Chapter Three: The Spider Monster

Spider monsters—that’s what these creatures from another world are called online. Not long after Shen Lie had fled in a frenzy, a tidal wave of black swept toward the spot where he’d just paused, settling there in a dense, oppressive mass. Several spiders, darker in color than their kin and marked with strange dark-red patterns on their backs, lined up in formation. Then one, larger than the rest, bearing two of those ominous patterns, emerged from the group like a leader. It prowled around the spot where the void-black point had previously existed, circling back and forth, before letting out a call that sounded oddly confused.

At that cry, the patterned spiders stirred, spreading out to search the surroundings. One of them glanced toward the direction Shen Lie had escaped, then let out two low calls to the ordinary spiders behind it. Instantly, a small band broke off from the main horde, pursuing Shen Lie.

Shen Lie had never passed a physical exam in his life; long-distance running was little more than a fantasy. After sprinting about half a mile, he was gasping for breath, his throat dry as if about to burst, and he collapsed onto the ground, utterly exhausted.

Yet, with death looming so close, he summoned a superhuman effort. He lay there only a moment before scrambling to his feet and frantically scanning the direction he’d fled.

His heart eased a little at what he saw. Though the space was dim, he could just make out the mass of terrifying creatures in the distance—they had stopped at the place where he'd first entered. He didn’t know why, but it was better than having them chase after him.

“At least I escaped this time. Seems luck’s on my side.” Shen Lie felt a surge of post-catastrophe relief, so strong it nearly drowned out any thought of how to get back. But the feeling lasted only a moment. He saw a smaller group—about twenty—appear within his field of vision, no more than two hundred meters away!

“Damn it!” Shen Lie sprang up with a howl, summoning the last reserves of his strength, and bolted away again.

This time, luck deserted him. These twenty monsters were coming straight for him, moving with terrifying speed, and in moments they were close behind. Shen Lie could even smell their fetid breath wafting through the air.

He didn't dare look back. If he did, he feared he’d lose his head to their jaws. He dreaded the bloody scene; if death was inevitable, he’d prefer it to come without him knowing.

Regret filled his mind. Why had he bothered to investigate that pendant? If he was going to, he should have planned it better; this was far too reckless. How could he just open the bathroom door so carelessly?

“If only I’d gone to Liaoning with the main group!” That was Shen Lie’s last thought.

...

From the perspective of the twenty spider monsters, just as their prey was about to be devoured, he suddenly sank downward and vanished—leaving behind a dark hole tinged with gold on the ground beneath them.

The opening was small, but the spiders could still squeeze through. For some reason, they hissed in agitation, circling the hole restlessly but not daring to enter, nor did they depart.

After ten minutes, one spider’s patience snapped. It cautiously crawled toward the hole, its companions tense as it slowly probed the opening.

Nothing happened.

The spider, possessing limited intelligence, seemed to realize it had accomplished something remarkable. It raised a foreleg in triumph, as if to boast to its peers. But just then, a blast of wind erupted from the hole, and the proud spider was instantly reduced to a spray of blood.

Hisses and screeches broke out among the remaining spiders, who recoiled in panic.

Yet they wouldn’t leave. They kept circling the hole for a long time, until one of the two suns in the sky disappeared. Only then, after a sharp, distant screech echoed, did they reluctantly melt into the gloom.

...

When Shen Lie fell through the hole, he was battered by a tempestuous wind, raging within the narrow shaft. Normally, even the hardened bodies of spider monsters couldn’t withstand such force, let alone his frail flesh. But as he plunged into the tunnel, the pendant—now shrunken into the form of a tiny token—burst into brilliant light, enveloping him. The wind that could reduce those terrifying creatures to mist could not harm him, though as he passed through the storm, the light collapsed, the token flickering and dulling as if drained of energy.

Without its protection, even absent the deadly wind, the fall from the opening to the bottom left Shen Lie battered and senseless; he passed out instantly.

He had no idea how long it was before he awoke. Astonished, he found himself alive; aside from aching all over, he bore no wounds. This baffled him.

Then he remembered: he'd fallen somewhere just as the spiders caught up, which must have saved his life. He guessed he was underground now.

The constant terror somehow brought him a strange calm. He took out his phone, switched on the flashlight, and scanned the area. The space wasn’t large, but what caught his eye was a patch of ground ahead, covered in intricate patterns—not naturally formed, but clearly carved by hand.

Looking up, he saw only a narrow shaft, growing tighter as it rose, with no hint of light. The walls were smooth; he tried, but found nowhere to grip, let alone climb. Shen Lie had to admit that, unless a miracle occurred, he had no chance of getting out.

He gave a bitter laugh. Escaping one dire fate only to fall into another—he might as well have died in the spiders’ jaws. At least that would have been quick, not a slow death by starvation.

They say the greatest terror lies between life and death. Perhaps he’d passed through so much fear that it had numbed him. Aside from regretting his rash decision to open the bathroom door, he even felt curious enough to study the patterns on the ground.

“Wait, is that a button?”

He shone his phone’s light along the designs, spotting a small metallic protrusion near the center. His eyes brightened. Could it be the trigger for some mechanism? Maybe pressing it would reveal a stone door or something—could he have a chance to escape after all?

The hope revived him. No one wants to die if they can live. Yet he didn’t press the button immediately; what if it triggered a trap— a hidden pit or poison dart? That would be the end.

So Shen Lie carefully searched the entire cave for half an hour, returning to the button only when he was sure there was nothing else unusual down here. If there was any exit, it had to be connected to this button. Even if it meant risking a deadly trap, he had no other choice. He took a deep breath and pressed it.

Nothing happened.

The button was indeed movable, sinking easily beneath his finger, but there was no change. Perhaps the mechanism was too old and broken, or something else was wrong. No sound, no reaction.

This was Shen Lie’s worst fear. Even the appearance of a trap would be preferable—at least that meant something was happening. No change meant only death.

The extinguishing of hope is harder to bear than never having it. Shen Lie dropped to the ground, covering his head with his hands in silent despair.

His hand left the metallic button, which sprang back into place. At that moment, the patterns on the ground blazed to life, illuminating every detail of the cave and startling him into staring upward, mouth agape.

As he tried to stand and see what was happening, the light abruptly dimmed, and his shadow vanished from the cave, as if swallowed whole. The chamber returned to darkness, as though nothing had ever happened.