Fabre in Sacheon’s Tang

-BOOM!

-CRASH!

“Now what the hell’s going on…”

The deafening sounds of chaos ripped through the quiet night, shaking me awake. It was the fourth night since the guests had set off to search for their prize. The cacophony came from the direction of the rocky mountain nearby, the noise of rocks colliding and shattering echoing through the stillness.

“Didn’t they say they’d search carefully? Why does it sound like they’re mining boulders? Don’t these people understand environmental conservation? Habitat preservation is key if you want others to collect specimens later!”

Collecting specimens is supposed to be about borrowing from nature, not destroying it. Even if they were desperate because of their daughter’s condition, tearing apart an entire habitat with thirty people was excessive.

“Wait, are they using explosives or something?”

Life here had kept me busy enough that I hadn’t had time to properly learn about this era. Ever since waking up in the body of an orphan and settling in this abandoned Taoist temple, I’d been catching snakes and selling their skins to survive. I’d guessed this was some period like the Song, Yuan, Ming, or Qing dynasties, but I wasn’t entirely sure.

Hearing these unnatural sounds made me second-guess my assumptions. Explosions like that? There was no way those were natural noises.

“When was gunpowder developed in Zhongyuan again?”

The thought crossed my mind as I began piecing together the situation. If their story about a centipede larger than a person was true, this might not be history at all—it might be an entirely different world.

As these thoughts tumbled through my head, I decided to visit the habitat tomorrow. I needed to see for myself how badly they’d wrecked the place. Someone has to look after the environment, and it sure wasn’t going to be them.

And who knows, I might even find a smaller centipede for myself. Centipedes are fascinating creatures, after all. Their segmented bodies, countless legs, and unique movement patterns make them one of the most striking arthropods out there. Sure, this one could reportedly eat me alive, but I’d hunted a Black Mamba before. What’s a giant centipede compared to that?

About an hour later:

-Shhhhhhh.

A sudden downpour of rain swept through the mountains, and with it, the thunderous sounds of destruction began to fade. The rain must have put a stop to whatever they were doing—probably something involving gunpowder.

Finally, I could listen to the sound of rain hitting the roof and let it lull me back to sleep.

“Is it over?”

-Chirp chirp.

The crickets in their jar began to sing as I lay back down. The soothing sounds of the rain and the insects blended together, and before long, I drifted back into the peaceful slumber of a quiet mountain night.

***

-Pant, pant.

The warriors of the Tang family lay sprawled across the rocky terrain, utterly spent. Those who had survived were collapsed on the stones, gulping down rainwater as it poured from the heavens. Among them, Tang Cheolsan, the Poison Scholar (천독서생), leaned against a boulder, his broken arm crudely splinted with a piece of bamboo.

“Is your arm all right?”

The voice came from none other than his father, Mandok Shingun, the Poison God of Ten Thousand Toxins. Tang Cheolsan managed a weary smile through the downpour, his expression brightening with the hope that now burned within him. His arm was broken, but the Blue-Spotted Centipede had been captured, and with it, the chance to save his daughter’s life.

“Yes, it’s just broken. I’ll manage.”

“To think a mere ‘low-ranked’ centipede would be this formidable. If the rain hadn’t slowed it down, we might have all lost our lives.”

The smile on Cheolsan’s face faltered at his father’s words.

Mandok Shingun wasn’t exaggerating. The centipede had been a nightmare: its incredible speed, overwhelming strength, its uncanny ability to sense their every movement even in the dark, and most terrifying of all, the venom that dissolved flesh on contact.

Though the Tianxia Record of Poisonous Creatures classified the Blue-Spotted Centipede (청반오공) as a low-tier entity, it had proven to be anything but. Its abilities defied expectations, and it had claimed two of the family’s warriors, while three others had barely survived its venom.

Fortunately, those poisoned had their lives saved by a combination of realgar (웅황) and Mandok Shingun’s mastery of toxic arts, which forced the venom from their bodies. But had the fight dragged on any longer, even those measures might not have been enough.

Tang Cheolsan himself had thrown his body into harm’s way to save one of the warriors during the battle. Despite wrapping himself in defensive internal energy, the centipede’s monstrous power had shattered his arm in a single strike.

The Tang family’s famed daggers and hidden weapons were utterly useless against the centipede’s impenetrable exoskeleton. It wasn’t until Mandok Shingun exploited a rare opening to crush its head that the beast was finally subdued.

“Well, at least we captured it,” Mandok Shingun said, his tone growing lighter. “Now let’s see how potent its inner core is. Hopefully, it will be enough to save our Huaeun.”

Through the rain-soaked haze, the father and son gazed at the massive centipede’s lifeless body. Its enormous form lay on its back, legs twitching feebly.

Mandok Shingun smiled grimly as he stepped forward, his eyes fixed on the creature’s head. The battle was over, and now it was time to claim the prize they had fought so hard to secure.

***

-Shwaa...

The rain still hadn’t stopped by morning.

This time of year, as I’d come to observe over the years, marked the rainy season—long stretches of heavy rain interrupted by sporadic downpours. The dark clouds that crowded the sky and the thick, steady rain suggested it would be days before the weather cleared.

I had planned to inspect the centipede habitat the Tang family warriors had likely wrecked, but with rain like this, I couldn’t risk heading out. Living alone meant I couldn’t afford to fall sick; if I did, who would feed my beloved creatures?

As a breeder, taking care of yourself is part of taking care of your animals. Responsibility isn’t just a word—it’s a way of life.

Two days later, the rain finally ceased.

-Drip, drip.

Unfamiliar tropical birds chirped melodiously from the roof of the abandoned dojo, while droplets of water clung to the broken eaves, glistening in the morning sun.

The return of sunlight had stirred all manner of creatures to life. Birds and insects filled the air with noise, their calls a chaotic symphony. For two days, I’d been itching to get out and explore the habitat the Tang warriors had disturbed. Today, I’d finally have my chance.

The Blue-Spotted Centipede (靑斑蜈蚣). A massive centipede with blue markings—a new species, or so the Tang family claimed. As a lifelong enthusiast of arthropods, I couldn’t pass up this opportunity.

I’d spent the rainy days preparing. Using braided straw and small clay jars, I fashioned a makeshift bag to carry supplies. I prepared torches with oil-soaked sticks, just in case the search led me to a cave. Large centipedes, such as the Scolopendra gigantea—the Amazonian or Peruvian giant centipede—were known to scale cave walls to hunt bats and birds. It wouldn’t hurt to be cautious.

“Everything’s ready. Time to see what’s out there.”

I slung the bag over my shoulder and set off toward the rocky hills to the west.

Crossing swollen streams, I arrived at the modest hill where the Tang family had reportedly searched. What greeted me was worse than I had imagined.

The mountainside looked as though it had been hit by a bomb. Boulders had tumbled down the slope, leaving deep gouges in the earth. The midsection of the hill had been hollowed out, with muddy water still trickling down to the base.

“Wow... they really went all out.”

Carefully, I ascended the slippery rocks. Rainwater made the climb treacherous, and I didn’t want to end up flat on my back. My primary goal was to assess the damage, but a part of me hoped to find some sign of the centipede.

After thirty minutes of climbing, I reached the hill’s scarred middle section. As I sifted through the debris, something caught my eye—a flash of crimson lodged between two rocks.

Carefully, I pulled it free.

It was a leg.

A bright red, segmented leg nearly 40 centimeters long, as thick as a coin.

“Is... is this real?”

My heart raced. I’d been skeptical of the Tang family’s claims about a human-eating centipede. Arthropods and insects grow large in high-oxygen environments—something that only occurred during the Carboniferous period, when dragonflies had wingspans of over a meter.

But as I held the leg, my doubts crumbled.

If this leg belonged to the Blue-Spotted Centipede, then the creature must truly be massive—more than capable of devouring a human.

-Gulp.

Should I turn back?

The thought crossed my mind. No discovery was worth risking my life, especially against something this monstrous. But my curiosity burned too brightly to ignore. If there were other, smaller specimens nearby, I could at least catch a glimpse of one.

My search led me to a partially collapsed burrow, its entrance just wide enough for a person to crawl through.

“This must be it...”

The hole radiated danger. Centipedes are typically solitary creatures with territorial instincts, but not all species follow the same rules. If this burrow belonged to the leg’s owner, there could be others inside—or it could be empty.

Empty meant disappointment but safety. Occupied meant danger, and possibly worse.

After a brief internal struggle, I lit my torch.

-Whoosh.

The fire flickered to life, illuminating the damp, narrow tunnel.

Crouching low, I crawled inside, the torchlight casting dancing shadows on the earthen walls. The air grew musty as I moved deeper, the scent of mildew growing stronger. After crawling for about five meters, the passage widened into a hollow chamber.

Straightening up, I shone the torchlight toward the ceiling, scanning for any lurking creatures.

The chamber was quiet, but my nerves were on edge.

In the center of the hollow, a mound glistened in the light. At first, I thought it was a trick of the shadows, but as I moved closer, its shape became clear.

A cluster of spherical objects, each the size of a handball, gleamed like polished gold.

“Jackpot!”

My voice echoed in the chamber.

Eggs.

Dozens of glossy, yellow eggs piled in the middle of the chamber—undoubtedly the spawn of the Blue-Spotted Centipede.