"You're all going to die..." the demonic cultivator wheezed.
Exhausted and humiliated, he tried to spit those words out like a final curse, but the dull thud of a heavy boot instantly dragged him back to reality. A reality where he was nothing but bound trash—beaten, immobilized, and stripped of all dignity.
"Ha... pathetic," the Demonic Cultivator spat on the ground, looking at his captors with pure loathing. how you sing when you meet the real demons, you wretched brat. Tell me, how does it feel to stand as equals with the mortal filth behind your back? Do you think yourself some kind of saint?"
The cultivator's voice grew raspier. Blood from a deep gash on his forehead flooded his eyes, blurring his vision, and every breath came with a ragged, shuddering whistle.
"Enough threats, you filth," Bao Zhan stepped closer, his shadow looming over the prisoner. "You have fallen so low that calling you a human would be an insult to our kind. What do you know about your Order's plans? Speak!"
"Screw you!" the man snarled, baring blood-stained teeth.
"You don't understand, worm," Bao Zhan's voice grew unnaturally loud, vibrating with suppressed fury. "I told you: you don't look like a human to me. And believe me, I won't feel a shred of pity for what I'm about to do to you."
Notes of genuine terror finally flickered across the fanatic's face. His neck instinctively shrank into his shoulders, and his bound hands began to tremble. The primal instinct for self-preservation had finally kicked in, albeit too late.
"What. Do. You. Know?" Bao Zhan repeated, enunciating every word.
"I said... go to..." He didn't get to finish.
Another dull, sickening thud echoed through the clearing. Bao Zhan's heavy, armored boot slammed directly into the prisoner's groin. Tied tightly, the man couldn't even curl up in pain. His eyes instantly turned bloodshot, his face went purple, and his mouth opened in a silent scream of agony. But the scream was strangled—with lightning speed, Bao Zhan shoved a dirty rag into his throat, cutting off all sound.
I winced involuntarily. Watching the torture was revolting; nausea churned in my stomach, but... it was strange. I felt neither shame nor guilt for not stopping Bao Zhan. I remembered what these monsters had done to the innocent: how they hunted, tortured, and literally devoured people for mere scraps of dark energy.
My rage at that moment was far stronger than my mercy.
Bao Zhan pressed two fingers together in a sharp motion. A spiritual thread yanked the gag from the prisoner's mouth.
"Shall I continue?" he asked in a cold, emotionless tone.
"Do what you want, dead man..." the cultivator wheezed, barely conscious. "By the time you're finished, the demons will be here. They'll turn you and your mortal friends inside out."
Bao Zhan's eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. He raised his foot again, but a hand suddenly touched his shoulder. It was Spider-Man.
"Leave him to us," came the Avenger's quiet, whispering voice. "Go, check on your disciples. They need your protection more right now."
Bao Zhan froze for a moment, staring into the blank lenses of the mask. Finally, he gave a short nod, whistled for his bird. .
"Well then, welcome to our humble circle," Spidey gave a friendly wave to the prisoner, but there wasn't a hint of warmth in the gesture.
"Filthy mortal!" the cultivator's face turned crimson with rage. "You don't have a single drop of Qi! Trash like you dares to open his mouth in my presence? Do you think you're immortal? Do you think your righteous friend will save you?"
"Okay, we get it," Spider-Man said drily.
There were a good five meters between them, but in the next heartbeat, space seemed to collapse. The burst of speed was so fast I could barely track it. Spidey's foot was already pinning the cultivator to the ground. There was a distinct, dry snap—the prisoner's ribs had given way under the pressure.
A web shot instantly sealed the enemy's mouth, stifling the scream. The sticky webbing trapped the agony inside, locking it within his breaking body. I looked away, closing my eyes. The revulsion was peaking, but the guilt remained absent.
Then came a disgusting sound, like old wallpaper being ripped off a wall—Spidey had torn the hardened webbing from the victim's face.
"Listen... We are Heroes, and we aren't supposed to do things like this," Spider-Man's voice became strangely pleasant, the words flowing smoothly, almost tenderly. His physique now looked perfectly human—the result of absorbing the flesh of previous cultivators had reached its peak. "But you know, this time, it'll be a truly heroic act. Because you, buddy, are a rare kind of jerk."
Slowly, Spider-Man pulled off his glove.
My God... My heart skipped a beat.
Instead of flesh and bone, I saw a writhing mass. Thousands of tiny spiders, weaving and crawling over each other, formed the shape of a human hand. They were much smaller than I expected—myriads of living black dots. Shock froze on the cultivator's face; his jaw shook, and his eyes widened to their limit.
This "hand" extended an index finger and touched the prisoner's forehead. In that same second, a living stream flooded onto the victim's skin. The spiders swarmed over his face, his neck, and under his clothes. They began to bite, methodically and in unison, filling the wretch's mouth, nostrils, and ears.
I couldn't watch anymore. My body moved on its own—I simply turned and ran.
"We've gathered the intel," Spider-Man's voice sounded casual, almost mundane, which only heightened the impact.
Less than ten minutes had passed since he disappeared into the brush. Bao Zhan stood frozen, his hand still gripping the hilt of his sword. In his wide eyes, one could see pure admiration mixed with awe.
"Master Spider-Man... how did you do it so quickly? It's been less than ten minutes and you already have the information?" he managed to choke out.
"We have our methods," Spidey clipped, adjusting his glove. His lenses narrowed for a moment, scanning the perimeter.
"And the body?" Bao Zhan took a step forward, peering into the void behind the hero. "How did you erase it so completely? Not a drop of blood, not a single trace of Qi?"
"We have our methods," Spidey repeated, a hint of exhaustion creeping into his voice.
It was time for me to step in before Bao started theorizing that Spider-Man was some disguised Immortal Master from the Higher Realms.
"Bro," I said, turning to Spidey and trying to sound casual to break the tension. "Could you please tell us what exactly this 'poor guy' told you in his final moments?"
Spider-Man went silent for a moment. His eyepieces narrowed smoothly, giving the mask a focused look. It seemed as though he was replaying a recording of the interrogation in his head.
"Sure, we'll tell you," he finally said. "But keep in mind: we can't be a hundred percent sure about the truth of any of it."
He stepped closer to us, his figure in the skintight suit looking alien against the backdrop of the ancient cliffs.
"That man said his group was just one of many 'scout' teams. Their task was simple and horrific: hunt down anyone who fled or hid—cultivators and mortals alike. Kill everyone without exception. The main goal is to stop the spread of any information regarding the attack of the demonic cultivators. That's all we could get out of him."
"But why?" Bao Zhan snapped his head up, his voice trembling with indignation. "I understand why they're hunting us, the practitioners. The war between the Righteous Path and the followers of demons has lasted ten thousand years; it's in our blood. Но why send elite warriors to hunt simple peasants? What is the point of slaughtering those who can't even manipulate Qi?"
Bao looked truly lost. His worldview had developed a massive crack. My mind, meanwhile, was racing at high speed, sorting through options and connecting dots until something clicked.
"Bao, answer me one thing," I stepped into the center of the group. "Has anyone actually seen these demons? Real demons, not just their followers?"
"Master Lin, I already told you the attack was sudden and—" Bao began, but I cut him off.
"Listen to me! Do you really believe that if demons—the actual creatures from the legends—had directly attacked this area, we would have been able to escape so easily? Do you seriously think these monsters wouldn't have caught us in a day of pursuit?"
Bao Zhan fell silent. His face twitched; he looked away, staring toward the horizon where the sky looked unnaturally dark.
"Neither you nor I saw the actual moment of the attack. What we did meet were plenty of human demonic cultivators," I continued, lowering my voice for effect.
"Where are you going with this?" Spidey asked, watching my gestures closely.
"To the fact that demons, according to your legends, are living natural disasters. Like volcanic eruptions, tsunamis, or heavenly wrath. They don't just kill; they warp reality itself. If the City of Fish Head had been attacked by true demons, there wouldn't be anything left alive within hundreds of kilometers except corruption. But look around: everything is relatively normal."
I paused, letting them process the discrepancy.
"And who said the demons are even physically on this continent right now?"
Spider-Man's lenses shrank to tiny points, expressing extreme suspicion.
"I still don't quite follow your train of thought, Master Lin. Are you implying this is some kind of hoax?"
"Imagine you're a general about to capture an impregnable fortress. What's the first thing you'd do? I'd destabilize it from the inside. Sow chaos, fear, and paranoia. What if the demons have simply turned one part of humanity against the other for now? Demonic practitioners against civilians and righteous clans. Divide and conquer."
"But why are you so sure the demons are involved at all, then?" Spidey cut in, crossing his arms. "Why couldn't this just be a civil war among cultivators?"
I pointed a finger toward the dark, empty sky
.
"Because there's no Moon in the sky. Bao, admit it: even if all the demonic cultivators in the world united, would they have the power to destroy a celestial body? With that kind of power, you could just enslave the world. Creating a giant projection of a demon in the sky to scare the weak-willed is one thing. But erasing the Moon? No. Humans, no matter what techniques they possess, don't have those kinds of resources."
I finished my monologue and looked back and forth between Spider-Man and Bao Zhan. The latter looked as if the ground had vanished beneath his feet.
"The demons are just weakening humanity using our own hands," I added quietly. "That explains why we haven't encountered total chaos yet. They're waiting for us to slit each other's throats."
"And what do you suggest we do?"
Bao Zhan's voice was much calmer and colder now. The shock had passed, replaced by the calculating resolve of a warrior.
"Nothing new," I snapped. "We need to double our speed. We have to reach the City of Grey Knights before the gears of this war finish turning. While we still have time."