Xiao Lei did not hesitate when the voice returned. Turn back. Through the inner wall.

  The puppy’s words rang sharp in his mind, and he obeyed at once. His strikes became cleaner, faster—each blow aimed not at escape but at piercing deeper. The tide of arachnids, sensing no retreat in him, faltered. Their movements tangled in confusion, opening seams in the black tide. Xiao Lei cut through those gaps like a blade through fraying silk.

  Stone split and collapsed behind him as he crossed the shattered wall. The swarm thinned the moment he entered, the ground no longer trembling so heavily with countless legs. His breath misted faintly, chest rising and falling as the unseen guide spoke again.

  Left, then straight.

  He adjusted without pause, boots hammering the uneven floor as the shadows swelled. The swarm seemed to understand now. Their chaos melted into a terrible order, and the tide withdrew with violent urgency, racing to coil around him like a closing fist.

  Pressure descended. Each stride grew heavier, like wading into a storm of invisible weight. Xiao Lei struck with everything—fists, elbows, knees, boots. Qi surged through his veins, bursting outward in hard collisions of flesh and spirit.

  Carapaces shattered. Ichor sprayed the stone. For every one broken, ten more poured forth—black legs scrabbling, shrieks scraping along the walls. The air itself carried the sound like knives, needling into his skull.

  His strikes slowed. Not from weakness, but from futility. The deeper he pushed, the more endless the horde seemed. He could not carve emptiness into something without end.

  The puppy’s voice returned, disturbingly calm. I have lost the queen.

  “Perfect,” he rasped—though the word barely formed before the tide surged, nearly drowning him in writhing limbs. He lunged, qi flashing—then the world tore.

  Void Step.

  Darkness collapsed and spat him out fifteen paces away. He landed hard, knees bent, chest heaving—and froze. The floor was gone.

  Stone ended in a jagged cut of air. Before his muscles could tense, the earth swallowed him. His body plummeted.

  The tunnel twisted sharply, walls whirling around him. Gravity tugged at unnatural angles, spinning him like a leaf caught in rapids. Xiao Lei gritted his teeth, trying to orient, but then he saw it. A pale shimmer racing up toward him, a wall of white sealing the tunnel like a lid.

  Impact.

  He crashed through, qi flaring instinctively to shield his frame. The barrier gave way with a brittle rip, shards of silk scattering into nothing. Agony still tore through him. His bones screamed, joints crackling, the shock hammering his chest until blood burst from his lips in a dark spray.

  Then silence.

  He hit stone. Rolled. Lay gasping, ribs grinding with each inhale, fire clawing up his chest.

  The puppy’s voice came again, bright, unbothered. The queen is close.

  Xiao Lei wiped blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. He didn’t glance at the floor but raised his eyes, squinting into the darkness above. The cavern’s ceiling loomed, vast and jagged. And there—watching—eight burning points of crimson.

  Not stars. Eyes.

  The gaze of something immense and waiting.

  “Yeah,” Xiao Lei whispered hoarsely, bitterness and grim humour tangled on his tongue. “No shit.”

  The puppy’s voice broke the hush, almost sheepish. “…Ah.” The sound was flat, almost too calm—like it had seen the truth and didn’t want to name it.

  Xiao Lei’s lips twitched at the remark.

  “Well, we were looking for it anyway. It’s just a mutated Crying—”

  The words stopped short.

  A dull thud struck the stone floor. The sound carried weight, vibrating through the dust-laden air. The thing that had been crawling above them dropped into view, landing with a tremor that unsettled the earth. For the first time, faint light—its source uncertain, seeping from cracks or some hidden glow—slid across the creature’s form.

  What stood before them was no ordinary foe.

  “You were saying?” Xiao Lei asked quietly, not taking his eyes from the beast. His voice was flat, steady. The puppy offered no answer.

  Because what loomed before them was no mutated Crying Spider.

  Its silhouette loomed monstrous, carapace glistening like polished obsidian, legs spread wide and bristling with hooked spines. Venom dripped from jagged mandibles, steaming where it struck the stone. Its body was a hand taller than Xiao Lei, thick with sinew, and the air itself seemed to grow tight under its shadow.

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  A Black Devouring Spider.

  Xiao Lei’s mind measured the difference. A mutated Crying Spider could rival, at most, the peak of Mortal Vein cultivation. Dangerous, yes, but containable. This one… this one radiated force closer to Rhen’s level. Foundation Establishment. Far beyond what he had braced for.

  A thin hiss spilled from the spider’s fangs, a sound both warning and hunger. Its many eyes glimmered faintly in the strange light, fixed squarely on them.

  The pressure pressed at his chest, but Xiao Lei’s gaze flickered, searching. The path they had come through—the ragged hole above—was jagged and far too steep. No climbing back. The walls curved tight around them, no corridor, no hidden path.

  Cornered.

  He exhaled once, slow. “What now?” he asked the puppy.

  The answer came sharp, tinged with forced confidence. “What? It’s a little troublesome, but still doable. At most, it has the strength of a peak Qi Awakening cultivator. If you throw everything you have—”

  “Not doing that,” Xiao Lei cut in.

  The words startled the pup. Its voice cracked. “What? Why not?”

  Xiao Lei’s reply was low, unwavering. “I’m not sure I could kill it even if I used everything. But that’s not the point. I’m not here for her. I’m here for the thing you said would be useful. You want her soul. Then you act. I need to preserve strength—for what comes after, and to leave alive.”

  Silence stretched, heavy. The puppy bristled with protest, but even its sharp tongue faltered. Deep down, it knew the truth of his words. To burn themselves out here—only to find something worse lurking beyond—would be suicide.

  Finally, the voice returned, subdued. “…Fine, kid. But listen. I won’t drain myself. If I can end it quickly, I will. If not—we find a way out.”

  “Fine by me,” Xiao Lei said.

  Even as the words formed, the beast moved.

  The spider’s legs hammered the ground, carrying its bulk forward with startling speed. Its shadow split the faint light as the limbs scythed toward him—sharp, fast, killing arcs.

  And then—

  A force tore loose from Xiao Lei, sudden and invisible, but the cavern felt it—air popping sharp in the ear, stone dust shivering from the walls. Space itself seemed to buckle as the spider mid-charge, was hurled with a sound like stone cracking.

  Its carapace screeched against rock as it skidded across the floor. One foreleg bent at an unnatural angle. A deep gash split its black shell, blood spilling thick and dark, the smell sharp and metallic in the air.

  The cavern’s quite shattered, the sound of its hiss turning to a shriek.

  Xiao Lei’s eyes remained locked on the creature, steady as if carved into the cavern itself, while the beast thrashed under the weight of its own blood.

  Kid, you saw it—how powerful I am. Next time don’t doubt me—

  The boast was cut short. Xiao Lei’s voice fell like a blade:

  “Finish it first.”

  The puppy bristled at the interruption, tongue half-ready to curse, but the spider allowed no pause.

  Eight eyes flared like dark lanterns. The monstrous arachnid lunged, its ruined leg dragging but not slowing the violence in its movements. If anything, the injury had made it more vicious. Its mandibles gaped wide, and from within shot a glistening strand—rope-thick, barbed, and streaked with venom.

  Xiao Lei swayed aside. The cord smacked into the stone wall behind him, and at once the rock began to hiss and crumble. Venom, potent enough to melt earth itself.

  Before the spider could strike again, the puppy retaliated. Its unseen force rippled through the cavern like a quake. The beast slammed sideways, carapace cracking. A shriek tore from its throat, shrill enough to rattle the marrow in Xiao Lei’s bones.

  Again, the puppy struck, but its voice this time came ragged, strained.

  “Kid… I can attack once more. After that, I’ll fall into slumber—long, deep. If you want your chance to grow stronger, stand ready. Else… it’s your call.”

  Xiao Lei did not answer. His eyes flickered inward, into the star-strewn void where the puppy’s spirit resided. The little beast’s body there shimmered faintly, its once-solid form almost transparent, as though fading from existence.

  The cavern shook as the puppy unleashed its final blow. The spider’s body convulsed, ichor spraying in arcs that spattered stone. It staggered, massive limbs splayed, struggling to rise.

  That was enough.

  Xiao Lei darted forward. His hand seized a jagged, broken limb lying in the dust. With a single motion, he drove it down into the shattered plating of the spider’s back. The point punched through with a sickening crack. The beast writhed once, spasms coursing through its body, then fell into stillness.

  The smell hit him at once—fetid blood, bitter venom, and stone scorched by acid. He looked at his hand. The flesh had darkened, black veins spider-webbing outward from his palm. Poison. Yet the burning was shallow, not enough to end him.

  Then light stirred.

  From the husk of the slain spider rose a sphere no larger than his fist, glowing red as if formed from condensed blood. Within, faint and twisted, a miniature spider bared phantom mandibles at Xiao Lei, its hunger palpable.

  Before he could react, the sphere darted forward—straight into his chest.

  The puppy’s voice echoed faintly, pleased despite exhaustion.

  “Don’t disturb me, kid. And don’t die.”

  Silence followed.

  Xiao Lei stood unmoving for a breath, then crouched by the corpse. He pressed his palm against its cold shell. At once, black-tinged qi surged forth, flooding into him in a torrent.

  It was agony. The energy raked through his veins like knives dipped in fire. Sweat beaded, rolled, soaked his hair until it clung against his brow. Yet he did not release his grip.

  Minutes bled away, his body trembling under the influx, until finally he tore his hand free.

  A thin smile curved his lips.

  Near his dantian, the absorbed qi had congealed into a small, obsidian-like pebble. Tiny though it was, he could feel the weight of power pulsing from it. Enough to push him through the next level, enough to reach the peak of the Sixth Stage.

  But not now. He drew in a steadying breath. This cavern was no place for breakthroughs.

  He turned slowly, eyes sweeping across rough walls and jagged stone. The cavern was short, little more than a pocket hollowed into the earth. No treasures gleamed, no hidden passages. Only silence. Yet unease stirred, sharp as a thorn beneath his skin.

  Was this all? Had the puppy deceived him?

  He waited for its voice, but none came. Only the echo of dripping venom somewhere in the dark.

  Then, a foreign murmur coiled into his mind: Even if it did trick me, I should let it go… for all the help he has given.

  Xiao Lei froze. The cadence felt wrong—too smooth, too deliberate, almost whispering in a tongue his mind recognized but could not place. That softness was not his.

  He retraced his steps, stopping where the strange impulse had first stirred. A wall of plain stone met him, unremarkable in every way. He stood before it, silent, torn between instinct and reason.

  His own will flared, sharp and cold. No. Anyone who dares to trick me… dies.

  The killing urge throbbed in his chest, fierce and absolute—until the foreign voice pressed again, unnervingly calm, almost invasive: No… not for a small mistake. Not for this.

  Xiao Lei closed his eyes.

  When he opened them, his voice was quiet, steady.

  “So it’s like that.”

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  Destiny Reckoning. It’s set in the same universe, and you definitely don’t want to miss it, because the stories will eventually crossover.