The atmosphere changed in an instant. Centered on Henry Clark, the thick dust on the ground suddenly swept outward like a tsunami. In Henry Clark's hand, an object burst forth with a blinding golden light. Just as Grace Miller closed her eyes for a split second, that motionless figure spun at a speed so fast it left afterimages, and the golden object in his hand struck squarely on that “cute” side of the face...

A terrifying scene unfolded. The enormous spider in the air was sent flying sideways as if hit by a truck, crashing through the factory wall along with it.

When Grace Miller opened her eyes, all she saw was a cold and handsome Henry Clark standing firm, wielding a heavy sword, while several broken spider fangs still spun through the air...

“So cool...” Grace Miller sighed inwardly.

Chapter 11: Living Is More Painful Than Death

The dazzling golden light slowly faded, and in Henry Clark's hand, the object just used to attack revealed its true form.

A pitch-black wooden sword appeared, as wide as five fingers and one point three meters long, exuding the unique fresh scent of peachwood. The blade was plain and unadorned, making the golden light from before seem almost like an illusion.

That dashing sword-wielding Henry Clark showed only half his face, the smile at the corner of his mouth carrying a hint of wickedness—quite alluring...

“Ding, ding, ding...” The few spider fangs of the Jorōgumo that had been flying through the air landed on the ground, the crisp sound snapping Grace Miller out of her daze.

“No, no, it’s an illusion, an illusion!” Suddenly jumping up from the ground, Grace Miller slapped her cheeks hard, as if chasing away a thief, just to smack those “terrifying” thoughts out of her head.

“Really scared silly, huh...” Henry Clark just assumed she was overly frightened and didn’t have time to bother with her madness. He turned, single-handedly lifting his sword, and chased in the direction the Jorōgumo had flown.

Out in the open, he looked around—there wasn’t a soul in sight. Suddenly, he looked up. The giant spider was standing on the rooftop, silhouetted against the bright moon, appearing even more hideous and terrifying. But that human face was somewhat comical; although the half of its teeth that had been knocked out had regrown, the side of its face struck by the sword was now swollen with a disgusting pus-filled boil, as if it had been burned.

“What kind of strange weapon is this, that the wound can’t heal?” The Jorōgumo couldn’t help but let out a low, pained moan—the heart-wrenching pain was something it hadn’t experienced in hundreds of years.

“A thousand-year-old peachwood sword, the treasured artifact of Mount Mao. Too bad their newly appointed Taoist priest was a gambler and sold it to me to pay off his debts. Only three hundred yuan—cheap, right?” Henry Clark boasted about the origin of his divine weapon, the story alone enough to make anyone cough up blood in frustration.

“I’ll kill you!” Enraged, it opened its bloody maw wide, and countless fine, beaded threads shot out like bullets, instantly forming a dense giant web in the sky, making escape impossible.

Henry Clark's response was even more arrogant. He sheathed the sword behind him and stood motionless as the giant spider web completely enveloped him, like a small fish caught in a fisherman’s net.

On the rooftop, the Jorōgumo sneered and leapt forward with force, pouncing at its prey again, even causing half the factory roof to collapse.

“That’s why I hate these kinds of monsters the most—so many legs, but no brains...”

With a faint sigh, a strange change occurred around Henry Clark. The snake-shaped pattern on Henry Clark's jacket suddenly glowed with a blood-red halo, and the spider silk wrapping around him instantly ignited with a blue ghostly flame, burning away in a flash. Who would have thought that bizarre pattern was actually a demon-banishing scripture...

The Jorōgumo, about to land, didn’t even have time to cry out “Oh no!” Gripping the hilt with both hands, Henry Clark's body spun again, and, like swinging a bat at a baseball, he sent the massive spider flying sideways once more. This time, it flew a full twenty meters, tracing a clear arc before crashing to the ground, rolling six meters before coming to a complete stop. That once alluring face was now completely twisted and deformed, no longer even resembling a human.

Seeing such a scene, most people would probably feel more sympathy for this pitiful monster, having encountered such a heartless demon...

“Tired. Let’s finish this quickly and go home to sleep...” Swinging the sword onto his shoulder, Henry Clark strolled leisurely toward the Jorōgumo. To Henry Clark, it was all just work...

Back inside the factory, the recent collapse had caused the web full of bound men to fall to the ground.

Only now did Grace Miller realize what she needed to do. She hurriedly took out her phone and called Captain Bennett, requesting backup.

Captain Bennett's reply was simple and clear: the whole team could only act when Henry Clark said support was needed. After all, it was so late—everyone was asleep, and no one would be happy to be called out...

Frustrated, Grace Miller felt like crushing her phone. After hanging up, she called the police directly, reporting an attempted murder.

After the call, Grace Miller felt a weight lift off her shoulders. After all, humans are pitiful creatures—having more companions means less fear...

Just as Grace Miller was starting to relax a little, a series of mournful wails echoed through the air, the sound alone enough to chill the blood.

Still having a bit of conscience, Grace Miller trembled as she walked to the edge of the hole smashed by the Jorōgumo, worried about Henry Clark's safety, peering out to see what was happening.