Chapter Three: Fierce Battle with the Mutant Spider

He packed away all the essential household items—food, clothing, and utensils—choosing only the most indispensable ones since there were just eight slots available. He donned what he considered the safest, sturdiest outfit in his home: a pair of black Bonan labor shoes with soles two centimeters thick, dark blue jeans, and a thick long-sleeved denim jacket. Armed with a short knife, he prepared to head out.

Liang Jing was not the type to stay cooped up at home all day; he usually ate out, so his food supplies were meager. Even a single day indoors would leave him hungry, forcing him to venture out in search of sustenance.

Cautiously, he waited behind the door for a long while, listening for any sign of movement. To be safe, he used the tip of his short knife to bore a small hole in the door. Peering through, he saw nothing—no mosquitoes, no spiders. Or rather, no mutated mosquitoes or spiders.

In truth, though it seemed that mosquitoes, spiders, even cockroaches had mutated in large numbers, the mutation rate was actually less than one-tenth of the total population. It wasn't as widespread as it appeared, though still much higher than among humans.

A sudden creak—followed by a sharp hissing and a shout from next door—snapped him to attention. "Damn! Monsters, get away! Bang!"

Just as Liang Jing was about to open the door, convinced the coast was clear, the sound of a door opening outside was followed by that chilling hiss and the panicked yell of Xiao Gao, his neighbor.

Xiao Gao was Liang Jing’s roommate, living with his girlfriend Xiao Fang on the same second floor. Tall, well-built, and a bit taller than Liang Jing—perhaps around 1.8 meters—he was one of the few close friends Liang Jing had in the area, their personalities well-matched.

"Not good! Mutated spider—Xiao Gao's in danger!"

"Hang on, Xiao Gao, I'm coming!"

Through the hole in the door, Liang Jing saw Xiao Gao locked in combat with a mutated spider. Without hesitating, he flung the door open to help, but after only two steps he was caught—caught in a web near his own doorway, nearly invisible unless you looked closely.

Damn it! If not for Xiao Gao’s sudden appearance, he might have been caught himself. These mutated spiders were truly devious; perhaps they’d spun the web just now, attracted by the noises. A shiver of relief ran through him—thank heavens Xiao Gao had drawn out the spider.

The second floor consisted of one large hall with four rooms on each side. The kitchen, bathroom, and Liang Jing’s room were on one side; Xiao Gao’s room and Jing Hui’s were on the other.

Drawn by the sound of Xiao Gao’s door opening, the mutated spider in the hall had been battering at Xiao Gao’s room, but now, seeing Liang Jing trapped by the web, it abandoned the door and charged toward him.

With a hiss, the spider—its body the size of a washbasin—scuttled quickly across the floor, its black, bloodthirsty eyes gleaming, mandibles waving excitedly, two long fangs snapping open and shut. The yellow-white tips glowed ominously with venom.

The sight of the spider, its grayish-yellow body bristling with stiff hairs, exuding a murderous bloodlust as it darted forward, filled Liang Jing with an inexplicable dread, a chill running down his spine.

He was still a novice at this. Earlier, he’d seen someone caught in a spider web—utterly helpless against these mutated monsters. Their strength was terrifying, far beyond that of ordinary people.

Quickly, Liang Jing retreated into his room. Fighting in someone else’s territory was a recipe for disaster. But both his feet were caught fast in the web, the sticky strands stretching longer the harder he pulled, the tension only increasing. Cutting through with his short knife was too late.

The mutated spider sped toward him like a sprinter. Liang Jing’s sharp-featured face hardened, his eyes flashing with resolve. Gritting his teeth, he threw his full weight backward, lunging into the room.

Seeing Liang Jing’s move, the mutated spider’s eyes glinted coldly. It didn’t slow—its abdomen contracted, eight legs pumping, pedipalps darting to seize him.

With a bang, Liang Jing’s powerful leap propelled him like a rocket. He slammed the door behind him mid-flight, landed inside, and with the web still clinging to his feet, used its tension to help pull the door shut.

Almost simultaneously, the spider crashed into the door, its head and thorax wedged in the narrow gap as Liang Jing slammed it shut.

“Brother Liang, hold on! I’m coming!” Xiao Gao, who had been bracing his own door, now rushed out with a cleaver, charging the trapped spider.

Liang Jing had no time for words. The spider, jammed in the door, thrust its pedipalps into the room, trying to grab him. The right pedipalp couldn’t reach, but the left was about to strike—he had to act.

Veins bulging, Liang Jing’s right hand shot out, the short knife flashing as he slashed at the attacking appendage.

A sharp crack—the blade bit deeply, nearly severing the limb. For a spider, the pedipalps were like hands, used to seize and hold prey. After mutation, they were nearly as hard as steel, impervious to ordinary cleavers. But Liang Jing’s blade, a product of the system, sliced through the tough shell, nearly severing the limb.

The spider screamed, thick yellow-white venom dripping from its mouth and fangs, sizzling as it corroded the floor, pitting it with holes. The pain made the spider freeze for a moment.

Even with all his strength, Liang Jing hadn’t managed to completely sever the relatively vulnerable pedipalp. The blow had split the skin between his thumb and forefinger, blood streaming down, nearly making him drop the knife. But there was no time to check—he struck again, aiming for the right pedipalp.

Outside, Xiao Gao arrived, wielding a heavy, privately forged cleaver with a polished, razor-sharp edge, hacking at the spider’s hind leg.

A crunch—the cleaver bit, but the spider’s kick nearly knocked it from his grasp, splitting his own hand open and scraping his arm as he dodged.

Ignoring the spider’s pained, ferocious shrieks and his own bleeding hand, Liang Jing gripped the knife, now slick with gray-yellow fluid, and prepared to strike again.

At that moment, thudding blows shook the door, the force growing with each impact.

This can’t go on, Liang Jing thought. Either the spider’s legs will punch through the door, or the door will give way completely.

The shaking intensified, the spider’s head and thorax edging further outside, immense force bruising Liang Jing’s shoulder as he braced the door, pain and swelling spreading, but he held firm, teeth clenched, body leaning in with all his might.

His eyes remained unwavering, right hand gripping the knife tighter. He slashed at the spider’s head, ignoring whatever was happening with Xiao Gao outside.

His eyes narrowed in surprise—the blade struck the spider’s upturned fang, leaving only a pale mark. It had been just a probing attack, but the fang’s hardness shocked him. Even this system-made knife, famed for its sharpness, was dulled by the spider’s yellow-white venom. How could ordinary people hope to fight these monsters? Maybe only firearms could bring them down.

But he didn’t stop. Dodging the two monstrous fangs, he stabbed for the spider’s huge, black, forward-facing eyes.

Outside, Xiao Gao, worried Liang Jing wouldn’t last, raised his cleaver and hacked at the spider’s back, heedless of the outcome.

Years of slaughtering pigs had honed Liang Jing’s aim. The short knife stabbed deep into one of the spider’s huge eyes, black fluid spurting with a piercing shriek.

The spider thrashed violently, nearly wrenching the knife from Liang Jing’s grasp. The door bucked against his shoulder, the struggle devolving into a contest of strength. His shoulder was scraped raw despite the thick fabric.

Xiao Gao’s cleaver, meanwhile, left only a deep dent in the spider’s back, bouncing off so hard he almost dropped it, forced to retreat as the spider’s convulsions knocked him back several steps.

Inside, Liang Jing released the knife, bracing the door with all his weight, blood staining the corner of his mouth from his clenched teeth. He smashed his palm against the knife’s hilt, driving it deep into the spider’s cephalothorax, then gripped the handle and twisted, shredding its brain and viscera.

The spider, mortally wounded, thrashed and kicked, one bristling limb punching through the door and gouging a bloody chunk from Liang Jing’s thigh.

But he seemed not to notice the pain. Seeing the spider wasn’t quite dead, he yanked the knife free and stabbed the other forward-facing eye—again, twisting viciously.

The same technique—the knife plunged deep, and the spider’s struggles grew weaker, then ceased altogether.

Panting heavily, Liang Jing slumped to the floor, oblivious to the venom still eating away at the floorboards. Though it felt like an eternity, it had all lasted only seconds, but the sudden release left him utterly exhausted, nerves and body alike wrung dry.

Then a great white light flooded into his body, suffusing him with a gentle warmth. Every muscle, every bone, every cell rejoiced, hungrily absorbing the energy. Liang Jing felt his fatigue ebbing, the wound on his hand healing rapidly—he could even see new flesh growing. In moments, the cut was nearly closed.

The warmth faded. Liang Jing clenched his fists—strength! He was at least fifty percent stronger than before. Incredible! If he could keep growing like this, what would he become?