The Cursed Mountain: A Corpse's Tale from the Classic of Mountains and Seas

In the heart of ancient China, there stood a mountain known as the Cursed Mountain, its peak cloaked in perpetual mist and its valleys haunted by the whispers of the long-dead. The Cursed Mountain was no ordinary peak; it was a place where the boundary between the living and the dead was thin, and the supernatural was as common as the breath of the wind.

The tale begins with a Corpse, buried deep within the mountain’s shadow, who was bound by an ancient curse. The Corpse, once a warrior of great renown, had been betrayed by his closest companion, who, driven by greed, had sealed him away within the mountain, hoping to claim his place and his belongings.

The Corpse lay in his tomb, his body preserved by the mountain’s magical properties, his eyes forever closed. But the curse that bound him was not just a physical one; it was a curse of the soul, a spell that prevented him from resting in peace until his betrayer’s blood was shed.

Then, in a night shrouded in the mountain’s curse, the Corpse awoke. The mountain, feeling the shift in the Corpse’s essence, began to respond to his presence, its mist swirling around him like a cloak. The Corpse felt the power within him stir, a power that had been dormant for centuries.

With a deep, guttural roar, the Corpse rose from his tomb, his flesh rotting away to reveal the skeleton beneath. His bones, however, were no ordinary bones; they were imbued with the ancient magic of the mountain, making him stronger, faster, and more resilient than any man could ever be.

The Corpse sought out his betrayer, a man named Jing, who had risen to power in the years since the Corpse’s burial. Jing, now a ruler of great wealth and influence, was unaware of the Corpse’s revival until the night his dreams were haunted by the ghostly figure of a warrior he had once wronged.

As Jing awoke from his troubled sleep, he felt a chill run down his spine. He had heard tales of the Cursed Mountain and its curse, but he had always dismissed them as mere superstition. Now, as he looked into the mirror, he saw the reflection of a warrior, his eyes full of a vengeful fire.

The Corpse, now a ghostly specter, appeared before Jing’s palace. He stood at the gates, his form a haunting silhouette against the moonlit sky. Jing, upon seeing the Corpse, knew his fate was sealed. He had betrayed a man who had been his closest ally, and now he would pay the price.

A confrontation ensued, Jing’s guards drawn to the commotion, but the Corpse was unstoppable. His ancient magic, combined with the power of the Cursed Mountain, made him a formidable opponent. Jing, though skilled in the ways of war, was no match for the Corpse’s supernatural strength.

The battle raged on, Jing’s palace shaking with the fury of the fight. The Corpse, driven by a single-minded purpose, sought to exact his revenge. Jing, in his desperation, resorted to his own dark arts, hoping to fend off the Corpse’s advances.

The climax of the tale was a moment of pure, unadulterated chaos. The Corpse and Jing clashed, their forms merging and separating in a dance of death. Jing, in a last-ditch effort, unleashed a spell that could only be described as dark and twisted, one that would bind the Corpse to the mountain forever.

But the Corpse, in his final moments of life, saw the truth of his existence. He realized that he was not just a ghostly specter bound by a curse; he was a man who had been betrayed, who had been wronged, and who had a story that needed to be told.

With a roar of fury, the Corpse shattered the spell, freeing himself from the mountain’s curse. In that moment of freedom, he realized that his betrayal was not just about revenge; it was about justice, about the righting of a wrong that had been done to him.

The Corpse, now free, faded into the night, leaving Jing to face the consequences of his actions. The people of the land, though they had seen the spectacle of the Corpse’s revival, were left to ponder the true nature of justice and the supernatural.

The tale of the Corpse from the Cursed Mountain became a legend, one that would be told for generations. It was a story that spoke to the heart of humanity, reminding us that even in the darkest of times, there is always hope, and that justice, though it may come late, will always be served.