The great spider, crimson from carapace to tail, mirrored the Legion of the Dead in hue; its six hairy legs and bulbous rear section were etched with fine stripes of white against the deep red. The venom it spat could instantly carbonize a tree branch.

I held the charred tip of a branch, lightly poking the blackened end against the ground; the dark coke immediately dissolved into dust. It seemed the venom achieved a thorough carbonization of the wood—if sprayed on a person, the effect would be akin to a deluge of concentrated sulfuric acid.

A direct assault was clearly out of the question. I estimated the venom’s effective range to be about half a meter. If I charged forward recklessly, I would be struck by the poison before even reaching Xiao Shu's body. If only there were one more person, we could employ a diversion—one to lure the spider away while the other rescued her. But I was alone, and wishing for company served no purpose; solving this demanded a practical approach, starting from the immediate circumstances.

I retreated to where my packs were left, emptying both upside down, spilling their contents onto the earth, hoping to find some useful implement. Beyond food, maps, a lighter, and candles, the only potentially useful item was a book. I had discovered this book in Xiao Shu’s pack—it was the copy of The Demon Realm I had been reading before we hastily fled the library. Xiao Shu had crammed it into the bag along with the maps, perhaps believing we might need it in the Sea of the Dead.

Checking the table of contents, the book detailed the histories and habits of various demon clans—the Monkey Clan, the Cat Clan, the Fox Clan, and so on—yet it contained absolutely no mention of the spider that had mummified Xiao Shu. I closed the book, pondering: if this monstrous arachnid wasn't a demon, what in creation could it be? So, I pulled out the scroll map again, carefully spreading it on the ground, tracing the spider’s outline against the depicted features. After a long search, there was no match; it seemed I was left with no option but to categorize it as an anomalous spider and deal with it using crude, trial-and-error methods.

Considering the "trial-and-error" approach, I picked up the branch segment the spider had previously carbonized. I tore a strip of cloth from my shirt and tied it securely to the tip of the remaining half-meter of wood. Then, I lit a candle and dripped the hot wax onto the makeshift wick. Once the entire candle’s wax had melted and soaked into the cloth, I struck the lighter and ignited the torch.

Holding the torch, I carefully made my way back through the undergrowth to the base of the tree. Xiao Shu had been completely encased, transformed into a silken cocoon, entirely wrapped in layers of transparent, thin thread, utterly immobile.

The spider was resting in the center of its web. Seeing me return for a second audience, it instantly switched to combat mode, crawling to the nearest anchor point of the web, rearing up on its hind legs, poised to spring forward and spray its venom.

With the lesson from the first encounter fresh in mind, I decided to strike first. I directly swung the torch towards the spider’s position. This swing carried surprising force; wherever the flame touched, a puff of black smoke erupted, followed by the smell of burning hair, and a corner of the web simply vanished. Seeing its nemesis, the spider dared not leap forward. It braced itself on its six long legs, retreating slowly, one measured step at a time. I pressed my advantage, using the torch to relentlessly sweep at the web, and within two minutes, the entire structure was burned away. The spider was driven to the very top of the tree, trapped—unable to move up or down—clinging motionlessly to the highest branch, silently observing my every move.