Chapter Sixteen: Surrounded

A promising sign! Shen Lie’s eyes lit up with delight as he watched the last fledgling safely make it across the river. Yet, his joy was short-lived, quickly giving way to worry. At such a height, he was well above the tallest treetop on the far bank; the plan of looping a rope around the trunk, as he’d imagined before, was now utterly impossible. How was he supposed to string a line across the void?

He mulled it over for a long time, but no better idea came to him. Shen Lie decided he would have to find a few more living creatures to test the river’s attack range, hoping it might be lower than the main trunk of the thickest tree. Failing that, he would have to check other parts of the river for a more favorable terrain.

With his mind made up, Shen Lie removed the binoculars and prepared to leave. But as he was lowering them, something in the fleeting field of view made his heart freeze with terror.

Spider fiends!

Dozens of them—at least fifty or sixty—had gathered at the base of the signal tower. Shen Lie had been so absorbed in studying the river that he hadn’t noticed their silent approach. He didn’t even need binoculars now; a sweeping glance was enough to count their numbers, including three particularly large ones, their scarlet eyes fixed on the tower above. When their gazes met his, they let out a chilling, hissing sound.

Thank goodness these monsters weren’t true spiders. They couldn’t climb poles or spin webs; their resemblance to spiders was only in form. Otherwise, he wouldn’t just be surrounded—he would have been torn apart and devoured by now.

Thoughts spun frantically through his mind, but no solution presented itself. Cold sweat beaded on Shen Lie’s skin; his mouth went dry as he watched more and more of the spider fiends gather below, leaving him utterly at a loss.

“It seems today is my end,” he thought bitterly. “I haven’t even had time to fully savor the dread of the apocalypse before my own doom arrives.” Shen Lie could not deny his fear; worse, he was unwilling to accept it. If only he’d had more time, he knew he would have grown stronger. Then these creatures would be nothing to fear.

But the world allows no such ifs. Knowing there was no escape, Shen Lie forced himself to calm down. The spider fiends couldn’t reach him yet, and panic would do nothing. What he needed was to watch, and wait for a chance.

Raising the binoculars again, Shen Lie peered at the monsters below—their red eyes, their twitching, eager mouthparts. Clearly, these creatures hadn’t seen fresh meat in a long while. They were waiting for him to drop, a delicacy to sate their hunger.

Several of the spider fiends tried to climb the signal tower, but the iron frame was too slick; their claws could find no purchase. They managed only a few meters before falling back down, which allowed Shen Lie’s heart to settle a little.

Still, they showed no sign of leaving. They prowled restlessly beneath the tower, and after a while, a few began ramming the iron supports. Luckily, the frame was sturdy enough to withstand their blows—for now. But the larger ones had yet to make a move. If those brutes decided to join in, Shen Lie wasn’t sure the tower would hold.

Time was running short. Shen Lie moved his numb legs, wishing desperately for someone—anyone—to appear and lure the spider fiends away. Even that big black cat would do! He cursed his luck for coming here at such a time; now he had no room to maneuver at all.

His gaze swept the ground over and over, mind a muddled mess, yet no path to escape revealed itself. Then disaster struck.

On his next sweep, he spotted it: the white spider was among the swarm. Unlike the others, it didn’t ram the iron or pace restlessly. Instead, it opened its jaws, extruding a gleaming thread that stuck to the tower’s frame three or four meters up.

This one could spin silk!

A chill ran down Shen Lie’s spine. Weren’t these monsters supposed to be unable to spin webs? How had this mutant appeared?

There was no time to ponder. The white spider climbed its thread, spraying another strand when it reached about four meters, and in the blink of an eye, it was halfway up the tower—only a couple of moves from reaching his thigh.

“There’s no time!” Shen Lie had hoped to wait for a miracle, but now only one path remained: he would have to jump.

He had no intention of dropping straight into the waiting swarm below. His goal was the far bank. The signal tower stood close to the river’s edge; if he leapt with all his strength from this height, he might just land on the other side—though it would be perilous.

Even if he survived the fall, the river would attack him midair. Struck while airborne, he’d be utterly helpless.

But what choice did he have?

He glanced down again; the white spider had already climbed several more meters. Shen Lie drew a deep breath. To stay was certain death. To jump—well, the odds were grim, but not hopeless. Gritting his teeth, he pushed off with all his might, soaring out like a great bird.

The moment he left the tower, he knew he’d miscalculated. He’d overestimated his own strength; nerves and altitude had robbed him of power, and he began to fall before clearing the river. He was going to plunge into the water.

Passing over the river was dangerous enough; actually falling in—Shen Lie dared not imagine it. But there was no time to dwell on that. He’d barely dropped halfway before the water started to churn. A crimson column shot skyward, morphing into a giant maw that lunged to swallow him whole.

His mind blanked with fear, Shen Lie managed only to thrust the black spear in his hand before him, swinging it at the oncoming maw.

A miracle!

At the spear’s touch, the water column gave a humanlike whimper, then burst apart into droplets that rained back into the river. The force of the blow sent Shen Lie half a meter to the side, just enough to land him on the far bank with a slap.

The landing nearly broke him. Shen Lie felt several ribs crack; his organs burned with pain. Yet, elation surged through him. Ignoring the agony, he staggered to his feet, staring in wonder at the black spear.

He hadn’t expected it to restrain the deadly river. Clearly, this unremarkable weapon held more secrets, and he resolved to devote more attention to it in the future.

He tried to take a step, only to collapse in agony, clutching his right leg. The pain was blinding—almost certainly a broken bone. Hardly surprising, considering the height of his fall. If not for his mutated body, he’d have died on the spot.

He gathered his mutant energy and concentrated it in his right leg, a faint golden glow suffusing his calf. The pain quickly ebbed, and Shen Lie pulled himself up, limping toward the supplies he had thrown across earlier.

As he moved, he kept watch on the spider fiends across the river. Most of the monsters, seeing him reach the opposite bank, slunk away in frustration. A few lingered near the shore, unwilling to give up, but the white spider was nowhere to be seen.

Not one of them dared to cross the river. They must have suffered greatly from it before. The remaining spiders hissed in fury, but not one ventured within a meter of the water’s edge. At last, Shen Lie could relax.

He reached his bags, opened one, and took out disinfectant and gauze, dressing his wounds as best he could. He swallowed a few anti-inflammatory pills, shouldered his main pack, and hid the rest in a concealed spot, camouflaging them with branches for later retrieval. In his current state, he couldn’t carry more.

“Who’s there?”

He had barely finished when a jumble of footsteps sounded from afar. Through the trees, he glimpsed shadowy figures approaching. Shen Lie instinctively hid behind a trunk, but his injury slowed him, and before he could conceal himself, a low, gruff voice demanded an answer.