Chapter Five: The Colossal Insect Monster

In the distance, at the edge of the cluster of buildings, a pitch-black fissure as thick as an arm suddenly appeared. Within that crack, a colossal, milky-white insect twisted and writhed, more than half of its body already exposed. Its snow-white form contrasted sharply against the darkness of the fissure, making it strikingly conspicuous in the dim space.

Shen Lie stared, terrified. The entire body of this giant insect was likely twenty or thirty meters long, thicker than an oil drum, and most astonishing of all, a row of black-and-white wings sprouted from its back. The thunderous sound from earlier had been the result of those wings beating.

“Damn!” Shen Lie was at a loss for words. Compared to this monstrous insect, the head in the main hall was nothing but a drizzle, and the invading spider creatures on Earth seemed as harmless as ants. He glanced again at the ruined, collapsed buildings around him, then at the enormous insect about to emerge from the fissure. With a shriek, he bolted toward the only intact main hall, abandoning any reluctance he’d previously felt.

“Buzz, buzz, buzz...” Shen Lie ran for the hall like a madman, even faster than when he’d fled from it before. He didn’t know if it would be safe inside, but right now it was his last straw, his only hope for survival.

He felt his speed approaching that of a sprinting champion, every ounce of his potential squeezed out in the face of death. He could even hear the wind whipping past his ears. But despite this desperate effort, he was still a step too slow. When he was still dozens of meters from the hall’s door, the giant insect let out a piercing screech, and its bloated body finally tore free from the fissure, entering the space fully.

The insect’s eyes were small, yet it instantly sensed Shen Lie—the only living being in this space. Its wings shuddered, and its massive body shot toward him like a streak of white light.

Shen Lie was now less than ten meters from the hall’s entrance, but those ten meters might as well have been an insurmountable chasm. He had a strong, intuitive feeling: if he could just get inside the hall, the insect wouldn't follow. But time offered him no such chance.

He didn’t even have time to look back. A foul wind surged behind him, the overwhelming pressure made his feeble legs tremble uncontrollably, and even taking another step forward was a struggle.

“So this is the apocalypse. One wrong move and you're dead. If I'd known, I wouldn't have let curiosity lead me to study that jade pendant. Maybe I’d still be eking out a living in the safe zone. I wonder how cousin Wen Wan is doing?” The monster was so powerful that Shen Lie had no thoughts of resisting. In this moment, his mind became strangely calm, even finding time to worry about his cousin.

He fully expected to become the insect’s next meal, yet his legs kept running mechanically, and to his astonishment, he found himself alive after dashing into the hall.

“What’s going on?” His mind was hazy, then turned to wild joy.

“I’m alive! I’m not dead! I’m alive! I’m not dead! Ah, hahahaha...” Shen Lie had no idea why the monster hadn’t eaten him—maybe his scent wasn’t appetizing, maybe he was too small, or maybe it was a vegetarian. Whatever the reason, the creature abandoned its pursuit, and as he entered the hall, the oppressive atmosphere vanished.

“Looks like my luck is as stubborn as ever.” The terror receded like a tide, and Shen Lie wanted to shout to ease his still-nervous heart. Yet mid-shout, he remembered the hall wasn’t necessarily safe; it had been littered with strange heads!

“What the hell is going on now?” He gathered his scattered nerves and tried to check the heads, only to find the hall empty—not a single head in sight.

“Am I seeing things?” He felt a chill race up his spine once more. Since entering this strange space, he’d lost count of how many times cold fear had gripped him. In less than a day, he’d faced multiple life-or-death crises, and his nerves had grown numb.

“Moo...” As he leaned against the door he’d just closed, hesitating to move, a deep roar echoed from outside. The sound was strange, yet filled with majesty and dominance, shaking the entire hall.

Shen Lie was so frightened he nearly collapsed, abandoning any thoughts of the insect or the heads, scrambling and stumbling down the descending stone stairs.

Outside the hall.

The giant white insect hadn’t lost its appetite for Shen Lie; just as it was about to swallow him whole, a massive, illusory image appeared above the hall. The apparition emanated a powerful sense of danger, forcing the insect to abandon its meal and focus all its attention on the phantom.

“Moo~~” The apparition was a gargantuan bull’s head, indistinct yet exuding boundless aura. Its enormous eyes regarded the insect with obvious contempt and mockery, issuing a warning call.

The insect circled in midair, seemingly eager to force its way into the hall, but it was wary of the bull’s head apparition. Something in its instincts told it this bull was perilous, and it sensed a suppression at the level of life itself, making resistance impossible.

“Hiss hiss~~” The giant insect hovered for a long time, but ultimately dared not cross the threshold. It screeched a few times in frustration, then flew away, circling the space before disappearing back into the pitch-black fissure.

Once the insect’s body had completely vanished into the crack, the bull’s head apparition began to dissipate. Yet throughout its fading, its gaze never left the golden hall below, its eyes displaying a range of human-like emotions—sorrow, fear, hope, and a strong sense of confusion—before finally dissolving into wisps of smoke and vanishing from the space.

Shen Lie stumbled down the stone stairs, rolling when he fell and then scrambling up to continue running. The staircase seemed endless; he felt as though he’d been descending for a century, the steps growing narrower and the stone walls damper, until he was rolling more than standing.

At last, when his swollen eyes were little more than slits, Shen Lie felt his head slam into something hard, abruptly halting his descent.

Dizzy, he opened his eyes to see pale yellow glowing gems embedded in the walls, each the size of a fist, illuminating the entire space.

“One of these could buy me a luxury duplex in a first-tier city!” His first thought was of the gems’ value, before he began to take in his surroundings.

Bathed in the gems’ light, Shen Lie surveyed the area. It seemed to be a corridor; one end was the stairs he’d just descended, the other was dim and required closer inspection.

He didn’t hurry forward, because he noticed that every so often along the corridor, there was a stone door on either side. This discovery excited him—it was just like the protagonists in novels who stumble upon extraordinary encounters between life and death: a bizarre space, a golden palace, strange underground stairs, and now stone doors. It all fit the pattern of a fantastical adventure. Could there be miraculous techniques, legendary weapons, or elixirs of immortality behind those doors? The anticipation was overwhelming!

He rubbed his bruised and battered body, swallowed a nonexistent lump in his throat, temporarily ignoring his hunger and pain, and—with eyes shining—pushed open the first stone door to his left.