Within the faint mist at the edge of the boundary of the demon realm was an isolated shed. The two demons, their eyes glinting with greed, pushed the cart inside before shutting the door. Xiang Yu's lifeless body lay on it with crimson blood seeping from his wounds, pooling on the wooden floor.
The first demon, wiry and cunning, traced his fingers to Xiang Yu's chest feeling the pulsing demon core underneath his skin. "Last time, you had it," he hissed. "Now it's my turn."
The Demon King's servant, bulkier and scarred, snarled. "I pushed the cart," he retorted. "And risked getting caught by his majesty so it's mine."
Their argument echoed in the dim space, the mist from the edge of the realm filtering through the cracks. They despised him for being a half-blood abomination but right now they were fighting for his demon core like it was a prized possession. Fists were raised and curses spat in that small shed making it much more lively than usual.
While they were having an intense heated argument screams and yelling erupted from outside. The shed trembled, its walls quaking like a volcano was about to erupt. The two demons exchanged wide-eyed glances.
"It must be the cultivators," the wiry demon whispered. "They are probably trying to breach the realm."
The scarred demon servant cursed. "They are here for blood," he spat. "It must be for their sect leader. Its the one whose head was gifted to the Demon King today. We have to go. We can continue this later."
They locked the shed and the sounds of their footsteps grew faint as they disappeared into the thick mist. From a distance, one could hear the sound of the cultivators clashing with the demons, blades and flesh colliding.
Seconds turned to minutes and minutes turned to hours. The conflict between the two sides was still intense but the shed was at peace and undisturbed.
Xiang Yu's hand dangled at the edge of the cart lifeless and his fingertip brushing against the pool of blood. The thickening blood pool suddenly rippled. Xiang Yu's finger had twitched showing signs of life but the movement was faint.
After what seemed like an eternity his eyes suddenly snapped open, and he sat up with a jolt, gasping for air. His hand trembled as he pressed it against the side of his neck, blood flowing freely. The wounds on his back throbbed, torn flesh revealing bone. Yet he stood up his blood-soaked hand leaving crimson prints on the wall.
His clothes hung in tatters, soaked in blood. His hair that was always meticulous every day was now wild and matted with half-dry blood clinging to its strands. His red eyes glowed with an otherworldly fire the anger and resentment inside of them palpable.
He kicked the door off its hinges its splinters flying in all directions. The mist swallowed him, thick and suffocating. He stumbled out of the shed his steps unsteady, but his desire for vengeance fuelled his every step. His right eye blurred from the blood trickling from the gush on his temple but he pressed on his fingers clamped around his neck, staunching the flow of blood.
The mist clung to him whispering death in his ear. It was like a haunting melody trying to steal his soul. As he walked he passed over corpses of cultivators and demons alike strewn across the ground their eyes haunting and hollow. As he continued walking, shadows danced in the distance from the fierce battle. A large group of cultivators were clashing with demons. Both sides equally dropping bodies.
Their swords flashed, and talismans crackled, but Xiang Yu had no place in their war. He stumbled away, his breath ragged, his steps unsteady. He disappeared into the folds of the mountain forest, the mist thinning as he climbed.
Soon he reached a small fishing village. A place that seemed to once thrive now lay in ruin. The air hung heavy with silence, broken only by the distant echoes of his footsteps.
Some of the doors on the deserted homes hung from their hinges, splintered and broken. The walls crumbled like something had run through them. He walked over the broken bricks his lips quivering and cold sweat covering his body from the pain.
When he looked down he saw drag marks scaring the ground with streaks of blood leading to nowhere. The familiar smell of death clung to the air making his hair stand on end. This place wasn't safe to be around. Just then a blood-curdling scream tore through the silence. It was a young girl's voice torn by terror.
Xiang Yu turned on his heels about to leave. He didn't even know if he was going to live or die so it was only natural that he avoid trouble. Just as he took a step the whispers in his ear grew stronger, urging him to go there. His body convulsed in agonising pain as he closed his eyes.
Memories of his father striking him with that serrated whip and him slitting his throat with indifference in his cold eyes flooded his mind. His lips contorted into a strange smile thinking his mother had on the same look as she strangled him. Anger and resentment churned within him. It was like a seething inferno stirring in his chest.
He needed an outlet. He desperately needed a way to vent the rage that threatened to consume him. His injuries were severe but they were nothing compared to the wounds etched on his soul. With a resolve that defied reason, he stumbled towards the source of the screams.
They were coming from the rubble of a fallen house. Xiang Yu climbed over the pile of broken bricks his torn body protesting every step. In the darkness, he saw a demon, its claws tearing at a young girl's flesh.
Rage surging within him like a wildfire he grabbed a brick, flinging it at the demon. It turned sharply its tongue flickering like a serpent's. Hatred blazed in its eyes, and it charged with its fangs bared and claws slashing.