Cursed Demon Mountain,
A host of cultivators chased fiercely after a youth dressed in white robes, his figure cutting a stark contrast against the dark, jagged landscape of the Cursed Demon Mountain.
The youth, Zhang Haoyun, clutched a golden box tightly to his chest, its surface gleaming faintly even in the dim light of the cursed realm. His breathing was ragged, each gasp a testament to the exhaustion that weighed heavily on his body.
Yet, despite his fatigue, his eyes burned with unyielding determination. Freedom—or perhaps defiance—was worth every ounce of his strength.
"Zhang Haoyun, run all you can, but you can't escape your death. Hand over the Golden Seal, and we'll grant you a swift end," one of the pursuers sneered, his voice dripping with malice.
The cultivator's robes billowed as he surged forward, his expression a mix of anger and greed.
Zhang Haoyun laughed, a sharp, unapologetic sound that echoed through the mountain pass.
"Spit all you want, but this treasure will never be yours!" His tone was defiant, almost mocking, as if he found the entire situation absurd.
He had no intention of reasoning with his pursuers; their threats were nothing more than empty words to him.
"You're as stubborn as the rumors say," another cultivator called out, his voice tinged with frustration. "But you're a dying firefly, Zhang Haoyun. The God Slaying Formation drained your divine energy. Hand over the box, and we'll make your death quick."
Zhang Haoyun's lips curled into a smirk. "Even if you promised me eternal life, what's mine stays mine. Kill me if you dare!" His laughter rang out again, wild and unrestrained, as if he found the idea of his own death amusing.
"Zhang Haoyun, you thief! That Golden Box belongs to the Mu Tribe. How can a god stoop so low as to steal?" a cultivator shouted, his face twisted with rage. He was clearly from the Mu Tribe, his grudge against Zhang Haoyun etched into every word.
"I don't recall knowing any 'Mu Tribe,'" Zhang Haoyun retorted flatly, his voice cold. "All I know is that this box found its way to me. That makes it mine. Your tribe means nothing to me."
"YOU!" The Mu Tribe cultivator's face turned red, his fists trembling with barely contained fury. "Fellow Daoists, what are we waiting for? Let's kill this arrogant bastard already!"
The other cultivators nodded, their expressions hardening. They had chased Zhang Haoyun across the Cursed Demon Mountain, and their patience was wearing thin. The golden box was too valuable to slip through their fingers just like that.
Zhang Haoyun, however, wasn't done provoking them. "If you all humble yourselves and swear loyalty to me, I might just spare your lives. Think of it—serving a god would be a greater achievement than chasing after some useless box!"
His words were like fuel to a fire, igniting the already simmering rage of his pursuers.
"Hmph! Arrogant words from a stripped deity," a cultivator in Taoist robes said sternly. "Your pride will be your downfall, Zhang Haoyun."
"Sect Master Jian, you've survived your own pride for so long. Surely, I'll outlast you!" Zhang Haoyun shot back, his laughter echoing through the mountain pass. His words were like daggers, each one aimed to provoke and infuriate.
Despite his taunts, Zhang Haoyun was far from careless. He was acutely aware of his surroundings, his sharp eyes scanning the terrain as he fled.
The Cursed Demon Mountain was vast, its slopes treacherous and unforgiving. Ahead, the path narrowed, leading to the infamous cliff—a place rumored to be one of the top ten most dangerous zones in the universe.
Zhang Haoyun's lips curled into a grim smile. He had a plan.
"Zhang Haoyun, you'd rather throw your life away for that box? You're unfit to be a god!" Sect Master Chen barked, his voice filled with frustration.
He and the others could see the cliff approaching, and the realization of Zhang Haoyun's intent dawned on them. The mad god was willing to leap into the abyss rather than let them have the Golden Box.
"Brothers, we need to trap him before he jumps!" Sect Master Chen urged, his voice urgent. The others nodded, their expressions grim. They couldn't let Zhang Haoyun take the box to his grave.
"Great Devastation Palm!"
"Desolation Claws!"
"Heaven Splitting Sword!"
"Bloody Gale Blades!"
"Space Ripping Finger!"
A barrage of attacks surged toward Zhang Haoyun, each one deadly and precise. Exhausted and weakened, Zhang Haoyun seemed like an easy target.
But as the attacks closed in, he turned, his bloodied face splitting into a sneer.
"Finger of God: Dawn of Chaos!"
With a single motion, he pointed his index finger toward the incoming attacks. The air around him seemed to tremble as a massive finger projection materialized in the sky, wreathed in violent purple lightning.
The cultivators' eyes widened in shock and fear.
"He's using that technique? Even in his state?" the Mu Tribe cultivator exclaimed, his voice trembling. The others shared his terror, their faces pale as they realized the magnitude of Zhang Haoyun's desperation.
The finger projection moved slowly, as if suppressing the very laws of space around it.
Then, with a deafening roar, it shot forward, colliding with the cultivators' attacks. The resulting explosion tore a hole in the fabric of space, swallowing the attacks whole.
"Destroy the spatial hole!" Sect Master Chen commanded, his voice urgent.
The cultivators unleashed another wave of attacks, their combined efforts finally collapsing the spatial rift. But the backlash was immense, and Zhang Haoyun was sent flying, golden blood spilling from his lips.
"He's on his last legs! One more attack, and the box is ours!" Sect Master Chen urged, though his own face was pale with exhaustion.
Zhang Haoyun, however, wasn't done. With a wicked grin, he produced a red pill from his robes. The cultivators' eyes widened in horror as he crushed it, triggering a nuclear explosion that engulfed the entire mountain in a crimson fog.
"Have a great time, haha!" Zhang Haoyun laughed, his voice filled with malice.
Without hesitation, he turned and leaped off the cliff, the golden box clutched tightly to his chest. The last thing he saw was the frustrated faces of his enemies as they struggled against the red fog, their cries of rage echoing in his ears.
As he fell into the abyss, the world around him grew darker, the dense weight of his choices settling heavily on his shoulders. But for Zhang Haoyun, the satisfaction of defiance was worth it all.