The God Hunted by the Heaven

Chapter 1: The Awakened Blood Claw The Empyrean Realm, The Verdant Dawn Sect The morning sun was not yet high enough to warm the training grounds of The Verdant Dawn Sect. A thin mist still shrouded the mountains, creating a silent atmosphere that was about to be broken by the bustle of cultivators. But for Alastair, disguised under the name "Leo," that tranquility had long since vanished. He was cornered against a stone wall, surrounded by three people. Marco, the senior, stood in front with a sneer, while his two underlings blocked any escape route. "I told you, Leo," Marco said, his voice venomous. "The new disciples' Spirit Stone allotment should be given to those with more talent. You're clearly not one of them. Hand it over." Alastair—Leo—remained silent, his head bowed. Inside, the soul of a god seethed. To listen to such insults. From the mouth of an ant who wouldn't have even noticed my presence in the past. But now, he was merely an empty shell. Less than one percent of his power remained, locked away by seals and the wounds from his last, devastating battle. "Are you deaf?" grumbled one of Marco's lackeys, shoving Leo's shoulder roughly. Leo staggered but stayed silent. It was easier to endure than to fight back and risk exposing the remnants of his hidden aura. But Marco's patience ran out. "Search him yourself!" he snapped, his voice echoing with rage. Not only did he snatch the pouch of Spirit Stones, but his calloused hand also struck Leo's cheek hard. Thwack! The sound was sharp and jarring. Leo's head snapped to the side, the world spun, and the metallic taste of blood spread across his tongue. Blood began to seep from the corner of his split lip. Before he could even regain his balance, Marco's two underlings moved. A kick landed on his back, sweeping him off his feet and slamming him hard onto the dusty ground. "Useless trash!" one of them sneered, kicking Leo in the ribs. "Don't waste your breath on him," the other chimed in before his fist connected with Leo's stomach. "Ugh—!" A pained gasp finally escaped Leo's lips. His breath hitched; it felt as if all the air had been forced from his lungs at once. He curled up, trying to protect his body from the sharp, stabbing pain that now overwhelmed it. The blows and kicks fell upon him like a hailstorm from a tempest. Leo lay fallen, helpless, could only curl up while trying to protect his head with arms already bruised purple and blue. Each blow was a humiliating reminder of his fall, of his most heartbreaking failure. Dust plumed, mixing with the smell of sweat and the spatter of blood on the ground. He felt his bones vibrate, his muscles tear, and his head throbbed uncontrollably. His body was tossed haphazardly on the ground, rolling like a ragdoll. He vomited. The nearly empty contents of his stomach mixed with blood, forming a filthy puddle in the dust. His vision spotted, his breath came in ragged gasps as he tried to find oxygen that seemed to have vanished. With his last bit of strength, he tried to crawl away from the t*****e. His dirty fingers clawed at the earth, dragging his battered and broken body, leaving a bitter trail in the dust. Every breath felt like a knife tearing through his chest. Bruises were already beginning to bloom all over his body, purple and blue marks that would remind him of this day of humiliation. Suddenly, a shout cut through the violence. "Stop! Leave him alone!" It was Finn, a naive and kind-hearted new disciple. His face was pale at the sight, but he stood his ground. Marco paused for a moment, then let out a sinister laugh. "Finn, the peacekeeper. You think you can stop me?" "His allotment is his right, Marco! The sect rules forbid this!" Finn argued, trying to sound brave. Marco scoffed. "Rules? I make the rules here!" He redirected his anger. With a quick movement, he grabbed Finn by the collar and shoved him hard to the ground. "You want to be a hero? How about you get a taste of it instead?" The sight tore at something inside Leo. Finn, now the target of Marco and his cronies' rage, cried out while trying to protect his head, "Leo, run! Go! Don't mind me!" "Go! Don't mind me!" "Go! Don't mind me, Alastair! Save yourself!" INSTANTLY. The world around Leo vanished. Finn's voice merged with one that had haunted him for thousands of years. Seraphina's voice. He no longer saw the cold sect grounds, but a chaotic heavenly battlefield. The sky was blood-red, lightning crisscrossed. And in the midst of it all, Seraphina, standing before the raging Chalice of Eternity, her eyes filled with tears but also an unshakable resolve. She smiled at him, a farewell smile, before a blinding white light swept over everything, consuming her and leaving Alastair alone with unbearable agony. THE EXPLOSION. The memory struck like lightning. A pain deeper than any physical blow. Failure. Loss. The smoldering rage he had suppressed for so long. "NOOOO!" A hoarse scream erupted from Leo's mouth. It was not a physical cry, but a scream from a wounded soul. He opened his eyes. The world returned to the sect grounds, but now everything in his sight was tinged with red. Marco and his cronies stopped beating Finn, staring at him in shock. Leo rose, his previously bruised body now seeming to tremble with a dark energy. He no longer bowed his head. His gaze was now sharp, piercing, filled with the fury of millennia. "You..." Marco hissed, involuntarily taking a step back. He saw the wound on his hand—a small cut from hunting yesterday—suddenly reopen and throb. The blood wasn't just dripping, but flowing more freely, as if pulled by an invisible force. The pain was sharp and strange, as if his very life force was being siphoned. "What... what kind of demonic art are you using?!" Leo—or rather, the momentarily awakened Alastair—could only stand there, panting. The minor act of using Blood Dominion had drained the last of his energy, but it had triggered an alarm. As he had anticipated, a more authoritative figure appeared. Elder Caspian strode calmly onto the scene, his face as unreadable as stone. "What is the meaning of this?" his voice boomed, full of authority. Marco immediately accused, "Elder! Leo... he used a f*******n art! Look!" He showed his bleeding hand. Elder Caspian did not immediately believe him. He approached Leo, his sharp eyes probing every inch of the young man. Leo felt a subtle yet deep spiritual probe infiltrating him. He quickly pulled back the remnants of his blood aura, forcing himself to appear weak and hollow again, even as his heart pounded wildly. After a moment that felt like an eternity, Elder Caspian turned to Marco. "A minor wound. Calm yourself, Marco." Then, he looked at Leo. But there was something different in his eyes. Not anger, but... a deep suspicion. "Leo," Elder Caspian said, his voice low yet meaningful. "It seems you harbor... unseen potential. The Verdant Dawn values every contribution, no matter how small. Tomorrow, you will join the herbal gathering team heading to the Darkmist Forest. Consider this an opportunity to prove your true worth." Leo knew this was not an opportunity. It was a test, perhaps even a disguised punishment. The Darkmist Forest was a dangerous place. But he could only bow in obedience. "Understood, Elder Caspian." Elder Caspian nodded, and before leaving, he cast one last profound look at Leo. What exactly are you hiding, young man? his heart whispered. --- That night, in his simple hut, Leo washed the bruises on his body. The physical pain was meaningless compared to the wounds in his soul. The voices of Seraphina and Finn still echoed in his head. As he sat in contemplation, his wooden window creaked softly open. A small scroll of paper landed gently on the floor. Cautiously, Leo opened it. There was only one sentence written in elegant ink: "They have caught the scent of the ancient blood. You are not safe here. RUN." Who had sent this warning? Had the spies of the Gods already infiltrated the sect, coming this close? Or... could this be a trap to lure him out? With a heart pounding fiercely, Alastair realized: the hunt that had haunted his life for thousands of years had truly begun. ---