But halfway there, I caught the sound of faint, scattered rustling all around me.

I flinched, the noise horribly familiar; it was the same sound I’d heard when André and I were surrounded by unidentified creatures near the coast.

The sound was like footsteps, yet far more fragmented, like the rapid, mincing steps of a small Japanese woman walking quickly.

Back then, we suspected it was the sound of the Hainü (Sea Women), but after seeing one in person, I realized the footsteps had nothing to do with them. The Hainü had extremely slender legs and far more developed tails.

This was a degradation caused by years of living in the ocean; meaning they were better suited for swimming, and even if they could move on land, it would only be by crawling.

Now, the air around me was thick with the same density of fog as that day; I couldn’t see anything clearly.

The beam of my flashlight pierced the mist, revealing only a uniform, blinding white.

I held my breath, concentrating on the sounds circling me, as if they were weaving around my position.

I knew instantly that something was wrong—this was the prelude to an attack.

The image of the sea cow carcass they had torn apart before sent a chill down my spine. Simultaneously, my worry for Liang Qian intensified.

I knew that keeping the flashlight on, if the creatures had good vision, would quickly pinpoint my location.

But I couldn't bring myself to turn it off; even if I were to die, I needed to see clearly, not perish in ignorance.

The scattered rustling sounds grew closer, and I felt the fog being churned by something, with wave-like eddies appearing everywhere.

Warily surveying my surroundings, I resolved to push forward.

But just as I raised my foot, I saw a black shape lying low to the ground not far ahead, seemingly moving.

I frowned, adjusted the spotlight on my flashlight to its farthest beam, and clearly saw what it was—and cold sweat instantly beaded on my forehead.

It was a ghastly pale human face, yet five or six times larger than a normal one. The face was perfectly round, its eyes and mouth reduced to single lines, as if it were asleep.

Though it remained utterly still, seeing that face filled me with a deep dread, freezing me in place, unable to take the next step.

But as I hesitated, something even more bizarre occurred.

Just above that large, pale face, as if by cellular division, another identical face slowly materialized.

Witnessing such an uncanny sight, I instinctively took a step back.

But that was far from the end of it; above the second face that had appeared, a third, slightly smaller face began to form.

Then, one after another, faces identical in expression and unsettling ambiguity began to emerge beside the bottom face.

Gradually, as my flashlight beam swept across them, I realized I was facing a wall constructed entirely of faces!

Could this be the true form of that enormous shadow? It was utterly unbelievable…

I felt my legs starting to grow weak beneath me.

Just as overwhelming fear threatened to crush me, a truly dramatic scene unfolded.

The face at the very top of the structure let out a soft gulu sound and tumbled down from its perch.

Then, I saw that it had eight legs sprouting from around its face, kicking and waving frantically.

I understood immediately: these were all enormous crabs!

They were the same kind of crabs that Da Xiong had caught inside the house, possessing dark red, spined carapaces, long and slender legs, massive pincers bristling with barbs, and jaws as hard as steel gates.

As a biologist, I couldn't name this species of crab.

However, judging by the hideous, human-face-like patterns on their bellies, they must share some distant ancestry with Heike-gani (Thelyphthaea).

Yet, given their sheer size, they resembled the giant deep-sea crabs unique to Japan; it was possible this was a hybrid of the two species.

Crabs that usually fled from humans, timid by nature, were now scuttling forth, brandishing their claws, clambering over each other’s shells, surging upward as if driven mad.

I had truly never witnessed such a scene and was momentarily stunned into inaction.

What was attracting these crabs to climb upward? That was the question churning in my mind.

But the answer quickly revealed itself.

When the massive crabs registered my presence, a small contingent turned toward me, their pincers snapping menacingly in the air with a kaka sound.

So, I realized these crabs weren't interested in something upstairs; this was purely an act of aggression.

The crabs moved with startling speed, yet the situation struck me as faintly comical.

Reflecting on how I’d been thoroughly fooled by these crabs twice made me feel a wave of exasperation.

In less time than it takes to speak, while I was offering a wry smile, one crab had reached my feet.

It opened its enormous claw and lunged toward my ankle.

Seeing the wrench-sized pincer, I knew taking a direct hit would be terrible, and once these crabs clamped down, they rarely let go.

So, without any hesitation, I stepped back and delivered a swift kick, sending the creature skittering away.

But behind it, more crabs were already crawling toward me.

Seeing their numbers made my scalp tingle; I retreated while kicking them aside.

Just then, Liang Qian cried out "Help!" again from the second floor.

I knew her situation must be far worse than mine; her health was fragile to begin with, and having to look after Long Jia, she surely couldn't handle this onslaught.

Even if she managed to light the censer she carried, it might not be enough to fully repel this many crabs.

The thought spurred me; I had to get upstairs, or Liang Qian might not hold out much longer.

The more urgent I became, the more chaotic my thoughts grew. I tried to recall a weakness specific to crabs, but my mind was blank.

In the ocean, crabs have many predators, such as octopuses and squid, whose sharp beaks can easily pierce a crab’s carapace.

But once on land, crabs are almost unstoppable; aside from large felines or eagles, few things can harm them.

As I stood there, at a loss, I suddenly remembered something from my childhood.

When we used to fish for crabs, we would dangle something smelly, like chicken intestines, into the water on a string, and when the crab clamped down, we’d reel it up.

This suggested that crabs generally have a strong attraction to pungent, meaty smells.

Without another moment of hesitation, I drew the Yinyu (Silver Fish) knife I carried across my own finger, smeared the blood onto a handkerchief, and tossed it out the doorway.