For some reason, I’ve always had a strange affinity for centipedes and spiders, but running into them usually means nothing good is coming.

“A prehistoric giant centipede?” I muttered to myself.

Obviously, no one was going to answer, so I shook my head in resignation and spoke again under my breath, “Well, I’ve seen enough of these things to know their weaknesses.”

With that thought, I wiped the blood from my hand onto the doorframe, bracing myself to squeeze in and take a look.

Just then, a strange, chirping sound echoed around me, emanating from the surrounding darkness.

These sounds caught my attention, and I instantly became more alert.

The noises rose up from all directions, tending to hem me in.

I could clearly sense them closing in on me.

Without another thought, I pulled half my body back out of the crack in the door, stood with my back against it, waiting to see what would happen next.

Simultaneously, I intently watched the Ye Huo (Karma Fire) in my hand, checking if it showed any peculiar reactions.

As it turned out, the Ye Huo continued to burn quietly, showing nothing unusual.

I felt a slight easing of tension and was just about to take a proper breath when I suddenly saw a dark, dense tide slowly creeping closer, not far from the steps ahead.

It was clearly not water, but an army composed of some kind of creature.

My eyelids twitched; I thought it might be a legion of those terrifying Progenitor Beasts massing together.

But upon closer inspection, as a few crawled to my feet, I realized they were ants.

However, these ants were somewhat different from the ones we know today; their bodies were entirely transparent, exhibiting a color like blue crystal.

Each ant was relatively large, about the size of a human pinky finger.

Through their translucent bodies, one could see the network of their internal vessels.

These ants didn't appear to be a vicious species; they were rather short and stout, moving slowly, like plump little marbles, actually possessing a somewhat endearing quality.

As a long-time biologist, I knew that creatures in nature were not to be trifled with; even those that seemed harmless must possess some measure of self-defense.

So, I refrained from rashly touching these things. Although the excitement of discovering a new species was almost uncontrollable, I managed to suppress my racing heart.

The ants seemed uninterested in me, merely making a strange, rustling sound with their mouths, as if communicating while marching in disciplined ranks.

They crawled up the doorframe, seemingly heading toward the bleeding human head.

I looked up at the scene, feeling a bit lost.

I couldn't tell if the person was dead, but since he hadn't moved at all from beginning to end, and the sounds weren't coming from him, he was most likely deceased.

Coupled with the fact that I sensed no malice from these ants, I decided to let things play out.

What followed was a marvelous sight: as the ants neared the head, the tips of their abdomens inexplicably lit up with a blue glow resembling a cluster of stars.

Gazing at these scattered points of light, I became mesmerized, thinking what a truly wonderful species this was.

Indeed, there are many bioluminescent animals in the world. Insects, of course, famously include fireflies, along with creatures like mayflies.

Whenever people see these glowing animals, they feel a special kind of emotion, one that even men find hard to resist.

Perhaps this is due to an innate human streak of romanticism. Animals, however, do not react this way; some animals even display fear or panic upon seeing glowing insects.

Being just an ordinary human, I couldn't help but marvel at such a beautiful spectacle.

But as I watched, I noticed that these glowing ants seemed different from other luminous insects.

Their tail-lights could actually change color.

When they touched the blood, the soft blue luminescence shifted to red and rapidly expanded, soon covering their entire bodies.

At this point, the Ye Huo in my hand became agitated, sizzling and flickering incessantly.

However, the ants seemed only excited by the blood and continued to ignore me, so I felt neither dread nor disquiet.

After licking the human blood, the ants became more agile, scrambling randomly across the door with no apparent direction.

It looked just like someone who has consumed too much stimulant and cannot settle down.

It was hard to imagine how ferocious these bloodthirsty ants might be when their food supply was abundant—perhaps even more terrifying than those vast swarms of Progenitor Beasts.

As I pondered this, I suddenly felt something was amiss. Even insects, or perhaps because they were insects—creatures so inherently organized and goal-oriented—wouldn't run around aimlessly even if doped up on stimulants.

I realized the scene before me might be the result of poisoning.

But this toxin didn't seem to kill the ants instantly; rather, it appeared to strip them of their self-awareness.

I kept my eyes fixed on the bizarre behavior of the ants and failed to notice that the blood-soaked human head wedged in the door crack had begun to move.

By the time I noticed it stirring, its neck had already rotated a full one hundred and eighty degrees.

Only then could I clearly see that the face, which had previously been turned away from me—meaning its face had been pointing upward—was now facing me. What I saw was an extremely vicious visage.

It was the face of no person I recognized: skinless, mouth wide open, eyes two black hollows.

Its expression was grotesquely twisted; even the nose was askew, the entire configuration looking as if it had been wrenched by pliers, crunched up like a steamed bun.

Seeing this bloody face, I felt an immediate urge to vomit.

Moreover, I discovered that the owner of this face was, incredibly, still alive! Otherwise, it couldn't have slowly turned its neck.

Next, I observed a strange phenomenon: the severed head seemed to fluctuate in size, alternately growing larger and smaller.

This was utterly abnormal, as I had never encountered such a head; it was reminiscent only of certain marine life, like an octopus, which can control its body size.

While I was distracted by this, the head suddenly became even more deformed. A large hole appeared where the nose should have been, and this hole slowly split open, revealing yellowish material inside.

What I saw did not resemble human brain matter; it looked more like the surface of moldy yellow cauliflower.

At this moment, the face of the head also began to part like petals, splitting open and fanning outward.

I was dumbfounded, letting out a wry chuckle, “This isn't a human head at all; it's clearly a flower. What was hanging on the door was a bud, and now, for some reason, it has bloomed, revealing a yellow center.”

But one couldn't entirely blame me, as this bud was shaped so uncannily like a human head, and it even bled what looked like human blood—it was certainly no ordinary flower.

Indeed, I soon discovered the flower's peculiarity went beyond its human-like appearance: each petal was long and flat, much like a tongue, wildly flailing, sweeping up large swathes of the frenzied ants, and stuffing them into the center of the flower.

The flower's center, with its cauliflower-like texture, was dotted with numerous tiny pores. While they appeared minute, as the captured food was drawn in, these small holes would expand, making a ripping sound, and suck the ants entirely inside.

Judging by its structure, the core must be sponge-like, allowing for that kind of expansion and contraction.

Was this a plant or an animal? I truly couldn't tell.

However, its target seemed exclusively to be the ants, and it appeared to thoroughly enjoy this food source.

Taking advantage of the diversion, I once again stealthily began to squeeze through the door crack.

This time, I slipped through smoothly and immediately got inside.

Looking up, I saw that the flower resembling a human head had numerous stalks clinging to the wall. Its flower stem was short; the entire massive root system was woven like a net between the wall and the inner side of the door, allowing its head to protrude through the gap.

I watched in fascination and couldn't resist taking a couple of photos with my phone.

Unexpectedly, the creature was highly sensitive to light. I had forgotten to turn off the flash when I took the pictures, and it instantly reacted, thrusting its neck further out of the door crack, opening its petals, and hissing a warning at me.

I managed a helpless smile, but then it suddenly expelled a viscous, blood-like fluid from the pores in its center, spraying it toward me.

I had to retreat quickly to avoid being splattered by the substance.

The human-headed flower seemed to lose interest in harassing me; it was just a scare tactic. Seeing me back away, it contentedly pushed its head back out through the door crack to hunt the ants again.

I understood that this flower lacked intelligence; predation was its primary directive.

I surveyed my surroundings and found that the area was not as cold and desolate as it appeared from the outside. Instead, scattered patches of strange vegetation grew everywhere.

Some flowers resembled animal eyes, clustered together near the walls, their root systems deeply embedded in the wall fissures.

Others were vine-like, strung across high places, bearing gourd-shaped fruits as large as an adult human, though their surfaces were covered in thorns.

The walls here were not made of ice but of massive blocks of black stone cemented together, interspersed with raw earth.

Furthermore, I noticed the temperature inside this grand hall was much higher than outside; I even felt a bit warm.

As I was observing these peculiar plants, the crying sound from before suddenly resonated again.

This time, it was extremely close, as if right beside my ear.

Concurrently, I heard the faint, scraping sounds of something slithering in the darkness, moving very fast.

I knew it was the centipede-like creature from earlier. I truly wondered what its true form might be.