C6 Chapter 6

The massive spider’s body rose up from the ground and then froze in place. Its skin hardened into a shell, which slowly peeled away. The fragments that hit the ground turned into tiny spiders, and in an instant they swarmed across the entire area—enough to make your skin crawl.

Somehow, Ten Halls produced a sharp little knife and sliced open his palm.

Seeing that, Xing Jie couldn’t help laughing again. “So you’re scared now? But that won’t kill you anytime soon!”

Ten Halls didn’t respond to the taunt. Instead, he closed his eyes and stood perfectly still inside the ring of countless spiders, like a tall, unshakable statue.

Before long, the spiders pooled together like a living tide, a dense, crawling sea surging toward Ten Halls. Meanwhile, the once-giant Xing Jie had shrunk quite a bit.

The spiders drew closer and closer, but Ten Halls still didn’t move an inch—eyes shut, face calm.

“Heh heh heh… your power is mine,” Xing Jie sneered.

“Hmph. Is it?” Ten Halls suddenly opened his eyes. The eyes that had looked normal a moment ago were now blood-red, like flawless red crystal, shining with a terrifying light.

“What’s going on?” Xing Jie jolted. That glow pierced straight through the black fog and shot up into the sky.

“It’s here!” Ten Halls lifted his head. A beam of purple light dropped from above, striking his body dead-on, instantly exploding into a wave of violet flames that swept outward.

The black spiders touched the fire and were reduced to ash on the spot. Xing Jie let out a shriek, his nine snake heads staring in horror at Ten Halls, now surrounded by purple fire.

Ten Halls flicked his hand. The violet flames surged upward, taking the shape of a gigantic phoenix.

“Purple-Winged Fire Phoenix!” Xing Jie blurted out. “So that’s it. Still not enough to beat me!”

“Heh. Is that so? Take a look at your own body first.” Shi Dian let out a cold laugh and pointed at Xing Jie.

“What?” All nine of Xing Jie’s heads dipped to inspect his torso, and he froze in shock. The body that should’ve been evenly matched with the Fire Phoenix had shrunk to nearly half its size—because he’d split off so many clones.

“Damn it!” Xing Jie reacted instantly and tried to call the clones back. But when he looked up, the little spiders that had once carpeted the ground had already been burned to ash by the raging flames.

“No way… How could you…?” Xing Jie couldn’t believe Shi Dian had planned all of this from the start.

“You’re not wrong,” Shi Dian said, stepping toward him with a victor’s calm. “I knew your strength was on par with the Purple-Winged Fire Phoenix. If I’d summoned it without a plan, it wouldn’t have been easy to bring you down. But I also knew your special trick—your numbers go up, but each individual gets weaker.”

“You’ve lost. I’m taking back what was never yours.” A sun-bright glow flared from Shi Dian’s forehead, flooding over Xing Jie and trapping him inside it.

“No!” Xing Jie screamed. Several human bodies tore free from his abdomen and dropped to the ground. At the same time, the Purple-Winged Fire Phoenix let out a piercing cry and transformed into a massive blaze of violet fire, engulfing the Nine-Headed Spider Emperor. Before long, it was burned down to a heap of black ash.

Its task complete, the Purple-Winged Fire Phoenix shot straight up into the clouds, returning to where it belonged. Shi Dian lifted his head and watched it go, silently thinking, “You’ve done enough.”

But Chen Rui, collapsed not far away, happened to see it. He’d come to when the phoenix cried out. He saw Shi Dian’s back, and he saw the phoenix vanish into the horizon—then he passed out again.

“Bro… bro?” A voice calling his name jolted Chen Rui awake. He opened his eyes to a familiar face.

“Xinxin? What happened to me?” Chen Rui rubbed his still-spinning head, confused.

“I don’t know either. All I know is we were both brought to the hospital by Shidian,” Chen Xin said, just as puzzled.

“Shidian…” Chen Rui froze, the scene from his dream flashing back into his mind.

“Yeah. But the classmates who came with us said Shidian seemed… different from usual,” Chen Xin went on.

“Yeah. Really different,” Chen Rui replied without thinking.

“You think so too?” Chen Xin looked at him, surprised.

“Oh—no, I just…” Chen Rui caught himself, but he didn’t know how to explain. What he’d seen when he briefly came to during the blackout—was it real or not?

“Where is Shidian now?” Chen Rui asked suddenly.

“Probably back at school. There’s a lot to explain to the homeroom teacher,” Chen Xin said, resting her chin in her hand as she thought. “We’re seriously unlucky. Feels like we’re in and out of the hospital every other day.”

“Wait—what was the deal with you disappearing?” Only then did Chen Rui remember why he’d ended up here in the first place—because Chen Xin had gone missing. “You weren’t hurt, were you?”

“No. I’m fine, aren’t I?” Chen Xin shrugged, looking innocent. “Honestly, I don’t know what happened. That day everyone kept talking about that haunted thing, and a few people were like, ‘No way,’ and wanted to check it out. So I went with them. But when we got there, I suddenly saw this weird floating flame. I turned and ran, and then everything went black. After that, I don’t remember anything.”

Chen Rui could hardly believe the one who saved him was Shidian—the same guy who usually looked so fragile. And yet that silhouette… there was no mistaking it.

“Come on—just go ask and you’ll know,” Chen Xin suggested.

“Yeah! How did I not think of that?” Chen Rui smacked his forehead and sat up in bed.

By the nameless lake on campus, Shi Dian leaned against the railing, staring at the emerald-green water. He’d just finished reporting what happened and came here to clear his head, but from the moment he arrived, his mind kept replaying those strange scenes.

Truth was, he’d lied to everyone. About Wei Long, about the Nine-Serpent Spider Emperor—it wasn’t like he said, that he’d passed out and didn’t know a thing. He did know. It just felt like a dream—hazy and unreal. That person felt like a missing piece of himself. Power and clarity flooded his mind, and all his old fear and hesitation vanished without a trace. All he could think about was how to take the other guy down—and he didn’t hold back.

“Shi Dian, what’re you thinking about?” A familiar voice suddenly came from behind him, cutting through his thoughts.

“N-nothing,” Shi Dian answered on instinct. Then he turned and saw Chen Rui.

“Nothing, really?” Chen Rui looked him straight in the eyes.

Shi Dian panicked a little. He couldn’t bring himself to meet Chen Rui’s gaze and only managed a weak cover-up. “R-really.”

“We didn’t meet until college, but I’d say we’re pretty tight, right?” Chen Rui said, leaning on the railing too. “I’m the kind of guy who takes things seriously, so I don’t want friends keeping stuff from each other. I mean the hard things, the stuff you’re stuck on. Because if we’re friends, the one thing I want is to be able to help, even if it’s just a little.”

Shi Dian stared at Chen Rui, stunned. He hadn’t expected him to say something like that, and for a moment he didn’t know how to respond.

“Hey, don’t just stand there staring,” Chen Rui blurted, trying to play it off. “It took me a lot to say all that, okay? Don’t expect me to say it again!” Seeing Shi Dian still looking at him, Chen Rui couldn’t keep the serious act up—his face flushed red.

“Pfft!” Shi Dian couldn’t hold back a laugh. “Thanks, Chen Rui.”

“Man, you really had to make it sound like I was confessing or something.” Seeing Shi Dian laugh, Chen Rui finally relaxed and went on. “But yeah—I saw it.”

“Huh? Saw what?” Shi Dian stopped laughing, curiosity taking over.

“When you took down that spider monster, I saw it.” Chen Rui’s expression suddenly turned serious.

“So… you saw it.” Shi Dian was quiet for a moment before answering. “Was that really me?”

“Of course it was you. How—” Chen Rui started, then realized what Shi Dian meant.

“It didn’t feel like me. I don’t know why, but it was like I was thinking the way someone else had programmed me to think. The things I said, the thoughts I had—they just came out on instinct. And in that moment, I’d forgotten who I usually am. I only remembered after it was over.” Shi Dian let out a helpless sigh. “I know that’s probably hard to explain…”

“No, I get it,” Chen Rui cut in. “So basically, like someone who gets rich overnight and suddenly turns into a completely different person!”

Shi Dian blinked. The comparison was simple, but it actually fit—after suddenly gaining that kind of strange power, a personality shift wasn’t exactly impossible.

“Heh. I’m not that dumb, you know!” Chen Rui grinned.

“Yeah. I don’t totally understand it either, but I really do want to help everyone.” Shi Dian said, a little worked up.

“Relax. We all believe you. And honestly, both times we only made it out alive because of you.” Chen Rui patted Shi Dian on the shoulder and gave him a thumbs-up.

Seeing Chen Rui like that, Shi Dian finally let out the breath he’d been holding. What he’d feared most was that everyone wouldn’t accept him—that they’d see him as a monster. Chen Rui’s words just now were exactly what he needed to hear.