Chapter Sixteen: Encircled

What a promising sign! Shen Lie’s face lit up with joy the moment he saw the last little bird make it safely across the river. Yet, his elation was short-lived, quickly replaced by worry. At this height, he was already above the tallest treetop on the opposite bank. The plan he’d conceived earlier—to hook a rope onto the trunk of the largest tree—was now impossible. How could he possibly stretch a rope across such a gap in midair?

He mulled it over for a long while but couldn’t think of a better solution. Shen Lie resolved to capture a few more living creatures to test the river’s attack range. If the danger zone was lower than the trunk of the thickest tree, it would be ideal. If not, he’d have to scout the river for a more suitable crossing elsewhere.

Having made up his mind, Shen Lie lowered his binoculars, ready to set out. But just as he was putting them away, he glimpsed something in their field of view that sent a chill down his spine.

Spider monsters!

Dozens of them—fifty or sixty, perhaps—had gathered beneath the signal tower at some point, and Shen Lie, absorbed in watching the river, had failed to notice. He didn’t even need binoculars to make out their number. Three of them were especially large, their blood-red eyes fixed on the top of the tower, hissing when they met his gaze.

Luckily, these spider monsters weren’t true spiders; they couldn’t climb poles or spin webs. Their resemblance to spiders ended with their shape and size. Otherwise, he wouldn’t just be surrounded—he’d have been torn apart and devoured already.

His mind raced, but no escape plan surfaced. Cold sweat drenched his body, his mouth went dry, and he watched helplessly as more and more spiders gathered below, utterly at a loss.

“So this is it—my last day. The true taste of doomsday hasn’t even sunk in, and my own end arrives first.” Shen Lie couldn’t deny his fear, but beneath it was a deep sense of unwillingness. If only he’d had more time, he could have grown stronger; these monsters would have posed no threat.

But there are no ifs in this world. Knowing there was no way out, Shen Lie forced himself to calm down. The spider monsters couldn’t reach him—yet. His task now was not to panic, but to look for an opportunity.

He raised the binoculars once more, staring down at the spiders’ crimson eyes and twitching mandibles. Clearly, it had been a long time since these creatures had tasted flesh—they were all waiting for him, their next meal.

A few spiders tentatively tried to climb the signal tower, but the iron frame was too smooth—their claws found no purchase. The most they managed was a few meters before slipping down again, letting Shen Lie breathe a momentary sigh of relief.

Though unable to climb up, the spiders didn’t disperse. They prowled beneath the tower, circling restlessly. After a while, a few began ramming into the iron supports. Fortunately, the structure was sturdy enough that their strength couldn’t budge it—yet.

Still, Shen Lie felt the urgency mounting. The largest spiders hadn’t made a move. If they started smashing into the frame, who knew if it could withstand the impact?

Time was running out. Shen Lie shifted his numb legs. His greatest hope now was that a group of people would appear to draw the spiders away—he’d even settle for that big black cat! How had he ended up in this predicament at just the wrong moment, with nowhere left to maneuver?

His eyes swept over the ground again and again, his mind a muddled mess, unable to devise any means of escape.

And then, disaster struck.

In his next scan of the ground, he suddenly noticed a white spider among the throng. Unlike the others, which were either ramming the iron supports or meandering aimlessly, this one opened its mouth and spat out a shimmering, silken thread, which stuck to the tower’s frame three or four meters above the ground.

This one could spin webs!

A chill ran down Shen Lie’s scalp. Weren’t these monsters supposed to be incapable of spinning webs? How had a mutant appeared among them?

But there was no time for useless questions. The white spider climbed up its silk to a height of four meters, then spat out another thread, instantly propelling itself to the middle of the tower. In another two or three moves, it would reach his legs!

“No time left!” Shen Lie had wanted to wait, hoping for a miracle. But now, there was only one option: jump.

Of course, he wouldn’t leap straight down into the swarm. His target was the far bank of the river. The signal tower stood close to the water; if he jumped hard from this height, he might clear the river and land on the other side. But it was a risky move.

Never mind whether he’d survive the fall—just crossing through the air above the water would expose him to the river’s deadly attacks. If he was struck midair, he’d have no chance to dodge.

But there was no other choice.

He glanced down once more. The white spider had climbed several more meters. Shen Lie drew a deep breath—if he stayed, he was dead for sure; if he jumped, he had a slim chance. There was nothing left to hesitate over. Gritting his teeth, he pushed off with all his strength, launching himself like a great bird in a slanting leap.

The moment he left the tower, Shen Lie knew it was bad. He’d overestimated his own jumping ability. Nerves and altitude spoiled his leap—he began to drop toward the water before he’d cleared the river. He was almost certain to fall in.

Even crossing above the river brought fierce attacks—what would happen if he fell in? Shen Lie didn’t dare imagine it, nor did he have time to dwell on it, for as he plunged toward the water, it began to churn. A crimson jet shot skyward, forming a gigantic maw in midair, aiming to swallow him whole.

Panic wiped his mind blank. Instinctively, he raised the black spear in his hand, swinging it down at the gaping maw rushing toward him.

A miracle occurred.

At the spear’s blow, the water column emitted a distinctly human-like whimper, then burst apart into droplets and fell back into the river. Shen Lie, propelled by the force of the strike, shifted half a meter to the side, just missing the water’s surface and landing with a thud on the far bank.

The impact nearly broke him. He felt as though several ribs had snapped, his internal organs burning with pain, but his spirits soared. Ignoring the agony, he struggled to his feet and stared in astonishment at the black spear in his hand.

He hadn’t expected it to have any effect against the river’s horrors. This unremarkable-looking weapon clearly possessed hidden powers he had yet to uncover. He would have to devote more attention to it in the future.

He tried taking a step forward, but immediately collapsed, clutching his leg—a wave of searing pain shot through his right thigh. It was likely broken. Given the height of his jump, it was a wonder he wasn’t dead already. If not for his mutated body, this would have been the end.

Summoning the strange energy within him, he directed it to his right leg, a faint golden glow radiating from his calf. The pain eased dramatically. Shen Lie got back up and hobbled toward the supplies he had thrown across earlier.

As he moved, he kept an eye on the spiders across the river. Most of them, seeing him reach the opposite bank, dispersed in disappointment, though a few lingered at the water’s edge, unwilling to give up. The white spider had vanished entirely.

Not a single spider dared attempt the crossing—it seemed the river had taught them a bitter lesson. Even the angriest of them, hissing furiously from afar, wouldn’t come within a meter of the water’s edge. At last, Shen Lie could breathe easy.

He reached the duffel bags he’d thrown over earlier, opened one, and took out disinfectant and gauze. He cleaned and bandaged his wounds, swallowed a few anti-inflammatory tablets, then slung his old backpack over his shoulders. The remaining bags he stashed in a hidden spot, covering them with branches for camouflage—he couldn’t carry any more right now.

“Who’s there?”

Shen Lie had barely finished stowing his gear and hadn’t yet decided which way to go when he heard a jumble of footsteps in the distance. He glimpsed several vague, shadowy figures approaching and quickly ducked behind a tree, alert and tense. But his injured leg slowed him down, and before he could fully conceal himself, a deep, questioning voice called out from the newcomers.