Chapter Thirty-Three: The Appearance of the Strange Insect

A crimson halo enveloped Max’s dragon form, and with a flash of light, the mighty dragon vanished before their eyes.

“Wow! Where did the dragon go?” Guoguo exclaimed, hopping over to the spot where Max had disappeared. She glanced at Lingtian’s stomach and pointed, “Did it go inside you?”

Lingtian simply smiled, saying nothing. This girl was truly a worthy friend of Luan Yudie. Turning away, he gazed at the mist-shrouded insect nest and strode towards the valley.

Luan Yudie rapped Guoguo lightly on the head and scolded, “You little rascal, don’t do that again next time.” Guoguo merely giggled and followed her into the valley.

The moment Lingtian entered the valley, he noticed a faint scent of blood lingering in the air—not overpowering, yet pervasive throughout the space.

All six of them summoned their protective auras, sheathing their bodies in energy, while their spiritual senses spread out, alert for any sign of danger. Dressed in white, Lingtian’s figure flickered, leaving afterimages in his wake. The other five moved just as swiftly, darting through the valley littered with rocks and thick with wild grass.

Soon after Lingtian’s group had left, several more people arrived, equally stunned by the sight of the insect nest. These newcomers looked strange, their attire a bizarre mishmash.

Just as they were about to step forward, a shadow as black as night appeared behind them, ghostly and silent.

They all sensed the presence at once, but the shadow struck too quickly. A jet-black sword, thin as a cicada’s wing and barely an inch wide, swept across the throat of one man the instant the shadow appeared—a blade incarnate of death.

With a flourish of his voluminous black robe, the shadow enveloped the man, and as the others stood frozen in shock, he vanished into nothingness.

Though the man’s body was whisked away, his head was left behind. The unfortunate soul’s face was frozen in the same expression as before, oblivious to his own demise—until, as it fell into the void, the light faded from his eyes.

“Who are you? Come out here! How dare you kill someone from the Demonic God Realm—we will tear you to pieces!” roared a man with golden curls, his fury echoing into the void.

Inside the insect nest, Lingtian’s expression shifted with surprise. Dense mist now enveloped him, his vision filled with white. Not long before, as they had just left the valley, the sudden fog had separated them.

No matter which way he turned, he couldn’t escape the mist’s bounds. He tried shouting for Luan Yudie and the others, but there was no reply. With his level of cultivation, his voice should have traveled far, but in this sunless fog, it was swallowed whole.

Cautiously, Lingtian pressed forward, his golden-hued aura shielding him. The road beneath his feet was rough and uneven.

A strange, piercing wail broke the silence, growing louder as it neared. In an instant, a gigantic purple form barreled toward him, smashing into his body. Caught off guard, sharp purple horns like those of an ox jabbed into his chest.

The massive shadow came with the force of a rampaging beast. The first impact churned Lingtian’s blood, but in a heartbeat, he recovered. His hands, shining with golden light, clamped down on the purple horns.

Driven back by the beast’s power, Lingtian crashed through several rocks, but thanks to his formidable body, he remained unharmed.

The gale stirred by the struggle scattered the mist, allowing Lingtian to see his attacker clearly—a grotesque head the size of a tabletop, two enormous horns over three feet long curving forward from its crown, now gripped firmly in his hands.

Its eyes, black as bowls, glinted with malice. A wide, flat mouth stretched back, lined with jagged fangs, belching a foul stench with every breath. Any plant touched by that reeking breath withered and yellowed in an instant.

Behind, a pair of snow-white wings, encased in a chitinous shell, buzzed with a menacing hum as they flapped. Its round, mountain-sized body was supported by six hefty, metallic legs, which crushed anything in their path to splinters.

“What is this thing? It’s no spirit beast—just an enormous, monstrous insect.” Now that Lingtian saw it clearly, he thought, “No wonder this place is called the Insect Nest—there really are monstrous bugs here!”

Seeing that its initial charge had failed, the purple insect let out a screech. Its maw gaped wide, unleashing a barbed, slime-coated tongue, reeking of blood and rot, which lashed out to coil around Lingtian’s waist.

Lingtian’s expression did not change. As the tongue whipped toward him, he pulled on the horns, lifting himself in a flash above the attack. Using the momentum, he vaulted into the air as the insect lunged forward beneath him.

Landing lightly, Lingtian had no desire to tangle with the creature. He darted away, his senses probing for a route ahead, and quickly picked a direction to sprint toward.

Behind him, the bug howled and gave chase, but Lingtian ignored it, focused on forging ahead—time was too precious to waste.

Suddenly, a sharp hiss caught his ear, as if something sliced through the air. In the next moment, he discovered the source—a giant net woven of silvery threads appeared before him. In a single breath, he would have been ensnared. At the last instant, Lingtian halted mid-step and threw himself backward to the ground, landing with a crack that sent shards of stone flying.

The silvery web just missed him, and as it passed, a foul wind swept in, the ground rumbling as something massive scuttled nearby.

Startled, Lingtian sprang to his feet and vanished with a step, glancing back just in time to see a massive, earth-colored insect—part spider, part centipede—charging past, its fangs bared. The body was mostly spider, mottled black and gray, but at the rear, instead of the usual spinnerets, it bore the writhing tail of a giant centipede, a hundred legs clawing the ground, its visage utterly terrifying.

He had barely regained his footing when the purple horns appeared again at his side. With no alternative, Lingtian stomped the ground, launching himself to land squarely on the beast’s back.

“Haven’t you had enough?” Lingtian shouted in anger, his foot flashing with golden light as he stomped down hard.

The creature’s hard shell, wings and all, cracked beneath his foot and flew off into the mist. With one wing severed, the purple insect wailed in pain, but Lingtian showed no mercy. He brought his foot down again, and the remaining wing met the same fate.

Leaping from its back, Lingtian slammed his fist down on the bug’s massive rump, sending its mountain-sized body hurtling into the swirling mist.

Just then, a thick strand of web shot out, lashing around Lingtian’s waist as he struck the purple insect away. A powerful force yanked him, trying to drag him into the fog.

From the mist emerged the enormous head of a centipede, jaws agape, ready to bite. Yet only half its body emerged before it stopped, spitting toxic vapor that turned the white mist around it to billowing black smoke.

Lingtian stood his ground. Though the spider’s web was tight and strong, it could not budge him an inch.

Seeing it could not reel in its prey, the giant spider crawled out of the mist and charged at Lingtian. Its centipede tail, unwilling to be left out, twisted around and lunged as well.

But with two bodies fused together, they moved in different directions, their speed suffering as a result. Lingtian found it almost amusing. He pressed his right hand into a blade, golden light shining from his fingertips, and sliced cleanly through the web binding him.

In a flash, he darted away, the severed strand still in his grasp. Instead of attacking the conjoined monsters, he spun and slashed, sending a blade of energy nearly ten feet long slicing into the roiling mist.

A shrill wail and a heavy thud followed. Lingtian felt something liquid flow at his feet—looking down, he saw a stream of black-purple blood, its stench enough to make one retch.

Not far ahead, in the mist, a milky-white insect with six pairs of transparent wings had been sliced in half by his energy blade. Yet it did not die; the two halves writhed and twisted, oozing black-purple blood that burned the ground to smoking ruin.

Turning back to the conjoined monsters, Lingtian’s blade trembled. A three-foot blade of solid energy extended from its tip as he fixed his gaze on the advancing creatures. He called out softly, “Swift Sever!”

His white-clad form seemed to vanish, reappearing at the junction between spider and centipede. The golden blade flashed once.

A spray of dark yellow fluid splattered into the mist, sizzling and turning to black smoke in the air.

Both halves shrieked and bolted in opposite directions. The centipede, wounded and oozing, collapsed first, its hundred legs twitching before it lay still, lifeless.

The spider, however, showed no sign of dying. It still leapt about, and though yellow fluid seeped from its wound at first, the gash soon closed before his eyes, scabbing over in just a few breaths.

Lingtian watched in astonishment. Had losing the centipede half actually strengthened the spider?

Yet the spider did not attack again or try to flee. Instead, it crawled over to the centipede’s corpse and began to devour it with gaping jaws.

A chill ran through Lingtian’s heart. Unwilling to linger, he slipped away into the fog.

—End of Martial Dao: Edge of Extremity, Chapter Thirty-Three: The Arrival of the Monstrous Insects.