"Rick! Rick! Look what I've led here!" Moya shouted as he ran, looking surprisingly thrilled.
"You think I don't have enough trouble?!" Rick wanted to strangle Moya. How could this guy be so clueless? Didn't he realize even gods couldn't escape this mess?
"Wait, I... I have a plan..." Moya finally reached Rick, panting heavily. "That's a Skywolf Spider, Demon-Rank combat insect. I found it in the rock cluster."
"Wow, Demon-Rank, impressive!" Seeing Moya's smug face, Rick couldn't hold back. He grabbed Moya's collar and shook him. "We can't even handle a Royal-Rank, and you bring a Demon-Rank! Are you insane?"
"Stop shaking me!" Moya pushed Rick away. "Rookie, you know nothing! Skywolf Spiders love eating Iron-Ridge Centipedes. I risked my life to lure it here—if you tried, it wouldn't even notice you!"
"Oh?" Rick's eyes lit up, grasping Moya's plan.
Peeking at the Skywolf Spider, sure enough, it bristled with excitement at the centipede, waving its front legs to weave a sticky web from silk secreted by its jaws. The centipede, facing a major threat, forgot about Rick, rearing up and lashing its antenna-tipped tail, kicking up clouds of sand.
Relieved to watch the show, Rick relaxed. The tension gave way to excitement for the mega-bug duel. "Can the Skywolf Spider beat the centipede?" he whispered, fearing drawing attention.
"Hard to say. It's the centipede's natural predator, but this isn't the spider's rocky habitat—no deadly web traps. In the wild, it's a 50-50 fight." Moya analyzed professionally.
"50-50? Even better—let them both get hurt."
"You just want to steal the spoils!" Moya disdained Rick's morals.
"Wouldn't you?" Rick retorted.
As they traded barbs, the centipede and spider clashed.
The Skywolf Spider struck first, using its eight legs for superior mobility. The centipede, faster only in a straight line, faced a skilled hunter targeting its weak side to entangle legs with its web. But this centipede had fought Skywolves before—instead of letting the spider flank it, it charged sideways, clamping its mandibles on a spider leg. Coiling like an iron ring, it stabbed the spider's swollen abdomen with its spiked legs.
The spider lost a leg and suffered countless abdominal wounds. "The spider's losing—let's sneak away," Rick whispered.
Shaken by the earth-shaking battle, Moya nodded shakily. They slunk to the rock cluster, but curiosity kept them gambling on the outcome.
"I bet the centipede wins," Rick declared, recalling the centipede's power.
Moya favored the spider: "Not necessarily. It's a higher rank and adult—won't lose easily."
"Bullshit! It's missing a leg!"
"Wanna bet?" Moya challenged.
"Fine! What's the wager?" Rick snapped.
"A combat insect egg. Deal?" Moya grinned slyly.
"Combat egg..." Rick hesitated—even a basic one cost over a million silver. But seeing Moya's cocky face, he snapped: "Deal! I bet you can't produce it!"
While they argued, the battle reached a climax. Sand and grass flew as carapaces clashed like thunder, insect ichor and limbs raining down. It was a fight for survival, no longer predator vs. prey—only the toughest and craftiest would prevail.
"Yes! It's over!" Moya cheered, making Rick tense. Peering through the grass, Rick saw the centipede wrapped in silk. The spider, sacrificing two legs to break free, had climbed to the centipede's blind spot—its back—and stabbed its fangs into the rear skull, injecting green venom. Within seconds, the centipede twitched, its black carapace turning grayish-green.
"Useless bastard!" Rick ripped out grass in frustration.
Moya held out his hand triumphantly: "Pay up."
"Wait!" Rick shoved his hand away, eyeing the exhausted spider. "It's just an egg. Let's check its nest while it's worn out!"
"What?"
Moya's face changed, shouting urgently, "Are you suicidal? The Skywolf Spider's lair is crawling with web traps—you think a rookie like you can sneak in?"
"I have you, don't I? Go or not—if not, the bet's off!" Rick leaped into the rocky thicket without waiting for Moya.
Moya hesitated, eyeing the spider dragging the centipede's corpse in the distance. He smacked his forehead: "Why did I get stuck with this partner!"
Though complaining, he trailed Rick toward the lair, grumbling like a fishwife all the way.
Thanks to Moya's professional scouting and Rick's agile physique, they crossed the outer web traps in under ten minutes. Before them loomed a palace-like nest.
"So... huge..." Rick whispered from behind a rock, awed by the nest's grandeur.
From his angle, the nest stood forty to fifty meters tall, supported by five towering stone stalagmites. Layers of white web connected the stalagmites, forming a tent-like structure. Sticky webs surrounded the nest, with steel-like silk strands crisscrossing the air, hanging white-wrapped bundles.
"What are those? Eggs?" Rick asked.
"Dream on." Moya shot him a disdainful look. "Eggs are inside. These are the spider's food reserves—soon you'll see the centipede hung here too."
"So many..." Rick shivered at the white bundles. He studied the nest and shook his head: "No way in—any direction gets you stuck, even the air is blocked."
"Of course. Skywolf Spiders are the best at nest defense. This lair isn't just for eggs—it's their prime hunting ground. If that centipede had fought here, the spider wouldn't have lost a hair."
"Amazing..." Rick no longer begrudged his bet loss, but pressed, "How do other hunters steal Skywolf eggs?"
"With Sulfur Insects. They swarm the nest and set it on fire. Some eggs get lost, but spiders keep eggs deep inside, so some survive." Moya paled as Rick rummaged in his bag. "Fuck! Do you know how many Sulfur Insects that nest needs? The spider's not even here—you want to kill us?!"
Rick hesitated, took one last look at the nest, and said, "Fine, let's go. We'll come back with tons of Sulfur Insects."
"Again?" Moya crossed a trap, muttering, "Come alone next time."
With the spider dragging the centipede back, they couldn't retrace their steps. Stumbling over traps, they fled in another direction.
By the time they left the rocks, dusk had fallen, and the scorching day gave way to a freezing night.
"Ah-choo!" Rick, in a thin shirt, sneezed, snot running from the cold.
"So... cold..." Moya wasn't better, his pale face blowing on frozen hands.
"What's with this place? Tens of degrees by day, tens below zero at night—it's not meant for humans." Rick sniffled, complaining.
"No shit." Moya chattered. After walking more, he tugged Rick's shirt: "I... I can't go on. Let's find shelter, or I'll freeze to death."
Seeing frost on the grass and his dew-soaked shirt, Rick agreed. They broke surrounding grass to make a clearing, sheltered by the tall grass.
Curled on their grass "bed," Rick took out half an insect oil cake. The sweet pastry melting on his tongue seemed to ease the cold.
"Hey... let's talk." Moya shuffled closer.
"About what?"
"Anything—just talk, or I'll freeze to death."
"Need a topic."
"Your dreams, then."
"Dreams?" Rick thought. "I want to be an Insect Master, evolve my sickle insect to immortality, so I'll never be an untouchable again."
"Insect Master?" Moya stared, then laughed: "You? Impossible!"
Angry at the mockery, Rick snapped, "Why not? The big-eyed receptionist said it's possible."
"Heh, she was comforting you. Know how many Insect Masters Kester has? Two! Tens of thousands of hunters, only two in fifty years. Less than a one-in-ten-thousand chance—you think you can make it?" Moya patted Rick's shoulder, trying to dissuade him.
"One in ten thousand is still possible. Why can't I?" Rick batted his hand away. "What's your dream?"
"Mine's not as grand." Moya stuck a grass stem in his mouth, gazing afar. "Get a higher-rank combat egg, train to... well, General Insect Realm like Captain Lant. Find strong partners, claim a good hunting ground, and live 风光 (in style) for the rest of my life."
"Pfft, your dream is more unrealistic." Rick scoffed.
Moya jumped up: "How is it unrealistic? This is achievable!"
"Achievable my ass! With a dung beetle insect like yours, no one would join you even if you became an Insect Master."
"But I said I'd get a higher-rank combat egg first!"
"Higher-rank combat eggs cost millions—you? You couldn't afford one in a lifetime."
"True, I can't." Moya sneered sarcastically. "But someone owes me a combat egg, right? So my first goal will be achieved soon."
Rick's face darkened with anger. He lay down, regretting his impulsiveness—he'd been tricked by this sly bastard.
"Hey, don't sleep! You'll catch a cold. Talk to me." Moya, enjoying the banter, harassed Rick.
"Getting cold is my business. Mind your own!"
"Come on, you're my partner now. If you get sick, I have to take care of you. Get up and chat."
"Stop bothering me. Hey... where are you touching?!" Rick sat up, shoving Moya away as he pressed close.
"This is sexual harassment! You..." Rick's pointing hand trembled with anger.
"We're both men—what's the big deal? It's freezing, so let's huddle for warmth. Hehe, look, you're blushing!" Moya shuffled closer again.
"Fuck off! Come any closer and I'll hit you—for real..."
They tussled and laughed, the cold temporarily forgotten.
"Hey! Stay still! Wait, quiet!"
Just as Rick tried to lock Moya's throat, Moya tensed, dropping to the ground as tentacles on his arms twitched wildly.
"What's wrong?" Having learned to trust Moya's danger sense, Rick tensed too.
"A huge one's coming..." Moya paled, sweat beading on his forehead.
"Then run! Are we waiting to die?" Rick panicked.
"It's... a Rhinoceros Beetle. We can't outrun it. Stay still—he hasn't spotted us." Moya took a powder bottle from his bag, dusting Rick with the contents.
"Ugh, what's this crap? It stinks!"
"Feather Moth powder. Rhinoceros Beetles hate this smell." Moya applied the foul-smelling white powder to himself.
"Here it comes!"
A pungent odor approached. Rick and Moya ducked, frozen. With a swish, a four-meter-long horn like a halberd pierced the grass. Rick peeked sideways, seeing a mountainous shadow just three meters away.
"Oh my god... please, god..." Rick buried his head in the grass, tense to the point of cramping.
Time crawled as the Rhinoceros Beetle lingered, snorting white breath and sniffing the air. The two felt its stinking saliva drip onto their necks, sliding down their backs—each second felt like an eternity.
"Hey, is that Feather Moth powder working? Why hasn't it left?" Rick whispered, barely holding his fear.
"Shut up! We rushed it—our scent's still on the grass." Moya prayed the beetle wasn't too hungry.
Perhaps his prayers worked. The beetle suddenly unfolded its black carapace, flapped translucent wings, and soared away.
"Finally gone!"
The pressure lifted, and Rick collapsed, weak with relief. Recalling the danger, he marveled at their luck.
Moya lay beside him, laughing bitterly.
"Hey, are you crazy?" Rick pushed him.
"You're the crazy one! I'm celebrating—we cheated death! Know what rank that Rhinoceros Beetle is?"
"What rank?"
"Illusion-Rank! An Illusion-Rank combat insect. Its thick armor makes it almost invincible on the grassland. That horn can tear an Iron-Ridge Centipede apart, and its dozen-centimeter-thick carapace is impenetrable—even a Skywolf Spider's fangs can't pierce it, trap or not."
"That powerful?" Rick was astonished.
"Did you think otherwise?" Moya wiped his face, smearing dirt, snot, and tears into a raccoon-like mask.
Seeing Moya calm down, Rick clapped his shoulder. "Stop whining—we're alive! So many monsters couldn't kill us. We're tough—we'll get out of this damned place!"
"Right! I haven't claimed my hunting ground yet—I can't die so easily!"
Both burst into laughter.