At the edge of the Black Abyss Island, the battlefield near the humanoid camp remained steeped in bloodshed. The warriors of the Joint Action Combat Brigade continued their relentless assault on their enemies, bodies dropping with every passing moment in the gruesome conflict.
Despite the carnage, the warriors were undeterred. They weren't swayed by the brutality before them. To them, only fledglings were intimidated by blood. True warriors were forged in the fires of battle, their mettle tested with every step taken on the razor's edge of life and death.
From the moment they joined the Domain Combat Squads, they had accepted the life of licking blood off a blade. Their survival instincts were honed to perfection, and the scene before them did nothing to dampen their thirst for victory.
Meanwhile, Feng Qi was darting swiftly through the dense rainforest, carrying the unconscious Mist Lord on his back. His movements were nimble, but the relentless pursuit of the Domain Weak Tribes Alliance warriors made escape increasingly difficult.
Ironically, these same weak tribes were originally recruited with spiritual resources as cannon fodder to bolster the odds of securing the miracle item. However, the brutal reality of war had led them to realize that their lives were also at stake. Seeing their survival chances diminish, they chose to retreat.
The problem was they hadn't truly left. Instead, they remained hidden, observing from the shadows.
Initially, they had dismissed the Mist Lord's fight against the humanoid leader. But their attention was caught when they saw the Mist Lord still clutching the green wristband even as the Life Curse took hold of him.
This odd behavior piqued their suspicion.
The closer they observed, the more they realized that the green wristband wasn't ordinary—it was likely a miracle item.
Faced with such immense temptation, their greed ignited, quickly followed by a surging wave of killing intent.
With the Mist Lord incapacitated and devoid of combat ability, striking now seemed like a surefire way to claim the prize. The risks were minimal, the rewards boundless.
Feng Qi clenched his teeth and pushed forward, his pace unrelenting even as spells rained down from behind. He hastily summoned spiritual barriers to shield himself and the Mist Lord from the incoming attacks.
Though the Domain Weak Tribes Alliance warriors weren't individually strong, their sheer numbers posed a significant challenge. A direct confrontation would be suicidal, and continuing to flee wasn't a sustainable solution either.
The Mist Lord, slung over his back, was undeniably a burden.
The alliance members were also crafty. Their encirclement was gradually tightening. Unless Feng Qi ran in a perfectly straight line, he would inevitably be caught.
Suddenly, a figure burst forth from underground.
Without hesitation, Feng Qi unleashed a mental shockwave, causing the assailant to falter momentarily. Seizing the opportunity, he leapt forward, stepping on the warrior's face to propel himself further ahead.
As he landed, he didn't pause, continuing his desperate dash forward. Through his heightened senses, he could tell that the beach wasn't far now—he was running out of terrain.
Reaching the shoreline would leave him with two choices: dive into the ocean or turn and fight.
Neither option was favorable.
His Rune-Modified Demon Dragon physique offered no enhancements for aquatic combat. If any of the pursuing tribes were adept swimmers, he'd be at an absolute disadvantage in the water. Furthermore, the waters of this region were perilous, teeming with sea beasts lurking beneath the waves.
These thoughts raced through Feng Qi's mind as he pressed onward, his pace unwavering.
Half an hour later, he finally broke free from the dense rainforest, arriving at the sandy shores.
A flock of seabirds scavenging for crabs scattered into the air as he approached, startled by his sudden appearance.
Stopping at the water's edge, Feng Qi turned to face the jungle. The shadows of his pursuers danced among the trees, steadily drawing closer to the beach.
Faced with the decision to fight or dive into the sea, he gritted his teeth and chose to stand his ground.
The alliance warriors weren't individually strong, and he could potentially hold out against them for a while. Diving into the ocean, however, introduced too many unpredictable factors.
Sea beasts could attack at any moment, and without any aquatic combat skills, his chances of survival would plummet.
On land, at least, there was a slim hope of survival.
With a determined look, Feng Qi gently laid the Mist Lord on the ground, his icy gaze fixed on the figures emerging from the jungle.
His skin began to glow red as his Fury ability activated, flooding his body with explosive strength.
The tension thickened as the alliance warriors spilled out of the forest, surrounding the defiant figure standing by the shore. Feng Qi stood tall, a red glow radiating from his skin as he prepared for the inevitable clash.
Scalding steam rose from Feng Qi's body, curling into the air as his gaze locked on the encroaching wave of enemies. His expression twisted into a terrifying snarl as the primal bloodlust deep within him stirred awake.
"Roar!"
The demonic instincts granted by the Dragon Rune surged to the surface, forcing him to unleash a guttural roar that reverberated across the battlefield. The swirling steam around him seemed to respond, coiling and dancing in patterns that encased his body like an ethereal armor.
The Domain Weak Tribes Alliance warriors hesitated briefly, their eyes filled with a mixture of confusion and caution. Yet, before they could act, Feng Qi, now lost in his berserker state, lunged forward with feral aggression.
In a flash, he closed the distance to the nearest opponent, a Domain Weak Tribe warrior. Without a word, he delivered a ferocious knee strike directly to the warrior's chest. The immense force crushed the ribcage inward, shattering bone and rupturing internal organs. The warrior's eyes widened in shock as blood and fragments of his pulverized liver sprayed from his mouth.
The attack was fatal.
The lifeless body barely hit the ground before Feng Qi grabbed it by the neck with one hand and hurled it into another approaching warrior, knocking them both down in a heap.
The remaining Domain Weak Tribes warriors snapped out of their stupor and launched a counterattack. Deadly spell trajectories streaked through the air, and the more physically robust warriors charged into close combat, aiming to restrain Feng Qi with advanced body-refinement techniques.
Feng Qi met their offensive with even greater ferocity. His eyes burned with a savage glint, undeterred by the injuries accumulating on his body. Wounds that would have incapacitated most were rapidly regenerating, the flesh knitting itself back together with each passing second.
With a roar, he surged forward, meeting a towering Domain Weak Tribe warrior who was over two meters tall. The warrior, resembling a human tank, crouched low into a defensive stance, bracing for the impact.
But Feng Qi didn't slow. His fist crashed into the warrior's forearm, the collision reverberating like a thunderclap. Despite the warrior's solid frame, the sheer force of the blow sent shockwaves through his body.
Unflinching, the warrior stepped forward and wrapped his massive arms around Feng Qi's waist in a bear hug, transitioning into a grappling throw. Twisting with surprising speed, the warrior slammed Feng Qi into the ground, following up with a chokehold that bent Feng Qi's left arm at an unnatural angle.
A sickening crack echoed as the arm snapped.
But Feng Qi didn't even flinch. With his free hand, he retaliated, delivering a brutal punch to the warrior's nose. Blood spurted from the shattered bone as the warrior recoiled in pain.
Taking advantage of the opening, Feng Qi sank his teeth into the warrior's exposed neck. Twisting savagely, he tore through flesh and muscle, spraying crimson blood across the sand. The warrior gurgled a final breath before collapsing lifelessly.
The rest of the alliance warriors, witnessing the brutal scene, hesitated momentarily. A few faltered, their expressions betraying fear. But the majority steeled themselves, unleashing a barrage of spells and attacks, determined to bring him down.
Feng Qi's back was bombarded by a flurry of spells, the explosions tearing into his flesh and leaving his skin raw and bloodied. Yet, the relentless pain only fueled his bloodlust further.
Snarling like a beast, he yanked his teeth free from his victim's neck, his face now splattered with blood. The sight of his grotesque grin sent chills down the spines of some attackers.
But there was no time for hesitation. The alliance warriors pressed forward, each harboring their own ulterior motives. Greed for the miracle item outweighed the cost of cooperation. Infighting brewed just beneath the surface as they deliberately sabotaged one another, each faction unwilling to expend too much effort while others stood to gain.
This disjointed assault gave Feng Qi fleeting moments of reprieve. But the continuous attacks took their toll. His once-rapid regeneration slowed, unable to keep pace with the fresh wounds being inflicted. The energy within the demon dragon rune crystal embedded in his chest was running dangerously low.
Panting heavily, Feng Qi risked a glance at the Mist Lord, still unconscious on the ground. Black spots spread across the Mist Lord's body, their malevolent energy pulsating ominously. There was no sign of recovery.
Clenching his teeth, Feng Qi stood tall despite his broken arm and battered body. He swung his still-functioning arm in wide arcs, fending off the encroaching warriors. Each blow sent shockwaves through his injured frame, but he refused to stop.
The berserker state was beginning to fade, his mind regaining clarity. With it came a searing awareness of the pain ravaging his body. He glanced down to see himself covered in gashes and bruises, his skin barely holding together in some places.
Sucking in a ragged breath, he adjusted his stance. Relying purely on brute force was no longer viable. He began drawing on the wealth of combat experience stored across countless timelines. Precise movements replaced wild swings, and calculated footwork allowed him to parry and counter with newfound efficiency.
However, his refined technique could only do so much against the overwhelming numbers. The alliance warriors, though individually weaker, pressed him relentlessly. Every exchange chipped away at his dwindling stamina.
The fractured unity of the alliance worked in his favor, with members frequently undermining each other. Yet, this disorganization didn't last forever. Slowly but surely, the warriors closed in, each strike landing heavier than the last.
Feng Qi felt his strength waning. His self-healing ability was nearing its limit, the rune crystal's energy reserves almost depleted. If he couldn't turn the tide soon, both he and the Mist Lord would meet their end here.
Turning to the Mist Lord once more, he saw the same grim sight—black spots covering his body like a death shroud. There was no sign of the man regaining consciousness.
Feng Qi couldn't help but worry whether the Mist Lord could survive this ordeal.
Since he had entered this timeline, the Mist Lord's future trajectory had already shifted significantly.
In the original timeline, Feng Qi had no knowledge of whether the Mist Lord ever attempted to challenge the Black Abyss Domain Field or if he had encountered this deadly curse. Thus, he had no way of knowing if the Mist Lord could overcome this trial.
Timeline changes influenced countless variables. Without Feng Qi's interference, it was entirely possible that the Mist Lord's rise had been steadier, perhaps even free of this entanglement with the green miracle bracelet.
Yet despite these uncertainties, Feng Qi couldn't deny his expectations. After all, the Mist Lord was destined to become a towering figure in 1500 years—a true final boss of that era.
All Feng Qi could do was buy time for him.
With that thought, Feng Qi roared once more, lowering his head and charging directly into the oncoming enemies.
Meanwhile, within the Mist Lord's mental sea, an intense battle raged.
The Mist Lord's consciousness sphere was locked in a desperate struggle against the life curse left by the humanoid leader. This curse, undoubtedly unleashed through the use of a miracle item, was incredibly potent.
Despite his best efforts, the Mist Lord found himself unable to expel the spreading black blotches within his mental sea. On the contrary, the blotches grew more numerous, devouring nearly half the space of his consciousness.
If the curse continued unchecked, the Mist Lord understood that death was inevitable.
The complete corruption of his mental sea would spell the collapse of his consciousness. Even if his body remained alive, it would merely be an empty husk, nothing more than a walking corpse.
Faced with this dire situation, the Mist Lord forced himself to calm down.
Surrender had never been an option for him.
Pulling his consciousness sphere back from direct confrontation, he decided to focus his limited time on analyzing the curse's structure, seeking to find its weakness.
Through his exceptional will and unmatched intellect, he began dissecting the components of the curse.
After an arduous effort, the Mist Lord succeeded in unraveling its structure.
Casting his awareness across the mental sea, he realized the black blotches had consumed nearly two-thirds of his consciousness. Time was of the essence.
Armed with newfound understanding, the Mist Lord began crafting a spiritual attack technique specifically to counter the curse's energy.
His unparalleled talent shone brilliantly in this moment of crisis. Within mere minutes, he developed a technique capable of targeting the curse at its core.
The moment his consciousness sphere deployed the newly devised technique, the black blotches in his mental sea began to disintegrate. Wherever his awareness passed, the curse was eradicated, fading into nothingness.
Realizing the method was effective, the Mist Lord accelerated his efforts to purify his mental sea.
He knew that Feng Qi was in extreme danger, holding off the encroaching enemies while he remained incapacitated. If he didn't act quickly, both of them would be slaughtered by the opportunistic Domain Weak Tribes warriors.
Despite being their employer, the Mist Lord understood well that in the face of overwhelming profit, their mercenary allegiance was fragile.
Through relentless focus, he systematically purged the spreading curse.
In just over ten minutes, he eradicated half the black blotches.
As the final traces of the curse vanished from his mental sea, his consciousness regained its full brilliance. The golden world of spiritual energy surged back to life, pulsating with power.
Opening his eyes, the Mist Lord was greeted by a sky filled with circling white seabirds. The rhythmic sound of waves lapping against the shore filled his ears.
Realizing he was lying on the beach, his body gently swaying with the tide, he momentarily froze in disorientation.
But the coppery scent of blood in the air snapped him back to reality.
Turning toward the source, his pupils shrank at the sight before him.
Not far away stood Feng Qi, his left arm mangled beyond recognition, his battered body swaying unsteadily. The deep wounds crisscrossing his blood-soaked frame revealed exposed bone, painting a picture of unspeakable torment.
The setting sun cast its final rays on Feng Qi's broken figure, giving him a faint, tragic glow.
Seeing Feng Qi's pitiful state, the Mist Lord felt his heart clench.
His mind replayed the last words Feng Qi had spoken before he lost consciousness:
"Hold on, don't forget your promise to me—when you reach the top, I'll have a place by your side."
The Mist Lord had assumed Feng Qi would have taken the opportunity to escape, leaving him to his fate.
Yet here he was, defying all odds, holding off a horde of enemies to buy time.
A complex mixture of guilt and fury surged within the Mist Lord.
As he watched, Feng Qi coughed up a mouthful of blood and began to fall backward.
In a flash, the Mist Lord appeared behind him, catching his collapsing form.
Looking into Feng Qi's dazed, unfocused eyes, something inside the Mist Lord snapped.
His violet eyes glowed with a deep, menacing crimson as he glared at the army of Domain Weak Tribe warriors.
With a sinister smile curling across his face, he growled, "I've made up my mind. Killing you isn't enough. I'll make you wish you were dead."