Chapter Three: The Spider Monster

Spider fiend—that was the name the internet gave to these otherworldly creatures. Not long after Shen Lie had fled in a frenzy, a rolling tide of black surged forward and came to a halt at the spot where he had just been. Several spiders, darker than their kin and marked with strange, dark-red patterns upon their backs, lined up in succession. Then, a larger spider, bearing two such patterns and seeming to be their leader, emerged from the ranks. Like a commander, it prowled repeatedly around the place where that void-black spot had appeared, uttering a sound that seemed tinged with confusion.

With its call, the other patterned spiders began to move, spreading out to search in all directions. Yet one glanced toward the path Shen Lie had taken, and, after giving two low calls to the common spiders behind it, a small group broke off from the main horde to pursue him.

Shen Lie had never passed a physical exam in his life; long-distance running was nothing short of a fantasy to him. So after sprinting about a mile, he was gasping for air, throat dry as if it might burst, and collapsed onto the ground in utter exhaustion.

Still, with his life under dire threat, Shen Lie managed to summon extraordinary strength. He lay there for only a moment before scrambling back to his feet, anxiously scanning the direction he had just run.

His heart eased a little at what he saw. Though the space here was dim, he could make out the distant mass of terrifying creatures—they had stopped at the place where he first entered. He didn't know why, but he was grateful they hadn't pursued him further.

“At least I escaped death; luck seems to be on my side,” Shen Lie thought, a sense of survival joy washing over him and even momentarily dulling his concern about how to return home. Yet that joy lasted only an instant, for he soon spotted a small group—about twenty monsters—entering his field of vision, scarcely two hundred meters away!

“Damn!” Shen Lie shouted, leaping from the ground and forcing the last reserves of his strength as he once more ran desperately.

This time, his luck ran out. These twenty creatures were coming for him, and their speed was terrifying—they closed the gap almost instantly, and Shen Lie could smell the reek of blood in the air behind him.

He dared not look back, afraid that if he did, his head would be bitten off by those monsters. Better to die ignorant than to witness such a gruesome end.

Regret filled his mind—why had he bothered studying that pendant? If he had to investigate it, he should have planned carefully. This reckless act, simply opening that bathroom door, was a fatal mistake.

“If I'd known it would come to this, I would have gone with the main group to Liaoning Province!” That was Shen Lie's final thought.

...

In the vision of those twenty spider fiends, just as their prey was about to be devoured, he suddenly dropped downward and disappeared. A dark pit, tinged faintly with gold, appeared on the ground beneath them.

The opening was small, but the spiders could still squeeze through. For some reason, they grew agitated, hissing and circling restlessly around the entrance, yet none dared enter, nor did they leave.

After a dozen minutes or so, one spider could no longer restrain itself and cautiously crept toward the hole. Under the tense watch of its companions, it slowly inserted its body into the opening.

Nothing happened.

The spider, with its limited intelligence, seemed to realize it had accomplished something remarkable and raised a foreleg as if to display its bravery. But at that moment, a fierce wind burst from the hole, and the proud spider was instantly blasted into a mist of blood!

“Chii-chii-chii, zzz-zzz-zzz…” The remaining spiders shrieked in alarm and retreated.

Yet they did not leave. They lingered around the pit for a long time, until one of the two suns overhead disappeared and a sharp screech echoed from afar. Only then did they reluctantly melt into the gloom.

...

When Shen Lie fell through the hole, he was struck by the same wild wind, a vortex so violent it made the narrow tunnel a zone of raging turbulence. Ordinarily, not even the spider fiends’ armored bodies could withstand such force, let alone mere flesh and blood. Yet, at the instant Shen Lie dropped into the hole, the pendant—now transformed into a token—flared with intense light, enveloping him. The winds, deadly enough to reduce those monstrous beings to blood mist, did not harm him. But as he passed through the storm, the light collapsed and faded, the token shuddering as if drained of all energy, its surface dull and lifeless.

Without the protection of that light, even absent the fatal winds, Shen Lie was battered mercilessly as he fell from the mouth of the tunnel to its bottom, knocking him senseless and plunging him into unconsciousness.

He had no idea how long it was before he awoke. To his astonishment, he was alive—not dead, but merely aching all over, with no real injuries. It puzzled him deeply.

Then it came back to him: he must have fallen into some place at the very moment the spiders were about to overtake him, which had saved his life. Clearly, he was now underground.

The succession of terror left Shen Lie strangely calm. He pulled out his phone and switched on the flashlight. The weak beam revealed a small chamber, with the only unusual feature being a patch of patterned markings on the floor nearby. They were clearly not natural, but carved by human hands.

He looked up. All he could see was a narrowing shaft, with not a hint of light. This meant the hole was deep, and its walls were smooth. He tried, but there was nowhere to grip—not even a handhold. Shen Lie had to admit that unless a miracle occurred, there was no way he could climb out.

Shen Lie let out a bitter laugh. Escaping one dead end only to fall into another—he might as well have perished in the jaws of the spider fiends. At least that would have been quick, better than slowly starving to death.

They say the greatest terror lies between life and death, but perhaps he had passed terror’s threshold; Shen Lie found himself oddly unafraid. Aside from a little regret for rashly opening that bathroom door, he felt calm enough to observe the markings on the floor.

“Hm, there seems to be a button here.”

Guided by his phone’s light, Shen Lie followed the patterns and soon discovered a small metallic protrusion near the center—a sudden spark of hope. Perhaps this was the trigger for some mechanism: if he pressed it, maybe a stone door would open, and he might yet escape.

The thought revived his spirits; no one wishes to die if they can help it. Still, he didn’t press the button at once. If it released a trapdoor, a pit, or poisoned arrows instead of a door, he’d be finished.

So Shen Lie carefully examined every inch of the chamber, and only after half an hour did he return to the button, having confirmed it was the only unusual thing in the place. If there were any way out, it must be connected to this button; and even if it triggered a deadly trap, he had no other choice. Taking a deep breath, he pressed it down.

Nothing happened.

The button moved easily, but nothing changed. Perhaps it was too old and broken, or perhaps for some other reason—either way, there was not even a sound.

This was the outcome Shen Lie least wanted; even a trap would be better than nothing, for traps at least mean change, while no change means death.

The collapse of hope is worse than never having hope at all. Shen Lie slumped to the ground, covering his head with his hands.

As his hand left the button, it popped back up. At that moment, all the markings on the floor flashed with light, illuminating the chamber so clearly that Shen Lie jerked his head up, mouth agape, stunned and bewildered.

Just as he tried to stand and look around, the glow of the patterns suddenly dimmed, and his figure vanished from the chamber. The space fell back into darkness, as though nothing had ever happened.