Jiang Luo suddenly felt a particularly unpleasant, invasive gaze.
The stare felt like it came from a poisonous snake or wild beast, sending a chill down his spine. Frowning, Jiang Luo put down the book and looked up — his gaze met with the boy sitting across from him.
Jiang Luo’s tight frown relaxed a little, and he asked curiously, “Why are you staring at me?”
The boy replied, “I’m Qi Ye.”
Jiang Luo said, “Oh.”
Qi Ye’s brow furrowed instantly, a stunned expression crossing his face — clearly not expecting such a cold “Oh” after introducing himself.
The livestream chat erupted in mockery.
[LMAO Qi Ye just hit a brick wall]
[Qi Ye’s face: Wait, there are actually people in the world who don’t know this genius?]
“You don’t know who I am?” Qi Ye raised his voice.
Jiang Luo was a little distracted. He stood up, glancing around as dusk deepened, as if searching for something. “Didn’t you just say your name was Qi Ye?”
Qi Ye choked for a moment, then, curious about Jiang Luo’s behavior, asked, “Hey, what are you looking for?”
Jiang Luo’s gaze finally settled on a patch among the trees. The leaves there were moving even though there was no wind, as if something was hidden within. He suddenly looked back at Qi Ye. “Are you really strong?”
There was a hint of doubt in his tone that instantly provoked Qi Ye. He let out a cold laugh. “At the very least, stronger than you.”
He deliberately glanced at the book in Jiang Luo’s hands and sneered, “Compass Analysis? I’d love to know how you even made it this far.”
Though he said that, Qi Ye didn’t actually underestimate Jiang Luo. If someone who didn’t even rely on a compass could get here, it meant this person either had extraordinary talent — or absurdly good luck.
And sometimes, luck is a form of strength.
Jiang Luo’s doubtful expression only deepened. “Is that so?”
Although he didn’t say anything insulting, his attitude alone was enough to infuriate. Qi Ye stood up abruptly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing,” Jiang Luo said. “Just that I’m the type who’d rather prove things with action than words. After all, talk is cheap. If you want me to believe you’re strong, you should show some real skill. Looks like there’s something in that forest ahead — do you dare to go check it out?”
He then added kindly, “It’s fine if you don’t. It’s not shameful to talk big and be scared in reality.”
Qi Ye took a deep breath and turned toward the trees. “I don’t f**king bluff.”
Jiang Luo said, “Oh no, you’re really going? Don’t — it’s dangerous, seriously. Alright, alright, don’t get mad…”
Seeing Qi Ye speeding toward the suspicious area, Jiang Luo slowly fell silent. He relaxed, staying behind to enjoy the show and watch what happened.
But less than ten seconds later, Qi Ye came sprinting out from behind the trees with a dark expression, shouting, “Run! It’s a spider-human—!”
Before he could even finish saying what it was, Jiang Luo had already turned and bolted. Qi Ye paused for a second, then sped up to follow him.
One in front, one behind, the two raced out of the pavilion. Jiang Luo instinctively ran left. Qi Ye remembered Jiang Luo’s earlier speed in the Eight Trigrams Maze and didn’t hesitate to follow.
The trees thickened, and under the moonlight, the shadows twisted like they had come alive. The further they ran, the more Jiang Luo felt something was wrong. When a familiar pavilion appeared ahead, he realized — they’d returned to where they started.
Qi Ye, panting slightly, stopped beside him. He looked at the pavilion, then at Jiang Luo, his expression turning sour. “You led us back here on purpose?”
Jiang Luo: …Actually, no.
Qi Ye’s thoughts churned. With rising anger, he asked, “You think I was lying? So you brought me back here just to see if there really was a spider?”
Jiang Luo: “…Mmm.”
Qi Ye let out a cold laugh and grabbed Jiang Luo’s arm, dragging him back toward the woods. “Then come see for yourself whether I was lying!”
Jiang Luo glanced around warily. “No need — let’s just go.”
But when he looked back, Qi Ye had vanished.
Jiang Luo froze. The next moment, a thick strand of spider silk shot out from behind and wrapped around him. With the world spinning around him, Jiang Luo found himself trapped in a sticky web — right next to Qi Ye, who had also been captured.
The massive spiderweb cast a veil-like mist over the surroundings. Qi Ye managed to free one arm from the glue-like web, as sticky as industrial adhesive, and said to Jiang Luo with a gloating tone, “See? I told you I wasn’t lying.”
Jiang Luo’s hair was also stuck to the web, making it almost impossible for him to move. He focused on freeing his hands first and shot Qi Ye a speechless look before muttering, “Once we get out of this, I’m definitely cutting off this annoying hair.”
Hearing this, Qi Ye turned to glance at him. The black-haired youth was focused intently on breaking free. A few strands of white web clung to his dark hair, his clothes were disheveled, and at the slightly open collar, the pale, elegant line of his neck was exposed.
Long hair actually looks pretty nice…
Qi Ye snapped out of his daze and said, “Where’s the spider-human?”
No sooner had he spoken than the giant web beneath them trembled violently.
From the edge of the web crawled eight hairy spider legs. A massive spider clambered up the thin silk strands with speed and skill.
It was yellow and black, about the size of a grown adult. Most disturbingly, it had a human face and upper body.
The spider-human’s face was deathly pale, with hollow, pitch-black eyes. It slowly approached Jiang Luo and Qi Ye. Since Qi Ye was on the outer side, the spider-human reached him first. It extended a foreleg, tearing open Qi Ye’s upper clothing. Its hairy claw pressed down on Qi Ye’s abdomen.
Qi Ye’s usual calm expression shifted. He gritted his teeth and cursed, “sh*t. It’s a male spider looking for someone to lay eggs in. What d*mn rotten luck.”
If it had been under normal circumstances, Qi Ye could have easily killed this spider-human. But now, with only a compass on him and stuck to this massive web, he couldn’t break free.
While the spider-human tested whether Qi Ye’s body was suitable for breeding its offspring, Jiang Luo’s expression darkened. He had no intention of becoming an egg incubator. He glanced sideways at the drone and confirmed it was blocked by the forest, unable to capture what his hands were doing. From his sleeve, he slid out a folding knife. He flicked it open with two fingers and began cutting the web beneath him with all his strength.
The spider-human had its back to Jiang Luo and couldn’t see his movements, but Qi Ye saw everything clearly. Though he didn’t know where Jiang Luo had gotten the contraband weapon, now wasn’t the time to question it.
He stayed perfectly still despite the disgust, doing his best to buy Jiang Luo time. Fortunately, he didn’t seem to be a suitable candidate for the spider-human—the creature retracted its claw from Qi Ye’s abdomen and turned toward Jiang Luo.
Jiang Luo had already managed to sit up halfway and was swiftly cutting at the silk binding his legs. Realizing what he was trying to do, the spider-human let out an enraged screech and charged at him with all eight legs.
In the final moment, Jiang Luo managed to cut himself free. He curled around his vital organs and dropped from the more than three-meter-high web. Luckily, beneath him was a thick patch of decaying soft leaves that cushioned the fall.
Seeing that he had escaped, Qi Ye shouted, “Run!”
Jiang Luo sprang to his feet, gave a quick one-handed “OK” gesture, and vanished into the darkness at lightning speed.
Qi Ye: “…” He was the one who told Jiang Luo to run, but seeing him leave so decisively made him feel a bit… off.
The spider-human roared uselessly, then turned and charged at Qi Ye. Qi Ye’s heart sank.
Anyone caught by a male spider either became a host for its eggs or was eaten. Neither fate sounded pleasant, but if he had to choose, Qi Ye would rather be eaten than turned into a vessel filled with spider eggs, only to be consumed from the inside by baby spiders.
Still, as one of the most gifted and powerful young elites of his generation, Qi Ye felt this kind of death was just… disgraceful.
The spider-human loomed over him, jaws wide open, saliva dripping from the corners of its mouth. Qi Ye turned his head away in disgust—only to suddenly freeze.
In the high branches of a tall tree, he spotted a black-haired youth.
The long-haired youth had his right arm wrapped around a tree trunk, a knife in his left hand, hidden silently among the leaves like a skilled predator stalking in the night.
When he noticed Qi Ye looking, the youth raised his finger to his lips, signaling for silence with a quiet “shhh” as his blade gleamed coldly in the moonlight.
Qi Ye stared in a daze for a few seconds before looking away, fixing his gaze back on the hideous face of the spider-human.
Completely unaware of the looming danger, the spider-human lunged to bite Qi Ye’s chest. Just in time, the black-haired youth leapt from the tree and drove the sharp blade straight into the spider-human’s brain.
A gush of thick, blue blood splattered out. Jiang Luo straddled the spider-human’s neck, legs clamped tightly around it. He pulled the knife free and plunged it deep into its neck.
Dark green blood poured out in streams, covering Jiang Luo in filth. Some splattered on his hand and cheek. He kept his mouth tightly shut to avoid swallowing any of it. When the spider-human finally collapsed, twitching, Jiang Luo calmly climbed down and trudged through the sticky web toward Qi Ye, struggling with each step.
Seeing Qi Ye staring at him dumbly, Jiang Luo wiped his face and mocked, “Stunned stupid?”
Qi Ye instinctively replied, “As if.”
He frowned, clearly irritated, and was about to say more when his pupils suddenly shrank. “Move!”
Jiang Luo rolled to the side with lightning reflexes—only to end up stuck on the web again. But what was more horrifying was the spider-human he had just killed was now twitching.
Its head and neck were still bleeding. Its face was pale, frozen in death, but its body was rising again—as if it had never been killed in the first place.
Jiang Luo raised his hand—only to find it stuck fast. He stared fixedly at the “resurrected” spider-human and couldn’t help but curse under his breath: “F*ck.”
The spider-human seemed drawn by the sound. Its hollow eyes slowly turned toward Jiang Luo’s position, then suddenly split into a twisted, chilling grin.
That smile draped spider-human’s otherwise plain—even ugly—face with a bizarre, manic sort of contradictory charm.
