit embodies the essence of ten thousand years of sun and moon, the marrow of mountains and rivers; how dare you plunder it all by yourself!"

The warmth on his face vanished completely, revealing his sinister true nature: "You won't listen to reason—then you'll taste the punishment."

The peach trees clung to the green hills, remaining frozen in place. Just as the air was about to crack, a voice rose from the depths of the void, ancient as the first rotation of star orbits, deep as the earth's first awakening, carrying an irresistible rhythm, crashing into all consciousness.

"The peach tree, as he said."

The trees trembled, their branches shaking slightly, as if they heard an echo that had slumbered for a thousand years within their blood, and their souls involuntarily bowed towards the source of the sound. "Who is this venerable one?" the old peach tree asked in a trembling voice, its crown rustling as it shook off the dust of years past.

The voice paused briefly, then spoke again, each word like an inscription carved into the Heavenly Dao: "Hand over the peaches. This is not a forceful seizure, but the inevitable course of events; not out of personal desire, but a chance to prolong the lives of all living beings."

The peach trees felt a surge of emotions, as if an invisible giant hand were turning the compass of destiny—the Great Dao is clear and cannot be defied. Yet they still desperately protected the crimson peach on the branch, a essence that had been condensed through a thousand years of arduous cultivation and the absorption of heaven and earth.

The monk Jianren watched coldly, then suddenly sneered: "Stubborn to the end, I'll send you back to your roots."

Before he finished speaking, his body suddenly shone with a powerful Buddhist light, and golden flames leaped up as if the Buddha had descended to earth. However, a faint purple hue quietly seeped out from the edge of the flames, like demonic markings covering the Buddha's face, sending chills down one's spine.

Just as that ancient pressure rolled in again, the peach trees suddenly gathered their strength, their trunks twisting and growing taller, their veins turning into bones, their branches and leaves forming armor, instantly transforming into a towering war god, holding a bronze halberd that could split clouds and shake mountains, standing solemnly like a mountain, guarding before the peaches of immortality.

The war god among them was over ten feet tall, his dark blue heavy armor gleaming with a cold, bronze-like light, his eyes burning with an inextinguishable fighting spirit. He pointed his halberd horizontally, and the silver spear whistled through the air, like thunderbolts crashing down from the heavens, shaking the entire forest to its core.

"Monk Jianren, the peaches of immortality already have an owner; how dare you reach out and pluck them?"

Monk Jianren frowned, but still took half a step forward: "A mere tree spirit dares to speak of the word 'master'?"

The God of War remained silent, only slamming his halberd to the ground—the tip of the halberd hummed, and a pale golden rune surged out from the ground, pointing straight to the heavens; it was none other than the old seal of the Heavenly Court!

At that moment, the oldest peach tree trembled violently, and a long, drawn-out call echoed from the depths of its heart, like spring thunder rolling across frozen earth. It abruptly opened its eyes, a long-lost clear light flashing in its cloudy pupils: "Big brother? You're awake?"

The ancient voice replied, "You've awakened. Thank you for guarding this forest for me, for a full thousand years."

The old peach tree branch swayed slightly, unable to hide its excitement: "Brother, has your foundation... been rebuilt?"

"It has been restored." The voice was as steady as a bell. "The Heavenly Court has returned to the mortal realm."

The old peach tree branches stretched out, overflowing with joy: "Excellent! Heaven has finally returned!"

"The world will return to order." The voice proclaimed like a decree, "Peach tree, know the meaning of this."

The old peach tree hesitated for a moment, then said in a low voice, "Now that the Heavenly Court has returned, can it still control this land? When the seal suddenly flared up back then, we... never heard a word from them again."

After a moment of silence, the voice was resolute: "With the Heavenly Court established, the universe is set in its own right. Do not doubt, do not fear."

The old peach tree raised its branches, and the last trace of hesitation in its eyes dissipated with the wind.

However, the War God Peach Tree before them was willing to give up the two peaches to save his younger brother.

The peach flew through the air and landed in Monk Jianren's palm. His fingertips trembled slightly, and his heart sank. The peach was warm and radiant, as if galaxies flowed and thunder rumbled within it. It weighed heavily on his hand, and on his thoughts—this was no fruit, but a burning destiny. But his hesitation lasted only a moment. He finally gripped the peach pit tightly, turned, and left.

The War God Peach Tree watched his retreating figure, its branches swaying gently as it turned to the old man's peach tree: "Brother, the Heavenly Court is still unawakened, and we're already severing our roots... Is it worth it?"

The old peach tree remained silent for a long time, amber sap seeping from the cracks in its bark, like a belated tear: "It's worth it. If the Heavenly Court doesn't regain control of the Three Realms, even the soil we take root in will belong to others."

The peach tree, the god of war, drooped its branches and remained silent. The wind rustled through the treetops like a sigh—they believed that ethereal voice, entrusting their lives to it, just to exchange for a tomorrow yet to be written.